10.1007@978 90 481 2933 1

Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 11
Young-chan Ro Editor
Dao Companion
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Confucian
Philosophy
Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy
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ISSN 2211-0275 ISSN 2542-8780 (electronic)

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Acknowledgments
I would like to express my sincere appreciation to the contributors of this volume

who made the publication of this volume possible. Since multiple contributors were
involved in creating this volume, the coordination of these authors was challenging
at times. Nonetheless, the writers of the chapters were deeply committed to create
this comprehensive volume on Korean Confucian philosophy and worked diligently
on their respective chapters to best represent the diverse aspects of the uniqueness
of Korean Confucianism. I also would like to appreciate Dr. John Barclay Burns
(Professor Emeritus, George Mason University) who generously provided his skills
and talents in smoothing out the sentences of this volume. I also would like to take
this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude to the Academy of Korean Studies
for providing a generous grant (AKS-2012-R) to support this project.
v
A Note on Romanization
The authors of this volume adapted the hanyu pinyin system in romanizing Chinese
words. For Korean words, this volume adapted two different systems, the McCune-
Reischauer (MR) system and the Revised Romanization (RR) system. Some con-
tributors of this volume preferred the RR system, while others maintained the MR
system. To be consistent with the authors’ preference, my introductory of summary
of each chapter uses their preferred system. Most Confucian and neo-Confucian
terminologies originated in Chinese; however, these Chinese terms and words
became Korean Confucian terminologies with Korean pronunciation, although the
Chinese characters remained the same. Korean Confucian scholars have used the
same Chinese characters but with Korean sounds. For this reason, the authors of
each chapter used Korean pronunciations when names, terms, titles, etc. appear in
the Korean philosophical context (e.g., gi (RR) 氣 or ki (MR) 氣) and pinyin when
names, terms, and titles appear in Chinese philosophical context (e.g., qi 氣)].
Clarification of Using Korean Scholars Names
Regarding the use of Korean personal names in this volume, the full name (family
name and personal name) was noted and is sometimes followed by the penname, for
example, Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen name: Toegye 退溪). However, according to the
Korean custom, well-known scholars and teachers were called not by their personal
names but by their pennames, and thus some authors preferred using these scholars
penname rather than their personal names, but even in these cases, still, their full
names were introduced first and followed by their pennames at least in the initial
and introductory part of the chapter.
vii
Contents
1 Introduction�� 1
Young-chan Ro
Part I Historical and Philosophical Overview

2 Korean Neo-Confucian Thought�� 17
Michael C. Kalton
3 What is Korean about Korean Confucianism? �� 47
Don Baker
Part II Development of Korean Neo-Confucian Philosophical

Issues and Controversies
4 “History, Philosophy, and Spirituality of the Four-Seven
Debate: The Korean Neo-Confucian Interpretation of Human
Nature, Emotions, and Self-Cultivation”�� 75
Edward Y. J. Chung
5 A Sixteenth-Century Neo-Confucian Korean Critical
Response to the Chinese Luo Zheng’an’s Theory of Human
and Moral Mind �� 113
Yueh-hui Lin
Part III Major Figurers of Korean Confucianism

6 Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk and the Rise of the Philosophy of Ki 氣�� 135
Jung Yeup Kim
7 Toegye: His Life, Learning and Times �� 159
Michael C. Kalton
8 Yi Yulgok’s Life and His Neo-Confucian Synthesis�� 179
Young-chan Ro
ix
x Contents
9 Song Siyŏl: The Revival of a Qi-Oriented Approach

to the Interpretation of the Mind�� 197
Shinhwan Kwak
Part IV Diverse Developments of Korean Confucianism

10 The Sarim Movement and Confucian Philosophy�� 213
Oaksook Chun Kim
11 The Horak Debate Concerning Human Nature and the Nature
of All Other Beings�� 233
Suk Gabriel Choi
12 Korean Yangming Learning�� 253
So-Yi Chung
Part V Korean Confucianism in Encounter with Other Traditions

13 Philosophical Bases of the Goryeo-Joseon Confucian-Buddhist
Confrontation: The Works of Jeong Dojeon (Sambong)
and Hamheo Deuktong (Gihwa) �� 285
A. Charles Muller
14 A Meeting of Extremes: The Symbiosis of Confucians
and Shamans�� 311
Boudewijn C. A. Walraven
15 Western Learning and New Directions in Korean
Neo-Confucianism�� 337
Don Baker
16 Dasan Jeong Yak-yong: A Synthesizer of Korean
Confucianism�� 363
Hongkyung Kim
Part VI Confucianism and Women in Korea

17 Neo-Confucianism, Women, and the Law in Chosŏn Korea�� 383
Jisoo M. Kim
18 Korean Confucianism and Women’s Leadership
in the Twenty-First Century – A Religious Reflection
on Gang Jeongildang 姜靜一堂 (1772–1832), a Woman
Confucian Scholar in the Late Joseon Dynasty�� 397
Un-sunn Lee
Contributors
Don Baker Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia,

Vancouver, BC, Canada
Suk Gabriel Choi Philosophy and Religious Studies, Towson University, Towson,
MD, USA
Edward Y. J. Chung Asian Studies Director and Department of Religious Studies,
University of Prince Edward Island, Charlottetown, PEI, Canada
So-Yi Chung Department of Religious Studies, Sogang University, Seoul, South
Korea
Michael C. Kalton Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences, University of Washington,
Tacoma (formerly), Tacoma, Washington, USA
Hongkyung Kim Stony Brook University, Stony Brook, NY, USA
Jisoo M. Kim Department of History, George Washington University, Washington,
DC, USA
Jung Yeup Kim Department of Philosophy, Kent State University, Kent, OH, USA
Oaksook Chun Kim Department of East Asian Studies, UCLA (formerly),
Los Angeles, CA, USA
Shinhwan Kwak Philosophy Department, Soongsil University, Seoul, South
Korea
Un-sunn Lee Department of Education, Sejong University/Institute of Korean
Feminist Integral Studies for Faith, Jongno-gu, Seoul, Republic of Korea
Yueh-hui Lin Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica,
Nankang, Taipei, Taiwan
xi
xii Contributors
A. Charles Muller Department of Buddhist Studies, Musashino University, Tokyo,

Japan
Young-chan Ro Department of Religious Studies, George Mason University,
Fairfax, VA, USA
Boudewijn Walraven Academy of East Asian Studies, Sungkyunkwan University,
Seoul, Republic of Korea
Chapter 1
Introduction
Young-chan Ro
Korean Confucianism is a unique phenomenon in which Korea received

Confucianism from China: it faithfully followed Chinese Neo-Confucianism espe-
cially the Cheng-Zhu school as the orthodox line of the Confucian tradition.
However, Korean Neo-Confucianism emerged with a highly sophisticated level of
intellectual and scholarly discourse in interpreting some fundamental Confucian
ideas that moved the debate beyond the discussion in the circle of Chinese Neo-
Confucianism. This book has been planned for some years by the scholars and
experts in the field of Korean Confucianism. The contributors to this book have tried
to present Korean Confucianism as a multifaceted, intellectual, social, cultural, and
religious phenomenon especially during the Joseon (Chosŏn dynasty) when
Confucianism was accepted as the official ruling ideology for 500 years. Furthermore,
the influence of Confucianism goes beyond the Joseon dynasty in terms of shaping
the moral and ethical norms, the value systems, indeed the way of life of the Korean
people. This book is an attempt to present various aspects of Korean Confucianism:
the historical perspective, thematic analysis of its intellectual and philosophical
development, socio-political dimensions of Korean Confucianism, religious interac-
tions of Confucianism with other religious traditions including Buddhism and sha-
manism. The book not only includes the well- known Korean Neo-Confucian
controversies of the Four-Seven debate and the Horak debate during the Joseon
period: it also includes the Korean Neo-Confucian way of responding to Catholicism
and Western science and the little known Yangming school in Korea.
The following are summary introductions to each chapter.
Michael Kalton, in his “Korean Neo-Confucian Thought,” covers the history of
Korean Neo-Confucianism from the point of the intellectual history of Korea
focusing chiefly on the Joseon dynasty. While Baker’s “What is Korean about
Y.-c. Ro (*)
Department of Religious Studies, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA
e-mail: yro@gmu.edu
© Springer Nature B.V. 2019 1

Y.-c. Ro (ed.), Dao Companion to Korean Confucian Philosophy,
Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 11,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_1
2 Y.-c. Ro
Korean Confucianism” is a thematic survey of Korean Confucianism highlighting

the uniqueness of Korean Confucianism from the perspective of moral discourse,
Kalton’s chapter is a historical and philosophical development of the Joseon Neo-
Confucian tradition. Kalton traces back the origin of Korean Neo-Confucianism to
the early fourteenth century, the late Goryeo dynasty starting with Yi Saek 李穡
(1328–1396) who utilized the Neo-Confucian critique as a tool to reform the cor-
rupted Buddhist establishment. Jeong Dojeon 鄭道傳 (1342–1398), the chief
architect of the establishment of Joseon dynasty, was an exemplary figure who made
systematic anti-Buddhist tracts. However, Gwon Geun 權近 (1352–1409) wrote
scholarly commentaries which added considerable weight to Jeong Dojeon’s anti-
Buddhist tracts. Jeong and Gwon represent the early phase of Neo-Confucian
seongnihak 性理學 (the study of human nature and its principle) in Korea.
Kalton examines the Confucian tradition of the moral self-cultivation or charac-
ter formation which was the essence of all learning. In following the Cheng-Zhu
school, Korean Confucianism was also characterized as dohak 道學 (the learning of
true Way) or seongnihak. Learning in this sense had both intellectual and moral
significance in Korean Neo-Confucianism. He states that seongnihak is pursued not
just as a mastery of complex and subtle ideas, but to draw on that understanding for
personal spiritual formation. In this dohak spirit, Korean Neo-Confucianism became
a source of inspiration for developing “forest of literati (sarim 士林) mentality
under the circumstance of the bloody “literati purges” which punctuated the first
half of the sixteenth century. Jo Gwangjo 趙光祖 (1482–1519) was the most illus-
trious representative of the sarim movement. Although he was the most trusted of
King Jungjong’s (r. 1506–44) Confucian officials and the premier icon of Korean
Neo-Confucianism, Jo and his youthful, idealistic Neo-Confucian followers pushed
their agenda too far too fast, thus alienating older officials and finally exhausting
Jungjong’s patience with their moral preaching. In 1519 Jo was exiled and soon
executed, and his supporters were declared a faction and purged. Kalton, in this
chapter, describes the historical and moral significance of the sarim mentality of
Joseon Neo-Confucianism, highlighting Jo Gwangjo who was personally and
deeply committed to rigorous self-cultivation or dohak. Kalton traces this dohak
dimension of Neo-Confucian learning through the transmission of Neo-Confucian
learning in Korea including Jeong Mongju 鄭夢周 (1337–1392), Gil Jae 吉再
(1353–1419), Kim Jongjik 金宗直 (1431–1492), Kim Goengpil 金宏弼 (1454–
1504) to Jo Gwangjo, and Yi Eonjeok 李彦迪 (1491–1553). Kalton also surveys the
philosophical debate in the Joseon seongnihak tradition in tracing the Neo-
Confucian issues of li-qi (i-gi) relationship from Yi Eonjeok (1491–1553) to the
Four-Seven debate between Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen-name: Toegye 退溪, 1501–1570)
and Gi Daeseung, 奇大升 (pen-name: Gobong 高峰, 1517–1572), and between Yi
Yi 李珥 (pen-name: Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584) and Seong Hon 成渾 (pen-name:
Ugyeo 牛溪, 1535–1598) on the dao mind and human mind. Kalton further investi-
gates the complexity of seventeenth century Korean Confucianism from many dif-
ferent angles including Joseon’s relationship with Ming China and the way Joseon
Confucian scholars understood themselves in terms of the preservers of the true
tradition of civilization. In this regard, Song Siyeol 宋時烈 (1607–1689), a leading
1 Introduction 3
Ming loyalist, became an icon of this conservative wing of Korean

Neo-Confucianism.
Kalton also discusses the historical development and philosophical discussion of
the horak debate that also surrounded by the issue of li (Kor. i) and qi (Kor. ki or gi)
regarding human beings and other sentient beings. This chapter covers up to the end
of the Joseon dynasty discussing “sirhak” 實學 (practical learning) scholars cover-
ing various subject concerning practical matters such as statecraft, agriculture, eco-
nomics, Korean geography, medicine, etc. He argues against the idea that sirhak
was an anti-Neo-Confucian movement as found in the case of Yi Ik 李瀷 (1681–
1763) who maintained both conventional seongnihak and practical learning.
However, arguably, the best representative of sirhak was Jeong Yagyong 丁若鏞
(茶山, Dasan, 1762–1836) who also challenged the Neo-Confucian tradition.
Kalton maintains Dasan also was profoundly influenced by Catholicism by reading
the works of Jesuit Catholic missionary to China, Matteo Ricci, in his construction
of Classical Confucianism from the theistic point of view. Another development
was “evidential learning” (gojeung/kaizen 考證), or searching for the truth in actual
learning (silsa gusi, 實事救是). Kalton also covers the three thinkers of the late
Joseon dynasty: Im Seongju 任聖周 (1711–88), Gi Jeongjin 奇正縝 (1798–1876),
and Yi Jinsang 李震相 (1818–1885).
Don Baker in his “What is Korean about Korean Confucianism” presents an
overview of Korean Confucianism from his unique perspective. He surveys the
Korean Confucian tradition in highlighting the moral dimension of Korean Neo-
Confucianism. Baker states that one of the most dominant Neo-Confucian issues
during the Chosŏn dynasty was the moral discourse of human perfectibility and the
recognition of human moral facility. He characterizes Korean Neo-Confucianism,
compared to Chinese Confucianism, as more focused on the psychology of self-
cultivation or moral psychology. The reason for this moral issue was due to the
desire to overcome human moral frailty that became the major concern for Korean
Confucianism. The Four-Seven debate, the Horak debate, the way they responded to
Catholicism in the late eighteenth century, and even Tonghak thought can all be
related to human moral frailty. Baker sees that there is a tension between the assump-
tion that human beings are innately virtuous and the recognition of it is not easy.
This moral dilemma was a consistent theme among the Confucian scholars through-
out the Chosŏn dynasty. Indeed, there is an ambiguity in the Confucian assumption
of innate virtue, a lack of clarity that gives rise to tension within Confucianism. At
the heart of the Confucian vision of the relationship between human beings and
human virtue, there is a lack of a clear-cut distinction between the “is” and the
“ought.” From this assumption, Baker develops his theory in stating that the con-
cepts of ch’e/ti (體) and yong (用) can also be explained in terms of essence and
potential, or ideal and real. He also relates another important pair of Neo-
Confucianism, namely, li and qi (ki). Baker argues that Korean Confucians focused
a lot of attention on the individualizing impact of qi and therefore were more con-
scious of the dangers posed by our social and material environment (the qi realm)
than most Confucians in other countries were. For this reason, Korean Confucians
felt sharply the contradiction between the assumption of human moral perfectibility
4 Y.-c. Ro
(that virtue is innate in human beings) and the reality of human moral frailty (that
few, if any, humans are morally perfect). This moral sensibility, according to Baker,
stimulated the Four-Seven debate as well as the split between pro-T’oegye and pro-
Yulgok camps that dominated much of Neo-Confucian discourse of the Joseon
dynasty.
Toegye and his followers were keenly aware of the moral frailty of human
beings in keeping li as the normative pattern governing human beings, while Yulgok
and his followers focused on qi’s role in providing both the arena and the tools for
moral struggle. While Toegye was clear about providing a moral interpretation of
“good” and “bad” in relating to li and qi, Yulgok considered it wrong to assert
“good” is a result of li and “bad” a result of qi. The moral dimension of li and qi
also influenced the ho-rak controversy about whether human nature is unique or
the same as the nature shared by animals and other sentient beings. The moral con-
cern is also found in Tasan Chŏngyagyong 丁若鏞, emphasis on the moral nature
of human being as the most distinguishing character of human being vis à vis ani-
mals and other sentient beings. Baker also argues that it is also true that the reason
for Tasan’s unique theistic vision of Confucianism was not just due to the influence
on him from Catholic missionary publications when he was young. Rather, Baker
claims, Tasan’s theism was because he shared the strong Korean concern for human
moral weakness and wanted to find a way to overcome by assuming a transcenden-
tal God or a deity. Baker also analyzes Tonghak or Eastern Learning founded by
Ch’oe Cheu, 崔濟愚 (1824–1864). Baker considers Tonghak primarily Confucian
although it also was influenced by shamanism, Daoism, and Catholicism. It
emerged out of the same search for a resolution to the frustrating contradiction
between a belief in human moral perfectibility and a recognition of human moral
frailty that runs through the main stream Confucian thought over the course of the
Joseon dynasty.
Edward Y. J. Chung discusses the Four-Seven Debate in full extent in his chapter,
“History, Philosophy, and Spirituality of the Four-Seven Debate: The Korean Neo-
Confucian Interpretation of Human Nature, Emotions and Self-Cultivation.” Chung
traces back to the textual origin and the background of the Four-Seven legacy to
situate the Korean Neo-Confucian debate on the Four-Seven controversy and estab-
lish a philosophical, moral and psychological link between the Four Beginnings and
the Seven Emotions. He goes back to Mencius for the locus classicus of the
Confucian term Four Beginnings and the Book of Rites for the Seven Emotions. The
Neo-Confucian development, especially the Cheng-Zhu school, is thoroughly dis-
cussed in this chapter by describing the intellectual history of Neo-Confucianism in
relationship with the idea of emotions or feelings. The other issue related to the
Four-Seven debate was the Song Neo-Confucian doctrine of “original human
nature” and “physical human nature” in relationship with i/li and ki/qi respectively.
However, Korean Neo-Confucianism took the relationship of the “original human
nature” and “physical human nature” in terms of li and qi and the Four and Seven.
Chung goes on to discuss on another dimension of the Korean Neo-Confucian
debate, namely, the controversy surrounding the “moral mind” (dao mind) as found
in the debate between Yi Yi 李珥 (Yulgok 栗谷 1536–1584) and Sŏng Hon 成渾
1 Introduction 5
(pen-name: Ugye 牛溪 (1535–1598). He discusses the Four-Seven debate in detail,

between Yi Hwang 李滉 (T’oegye, 退溪, 1501–1570) and Ki Taesŭng 奇大昇 (pen-
name: Kobong 高峰, 1525–1572) and Yi Yi 李珥 (Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584) and
Sŏng Hon 成渾 (Ugye, 牛溪, 1535–1598). He also discusses the issue of the “moral
mind” and the “human mind” in relationship with the Four and the Seven, and the
concept of i and ki respectively in Yulgok’s attempt not to divide these contrasting
concepts but to find the unity of them. The influence of T’oegye and Yulgok on the
later Neo-Confucian tradition in Korea in shaping the school of the primacy of i and
the school of the primacy of ki was also conceived.
Although the Four-Seven Debate was arguably the most well-known Korean
Neo-Confucian debate, the controversies on the relationship between “human
mind” (insim 人心) and “moral mind” (tosim 道心) came along with the Four-
Seven Debate. In fact, the theories of “human mind” and “moral mind” were intrin-
sically connected to the Four-Seven debate, and further to the discussion of i and ki
as found in all the Korean Neo-Confucian scholars involved in the Four-Seven
Debate. However, the Korean Neo-Confucian discussion on “human mind” and
“moral mind” was deeply influenced by the Chinese discussion on this issue. In this
regard,
Yueh-hui Lin in her “A Sixteenth-century Neo-Confucian Korean Critical
Response to the Chinese Luo Zheng’an’s 羅整菴 (pen-name: Qinshun 欽順, 1455–
1547) theory of the Human and Moral Mind” discusses the Chinese Confucian
scholar Lou Zheng’an’s influence on the Korean Neo-Confucian scholarly debate
on “human mind” and “moral mind.” Lin traces back to the origin of “human mind”
and “moral mind” in Chinese Confucianism and discusses the Neo-Confucian dis-
course on “human mind” and “moral mind” in China and Korea especially focusing
on how these concepts became prominent Korean Neo-Confucian controversy. Lin
argues that by the sixteenth century, the Korean Neo-Confucians had a sufficient
understanding and grasp of Zhu Xi’s thought, they were further develop the realm
of discourse and examine the similarities and differences of Zhu Xi and Luo
Zheng’an. Lin states that Luo Zheng’an’s theory of “human mind” and “moral
mind” became a focal point of a scholarly debate in Korean Neo-Confucianism. No
Susin 盧守愼 (pen-name: Sojae 蘇齋 1515–1590), for example, was deeply influ-
enced by Luo’s theory of “human mind” and “moral mind” in understanding that
“the moral mind is nature, the human mind is feelings. The mind is one, but one
speaks of it as two because of the distinction of activity and tranquility and differ-
ence of substance and function.” No Sojae, like Luo Zheng’an, believed that the
difference between moral mind and human mind was based on the divisions of the
mind with respect to: substance and function and the state before the feelings are
aroused and the state after the feelings are aroused. Lin also discusses the debate on
human mind and moral mind between No Sojae and Yi Ilje 李日蹄 (1683–1757)
Finally, Lin’s discussion includes most prominent Joseon Neo-Confucian scholars
such as Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong, Yi Yulgok and their assessments and critiques of
Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind.
Jung-Yeup Kim’s “Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk and the Rise of the Philosophy of Ki 氣” inves-
tigates the philosophy of the Korean Neo-Confucian Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk 徐敬德 (1489–
6 Y.-c. Ro
1546, pen name: Hwadam 花潭). According to Kim, although Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s

philosophy is a complex synthesis of various positions, it can be regarded as a phi-
losophy of ki. Kim argues that Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk contributed to the formation of an
alternative paradigm of thought based more upon ki than on li within Korean neo-
Confucianism. Kim begins by showing that the key message that underlies Sŏ
Kyŏngdŏk’s philosophical position is that the ultimate source of creativity is inher-
ent in this world and ourselves. Articulating this point is important for Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk
because it sets the cosmological grounds for the possibility and need for cultivating
and realizing our potential to create productive relationships amongst ourselves, and
with the world. Based upon this, Kim explains the practical implication of Sŏ
Kyŏngdŏk’s position, that is, what Sŏ urges us to do. Simply put, Sŏ asks us to
endeavor to form a vital harmony amongst ourselves and nature for the purpose of
enhancing the strength and the range of our shared human experience. After this, the
chapter elucidates how Sŏ encourages us to do this by articulating his soma-aesthetic
methods of self-cultivation, namely, ritual propriety and aesthetic engagement with
nature. Kim brings the inquiry to an end by showing, through recorded images of
Sŏ, how he exemplified his thoughts in his way of life.
Michael Kalton’s “Toegye: His Life, Learning and Times” discusses Yi Hwang
李滉 (pen name: Toegye 退溪, 1501–1570), one of the most revered Neo-
Confucian scholars in the Joseon dynasty. Kalton combines historical description
and philosophical discussion in presenting Toegye in a succinct way. He describes
first Toegye’s personal life from his childhood to adulthood, showing his interest
in and dedication to “learning.” For Toegye, learning consisted of intellectual
study and moral cultivation. The Book of Changes was influential in his early
learning, just after the shocking purge in 1419 of Jo Gwangjo 趙光祖 (1482–1519)
and his group of idealistic young reformers – the “literati purges” (sahwa). These
literati purges helped the rise of the “sarim” (forest of literati) movement that
stressed that the original idea of Confucian learning was in principle to be chiefly
a matter of character formation, rather than to prepare for the civil service exami-
nation. Although Toegye had no direct connection with the sarim movement nor
with Jo Gwangjo or members of his group, he is nonetheless considered Jo’s spiri-
tual heir. Toegye’s immense learning reconstructed for the first time the complete
edifice of Cheng-Zhu thought on the Korean peninsula and at the center of that
edifice stands the profound moral concern and emphasis on self-cultivation that
was the sarim hallmark. Toegye had no intention of going on to an official career,
but at the urge of his mother and older brother, he took the final civil service
examinations and he entered government service. He served the government well
and established a reputation as a conscientious official and a man of integrity but
his true passion was to retire from public service and return to his private study and
self-cultivation. Toegye returned his hometown at Toegye (he took his pen name
from this place).
Kalton also discusses how Zhu Xi’s Complete Works (Quanshu, 全書) became a
guide for Toegye’s intellectual pursuit and personal self-cultivation but the most
important Neo-Confucian work which had a long lasting affect was the
Simgyeong/Xinjing 心經 or “Classic of the Mind-and-Heart” by Zhen Dexiu 眞德秀
1 Introduction 7
(1178–1235), a leading scholar of the late Song period. “The Classic of the Mind-
and-Heart” is a crystallization of Cheng-Zhu thought dealing with personal self-cul-
tivation, an aspect often called simhak/xinxue 心學. It deals almost exclusively with
the inward cultivation of the spiritual life, and emphasizes above all “reverence”
gyeong/jing 敬 or “mindfulness” as the central practice of all self-cultivation based
on Xingli daquan 聖理大全 (The Great Compendium of Neo-Confucianism) along
with the aforementioned Zhuzi daquan (The Complete Works of Zhu Xi. Kalton also
summarizes the most celebrated and important controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian
history, the “Four-Seven Debate” especially between Toegye and Seong Hon.
Included in this chapter also was the Seonghak sipdo 聖學十圖 (Ten Diagrams on
Sage Learning), Toegye’s last and best known work as the final summation of his
appropriation of Cheng-Zhu learning and cultivation.
Young-chan Ro’s chapter “Yi Yulgok’s Neo-Confucian Synthesis” introduces Yi
Yi 李珥 (pen name: Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584), one of the two most influential
Korean Neo-Confucian scholars along with Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen name: Toegye,
1501–1570). He first surveys the historical background and the social context of
Joseon Korea at the time of Yi Yulgok. The chapter describes Yulgok’s personal life
and intellectual development, and his life as a public official in the government
including his childhood education received from his famous mother Sin Saimdang
申師任堂. Yulgok was one of the exemplary Confucian scholars who lived the
Confucian way of living the life of scholar-official. Ro tries to understand Yulgok as
a non-dualistic thinker and scholar. Ro takes a “non-dualistic” approach to interpret
Yulgok’s life and his scholarship. As a scholar-official, Yulgok tried to fulfill his
scholarly duty and his commitment as a government official without separating one
from the other. In terms of his scholarly approach, Yulgok formulated a comprehen-
sive cosmology in his famous essay, the Treaties of Heaven (Cheondocheck, 天道
策), where he discussed his idea of the unity of heaven and earth, and human beings.
For this reason, Ro characterizes Yulgok’s worldview as a “cosmo-anthropic vision”
in emphasizing the non-dualistic relationship of the human with heaven and earth.
Yulgok’s non-dualistic thinking permeated all aspects of his life and thought. The
chapter also discusses the “Four-Seven” debate Yulgok engaged with Seong Hon
成渾 (pen name: Ugye, 牛溪, 1535–1598) and the issue regarding the “human
mind” and the “moral mind.” Yulgok understood that the “Four Beginnings and
Seven Emotions (or Feelings)” not in a dualistic way, unlike Toegye who related the
Four Beginnings to li and the Seven Emotions to qi by separating the Four Beginnings
from the Seven Emotions, but in a non-dualistic way by relating the Four Beginnings
to the Seven Emotions and vice versa. Regarding the controversy of “human mind”
(insim, 人心) and “moral mind,” (dosim, 道心) Yulgok made a unique contribution
in interpreting that these two minds are not two different and separated entity in an
ontological sense but they are two different manifestations of one mind.
Shinhwan Kwak’s “Song Siyŏl 宋時烈: The Revival of a Ki-oriented Approach
to the Interpretation of the Mind” argues that the philosophers of the seventeenth
century Chosŏn dynasty did not pay due attention on much by scholars in
contemporary Korea. This era is usually considered to be highly influenced by polit-
8 Y.-c. Ro
ical strife, and because of this there was not much room for philosophical ideas to
develop. Furthermore, it is seen as a period where Neo-Confucian philosophy
became corrupt through political influence, and thus the philosophical tradition
itself was deteriorating. Yet, Kwak contends, contrary to this common view, that this
is not the case, and that if we look closely we can see various philosophers within
this era that develop rich philosophical ideas. According to him, amongst these phi-
losophers, one of the most important is Song Siyŏl (1607–1689). According to
Kwak, Song constructed his thoughts centering around the notion of ki/qi), and this
distinguishes him from other philosophers of his era who were more focused on the
notion of li, rather than qi. Kwak goes on to articulate how Song’s thoughts concern-
ing qi are intimately related both to his academic and political accomplishments,
and also how these two dimensions are deeply correlated to one another. Kwak
particularly focuses on how Song understands the mind through the notion of qi,
and how this understanding is closely tied to his views on self-cultivation as the
effort to nurture the vast moving vital forces hoyŏnjiki/haoranzhiqi 浩然之氣. In
the end, we see how Song’s thoughts, contrary to being corrupted by the political
environment, functioned to help rectify such surroundings, while also deepening
and refining our understanding of traditional Neo-Confucian ideas such as qi and
the mind.
Oaksook Chun Kim’s “Sarim Movement and Confucian Philosophy” provides a
historical narrative and a philosophical analysis of the “forest of literati” (sarim 士
林) movement, which was founded on the Confucian philosophical worldview and
ethical system. Kim shows that while Confucianism was the major influence in the
Joseon dynasty in all aspects, the relationship between official institutions and
Confucianism was not always harmonious. According to her, while sarim, literally
meaning “forest of literati” was not a formal political organization, a vast number of
Confucian intellectuals formed an alliance with the sarim movement. This move-
ment opposed corruption of members of elites amongst prestigious government
officials known as gwanhak (官學) scholars, who imposed government sanctions on
society, and also Confucian learning. According to her, this movement is meaning-
ful because of the influence it had on the progress and construction of moral dis-
course within Korean Confucianism. Kim demonstrates how the movement and the
intellectuals who were involved in it were inseparably tied to the historical events
known sahwa or literati purges that went on for decades in the Joseon dynasty. In
her inquiry, she articulates in succession, the details of the respective sahwa’s (Mu
O 戊午 of 1498, Kapja 甲子 of 1504, Kimyo 己卯 of 1519, Ulsa 乙巳 of 1545) and
the scholars who were involved in them. Through this, she shows how the regime
abused Confucianism to oppress and manipulate the people and scholars, and how
the sarim, through their actions and thoughts, exemplified and embodied the authen-
tic philosophical ideals and ideas of Confucianism.
Suk Gabriel Choi’s “The Horak Debate Concerning Human Nature and the
Nature of All Other Beings” introduces the Horak debate, based upon translations
and interpretations of the primary texts written by two major debaters, Han Won-jin
韓元震 (1682–1751) and Yi Gan 李柬 (1677–1727). Choi begins by exploring how
this debate among Korean Confucians continues Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism in
1 Introduction 9
novel ways through examining how Zhu Xi’s understanding of mibal/weifa, 未發)
was critically advanced by Han and Yi. He argues that the contrasting views con-
cerning this notion by Han and Yi brought the further differences between their
positions. Next, he goes on to examine the central topic of the Horak debate, namely,
whether the nature of human beings and the nature of non-human things are the
identical or not (inmulseong-dongilon, 人物性同一論). According to Choi, a close
look at the discussion shows that it focuses on more particular issues; for example,
whether humans and non-humans all have the five constant virtues, the relationship
between the original nature and psycho-physical nature, and whether sages and
ordinary people have the same mind-hearts. He argues that while both Han and Yi
agree that there is a difference between sages and ordinary people, they disagree
about the precise nature of this difference. He contends that this disagreement leads
to different approaches to self-cultivation, a point which he argues has been not
been sufficiently made in current scholarship. Choi concludes that while Yi and Han
share the Confucian view that all can become a sage, Yi is engaged in securing the
universal criteria and potential for achieving sagehood, while Han is more con-
cerned about being aware of our limitations in attempting to achieve this goal. The
work ends with a critical examination of some recent research on this debate.
So-Yi Chung’s “Korean Yangming Learning” introduces Korean Yangming
Learning. While the Cheng Zhu school was adapted as the orthodox line of Neo-
Confucianism in Joseon Korea, the Yangming school was considered unorthodox by
most Korean Confucian scholars. Nonetheless, Yangming Learning, although not a
dominant trend in Korea, has maintained a significant scholarly tradition. The chap-
ter presents an introduction to the history of Yangming Learning in Korea. This is
done by a succession of sections that contain information concerning the lives and
thoughts of various Korean Yangming scholars. This strand of scholarship that has
been neglected in the history of Korean philosophy includes Nam Eon-gyeong 南彦
經 (1528–1594), Yi Yo 李瑤 (pen name: Heo Gyun 許筠, 1569–1618), Yi Sugwang
李睟光 (1563–1628), Jang Yu 張維 (1587–1638), and Choe Myeong-gil 崔鳴吉
(1586–1647). Perhaps the centerpiece of the inquiry is the section on Jeong Jedu 鄭
齊斗 (pen name: Hagok, 霞谷, 1649–1739), who can be considered the greatest of
Korean Yangming scholars in terms of his scholarship. Yet, more importantly, we
begin to see the Koreanization of Yangming learning beginning with him. Unlike
Wang who denied Zhu Xi’s metaphysical framework of li and qi, Jeong synthesized
Wang’s mind based theory with Zhu Xi’s position. Thus, Jeong produces a new
position of his own that is different from the position of Wang Yang Ming. The
chapter goes on to articulate the details of the later scholars who were influenced by
Jeong, and ends with an analysis of two contemporary Korean Yangming philoso-
phers, namely, Park Eunshik 朴殷植 (1859–1925) and Jeong Inbo 鄭寅普 (1893–
?). Along with Jeong Jedu, the positions of these two philosophers show how
Yangming learning has been Koreanized.
The next chapter is Charles Muller’s “Philosophical Bases of the Goryeo-Joseon
Confucian-Buddhist Confrontation: The Works of Jeong Dojeon 鄭道傳 (pen name:
Sambong 三峯 and Gihwa 己和 Hamheo Deuktong 涵虛得通. Muller describes the
10 Y.-c. Ro
relationship between Buddhism and Confucianism in Korea. Korean Confucianism

can be better understood not only in the social and political context but also the
religious context of Korea during the Goryeo-Joseon period. Thus he tries to pro-
vide the historical, political, philosophical and religious contexts for understanding
the relationship between Buddhism and Confucianism. Muller, before getting into
the Korean context, provides a historical perspective relating Confucianism and
Daoism during the period of Buddhist preeminence. He traces back to the origin of
Confucian reaction and criticism of Buddhism to the case Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824).
Han Yu’s two best-known critical essays on Buddhism are the Origin of the Way 原
道 and Memorial on the Buddha’s Bone 諫迎佛骨. Han’s arguments were aimed at
pointing out visible excesses on the part of certain members of the Buddhist clergy
and the rulers involved with the clerics: the nature of the criticism was not philo-
sophical and substantive regarding Buddhist teaching but emotional. More substan-
tive criticism against Buddhism, however, came from the Neo-Confucian scholars
in the line of Zhu Xi and his followers mainly of the Song dynasty’s seon/chan
Buddhism, especially its nihilistic tendency. Muller found Zongmi 宗密 (780–841)
and Qisong 契嵩 (1007–1072) were the representatives from the Buddhist camp
responding to the Neo-Confucian criticisms of the Chan Buddhism. These responses
were developed even before the development of the sophisticated metaphysics of
the major Neo-Confucian scholars including the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi. He
also noted the lack of sustained commensurate response from the part of Chan/Seon
tradition. It may be that the general character of Chan was not polemic in engaging
in a discursive thinking and debate.
Muller points out the difference between the Chinese situation and the Korean
context regarding the Neo-Confucian criticism of Buddhism. The Korean Buddhist
establishment was thoroughly embedded in the state power structure and corrupted.
Thus the Korean Neo-Confucian criticism was based on both philosophical and
practical issues. The main complaint expressed in these arguments was that Buddhist
practices were antisocial and escapist and Buddhist doctrine was nihilistic. One of
the most important and well known critics of Buddhism was Jeong Do-jeon 鄭道
傳 (三峰, 1342–1398) who was the main architect of the Joseon dynasty in estab-
lishing Confucianism as the state ideology. One of Joeng’s best criticisms of
Buddhism was his famous, the Bulssi japbyeon 佛氏雜辯 (Critique on Various
Buddhist Doctrines) which was his most complete anti-Buddhist polemical work,
containing an extensive refutation of Buddhist doctrine and practices from a Neo-
Confucian perspective. His critique is thorough, covering every major aspect of the
Buddhist doctrine, the primary object of his criticism was the seon sect 禪宗.
Obviously, Jeong’s critique was deeply influenced by his Chinese predecessors
including primarily the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi.
Muller also notes the influence of Zongmi on the major figures of Korean
Buddhism including Gihwa 己和 (Hamhoe Deuktong 涵虛得通, 1376–1433)
among others who was the most articulate in responding to the Neo-Confucian criti-
cism of Buddhism. Gihwa’s Hyeonjeong non 顯正論 (“Exposition of Orthodoxy”)
was an attempt to respond to Jeong Do-jeon’s Bulssi japbyeon. In this chapter
Muller explains the content of the Hyeonjeong non in summary form: the main
1 Introduction 11
theme of Gihwa’s assertion was basically Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism

share the same teaching of humaneness (in, 仁) and the myriad living beings of the
universe is interlinked with one another. Yet, the three teachings should be under-
stood as three types of expression of the same reality. Gihwa’s attempt to unify the
three teachings also is found in Hyujeong’s Samga Gwigam (三家龜鑑).
Boudewjin Walravan’s “A Meeting of Extremes: The Symbiosis of Confucians
and Shamans”.
traces the roots of shamanism or mu (巫) or mudang (巫堂) to understand Korean
shamanism from historical and social contexts. He begins his essay with the prob-
lem of defining the complex nature of the shaman. Walravan investigates early
Korean history in relationship with the nature and role of shamanistic rituals at the
court and among common people. His main discussion of shamanism, however, is
the interaction between Buddhism, Daoism, and especially Confucianism. He
argues that shamanic rituals occupied a prominent place at the center of power but
were gradually pushed out of the realm of state ritual, and it tended to serve the
needs of individuals and families of marginal groups. With the introduction of
Buddhism, Confucianism, and Daoism, the use of written language became impor-
tant, and learning Chinese became essential as these religions became familiar to
the people. While these religions required reading of written texts and conducting
rituals in a formal manner, shamanism was spontaneous and anti-hierarchical and
became a popular religion. According to Walravan, Buddhism, although individual-
istic, also served as an official ritual at the court during the time of Unified Shilla
and Koyrŏ. Confucianism and shamanism have been two opposite poles of Korean
society. While Confucianism emphasized self-cultivation and personal virtue, sha-
manism was interested in seeking personal happiness (kibok 祈福), however, it does
not mean that shamanism has no ethical or moral dimension. Walravan argues that
shamanism has an ethical dimension based on reciprocity. He surveys shamanism in
Korea by going back to the ancient Korean states, especially the founding rulers, in
discussing Tan’gun or shin’gyŏ (神敎) and the function of king as a shaman in
charge of political and spiritual power. He also discusses the role of Buddhist monks
functioning as shamans during the time of Three Kingdoms and the Unified Shilla.
According to Walravan, the Koryŏ court was religiously pluralistic including
Buddhism, shamanism, and Confucianism. The interaction among these religions
was rather fluid. However, with the rise of the Chosŏn dynasty when Confucianism
became the official ideology, shamanism was not allowed either in the court or in
the city. Walravan argues that under the Confucian rule, Buddhism and shamanism
managed to find tactics to survive and maintain considerable support from the com-
moners in spite of discriminatory government policies in characterizing “co-
existence within conflict.” During the Chosŏn dynasty, in general, males were
educated in Confucianism, while females favored shamanism and Buddhism.
Confucianism played a public and official role in governing the family and society,
while shamanism addressed the private life of common people and even the elite. In
this respect, even Confucian literati and government officials allowed shaman ritu-
als in their private home. Generally, an equilibrium was reached in the relationship
in the relationship between the elite Confucians and shamans.
12 Y.-c. Ro
Don Baker’s “Western Learning and New Directions in Korean Neo-

Confucianism” shows a new and different aspect of the Neo-Confucian develop-
ment in the late Chosŏn dynasty. Eighteenth and nineteenth century Korean
Neo-Confucianism took a different turn from the mainline Korean Neo-Confucian
discussion including li and qi (ki), the issues regarding human nature, and moral
mind (道心) and human mind (人心). One of the reasons for this change, as Baker
notes in this chapter, was due to the first encounter Koreans had with Western learn-
ing by Jesuit missionaries in China at the end of the sixteenth century including
Matteo Ricci (1552–1610) and Michele Ruggieri (1543–1607). Western Learning
was influential among Korean Neo-Confucian scholars by reading Ricci’s Tianzhu
shiyi (The True Significance of the Lord of Heaven – Kor. Chŏnju silŭi) and another
collection of Jesuit writings entitled Tianxue chuhan (An introduction to heavenly
learning – Kor. Ch’ŏnhak ch’oham) compiled by the Chinese Catholic convert
LeoLi Zhizao (1565–1630). The missionaries hoped that, by introducing Western
science and technology, Confucians could be also being convinced to adopt the
Christianity that undergirded the civilization that had produced them. However, this
attempt was not all successful because Confucians were inclined more to abstract
numbers than Euclidean geometry. The Neo-Confucian vision of the universe was
one in which changes and patterns that direct it, are fundamental. Baker also dis-
cusses the linguistic issues among Catholics and Confucians regarding, for exam-
ple, “substance” (ch’e, 體) or “principle” (li, 理).
He then moves on to discuss Jeong Yakyong (Chŏng Yagyong), the representa-
tive Korean scholar who had an early contact with Western Learning. Chŏng
Yagyong 丁若鏞 (1762–1862), better known as Dasan (Tasan, 茶山), was one of
the most prolific writers in the entire five centuries of the Chosŏn dynasty. In his
writing, Tasan drew not only on earlier generations of Chinese and Korean writings
on the classics, but also on works by the Confucian scholars of Tokugawa Japan and
even on works by Jesuit missionaries in China introducing Thomism. In his writ-
ings, there are some significant differences in characterizing Tasan’s philosophical
orientation. There are some arguments over whether he should be considered a Neo-
Confucian or as someone who had renounced Neo-Confucianism and returned to
the core messages in the ancient Confucian Classics. Baker argues that there is no
doubt that Tasan shared the Neo-Confucian concern for the cultivation of a moral
character, and relied heavily on the Four Books promoted by Neo-Confucians as
guides to self-cultivation. He also used Neo-Confucian terms in his commentaries
and essays. However, there is also no doubt that Tasan redefined key Neo-Confucian
concepts to make them more compatible with his vision of human beings as autono-
mous individuals who had to struggle to live the virtuous life demanded by
Confucianism. Tasan’s familiarity with Western Learning was particularly influen-
tial in determining his original philosophical orientation. However, when Tasan was
trying to counter a threat to his political career that his youthful involvement with
Catholicism posed, and the government started killing Catholics for their refusal to
engage in the ancestor memorial rituals (chesa 祭祀), Tasan abandoned the Korean
Catholic community. Baker further argues that Tasan was very careful never to say
anything explicitly favorable to Catholic ideas in any of his writings, but he also
1 Introduction 13
departed significantly from mainstream Neo-Confucianism in his interpretation of

the Confucian Classics. Finally, Baker states that Tasan’s idea of God or Sangje
上宰 (Lord Above) is a Confucian God, not a God revealed found in the scriptures
who judges us after we die. Baker concludes that Tasan’s God is simply a personifi-
cation of morality, and functions only to inspire us to overcome our own moral
frailty.
Hongkyung Kim’s “Dasan Jeong Yak-yong: A Synthesizer of Korean
Confucianism” discusses the significance of Dasan (茶山) and his place in the his-
tory of Confucianism in Korea. Hongkyung Kim explores the uniqueness of Dasan
in the context of the historical development of Confucianism that has evolved from
classical texts such as “Changes” (Yijing, 易經) and the “Constant Mean”
(Zhongyong, 中庸) to the formation of the concept “principle” (i, 理) pivotal in the
neo-Confucian philosophy. Kim argues that Dasan positively recognized the neo-
Confucian project to reform, revitalize, and reinterpret classical Confucianism. Kim
tries to show that Dasan attempted to integrate the idea of reforming society and
exploring modern science that have been considered by contemporary interpreters
as “Practical Learning” (silhak, 實學). However, Kim argues that Dasan’s search for
social reform and his way of investigating scientific topics are not to be character-
ized as simply “Practical Learning.” Rather, according to Kim, Dasan’s efforts can
be characterized as “Learning of Practical Principle” (sillihak, 實理學) because
Dasan’s suggestions for social reform were about “principle in human relation-
ships” and his studies on the modern science were about the “principle of things.”
Furthermore, Kim argues that Dasan was a synthesizer who tried to relate “practi-
cality” (sil 實) found in pre-Qin Confucian scholars to metaphysical theory such as
“principle” (i 理) in neo-Confucianism to create a new theoretical paradigm. In this
way, according to Kim, Dasan tried to synthesize the old Confucian teachings on
practical issues and the neo-Confucian learning of principle to form the “learning of
practical principle.”
Jisoo M. Kim’s “Neo-Confucianism, Women, and the Law in Chosŏn Korea”
deals with the status of women, especially the legal aspects of women in the Chosŏn
dynasty (1392–1910). While most have illuminated the lives of elite women during
the Chosŏn period, Kim takes a look at marginalized women such as widows, single
women, and concubines to understand the implementation of the Neo-Confucian
patriarchal and patrilineal systems had impact on the family structure of not only the
elite but also the lower social strata. According Jisoo Kim, unlike elite women, com-
moner and slave women let much more diverse lives according to their practical
socioeconomic situations and were less bound by Confucian gender norms. This
chapter by examining women’s petitioning practice, focuses on how women’s legal
practice manifested the tensions among Confucian ideals, the law, and social prac-
tice. Jisoo Kim argues that while it was mandatory for elite women to abide by the
Confucian gender norms, it was voluntary for non-elite women. During the Chosŏn
dynasty, elite yangban women, for example, were regulated by the Kyŏngguk taejŏn
經國大典 (Great Code of Administration) or the Soktaejŏn 續大典 (Continuation
of the Great Code). In these two Great Codes, there are six representative provisions
that regulated women’s conduct but these provisions were to control over the sexual
14 Y.-c. Ro
behavior of elite women. Nevertheless, non-elite women were not legally bound by
Confucian gender ethics as elite women were throughout the dynasty. Jisoo Kim
also argues that in the Chosŏn, women not only appealed for themselves but also for
family members such as husbands natal and in-law parents, and children. Whereas
women were deprived of economic and ritual privileges, the state continued to rec-
ognize women as legal subjects until the end of the dynasty.
Un Sunn Lee’s “Korean Confucianism and Women’s Leadership in the Twenty-
First Century – a religious reflection on Kang Jŏngildang, a Woman Confucian
Scholar in the Late Chosŏn Dynasty” argues that contemporary Korean women,
while distancing themselves from the roles of being a mother or wife, simultane-
ously emphasize the virtues of care in their quest for female leadership. This seems
to be a contradiction since these virtues constitute the heart of motherhood or wife-
hood in the traditional Confucian tradition. Lee argues that in order to resolve such
apparent inconsistency, it is necessary to inquire into traditional Confucian wom-
en’s lives and thoughts from a religious perspective. For her, the core of Confucian
religiosity does not reside in the ideas of God or an afterlife, but in the way to
become a sage, which involves the effort to make sacred all aspects of everyday life.
By articulating how Kang Jeongildang’s thoughts and actions exemplified and
embodied this Confucian religiosity, Lee shows that the lives of traditional
Confucian women were not as oppressed as usually believed, and reveals how their
lives embodied the virtues of care, which contemporary men and women can use as
models for authentic leadership. In concluding, she argues that the Confucian reli-
giosity of traditional Korean women that Kang exemplified by her actions and
thoughts can serve as a new spiritual ground for the construction of renewed post-
modern feminist subjectivity in the twenty-first century. Furthermore, not only can
it function as a spiritual force that can unify the rift between the public and private
spheres, but also it has the capacity to be an all-embracing power that can bring
together all domains of this world into life giving cohesion.
Part I
Historical and Philosophical Overview
Chapter 2
Korean Neo-Confucian Thought
Michael C. Kalton
1 Introduction: Early Joseon Neo-Confucianism
Neo-Confucianism was introduced to Korea in the early fourteenth century, at about

the same time the Mongol Yuan 元 dynasty in China made the Cheng-Zhu 程-朱
understanding of the Confucian classics the standard interpretation for their reinsti-
tuted civil service examination system. Yuan China was deliberately cosmopolitan:
Koreans as well as other non-Chinese routinely took the exams and served for a
period in government before returning to their homeland. By 1367 Goryeo 高麗
reinstituted its own Confucian Academy, staffed largely by scholar-officials who
had studied while in residence in the Yuan capital. Soon civil-service examinations
emulating the Yuan model started to fill the lower ranks of government with young
officials steeped in the new Cheng-Zhu learning.
The record of the Goryeo intellectual appropriation of the complex body of
Cheng-Zhu thought is thin. In both China and Korea the ability to craft a fine poem
or write an elegant memorial continued to weigh heavily in access to officialdom; it
was also easier to test than character formation, the orthodox Confucian legitima-
tion for government careers. Further, there is little evidence of serious involvement
with the distinctive core of ascetical practice and theory which was the Neo-
Confucian alternative to Buddhist meditative cultivation.
The great names of Goryeo Neo-Confucianism such as Yi Saek 李穡 (1328–
1396) were mostly Buddho-Confucians who utilized the Neo-Confucian critique as
a tool to reform the clearly corrupt Buddhist establishment. Only gradually did the
radical notion of an exclusively Confucian-mediated truth take hold as the basis for
a systematic rejection of Buddhism. A complete rejection of Buddhism would be
M. C. Kalton (*)
Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences, University of Washington, Tacoma (formerly), Tacoma,
Washington, USA
e-mail: mkalton@u.washington.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_2
18 M. C. Kalton
tantamount to ending the Goryeo dynasty, so deeply were the two intertwined. Thus
one hears it advocated first and most clearly as the sentiment of the group of scholar-
officials who helped put Yi Seonggye on the throne as Yi Taejo, the founder of the
Joseon 朝鮮 dynasty. Jeong Dojeon 鄭道傳 (1342–1398), the chief architect of the
coup and dominating figure of the first decade, is famed for his three anti-Buddhist
tracts, the first philosophical critiques heralding the kind of exclusivistic rejection of
Buddhism that was to become common later in the dynasty. In this period, however,
he seems more the exception than the rule. More typical is the other great Neo-
Confucian scholar of early Joseon, Gwon Geun 權近 (1352–1409). Gwon wrote
scholarly commentaries which added considerable weight to Jeong Dojeon’s anti-
Buddhist tracts, but at the same time his own brother was a Buddhist monk, and
Gwon’s outstanding literary talents often found expression in composing Buddhist
prayers and commemorative pieces for temple foundings or rituals supported by the
devoutly Buddhist Yi Seonggye 李成桂.
Works written by Jeong Dojeon and Gwon Geun in fact constitute our earliest
record of the intellectual appropriation of Neo-Confucianism during this period. It
is commonly noted that there is nothing especially original in the content of Jeong’s
critique of Buddhism: he simply reechoes well-rehearsed criticisms common in the
Cheng-Zhu literature.
Gwon Geun is generally considered the leading Neo-Confucian intellectual fig-
ure of this early period. Like Jeong Dojeon, it is striking how he retraces the funda-
mental junctures of Zhu Xi’s synthesis with a joyous sense of discovery of how it
all hangs together. This is especially evident in the famous first chapter of his best
known work, the Diagrammatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning
(Iphak doseol 入學圖說). Entitled, “Diagram of Heaven and Man, Mind-and-Heart
and Nature, Conjoined as One,” it explicitly intends to synthesize Zhou Dun-i’s 周
敦頤 Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu 太極圖), the founding document of
Neo-Confucian metaphysics, and the Doctrine of the Mean, the chief classical
repository for Neo-Confucian theory of cultivating the inner life of consciousness.
Gwon’s diagram in this chapter graphically captures the anthropocosmic charac-
ter of the Neo-Confucian vision: it depicts the entire cosmos in the shape of a human
being, with a round head and square trunk reflecting the ancient tradition that
“heaven is round and earth square,” and two legs representing the divergent path
between following physicalist impulses and ending like an animal, versus following
i (li, 理), the normative patterning principle of all things, and fulfilling oneself as a
sage, whose perfect responsiveness to all situations is comparable to the all-
embracing greatness of Heaven. “Heaven” in Confucian parlance refers to the ulti-
mate, normative dimension of existence, different in history but not in content from
the more philosophical Neo-Confucian term, i. Gwon’s intuitive rooting of good
and evil in i and gi (qi, 氣) the concretizing, energizing component of all things, is
replayed more than a century later at a much higher level of sophistication, bringing
up complex questions we shall see when we take up the Four-Seven debate.
Jeong and Gwon represent the early phase of Neo-Confucian seongnihak in
Korea. Seongnihak (xing-li xue 性理學), literally, “the study of the nature (seong
性) and patterning principle (li 理)” is the distinctive Neo-Confucian intellectual
2 Korean Neo-Confucian Thought 19
system that weaves together a metaphysics of the cosmos with the inner structure of
our nature and psyche and thus establishes the essential framework for understand-
ing the inner dimensions of serious spiritual cultivation. Moral self-cultivation or
character formation had from the earliest days of the Confucian tradition been held
to be the essence of all learning, and without it as the living core any other type of
learning would be held as empty. In the Cheng-Zhu school this crystallized into a
sort of sub-school called dohak/dao-xue 道學, “the learning of the true Way.” Dohak
was noted for its rigorous moral and ritual standards and a strong focus on self-
cultivation which usually included a serious meditative or “quiet-sitting” compo-
nent. The dohak tradition was to become especially strong in Korea and was closely
associated with the pursuit of seongnihak and ritual learning. On the other hand,
though a good literary style and good poetry were the mainstays of repute in public
life, literary pursuits were often deemed the antithesis of dohak. Thus it was fine to
be praised for skill with the brush and in poetic competition, but men with seongni-
hak or dohak reputations would not admit to taking their polished literary skills
seriously. And involvement in political life brought with it the obvious mundane
rewards, introducing yet another division as those who pursued and enjoyed power
and wealth were contemptuously dismissed by dohak Neo-Confucians as “worldly
Confucians.” When seongnihak is pursued not just as a mastery of complex and
subtle ideas, but to draw on that understanding for personal spiritual formation,
seongnihak and dohak amount to the same thing; and so they did in great figures
such as Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen-name Toegye 退溪 1501–70) and Yi I 李珥 (pen name
Yulgok 栗谷 1536–84), the icons of Korea’s seongnihak tradition.
But the road from Jeong Dojeon and Gwon Geun to Toegye and Yulgok is long.
Clearly the central mission of the fifteenth century was institution building, and it was
the work of many decades before the foundation of a formerly Buddhist society was
modified to the point where the elite class took Confucian cultivation and ritual ortho-
praxis as a critical status marker. Gwanhak/guanxue 官學, “bureaucratic learning,”
the political and institutionally oriented Confucian focus, was much in the forefront
throughout this period, along with its common counterpart, the cultivation of literary
style. The latter was by no means impractical, for literary Chinese was the language
of government documents and of international relations as well. During this period
Korean scholars ransacked ancient Confucian texts such as the Book of Rites (Li ji 禮
記) and Rituals of Zhou (Zhou li 周禮) with an entirely new intensity and seriousness
in the search for descriptions of normative ritual and institutional arrangements.
In Ming China (1368–1644) as well, the kind of consolidation and crystallization
of fixed and authoritative reference points (the kind of thing prized by students pre-
paring for civil service examinations) in the seongnihak tradition was just under
way. A large-scale compilation project combed through all the works of the major
Song and Yuan dynasty Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucians and arranged passages under
topical categories for easy reference. The Great Compendium of seongnihak (Xing-li
da-chuan 性理大全) was completed in 1415, and with its companion volumes con-
taining the authoritative commentaries on the classics, the Great Compendium on
the Four Books and Five Classics (Si-shu wu-jing da-chuan 四書五經大全),
reached Korea a little more than a decade later. Only in the next century, however,
20 M. C. Kalton
do we begin to find evidence that scholars have had wide access to such works so
that their contents begin to become a commonplace of intellectual discourse.
In the meantime, short compendia that could be easily copied and widely distrib-
uted had a greater influence. Zhu Xi’s Learning for Youth (Sohak/Xiao-xue 小學), a
book of quotations from classical and Neo-Confucian authorities on proper cultiva-
tion and practice, was especially influential. It became not only the mandatory gate
for all who aspired to higher learning, but as dohak slowly took hold towards the
end of the century we find scholars of high repute such as Kim Koengpil 金宏弼
(1454–1504) making their continued devotion to it a point of honor. Under such
auspices rigorous moral cultivation advanced on a track somewhat separated from
immersion in seongnihak.
One can trace a line of increasing Neo-Confucian assertiveness through the fif-
teenth century as the center of public life became gradually more organized in terms
of Confucian norms. The process took place somewhat in fits and starts, with inter-
mittent recurrence to Buddhism especially in the royal household. The strong-willed
King Sejo 世祖 (r. 1455–68) supported printing new editions of Buddhist sutras and
found ready support among still Buddho-Confucian scholars in the highest ranks of
officialdom. But this was soon rolled back by his strongly Neo-Confucian succes-
sor, King Seongjong 成宗 (r. 1469–94), under whom temples were appropriated,
yangban women were forbidden to become nuns, and the ordination of monks was
prohibited.
2 The Sarim Mentality and the Maturation of Seongnihak
Far more than this natural process of growth and solidification, however, the bloody
“literati purges” which punctuated the first half of the sixteenth century left their
imprint on the mentality of the “forest of literati” (sarim/shilin, 仕林) that emerged
in the latter half of the century. This self-consciously moralistic sarim mentality was
woven about a core of dohak, raising that dimension of the Neo-Confucian tradition
to a central focus and giving it a lineage in Korea hallowed by the blood of martyrs
and identified thus with the righteous oppressed.
A scholar such as Edward Wagner sees the purges in terms of institutional ten-
sions: especially under the thoroughly Neo-Confucian King Seongjong, the
Confucian ideal of remonstrating officials was allowed to develop to the extent that
there were three bureaus granted the power of remonstrance (Wagner 1974). When
the bureaus acted in concert, as they increasingly did in opposition to the High State
Counselors, they could bring the government to a standstill. The bureaucratic
remonstrators were often junior officials, young idealistic products of the civil ser-
vice examination system. The Counselors were generally established men at the
height of long political careers. The picture institutionally is one of the power of
remonstrance coming into conflict with the executive authority of the throne and
high policy makers; it also was exacerbated by its congruence with common human
sources of tension: younger versus elder, newcomers versus the established, ideal-
ists versus pragmatists.
These tensions found bloody release in purges unleashed in 1498 and 1504 under
the mentally unstable King Yeonsan’gun 燕山君 (r. 1494–1506). As Yeonsan’gun
descended into the depths of paranoia the purge in 1504 transcended any particular
group to become a general reign of terror among government personnel. Yeonsan’gun
was deposed in an almost bloodless coup in 1506 and replaced by his half-brother,
who became King Jungjong 中宗 (r. 1506–44).
The events of Jungjong’s reign, set against the backdrop of the depravity and
death that marked the reign of his predecessor, critically shaped what was to become
the distinctive character in the Korean Neo-Confucian tradition. To understand this,
one must grasp first the initial reactionary period, 1506–1519. So deep was the
revulsion for the excesses of Yeonsan’gun that what he had opposed now became
sacrosanct, putting the politics of moralistic remonstrance at the center as never
before. The movement found especially potent expression in the figure of a brilliant
and charismatic young official who first entered office in 1515: Jo Gwangjo 趙光祖
(1482–1519) was to become the first true icon of Korean Neo-Confucianism, a posi-
tion sealed by his martyrdom just 4 years later.
By all accounts they were an extraordinary 4 years. By his learning and force of
character Jo completely won Jungjong’s confidence and rose to the heights of power,
filling the government with equally idealistic young supporters as he rose. It was a
Confucian Camelot: the young reformers sincerely believed, as the classics taught,
that a good and human hearted ruler who would willingly listen to the advice of
wise and good ministers could bring about a repetition of the ideal reigns of the
sages Yao and Shun. They had the ruler, they had the minister, and the momentum
of the political world was with them. But the young idealists, led by Jo, pushed their
agenda too far too fast, alienating older officials and finally wearying Jungjong with
moral preachments that often went on into the early morning hours. Almost without
warning, in 1519 Jo was exiled and soon executed, and his supporters were declared
a faction and purged.
The turnabout from the politics of high idealism to the politics of mundane
power-broking was breathtaking in its suddenness, but this short period proved a
defining moment for the sarim mentality. Jo Gwangjo was personally and deeply
committed to the rigorous self-cultivation or dohak dimension of Neo-Confucian
learning, and in the atmosphere of the times he moved it into the mainstream. With
his sudden downfall this kind of intense focus on spiritual cultivation became, for
the immediately following decades, an object of deep suspicion, but it emerged
again, as we shall see, to become a salient feature of the mature tradition.
These events profoundly shaped Neo-Confucian consciousness of the past,
focusing attention and raising to prominence a narrow thread from the fabric of the
transition period as the line of the true transmission. Later Korean Neo-Confucian
tradition avoided identifying its roots with the powerful, politically active, society
and institution building Neo-Confucians of the first century. Rather they sought
their identity in non-establishment sources, a fact that gave its own peculiar spin to
later values, which tended to strongly associate moral purity with a life of
22 M. C. Kalton
s elf-cultivation in retirement in the countryside far from the corrupting games of

power and wealth played out in the capitol.
Thus the line of true transmission of Neo-Confucian learning in Korea came to
be traced from Jeong Mongju 鄭夢周 to Gil Jae 吉再, Kim Jongjik 金宗直 and
Kim Koengpil 金宏弼, thence to Jo Gwangjo and Yi Eonjeok 李彦迪, a line steeped
in heroic virtue and bloody martyrdom befitting an elevated dohak tradition. This is
not particularly good history, insofar as it slights the major role played by establish-
ment figures such as Jeong Dojeon or Gwon Geun and his many illustrious disci-
ples. In fact, the suggested picture of virtuous self-cultivation-oriented young
Confucians emerging from rural retreats to take on a corrupt political establishment
is itself the artificial product of the purges, for apart from Gil’s teaching in retire-
ment rather than taking office, there is little that really puts these purge victems
outside the circles of established wealth, power, and prestige. Many of Kil’s disci-
ples took and passed the civil service examinations, apparently no more outsiders
than the many disciples of Gwon Geun.1
The first record of philosophical seongnihak debate in the Joseon dynasty is
found in the correspondence of Yi Eonjeok (1491–1553), Jo Gwangjo’s contempo-
rary and, like him, a student of Kim Koengpil. In 1517–18, when the Jo Gwangjo
movement was in full surge, Yi became involved in an interchange with Jo Hanbo
曺漢輔 (dates unknown), an older scholar who belonged to the generation of Kim
Koengpil. Their debate, fitting the context of the times, concerned the interpretation
of meditative self-cultivation, a dohak practice championed by Jo Gwangjo and his
generation. Jo Hanbo’s sort of Buddho-Confucian interpretation of meditative self-
cultivation typified a problem that ran throughout the first half of the sixteenth cen-
tury. Yi Eonjeok confronts this head-on: “You present vast and empty themes that
have nothing to do with practical down-to-earth lessons in what is proper (Yi E
1631: [5] 17b).” Yi, with the fervor of a young generation that feels it has the Truth,
relocates meditative cultivation in its intended Neo-Confucian framework, and
shows us that in the Jo Gwangjo era a firm grasp on the seongnihak-dohak core of
Cheng-Zhu thought is firmly in place:
The Dao in its Great Origin proceeds from heaven and spreads to the Three Ultimates,
heaven, earth, and man. In all the universe there is nowhere one can go where there is no
ongoing activity of this Dao; there is not a creature that does not embody this Dao. As for
the form it takes in man, the greater elements are the primary relationships between ruler
and subject, father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger; the lesser elements are
the appropriate measure regarding activity and quiet, food and rest, coming forward to serve
in office or retiring, rising and declining. This goes to the extent that each case of speaking
or keeping silent, each frown or smile, has its own proper norm. (Yi E 1631: [5]18a)
Here we see the effect of the Neo-Confucian appropriation of the one dao (do,
道) or patterning principle (i) that runs through all things: its point is not mystical
1
According to Yun (1983) Gil had 11 students, 6 of whom took and passed the civil service exami-
nations, while Gwon had 14 with 10 exam passers. Kim Jongjik, the most prolific teacher of the
century, had 93 students with 53 exam passers Yun 1983: [1] 2. Kim Jongjik was among the most
successful, enjoying high position at the center of power. His forte was literary elegance, though
he was also a champion of the Sohak and its moral training.
unity with all things, but the appropriate response to them, for the pattern has con-
tent, and that content in the human case is the traditional Confucian moral norms,
beginning with the hallowed five relationships. This lays the groundwork for Yi’s
presentation of meditative discipline, formerly a Buddhist preserve:
When the feelings of joy and anger, sorrow and pleasure, have not yet been aroused, the
perfect genuineness of our mind-and-heart is quiet and unmoved: this is what is described
as the wonder of the “ultimate of non-being,” and the great foundation of the universe con-
sists in this. Therefore one should always apply oneself to preserving and nurturing it so
that the great foundation may be established and serve as the master of our interaction with
others and the myriad changing developments of life. Then what issues from the aroused
mind-and-heart will be perfectly measured, and one will have attained to being right when-
ever one acts. (Yi E 1631: [5] 18b)
Cheng-Zhu metaphysics in effect presented an epistemology of sagehood, a goal

for cultivation that could rival the Buddhist quest for enlightenment. The classics
had long described perfection in terms of spontaneously responding with perfect
appropriateness to all things. I, patterning principle, is not only the nature of each
thing, but the norm and guide of its responsive activity in relation to other creatures.
Now, with i, the normative pattern for all things, within oneself as the structure or
“substance” of the mind-and-heart, it is possible to understand at last that sagehood
is nothing but the unobstructed functioning of that pattern. But if such perfect func-
tioning is to be a real potential, then the imperfection or “turbidity” of gi, used as a
way of accounting for obstruction or imperfection, must be kept separate, on some
deep level “unadmixed,” with the pure perfection of i. Yi’s argument with Jo Hanbo
and the many similar scenarios in the sixteenth century represent the actual process
of Neo-Confucianism in Korea maturing to the point of actually replacing Buddhism
on this deep level of spiritual practice.
But with the sudden downfall of Jo Gwangjo in 1519 such study fell under sus-
picion. The kind of orientation typified by Yi Eonjeok continued to develop, but
apart from the mainstream of public life. Thus predominant Neo-Confucian men-
tors of the first half of the sixteenth century were mainly scholars who resolutely
stayed out of official careers or earnestly sought retirement when caught up in
public life.
For those used to hearing about Joseon Korea’s exclusive devotion to Zhu Xi,
the independence and variety evident in major teachers of the first half of the six-
teenth century is surprising. The earliest of them, Seo Gyeongdeok 徐敬德 (1486–
1546), better known by his pen-name, Hwadam 花潭, is one of the best known
thinkers of the dynasty. He spent his life in poverty and retirement in order to
devote himself entirely to study and teaching. In a tradition that expended tremen-
dous intellectual energy investigating the tensions of Cheng-Zhu i-gi dualism, he
staked out a pure polar position in total independence from Zhu Xi’s school, main-
taining an absolute monism of gi, reducing i to being simply the patterning struc-
ture inherent in gi.
Hwadam’s explication of this position is virtually identical with the philosophy
of Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), a major figure in China’s Song dynasty Neo-
Confucian revival. Zhang’s views in turn are very much in line with traditional East
24 M. C. Kalton
Asian notions of gi. Most of these ideas relating to gi were taken up by the Cheng-
Zhu school, although i, the governing pattern or principle, was distinguished from
gi in a more dualistic manner. It is in resisting the Cheng-Zhu dualism and sticking
with Zhang Zai’s monism that Hwadam made his most lasting mark:
Outside of gi there is no i. I is the master of gi. What is meant by master is not something
that comes from outside and masters it; it points to gi’s ability in a given activity to keep in
line with the proper way it should be and calls this mastering. I is not prior to gi; gi has no
beginning, so i certainly has no beginning. If one says i is prior to gi, that would mean gi
had a beginning. (Seo 1980: [2] 14a)
Cheng-Zhu thought is forced into a more dualistic mode because i is no longer

simply the cosmic Dao, but a concept used to bridge the cosmos and the structure of
the human psyche. The precedence i must take as moral norm in the struggle of the
moral life drives a wedge between i and gi unlike the easy complementarity of the
stuff of the universe and its inner structure on the cosmic level.
Hwadam taught some 26 disciples, of whom 6 became teachers in their own
right, but his direct intellectual lineage faded after that, submerged perhaps in the
full complexity of Cheng-Zhu seongnihak which is the rising tide of the sixteenth
century.
Jo Sik 曺植 (1501–1572), like Hwadam, spent his life in retirement and teach-
ing; but he is more typical of the scholars of the period in the way in which the
moral focus or dohak stands out as central in his approach to learning:
It is a great problem that scholars nowadays put aside the really serious side of study and go
off pursuing the lofty and abstruse. The pursuit of learning from the start is inseparable
from serving one’s father, reverencing one’s elder brothers, treating elders with respect
children with affection. If one wants to investigate the wondrousness of the Mandate of our
nature one will not find its reality except by investigating the normative patterning principle
on the basis of concrete human affairs [such as this].2
This line of emphasis on moral cultivation in terms of the conduct of everyday

human relationships is a commonplace theme among Neo-Confucians of the Cheng-
Zhu school, though it is particularly prominent in the approach of teachers of this
period such as Jo. The focus on the concrete affairs of daily life bespeaks the pro-
found influence of Zhu Xi’s Sohak (Learning for Youth) which received such atten-
tion in fifteenth century Korea.
Yi Hang 李恒 (1499–1576), who became deeply involved in seongnihak at age
30 after a military career, wrestled with the dualistic i/gi metaphysics Zhu Xi had
used to interpret Zhou Dun-i’s Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate. Historically
Zhou’s diagram, which drew heavily on the language of the Book of Changes,
assumed a monistic gi-based metaphysics such as that of Zhang Zai or Hwadam. Yi
Hang, unlike Hwadam, accepted the dualistic conceptual system Zhu Xi borrowed
from the Cheng brothers to interpret Zhou’s diagram. But he could not resist the
inner logic of the diagram which led back to an undifferentiated i and ki:
From the Korean translation found in Yi B 1987, 217–18.

