Laozi: Unraveling the Legend of Daoism's Founder

Laozi, or Master Lao, was a bookkeeper and sage who flourished in the 7th and 6th centuries B.C.E. During his life, he instructed Confucius, taught Zhuangzi, and founded one of the great Chinese schools of thought, Daoism. At quite an old age, upon sensing the decline of the Zhou dynasty, he left China to head west. At the border, he wrote a book of just 5,000 characters, at the request of the keeper of the pass, before departing to never be seen again. All that is left of the great sage's wisdom is available to us through the work we now know as the Dao De Jing. At least, that might be what you'd expect to hear. But, as the length of this video attests, it's not quite so simple. Now, there's nothing revolutionary in saying that the issue of Laozi is complex. In fact, as you might be familiar, while introducing the Dao De Jing, many popular commentators acknowledge this complexity by saying something like, While this is quick, easy, not entirely wrong, and uncontroversial, since it lets the audience carry on whatever idea of Laozi they had before, it certainly ignores the significance that our conception of Laozi has for both our reading of the Dao De Jing and the course of classical Chinese philosophy. It would seem to me that the stakes are too high for the question, who is Laozi, to be ignored. So, this video seeks to offer an answer, progressing from the basic meaning of the name, to the basis on which the common or, as we'll see, traditional view rests, and concluding with an account that might be more likely. The quickest and easiest answer to the question, who is Laozi, would appear to be simply the old master. What is rendered as LAOZI in Hanyu Pinyin, and LAO, TZU, and Wade-Giles, is the romanization of two classical Chinese characters, Lao and Si. Lao has meanings of old, aged, and elderly, along with their associated connotations that might come to mind when thinking of the old master, such as venerable, experienced, retired, or withdrawn. Si has a number of meanings. Possibly its most common reading is boy or child, which would come to have later importance in the Daoist tradition. But, at the time of the Eastern Zhou, TZU was used as an honorific designation. Commonly translated as master or teacher, it would be used to refer to the likes of Kongzi, better known as Confucius, Mozi, and Zhuangzi, among others. For these reasons, in literal translation, Laozi is typically rendered as master Lao or old master. However, simple translation of Laozi's honorific name does little to actually spread light on who Laozi is, especially when it's something as ambiguous as the old master. I say specifically that this is Laozi's honorific name because, of course, even though sages of ancient times were not considered masters at the moment of their birth, instead, notable individuals possessed multiple names. Kongzi had a clan name of Kong, personal name of Zhou, courtesy name of Zhang Ni, and styled name of Kongzi. So what then are the names of Laozi? This question brings us directly to the single most important source in the status of Laozi, Sima Qian's Shiji, finished in 94 BCE. Before Qian, the various accounts of Laozi's life were limited and disorganized. But in the 63rd chapter of the Shiji, under the section titled Biography of Laozi and Hanfei, there is a complete biography for Laozi which includes his many names. It is this biography that offers the foundation for the common or traditional view, and to my translation of it, we now turn. The account begins with Laozi's place, names, and occupation. Laozi, of the state of Chul, district of Kul, the country of Li, and the village of Chiren, with the family name of Li, personal name of Er, and style name of Dan, was a historiographer of the Zhou archives. Beginning with his stomping ground, Chul was the southernmost state in China during pre-medieval times. Throughout the Warring States period, the state of Chul was known for its hyper-religious government and deviant delinquents, often featured in the Analects. Er and Dan mean ear and long ears, respectively, while the surname of Li means plum tree. The rest indicates that Laozi kept historical records for the Zhou dynasty, the last of the ancient dynasties that existed, with varying degrees of centralized power from the 11th to the 3rd century BCE. Immediately after the basics, Qian offers an account of the story of Laozi's meeting with Confucius. Confucius traveled to Zhou to ask Laozi about the rites. Laozi said, What I have to tell you is just this, and nothing more. Confucius departed and said to his disciples, Yet, when it comes to the dragon, I cannot understand its ascent through the winds and clouds and up to heaven. Just now, I've met with Laozi, and he is truly like a dragon. Throughout the story, Confucius asks Laozi about the rites. Laozi responds saying nothing of the rites, and it's said, Afterwards, having left, Confucius tells his disciples that Laozi is beyond his understanding, like a dragon, in a manner that one cannot help but take as admiration for the old master. Next, Laozi cultivated Dao and De. He taught that self-concealment and namelessness were to be one's aims. He dwelled in the Zhou for a long time until he caught sight of the Zhou's decline, at which point he departed. When he arrived at the frontier past, Yinshi, the keeper of the past, said, Before you go forward into concealment, I urge you to write a book. Thereupon, Laozi wrote a book of upper and lower chapters, telling the meaning of Dao and De in 5,000 words. Then he departed. No one knows the place of his end. Through his cultivation of Dao and De, Laozi's wisdom imparted him with a foresight to see the forthcoming collapse of centralized power and the rise of the warring states. Thus, he left China, but not before he was stopped and asked to write a book by the border guard. The book he wrote was roughly 5,000 words and made of two sections, both accurate descriptive features of the Tao Te Ching. The border guard receives Laozi's wisdom and carries it on. The information thus far has been presented as fact. However, this seems to change in the following sections. Someone said Lao Laizi was a person of Zhou who wrote a book of 15 chapters, telling the methods of the school of Dao and was a contemporary of Confucius. Qian prefaces the account with a bit of skepticism. Someone said, implying that Qian is doubtful of the information. Nonetheless, he includes the account, likely for lack of a lot of information on Laozi, the concealed man. Similar doubt is present in the next section. The concealed Laozi lived for more than 160 years, some say more than 200 years, by means of his cultivation of Dao and nourishment of long life. The nourishment of long life through cultivation of Dao and De is an idea present in several chapters of the Tao Te Ching. Hence, it only makes sense that Laozi lived to quite an old age. However, the specific duration of such a life seems a matter of debate, a debate that might be spurred on by the following story. 129 years after Confucius's death, historians recorded that Zhou Grand Historian Dan met with Duke Qian of Qin and said, in the beginning, Qin and Zhou were united. 500 years after they were united, they will separate. 70 years after separating, a hegemon will emerge. Some say Dan was Laozi, others say he was not. In this age, no one knows if it is so or not. Laozi was a concealed gentleman. Once again, there is uncertainty. This time, the reason why is quite clear. If Laozi was a senior contemporary of Confucius, as the story of their meeting seems to suggest, then at 129 years after Confucius's death, who is recorded to have lived for over 70 years, Laozi would be at least around 200 years old. Hence, those who believe this are likely to be those who purport that Laozi lived for more than 200 years. There is also a subtle difference that the romanization and my pronunciation doesn't quite pick up. The Dan in Lao Dan and the Dan in Zhou Grand Historian Dan are two different characters. The first means long ears, as I've mentioned before, while the second means a small jar. Similar yet different, Qian isn't quite sure what to make of it. Only that Laozi was in general mysterious. Next is a long lineage. Laozi's son was named Zhang. Zhang served as a general for the kingdom of Wei and received in Duanggan. Zhang's son was Zhu. Zhu's son was Gong. Gong's great-grandson was Jia. Jia served for Emperor Zhaowen of Han. Jia's son Jie became grand tutor for Ang, the prince of Zhaoxi. For this reason, the house moved to Qin. Without any sign of doubt, Qian seems confident that this customary account of Laozi's lineage holds historical accuracy. He follows, In this generation, those who study Laozi degrade the Confucian school, and those of the Confucian school degrade Laozi. Different ways are not mutually plannable. Is this really so? Li Er transformed himself through non-action and straightened himself through quiescence. At the time of the Shi Ji, in the early Han, the two largest schools of thought were the opposing Confucian school and the Huang Lao school. A syncretist school named after Laozi and Huang Di, the Yellow Emperor. Discouraged by the opposition, Qian quotes from the Analects and questions it, concerned that the two schools of thought may never get along. Finally, after giving the biographies of related thinkers, Sima Qian concludes the chapter. The grand historian said, Laozi valued Tao and the emptiness of nothingness, and thought that, because of them, one ought to transform and change through non-action. Therefore, he wrote a book about minute mysteries that are difficult to recognize. Zhuangzi scattered Tao and De, freed the discourse, and sought merely to return to spontaneity. Shunzi lowered and lowered, bestowing himself with a name