2
The Book of Changes says “The Supreme Ultimate gives rise to the two forms [i.e. yin and
yang].” So before the two forms arose where did they exist? And likewise after the two
forms arose where did the structuring pattern of the Supreme Ultimate exist? If one thinks
deeply and clearly discerns the question in these terms perhaps he will see that i and gi are
a single undifferentiated thing. (Yi H 1987: [1] 7b–8a)
This is indeed half the picture; but after conceding they are not really two differ-
ent things, and that the priority of i could not be an existential priority, Zhu Xi and
his followers go on to insist “they are not admixed,” which inserts a truly dualistic
note in what otherwise (as in the case of Hwadam) would be a neat monism with the
stuff of all existence (ki) and its inner structure (i) just two aspects of one thing. This
is the difficult tension with which Yi Hang wrestles.
Yi Hwang (1501–1570), commonly known by his pen-name, Toegye, is the fig-
ure in whom these theoretical concerns and their application to practical spiritual
cultivation coalesced to such an extent that he became the paradigmatic practitioner
of seongnihak for Korean Neo-Confucians. Like many of the other leading scholars
of the time, Toegye’s seongnihak was largely self-taught, for the purges had wiped
out a generation of teachers, and the downfall of Jo Gwangjo cast a long shadow
especially over the dohak component of seongnihak. Reluctantly, compelled by the
poverty of his widowed mother, Toegye took the exams and from 1529–1549 held a
variety of official posts, but his constant desire was for a retired life devoted to
study, self-cultivation, and teaching.
The two decades after Toegye’s retirement in 1549 marked a broad shift in the
Korean Neo-Confucian world towards a new level of intellectual, spiritual, and
social maturity in the tradition. Political conditions under Kings Myeongjong 明宗
(1545–67) and Seonjo 宣祖 (r. 1567–1608) favored the reemergence of dohak-
oriented seongnihak, and disciples of noted masters, and especially of Toegye,
began to fill the court. Records of master-disciple lineages reflect something of the
shift underway. Before Toegye’s time Kim Jongjik had more disciples on record
than any other teacher. They numbered 93, of whom 53 passed the civil service
examinations. Most other well-known teachers, including Toegye’s contemporaries,
had only a few dozen disciples. Then with Toegye, who began teaching in the sec-
ond half of the sixteenth century, the number jumped to an unprecedented 248 dis-
ciples. From then on through the next century great teachers had numbers of students
on an entirely new scale: Yi I, 132; Seong Hon, 102; Kim Jangsaeng, 307; Song
Siyeol 305 (Yun 1983). And these teachers and scholars, unlike the post-purge gen-
eration, also had active careers at the highest levels of government.
In this period seongnihak discourse in Korea moved to a level of mature sophis-
tication. Not only does one find in scholarly discourse a broad familiarity with
authoritative Chinese Neo-Confucian sources, but Korean thinkers soon developed
their own historical line of questions with which to probe those sources and demand
answers not yet readily formulated. The event that more than any other marked this
development was the Four-seven debate.
26 M. C. Kalton
3 The Four-Seven Debate
In Neo-Confucian thought, there was a conventional list of feelings taken from a

passage in the ninth chapter of the Book of Rites that spoke of the feelings in gen-
eral. These were the so-called Seven Feelings: desire, hate, love, fear, grief, anger,
and joy. In a passage of critical importance to Neo-Confucian psychological and
ascetical theory, the first chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean gave a shorter list,
which was considered simply an abbreviated reference to the Seven Feelings:
The condition before joy, anger, grief, or pleasure are aroused is called equilibrium; after
they are aroused and each attains proper measure, it is called harmony. Equilibrium is the
great foundation of the universe; harmony is its universal path.
Insofar as the mention of “proper measure” implies that at times proper measure
may be wanting, this passage is taken as a clear indication that the Seven Feelings
are mixed or indeterminate, sometimes good and sometimes bad.
In an equally important and famous passage, however, Mencius introduces the
“Four Beginnings” in support of his argument that human nature is good:
From this one can see that if one does not have the disposition of commiseration, he is not
human; if he does not have the disposition of shame and dislike [for evil], he is not human;
if he does not have the disposition of yielding and deference, he is not human; if he does not
have the disposition of approving [the good] and disapproving [evil], he is not human. The
disposition of compassion is the beginning of humanity, the disposition of shame and dis-
like is the beginning of righteousness, the disposition of yielding and deference is the begin-
ning of propriety, the disposition of approving and disapproving is the beginning of wisdom.
(Mencius, 2A6)
In classical passages that were among the most fundamental pillars of Neo-
Confucian thought, then, are embedded references to feelings that may or may not
be good (the Seven Feelings) and feelings so evidently good that they serve as indi-
cators of the inherent goodness of the nature (the Four Beginnings). Does this rep-
resent two kinds of feelings, or is it just two different ways of speaking about the
feelings? If it is the former, perhaps there is some sort of difference in the way they
arise in the i-gi composite of our psyche. This has an initial plausibility, since the
essential difference between the Four and Seven seems to be the pure goodness
(associated with i) of the former and the vulnerability to distortion (a matter of gi)
of the latter. However, this interpretation so emphasizes the dualistic view of i and
gi that it strains the overall monistic framework which demands their fundamental
complementarity and absolute interdependence.
Such was the shape the question soon assumed when the controversy was joined
between Toegye and a younger scholar, Gi Daeseong 奇大升 (pen-name Gobong 高
峰 1527–1572) in 1559.
Toegye heard that Gobong was critical of a statement Toegye had made in the
course of correcting Jeong Jiun’s 鄭之雲 (1509–1561) Diagram of the Heavenly
Mandate (Cheon myeong doseol 天命圖說). Toegye had amended an even more
dualistic analysis of the origins of different kind of feelings with the statement, “The
Four Beginnings are the issuance of principle; the Seven Feelings are the issuance
of material force.” Gobong felt such a separation of the origination of feelings was
untenable in view of the strict interdependence and complementarity of i and gi.
Toegye wrote to Gobong in 1559 suggesting a further slight modification;
Gobong replied with a more detailed three-page critique of the whole approach. The
ensuing correspondence, amounting to almost 100 pages, reviewed the statements
of classical and authoritative Cheng-Zhu sources with careful argumentation and
detailed analysis, a benchmark of sustained focus and penetrating analysis hardly
equaled in Neo-Confucian literature.
Against Gobong’s argument that the Four and Seven were really just different
ways of talking about one set of feelings which all originated in the same way,
Toegye tried a variety of ways of pointing to real differences between them. His
final formulation, his famed “mutual issuance” (hobal 互發) theory, attempted to
respect the mutual roles of i and gi and yet differentiate them: “In the case of the
four, i issues them and gi follows it, while in the case of the seven gi issues them and
i mounts it (Yi H 1958: A [16] 32a).” Behind this language is Zhu Xi’s metaphorical
expression of the relationship of i and gi as a rider mounted on a horse, where the
directive capacity of the rider informs the moving power of the horse. While the
image in a cosmological context suitably reflects a complementary relationship,
when introduced, as in Korea, to a discussion of what amounts to successful or
frustrated mastery of harmonious or disorderly feelings, its import becomes far
more ambiguous, as is reflected in Toegye’s dualistic adaptation.
Toegye’s formulation could not really settle Gobong’s problems, but when
Toegye signified he thought they had pursued the matter about as far as they could
get, Gobong wrote a concluding statement accepting, on at least a verbal level,
Toegye’s view. The issue was resurrected, however, shortly after Toegye’s death in
intense correspondence between Yi I (Yulgok) and his friend Seong Hon 成渾 (pen-
name Ugye 牛溪 1535–1598). Seong was a leading scholar with over 100 disciples,
but his fame is far overshadowed by Yulgok, who is generally paired with Toegye as
one of the two major thinkers of the Korean tradition.
Toegye and Yulgok are wonderfully paired as representatives of the dual poles of
seongnihak, self-cultivation and intellectual understanding. Both men, as outstand-
ing seongnihak practitioners, were deeply involved in both the life of the spirit and
of the mind, and both would deny the legitimacy of separating them. But emphases
can differ: Toegye, in spite of his career as an official, is the paradigm of the dohak-
oriented scholar living in retirement. In the vast body of conflicting statements from
sage authorities he typically emphasized holding on to all, savoring their distinct
contexts and implications, making sense of all finally in the diverse needs of con-
crete spiritual direction. Yulgok had an impressive career of accomplishment and
involvement at the highest levels of government, and his work is characterized by an
incisive, synthesizing intellectuality that won him an unprecedented first place in
nine successive levels of civil service examinations. Of the vast body of conflicting
sayings he confidently and self-consciously wove an essential unity. Consistent with
this, Yulgok was the champion of intellectual consistency, which in the case of
Cheng-Zhu thought means siding with the monistic tendencies: “The transformative
28 M. C. Kalton
process of Heaven and Earth does not have two roots; therefore neither does the
issuance of our minds-and-hearts have two origins (Yi I 1958: [10] 4a).”
The focus of the Yulgok-Ugye interchange shifted away from the two kinds of
feelings to another pair of much-used contrastive concepts drawn from the classics:
the dao mind 道心 and human mind 人心 come to the fore. A passage in the Book
of Documents (Shujing 書經) characterizes the former as subtle and the latter as
perilous, and they became a commonplace for expressing the often all-too subtle
moral tendencies as compared to less laudable, more easily self-centered tendencies
in the life of the mind-and-heart. Zhu Xi in his famous introduction to the Doctrine
of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸) said of the dao mind and human mind respectively:
“The one arises from the individuality of the psychophysical endowment while the
other originates in the correctness of the normative nature.” This suggested to Ugye
that Toegye’s mutual issuance theory was really getting at something, even though
he had initially viewed it as overly dualistic.
Yulgok responded by explaining Zhu Xi’s statement as being not so much about
the literal origination of tendencies, as a reflection of the predominant factor being
considered: i, the norm, is in the forefront when one is talking about being in accord
with the norm (the dao mind), and gi, the source of disruption, is the focus when one
is speaking of what tends to go astray, the human mind.
But this only sharpened the issue. Towards the end of their debate Ugye shrewdly
reviewed Yulgok’s own use of the horse and rider image and the implicit divergence
of initiatives stemming from rider and horse. In describing moral situations even the
monist sounds dualistic. What Ugye is after, and Yulgok gives in images but not in
theory, is an actual (not merely conceptual) predominance of i or gi in different
situations.
In his response, Yulgok states that the issue of a single, consistent relationship of
i and gi is central, while Zhu Xi’s statement about the origination of the dao mind
and human mind or images such as horses and riders are secondary (Yi I 1958: [10]
27b). The dualistic language of moral discourse has it purposes, but ultimately the
reality of which they speak is a non-dualistic relationship in which i and gi cannot
be thought of as competing sources of what is happening.
Throughout the debate Yulgok reiterated his conviction that the reason people
imported dualistic understandings from moral discourse into the metaphysics of i
and gi is that they do not sufficiently grasp what i and gi are all about. The ambigu-
ity, he explains, creeps in because the normative shaping of psychophysical force in
the moral struggle to be as we should seems to be an activity on the part of i, and
soon people conceptualize the matter as an active struggle between a right direction
emanating from the normative source versus a wrong direction from the disruptive
source.
A deep grasp of the implications of the common formula regarding i and gi,
Yulgok was convinced, would show the impossibility of such a dual source notion.
To clarify this after Ugye had not been swayed by reviewing the commonplace for-
mulations, Yulgok was finally forced to resort to his personal formulation to explain
the meaning of i being above physical form and gi belonging to that level: “I will
empty out all I have,” he says. He introduces his own expression of the relationship,
“i pervades and gi delimits (i tong gi guk/li tong qi ju 理通氣局)” which he regards

as his personal discovery, but one which is only a faithful synthesis of “all that was
meant by the sages and worthies, but has been scattered throughout the classics and
commentaries and not been synthesized (Yi I 1958: [10] 25a).” For his many follow-
ers over the subsequent centuries this expression has stood as a central reference,
the crystallization of Yulgok’s understanding and insight.
“Tong 通,” which I have translated as “pervades,” literally means to “pass
through” or “penetrate.” Yulgok explained that he means the term to indicate that the
patterning, normative element is not as such subject to the constraints of space and
time; its fullness is pervasive and undiminished regardless of the limitations of con-
crete circumstances.
In perfect complementary contrast, the “delimiting 局” character of the psycho-
physical stuff of existence means precisely it is limited and definite; concrete situa-
tions are as they are. The normative pattern remains such no matter how bent out of
shape its bearer may become, but being bent is different from not being bent (Yi I
1958: [10] 26a–b). Putting the two together describes living creatures, which in a
sense are always more than just what they are at a given moment. Confucian under-
standing dating from Mencius is rooted in such vitalism: the grass that is trampled
on is really bent, but it also really recovers in line with an inner normative dynamic
if given a chance. The normative pattern of being whole and upright must survive
the historical circumstances and yet be more than a mental abstraction, for it is
functionally present likewise in the historical recovery process.
Yulgok’s clear conceptualization of the complementary and interdependent
dimensions and roles of i and gi effectively eradicates the dualistic ambiguities from
Cheng-Zhu thought, and in the process changes or clarifies other areas that had fed
on that ambiguity, especially those involving the understanding of self-cultivation.
Spiritual cultivation, in this framework, becomes entirely addressed to gi, a conclu-
sion of his analysis so clear that Yulgok pointed it out immediately:
Indeed, in the province of patterning principle, not one word can be added, not a single bit
of effort toward the practice of self-cultivation applied. Principle is originally good: how
can one apply cultivation to it? All the thousands and ten thousands of words of the sages
and worthies are for the purpose of getting people to restrain and curb their psychophysical
force so that they can restore it to its original condition, and that is all. (Yi I 1958: [10] 27a)
In Cheng-Zhu spirituality great importance was attached to the notion of the

“original nature (bon seong, ben xing 本性),” i in its pure normative goodness as the
inner substance of our psychophysical being; this is the Cheng-Zhu reformulation
of Mencius’ doctrine of the inborn goodness of human nature. Yulgok’s formulation
explicates this enduring goodness brilliantly, but at the price of also emphasizing its
absolute functional dependence upon the purity of the psychophysical endowment.
Toegye saw the Mencian spontaneously good tendencies exemplified in concepts
such as the Four Beginnings or the dao mind as indicative of some special relation-
ship to or initiative stemming from the original nature (i). But with Yulgok’s empha-
sis on the strict interdependence of i and gi, it becomes clear that if such impulses
are to exist at all it is as a manifestation of a good streak in our psychophysical stuff,
30 M. C. Kalton
for i can have no independent or contravening activity. This means the import of the
original nature is in practice reduced to the importance of recovering the original
pure condition of gi.
Analytically such diverse tendencies would seem to call for a corresponding
explanation of diversity within the psychophysical endowment, or otherwise be
open to the objection that something like Toegye’s mutual issuance theory is called
for. It is clear that Yulgok’s contribution, as incisive and clear as it is, cannot really
settle this matter. As we shall see, the Horak 湖洛 Debate, about a century later, will
further complete this unfinished agenda. And Toegye’s dualistic interpretation
remained as a basic alternative dividing the allegiance of the Korean tradition
between these two great thinkers.
In Toegye and Yulgok, the various extremes of the intellectual and spiritual life
of the century were brought to an orthodox balance of intertwined intellectuality
and self-cultivation that may be regarded as mature Cheng-Zhu seongnihak. But the
non-Zhu Xi intellectuality of Hwadam and Jo Sik’s suspicion of intellectuality
should be born in mind as well, for both were major figures of the period. And
somewhat later, No Susin 盧守愼 (1515–1590) is a good representative of alterna-
tive paths still available in the latter sixteenth century. In 1547 the same purge that
cost Toegye’s brother his life sent No into what was to be a 19 year exile, an enforced
sidelining that, as it did for many, stimulated intellectual and spiritual pursuits. He
was in wide contact with other leading scholars of the time, as reflected in corre-
spondence with Toegye, Gi Daeseong, and Yi Hang. The difficulties of his exile led
him into a sympathetic investigation of Seon (Zen) Buddhism, and he was in close
contact with leading monks as well as Confucian scholars. At the same time he kept
informed about and concerned with the kind of seongnihak issues involved in the
Toegye-Gi Daeseong debate and discussed them with Gi. During the same period he
was involved in an argument with Yi Hang, who attacked him for adopting the
Chinese scholar Lo Chin-shun’s 羅欽順 interpretation of the relationship between
the dao mind and the human mind.3 No’s essay adjudicating the question (No 1652:
[2]1a–7a) moves on the same level and with the same grasp of issues concerning the
origination of feelings or tendencies that is found in the much more famous four-
seven documents, an indication that the four-seven debate was less a cause than a
manifestation of a more general maturing and sophistication of Korean seongnihak.
In spite of his known Buddhist leanings and his advocacy of a position regarded as
heretical by strict Cheng-Zhu norms of interpretation, No Susin, although criticized,
was also highly respected during his lifetime and later was honored with sacrifices
in at least five academies (seowon 書院).
Zhu Xi was undoubtedly the authority of authorities in the Joseon milieu, and
scholars such as Yi Eonjeok, Yi Hang, or Toegye did not hesitate to warn those who
seemed to treat his authority lightly. In particular Toegye penned a fierce attack on
Wang Yang-Ming 王陽明 just as Wang’s ideas were becoming known on the
3
Lo Chin-shun (1465–1547) was a leading Ming scholar of the Cheng-Zhu school. Koreans were
in general quite suspicious of him because he openly criticized Zhu Xi for an overly dualistic
interpretation of i and strongly advanced a more monistic alternative.
p eninsula. Why Wang’s school in Korea never achieved the popularity (or even tol-
erance) it enjoyed in China is a question that has no simple answers. Certainly the
immense weight of Toegye’s authority at this critical juncture was a factor in dis-
couraging an open reception of Wang’s school. But the kind of rigid adherence to
Zhu Xi and public attacks in the name of orthodoxy which are often associated with
Korean Neo-Confucianism are in fact phenomena that arose especially with the next
generation of scholars.
4 The Seventeenth Century: Custodians of Orthodoxy
The seventeenth century is one of those extraordinarily complex hinge periods that
calls for a much deeper investigation. The first half of the century was marked by
social unrest, banditry and dislocation as the aftermath of the Japanese invasion
(1592–98), and political unrest and insecurity linked to critical shifts on the interna-
tional scene. Korea was deeply indebted to Ming China for the Ming forces that
came to the rescue against the Japanese forces which invaded and ravaged the pen-
insula at the end if the sixteenth century. But the rising Manchu power, which was
to culminate in final overthrow of the Ming in 1644, was an evident ascending tide.
It was a strongly Ming loyalist group that carried out the coup d’etat that put King
Injo 仁祖 on the throne in 1623 in place of Gwanghaegun 光海君 (r. 1608–23), who
had showed insufficient commitment to the Ming dynasty in the face of the rising
tide of Manchu power. Indeed, the Manchus found it necessary to twice invade
Ming-loyalist Korea (1627 and 1637) in the course of founding the Qing dynasty.
As Ming loyalism became even more an idealistic devotion to a lost cause, it
transformed into a self-conscious identity and commitment that Joseon should carry
on the “genuine civilization (sa mun, si wen 斯文)” being overrun by the barbarians
in China. Loyalty to Ming, fused with loyalty to the Cheng-Zhu school, symbolized
to the conservatives the heritage of true civilization that must be preserved now at
all costs. The voices of this conservative trusteeship were not the only ones on the
scene, but they were the most powerful and left a deep imprint on the times. The
second half of the century, especially the long reign of King Sukjong 肅宗 (r. 1674–
1720), was marked by the bloody apogee of factional controversy in the Korean
political world, and for a time doctrinal orthodoxy emerged as one of the varied
avenues of attack devised in the fractured world of scholar-officials at the center of
power. If Korean Neo-Confucianism has borne the stigma of being a rigid ortho-
doxy, it is owing to this period more than any other, and what truth there is in the
characterization, as we shall see, pertains mainly to this period as well.
The names that mark the century intellectually also were central to its political
life. Seongnihak as a networking social phenomenon flourished as never before:
Kim Jangsaeng 金長生 (1548–1631), who continued Yulgok’s line, had an unprec-
edented 307 disciples, and his chief pupil, Song Siyeol 宋時烈 (1607–89) had 305
students (Yun 1983). Such lengthy rosters of students may or may not indicate vig-
orous intellectual activity, but they clearly mark the social prestige now attached to
32 M. C. Kalton
such studies, and the importance of the web of relationships woven by common
discipleship as well.
The great debates that mark the century became, in the nature of the case, highly
politicized, and they focused on questions of ritual rather than seongnihak. Indeed,
starting with the great teacher Kim Jangsaeng and his son Kim Jip 金集 (1574–
1656), ritual studies (yehak/li-xue 禮學) became a major focus within Korean Neo-
Confucianism, and standard works trace schools of yehak master-disciple lineages
just as they do for seongnihak. The politicized ritual issues focused on the royal
family and difficult questions of interpretation involved in the proper length of
mourning in cases involving complex succession and legitimacy issues. In the fac-
tional atmosphere intellectual positions on such issues easily became the object of
hostile searching for hidden motivations and implications, transforming them into
the ostensible core issues of bloody factional purges and divisions. But yehak saw a
tremendous flourishing in the seventeenth century quite apart from such highly
political issues, as Korean commentaries on Zhu Xi’s Jia li (家禮 Family Ritual)
and manuals mediating classical norms and local practice became a major scholarly
enterprise. It is evident that the intellectual establishment of seongnihak was but
part of a larger development in which canonical Confucian or Neo-Confucian norms
became a central feature in the life of Korea’s elite yangban class.
Seongnihak did not stagnate during this century, though it did not produce the
kind of major controversies or developments that leave an enduring imprint for
historians. Essays adjudicating the four-seven or the human mind/dao mind ques-
tions in the light of more dualistic or monistic views of i and gi became a common
feature in the writings of anyone with a claim to scholarly repute. Because intel-
lectuality was so embodied socially in master-disciple lineages, its most routine
expression was the repetition or slight extension of what came to be the Yulgok or
Toegye tradition, though one finds as well the inevitable independents who try to
advance a mediating position.
Kim Changhyeop 金昌協 (1651–1708) exemplifies the mediators. He was a
major scholar and member of one of the leading families of the powerful and
emphatically Yulgok-loyalist Noron 老論 faction (patriarch’s faction). Nonetheless
he commented on the four-seven issue in a way that showed precisely the Mencian
spontaneously good tendencies which the account of Toegye supported but was a
weakness in Yulgok’s gi-dependent orientation: “Now if the goodness or badness of
feelings are entirely reduced to a matter of the purity or turbidity of gi, then one
cannot see the actuality of what it means for i to be the substance or the nature to be
good. (Kim C 1928: [B] 69a).”
Historically the most imposing development in Neo-Confucian thinking during
the period was not so much one or another seongnihak theory or problem, but the
more imposing intellectual question of just what constitutes the fitting exercise of
the mind itself. One could treat this as a corollary of the Ming-Qing dynastic change
in China: if Korea is to be heir and preserver of the true tradition of civilization, how
are Korean scholars to go about the task?
The man who more than any other embodied and brought into being the seven-
teenth century’s answer to that question was Song Siyeol 宋時烈, whose force of
character and strength of mind both dominated and divided the intellectual and
political world of his day. A leading Ming loyalist and outspoken champion of
Yulgok and Zhu Xi, Song was a central figure in the ebb and flow of factional poli-
tics for decades. Now he is perhaps most remembered as the embodiment of a rig-
idly orthodox mentality, crystallized in his condemnation of a fellow scholar and
one-time friend and associate, Yun Hyu 尹鑴 (1617–1680), as a “despoiler of the
true culture (sa mun nanjeok 斯文亂戝).” It is almost impossible to disentangle the
substance of this charge from its involvement with personal enmities and factional
conflict, but along with the equally celebrated and very similar case of Pak Sedang
朴世堂 (1629–1703) a little later, it reveals somewhat the complexity of the situa-
tion as Koreans tried to understand what it meant to be faithful carriers of the true
tradition.
Lacking any single authoritative voice, Korean Neo-Confucians were free to dis-
agree in very fundamental ways in interpreting the copious and ambiguous Cheng-
Zhu heritage. Song Siyeol himself went beyond either Zhu Xi or Yulgok, for
example, in clearly saying that because the Four Beginnings involve psychophysical
force as much as the Seven Feelings, they too must be subject to distortion. He
played the double-sided game typical of authoritative interpreters of authorities,
confusing his own philosophical consistency with insight into what he considered
the implicit, unspoken intentions of Zhu Xi, and at the same time using razor-sharp
analysis to show ways Toegye’s analysis departed from Zhu Xi’s intention in spite
of points of verbal similarity. Clearly Song intended to be and could succeed in
becoming the living voice of Zhu Xi’s truth – at least as long as he was backed by
a numerous faction enjoying political dominance.
Both Yun Hyu and Pak Sedang went far beyond the copious boundaries of inter-
preting the Cheng-Zhu system. Rather, just as Zhu Xi boldly rethought and
reworked fundamental classical texts in his search for understanding, they took
respect and fidelity to him to mean emulating his example instead of repeating his
words: each reworked classical texts that more conventional minds considered
definitively arranged by Zhu Xi. Although this certainly raised eyebrows, it seems
clear that if they had not been entangled in factional conflict and made the focus of
negative attention by Song and his allies, there was no authority that would have
come down on them punitively. Even then, their defenders were many and their fate
long in the balance. Their cases may be taken as much as an illustration of the struc-
tural impossibility of imposing orthodoxy through any central authority in Joseon
Korea as an indication of a rigidly orthodox mentality. One might say that in histori-
cal circumstances that cried out for conservative orthodoxy, only the ephemeral
voice of Song Siyeol and his faction could be brought to bear on even egregious
deviations, and even that only in circumstances aggravated by political hostility and
personal insult.
The episodes of Song Siyeol and his allies censoring deviant scholarship in the
superheated atmosphere of the seventeenth century certainly crystallized a strain of
Zhu Xi exclusivism already rooted in the tradition. But this could only be an exclu-
sivism enforced by consensus and maintained by the attractive power of the consen-
sus. Such exclusivism was a real current in Joseon society, but even in the midst of
34 M. C. Kalton
the period of the most intense and murderous factional loyalties and orthodox pro-
tests there is evidence that we are far from the kind of mind control we associate
with authoritarian orthodoxy. We saw above the example of the Noron scholar Kim
Changhyeop modifying Yulgok in a Toegye direction. His father, Kim Suhang 金壽
恒 (1629–89), a close confederate of Song Siyeol, died in a purge of Song’s faction.
And it was his younger brother, Kim Changheup 金昌翕 (1653–1722), through
whose initiative Pak Sedang’s supposedly heretical views were attacked – probably
as much because Pak had insulted the now dead Song Siyeol as out of devotion to
Zhu Xi. But Kim Changheup was also well-known as a poetic wanderer of scenic
mountains who indulged leanings towards Daoism and Buddhism to complement
his Neo-Confucian learning. His belonging to this most highly visible and orthodox
family hardly fettered his mind in the way we associate with the term orthodoxy!
5 The Horak Debate
The factionalism of the seventeenth century may have hindered intellectual dia-
logue: the real differences of opinion were factionally separated, and it was difficult
for high quality philosophical discourse to be sustained across such contentious
borders. In any case, when the second major philosophical controversy of the Joseon
dynasty emerged in the first decade of the eighteenth century, it was among mem-
bers of the same faction, loyal to a single school, and even the disciples of a single
master. Though such a family dispute was particularly painful and embarrassing,
perhaps that was the only context in which the serious communication necessary for
a sustained philosophical controversy could take place.
The Horak (hu-luo 湖洛) Debate is named not from its content but with nick-
names for the regions associated with major protagonists, the ho 湖 group being
centered in Chungcheong Province and supporting the position of Han Wonjin 韓
元震 (pen-name Namdang 南塘 1682–1751), while the nak 洛 scholars who sup-
ported Yi Gan 李柬 (pen-name Woeam 巍巖 1677–1727) hailed mainly from
Gyeonggi Province. Both Han and Yi were disciples of Gwon Sangha 權尙夏
(1641–1721), and soon others among his leading disciples such as Yi Hyeonik 李顯
益 (1678–1717), Hyeon Sangbyeok 玄尙璧 (fl. 1740), and Yun Bonggu 尹鳳九
(1681–1767) were taking up sides. Since Gwon was recognized as the chief intel-
lectual heir of Song Siyeol, whose faction was back on top, this group of young
scholars had an especially high profile. Soon Gwon Sangha and his contemporary
Kim Changhyeop, and disciples of Kim such as Yi Jae 李縡 (1680–1746) were like-
wise drawn into the controversy. Once launched among this circle of the most prom-
inent scholars of the day, the Horak question(s), like the four-seven, spread to
become issues upon which scholars and would-be scholars down to the end of the
dynasty would be expected to make discerning pronouncements.
The Horak Debate carried forward the problematique implicit in Yulgok’s funda-
mental, non-dualist position. In keeping with the useful dualism of moral discourse,
Neo-Confucian thought and spirituality makes extensive use of a double
c onceptualization of the nature. If one attends to the “not admixed” or transcendent

integrity of the normative pattern, it is the pure and perfectly good original nature.
If one looks to the inseparability of i and gi, it is the psychophysical nature, i.e. the
nature (i) as conjoined with and limited by whatever degree of turbidity or purity
prevails in the psychophysical stuff (ki) of a given being. Inseparable but not
admixed, says Zhu Xi.
Such dualistic language, however, meant that Neo-Confucian scholars had to
repeatedly clarify that ultimately the original nature and the psychophysical nature
are not two natures, but one nature regarded in two different ways – a kind of clari-
fication especially germane to the monistically oriented followers of Yulgok. In
1707 Han Wonjin was embarked upon such a routine exercise in a short essay
entitled, “Explanation of the Original Nature and the Psychophysical Nature,” when
he inadvertently stirred up a hornets’ nest. Starting on the conventional grounds of
Yulgok’s school, he noted the error of those who associate good tendencies such as
the dao mind with the original nature and their opposite, the human mind, with the
psychophysical nature, a mistake which amounts to imagining two functionally dif-
ferent natures. Then he pursues his theme into the question of understanding medi-
tation practice, the condition of the mind-and-heart before it is aroused, as compared
to after it is aroused, as described in the first chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean.
Some, he says, consider the not-yet aroused condition as the original nature and say
you can’t call it the psychophysical nature, which they think exists only after the
mind is aroused. This, he notes, imagines the impossible condition of i without gi,
contradicting their interdependence and inseparability. It is not that the psycho-
physical nature is not there, says Han, but that the psychophysical component is not
in evidence (Han 1980: [30]10a).
In view of the inseparability of i and gi as emphasized by Yulgok, Han’s logic
here is irrefutable and he never modified this basic position in the long course of the
debate. But in the world of conventional Neo-Confucian moral discourse, the origi-
nal nature is the beacon of hope, the structure of pure normative perfection deep
within: by meditatively nurturing ourselves in quiescent union with this original
nature, we can overcome the errant tendencies of the psychophysical nature and
respond perfectly to every situation. By pointing out the existential identity of the
original nature and the psychophysical nature even in quiescent meditation, Han
brought on a firestorm of protest. Reducing the original nature in this way to an
abstraction, an exclusive reference to i that pointed to no functional reality, chal-
lenged the hallowed formulations of Neo-Confucian spiritual practice. Yi Gan, an
experienced meditator, led the attack, sure that Han’s words could not do justice to
the reality of spiritual cultivation.
Yi Gan resolutely sought a solution within the parameters of strict interdepen-
dence laid out by Yulgok. The results are instructive. After several false starts
quickly disposed of by Han, it appeared that the only path to a functional original
nature would have to be through the perfection of gi. The same logic that led Yulgok
finally to explain the dao mind in terms of gi in its original condition, now leads Yi
Gan to describe an enduring original mind composed of just such pure psychophysi-
cal stuff as a functional context for the original nature:
36 M. C. Kalton
This [ki of the mind] is the substance of its original clarity in which the sage and the ordi-
nary man are just alike. This substance with its original clarity is where the nature as man-
date is preserved and that whence the dao mind originates. The gi of blood and flesh is what
is called the gi of physical form (hyeonggi) and this is whence the human mind arises. (Yi
G 1980: [12] 20a–20b)
This portion of the Horak Debate is a basic illustration of the tension between
Cheng-Zhu metaphysics and the tradition of spiritual self-cultivation: the more the
latter is given weight the more it pulls the system into a dualistic configuration. Here
the reining in of dualistic interpretations of i and gi simply move the problem to a
dualistic interpretation of gi, eventuating in a mind/body split foreign to the
tradition.
This proved only the preliminary issue, however. The discussion revolving
around the interpretation of the states of mind mentioned in the first chapter of the
Doctrine of the Mean drew Han Wonjin into further examination of the usage of the
term nature, and this was to become the most famous aspect of the Horak contro-
versy. In 1708 he proposed a quite original tripartite analysis of the term:
I would suggest that the nature involves three different levels: there is the nature that is the
same for both humans and other creatures; there is the nature that is not the same for men
and other creatures but is the same for all humans; there is the nature that is not the same
from person to person. It’s not that the nature has these three levels and is in each case not
the same, but just that the point of view from which persons consider it has these three
levels. (Han 1980: [7] 2b)
Han annotated each of these levels with references to classical passages that eas-
ily illustrate that in fact there are these three ways of talking about it. Then comes
the task of describing them in terms of i and gi. The first level, common to all things,
is the all-inclusive Supreme Ultimate, the undifferentiated patterning principle
which transcends any particular name. The third level, that of concrete individuality,
is what is conventionally called the psychophysical nature, i as conjoined with gi,
the nature as uniquely limited and determined by the particular character of actual
psychophysical stuff (Han 1980: [7] 2b–3a). Both these levels are in line with con-
ventional Cheng-Zhu thought. Han’s originality, which gave rise to ferocious
debate, was his description of an intermediate second level. Since all differentiation
in this system is from gi, gi must figure on this second level in order to differentiate
between species, but it cannot bring with it the kind of concrete limitation that
explains the imperfections of individuals. He described it as a kind of “i based on gi,
“ a reference to the generic quality of the gi that stops short of including the actual
admixture that makes real individuals. This level, in spite of the reference to gi, can
still be identified as the original nature, for the original nature of each creature is
certainly the normative pattern for the way it should be, and that pattern must be
different for different kinds of things. He based this argument upon the famous
opening line of the Doctrine of the Mean:
If one considers it in terms of the text of the classic, the text says, “Following the nature is
called the Dao.” The nature of humans and other creatures is not the same, and therefore
humans follow humans’ nature and it is the human dao, and other creatures follow other
creatures’ natures and it is their dao, and these daos are not the same. The natures of oxen
and horses are not the same, so oxen follow the ox nature and it is the ox dao, while horses
follow the horse nature and it is the horse dao, and their daos likewise are not the same. This
is because their natures are natures that contain nothing that may not be followed and the
Dao is the Dao that originates the nature. (Han 1980: [8] 13b–14a)
Although this flies in the face of the Cheng-Zhu convention of describing the
original nature as an exclusive reference to i, from another point of view Han was
only introducing further precision to clear up the inadequate lumping together of
species-differentiation and degrees of moral responsiveness, all under the single
aegis of the purity or turbidity of the psychophysical component.
Yi Gan and his supporters held fast to the conventional metaphysical language
which moves between the poles of all-inclusive unity (on the side of the Supreme
Ultimate, i undifferentiated), or “the single origin,” as they commonly referred to it,
and concrete individual beings (i as combined with gi). In this view the whole dif-
ference between the normative original nature and the usually imperfect, concrete
psychophysical nature, is nothing but the explicit consideration of gi in the latter
case and its exclusion in the former; therefore the original nature must be on the side
of the single origin, and hence single for all creatures. Thus the Horak Debate is
most commonly remembered as a controversy over whether the many kinds of crea-
tures share a single original nature or each kind has its own original nature.
One or many natures, however, is more a conclusion than the substance of the
argument. The deeper question involves interpreting the source of limitation and
differentiation. Han Wonjin associated these totally with gi and so was led to insert
his middle level of “i based on gi” but not actually admixed with it to arrive at a dif-
ferentiated norm. Yi Gan, on the other hand, followed his intuition that the norm is
totally on the side of patterning i and as such really has nothing to do with psycho-
physical stuff. Han’s focus on a differentiated nature thus caused Yi to start to talk
about a self-differentiating Dao or i:
The Dao being the nature means the one original Dao involves a myriad divisions. Having
said “a myriad divisions” means there are the partial and integral, the broad and narrow,
which is a matter involving the inequality of i. Nevertheless what is being referred to has to
do with the Dao, not with the implement [i.e. gi], so how could one mix it up and confuse
the matter by introducing psychophysical stuff (gijil 氣質)!? (Yi G 1980: [12] 13b–14a)
The question of self-differentiation versus differentiation by gi led to serious dif-

ferences between Han and Yi regarding the understanding of the single origin or
Supreme Ultimate. Neo-Confucians had long indicated its ultimate normative per-
fection by identifying it with the five constants, namely humanity, righteousness,
propriety, wisdom, and sincerity, the essential characteristics of good human nature.
Han insisted the single origin in itself transcends all such differentiation. All names,
including the five constants, differentiate, and hence look to some base in gi (Han
1980: [11]12a–b).
To Yi Gan this sounded too much like the empty vacuity with which the Neo-
Confucians, priding themselves on the moral fullness of their Supreme Ultimate,
criticized the Buddhist conception of the ultimate. Naming, to him, is likewise
clearly a matter of patterning i:
38 M. C. Kalton
Originally i and gi are prior and posterior so that there is i and so there is gi [being a certain
way]. As for the precedence of name and reality, first there is the reality and then the name.
Therefore there is the i of the five constants and with this there is the gi of the five agents;
there is the reality of the five constants and then there are the terms for them as i. This is an
unchangeable pattern. But now you say on the basis of gi’s reality we have the name for the
i. What kind of theory is that!? (Yi G 1980: [12] 36a–b)
Yi Gan’s side of the argument here has started to sound more and more like
Toegye’s emphasis on the formative activity of i.
By pushing the question of differentiation back to the level of the single origin,
the Horak Debate returns Cheng-Zhu thought to the fundamental dividing point of
all metaphysical systems: How does the One give rise to or become the Many?
Different answers here are based upon different assumptions regarding the nature of
the One. On this level Han Wonjin and Yi Gan, appealing to the same authoritative
Cheng-Zhu tradition, took two paths. For Han, The Supreme Ultimate, or i in itself,
is all perfection beyond any differentiation, and all diverse specification betokens
the limiting factor of gi. For Yi Gan, the Supreme Ultimate is the perfect normative
pattern, implicitly containing the distinct forms gi takes in manifesting it.
Historically the co-presence of these two rather different metaphysics in Cheng-
Zhu thought reflects the synthesis of Buddhist usage of i as the one, perfect Buddha
nature present in all existence, and the indigenous East Asian notion of a patterning
Dao running through all things. The Buddhist single perfection of the Buddha nature
as the ultimate reality of all things was modified by Neo-Confucians’ introduction
of gi as a realistic differentiating factor. This, however, overlaps the function of the
Daoists’ single but self-differentiating Dao. Cloaked invisibly under the single i-gi
terminology, the copresence of these two metaphysics gives a profound ambiguity
to formulas agreed upon and used by all, such as the foundational statement that “i
is one but manifested diversely (i il i bun su/li yi er fen shu 理一而分殊).” But
when, as in the four-seven and Horak controversies, issues grounded in these deep
differences become the focus of sustained examination, opinions diverge along the
fault line, resisting final settlement or reconciliation because ultimately the Neo-
Confucian synthesis supports both sides.
6 Conclusion: Challenge and Radicalization in Late Joseon
The major lines of the Horak Debate were laid out during the first two decades of
the eighteenth century, which marked the final period of King Sukjong’s 肅宗 long
reign (r. 1674–1720). After the abortive reign of King Gyeongjong 景宗 (r. 1720–
24) came the reigns of Yeongjo 英祖 (r.1724–76) and of Jeongjo 正祖 (r.1776–
1800) which are generally described as a remarkable period of cultural and
intellectual renaissance. Both policy and circumstances muted the most extreme
forms of factional conflict, and the government enlisted scholars in a variety of large
projects ranging from encyclopedic compilations of cultural history to revisions of
the national law code and yet more compendia for guidance in ritual and propriety.
Contact with the flourishing intellectual and material culture of Qing China chal-
lenged both the increasingly dated Ming-loyalist sentiments and the self-satisfied
attitude of being the unique trustees of true civilization. Indigenous Korean Christian
movements tested the limits of tolerance even as Western astronomical and geo-
graphical science began to suggest a world whose shape and dimensions would
critically challenge the Sino-centric assumptions that were so much a part of the
Confucian and Neo-Confucian vision.
Important new currents marked the intellectual life of the time, though they never
quite gained the self-conscious coherence that led participants to identify them-
selves with a new name. Concerns of those now marked by historians as scholars of
“practical learning (silhak/shi-xue 實學)” cover a broad area, including statecraft,
agriculture, economics, Korean geography, medicine, Chinese material culture –
anything that one might, from a rather modern point of view, deem practical, as
opposed to the philosophical and spiritual cultivation concerns identified with
seongnihak.
Although silhak is sometimes represented as if it were an anti-Neo-Confucian
movement, this is an oversimplification. Statecraft in particular, and a general con-
cern for the well-being of the people are very conventional Neo-Confucian con-
cerns, so it is common to point to the life of activist Neo-Confucian statesmen such
as Yulgok as precursors of the movement. Likewise the works of a number of out-
standing silhak figures such as Yi Ik 李瀷 (1681–1763) are replete with conven-
tional seongnihak as well as practical learning. But at the same time something
undeniably new was happening as the attention of some scholars shifted towards
concerns and types of study that would have been dismissed as relatively trivial by
traditional Neo-Confucians. To spend one’s life, rather than an odd essay or two,
investigating agricultural practices, geography, or other such mundane matters was
not until now a typical career for a Neo-Confucian scholar.
Hong Daeyong 洪大容 (1731–1783), who had studied with Kim Wonhaeng 金
元行 (1702–1772), a partisan of Yi Gan’s views in the Horak controversy, is an
interesting example of the way the new experiences and learning available in the
latter half of the eighteenth century could interact with and transform Cheng-Zhu
thought. Travels to China and an acquaintance with Western astronomical and geo-
graphic theory impressed him deeply both with changing culture (and the need to
keep up with it) and with a universe in no way centered on China. In fact, not only
was China displaced from the center in his view, but the very notion of a center was
relativized, devoid of meaning except as the view from a particular position. Hong
seems here to pick up on a form of relativism scarce in evidence since its startlingly
modern-seeming exposition in the Daoist classic Zhuangzi 莊子 back in the third or
fourth century B.C.
Hong’s relativism extended beyond mere geography into the realm of values,
placing him at loggerheads with the Neo-Confucian understanding of a constant
normative pattern (i) or species differentiated by degrees of participation. Totally
abandoning the notion of any pattern transcending the changing, transformative
process of space and time, Hong adopted a monism of gi which denied even the
familiar East Asian cosmological constants of yin and yang and the Five Agents.
40 M. C. Kalton
Picking up Yi Gan’s notion of a mind-and-heart of enduringly pure gi but abandon-

ing entirely Yi’s notion of i, he supported Yi’s view of the similarity of all creatures
in an entirely unexpected way: they are equal not as all participating in a single
transcendent nature as Yi Gan said, but as all sharing what Yi had called the original
mind-and-heart. According to Hong, all creatures possess this mind-and-heart, but
utilize it in different ways proportioned to their different needs and circumstances.
He completely abandoned the notion of graded participation in a transcendent pat-
tern, the Confucian transformation of a Buddhist i. Instead he returned completely
to the notion of an organic pattern inherent in the transforming, living stuff of the
universe, and the process relativized all norms and recovered the relativistic equality
of things much as it was espoused in the famous second chapter of the Zhuangzi
(Song 1988).
Jeong Yagyong 丁若鏞 (pen-name Dasan 茶山 1762–1836) was perhaps the
greatest of all silhak thinkers and certainly was the most outstanding philosophical
mind to challenge the Cheng-Zhu vision. Members of his family were among
Korea’s first Christians, converted by reading treatises of the famed Jesuit Catholic
missionary to China, Matteo Ricci. Whether or not he was formally baptized, Dasan
was profoundly influenced by the new learning and went on to construct a thor-
oughly theistic reconstruction of what he claimed was the original Confucianism.
Thoroughly versed in the classics and with a detailed grasp of the historical devel-
opment of Confucian thinking, Dasan developed from scratch an amazingly full and
mature theistic alternative that fully matched the scope and complexity of the Neo-
Confucian world view he challenged (Kalton 1981).
If Dasan represents silhak’s philosophical peak, Kim Jeonghui 金正喜 (1786–
1856) is often regarded as the outstanding representative of its critical methodology,
evidential learning (kojeung/kao-zheng 攷證), or searching for the truth in actual
facts (silsa gusi 實事求是). The empirically oriented method, the phrases in which
it is captured, and the varied fields of its application underwent a rich development
in China during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,4 and it is a difficult task to
determine to what extent Korean silhak is an echo of this Chinese development.
Evidential learning was virtually identical with the employment of sophisticated
philological tools to reconstruct and critique ancient texts; but it also broadened
beyond philology to become a concern for empirical verifiability that found applica-
tion, as in silhak, to a broad range of areas.
Kim Jeonghui may represent the high point of Korean appropriation of this
sophisticated Chinese intellectual movement. He carried on correspondence with
members of the movement in China, and even studied for a brief time with two of
its leaders, Weng Fang-kang 翁方綱 (1733–1818) and Ruan Yuan 阮元 (1764–
1849). That direct contact was only for 3 or 4 months when Kim was in his early
twenties, but the influence, especially of Weng, was deep and lasting, and like Weng,
Kim became an outstanding exponent and practitioner of epigraphy. Weng’s advo-
cacy in favor of combining the strong points of both Han and Song scholarship
reinforced a tendency deeply embedded in the Korean milieu; thus in spite of his
For an account of this development in China, see Elman 1985.

4
strong leaning towards a historical-critical methodology, Kim readily affirmed that

the Song dynasty Neo-Confucians had made substantial contributions.
But then Kim went further and simply dismissed the relevance of contention
among schools and the advocacy of one period’s learning over another’s. Han
dynasty or Song, Zhu Xi or Wang Yang-ming, it does not matter: a quiet, even mind
that seeks truth in actual facts in the context of broad learning and earnest practice
is all that is required (Kim 1976: 237). Where others saw authoritative boundaries
of truth and falsehood, he was more inclined to see and investigate differing histori-
cal developments. He consorted with Buddhist monks as well as Confucian literati,
and applied his historical and philological methods to the examination of Buddhist
scriptures as readily as Confucian classics. He viewed Confucians and Buddhists
alike as prone to go astray through speculative excess. Buddhist heavens and hells
he dismissed with sympathy as devices to lead people to moral lives, which he
regarded as the essential goal of both Buddhism and Confucianism (Kim 1976:
253).
Its foreshadowing of typically modern concerns and intellectual usage causes
silhak to loom particularly large in contemporary consciousness, but that should not
obscure the fact that Neo-Confucian thought in its more conventional seongnihak
parameters continued a vital existence as the mainline intellectuality and cultivation
practice of the yangban class. Although it was not well-suited to the kinds of com-
mercial and military developments needed to bridge Korea’s entry into the modern
world, Neo-Confucianism continued to support personal spiritual development,
undergird familial and social structure, and encompass a lively and varied intellec-
tual life. Indeed, one might argue that its continued power to function in these
respects made Korea’s final entry into an antithetical modernity towards the end of
the nineteenth century particularly difficult.
In pushing at the most fundamental assumptions and conceptual formulae of the
Cheng-Zhu synthesis, the Horak Debate left a profound imprint upon the seongni-
hak of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. One consequence was a new division
within the school of Yulgok, which enjoyed continued prominence in part due to the
continued predominance of the political faction identified with it. The legacy of
Han Wonjin’s clear focus on limitation and determination in terms of psychophysi-
cal force was a line of thought that radicalized the role of gi. Yi Gan’s move to
recover a self-determining dimension of patterning i, on the other hand opened up a
line within Yulgok’s school that increasingly emphasized the need to understand the
way i could exercise some kind of mastery in the interdependent i-gi relationship.
One consequence of this was that an eclectic attempt to combine the insights of
both Toegye and Yulgok became a more common intellectual strategy. As if in
response to this new latitude, Toegye’s school moved finally to a more radical ver-
sion of the ultimate mastering role of formative, patterning i in all activity. In sum,
the Horak controversy contributed to radicalizing both sides of the i/gi dualism,
and in the process opened up a more flexible and creative middle arena of dis-
course as well.
Three of the commonly cited six great thinkers of the Joseon dynasty belong to
this period: Im Seongju 任聖周 (1711–88) is the period’s radical exponent of gi,
42 M. C. Kalton
while in the nineteenth century Gi Jeongjin 奇正鎭 (1798–1876) and Yi Jinsang 李

震相 (1818–85) took i as far as it could go in the Cheng-Zhu tradition.
Im Seongju was a pupil of Yi Jae 李縡 (1680–1746), a leading exponent of Yi
Gan’s side of the Horak Debate. In his early period Im followed his teacher, but
after a decade of reviewing the whole matter in his middle years, he swung strongly
the other way, leading in the direction of a gi monism. He clearly saw the ambiguity
of the seminal formula, “i is one and manifested diversely (li il i bun su/li yi er fen
shu 理一而分殊),” and exploited this ambiguity in his chosen direction:
Nowadays people always take “i is one and manifested diversely” to mean that i is one and
gi is responsible for diversity. They do not realize that the unity of i is manifest through the
unity of gi. If it were not for the unity of gi, how would they ever know that i is necessarily
one? If one takes “i is one and manifested diversely” from a perspective that emphasizes i
then the diversity likewise always ends up belonging to i. Then if one were to emphasize gi,
there would be nothing wrong with saying “gi is one and manifested diversely. (Im 1980:
[19] 4a)
Flatly contradicting Yulgok’s assertion that when gi is turbid, its original condi-
tion is lost, he sided with Yi Gan’s suggestion that the mind represents an originally
pure and inalienable participation in the perfect stuff of the universe (Im 1980: [19]
4a). The same argumentation, he observes, that allows one to claim that the perfec-
tion of the original nature (i) remains in spite of manifest evil, applies likewise to the
view of the purity of gi as the enduring deposit of Mencian goodness (Im 1980: [19]
5b). His description calls on classical phrases from the Mencius and the Book of
Changes to describe how the psychophysical stuff of the mind-and-heart on this
level of purity is in a condition of unblocked, pervasive unity with the universe, a
condition that can be cultivated in spiritual experience in a manner quite analogous
to the ideas of nurturing the mind-and-heart in meditative unity with i.
In radicalizing the role of the psychophysical component, Im was carrying to an
extreme what to many was the most readily identifiable characteristic of Yulgok’s
thought, its insistence that patterning i in the real world has no role conceived of in
independence of the enabling and conditioning factor of gi. Carried a step further,
such ideas lead logically to a wide-open evolutionary perspective. But as Koreans
entered the nineteenth century desperately grappling with increasingly intractable
internal and external problems which they could scarcely comprehend, anchorless
evolution was hardly an inviting path. The Neo-Confucian world view of the Joseon
dynasty was moored to the authority of ancient sages and historical precedent;
change could be accommodated by strategies of reinterpreting that authority, but the
overall orientation was fixed.
Thus it was perhaps inevitable that in the embattled culture and civilization of the
nineteenth century the most creative seongnihak thinkers and the powerful resis-
tance to foreign incursion were bound up with a resurgent focus on the centrality of
i, as this ever-enduring normative pattern became identified in their minds with
everything good and meaningful in their world.
Gi Jeongjin (1798–1876) took the focus on i as far is it could go within the struc-
ture of Cheng-Zhu thought. As Im Seongju before him, the Horak Debate led him
into a reconsideration of the conventional interpretation of “i is one but manifested
diversely,” but with results that were the polar opposite from Im’s gi monism. He
noted, like Im, that most interpreters think of this as meaning i is one but is diversi-
fied as it is manifested in the limiting vessel of psychophysical gi. But where Im
attacked this interpretation by stressing gi as the fundamental condition for unity as
well, Gi Jeongjin moved in the opposite direction and pointed out that i includes
diversity. In fact diversity and unity imply one another and are simultaneously pres-
ent: “How could it mean there is first this undivided unity, and then afterwards divi-
sions that happen are because of gi, so that i is just i and the diversity just the
diversity [apart from i] as is the common opinion (Gi 1980: [12] 3a).”
The widespread interpretation of Yulgok’s “i pervades” formula accentuated that
i “is without” space-time attributes in a way that virtually removed i from any effec-
tive role in the phenomenal world. Gi Jeongjin attacked this head on, offering a
quite different perspective on i’s transcendence:
I’s wondrous mode of “being without” means being without the alternatives of being one
way or the other. Without separation from unity multiplicity is present; without separation
from multiplicity unity is there. It’s not like the case of concrete things in which little or
much are each particular conditions. That’s what it means to pervade [alternatives such as]
much and little. Death is alternative to life, but the wondrousness of i is without priority and
posteriority: without parting from the beginning the end is fixed, and without parting from
the end what is called the beginning has its origin there. It’s not like concrete things for
which life and death are each particular conditions. That’s what it means to “pervade” life
and death. (Gi 1980: [12] :16b–17a)
The whole point of this transcendent pattern is to be the formative master from
within of the way the whole world transpires. I is not powerless, but rather the for-
mative source of all power:
The issuance and activity of gi are actually at the direction of i. That which directs is the
master, and that which receives direction is the servant. The servant performs his task, but
the credit goes to the master. (Gi 1980: [12] 23a–b)
With this focus he moves clearly beyond the approach that sees i and gi as an
interdependent and complementary contrasting pair, and he strongly challenged the
Yulgok tradition which emphasized “i mounts on gi,” objecting that it makes i the
dependent factor rather than the master. As he is fond of repeating, “gi has taken
over the position of i.”
Gi Jeongjin was a highly respected teacher with over 300 disciples. His analyses
are steeped in references to the Song dynasty authorities, especially Zhu Xi, and not
wishing to give offense, he kept his most pointed critiques to himself. When his
grandson discovered his manuscripts and published them in 1902 it caused a furor.
Rallies were held, refutations written, and Song Byeongseon (宋秉璿 1836–1905),
the last major teacher of record in Yulgok’s school, led the demand that Gi’s munjip
(collected writings) should be consigned to the flames.
In Toegye’s school one can draw a line of increasing focus on i over the centu-
ries, but the rootedness in self-cultivation concerns which characterized Toegye’s
work perhaps served as a restraint from taking this to its logical limits insofar as it
was necessary to preserve the kind of dualistic tensions that characterize spiritual
practice.
44 M. C. Kalton
The last great thinker of Toegye’s line, Yi Jinsang (1818–1885), however, reflects
the radicalization that has occurred. His analysis of “i is one and manifested
diversely” likewise followed the lines of ascribing diversity most fundamentally to
i’s inherent patterning rather than the diversifying limitation of gi (Yi C 1980: [6]
29b–30a). But in Toegye’s school this notice of i’s causal role is a commonplace of
discourse on the makeup of our inner life, and does not thrust forward into more
radicalized metaphysical thinking. Characteristic of Toegye’s basic concerns, Yi’s
most adventurous thinking relates rather to i and gi in the psychological arena of
spiritual cultivation. In an essay on gijil/qi-zhi 氣質, the limiting/enabling stuff of
our psychophysical constitution, he observes that the only reason gi is important is
because i is important:
The reason the purity and clarity of psychophysical stuff (gijil) is valued is that it does not
distort i, so i can be manifested. Knowing it and making it integral is necessarily a matter of
i as master. (Yi J 1980: [22] 24b)
Like Gi Jeongjin, he saw this role of mastery as active, a matter of a vital, living
pattern that is not passively dependent on the condition of gi.
Yi Jinsang’s most important move within the context of Toegye’s school was to
break the Wang Yang-ming taboo. Wang’s famous saying that “the mind-and-heart
is i” led generations of Zhu Xi loyalists in Korea to staunchly defend the orthodox
position that the mind-and-heart is gi, with i, the nature, as its substance. We saw the
problem with this emphasis in the Horak argument about the presence of psycho-
physical force and its role even in the quiescent, meditative state of objectless con-
sciousness. To save meditation Yi Gan was forced to develop a doctrine of an
original mind-and-heart composed of gi in its pure state.
For Yi Jinsang, this was an unnecessary exercise. The whole point of the mind-
and-heart is i’s mastery as the original nature, and as soon as psychophysical turbu-
lence is quieted down that mastery becomes a living presence (Yi J 1980: [22] 31a).
In his view making the mind-and-heart essentially a matter of psychophysical force,
even with i as its substance, somehow misses the point of all the classics, especially
Mencius, when they speak of the mind-and-heart. To redress the balance, Yi boldly
reintroduced the phrase Wang Yang-ming had rendered forbidden:
Whether past or present, whenever people discuss the mind-and-heart, there is no better
way of putting it than that the mind-and-heart is i, and there has been nothing worse than
saying the mind-and-heart is gi. (Yi J 1980: [37] 1a)
Understood carefully, this expression tallies with Toegye’s position in the four-
seven debate, and actually starts to explicate the way Toegye’s thought provided the
start of a Cheng-Zhu alternative to Wang Yang-ming. But as hard as he tried to
distinguish his meaning from the problematic spontaneous intuitionism (mistaking
gi for i, as Yi put it) that put Wang’s school too close to Zen, few could see past his
use of the forbidden formula. When his collected works came out in Gyeongsang
Province, the homeland of the Toegye school, he was condemned as a heretic and
his works were burned. Only decades later, well into the twentieth century, could he
get a reading that began to recognize the validity of his contribution.
The seongnihak synthesis of cosmic metaphysics and human spiritual psychol-

ogy was the philosophical expression of a vision of a universe the essence of which
was moral concern and responsiveness. Thus when Yi Hangno 李恒老 (1792–1868),
the scholarly leader of the conservative movement to reject the foreigners and all
their works, was asked for advice in the critical 1860’s, his response was that the
ruler and court should practice frugality and exemplary morality to regain the minds
and hearts of the populace. Yi was confident that with the right moral effort, the gi
oriented physicality of the outsiders could not overcome the righteous patterning
principle embodied in Korea’s Neo-Confucian tradition. This i/gi analysis applied
equally to his understanding of personal cultivation, politics, society, civilization,
and the universe. Material concerns, strategy, and military might could find only
subordinate positions in such a framework, and hardly merited mention in the face
of what he perceived as a crisis of civilization.
Neo-Confucian seongnihak at the end of the Joseon dynasty was not moribund:
indeed, with the polarization of radicalized interpretations and a large core of tradi-
tional centrist opinion, the potential to move in important and new directions was
never so great. But the overwhelming force of the inrushing modern world pre-
sented a vision and standard of values that was simply incompatible with the vision
that inspired seongnihak. Song Byeongseon, the Yulgok leader who condemned Gi
Jeongjin’s work, died in 1935 credited with some 894 disciples, more than twice the
number ever recorded before. Likewise unprecedented was the fact that not one of
those 894 passed civil service exams, the traditional Confucian portal to govern-
ment service (Yun 1983: [A] 46b–57a). There was no exam to pass, for it had been
abolished in the reforms of 1894: their kind of learning no longer led to anything.
The rationale of government, and of the age, had changed.
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Chapter 3
What is Korean about Korean
Confucianism?
Don Baker
1 Introduction
Korean Confucianism was firmly rooted in the Chinese Classics. Moreover, Korea
paid close attention to developments within Chinese Confucianism over the centu-
ries, and, as a result, Korean Confucians debated many of the same issues Chinese
Confucians debated. However, that does not mean Korean Confucianism was a car-
bon copy of Chinese Confucianism. Koreans made Confucianism their own and felt
free to use the tools Confucianism provided to address issues that were of particular
interest to them.
One of those issues, particularly salient during the Chosŏn dynasty (朝鮮 1392–
1910), was the contradiction between the assumption of human moral perfectibility
and the recognition of human moral frailty. A related concern was the psychology
of self-cultivation. Koreans delved much deeper into moral psychology than Chinese
Confucians normally did. They did so out of a desire to find a way to overcome the
human moral frailty that Chinese Confucianism told them should not be a major
problem, but Koreans recognized as a strong barrier to developing the ability to
consistently think and act appropriately.
The search for an explanation of human moral frailty, motivated by a search for
a way to eliminate frequent moral lapses, lies behind many of the twists and turns in
Chosŏn dynasty Neo-Confucian thought. Korean Confucians revealed their distinc-
tive approach to Confucianism in the Four-Seven debate, the debate over how
human nature compared to animal nature, and the way they responded to Catholicism
in the late eighteenth century, all of which are discussed in greater detail in later
chapters. We can also identify distinctive characteristics of Korean Confucianism in
D. Baker (*)
Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada
e-mail: don.baker@ubc.ca

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_3
48 D. Baker
the Confucian contribution to Tonghak thought, and how that relates to the problem
of human moral frailty.
Before tracing the contours of the course of Confucian thought over the five
centuries of the Chosǒn dynasty (1392–1910), we need to first take note of a point
of tension at the heart of Confucianism from its beginning, a tension that Koreans
showed particular interest in and sought to resolve in distinctively Korean ways.
That tension is the tension between the assumption that human beings are
innately virtuous and the recognition that consistently acting virtuously is not
always easy. The Confucian assumption that virtue is innate is not the same as say-
ing that acting virtuously is easy. The statement that virtue is innate in human beings
is simply another way of saying that all human beings are capable of developing a
virtuous character, and virtuous habits, through their own efforts. It does not mean
that human beings are born acting virtuously. It simply means that they do not need
external assistance, such as help from a supernatural being, to become virtuous. All
they have to do is cultivate their natural virtuous tendencies.
This is evident even in the Analects when Confucius makes clear his belief that
virtue is definitely not something far away and unobtainable. Confucius states, of
supreme virtue, “Is Goodness (ren K. in 仁) really so far way? If I simply desire
Goodness, I will find it is already here” (Slingerland 2003: 74). Yet he also states
that, though it is not far way, it is also not something obtained without effort. He
confesses that he set his mind upon learning at the age of 15 but it was not until he
was 70 years old that he could “follow my heart’s desires without overstepping the
bounds of propriety” (Slingerland 2003: 9). Moreover, there is a reason for the dif-
ficulty human beings encounter on the road to virtue. He pointed out that “I have yet
to meet a man who loves Virtue as much as he loves female beauty” (Slingerland
2003: 92). In other words, according to Confucius, human beings appear to care
more for sexual pleasure than for moral rectitude, even though human beings are
innately virtuous.
There is, therefore, an ambiguity in the Confucian assumption of innate virtue, a
lack of clarity that gives rise to tension within Confucianism, particularly among
Confucian practitioners who took seriously the moral demands Confucianism made
on individual motivation and behavior. That ambiguity arises from the overlapping
of not only the “is” and the “can be” but also of the real and the ideal, the assump-
tion that what we are in our essential core, that which defines us as human beings,
is what we should be. In other words, at the heart of the Confucian vision of the
relationship between human beings and human virtue is a collapse of a clear-cut
distinction between the “is” and the “ought.” Human beings can be said to be virtu-
ous by nature since they both can become and should become virtuous, even though
most human beings are not actually virtuous all the time or even most of the time.
We can see this blurring of the boundaries between the “is” and the “ought” even
in the more technical philosophical terminology of Neo-Confucianism. For exam-
ple, ch’e (C. ti 體) and yong (用), often translated as substance (or essence) and
function, are more closely intertwined than that standard translation suggests. In
Neo-Confucian discourse, they usually refer to unactualized potential (ch’e) and
that potential actualized (yong). In other words, our ch’e, our essence, is our
3 What is Korean about Korean Confucianism? 49
p otential to act in certain ways, and our yong, our function, is that potential realized
in concrete behavior. However, there is a normative overtone to that pair of con-
cepts. Our ch’e is our potential to act properly. It is not our ch’e to lie, to steal, to
murder a fellow human being. It is our ch’e to be able to cooperate with our fellow
human beings, be filial to our parents, be loyal to our government, be trustworthy
with our friends, and so on. Similarly, yong refers to the actualization of our virtu-
ous potential. Our ch’e as human beings turns into yong when we actually cooperate
with our fellow human beings, act as good sons and daughters, loyal subjects, trust-
worthy friends, and so on.
The tension arising from the confusion of the ideal with real was exacerbated by
the Neo-Confucian understanding of who we are. Human beings are defined by
Confucianism as social beings. In fact, that is one of the reasons Confucians say that
human beings are endowed with virtue at birth. They are born to interact with their
fellow human beings, and proper interpersonal interaction is the very definition of
virtue. Moreover, as those infants grow up, they remain defined by the sum total of
all their interrelationships. Who a human being is, is defined by the roles that human
being plays in society: parent, child, subject, student, official, friend, etc. Outside of
the roles they are supposed to play and the interpersonal relationships those roles
entail, human beings have no specific identity. It is therefore in the very nature of
human beings to interact properly with everyone and everything that surrounds
them, since it is those interactions that give them their identity as human beings.
However, and this is where the tension arises, they are also individuals (since each
particular nexus of inter-relationships constituting a human being is distinct from
every other such nexus) and as such often act at odds with their social
responsibilities.
Virtue in Confucianism and Neo-Confucianism means at core to interact harmo-
niously with our social and natural environment, to play our assigned roles within
the larger community no matter what our individual proclivities might be. We can
see this in the importance placed on the Five Relationships (the five most important
pairs of human interactions, between ruler and subject, parent and child, husband
and wife, older sibling and younger sibling, and friends, and the virtues that govern
them) as well as on the virtues of in (benevolence or being truly human C. ren),
ch’ung (fulfilling our responsibilities in society C. zhong 忠), and sŏ (treating others
as we ourselves want to be treated C. shu 恕). In other words, to be virtuous means
to always think and act as a member of a community rather than as an isolated indi-
vidual. We should always take into account the impact of our actions on those
around us, because those who surround us and interact with us actually define who
we are. Yet at the same time Confucians recognized that it is specific individuals, not
groups, who are the actual actors. Therefore they had to find some way to reconcile
the individuality of actors with the social nature of those actors and their interac-
tions. They had to navigate between the inevitability that it is always an “I” that acts
and the ethical imperative that we should always act as a “we.”
The sophisticated metaphysics of Neo-Confucianism gives us terminology to
clarify that tension. Our hearts-and-minds are identified with li (理), which means
that we are one with the universe, or at least with the all-encompassing cosmic
50 D. Baker
n etwork of appropriate interactions (that is how li in Neo-Confucianism should nor-

mally be understood). But at the same time we can only act as specific configura-
tions of ki (C. qi 氣) within an environment formed by other specific configurations
of ki. Ki, since it is the stuff out of which all things in the universe are made, can
serve as a unifying force but, since it coagulates into separate and distinct things, it
also serves as a divisive force. We see the emphasis on ki as a unifying force in the
statement by Zhang Zai (張載 1020–1077) in his Western Inscription that “that
which extends throughout the universe I regard as my body and that which directs
the universe I consider as my nature.” (De Bary and Bloom 1999: 683) We see the
emphasis on ki as a individualizing force in the famous statement by Yulgok Yi I (栗
谷李珥 1536–1584) that “li is universal, pervading everything, but ki is limiting in
that it forms into separate and distinct configurations,” (It’ong-giguk C. litong qiju
理通氣局) (Yi I 1958: 10: 26a).
Korean Confucians focused a lot of attention on the individualizing impact of ki
and therefore were more conscious of the dangers posed by our social and material
environment (the ki realm) than most Confucians in other countries were. Because
of their focus on the hazards entailed by the necessity of operating within the ki
realm, Korean Confucians felt sharply the contradiction between the assumption of
human moral perfectibility (that virtue is innate in human beings) and the reality of
human moral frailty (that few, if any, humans are morally perfect). That sensitivity
to human moral frailty stimulated the Four-Seven debate, which is often pointed to
as the earliest manifestation of Korean philosophical creativity and a distinctive
Korean approach to Neo-Confucian philosophy.
The key issue in that famous “Four-Seven Debate,” often misinterpreted as primar-
ily an abstract metaphysical debate, was how best to be virtuous. It arose from dif-
ferent approaches to the struggle to live an ethical life in an often unethical world.
Chosŏn dynasty Neo-Confucians were practical men, searching for tools to help
them live moral lives. They wanted to know how far they could trust their own feel-
ings and how wary they should be of the world around them. They believed such
knowledge would help them choose the most effective methods of self-discipline
and moral self-cultivation. The debate over the relationship between the Four Fonts
(sadan C. siduan 四端) and the Seven Emotions (ch’iljŏng C. qiqing 七情), as well
as the later debates over the relationship between human nature and animal nature,
were attempts to answer such questions and define key Confucian concepts in order
to clarify the process by which men could eliminate selfish thoughts, eradicate
immoral actions and foster their inborn tendency to do what was right (C. Chung
1985; E. Chung 1995; Pae 1985; Han’guk ch’ŏrhak hoe 1982; Santangelo 1990).
The divergent approaches to explaining the relationship between the four fonts of
virtue and the seven emotions which arose in the sixteenth century shaped the cur-
rents and contours of Korean Neo-Confucian thought and practice for the remaining
three centuries of the Chosŏn dynasty. Both the questions Korean Neo-Confucians
raised and the answers they proposed for those questions in the seventeenth, eigh-
teenth, and nineteenth centuries were often variants of and elaborations on the ques-
tions and answers first introduced in the sixteenth. Many of the differences in
philosophical orientation as well as in spirituality among Korea’s Neo-Confucian
yangban elite in the second half of the Chosŏn dynasty had their origins in the
dynamic generated by the original Four-Seven Debate late in the first half. When
they made the decision to pursue sagehood, to cultivate the moral character to which
all Confucians were supposed to aspire, Chosŏn dynasty Neo-Confucians after
1600 often had to first decide which stance they would adopt toward the relationship
of li and ki to the four fonts of virtue and the seven emotions. In other words, they
had to decide whether they were followers of T’oegye Yi Hwang (退溪李滉 1501–
70) or of Yulgok Yi I.
This split between pro-T’oegye and pro-Yulgok camps lasted as long as it did
partially because both sides could draw on textual support from ambiguities in the
Neo-Confucianism imported from China in which they both were rooted. More
significant, however, was the relevance of the Four-Seven debate and the issues it
addressed to Korean Confucian moral concerns. As early as the sixteenth century,
those moral concerns had developed in two contrasting directions, one manifested
in T’oegye’s moral pessimism and analytical approach, in which he focused on dif-
ferentiating between the Four Fonts and the Seven Emotions and their roles in stim-
ulating human behavior, and the other in Yulgok’s ethical optimism and preference
for synthesis, displayed in his preference for viewing the Four Fonts and the Seven
Emotions as intertwined.
T’oegye’s philosophical pessimism and Yulgok’s philosophical optimism gener-
ated differences in the ways those two Neo-Confucian scholars understood and
explained the concepts of li and ki and how they believed those two primary Neo-
Confucian formative forces of the cosmos were related both to each other and to the
human quest for moral perfection. li, sometimes translated as “principle,” and ki,
sometimes translated as “material force,” have a much wider range of reference than
any single English translation can encompass and therefore leave themselves open
to a wide variety of readings and interpretations.
When li first appeared in ancient Chinese writings, it referred more to patterns
than to metaphysical principles (Chan 1963: 260–61). However, by the time the
Song philosopher Zhu Xi (朱熹 1130–1200) wove his foundational Neo-Confucian
synthesis in the twelfth century, li had become the fundamental normative force in
the cosmos, serving as both those moral principles by which human beings should
guide their lives and as those invisible directive patterns of interaction which
defined, generated, and sustained all appropriate activity within the human com-
munity as well as within the natural world. Ki underwent a similar transformation.
At first more a medical than a philosophical concept, ki originally meant the air that
sustains life and gives it energy (Veith 1973). That term gradually expanded in
meaning until, in the hands of the Song founders of Neo-Confucianism in the
twelfth century, ki became the fundamental stuff out of which everything that
52 D. Baker
existed, including both the mind and the body and all material and immaterial phe-
nomena, were formed into distinct entities and processes by li (Chan 1963:
634–38).
The Neo-Confucianism that gave li and ki such philosophical import represented
more than an attempt to merely understand the cosmos and the place of human
beings within it in terms of the interaction of li and ki. Neo-Confucianism was a
philosophical response to the centuries-long Buddhist challenge to China’s tradi-
tional values and ethical standards. As such, it represented an attempt to provide a
moral metaphysics, a philosophical grounding for morality in which the Buddhist
claim that the world of human experience was unreal was countered by the claim
that it was the world of human relationships, formed and governed by moral obliga-
tions, which constituted ultimate reality. In a philosophy as focused on morality and
ethics as Neo-Confucianism was, li and ki could never be merely abstract meta-
physical or ontological concepts but necessarily carried moral import as well. It is
this moral import of li and ki that generated the divisions between the T’oegye
school and the Yulgok school in the Four-Seven debate. Both T’oegye and Yulgok,
and their followers, read into li and ki their particular assumptions about the moral
character of the universe and of the human beings who lived within it.
3 The Moral Rationale for T’oegye’s Analytical Approach
T’oegye and his followers had a strong sense of humanity’s moral frailty, of how
difficult it was to consistently adhere to the high Confucian standards of selflessness
and self-control. They tended to emphasize the gap between li, seen as the norma-
tive pattern governing human interactions within the human community and with
the natural world in general, and ki, seen as the physical world that sometimes hin-
ders the smooth operation of li. This li-ki gap led to corresponding gaps between the
four fonts and the seven emotions, between a human being’s moral mind and a man
or woman’s human mind, between human nature and physical nature, and between
the mind in the pre-activated state and the engaged mind. In each case, the second
half of each paired term represented the greater influence of ki, and therefore greater
potential moral danger.
Consequently, followers of T’oegye stressed quiet sitting, “abiding in reverence”
(chugyŏng C. zhujing 主敬), as a way to steel the li of the mind for the encounter
with the world of ki outside (Kalton 1988). T’oegye and his disciples assumed that
“abiding in reverence,” cultivating calm mindfulness before confronting the dangers
the body’s ki-generated selfish emotions as well as the stimuli of the ki-generated
external world posed to appropriate interactions, was the most effective way to keep
selfish thoughts or emotions from leading them astray. This led them to focus more
on li, the patterns defining appropriately selfless interactions, than on the ki-
generated entities and events they interacted with. Over the centuries, because of
their distrust of the ki realm, their ethical principles came more and more to resem-
ble a form of asceticism, with a strong stress on the control of desire, which they
understood as generated by ki. They are sometimes known as the “churip’a” (C.
zhulipai 主理派), since they emphasized the priority of li over ki, a priority often
expressed in practical terms as the need for the moral mind to rule the physical body.
T’oegye couched his moral vision in cosmic and metaphysical terms because his
cosmos was a moral cosmos and his metaphysics was a moral metaphysics.
Appropriate interrelationships (li) were for him the ultimate reality. Human beings
existed only in interactions with the people and the world around them. To be fully
human, they had to ensure that in those interactions they put thoughts of personal
interest aside and instead played their proper roles in the overall social and natural
order. Ironically, T’oegye and many of his followers limited their participation in
government, though that was usually considered the proper role of a Confucian
scholar. However, their distrust of factions and other manifestations of what they
perceived as the influence of ki over politics led them to often prefer withdrawal
from public life in order to cultivate their moral character in the peace and quiet of
their home villages instead.
T’oegye discovered that, even for those who withdraw from the ki-dominated
political arena, moral cultivation was no easy task, since human beings always and
everywhere were ensnared in a material web (ki) which countered the universalizing
tendency of li by separating one human being from another and human beings from
nature. If the cosmic moral pattern T’oegye envisioned is seen as a checkerboard of
dynamic alternating black and red squares, T’oegye could be said to emphasize how
the color of a black square separated it from its red neighbors. The material structure
of the pattern thus contained the seeds of individualism and selfishness.
Yulgok and his followers, on the other hand, focused on ki’s role in providing
both the arena and the tools for moral struggle. If they, too, had seen the moral cos-
mic pattern as a checkerboard, they would have stressed the interdependency of
both red and black squares in creating that pattern. They insisted that li without ki
was empty, just as ki without li was shapeless. Emphasizing li’s functions within ki
rather than the differences between li and ki, they were less inclined to see ki as the
root of all evil and more inclined to play an active role in the ki-filled world of poli-
tics and government. For this reason, they are often known as the “chugip’a” (C.
zhuqipai 主氣派). In their eyes, “exhausting principle” (kungni C. qiongli 窮理),
doing your utmost within the arena constituted by ki to act in accordance with the
moral patterns identified with li, was more important than quietly abiding in rever-
ence and contemplating those moral patterns (Yi I 1958: XIX–XXVI).
Yulgok and his followers de-emphasized the divisions within the mind which
T’oegye’s followers had highlighted. Though they too saw the need to keep selfish
desires under control, they recognized that human beings had to operate within the
moral arena ki provided. They downplayed differences between the Four Fonts and
the Seven Emotions, between the moral mind and the human mind, between human
nature and physical nature, and between the quiescent mind and the activated mind,
differences that tended to stress the dangers inherent in the physical and social envi-
ronment in which people lived, acted, and interacted. Yulgok and his followers
feared that T’oegye drew too sharp a line between morality and reality, resulting in
54 D. Baker
an over-emphasis on quiet sitting and ascetic practices that could lead to withdrawal
from society and an abdication of moral responsibility.
Despite differences of emphasis, both approaches shared a common language
and common assumptions. Both agreed with Zhu Xi and other orthodox Chinese
Neo-Confucians that li and ki were the fundamental forces creating and sustaining
the universe. Both agreed that li in human beings represented a universalizing ten-
dency, a disposition to work within the normative cosmic pattern, and that ki repre-
sented its opposite, an individualizing tendency to work against and outside of that
pattern. Both associated li with impartiality, cooperation, and unity. Both associated
ki with bias, selfishness, and differentiation. And both agreed that debates over the
relationship between li and ki, and over human nature, were essentially debates over
how to be moral, and therefore should be decided on ethical rather than logical
grounds.
The moral concern at the heart of both T’oegye’s and Yulgok’s philosophies is
reflected in their respective formulations of the relationship between li and the Four
Fonts of virtue with ki and the Seven Emotions. The Four Fonts are those instinctive
human tendencies of commiseration, shame, modesty, and moral judgment that
Mencius pointed to as evidence of humanity’s innate goodness (Van Norden 2008:
149). The Seven Emotions are those fundamental feelings ascribed to human beings
in the Book of Rites: joy, anger, sadness, fear, love, hatred, and desire (Legge 1967:
I: 379).
T’oegye drew a sharp line between the Four Fonts and the Seven Emotions in
order to distinguish between those sentiments which can be trusted and those feel-
ings which can lead people astray. In a famous letter to Ki Taesŭng (奇大升 1527–
72), T’oegye penned the often quoted and often debated lines, “In the case of the
Four Fonts, li issues them and ki follows them, while in the case of the Seven
Emotions, ki issues them and li mounts them” (Yi Hwang 1980: 16: 32a; Lee et al.
1993: 627).
This standard translation of those lines obscures the implications for moral culti-
vation of that formula. Only those who understand that T’oegye is talking about li
as the dynamic normative force that directs men away from the pursuit of individual
self-interest into their proper roles in society can understand why he insists that it is
li rather than ki that generates the Four Fonts. Only those who know that he is talk-
ing about ki in terms of its individualizing impact that separates human beings from
one another and encourages them to pursue their own selfish self-interest can under-
stand why he insists that it is ki rather than li that generates the more self-centered
Seven Emotions.
A paraphrase of T’oegye’s formula might make clearer what he was trying to
say:
The Four Fonts are generated by the human tendency to act in accordance with the cosmic
pattern of appropriate interrelationships [li] but, when those instinctive feelings are gener-
ated, the tendency to act for oneself rather than as part of the whole [ki] follows behind.
The Seven Emotions are generated by the individualizing tendency to pursue one’s self-
interest apart from that cosmic pattern (ki] but the universalizing tendency to act in accor-
dance with that pattern [li] rides along.
T’oegye did not link the relationship between li and ki to the differences between
the Four Fonts and the Seven Emotions merely to make a philosophical point about
the ultimate nature of reality. He was offering practical advice to Ki Taesŭng,
encouraging him to beware of feelings such as joy, anger, love, or hate which reflect
self-interest and to cultivate instead feelings such as commiseration and shame
which show a regard for others. T’oegye asserted that “In the case of the Four Fonts,
li issues them and ki follows li” in order to warn his friend to beware of selfish
desires lurking in the back of his mind even when he is primarily motivated by
moral impulses. At the same time T’oegye did not want Ki Taesŭng to become too
pessimistic about the possibility of acting morally, adding to his warnings about
selfishness being able to contaminate the noblest of motives the consolation that “in
the case of the Seven Emotions, ki issues them and li mounts them.” In other words,
even when people were moved by less altruistic emotions, they could still direct
those emotions to the common good.
T’oegye’s main point was that it is essential that emotions (the Four Fonts) which
move us to act properly be clearly distinguished from those emotions (the Seven
Emotions) which can mislead us into putting our individual interests ahead of the
interests and needs of others. In that same letter, he told Ki,
If you feel uncomfortable with such analysis and prefer to stress commonality over differ-
ences, then you will be guilty of what men of old called ‘swallowing a large piece of fruit in
one gulp.’ This is no small error. Before you know it, you will make the serious mistake of
treating sŏng [human nature C. xing 性] as though it were nothing more than ki. This will
lead to a disastrous situation in which you confuse li with base human desires. (Yi Hwang
1980: 16: 23b; Lee et al. 1993: 619)
Since human nature to T’oegye took the standard Neo-Confucian meaning of the
natural human tendency to respond appropriately and selflessly in both social and
natural environments, and ki referred to the individualizing force which encourages
people to pursue their own self-interest, Toegye’s concluding sentences might be
read as warning Ki against risking:
making the serious mistake of treating the natural human tendency to respond appropri-
ately in both social and natural environments [human nature] as though it were the same as
the individualizing tendency [ki] which draws people away from acting properly. This could
lead to a disastrous situation in which you confuse the cosmic normative pattern that
encourages you to act as you should act with base human desires that have the opposite
effect and instead encourage the pursuit of individual self-interest.
T’oegye used the conceptual tools of analysis and division to highlight the dan-
gers that lurk along the road to virtue. Yet the ultimate objective of Neo-Confucians
remained that of overcoming division in order to act in unison with the cosmic
moral pattern of appropriate interrelationships. Yulgok feared that T’oegye’s ana-
lytical scalpel would hinder more than it helped moral progress, since once fissures
are introduced, unity is difficult to restore. In Yulgok’s view, T’oegye’s focus on the
dangers of the world of ki undermined an energizing vision of underlying unity and
made moral union with that world a more elusive goal.
56 D. Baker
4 T
he Ethical Reasoning Behind Yulgok’s Differences
with T’oegye
Yulgok agreed with T’oegye that li was a unifying centripetal force pulling the vari-
ous elements and processes in the cosmos into cosmic harmony, while ki played
more of a centrifugal disjunctive role, generating separation and fragmentation. In a
phrase often cited by his disciples, Yulgok wrote that li is universal, penetrating
everywhere, but ki is limited and limiting, forming specific individual configura-
tions (Yi I 1958: 10: 26a). That does not necessarily mean the ki is always the cause
of disharmony and evil in this world, however. In Yulgok’s view, T’oegye is wrong
to assert all that is good is a result of movement (“generation” 發) by li, and all
movement by ki is dangerous.
If li can be found in every nook and cranny of the universe without discrimina-
tion or favor, then it is incapable of movement, for movement implies movement
from one place to another and li, since it is everywhere, has no place to move. How
could a universal, all-comprehensive pattern move? All movement that occurs must
be movement within the pattern rather than movement of the pattern. Since that pat-
tern is nothing other than a dynamic network of appropriate interactions, the pattern
determines what moves and what direction and orientation movements should take.
But the pattern itself, as pattern, is unchangeable and therefore immovable.
Consequently, Yulgok rejects T’oegye’s suggestion that the Four Fonts are gener-
ated by the universalizing tendency (li), with the individualizing tendency (ki) fol-
lowing behind, and the Seven Emotions are generated by the individualizing
tendency, with the universalizing tendency going along for the ride. He writes
instead that all human emotions, whether the Four Fonts of Virtue or the morally
ambiguous Seven Emotions, are generated by ki, though every time ki generates
such an emotion, li rides along to provide direction. In other words, all human emo-
tional responses to the social or natural environment are generated by the individu-
alizing tendency of matter and energy to form finite and specific configurations and
interactions (ki), though in every such case the universalizing tendency to act in
accordance with the cosmic pattern of appropriate interactions (li) rides along to
provide direction (Yi I 1958: 10: 26b–27b).
How successful li is in providing direction is what determines good and evil.
Movement that is in accordance with the normative pattern, for example any emo-
tion that resonates with the cosmic network of harmonious interactions, is good.
Movement contrary to the normative pattern, any emotion that works against that
web of selfless harmony, is evil. But, since it is ki that moves in both cases, it is a
mistake to declare, as T’oegye does, that good is generated by li and evil by ki. In
Yulgok’s view, T’oegye’s singular focus on the pattern of appropriate relationships
as defining what is good causes him to forget that it is the appropriate interaction of
individual elements within that pattern, elements composed of ki, that constitutes
that pattern.
Yulgok thought T’oegye made a dangerous error when he drew his sharp line
between a person’s innate inner goodness (human nature, their natural tendency to
act in accordance with li) and their physical responses to their environment (gener-
ated by their physical nature, which is composed of ki and can encourage separation
from, rather than integration into, the normative network of appropriate interac-
tions). Such a separation splits not only the Four Fonts from the Seven Emotions but
also severs a person’s moral mind from their human mind, their human nature from
their physical nature, and their pre-activated mind from their engaged mind.1
Warned Yulgok,
T’oegye’s approach splits a person in half, putting his original nature in the east and his
physical nature in the west. If we accept his analysis, we would also have to separate the
moral mind from the human mind, saying that the moral mind originates in the east and that
the human mind originates in the west. Does that make any sense? ….Such wild talk, at
odds with the way things really are, can only led to behavior equally off the mark. …
Positing such a split in human nature actually makes it much more difficult to act appropri-
ately in our relationships with our fellow human beings. (Yi I 1958: 10: 29b–30a)
Yulgok’s refusal to divide either human beings or the universe into antagonistic
components of li and ki led him to adopt a different approach to moral self-cultivation
than that espoused by T’oegye. He was not afraid of the world of individuals and
differentiation and disagreed with T’oegye’s prescription of “abiding in reverence”
(quiet sitting) as the best way to discover which moral patterns should guide a per-
son’s behavior. He argued instead that the patterns that should govern a person’s
life, the li that should guide a person’s interactions with his fellow human beings
and with the world around him, are best sought in the material world outside, rather
than in the mental world within. Reaching out to the world in order to cultivate sin-
cerity (the practice of appropriate selfless interactions 誠) was Yulgok’s prescription
for self-control (Pae 1974: 99–101, 114–117).
True to the moral pragmatism of his Neo-Confucian tradition, Yulgok offered
concrete examples of the moral efficacy of the ki world of differentiation and indi-
viduals. He pointed out that the virtue of loyalty is a response to the difference
between a subject and his ruler. Likewise, filial piety is a response evoked by the
distinction between a son and his parents. Without the differences between subjects
and rulers and between children and parents, the virtues of loyalty and filial piety
could not exist. Therefore these virtues are not only generated by the universalizing
pattern, as T’oegye would have it, but are also enabled by the differences created by
the individualizing force of ki in the physical world, without which they would not
be possible (Yi I 1958: 10: 6a–b).
On such ethical grounds, Yulgok rejected the li-ki moral dualism of T’oegye for
a vision that placed li within ki rather than outside it. He believed that it was not by
sheltering themselves from the temptations of the world but by searching that world
1
The locus classicus for the moral mind/ human mind distinction is the phrase in the “Counsels of
Yu” section of the Book of History (Legge 1972: 61) that is usually translated as “the mind of man
is precarious: the moral mind is subtle” (Chan 1963: 623–26). The pre-activated mind/ engaged
mind distinction refers to the mind before there are any stirrings of emotions and the mind once
those emotions have stirred, as mentioned first in the Doctrine of the Mean (Plaks 2003: 25). The
human nature/physical nature distinction is elaborated upon, and made an important philosophical
distinction, by Zhu Xi and other early Neo-Confucians.
58 D. Baker
for appropriate guidelines to moral action, and then acting in accordance with those
guidelines, that people would be able to engage in selfless and harmonious interac-
tion with the peoples, things, and processes around them. In other words, human
beings could become sages only if they stayed within the world, not if they with-
drew from it. Yulgok revised T’oegye’s Four-Seven formula in order to make this
last point clear and help his disciples avoid the enhanced difficulties for moral cul-
tivation that he believed following T’oegye’s advice would bring.
Because his emphasized action within the world over preparation for such action,
Yulgok emphasized sincerity over reverence. Sincerity (sŏng C. cheng 誠) means
much more than the way it is often understood in the West. It doesn’t mean merely
saying what you mean and doing what you say. In the Neo-Confucian world, sincer-
ity means to be appropriately responsive and unselfishly cooperative in every situa-
tion. In other words, it means to think and act in all interactions as a responsible
member of the human community rather than as a self-centered individual.
When a human being interacts with another human being, he or she is not sitting
quietly but instead is active. An active human being is a human being energized by
emotions, both those urging selfless actions and those urging selfish actions. Yulgok,
who insisted that all our emotions are generated by ki, assumed that our heart-mind
could nonetheless distinguish between selfless and selfish emotions by observing
where they were leading us. Our heart-mind, since it embodies li, can steer us in the
right direction, enabling us to behave with sincerity. That is why Yulgok argued that,
though ki generates all our emotions, li can ride along to provide direction (Ro
1989).
Both T’oegye and Yulgok, as well as most Chosŏn Neo-Confucians who fol-
lowed them, evaluated ideas primarily in terms of their ethical implications and
whether they helped us counter our own moral frailty and act in accordance with our
own innate moral tendencies. If an idea or assertion appeared to promote selfless-
ness and self-discipline, it merited further consideration. It was also important to
determine if that idea contradicted the Classics or not, since agreement with the
Classics was important, and whether it was logical or not, since irrationality was
rejected. However, the most important criterion was its behavioral impact. How
belief in that particular assertion affected the behavior of those who believed it was
their primary concern. Moral pragmatism was the favored epistemology of Korea’s
Neo-Confucian scholars (Baker 1999).
As a twentieth-century Korean scholar has noted, for T’oegye, truth was “basi-
cally subjective practical knowledge that is directly related to moral conduct”2 (Yun
1990: 31). The same could be said of Yulgok, as can be seen in his rejection of
T’oegye’s analytical approach to moral psychology as untrue because it would
make “it much more difficult to act appropriately in our relationships with our fel-
low human beings.” Sŏngho Yi Ik (星湖李瀷 1681–1763), one of T’oegye follow-
ers, placed the same priority on pragmatic ethical considerations two centuries later
2
Yun adds “the kind of truth that was T’oegye’s main focus is the kind of practical knowledge or
truth needed for the practice of morality rather than the objective sort of truth that is truth for the
sake of truth” (Yun 1990: 46).
when he wrote that, in judging the beliefs of others, it made no difference whether
those people were “orthodox” or not if they did not do what they were supposed to
do. (Yi Ik 1982: 371–72). Sŏngho’s own disciple An Chŏngbok (安鼎福 1712–
1791) made a similar point, writing to a friend in 1783 that he should not rely on
verbal arguments alone in deciding what to believe but should instead test the prac-
tical applicability of ideas in order to determine their acceptability (An 1970: VIII:
28b).
This pragmatic ethical criterion for truth meant that philosophical positions were
often interpretations of personal moral experience. In the generations following the
debate between T’oegye and Yulgok over how safe immersion in the world was,
Chosŏn Confucians grew increasingly frustrated with their inability to achieve the
sagehood which Confucian texts told them lay within their reach. Their heightened
awareness of moral frailty expressed itself philosophically in an increased sensitiv-
ity to metaphysical, psychological, and moral tension between the realm of li and
the world of ki, leading to more frequent and more urgent calls for rigid control of
the emotions by the mind. Within T’oegye’s churip’a, there was increasing insis-
tence on the primacy of li and the asceticism that implied. Within Yulgok’s chugip’a,
there was growing awareness that ki might pose more of a moral threat than Yulgok
had acknowledged. As a result, a dispute over human nature arose among followers
of Yulgok.
5 Ethical Optimism and Moral Tension in the Yulgok School
In the world as seen by Yulgok’s followers, in which universalizing (li) and indi-
vidualizing (ki) tendencies intermingled on the same plane, there was a weaker
sense of moral tension than in the world conceived by T’oegye, in which universal-
izing and selfless li stood above, apart and hopefully insulated from individualizing
and selfish ki. To Yulgok’s disciples, the mind, the body, and world outside were all
ki, all configurations of the individualizing force of matter and energy. Yet they all
were also informed by the universalizing network that governed appropriate interac-
tions. Since li, with its directive power, was everywhere and within everything, there
was no need to fear emotions or to avoid involvement in worldly affairs. To be
moral, all a person had to do was to follow the patterns of unselfish appropriate
interactions which they could find within their own mind and within the world
around them. This optimistic approach to sagehood implied that to be virtuous was
natural. While the pursuit of moral perfection required some effort, self-discipline
consisted more of the mind uncovering li, recognizing the moral network and allow-
ing its natural directive power to operate unhindered, than of the mind asserting
control over a recalcitrant body in a perilous world.
Some in the Yulgok school found such a sanguine depiction of the cultivation of
a virtuous character unrealistic. Frustrated by their own inability to eliminate self-
ishness from their lives, they saw that moral frailty as evidence that the gap between
li and ki was greater than they had been led to believe. One such pessimist, Han
60 D. Baker
Wŏnjin (韓元震 1682–1751), was still within Yulgok’s camp, so he did not push li
and ki into separate realms, as T’oegye had done. Han allowed room for moral ten-
sion by focusing on the universal intermingling of li and ki which meant that no
place was safe from the selfish tendencies ki could generate.
Han originated the dispute over the uniqueness of human nature which split
Yulgok’s followers in the eighteenth century. He asserted that human nature was
unique, and not the same as the nature shared by animals and other sentient beings.
He argued that, while human beings are endowed with a superior ki and thus have
the potential to be fully virtuous, lesser beings receive only a partial endowment of
ki and cannot be expected to display humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wis-
dom (Han 1976: 19: 6b–9b). Moreover, Han found that only sages are born with
such high quality ki that their li easily shines through. For most of us, to be virtuous
is not easy. We must rise above the rest of the material world and resist the pull of
our animal nature if we are to maintain self-control and live moral lives.
To do that requires strenuous effort. Han even provided a four-point program for
such an effort: (1) make a firm decision to do what is right, (2) comprehensively
discern the normative pattern, (3) discipline yourself in accordance with that vision,
(4) exert effort to consistently and ceaselessly maintain a reverent attitude and act
without any thought of personal gain. At part of their effort to live moral lives, Han
contended, human beings must work to control and conquer their physical desires
(Kim 1980: 196–220).
That task is made more difficult by the compound character of human nature.
People are not pure good within, Han argued. Since the mind is a mixture of ki and
li, of both selfish and selfless tendencies, rather than pure untainted li, it is a mistake
to see the mind as free from selfishness when left undisturbed by the outside world.
He disagreed with T’oegye’s followers that there is a moral mind, separate and dis-
tinct from the human mind, to which men could retreat. He did not accept the notion
of a pure and untainted quiescent mental state preceding the activation of the mind
(Han 1976: 30: 1a–7a). For Han Wŏnjin, there was no sanctuary from the battle
against evil. Everywhere and at all times, people had to be on their guard against ki,
whose tendency to break the cosmos up into individual and distinct fragments hin-
dered the universalizing and unifying influence of li and made it more difficult for
people to engage in the harmonious cooperation with their fellow human beings that
was their moral duty.
Han Wŏnjin did not believe evil arises because people choose to be selfish.
Rather, he argued that evil arises because people allow the particularizing and alien-
ating effect of ki to raise barriers to the integrating and harmonizing effect of li.
Given how strong a barrier to selflessness ki can be, people had to exert constant
effort to remain free from selfishness so that they could spontaneously act in accor-
dance with li, the universal network of unselfish harmonious interrelationships.
Without continual self-restraint, ki, and with it individual self-interest, would
triumph.
Han’s friend Yi Kan (李柬 1677–1727) argued against Han’s pessimistic turn. Yi
countered that, since human nature was li, it was the same as the nature of animals
and all other beings. He focused more on the common moral pattern of appropriate
relationships that bind all existing things together than on how human beings differ
from animals and other objects (Yi Kan 1990: 12: 10b–14b). He also insisted that
the mind was pure and clear in its quiescent and pre-activated state and that this
essential goodness carries over into the activated, engaged mind. Otherwise, he
worried, without that spillover from our innate reservoir of altruism, how could our
selfish tendencies be brought under control? (Yi Kan 1990: 12: 14b–25b).
Yi Kan saw evil originating from selfishness due more to a failure to recognize
that li’s universalizing effect touches everything than to ki's functioning as an indi-
vidualizing force. Underneath the superficial differences and divisions that separate
one human being from another and human beings from nature, Yi Kan believed
there was an underlying fundamental unity. This li was present wherever individual
configurations of ki were found, so how could ki be inherently dangerous? More
optimistic than Han, Yi Kan concluded that self-discipline required only that the li
within ki be allowed to play its natural role of commander, so that commonality
would overcome fragmentation. Rather than blaming ki, Yi concentrated instead on
letting li function unhindered. He feared that Han’s approach would limit the realm
in which li reigned and would make self-control seem too difficult and unnatural.
6 T
asan and the Search for Supernatural Assistance
Against Moral Frailty
A few decades after Han and Yi engaged in their debate over the relationship
between the nature of human beings and the nature of animals, another Korean Neo-
Confucian approached that question from a different angle. Tasan Chŏng Yagyong
(茶山丁若鏞 1762–1836) was a member of the school that looked more to T’oegye
than to Yulgok for direction. He also was influenced by Catholic writings when he
was a young man. Being part of the T’oegye school gave him a particularly strong
sense of human moral frailty. Ideas he picked up from Catholic missionary works
published in China suggested to him novel (for a Confucian context) approaches to
overcoming that moral frailty.
Responding to a question from King Chŏngjo (r. 1776–1800) about the exchange
between Gaozi and Mencius on whether or not human beings and animals share the
same basic nature (Van Norden 2008: 145), Tasan says that it is true that human
beings and animals have something in common: they both have a physical nature.
However, he noted, unlike animals, human beings also have a moral nature. That is
why we often have conflicting desires. We human beings often want something that
we know we should not have or want to do something that we know we should not
do. That makes us different from animals, which automatically follow their physical
desires without any second thoughts. To say that humans and animals have the same
nature is to insult human beings. And to imply that animals have a moral nature is
to lift animals above their rightful station (Chŏng 1989: II: 6, 18b–19a).
62 D. Baker
In his commentary on the Doctrine of the Mean, Tasan clarifies his understand-
ing of human nature. He writes that the line in the Mean “what heaven has ordained
is called human nature” should be interpreted in light of how Mencius uses the term
“human nature.” Tasan says Mencius clearly uses that term to mean “human desires,”
both moral desires and desire for physical pleasure (Chŏng 1989: II: 3, 2b). Tasan
points out that those two desires, the desire for the good of morality and the desire
for the good of physical pleasure, are often in conflict. For example, he pointed out
that if someone offers us a gift that could be interpreted as a bribe and therefore we
know it would be wrong to accept it, we are torn between a desire for the pleasure
that gift would give us and the desire to act appropriately and decline it. Similarly,
if we find ourselves in a difficult situation but we know we should deal with that
situation, we nevertheless are tempted to simply flee and abdicate our responsibili-
ties (Chŏng 1989: II: 6, 19a).
This conclusion that human beings, though they have only one human nature, are
often conflicted leads him to the logical, though non-orthodox, conclusion that
human beings are not naturally virtuous. In fact, he argues, no one can be called
virtuous until he or she acts in a virtuous manner. Only after you act benevolently
toward another human being can you be called benevolent. Only after you entertain
a guest with proper etiquette can you be called polite. Only after you act properly
can you be called righteous. And only after you show that you can distinguish
between right and wrong, and then act accordingly, can you be called wise (Chŏng
1989: II: 5, 22a–b).
The most we can say, he argues, is that human nature includes an instinctive
attraction toward the moral good. In his commentary on the first chapter in the third
book of Mencius (Van Norden 2008: 63), Tasan explicitly rejects Zhu Xi’s claim
that human beings are endowed with a nature that is innately good without a trace
of evil in it, a notion Tasan insists is based on Zhu Xi’s misreading of Mencius.
Instead, Tasan points out, human beings are composite beings, formed from an
intermingling of inseparable material and immaterial elements. Since that results in
a natural desire for the moral good co-existing with a natural desire for the good of
personal pleasure, Tasan says that we cannot say that human beings are naturally
virtuous. However, since human nature includes an instinctive attraction toward the
moral good, we can say that human nature is good. But we have to be aware that we
also have a natural attraction for what is pleasurable, even if that goes contrary to
what the moral side of our nature tells us is right (Chŏng 1989: II: 5, 32a–35b). Our
heart-mind can recognize the difference between moral and immoral instincts,
Tasan believed, but we have to choose (Tasan, unlike earlier Confucians, believed in
free will) to make an effort to ensure our actions are guided by our moral rather than
our immoral instincts. Tasan’s two-fold theory of human nature, a departure from
centuries of Confucian orthodoxy, is clearly his attempt to explain the human moral
frailty which he, and many other Korean Confucians, were very much aware of, and
very much concerned about.
If human beings are not naturally virtuous, as Tasan concluded, then is it possible
nonetheless for human beings to live moral lives? Tasan is still Confucian enough to
answer in the affirmative, though he notes that living a moral life is not as easy as
mainstream orthodox Confucians would have us think. He points out that consis-
tently doing the right way and sticking to the moral path is as difficult as climbing
up a steep hill. Unfortunately, following our preference for physical pleasure is as
easy as rolling down that same hill (Chŏng 1989: II: 5, 33a).
Tasan points out that the main reason we cannot say we are born virtuous is that,
unlike animals, human beings, as noted earlier, have been endowed with free will,
the ability to choose to do the right thing or to do the wrong thing (chaju ji kwŏn
C.zizhu zhi quan 自主之權). Tasan goes on to elaborate that those who debate
whether human nature is innately good or bad are ignorant of the fact that human
nature is essentially defined by conflicting desires, and the ability to choose among
them. It is what those desires are desires for, and whether they are nurtured or dis-
regarded, which determines whether a person becomes virtuous or not. If we desire
a moral good, and act in accordance with that desire, we become virtuous. However,
if we let a selfish desire for personal pleasure or benefit guide our behavior, then we
will become evil.
If human beings were born virtuous, as Neo-Confucians claim, then for people
to act appropriately and morally would be as easy as it is for water to roll downhill
and for fire to flame upwards. If that were the case, acting virtuously would be no
great accomplishment. We would no more praise a person for being virtuous than
we would praise a deer for acting in accordance with its nature and living in a forest
rather than a village. However, heaven has endowed human beings with the ability
to make their own decisions. If they choose to do what is right, then they can do
what is right. But if they prefer to act in an immoral fashion, then they can do that
as well. This is what makes human beings different from animals. And that is what
makes living a moral life an accomplishment. That is also the reason we condemn
those who act immorally (Chŏng 1989: II: 5, 34b–35a).
Departing somewhat from the usual tendency of the T’oegye school to put all the
blame for human immorality on the individualizing tendency of ki, Tasan warns
against an oversimplified picture of what leads human beings toward a virtuous life,
and what draws them down into vice. He decries the tendency to blame all our faults
on our bodies and the physical desires for food, sex, and comfort they generate. He
points out that our immaterial minds are not completely blameless. If all evil comes
from things material, then, he asks, how can we explain the existence of trouble-
some and even malevolent spirits? Moreover, human beings can be led astray by
such emotions as inordinate pride and arrogance. Such emotions come from our
minds, not our bodies. We cannot blame our bodies when we get angry because
someone has criticized our scholarship or our writing skills. It’s our pride, based in
our minds, that causes us to get angry in such a situation (Chŏng 1989: II: 5,
35a–b).
This is a significant change from the usual assumption that our mind-and-heart
is, in its inner core, pure and virtuous and therefore should be cultivated so that it
becomes strong enough to resist the temptations of the material world. If we are not
instinctively virtuous, and if we can’t even trust our minds to always tell us the right
way to behave, then what can we do to ensure that we lead as moral a life as possi-
ble? Tasan again comes up with an untraditional answer, grounded in his u ntraditional
64 D. Baker
reading of the Confucian Classics. He says that we need to be shamed into acting
appropriately. And the only way we can be sure that we will be ashamed every time
we do something wrong is if we keep in mind that, always and everywhere, we are
being watched to see if we think and act properly. Who can possibly watch us always
and everywhere? There is only one possible answer: God above.
Tasan wielded an analytical scalpel which not only led him to draw a sharp line
between human beings and animals but also led to him to argue for the necessity of
recognizing the existence of a spiritual realm separate from the material realm,
including purely spiritual beings. He found support for that latter assertion, the exis-
tence of purely spiritual beings, in his reading of the first chapter of the Doctrine of
the Mean.
Tasan’s assertion of the existence of a supreme spiritual being, whom he called
Sangje (C. Shangdi 上帝), is not based merely on his preference for analysis over
synthesis. It is also the result of his search for a tool for overcoming human moral
frailty. Tasan interprets the famous opening passage in the Doctrine of the Mean,
“What Heaven has conferred is called human nature,” as stating that Heaven, by
which he means the Lord Above [Sangje], endows every human being with a ten-
dency to prefer the good over the non-good. That desire for the good is part of our
human nature (Chŏng 1989: II: 3, 2b). However, he believes, we need an incentive
to make sure that we follow our preference for the moral good rather than the good
of physical pleasure.
He argues the Mean tells us what that incentive is a couple of lines later: “The
exemplary person is cautious of what he cannot see and apprehensive of what he
cannot hear” (Plaks 2003: 25). Tasan goes on to explain,
What is it that we can’t see? Heaven as it really is. What is it we can’t hear? Heaven’s voice.
How do we know that is what this passage means? Because later on in the Doctrine of the
Mean we can see the lines “Confucius said: The abundant power of spiritual beings is truly
amazing! We look for them but cannot see them. We listen for them but cannot hear them.
Yet the fact that they are all around us cannot be ignored. They stimulate the people of the
world to purify themselves, and motivate them to wear appropriate clothes for participating
in the sacrifices. They appear to be all around us, as though they are above us as well as on
our left and on our right.” (Plaks 2003: 33) What is it that we cannot see nor hear? It can-
not be other than Heaven.
There is no human being born on this earth without base desires. What keeps us from fol-
lowing those desires and doing whatever we feel like doing? It is the fear that our misbe-
havior will be noticed. Noticed by whom? Whose gaze keeps us in a state of constant
caution and apprehension? We are cautious and apprehensive because we know there are
enforcement officers responsible for making sure rules are followed. We are cautious and
apprehensive because we know our sovereign can punish us if we behave improperly. If we
did not think there was someone watching us, would we not simply abandon all sense of
moral responsibility and just do whatever we felt like doing?…
But what makes us behave properly even in the privacy of our own room and make sure that
even our thoughts are proper thoughts? The only reason why a superior person is watchful
over his thoughts and behavior even in the privacy of his own room is that he knows that
there is a Lord Above (Sangje) watching him. If we think that the term Sangje is nothing by
a metaphorical way of referring to li, then we wouldn’t be cautious and apprehensive. After
all, since li is not a conscious being, it is unable to inspire caution and apprehension.
(Chŏng 1989: II: 3, 4b–5a)
Tasan goes on to say a couple of pages later, “Heaven’s numinous consciousness is

able to look right into our hearts and minds. There is nothing it cannot see. There is
nothing that we do or think that Heaven doesn’t know about. Even the bravest per-
son can’t help but feel apprehensive when he realizes this” (Chŏng 1989: II: 3, 5b).
This, for Tasan, provides a strong motivation for behaving properly, an incentive
powerful enough to help us overcome our natural moral frailty.
Tasan created his unique theistic version of Confucianism not just because he
read some Catholic missionary publications when he was young. After all, those
books were read by plenty of Confucians in China and few of them made the same
sort of argument for a Confucian God that Tasan made. Tasan’s theism, the reason
some Catholic teachings appealed to him and the reason he incorporated some
Catholic ideas into his Confucian philosophy, is clearly because he shared the
strong Korean concern for human moral weakness and wanted to find a way to
overcome it.
7 The Confucian Origins of the Tonghak Religion
Despite the obvious Catholic influence on his thinking, Tasan remained a Confucian,
albeit a strikingly original one. The same cannot be said of Ch’oe Cheu (崔濟愚
1824–1864). Ch’oe is revered today as the founder of Tonghak [Eastern Learning
東學], Korea’s first indigenous organized religion. Tonghak is usually described as
a mixture of shamanistic, Daoist, Confucian, and even Catholic elements rather than
as a new school of Confucian philosophy. Moreover, unlike Confucianism, Tonghak
developed into a full-blown religion, with initiation rituals, sacred writings, regular
congregational gatherings for worship rituals, and even a theology or at least more
God-talk than is usually heard in Confucian discourse. However, a close look at
Tonghak will reveal that it is much more Confucian at its core than is generally
recognized and, in addition, it emerged out of the same search for a resolution to the
frustrating contradiction between a belief in human moral perfectibility and a rec-
ognition of human moral frailty that underlay the many twists and turns of main-
stream Confucian thought over the course of the Chosǒn dynasty.
Ch’oe himself had a very frustrating life. As the son of a remarried widow, he
was barred by Korean law from the high-status career in government that appealed
to Confucian scholars. Yet, as the son of a Confucian scholar, he felt he could not
simply climb down the social ladder and become a peasant, artisan, or merchant. He
therefore sought for some way to make his mark on the world in a manner befitting
what he perceived as his rightful social status. He sought to do so through spiritual
training that he hoped would give him the insight into society and human nature
necessary to be recognized as a sage by others. Ch’oe retreated into Buddhist
temples for prolonged meditation retreats but was unable to obtain there the spiri-
tual breakthrough he sought (Beirne 2010: 15–35).
66 D. Baker
Finally, Ch’oe tell us, in the fourth month of 1860, he came to realize why the
world was in the poor state it what in his day, and how it could be improved. He did
not reach this realization on his own. Instead, God (Sangje) personally revealed it to
him. He learned that, in the days of old, people were virtuous because they “revered
heaven and tried to act in accordance with the principles of heaven.” However, in
more recent times people had forgotten who God was and instead “tended to do
whatever they felt like doing instead of acing in accordance with heavenly princi-
ples.” Concerned about this, God decided to intervene directly in the world by
appointing Ch’oe to “teach human beings the right way to do things” (Buswell
2007: 455–57).
There are two points in Ch’oe’s prescription to right the wrongs of the world that
suggest that he was inspired by his own frustration at his inability to obtain through
his own efforts the sagehood Confucianism taught him was obtainable, and by his
recognition that no one else around him appeared to be any more successful in
becoming a sage than he was. The first was his reaching out for divine intervention,
his affirmation in the belief in a God who could help us obtain the strength we could
not obtain without recognizing God’s existence. The second point can be found in
one of his prescriptions for cultivating the ability to do God’s will.
Ch’oe’s theism (he clearly believed in the existence of a Lord Above whose
existence human beings could confirm through their own personal experience) at
first would suggest that he had strayed far from the Confucian fold. In the Neo-
Confucianism that dominated Korean philosophical and religious life during the
Chosŏn dynasty, any references to a God were metaphorical, used to emphasize the
importance of the impersonal cosmic patterns of appropriate interactions that
defined right and wrong. Tasan took the theistic language of the ancient Confucian
Classics more literally and insisted that Sangje, the Lord Above, was an actual per-
sonality. However, even Tasan did not talk with Sangje the way Ch’oe claimed he
had done.
Yet, if we examine more carefully the way Ch’oe talked about his God, we can
see clear signs of Neo-Confucian influence as well as evidence that he used belief
in God to offset human moral frailty. We see the Neo-Confucian influence in the fact
that God, for Ch’oe, is not only transcendent but also immanent (Ch’oe 2009:
88–89). God tells Ch’oe “my heart is your heart” (Beirne 2010: 58). This could be
read as a theological rephrasing of the standard Neo-Confucian claim that li not
only directs the entire universe, it is also the fundamental substance of the human
heart-and-mind. In other words, God saying “my heart is your heart” is simply a
theistic reformulation of the phrase “the heart-and-mind is li.”
Ch’oe’s insistence on using a term that refers to a supernatural personality rather
than the impersonal term li can be understood as his way of ensuring that the tran-
scendent nature of the moral force governing the universe is not overshadowed by
its immanence. This is a reflection of a tendency prevalent in Korean Confucianism.
Compared to Chinese Confucians, Koreans have generally shown a greater distrust
of reliance on our subjective moral judgments. That is why the call by the Chinese
Neo-Confucian Wang Yang-ming (王陽明 1472–1529) for us to look within our
own heart-and-mind for moral guidance was condemned by T‘oegye and subse-
quently did not win much acceptance in Korea (Baker 1999: 199). Ch’oe, sharing
the traditional Korean preference for an objective ground for subjective moral deci-
sions, felt compelled to ground his moral principles and self-cultivation practices in
an external source, much as Tasan did with his call for belief in personal God who
watched our every thought and deed. Moreover, Ch’oe also felt that such an exter-
nal moral force would have more power than impersonal li had to inspire us to act
properly. Sounding a lot like Tasan, Ch’oe wrote in one of his poems, “If we do not
have a mind filled with reverence and awe, even if we know everything there is to
know about heaven and earth, then we really do not know anything at all”
(Ch’ŏndogyo 1993: 216).
The second sign of Confucian influence, as well as of his recognition of human
moral frailty, can be seen in one of his prescriptions for cultivating the ability to do
God’s will. Ch’oe’s better known proposals for accessing supernatural power, his
sacred talisman and his sword dance, have links to shamanism and Korea’s folk
religion rather than to Confucianism (Ch’oe 2009: 155–66). However, when Ch’oe
asserts that human beings need to “preserve our original moral heart-and-mind and
rectify our psycho-physical endowment” (sushim chŏnggi C. shouxin zhengqi 修心
正氣), he sounds much like an orthodox Confucian.
There is an ambiguity in Ch’oe’s call for us to “sushim chŏnggi.” For the “su” in
“sushim,” in his essay on “cultivating virtue” [Sudŏngmun C. xiudewen 修德文]
(Ch’ŏndogyo 1993: 51, Kallander 165), he uses the character 修 (C. xiu), which
means to polish, repair, or cultivate. He goes on to say, in his poem on “Virtue and
the Way,” “how can we in this world avoid being called evil people? Only if we
sushim chŏnggi can we act in a way that can be called benevolent, righteous, in
accord with propriety, and wise” (Ch’ŏndogyo 1993: 221; Ch’oe 2009: and 140).
This implies that we are not virtuous by nature, that we are morally frail and there-
fore have to train ourselves, have to cultivate a moral heart-and-mind, to become
virtuous.
However, though Ch’oe wrote this poem in Han’gŭl rather than in Chinese char-
acters, when this poem was printed two decades after his death, someone, probably
his successor Ch’oe Sihyŏng (崔時亨 1827–1898), placed Chinese characters next
to the text which tell us to read “sushim” as “preserve [守] our original pure heart-
and-mind” rather than “train our heart-and-mind.” (Both 修 and 守 are pronounced
“su” in Korean.) This makes it appear that Ch’oe Cheu shared the Neo-Confucian
assumption that human beings are endowed at birth with innate goodness, the natu-
ral ability to perceive and respond to our social and natural environment without any
distortions introduced by considerations of narrow personal self-interest. Ch’oe
Cheu may have shared that belief at times, but he also appears to have believed that
human beings needed direct contact with the Divine in order to activate their innate
virtuous tendencies. That is clear in the 21-syllable incantation Ch’oe Cheu told his
followers to chant: “Ultimate Energy being all around me, I pray that I feel that
Energy within me here and now. Recognizing that God is within me, I will be
transformed.”
Ch’oe clearly believed that we needed to feel the presence of the divine within,
which he sometimes called “Ultimate Energy” (jigi C. zhiqi 至氣 (Ch’oe 2009:
68 D. Baker
90–96), in order to be inspired to overcome our own selfish tendencies and act mor-
ally. The heart-and-mind Ch’oe told us to train or preserve is not our innate human
nature but the mind-and-heart we receive from our personal encounter with the
divine (Ch’oe 2009: 146).
Ch’oe Cheu’s concern for human moral frailty and how to overcome it, though
it probably inspired his spiritual quest, was not shared to the same extent by his suc-
cessor Ch’oe Sihyŏng. In his own essay on “Preserving our Original Pure Heart-
and-Mind and Rectifying Our Psycho-Physical Endowment,” Ch’oe Sihyŏng
wrote, “If we human beings are able to keep our heart-and-mind basically clean of
contamination and are also able to remove all impurities in the energy that runs
through and animates our psycho-physical endowment, then there will be no pollu-
tion from the mundane world on our heart-and-mind and we will not have to worry
about selfish desires welling up from within” (Buswell 2007: 457). This is a return
to the standard Neo-Confucian approach to self-cultivation in which we train or
“rectify” our bodies and our emotions while recovering or activating our innate
virtuous instincts. Even in the new religion of Tonghak, we can see the oscillation
between the moral pessimism that emphasizes human moral frailty and the opti-
mism that stresses innate virtue, an oscillation that fuelled many of the twists and
turns in Chosŏn dynasty Confucian thought.
8 Conclusion
To understand what is Korean about Korean Confucianism, we have to look at the

issues that Korean Confucians debated and identify those issues that seem to have
interested them more than other issues, and which issues seemed to attract more
interest in Korea than in the rest of the Confucian world. By doing that, we will be
able to identify distinctive ways Korean Confucianism evolved, what sort of new
schools of Confucian thought and practice it produced.
There are many nooks and crannies in Korean Confucian thought and practice
this short survey has not be able to explore. Confucianism in Korea, like
Confucianism in China and in Japan, is multi-layered and even contradictory, with
different scholars arguing for significantly different interpretations of the Confucian
Classics and providing significantly different suggestions for how to apply
Confucian principles to the world around them. Nevertheless, in this necessarily
incomplete survey of Confucian thinking over the five centuries of the Chosŏn
dynasty, there is one distinctive thread that stands out--a concern for moral
psychology.
It is that concern, generated by the recognition of the contradiction between the
assumption of human moral perfectibility and the reality of human moral frailty,
that led to the disputes between T’oegye and Yulgok over what role the Four Fonts
and the Seven Emotions should play in moral cultivation and between Han Wŏnjin
and Yi Kan over how much of a sanctuary from evil our basic human nature pro-
vided. That same concern led to Tasan borrowing from Catholic writings to create a
theistic Confucianism and inspired Ch’oe Cheu to create Korea’s first indigenous
organized religion. Because their concern over human moral frailty led Korean
Confucians to discuss issues that either were not as important or were not discussed
the same way in neighboring countries and even led them to develop novel
approaches to solving old Confucian issues, we can plausibility argue that one
thing, at least, that is Korean about Korean Confucianism is this emphasis placed on
the search for an explanation of, and a solution to, the inevitability of human moral
failure, of the inability of human beings, no matter how much they study the
Confucian Classics and how well they understand them, to consistently act in a self-
less manner, to act in the way their Confucian tradition tells them they should and
could act.
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Part II
Development of Korean Neo-Confucian
Philosophical Issues and Controversies
Chapter 4
“History, Philosophy, and Spirituality
of the Four-Seven Debate: The Korean
Neo-Confucian Interpretation of Human
Nature, Emotions, and Self-Cultivation”
Edward Y. J. Chung
1 Introduction
In sixteenth-century Korea, the Four-Seven Debate was a very important topic for many
leading Neo-Confucians, such as Yi Hwang (T’oegye, 1501–1570), Yi I (Yulgok, 1536–
1584), and their debaters. It played a powerful role in contributing to the distinctive
development of Korean Neo-Confucianism, thereby producing the focused yet diver-
gent interpretations of Sŏngnihak (Cheng-Zhu school/philosophy; literally, “learning of
principle and human nature”) in the Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910).1 Overall, it estab-
lished an intellectual agenda for many thinkers and scholars until the late nineteenth
century. Part I below is a textual and historical introduction to the Four-Seven issues.
2 T
extual Ambiguity and Philosophical Background
of the Four-Seven Legacy
Korean thinkers debated textual and philosophical questions about the “Four
Beginnings” of virtue and the “Seven Emotions,” as well as their moral-spiritual
implications for self-cultivation, most of which had not been explained clearly in
the Chinese tradition of Confucian classics and Song Neo-Confucian
commentaries. Part of their goal was to interpret a philosophical, moral and psycho-
logical link between the Four and the Seven.
For details on this topic, see Kalton et al. 1994 and Chung 1995, ch. 1.
1
E. Y. J. Chung (*)
Asian Studies Director and Department of Religious Studies, University of Prince Edward
Island, Charlottetown, PEI, Canada
e-mail: chung@upei.ca

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_4
76 E. Y. J. Chung
2.1 Confucian Classics and the Four-Seven Questions
The locus classicus for the Confucian term “Four Beginnings” (sadan/siduan) is a
famous passage in the Mencius (2A: 6):
The mind-and-heart (sim/xin) of commiseration is the beginning of benevolence; the mind-
and-heart of shame and dislike is the beginning of righteousness; the mind-and-heart of
courtesy and modesty is the beginning of propriety; and the mind-and-heart of [moral dis-
cernment of] right and wrong is the beginning of wisdom. All human beings have these
Four Beginnings just as they have their four limbs. (my translation; see also Lau 1970:
82–83)
Here Mencius specifically referred to the moral feelings (mind-and-hearts) of com-

miseration, shame and dislike, courtesy and modesty, and right and wrong as the
Four Beginnings of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. The Four
are naturally rooted in human nature, so the “mind-and-heart of commiseration” is
identical to the “beginning of benevolence.” All human beings have “the mind-and-
heart that cannot bear to see the suffering of others” (Mencius, 2A: 6). This convic-
tion upon the Four as our innate, virtuous qualities justifies his famous doctrine that
human nature is “originally good” (Mencius, 6A: 6; see also Lau 170: 163). The
question of whether the Four should be viewed as “moral intuitions” (Ching 1985:
305) or “moral knowing and willing” (Tu 1985: 272) for self-cultivation was empha-
sized by T’oegye and others the Korean Four-Seven debates.
The locus classicus for the Confucian term “Seven Emotions” (ch’ilchŏng/qiqing)
is the Book of Rites: “pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire” are
basic human feelings that “are not acquired through learning from the outside” (see
Legge 1970: [1] 379). Note that we are using two English words “feeling(s)” and
“emotion(s)” interchangeably.2 As the list of the Seven is somewhat lengthy, the
Doctrine of the Mean (sec. 1) paid special attention to the first three and added joy
representing the Seven as follows:
Before the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are aroused (pal/fa) it is called equi-
librium (also centrality). After they are aroused and each and all attain due measure and
degree, it is called harmony. Equilibrium is the great foundation of the world, and harmony
is its universal path. When equilibrium and harmony are realized to the highest degree,
heaven and earth will attain their proper order and all things will flourish. (translation by
Chan 1963: 98)
According to these quotations, the Seven refer to common physical and emotional
feelings, which are understood as the aroused states of our body and mind in
2
The English term “emotion” refers to “a moving, stirring, agitation and perturbation,” whereas the
term “feeling” means “the sense of touch in the looser acceptance of the term, in which it includes
all physical sensibility not referable to the special senses of sight, hearing, taste, and smell” (The
Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary). The Confucian term chŏng/qing usually
means both feeling and emotion, engaging the body as well as the mind. Emotion, as in the case of
the “Seven Emotions,” refers to an aroused physical or psychological state, often the result of a
stimulation of the mind.
4 “History, Philosophy, and Spirituality of the Four-Seven Debate: The Korean… 77
response to external things. As mentioned in the Doctrine of the Mean,3 mind culti-
vation therefore requires a measure of control over the Seven. The goal of self-
cultivation is to attain the state of “harmony” after they are aroused. This topic
became another key topic in the Korean Four-Seven debates.
Mencius was unaware of the idea of the Seven mentioned in the Doctrine of the
Mean. Nor did he relate the moral significance of the Four to the nature of the
Seven. In my view, the Doctrine of the Mean deals more with emotional control,
whereas Mencius gives a moral theory of human nature. But Mencius did not clarify
what he meant by the mind-and-heart in relation to moral feelings in particular. For
example, the following passage (Mencius, 6A: 6) illustrates this ambiguity:
As far as human “feelings” (chŏng/qing) are concerned, people are capable of becoming
good. This is what I mean by [saying that human nature is] good. If one becomes evil (liter-
ally, no good), it is one’s fault. All human beings have the mind-and-heart (sim/xin) of
commiseration, the mind-and-heart of shame and dislike….The mind-and-heart of com-
miseration pertains to benevolence….Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom
are not welded into us from the outside; rather, they are within us originally [in our nature].
Did Mencius mean only the Four as the moral mind-and-heart? What about ordinary
feelings such as physical desires or psychological emotions? This ambiguity at the
heart of Mencius’ moral psychology was an important issue in the Korean Four-
Seven debates. A key question was why he described the Four as moral “feelings”
and especially in terms of the “mind-and-heart.”
The Four do not come from the outside because they are always inherent in the
mind-and-heart. According to the Book of Rites and Doctrine of the Mean as well,
the Seven also arise from within under external influence. But the question is: How
do the Four and the Seven all relate to “feelings” (chŏng/qing) in general? This
quickly became another major issue in the Korean debates. They debated why there
are two different terms for feelings. As Kalton (1988: 136) pointed out, this critical
issue was about whether the Four and the Seven are “only different names for dif-
fering perspectives,” or actually indicate “some differentiation in the condition
whence they arise.”
2.2 Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucian Texts and Korean Issues
In the Yishu (Surviving works of the two Chengs), Cheng Yi briefly said that love,
one of the Seven Emotions, is a feeling (chŏng/qing), whereas benevolence is human
nature (sŏng/xing) (18: 1a; Chan 1963: 559). He generally meant that “the mind-
and-heart of commiseration” is an innate seed of benevolence inherent in what
Mencius calls the “original goodness of human nature.” However, he did not discuss
the Four or the Seven specifically; neither did he clarify any connection between the
Four and the emotions like joy and love. “In human nature there are only the Four
Beginnings without any form of evil….Similarly, without human nature, how can
An excellent discussion of the Doctrine of the Mean is Tu 1989.

3
78 E. Y. J. Chung
there be feelings?” (Yishu, 18: 17b). This passage implies that the Four are the defin-
ing characteristics of human nature. So self-cultivation involves the Mencian teach-
ing of nurturing the Four and has to maintain “harmony after pleasure, anger, sorrow,
and joy are aroused,” as taught in the Doctrine of the Mean (Yishu, 18: 14b–15a).
This line of reasoning became an important topic in the Korean Four-Seven
controversy.
The subject-matter became more complicated in Zhu Xi’s thought. Zhu com-
mented on Mencius 2A: 6 as follows: “Commiseration, shame and dislike, courtesy
and modesty, and [the moral discernment of] right and wrong are feelings.
Benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom are human nature.”4 In other
words, the Four represent our innate moral “feelings” aroused from human nature;
they are therefore “illuminating virtues” (ZZYL 53: 20a).
Zhu Xi also mentioned that “the Seven Emotions cannot be separated from the
Four Beginnings,” and “the Four can be understood from the standpoint of the
Seven” (ZZYL 87: 16a–b). So he probably meant that the Four do not belong to an
independent group of feelings. Interestingly, T’oegye, Yulgok, and others did not
quote these two statements at all. One key issue in their debates was whether or not
the Four belong to a special group of moral feelings. These debates also included
the question of whether the Seven are the “totality” of feelings that includes the
Four as the “good side” of the Seven.
Zhu Xi did not articulate the Four and the Seven specifically. His Zhuzi yulei
(Classified conversations of Master Zhu) gives a brief statement in terms of their
origins: “The Four Beginnings are manifestations of i/li (metaphysical principle);
the Seven Emotions are manifestations of ki/qi (material force; physical energy)”
(ZZYL 53: 17b). It can also be translated as follows: “The Four Beginnings are
aroused by i; the Seven Emotions are aroused by ki.” Does this unexplained state-
ment imply some ontological and conceptual distinction between the Four and the
Seven? This question was rigorously debated by Korean scholars. Zhu’s philosophy
of i/li and ki/qi is a well-researched topic that does not need to be rehearsed here.5
Another controversial Four-Seven issue focused on the Song Neo-Confucian
doctrine of “original human nature” (ponyŏn chi sŏng/benran zhi xing) and “physi-
cal human nature” (kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing). In short, Zhu Xi explained the
original human nature with respect to i, and the physical human nature as that which
is conditioned by ki; therefore, the former is purely good, whereas the latter can lead
4
See Mengzi jizhu daquan (Great compendium of commentaries on the Book of Mencius), in
Kyŏngsŏ (Four Books), 516. See also ZZYL 53: 9a.
5
In short, i means metaphysical “principle,” “reason for existence,” “the ground of being” present
in each thing in its fullness; it is the ultimate principle of all things in full goodness and truth. In
relation to human nature, i also represents the original human nature or the moral essence of human
nature that is purely good. By contrast, ki/qi refers to the “material force,” “ether,” or “vital energy”
that actually brings each phenomenon into concrete existence, and also determines its transforma-
tion that may lead to either good or evil. In relation to human beings, ki represents physical and
psychological dispositions and feelings as well. See other related points in my Note on
Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style at the end. For this topic, see Chan 1963, 1967,
1986; de Bary 1981, 2004; Gardner 1990; Ching 2000; Chung 1995, 2016: 22–26; etc.
to good or evil. There are just two different “names,” not two “separate” natures
having their own ontological grounds (ZZYL, 4: 12b).6 However, he did not apply
this topic to the Four and the Seven. As a result, this part of his thought became a
key issue in the Four-Seven debates, insofar as Korean scholars discussed the ques-
tion of why the Four and Seven can be interpreted in terms of these realms of human
nature, respectively.
One more key issue especially in the Yulgok-Ugye debate focused on Zhu Xi’s
philosophy of the “moral mind” (tosim/daoxin) and “human mind” (insim/renxin).
Zhu explained that the moral mind is aroused from “the correctness of Heaven’s
mandate,” and the ordinary human mind from “selfishness identified with physical
form”: the former is “impartial” and “good,” whereas the latter is “partial” and
“prone to error,” involving both good and evil (ZZWJ 76: 21b).7 The moral mind
pertains to moral principles such as benevolence, whereas the human mind pertains
to our ordinary physical feelings and sensations (ZZYL 61: 5a–b). However, Zhu did
not expand this topic to the Four and the Seven, so this issue was important in the
Korean debates. Can the Four and the Seven be discussed according to these two
aspects of the mind, respectively? Yulgok and other scholars critically analyzed this
and related issues.
The Four-Seven debates addressed significant questions regarding Zhu Xi’s
Four-Seven statements, his metaphysics and ethics of i and ki, and his moral
6
According to Zhu Xi, Mencius and Cheng Yi referred to “human nature in itself,” unmixed with
the physical dispositions of ki, so they specifically meant the “original human nature” before it is
disturbed by external stimuli involving ki. But when it is “mixed with ki” in concrete things, it is
what Zhang Zai called the “physical human nature.” As Zhu stated:
Original human nature is purely good. This is the nature described by Mencius as “good.”
Master Zhou [Dunyi] described it as “pure and perfectly good” [Tongshu (Penetrating the
Book of Changes), chapter 1], and Master Cheng Yi called it “the fundamental character of
our nature” [Yishu (Surviving works of the two Chengs), 18: 19b]….“If one learns to return
to the original human nature endowed by Heaven and Earth, one will preserve it” [Zhangzi
quanshu (Complete works of Master Zhang), 2: 18b]. Accordingly, any discussion of
human nature must include physical human nature, so that the discussion can be complete.
(ZZYL 4: 11a–b; my translation with added citation in brackets)
For more original sources, see also ZZQS 42: 4b, 42: 6b–7a, 42: 9b–10a, 43: 2b–4a (Chan 1963:
613, 616–617, 623–624); for more discussion, see Chung 1995: 47–48, 60–61, 66–69, 104–106 or
Chung 2016: 26–29.
7
Quoted from Zhu’s preface to the Zhongyong zhangju (Commentary on the words and phrases on
the Doctrine of the Mean). This doctrine originates from the Book of History, which reads as fol-
lows: “The human mind is precarious; the moral mind is subtle. Remain refined and single-minded:
hold fast the Mean” (Legge 1970: 61). This instruction contrasts the “precariousness” of the human
(ordinary) mind with the “goodness” of the moral mind. Zhu Xi also identified the daoxin with
“Heaven’s principle,” and the renxin with the “selfishness” of human cravings (ZZYL 61: 5a–b or
ZZWJ 76: 21b). These passages were also quoted by Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235) in his Xinjing
(Classic of the mind-heart), 1a; a good discussion of the Xinjing is de Bary 1981: 73–82. In fact,
this text influenced T’oegye’s mature thought because it was an important text for his moral-spiri-
tual cultivation; for details, see Chung 1995, 2010a, 2016: 26–45.
80 E. Y. J. Chung
p hilosophy and psychology. Consequently, various perspectives about such unclear

areas of his thought became the focus of the rigorous debates in Korea.
To conclude, the Four-Seven debates in Korea debated a number of challenging
issues, which received very little attention in China. T’oegye, Yulgok, and their
debaters built the constructive meaning of the Four-Seven link by covering various
texts, thinkers and ideas comprehensively and systematically. This was indeed nec-
essary to understand and practice the vital role of human feelings in moral and spiri-
tual self-cultivation. As presented in the following parts, T’oegye and Yulgok offered
an interesting and engaging set of explanatory categories, philosophical insights,
and practical guidelines.
3 Yi T’oegye’s Four-Seven Debate
Yi Hwang (T’oegye, 1501–1570) was arguably the most eminent Confucian thinker
and scholar in Chosŏn Korea.8 His “Four-Seven Debate” with Ki Taesŭng (Kobong,
1725–1572)9 was a historic encounter with this junior colleague that took place by
means of exchanging three lengthy philosophical letters from early 1559 to late
1566.10 The entire debate is certainly a great source for studying not only the intel-
lectual but also the personal and ethical quality of his character. In Chosŏn Korean
politics, some younger officials openly criticized their superiors in the struggles of
political power. Before T’oegye’s time, however, there had been no formal way of
scholarly debate between a senior scholar and a junior scholar in Korea. On the
whole, it was difficult for a younger scholar-official like Kobong to engage formally
in a free debate with his senior colleague like T’oegye who has the highest national
reputation. T’oegye’s debate with Kobong definitely broke this tradition for the first
time in Korean intellectual history. As a self-humbling scholar, caring mentor, and
warm-hearted colleague, T’oegye welcomed Kobong’s challenge; he often praised
Kobong’s ideas and did not hesitate even to revise his own view whenever he hap-
pened to discover its shortcoming. The debate quickly stimulated the rather quiet
academic environment of the time in Korea, thereby giving rise to a unique philo-
sophical development in the whole history of Korean Confucian thought.
8
For T’oegye’s life and thought, consult Kalton 1988; de Bary and Kim Haboush 1985; Yun 1991;
Chung 1995 or 2016: 1–45; etc.
9
Ki Taesŭng is best known as Kobong, his literary name, for which reason I have referred to him
as “Kobong” in this paper. He was a brilliant young thinker who wrote a few commentaries on Zhu
Xi’s thought, and his writings are collected in the Kobongjip. He occasionally interacted with
T’oegye’s academy and philosophy from age 32 onwards. Of course, this debate with T’oegye is
the most famous example of Kobong’s philosophy and scholarship.
10
T’oegye’s three Four-Seven letters are included in TC 16: 8a–30a; see Kalton et al. 1994: 7–80
for a full translation of them, as well as Kalton et al. 1994: 17–47, 81–104 for Kobong’s letters.
3.1 T
he Four and the Seven in Relation to the Unity or Duality
of Human Nature
In his first eight-page response to Kobong’s challenge,11 T’oegye presented his basic
Four-Seven thesis. Although the Four Beginnings of virtue and the Seven Emotions,
as Kobong pointed out, involve both i and ki in the process of their arousal, they are
obviously different. T’oegye began by addressing human nature and feelings in
general:
Former Confucian scholars explained the topic of human nature (sŏng/xing) and feelings
(chŏng/qing) by discussing it in detail. But regarding the “Four Beginnings [of virtue]”
(sadan/siduan) and the “Seven Emotions” (ch’ilchŏng/qiqing), it is only mentioned that
they are both feelings. I have not seen any theory that explains them separately in terms of
i/li (principle or the metaphysical ground of being) and ki/qi (material force or physical/
vital energy). Last year, I happened to see a diagram composed by Mr. Chŏng Chiun
[Ch’ŏnmyŏng to (Diagram of Heaven’s mandate)],12 according to which “The Four
Beginnings are manifested from (aroused by; pal/fa) i and the Seven Emotions are mani-
fested from ki.” However, I was concerned that his differentiation of the Four and the Seven
is excessive to the extent that it would become a starting point for controversial debate. [In
my previous letter to you,] I therefore modified it by using such phrases as “purely good”
[in the case of the Four], “involves ki as well” [in the case of the Seven], and so on….
Generally speaking, the Four Beginnings are feelings and the Seven Emotions are also feel-
ings. They are all feelings (chŏng/qing).13
T’oegye basically agreed with Kobong that the Four and the Seven are all human
feelings. They are all aroused states of the mind, but T’ogye also emphasized that
each can be discussed in terms of i or ki. He also addressed the concept of human
nature in the tradition of the Doctrine of the Mean, Mencius, and Cheng-Zhu teach-
ings as follows:
The term “human nature” (sŏng/xing) is what Zisi [in the Doctrine of the Mean] meant by
“human nature endowed by Heaven” (ch’ŏnmyŏng chi sŏng/tianming zhi xing) and what
Mencius called “the original goodness of human nature” (sŏngsŏn chi sŏng/xingshan zhi
xing)….Their point of reference was i, not ki, so we can describe it in terms of pure goodness
11
This is T’oegye’s “First Letter to Kobong on the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions,” TC
16: 8a–12b (vol. 1, 405–407); a full translation of this letter is in Kalton et al. 1994: 7–15 and
Chung 2016: 125–129. I also note that T’oegye revised his original first letter in response to
Kobong’s reply, and this revised version (TC 16: 19a–24a; vol. 1, 411–413) is attached to the
beginning of his second letter (TC 16: 24b–45a; vol. 1, 413–424). His third (final) letter (TC 17:
3a–6a; vol. 1, 429–430) follows the text of the second letter. See Chung 1995 for my earlier
detailed discussion of T’oegye’s Four-Seven thesis in relation to his metaphysics, ethics and spiri-
tuality; see also Chung 2016: 26–29.
12
I added this title in brackets for further textual description. Chŏng Chiun (Ch’uman, 1509–
1561), 7 years younger than T’oegye, occasionally communicated with T’oegye for scholarly
work. He was known for his Ch’ŏnmyŏng to (see TC, 41: 10b). T’oegye revised it and gave his
interpretation of it; the revised Ch’ŏnmyŏng sindo (New diagram of Heaven and destiny) appears
in TC, 41: 11a. As T’oegye claimed, the Four-Seven statement in Chŏng’s original diagram initi-
ated T’oegye’s debate with Kobong who asked him to clarify the statement further. So this was the
preliminary beginning of the Four-Seven debates in Korea.
13
TC 16: 8b (vol. 1, 405). I revised this translation after adopting it from Chung 1995: 58–59.
82 E. Y. J. Chung
without any evil….Indeed, Zisi and Mencius…chose to address it in this manner in order to
talk about the original goodness of human nature….It is only since the later generation of
the Cheng brothers, Zhang Zai, and other scholars [such as Zhu Xi] that there has been
inevitable discussion of “physical human nature” (kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing)…. If what
they meant exists after being physically conditioned by life, then we cannot call it the
“original human nature” (pon’yŏn chi sŏng/benran zhi xing) in its pure sense.14
T’oegye quoted the popular phrase “human nature endowed by Heaven” from the
Doctrine of the Mean, identifying it with “the original goodness of human nature”
(Mencius, 2A: 6 and 6A: 6). Both classics therefore meant our original human
nature before it is disturbed by external stimuli involving ki. T’oegye also discussed
the Song teaching of “physical human nature” in contrast to “original human nature”
(or Heaven-mandated nature). The Cheng brothers, Zhang Zai, and other Song
thinkers mentioned the physical human nature that is conditioned by ki in concrete
phenomena.15 This is the actual reality of human nature mixed with physical
dispositions.
T’oegye tried to convince Kobong that since human nature is understood in terms
of its “two names,” feelings can also be discussed in terms of their two names, the
Four and the Seven. T’oegye was indeed the first Korean thinker to address this
topic in terms of i and ki. “Why can we not talk about feelings in terms of distin-
guishing i and ki if human nature is already discussed in terms of distinguishing i
and ki [separately]?”16 The Four-Seven relationship is therefore similar to the
original-physical human nature relationship: the Four pertain to the original human
nature, whereas the Seven to the physical human nature. In his first Four-Seven let-
ter, T’oegye continued to articulate the two types of feelings as follows:
Where do [the mind-and-hearts of] “commiseration,” “shame and dislike,” “courtesy and
modesty,” and “discernment of right and wrong” come from? They are aroused from the
[original essence of] human nature consisting of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and
wisdom. Where do the feelings of pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire
come from? They are aroused from the inside under certain conditions when they become
active as external things come into contact with physical form.17
The Four Beginnings – which are mentioned by Mencius as listed above – belong to
the original human nature because they are our inborn moral qualities, whereas the
Seven Emotions – as listed in the Book of Rites and Doctrine of the Mean – belong
to the physical human nature because “they become active as external things come
into contact with physical form.” T’oegye followed Zhu Xi’s original view: the
original human nature is the purely good state before the arousal of feelings, whereas
the physical human nature is the actual state involving good or evil after the feelings
are aroused. This explanation also appears in his famous Sŏnghak sipto (Ten
14
TC 16: 9a–b (vol. 1, 406); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 60.
15
For more relevant Chinese sources, consult ZZYL 4: 11a–13b and ZZQS 42: 4b, 42: 6b–7a,
9b–10a, 43: 2b–4a (Chan 1963: 613, 616–617, 623–624). As I discussed in part I, section 2, Zhu
did not clarify this topic in terms of the Four and the Seven.
16
TC 16: 9b (vol. 1, 406).
17
TC 16: 9b (vol. 1, 406); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 60–61.
diagrams of the learning of sagehood), especially its sixth chapter, Simt’ongsŏngchŏng