of prosperity. Han Feizi stretched out restraints on corruption, cut offices of emotion, and clarified right and wrong. He was the most cruel and merciless. Everyone had begun to think of Tao and De, but Laozi was already far away. These thinkers, each influenced by Laozi in some way, developed unique ideas of their own. Having exerted tremendous influence on numerous figures in Chinese philosophy, the intellectual tradition of China during the Han was at least partially in Laozi's debt. Everyone had begun to think of Tao and De, but Laozi had journeyed west long ago, never to be seen again. With Sima Qian's biography of Laozi presented, we see the roots for the traditional answer to the question, who is Laozi? But now we must decide whether to accept the account or attempt to challenge it. Alan Chan, author of the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on the Dao De Jing slash Laozi, suggests that it might be better off if we don't, finding little reason not to accept the traditional claim that Laozi was a senior contemporary of Confucius. But I don't think it's quite so inconsequential. The reality of Laozi is important. To Chinese philosophy as its hypothetical grandfather, as the master of Confucius, to the Dao De Jing as its attributed author, and to you for having made it this far into this video, who we take Laozi to be has significant repercussions. If one text was thought to precede another, yet it turns out that the other precedes it, then interpretations of both texts could change. Similarly, for the Dao De Jing, depending on when it's dated, viable interlocutors and targets of its critiques will vary. If it precedes the proper establishment of Confucianism as a school of thought, then sagely wisdom will often be far preferred as an interpretation over a polemical attack against a rival school of thought. Laozi's historical status and authorship do matter. So to rely on an account from the beginning of the first century BCE, 400 years after the meeting with Confucius, 300 years after his exit west, 200 years after his first words in the Zhuangzi, and 100 years after the earliest manuscript versions of the Dao De Jing, is to be too unsuspecting. Thus, we turn to an alternative explanation. In order to establish an alternative account, the traditional account must first be dealt with. Initially, rejecting the traditional view might seem simple enough. As William Boltz writes, Indeed, Sima Qian's biography of Laozi contains virtually nothing that is demonstrably factual. Hearing this, we might immediately throw the biography out the window and lazily conclude, we don't know a thing. Believe what you want about Laozi. But this is precisely not what we want to do. After all, we aren't brought to question the reliability of the traditional view out of pure skepticism or malice, but from a desire to find out anything we can about Laozi, because whatever we might find will illuminate historical, philosophical, and religious issues. So, verifiable or not, the fact remains that the account exists and that it is our best bet at uncovering the reality of Laozi. Rather than throwing the biography out, we can simply alter our treatment of it. Instead of taking it as historical fact, we might see it as the best answer available to the question, who is Laozi, that could be made around 100 BCE. Assuming that Qian aimed for historical accuracy, as his skepticism towards some accounts implied, the elements of the account need to either be accepted as truth or explained as misled. There are nearly a dozen historical claims that would have to be explained in an alternative account. The location of Qu, names of Lao, Dan, Li, and Er, occupation of historiographer in the Zhou archives, encounter with Confucius, journey to the west, encounter with Yin Shi, the border guard, authorship of the Daodejing, possible name of Lao Lai Tzu, living 160 to 200 years, identification with the grand historian Dan, and lineage. Relying on the work of Feng Yulan, D.C. Lao, and mostly A.C. Graham, I'd like to offer one viable alternative explanation that not only shows why Sima Qian wrote what he did, but how the concoction of the legend of Laozi unfolded over time and its significance. So what led Qian to write what he did? While we can't know just what he had his hands on, there were a number of references to a master Lao in works that predated the Xiqi, and that we might expect the grand historian to be familiar with. By far, the most expansive of these works is the Zhuangzi, often seen as the best evidence for accepting Qian's account. Nearly half of the historical claims can be substantiated by appealing to the Zhuangzi. The old master is referred to both as Laozi and Lao Dan. There are several stories of Laozi meeting with and admonishing Confucius. In these dialogues, Lao Dan is referred to as a historiographer and expert on funeral rites. In one dialogue with Confucius