tosŏl (Diagrammatic essay on the saying “the mind commands human nature and
feelings”).18
In his second Four-Seven letter,19 T’oegye clarified his view of human nature in
terms of i and ki:
How can there be i without ki? In the universe, there is no i without ki…. However, if the
nature of Heaven and Earth can be spoken in terms of i only, why can we not talk about
physical human nature by referring to ki, even though i and ki are combined in it?20
T’oegye softened his original standpoint by accepting two points made by Kobong:
continuum between original human nature and physical human nature; and the
interdependency and inseparability of i and ki in all phenomena. However, T’oegye
also said: “The nature of Heaven and Earth [i.e., original human nature] is men-
tioned in terms of i because the i is that which dominates; the physical human nature
is mentioned in terms of ki because the ki is that which dominates.”21 It is essential
to talk about the original human nature and the physical human nature in terms of i
and ki, respectively. As T’oegye said, this is simply a matter of emphasis.
In his third and final letter to T’oegye, Kobong argued back that the Four and the
Seven do not belong to “two separate” human natures, the original and the physical.
They are all aroused feelings belonging to physical human nature (represented by i
and ki combined), which already “includes original human nature.” In his final
(third) letter, a reply to this letter,22 T’oegye said that it was no longer necessary to
push the debate further for complete agreement. One key point he finally agreed
with Kobong is that original human nature is not another nature existing indepen-
dent of physical human nature. However, in order to emphasize the moral signifi-
cance of the Four, T’oegye argued that the original human nature is the “true” nature
of human beings in the Mencian context.
18
T’oegye’s Sim t’ong sŏngchŏng tosŏl presents a moral and psychological philosophy of human
nature and feelings, which consists of three sub-diagrams with his comments. The third diagram is
a basic summary of his Four-Seven thesis; for my discussion of this diagram in English, see Chung
1995 (appendix 1); for the original diagram in Chinese, see TC 7: 22b–25a (vol. 1, 204–206).
T’oegye compiled the Sŏnghak sipto (TC 7: 4b–35a; vol. 1, 195–211) during his late 60s, several
years after his Four-Seven debate ended. Consult Kalton 1988 for a complete English translation
of it with notes and comments.
19
This second letter was written as a response to Kobong’s second letter in the fall of 1560. It is
comprehensive and systematic and consists of 46 pages of T’oegye’s careful reflections on
Kobong’s brilliant points. For a full translation of this letter, see Kalton et al. 1994.
20
TC 16: 29a–30a (vol. 1, 416); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 71.
21
TC 16: 30a (vol. 1, 416).
22
This final letter (TC 17: 3a–6a; vol. 1, 429–430) was sent to Kobong in 1566, about 7 years after
the beginning of the debate. See Kalton et al. 1994 for a full translation of this letter.
84 E. Y. J. Chung
3.2 D
ifferences: Origin, Meaning, and Emphasis
in Terms of I and Ki
In T’oegye’s view, the Four and the Seven are fundamentally different in several
ways. From a standpoint of “origins,” they are distinguishable from each other.23
Regarding “what is spoken of,” they are not the same, either.24 As Tu Weiming
pointed out, “The dilemma for T’oegye was to formulate a correct interpretation of
the Mencian idea of human nature in the light of Zhu Xi’s concept of mind. If there
was a conceived conflict between the two orientations, his task was to see that it be
satisfactorily resolved” (Tu 1985: 268).
In his first Four-Seven letter, T’oegye argued that Kobong was wrong in suggest-
ing that the Four and the Seven do not have different origins and meanings. The
Four “refer principally to i” because they are characterized by moral virtues such as
benevolence. T’oegye accepted Kobong’s view that the arousal of the Seven includes
both i and ki, but he also underscored that “what is spoken of refers principally to
ki” in this case.25 As T’oegye stated,
Neither the Four nor the Seven are outside of i and ki. In each case, however, there is what
is principally referred to as origin and what is spoken of as important. Why can we not say
that something belongs to i, while something else belongs to ki? After pondering your letter
carefully, I think that you have deeply realized that i and ki depend on each other and are
inseparable from each other….You have also considered that “there is no ki without i, and
no i without ki,”26 thereby arguing that the Four and the Seven do not have different mean-
ings. This opinion seems somewhat correct, but it also reveals shortcomings and discrep-
ancy if we consider it with respect to the teaching of sages and worthies.27
T’oegye’s philosophical language confirmed Zhu Xi’s statement about the mutual
inseparability of i and ki in phenomena.28 However, it consistently focused on the
fundamental differences between i and ki: each of i and ki is “an entity in itself” in
accordance with Zhu’s original saying.29 This is why T’oegye criticized Kobong for
going too far in emphasizing the inseparability of i and ki. If the origin of the Four
is i, then it logically follows that the origin of the Seven would be ki. In the arousal
case of the Four, “what is spoken of” emphasizes i; the arousal of the Seven “includes
both i and ki,” but “what is spoken of” emphasizes ki because the Seven are our
ordinary physical and psychological feelings. For T’oegye, then, the Four and the
Seven are surely different in both ontological and conceptual contexts. Concerning
their origins, “there is a distinctive emphasis in each case.” T’oegye asked Kobong
23
TC 16: 10a (vol. 1, 406).
24
TC 16: 8b–9a (vol. 1, 405–406).
25
TC 16: 10a (vol. 1, 406).
26
T’oegye and Kobong probably used Zhu Xi’s key statement about the mutual inseparability of i
and ki; see ZZYL 1: 2b (or ZZQS 49: 1a; see Chan 1963: 634).
27
TC 16: 10b (vol. 1, 406); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 62–63.
28
See ZZYL 1: 2b or ZZQS 49: 1a (Chan 1963: 634).
29
ZZYL 1: 1a–3a or ZZWJ (Collected literary works by Master Zhu Xi), 46: 24a–b, 59: 45b.
again: “Why is it not possible to distinguish the origin of the Four Beginnings from
that of the Seven Emotions?”30
In his third (final) Four-Seven letter to T’oegye, Kobong reiterated his initial
theory that the Seven, the “totality” of feelings, include the Four as its “subset” of
good feelings.31 He concluded that Zhu meant that the Four and the Seven are two
related “names” described in terms of i and ki together.32 Hence, the Four-Seven
relationship should be addressed in terms of “unity,” not “duality.” Kobong asked
T’oegye to accept the Four as existing within the Seven, instead of differentiating
both dualistically in terms of i and ki. In other words, the goodness of the Four is not
different from the goodness of harmonized emotions such as love; for example,
there must be continuum between the harmonized emotion of “love,” one of the
Seven, and the “mind-and-heart of commiseration,” one of the Four.33 When the
Four are aroused, they express the same kind of goodness shared by the good part
of the Seven, although the metaphysical (unmanifested) goodness of the Four ulti-
mately exists outside the range of the Seven. In his final reply to Kobong, T’oegye
therefore agreed with Kobong that the goodness of the Four is indeed the same as
that of the Seven.
3.3 T
he Four and the Seven: All Feelings as the Manifestations
of I and Ki
In his first letter, T’oegye maintained that the Four and the Sevens should be clearly
distinguished from each other in terms of the manifestations of i and ki. The Four
are always good insofar as they are aroused by i, whereas the Seven are either good
or evil because they are aroused by ki. T’oegye criticized Kobong for insisting that
the Four and the Seven cannot be analyzed this way. His interpretation indicates a
strong commitment to Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy in Korea. T’oegye was fully aware of
the philosophical influence of Luo Qinshun (Zhengan, 1465–1547)34 on his con-
temporaries in Korea. In rejecting Luo’s criticism of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, T’oegye
also charged that Kobong’s interpretation of i and ki is no different from Luo’s.
Kobong, like Luo, made what T’oegye calls a “serious mistake” in emphasizing
“the oneness of i and ki” excessively.35
30
TC 16: 30b (vol. 1, 416).
31
Kobong’s Sach’il iki wangbok sŏ (Exchange letter on the Four-Seven and i-ki), 2: 10a; see Kalton
et al. 1994 for a full translation of this letter.
32
Sach’il iki wangboksŏ, 2: 8a.
33
Sach’il iki wangboksŏ, 2: 10a.
34
Luo was the most prominent scholar of the Cheng-Zhu school in Ming China. His Kunzhi ji
(Knowledge painfully acquired) became a popular text among some Korean thinkers including Yi
Yulgok. See Chung 1995 or 2016: 25 for this topic. For Luo’s biography and philosophy, consult
Bloom 1987, a full translation of Luo’s Kunzhi ji.
35
See TC 16: 11a (vol. 1, 407).
86 E. Y. J. Chung
After seeing Zhu Xi’s Four-Seven statement, T’oegye became pleased and even
more confident in supporting his opinions as follows:
I have recently found a key passage in the Zhuzi yulei (Classified conversations of Master
Zhu)….There it is stated that: “The Four Beginnings are manifestations (pal/fa) of i,
whereas the Seven Emotions are manifestations of ki” [ZZYL 53: 17b]. Didn’t the ancient
people say: “Do not trust yourself; trust your teacher.” I courteously regard Master Zhu Xi
as my mentor who is also a great scholar revered by the whole world of many generations.
After obtaining such an explanation, I have finally become confident that nothing is really
wrong with my humble views. Likewise, Chŏng’s [Chiun] explanation, too, had no flaw at
the initial stage [of our discussion].36
In his second letter to Kobong, T’oegye said that even though the arousal (pal/fa) of
the Four involves both i and ki, it refers “principally to i”; similarly, the arousal of
the Seven involves both i and ki, but it refers “principally to ki.”37 So this is likely
why Zhu Xi briefly identified the Four and the Seven as “manifestations of i” and
“manifestations of ki,” respectively. In accepting Kobong’s insight about the inter-
dependency and inseparability of i and ki in all feelings, T’oegye also affirmed that
the Four can involve “the participation of ki”; likewise, the Seven involves “the
participation of i.”38
T’oegye finalized his revised Four-Seven theory about “the alternating (recipro-
cal) manifestation of i and ki”(iki hobal/liqi hufa):
I and ki are manifested alternately. When they are about to be manifested, they need each
other. Since they are manifested interchangeably, we can see that there is a distinctive
emphasis in each case….In the case of the Four Beginnings, i is manifested and ki follows
it; in the case of the Seven Emotions, ki is manifested and i rides on it.39
In the context of “emphasis” and “difference,” this theory justifies the primary role
of i in the Four Beginning (representing the first half of T’oegye’s theory of alternat-
ing manifestation), as well as the primary role of ki in the Seven Emotions (repre-
senting the second half). T’oegye asked Kobong further:
To what extent do you really understand “the beginning of humanity” and “the beginning of
righteousness,” as well as four [moral] principles such as humanity, righteousness, propri-
ety, and wisdom? If these are considered as involving even a little bit of manifestation of ki,
then they do not belong to the original essence of Heaven’s principle….To me, the Four
Beginnings refer only to the manifestation of pure i.40
Regarding the fundamental origin, there must be a clear “difference” between the
manifestation of i and the manifestation of ki.41
In his third (final) Four-Seven letter, Kobong charged that T’oegye misunder-
stood Mencius and the Doctrine of the Mean by formulating an inconsistent
36
TC 16: 12a (vol. 1, 407); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 63.
37
TC 16: 31a (vol. 1, 416).
38
TC 16: 30a (vol. 1, 416).
39
TC 16: 30b–31a (vol. 1, 416).
40
TC 16: 32a–b (vol. 1, 418); revised version of translation from Chung 1995: 75–76.
41
TC 16: 34a (vol. 1, 418).
statement that “Mencius referred to the Four as the manifestation of i…and the
Doctrine of the Mean described the Seven by referring to ki.”42 The foundation of
Kobong’s theory is as follows: In the arousal of both the Four and the Seven, what
actually acts and become manifested is ki, not i. This is why he could not accept the
first half of T’oegye’s hobal theory that “in the case of the Four, i is manifested and
ki follows.”
T’oegye’s final reply to Kobong maintained his hobal thesis. As he said, much
had been gained through the debate, so it was no longer necessary to push the debate
further for complete agreement. T’oegye basically rejected Kobong’s firm belief
that both the Four and the Seven are aroused by ki because it deviates from the
metaphysical and ethical basis of Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism that “human
nature is principle (i).”
Overall, T’oegye developed what we may call a “dualistic” interpretation in
terms of origin, meaning, and emphasis. This dualistic tendency of his thought orig-
inates partly from Zhu Xi’s thought. Throughout the whole debate, T’oegye repeat-
edly advised Kobong that one should clearly understand the fundamental difference
between the Four and the Seven in terms of i and ki or good and evil. The question
is why? This is a significant moral issue for the practice of self-cultivation, as dis-
cussed in the following section.
3.4 Self-Cultivation: Distinguish the Four from the Seven
T’oegye developed an innovative-yet-controversial theory that i has its own self-

manifesting power in our moral feelings such as the Four. He emphasized the pri-
mary role of principle (i) in our virtuous life and actions.43 His mission of the debate
was to emphasize the Four as the genuine foundation of self-cultivation, so that they
have their own status of self-manifestation through i.
The question is why T’oegye kept emphasizing this opinion in the context of his
dualistic Four-Seven interpretation? The Seven Emotions – such as pleasure, anger,
sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire – are not necessarily moral virtues and feelings
like the Four; therefore, they are aroused by ki which can cause them to become
“selfish.” The Seven can easily become evil if they are not controlled properly. This
is mainly why T’oegye distinguished the Four from the Seven in both conceptual
and moral contexts. He emphasized a moral nourishment of the Four and a measure
of emotional control over the Seven. In my view, this is ultimately a moral-spiritual
issue with its profound implication for self-cultivation.
In his second Four-Seven letter, T’oegye said that the method of “suppressing ki”
is to control the Seven.44 The emotion of anger is a manifestation of ki. In other
words, one should overcome the dehumanizing tendencies such as selfish emotions
42
Kobong’s Sach’il iki wangboksŏ, 2: 10a.
43
I discussed this topic further elsewhere: Chung 1995, 2004, 2016: 22–29.
44
TC 16: 37b (vol. 1, 419).
88 E. Y. J. Chung
and cravings that are stimulated by ki; this can be done because human beings are
capable of practicing our innate, moral nature backed up by i. Self-cultivation means
to nourish the Four and also to control the Seven. The depth of T’oegye’s moral
reasoning is presented with a series of relevant quotations, systematic arguments,
and personal insights.
T’oegye’s conclusion is articulated at the end of his first Four-Seven letter. It
politely advised Kobong that if he (or anyone else) does not clearly distinguish i
from ki, as well as the Four from the Seven, there will be an unfortunate conse-
quence of “misunderstanding” innate moral qualities manifested from “Heaven’s
principle” (ch’ŏlli/tianli) as the selfish “human cravings” that are associated with
the Seven and can easily become evil due to external influence and ki’s activity.45
The topic of Heaven’s principle and human cravings is frequently mentioned in
T’oegye’s other leading works such as the famous Sŏnghak sipto,46 where he empha-
sized the practice of mind cultivation through “preserving Heaven’s principle” and
“overcoming selfish desires.”47 T’oegye emphasized his belief in the moral tran-
scendence of Heaven’s principle, and this is indeed a key topic in his entire thought.48
In the final Four-Seven letter, T’oegye reiterated that the ultimate reality of
human goodness (the Four) should never be confused with our ordinary physical
feelings and psychological emotions (the Seven), both theoretically and practically.
He meant that the aim of self-cultivation requires one’s realization of the transcen-
dent moral nature. Indeed, it is this fundamental framework of Cheng-Zhu thought
in which T’oegye attempted to convince Kobong from the beginning of the debate.
Let us explore Yi Yulgok’s Four-Seven philosophy next.
4 Yi Yulgok’s Four-Seven Debate
Yulgok’s Four-Seven thesis is found in his correspondence with his close friend
Sŏng Hon (Ugye, 1536–1598), a scholar who studied T’oegye’s works in particu-
lar. Yulgok and Ugye began an extensive debate covering not only the whole ground
the T’oegye-Kobong debate had covered, but also new philosophical concepts and
moral issues. Their exchanges took place in 1572, 6 years after the end of the
T’oegye-Kobong debate and a year after the death of T’oegye. Yulgok, then 36 years
45
TC 16: 12a (vol. 1, 407).
46
This topic was first mentioned by Chinese scholars such as Zhu Xi and his late Song follower,
Zhen Dexiu (1178–1235). An excellent study of Zhen’s life and thought is de Bary 1981.
47
See TC 7: 29a (v. 1, 208); see also Kalton 1988: 160–64.
48
The core of T’oegye’s ethics and spirituality centers on the doctrine of “preserving Heaven’s
principle and overcoming selfish cravings,” together with reverence and mind cultivation. I dis-
cussed this topic elsewhere from several related perspectives: see Chung 2004, 2010a, b, 2016:
26–29.
old, already had established his national reputation as a brilliant, leading scholar-
official who had written a few important philosophical works of high quality.49
The Yulgok-Ugye debate exchanged 12 philosophical letters altogether: six let-
ters by Ugye and six replies by Yulgok. Several of these letters, especially those by
Yulgok, are detailed and lengthy.50 Even though Yulgok was writing to Ugye, his
ideal debate was with T’oegye; in other words, Ugye provided him with T’oegye’s
perspectives. Yulgok’s letters are better organized than Ugye’s; the former’s argu-
ments tend to be more original and systematic.
4.1 O
neness of the Mind and the Continuum of Feelings:
The Four in the Seven
In his first letter to Yulgok, Ugye initiated the debate by supporting T’oegye’s Four-
Seven thesis. After studying T’oegye’s Simt’ongsŏngchŏng tosŏl (Diagrammatic
explanation of the doctrine “the mind commands human nature and feelings”), the
sixth of his well-known Sŏnghak sipto (Ten diagrams for sagely learning),51 Ugye
supported T’oegye’s hobal theory of “alternating manifestation of i and ki.”52 There
is nothing wrong with analyzing the Four and the Seven dualistically: the former as
“the manifestation of i,” and the latter as “the manifestation of ki.”53 Ugye also
appended his own view that it is logically correct to discuss the Four and the Seven
in terms of the “moral mind” (tosim/daoxin) and the “human mind” (insim/renxin),
respectively.
As I discussed in part I (section 2), the locus classicus for the ideas of the “moral
mind” and the “human mind” is the so-called Sixteen-Character Transmission of the
Mind-and-Heart in the Book of History. It was taken by Zhu Xi as an early Confucian
doctrine of mind cultivation: the moral mind refers to our moral principles and vir-
tues like benevolence and propriety, whereas the ordinary human mind refers to our
physical feelings and desires such as the mouth’s desire for taste (ZZYL 61: 5a–b).
But Zhu Xi did not discuss this topic with respect to the Four and the Seven at all,
so this became the first relevant issue of the debate between Yulgok and Ugye.
Overall, Yulgok criticized Ugye’s thinking and also T’oegye’s influence on such
thinking.
49
For Yulgok’s life and thought, see Ro 1989; Chung 1995, 1998, 2015: 58–61.
50
These letters are collected in YC 9: 32b–10: 40a (vol. 1, 192–216); they are fully translated in
Kalton et al. 1994: 109–183.
51
Ugye was referring to the third diagram in this essay, which is a brief summary of T’oegye’s
Four-Seven thesis. For my translation of it, see Chung 1995 (appendix 1); see also Kalton 1988 for
his complete translation of the Sŏnghak sipto with notes and comments.
52
YC 19: 37a (vol. 1, 193). See also TC 7: 24b (vol. 1, 205).
53
YC 9: 37b–38a (vol. 1, 193–194).
90 E. Y. J. Chung
Ugye basically argued that the mind may be two on account of the difference
between the Four and the Seven. In his first Four-Seven letter to Ugye,54 Yulgok
refused to make any contrast between the moral mind and the human mind, thereby
rejecting the two separate “origins” of the mind. He emphasized “the oneness of the
mind” in both metaphysical and moral contexts: there is a “mutual relationship” of
continuum between them. The mind is ontologically one, but there are just two
terms used in explaining it. As Ro (1989: 46–50) pointed out, Yulgok viewed the
moral and human minds as the two interrelated phenomena of the mind. Surely,
virtuous actions (pertaining to the moral mind) and physical and emotional feelings
(pertaining to the human mind) are different; however, this difference, Yulgok
argued, is not an absolute factor for dividing them into two different minds.
In other words, the moral and human minds cannot be discussed in terms of the
Four and the Seven, respectively; their relationship should be understood in terms of
the oneness of feelings. “The Four refer to the moral mind in particular; the Seven
refer to the moral and human mind combined as a whole.”55 Just as the reality of the
mind is “one,” the total reality of feelings is also “one” and not divided into the Four
and the Seven. This is the basis of Yulgok’s Four-Seven thesis, but it also resulted
from criticizing T’oegye’s dualistic interpretation. As Yulgok stated,
The Four Beginnings cannot include the Seven Emotions; rather, the Seven Emotions
include the Four….The Four are not like the totality of the Seven, while the Seven are not
like the purity of the Four.56
This statement is almost identical to Kobong’s original thinking. Yulgok added only
that “the Four cannot include the Seven,” thereby arguing that the Four are good
moral feelings included in the Seven. Like Kobong, Yulgok said that the Four are the
“good side” of the Seven, as selected by Mencius.57 This conveys the Mencian doc-
trine that the moral feeling (mind-and-heart) of commiseration, one of the Four,
arises upon seeing a small child falling into a well.58 Nonetheless, the Four do not
have any ontological status independent of the Seven: they do not exist outside the
Seven, the “totality” of feelings. Accordingly, Yulgok criticized T’oegye for misin-
terpreting the Four and the Seven as two distinctive groups of feelings.59 In my view,
Yulgok’s argument indirectly concurs with Zhu Xi’s unquoted statements that “the
Seven Emotions cannot be separated from the Four Beginnings,” and that “the Four
can be understood in the context of the Seven.”60
54
A complete translation of this letter is Kalton et al. 1994: 113–116.
55
YC 10: 7b (vol. 1, 199).
56
YC 9: 34b (vol. 1, 192); translation from Chung 1995: 97.
57
YC 9: 34b (vol. 1, 192).
58
YC 9: 35b–36a (vol. 1, 192).
59
YC 9: 35b (vol. 1, 192).
60
See CTYL 87: 16a–b. As I pointed out in part I (section 2), Yulgok, as well as T’oegye and
Kobong, were not familiar with these statements by Zhu Xi.
In his second Four-Seven letter to Ugye,61 Yulgok said: “when the mind is stimu-
lated by external things, feelings are aroused from it, giving rise to either good or
evil.”62 In relation to the teaching of emotional harmonization (Doctrine of the
Mean), Yulgok also affirmed that the Four always attain their “due degree and mea-
sure”; therefore, they are a set of “good feelings” existing within the total reality of
the Seven.63 As he said,
Bad feelings can arise when one neglects the original goodness of human nature, and this is
due to one’s failure to harmonize the Seven according to their due degree and measure. The
reason that the mind of an ordinary person is confused and disorderly is due to its confine-
ment to physical and material desires.64
Here Yulgok confirmed the Mencian doctrine that human nature is originally good.
The question is: Why does evil become apparent in human feelings? For Yulgok, the
problem of evil originates from one’s physical dispositions: when stimulated by
external things, either good or evil arises depending on whether or not the Seven are
harmonized. If any of the Seven is controlled properly by the mind according to
moral principles (i), then it would be a good moral feeling like any of the Four. For
example, when “love,” one of the Seven, is expressed by following the moral prin-
ciple of human-heartedness (in/ren), then it is a moral feeling like the mind-and-
heart of commiseration. In short, Yulgok’s opinion basically corresponds to
Kobong’s thinking.65
Yulgok’s third letter66 emphasizes that it is impossible for the “good side” and the
“totality” to be divided into two kinds of feelings. “Zhu Xi’s saying that ‘the Four
Beginnings are manifestations of i; the Seven Emotion are manifestations of ki’
(ZZYL 53: 17b) is meant only in a general sense”; he would not have expected others
(like T’oegye) to distinguish the Four and the Seven in terms of i and ki excessive-
ly.67 For Yulgok, then, T’oegye’s problem was his dualistic theory,68 and he did not
understand the Four as the good side of the Seven. In his famous Sŏnghak chipyo
(Collected essentials of sagely learning), Yulgok also stated: “Mencius selected
good feelings out of the Seven Emotions, and called them the Four Beginnings.”69
Yulgok articulated specific examples to emphasize the Four-Seven relationship
of continuum as follows:
Now as regard to human nature (sŏng/xing), we are joyous when we should be joyous; we
are sorrowful on account of bereavement; we are pleased in seeing those we love; and we
61
See Kalton et al. 1994: 117–120 for a complete translation of this letter.
62
YC 9: 38b (vol. 1, 195).
63
YC 9: 38b (vol. 1, 195).
64
YC 9: 38a (vol. 1, 195).
65
This point is similar to Kobong’s original view; see TC 16: 13b (vol. 1, 408).
66
For a complete translation of this letter, see Kalton et al. 1994: 125–138.
67
YC 9: 35b (vol. 1, 192).
68
YC 10: 5a (vol. 1, 198).
69
YC 20: 56b (vol. 1, 455). Yulgok’s Sŏnghak chipyo was compiled in 1575, almost 3 years after
the Yulgok-Ugye debate which began in 1573.
92 E. Y. J. Chung
desire to investigate principles when we see them….These are the four feelings (chŏng/qing)
of joy, sorrow, love, and desire that refer to the beginnings of benevolence. We are angry
when we should be angry, and we dislike something when we should dislike it. These are
the two feelings of anger and dislike that refer to the beginnings of righteousness. We fear
our superiors and nobles when we see them. This is the feeling of fear that refers to the
beginning of propriety. To know that we should be joyous, angry, sorrowful, or fearful when
we should have a feeling of joy, anger, sorrow, or fear, and to know that we should not be
joyous, angry, sorrowful, or fearful when we should not have a feeling of joy, anger, sorrow,
sorrow, or fear belongs to the feeling of right and wrong…this is the beginning of
wisdom.70
For Yulgok, if “love” and “sorrow,” two of the Seven Emotions, are expressed and
controlled properly, then they are no different from “the mind-and-heart of com-
miseration,” one of the Four beginnings of virtues; therefore, there must be some
meaningful continuum between them. Like Kobong, Yulgok disagreed with T’oegye
who argued that the Seven are not moral feelings because they are the conditional
and “precarious” expressions of our physical and psychological desires.71
Overall, Yulgok emphasized the idea of mutual relationship between the Four
and the Seven by addressing the interdependency and inseparability of i and ki in all
phenomena including feelings; in this regard, Kobong influenced Yulgok’s thinking.
However, the latter also included a critique of T’oegye’s interpretation: T’oegye
was wrong in emphasizing the Four-Seven contrast dualistically. The goodness of
harmonized emotions is no different from the goodness of our virtuous feelings like
the Four.
If the Four-Seven distinction were to be discussed, then it might be done in terms
of original human nature and physical human nature, as debated by Yulgok in the
following section.
4.2 One Human Nature and the Oneness of Feelings
As we have noticed in part II, section 1, the Four-Seven issue in relation to original
human nature and physical human nature was a major issue in the T’oegye-Kobong
debate. Obviously, Yulgok debated it with Ugye. Yulgok began his first letter by say-
ing: “Original human nature is mentioned without including physical endowment,
whereas physical human nature includes the original human nature. Similarly, the
Four Beginnings cannot include the Seven Emotions; it is rather the latter that
includes the former.”72 In the Cheng-Zhu context,73 Yulgok meant that the original
human nature is the pure, unmanifested nature referring to i only, and the physical
70
YC 10: 7a–b (vol. 1, 199); translation from Chung 1995: 101–102.
71
TC 16: 9b (vol. 1, 406).
72
YC 9: 35b (vol. 1, 192); revised version of translation adopted from Chung 1995: 102.
73
Regarding the Cheng-Zhu doctrine of “original human nature” and “physical human nature,” see
pt. I, sec. 2 (Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucian Texts and Korean Issues).
human nature includes i and ki together.74 Like Kobong, he argued that both the Four
and the Seven belong to the physical human nature.
According to Yulgok’s fifth letter, in the concrete reality “human nature” is the
physical human nature that “includes the original human nature” because i already
exists in ki.75 Note that Yulgok’s interpretation of the oneness of human nature was
likely influenced by Luo Qinshun (1465–1547)76 and Kobong in particular. Yulgok
said:
Zisu (Doctrine of the Mean) and Mencius spoke of original human nature, whereas Cheng
Yi and Zhang Zai spoke of physical human nature. Although the original human nature and
the physical human nature are actually one human nature, what principally refers to in each
case is not the same….Human nature is always one.77
Yulgok continued by criticizing T’oegye’s mode of thinking in the following words:

Since human nature is already one, how can there be two [kinds] of feelings? Only after
there are two human natures, there can be two kinds of feelings. If T’oegye’s dualistic inter-
pretation is correct, the original human nature is at the east and the physical human nature
is at the west.… How can this be right at all?78
Like Luo Qinshun and Kobong, Yulgok emphasized that “two names” are used in
describing one human nature from two angles. So he opposed T’oegye’s point that
the Four, which are purely good, should be represented by the original human
nature, and the Seven, which are either good or evil, should be expressed by the
physical human nature.
4.3 The Role of Ki in Feelings and Self-Cultivation
In his first letter to Yulgok, Ugye defended T’oegye’s theory of alternating manifes-
tation: “In the case of the Four Beginnings, i is manifested and ki follows it; in the
case of the Seven Emotions, ki is manifested and i rides on it.”79 For Ugye, nothing
is wrong with analyzing the origins of the Four and the Seven dualistically, assign-
ing the former to i and the latter to ki.80
Yulgok argued that T’oegye’s hobal theory is not convincing because it implies
wrongly that i and ki are two separated entities, each manifesting independently; the
74
YC 10: 7b (vol. 1, 199).
75
YC 10: 22a (vol. 1, 207).
76
Luo Qinshun was a leading scholar in the Cheng-Zhu school during the Ming period. A good
study of his life and thought is Bloom 1987, which presents a full translation of his Kunzhi ji
(Knowledge painfully acquired).
77
YC 10: 22b (vol. 1, 207); modified version of translation from Chung 1995: 105.
78
YC 10: 29b–30a (vol. 1, 210–211).
79
See YC 19: 37a (vol. 1, 193). For T’oegye’s hobal theory, see TC 7: 24b (vol. 1, 205).
80
YC 9: 37b (vol. 1, 193).
94 E. Y. J. Chung
sagely teaching would not support T’oegye’s theory on “alternating manifestation.”81

It is not true that i is manifested in some cases and ki is manifested in other cases;
rather, i and ki are always inseparable in all phenomena, and there is neither priority
nor posteriority between i and ki.82 Yulgok wrote:
What Zhu Xi intended to mean is simply that in the case of the Four Beginnings, only i is
spoken of, whereas the case of the Seven Emotions, ki is spoken together [with i]. He did
not mean that in the case of the Four Beginnings, i is manifested first, whereas in the case
of the Seven Emotions, ki is manifested first.83
According to Yulgok, T’oegye’s theory would destroy the doctrine of the oneness of
i and ki in all phenomena. In his third letter to Ugye, Yulgok accepted only the sec-
ond half of T’oegye’s hobal theory: “In the case of the Seven Emotions, ki is mani-
fested and i rides on it.” However, this must be true for the Four Beginnings as well:
“What is manifested (palcha/fazhe) is ki, and the reason for its manifestation (soi
palcha/soyi fazhe) is i.”84 In the arousal process of all feelings, ki is what actually
becomes manifested. “Without ki, nothing can be manifested; without i, there is
nothing manifested.”85 So Yulgok claimed that T’oegye’s interpretation is not as
convincing as Kobong’s.
In his fourth letter to Ugye, Yulgok also asked: “How can i and ki manifest them-
selves alternatively?”86 In his view, there are certain ambiguities at the heart of clas-
sical texts and Cheng-Zhu writings, so it is very important to clarify their “intended
meanings” through one’s careful reflection.87 T’oegye’s hobal theory is mistaken in
language itself, so his belief that i can manifest itself is unacceptable. Obviously,
Yulgok’s emphasis is on the role of ki in all phenomena including feelings and
self-cultivation.
4.4 The Mutual Inseparability and Dependency of I and Ki
Yulgok, like T’oegye, basically affirmed the conceptual “distinction” between i and
ki, as well as their “dependency” in concrete phenomena. This concurs with Zhu
Xi’s saying that i itself is i and ki itself is ki, and yet they are not mixable with each
other. In his second letter to Ugye, Yulgok pointed out that if i is in control when ki
does not disturb it, we have the Four; if ki is already disturbed i, we refer to both
good and evil of the Seven. He wrote as follows: “I-in-itself is purely good; how-
ever, when it moves by riding on ki [in cosmic transformation], it generates myriad
81
YC 9: 36a (vol. 1, 192).
82
YC 10: 5a (vol. 1, 198).
83
YC 10: 5a (vol. 1, 198); translation from Chung 1995: 107.
84
YC 10: 5a (vol. 1, 198); modified version of translation from Chung 1995: 107.
85
YC 10: 5a (vol. 1, 198).
86
YC 10: 12a (vol. 1, 202).
87
YC 10: 13a (vol. 1, 202).
variations which can lead to good or evil. Hence, the physical endowment of human
nature has both good and evil.”88 This is somewhat related to the Cheng-Zhu doc-
trine that “principle is one; its particularizations are diverse” (iil punsu/liyi fenshu).89
In Yulgok’s view, i creates the diversity of myriad phenomena through by the active
role of ki.90 As Julia Ching pointed out, what is not uniform in things is due to the
various grades of ki’s purity, so Yulgok emphasized the dynamic role of ki in all
phenomena including feelings (Ching 1985: 311).
According to his third Four-Seven letter, “Unless there is ki, i has nothing to
depend on; unless there is i, ki has nothing to lean to.”91 Their relationship includes
both unity and duality:
Why is it said that i and ki are not one? I and ki are inseparable from each other; however,
in their mysterious unity, i is i in itself, and ki is ki in itself. Since i and ki are not inter-
mingled as such, they are not one. Why is it said that they are not two? Although i itself is i
and ki itself is ki, they are still merged one into the other in perfect harmony.92
Yulgok emphasized the interdependent relationship of i and ki. In this regard, Luo
Qinshun’s view of the oneness of i and ki certainly influenced Yulgok’s Four-Seven
thesis.93
In his fifth Four-Seven letter, Yulgok said that “i leads ki,” whereas “ki serves as
the physical implement of i” in the process of cosmic transformation94 because i
represents the ultimate essence of each thing or phenomenon whose physical form
is conditioned by ki. Following Zhu Xi’s mode of reasoning, his sixth letter also
pointed out that i is the metaphysical and passive principle, whereas ki is the physi-
cal and active material force.95 Yulgok’s firm belief is: regarding the transformation
of all phenomena, “what moves and becomes manifested is ki, and the reason for its
manifestation is i.” The relationship of inseparability and interdependency between
i and ki is deeply rooted in his moral philosophy as well.
In general, Yulgok’s thought indicates some traces of Daoist and Buddhist influ-
ence as well; this is not surprising because Yulgok himself once confessed that he
had studied Daoist, Huayan and Zen texts seriously during his early years. His idea
88
YC 9: 39a (vol. 1, 195). In saying that “i-in-itself is purely good,” Yulgok likely meant that the
original essence of i is always pure and morally good, but this goodness is not revealed in moral
feelings unless the mind is stimulated by ki.
89
YC 9: 39a (vol. 1, 194). For Zhu Xi and this doctrine, see CTYL 1: 2a.
90
YC 9: 36a (vol. 1, 192).
91
YC 10: 2a (vol. 1, 197); translation from Chung 1995: 111.
92
YC 10: 2a–b (vol. 1, 197); translation from Chung 1995: 111.
93
Luo criticized Zhu’s philosophy of i and ki by emphasizing the “oneness of i and ki.” He opposed
Zhu’s dualistic statements like the following: “I and ki are definitely two” (ZZWC 46: 24a). For
Luo, “principle (i) is not a separate entity” because it always “depends on material force (ki) in
order to exist” (Bloom 1987: 58). As I said in pt. 3, sec, 3, in his debate with Kobong, T’oegye
strongly criticized Luo’s monistic philosophy, as well as Kobong for being influenced by Luo; see
T’oegye’s first Four-Seven letter, TC 16: 11a (vol. 1, 407).
94
YC 10: 25b (vol. 1, 208).
95
YC 10: 25b (vol. 1, 208).
96 E. Y. J. Chung
of the “original mystery of i”96 is somewhat similar to the idea of Dao; his saying
that “i penetrates and exists everywhere, even in the ashes, excrement and dirt”
alludes to Zhuangzi’s theory of the omnipresence of Dao.97 It was likely influenced
by Huayan philosophy as well; Yulgok developed his interpretation of i and ki by
assimilating the Huayan theory of “principle” (i/li) and “facts” (sa/shih).98 On the
whole, however, Yulgok’s philosophy was also a natural growth out of the Four-
Seven Debate. It embodies strong traces of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics of i and ki and
some influence of Luo Qinshun’s monistic reformulation of it.
For Yulgok, although T’oegye’s scholarship is highly admirable because of his
“prudent approach to learning and self-cultivation,”99 it lacked originality and did
not clearly understand Zhu Xi’s philosophy of i and ki in relation to human nature
and feelings. For Yulgok, the Four and the Seven are not two different kinds of feel-
ings, each with its own origin and meaning. His non-dualistic approach to Neo-
Confucian metaphysics and ethics emphasizes emotional integration and the
transformation of one’s ki as a way of self-cultivation.
5 T
he Four-Seven and I-Ki Controversy After T’oegye
and Yulgok
Due to the Four-Seven debates, the Korean Sŏngnihak (school of human nature and
principle) generated two major schools of thought in the late sixteenth century: the
Yŏngnam “School of the Primacy of Principle” (Churip’a) identified with T’oegye,
and the Kiho “School of the Primacy of Material Force” (Chugip’a) identified with
Yulgok. This split was a major intellectual event in the entire history of Korean
Confucianism: three centuries of disputes between the two schools resulted in a
good deal of philosophical development. However, this development focused more
on the narrow theoretical issues of i-ki and Four-Seven controversy.
In general, the Churip’a school criticized Yulgok by defending T’oegye’s Four-
Seven philosophy. It justified T’oegye’s dualistic interpretation that i and ki are
“distinct” from each other, as well as his emphasis on the priority of i in cosmic
96
YC 10: 26a (vol. 1, 209).
97
Yulgok probably formulated his theory under some influence from the Zhuangzi; in fact, he was
well-versed in the Daoist texts such as the Zhuangzi.
98
This is partly why T’oegye had politely criticized Yulgok for having studied Huayan and Zen
scriptures. In his follow-up letter to Yulgok during the same year, T’oegye strongly advised Yulgok
against being interested in and influenced by Buddhism and therefore encouraged the junior
scholar to focus on Sŏngnihak (Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism). Details on this topic, see Chung
2016: 20–21, 29, 201, 203. According to Huayan thought, “principle” represents the transcendent
reality and the formless, whereas “facts” pertain to the manifestations of the mind making up the
physical world of concrete phenomena. Principle and phenomena ought to be in harmony through
their mutual interaction (see Chan 1963: 411–413). Anyhow, Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism was
originally influenced by Buddhism, so the issue here is not as simple as it appears to be.
99
YC 10: 37b–38a (vol. 1, 214–215).
transformation and self-cultivation. T’oegye’s theory that i can manifest itself in

moral feelings such as the Four remained a central doctrine among Churip’a mem-
bers. They also reiterated his key point that the Four and the Seven are different in
terms of “origin,” “meaning,” and “emphasis”; in other words, T’oegye’s basic
Four-Seven thesis became their central pillar.
Meanwhile, the Chugip’a school opposed T’oegye by defending Yulgok’s inter-
pretation. In particular, it made specific references to Yulgok’s emphasis on the
inseparability of i and ki and his opinion that ki is manifested in all phenomena
including the Four. They criticized T’oegye’s dualistic philosophy and its emphasis
on the primacy and dynamism of i, while articulating Yulgok’s theory of the primary
role of ki in cosmic transformation. Yulgok’s fundamental point that the Four and
the Seven do not have two separate ontological or moral sources remained intact
among within the Chugip’a school.
Meanwhile, the third school of thought arose: the so-called eclectic school
(chŏlch’ungp’a). This alternative was organized by those independent scholars who
did not join either the Churip’a or the Chugip’a, or who remained between the two
rival schools. They formulated their own opinions and interpretations; some of them
also tried to make compromise between T’oegye’s and Yulgok’s philosophies.
5.1 The School of the Primacy of I
In the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the T’oegye Churip’a school
was led by a good number of scholars. Cho Hojik (Chisan, 1545–1601) was a lead-
ing disciple of T’oegye who defended his master’s hobal (alternating manifestation)
theory of i and ki, including the point that i has its own self-manifesting power.100 Yi
Ku (Hwalchae, 1613–1654) was another disciple of T’oegye who became the first
Churip’a scholar who directly attacked Yulgok’s theory of the primary role of ki. In
his Pyŏnnon iki sŏ (Essay on debating i and ki), he formulated a dualistic interpreta-
tion that emphasizes the primacy of i. He also rejected Yulgok’s view that “what
becomes manifested is only ki,” thereby defending T’oegye’s theory that i is the
self-manifesting principle in moral feelings like the Four.
Yi Hyŏnil (Karam, 1617–1704) was an influential scholar and government offi-
cial. He provided the Churip’a school with the first major critique of Yulgok’s
thought, entitled Yulgok Issi ron sadanch’ilchŏng sŏ pyŏn (Critique of Yulgok’s let-
ters on the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions).101 In his view, Yulgok was
completely wrong in opposing T’oegye’s theory: “[According to Yulgok,] i cannot
be the source of all things simply because it is vacuous and empty. He also main-
tained that only through the transformation of ki, the process of all phenomena is
possible. This is wrong.”102 Yi defended T’oegye’s theory that i has its own
100
Chisan munjip (Collected literary works of Chisan), kwŏn 6, “Iki pyŏn” (Essay on i and ki).
101
See Karam sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Master Yi Karam), 18: 1a–20b.
102
Karam sŏnsaeng munjip, 18: 16a.
98 E. Y. J. Chung
self-manifesting power in the Four. Chŏng Sihan (Udam, 1675–1707), a friend of

Yi Hyŏnil, is well-known for his Sach’il pyŏnchŭng (On debating the Four and the
Seven), a detailed (41 sections) comparison of T’oegye’s and Yulgok’s Four-Seven
theses.103 It defended T’oegye by arguing that his philosophy is based on the doc-
trine that i is always the “master” and ki is its “servant.” So “i is neither limited nor
commanded by ki.”104
In the eighteenth century, Yi Sangchŏng (Taesan, 1722–1781) was a very influ-
ential thinker in the Churip’a. His colleagues respected him as the “Young T’oegye”
who compiled many important works, such as Sadan ch’ilchŏng sŏl (Essay on the
Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions)105 and Iki sŏnhu sŏl (Essay on the priority
and posterity of i and ki).106 Yi emphasized the primacy of i from an ontological and
phenomenological perspective. In his I tongchŏng sŏl (Essay on the saying “prin-
ciple has movement and tranquility”), he said: “i is the master, whereas ki is the
material”107 in cosmic transformation and feelings because i controls the activity of
ki. Yi charged that Yulgok made a serious mistake in seeing i as a “dead” entity.
In the mid-nineteenth century, the Churip’a school revised itself under the lead-
ership of Yu Ch’imyŏng (Chŏngjae, 1777–1861) and others. Yu took over Yi
Sangchŏng’s theory and elaborated on it further by saying that “ki is [none other
than] the material instrument of i.”108 If i does not have its self-manifesting power at
all, it incorrectly means that i is a dead thing like “ash.”109 This is absolutely wrong,
as he criticized Yulgok. Finally, Ki Chŏngjin (Nosa, 1798–1876) founded the so-
called yurihak by transforming the Churip’a theory into an exclusively i-ist philoso-
phy. Ki is never an independent entity because its manifestation and activity are all
due to i; furthermore, i is “the master” that commands ki, whereas the latter is the
former’s “servant.” In other words, i is prior to ki in the ontological and phenomeno-
logical context. This new development within the Churip’a became a dominant
trend in the late nineteenth century.
103
This is found in Udam sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Master Chŏng Udam), 7:
1a–6b; cited in HYCC 1: 668–670.
104
Udam sŏnsaeng munjip, 9: 29b; see also HYCC 1: 684.
105
See Taesan sŏnsaeng munjip, 39: 15a–22b (HYCC 2: 1181–1190).
106
Taesan sŏnsaeng munjip, 39: 10b–12a (HYCC 2: 1179–1180). Yi’s other major writings include
the Iki tongjŏng sŏl (Essay on the movement and tranquillity of i and ki), Taesan sŏnsaeng munjip,
39: 5b–6a (HYCC 2: 1176–1177).
107
For his metaphysics of i and ki, see Taesan sŏnsaeng munjip, 39: 5b–10b.
108
Chŏngjae sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Master Yu Chŏngjae), 19: 3b (HYCC 2:
1444).
109
Chŏngjae sŏnsaeng munjip, 19: 4a (HYCC 2: 1444).
5.2 The School of the Primacy of Ki
Kim Changsaeng (Sagye, 1548–1631), a disciple of Yulgok, rejected T’oegye’s the-

ory of “alternating manifestation of i and ki” by arguing that Yulgok was correct in
saying that in all phenomena, what becomes manifested is only ki and the reason for
its manifestation is i.110 T’oegye’s theory of the “self-arrival of i” in moral feelings
is wrong because i cannot move by itself or manifest itself on its own. In the late
seventeenth century, the famous scholar-politician Song Siyŏl (Uam, 1607–1689),
one of Kim’s leading disciples, reaffirmed Yulgok’s emphasis on the dynamic role
of ki, as well as his theory of the inseparability of i and ki. As the leader of the
Chugip’a school, he criticized T’oegye’s idea about the “self-manifesting” power of
i, thereby defending Yulgok’s thesis that ki is actually the “active” agent of al cosmic
transformation.
During the eighteenth century, Kwŏn Sangha (Sangam, 1641–1721), Song
Siyŏl’s eldest disciple, was a very influential Chugip’a scholar. He emphasized
Yulgok’s theory of i and ki by articulating that there is neither priority nor posterior-
ity between them. “According to Yulgok, what is manifested is ki, and the reason for
its manifestation is i. This is why T’oegye’s theory of alternating manifestation is
wrong.”111 Han Namdang (Wŏnjin, 1682–1751), Kwŏn’s disciple, wrote many
important works, including Insim tosim sŏl (Essay on the moral mind and the human
mind)112 and ponyŏnjisŏng kigiljisŏng sŏl (Essay on original human nature and
physical human nature).113 Han charged that T’oegye confused others by saying that
i and ki can be discussed as being prior and posterior, respectively, and that this
problem was originally due to Zhu’s theory that regarding their origins, i and ki can
be distinguished from each other.
Im Sŏngju (Nokmun, 1711–1788) transformed the Chugip’a philosophy into
what he called yugihak, a kind of ki-monism. It focuses on his new theory that
“human nature is ki,” which certainly deviates from the Cheng-Zhu metaphysical
and ethical doctrine that “human nature is i.” Rejecting T’oegye’s distinction of i
and ki, Im went farther than Yulgok by stating that ki is the only active agent of
cosmic transformation, and all phenomena are particularizations of ki, not i. This
was a controversial movement within the Chugip’a school, one that addressed
Sŏngnihak metaphysics and ethics in terms of ki only.
In the nineteenth century, Im’s philosophy also influenced Ch’oe Han’gi
(Hyegang, 1803–1879) who developed new empirical ideas. Ch’oe based his yugi
110
Sagae chŏnsŏ (Complete works of Kim Sagae), 17, “Reply to Han Saang’s Letter”; cited in Yi
Pyŏngdo 1986: 177.
111
Hansu jip (Collected works of Kwŏn Sangam), 21, “Sach’il hobal pyŏn” (Essay on the alternat-
ing manifestation of the Four and the Seven).
112
Namdang sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Master Han Namdang), 3: 1a–7a; see
also HYCC 1: 1010–1013.
113
Namdang sŏnsaeng munjip, 7a–10b (HYCC 1: 1013–1014). His other major works include I
ch’eyong sŏl (Essay on the substance and function of principle), in Namdang sŏnsaeng munjip, 30:
11b–12a (HYCC 1: 1015).
100 E. Y. J. Chung
philosophy on European philosophy and science which were pouring into Korea at
the end of the Chosŏn dynasty. He argued that all knowledge is a product of human
experience. In his famous Ch’uch’ŭknok (Speculations), Ch’oe presented a philoso-
phy of ki: the world is a material product of ki that penetrates everywhere and inte-
grates and disintegrates everything. Like Im, he believed that ki is diverse in concrete
things and phenomena.
5.3 The Eclectic School
A leading scholar in this group was Chang Hyŏnkwang (Yŏhŏn, 1554–1637), who
originally came from the Yŏngnam Churip’a school. He wrote several significant
works, including Insim tosim sŏl (Essay on the moral mind and the human mind).114
He stood between T’oegye’s emphasis on the distinction of i and ki and Yulgok’s
emphasis on the inseparability of i and ki. Although i and ki are conceptually distin-
guishable from each other, they are inseparable from a phenomenological perspec-
tive. For him, this means the distinction and oneness of i and ki.
Cho Sŏnggi (Cholsujae, 1638–1687), a leading independent scholar attempted
to reconcile T’oegye and Yulgok. In his famous T’oeYul yangsŏnsaeng sadan
ch’ilchŏng indo iki sŏl hupyŏn (Second essay on T’oegye’s and Yulgok’s theories of
the Four and the Seven, the moral mind and the human mind, and i and ki),115 he
charged that T’oegye emphasized the ontological and conceptual difference between
i and ki excessively, whereas Yulgok was partially correct because he focused too
much on the inseparability of i and ki in phenomena. For Cho, ki is the “material
source” that actualizes i in things, while i is the “master” of ki.116 He agreed with
Yulgok that the Seven Emotions include the Four Beginnings, and that “ki is mani-
fested” in both cases. Like T’oegye, however, Cho also pointed out that they can be
distinguished as being principally backed by i or ki, respectively.
In the early nineteenth century, O Hŭisang (Noju, 1763–1832) made a meaning-
ful compromise between T’oegye and Yulgok on the theory of i and ki. Like other
eclectic thinkers, he maintained both the unmixability and inseparability of i and ki
in the light of Zhu Xi’s thinking. He wrote: “I is the foundation of ki, whereas ki is
the material of i. Without the material, the foundation cannot be understood.”117
In other words, ki transforms all phenomena, whereas i is the master of ki that
makes ki act in that way. So there is neither priority nor posteriority between i and
ki. As O Hŭisang wrote, “one origin refers principally to i, whereas the diversity of
114
See Yŏhŏn sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Master Chang Yŏhŏn), 5: 11b–14b;
cited in HYCC 1: 445–446.
115
This is included in his Cholsujae sŏnsaeng munjip (Collected literary works of Cho Cholsujae),
11: 1a–9a; HYCC 1: 715–719.
116
Cholsujae sŏnsaeng munjip, 11: 1a.
117
Noju jip (Collected works of O Noju), 24: 6b; see HYCC 2: 1400.
p articularizations refers principally to ki.”118 He also supported T’oegye’s theory

that there must be the conceptual difference between the metaphysical (i) and the
physical (ki).
It is clear that most eclectic thinkers attempted to synthesize T’oegye’s and
Yulgok’s different views of i and ki and those of the Four-Seven linkage in the light
of Zhu Xi’s doctrines.
6 Conclusion
In sixteenth-century Korea, the Four-Seven Debate was important for T’oegye,

Yulgok, and their debaters because they all wished to understand the relationship
between human nature and feelings and its vital role in self-cultivation. The way in
which each thinker interpreted Confucian classics and Cheng-Zhu Neo-
Confucianism includes not only textual doctrines and philosophical concepts but
also moral and spiritual concerns. His vocabulary reveals fundamental patterns of
continuity: i and ki, human nature, mind-and-heart, feelings and emotions, self-
cultivation, and so on. The Four-Seven Debate continued to remain a wellspring of
controversial but creative thought during the Chosŏn dynasty. Korean thinkers dis-
cussed the meaningful connection between the Four and the Seven, between meta-
physics and ethics, and between theoretical doctrines and practical self-cultivation.
A relevant question is: Why did the Four-Seven controversy begin in Korea?
There is no simple answer to this question because it involves certain historical
circumstances as well. The Four-Seven issues did not receive the same urgency and
intensity in China or Japan. For example, the famous “Goose-Lake” debate between
two leading Neo-Confucians, Zhu Xi and Lu Xiangshan (1139–93), did not alter
the general direction of Song thought (Ching 1974: 161–178). In Ming China, many
scholars were occupied with philosophical issues concerning human nature versus
the mind as rival topics in the competing Cheng-Zhu and Wang schools. By con-
trast, the Cheng-Zhu school (Sŏngnihak) in Korea dominated the whole academic
enterprise since the late fourteenth century; this is why T’oegye, Yulgok, and their
challengers debated many key questions regarding Zhu Xi’s thought. As the state
permitted no other schools of thought, the focused study of Sŏngnihak developed
sophisticated interpretations through the Four-Seven Debate.
We can explain this historical setting from a political perspective as well. Most
Korean scholars remained faithful to Sŏngnihak as “right learning” and used it as a
weapon against any new schools of thought. As I have mentioned before, it provided
the basis of “political ideology and legitimacy,” and Korean scholar-officials main-
tained a strong commitment to this orthodoxy (Chung 1992a: 20). T’oegye and
Yulgok were its leading scholars and guardians in the sixteenth century; their fol-
lowers continued the Four-Seven and i-ki debates for three more centuries in Korea,
some of which were politically manipulated in their factional power struggles as
118
Noju jip, 7: 40a–b; HYCC 2: 1359.
102 E. Y. J. Chung
well. By contrast, Tokugawa Japan developed diverse schools of Neo-Confucianism

including the Wang Yangming school,119 while promoting practical matters rather
than narrow doctrinal disputes. In my opinion, this is partly why Japanese scholars
were not interested in developing an intensive debate like the Four-Seven
controversy.
Nonetheless, the T’oegye-Kobong and then Yulgok-Ugye debates developed a
highly advanced model of scholarly discussion that inspired the Korean style of
systematic reasoning and writing for later generations. T’oegye and Yulgok each
engendered a definite shift within Sŏngnihak according to his philosophical and
moral reasoning; their interpretations were based on personal experience and
insights as well, thereby offering refreshing meanings to the old vocabulary in two
divergent ways.
T’oegye’s Four-Seven philosophy emphasizes the distinction between the tran-
scendent and virtuous realm of i and the physical, emotional and material realm of
ki. In this regard, he is a dualistic thinker, although he highlights the priority of i in
moral and spiritual self-cultivation. By contrast, Yulgok’s philosophy is a non-
dualistic interpretation, which criticized T’oegye for making the absolute difference
between i and ki. Only ki plays the dynamic role in all phenomena including feel-
ings. Yulgok emphasizes the physical, emotional and natural realm of ki, so his
interpretation embodies a philosophy of ki for self-cultivation as well.
T’oegye presents a dualistic system of thought attributing i to the Four, original
human nature, and moral principles as purely good, and ki to the Seven, physical
human nature, and psychological feelings and desires as potentially evil if not con-
trolled properly. As a moral-spiritual idealist, he prefers to set the Four over the
Seven; this is why T’oegye underscores the ontological and conceptual difference
between i and ki, between the Four and the Seven, and between moral principles and
physical feelings/desires. By contrast, Yulgok believes that the Four-Seven relation-
ship cannot be understood through such a dualistic way. He prefers to address the
relationship of continuum between the Four and the Seven, between original human
nature and physical human nature, between the moral mind and the human mind.
In Yulgok’s view, feelings are one, just as human nature is one; in other words,
the physical nature includes the original nature, just as the Seven include the Four.
There are just “two names” used in discussing the oneness of human nature or feel-
ings. For T’oegye, it is reasonable to analyze the Four and the Seven from a concep-
tual and moral perspective, and one must not fail to recognize their critical difference
in the practice of self-cultivation. In Yulgok’s view, the Four and the Seven all
belong to the one total realm of feelings; they do not have two separate ontological
or moral sources.
Regarding Japanese Neo-Confucianism including the Shushigaku (Zhu Xi school), see Masao
119
Maruyama 1975, Abe Yoshio 1970, de Bary 1975, de Bary and Bloom 1979, Tu and Tucker 2004,
etc. Good Japanese sources are Abe Yoshio 1965, 1977 and Tomoeda Ryūtarō 1969.
For T’oegye, Mencius singled out the Four Beginnings of benevolence, righ-
teousness, propriety, and wisdom as the innate seeds of “original human goodness,”
whereas the Seven Emotions such as pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are our
ordinary physical and emotional responses to “external stimuli.” The moral good-
ness of the Four is “aroused by i,” whereas the Seven are “aroused ki” because they
are easily stimulated by physical, psychological or material conditions. Why did
T’oegye insist on distinguishing the Four and the Seven from each other in terms of
i and ki, respectively? His dilemma was to formulate a meaningful moral interpreta-
tion. He urged Kobong to accept this point, so that his own self-cultivation does not
get confused about the purely moral nature of the Four in contrast to the potentially
selfish nature of the Seven.
From Yulgok’s standpoint, it is impossible to have one group of feelings (the
Four) as “manifestations of i” and the other group of feelings (the Seven) as “mani-
festations of ki.” In this regard, Yulgok oppose T’oegye’s dualistic theory by empha-
sizing the mutual relationship of “continuum.” The Seven represent the “totality” of
all feelings, insofar as the Four exist within the Seven as the “subset” of “good
feelings.” In this regard, Yulgok was certainly influenced by Kobong’s interpreta-
tion. Yulgok takes the Seven as an important part of human experience. To empha-
size emotional integration, he believes that the goodness of the Four is no different
from the goodness of the “harmonized” Seven. In other words, the Four are the
moral norms of the Seven; e.g., the mind-and-heart of “commiseration” (one of the
Four) is the moral norm for the emotion of “love” (one the Seven).
For Yulgok, T’oegye went too far to definitely affirm the self-manifesting capa-
bility of i because Zhu Xi’s philosophy assigns actual dynamism to ki only. For
T’oegye, however, i ought to be the active principle that has its own self-manifest-
ing power in moral feelings like the Four. In Yulgok’s view, T’oegye’s problem is
precisely his dualistic view of i and ki: it deviates from Zhu’s basic doctrine that ki
is manifested in all phenomena and the metaphysical reason for its manifestation
is i. What did T’oegye really mean by arguing that i can manifest itself in the case
of the Four? In my view, this question is especially what Yulgok did not quite
understand. One can argue that T’oegye formulated a controversial interpretation
of i; nonetheless, T’oegye’s holistic task was to provide a morally grounded inter-
pretation by emphasizing the transcendent and virtuous reality of i over the physi-
cal, emotional, and material reality of ki. Accordingly, i can manifest its
moral-spiritual power in self-cultivation. We must understand his Four-Seven the-
sis in this context; in other words, Yulgok’s criticism of T’oegye is philosophically
shallow and limited, and it does not get into the depth of T’oegye’s ethics and
spirituality.
Despite their different interpretations of the Four-Seven relationship in terms of
i and ki, what T’oegye, Yulgok, and their Neo-Confucian debaters essentially
share is ultimate Confucian belief in the root of morality: i.e., human nature in
itself is fundamentally good as bestowed by the truth and goodness of Heaven
(Dao), so it ought to be maintained as good. This is a key moral doctrine in the
104 E. Y. J. Chung
Four Books. They all agree to the basic teaching of Confucius and Mencius: the
moral nature (Doctrine of the Mean, ch. 27), original human goodness (Mencius,
2A: 6 and 6A: 2), and “innate knowledge [of good]” and “innate ability [to do
good] (Mencius, 7A: 15).
Nonetheless, the key to self-cultivation and sagely learning, as articulated by
T’oegye, is to transcend selfish feelings and cravings, so that one can experience
Heaven’s principle as the moral-spiritual essence of human nature. T’oegye’s
thought therefore addresses such a theme by emphasizing i as the ultimate source of
self-transformation. His practice of simhak (mind cultivation) is indeed a creative
interpretation of the moral and spiritual dimension of Song Neo-Confucianism,
which naturally grew out of his Four-Seven debate. It sharply sets the transcendent
and virtuous order of i before the physical, emotional, and material order of ki.
Yulgok’s non-dualistic approach to self-cultivation calls for a measure of daily
control over one’s ki, which involves a way to harmonize one’s emotions, feelings,
and desires. It emphasizes emotional integration through the “nourishment of ki.”
This concurs with his Four-Seven thesis, which addresses the role of ki in cosmic
transformation and self-cultivation. We may cautiously call it a “philosophy of ki,”
whereas T’oegye’s interpretation may be considered as a “philosophy of i.”
Here we can mention the issue of new development within Korean Sŏngnihak.
T’oegye formulated a creative philosophy of i, and Yulgok, too, moved in the other
direction of emphasizing ki; ironically, the former represents one half of Zhu Xi’s
philosophy of i and ki, whereas the latter the other half. Nevertheless, this diver-
gence became precisely a philosophical and political issue among many Korean
Neo-Confucians. Yulgok’s followers defended their master as the “right” interpreter
of orthodox Sŏngnihak in Korea; at the same time, they criticized T’oegye as an “i-
ist” thinker who wrongly emphasized the primacy of principle (churi). By contrast,
T’oegye’s followers charged that Yulgok became a “ki-ist” thinker who underscored
the primacy of ki (chugi) by deviating from Zhu Xi’s original doctrine. They also
claimed that T’oegye’s philosophy represents the “true” transmission of the Zhu Xi
school in Korea. Subsequently, in the late sixteenth century this controversy divided
Korean Sŏngnihak into the T’oegye “school of the primacy of i” and the Yulgok
“school of the primacy of ki.” These two major rivals developed further until the
opening of the twentieth century.
The Four-Seven Debate is significant both historically and philosophically. In
Korea it developed not only a powerful model of scholarly communication but also
a comprehensive source of discussing Confucian metaphysics and moral psychol-
ogy. The depth and vitality of T’oegye’s thought generated a Korean form of cre-
ative thinking and spiritual practice, one that has significant implications for
Confucian life and thought. The breadth and practicality of Yulgok’s thought also
contributed to developing another school of original thinking and systematic writ-
ing, thereby enhancing the Confucian way of learning and practical action.
Furthermore, the global value of the Four-Seven Debate also lies in its scholarly
competence and willingness to interpret and reconcile selected elements of original

doctrines, philosophical ideas, and practical implications. Each Korean thinker
strove to convince his challenger and modern readers to engage themselves in their
own reflections.
Is the Four-Seven Debate still relevant?. The whole thrust of this topic points to
moral and spiritual self-cultivation; that is to say, it still addresses the important
issue of how to be “human” in a genuine sense of its meaning. The way of pursuing
it is to affirm and experience the goodness of human nature inherent in every per-
son’s mind-and-heart. This teaching emphasizes self-cultivation through the
realization of our moral principles and values and the daily practice of physical and
emotional control. It informs us about the vital role of our mind-and-heart in culti-
vating the self in interaction with others. It also confirms the perfectibility of the self
as a possible human avenue, emphasizing one’s integration of emotions, feelings
and desires through proper channelling. On the practical level, embedded in this
message is also a serious demand for self-reflection with consistent effort and
courage.
Korean Four-Seven philosophy is an engaging system of thought. T’oegye’s the-
sis advocates our self-sustaining and self-regulatory nature: we have the innate abil-
ity to transform ourselves into ideal persons who fully realize the transcendent
goodness of human nature and fulfil it in self-cultivation. T’oegye’s thought points
to a kind of moral idealism which concurs with the global traditions of moral phi-
losophy and virtuous life. Yulgok affirms our emotions and feelings positively as a
natural part of human experience, so his Four-Seven philosophy considers self-
cultivation as a way of intellectual and emotional integration.
The ideal person ought to harmonize the rationalistic, moral, physical, and psy-
chological dimensions of human existence. To conclude, this is the global implica-
tion of the Korean Four-Seven debates for self-cultivation, ethics, and spirituality,
which we cannot ignore in our present-day world.
Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style
Korean terms, names, and titles are romanized according to the standard McCune-
Reischauer system, my ongoing preference, and Chinese counterparts according to
the more popular Pinyin system. In romanizing the Korean given or literary name, I
follow the accepted style of excluding a hyphen between the two characters (sylla-
bles) of one’s name: for example, Yi T’oegye (not T’oe-gye); Yi Pyǒngdo (not
Pyŏng-do); and so on. In traditional East Asia Confucian and other scholars referred
to each other by using given name (myŏng/ming) and literary (pen) name (ho/hao)
according to appropriate standards or situations. So whenever a Korean Confucian
scholar is mentioned for the first time, the form given is the family name and then
the literary name, together with his years in parentheses: e.g., Yi Hwang (T’oegye,
106 E. Y. J. Chung
1501–1570), Yi I (Yulgok, 1536–1584), and so on. Names listed in the glossary

indicate the name category. I use the literary name if it is better known nationally
and globally; e.g., T’oegye for Yi Hwang, and Yulgok for Yi I. Throughout this
chapter, we therefore refer to them as “T’oegye” and “Yulgok,” respectively.
For the primary and secondary Korean sources cited, only the Korean titles are
given, as is the standard style. To avoid confusion, however, the titles of Chinese
sources such as early classics and leading Neo-Confucian writings are given in
Chinese only. With some exceptions, the romanized philosophical terms are pro-
vided in both languages in parentheses. I give the Korean pronunciation first fol-
lowed by the Chinese with a slash between them: for example, i/li ([metaphysical]
principle), chŏng/qing (emotions, feelings, or emotions and feelings), and
sadan/siduan (Four Beginnings).
As is well known, consistency in the translation of Confucian and Neo-Confucian
philosophical terms is an elusive goal due to their subtlety or flexibility of meaning,
involving diverse implications according to the context. Therefore, my approach to
this task is to maintain the standard English renderings of most terms as much as
possible. For example, the term i/li is translated as “principle,” which is generally
accepted as the best English equivalent in current scholarship. In the Zhu Xi school,
it is conceived as the ground of being” or “pattern” that underlies all concrete things
and phenomena. However, we need to keep in mind that there are other translations
with their corresponding meanings: for example, regarding self-cultivation, the term
i/li also signifies moral essence and/or virtues as a set of “guidelines for moral prac-
tice,” as was often emphasized by many leading Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi
and Yi T’oegye.
Finally, on account of the complexity of translating certain terms, I use the fol-
lowing romanized forms when appropriate extensively: i (principle) and ki (material
force or vital energy). The glossary offers a list of the key philosophical terms,
personal names, and textual titles mentioned in the text or translation. Their Chinese
characters (hancha) are not given in the glossary.
All of my quotations translated from the Korean Four-Seven Debate letters are
fully documented in the footnotes for the sake of the reader’s convenience and for
my preference not to give this frequent citation directly within in the text. I use my
own translation unless indicated otherwise; however, I also inform specifically if the
translated passages are also available in other books (e.g., Kalton et al. 1994 or
Chung 1995). For the sake of textual or translation clarification, the reader will
notice a few descriptive words added; for all interpolations, I use square brackets.
Furthermore, when any Chinese primary source, classical or Neo-Confucian (e.g.,
Mencius, Doctrine of the Mean, Zhu Xi, etc.), is quoted or paraphrased, my guiding
principle is to cite the Sibu beiyao, as listed in my bibliography. If the quoted pas-
sage is already available in English and if it is translated accurately or properly, I
adopt it and document its source (e.g., Chan 1963, 1967; Lau 1970; Legge 1970) in
the notes; otherwise, I use my own translation.
My annotation of certain primary Korean or Chinese sources includes a few
detailed but useful comments in the notes. This is provided for more textual or
philosophical discussion, so I encourage the reader to consider them for his/her
further reflection beyond my writing or interpretation. I also cite leading modern

(secondary) sources in English and other languages, most of which are documented
within the text because this format is more convenient without requiring many more
additional footnotes. Overall, I use both in-text and footnote citation styles compre-
hensively in all parts and sections, and this chapter maintains the same styles with
convenience and consistency.
Abbreviated Titles Used in the Footnotes and Quotations120
HYCC: Han’guk Yuhak charyo chipsŏng

TC: T’oegye chŏnsŏ
YC: Yulgok chŏnsŏ
ZZDQ: Zhuzi daqaun
ZZQS: Zhuzi quanshu
ZZWJ: Zhuzi wenji
ZZYL: Zhuzi yulei
Glossary: Key Terms and Phrases, Textual Titles, and Personal

Names Cited
Abbreviations: [g.n.] – given name; [l.n.] – literary name

Cheng Hao (Mingdao) 程顥 (明道)
Cheng Yi (Yichuan) 程頤 (伊川)
ch’ilchŏng/chiqing 七情
ch’ŏlli/tianli 天理
chŏng/qing 情
Chŏng Chiŭn [g.n.] Ch’uman [l.n]) 鄭之雲 (秋巒)
ch’ŏnmyŏng chi sŏng/tianming zhi xing 天命之性
Ch’ŏnmyŏng sindo 天命新圖
Ch’ŏnmyŏng to 天命圖
Ch’ŏnmyŏng tosŏl 天命圖說
chugi 主氣
Chugip’a 主氣派
churi 主理
Churip’a 主氣派
ho/hao 號
i/li 理
120
For details on these primary sources (in literary Chinese), see the bibliography, parts I and II.
108 E. Y. J. Chung
ibal/lifa 理發
i chi ponyŏn/li zhi benran 理之本然
iil punsu/liyi fenshu 理一分殊
in/ren 仁
insim/renxin 人心
inyok/renyu 人慾
ki/qi 氣
Ki Taesŭng [g.n.] (Kobong [l.n.]) 奇大升 (高峯)
kijil/qizhi 氣質
kijil chi sŏng/qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性
Kobong 高峯 (see also Ki Taesŭng above)
Kunzhi ji 困知記 (Luo Qinshun’s work)
li (i in Korean; see i/li)
Lu Xiangshan 陸象山
Luo Qinshun [g.n.] (Zhengan [l.n.]) 羅欽順 (整菴)
Mengzi jizhu 孟子集註
pal/fa 發
palcha/fazhe 發者
ponyŏn chi i/benran zhi li 本然之理
ponyŏn chi sŏng/benran zhi xing 本然之性
pulsŏn/bushan 不善
qi (ki in Korean; see ki/qi)
renyu (inyok in Korean) 人慾
sa/shi 事
sach’illon 四七論
sadan/siduan 四端
sayok/siyu 私欲
Shushigaku 朱子學
sim/xin 心
simhak/xinxue 心學
Sim t’ong sŏngjŏng tosŏl 心統性情圖說
sodangyŏn/sodangran 所當然
soiyŏn/soiran 所以然
soi palcha/soyi fazhe 所以發者
Sŏng Hon [g.n.] (Ugye [l.n.]) 成渾 (牛溪)
Sŏnghak sipto 聖學十圖
Sŏnghak chipyo 聖學輯要
sŏngnihak/xingli xue 性理學
sŏng chi ponsŏn/xing zhi benshan 性之本善
sŏng chi ponyŏn/xing zhi benran 性之本然
tianming zhi xing 天命之性
T’oegye [l.n.] (退溪; see also Yi Hwang [g.n.])
tosim/daoxin 道心
Wang Yangming 王陽明
Yi Hwang [g.n.] (T’oegye [l.n.]) 李滉 (退溪)
Yi I [g.n.] (Yulgok [l.n.]) 李珥 (栗谷)

Yi T’oegye [l.n.] (see Yi Hwang above)
Yi Yulgok (see Yi I above)
Yulgok [l.n.] (see Yi Yulgok or Yi I above)
Zhen Dexiu [g.n.] (Xishan [l.n.]) 眞德秀 (西山)
Zhongyong 中庸
Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句
Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤
Zhu Xi [g.n.] (Huian [l.n.]) 朱熹 (晦庵) (also known as Zhuzi 朱子)
Zhuangzi 莊子
Zhuzi 朱子 (Master Zhu; see also Zhu Xi above)
Zhuzi daqaun 朱子大全 (see also Bibliography)
Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書 (see also Bibliography)
Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 (see also Bibliography)
Zisi 子思
Bibliography
I. Primary Sources for Translation and Citation
Pae, Chongho 裴宗鎬, ed. 1980. Han’guk Yuhak charyo chipsŏng 韓國儒學資料集成 (Collected
Source Materials on Korean Confucianism), 3 vols. Seoul: Yŏnsei University Press. Abbreviated
as HYCC.
Yi, T’oegye 李退溪. 1986. T’oegye chŏnsŏ 退溪全書 (Complete Works of Yi T’oegye), Enlarged
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Yi, Yulgok 李栗谷. 1985. Yulgok chŏnsŏ 栗谷全書 (Complete Works of Yi Yulgok), 3 vols. Seoul:
Sŏnggyun’gwan University Press. Abbreviated as YC.
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1. Original Sources
Cheng, Hao 程顥 and Cheng, Yi 程頤. ErCheng quanshu 二程全書 (Complete Works of the Two
Chengs). SBBY (Sibu beiyao) edition.
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Kyŏngsŏ 經書 (Collected Commentaries on the Four Books). 1972. Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan
University Press.
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Doctrine of the Mean), in Kyŏngsŏ.
Zhu, Xi 朱熹. Zhuzi daqaun 朱子大全 (Great Compendium of Works by Master Zhu Xi). SBBY
edition. Abbreviated as ZZDQ.
Zhu, Xi 朱熹. Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書 (Complete Works of Master Zhu Xi). Abbreviated as
ZZQS.
Zhu, Xi 朱熹. Zhuzi wenji 朱子文集 (Collection of Literary Works by Master Zhu Xi). In Zhuzi
daquan (Great Compendium of Works by Master Zhu Xi). SBBY ed. Abbreviated as ZZWJ.
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Jingde (1880). Abbreviated as ZZYL.
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New York: Columbia University Press.
Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Chan, Wing-tsit, trans. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand: the Neo-Confucian Anthology by Chu
Hsi and Lü Tsu-Ch’ien. New York: Columbia University Press.
Chung, Edward Y. J. 2016. A Korean Way of Life and Thought: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-
Reflection) by Yi Hwang (T’oegye). Translated and annotated with an introduction. Korean
Classics Library: Philosophy and Religion Series. Honolulu: The University of Hawaii Press.
Gardner, Daniel K., trans. 1990. Chu Hsi: Learning to Be a Sage: Selections from the Conversations
of Master Chu. Berkeley and LA: University of California Press.
Kalton, Michael C., trans. 1988. To Become A Sage: The Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning by Yi
T’oegye. New York: Columbia University Press.
Kalton, Michael C., Tu Wei-ming, Young-chang Ro, and Ook-soon Kim, trans. 1994. The Four-
Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-
Confucian Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Lau, D. C., trans. 1970. Mencius. New York: Penguin Books.
Legge, James, trans. 1970. The Chinese Classics, 5 vols. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press,
reprint.
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Studies
Abe, Yoshio 阿部吉雄. 1965. Nihon shushigaku to Chōsen 日本朱子學と朝鮮 (Japanese Zhu Xi
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本の朱子學 (Korean Zhu Xi School and Japanese Zhu Xi School), Abe Yoshio, et al.
Shushigaku taikei 朱子學大系 (Great Compendium on the Zhu Xi School), vol. 12. Tokyo:
Meitoku shuppansha.
Kŭm, Changt’ae (Keum, Jangtae) 琴章泰. 1998. T’oegye-ŭi sam-gwa ch’ŏrhak 퇴계의 삶과 철
학 (T’oegye’s Life and Thought). Seoul: Seoul National University Press.
Pae, Chongho 裴宗鎬, ed. 1973. Han’guk Yuhaksa 韓國儒學史 (A History of Korean
Confucianism). Seoul: Yŏnsei University Press.
Tomoeda, Ryūtarō 友枝竜太郎. 1969. Shushi no shisō keise 朱子の思想形成 (The Formation of
Zhu Xi’s Thought). Tokyo: Shunjūsha.
Yi, Pyŏngdo 李丙燾. 1986. Han’guk Yuhak saryak 韓國儒學史略 (An Outline History of Korean
Confucianism). Seoul: Asea munhwasa.
Yun, Sasun 尹絲淳. 1980. T’oegye ch’ŏrak-ŭi yŏn’gu 退溪哲學의 硏究 (A Study of T’oegye’s
Philosophy). Seoul: Korea University Press.
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Chan, Wing-tsit. 1985. “How T’oegye Understood Chu Hsi.” In Wm. T. de Bary and J. Kim
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Chan, Wing-tsit, ed. 1986. Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.
Ching, Julia. 1974. “The Goose Lake Monastery Debate (1175).” Journal of Chinese Philosophy
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Chung, Edward Y. J. 1992b. “Yi T’oegye on the Learning of Reverential Seriousness (Kyǒnghak):
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Reappraisal of the Four-Seven Thesis and Its Practical Implications for Self-Cultivation.
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Chapter 5
A Sixteenth-Century Neo-Confucian
Korean Critical Response to the Chinese
Luo Zheng’an’s Theory of Human
and Moral Mind
Yueh-hui Lin
1 Introduction
The sixteenth century marked the high point of Korean Neo-Confucian develop-
ment wherein major thinkers were distributed across three geographic locations: in
Yeongnam 嶺南, Yi Hwang 李滉 (penname: Toegye 退溪, 1501–1571) and Jo Sik
曹植 (Nammyung 南冥, 1501–1572); in Honam 湖南, Yi Hang 李恒 (Iljae 一齋,
1499–1576), Kim Inhoo 金麟厚 (Haseo 河西, 1510–1560), and Gi Daeseung 奇大
升 (Gobong 高峰, 1527–1572); and in Gyeonggi 京畿, No Susin 盧守慎 (Sojae 穌
齋, 1515–1590), Yi I 李珥 (Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584) and Seong Hon 成渾 (Ugye
牛溪, 1535–1598). These scholars engaged in profound study and discussion of
Neo-Confucianism (see Yi Byeongdo 1986: 143). Among their numerous philo-
sophical debates, those concerning the “four buddings”1 (Chinese: siduan 四端;
Korean: sadan 사단) and “seven feelings” (Chinese: qiqing 七情; Korean: chiljeong
칠정) and theory of “human mind” (Chinese: renxin 人心; Korean: insim 인심) and
“moral mind” (Chinese: daoxin 道心; Korean: dosim 도심) received the most atten-
tion. The former arose from a distinctly Korean Neo-Confucian problem of con-
sciousness, while the latter was related to the eastward spread of the philosophy of
the Ming era Chinese Cheng-Zhu scholar Luo Qinshun 羅欽順 (Zheng’an 整菴,
1
Mencius’ “siduan” (四端) is often translated as “four beginnings” in British and American aca-
demic writing, but it seems to me that this translation takes siduan merely as beginning but not
completion, and thus leads us to understand Mencius’ siduan through the Aristotelian ideas of
potentiality and actuality. However, according to Mencius’ thought, siduan has the full power of
moral practice in its own right, and thus is not a potentiality to be actualized. Like the sprouts of a
plant, siduan has the impetus for natural growth, and will be successful if no hindrance stops it.
Therefore, I have decided to translate siduan as “four buddings.”
Y.-h. Lin (*)

Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica, Nankang, Taipei, Taiwan
e-mail: linyh@gate.sinica.edu.tw

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_5
114 Y.-h. Lin
1455–1547). By the sixteenth century, the Korean understanding of Zhu Xi’s

thought had already attained an extraordinarily high level of philosophical maturity
and displayed the critical apparatus characteristic of philosophical reflection.
Because the Korean Neo-Confucians had a sufficient understanding and grasp of
Zhu Xi’s thought that they were able to further develop this realm of discourse and
examine the similarities and differences between the work of Zhu Xi and Luo
Zheng’an. In other words, sixteenth-century Korean Neo-Confucianism was not
merely a carbon copy of China’s Zhu Xi thought; they possessed their own level of
intellectual autonomy and developed ideas with respect to their own philosophical
problem of consciousness. So while they inherited Zhu Xi’s thought, their grasp of
the tradition was penetrating enough that in the course of interpreting Zhu Xi’s
thought, they were further able to make creative transformations, developing their
own unique philosophical ideas.
This paper will focus on the debate over human mind and moral mind, from the
comparative perspective of Chinese and Korean Neo-Confucianism and examine
how Korean Neo-Confucians responded to and criticized Luo Zheng’an’s theory of
human mind and moral mind.
2 T
he Origin of Theory of Human Mind and Moral Mind
in Korean Neo-Confucianism
The problem of consciousness that underpinned Korean Neo-Confucian debate over

“human mind and moral mind” originated in the context of Chinese Neo-
Confucianism, however the Korean debate centered on the level of acceptance and
criticism of Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind. As is well-
known, the following passage from the Book of History, “the Counsels of the Great
Yu” (Shuangshu, Dayyumo 尚書‧大禹謨), “The human mind is insecure; the moral
mind is subtle. Be discriminating, be uniform (in the pursuit of what is right), that
you may sincerely hold fast the Mean,” only became an important Neo-Confucian
topic following Zhu Xi’s insightful interpretation. Before Zhu Xi’s interpretation,
Cheng Yi 程頤 (Yichuan 伊川, 1033–1107) and Cheng Hao 程顥 (Mingdao 明道,
1032–1085), in The Collected Writings of the Brothers Cheng (Er Cheng wenji 二
程文集), have both referred to and provided their interpretations of human mind
and moral mind – though not a systematical theory yet. The instruction of transmis-
sion of the Way (daotong 道統), which Zhu Xi holds in high esteem, is fulfilled in
the sixteen-word transmission of the mind (Zhu 1983: 14). Thus, Zhu Xi’s theory
of human mind and moral mind not merely establishes the foundation of his theory
of transmission of the Way – by means of which he criticizes Buddhism, Daoism
and contemporary politics – but also forms the core concepts of both his philosophi-
cal anthropology (i.e., the theory of mind and nature, xinxinglun 心性論) and theory
of self-cultivation (gongfulun 工夫論). Henceforth, different interpretations of
5 A Sixteenth-Century Neo-Confucian Korean Critical Response to the Chinese Luo… 115
human mind and moral mind have come into being among Neo-Confucians2 but
haven’t invoked crucial philosophical debates. Still, Zhu Xi’s theoretical insights
into the theory of human mind and moral mind did not generate any enthusiastic
discussion within Chinese Neo-Confucian circles. Rather, it was not until the
sixteenth-century Zhu Xi scholar, Luo Zheng’an, proposed a different view, “the
moral mind is nature, the human mind is feelings (daoxin wei xing, renxin wei qing
道心為性 , 人心為情),” that these ideas finally attracted attention, resulting in criti-
cism from Korean Neo-Confucians.
Prior to this, the theoretical framework already established in Gwon Geun 權近
(Yangchon 陽村, 1352–1409) Confucian Diagrams and Explanations for Beginners
(Iphakdoseol 入學圖說), wherein moral mind and human mind had been divided
into principle (li 理) and material force (qi 氣) (Gwon 1996: 3b. Quoted in Pae
1996: 6), set the stage for the subsequent controversy. The history of the debate can
also be traced to the Record of Gwanseo’s Dialogue (Gwanseo Mundaprok 關西問
答錄) wherein Yi Eonjeok 李彥迪 (Hoejae 晦齋, 1491–1553) advanced Cheng
Mingdao and Cheng Yichuan’s formulation that “the human mind is [unreason-
able] human desire (renxin 人心, renyu 人欲) (Cheng, Hao, and Cheng, Yi 1981:
364).”3 However, Jo Nammyung questioned this, believing that Zhu Xi’s view was
that “the human mind is not completely identical to [unreasonable] human desire
(renxin buquanshi renyu 人心不全是人欲) (Zhu 1986 [118]: 2864).” In other
words, the difference between Cheng Yichuan’s and Zhu Xi’s interpretations of
human mind invokes Korean Neo-Confucians’ questions. Yi Hoejae represents
Cheng Yichuan’s view; Jo Nammyung follows Zhu Xi’s interpretation. The
Korean Neo-Confucian problem of consciousness, which originates from Cheng-
Zhu School, demonstrates theoretical tension via Korean Neo-Confucians’ concern.
Even Chinese Zhu Xi scholars rarely call attention to the difference and contradic-
tion between Cheng Yichuan and Zhu Xi. Nonetheless, Korean Neo-Confucians,
such as Yi Hoejae and Jo Nammyung, not merely perceive the difference between
them, but also disclose its inner logic of the contradiction ensued as a result of the
difference, as No Sojae does. To solve the contradiction resulting from Cheng
Yichuan’s and Zhu Xi’s interpretations, No Sojae turns to Luo Zheng’an’s theory
of human mind and moral mind, and further sparks off the first run of debates over
“human mind and moral mind” in the history of Korean Neo-Confucianism.
During the mid-sixteenth century while Yi Toegye and Gi Gobong were engaged
in the “Four-Seven Debate” (1559–1566), concurrently No Sojae and Yi Iljae were
also debating the topic of “human mind and moral mind.” The prologue to this latter
debate began with No Sojae’s full acceptance of Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human
2
For example, both Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 (Jiuyuan 九淵, 1139–1192) in the Southern Song por-
tion of the Song dynasty, Wang Yangming 王陽明 (Shouren 守仁, 1472–1529) and Liu Jishan 劉
蕺山 (Zongzhou 宗周, 1578–1645) in the Ming dynasty provide different interpretations from
Zhu Xi’s.
3
Cheng Yichuan and Cheng Mingdao regard moral mind as heavenly principle (tianli 天理),
human mind as human [unreasonable] desire (renyu 人欲). Thus, moral mind and human mind are
both opposite and contradictory.
116 Y.-h. Lin
mind and moral mind and publication of the Account of Human Mind and Moral
Mind (Insimdosimbyeon 人心道心辨) (cf. No 1996a: 295). This publication caused
an uproar among Korean Neo-Confucians. While No Sojae fully affirmed Luo
Zheng’an’s theory, Kim Haseo, Yi Iljae, Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong, and many others
refuted Luo’s statements. Yi Yulgok also remained critical of the theory while partly
adopting it. Nonetheless, only later, when Seong Ugye and Yi Yulgok drew a con-
nection between the two topics and debated both the “four buddings and seven feel-
ings” and “human mind and moral mind” did the latter evolve into a full-blown
philosophical controversy, and, like the “Four-Seven Debate”, undergo a minute
examination that exerted profound influence over Korean Neo-Confucianism.
3 No Sojae’s Full Acceptance of Luo Zheng’an’s Theory

on Human Mind and Moral Mind
In their day, No Sojae and Yi Toegye were famed Confucians of high repute.
However, in his early years, No Sojae achieved even greater prestige than Yi. Hence
No Sojae’s esteem for and belief in Luo Zheng’an’s theory of “human mind and
moral mind” stimulated widespread discussion among Neo-Confucians during that
period. Past and present scholarship on No Sojae’s works are in agreement that the
theory of human mind and moral mind was the focal point of his philosophy (see Yi
Byeongdo 1986: 160; Lee 1995). Among No Sojae’s works, the Account of Human
Mind and Moral Mind and Theory of Holding the Mean (Jipjungseol 執中說) pro-
vide the most detailed explanation of No’s ideas. In No Sojae’s subsequent debates
with Yi Iljae or other Neo-Confucians, No’s reasoning relied primarily upon argu-
ments already set forth in these two works. In the Account of Human Mind and
Moral Mind, No Sojae laid out the problem of consciousness and enumerated the
arguments upon which his support for Luo Zheng’an’s theory on human mind and
moral mind was founded. He also anticipated potential questions that might arise.
On the other hand, the Theory of Holding the Mean focused on the interpretation of
self-cultivation as it related to the theory of human mind and moral mind.
No Sojae first expressed his doubts while raising the problem of consciousness
in his Account of Human Mind and Moral Mind. In his study of Zhu Xi’s thought,
No Sojae found that on the one hand although Zhu Xi agreed with Cheng Yichuan’s
formulation that “human mind is [unreasonable] human desire,” Zhu Xi had also
advocated the contrary view that “human mind does not entirely identify with
[unreasonable] human desire.”4 Because from Cheng Yichuan’s perspective the for-
mulation “moral mind and human mind” was terminologically interchangeable with
another formula “heavenly principle (tianli 天理) and [unreasonable] human
desires,” both ideas had as their referent the distinction between good and evil. In
this terminological synthesis, the two sides of the formula contradict each other and
4
Zhi Xi’s statement that “the human mind does not entirely identify with the human desire” is the
phrase “the human mind cannot be called [unreasonable] human desire” discussed by No Sojae.
cannot exist simultaneously. Additionally, human mind and human desire both have
as their underlying referent selfish desire (siyu 私欲) and thus convey the meaning
of unreasonable desires. For this reason, No Sojae questioned whether the Zhu Xi’s
assertion, “If one attributes selfishness to human mind, and correctness to moral
mind, then good and evil are distinct. Human mind is none other than human desire
(No 1996b: 375),” was consistent with the internal logic of Cheng Yichuan’s idea
that human mind (evil) and moral mind (good) are in opposition to each other and
cannot exist simultaneously. The problem for No Sojae was that when one consid-
ered Zhu Xi’s statement that “human mind cannot be called [unreasonable] human
desire,” Cheng’s assertion began to look less tenable, and it became necessary to
rethink the opposition between human mind and moral mind.
At the same time, Zhu Xi’s statement that “human mind cannot be called [unrea-
sonable] human desire” also contained the logical implication that “human mind
includes both good and evil aspects” (renxin jian shan e 人心兼善惡). That is,
when human mind is in accordance with heavenly principle, then it is the moral
mind (good), and when human mind violates heavenly principle, then it is [unrea-
sonable] human desire (evil). For this reason, No Sojae suspected that there were
differences between the early and later period of Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind
and moral mind, and questioned what ought to be considered the true foundation.
This then became No Sojae’s question.
It is certainly the case that ancient and modern scholars have found differences
between Zhu Xi’s earlier and later writings on the theory of human mind and moral
mind.5 Thus the difference between Zhu Xi and Cheng Yichuan’s theory of human
mind and moral mind is that Zhu Xi replaces Cheng Yichuan’s dichotomy of
human mind and moral mind with his own threefold framework of moral mind,
human mind, and [unreasonable] human desire. According to Cheng Yichuan, the
human mind is [unreasonable] human desire, and the moral mind is heavenly prin-
ciple; the former is evil, and the latter is good. From the view of moral practice of
“preserve heavenly principle, do away with human desire,” it is necessarily required
that “preserve moral mind, do away with human mind (do the good, do away with
the evil).” Therefore, human mind and moral mind are opposite and cannot co-exist
at the same time, whether in terms of ontology or value theory. Within Zhu Xi’s
framework, human mind and moral mind are two aspects of human consciousness.6
Zhu Xi regards mind as the acutest material force, i.e. pure intelligence and con-
sciousness. That which is conscious of principle is moral mind, while that which is
conscious of desire is human mind:7 from an ontological perspective, the two exist
5
In addition to No’s questioning of whether Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind and moral mind was
different in its earlier and later periods, Yi Toegye and Han Wonjin 韓元震 (Namdang 南塘,
1682–1751) also shared this view. The modern scholar Tang Junyi 唐君毅 divided the theory into
four different periods. See Tang 1984: 401–411; Cai 2007: 491–505; Xie 2003. These scholars
largely reason that Zhu Xi’s did not conclude that the human mind is [unreasonable] human
desire; rather, the discourse on human mind and moral mind in Zhu 1983 was the conclusion that
Zhu Xi reached in later years.
6
See the second paragraph of Zhu 1983.
7
See Zhu 1986 [78]: 2010.
118 Y.-h. Lin
together and are not in dualistic opposition. But from a moral perspective, when
making moral decisions, their principle-subordinate relationship must be distin-
guished; if the moral mind is the master behind a decision, then it will be manifested
as heavenly principle; otherwise, it is [unreasonable] human desire. Therefore, for
Zhu Xi, “moral mind and human mind” are not identical with “heavenly principle
and [unreasonable] human desire,” nor are they different names for the same refer-
ent.8 Speaking in terms of ontology, moral mind and human mind can exist together
and comprise a principle-subordinate relationship. With respect to value theory,
“preserve heavenly principle, do away with [unreasonable] human desire” means
“eliminate evil in favor of good,” and thus, heavenly principle and [unreasonable]
human desire are in opposition and do not exist together. From this it can be seen
that Zhu Xi’s threefold framework allows for the independent significance of
human mind, ensures the ontological legitimacy of natural [reasonable] desires and
needs, and provides certain insight. Yet No Sojae failed to recognize the theoretical
linkages between various aspects of the threefold framework (i.e., moral mind,
human mind and [unreasonable] human desire) in Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind
and moral mind, and persisted in looking for possible answers based on the twofold
framework of human mind and moral mind. Luo Zheng’an’s twofold framework of
substance (ti 體) and function (yong 用) provided direction for No Sojae’s thinking,
and deepened his theoretical discourse.
In the contradiction between Cheng Yichuan’s “human mind is [unreasonable]
human desire” and Zhu Xi’s “human mind cannot be called [unreasonable] human
desire,” No Sojae sided with Zhu Xi. But he doesn’t follow Zhu Xi’s threefold
framework of moral mind, human mind, and [unreasonable] human desire. Then, he
selected Luo Zheng’an’s twofold framework of substance and function and referred
to other works of Zhu Xi to interpret his theory of human mind and moral mind.
The most crucial part of this process was No Sojae’s full acceptance of Luo’s two-
fold framework of substance and function.9 His Account of Human Mind and Moral
Mind in particular cited Luo’s Knowledge Painfully Acquired (Kunzhiji 困知記) in
eight passages. No Sojae’s primary argument was that “the moral mind is nature,
the human mind is feelings. The mind is one, but one speaks of it as two because of
the distinction of activity and tranquility and difference of substance and function
8
Qian Mu believed that Zhu Xi identified the human mind and the moral mind with heavenly
principle and [unreasonable] human desire, so they were different names for virtually the same
ideas. See Qian 1971: 93. This view warrants further discussion. As Cheng Yichuan viewed the
moral mind and the human mind as being equivalent to heavenly principle and [unreasonable]
human desire, they can be called different names for the same thing, but this theory is not appli-
cable to Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind and moral mind.
9
Cheng Yichuan’s dichotomy of human mind and moral mind is based on the opposition of “pre-
serve heavenly principle, do away with human desire.” In contrast, Luo Zheng’an’s twofold frame-
work of substance and function is established on the connection between “substance and function
are inseparable” and “principle and material force are inseparable.” It is noteworthy that Zhu Xi
has never made use of categories, such as principle/material force and substance/function, to define
human mind and moral mind.
Nature
Substance = The equilibrium before the feelings are aroused = Moral mind
Heavenly principle (principle, it is ultimate good)
Quiescent, tranquility
Mind
Feelings
Function = The harmony after the feelings are aroused= Human mind
Human desire (material force, it can be either good or evil)

Stimulative, activity
Fig. 5.1 Luo Zheng’an’s Theory of Human and Moral Mind
(Luo 1990 [Vol. 1, Ch. 4]: 4).” No Sojae’s understanding of the theory of human
mind and moral mind was in line with that of Luo Zheng’an.
No Sojae, like Luo Zheng’an, believed that the difference between moral mind
and human mind was based on the divisions of the mind with respect to: substance
and function, quiescence (ji 寂) and stimulation (gan 感), activity (dong 動) and
tranquility (jing 靜), and the state before the feelings are aroused (weifa 未發) and
the state after the feelings are aroused (yifa 已發). Consequently they both pulled
together the following passages from the Confucian classics and thought that these
all expressed the same underlying significance of moral mind with respect to the
nature of the mind’s substance (xin zhi benti 心之本體): (1) “when man is born, he
is quiescent, this is his heaven-endowed nature (Liji, Yueji); (2) “quiescent without
movement (Yijing, “Appended Remarks,” 7:14);” (3) “the equilibrium before the
feelings are aroused (Zhongyong, Ch. 1);” and (4) “sincerity in non-action (Zhou
Dunyi, Tongshu, Ch. 3).” By the same token, the following passages also express the
same underlying significance of the human mind, that is, the feelings that are a func-
tion of the mind: (1) “when moved by things, he becomes active. This is desire aris-
ing from his nature (Liji, Yueji);” (2) “stimulated with thorough comprehension
(Yijing, “Appended Remarks,” 7:14);” (3) “harmony after feelings are aroused
(Zhongyong, Ch. 1); and (4) “sincerity is the subtle, incipient, activating force that
gives rise to good and evil (Zhou Dunyi, Tongshu, Ch. 3).” In sum, based on the
twofold framework of substance and function, moral mind and human mind refer to
nature (xing) and feelings (qing), equilibrium (zhong) and harmony (he), heavenly
principle (tianli) and human desire (renyu), principle (li 理) and material force (qi
氣), respectively. Luo and No’s theory of human mind and moral mind may be
explained in Figure 5.1. Not only were these parallel paired concepts based on clas-
sical literature, they also had a consistent internal logic.
Within this, Luo Zheng’an did not follow Cheng Yichuan and Zhu Xi in char-
acterizing heavenly principle and human desire as opposed to each other, nor did
they see human desire as selfish desires (i.e., unreasonable desires, immorality);
120 Y.-h. Lin
rather, they saw human desire as the desires of humans (renzhiyu 人之欲), meaning
that people’s natural desires are morally neutral, the same meaning as human mind.
However, both accepting Luo Zheng’an’s twofold framework of substance and
function, and agreeing with Zhu Xi’s assertion “the human mind is not completely
identical to [unreasonable] human desire” at the same time, No Sojae provides dif-
ferent definitions of human mind and human desire from those of Luo Zheng’an. In
No Sojae’s view, the human mind, as the function of the mind, is morally neutral.
Notwithstanding, once the function of the mind is disproportionate, it turns into
unreasonable and selfish desire. Thus, No Sojae regards human mind and human
desire as two different things: the former can be either good or evil; the latter is
necessary evil.
In fact, by means of the discrimination between and the connection with sub-
stance and function, both Luo Zheng’an and No Sojae differentiate human mind
and moral mind as not two opposite and contradictory things. Therefore, while Luo
and No differentiated between substance and function, they also emphasized the
relationship between the two. The connection between substance and function
derived from the relationship between “a single fundamental source” (yiben 一本)
and “manifold diversity” (wanshu 萬殊) wherein there was no corresponding oppo-
sition or contradiction. From the perspective of onto-cosmology (i.e., the theory of
principle and material force, liqilun 理氣論), Luo emphasized that “principle must
be identified via material force (li xu jiu qishang renqu 理須就氣上認取) (Luo
1990 [Vol. 2, Ch. 35]: 68).”10 He further claimed: “The oneness of principle must
always be understood from the standpoint of the diversity of its particularizations
before it can be truly and thoroughly perceived (Luo 1990 [Vol. 2, Ch. 59]: 41).”
From the perspective of philosophical anthropology, Luo pointed out that the moral
mind should be understood from the standpoint of the human mind. Therefore, in
Luo and No’s theory of human mind and moral mind, the pairing of human mind
and moral mind are mutually inclusive and conceptually complementary just as
nature/feelings, equilibrium/harmony, heavenly principle/human desire, principle/
material force, are ontologically inseparable from each other. With respect to value
theory, “substance” is predominant and refers to perfect goodness, while “function”
stands for actuality and activity, and can be either good or evil.
It is noteworthy that No Sojae believed in Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind and
moral mind in his later years (i.e., the human mind cannot be called [unreasonable]
human desire) could only be adequately proven through Luo Zheng’an’s thinking
10
As far as the onto-cosmology is concerned, Luo emphasizes that “principle must be identified
via material force,” and takes a stand against “mistaking material force for principle (renqi wei li
認氣為理).” The former means that principle itself is not active, and its existence is demonstrated
via material force. The latter position implies that principle and material force are distinct from
each other, and that principle is transcendent and rules over material force. According to Luo’s
philosophical anthropology, human mind, as the subject of moral practice, is material force in the
working (yong 用, “function”); moral mind, as the principle of moral practice, is the inactive sub-
stance (ti 體). Therefore, moral mind is principle, i.e. the great substance (daben 大本) before the
feelings are aroused. Thus, as the guiding principle for human mind, moral mind rules over human
mind.
on substance and function. No Sojae’s repeated mention of Zhu Xi’s “the human
mind includes both good and evil aspects” was therefore related to the internal logic
of Luo Zheng’an’s twofold framework of substance and function. As No Sojae
stated in the final letter of his debate with Yi Iljae:
Master Zhu Xi’s statement that the human mind includes both good and evil aspects is
worthy of careful consideration. Speaking of the sixteen words (from “the Counsels of the
Great Yu”), Zheng’an combined substance with function, representing the complete prac-
tice of Confucius’ Way. (No 1996d: 383)
Clearly, according to No Sojae’s thinking, the phrase, “the human mind includes
both good and evil aspects,” was interpreted to mean that “human mind” stood for
the function of the mind, and that its activity could be either good or evil. Yet if the
activity of the mind is to be in accordance with due measure and degree, it must
presuppose to take the principle of perfect goodness as a criterion; this criterion is
none other than nature (principle), which is the substance of the mind. In this sense,
No Sojae’s definition of moral mind embodied two meanings: “the human mind that
accords with the Way is the moral mind,”11 and “the moral mind is the heavenly
principle [moral law] to be possessed in the mind.”12 That is, the moral mind is
human mind’s realization of the moral laws upon which benevolent morality rests.
The former is the rhetorical meaning that the moral mind has no independent status,
while the latter is substantial meaning that the moral mind has independent status.
In other words, No Sojae thought that when the human mind is seen as the function
of the mind, that is to say the practical manifestation of morality, then it must pre-
suppose the existence of moral mind (i.e., heavenly principle as nature, moral laws).
So the moral mind actually refers to heavenly principle, the substance of the mind,
and the equilibrium before the feelings are aroused, and thus the emphasis is on the
perfection of nature (principle), and not on the conscious activity of the human
mind. Furthermore, if the activity after the feelings are aroused were attributed to
the human mind, then it would be impossible to establish an independently existing
moral mind that appears after the feelings are aroused. Hence, in light of the logical
connection between the idea that “the human mind includes both good and evil
sides” and “the mind is divided into substance and function,” it must be concluded
that the moral mind absolutely cannot be the activity after the feelings are aroused,
as the moral mind is heavenly principle before the feelings are aroused and is
already present within the mind.
As to the idea of the moral mind as the great foundation (i.e., substance) before
the feelings are aroused, No Sojae believed that this was the necessary conclusion
of the theory. He firmly stated:
If the human mind is [unreasonable] human desire, then the moral mind is regarded as the
activity after the feelings are aroused; if the human mind includes both good and evil
dimensions, then the moral mind must be regarded as substance before the feelings are
aroused. (No 1996b: 376)
11
Words of Zhu Xi, quoted in No 1996b: 376.
12
Words of No Sojae, see No 1996b: 377.
122 Y.-h. Lin
If we first understand that the human mind includes both good and evil dimensions, then
there is no question that moral mind is the substance. (No 1996c: 382)
No Sojae pointed out that since the human mind is the function of the mind, under
the interpretation that the human mind in accordance with heavenly principle is the
moral mind, the moral mind was the manifestation of the good within the human
mind, and had no independent significance; therefore, the moral mind must be ele-
vated to the status of the substance of the mind in order to be considered an indepen-
dent concept. In that case, the moral mind had to be the great foundation [substance]
before the feelings are aroused (weifa zhi daben 未發之大本), rather than the great
foundation after the feelings are aroused (daben zhi yifa 大本之已發). In the same
way, if the human mind was [unreasonable] human desire (renyu), then, as stated by
Cheng Yichuan, the human mind was evil, it must be opposite to the goodness of
the moral mind, and the moral mind could be regarded as the mind after the feelings
are aroused (yifa zhi xin 已發之心). However, if the human mind were not [unrea-
sonable] human desire (renyu, or siyu) and can be either good or evil, so the moral
mind must be the great foundation [substance] before the feelings are aroused. In
other words, if one operated under the assumption that “the human mind included
both good and evil sides” and wished to apply the twofold framework of human
mind and moral mind, the moral mind was by necessity substance rather than func-
tion. Thus No Sojae’s theory of human mind and moral mind indicates three main
points: first, Zhu Xi’s “the human mind includes both good and evil sides;” Second,
Lou Zhengan’s theoretical framework of “the moral mind is substance and refers to
nature, the human mind is function and refers to feelings;” And third, “the moral
mind is the great foundation [substance] before the feelings are aroused.” The three
are logically necessary.
The problem is, while this theory of human mind and moral mind is sound in and
of itself, if made to correspond with Zhu Xi’s theory of human and moral mind, it
lacks a clear textual basis. This is because Zhu Xi’s works from his later years
“Preface to Commentary on the Words and Phrases of the Doctrine of the Mean”
(Zhongyongzhangju xu 中庸章句序) and “Commentary on ‘The Counsels of Great
Yu’ in the Book of History” (Shangshu, Dayumo zhu 尚書•大禹謨注)” indicate that
the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are aroused. In contemplating such
textual difficulties, No Sojae simply replied, “I do not know.” In this respect, No
Sojae’s complete acceptance of Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral
mind was founded on a logical deduction that came from his own philosophical
problem of consciousness, that is, if “the human mind includes both good and evil
dimensions,” then “the moral mind is substance, the human mind function.” This
construction implied that “the moral mind is the substance before the feelings are
aroused.”
With respect to the above discourse, No Sojae was the first Korean Neo-
Confucian to recognize and thematize the contradictions between Zhu Xi and
Cheng Yichuan’s views on human mind and moral mind. He started from a clear
problem of consciousness, and followed through in accordance with a logical
deduction. In terms of the theoretical demands, he fully accepted Luo Zheng’an’s
views on human mind and moral mind, while establishing his own alternative the-
ory on the subject. However, if No Sojae wished to draw a correspondence between
the views of Luo Zheng’an and Zhu Xi, [this] was both theoretically difficult and
textually unsupportable. For this reason, No Sojae’s complete acceptance of Luo
Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind inevitably caused widespread
opposition among his contemporaries. As we will see these objections were both
reasonable and a product of the circumstances of the times.
4 Yi Iljae and No Sojae’s Debate on Human Mind

and Moral Mind
It is well known that the first debate on human mind and moral mind in the history
of Korean Neo-Confucianism began with Yi Iljae’s argument with No Sojae.
Nevertheless, before their debate, Kim Haseo first criticized No Sojae and Luo
Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind. Kim Haseo’s main point of con-
tention was that “the human mind and moral mind both refer to the activity of the
mind,” that is, “the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are aroused” and
cannot be regarded as “the substance before the feelings are aroused.” This is also
the most evident distinction between Zhu Xi’s theory on human mind and moral
mind and that of Luo Zheng’an. It is also one of the arguments upon which other
Neo-Confucians based their attacks on both Luo Zheng’an and No Sojae.
After Kim Haseo’s death, No Sojae’s maternal uncle, Yi Iljae, continued to criti-
cize and debate with No Sojae. On the subject of onto-cosmology, Yi Iljae’s view
that “the Great Ultimate and yinyang are two parts of a whole (taiji yinyang wei
yiwu 太極陰陽為一物)” is similar to Luo Zheng’an’s claim that “principle and
material force are regarded as a whole (liqi wei yiwu 理氣為一物) (Luo 1990 [Vol.
2, Ch. 19]: 29).” However, from the perspective of philosophical anthropology, he
harshly criticized Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind. According
to his surviving works, between 1561 and 1563, Yi Iljae engaged in three rounds of
written correspondence with No Sojae.13 His words were so harsh that No Sojae felt
“constantly berated (No 1996d: 380).” Like Kim Haseo, Yi Iljae’s criticism of Luo
Zheng’an and No Sojae focused on the controversial idea that the moral mind is the
substance before the feelings are aroused. In contrast, he argued that moral mind is
the activity after the feelings are aroused. Yi Iljae’s argument can be summed up
with the following three points: (1) the moral mind is the activity after the feelings
are aroused. It is universal, combines both principle and material force, and is the
function of the mind; (2) with respect to the meaning of the character “Way,” this
refers to a path, and is dynamic state of function, not a quiescent static of substance.
Thus, moral mind is an activity that expresses “function of principle” (li zhi yong 理
In Yi Iljae’s Iljaejip 一齋集 (The Collected Works of Iljae), there are three letters of debate with
13
No Sojae, and Sojaejip contains a total of five letters between the two. The debate between the two
on human mind and moral mind can be seen in these five letters.
124 Y.-h. Lin
之用), and cannot be regarded as the quiescent “nature as substance” (xingti 性體);
(3) With respect to classical literature, Yi Iljae, noted that the first passage of the
Doctrine of the Mean, “What Heaven imparts to man is called human nature; to fol-
low our nature is called the Way,” indicates precisely that “the nature is substance,”
and the “the Way is function,” and therefore, the moral mind is clearly function
rather than substance. Based on the thesis established here, Yi Iljae criticized Luo
Zheng’an’s theory that “moral mind is substance and human mind is function
(daoxin wei ti, renhsin wei yong 道心為體 , 人心為用).” Luo’s theory incorrectly
inverted the relationship between function and substance, activity and quiescence.
However, No Sojae thought Yi Iljae’s arguments did not delve deeply enough
into Zhu Xi’s thought nor present a substantial critique, and thus, were unpersua-
sive. No Sojae made two points: (1) the defense of Luo Zheng’an’s statement that
“the moral mind is substance, the human mind function;” (2) the rebuttal of Yi
Iljae’s criticism of “mistaking function for substance.” I believe that Luo Zheng’an
and No Sojae both failed to notice that Zhu Xi’s statement, “the moral mind is the
activity after the feelings are aroused,” took the phrase from the “Preface to
Commentary on the Words and Phrases of the Doctrine of the Mean,” stating that
“the unobstructed intelligent consciousness in the mind of man are the same” as its
basis, and was not an earlier theory from Cheng Yichuan.14 As a result, No Sojae’s
argument in defense of Luo Zheng’an is also weak. In his critical response to Yi
Iljae’s statement about “mistaking function for substance,” No Sojae again based
his arguments on first the literal meaning of the character “Way” (Dao 道) and sec-
ondly on its philosophical connotations. He believed that, in the literal sense, the
“Way” is so named because it is a common road for people to walk on, and thus, it
is correctly treated as function. However, from a philosophical perspective, the
“Way” can be understood as “the inherent principle of things,” or to use a slightly
different nomenclature, “the inherent heavenly principle.” In this set of relations, the
“Way” is virtually interchangeable with two other terms, principle and substance.
Thus, philosophically, “when the Way parallels with substance, it is function; while
the Way parallels with function, it is substance.” In other words, the “Way” is a
dynamic concept of “mutual substance and function,” and not a static, complete
ontological concept such as nature (xing), which “can only be said to be tranquil and
cannot be said to be active.” In sum, No Sojae’s defense is that the moral mind refers
14
According to Zhu Xi’s understanding, Cheng Yichuan regards mind as “issued” at first. Later
Cheng Yichuan offers a revision of his interpretation: mind contains two aspects, i.e. “unissued
substance” and “issued function” on which the theoretical framework of Zhu Xi’s “new theory of
equilibrium and harmony (Zhonghexinshuo 中和新說)” is based. I propose that both Zhu Xi’s and
Luo Zheng’an’s theories of human mind and moral mind are established on Zhu Xi’s “new theory
of equilibrium and harmony.” Zhu Xi emphasizes, the mind, as pure intelligent consciousness –
that is, the mind can turn into moral mind when it perceives the principle – subsumes “the unissued
nature” and “the issued feelings” under itself. Thus, Zhu Xi’s theory of human mind and moral
mind stresses on the importance of moral mind concerning moral judgments. In contrast, Luo
Zheng’an focuses on the differentiation between “unissued nature” and “issued feelings,” and fur-
ther emphasizes that moral mind is “unissued nature,” the great foundation. Therefore, the key
point of Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind is the establishment of moral laws.
to “the substance of the Way in the mind.” This accords with Zhu Xi’s statement
that “the principle of nature is embodied in the mind.” The moral mind, thus, actu-
ally refers to “the principle of nature.” Hence in his view there was nothing wrong
with accepting the idea that the Way as substance resides in the mind. In compari-
son, Yi Iljae sought to explain the moral mind based only on the literal meaning of
the “Way,” whereas No Sojae explained the moral mind as a philosophical concept,
clearly presenting a more convincing argument.
In the three rounds of written debate between Yi Iljae and No Sojae, Yi continu-
ally stated that “the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are aroused” in
rebuttal of No’s statement that “the moral mind is the substance before the feelings
are aroused.” No Sojae also repeatedly reiterated Zhu Xi’s statement that “the
human mind includes both good and evil sides,” which, together with Luo
Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind by the twofold framework of
substance and function, has substantial theoretical basis. After examining the debate
between Yi Iljae and No Sojae on human mind and moral mind, we can clearly see
that Yi Iljae denounced No Sojae and Luo Zheng’an’s position that “the moral mind
is the substance before the feelings are aroused” as “mistaking function for sub-
stance,” arguing strongly that “the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are
aroused.” Yet judging from the criticisms made in Yi Iljae’s three letters, he was
unable to grasp the problem of consciousness behind No Sojae’s advocacy of the
position that “the moral mind is the substance before the feelings are aroused,” and
his arguments were unable to break free of the restraints of his logical framework,
resulting in his severe criticism of No Sojae being limited to attacks on his phraseol-
ogy. In terms of his arguments, then, Yi Iljae’s criticism of No Sojae’s position on
human mind and moral mind is clearly weak and lacking theoretical depth.
5 Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong and Yi Yulgok’s Assessments of Luo

Zheng’an’s Theory on Human Mind and Moral Mind
After Yi Iljae and No Sojae’s debate over the concept of human mind and moral
mind, Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong and Yi Yulgok also offered varying critiques of Luo
Zheng’an’s position.
Yi Toegye was deeply puzzled by No Sojae’s respect for Luo Zheng’an’s theory
and disagreement with Zhu Xi. He directly contended that, “the theory of human
mind and moral mind put forth in Knowledge Painfully Acquired (Kunzhiji) was
clearly erroneous (Yi Hwang 1996c: 113).” In fact, Yi Toegye leveled such criticism
at Luo Zheng’an, No Sojae, and even Yi Iljae. He pointed out that Yi Iljae’s criti-
cism of No Sojae lacked a theoretical basis, leading him to directly point to Yi Iljae
as “unlearned” and “overconfident.” In addition, Yi Toegye suggested that while
Luo Zheng’an had certain insights into the Way, he “misplaced its greater source.”
By “greater source,” Yi Toegye meant Zhu Xi’s theory of principle and material
force. In Yi Toegye’s view, the two aspects of Zhu Xi’s relationship of principal and
material force were “neither identical nor separate (buli buza 不離不雜),” Luo
126 Y.-h. Lin
Zheng’an’s theory that “principle and material force are regarded as a whole” was a
serious contradiction of Zhu Xi’s claim that “principle and material force are sepa-
rate (liqi buza 理氣不雜),” and this was not merely a problem of minor details, but
a fundamental misunderstanding. Because Luo Zheng’an’s idea had influenced No
Sojae who also concurred that, “principal and material force are regarded as a
whole,” Yi Toegye felt compelled to criticize the error. Yi Toegye also pointed out
that No Sojae had been misled by Luo Zheng’an on three accounts: (1) in his
approach of learning, No Sojae had been influenced by Zen Buddhism, and his two
poems both entitled, “Verse on Human Mind and Moral Mind (Insimdosimeum 人
心道心吟)” incorporated elements of Zen thought; (2) having already adopted ele-
ments of Lu Xiangshan’s philosophy, No Sojae overlooked many of Zhu Xi’s
works; (3) No Sojae’s theory that “principle and material force are regarded as a
whole” conflicted with his “Verse on Human Mind and Moral Mind.” Of these three
points of criticism, only the third argument is relatively strong. The other two were
common stratagems employed by both Chinese and Korean Neo-Confucianism
alike. On balance, if Luo Zheng’an and No Sojae’s theory that “principle and mate-
rial force are regarded as a whole” does not in fact eliminate the distinction between
principle and material force, then the thrust of the argument behind Yi Toegye’s
third point is also weak and fails to properly grasp the underlying problem behind
No Sojae’s praise of Luo Zheng’an.
However, looking at the controversy between Yi Iljae and No Sojae, the points of
contention are over the idea that “the moral mind is the substance before the feelings
are aroused,” and “the moral mind is substance, the human mind is function.” On the
former point, Yi Toegye emphasized that “the moral mind is the activity after the
feelings are aroused” is based upon Zhu Xi’s “Preface to the Commentary on the
Words and Phrases of the Doctrine of the Mean.” On the latter point, Yi Toegye criti-
cized Luo and No’s views on substance and function. He believed that Luo
Zheng’an’s statement that “the moral mind is nature” indicated that the moral mind
is the substance before the feelings are aroused, and is absolute tranquility. If that
were the case, he reasoned, the moral mind would become merely a static natural
principle or moral law (heavenly principle), weakening the dominate function of
principle, and the moral mind would have no practical activity or force. Furthermore,
Luo Zheng’an’s idea that “human mind is feeling” implied that the human mind is
the activity after the feelings are aroused, and that the human mind is the most
dynamic function. The expression of its function was thus not governed by natural
principle wherein feelings could become evil without any good. A more serious
problem was that in terms of actual practice, substance (or nature, moral mind)
would be without function, and our function (that is, feeling, human mind) would be
without substance. As a result, substance and function would be cut off from one
another, and self-cultivation will be without to bring the two together. Obviously, Yi
Toegye’s criticism of Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind was
based on his theory that “the issuance of principle and material force is mutual (liqi
hufa 理氣互發).” Yi Toegye took the twofold framework of principle and material
force as his standard and equated the “four buddings and seven emotions” with
“human mind and moral mind.”15 In this synthesis, the moral mind is none other
than the four buddings and both are “the issuance of principle (lifa 理發)” and origi-
nate in principle. The idea that “the human mind is none other than the seven emo-
tions” is “the issuance of material force (qifa 氣發)” and originates from material
force. From Yi Toegye’s idea that “the four buddings are the issuance of principle,
with material force following it; the seven emotions are the issuance of material
force, with principle directing it (see Yi Hwang 1996d: 310),” we can infer the idea
that “the moral mind is the issuance of principle, with material force following it;
the human mind is the issuance of material force, with principle directing it.” It is
worth noting that for Yi Toegye, “principle itself has both substance and function
(See Yi Hwang 1996b: 467);” therefore, the moral mind is the issuance of principle,
its function being spontaneity and playing a driving role. The human mind is the
issuance of material force, and being passive, it becomes active under the influence
of externalities, and must be guided by the moral mind’s issuance of principle in
order to gain moral meaning. On this basis, then, the moral mind is the issuance of
principle, which proves that the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are
aroused, and corresponds to Zhu Xi’s statement that “the moral mind leads, the
human mind follows.” Comparison to the many arguments that had previously been
made in opposition to Luo Zheng’an’s statement that “the moral mind is the activity
after feelings are aroused” (such as those of Kim Haseo and Yi Iljae), Yi Toegye’s
arguments have considerable theoretical depth and efficacy. Only Yi Toegye’s use of
“the issuance of principle” to prove that “the moral mind is the activity after the
feelings are aroused” differs from Zhu Xi’s use of “the unobstructed intelligent
consciousness in mind” to explain that “the moral mind is the activity after the feel-
ings are aroused.”
On balance, however, Yi Toegye’s criticism of Luo Zheng’an’s premise that “the
moral mind is substance, the human mind is function” does not touch upon the cen-
tral thrust of the idea. This is because although Luo Zheng’an’s theory is con-
structed upon the classifications of “substance/function,” “nature/feelings,”
“principle/material force,” and “before the feelings are aroused/after the feelings are
aroused,” the relationships between these paired concepts is not oppositional but
rather inseparable. Therefore, the human mind is the function of the moral mind,
and the moral mind is the substance of the human mind, the nature before the feel-
ings are aroused is manifested when the feelings are aroused, and Heaven-endowed
nature (tianming zhi xing 天命之性) is demonstrated through the physical nature
(qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性). In this respect, Yi Toegye’s criticism based on his idea
that principle was predominant in the twofold framework of principle and material
force was an inadequate method for criticizing Luo Zheng’an’s construct of
substance and function and failed to refute Luo Zhangan’s theory, nor to convince
No Sojae.
15
Yi Toegye said: “the human mind is the seven feelings, while the moral mind is the four bud-
dings. Zhu 1983 mentioned that Xu Dongyang had expressed a similar view, that the two are the
seven feelings and four buddings, which is also possible.” See Yi Hwang 1996a: 343. This view
also considered important by later generations of the Toegye School.
128 Y.-h. Lin
In addition to Yi Toegye’s criticism of Luo Zhangan’s theory of human mind and

moral mind, Gi Gobong also rebutted Luo’s theory. From the perspective of onto-
cosmology and philosophical anthropology, Gi Gobong, concurred with Yi Toegye
and opposed both Luo and No Sojae’s claim that “principal and material force are
regarded as a whole” and their theory of human mind and moral mind. Gi Gobong
criticized the idea that “principal and material force are regarded as a whole”
because it “mistook material force for principle (renqi wei li 認氣為理).” He also
charged that to say “the moral mind is nature, the human mind is feelings” none
other than to “discuss nature in terms of mind (yixin lunxing 以心論性).” Gi
Gobong, like Yi Toegye, questioned whether Luo Zheng’an’s statements with
respect to onto-cosmology and philosophical anthropology were contradictory. He
further criticized Luo and No’s theories on human mind and moral mind because it
closely mirrored the views of Xun Zi 荀子 (298–238 B.C.E.) and Gao Zi 告子
(420–350? B.C.E.) (see Gi 1989: 134). Gi Gobong criticized No Sojae for propagat-
ing Luo’s ideas. If one takes as the premise that the human mind is comprised of
feelings, then feelings themselves are the activity of material force, and could be
either good or evil. With respect to the idea that Luo Zhang’an and No Sojae’s
premise that “the human mind is feelings” is close to Gao Zi’s analogy of “swirling
water (tuanshui 湍水)” and did not conceive of a transcendent objective principle as
the foundation, hence human nature could be either good or evil. In contrast, Luo
and No’s theories both emphasized that moral mind is the transcendental nature/
principle of the highest good (zhishan 至善) (and cannot be evil). It was this that
stood as the criterion of the human mind’s activity. Their premise, clearly, differs
sharply from that of Xun Zi and Gao Zi. Thus, Gi Gobong’s criticism falls short.
Among the numerous voices criticizing Luo Zheng’an and No Sojae, the atti-
tude displayed by the slightly later Yi Yulgok and the criticisms he made were rela-
tively moderate. In contrast to Yi Toegye’s main theory that “the issuance of principle
and material force is mutual,” a number of letters Yi Yulgok wrote to Seong Ugye
reveal that in taking Yi Toegye as the standard of comparison, Yi Yulgok presented
his views on Luo Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind. With respect
to onto-cosmology, Yi Yulgok interprets Luo Zheng’an’s “principal and material
force are regarded as a whole” to mean that “principle and material force are insepa-
rable:” “material force is inseparable from principle, and principle is inseparable
from material force, and so principle and material force are therefore unified (Yi I
1996: 206–207).”
Yi Yulgok therefore believed that although Luo’s locution “principal and mate-
rial force are regarded as a whole” was not well phrased, it did not actually mean
that there was no distinction between principle and material force, or assign the
attributes of material force to principle, thereby diminishing principle’s predomi-
nant position. In other words, Luo Zheng’an’s statement did not diverge from the
central principle that principle and material force are neither separate nor identical.
In other words, Luo Zheng’an’s statement did not diverge from the central principle
that principle and material force are neither separate nor identical. In contrast, Yi
Toegye’s onto-cosmology emphasized that the issuance of principle and material
force is mutual and that the issuance of principle and material force each have their
own causes. Furthermore, his idea that “principle issues and material force follows,”
did not avoid the error that “principle is prior to material force (lixian qihou 理先氣
後) (Yi I 1996: 212).” In the view of Yi Yulgok, Yi Toegye’s discursive model, which
first distinguished the issuance of principle and material force, and then emphasized
that “the issuance of principle and material force is mutual,” unavoidably appeared
to indicate “two divergent foundations (erben 二本, i.e., two sources).” So when Yi
Toegye criticized Luo Zheng’an’s “principle and material force are regarded as a
whole” as overlooking the meaning of “principle is not identified with material
force,” Yi Yulgok in turn charged that Yi Toegye’s theory that “the issuance of prin-
ciple and material force is mutual” neglected to adequately deal with the idea that
“principle is not separated from material force,” and thus, also departed from the
“great foundation.” However, when Yi Yulgok brought together Yi Toegye and Luo
Zheng’an’s onto-cosmology with their theories of human mind and moral mind to
address the issue, the problem of the “great foundation” brought to the fore the
question about the conception of the consistency of the mind.
In the debate between Yi Yulgok and Seong Ugye on the “four buddings and
seven feelings,” the relationship between principle and material force and the theory
of human mind and moral mind had consistent internal logic. In the view of Yi
Yulgok, extending the logic of Yi Toegye’s “the issuance of principle and material
force is mutual” to the theory of human mind and moral mind caused a serious
problem of “two sources (eryuan 二源).” According to Yi Toegye’s reasoning, the
moral mind is produced by principle, and the human mind is produced by material
force, so the distinction between the two is not determined by differences in their
objects of consciousness, but rather by the source of their issuance. Like the distinc-
tion between the four buddings and seven feelings, they were defined by their
sources of issuance. If this is the case, then moral mind and human mind actually
issue from two different sources. If these two minds are mutually separate and each
has its place then the suspicion that there are “two minds (erxin 二心)” becomes
unavoidable. From these statements we can see that Yi Yulgok’s criticism that Yi
Toegye had failed to see the “great foundation” suggested that Yi Toegye’s idea, “the
issuance of principle and material force is mutual,” was flawed because it implied
that there were “two foundation (two sources),” and that his theory of human mind
and moral mind appeared to suggest “two minds.”16 Obviously, whether in terms of
the issuance of principle or the issuance of material force, or if it originates from
within or without, Yi Toegye’s theory of human mind and moral mind was flawed
because it posited “two sources.” This serious flaw in his argumentation prompted
Yi Yulgok to assert: “Toegye’s error lies in the principle [nature]. Toegye’s error is
more serious (Yi I 1996: 204).”
In comparison, Yi Yulgok’s criticism of Luo Zheng’an was relatively mild. Yi
Yulgok thought that Luo Zheng’an’s “principle and material force are regarded as a
whole” in fact meant that “principle and material force are inseparable,” which in
his view referred to the “great foundation.” Although Luo Zheng’an’s expression of
16
I believe that the “Great Foundation” referred to in Yi Yulgok’s interpretation includes the two
aspects: onto-cosmology and philosophical anthropology.
130 Y.-h. Lin
his views was problematic, this did not affect the tenability of his argument.
However, Yi Yulgok did criticized Luo’s statement that “human mind and moral
mind are substance and function” as inappropriate. According to Luo’s reasoning,
“the moral mind is substance,” making the moral mind a state before the feelings are
aroused. This understanding used moral principle to define the moral mind, a depar-
ture from Zhu Xi’s establishment of the concept of moral mind on the basis of an
“pure intelligent consciousness (xulingzhijue 虛靈知覺).” Yi Yulgok therefore criti-
cized Luo’s “human mind and moral mind are substance and function” because it
mistook the meaning of their names” and “the reference of their names,” and in
effect created a radical departure from the definitions which Zhu Xi had established
for them. Despite this, Yi Yulgok still thought that Luo Zheng’an’s view that “treat-
ing human mind and moral mind as substance and function” at least maintained “the
consistency of the mind,” and unlike the ideas of Yi Toegye, did not cause human
mind and moral mind to be split into “two sources” and “two minds.” In other
words, in Yi Yulgok’s view, Luo Zheng’an’s onto-cosmology and the theory of
human mind and moral mind adhered to the idea that “principle is not separated
from material force,” and also maintained “the consistency of the mind.” In this
respect, Luo Zheng’an demonstrated his grasp of the “great foundation,” and should
not be neglected.
With respect to these three Neo-Confucianists, Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong, and Yi
Yulgok and their criticism of Luo Zheng’an and No Sojae’s theories of human mind
and moral mind, Gi Gobong’s arguments are weakest, and although Yi Toegye used
“moral mind is the issuance of principle” to prove the point that “the moral mind is
the activity after feelings are aroused,” this was not Zhu Xi’s original meaning. It is
worth noting that Yi Yulgok had a true grasp of the meaning of Zhu Xi’s “the mind
is unobstructed intelligent consciousness,” using “the human mind and moral mind
both issue from material force” and the distinction between “the predominance of
principle (zhuli 主理)” and “the predominance of material force (zhuqi 主氣)” to
demonstrate that “the moral mind is the activity after the feelings are aroused.” He
also further combined onto-cosmology with the theory of human mind and moral
mind, objectively commenting that Luo Zheng’an’s theory on “treating human
mind and moral mind as substance and function,” while not in line with Zhu Xi’s
theory of human mind and moral mind, could comprise its own theory, and did not
diverge from the norms of Zhu Xi thought.
6 Conclusion
Although the theory of human mind and moral mind was subject to different under-
standings and interpretations in the developing contexts of Chinese Neo-
Confucianism, it did not garner much attention or discussion, let alone heated
philosophical debate. In comparison, we can see the intellectual vitality of Zhu Xi
learning in Korean Neo-Confucianism. Of greater note is that in looking at the three
types of responses that sixteenth-century Korean Neo-Confucianists had to Luo
Zheng’an’s theory of human mind and moral mind, we find that three types of rep-
resentative treatises on the theory had appeared in the development of Korean Neo-
Confucianism. First was Cheng Yichuan’s view of the dichotomy of human mind
and moral mind as being contradictorily opposed; second was Zhu Xi’s threefold
framework of moral mind, human mind, and [unreasonable] human desire; and third
was Luo Zheng’an’s differentiation between moral mind and human mind via the
twofold framework of substance and function. As Korean Neo-Confucians took
note of these, the theory of human mind and moral mind gradually came to be inter-
woven with and mutually supported topics of discussion such as the theory of prin-
ciple and material force, the view of substance and function, the four buddings and
seven feelings, heavenly principle and [unreasonable] human desire, and the notions
of equanimity (gong 公) and selfishness (si 私), enriching the meaning of human
mind and moral mind and continually adding complexity to the debates. For modern
scholars, the theory of human mind and moral mind in Korean Neo-Confucianism
also warrants further study for its typological significance.17
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SMC Publishing.
Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. Tongshu 通書 (Penetrating the Book of Change), Ch. 3.
Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. 2000. The Book of Zhou Dunyi 周子通書. Shanghai: Shanghai Guji
Chubanshe.
Cai, Maosong 蔡茂松. 2007. Zhuzi Thought 朱子學. Tainan: Daqianshijie Chubanshe.
Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng, Yi 程頤. 1981. Henan chengshi waishu 河南程氏外書, Ch. 2. in
Collected Works of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju.
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集, Vol. 1, Ch. 3. Seoul: Minjokmunhwa chujinhoe.
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p. 3b. Quoted in Pae Chongho 裴宗鎬, ed. Collected Works of Korean Confucianism 韓國儒
學資料集成. Seoul: Yonsei University Press.
17
Korean scholar Lee Kiyong 李基鏞 divides theories on human mind and moral mind into three
types: first, the “diametrical theory of human mind and moral” (which Cheng Yichuan, Wang
Yangming and most Chinese Neo-Confucians subscribed to); second, the “the substance and func-
tion theory of human mind and moral mind,” to which Luo Zheng’an’s theory belongs; and third,
the “relative theory of human mind and moral mind” (Zhu Xi’s idea that the moral mind leads, the
human mind follows that he developed in his later years; Yi Yolgok’s theory belongs to this type).
See Lee 1995. I believe that the complexity of Korean Neo-Confucian theories of human mind and
moral mind allows for greater typological distinction.
132 Y.-h. Lin
Lee, Kiyong 李基鏞. 1995. The Study on the Theory of Human Mind and Moral Mind in Yulgok
Yiyi 栗谷李珥의 人心道心論研究. Seoul: Yonsei University Philosophy Department
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Luo, Qinshun 羅欽順. 1990. Knowledge Painfully Acquired 困知記, Vols. 1–2. Beijing: Zhonghua
Shuju.
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Zhonghua Shuju.
Part III
Major Figurers of Korean Confucianism
Chapter 6
Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk and the Rise
of the Philosophy of Ki 氣
Jung Yeup Kim
1 Introduction
The philosophy of Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk 徐敬德 (1489–1546, pen name: Hwadam 花潭)

cannot be easily defined, for it is a complex synthesis of his own thoughts with the
ideas of various Chinese neo-Confucians such as Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073),
Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077), Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), Cheng Hao 程顥
(1032–1085), Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), and Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200)
amongst others. There are even Daoist aspects to his position. Yet, if we must label
him, it is safe to categorize his position as a “philosophy of ki (氣學 kihak).”1
However, one problem with applying the label “philosophy of ki” to Sŏ’s position is
that this label has no reference in traditional Korean or Chinese scholarship con-
cerning the classification of schools. Yet, from a philosophical perspective, it is pos-
sible to make connections and disconnections of scholars on the basis of an affinity
of ideas, and not on the basis of an actual master to disciple or scholar to scholar
interactive relationship, usually according to geographical regions, as has been the
case traditionally.2 If such connections based upon the similarity of ideas is made, it
is clear that there existed an alternative strand of philosophers in East-Asian Neo-
Confucianism that cannot be easily subsumed under Zhu Xi’s li (i in Korean) based
paradigm (理學 lihak) or Wang Yangming’s xin (sim in Korean) based paradigm
1
The most common translations of ki 氣 (or qi in Chinese) are “material force” or “vital energy.”
Earlier versions of this paper were published in Acta Koreana 13:2 (63–73) and Zhang Zai’s
Philosophy of Qi: A Practical Understanding (Lexington Books, 2015).
2
Huang Zhongxi’s The Records of Ming Scholars (明儒學案 Mingru Xuean) is a good example.
See Huang 1987.
J. Y. Kim (*)
Department of Philosophy, Kent State University, Kent, OH, USA
e-mail: jkim17@kent.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_6
136 J. Y. Kim
(心學 shimhak/sinxue). Rather, they can be more properly understood under the
category of the philosophy of ki/qi(kihak).
This thread of philosophers has its roots in the position of the Chinese Neo-
Confucian Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077) and includes philosophers such as Luo
Jinshun 羅欽順 (1465–1547), Wang Tingxiang 王廷相 (1474–1544), Wang Fuzhi
王夫之 (1619–1692), Dai Zhen 戴震 (1723–1777) in China, Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk in
Korea, and Kaibarra Ekken 貝原益軒 (1630–1714) in Japan. Many of these schol-
ars critique Zhu Xi’s worldview that has i/li 理 at its center, and rather develop their
philosophical positions focusing on the notion of ki/qi.
Korean Neo-Confucians such as Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen name: Yi Toegye 李退溪,
1501–1570) or Yi I 李珥 (pen name: Yi Yulgok 李栗谷, 1536–1584) who were
greatly influenced by Zhu Xi’s i/li based interpretation of classical Confucianism
while respecting Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s philosophy were also critical of it. From their per-
spective, he was a thinker who had significant thoughts, but in the end did not prop-
erly understood the views of the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi (Hwang 2003: 337).
For example, according to Yi Yulgok, Sŏ does not understand that ki/qi changes, but
ili does not change, and thus ili cannot get reduced to a state of ki/qi (Hwang 2003:
341). Based upon this views, Yi asserts of Sŏ’s position: “This learning is truly not
what scholars should model themselves upon. Kyŏngdŏk’s position comes from that
of Zhang Zai. If you say that Kyŏngdŏk’s thoughts fit with the words of the Sages,
I cannot agree” (Sŏ 2004: 339).3
However, rather than viewing Sŏ’s thoughts from the perspective of the Cheng
brothers and Zhu Xi, it would be fairer to view his philosophy in its uniqueness, and
as contributing to the formation of a different paradigm of thought based more upon
ki within Korean Neo-Confucianism.4 There is no doubt that Yi Toegye and Yi
Yulgok are the more prominent Neo-Confucians in Korea. Yet, the significance of
Sŏ can be appreciated insofar as he contributed to the formation of an alternative
lineage of thought based more upon the notion of ki within the Korean neo-
Confucian tradition, thus contributing to the diversity of this tradition.
Many of Sŏ’s works are poems, and his more philosophical works are catego-
rized under “miscellaneous writings.” However, to separate Sŏ into a poet and phi-
losopher, and his works into poetry and philosophy would be a false dichotomy. His
poems and philosophical writings are but different expressions of his way of life, a
way of life that emphasizes the maximization of the vitality of the human experi-
ence. Especially, when reading his more philosophical writings, this point must be
taken into consideration. That is, his philosophy does not represent abstract specula-
tions into a metaphysical realm beyond this world. Rather, they express lived and
felt observations and intuitions concerning the creative dimensions of this world
and ourselves that we can realize in order to expand and intensify the liveliness of
3
See also Hwang 2003: 246, for Yi Huang’s critique of Sŏ. All references to Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk are from
Translated and Annotated Works of Hwadam translated by Hwang Kwanguk (Seoul: Tosŏch’ulp’an
Shimsanmunhwa, 2004). All English translations are mine unless noted otherwise. The transla-
tions were supported by the Academy of Korean Studies. For other translations of the works of Sŏ,
see Sŏ Hwadam Mun Sŏn, translated by Kim Hakchu (Seoul: Myŏngmundang, 1988).
4
See Hwang 2003: 159–198 for a detailed analysis of the influence of Sŏ on subsequent Korean
neo-Confucians.
6 Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk and the Rise of the Philosophy of Ki 氣 137
our experience. Thus, according to Yi Yulgok, Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s philosophical posi-

tion was not primarily obtained via transmitted documents, but rather was self-
learned (cha tŭk 自得) (Sŏ 2004: 338).5 That is, Sŏ’s insights emerged from his
concrete interactions with the world and others, and his reflections on how to create
proper relationships with them in order to enhance their experience as well as his.
2 Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s Philosophy of Ki
A significant aspect of the classical Confucian worldview is the belief that the
source for intensifying and expanding our experience does not transcend this world
and ourselves. In his argument against the Buddhist, Daoist and even certain neo-
Confucians who have dualistic tendencies, Sŏ focuses on articulating this aspect of
the classical Confucian worldview. That is, a central theme that runs throughout his
position is to show that the ultimate source of creativity is inherent to this world and
ourselves. Articulating this point is important to him because it sets the cosmologi-
cal grounds for the possibility and need for cultivating and realizing our inherent
potential to create productive relationships amongst ourselves and with the world.
Emphasis on the point that the ultimate source of creativity inheres in this world
and ourselves can be most clearly seen in Sŏ’s argument against the Buddhist whom
he believes posits a transcendent reality, namely, “emptiness (hŏ 虛)”, that is exter-
nal to this world. He asserts:
According to So Ung6: “Some people say that there is another world outside of this world
that is different than this world. I cannot understand their position. Not only can I not under-
stand their position, the sages would not understand their position.” So Ung’s assertion
should be seriously considered. Also, Chan Buddhists say…that there is a distinction
between real emptiness and illusory emptiness. This shows that they do not understand that
the vastness of this world has no outside, and that emptiness is ki. (Sŏ 2004: 196)
That is, according to Sŏ, this world understood in terms of ki 氣 “has no outside”
and should not be considered as “illusory” in contrast to a more “real” realm of
“emptiness.” Sŏ also argues against the Daoist who views “emptiness” as a reality
that is external to the “being” of the myriad things of this world and that generates
them:
Emptiness is ki…If it is realized that the empty is not empty, it cannot be called nothing.
Laozi asserts that “nothing gives birth to being.” This is not to know that emptiness is ki. He
also argues that “emptiness gives birth to ki” and this is also wrong. If emptiness can give
birth to ki, then before it gives birth to ki it has no ki, and is thus dead. If there is no ki, how
can it give birth to ki? Ki has no beginning. Ki is not born. Since there is no beginning,
where does it end? Since it is not born, when does it die? (Sŏ 2004: 200)
Rather, when discussed in terms of ki, emptiness becomes a capacity that functions
within the myriad things. In other words, emptiness becomes the capacity of the
myriad things to productively resonate and integrate with one another and
Sŏ 2004:339. See also, Sŏ 2004: 308, 322, 336, 339, 340 and 358.
5
Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077).

6
138 J. Y. Kim
spontaneously create life and vitality by doing so. To explain this point, Sŏ uses the
relationship between the body of a zither and strings as an analogy to explain the
relationship between the notions of capacity and function. According to him, capac-
ity is like the body of the zither (without strings), which functions through strings.
For him, the body of the zither that lacks strings is not in a mere negative state of
lacking sound. Rather it has the potential or capacity to produce sound, but needs
the strings as the necessary conditions that will allow the potential sound within the
body of the zither to emerge (Sŏ 2004: 268). In other words, the capacity of the
body of the zither to produce sound can only be actualized through the strings.
Likewise, it can be said that emptiness as the capacity for resonation and integration
can only be actualized through the myriad things.
Also, the emphasis on the unity of the ultimate source of creativity and this world
can further be seen in Sŏ’s articulation on the relationship between i 理 (coherence)
and ki. Sŏ argues that there is no i outside of ki. That is, for Sŏ, i is not a power that
regulates ki (i.e., this world) from the outside. Rather, i is a coherence that emerges
from the self-regulating power of ki. Here, we can see the belief that there is the poten-
tial within the myriad things, including humans, to create and sustain a vital coherence,
that is, an organic unity, on their own terms. Sŏ asserts:
There is no coherence outside of ki. Coherence is the self-regulation of ki. This means that
regulation does not come from outside this world and regulates it. It indicates the ability of
ki to not lose its inherent balance when functioning. Coherence does not precede ki. Ki has
no beginning; coherence truly has no beginning. If it is said that coherence precedes ki, then
ki will have a beginning. Laozi said that “emptiness can give birth to ki.” If this is so, then
ki has a beginning, and thus has limits. (Sŏ 2004: 198)
Second, the theme of organic unity of all entities and dimensions of this world
follows from Sŏ’s argument that emphasizes the unity between emptiness and the
myriad things. As argued above, emptiness viewed in terms of ki can be understood
as the capacity of the myriad things to productively resonate and integrate with one
another. This understanding of emptiness is further supported by the following
assertion by Sŏ:
It is not the case that the sky does not originally have um 陰 and the earth does not originally
have yang 陽…the yang of the sky penetrates the emptiness of the earth, and thus the earth
cannot but receive it. (Sŏ 2004: 214)
Accordingly, it is because the earth (um 陰) has an emptiness within it that the
sky (yang 陽) can penetrate it, and this can be posited vice versa. That is, the sky and
the earth respectively have emptiness as the capacity to “receive” (i.e., resonate
with) one another so they can form an organic unity that continues to produce and
sustain the life and vitality of nature. Also, emptiness is not a power that externally
regulates the sky and the earth, but rather is an inherent capacity of the sky and the
earth that allows them to “mutually rely on one another spontaneously.” (Sŏ 2004:
194) For Sŏ, “it is in giving-and-receiving that the spontaneous power of nature can
be seen” (Sŏ 2004: 57). Thus, when accounted in terms of ki, emptiness becomes
the capacity of the sky and the earth to mutually “give” and “receive” one another,
and form an organic unity amongst themselves that continues to produce and sustain
the life and vitality of nature. Furthermore, in Sŏ’s ki-worldview it is not just the sky
and the earth that form an organic unity with one another, but “the myriad things are
all interdependent” (Sŏ 2004: 148), and even opposites such as “water and fire
include one another from their respective places” (Sŏ 2004: 214).
Sŏ explains the unity amongst “emptiness” and the “myriad things”, thereby
affirming the organic unity of the myriad things that is made possible by this unity
in another way in terms of the concepts of “the one (il 一)” and “the two (yang 兩).”
The “one” and “the two” respectively account for the unity and differentiation
within this world. That is, “The one” is the emptiness that accounts for unity and
“the two” is um-yang that accounts for the myriad differentiations. According to Sŏ:
“The one and the two are interdependent, and thus all things and events are interde-
pendent” (Sŏ 2004: 60). That is, there is no differentiation without unity and there
is no unity without differentiation. Thus, the myriad things, including ourselves, are
not merely differentiated as they appear to be because they possess an emptiness
within themselves that allows them to resonate with one another and create an
organic unity by doing so.
In other words, for Sŏ, emptiness is the “heart-mind of the sky-and-earth
(Ch’ŏnjijishim 天地之心)” that all entities “return (bok 復)” to in order to revitalize
their productive relations (Sŏ 2004: 208). Here we can see that the ultimate source
of creativity is organically situated in this world, as the heart-mind is organically
situated in a body, and is not externally related to it. Thus, the heart-mind of the
sky-and-earth, which is emptiness, can be intimately experienced by us: “When the
sky and earth are clear and cool, the taste of water is fresh and big sounds are faint.
When it seems deserted, empty, and tranquil, as if there are no events…From this
the heart-mind of the sky-and-earth can be seen” (Sŏ 2004: 210).
Third, it was argued above that the myriad things all possess an emptiness within
themselves as the capacity to resonate and integrate with one another. For this rea-
son, they are constantly intermingling with one another, that is, receiving and giving
various aspects of one another, and by doing so are constantly being transformed by
one another. Thus, the myriad things are in essence not static substances that have
unchanging identities that do not or cannot change. Rather, they are dynamic pro-
cesses that constantly transform themselves through transaction, and thus this world
as a transactional web of the myriad things must also be considered as a dynamic
process.
Sŏ considers this transactional dynamism of the myriad things including ourselves
that continues to create and sustain life and vitality as “exquisite (myo 妙).” He asserts
“if one discusses exquisiteness outside of transformation, this is not to understand
transformation” (Sŏ 2004: 198), and rather “it is through investigating and following
the myriad things that one can understand transformation” (Sŏ 2004: 62). This expresses
his affirmation of how much this world can change into a more live and vital whole, and
in terms of human experience, Sŏ does not posit a limit to how much we can change
our experience within this world into a more live, vital and joyful one.
140 J. Y. Kim
3 T
he Practical Implications of Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s Philosophy
of Ki
In this section, I investigate the practical implications of Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s ki-

worldview that was investigated above.
First, the argument for the unity of emptiness and the myriad things secures the
possibility for creative practice, defined as the endeavor to create proper relation-
ships amongst ourselves that produce and sustain life and vitality. This is because,
in Sŏ’s ki-worldview, not only are emptiness and the myriad things unified, but the
myriad things and humans are unified. That is, there is no dichotomy between the
myriad things of nature and humans when they are accounted in terms of ki, and
humans share the creative capacity of the myriad things. Thus, humans do not need
to rely on a power that transcends them to realize their lives, vitality and joy. Rather,
humans, as one of the myriad things of nature, possess within themselves the cre-
ative power of “emptiness,” and this makes it possible for them to create productive
relationships amongst themselves.
Second, the practical implications implied within the notion of the organic unity
of the myriad things and dimensions are closely related to the ones articulated
above. As discussed above, the myriad things, including ourselves, are not merely
differentiated because they possess an emptiness within themselves that allows
them to resonate and integrate with one another. For example, the sky and the earth,
by means of the emptiness within them, can resonate and integrate with one another,
and this organic unity between them continues to create and sustain the vital equi-
librium of nature.7
According to Sŏ, resonation and integration amongst things can only happen
when they are properly related to one another. Thus, for Sŏ, all things in nature have
a “proper point to stop (ji 止)” in their relationships (Sŏ 2004: 260). The sky resides
above in relation to the earth that resides below, the mountains stand up in relation
to the waters that flow down, and the birds fly in relation to the beasts that crawl (Sŏ
2004: 260). It is because the myriad things are properly related like this that they can
continuously create and sustain the vital equilibrium of this world.
Sŏ further argues that “it is humans that have wholly received the proper related-
ness of the sky and the earth” (Sŏ 2004: 254), and the proper relatedness between
the sky and the earth is manifested in humans as “proper actions and the proper
relatedness of humans” (Sŏ 2004: 254). Humans like the sky and the earth can reso-
nate and integrate with one another through their “emptiness” and sustain a vital
balance amongst themselves by doing so. Proper actions are efforts to create rela-
tionships amongst ourselves that allow us to resonate and integrate with one another
and produce and sustain a vital harmony.
Thus, for Sŏ, creating productive relationships amongst ourselves through proper
acts involves the endeavor to stop at the proper point in our relationships, that is, the
point where relationships amongst ourselves have reached a vital stability. For
See also, Sŏ 2004: 210, 212.