that is a little different from the rest, the text refers to a Laolaizi instead of Laozi. Those who go to visit Lao Dan travel south to Chu. There is a border guard named Yin and a Laois named Guanyin. And Laozi even says lines from the Tao to Jing twice in the Zhuangzi. All of this appears to be conclusive evidence for the traditional view. However, keen readers might notice something a bit fishy about Laozi's appearances in the Zhuangzi. Namely, they aren't quite what you'd expect going by the traditional count. First, in terms of names throughout the Zhuangzi, Laozi is better known as Lao Dan than as Laozi. Passages that reference Lao Dan far outnumber the ones that reference Laozi. In the inner chapters, Lao Dan occurs in three passages while Laozi is completely absent. One could brush this off saying that the two names are interchangeable. But the difference doesn't seem inconsequential. When of the seven total passages that reference a master Lao, five of them introduce him first as Lao Dan. Unlike Laozi, familiar thinkers like Confucius are referenced throughout the Zhuangzi as masters. All these seem to suggest that at least of the authors of the Zhuangzi or their intended audience, Laozi is better known as old Dan than as the old master. A bit unusual for what the traditional view sees as an author whose very own master is Laozi. Also contrasting the traditional count is the content of Lao Dan's portrayal. The authors of the Zhuangzi consistently employed different characters to propose the Zhuangist view, regardless of whether or not these characters would have actually held the view. Confucius is the greatest example of this when he explicitly advances anti-Confucian views. As Graham notes, Lao Dan tends to be merely one of these many interchangeable spokesmen, since almost no attention is drawn to the fact that the old master is speaking when he does. Contrary to what we'd expect from the founder of Daoism, Lao Dan is hardly distinguishable. Even quoting the Dada Jing, the most Laozi thing Laozi could do is by no means unique to Laozi. But of course the authors of the Zhuangzi likely didn't pull Lao Dan out of thin air. After all, the characters they use are often borrowed from legend, especially from Confucian stories. And there is one way in which Lao Dan is clearly distinguishable. Most passages with Lao Dan in the Zhuangzi reference explicitly or implicitly Confucius's meeting with the old Zhou archivist and master of funeral rites, Old Dan. This suggests that the meeting between Confucius and Lao Dan is an event for which Lao Dan is known. We've already seen the event's importance in the Shiji, but the story is also featured earlier in the Shiji, during Confucius's biography, and in two other important texts. The Lushi Qianqiu, or the Spring and Autumn Annals, and the Liji. In all three of these, however, the story is of a different flavor. That is, a Confucian flavor. Each of them uses the event to commend Confucius for his humility in seeking wisdom from an expert of the Zhou, unlike in the Zhuangzi, where the event is used to admonish Confucius. Nonetheless, in both the Zhuangzi and the Confucian Liji, Lao Dan refers to Confucius with his personal name, Zhou, which carries familiar and somewhat condescending connotations that Graham renders in his translation of Zhou as Confucius my boy. Given the dating of these texts, this means that by the 3rd or 2nd centuries BCE, two types of narratives of the event existed. One Confucian and one anti-Confucian, or for a better label, Daoist, with both accepting Lao Dan's ability to refer to Confucius as my boy. No doubt, one narrative reappropriated the other to spin the story favorably. So the question becomes, which came first? Lao believes that the Daoist version antedated the Confucian version, suggesting that the authors of the Zhuangzi invented the event to ridicule Confucius, and that in response, Confucians turned him into a good Confucian. While possible, Graham makes a compelling case arguing the opposite. The portrayal of Lao Dan as an archivist in the Zhou, an expert on the rites, is apt for Confucian, but insignificant for a Daoist. As alluded to above, Lao Dan's feature, at least in the inner chapters, is like that of other notable Confucian figures in the Zhuangzi, be it students, madmen, or Confucius himself. Even in the story of Lao Dan's funeral in the Zhuangzi, Lao Dan's disciples are criticized for their exuberant mourning, which is far more fitting a critique for the man who instructed Confucius in funeral rites than the founder of Daoism. If the story was originally Daoist, as Lao suggests, Confucians would have had nothing to gain by making their master subordinate to the original Daoist sage, effectively endorsing the humiliation of their master by the founder of another school of thought. Meanwhile, there's a clear advantage to be gained by Daoists in claiming Confucius as teacher. Daoism