7
example, the relationship between father and son should stop at the point of love,
and the relationship between king and minister should stop at the point of loyalty
(Sŏ 2004: 260). Furthermore, there is a proper point to stop in all transactions with
things of the world, for example, when drinking, eating, wearing clothes, seeing,
hearing, speaking and acting (Sŏ 2004: 260).
According to Sŏ, we do not need to artificially learn how to stop at the proper
point because we have an inborn ability and tendency to seek vital equilibrium with
others and our environment (Sŏ 2004: 260). That is, we are naturally disposed to
move from agitation to calmness and from discomfort to comfort. For example,
when we are burnt we seek the cool, and when we are tired we seek rest (Sŏ 2004:
260). Thus, Sŏ asserts: “‘The model is not far away,’ and how can the wonder of
nature not be within me? Everyone uses it everyday and thus drinks when thirsty,
and wears clothes when cold” (Sŏ 2004: 60). This inborn disposition of ours to seek
vital harmony, comfort and joy manifests itself in our relationship with others. That
is, we tend to seek harmony, comfort, and joy in our interpersonal relationships, and
no one desires to be in constant agitation, discomfort or sadness in their relationship
with others.
Sŏ argues that the main obstacle to achieving equilibrium, comfort and joy is the
selfish awareness of the ego which closes us off from integrating with others (Sŏ
2004: 255). In contrast, Sŏ explains the state of having stopped at the proper point
in our relationship with others as a state of having forgotten one’s ego (manga 忘我)
(Sŏ 2004: 80) which is a state of egoless-thought-and-action (musamuwi 無思無爲)
(Sŏ 2004: 264).8 For him, this state is not a negative state of self abnegation, but
rather is a positive state where one has formed an organic unity, that is, a vital, pro-
ductive and joyful equilibrium with one’s human and natural surroundings (Sŏ
2004: 80). Thus, Sŏ’s notion of “forgetting one’s ego (manga 忘我)” and “egoless-
thought-and-action (musamuwi 無思無爲)” are notions that emphasize the sustain-
ing of the vital, productive and joyful modality of the human experience, and this is
continuous with vital and productive modality of nature.
Furthermore, for Sŏ, “sustaining reverence” (jikyŏng 致敬) is nothing other than
the sustained effort to resonate and integrate with others and one’s environment.
That is, it is the effort to stop at the proper point in ones relationship with others and
one’s environment. For Sŏ, if one can do this, there will be no separation between
one self and others and one’s experience will be whole (Sŏ 2004: 267).
Third, Sŏ argues that the state of stopping at the proper point (ji 止) in all one’s
relations is not a static state, but a state of dynamic equilibrium (shijung 時中). Sŏ
quotes the Yijing as follows, “Stop when it is proper to stop, and act when it is
proper to act” (Sŏ 2004: 264), and asserts that “stopping when it is proper to stop is
stopping at the proper point, and acting when it is proper to act is stopping at the
8
A literal translation of “musamuwi” would be “no-thought-no-action.” However, Sŏ is not talking
about an inert state of no thought and no action. Rather, when understood in the context of his
discussion about “forgetting one’s ego (manga),” it is evident that “musamuwi” expresses a modal-
ity of thinking and acting that is not obstructed by one’s ego awareness that prevents one from
dynamically harmonizing with others and the world.
142 J. Y. Kim
proper point” (Sŏ 2004: 264). Thus, stopping at the proper point is a state of dynam-
ically transacting with others and the world in a manner that produces and sustains
a vital equilibrium.
Sŏ emphasizes that the Confucian way of stopping at the proper point is different
from the Buddhist and Daoist way of stopping at the proper point. According to
him, the Buddhist and Daoist statically stop in a transcendent dimension that escapes
this world of dynamic transactions. However, he emphasizes that for the Confucian,
“the proper place to stop is here, not there” (Sŏ 2004: 264). That is, stopping at the
proper point does not involve transcending the transactional dynamism of this
world, but rather involves a full participation in it. Insofar as the transactional pro-
cess of this world is open ended, we also must sustain an open-mindedness to what
we may experience, and we have the capacity to do this through the “emptiness”
within us.
4 S
oma-Aesthetic Methods of Self-Cultivation: Ritual
Propriety and Aesthetic Engagement with Nature
4.1 Ritual Propriety
It was argued above that according to Sŏ, we have an inborn disposition to seek vital
affective equilibrium with others. That is, according to him, we tend to seek affec-
tive harmony, comfort, and joy in our interpersonal relationships, and no one desires
to be in constant agitation, discomfort or sadness in their relationship with others.
For Sŏ, Confucian ritual propriety (ye 禮) is a method that helps us cultivate and
realize this disposition to achieve a vital affective harmony amongst ourselves. Sŏ
in his letter to King Injong argues that: “Exemplary ways of acting are based upon
our emotions, and in turn, exemplary ways of acting regulate our emotions…they
allow the foolish to improve through effort. This is why the Sages emphasized the
practice of ritual propriety” (Sŏ 2004: 161).
It must be understood here that for Sŏ, the practice of ritual propriety mainly
concentrates on transforming our bodily manners and dispositions in order to trans-
form our feelings-and-thoughts. In his view of the body and heart-mind, which does
not segregate the two, there is an intimate relationship between the cultivation of our
bodily behavior and the cultivation of our heart-mind. Thus, for him, to comport our
bodies, behave, and speak in respectful and collaborative ways will nurture the ten-
dency to feel-and-think in terms of preventing conflict, and creating as well as sus-
taining a felt vital harmony amongst ourselves.
For Sŏ, on the one hand, the exemplary ways of acting that constitute ritual pro-
priety emerge from our disposition to create emotional harmony amongst ourselves.
On the other hand, ritual propriety in turn enhances the actualization of this disposi-
tion. That is, for him, the natural propensity within us as organisms to seek a felt
harmony with our environments is the source of ritual propriety, and the practice of
ritual propriety maximizes the realization of this disposition of ours. In light of this,
it can be argued that ritual propriety is but a practical method to actualize our natural
disposition to minimize discomfort and displeasure (conflict), and maximize com-
fort and enjoyment (harmony) amongst ourselves. It is a useful way to optimally
actualize a vital affective environment constituted of a felt synergy amongst our-
selves. It can be practiced by the emotionally unintelligent, that is, those who are
self-centered and selfish, to cultivate their potential to become more sensitive and
attuned to the affective environment that they are embedded in.
Thus, he emphasizes that “Cultivation should be focused on actualizing our
inborn disposition” (Sŏ 2004: 146), and this is because, “When emotions become
manifest, oftentimes they lose their appropriateness. In the beginning although it is
a small difference, in the end it becomes the difference between a madman and a
sage. The obscure thoughts of the madman are unwise and tend to clash with others.
Only the sage can overcome such thoughts, and his character aligns with that of
nature. The difference between a sage and madman lies in the degree to how dili-
gently one practices reverence” (Sŏ 2004: 255). And for Sŏ, the practice of ritual
propriety is a form of practicing reverence.
The above understanding of ritual propriety can further be seen in Sŏ’s discus-
sion of ritual propriety in the context of our relationship to the deceased. According
to Sŏ, the regulations that the Sages created concerning how to wear proper clothes
when mourning are based upon the patterns of the sky and earth (Sŏ 2004: 161), and
these patterns are precisely those configuration of relationships that create and sus-
tain vital harmony that we have investigated above. Thus, ritual propriety concern-
ing clothing are not oppressive rules, but rather are mechanisms that enhance
affective balance. For example, Sŏ argues that the strict regulations for proper attire
when one’s parents have passed away are methods to alleviate “the sadness which is
akin to one’s flesh being cut” (Sŏ 2004: 161). Also, Sŏ argues that the ritual propri-
ety of not eating meat and drinking alcohol for three months after one’s parent have
deceased are all ways to regulate and stabilize one’s feelings (Sŏ 2004: 173). That
is, the various ways of properly clothing and conducting oneself in mourning are
methods of balancing our feelings by properly relating ourselves to the deceased by
doing what feels fitting in relation to the loved one who has passed away. Thus, Sŏ
argues that the practice of ritual propriety should not be overly artificial, and should
be a practice that is true to our feelings. Furthermore he argues that ritual propriety
that is not properly based upon feelings can be considered as “distorted ritual” (Sŏ
2004: 173).
As shown above, Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk presents us with a coherent worldview that has
the motif of interdependently creating and sustaining the livelihood of our emotions
at its center. It can be considered an affective ecology in which the well-being of our
feelings is understood to be created and sustained interdependently and not indi-
vidualistically. Ritual propriety as understood by Sŏ is a practical method to inter-
dependently create and sustain the vital affective harmony amongst ourselves, and
thus is a concrete way of realizing an affective ecology.
Although Sŏ himself was conservative in following the rituals of the past, this
was not based upon a dogmatic adhering to the past, but rather his belief that
144 J. Y. Kim
traditional rituals were most practically effective in creating and sustaining coher-
ence amongst our feelings. In fact, Sŏ argues that “since all ritual propriety is based
upon emotions, it is inevitable that ritual propriety will change” (Sŏ 2004: 163).
Furthermore, he asserts “More about ritual propriety and music can be learned by
encountering new situations” (Sŏ 2004: 131). A more flexible and revisable under-
standing of ritual propriety is nascent in this assertion. This is not surprising because
it would be unreasonable to believe that a system of closed rules can successfully
regulate the dynamism of the human experience that is continuously changing and
evolving. Perhaps the specific details of Confucian ritual propriety may be subject
to revision in order for them to be more attuned to the human experience of our era.
However, the vision of creating and sustaining a vital community of humans that
underlies Sŏ’s understanding of Confucian ritual propriety remains unchangingly
valuable to us living in present.
4.2 Aesthetic Engagement with Nature
Many of Sŏ’s writings are poems, and most of his poems express the enjoyment of
the natural environment. Yet, in contemporary scholarship this aspect of his works
has either been left out or separated from understanding his philosophical position.
Rather, the philosophical and aesthetic dimensions of his position must be under-
stood together, for in the end they are but alternative expressions of his way of life
that emphasizes the maximization of the vitality of the human experience and this
world. In this section, I investigate the philosophical significance of his aesthetic
engagement with nature and his poems. Furthermore, along with ritual propriety, I
show how, for him, these activities are soma-aesthetic methods of cultivating our
disposition for harmony, i.e. the emptiness and clarity within ourselves. It must be
understood that these two methods should not be dichotomized, but rather seen as
two dimensions of his unified view of self-cultivation. In the case of the human
environment it is the practice of ritual propriety, and in the case of the natural envi-
ronment it is proper aesthetic engagement with nature that are methods to cultivate
oneself. However, they both function to nurture our propensity toward harmony
amongst ourselves and with nature for the purpose of intensifying and extending the
quality and range of our experience within this world.
The characteristics and philosophical significance of Sŏ’s aesthetic engagement
with nature can be best understood in contemporary terms through the following
insights by Arnold Berleant, a prominent scholar of environmental aesthetics. In his
work “A Phenomenological Aesthetics of Environment” (Berleant 2005), Berleant
argues that in the contemplative model of aesthetic experience, which is considered
to be the very foundation of modern aesthetics, the “observer is removed from the
scene and contemplates it from a distance” (Berleant 2005: 5). Thus, in this aes-
thetic model “division, distance, separation, and isolation are equally the order of
the art and the order of the experience” (Berleant 2005: 5). Furthermore, he asserts
that this framework is “the predictable product of an intellectualist tradition, one
that grasps the world by knowing it through objectifying it, and that controls the
world by subduing it to the order of thought” (Berleant 2005: 5).
However, according to him, during the last century even though the classical
theory continued to be dominant, new positions emerged that “offered to overcome
the passivity and separation of disinterested contemplation by depicting the aes-
thetic perceiver more as a multi-sensory, active agent than through the disengaged
vision of the traditional position” (Berleant 2005: 6). Berleant explains two such
models, namely, the active model and the participatory model. Amongst these alter-
native models, what Berleant calls the participatory model approximates most
closely the implicit framework underlying Sŏ’s aesthetic engagement with nature.
First, according to Berleant, the active model is correct in understanding that objec-
tive world of classical science is not the experiential world of the human perceiver,
and that it understands that a “theory of aesthetic experience must derive from the
latter rather than the former, from the manner in which we participate in spatial
experience rather than from the way in which we conceptualize and objectify such
experience” (Berleant 2005: 6).
Yet, for him, the participatory model goes further in providing us with a more
appropriate model to understand aesthetic engagement with the environment than
the active model. That is, not only is it misleading to objectify the environment as
has been done in the classical model, but also it is not correct to think that the envi-
ronment is completely reliant on the perceiving subject as it is considered to be in
the active model. Rather, as it is in understood in the participatory model, the envi-
ronment “also imposes itself in significant ways on the human person, engaging one
in a relationship of mutual influence” (Berleant 2005: 8).
Berleant argues that this leads to an alternative way of understanding the nature
of experiencing the environment aesthetically. That is, in the participatory model of
experience: “The environment is understood as a field of forces continuous with the
organism, a field in which there is a reciprocal action of organism and environment
and environment and organism, and in which there is no sharp demarcation between
them” (Berleant 2005: 8). Berleant goes on to argue that this new model forces us to
reconsider what we mean by the environment. That is, in this position, the environ-
ment is not “an alien territory surrounding the self,” but, rather, it is “the medium in
which we live, of which our being partakes and comes to identity” and “every ves-
tige of dualism must be cast off here (Berleant 2005: 13). There is no inside and
outside, human being and external world, even, in the final reckoning, self and
other” (Berleant 2005: 13). Thus, for him, in the participatory model of
experience:
We live, then, in a dynamic nexus of interpenetrating forces to which we contribute and
respond…Marcel urged us to say not that I have a body but rather that I am my body. So we
can say, similarly, not that I live in my environment but that I am my environment. Just as
we can consider the body an extrapolation from the unity of the human person, so can we
regard the environment. (Berleant 2005: 13)
In relation to the above point, it must be noted that Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s honorific

name Hwadam (flower pond) was named after the place where he lived, signifying
146 J. Y. Kim
that the person Hwadam and the natural environment in which he is situated cannot
be separated. We can indeed see that Hwadam the person and the place are consid-
ered as unified in various eulogies dedicated to him. For example, in the following
passage concerning him, Won Inson asserts:
The landscape at Hwadam is clear, beautiful, and outstanding. The master’s spirit, feelings,
and inspirations were all gathered there when he was alive and this is still the case after he
has passed away …If one wishes to pursue the master’s spirit, feelings, and inspirations,
then one will be able to obtain his exquisiteness here. (Sŏ 2004: 27)
What Sŏ brings to the contemporary discourse on environmental aesthetics is the

insight that aesthetic engagement with nature is not just an aesthetic activity, but is
also a soma-aesthetic method of self cultivation. Indeed in many of his writings, he
expresses the clarity of awareness and bodily dispositions he obtains after being
immersed in the mountains and woods.9 Also it is stated that “he very much cher-
ished nature, traveled broadly enjoying the mountains and rivers of the east coast,
and broadened his awareness by doing so” (Sŏ 2004: 321). For Sŏ, as articulated
above, in order to reach a state of forgetting one’s ego and egoless-thought-and-
action, one must sustain reverence, and this is the continued effort to resonate and
integrate with one’s environment (Sŏ 2004: 267). In other words, for him, the state
of losing one’s ego is correlated to the state of undergoing things as they are, and if
one reaches this state, one’s awareness will naturally become clarified and warm (Sŏ
2004: 81). Here clarity and warmth signify a state of openness and inclusiveness in
contrast to the state of being closed and exclusive associated with the opaque and
cold.
It must be understood that by emphasizing that we should allow ourselves to
undergo the environment, he does not mean that we should experience the environ-
ment in a manner that completely abnegates the self. Rather, what is emphasized by
him is a balanced state of awareness where one is not overly caught up in neither the
environment nor oneself (Sŏ 2004: 267). That is, it can be understood as an experi-
ential state of dynamic equilibrium where ones energy, and the energies of the envi-
ronment one is situated in dynamically flood into one another, and form an
interpenetrative whole of vital synergy. Thus, he asserts that “if one cultivates one-
self by holistically perceiving the environment…obstructive energies can be done
away with, and if one pursues the flood like energy and nurtures it in ones breast,
one can return to the natural state of existence where all disturbances are resolved”
(Sŏ 2004: 69).
For Sŏ, a poem is an expression of such integrative and vital experiences that are
obtained through proper transactions, namely, a balanced doing and undergoing,
with the natural environment. That is, poetry is the fullest expression of one’s par-
ticipation in nature’s transactional dynamism that continues to produce and sustain
life and vitality. Thus, for Sŏ, poetry was a method of self cultivation, and he culti-
vated himself to the extent that even poverty would not agitate his heart-mind (Sŏ
2004: 443). Indeed, he argues that in writing poetry, one should not get caught up in
See Sŏ 2004: 94, 119, 141, 142, 146.

9
the technique of writing, but rather writing poetry is a method of cherishing ones
inborn disposition for harmony (emptiness, the capacity to resonate) and its affec-
tive manifestations (Sŏ 2004: 266).
We can see significant resonances amongst Sŏ’s position, and those of the
Chinese poets of qi who existed before and after him. According to David Pollard,
Su Che asserts the following:
I have always liked to write. After deep thought I have concluded that literature (wen) is the
form taken by ch’i. But while skill in writing cannot be learned, ch’i can be acquired
through cultivation. Mencius said, ‘I am expert in cultivating my flood-like-ch’i.’ From our
vantage point the greatness of his ch’i can be measured by the breadth and depth of his writ-
ing, which fills the space between Heaven and Earth. Ssu-ma Ch’ien travelled the empire,
touring the famous mountains and great rivers within the four seas, mixed with the great
spirits of Yen and Chao, hence his writing is free and irrepressible and has remarkable
verve. When did they ever learn to write like this through holding the brush? Their ch’i
builds up in them and overflows in their bearing; it moves in their words and appears in their
writing, without any conscious effort.” (Pollard 1978: 58)
Furthermore, according to Pollard, “He goes on to describe how he had wanted

to discover the secret of writing similarly visiting the great sights and meeting the
great men of the empire. So Su Ch’e associates ch’i with greatness of spirit fostered
by contact with greatness.” (58) As can be seen here, for Su Che, poetry is not just
an artistic activity that is seprated from cultivating the self. Rather, at its best, poetry
is an expression of the flood-like vitality of experience accumulated by great men
who have acquired such experiential state from being properly immersed in and
integrated with the vital energies of the natural environment.
Also, in his discussion of the philosopher of qi Wang Fuzhi’s understanding of
poetry, Siu-Kit Wong asserts:
Tu Fu’s concern as Wang sees it is too often questions of personal grievance. In one such
attack on Tu Fu it is significant that Wang appeals to Shao Yung, for Shao Yung’s important
message is that it is by clearing away what is petty (hsiao), and private (ssu), and dark (an)
in one’s nature and seeking to enter into the greater harmony of all-being that one is likely
to achieve the good life. Wang believes that poetry helps to reestablish that bond between
man and the universe that many have broken. It does this among other things, by seeing man
in proper perspective, in his proper place in the universe. (Wong 1978: 149–150)
Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk would certainly agree with Wang Fuzhi that poetry is not so much
a way of expressing an individual’s feelings alone. Also, he would agree with Wang
that it is rather a method of reestablishing the unity between humans and nature by
cultivating an enlarged, open, and enlightened awareness in contrast to the small,
private, and dark egoistic modality of our heart-mind that dominates the everyday.
The following description of Sŏ well describes how he achieved integration with the
natural environment he was embedded in and cultivated himself by doing so:
The pond at Hwadam (flower pond) has its source in Sŏnggŏ (Sage Dwelling) mountain. It
was translucent, dark blue, and always full of water. It was surrounded by small mountain
peaks. He built his dwelling place amidst them and it was very clear and clean. He would
wander at ease there, and obtain the way by doing so…As he reached a later age, his face
radiated with clarity and warmth, and his posture was full of energy. He was in touch with
the source to the left and to the right, and everywhere he went there was delight. He always
148 J. Y. Kim
enjoyed writing poems about the natural scenery, and he had the same disposition of master
Zheng who enjoyed aesthetic engagement with nature. (Sŏ 2004: 321)
We see here that in praxis, while Sŏ was an adherent of Confucianism, which

emphasizes ritual propriety, he was also a Daoist who emphasizes immersion in
nature. Although he did not agree with all aspects of Daoism as investigated above,
in reality, we see an integration of the two ways of life in his position. Perhaps it is
here where one can see the uniqueness of his position. That is, what is unique about
his philosophy is not so much the particular components that constitute his position,
but rather the synthesis that he achieves of various positions that at face value seem
opposed to one another. Here, we can see a dynamic magnanimity not only in the
way he thought, but also in the way he lived.
5 Conclusion: Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s Philosophy of Ki as a Way

of Life
In concluding this investigation, I present recorded images of Sŏ in order to show

that his philosophy of ki was not an abstract theoretical system, but a concrete way
of living. That is, as indicated in the following biographical records of Sŏ, we see
that the various notions in his philosophy of ki were not mere concepts for him, but
express an intimate way of life. Indeed Sŏ asserts: “The exemplary person values
the realization of the proper point to stop in his learning. Learning is useless if one
does not realize the proper point to stop” (Sŏ 2004: 262).
First, it is documented that his disposition was calm, pure and beautiful (Sŏ
2004: 330). Clarity and joy emanated from his eyebrows, and his eyes were like the
morning star (Sŏ 2004: 334). His capacity to resonate with others became more
abundant as he grew older (Sŏ 2004: 301). His face radiated with pureness, clear-
ness, and warmth, and one could see that he had the way within himself just by
looking at him (Sŏ 2004: 301, 320). He enjoyed nature very much, and would
broaden his awareness by broadly traveling around to enjoy the mountains, rivers
and oceans (Sŏ 2004: 320). He always kept intact with the source (emptiness), and
wherever he went there was joy (Sŏ 2004: 320). Although it seemed as if he was
secluded in nature and was detached from society, he was always deeply concerned
with social affairs and never forgot them (Sŏ 2004: 320). In these images of Sŏ, we
see the unity of nature and human beings. That is, we can see that he lived in a way
that he did not lose connection with the pure, calm, and warm energy (ki) of nature,
that is, with “emptiness.”
Second, it is recorded that he hated disharmony with others (Sŏ 2004: 318). He
could often be seen talking with the villagers all day long with a smile on his face,
and whatever he did, all his actions were appropriate (Sŏ 2004: 318). He would
educate and transform the people at his hometown with his capacity to resonate with
others, and when there was conflict amongst the villagers, they did not go to a gov-
ernment office, but went to him to settle the conflict (Sŏ 2004: 318). In these
a necdotes, we can see that he lived in a way that formed an organic unity with oth-
ers, and also in a way that allowed others to create a this kind of integrity amongst
themselves.
Third, it is written that Sŏ would dance when he came in contact with beautiful
scenery (Sŏ 2004: 334). Also, Sŏ asserts: “When I come in contact with beautiful
scenery I recite a poem alone, and sometimes when my joy with others deepen, I
sing with them together” (Sŏ 2004: 94). It is said that he was filled with content-
ment, and he did not have in his awareness the gains and loss, disputes, and desire
for fame of the world (Sŏ 2004: 336). These notes indicate that he lived in way that
fully participated in and celebrated the transactional dynamism of this world, and
avoided the small awareness of the ego that prohibits such vital dynamism from
being produced and sustained. That is, we see the existence of the achievement and
celebration of stopping at the proper point, which is a state of a dynamic equilib-
rium, in all his transactions with the world and others.
ppendix: Selected Translations from the Collected Works

A
of Hwadam (Hwadamjip 花潭集)
The Source of Coherence and Vital Energy
The vast emptiness is translucent and formless; it is antecedent nature. Its vastness
has no outside. Its front has no beginning. How it came to be cannot be analyzed.
‘That which is translucent and tranquil’ is the original state of vital energy. It extends
itself infinitely. Full and replete, it has no void or gap, no space that even a strand of
hair can fit in. However, if pulled for it is empty, and if grasped for there is nothing.
Yet, it is replete, so it cannot be said that it does not exist.
Arriving at such a place, that which has no sound can be heard, and that which
has no smell can be encountered. The thousand sages have not been able to say
much about it. Zhou Dunyi and Zhang Zai have tried to tease it out, but have been
unable to completely disclose it. It is the point which Shao Yong was not able to
write one word about.
If we gather the sayings of the sages to retrace its source, it is “the placid and
unmoving” mentioned in the Zhouyi or the “creativity which spontaneously con-
summates itself” mentioned in the Zhongyong. Its translucent body is called the one
vital energy, and its indeterminate periphery is called the vast one. Zhu Lianji could
not but use the expression “unlimited creativity and also vast creativity” This is
antecedent nature—is it not extraordinary? Extraordinary it is, extraordinary it is! Is
it not exquisite? Exquisite it is, exquisite it is!
Suddenly springing and unexpectedly opening, is there anyone who has ordered
it to do so? It does so spontaneously, and it cannot but do so. This is called the
moment of coherence. It is expressed in the Zhouyi as “with resonation there is
finally interpenetration,” in the Zhongyong as “the way spontaneously becomes the
150 J. Y. Kim
way,” and Zhou Dunyi expresses it as “the vast creativity moves and generates the
yang.”
Activity and tranquility, and closing and opening are inevitable. What is the rea-
son? The world is configured to do so spontaneously.
Already expressed as one vital energy, the one naturally includes the two. Already
expressed as the vast one, the one immediately contains the two. The one cannot but
generate the two, and the two spontaneously generate and degenerate. Generation
leads to degeneration, and degeneration leads to generation. From the subtle to the
palpitating movements of vital energy, it is the process of generation and degenera-
tion which allows them to happen. What are the two? Um and yang, activity and
tranquility, gam (坎) and li (離). What is the one? The beginning of um and yang,
and the body of gam and li. The translucent is what is the one.
The one vital energy divides and becomes um and yang. The primordial yang
palpitates and becomes the sky, and the primordial um gathers and becomes the
earth. When yang palpitates to the utmost, its quintessential vital energy forms into
the sun. When um gathers to the utmost, its quintessential vital energy forms into the
moon. The remaining quintessential vital energy disperses and becomes the stars,
and on earth it becomes water and fire. This is called “posterior nature” and it is just
the functioning of events.
The sky in operating its vital energy mainly continues to move, and ceaselessly
revolves. The earth in congealing its form mainly continues to be tranquil, and is
suspended in the middle.
The disposition of vital energy is to be active, and thus ascends upward. The
quality of physical form is heavy, and descends downward. Vital energy encom-
passes even what is outside of physical form. Thus, physical form is carried within
vital energy, and does not ascend upward or descend downward. That is, physical
form is suspended within the vast emptiness, neither goes up nor down, revolving
from left to right, it has not dropped in the past or the present.
Shao Yong’s statement that “the sky rests on physical form and the earth leans on
vital energy” means that they spontaneously rely and depend on one another; this
configuration of their reliance and dependence is indeed exquisite. Note: That the
feathers of birds bear physical form is all due to this coherence.
The Master said: “Emptiness is the fountain of vital energy.” Also, “One is not a
number. It is the body of number”; “The oneness of coherence is empty, and the
oneness of vital energy is coarse. The coalescence of these is indeed exquisite.”
Also, “It is said in the Yijing ‘It does not rush, but it is fast. It does not travel, but
it arrives.’” There is no place where vital energy does not exist – to where can it
rush? There is no place where vital energy does not extend – to where can it travel?
The translucent and formless exquisiteness of vital energy is called the unfathom-
able. Already having been called vital energy, it engages with the vestiges of physi-
cal form. The unfathomable does not engage with the vestiges of physical form, so
where can it be situated? How can it be fathomed? The cause of its existence is
called coherence, and the cause of its exquisiteness is called the unfathomable. Its
spontaneous unadulterated productivity is called creativity; its capacity to spring
and prevail is called the way; that it encompasses everything is called vast creativity.
Activity and tranquility cannot but alternate, and the configuration of the function-
ing of events does so spontaneously. This is what is called “once becoming um and
once becoming yang, this is called the way.”
The Master said: “‘The vastness of this world which has no outside’ mentioned
by the Cheng brothers and Zhang Zai is the vast emptiness which has no outside.
If it is understood that the vast emptiness is one, then it can be understood that all
the rest are not one.” According to Shao Yong: “Some people say that there is
another world outside of this world that is different than this world. I cannot under-
stand their position. Not only can I not understand their position, the sages would
not understand their position. Shao Yong’s assertion should be seriously
considered.”
Also, “Chan Buddhists argue that emptiness emerges from great enlighten-
ment, and is like great foam emerging from the ocean. That they also argue that
there is authentic emptiness and inauthentic emptiness shows that they do not
understand that the vastness of this world has no outside, and that emptiness is
vital energy. That they argue that there is authentic emptiness and inauthentic
emptiness shows that they do not know the reason why coherence and vital energy
become what they are, so how can it be said that they understand natural tenden-
cies, and also how can it be said that the they understand the Way?” (Sŏ 2004:
190–197)
原理氣
太虛湛然無形號之曰先天其大無外其先無始其來不可究其湛然虛靜氣
之原也彌漫無外之遠逼塞充實無有空闕無一毫可容間也然挹之則虛執之
則無然而却實不得謂之無也到此田地無聲可耳無臭可接千聖不下語周張
引不發邵翁不得下一字處也摭聖賢之語泝而原之易所謂寂然不動庸所謂誠
者自成語其湛然之體曰一氣語其混然之周曰太一濂溪於此不奈何只消下
語曰無極而太極是則先天不其奇乎奇乎奇不其妙乎妙乎妙倏爾躍忽爾闢
孰使之乎自能爾也亦自不得不爾是謂理之時也易所謂感而遂通庸所謂道
自道周所謂太極動而生陽者也不能無動靜無闔闢其何故哉機自爾也旣曰
一氣一自含二旣曰太一一便涵二一不得不生二二自能生克生則克克則生
氣之自微以至鼓盪其生克使之也一生二二者何謂也陰陽也動靜也亦曰坎
離也一者何謂也陰陽之始坎離之體湛然爲一者也一氣之分爲陰陽陽極其
鼓而爲天陰極其聚而爲地陽鼓之極結其精者爲日陰聚之極結其精者爲月
餘精之散爲星辰其在地爲水火焉是謂之後天乃用事者也天運其氣一主乎
動而圜轉不息地凝其形一主乎靜而榷在中間氣之性動。騰上者也形之質重
墜下者也氣包形外形載氣中騰上墜下之相停是則懸於太虛之中而不上不下
左右圜轉亘古今而不墜者也邵所謂天依形地附氣自相依附者依附之機其
妙矣乎風族飛族之載形皆此理也
先生曰虛者氣之淵也
又曰一非數也數之體也
又曰理之一其虛氣之一其粗合之則妙乎妙
又曰易曰不疾而速不行而至氣無乎不在何所疾哉氣無乎不到何所行哉
氣之湛然無形之妙曰神旣曰氣便有粗涉於迹神不囿於粗迹果何所方哉何
所測哉語其所以曰理語其所以妙曰神語其自然眞實者曰誠語其能躍以流行
152 J. Y. Kim
曰道總以無不具曰太極動靜之不能不相禪而用事之機自爾所謂一陰一陽之

謂道是也
又曰程張謂天大無外卽太虛無外者也知太虛爲一則知餘皆非一者也邵
子曰或謂天地之外別有天地萬物異乎此天地萬物吾不得以知之也非惟吾
不得以知之聖人亦不得以知之也邵子此語當更致思
又曰禪家云空生大覺中如海一漚發有曰眞空頑空者非知天大無外非知
虛卽氣者也空生眞頑之云非知理氣之所以爲理氣者也安得謂之知性又安得
謂之知道
On Coherence and Vital Energy
That which has no outside is called the vast emptiness, and that which has no
beginning is called vital energy. Emptiness is vital energy. The root of emptiness is
inexhaustible, and vital energy is also inexhaustible. The source of vital energy is
the primordial one. It has already been mentioned that the one vital energy includes
the two. The vast emptiness is one but includes the two within itself. Already two,
it cannot but open and close, cannot but be active and tranquil, cannot but generate
and degenerate. The source that allows it to open and close, be active and tranquil,
and to generate and degenerate is called by the name of vast creativity.
There is no coherence outside of vital energy. Coherence is the regulation of
vital energy. This so-called regulation does not come from outside and regulate it.
It indicates the ability of vital energy to not lose its inherent balance when function-
ing. Coherence does not precede vital energy. Vital energy has no beginning; coher-
ence truly has no beginning. If it is said that coherence precedes vital energy, then
vital energy will have a beginning. Laozi said that “emptiness can give birth to vital
energy.” If this is so, then vital energy has a beginning, and thus has limits.
It is also said: “Change is the transformation of um and yang. um and yang
are the two vital energies. That which once becomes um and once becomes yang
is called the vast one. It transforms because it is two; it is exquisite because it is
one. There is no separate so called exquisiteness outside of transformation. The
reason why the two vital energies can ceaselessly generate life and transform is
simply because of the marvel of vast creativity. If one talks of exquisiteness out-
side of transformation, this is to not understand change.” (Sŏ 2004: 198–199)
理氣說
無外曰太虛無始者曰氣虛卽氣也虛本無窮氣亦無窮氣之源其初一也旣
曰氣一便涵二太虛爲一其中涵二旣二也斯不能無闔闢無動靜無生克也原
其所以能闔闢能動靜能生克者而名之曰太極氣外無理理者氣之宰也所謂
宰非自外來而宰之指其氣之用事能不失所以然之正者而謂之宰理不先於氣
氣無始理固無始若曰理先於氣則是氣有始也老氏曰虛能生氣是則氣有始
有限也
又曰易者陰陽之變陰陽二氣也一陰一陽者太一也二故化一故妙非化
之外別有所謂妙者二氣之所以能生生化化而不已者卽其太極之妙若外化而
語妙非知易者也
On the Vast Emptiness
The vast emptiness is empty yet not empty. Emptiness is vital energy. Emptiness is
inexhaustible and has no outside. Vital energy is also inexhaustible and has no out-
side. If it is called emptiness, how can it be called vital energy? When emptiness is
tranquil it is the body of vital energy; gathering and dispersing are its functions. If
it is understood that emptiness is not empty, it cannot be called nothing. Laozi
asserts that “being is born from nothing.” He did not know that emptiness is vital
energy. It is also said that “emptiness can give birth to vital energy.” This is wrong.
If it said that emptiness can give birth to vital energy, then it would have no vital
energy before it was produced, and emptiness would be something dead. If there is
already no vital energy, how can it give birth to vital energy by itself? Vital energy
has no beginning. Vital energy is not born. Since there is no beginning, how does it
end? Since it is not born, how can it cease to exist? Laozi speaks of emptiness and
nothingness; Buddha speaks of annihilation. This is because they do not understand
the source of coherence and vital energy, so how can they understand the way? (Sŏ
2004: 200–201)
太虛說
太虛虛而不虛虛則氣虛無窮無外氣亦無窮無外旣曰虛。安得謂之氣曰
虛靜卽氣之體聚散其用也知虛之不爲虛則不得謂之無老氏曰有生於無不
知虛卽氣也又曰虛能生氣非也若曰虛生氣則方其末生是無有氣而虛爲死
也旣無有氣又何自而生氣無始也無生也旣無始何所終旣無生何所滅老
氏言虛無佛氏言寂滅是不識理氣之源又烏得知道
A Discussion of Ghosts and Spirits and Life and Death
The works of Cheng Ming-Dao, Zhang Zai, and Zhu Xi thoroughly include states of
affairs related to death and life, ghosts and spirits. Yet, there is also a lack of com-
plete articulation on the highest aspects of the cause of these states of affairs. These
have all been drawn out, but have not been elaborated on in detail, and this has left
students with the task of gaining understanding by themselves. This is why subse-
quent students obtained the one, but did not obtain the two. They inherited the
coarse, but were not able to observe the thoroughly refined. I wish to investigate the
subtle meanings of the teachings of the three masters, and consider this as my hum-
ble explanation, which I believe will sufficiently provide answers to questions that
have been unresolved for a long time.
Master Cheng said: “Death and life, humans and ghosts are one and two, two and
one,” and this is an articulate expression. I would like to add that death and life,
humans and ghosts are all but the gathering and dispersing of vital energy. The
essence of vital energy is such that it gathers and disperses, but does not exist and
then cease to exist.
154 J. Y. Kim
The translucent oneness and pure emptiness of vital energy fills up the emptiness
that has no outside. When it is gathered at a larger scale it becomes the sky and
earth, and when it is gathered at a smaller scale it becomes the myriad entities. The
propensity to gather and disperse is subtle and conspicuous, slow and fast. The
gathering and dispersing of it in the vast emptiness at a larger and smaller scale
results in the difference between larger and smaller entities. Even the vital energy of
small entities such as a blade of grass or a tree does not disperse in the end, not to
mention human awareness which indeed is a more vast and enduring gathering of
vital energy.
When seeing the dispersion of the body and spirit, it seems as if they are return-
ing to and disappearing into nothingness. Being careless about this point, everyone
has failed to deeply think about it. Even those who have studied under the three
masters have not thoroughly understood it. They all have a theory about it based
upon only a rough understanding of it.
The translucent oneness and pure emptiness of vital energy originates at the
beginning of the activity and tranquility of the vast emptiness which generates um
and yang. When it gradually gathers and becomes extensive and thick, it becomes
the sky and the earth, and us humans. The dispersion of humans is just the disper-
sion of the body and spirit. The translucent oneness and pure emptiness of that
which has gathered does not disperses in the end, but disperse into the translucent
oneness of the vast emptiness, and is identical with the one vital energy. As for the
gathering and dispersion of consciousness, it is just a matter of duration and speed.
Even if the dispersion is exceedingly fast, it will take days or months, as in the case
of trivial entities. What does it mean to say that the vital energy also does not dis-
perse in the end? Since the translucent oneness and pure emptiness of vital energy
has no beginning, it also has no end. This is why coherence and vital energy are
utterly exquisite. If scholars could sincerely endeavor and reach this primary point,
they would for the first time gain full insight into the insufficiently transmitted sub-
tle meaning of the thousand sages.
Although the vital energy of a piece of incense or a candle seems to disperse in
front of one’s eyes, its remaining vital energy does not disperse in the end. How can
it be said that it disappears into nothingness!
I arrived at this point during a discussion with Master Pak Kwangu in the past,
and having heard it, Master Pak suddenly expressed that it was lucid. I do not know
if Master Pak subsequently endeavored to the utmost to advance on this primary
point.
After having roughly delineated my unique view, I gave it to Master Pak Yichŏng,
Mr. Hŏ Taehŭi, and to many others who had come to visit me. Although the sen-
tences of this essay may be poor, the primary point, which many sages have not
completely transmitted, can be observed. Please do not lose it along the way. If it
can be transmitted to subsequent scholars, and spread widely to China, other coun-
tries and distant places, then it will be known that a scholar has appeared in our
country.
Also the Master said, “The creative transformations of the ghosts and spirits are
the apex of the unfathomable change of um and yang.” Subsequent students have
gained much from the sayings of the Xicichuan, Zhou Dun-Yi, Cheng Ming-Dao,
Zhang Zai, and Zhu Xi. The important point is that there is understanding only
after ceaseless effort and immense striving.”
Also the Master said, “From early on, Cheng Ming-Dao and Zhu Xi have done
their best to disclose the subtle meanings of the Xicichuan. However, they only
sketchily elucidated their positions, so subsequent students could not find clarity,
and all of them saw the rough points, but were not able to see the profound mean-
ings. I desire to add some shallow perspectives so subsequent students can follow
the flow and realize the source. I had wanted to write until all my vital strength
was gone, but I cannot fulfill this will; this is truly a regret. However, I cannot
really call it a regret. If on adding footnotes to the footnotes, subsequent students
suffer from the complexity, and do not think deeper because of this, what should I
do?” (Sŏ 2004: 202–207)
鬼神死生論
程張朱說極備死生鬼神之情狀然亦未肯說破所以然之極致皆引而不發
令學者自得此後學之所以得其一而不得其二傳其粗而不見十分之精某欲採
三先生之微旨以爲鶻突之論亦足以破千古之疑程曰死生人鬼一而二二而
一此盡之矣吾亦曰死生人鬼只是氣之聚散而已有聚散而無有無氣之本體
然矣氣之湛一淸虛者瀰漫無外之虛聚之大者爲天地聚之小者爲萬物聚散
之勢有微著久速耳大小之聚散於太虛以大小有殊雖一草一木之微者其氣
終亦不散況人之精神知覺聚之大且久者哉形魄見其有散似歸於盡沒於無
此處率皆不得致思雖三先生之門下亦莫能皆詣其極皆掇拾粗粕爲說爾氣
之湛一淸虛原於太虛之動而生陽靜而生陰之始聚之有漸以至博厚爲天地
爲吾人人之散也形魄散耳聚之湛一淸虛者終亦不散散於太虛湛一之中同
一氣也其知覺之聚散只有久速耳雖散之最速有日月期者乃物之微者爾其
氣終亦不散何者氣之湛一淸虛者旣無其始又無其終此理氣所以極妙底學
者苟能做工到此地頭始得覷破千聖不盡傳之微旨矣雖一片香燭之氣見其
有散於目前其餘氣終亦不散烏得謂之盡於無耶
往者某與朴先生光佑討論及此朴乃耳輒明快不知其後朴果能致力於十
分盡頭否也
粗述獨見貽朴公頤正許君太輝及諸來遊於門者此論雖辭拙然見到千聖
不盡傳之地頭爾勿令中失可傳之後學遍諸華夷遠邇知東方有學者出焉
又曰造化鬼神神易陰陽之極致處後學有多得於繫辭傳周程張朱之說要
在做工不輟大段著力然後乃有見爾
又曰嘗欲發揮繫辭微旨程朱皆極其力然略說破後學無蹊可尋類皆見得
粗處不見底蘊某欲加敷衍淺見令後學沿流以探其源竢吾精力盡時著書有
志未就良亦一恨然不足恨也註脚更添註脚奈後學苦其繁複亦莫之致思何
156 J. Y. Kim
n ‘In Return We Can See the Heart-Mind of the Sky

O
and Earth’
The sages of the past have all deeply thought about the meaning of ji 至. The
emperor Yao discussed the numbers of the years and months, Confucius discussed
the heart-mind of the sky and earth, and Cheng Ming-Dao and Shao Yong also have
their theories. Subsequent scholars have greatly endeavored to study the winter sol-
stice, and what they have gained is immense. This is not something that can be
compared to the simple knowledge gained through investigating a single entity.
If one thoroughly investigates a single entity and gains understanding, one can
also obtain utmost coherence. However, what falls under investigating the winter
solstice is much broader and greater. The winter solstice just is the day that the sky
and earth begin to revolve, and um and yang start to transform. Therefore, it is said
“In return we can see the heart-mind of the sky and earth!”
Previous Confucian scholars all viewed tranquility as the heart-mind of the sky
and earth, but it was only Master Cheng who said that “the beginning of activity” is
the heart-mind of the sky and earth. Shao Yong expressed this as “between activity
and tranquility.” Although there is a difference between the expressions of Cheng
and Shao, there is no fundamental difference in perspective. Both follow the logic
of “once becoming active and once becoming tranquil” and have expressed this with
the additional notions of um and yang. Shao is indicating the body of the vast cre-
ativity, while Cheng is talking about the functioning of the vast creativity.
Turning back to the root and returning to tranquility is the moment of Kŏn 乾,
and the arousal of yang-vital energy is the configuration of return. The essence of
the notions of being and non-being can be fathomed from this, and the theory of
antecedent-posterior nature can be followed and understood. The saying ‘being
utterly still it does not move, but when it resonates finally there is interpenetration’
in the Yijing expresses this. The sayings ‘creativity spontaneously consummates
itself’ and ‘the way spontaneously makes itself’ in the Zhongyong also express this.
Mencius’ saying: ‘you must work at it, but don’t be predetermined, don’t let your
heart-mind forget it, but don’t artificially promote its growth’ are all understandings
of this.
When the sky and earth are clear and cool, the taste of water is fresh, and the big
sounds are faint. When it seems deserted, empty, and tranquil, as if there are no
events. The exquisiteness of the return of the one yang which suddenly starts and
cannot allow itself to stop. From this the heart-mind of the sky and earth can be
seen.
What does “there is no reform or relocation” mean? One period of the sky is
three hundred and sixty five degrees and an additional fourth of a degree, and one
year is three hundred and sixty five days and an additional fourth of a day. If the
winter solstice is observed by a water clock and measured by a sun clock, the divi-
sion of the angles and dates are similar overall with the original numbers, like the
dovetailing of broken halves. From early on there was no excess or lack whatsoever,
such is its perpetual constancy, and it can be seen that there is no reform or reloca-
tion of the heart-mind. The constant balance, supremely efficacious, and supremely

reliable virtue of the sky and earth can be known from this, and that the unfathom-
able change has no fixed directionality can be seen from this. When the sun orbits
toward the south, the spring sunlight moves towards the north, and when the yang
vital energy pervades the earth, then the vital energy responds to it from the center.
Can this not be called having no fixed directionality? The days and nights change,
winter and summer alternate, and there is not one stagnant moment. Can this not be
called to have no fixed essence?
The saying “once becoming um, once becoming yang is called the way, and con-
tinuing this is called efficacy” exhausts the coherence of the ‘winter solstice’. “Once
becoming um, once becoming yang” and “once becoming tranquil and once becom-
ing active” are originally not two events but rather one event of nature. Um and yang
are one function, and activity and tranquility are one configuration. This is the rea-
son why the process of flowing and circulation cannot halt itself.
Some have asked: “Can the virtue that is supremely balanced, supremely effica-
cious and supremely reliable only be attributed to the winter solstice and not to
anything else?” I answered: “There is no time when it is not so, and no entity that
does not exist within it.” From the operation of the three hundred and sixty to the
division of the twenty four, there is nothing that is not the flow of the winter solstice
and this is what is called ‘dynamic equilibrium’. However, this cannot be compared
with the winter solstice itself, and thus the sky and earth are set in motion again, um
and yang meet, activity and tranquility interact, the stars are configured, and the
swamps and fields become differentiated, obtaining their original positions, they all
become thoroughly organized. It is where all transformation begins, and is the
source of the myriad differences. This is the place where the great beginning of um
and yang is opened up and can be stringed together with oneness. In relation to
ourselves, it is the disposition to become ren 仁 and wise, and it is the way of doing
ones utmost on behalf of the other. There is nothing that is not the coherence of the
winter solstice. It swiftly exists within movement and tranquility, and is subtly pres-
ent in even the shortest moments. (Sŏ 2004: 208–213)
復其見天地之心說
古之聖賢於至皆嘗致意堯陳朞閏之數孔論天地之心程邵亦皆有說後之
學者須大段著力於至日上做工夫所得甚廣非如格一物致一知之比也若於一
物上十分格得破則亦見得至理顧於至日則所該廣大耳至日乃天地始回旋
陰陽初變化之日也故曰復其見天地之心乎先儒皆以靜見天地之心程子獨謂
動之端乃天地之心邵子則以動靜之間言之程邵立言有異初無二見皆就一
動靜兼陰陽之上而語之似邵指太極之體程謂太極之用也反本復靜坤之時也
坤之時也陽氣發動復之機也有無之極於此擬之而先後天之說從可知也易
所謂寂然不動感而遂通者謂此也庸所謂誠自成道自道者謂此也孟子所謂必
有事焉而勿正心勿忘勿助長亦於此而體之方天地淨洒洒玄酒之味淡大音
之聲希漠然虛靜若無所事一陽之復倏爾而躍其不自容己之妙是可見天地
之心也無改移者何謂也周天三百六十五度四分度之一朞歲三百六十五日四
分日之一至日候之以漏箭測之以臬表度與日之分恰周得本數若合符契未
嘗盈縮些一毫萬古常常如此可見其心之無改移也天地之中庸至善至信之德
於此而識之神易之無方體於此而見之日軌回南春輝北陸陽吹九地氣應黃
158 J. Y. Kim
宮可不謂之無方也乎晝夜改度寒暑相禪無一刻停留可不謂之無體也乎一

陰一陽之謂道繼之者善此語盡至日之理也一陰一陽一動一靜此本非兩事
只是天之一事陰陽一用動靜一機此所以流行循環不能自已者也或曰至中
至善至信之德只得於至日上語之其於他不得語之乎曰無時不然無物不有
三百六旬之運二十四氣之分無非至日之流行者所謂時中也然不比至日則天
地更始陰陽之際動靜之交辰宿之躔陸野之分皆得復其本位十分齊整者也
萬化之所自萬殊之所本此陰陽大頭臚處可以一貫之者也反於吾身仁智之
性忠恕之道無非至日之理暫於動靜微於瞬息
References
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Hwang, Kwanguk 황광욱. 2003. The Philosophy of Hwadam Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk 화담 서경덕의 철학
사상. Seoul: Tosŏch’ulp’an Shimsanmunhwa.
Pollard, David. 1978. “Ch’i in Chinese Literary Thought. In Adele Austin Rickett ed., Chinese
Approaches to Literature from Confucius to Liang Chi-chao. Princeton: Princeton University
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Sŏ, Kyŏngdŏk 서경덕. 1988. Selected Works of Hwadam 서화담 문선. Trans. Kim, Hakchu.
Seoul: Myŏngmundang.
Sŏ, Kyŏngdŏk 서경덕. 2004. Translated and Annotated Works of Hwadam 역주 화담집. Trans.
Hwang, Kwanguk. Seoul: Tosŏch’ulp’an Shimsanmunhwa.
Berleant, Arnold. 2005. “A Phenomenological Aesthetics of Environment.” In Aesthetics and
Environment. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company.
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Rickett ed., Chinese Approaches to Literature from Confucius to Liang Chi-chao. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
Chapter 7
Toegye: His Life, Learning and Times
Michael C. Kalton
1 Introduction: His Early Life
Yi Hwang 李滉 (1501–1570) was born of a relatively modest yangban lineage in the

village of Ongyeri, located near Andong in modern Gyeongsang Bukdo province,
about 200 kilometers southwest of Seoul. His courtesy name was first Gyeho 季浩
but later changed to Gyeongho 景浩. He is universally known, however, by the pen-
name he took from the site of his scholarly retreat in later years, Toegye 退溪. When
Toegye was only 7 months old his father died, leaving his mother to raise seven sons
and a daughter. The household eked out a meager existence by agriculture and seri-
culture, but the widow somehow put enough aside to see to the education of her
sons. Character deficiencies were commonly supposed in children raised without a
father, and she constantly exhorted hers that they must be outstanding in deportment
and conduct if they were to escape this stigma.
When he was 11 years old, Toegye went with his elder brother, Hae 瀣 (1496–
1550), to begin their classical education by studying the Analects with their father’s
brother, Yi U 李堣 (1469–1517). Their uncle, who had passed the civil service
examinations in 1498, was a stern teacher, but he had high praise for the talents of
his young nephews. Yi U had a reputation for poetry, and Toegye quickly developed
a deep and lifelong fondness for it; he was particularly attracted to the poetry of Tao
Yuanming 陶渊明 (365–427), the Chinese poet whose themes of rural retirement
and closeness to nature deeply resonated with his own inclinations.
Introspective and quiet by nature, Toegye loved reading and study. Even in these
early years he frequently would sit quietly facing the wall, absorbed in his reading
while those about him were socializing. At 19 he tackled the Book of Changes and
M. C. Kalton (*)
Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences, University of Washington, Tacoma (formerly), Tacoma,
Washington, USA
e-mail: mkalton@u.washington.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_7
160 M. C. Kalton
became so engrossed that “he almost forgot to eat and sleep.” This phrase is a
commonplace to describe becoming absorbed in one’s studies, but in this case the
conventional phrase was all too accurate: Toegye overdid it to such an extent that he
ruined his health and had to drastically curtail his studies for several years. He never
fully recovered, and through the remaining years of his long life ill-health was to be
a constant burden; later he continually cautioned his own serious young students
against repeating his mistake.
The Book of Changes was a perennial magnet for Confucians of a scholarly bent.
Open to various avenues and levels of interpretation, it could be read to reveal the
dynamic patterns of transformation from the sweep of cosmic process to the twists
and turns of local and personal histories. We do not know the particular motivations
that so engrossed the young Toegye in such study, but it is noteworthy that his
encounter with the Changes occurred shortly after the shocking purge in 1419 of Jo
Gwangjo 趙光祖 (1482–1519) and his group of idealistic young reformers. The
purge was the unexpected culmination of a four-year meteoric rise in which Jo and
his group saw that they actually had in their hands the opportunity to fashion a sage
ruler and achieve the kind of government idealized in the classics. In a slightly
larger perspective, however, it was the final convulsion in a troubled period that
began in the years shortly before Toegye’s birth, a period known to Korean histori-
ans as the “literati purges (sahwa/shi-huo 仕禍),” i.e. purges of the ranks of
Confucian scholar-officials or “literati.”1 The tumult of this period played itself out
in Toegye’s own career and left a definite stamp not only on his thought, but upon
what was to become known as the “sarim/shilin 仕林”2 mentality, the mindset of
morally-concerned Confucians of whom Toegye became an emblematic representa-
tive. As the context of his early formation and the background of his career, it is
worth looking at this period more closely.
2 The Literati Purges and the Rise of the Sarim Mentality
Confucian learning was in principle to be chiefly a matter of character formation. In

practice, of course, study for the civil service examinations often involved more
testable matters such as literary style and mastery of texts, and intense study often
bespoke personal or family ambitions more than engagement with profound moral
cultivation. Nonetheless the strong moral content of the tradition to which these
young students were exposed guaranteed likewise a current of idealism as well. As
students moved from the quiet scholarly retreats of the countryside to the busy
turmoil of public life, they renewed the ranks of idealistic dropouts occasioned by
periodic political crises such as the Sejo 世祖 Usurpation (1455). There was no
self-
conscious movement involved, but after a century largely devoted to
1
For a detailed account of the first three purges, see Wagner (1974).
2
Sarim, literally “forest of literati,” is a collective reference to scholar-officials, and in the Korean
context it takes on strong connotations of moral righteousness, or the body of morally upright
officials united in opposition to the corrupt.
7 Toegye: His Life, Learning and Times 161
institution-building, this process was gradually forming the moral idealism inherent
in Neo-Confucianism into a political force in Korea.
The means by which this current found voice and emerged as a distinctive politi-
cal force were the three government offices that shared the power of remonstrance:
the Office of the Inspector General (Saheonbu 司憲府), the Office of the Censor
General (Saganweon 司諫院), and the Office of Special Counselors (Hongmun’gwan
弘文館).3 The lower ranks of these offices were commonly filled with young men at
an early stage of their careers. They functioned as overseers of all aspects of royal,
official, and popular conduct and had a limited veto power over official appoint-
ments below the fourth rank.
Remonstrance, intended for the corrective guidance and restraint of both rulers
and officialdom, thus had an exceptionally strong institutional foundation in three
offices which could act in concert. In the aristocratic society of Korea the tradition
of kingship was not despotic, but rather that of first among equals, and this also
added to the possibility of remonstrative powers gaining a disproportionate role in
government.
King Seongjong 成宗 (r. 1469–1494) was strongly committed to the doctrine of
remonstrance and unusually tolerant of its practice. In this permissive atmosphere
the power of the remonstrating organs waxed, and use became abuse. Speaking with
the voice of unimpeachable moral authority, remonstrating officials became increas-
ingly dogmatic and inflexible when opposed to appointments or policies and
increasingly vehement in their criticism of senior officials. They were unwilling to
take no for an answer, continuing remonstrance on an issue for months on end and
vilifying their opponents as amoral and vicious men. Power tactics such as mass
resignations and even strikes by the politicized student body of the Confucian
Academy (Seonggyungwan 成均館) became increasingly common. Replacing one
roster of officials with another did little, for their replacements felt honor-bound to
maintain the same line.
Unfortunately, Seongjong’s successor, Yeonsan’gun 燕山君 (1495–1506) was
not only less tolerant, but also of delicate mental balance. After 3 years of running
battles with the censoring organs, in 1498 he learned that a scholar preparing the
draft of the official dynastic history had written in a vein critical of his grandfather’s
usurpation of the throne. He lashed out, executing or exiling over 30 men connected
with the school of Kim Jongjik 金宗直 (1431–1492), whose disciple had written the
offensive draft. The purge of 1495 was a symbolic warning shot: there was to be no
questioning or challenging of established authority.
The message, if understood, went unheeded. Remonstrance continued as
Yeonsangun slipped further and further into extravagance, sensuality, and paranoia.
In 1504, when Toegye was yet an infant, the dam finally burst: the official world was
plunged into a bloodbath. For over a year a series of investigations visited death or
beatings and exile upon anyone high or low who had been connected with “improper”
remonstrance or comment; gossip was a crime worthy of death. Government
3
I have followed the translation of government posts and offices established by Wagner, compre-
hensively listed in Wagner (1974): Appendix A, 125–133.
162 M. C. Kalton
p ersonnel were forbidden to visit with one another; finally the paranoid king for-
bade officials to visit anyone at all but their parents.
Such madness could not continue indefinitely; finally, toward the end of 1506,
high officials organized the almost bloodless coup that put King Jungjong 中宗 (r.
1507–1544) on the throne. For this deed they became Jungjong’s merit subjects, and
so stood to continue in powerful positions; at the same time they were vulnerable,
tainted by having served in high office under Yeonsangun. Further, because of the
insane excess of his predecessor’s attempt to repress all criticism, Jungjong had to
legitimize himself by strongly supporting Confucian moralism and remonstrance.
In effect, a new clash was all but inevitable.
The atmosphere of a Neo-Confucian revival or restoration that prevailed in the
first decade of Jungjong’s reign—the years in which Toegye began studying with his
uncle—fueled the fires of moralistic idealism; the sarim now became a fully self-
conscious movement. At its head was the charismatic and brilliant young Jo
Gwangjo (1482–1519). He entered office first in 1515; his learning and force of
character completely won Jungjong’s confidence and in 4 years he advanced from
senior sixth rank to junior second, an unprecedented rise that brought him to the
pinnacle of political influence and power. He used this influence to advance like-
minded idealistic young officials, and together they set about a thorough program of
renovation and reform.
Momentum was now completely with the sarim. Jo and his group firmly believed
that Korea was on the verge of attaining once more the legendary perfection of the
age of China’s sage rulers, Yao and Shun. The Village Contract4 system was set up
to regulate and moralize the populace, and austere regulations restrained official-
dom: no more wearing of silk robes, no more female entertainers. Earnest young
Neo-Confucians prolonged the Royal Lectures into the wee small hours with end-
less moral preachments to the king. For a brief period the morally serious, self-
cultivation-oriented form of Neo-Confucianism became a popular movement.
The perfection was not to be. Jo Gwangjo, and even more, his enthusiastic and
uncompromising young followers, pushed too far too fast, alienating conservative
opinion and making enemies of powerful figures who feared their criticism.
Jungjong became surfeited with moralizing, and Jo’s enemies skillfully planted in
his mind fears that a movement was afoot to put Jo on the throne. Worse, Jo’s group
again began using the unyielding power tactics of remonstrance that threatened to
hamstring royal authority. Their final mistake was to force a bitterly opposed
Jungjong to delete almost three-quarters of the names on the merit roster of those
responsible for his enthronement.
4
Village Contracts (hyangyak/xiangyue 鄕約) are said to have been originated in China by Lu
Dajun (1031–1082), but it was Zhu Xi who further developed and championed this institution.
They were pacts made by local communities and enforced through community-based organiza-
tions designed to order conduct in the various aspects of village life, with Confucian morality and
values furnishing the essential structure and content.
A few days later the purge began: denounced for cliquism, Jo and his closest
associates were condemned to death. A wave of protest from all levels of o fficialdom
resulted in temporary mitigation to beating and banishment, but the plotters of Jo’s
downfall now had the king’s full support. The censoring organs were soon filled
with opponents of the Jo group, and as the atmosphere became more hostile
Jungjong repented his leniency and had Jo commit suicide. In the course of the next
2 years virtually all those associated with Jo’s group were purged from the govern-
ment and their reforms and innovations were rescinded. The kind of Neo-Confucian
learning they represented was under a cloud, and a more pragmatic and conven-
tional group of senior officials resumed control.
Jo Gwangjo failed politically, but his martyrdom made him a permanent symbol
of sarim values and commitment to the true Way. With his downfall the sarim move-
ment was for a time eclipsed, only to emerge half a century later finally victorious.
Then, however, it was not the sarim as a political movement, but rather the sarim
mentality itself that won general acceptance as the indisputable orthodox core of
genuine Confucianism. This became clear as a mature grasp of the Cheng-Zhu
vision in its interlinked intellectual and ascetical dimensions emerged in the Korean
world. The central figure in this development was Yi Hwang (Toegye).
Toegye had no direct connection with Jo Gwangjo or members of his group, but
he is nonetheless considered Jo’s spiritual heir. His immense learning reconstructed
for the first time the complete edifice of Cheng-Zhu thought5 on the peninsula, and
at the center of that edifice stands the profound moral concern and emphasis on self-
cultivation that was the sarim hallmark. In Toegye’s legacy this orientation is so
thoroughly worked out in relation to all the elements of Zhu Xi’s teaching that its
rightful place was henceforth beyond question.
The events we have described in the foregoing pages set the milieu of Toegye’s
life. The period of his early childhood coincided with the debacle of the Yeonsangun’s
final purge. He was in his teens when the resurgent sarim movement became the
center of attention and hopes, and just beginning serious involvement in Neo-
Confucian learning when Jo Gwangjo was purged. Most of his active career as an
official was under King Jungjong, who reigned until 1544. These circumstances, as
we shall see, strongly affected the development of Toegye’s life and thought.
5
Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) is considered the great synthesizer who selected and united the various
currents of the Song dynasty Confucian revival into a coherent and powerful system of thought and
spiritual cultivation. The brothers Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–
1107) were prominent among his sources, hence the designation of his school of thought as the
“Cheng-Zhu” school. This was the body of thought considered “orthodox” in that it was the refer-
ence point for the civil service examinations. Korea is noteworthy for its almost exclusive adher-
ence to the Cheng-Zhu school, while in China during the Ming dynasty the Lu-Wang school
championed by Wang Yangming 王陽明 (1472–1529) rose to great popularity.
164 M. C. Kalton
3 Toegye’s Career in Office
In the aftermath of the purge of 1419, the kind of self-cultivation orientation repre-
sented by Jo fell into disrepute. In 1523 Toegye directly experienced the debilitating
effects of the purge when he entered the Confucian Academy, Seonggyungwan. His
fellow students were unruly and little interested in serious study. Toegye, who pre-
sented a marked contrast in both respects, was made an object of mockery. Before
long he returned home.
In 1527 and 1528 he passed the two lower level civil service examinations. This
was enough to maintain the family’s tradition of learning; he had no intention of
going on to take the final examinations which led to an official career. His brother
Hae, however, had passed the final exams in 1528 and embarked upon an official
career, and he now prevailed upon his mother to persuade his younger brother to do
the same. Toegye could not refuse: in 1534 he placed second in the exams and
entered government service.
For most of the next 15 years Toegye served in office, rising gradually to a posi-
tion of Junior Third Rank. In general he was appointed to the ministries concerned
with drafting royal documents, compiling dynastic history, or composing docu-
ments addressed to the Ming court, that is, the kinds of position that utilized his
scholarly and literary talents. As he describes his life during this period, “I was
immersed in the dusty world without a day’s leisure, and there is nothing else worth
mentioning (Yi H 1958a: A [10] 2b, Letter to Jo Geonjung 曹楗仲).”
During this period Toegye established a reputation as a conscientious official and
a man of integrity, but in general did not attract much attention. He began his career
somewhat under a cloud by refusing an invitation to visit the corrupt but powerful
Kim An-ro 金安老 (1481–1537). In 1542 he was responsible for the impeachment
of a high official whose corruption he discovered on a provincial tour as a royal
inspector. In 1545 he stood almost alone in memorializing in favor of accepting
proffered peace overtures from the Japanese, rightly assessing the potential for
disaster from those quarters.6 Such instances reflect his consistent courage and
integrity, but they were exceptional moments in a routine life of bureaucratic chores
that was not particularly noteworthy.
In any case, it was not a period in which an idealist could hope to accomplish
much. The decades that followed the downfall of Jo Gwangjo were characterized by
a dreary succession of power brokers, each dominating the scene for a few years
before being supplanted by another in the constant maneuvering for power. The
fervent self-cultivation orientation symbolized by Jo was viewed with suspicion,
and men like Toegye were well-advised to keep a low profile. Within a few decades
he was to become famous as the foremost scholar of Cheng-Zhu thought and as an
outstanding representative of the School of the Way (Dohak/Daoxue 道學),7 but
6
In 1592 and again in 1597 Korea was devastated by large-scale Japanese invasions that were
finally beaten off only with the assistance of Ming armies.
7
Dohak was a term for the morally earnest, self-cultivation oriented current of Neo-Confucianism,
in contrast with the kind of learning aimed at the civil service exams and advancing to high office.
during this period, as a disciple remarked, “even his friends did not yet realize he
was a Confucian of the School of the Way” (Yi H 1958b [6] 18a, Letter to Pak Sun
朴淳) and another comments that most thought of him primarily as a poet (Yi H
1958b [6] 15a, Letter to Jeong Yuil 鄭惟一).
In 1539 the oppressive political atmosphere began to change and sarim figures
again found their way into government. But the clouds soon began to gather as rival
factions gathered around the uncles of Jungjong’s two potential heirs. Jungjong died
in 1544, and was succeeded by Injong 仁宗 (r. 1544–1545), but Injong died after
only 8 months and was succeeded by Myeongjong 明宗 (r. 1546–1566). This rever-
sal brought on the final literati purges of 1545 and 1546, for the majority of the
literati had been arrayed with the Injong faction against the faction of Myeongjong’s
uncle, Yun Weonhyeong 尹元衡 (1509–1565). Myeongjong was just a boy when he
ascended the throne, and Yun and his faction dominated the political scene for the
next 20 years.
Yun’s consolidation of power was swift and ruthless. Toegye’s name was on the
list of those to be dismissed from office in the 1545 purge, but was removed when
someone in Yun’s faction defended him: to dismiss a conscientious official who kept
as far from factional politicking as Toegye would have undercut the plausibility of
charges being brought against others. The aftermath of the purge touched him pain-
fully, however, when in 1550 his brother Hae was sentenced to beating and exile, but
died from the severity of the beating.
Even before that Toegye was already preparing an exit from public life. In 1548
and 1549 he had obtained posts as magistrate of Danyang and Punggi counties, from
whence he planned to move into full retirement. In 1549, after three resignation
requests sent to the province governor went unanswered, Toegye finally packed up
his bags and left his post without permission. The result was a reprimand and a two
grade reduction in rank, but that meant little. Toegye had never really desired an
official career, and now his longing for an opportunity to immerse himself in study,
coupled with a strong distaste for the political climate, overrode all other consider-
ations. His period of scholarly retirement had begun.
In fact, the scholarship that was to bring him fame was a late accomplishment,
beginning in earnest with his years of retirement after 1549. His love of learning
was constant, but the circumstances of his life and time had deprived him of the
opportunity for teachers or intercourse with learned friends. Then in 1543 the Zhuzi
dachuan (朱子大全 Zhu Xi’s Complete Works) was finally printed in Korea. Toegye
had not previously known such a work existed, and now burned with a desire to
immerse himself in its study. His resolve to resign from public life dated from this
time. One can see the caste of his hopes at this point reflected in a letter he wrote the
governor of Punggi county seeking a royal charter and support for a recently founded
private academy—an institution common in China but new to Korea:
What could they get from the private academies? Why were they so honored by China?
Scholars who dwell in retirement in order to pursue their resolve, the group of those who
investigate the Dao and verse themselves in learning, frequently become fed up with the
world’s noisy wrangling and pack up their books and escape to the broad and relaxed coun-
tryside or the quiet solitude of the seashore, where they can sing and recite[verses on] the
166 M. C. Kalton
Dao of the former sage kings, or be quiet and look into the moral principle of the world in
order to nurture their virtue and ripen their humanity, regarding this as their pleasure.
Therefore they are pleased to go to a private academy. They see that the national academies
and district schools are located within the walls of the capital or local towns; on the one
hand these [schools] are encumbered with the restrictions and obstacles of school regula-
tions, and on the other they present temptations to turn toward other things. How could their
effectiveness be compared with [the private academies]! Considered in this light, it is not
only scholars’ pursuit of learning which is strengthened by private academies; the nation’s
attainment of wise and talented men [to serve in government] will certainly by this means
far surpass what could be accomplished through those [national and district schools]. (Yi H
1958a: A [9] 5b)
This was exactly the kind of life of study, reflection, and cultivation Toegye
sought in retiring from the active life of service in office. Students quickly gathered
about him at the retreat he had prepared at Togye 兎溪 (renamed Toegye 退溪), a
stream not far from his birthplace. Thus he soon outgrew that retreat, and built
another with more ample quarters for students on Dosan, a neighboring mountain,
where he moved in 1561.
He was not allowed to simply retire and immerse himself in his studies and
teaching, however. Throughout the 21 years of his retirement period he was hounded
by a series of appointments that rose in rank as his reputation grew. During these
years he wrote some 53 documents either resigning from or refusing official appoint-
ments. From 1552–1555 he was again in office, and again served for 5 months in
1558. Myeongjong’s uncle finally fell from power in 1565 and Toegye’s friends and
disciples soon began to fill the government and exert pressure for his return. He
returned in 1567, but the king died just 3 days after Toegye arrived at Seoul. Hearing
reports that his friends were urging the young successor, Seonjo 宣祖 (r. 1567–
1607) to appoint him Prime Minister,8 he fled the capital without notice or leave,
even before the final rites for Myeongjong had been completed, a serious breach of
propriety that caused much comment. Pressure continued, however, and he returned
to accept a position in the Royal Lectures. His stay of 8 months produced two
famous documents, the Six Section Memorial advising the young ruler on funda-
mental matters of conduct and policy, and the Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning, a
summation of Neo-Confucian learning proffered to the king on the eve of Toegye’s
return to retirement. These, famous respectively as his last political and intellectual
testaments, were subsequently often published bound together as the epitome of his
learning.
Toegye returned to Dosan in very ill health, but continued his study and teaching
during the year left to him. He died in the last month of 1570, sitting up in bed,
peaceful and alert to the very end.
8
This is the reason his disciple Kim Seongil (金誠一) offers for Toegye’s precipitous departure (Yi
H 1958b [3] 12a); although it is not mentioned elsewhere, it is a plausible explanation of an act
otherwise quite at odds with Toegye’s character.
4 Toegye’s Learning
The literati purges of Toegye’s childhood and youth effectively destroyed the spiri-
tual and intellectual milieu which would have furnished the indigenous roots of his
learning. He himself states that in his formative years he had no teachers or intel-
lectual friends (Yi H 1958b [1] 2a). The sarim movement may have deeply affected
his general orientation, but its representatives were purged and their writings
destroyed. The intense fervor with which he immersed himself in Zhu Xi’s Complete
Works when it became available to him in middle age was fueled by the frustration
of years he felt to be sterile. In the thousands of pages of Zhu Xi’s correspondence
he finally found the kind of guidance and dialogue that addressed his own questions
and doubts. Having no teacher, Zhu Xi became his master, and the absolute respect
and reverence he held for Zhu Xi was but a reflection of what he experienced as a
direct and personal master-disciple relationship.
Toegye did not grow up with access to broad collections of Neo-Confucian
works, but a few that he did manage to obtain left a deep impression on him.
Undoubtedly the most important of these was the Xinjing (Simgyeong 心經) or
Classic of the Mind-and-Heart by Zhen Dexiu 眞德秀 (1178–1235),9 a leading
scholar of the late Song period. This work, a collection of passages dealing with
self-cultivation compiled from classical and major Song Neo-Confucian sources,
circulated in Korea in a greatly expanded version, the Xinjing fu-zhu 心經附註
(Classic of the Mind-and-Heart Supplemented and Annotated), by the Ming scholar,
Cheng Minzheng 程敏政 (1445–1499). Toegye obtained a copy sometime in his
early twenties, and it became his constant and daily reading matter to the end of his
life. Although it was later lost in China, Toegye’s love for this work helped it attain
a permanent and important place in the Korean Neo-Confucian world, where it went
through some 25 printings from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries.
The Classic of the Mind-and-Heart is a crystallization of Cheng-Zhu thought
dealing with personal self-cultivation, an aspect often called xinxue (simhak 心學),
“the learning of the mind-and-heart,” or xinfa (simbeop 心法), “the system of the
mind-and-heart.” It deals almost exclusively with the inward cultivation of the spiri-
tual life, and emphasizes above all jing (gyeong 敬), “mindfulness,”10 as the central
practice of all self-cultivation. The last five chapters of the Ten Diagrams are devoted
to various aspects of the learning of the mind-and-heart and Toegye deliberately
makes mindfulness the central theme of the whole work, a clear reflection of .the
lasting impression of Chen’s Classic on his thought. In his later reading of Zhu Xi’s
works, Toegye likewise continued to make these themes the special object of his
attention, leading him to value Zhu’s letters as the central portion of his opus.
9
Zhen Dexiu was one of the key figures in the transmission of Zhu Xi’s learning. His best known
work, the Daxue yanyi 大學衍義 (Extended Meaning of the Great Learning), became a constant
fixture in the education of rulers in China and Korea. For an excellent discussion of Zhen Dexiu,
the Extended Meaning, and the Classic of the Mind-and-Heart, see DeBary 1981: 67–126.
10
See discussion below in Sect. 6 on Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning.
168 M. C. Kalton
The centrality of these matters is well-substantiated in Zhu Xi’s own writings.

But the Classic devotes little attention to study, “the investigation of principle,” the
external inquiry that must balance and complement internal asceticism in Zhu Xi’s
approach to self-cultivation. Cheng Minzheng’s preface explains this one-sided
emphasis as Zhen Dexiu’s deliberate attempt to correct the scholastic intellectual-
ism that had arisen among Zhu Xi’s followers. Toegye accepted this view whole-
heartedly and constantly warned against separating study from its mooring in
self-cultivation and making intellectual concerns an end in themselves.
But Cheng Minzheng went further, suggesting in an annotation that late in life
Zhu Xi repented his earlier emphasis on the role of study in the self-cultivation
process (Cheng 1794 [4] 28b). Toward the end of Toegye’s life certain flaws in
Cheng’s character became known and this passage was recognized as an effort to
steer Zhu Xi’s school toward a rapprochement with the Lu-Wang approach. This
deeply distressed Toegye, but he was unwilling to reject the Classic. Instead, he
wrote an epilogue to explain the error and redress the balance. This epilogue was
published in all subsequent Korean editions, making this popular work, in effect, a
part of the bulwark protecting Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy from the penetration of the
Lu-Wang school into the peninsula.
Another important influence in Toegye’s early years was the Xingli daquan 性理
大全 (Great Compendium of Neo-Confucianism),11 an encyclopedic compendium
of the discussions of Song and Yuan Neo-Confucians topically arranged to cover the
most fundamental works, concepts, and issues in the Cheng-Zhu tradition.
Containing extensive quotations from over 100 authors, it was a predigested refer-
ence library that was of major importance in fixing the orthodox parameters and
reference points of Neo-Confucian thought in both China and Korea.
Toegye later became thoroughly familiar with this work; references to it are scat-
tered throughout his correspondence with his students and most of the quotes in the
Ten Diagrams of authorities other than Zhu Xi and the Cheng brothers can be traced
to its pages. But in his early years he possessed only the first and last of its 70 fas-
cicles, which he obtained when he was 19 years old. The first, containing the
Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu 太極圖), together with Zhu Xi’s com-
mentary and extensive additional comments, was of special importance, for it pro-
vided him with a fundamental grounding in Neo-Confucian metaphysics. He later
told his students that it was this that first really opened his eyes and provided him
his point of entry to the Way (Yi H 1958b [1] 1b). Although some looked askance at
introducing young students to such “lofty” matters, he regarded it as so fundamental
that it figured prominently in his lectures to his students, and he made it the subject
of the first chapter of the Ten Diagrams.
Those familiar with the system of Cheng-Zhu thought will find this quite unex-
ceptional, even basic. But there is little indication that Neo-Confucian intellectual-
ity was securely integrated with the ascetical, self-cultivation aspects of the tradition
11
The Xingli daquan was the product of a large compilation project carried out under imperial
auspices directed by Hu Guang 胡廣 (1370–1418). First published in 1415, the Ming emperor had
it presented to the Korean ruler in 1426.
that had occupied the sarim; one of Toegye’s most important contributions was to
make this systematic integration of the Cheng-Zhu vision henceforth a
commonplace.
The third work that was of decisive importance to Toegye’s formation has already
been mentioned: the Zhuzi daquan (The Complete Works of Zhu Xi), which he dis-
covered only in his forty-third year. The study of this work became his consuming
interest, and at every opportunity he shut himself away to pour over it. About one-
third of its 120 fascicles are made up of Zhu Xi’s voluminous correspondence; this
portion he read and reread so often that his disciples several times had to replace his
worn-out copies with new ones. He absorbed the ideas, attitudes, and phraseology
of the letters until they became virtually second nature to him, constantly echoed in
his own discourse. In the words of a disciple, “he employed them [as naturally as]
the grasping of the hand, the stepping of the foot, the hearing of the ear, or the seeing
of the eye” (Yi H 1958b [1] 5a).
The letters are an invaluable source for understanding the history and develop-
ment of Zhu Xi’s ideas, but for Toegye this was not their main import. Self-
cultivation, not theory, was ever the center of his concern, and he prized the letters
because they offered a personal encounter with a master spiritual director whose
response and advice was unfailingly appropriate to the many circumstances, person-
alities, and spiritual/intellectual levels of those he addressed.12 In the letters he
sought out not so much the theoretical system as the mind and spirit of Zhu Xi, and
it is this that enabled him to recreate Zhu Xi’s vision with rare accuracy and
balance.
From 1549 until his death in 1570 Toegye’s life in the main was devoted to study,
writing, and teaching the ever-growing number of disciples who sought him out. In
spite of continual problems with his health, his output during these years was
prodigious.
Toegye’s intense involvement with Zhu Xi’s letters is reflected in his first major
work, a recension of the letters, the Juja seo jeoryeo (朱子書節要 The Essentials of
Zhu Xi’s Correspondence). It is a selection of about one-third of the original corpus
of Zhu Xi’s letters, emphasizing particularly his discussions of matters related to
self-cultivation.
Toegye’s second work relates to his early interest in the Book of Changes. He had
great respect for Zhu Xi’s analysis of this work, found in his Zhou yi ben i 周易本
義 (Fundamental Meaning of the Book of Changes), and his Ixue qimeng 易學啟
蒙 (Instruction for Beginners on the Study of the Changes). The complex and
obscure emblematic and numerological interpretation found in the latter work, how-
ever, left him with many questions. Over the years he pondered these and searched
the ancient sources of this tradition of interpretation to discover the origins of Zhu
Xi’s comments or shed further light on obscure points. In 1557 he arranged the
hundreds of pages of notes he had accumulated on this, producing the Kyemong
jeonui 啟蒙傳疑 (Problems Relating to the Qimeng).
See Toegye’s remarks in his preface to his recension of Zhu Xi’s letters, the Juja seo jeoryo (The
12
Essentials of Chu His’s Letters) Yi H 1975.

170 M. C. Kalton
In 1559 he began the massive task of compiling a record of everyone involved in

the transmission of Zhu Xi’s learning. The result was the Songgye Weon Myeong
ihak tongnok 宋季元明理學通錄 (Comprehensive Record of Southern Song, Yuan,
and Ming Neo-Confucianism). In ten fascicles he passes in review some 517 per-
sons, recording the available data on their biographies and the character of their
learning. It is an invaluable historical source, but Toegye’s motivation, as indicated
in his introductory remarks, was not merely to preserve the historical record, but
rather to make the essence of the true Way apparent through the record of the twists
and turns, depths and shallows of its actual historical transmission down from Zhu
Xi (Yi H 1958b: B 3a). The sense of responsibility for preserving the true Way was
heightened by the spectacle of the rising tide of Wang Yangming’s popularity in
China, and Toegye directly addressed the problem in several influential essays
attacking Wang (Yi H 1958a: A [41] 23b–35b) and his forerunner, Chen Xien-zhang
陳獻章 (1428–1500) (Yi H 1958a: A [41] 29b–35a). Toegye’s concern with defend-
ing and transmitting the imperiled Way was inherited by his students and contrib-
uted greatly to making Korea a self-conscious bastion of Cheng-Zhu orthodoxy.
In 1559 Toegye also became involved in what was to become the most celebrated
and important controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian history: the “Four-Seven
Debate,” which he carried on in correspondence with Gi Daeseong 奇大升 (pen-
name Gobong 高峰 1527–1572).13 In this debate he broke new ground in the meta-
physically based psychological theory of the Cheng-Zhu school and launched a
theory that was to divide the Korean intellectual world and set the intellectual
agenda for generations to come. It is more fully discussed below. The correspon-
dence relating to the debate is unmatched in its quality of argumentation, clarity of
focus, and level of mutual understanding.
Mention must also be made of Toegye’s extensive correspondence, which fills 36
fascicles of his Complete Works (Toegye Jeonseo 退溪全書). As is the case with
Zhu Xi, whom he was undoubtedly emulating, in the letters one gets a full view of
Toegye as a teacher, guide, and friend; they are the best resource for assessing not
only the intellectual, but the personal and human quality of his learning. He himself
collected those he considered especially important—less than 100 in all—into a
separate compilation, the Jaseongnok 自省錄 (Record for Self-Reflection).
The Seonghak sipdo 聖學十圖 (Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning)14 is Toegye’s
last great work, and of all his writings it has perhaps been the best known and most
popular. It went through some 29 printings during the Yi dynasty, and now circulates
in at least three modern Korean translations. Generally regarded as expressing the
essence of Toegye’s learning, it is at once profound and fundamental. Generations
of students have appreciated the clarity with which this brief work presents the
13
Gi’s courtesy name was Myeongeon 明彦 and his pen-name was Gobong 高峰. He passed the
civil service examinations in 1558. One of the best minds and most broadly and deeply learned of
his generation, he became a leading exponent of sarim concerns at court. He served as Headmaster
of the Confucian Academy and Censor General, but his promising career was cut short by illness
and he died just 2 years after Toegye.
14
For an annotated English translation, see Kalton 1988.
essential framework and basic linkages of Neo-Confucian metaphysics, psychologi-

cal theory, and ascetical practice. Mature scholars returned to it continually for the
subtlety, balance, and soundness of this integral presentation of the vision by which
they lived.
The Ten Diagrams is indeed a summation of what Toegye thought it essential to
understand about the nature of existence and the consequent appropriate path for
human life and self cultivation. He composed it in 1568. Worn out and ill, he could
not continue to instruct the young king Seonjo 宣祖 (r. 1567–1608), and the Ten
Diagrams was his substitute for the teaching he could no longer offer in person. Its
composition expresses the learning of a lifetime. The old teacher carefully arranged
and ordered materials he had long used in his teaching and personal life, weaving
them together to encompass the scope of a learning by then self-evident to him.
Given the importance of the Four Seven Debate in the history of Korean Neo-
Confucian thought, and the status of the Ten Diagrams as the final summation of
Toegye’s appropriation of Cheng-Zhu learning and cultivation, it will be fitting to
conclude this review of Toegye’s life and work with a closer consideration of each.
The Four-Seven Debate involved issues embedded in the core formulation of theory
and practice in the orthodox Cheng-Zhu school of Neo-Confucian thought.15 In the
Cheng-Zhu synthesis, i and gi are the fundamental components of all existence. I/li
理, much like the traditional notion of dao 道, is the source of patterned regularity
and guidance in the world, while gi/qi 氣 is the materializing, energizing compo-
nent, the source of the physicality and individuality of all creatures. I and gi are
viewed as “inseparable but not admixed,” a dualistic monism in which all the diverse
patterning of existence has a single source, but the concrete multiplicity of the phys-
ical world is also real. The singleness-but-diverse-manifestation of i accounts for
the appropriate harmonious fit, not only of all creatures, but also of the inborn
responsive dispositions of their natures and the ever-changing but patterned situa-
tions of the external world. Gi, as the physical energizer and carrier of the feelings
which emerge and shape our responses to that world, due to its varied degrees of
“turbidity,” can also introduce distortions into the issuance of our responses. In sum,
in terms of i we are constituted to respond like sages with spontaneous appropriate-
ness to every situation, but that perfection is subject to the variable clarity or turbid-
ity of our actual mental-physical energy.
This monistic dualism of i and gi provides a nice explanation of the way we
experience the differing effects of calm and clarity versus turmoil and upset in our
ability to respond appropriately in various situations. And of equal importance, it
framed an approach to cultivation of the inner life of the mind-and-heart, whereby a
For an English translation of the debate correspondence between Toegye and Gobong, and
15
between Yulgok and Ugye in the second round of the debate, see Kalton et al. 1994.
172 M. C. Kalton
combination of meditative quiet and centering combined with a method of main-

taining self-possession and an attentive focus on the matter at hand in activities
might clarify distorting turbidity and even finally lead to the spontaneous appropri-
ateness of the sage. So more than just a metaphysical theory, the delicate dualistic-
monism of i and gi entered into the everyday self-understanding of Neo-Confucians
intent on the project of self-cultivation.
The broad strokes of the orthodox formulation of i and gi cover over ambiguities
that emerge if close consideration is given to the origination of various sorts of feel-
ings. Long Confucian tradition going back to Mencius identified four inborn dispo-
sitions, the Four Beginnings (sa dan/si duan 四端), as inherently appropriate
tendencies which, with proper nurture and cultivation, would flower into the full
expression of our humanity (Mencius 2A6). Another list of feelings, the “Seven
Feelings (chil jeong/qi qing 七情),” appeared in the ninth chapter of the classic
Book of Rites. This list included feelings such as fear, anger, desire, and pleasure,
and tradition identified these as typifying the kind of feelings that, although they
have their place, call for careful discernment as they may easily go astray. How,
then, does the origination of such different sorts of feelings relate to the i and gi
components of our composite minds-and-hearts?
In 1553 Toegye had suggested the sentences, “The Four Beginnings are the issu-
ance of principle (i); the Seven Feelings are the issuance of material force (gi),” as
a way to emend a somewhat more baldly dualistic statement in the work of another
scholar. The tendency to align the reliably appropriate and the more dubious feel-
ings with i and gi respectively was commonplace and unremarkable at the time, but
Toegye heard a young scholar, Gobong (Gi Daeseong) was critical of the statement.
In 1559 he wrote Gobong a short letter suggesting a slight emendation of the state-
ment. Gobong replied with a more detailed three page letter laying out what he saw
as the problem of making this kind of differentiation in the necessarily conjoint
issuance of i and gi. This opened up the issue that was to become the hallmark of
Korean Neo-Confucian thought. Toegye now addressed the issue with much more
consideration, sending Gobong an 8-page letter laying out the grounds for making
such a distinction. Gobong responded with a 42-page line-by-line critique of
Toegye’s letter. Toegye responded by redrafting his letter to take account of
Gobong’s points, and then added 46 pages of point-by-point response to Gobong’s
lengthy analysis. In the course of his reply, Toegye formulated the origination of
kinds of feelings in the phrases ever after used to summarize his position: “In the
case of the Four, principle issues them and material force follows it, while in the
case of the Seven material force issues them and principle mounts it” (Yi H 1958a:
A [16] 32a). Gobong wrote a lengthy reply reviewing points of agreement and
remaining points of significant difference, but Toegye politely declined to pursue
the matter further. Three or 4 years later Gobong wrote a general summary which,
in spite of lingering differences, seemed in general agreement with Toegye’s
position.
This protracted interchange of correspondence passed in review the entire heri-
tage of authoritative statements dealing with i and gi in the compound dynamics of
the mind-and-heart. The continuity of the discourse, the complexity, detail, and
careful process of point-by-point argumentation, reasoned agreement and disagree-

ment, and development and modification of initial positions is virtually unparalleled
in Neo-Confucian literature. Their correspondence on the issue was bound together
and circulated widely, setting the scene for the next round of the debate. Shortly
after the death of Gobong in 1572, the issue was taken up anew in a series of letters
between Yi I 李耳 (pen-name Yulgok 栗谷 1536–1584) and his friend Seong Hon
成渾 (pen-name Ugye 牛溪 1535–1598).
Yulgok is often paired with Toegye as the two outstanding representatives of
Korean Neo-Confucian thought. While Toegye’s thought is deeply grounded and
centered in the practical project of spiritual self-cultivation, Yulgok is perhaps the
most brilliant theoretician the tradition produced. As such he took up Gobong’s side
of the question and carried it further, arguing for the invarying complementarity of
i and gi in the function of the mind-and-heart and carrying it further by his clear
exposition of its place and continuity with the whole fabric of the Cheng-Zhu
synthesis.
In the Four-Seven debate the issues ultimately go back to the Mencius and what
becomes of his fundamental insights when refracted through the conceptual frame-
work that understands the dynamism of the mind-and-heart as a product com-
pounded of i and gi. Mencius, in arguing for the fundamental goodness of human
beings, elaborated the idea of an Original Nature (bon seong, ben xing 本性), an
inborn set of dispositions (sa dan, si duan 四端, the Four Beginnings) that, when
cultivated and nurtured, would lead to personal and social flourishing. He likened
the sorry condition of conduct in his contemporary society to the state of a mountain
once verdant but denuded by the persistent grazing of animals and axes of woodcut-
ters from a nearby town. At night a healing force would try to revive the vegetation,
but day after day of heavy pressure finally wore it down, and people thought it was
always like that. So to with people, originally life-giving social creatures, but bent
out of shape by daily interactions in a milieu promoting self-interest. After a night’s
rest their dispositions would again become “almost human,” but then undergo the
corrosion of another day, until finally their fundamental life-giving nature is no
longer evident. But that, he said, is not their Original Nature (Mencius 6A8). This
vision of a life-giving dynamic entered deeply into the subsequent development of
the Confucian tradition. The Han dynasty developed it into an understanding of the
patterned development of life cycled through the four seasons and likewise pat-
terned into the Four Beginnings in the Original Nature of humans. And as we have
seen, Neo-Confucians took this a step further formulating the patterning principle
as i and matching it with a gi materializing-energizing component.
This formulation, then, stands at the heart of Confucian understanding of both
human cultivation and the larger framework of the life-giving nature of the universe
and our place in it. The two projects, understanding the universe and understanding
how to cultivate our human endowments are intimately related but not exactly the
same. With Toegye and Yulgok and the Four-Seven Debate, the Korean Neo-
Confucian tradition was set on track to examine the depths and the tensions in the
grand Cheng-Zhu synthesis of these projects in an inquiry which persisted for cen-
turies. Not surprisingly, the inquiry leads to no simple final resolution, for what
174 M. C. Kalton
satisfies one side of this dual project poses questions for the other and vice-versa.
We learn by never letting the question rest.
Toegye’s contribution to this on-going discussion was his underscoring of the
cultivation perspective. In that light, the important thing about the Original Nature
and the Four Beginnings is their reality as a palpable dynamism that can be clarified,
cultivated, and strengthened. In the course of his debate with Gobong, Toegye gave
ground in conceding or enunciating more clearly the interdependence and mutuality
of i and gi in the dynamic origination of all feelings. But he held out for a differen-
tiation, for a version of the Four Beginnings that had the kind of self-assertive dyna-
mism Mencius saw in the restorative character of the unimpeded quiet of the night.
These life-giving dispositions are in spiritual practice a concretely different dynamic
from the more self-oriented and easily disordered dispositions surrounding self-
maintenance. Both are products of patterning i, both are potentially life-giving, but
they are not the same. This was what led Toegye to his signature distinction of two
kinds of function of i in the origination of feelings, one in which it is a leading factor
(the Four Beginnings), one in which the constraint due to its interdependence gi
plays a larger role. While this is hard to reconcile with the strict complementarity of
i and gi, it preserves the dynamic nature of an inborn life-givingness that Mencius
saw in both the natural world and in the depths of human nature.
6 Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning
“Sage learning (seonghak, shengxue 聖學)” is a term frequently used in a genre of

NeoConfucian literature designed for the instruction of rulers. Its usage reflects the
particular duty of the ruler to learn from and model himself after the ideal sage rul-
ers of the past. The circumstances of its origin clearly place the Ten Diagrams on
Sage Learning (Seonghak sipdo 聖學十圖) within this provenance. This fact is
somewhat misleading, however, for as Toegye himself says, when it comes to ques-
tions of learning and self-cultivation, there is no essential difference between the
ruler and everyman (Yi H 1958a: A [7] 22a). The king needs particular kinds of
knowledge to govern, but Confucians traditionally considered the essential learning
for all government to be the cultivation of oneself as a full and proper human being,
and it is to this that the Ten Diagrams is addressed.
While it traditionally belonged to the learning of rulers, the “sage learning”
phrase also had a particular place in the new kind of learning developed by Neo-
Confucians. In a famous passage in his Tong Shu (通書), in a chapter itself entitled
“Sage Learning,” Zhou Dun-I 周敦頤16 put the question, “Can one learn to become
a sage?” He answered with a resounding “Yes!” and set out to explain how (Zhou
1975: ch 20). This reflects a new and important development. Traditionally
16
Zhou Duni (1017–1073) was one of the founders of the Neo-Confucian movement. His most
famous work is the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu 太極圖), which was taken up by Zhu
Xi as a foundation for his metaphysics. Toegye makes it the first chapter of his Ten Diagrams.
Confucians had affirmed that any man could become a sage, but had let it remain a
theoretical ideal. Now they elaborated a metaphysical, psychological, and ascetical
framework that showed the path to sagehood, making this lofty ideal as realistic and
immediate as was enlightenment in Buddhist cultivation. The term “sage learning”
in Toegye’s title signifies his intent to present that framework and path.
The Ten Diagrams is an extremely compressed work, more a distillation of the
essential elements of the Cheng-Zhu vision than an exposition of them. Each sec-
tion begins with a diagram and related text drawn from Zhu Xi or other leading
authorities, and concludes with a few brief remarks by Toegye. The brevity is in part
due to his intention that it be made into a ten-paneled standing screen as well as a
short book. The brief format and the idea of presenting it on a screen are closely
related to the purpose of the Ten Diagrams. It is intended for repeated reading and
reflection. In moments of leisure the eye could play over the screen and the mind be
gently but constantly engaged with its contents, so that one might finally totally
assimilate this material and make it a part of himself.
Toegye sees the structure of the Ten Diagrams in several ways. One way is to
split it down the middle: the first five chapters present the essential framework,
“based on the Dao of Heaven,” as he says. They include a description of the universe
(metaphysics), society (ethics), and their import for human life (learning). The
remaining five chapters deal directly with self-cultivation, the “learning of the
mind-and-heart.” The cultivation chapters begin with an analysis and characteriza-
tion of the inner dynamic life of the mind-and-heart and conclude with concrete
practice (ascetical theory).17 Or from a slightly different perspective, the three chap-
ters on learning (chs. 3–5) are the core of the whole work. The first two chapters
present the “great foundation,” the li-patterned structure which must be properly
understood as the framework for all learning, while the later chapters detail the frui-
tion of learning in the actual process of self-cultivation.18 This perspective brings
out the underlying unity of the two halves of the Ten Diagrams, in which intellectual
considerations and moral practice are the interdependent and dialectically related
facets of the single process of self-transformation, which Confucians regard as the
essence of learning. Toegye makes a special point of this in his remarks presenting
the Ten Diagrams to King Seonjo.
Toegye explicitly makes mindfulness (gyeong/jing 敬) the central theme of the
whole Ten Diagrams.19 This practice of maintaining a centered and focused state of
mind is absolutely fundamental for both study and practice. On the side of intellec-
tual investigation, it stands for the mental recollection and concentration necessary
for such pursuits. As for moral practice, the same mental recollection is a token of
the self-possession and reverential seriousness that are the basis of a sound and
proper response to the world around us. The final two chapters are devoted entirely
to the topic of mindfulness, but it is a constant subject throughout the other chapters
as well.
17
This structure is indicated by Toegye in annotations at the end of Chaps. 6 and 11.
18
Toegye presents this view in his remarks at the end of Chap. 5.
19
See his remarks at the end of Chap. 5.
176 M. C. Kalton
Most of the material used for the first five chapters, those dealing with the basic
framework, are so fundamental and well-known as to be virtually self-selecting.
Toegye begins with the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu 太極圖), the
paradigmatic expression of a universe in which the unitary patterning i finds a myr-
iad expressions, structuring a world and society understood as a diversified unity in
which everything has a fitting place. Next is Zhang Zai’s 張載20 Western Inscription
(Ximing 西銘), which expresses the ethical implications of such a unitary world.
Two of the three works on learning, the Elementary Learning (Xioxue 小學) (ch. 3)
and the Adult Learning (Daxue 大學) (ch. 4), were commonly committed to mem-
ory as authoritative texts, and the rules Zhu Xi wrote for his White Deer Hollow
Academy (ch. 5) were likewise well known, being inscribed on the walls of Korea’s
own Confucian Academy. But to extend the discussion of learning to three chapters
by including the rules is a bit surprising. One explanation may be Toegye’s great
concern with these issues, which were currently being seriously challenged in China
by the more intuitive approach championed by Wang Yangming. Further motivation
may have been Toegye’s concern for private academies, a Neo-Confucian institution
that with his help was just getting underway in Korea.
Personal preference played a larger role in compiling the last five chapters which
deal with the learning of the mind-and-heart. This was a fundamental aspect of the
Cheng-Zhu school, but by nature it was more diffuse and personal and did not crys-
tallize into universally recognized reference points such as the Diagram of the
Supreme Ultimate and Western Inscription. As mentioned above, Zhen Dexiu’s
Classic of the Mind-and-Heart was a major reference point for Toegye. Its influence
is clear in the central position accorded mindfulness throughout the Ten Diagrams,
and the Diagram of the Study of the Mind and Heart (ch. 8) prefaces Zhen’s Classic
as an expression of the essence of the work. Zhu Xi’s Admonition for Mindfulness
Studio (ch. 9) likewise appears in its pages. And Zhu Xi’s famous Treatise on Ren
(chapter 7) does not appear in the Classic itself, but it epitomizes a formulation of
ren (仁 humanity) that was prominent in the thought of Zhen Dexiu and its ideas
occupied an important position in the Classic.
The sixth chapter, however, merits special attention. Zhen’s Classic avoided
intellectualism, but Toegye reintroduces it into the learning of the mind-and-heart
by a chapter that serves to establish a metaphysical framework for man’s inner life.
It is actually three diagrams, each with its own text. The first is a fairly standard
presentation of basic Cheng-Zhu psychological theory. The second and third, how-
ever, are Toegye’s unique contribution, a summation, in effect, of his final position
in the Four-Seven Debate. In an unprecedented way these two diagrams undertake
a metaphysical analysis of the origination and function of different feelings in the
active life of the mind-and-heart. The Four-Seven Debate is often misunderstood as
an abstract philosophical controversy far removed from practical concerns, but its
appearance with this placement in Toegye’s Ten Diagrams is a clear indication of its
Zhang Zai (1020–1077) was the uncle of the Cheng brothers and his Western Inscription made a
20
critical contribution to the Neo-Confucian movement by establishing Confucian ethics on a meta-

physical foundation.
role in his own understanding of serious self-cultivation. The influence of the Debate
meant that, far from being cut off from intellectuality, the learning of the mind-and-
heart was henceforth to become the central and distinctive area of Neo-Confucian
intellectual discussion in Korea.
7 C
onclusion: Toegye’s Imprint on Korean
Neo-Confucianism
By the end of his life Toegye was already referred to. as the “synthesizer and com-
plete integrator” (jipdaeseongja 集大成子) of the Cheng-Zhu school in Korea, and
this assessment has stood the test of time. Korea’s mature and integral appropriation
of the Cheng-Zhu vision in both its intellectual and spiritual dimensions began with
Toegye. He deeply shaped the intellectual and spiritual character of the Neo-
Confucian tradition that followed him. His Four-Seven Debate shaped the future of
Yi dynasty intellectual endeavor, focusing its attention on fundamental questions of
the relationship of principle (i) and material force (gi) in their vital application to
understanding the constitution of human beings. But perhaps more than any particu-
lar issue, the breadth and depth, and the balance of his appropriation of the Cheng-
Zhu heritage was decisive. His deep intellectual engagement with the writings of
Zhu Xi made him a conduit of a full appreciation of the breadth and complexity of
the Cheng-Zhu school—so much so that the rival Lu-Wang school, in spite of its
currency in Ming China, found little room to set down roots on the Korean penin-
sula. The Confucian tradition long proclaimed that the essence of true learning is the
project of forming oneself as a full human being. But it also added that such cultiva-
tion requires broad inquiry and deep personal reflection to bring it to bear on one’s
personal transformation. Zhu Xi stressed the inseparability of intellectual investiga-
tion and spiritual practice. Toegye in his teaching, writings, and especially in his
personal example, represented a balance of high intellect and commitment to self-
cultivation in a way that left a deep imprint on his many disciples and thereafter on
the whole Korean Neo-Confucian tradition. It is above all this balance that marks
the coming to maturity of Cheng-Zhu learning on the Korean peninsula, and as the
scholar who brought it to clear and broad recognition, Toegye indeed merits his title
of “synthesizer and complete integrator.”
References
Cheng, Minzheng 程敏政. 1794. Xinjing fuju 心經附註Supplemented and Annotated version of
[Zhen Dexiu’s 眞德秀] Classic of the Mind-and-Heart. 1794 Korean ed.
DeBary, Wm. Theodore. 1981. Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy and the Learning of the Mind-and-
Heart. New York: Columbia University Press.
Kalton, Michael C. 1988. To Become a Sage. New York: Columbia University Press.
178 M. C. Kalton
Kalton, Michael C. et al. 1994. The Four-Seven Debate. New York: SUNY Press.
Wagner, Edward W. 1974. The Literati Purges: Political Conflict in Early Yi Korea. Cambridge
MA: East Asian Research Center, Harvard University.
Yi, Hwang 李滉. 1958a. Toegye jeonseo 退溪全書 The Complete Works of Toegye. 2 vols. Seoul:
Seonggyungwan Daehakkyo Daedong Munhwa Yeonguweon. 1958, photo reprint.
Yi, Hwang 李滉. 1958b. Toegye seonsaeng eonhaegnok 退溪先生言行錄 Record of the Words and
Deeds of Master Toegye. In Toegye jeonseo 退溪全書, B, pp. 786–881.
Yi, Hwang 李滉 1975. Juja seo jeoryo 朱子書節要 The Essentials of Zhu Xi’s Letters. In, Abe
Yoshio, comp. Ilbon gakpan Yi Toegye jeonjip 日本刻版退溪集 Japanese edition of the works
of Yi Toegye. 2 vols. Seoul: Daeil Jongpansa.
Zhou, Duni 周敦頤. 1975. Tong shu 通書, Penetrating to the Book of Changes. In Xingli daquan
性理大全, Great Compendium of Neo-Confucianism [2] 37a.
Chapter 8
Yi Yulgok’s Life and His Neo-Confucian
Synthesis
Young-chan Ro
1 Introduction
In this chapter, I will highlight the significance of Yi I 李珥 (pename: Yulgok 栗谷,

1536–1584) and his contribution to the development of Korean Neo-Confucianism.
Yulgok was a “synthesizer” who tried to find the intrinsic unity in dealing with some
critical issues that dominated the Confucian intellectual discourse during the
sixteenth century of Joseon Korea (1392–1910). Some of most controversial issues
that Yulgok dealt with were the relationship between “principle” or i/li 理 and “vital
force” or gi/qi 氣, the famous “four-seven” debates, the problem of relating the
“human mind” (the human selfish mind) and the “dao-mind” (the mind of the Way
or the moral mind), and the idea of understanding the human in relation to the
cosmos. Yulgok dealt each of these vital issues with his unique approach which
synthesized the conceptual polarity that caused serious debates in the Korean Neo-
Confucian circle. The concepts such as i/li and gi/qi, eum/yin and yang, the “human
mind” and the “dao-mind,” for example, were understood by some leading
Confucian scholars including Yi Hwang 李滉 (pename: Toegye 退溪, 1501–1570)
structured dualistically. Yulgok thought that although these ideas appeared to be
conceptually dualistic, they were, in fact, related to each other with an intrinsic
unity based on the same reality. However, Yulgok made a clear distinction between
different manifestations of the same substance. For example, Yulgok discussed
This chapter is a revised and extended version of my previously published essay, “Yi Yulgok and
His Contributions to Korean Neo-Confucianism: A Non-dualistic Approach” Traditional Korean
Philosophy: Problems and Debates. (ed. Youngsun Back and Phillp J. Ivanhoe). 2017. London and
New York: Rowman & Littlefield. 69–83.
Y.-c. Ro (*)
Department of Religious Studies, George Mason University, Fairfax, VA, USA
e-mail: yro@gmu.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_8
180 Y.-c. Ro
about the mysterious relationship of i and gi: “The mystery of i and gi is difficult to
see or to talk. The origin of i is one, the origin of gi is also one…. gi does not part
from i, and i does not part from gi. This being the case, i and gi are one.”1 Although
I will discuss the issues regarding i and gi at length in the later part of this chapter,
it is essential to understand Yulgok’s unified view of reality. For Yulgok, reality was
profoundly relational. For him relation was not simply a connection or an external
binding but it was fundamentally an intrinsic unity of beings or entities by stating
that one cannot exist without the other. In this respect, Yulgok was a non-dualistic
thinker who understood reality not in the framework of dichotomy but in the intrinsic
unity of i and gi and the “four beginnigs” and the “seven feelings” (or “seven
emotions”), etc. Yulgok’s anthropology (understanding of the human), ontology
(understanding of beings), and cosmology (understanding of the universe) were
based on his synthetic and comprehensive approach to the critical issues of Korean
Neo-Confucianism. This chapter is a brief summary of Yulgok’s life and thoughts in
relationship to each other to observe his intellectual development in light of his
personal growth.
At the founding of the Joseon dynasty, Confucianism became the official ideol-
ogy and the state religion. A system of civil service examinations based on the
Confucian Classics was also instituted. In fact, the examinations were based on the
dominant line of thought at this time, which was Neo-Confucianism, a reinterpretation
of classical Confucianism, put forward most notably by Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200)
and other Chinese Confucian scholars such as the Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao 程
顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107). The Cheng-Zhu school of Neo-
Confucianism remained unchallenged as the intellectual orthodoxy and the official
state ideology in Korea up to modern times.
By the sixteenth century, Korea had internalized Neo-Confucianism so well that
it underwent a Neo-Confucian renaissance, producing thinkers of original insight,
who were not only of local interest but who had a genuine impact on the Neo-
Confucian tradition as a whole. In this respect, it is important to examine some of
most highly regarded Neo-Confucian scholars who made the Confucian tradition an
integral part of Korean intellectual and spiritual tradition. Confucianism, especially
the Neo-Confucian discourse in Korea around this time, was no longer limited to the
Chinese scholarly and intellectual context or a simple imitation of the Neo-
Confucian discourse in China. The issues that the Korean Neo-Confucian scholars
of the Joseon dynasty dealt with went beyond the main concerns of the Chinese
Neo-Confucian scholarly circles. This, however, does not mean that Joseon Neo-
Confucian scholarship at this time was deviating from that of China, but rather the
Joseon Neo-Confucian debate was expounding a deeper significance of the Neo-
Confucian tradition by shaping Neo-Confucian intellectual discourse according to
the unique and distinctive needs of Korean issues and concerns.
Through this internalization or even “indigenization” process of Neo-Confucian
tradition, Korean scholars confidently took a part in interpreting Neo-Confucian
1
For more discussion on this issue, see Yulgok Jeonseo 1971. Seoul: Sungkyunkwan University
Press. Gwon 10. 17b–18a.
8 Yi Yulgok’s Life and His Neo-Confucian Synthesis 181
intellectual issues and philosophical concerns to engage in a highly sophisticated

discussion dealing with some of the central issues of Neo-Confucian philosophy. In
this chapter, I will focus on one of the most brilliant and creative Korean Neo-
Confucian scholars, Yulgok, and his contribution not only to the shaping of Neo-
Confucian intellectual and philosophical discourse as a scholar, but also to his
efforts to transform the nation—from the king to the commoners—according to the
Neo-Confucian ideals.
I will look at Yulgok’s way of formulating his Neo-Confucian thought system in
relation to the basic philosophical assumptions of the Confucian and Neo-Confucian
traditions. This, I hope, will illuminate the methodological uniqueness of Yulgok’s
approach. In turn, an examination of Yulgok’s approach may also help elucidate
some philosophical and religious implications of Neo-Confucian thought that go
beyond the East-Asian cultural context and the Confucian tradition itself.
2 Y
ulgok’s Intellectual Development and Life
as a Scholar-Official2
Yulgok, one of the foremost Neo-Confucian scholars in Korea during the Joseon
dynasty, is considered one of the two pillars, along with Toegye of the Korean Neo-
Confucian tradition. They, however, differ from each other on the interpretation of
Zhu Xi and about the relationship between i and gi, among other issues. Yulgok, an
active statesman and educator as well as a scholar, not only compiled and discussed
the theories of the previous Confucian scholars of China and Korea, but more
importantly, developed his own views and interpretations of these theories.
Yulgok was born in 1536, 35 years junior to Yi Toegye. His actual name was Yi
I; Yulgok is a penname he assumed only much later, at the age of 37, appropriating
the name of the small village in which he then lived and worked.
Yulgok’s family was intellectually very distinguished: on his father’s side, he
came from a long line of Confucian scholar-officials, and his mother, Shin Saimdang
申師任堂 (1504–1551), was famous at the time for her intellectual and artistic
brilliance in poetry, painting, and calligraphy. She took Yulgok’s education
personally in hand and became his first teacher. Yulgok himself was an extraordinary
child prodigy and made stunning progress: he began learning Chinese at the age of
three; by age seven he had read a number of the Confucian Classics, including the
Four Books; and by the time he was eight he had begun writing poetry. Due to
financial difficulties in the family and at his parents’ urging, Yulgok underwent a
long series of civil service examinations, taking the first at the age of 13 and the last
when he was 29. These examinations opened opportunities to serve in various
important positions in the government, and Yulgok performed brilliantly, climbing
to the very highest official ranks.
2
For more detailed discussion of Yi I’s life, see Young-chan Ro 1989. The Korean Neo-Confucianism
of Yi Yulgok (Albany, NY: State University of New York,), 3–14.
182 Y.-c. Ro
One examination essay he wrote at the age of 23, “A Treatise on the Way of
Heaven” (Cheondochaek 天道策), offered a compelling theory of the unity of
heaven and humans, and it became so important among Confucian scholars of the
time that it was eventually carried as far as China, during the Ming 明 dynasty
(1386–1644). He wrote this particular short essay when he was 23 years old as part
of his civil service examination. This essay shows what I would call Yulgok’s
“cosmo-anthropic” (the cosmos and the human) vision, seeing and understanding
the human in the context of the universe, a view which I will explain at a greater
length in the later part of this chapter.
In this essay, Yulgok discussed his cosmology, his view of the universe in rela-
tionship with his anthropology, his understanding of human beings and human
affairs, and cosmic phenomena: the transmutation of the universe and the diverse
manifestations of the movements of heaven and earth. Yulgok explained these
diverse cosmic phenomena in terms of the traditional Neo-Confucian cosmological
framework of thinking. However, he tried to relate these phenomena to human
affairs; the way of heaven and earth, the various cosmic phenomena, were not
unrelated to human beings. Human beings were also deeply affected by cosmic
forces. The basic assumption that Yulgok tried to postulate was that human beings
are neither independent of the cosmic forces nor determined by them. For Yulgok,
there was an intrinsic unity between the cosmos and human beings and human
beings were to be understood within the greater context of the universe. In this way,
in terms of the development of his philosophy, Yulgok took cosmology as the
foundation for understanding the nature of human beings (anthropology). In other
words, for Yulgok, cosmology provided an epistemological foundation for
understanding human beings.3 Yulgok’s cosmo-anthropic vision did not make the
way of heaven the determining force on human beings, dictating their lives as one
finds in various forms of fatalism. On the other hand, he was trying to avoid an
anthropocentric view of the world: making the human not only independent of the
cosmos but also and at the same time, the center of the universe. For Yulgok, the
relationship between the universe and the human is neither dualistic nor monistic. In
other words, for Yulgok, the cosmos and the human were not two separate and
unrelated entities as found in the modern Western scientific worldview, yet the
human was not totally absorbed in the cosmos, thereby losing his/her own unique
place and function in the cosmos.
In this respect, Yulgok, in my view, was more a post-modern rather than a pre-
modern thinker. Historically, of course, Yulgok was certainly a pre-modern man
without having the benefit of modern scientific and technological knowledge. His
cosmology was not scientific but speculative. Yet, his cosmological speculation
based on the Neo-Confucian worldview can be a source of inspiration in
re-discovering the fundamental unity between the cosmos and the human. In this
sense, Yulgok’s worldview was not anthropocentric: taking the cosmos as an object
3
The term, epistemology, means “ways of knowing” or ways of understanding reality or “being.”
For Yulgok the movement of the universe can be the foundation for understanding all other beings
including human beings.
for the utility of human beings. Rather he tried to understand human beings within
the organic and dynamic context of the universe. In this respect, his cosmology is
relevant to postmodern ecological concerns.4
In this respect, we see a clear difference between Yulgok and Toegye. In contrast
to Yulgok, Toegye took an anthropological perspective seriously and tried to relate
it to the cosmological and ontological concepts. For Toegye, the main concern was
human beings, especially the moral aspects of human being in terms of two different
kinds of the mind, namely, the “human mind” (insim 人心) and the “dao-mind”
(dosim 道心). Since Toegye started his Neo-Confucian study project from the study
of the mind (simhak/xinxue, 心學) and its intrinsic moral values; he inevitably
interpreted Neo-Confucian ontological and cosmological concepts such as i and gi
from a moral perspective. Concepts such as i and gi as cosmological and ontological
notions may not have intrinsic moral values but when applied to human beings,
especially to the mind, they gain moral values. Thus, i is the source of “good” and
the mind of the Way or the “dao-mind” while gi is the source of “bad” and the
human mind.
This is the reason why Toegye had difficulty in explaining the role of i and gi
consistently. For example, Toegye had no problem in understanding the i-gi
relationship in non-human affairs as the two basic Neo-Confucian concepts for
understanding the myriad beings and all natural phenomena as found in the
traditional Neo-Confucian discourse derived from the writings of Zhu Xi. But when
it came to human beings and human affairs, the nature and role of i was changed,
deviating from the traditional teaching of Neo-Confucianism. According to the
orthodox teachings of Neo-Confucianism, i was not understood as having any force
or power of its own independent of gi. But Toegye understood that i can move just
like gi so he asserted that “i issues and gi rides on it.” It is an interesting issue to
discuss wheter Toegye misunderstood Zhu Xi or he intentionally deviated from
Zhu Xi. Some argue that Toegye’s interpretation of Zhu Xi was “original” or
“creative” while others argue that Toegye simply misinterpreted Zhu Xi despite the
reputation that Toegye was one of the most faithful followers of the Zhu Xi line of
the Neo-Confucian orthodoxy.5 In fact, Yulok may have followed more consistently
than what Toegye did in interpreting Zhu Xi’s original idea of i and gi. As Yulgok
rightly insisted, from the orthodox Neo-Confucian point of view including Zhu-Xi,
i has no power to issue or move, only gi has the power to issue and move. Yulgok,
thus asserted only that “gi issues and i rides on it.” For Toegye, it was no problem in
accepting “gi issues and i rides on it” in general including the cosmic phenomena.
4
For more discussion on Yulgok’s cosmology and ecology, Young-chan Ro, “Ecological Implication
of Yi Yulgok’s Cosmology,” in Evelyn Tucker and John Berthrong, eds. 1998. Confucianism and
Cosmology Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. 169–86.
5
For more discussion on whether Toegye’s interpretation of Zhu Xi was an original and creative
interpretation of Zhu Xi or not, see Yung Sik Kim “Another Look at Yi Hwang’s Views about Li
and Qi: A Case of Time Lag in the Transmission of Chinese Originals to Korea” Traditional
Korean Philosophy: Problems and Debates. (ed. Youngsun Back and Phillip J. Ivanhoe). 2017.
London and New York: Roman & Littlefield. 25–47.
184 Y.-c. Ro
However, when it comes to human phenomena, Toegye maintained, “i issues and

gi rides on it” because of the moral aspect of human beings. From Toegye’s point of
view, if we take humans as moral beings, it is necessary to provide a moral foundation
for understanding the mind, which was the center of human beings and integrated
“human nature”(seong 性) and “feelings” or emotions (jeong 精). For this reason,
Toegye thought, unlike any other beings, human beings were unique in possessing
a moral dimension. Yulgok, however, did not think that the moral foundation of the
human was based on i and gi but instead was based on human “will” (eui 意). In
other words, the determining factor for whether a human being becomes good or
bad is not due to the issuance of i or the issuance gi but based on cultivation; through
the process of cultivation, human beings are able to make their will “sincere.”
3 Scholar-Official
Yulgok was caught in the age-old dilemma that most Confucian scholars had to
face: the conflict between official government duty and the private pursuit of his
scholarly and philosophical interests. Furthermore, the constant friction between
different political factions among government officials and the king’s inability to
lead his subordinates often caused a most frustrating state of affairs, and to certain
degree, resulted in Yulgok’s poor health.
In 1552, when he was only 16, Yulgok’s mother died. This was the most heart-
breaking event for Yulgok because his mother, Shin Saimdang, as noted above, was
his first teacher and the most influential figure in his life. After the traditional 3-year
mourning period, Yulgok suddenly went into retreat at Geumgang Mountain, famous
for its beauty and Buddhist temples. Yulgok was by that time already familiar with
a large number of Buddhist texts, especially of the Huayan 華嚴 and Chan 禪 (Kor.
Seon; Jap. Zen) traditions, and he spent a full year at Geumgang Mountain, studying
Seon Buddhism intensively. He would never explicitly criticize Buddhism in his
writings, but in later life he termed his period of study at Geumgang Mountain a
digression from his true path, Confucianism, caused by excessive grief at his moth-
er’s death. However, there is the possibility that Yulgok’s study of Buddhism did
have some subliminal influence on his later thought, for his non-dualistic formula-
tion of the Confucian conceptual pair i and gi bears some similarity to the Buddhist
conceptual pair of principle (i/li 理) and “phenomena” (sa/shi 事)6 as he would have
found it in writings of the Huayan school.
Yulgok returned from Geumgang Mountain to live with his maternal grand-
mother and resumed his Confucian studies. During this period, his thought took on
a more concrete, practical aspect, and he became increasingly interested in the prob-
6
Chinese Huayan Buddhism employed the notions of “principle” and “phenomenon” and the rela-
tionship between these two in explaining the Buddha-Nature” in all beings. In a similar way
Chinese Neo-Confucianism used the concepts, “principle” and qi in explaining the constitutive
nature of every being.
lem of realizing Confucian ideals in daily life. He came to focus on the Neo-
Confucian problems of “human nature and principle” and “the establishment of
will,” concluding that the latter was the most fundamental element of practical,
“sagely learning” (seonghak 聖學) and thus the goal of all Neo-Confucian studies.
At the same time, he attempted to put his thought into practice, and his private life
became an experiment in this same establishment of will, a discipline touching on
every aspect of daily existence.
It was at this time that Yulgok wrote his “Self-Admonition” (Jagyeongmun 自警
文). A Summary of the 11 articles outlined in this essay gives a sense of both the
practical tenor of Yulgok’s thought at the time as well as the rigorous self-discipline
involved in the “establishment of will” or his resolution.
1. Establish the will to become a sage.
2. Refrain from talking, quiet the mind.
3. Discipline the distracted mind.
4. Observe oneself.
5. Put your studies into practice.
6. Do not distract the mind with selfish thoughts.
7. Carry out good works with a sincere heart.
8. Make deep self-reflection necessary in times of crisis.
9. Reform a violent person with moral persuasion.
10. Be diligent; do not sleep too much.
11. Practice self-cultivation as a continuing process without end.
In 1558, when Yulgok was 22, he married a daughter of No Gyeong-nin 盧慶麟
(1516–1568), governor of the Seongju province. The following year, Yulgok visited
his eminent contemporary, Toegye, then 58, a meeting which left a profound
impression on both men. Toegye, for his part, was deeply impressed with the
younger man’s brilliance, while Yulgok came away with both a greater understanding
of, and lasting respect for, Toegye’s work. Yulgok passed his last civil service
examination in 1565, at age 29, and served in a variety of government posts. In
1570, at age 34, he wrote “Questions and Answers at Eastern Lake” (Dongho
mundap 東湖問答), dedicated to the new king, Seonjo 宣祖 (r.1567–1608), with
the purpose of instructing him in methods for realizing the ideal Confucian state. An
imaginary dialogue between host and guest, cast in a question and answer format, it
discusses ways to deal with disordered government explaining “the way of the
ruler” as opposed to the “way of the despot,” and juxtaposes “the way of the king”
with that of the despot. It stresses the importance of the moral cultivation of the ruler
himself as a necessary first step toward good government. In general, “Eastern
Lake” reflects Yulgok’s strong social and political concerns, and his profound
concern about the petty political factionalism he encountered at court.
In 1572, at age 36, Yulgok attempted to leave government in order to devote more
time to his private studies and self-cultivation. He resigned his official position and
moved to Haeju, where his wife’s family lived, only to be appointed the Governor
of Cheongju province that very same year. While serving as governor he wrote
186 Y.-c. Ro
“Community Pact” (hyangyak 鄕約), a manual on local self-government, aimed at

teaching local people how to govern themselves.
The following year Yulgok resigned from the governorship due to illness and
retired to the village of Yulgok, from which he took his penname. At this time, he
started his famous debate with the Confucian scholar Seong Hon 成渾 (Ugye 牛溪,
1535–1598) on the interconnected concepts of i and gi, the famous “Four-Seven
Debate” (the four beginnings and the seven feelings or emotions).7 Over the next
4 years Yulgok also wrote a number of works, addressing issues from practical
government to the individual’s moral self-cultivation. The same year, at age 40, he
compiled, Essentials of Sagely Learning (Seonghak jibyo 聖學輯要), selections
from the Four Books and Five Classics – central Confucian works on moral self-
cultivation and proper governance of the people. The choice of selections and their
presentation were uniquely Yulgok’s own, based on his by then mature grasp of the
Confucian and Neo-Confucian traditions. This book was dedicated to King Seonjo
with his sincere attempt to educate the king to become a sage ruler. The content of
this book is a summary of the essentials of Confucian and Neo-Confucian teachings.
Yulgok’s vision was to transform the country—from the ruler to the commoner—
with Confucian ideals by the lessons contained in his Essentials of Sagely Learning.
In 1582, when Yulgok was 46, he finished his famous A Key to Annihilating
Ignorance (Gyeongmong yogyeol 擊蒙要訣), a book which would have an enor-
mous and long-lasting influence on Confucian education in Korea. The following
year Yulgok was promoted to Minister of Justice and charged with eliminating cor-
ruption in the government and the civil service examination system. During this
year, he wrote a number of works at the request of King Seonjo, and was then
moved to the position of Minister of Defense. His last work, Six Articles of
Instruction (Yukgyejo 六啓條), was a practical treatise on defense policy, outlining
methods for strengthening the kingdom’s defenses. His Six Articles would become
a central work on the subject, commonly referred to by Yulgok’s own slogan, “nour-
ish and train hundreds of thousands of soldiers.” It was while serving as Defense
Minister that Yulgok died of an illness in 1584, at the age of 48.
4 Yulgok’s Approach
Yulgok’s place in the development of Korean Neo-Confucianism is unique and dis-

tinctive in terms of his way of interpreting some of the basic issues of Neo-
Confucianism. There are two distinctive interpretive motifs or themes found in
Yulgok’s understanding of Neo-Confucianism. I define these two themes as his
“non-dualistic” and “anthropo-cosmic” vision (or “cosmo-anthropic” awareness).
7
For more information and fuller understanding of this debate, see Michael C. Kalton with Oak-
sook C. Kim, Sung Bae Park, Youngchan Ro, Tu Wei-ming, Samuel Yamashita. 1994. The Four-
Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian
Thought (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
“Non-dualistic” vision means a way of thinking or seeing reality from neither a

dualistic nor monistic point of view. In short, non-dual means the negation or the
absence of “two,” but at the same time it does not mean simply to confirm “one”
either. It is neither two nor one. Put differently, it is one yet two, and two yet one:
In general, i (principle) is the master of gi (material forece or vital force), and gi is what i
mounts upon. Without i, gi has no grounding; without i, i has nothing on which depend.
They are not two [separate] things, but again they are not a single thing. They are not a
single thing, therefore they are one and yet two; they are not two things, therefore they are
one and yet two; they are not two things, therefore they are two and yet one.
What does it mean when I say they are not a signle thing? Although i and gi cannot be
separated from one another, in the midst of their marvelous unity i is i and gi is gi; they
never become intermingled and therefore are not as a single thing. What does it mean to say
that they are not two things? Although one says i is i and gi is gi, they are interfused with no
interstice, no anterior or posterior, no separating or conjoining; one does not perceive them
as two [independent] things. Therefore, they are not two things, and so movement and rest
have distinct terminus, eum and yang do not have a beginning. I has no beginning, and
therefore gi likewise has no beginning.” (Yulgok Jeonseo. Gwon 10. 2a–2b)8
Early on in his life, Yulgok developed this non-dualistic way of thinking in

understanding and interpreting some fundamental Neo-Confucian concepts that
shaped Neo-Confucian cosmology, ontology, and anthropology. This non-dualistic
view of Yulgok, for example, sees an unbroken ontological continuity between
humans and the universe on one hand, but recognizes that there is an unmistakable
phenomenological distinction between humans and the universe, on the other. This
means that humans and the universe share the same reality, the reality that humans
and the universe are not separable in terms of their “being” (ontological ground).
But, at the same time, there are differences in the manifestions of their “being.” In
this sense, they are one in terms of their ontological ground but they are two in terms
of their different manifestations (phenomena). This non-dualistic insight runs
throughout the entire system of Yulgok’s thought and leads to what I have termed
Yulgok’s cosmo-anthropic awareness, his view of the fundamental unity between
human cultivation and the cosmic force of destiny. This way of understanding the
Confucian mode of being a human is aptly defined by Tu Weiming as an “anthropo-
cosmic assumption” of Confucianism. (Tu 1985a: 5) The concept underlying the
“anthropocosmic assumption,” however, centers on the human (anthropos) rather
than “cosmos.” Yulgok’s assumption, in my view, starts with cosmos rather than the
human. This, however, does not put the priority on the cosmos over the human but
to affirm the idea of understanding the human in relation to the cosmos. In other
words, the human is not an independent entity isolated from the universe: heaven
and earth.
Yulgok’s anthropological assumption is based on his understanding of Neo-
Confucian cosmology (the study of the universe), and ontology (the study of being
8
For English translation, see The Four-Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most
Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian Thought. Michael Kalton with Oaksook Kim,
Sung Bae Park, Youngchan Ro, Tu Wei-ming, Samuel Yamashida. 1994. Albany: State University
of New York Press. 126.
188 Y.-c. Ro
or “things” (mul 物). For him, cosmological concepts such as the Supreme Ultimate
(taeguek 太極), eum-yang, and i-gi played a fundamental role in understanding the
nature and the constitutive elements of human beings. In other words, human beings
have an unbroken unity with nature and the cosmos. This, however, does not mean
that human beings are totally “determined” by the universe or nature. On one hand,
since human beings share these fundamental components with the cosmos, we have
to accept the assumption that human beings are not independent of the cosmos. On
the other hand, however, human beings have a unique ability to shape their own
lives through “self-cultivation.” Yulgok’s anthropology or view of human beings,
thus, is non-dualistically structured; human beings are neither totally independent
of the universe nor totally controlled by the universe.
Yet, his understanding of human beings is neither anthropomorphic nor anthro-
pocentric. In this sense, I would submit that Yulgok’s approach was “cosmo-
anthropic” rather than “anthropocosmic.” Yulgok’s approach was not to impose or
to apply his view of human values onto the cosmic phenomenon or to the workings
of nature. For Yulgok, fundamental Neo-Confucian cosmological and ontological
concepts such as i and gi did not have any moral sense of good and evil in and of
themselves. They are cosmological and ontological concepts within the Neo-
Confucian philosophical framework. The Neo-Confucian concepts i and gi have no
inherent moral values until they are applied to human affairs.
Toegye, for example, took a somewhat different approach in relating moral val-
ues and “good and evil” to the cosmic concepts such as i and gi. Yulgok took Neo-
Confucian cosmology as a model for understanding human beings and bringing the
cosmological structure down to human beings without losing the unique aspect of
human beings. Toegye on the other hand, started with his serious “study of the
mind” (simhak 心學) in relationship to cosmic concepts such as the Supreme
Ultimate, i-gi, etc. By doing this, Toegye promoted the study of the heart-mind as
the centerpiece of Neo-Confucianism. Toegye developed his cosmology based on
the fundamental Neo Confucian concepts such as human nature (seong/xing, 性),
the mind (sim/xin, 心) and principle (li. 理). In short, we may say that while Yulgok’s
approach was “cosmo-anthropic” in his understanding of the unity between the
cosmos and the human Toegye’s approach was “anthropocosmic” in his emphasis
on the unity of the human and the cosmos. Both, however, affirm the unity of the
human and the cosmos. For Toegye, the study of the mind in relationship with the
cosmos was crucial while for Yulgok, the cosmological assumption was essential
for understanding the human.
For Yulgok, the basic principles governing human beings are not alien to the
movement of the universe. The ontological foundation for being a human is not
entirely separable from the foundation of other beings. Therefore, Yulgok’s Neo-
Confucian view of human beings can only be understood in light of his cosmological
and ontological assumptions. However, the cosmo-anthropic awareness based on
Yulgok’s non-dualistic vision is not mere metaphysical speculation. The most
fundamental Confucian concern was how to relate the Confucian vision to the
reality of the world in practice. In this way Yulgok’s cosmo-anthropic awareness
became the basis for a concrete and practical moral agenda, as Yulgok sought for
ways to transform human beings, society, and the universe: cosmo-anthropic

transformation through the moral cultivation of the human. This holistic vision was
based on one of the most significant Confucian classics, the Doctrine of the Mean
(Zhongyong 中庸). In fact, Yulgok’s intellectual and spiritual inspiration were
deeply influenced by two Confucian classics, namely, the Doctrine of the Mean
(Zhongyong 中庸) and the Great Learning (Daxue 大學). While the Doctrine of the
Mean shaped Yulgok’s metaphysical thoughts and his spiritual aspect, the Great
Learning became the foundation for the social vision and political philosophy he
developed in his well-known work, the Essentials of Sagely Learning. This book is
a thorough and extensive discussion of his social vision and political transformation
based on the Great Learning, reflecting the specific issues and problems he was
facing at the time, when he was serving the country as a high-ranking government
official.
The Essentials of Sagely Learning (seonghakjibyo, 聖學輯要), Yulgok’s major
work, was a collection of the vast materials from the Four Books and the Six Classics
and major scholarly works in the Confucian and Neo-Confucian tradition. However
as Tu Weiming rightly stated, this is more than a mere anthology:
… even though the Great Learning may have inspired his particular stategy for presenting
his material, the Anthology possesses a much more complex structure. Far from being an
extended commentary on the Great Learning, it is a distillation of the essential points on
rulership from the Four Books, the Six Classics, the writings of Sung Confucian master
and, to a lesser extend, the Dynastic Histories. (Tu 1985b: 318)9
explains the significance of “sagely-inward” (naeseong 內聖) and “kingly-outward”

(oewang 外王). This work is intended to expound the way to reach sagehood by
combining two important concepts, “abiding in the highest good” in the Great
Learning and “realizing equilibrium and harmony to the highest degree” in the
Doctrine of the Mean. Yulgok thought that the Great Learning and the Doctrine of
the Mean were complementary in terms of the “sagely learning.” Yulgok’s
hermeneutical strategy was to interpret the Great Learning in light of the Doctrine
of the Mean and the Doctrine of the Mean in light of the Great Learning. According
to the Great Learning, the way of learning to be great consists in “manifesting the
clear character,” “loving (or renovating) the people,” and “abiding in the highest
good.” The Doctrine of the Mean, on the other hand, opens its first chapter with a
profound vision of the unity of Heaven and human nature, and the way to reach that
unity through education: “What Heaven imparts to man is called human nature. To
follow our nature is called the Way. Cultivating the Way is called education.” (the
Doctrine of the Mean 1).10
The Doctrine of the Mean was the most important spiritual cultivation for Yulgok.
Yulgok understood that the origin of the Way (dao) is Heaven. The Way is nothing
but following human nature. The process of education for Yulgok was the process of
9

Quoted in Hwang Junyeon 황준연 1995. Yulgok Cheolhakeui Ihae 율곡철학의 이해
[Understanding of Yulgok’s Philosophy]. Seoul: Seogwangsa. 132
10
The Doctrine of the Mean, ch.1 (Wing-tsit Chan’s translation, see Chan Wing-Tsit. 1963. A
Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. 98.
190 Y.-c. Ro
integrating “substance” (che 體) and “function” (yong 用) of the Way. One of the
Yulgok’s favorite conceptual frameworks that he employed in explaining the
intricacy of the Way was the che-yong (體用) or “substance and function” formula.
As a non-dualistic thinker, Yulgok understood “reality” in two distinct yet closely
related aspects, namely, “substance” and “function” or “manifestation.” The
“substance” of the Way is “human nature” because it is from Heaven, and following
human nature is the way.
The Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910), at that time, was going through serious social
and political turmoil facing both internal and external challenges. The founding of
the Joseon Dynasty with Confucian ideology definitely transformed Korea from
what it had been in the prior Goryeo 高麗 Dynasty (918–1392), and Korea had a
fresh new start; nevertheless, it had to go through some rough and even bloody
periods in the course of this transformation. Nonetheless, overall the young dynasty
was able to establish a stable and even prosperous country with good leadership as
shown during King Sejong’s 世宗 reign (r. 1418–1450). However, when the Joseon
Dynasty reached the sixteenth century, the country had become considerably
weakened and the quality of life of the common people started deteriorating. Yulgok
thought that this situation had a lot to do with the country’s leadership and keenly
felt the need to educate and cultivate the ruler as well as the people. Yulgok was
arguably the first Neo-Confucian scholar-official who took practical matters and
affairs including economic, social, and political issues seriously and addressed his
views and ideas of how to confront these challenging issues.
For most Neo-Confucian scholars up to the time of Yulgok, metaphysical and
abstract theoretical issues were the dominant trends of Joseon Neo-Confucianism
discussing highly abstract and elaborate metaphysical issue of the “study of human
nature and its principle” (seongnihak 性理學). In fact, as noted above, Yulgok
himself was deeply involved in the “four-even debate,” arguably the most famous
and the crowning achievement of Korean Neo-Confucianism of the Joseon Dynasty.
Among the most important contributions of Yulgok as a Neo-Confucian scholar was
his non-dualistic approach in interpreting the relationship between the “four
beginnings” (commiseration, shame and dislike, respect and reverence, and right
and wrong were introduced by Mencious) and the “seven emotions” (joy, anger,
sorrow, fear, love, hate and desire in the Book of Rites) and between the “dao-mind”
(the mind of the Way, dosim 道心) and the “human mind” (insim 人心). In a nutshell,
at issue was the role of i and gi in relation to the “four beginnings” and “seven
emotions,” and the relationship between the“dao-mind” and the “human mind.”
As discussed above, concepts such as i and gi were originally cosmological and
ontological concepts, and these concepts initially did not posses any intrinsic moral
value. However, when these concepts were applied to the explanation of human
nature and human beings, they gained moral values for most Confucian scholars.
Toegye, for example, thought that li was the source of good and the “four beginnings”:
the feeling or emotion of commiseration (the beginning of benevolence), the feeling
or emotion of shame and dislike (the beginning of righteousness), the feeling or
emotion of respect and deference (the beginning of propriety), and the feeling or
emotion of right or wrong (the beginning of wisdom) were the issuance of i while
the “seven emotions,” pleasure, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hate, and desire, were the
issuance of gi and these “seven emotions” have bad or “evil” tendencies because
they are arise from gi. Fundamentally, Toegye distinguished two kinds of human
emotions, the “four beginnings” and the “seven emotions” and attributed these two
kinds of human emotions to i and gi respectably. Although i and gi cannot be
separated, he said, they can be divided in terms of issuance, the issuance of i or the
issuance of gi. Here, Toegye tried to explain the problem of “good” and “bad” (or
“evil”) in terms of the issuance (or arousal) of i or gi resulting in a dualistic tendency
in Toegye.
Yulgok was also known for his understanding of the relationship between, i and
gi based on his non-dualistic way of thinking. Yulgok maintained that the “four
beginnings” and the “seven emotions” should not be divided up with the two
cosmological and ontological concepts such as i and gi in terms of either the issuance
of i or the issuance of gi. Yulgok argued first, i and gi are not structured in a dualistic
dichotomy as in Toegye’s idea. Second, Yulgok also stated that in accordance with
the orthodox Zhu Xi line of thinking, i does not have a power to “issue” or a force
for arousal, only gi has the power to “issue.” For this reason, Yulgok thought that
Toegye was deviating from the main line Neo-Confucian understanding of the
relationship between i and gi and also the role of i and gi. While Toegye was dualistic
in dividing the “four beginnings” from the “seven emotions” in terms of the issuance
of i and the issuance of gi, Yulgok was non-dualistic in thinking that the “four begin-
nings” do not exist independently of the “seven emotions.” Rather the “four begin-
nings” are included in the “seven emotions” and thus the “four beginnings” do not
have an independent ontological foundation apart from the “seven emotions.” For
Yulgok, the “four beginnings” are nothing but the good aspects of the “seven emo-
tions” and any of the “seven emotions” in fact can be one of “four beginnings.”11 All
emotions or feelings are due to qi including the “four beginnings” because i does
not have the power to “issue.” I resides within gi as material force creates and
shapes.
Nonetheless, Yulgok, unlike the gi monists, does not deny the uniqueness of i and
firmly recognized the inseparability of i and gi. In this sense, i is non-material and
intangible, but it is the i of every being as the way it is. For this vagueness of i, some
may think that Yulgok is in fact a gi monist while Toegye who had a clear dualistic
view regarding i and gi in terms of the i issuance and the gi issuance. But Yulgok
was not a gi monist. He firmly maintained the non-dualistic relationship of i and gi;
they are neither two separate entities nor one single entity, as seen in qi monism
found in Seo Gyeong-deok 徐敬德 (Hwadam 化潭, 1489–1546).12 In this sense, it
is wrong to consider Yulgok a gi monist.
11
This statement shows how Yulgok understood the relation between “four” and “seven” not in a
dualistic dichotomy. For more and fuller explanation, see Ro, Young-chan. 1989. The Korean Neo-
Confucianism of Yi Yulgok, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 50–63.
12
Seo Gyeong-deok was the most well known Korean advocator of gi monism who was deeply
influenced by the Chinese Neo-Confucian scholar Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077). For more infor-
mation about Zhang Zai and Seo Gyeong-deok, see Jung-Yeup Kim, Zhang Zai’s Philosophy of
192 Y.-c. Ro
While Yulgok thought the relationship between the “four beginnings” and the
“seven emotions” was inclusive because the “four-beginnings” are included in the
“seven emotions,” the relationship between the “dao-mind” and the “human mind”
was mutually exclusive. Unlike in the case of the “four beginnings” and the “seven
emotions,” the “dao-mind” cannot be included in the “human mind.” Yulgok thought
that the mind is one and not divided in two. The distinction of the “dao-mind” and
the “human mind” is not ontological but phenomenological. In other words, there is
no ontological ground that divides the “dao-mind” and the “human mind.” Rather
the “dao-mind” and the “human mind” are descriptions of two different aspects of
the mind in its appearances. The “human mind” seeks to fulfill selfish desires, while
the “dao-mind” is the pure and unselfish state of mind. (Ro 1989: 43–50)
Toegye understood the relationship between the “dao-mind” and the “human
mind” in terms of the “four beginnings” and the “seven emotions,” and the issuance
of i and the issuance of gi. As a dualistic thinker, Toegye consistently related i to the
“four beginnings” and gi to the “seven emotions,” and the “four beginnings” to the
“dao-mind” and the “seven emotions” to the “human mind.” In doing this, Toegye
inevitably created a moral dichotomy between i and gi in terms of “good” and “evil”
respectably. As discussed above, i and gi were not moral concepts but were value-
free ontological and cosmological concepts. Only when applied to human beings do
they become moral concepts.
Yulgok, on the other hand, had a different approach. As seen above, Yulgok
maintained that the concepts, i and gi do not have any moral connotation, they are
cosmological and ontological notions. In this sense, human beings are no different
from any other thing in the universe. The moral dimension, which is essential to
being a human, has nothing to do with concepts i and gi, and there is no intrinsic
ontological element that makes the human being morally “good” or “evil.” He
refused to divide “good” and “evil” based on the cosmological and ontological
concepts of i and gi. For the same reason, he did not divide i and gi by claiming that
the “four” issue from i and the “seven” issue from gi. For Yulgok, regardless of any
emotion and feeling, it takes both i and gi to exist. The “four beginnings” too were
the consequence of gi stimulation as was the case of the “seven emotions.” The
“emotions,” however, manifest a “good” side of the “seven emotions.” There is no
intrinsic ontological duality between the “four” and the “seven” since either the
“four” or the “seven” require both i and gi, and they all arose by gi.”
Yulgok, however, makes a clear contrast when he explains the manifestations of
the “dao-mind” and the “human mind.” In short, for Yulgok, the “dao-mind” and the
“human mind” are two distinctive and contrasting manifestations of the mind. Once
it becomes the “dao-mind” it is no longer the “human mind” and vice versa. Unlike
the case of the “four” and the “seven,” the relationship between the “dao-mind” and
the “human mind” is not inclusive; they are mutually exclusive (Ro 1989: 46–49).
These two manifestations of the mind are not based on any preconceived ontological
entity such as li and qi but rather based on human will. The determining factor for
Qi: A Practical Understanding. Lanham. Boulder. New York. London: Lexington Books. 2015.
95–103.
either the “dao-mind” or the “human mind” is the will. Further, “human mind” can
become the “dao-mind” or “dao-mind” can become the “human mind” depending
on how we excise the will. For this reason, for Yulgok, “making the will sincere”
(seongui 誠意) was crucial in the process of self-cultivation.
Yulgok took the word “sincerity” (seong 誠), one of the key ideas in the Doctrine
of the Mean, to develop spiritual and moral cultivation. For Yulgok, sincerity, thus,
was not merely a moral concept, but it was a spiritual process through which one
can develop cosmo-anthropic awareness and a deep religious dimension of the
human in relationship with the cosmos. Sincerity for Yulgok was a concrete
crystallization of the human relationship to the ultimate reality and the universe, and
the medium through which cosmo-anthropic transformation was to be realized. As
the medium for such transformation, however, sincerity was not merely an
instrument, but was actually the goal itself, the true fulfillment of the cosmo-
anthropic awareness. This is because sincerity was the way not in the sense of means
but in the sense of process. Through sincerity, human beings were able to participate
in the process of transforming the human and the universe, a mutual interaction and
transformation. In short, the moral cultivation of sincerity was a specific and
concrete starting point for every human being to realize the intrinsic unity of the
human with heaven and earth. In this sense, sincerity was not only a moral principle
but also a cosmo-anthropic principle as well.
5 Concluding Remarks
Yulgok’s task was to overcome a certain tendency toward dualistic thought in the
Neo-Confucianism of his day and thus restate the essential Neo-Confucian vision of
the unity of the human and the universe. Against Toegye’s dualistic tendency, Yulgok
tried to follow Zhu Xi’s original formula of i and gi. Based on his interpretation of
Zhu Xi, Yulgok articulated his own non-dualistic cosmology, ontology, and
anthropology. His cosmology is based on his understanding of the Supreme
Ultimate (taegeuk/taichi 太極) and eum-yang; his ontology is based on his
interpretation of i and gi; his anthropology in understanding human nature in
relation to the mind were characterized in terms of the controversy over the “dao-
mind” and the “human mind.”
One of the most controversial issues confronting the Neo-Confucian tradition,
especially Korean Neo-Confucianism was how to tackle the nature of certain
relationships: the relationship of the Supreme Ultimate to eum/yin-yang, the
relationship between i and gi, and the relationship of the “human mind” and the
“dao-mind.” Yulgok approached all these fundamental issues from the non-dualistic
perspective. In his cosmology, relating the Supreme Ultimate to eum-yang as the
two most fundamental phases of the universe in generating and producing all beings,
Yulgok takes a non-dualistic approach. The issue was whether the Supreme Ultimate
is the source of eum-yang or yin-yang is the source of all beings. Some Neo-Confucian
thinkers, especially Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073) understood the Supreme
194 Y.-c. Ro
Ultimate as the origin of eum/yin-yang, and thus the Supreme Ultimate existed
independently of eum/yin-yang. In this view, the Supreme Ultimate was an entity
that produced and generated eum/yin-yang. Yulgok, however, thought that the
Supreme Ultimate did not exist as an independent entity and in fact, the Supreme
Ultimate has no substance of its own. Instead, Yulgok thought that eum/yin-yang
were the primordial forces of the universe and the Supreme Ultimate existed in the
movement of the mutation or alternation of eum/yin-yang. To back up his
interpretation, Yulgok went back to the theory of Shao Yong 邵雍 (1033–1077)
who first advocated this view based on his reading of the Book of Changes (Yijing
易經). Here, Yulgok, carefully examined the nature of the Supreme Ultimate not in
terms of entity or substance in generating eum/yin-yang forces, but in terms of the
reality of the transmutation of the eum/yin-yang alternation. In other words, Yulgok
did not look for the Supreme Ultimate outside of the eum-yang mutation but within
the eum/yin-yang movement itself. In other words, the Supreme Ultimate and eum/
yin-yang, for Yulgok, were neither separated from each other nor identical to each
other. This is Yulgok’s non-dualistic insight in comprehending the mystery of the
universe.
From the mystery of the universe, Yulgok understood the human in relationship
with the universe without losing the unique human perspective. For this reason,
Yulgok highly emphasized the role of human cultivation and sincerity of will in the
process of forming a trinity of heaven, earth, and human beings, thereby transforming
both self and society.
References
Chan, Wing-Tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Hwang, Junyeon 황준연. 1995. Yulgok Cheolhakeui Ihae 율곡철학의 이해 [Understanding of
Yulgok’s Philosophy]. Seoul: Seogwangsa
Kalton, Michael C. with Kim, Oak-sook C., Park, Sung Bae, Ro, Youngchan, Tu Wei-ming,
Yamashita, Samuel. 1994. The Four-Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most
Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian Thought. Albany, NY: State University of
New York Press.
Kim, Jung-Yeup. 2015. Zhang Zai’s Philosophy of Qi: A Practical Understanding. Lanham.
Boulder. New York. London: Lexington Books.
Kim, Yung Sik. 2017. “Another Look at Yi Hwang’s Views about Li and Qi: A Case of Time Lag
in the Transmission of Chinese Originals to Korea.” In Youngsun Back and Phillip J. Ivanhoe,
eds., Traditional Korean Philosophy: Problems and Debates. London and New York: Roman
& Littlefield.
Ro, Young-chan. 1989. The Korean Neo-Confucianism of Yi Yulgok. Albany, NY: State University
of New York Press.
Ro. Young-chan.1998. “Ecological Implication of Yi Yulgok’s Cosmology.” In Evelyn Tucker and
John Berthrong, eds., Confucianism and Cosmology. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press. 169–86.
Ro, Young-chan. 2017. “Yi Yulgok and His Contributions to Korean Neo-Confucianism: A
Non-dualistic Approach.” In Youngsun Back and Philip J. Ivanhoe, eds., Traditional Korean
Philosophy: Problems and Debates. London and New York: Roman and Littlefiled.
Tu, Wei-ming. 1985a. The Way, Learning, and Politics in Classical Confucian Humanism,
Occasional Paper and Monograph Series No. 2, The Institute of East Asian Philosophies
(Singapore).
Tu, Wei-ming. 1985b. “Yi Yulgok’s Perception of Sagely Learning,” The Proceedings of the 3rd.
International Korean Studies Conference. 제 3회 국제 학술회의 논문집. 한국정신문화연구
원Seoul: Academy of Korean Studies. 1985.
Yulgok Jeonseo 栗谷全書. 1971 Sungkyunkwan Universty Press.
Chapter 9
Song Siyŏl: The Revival of a Qi-Oriented
Approach to the Interpretation of the Mind
Shinhwan Kwak
1 Introduction
Modern scholars in Korea have paid little attention to seventeenth century Chosŏn
Dynasty philosophy. It is often said that the century was a period of incessant con-
flicts between the political parties that then existed in Korea. Some believe that the
conflicts of this period were partly responsible for the delay in the development of
the Chosŏn Dynasty. Some scholars also characterize the seventeenth century as
being flawed by the corruption of declining Neo-Confucianism. However, others
credit this period as being one where widely prevalent corruption triggered the peo-
ple’s longing for a change in many areas. Furthermore, little attention has been paid
to the significant figures of this century such as: Kim Changsaeng (金長生, 1548–
1631), Kim Chip (金集, 1574–1656), Song Junkil (宋浚吉, 1606–1672), Song
Siyŏl (宋時烈, 1607–1689), Pak Sech’ae (朴世采, 1631–1695), and Yun Chŭng
(尹拯, 1629–1714), and their doctrines on rites and on learning of principle (li 理)
and righteousness (ŭi 義). These people were conscious of their era’s mission and
were well-equipped with historical sensitivity. Historically, the most notable of
these figures was Song Siyŏl, and he occupies an important position in the history
of Korean Confucianism. He was highly respected, had a very good reputation
amongst his contemporaries, and was one of eighteen revered wise men enshrined
in the Chosŏn Dynasty Confucian Shrine (Munmyo 文廟).
Song lived during the most tumultuous period of the 500-year-old history of the
Chosŏn Dynasty. He devoted all of his life to the study of the Neo-Confucianism,
and to realizing Confucius’ great ideas set forth in the Spring and Autumn Annals
(春秋). He also regarded the positions of Mencius and Zhu Xi (朱熹 1130–1200)
as being of utmost importance, and believed that his era’s inevitable mission was to
S. Kwak (*)
Philosophy Department, Soongsil University, Seoul, South Korea
e-mail: shkwak@ssu.ac.kr