would have gained precedence over Confucianism, and the central figure of Confucianism would be relegated to a measly student of the newly dubbed founder of Daoism. If this reappropriation truly happened, then reality would be startlingly dissimilar to the traditional account. As Graham says, it is amusing to think that old Dan might well be fully historical, but not Daoist at all. On the contrary, an archivist, an instructor in the rites, whom Confucius himself it is pleasing to imagine may have found a little too rigid, dusty, old-fashioned. All of this has already done quite some damage to the traditional account. But what is possibly more striking than Lao Tzu's occurrences in these pre-Xi Ji texts is where he is absent. D.C. Lao points at three such places. First, in the Mengzi, rival schools of thought like Moas and Yangus receive serious attention and criticism. Yet at no point does Lao Tzu or any Laoist even get so much as mentioned. Second, upon examining what Zhuangzi says of Lao Tzu and the Zhuangzi, Lao finds that Lao Tzu and Laoists are left out of a discussion between Zhuangzi and Huizi in chapter 24, where they share thoughts on five well-known schools of thought. Has Zhuangzi really neglected or forgotten about his own philosophy's founder? Third, a section in the Mengzi stressing the importance of having good teachers, which originally makes no mention to Confucius or Lao Tzu, is amended in the Spring and Autumn Annals to include Confucius and, among his teachers, Lao Tzu. This leads Lao to speculate that the story of Lao Tzu and Confucius' meeting must have become widely known and accepted between 286 BCE, the earliest possible date of the Mengzi chapter, and 239 BCE, the earliest date of the annals' composition. Crucial to this, I believe, is that although he was known for his encounter with Confucius, Lao Tzu gained recognition as a great thinker when he became associated with the Tao Te Ching, a text completed by the end of the 3rd century. The earliest ties between Lao Tzu and the philosophy of the Tao Te Ching appear in the Shunzi and the annals, which both speak of Lao Tzu's emphasis on bowing down and yielding, respectively. Around this time or afterwards, some authors of the Zhuangzi would find it fitting to use Lao Dan to quote the Tao Te Ching. We might follow Graham's lead in concluding that, sometime around the middle of the 3rd century BCE, Confucius' master Lao Dan, having been claimed by anti-Confucians, became identified with the writings we now know as the Tao Te Ching, in order to give those writings some extra authority. On this account, far from being the actual words of the spring and autumn philosopher sage Lao Tzu, the Tao Te Ching could well have been attributed to Old Dan, thereafter the old master, in a polemical move to gain precedence over Confucian thought. This should have implications for our reading of the Tao Te Ching. Not to overestimate its importance, this is only to say that the historical author of the Tao Te Ching was not actually Confucius' contemporary Lao Dan. The actual historical author of the Tao Te Ching is, at least at this point, deeply uncertain. Nonetheless, whenever one reads it, as with any work, one will always approach it with some conception of authorship in mind. This is what Mikhail Foucault dubs the author function. One might continue to read it as the writings of an old sage and find age-old wisdom that was later on used to attack Confucians, or one might read it as the writings compiled by a committee of bureaucrats and find a polemical attempt at countering Confucian and Mohs calls for education in the 3rd century BCE. At least some scholars have read it this way. Nonetheless, the author function cannot be left vacant, and some decision, now hopefully better informed, must be made. This might take care of our biggest interests in the biography of Laozi and successfully destabilize the smaller parts by tracing them to the Zhuangzi, known better for its playful dialogues and fanciful stories than its serious recounting of historical factual truths. But what about the rest? The journey to the west, the encounter with Yinshi, the living 160 to 200 years, the identification with the grand historian Dan, and the lineage? Graham attributes these factors to the political circumstances of late 3rd century China. Namely, the Qin arose to become the first dynasty of imperial China in 221 and fell to the Han in 206. The Qin dynasty was extremely illiberal and repressed schools of thought that opposed its own brand of legalism. The burning of books and burying of scholars, assuming Sima Qian didn't fabricate the event, would put an end to the warring states and the period of the Hundred Schools of Thought. No doubt, Laoists, who subscribed to the ideas in the Tao Te Ching, would hope to gain favor and avoid trouble from the new hegemon. Luckily for them, there existed a story of a certain grand historian of the Zhou who traveled west to Qin and predicted its rise. The historian's name was Dan, pronounced just the same as Lao Dan. Laoists, seizing on this opportunity, gained favor with the Qin by identifying their archivist Lao Dan with the historian Dan. The only issue was that this event took place 129 years after Confucius's death. For Lao Dan to have both been an older contemporary of Confucius and have traveled to Qin at that date, he would have to have lived at least 200 years. Doubtful as it is today, this fable was a brilliant move on the part of the Laoists. Not only did it fit well with the notions of cultivating longevity in the Tao Te Ching, but it played perfectly for the first emperor of Qin, who had believed in and sought physical immortality to very great lengths. The emperor would be inclined to believe them and intrigued by their possibly immortal master. Of course, rather than speak to these Laoists, the emperor would want to hear about cultivating longevity from the immortal Lao Dan himself. So where is he? The Laoists answer saying, Lao Dan, although a historiographer for the Zhou, is shown to have no actual affinity for the Zhou. He is never said to have died, implying that he might still be alive as an immortal. And all that he left behind was this work, which the Laoists now follow. It's the perfect story and it explains the journey to the west, the encounter with Yin Shi, the long life, and the identification with grand historian Dan. But what of the lineage? Given the many names used in the biography, it's uncertain, but most likely to be one of two. Li Er or historian Dan. The biography is the first to mention Laozi as Li Er, which is itself odd, since it suggests that Laozi had been without a courtesy name for hundreds of years, an anomaly for founders of entire schools of thought. Feng suggests that Li Er was the real author of the Tao Te Ching, who used the legend of Lao Dan to promote his work, with this line of thinking, the lineage is that of Li Er. But Graham once again offers a convincing alternative explanation, by suggesting that the lineage is really that of historian Dan. After Laoists identified Lao Dan with historian Dan, the descendants of historian Dan may have disdained or been bothered by the attempts of the Laoists to identify Laozi with historian Dan for political reasons. But when the Qin quickly fell to the Han, the descendants of historian Dan may have been eager to accept the association with Laozi for political reasons of their own. Descendants of the legendary Laozi would likely fare better under the Han than descendants of the historian Dan, known best for predicting the rise of the Qin. Thus, Laozi acquires historian Dan's lineage. Come a hundred years later, Sima Qian and the Shi Ji puts this all together to form a full biography with names, place, office, descendants, and notable events. All of the aspects of the traditional view have thus been explained by the alternative view, offering what may be a more accurate trajectory of Laozi and his status until the biography. To summarize the alternative account, Graham offers a five-stage scheme for the evolution of the legend of Lao Dan. By the 4th century BCE, the story of Confucius meeting Lao Dan, a notable archivist of the Zhou, was well known as a Confucian tale telling the humility of the master. Around 300 BCE, Lao Dan features in the Zhuangzi portrayed as a Zhuangist spokesman. By 240 BCE, the attribution of the writings known as the Daodejing, or Laozi, would exploit Lao Dan's accepted authority over Confucius and consolidate his status as a sage, belonging to an anti-Confucian school of thought. Also around 240 BCE, Lao Dan became identified with the grand historian Dan of Zhou, a journey to the west and the writing of a book for the gatekeeper, all in an attempt to gain amnesty for the Daodejing. After 206 BCE, the descendants of the grand historian Dan of Zhou took on the identification with Lao Dan to make their lineage more favorable to the rising Han dynasty. And over the course of the 2nd century, Laoism and Zhuangism became identified under the label of Daoism, and as Lao Dan antedated Zhuangzi, the former was attributed as the founder. Of course, the alternative explanation is speculative, as those authors who I relied on admit themselves. There is no apodictic evidence for any complete historical explanation, and there is no scholarly consensus on exactly which parts of the traditional Laozi story are true and which are not. One is forced to agree with Chan's estimation that, admittedly, this is a conjecture. Yet, even though speculation is all we can do, I agree with Lao, who says that there is not only room, but need for speculation. But that's all I've got to talk about for today. This was a big one, so if you thought I got anything wrong or missed anything, please let me know down below. Thanks for watching and until next time.