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_9
198 S. Kwak
adopt and continue their positions. He respected Zhu Xi and followed Yi I (李珥
1536–1584)’s steps in studying Zhu’s theories. Song developed these to a higher
level, which led to his being considered as one of the greatest Confucians in the
Chosŏn Dynasty. Yi Hangno (李恒老 1792–1868) who was the most faithful fol-
lower’s of Song said of him:
Zhu Xi established Neo-Confucianism by inheriting the preceding sages’ tradition and by
organizing hundreds of scholars’ learnings. It was only Songja (Master Song), who had the
perspective to see through the core of Zhu Xi’s thought besides Zhu Xi himself. Whoever
does not give Zhu Xi credit as an important scholar has little chance of understanding
Confucius and whoever does not follow Master Song’s teachings cannot understand Zhu
Xi. (Yi Hangno, Appendix Vol.2. Recorded by Kim Pyungmuk)
It is noticeable that the School of Righteousness (義理學) was formed by many

righteous voluntary soldiers (義兵) who emerged under the influence of Yi Hangno
at the end of the Chosŏn Dynasty. Song was considered the orthodox successor of
Confucius, Mencius, and Zhu Xi, and therefore, he was also labeled as a sage. Upon
his death he was entered into the Sŏngkyunkwan (成均館) Confucian Shrine because
of his academic achievements.
Righteousness is a value comparable to benevolence and related to social justice.
It is a practical rather than theoretical notion, and as such, the scale and purity of
practically accomplishing righteousness are important factors for evaluation. That
is, the Confucian concept of righteousness (義) must be taken into account in practi-
cal terms. There was much bureaucratic corruption after the war with the Qing
Dynasty in 1636, and this was the reason for Song’s theorizing and practice of righ-
teousness. In Neo-Confucian terms, vital force (qi 氣) and the mind (xin 心), rather
than principle (li 理) and human-nature (xing 性), are more closely related to moral
practice and cultivation. Thus, Song was more interested in the notions of vital
energy and the mind than other scholars of his age, and he delved into more sophis-
ticated theories about the mind more than others scholars that preceded him. His
concern and interest with the term gi/qi is closely related to his academic and politi-
cal accomplishments. That is, his critique of heresy, advocating of Zhu Xi’s teach-
ing, effort in nurturing floodlike vital energy (haoranzhiqi, 浩然之氣), and
interpreting the mind in terms of qi were deeply related to one another.
2 C
oncerning the Great Ultimate Taiji (太極) – The Root
and Spring of Everything
In Neo-Confucianism, the great ultimate (taiji 太極) is the root and the source of all
things. Zhu Xi took it as li, and Yi Hwang (李滉, 1501–1570) and Yi I (李珥,
1536–1584) accepted this viewpoint. Song, who learned Yi I’s theory of principle
and vital energy (liqilun 理氣論) from Kim Changsaeng, also took the same posi-
tion with regards to taiji. He asserted that taiji represents the general essence of
nature, and that the ultimate purpose of the taiji theory was to successfully analyze
9 Song Siyŏl: The Revival of a Qi-Oriented Approach to the Interpretation… 199
the notion of the alternation of yin (陰) and yang (陽) which can be found in the
Great Appendix of the Book of Changes (Yijing 易經). Song pondered on how
t’aegeuk/taiji as a principle, could generate yin and yang, because as a principle it
was inactive.
Like Yi I, Song paid serious attention to taiji, yin-yang, and the inseparable rela-
tionships between li and qi. He was not concerned with the esoteric aspects of li and
qi, but rather he tried to penetrate into the ways that li and qi worked in real life. He
fully understood the organic relationship between li and qi: li could not support
itself without qi and vice versa. However, he insisted that the way (道), which is li,
and vessel (器), which is qi, should be distinct. He argued that li is neither active,
nor tangible, but is at the center of all that does act. Qi on the other hand, is active,
and tangible, and is the concrete vessel in which the way is embedded. He also
argued that li and qi spontaneously merged into one and that they could be neither
one nor two, and neither of them could be the beginning or the end.
This point of view was based on Zhu Xi’s statement concerning taiji and yin-
yang. According to Zhu Xi: “We cannot see li and qi combined at the beginning, nor
can we see them separated at the end” (Zhu Xi’s Commentary on the Taiji Diagram).
According to this statement, neither of the two is preceded by the other in chrono-
logical order. However, in terms of ontological order, li is followed by qi. In other
words, qi exists because of li. This is because the taiji theory is derived from the
study of the ultimate cause of phenomena. According to Song, Zhu Xi’s idea that li
is not comprehensible because it is intangible, while material qi is comprehensible
because it is tangible was a remarkable one. We are apt to think that taiji can exist
because material exists, but an intensive search can teach us that without taiji, no
material entity can exist.
The explanation may be based on either li or qi. “There is taiji in the state of
changes, which generates two models, yin and yang.”(Yijing) “Taiji generates yang
while moving, and yin while resting.”(Chou Tun-i) Both of these ideas were consid-
ered to be the basis of the origin of everything. “Qi makes up the form of everything,
and, li makes up everything inside the form, thus li springs from li.” (Zhu Xi) This
idea was based on interactive phenomena. Different points of view resulted in dif-
ferent interpretation of the idea, namely; does movement and stillness generate taiji,
or does taiji generate yin and yang? Li and qi are at the same time one and two enti-
ties. Some theories put greater emphasis on li, while others on qi. Some focus on the
origin li, and others on the phenomena (qi). Li and qi can merge into one seamless
entity, but even in this state, li is li and qi is qi, and they cannot be muddled. Thus,
the idea that there is movement and stillness has been derived from the supposition
that li controls qi.
We can understand that Song had an impartial point of view, that he did not have
a negative attitude towards any particular theory, and that he tried to validate many
justifiable theories. According to Han Wŏnchin (韓元震 1682–1751): “Because of
Song’s theory, various vague ideas were organized, and many scholars who had
been drifting could find the right way to the truth.” (Song, Appendix Vol. 19,
Kisuljapok, by Han Wŏnchin).
200 S. Kwak
3 Qi Issuance (氣發)
Song, who tried to master many theories concerning movement, stillness and order
adhered to the concept of qi as a “material of inactivity.” He stuck to Yi I’s theory,
which argues that there is only one qi issuance, and criticized Yi Hwang’s li issu-
ance theory. Li does not allow manipulation and steering, while qi does. “A kite can
fly high up in the sky and a fish can swim in the water.” (The Book of Poetry). The
phenomena of the flying kite and the swimming fish is called qi issuance, but what
causes them to fly and swim is called li.
Yi Hwang’s opinion of li-issuance was based on Zhuzi Yulei (朱子語類), in
which he classified the Four Beginnings (四端) in Mencius and the Seven emotions
(七情) in the Book of Rites into li-issuance and qi-issuance. However, after analyz-
ing Zhu Xi’s various theories, Song insisted that there must have been an error in
the process of transcribing Zhu Xi’s sayings, Fu Guang (輔廣), one of Zhu Xi’s
disciples who transcribed Zhu Xi’s words, must have made a mistake, and that Yi
Hwang’s opinion of li-issuance did not coincide with Zhu Xi’s original ideas. Here,
aside from the argument about whether there was a mistake or not, we should pay
attention to Song’s insistence that li-issuance could not be validated by Zhu Xi’s
li-qi theory. Song maintained that Yi I’s idea about li-qi relation was correct and
clear. Yi I criticized Yi Hwang’s opinion of li issuance. Yi I insisted that Yi Hwang’s
theory cannot be justified, based on how Zhu Xi interpreted the doctrines of the first
chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean (中庸). Zhu Xi interpreted the sentence which
reads, “We refer to Heavenly Mandate as Human-nature” as “qi makes up physical
form and physical form is endowed with li.” Yi I pointed out that Yi Hwang’s opin-
ion was not consistent with Zhu Xi’s theory, and that it was therefore logically not
coherent. Furthermore, Song adhered to a stricter version of the idea that there is
only qi-issuance idea, believing that li issuance to be not logical, based upon his
belief that the four beginning are issued by qi.
Song confirmed that the four beginnings and seven emotions are all the out come
of qi-issuance. The four beginnings might be pure, because they are the things of
qi-issuance. If qi is pure at the moment of the issuance, li is also pure. If qi is dis-
turbed, li may not be pure. Song insisted that the four beginnings might not be pure.
He said: “Recently I read Zhu Xi’s article, and learned about his ideas of affection,
propriety, righteousness, and discretion. Isn’t affection one of the seven emotions
and isn’t propriety one of the four beginnings? There is no doubt that the four begin-
nings and seven emotions are mutually inclusive according Zhu Xi.”(Song,
Appendix, Vol. 15, dialogue written by Kim Kan).
Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the Doctrine of the Mean, and the Mencius made it
clear that the four beginnings and seven emotions are included in the realm of emo-
tion. Therefore both Four beginnings and Seven emotions should be explained by
only one way of qi-issuance.
4 The Mind Is of Qi
For Song qi is the origin of things. Furthermore, he transformed the notion of qi

into a notion that has more to do with the mind and human nature, rather than with
external things. Also, he discusses the mind and human nature in the context of
explaining the character of the ruler, i.e. the person who makes decisions, gives
orders, and cultivates himself. The problem of the mind is one of the pivotal topics
of Neo-Confucianism. The notions of mind (xin 心), human nature (xing 性), and
feelings (qing 情) were terms that had been used vaguely and imprecisely until
scholars from the Northern Song Dynasty defined them correctly and accurately.
Zhu Xi further developed Ch’ŏng Yi’s (程頤 1033–1107) proposition that;
“Human nature is principle (li)”, but he did not neglect the role of the mind. Lu
Jiuyuan (陸九淵, 1139–1193) a rival of Zhu Xi, presented the following proposi-
tion: “The mind is just principle.” (Sangsanjip, Vol. 11, letter to Lee Jai) However,
Lu never defined the meaning of human nature. Also, while Lu identified the results
of the decision of the mind to be principle (li), Zhu Xi asserted that the mind pos-
sesses principle before it made any decisions. Zhu Xi said that the mind could dis-
close principle (li) through sincere study and self-cultivation.
Zhu Xi interpreted the mind through the concept of qi. He believed that the mind
is equipped with principle (li), and that its primary function is to rule over the
actions of the body. He further argued that human nature is the principle of the
mind, and that feelings are the functioning and manifestation of human nature. He
also argued that when we speak of the mind, human-nature can be considered as its
core value, and thus principle can be seen in the mind. Zhang-Zai (張載, 1022–
1077) said, “The mind rules the nature of the mind and emotions” (Xingli Dachuan
性理大典 Vol. 33). Zhu Xi took this statement as an accurate one, and based upon
this argued that the mind is vacant and spiritual (虛靈), and bright. For Zhu Xi, the
mind is equipped with many principles, and thus it can correspond to all things and
events in a timely manner. (Zhu Xi, Commentaries on the Great Learning, chap of
complementation).
Song also understood the mind in terms of qi. He asserted the following proposi-
tion: “The mind is of qi” (Songjadaejeon, Vol. 90, letter to Yi Yeoku) This proposi-
tion means that the mind must be explained through the term qi. This obviously
conforms to his basic attitude. There are two contrasting positions related to this
assertion. Namely, the position that argues that the mind is principle, or the position
that argues that the mind is a combination of both principle (li) and vital energy (qi).
It is not necessary to argue that Song’s proposition is different from Lu’s and
Wang’s. However, it inevitably became a subject of debate among Confucian schol-
ars who took the proposition that the mind is the combination of both li and qi to be
correct. Yi Hwang especially, understood the mind to be a combination both li and
qi. In the Chosŏn Dynasty, Yi I was the first to say that the mind is of qi, but it was
not a prominent theme in his philosophical system. Similarly, in the earlier part of
the Song Dynasty, it was not a crucial or significant topic.
202 S. Kwak
As is often seen throughout the history of philosophy, there is some moment that
acts as a catalyst to a significant development in an academic theory. Song’s propo-
sition emerged and was strengthened in the process of his advocating of Yi I’s idea,
by defying of his academic rivals, and by attacking his political enemies. Hong
Yubu (洪有阜 1617–?), Yi Sangchin (李象辰 1710–1772) and Yu Chik (柳稷,
1602–1662) were three notable representatives of those who attacked Yi I’s aca-
demic achievements. The focus of their attacks on Yi I can be summarized as fol-
lows. They criticized, first, Yi I’s motives in both holding and resigning from a
political position, second, the success of Yi I’s involvement in politics, and third, the
orthodoxy of Yi I’s Neo-Confucianism. Among these academic rivals and political
enemies, Yu Chik was the most notorious. He pointed out that Yi I confused qi with
li and made the two into one. He deemed this to be a serious problem with Yi I’s
position. Yu Chik’s view that this is a serious problem in Yi I’s theory was not only
the opinions of Yu Chik, but also that of almost all scholars from the Youngnam
province. It was also an attack not only on Yi I but also on all of his followers. Yu
Chik’s accusations towards Yi I were meant to destroy the status of Yi I’s academic
orthodoxy.
Song defended Yi I and proposed a counterargument to Yu Jik’s criticisms. In
particular he did much to positively advocate Yi I’s proposition that “The mind is of
qi” which Yu Jik pointed out as a vice. Song argued that many former sages spoke
of the mind in terms of qi, but Yu Chik did not understand the meaning of this. For
Song, Confucius’ saying, “A human can enlarge the dao, but the dao can never
enlarge a human” (Annalects 15:28) was decisive proof for the proposition that
“The mind is of qi.” Furthermore, Zhang Zai asserts that “The mind can fully real-
ize nature, but nature cannot control the mind”(Zhuzi Yulei, Vol. 60, tenth article.)
Chŏng Yi also argues that, “The mind can make the dao, and thus the mind is alive.”
Also, Zhu Xi said, that there are perceptions in the mind, but the substantial entity
of dao has no action. All things in the world are made up of qi but the mind is made
up of the finest qi, and the mind is the mind, while principle (li) is principle. All
these statements by Confucius and various Song Dynasty Neo-Confucian scholars
reinforced the idea that human-nature and dao belong to the realm of li, and that the
mind belongs to the realm of qi. Although this seems clear to those who are willing
to see it, some chose not to accept the truth.
Song thought that Yi I made Mencius’ and Zhang Zai’s teachings absolutely
clear to the world, and that Yi I had performed a meritorious deed which would
benefit future scholars. Song believed that although the mind is related to the body,
it contains principles, noting this as the reason for Mencius’ and Zhang Zai’s belief
that the mind is the combination of both li and qi. For example, the word ‘the mind’
was understood as being created by combining human nature and perception (jue
覺), by Zhang Zai, and by combining conscience with benevolence and righteous-
ness by Mencius. However these sayings mean only that li is in the mind, and do not
mean that the mind is li. Thus, for Song, Yu Chik’s criticism is misdirected.
5 T
he Argument with Regard to the Emptiness
and Spirituality of the Mind
Song’s interpretation of the mind through the concept of qi was focused on the
“emptiness and spirituality” of the mind. Confucian scholars used to speak of the
mind as a thing that was empty, spiritual and had no darkness. Song argued that the
“emptiness and spirituality” of the mind is qi. That is, for him, when explaining the
mind, “emptiness and spirituality” are the main concepts, and they are qi. He further
understood the “emptiness and spirituality” of the mind through the concept of sub-
stance (ti 體) and function (yung 用). This is because, in his introduction to the
Doctrine of the Mean, Zhu Xi wrote that the ‘emptiness and spirituality’ (xuling 虛
靈) is the function of the mind while ‘nature and emotion (xingjing 性情)’ is the
substance. (Song Vol. 104, letter to Jeong Kyungyu). Also Song argued that if we
talk about ‘emptiness and spirituality’ but not of nature and emotion, the mind will
become an empty vessel. On the other hand, if we talk about nature and emotion but
not to talk about ‘emptiness and spirituality,’ then there will be no vessel to contain
the water. (Kwak 2012: 134).
There were some dialogues between Kim Kan (金榦 1646–1732) and his teacher
Song, about the emptiness and the spirituality of the mind:
Kim: Is the mind only constituted of qi? Otherwise, is it a thing that is a combi-
nation both li and qi?
Song: The mind is only constituted of qi.
Kim: Between heaven and earth, the myriad of things are made out of qi, Among
them, only human beings are made up of superior qi, compared to all other
things. All the organs in the body are of qi, but the mind specifically is of
superior qi. Therefore the mind is naturally vacant and spiritual so that it is
automatically equipped with principles without obstructions. Therefore,
the vacancy and the spirituality of the mind is a result of the clear superior
qi it has been endowed with, and not the result of the union of both li and
ki. Now when I myself check my mind, if I am fresh and clear in my physi-
cal condition, then my mind is clear, but when tired and burnt out, then my
mind is dark. Therefore I came to know that the “emptiness and spiritual-
ity” is caused by qi.
Song: Yes. Therefore Master Yulgok took the mind to be of qi.
Kim: Then, is the “emptiness and the spirituality” of the mind really qi?
Song: Of course, it is qi. (Song Vol. 115, Dialogues 2, by Kim Kan)
We can see the same viewpoint in the dialogues between Master Song and his
student Park Kwangyil (朴光一 1655–1723). By sharing their dialogues, they
agreed with the opinion that the “spirituality” of the mind is qi, and the mind is a qi
which is alive and moving. When we are explaining the mind, we refer not only to
“emptiness and spirituality” but also to perception. Zhu Xi has said in the commen-
taries on The Book of Great Learning, “There is nothing for the spirituality of the
204 S. Kwak
mind to not perceive” Song believed this perception to be a power that the “empy
and spiritual” mind originally had.
Song said that in the mind, there are true substantial entities that are similar to a
bright mirror. They have similar functions in that as the mirror reflects images of
outer things, the mind reflects the inner. If the mirror is not bright, it cannot shine,
if it cannot shine, it cannot be a mirror. If dust falls on the face of the mirror, h owever
bright the mirror, it cannot function as a mirror. Likewise, if human greed filled the
substantial entity of the mind which was originally empty, spiritual, and without
dark, the mind’s brightness cannot emerge in daily life. If no greed affects the mind,
true human-nature as a whole is preserved, and truth and righteousness can be
equipped in the mind. Then, the state of the mind could have no bias towards any-
thing in particular, and through this the universe is brought to order. (Song Vol. 81,
letter to Jo Bokhyung).
Song understood various theories about the relationship between li and qi from
each theory’s viewpoint, and he adopted a similar attitude for his theory of the mind.
Therefore he interpreted the assertion that the mind could be taiji to mean the fol-
lowing: The substance of principle (理體) is endless, and the mind contains this
principle, therefore the substance of the mind (心體) is endless. As principle can be
considered as taiji, the mind can also be considered as taiji.
he Idea of Rectitude (Zhi 直) and Floodlike Energy

6 T
(Haoranzhiqi 浩然之氣)
King Chŏng’jo (正祖 1777–1800) wrote on Tairosabi (大老祀碑), the monument

stone: “Song’s study was a kind of conglomeration of Zhu Xi’s. And his scholary
training was performed along with Yi I’s school. He treasured the Chinese character
Zhi (直, honesty and righteousness) and lived by it.” Song identified Chosŏn’s his-
torical and social surroundings with those of Zhu Xi’s period. He believed that Zhu
Xi’s teachings could be directly used to illuminate Choson’s social situation. He
took Zhu Xi as the model of his learning and teaching activities throughout his life.
Song’s philosophy and attitude can be interpreted with the Chinese character zhi
(直). Zhi was the means by which Zhu Xi controlled his mind. Zhu Xi interpreted
zhi as the principle by which Heaven and Earth give birth to all creatures and all
Confucian sages responded to others and things. The principle by which all crea-
tures are created is related to the way of man. The righteous way of Heaven and man
is zhi. (Song Vol. 89, the last letter to Kwon Sangha) This is the quintessence of
Zhu Xi’s philosophy. Song maintained that Zhu Xi interpreted various scholars’
philosophical ideas through the notion of zhi. It was Confucius, Mencius and some
scholars of the Northern Song Dynasty that Zhu Xi tried to analyze, and tried find
commonalities amongst them. Song, on his death bed, tried to remind his disciples
of Zhu Xi’s teachings which were given to Zhu Xi’s disciples at his death.
As was for Zhu Xi and Song, zhi was a very important concept in traditional
Confucianism. It had significant meaning even in ancient Confucian classics. We
can glean the significance of zhi from the following passages. The hexagram Earth
(坤) in the Book of Changes reads, “Zhi (honest) and righteous behavior build up
good character, rendering you errorless and fortunate.” Analect;14 reads, “Zhi is the
only way/path human beings should take,” and “Requit hatred with zhi.” And
Mencius reads, “Zhi nurtures vital energy qi.” Zhi means not being self-centered.
Thus, zhi means not allowing self-deception in the depths of our heart and not
deceiving others when dealing with them. Zhi means, in other words, revealing what
is accepted or rejected by the innermost part of the true mind, when it is exposed to
all things and affairs. Zhi dovetails with the way emotions, which Heaven has given
us, work. Song interpreted zhi as “being detached from vulgar interest and free of
the cleavage between in and out, up and down, and near and far.”(Song Vol. 97, letter
to Yi Tongbo) We regard the state that is free of personal greed, as the innate and
true nature, and the state warped by personal greed as evil. Song differentiated the
mandate of Heaven from physical need, “The physical need of human beings stems
from Heavenly Law, but if there is indulgence, Heavenly Law becomes subordi-
nated.” (Song Vol. 5, Kichukbongsa) The following are some examples of Heavenly
Law and physical needs. Eating to live is agreeable to Heavenly Law, while to be
gluttonous is a human being’s physical needs. The disparities between matrimony
and sexual obsession, having a house to live in and coveting a luxurious pavilion
with a high wall engraved with fanciful carvings, and being faithful to superiors and
serving treacherously out of revengeful malice, stem from the degree to which we
human beings push ourselves. Song’s idea was that as maggots hatch in putrid
shrimps, so does a human being’s physical greed emerge Heavenly Law. Song
thought of the crooked mind as coming from physical need. He considered personal
greed to be the root of all evil. (Song Vol. 5, Kichukbongsa).
He argued that the ultimate purpose of learning was to eradicate personal greed.
For him, the Book of Poetry (詩經) is considered to be great because it is not tainted
with any personal peculiarities. The Analects with its idea of benevolence, the
Doctrine of the Mean with its idea of impartiality, and the Mencius with its idea of
piety have remained with us as great books, free of personal peculiarities. Song
mentioned Confucius’ idea of benevolence, Confucius’ grandson Zisi (子思)‘s
impartiality, and Confucius’ disciple Zhengzi (曾子)‘s piety as being illustrative of
these concept, which all aimed at controlling personal greed and were closely
related to the fundamental ideas found in the Poetry. (Song Supplement, Vol. 9,
royal seminar in King Sukjong’s palace) Song insisted that human beings could not
get to the core of their true nature until they got rid of the hindrance of personal
greed. Song thought of the state free of personal greed as the state of being clear and
bright, and he urged that human beings should try to get to this kind of state. He
believed that human beings could only immerse themselves in this state through
learning. To him, learning was reverence for the Heavenly Law.The purpose of
learning was to help human beings return to the original state of zhi. The Book of
Changes stressed that human beings should try to purify their minds through piety
(敬). Mencius also emphasized the righteous mind. Song contended that these two
206 S. Kwak
ideas should be regarded as the essential principles of learning. Vital energy qi,
which Song regarded as vital in learning was the spirit of magnanimity, which was
thought by Mencius to be a means to mental stability (不動心), Mental stability
means a state of moral imperturbability in which a person remains aloof from all
forms of temptation.(Mencius, chap 3:1).
The desire to repay kindness and to revenge slights and insults are basic emo-
tions of ordinary human beings. Most Confucian scholars were conscious of the
teaching of their predecessors; that human beings should avoid extremes by control-
ling their emotions. However, the matter is not so simple when a person contrived
to revenge abominations done to him or to vindicate his honor when it was ruined
by the wicked deeds of the slandering of others. If the desire to retaliate went to
extremes, it could lead to the destruction of the community.
Therefore Confucius suggested the Maxim; “You should repay kindness with
kindness, and deal with enemy through uprightness zhi 直” (Analects 14:36). In this
case, I thought that Confucius used the zhi in terms of social justice and moral
impartiality. Song selected the maxim of Confucius to deal with the Qing’s invasion
to Chosŏn. That war called northern babarian’s invasion, was so terrible and harsh
to the Song’s families as well as the King of Chosŏn In-jo and his peoples. Song
eagerly joined and carried the project of subjugating the Qing dynasty with King
Hyojong. But his activity and idea of that is not attacking or revenge taken out of
malice, but an aiming at establishing social justice and reconstructing the ethical
culture (Kwak 1996:136).
We can understand Song’s idea from a dialogue between Yun Bongku and Kwŏn
Sangha
Yun: From what I heard I understand that Kim Sanghŏn (1570–1652), Kim Chip
(1574–1656), Song Junkil (1606–1672) these three thought of the great
cause of the project as the revenge on Qing. But Song put greater emphasis
on the great idea shown in Spring and Autumn Annal, and on averting the
barbarian’s invasion than taking revenge. Is that right?
Kwŏn: Song really did so. (Song Vol. 19, Kisuljaplok by Yun Bongku)
Song’s proposal of subjugating the North was not based on any personal desires
for a hegemony over other s but on the Confucian idea of Heavenly law, namely
maxim of ‘repay enemy through zhi’. His idea was triggered by a yearning to oblit-
erate the national ignominy of the year of Pyŏngja, by the zeal for infusing national
consciousness and refurbishing human culture destroyed by the northern barbarian.
Many of Song’s disciples believed that their teacher’s philanthropic spirit stimulated
him to follow the examples of the past sages and to do his utmost to prevent human
beings from degenerating to the level of beasts. His accomplishments of these seems
to stem from the idea of zhi.
7 Conclusion
The two main academic circles of the sixteenth century, whose leaders were Yi
Hwang or Yi I, solved most of the problems of Neo-Confucianism, especially with
regard to the li-qi theory and the problems of nature and the mind. As demonstrated
in the above section, Song solved these problems by examining his own character.
Most of all, the notion of rectitude (直 zhi) is a cardinal concept in his philosophical
thought. This notion which is related to the power of execution, and the power to
act, is relevant to Song’s qi oriented approach to the mind.
Song led the seventeenth century’s academic inquiry with the philosophical
proposition “The mind is of qi.” This proposition was originally presented by Yi I
who was a teacher of Song’s teacher. However, Song further articulated the prem-
ises of this proposition, and defined its meaning succinctly. His argument for his
definition of the mind, first and foremost dealt with the point that the mind presides
over the body, and with its relation to self-cultivation, and the development of
haoranzhiqi 浩然之氣. His intention here was to continue the investigations on the
problem of vanity, the intelligible power of the mind, and the nature of knowing and
perception. His discussion with academic circles and political arguments also
touched on the idea of social justice, and related this to the theme of nurturing
haoranzhiqi which is a strong sense of morality. His concern with qi oriented phi-
losophy was to execute moral justice by nurturing the floodlike vital energy (haoran-
zhiqi), that is, by cultivating moral power to control sensual and vulgar needs. He is
currently held in high esteem, due to his deep, lifetime study of Zhu Xi, and the way
he gained great courage and strength from Mencius’ teachings by nurturing qi by
zhi, that is, righteous behavior. Despite potential damage to his relations with stu-
dents and those around him, and with no regard to winning or losing, Song’s beliefs
did not waver, and he was, therefore, and still is, considered to have been intelligent,
upright, and honest.
Glossary
Chong-Jo (正祖 1752 ~ 1800) the 22nd king of the Chosŏn dynasty
Chosŏn (朝鮮) the name of the dynasty in Korea lasting from 1392 to 1910
Chung Yi (程頤 1033년 ~ 1107년) Confucian scholar during the Song dynasty.
The younger brother of Chung Ho
Dairosabi (大老祠碑) the monument for Song Siyeol located in Yeoju, Gyeongi
Province
Eurihak (義理學) the study of righteousness and justice
Han Wŏnchin (韓元震 1682–1751) neo-Confucian scholar during the late Chosŏn
period. The student of Song Siyeol
Haoranzhiqi (浩然之氣) clean and vast moral energy, which fills heaven and earth
208 S. Kwak
Hong Yubu (洪有阜) Confucian student during the late Chosŏn period who
attacked Song Siyeol
Liqilun (理氣論) the theory of li and qi
Jeong Kyungyu (鄭景由) Confucian scholar during the late Chosŏn period
Jo Bokhyŏng (趙復亨) Confucian scholar during the late Chosŏn period
Kichuk Bongsa (己丑封事) the name of the document containing the proposals
sent to the king in 1649, written by Song Siyeol
Kim Changsaeng (金長生 1548–1631) Confucian scholar during the middle
Chosŏn period. The student of Yul Gok Yi-I and the teacher of Song Siyeol
Kim Jip (金集) the son of Kim Changsaeng
Kim Jikkyŏng (金直卿) the student of Song Siyeol
Kim Jungko (金仲固) the student of Song Siyeol
Kim Kan (金榦) the student of Song Siyeol
Kim Sanghŏn (金尙憲 1570–1652) one of the people who wanted to go to war
when the Ching dynasty invaded Chosun in 1636
Kisuljaplok (記述雜錄) records kept by students containing the teachings of Song
Siyeol
Kwŏn Sangha (權尙夏) the student and successor of Song Siyeol
Kun (坤) the hexagram of the earth in the Book of Changes
Yi Kunbo (李君輔) the student of Song Siyeol
Yi Yeŏku (李汝九) the student of Song Siyeol
Li (理) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting the principle of all things
Liji (禮記) the Book of Rites
Lu Jiuyuan (陸九淵 1139–1193) the Chinese philosopher during the Song dynasty
who was the rival of Chu Shi
Lunyu (論語) the Analects
Munmyo (文廟) Confucian shrine
Pak Sech’ae (朴世采 1631–1695) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn
period
Pak Kwangyil (朴光一) the student of Song Siyeol
Qi-Issuance (氣發) the release of qi
Qi (氣) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting vital or material force
Shao Yong (邵雍 1011–1077) Confucian scholar during the Song dynasty
Song Junkil (宋浚吉 1606–1672) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn
period
Song Siyŏl (宋時烈 1607–1689) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn
period
Songja (宋子) a title given to Song Siyeol meaning sage
Songja Daejŏn (宋子大全) name given to the complete works of Song Siyeol
Sungkyunkwan (成均館) the national Confucian school of the Chosŏn dynasty
Suk’jong (肅宗) the 19th king of the Chosŏn dynasty
Taiji (太極) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting ultimate reality
Wang Soulun (王守仁 1472–1528) Confucian scholar during the Ming dynasty
Hwasŏjip (華西集) the name of the complete works of Hwaseo Yihangro
Xin (心) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting mind

Xing (性) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting human nature
Yang (陽) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting positive and bright material
force
Yi Hangno (李恒老 1792–1868) Confucian scholar during the late Chosŏn period
Yi Hwang (李滉 1501–1570) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn period
Yi Sangchin (李象辰) Confucian scholar during the late Chosŏn period
Yi I (李珥 1536–1584) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn period
Yi Ching (易經) Chinese name for the Book of Changes
Yin (陰) concept in Chinese philosophy denoting negative and dark material force
Yu Jik (柳稷) Confucian student during the late Chosŏn period
Yun Jeung (尹拯 1629–1714) Confucian scholar during the middle Chosŏn period
Zhang Zai (張載 1020–1077) Confucian scholar during the Song dynasty
Zheng -zi (曾子) the disciple of Confucius who wrote The Great Learning
zhi (直) one of the main concepts stressed by Confucius, meaning honesty and
impartiality
Zhu Xi (朱熹 1130–1200) the master of neo-Confucianism
Zhuzi Yulei (朱子語類) records kept by students containing the teachings of
Zhu-chi
Zi Si (子思) the grandson of Confucius who wrote The Golden Mean
Zhongyong (中庸) Chinese name for The Golden Mean
Bibliography
Song Siyŏl, Songja Daejŏn (宋子大全), Samunhakhoe (斯文學會), Seoul 1971

Yi Hangno, Hwasŏjip (華西集 The Collected Writings of Yi Hangno ), Dayangsŏchŏk, 1973 Seoul
ZhuXi, Zhuzi Yulei (朱子語類), Chonghwasuju (中華書局), Beijing, 1992
Jing Su(經書), Daidongmunhwayŏnkuwŏn (大東文化硏究院), Sungkyunkwan University, 1976
Lu, ziu yon Lu ziuyonjip (陸九淵)集), Hakgobang (학고방), Seoul, 2018
Kwak, Shinhwan, 2012 Uam Songsiyŏl (우암 송시열), Sokwangsa (서광사), Seoul 2012
Kwak, Shinhwan, 1996 Uam Song siyŏl, The Philospophy of Righteous in the age of Resistance
Confucian Philosophy in Korea pp123–169 The Academy of Korean Studies Edited by
Haechang Chung Han Hyong-jo
Yi Sŏn Yŏl, 2015, Philosophy of Mind in the 17th Century Choson dynasty (17세기의 마음의
철학), Geulhangali
Peter K. Bol, 1992 This culture of Ours, Stanford University Press Stanford California
Wm. Theodore de Bary and JaHyun Kim Haboush, 1985, The Rise of Neo-Confucianism in Korea,
Columbia University Press , New York
Part IV
Diverse Developments of Korean
Confucianism
Chapter 10
The Sarim Movement and Confucian
Philosophy
Oaksook Chun Kim
1 Introduction
Confucianism was the major intellectual tradition and the state philosophy in Korea
for the whole of the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910). Confucian intellectuals held
prominent positions throughout this period and one of the most important activities
was continuously providing philosophical justification for the social order. The
Sarim as a movement and as a collective of intellectuals, had a specific historical
beginning that was inextricably entangled in socio-political events known as
SAWHA, the literati purges that raged for decades. Confucian scholars were respon-
sible for providing regional customs, agricultural policies, and every form of ritual
dealing with human affairs throughout the Joseon Dynasty. Political institutions and
academies played consequential roles in the development of the tradition, however
the relationship between official institutions and Confucian intellectuals remained
notably paradoxical.
Sarim 士林, literally translated, means “forest of scholars”, or “multitude of lite-
rati/learned people.” While the term rim 林 stands for forest, woods, grove or jungle
indicating a multiplicity of trees and flora, sa 士 is equivalent to another term,
seonbi, which stands for scholar, teacher, educated person, virtuous person, or intel-
lectuals with moral integrity. The term, Yurim 儒林 has also been used interchange-
ably with Sarim. Yurim means “forest of Confucian literati”, and encompasses a
much broader spectrum of intellectuals and scholars of Confucianism and Confucian
tradition. The Encyclopedia of Confucianism, published in 1991, makes a clear dis-
tinction between these two, in the context of historical as well as philosophical
significance.1
Yugyo Daesajeon 유교대사전. (Encyclopedia of Confucianism, Seoul: Bagyeongsa, 1990).

1
O. C. Kim (*)
Department of East Asian Studies, UCLA (formerly), Los Angeles, CA, USA

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_10
214 O. C. Kim
The Sarim, as a movement and also as a collective of intellectuals, had a specific

historical beginning that was inextricably entangled in significant socio-political
events known as sahwa 士禍 or the literati purges that raged for decades in the
Joseon dynasty. Thus, Sarim represented a paradoxical embodiment of the tumultu-
ous history of political controversies, intellectual contestation, and moral endeavors
of the Confucians in the Joseon Dynasty. The renowned persecutions of Confucian
literati, specifically known as sahwa persisted during the years 1498 and 1545.
During the Muo sahwa 戊午士禍 of 1498, the Kapja sahwa 甲子士禍 of 1504, and
Gimyo sahwa 己卯士禍 of 1519, and the Ulsa sahwa 乙巳士禍 of 1545, sarim
Confucians who fell out of favor were condemned as exiles, or worse, sentenced to
death.
As in the case of any philosophical tradition, when their philosophies are hijacked
by a regime to justify it’s control of their peoples and societies, the philosophy can
evolve to represent a monstrous system of structures, and opposite and violent poli-
cies. This occurred with Confucianism. However, in contrast, Confucianism was
also in solidarity with socially engaged philosophical traditions and ideals such as
democracy and socialism, and inherently sustained moral, social, and political argu-
ments for a more just society. Socially engaged traditions also have inspired intel-
lectuals and compelled their historical movements against violent policies and the
unjust suffering of the weak and underprivileged. These traditions and ideals have
empowered individuals and their struggle for a more fair society, against the privi-
leged, the powerful, and the oppressors with their destructive course of action.
Having confirmed that the basic goals of these philosophies were for an equitable
society, however, we then face the dilemma of addressing their historical failures
and may be inclined to simply dismiss them. Political and economical connotations
have a way of making their impact upon cognitive endeavors and conventional
knowledge in general, and in particular, the manner in which the histories of peoples
are documented. It is clearly the case with the “histories” about Korean Confucianism.
Was sarim anything resembling a political party or an organized society? The
simple answer is no. Who were the individual constituents of sarim? In reality, an
overwhelming majority of Confucian intellectuals and seonbi chose to form an alli-
ance with the sarim movement. The counterpart of sarim, consisted of the members
of powerful elites among the high government officials known as gwanhak 官學
scholars, who were the advocates and custodians of government sanctions imposed
on all aspects of society including Confucian learning.
Historians have concluded that at any given time during its history, the sarim
Confucians outnumbered the gwanhak elites by a nine to one margin in the Joseon
Dynasty. While mutual resentment persisted between gwanhak Confucians and the
people during the Joseon dynasty, sarim Confucians were regarded as heroes and
the guardians of morality and social justice throughout the Korean peninsula. The
sarim tradition and the Confucian intellectuals who embraced the sarim legacies as
their own have been heralded as the true sages and heroes or worthy individuals in
Korean Confucianism. More importantly, the sarim movement as a whole is highly
regarded because of the significant and compelling role it played in the development
and formation of Korean Confucianism and it’s general moral discourse. Thus, the
sarim tradition and the Confucian intellectuals who embraced the sarim legacies as
10 The Sarim Movement and Confucian Philosophy 215
their own have been heralded as the true sages and worthy individual representatives
in Korean Confucianism.
2 Confucianism in Korea
The history of Confucianism in the Korean peninsula from the fourteenth century in
the Goryeo Dynasty (936–1356) through the five centuries of the Joseon Dynasty
(1392–1910), signified a major development of Confucian philosophy with enor-
mous implications and the development of the moral, intellectual, and political
spheres well into the modern times. Sarim intellectuals of the Joseon Dynasty had
major influence on the historical evolution of not only the narratives about political
events, but the substance of the philosophical and moral discourse of Korean
Confucianism as a whole.
Nearly four centuries after Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) completed the philosophy
of Seongnihak 性理學 based upon the i-gi/li-qi 理氣 discourse, the Confucians in
the Joseon Dynasty reclaimed his entire system as the paradigmatic philosophical
foundation of Confucianism. Zhu Xi 朱熹 predicated a radical egalitarianism as the
metaphysical principle of Confucianism based upon his arguments of the unam-
biguous universality of the i-gi/li-qi construct of realities on one hand, and the inter-
connectedness of all realities including human societies and human knowing, on the
other. Furthermore, Confucian philosophy, more specifically Seongnihak, signified
an affirmation of human inquiry and the understanding of reality with all its ambi-
guities, flaws, and duality against the seductive promises of absolute certainties. The
human option, thus embraced by the Confucians, was not being an absolutist with
all the answers, or a nihilist who denies the validity of all answers, but rather, to
accept in courage and trust the not so perfect human quest for understanding.
Zhu Xi and his Confucian philosophy, known as Jujahak 朱子學 and also as
Seongnihak, prevailed among the Confucian intellectuals in the Goryeo Dynasty, as
the champion of Confucianism in accordance with the wisdom of Confucius and
Mencius. An Hyang (1243–1396), Yi Saek 李穡 (1328–1396), Jeong Mongju 鄭夢
周 (1337–1392), Jeong Dojon 鄭道傳 (1337–1398), and Gwon Geun 權近 (1352–
1409) are among the major scholars of this era, and who have been historically
credited for the initial growth and advancement of Confucianism. An Hyang made
an official visit to the Yuan Dynasty in China during 1289–1290 when he accompa-
nied King, Chung-Yol (1274–1308) and his entourage. During the 4 months of his
visit, An Hyang studied and made copies of Jujajeonseo 朱子全書 (Complete
Works of Zhu Xi), and brought the entire text to Korea, returning in March of 1290.
From the earliest time of its establishment in the Goryeo Dynasty, seongnihak
scholars manifested two very distinct paths of social-political engagement. One
path upheld by Jeong Mongju, was that of justice watch to maintain the spirit of
Su Ui, to uphold justice unto death and thereby accomplish the path of justice,
Seong Ui. The other path, chosen by Jeong Dojon (1337–1398) and Gwon Geun
(1352–1409), maintained a pragmatic path and supported the political revolution
that ended Goryeo Dynasty, and established the Joseon Dynasty.
216 O. C. Kim
Both camps believed that they were in accord with the seongnihak tradition.
Thus the Confucian philosophy of morality and social justice were paradoxically
entangled in the complex political dramas involving institutions of both the Goryeo
and Joseon dynasties in the rise and fall of the two eras of sovereign rules.
Thus Korean Confucianism maintained from the Goryeo to Joseon Dynasties,
encompassed two completely different traditions, namely the sarim and gwanhak
traditions. The two traditions embodied contradistinctive perspectives on moral and
philosophical implications of Confucianism on socio-political issues. Specifically,
the gwanhak tradition headed by Jeong Dojeon and Gweon Geun maintained pro-
institution, and pro-hegemonic positions as the term gwan indicates. Gwan means
official, institutional, bureaucrat, or government, thus gwanhak appropriately
describes the tradition that joined forces with ruling political institutions and
defended their policies as the primary path for establishing a strong nation and an
upright society. Characteristically, the gwanhak Confucian’s policies on issues ben-
efited the governing courts and empowered the rulers and their hegemonic control
over social, political, economical, and cultural affairs of the dynasty.
Jeong Dojon and Gwon Geun were each highly accomplished scholars of
Confucianism, and were convinced that their policies and system were for the good
of the society as a whole. The gwanhak tradition was the dominant force leading the
Joseon Dynasty and its ruling institutions toward establishing a Confucian regime
that set out to convert the entire nation from Buddhism to Confucianism. The task
entailed two projects: to educate the public and implement newly proscribed social
mores and customs in harmony with the Confucian tradition, while at the same time,
suppressing the influence of Buddhism which had dominated the nation for several
centuries up to the fall of Goryeo Dynasty.
Jeong Dojon authored the famous Bulssijapbyeon 佛氏雜辨 (Treatise on
Buddhism), the opus that led the way for the Confucian arguments against Buddhism,
and the government denunciation and attacks on Buddhist institutions. Gwon Geun
authored the Daehak Doseol 大學圖說 (Commentaries on the book of Great
Learning), and other documents to educate the public on the basic Confucian texts.
The Confucian scholars who embraced gwanhak tradition persisted in their efforts
at both: the attacks on Buddhism, and the education of the public on Confucian
tradition.
The gwanhak scholars were the Confucians who obtained government appoint-
ments, and as in the case with Jeong Dojon, one of the most powerful ministers
known as the gaeguk gongshin. The gongshin encompassed the ranks of ministers
who were designated as the meritorious national heroes, and received enormous
wealth and privileges as rewards for their roles in the downfall of the Goryeo
dynasty and the ensuing rise of Joseon dynasty.
The Confucian scholars who embraced the gwanhak tradition were well versed
and accomplished in the Confucian Classics and prolific in their scholarly publica-
tions, yet at the same time, conservative and dogmatic as well as firmly text-bound.
Despite this, their scholarship and understanding of Confucianism lacked philo-
sophical insight and moral depth.
In contrast, the sarim intellectuals reaffirmed the importance of serious Confucian

philosophies. The sarim Confucians were to reclaim the moral accountability of
intellectual endeavors in terms of both the integrity of their inquiries and their
emphasis on the concrete issues of social justice in the lived world. The i-gi dis-
course maintained by the seongnihak philosophers in the Joseon Dynasty allowed
for dissension and generated a discursive practice in accordance with the radically
egalitarian philosophical orientation of Confucian inquiry. Thus, all forms of uni-
versal or traditional guarantees of validation are to be precluded. The seongnihak
philosophers and the sarim intellectuals in Korea confirmed the Confucian affirma-
tion of human inquiry in the context of discursive practice that would be coherent
yet complex, integrated yet controversial, and paradoxical as well as cogent.
It is important to recognize the basic distinctions between the two legacies and
traditions of the gwanhak Confucians on one side and the sarim Confucians on the
other. Contradistinctive characteristics of the two traditions and their philosophical
as well as social implications continue to play significant roles in the Korean
Confucian discourse in the areas of history, literature, and moral arguments. It
would be a mistake, however, to define the two traditions as oppositional factions or
schools of Korean Confucianism. The two traditions coexisted throughout the his-
tory of Korean Confucianism as separate yet interactively engaged constituents.
More importantly, the sarim and gwanhak traditions were interdependent as well as
interactive, and both traditions upheld and defined the Confucian basic concerns for
moral, intellectual, and social responsibilities in the lived world.
3 Sarim History: A Political Narrative
Sarim as a historical Confucian movement and, more importantly as a collective of

Confucian intellectuals, scholars, and citizens, represented the paradoxical embodi-
ment of the tumultuous history of political controversies and moral struggle of the
Confucians in Korea. The sarim movement during the Joseon Dynasty was involved
in the political and intellectual turmoil in society, and as a result of such involve-
ment, the movement yielded lasting impact on the discursive practice among the
serious intellectuals of that period. The “Confucian tension” of that society, and as
well, the dissension and disputation among intellectuals, whether they were gener-
ated out of factional and political disputes or metaphysical argumentation, became
entangled in the eventual persecutions of sarim Confucians. During the infamous
persecution, specifically known as sahwa, meaning, “literati purges”, Confucians
who fell out of favor were condemned by the regime to exiles and even death.
Over the years, historians have written numerous publications about the state of
political conflicts and events involving factionalism and concluded that they were
the primary causes that engendered the sahwa during the Joseon Dynasty. One of
commonly recurring themes, in the official as well as scholarly explanations, is that
the sarim reformers lacked in level-headedness and pragmatic wisdom. These
explanations, for the most part, resorted to a logical justification of the literati purges
218 O. C. Kim
and persecution, as if, the violent events of sahwa were caused by the persecuted
Confucians who “had it coming.” I would argue that these excuses and explanations
are reprehensible as well as incongruent. We are reminded once again, the warning
of E. P. Thompson, “to pay attention to the enormous condescension of posterity.”2
Nevertheless, the persecution of Confucian intellectuals during the Joseon Dynasty,
culminating in the sahwa calamities and atrocities, impart enormous significance
for valid research and the understanding of sarim history in Korean Confucianism.
4 The Mu-O sahwa 戊午士禍: 1498
The Mu-O sahwa, the first among the four infamous calamities, is known as the his-
tory purge. Sarim Confucians became entangled in the political conflicts concern-
ing the implications of uncorrupted historical documentation. What happens to
humanity when our history is deprived of truth, and instead, fabricated with untruth
and omissions? This crime against humanity occurred during the fifteenth century
in Joseon dynasty. The government documents and official records blatantly falsi-
fied the events of a political assassination. Numerous loyal ministers and Confucian
scholars challenged and denounced the heinous crimes, and this resulted in the per-
secutions of Mu-O sahwa of 1498.
Kim Jong-Jik 金宗直 (1431–1498), and Kim Il-Son 金馹孫 (1464–1498) were
members of the sarim roster that included numerous Confucian scholars and gov-
ernment officials who chose exile to be spared from executions. A detailed and
extensive account of events involving a wide range of various official ranks of the
King’s court in Joseon dynasty government are extant in various historical records
and documents including the Joseon Wangjo Silok.3 More importantly, numerous
historical accounts of the event, as well as the circumstances that resulted in the
purges, blame the historical documents authored by Kim Jong-Jik and Kim Il-son.
The revered King Sejong (1397–1450) having canonized the Hangul, had estab-
lished the Jiphyeonjeon,4 whereby rigorous scholarship in Confucian philosophy as
well as advancement in scientific inquiries, economic policies, and strong foreign
policies became realities. King Sejong was succeeded by his son, Munjong (1450–
1452), and upon his untimely death, Danjong (1452–1455) became the king at a
2
Edward P. Thompson, The Making of English Working Class (London: Harmondsworth, 1963).
See also, Eric Hobsbawm, On History (London: The New Press, 1997). James W. Loewen, Lies My
Teacher Told Me (New York: The New Press, 2007).
3
Joseon Wangjo Shillok, Reprinted by Guksa Pyonchan Wiwonhoe (Seoul: 1955–1958). See also,
Edward Willet Wagner, The Literati Purges: Political Conflict in Early Yi Korea (Distributed by
Harvard University Press, 1974). An Byeong Ju, Yugyo ei Minbon Sasang (Seoul: Seongyunguan
University Press, 1987). Choe Young Seung, Hanguk Yuhak Sasangsa: Vols 1–5 (Seoul: Asea
Munhuasa, 1995).
4
Jipyeonjeon: Official/national Academy established during 1136 under King Injong of Goryo
Dynasty. The Academy flourished during the Joseon Dynasty under King Sejong (1397–1450) for
advancement of learning prior to its closure in 1456.
very young age. His successor, Sejo (1455–1468) conspired to have the high minis-
ters of Danjong assassinated in 1453, and afterwards, he vanished Danjong into
exile. Sejo finally had Danjong killed in 1457. The heinous political event has been
extensively documented in Korean history by not only Confucian scholars and his-
torians but by literary works and narratives, Danjong Aesa (The Tragic History of
Danjong).
The revered titles of Sa Yukshin and Saeng Yukshin have been established on
behalf of the royal ministers. Sa Yukshin represented the six martyred ministers, and
Saeng Yukshin epitomized the other six surviving loyal ministers who were vanished
into exiles. Kim Jong-Jik (1431–1498), a major Confucian scholar of the time, had
authored Joaejaemun (Lament for the Rightful King/Emperor). And, Kim Il-Son
(1464–1498), a Confucian scholar of history and an established historian, was a
student of Kim Jong-Jik. Kim Il-Son, the official historian, was arrested and sum-
moned. During interrogation, he refused to make any corrections to his historical
documents regarding the Sa Yukshin, concerning the six ministers who had been
executed. Kim praised the six ministers as the noblest of ministers who upheld their
loyalty to their king, Danjong, unto death.
Yeonsangun (1494–1506) ordered the executions and exile for numerous offi-
cers, scholars, and students who maintained their conviction that Kim Jong-Jik and
Kim Il-Son epitomized Confucian morality and integrity. Historical documents
including the Joseon Sillok have recorded extensive corruption among the ranks of
ministers under Yeonsangun. The historical documents attribute political injustice
as the reason for serious devastation among the citizens. The privileged cronies and
ministers amassed enormous wealth by taking over the lands and properties of the
farmers and laborers resulting in extreme hardship to those people.5 The sarim
Confucians were not to be silenced during the violent persecutions and grim warn-
ings of severe punishment for any forms of dissension under Yeonsangun. The
bloody persecutions of Mu O sahwa and ensuing events would radically change the
positions and loyalties of the Confucian intellectuals as well as their ties to the rul-
ing institutions.
In addition to the sarim Confucian sages in exile following the sahwa persecu-
tions, a significant number of serious intellectuals chose to focus on Confucian
inquiries, and for the most part, declined political appointments. Again, historians
have documented the nationwide status: the Confucian scholars who refrained from
Joseon Dynasty government employments corresponded to a majority, with a ratio
of nine to one, or about 90%.6 Accordingly, the majority of Confucians in Joseon
Dynasty have been upheld as jaeya sarim, the sarim Confucians out in the country.
More importantly, jaeya sarim were the Confucian intellectuals and revered
sage-scholars.
5
Shin Hak-Sang, Kim Jong-Jik Dohak Sasang (Seoul: Do-Seo-Chul-Pan, 1990). See also, Yi
Su-Gwon, Yeungnam Sarim’pa ei hyeung-soeng (Daegu: Yeungnam University Press, 1984).
6
Kim Deok-Huang, Hanguk Sasangsa (Seoul: Baik-am Sa. 1973); Yi Tae-Jin, Hanguk Sahoesa
Yeongu (Seoul: Jisik-Sanopsa, 1980); Yi Tae-Jin, Joseon Yugyo Sahoesa (Seoul: Jisik-Sanaopsa,
1989).
220 O. C. Kim
Kim Si-Sup 金時習 (1435–1493) led the roster of upright sarim sages who
accomplished serious Confucian scholarship while in exile in the country. Kim
Si-Sup is memorialized for his critical achievements in the growth and development
of Korean Confucianism. He was one of the six Saeng Yukshin, the surviving minis-
ters who maintained loyalty to their king, Dan-Jong (1452–1455). Kim Si-Sup
briefly served Sejo (1455–1468), prior to his departure into exile. Kim Si-Sup was
exceptional in his philosophical erudition as well as prolific accomplishments in
Confucian scholarship. Included in his magnum opus are philosophical discourses
on the significance of the Confucian understanding of metaphysics, epistemology,
cosmology, and a life long commitment for exhaustive investigation of all realities.
As with Confucius, Mencius, and especially Zhu Xi, his scholarship signified that
being a Confucian intellectual required a life-long commitment to serious learning.
More importantly, serious Confucian scholarship would encompass honest inquiries
of all relevant traditions including Buddhism and Daoism, and as well, the status of
morality, civility, and social justice in the world.
5 The Gapja sahwa 甲子士禍: 1504
During a period of about 6 years since the first purge, the sarim Confucians had
recovered their momentum to represent, once again, the only consequential chal-
lenges to the established authority. The more egregious the oppression of ruling
powers, the more resolved the determination and commitment to resist. Having
endured the unjust persecutions of intellectuals and the suffering of the people, the
entire country would suffer another, and far worse, purge under the same despot,
Yeonsangun in 1504.
Joseon Sillok, the official chronicle of Joseon dynasty, preserved extensive
records of the events leading to the Gapja sahwa. The official documents encom-
pass extensive narratives regarding political turmoil and factional disputes under the
rule of Yeonsangun. Included in the documents are narratives regarding the perva-
sive destitution of the people due to the factional disputes and political conflicts.
The historical records also shed lights on numerous pleas and rightful criticism by
government officials in the state and court council, to hasten the rectification of seri-
ous injustices due to the despotic rules of the king, Yeonsangun. Included in the list
are the excessive demands for tax due to unrestrained court expenditures, and ram-
pant taking over of lands from the people to reward the gongsin, the cronies of the
court who unlawfully benefitted under the king. The heinous executions, banish-
ments, horrendous mutilation of coffins of the previous martyrs, and as well, indis-
criminate enslavement of families of the accused have also been documented. The
entire country suffered the devastation and injustice during the Gapja sahwa.
Kim Goeng-Pil 金宏弼 (1454–1504), a leading Confucian scholar and a student
of Kim Jong-Jik (1431–1498), survived the first purge and spent the following
6 years exiled in the Sunchon region. However, Kim would not be spared during the
Gapja sahwa, the heinous political carnage that plunged the country into chaos.
Kim Goeng-Pil was executed in 1504. Kim would be permanently memorialized as

the “first” among the sarim sages of Joseon Dynasty. The philosophy of Kim has
been acknowledged to represent Confucian predication of the inseparability of
self-cultivation and social responsibility. Self-cultivation and edification through
gyeongmul, i.e., investigation of mundane affairs and studies, and participation in
the Confucian discourse is important. Moreover, Confucian sagacity could not be
realized except in the context of one’s life-long commitment to sustain social jus-
tice. Kim Goeng-Pil is also upheld to be the sage who mentored numerous sarim
Confucians including Jo Gwang-Jo (1482–1519), Kim An-Guk 金安國 (1478–
1543), Jeong Yeo-Chang 鄭汝昌 (1450–1504), and Seo Gyeong-Deok 徐敬德
(1489–1546).
In 1506, the despotic reign of Yeonsangun was finally brought to its end by a
coup, and King Jungjong (1507–1544) assumed the throne. The period of about a
decade and a half, following the fall of Yeonsangun, afforded the sarim movement
a time for renewal, self-empowerment, and as well, pragmatic collaboration with
the government for social reform and restoration. The sarim movement thrived
among intellectuals of the time that included a large number of Confucian scholars,
students, masses, and citizens in the country. The availability of Confucian learning
and educational materials under the esteemed Confucian philosophers and sages
outside the capitol and throughout the country made the difference.
6 The Gimyo sahwa 己卯士禍: 1519
Upon his enthronement, the King, Jungjong (1507–1544) effectuated a nation-wide

rehabilitation of a great number of the previous sahwa survivors including their
families and associates. The Joseonshillok records the order of the king to release
and reinstate all survivors in exile, and as well, posthumously bestow the rank and
honors upon the dead. Confucianism in the dynasty thrived and eventually forged
major accomplishments in not only the political and philosophical arenas, and more
importantly, the moral foundation for thriving civility and minbon (he primacy of
the people) philosophy for a democratic nation. Kim An-Guk (1478–1543), and Seo
Gyeong-Deok (1489–1546) lead the list of erudite Confucian sages and philoso-
phers of this period, who survived beyond the upcoming Gimyo sahwa under
Jungjong (1507–1544). The sarim Confucian movement, and its intellectual accom-
plishments, thrived despite the perpetual political persecutions and obstacles as they
forged the path for Korean Confucianism.
However, the once civil government of the King Jungjong evolved into a court of
crimes against humanity. The heinous persecutions, purges, and executions as well as
the forced banishment of Confucians into exile during the Gimyo sahwa in 1519 are
extensively recorded in numerous historical documents including the Joseon Shillok.
Furthermore, historical documents and narratives regarding the Gimyo sahwa have
been notably inconsistent. Among them are scholarly works that have trivialized the
history of political conflicts and events leading to the sahwa persecutions, as no
222 O. C. Kim
more than political squabbles and factional disputes. Numerous extant historical
accounts have resorted to blaming the persecuted and exiled as the culprits. In other
words, the sarim Confucians persecuted, exiled, and condemned to untimely death
“had it coming” and were to blame. The political dramas and saga, involving the
King, the ministers including gongsin, the designated merit ministers, and govern-
ment officials in various ranks, have also been documented in diverse accounts of
historical interpretations and narratives.
Jo Gwang-Jo (1482–1519) was the principal intellectual of the sarim movement
during this period. He was a student of Kim Goeng-Pil, and was a young scholar in
his early twenties when he witnessed the execution of his mentor in 1504. Recognized
as the leading sarim Confucianist, and as a charismatic moralist, Jo rose to a posi-
tion of significant political influence under King Jung-Jong (1507–1544). Political
collaboration between the sarim moralists and the government institutions accom-
plished important policy changes and educational reforms that provided a pragmatic
mechanism that led to the improvement in social, economical, and educational
equity especially in the regions outside the capitol. The implementation and re-
establishment of the hyangkak (regional contracts) constitution, reminiscent of the
time of the late Kim Jong-Jik (1495–1506), contributed towards this reform.
As a result of the reform, the political corruption was significantly diminished.
This ideal social condition, albeit in its nascent stage, was truly representative of the
sarim ideal of society in which the moral implications of Confucian philosophy
were concretely integrated into the context of social and educational equity among
the people. The sarim movement forged and maintained accountable leadership sus-
tained by intellectual, moral, and pragmatic erudition based on Confucian
learning.
The Joseon dynasty, however, would encounter yet another purge in 1519, a per-
secution of the sarim reformers, then headed by Jo Gwang-Jo. The purge is known
as the Gimyo sahwa. According to official records, over 150 young scholars from
the Sunggyun’gwan academy marched into the royal court and tearfully pleaded for
the life of Jo Gwang-Jo. The scholars were forced out by the military. Again, over
300 concerned Confucian literati organized an official appeal to the King to spare
the lives of accused sarim reformers. The plea did not prevail: Jo Gwang-jo, at the
age of 38 and numerous others, also in their prime, perished as they chose the path
of resolution and integrity, under the King’s order of death sentence.
7 The Ulsa sahwa 乙巳士禍: 1545
The Gimyo sahwa would not be the last of purges. In 1545, the government institu-
tions gave rise to yet another persecution. The purge has been described as ‘murder-
ous’ and worse than the previous persecutions. The Ulsa sahwa involved political
schism and conflicts involving powerful gongshin, the meritorious ministers who
obtained enormous wealth as “landholding elite” at the expense of impoverished
citizens.
The sahwa events in the Joseon dynasty have significant implications for the
political formation and five centuries of historical development and aggrandizement
of the dynasty. The literati purges in Joseon dynasty, and the political persecutions
of dissidents and critical intellectuals, are neither unique nor exceptional. The his-
tory of human civilization chronicle innumerable events and narratives regarding
horrendous atrocities and pathos born of political oppression and persecutions of
human race, perpetrated by Empires, Nations, Tribes and institutional Hegemonies.
The sahwa persecutions of sarim Confucians and intellectuals along with upright
public officers in the Joseon dynasty, eventually inspired and sustained, rather than
obstructed, the historical development of sarim movement. sarim tradition, thus
established and sustained in the context of the sahwa events, and empowered by
moral integrity, would forge definitive influence on the advancement of Confucian
tradition in Korea.
8 The Sarim Tradition and Confucian Philosophy
Historians of Korean Confucianism have chronicled and written immense volumes

of scholarly research and literature on the significance of the sarim movement, and
the philosophical accomplishments of the sarim intellectuals.
8.1 M
aewoldang 梅月堂 Kim Si-Sup 金時習 (1435–1493),
and Confucian Learning
Kim Si-Sup was one of the six surviving loyal ministers, Saeng Yukshin, who served
under King Danjong prior to their exile. Kim accomplished and completed the
major portion of his investigation of Confucian wisdom and compilation of his criti-
cal writings while in exile. His proficient scholarly magnum opus included volumes
of poetry and literature in addition to a serious discourse on morality and philoso-
phy. The broad scope of his erudition encompassed an extensive study of Confucian
philosophy, and the critical understanding and acknowledgement of the important
traditions and philosophies of the time, especially Buddhism and Daoism.
Throughout many centuries of investigation among philosophers and historians,
the Confucian philosophy of Kim Si-Sup has been misconstrued and often over-
looked, although it is considered of profound significance by major Confucian
sages, including Yulgok, Yi I (1536–1584). The sarim tradition, especially during
the fifteenth century throughout the historical turbulence, has been augmented and
chronicled by numerous erudite Confucian philosophers. Kim Si-Sup forged his
Confucian philosophy in the context of a dynamic discourse and interactive intel-
lectual milieu, resolutely sustained by serious scholars throughout his adulthood
224 O. C. Kim
and beyond. The roster of eminent sarim Confucians of the time includes, Kim
Jong-Jik (1431–1498), Kim Il-Son (1364–1498), Kim Goeng-Pil (1454–1504),
Jung Yeo-Chang (1450–1504), Kim An-Guk (1478–1543), Seo Gyeong-Deok
(1489–1546), and Yi Eon-Jeok (1491–1553).
8.2 Confucian Learning
Confucian learning signifies life-long study and the inquiry of all phenomena,
including a contemporaneous discourse on science and morality sustained by rele-
vant traditions besides Confucianism. All through the book of Analects, Confucius
emphasized the importance of hak, meaning, learning, inquiry, and study. The term,
hak, encompasses multiple meanings including knowledge, erudition, and as well,
philosophy, and scholarship “The Master (Confucius) said, hak, as if you were not
reaching your goal, and as though you were afraid of missing it. ” (Analects: VIII,
17)7 In other words, one must STUDY as if following someone they could not catch
up with and were afraid of losing. Zhu Xi (1130–1200) further elucidated the sig-
nificance of Confucian learning in the context of twelfth century China during the
Song dynasty. Confucian philosophy according to Zhu Xi, Jujahak 朱子學, thus,
would encompass critical inquiries of Buddhism and Buddhist philosophies, in
addition to the wisdom of Laozi and Zhuangzi.
Over the years, Confucian scholars studied the philosophical and cosmological
system of Kim Si-Sup (1435–1490), extant in the collection of his writings.
Furthermore, the studies generated a wide range of contradistinctive interpretations
and negative reviews, as well as positive critique. Thus, the sarim sagacity of Kim
Si-Sup, eventually and appropriately, would signify and engender ongoing
Confucian inquiry. Kim Si-Sup declined a second opportunity to be employed by
the government of Joseon Dynasty during the reign of Seongjong (1457–1494), and
reaffirmed his life of Jaeya sarim, a sarim Confucian in exile out in the country. The
government policies under the king Seongjong encouraged expansion and the rees-
tablishment of Confucian learning. Confucian academies including Sunggyun’gwan
and Jipyeonjeon facilitated an expansion and enhancement of cultural and social
accomplishments. Additionally, the government enforced the policies of substantive
control and suppression over Buddhist institutions.
Kim Si-Sup immersed himself in the investigation of diverse phenomena includ-
ing metaphysics, cosmology, ontology, anthropology, and literature as well as the
critical analysis of extant religious doctrines and beliefs of relevant traditions beside
Confucianism. His ontology is based upon his study of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and
philosophy in the context of i/li 理 (principle, reason) and gi/qi 氣 (material force,
substance). I/li explains the meaning and intrinsic idiosyncrasies of the myriad
7
William Edward Soothill, The Analects of Confucius (New York: Paragon Book Reprint Corp,
1968). See also, James Legge, CONFUCIUS: Confucian Analects, The Great Learning & The
Doctrine of the Mean (New York: Dover Publications, Inc. 1971). H. G. Creel, Confucius and the
Chinese Way (New York: Harper & Row, 1960).
realities in the world. It represents the ultimate and essential principle of things; it
is incorporeal, transcendental, rational and perfect. Gi/qi, on the other hand, explains
the phenomenal aspects of realities, and represents the concrete and in particular,
the corporeal, finite, and uneven. More importantly, all realities and phenomena in
the world are i/li as well as gi/qi.
According to Kim, “Human beings are born of heaven with human nature, seong/
xing, that is i/li, the principle. Human nature, seong/xing 性, as the principle, is
innately good and perfect. Human beings are in the world as concrete individuals,
however imperfect and uneven due to one’s particular gi/qi, the existential corpore-
ality.” (Maewoldang Munjip, 23)8 Kim Si-Sup defines the decisive relevance of the
Confucian understanding of human nature and human existence, in the context of
the fifteenth century Joseon Dynasty. He maintained a life-long study on the tradi-
tions of Buddhism and Daoism. More importantly, his arguments included his cri-
tiques and warnings regarding the serious implications of flaws and errors extant in
Buddhism and Daoism. According to him:
The virtue/integrity (deok 德) of heaven encompasses the won, hyong, i, jeong, 元亨利貞
whereas the virtue (deok) of human being and human nature (seong) is originally endowed
with in, eui, ye, ji, 仁義禮智 i.e., the four cardinal virtues of humanity, righteousness, pro-
priety, and wisdom. The virtue of sages are interdependent and in harmony with the virtue
of heaven. The philosophies of Laozi and Zhuangzi on human virtues are misleading and
erroneous. They teach that human virtues are to be abandoned and dismissed in order to
enter into, and to be in harmony with the realms of the Nature. (Maewoldangjip, Ch. 17)
The ontology and cosmological treatises of Kim Si-Sup inspired serious inquiries
among Confucian scholars for many centuries and continue to be the subject of
contradistinctive interpretations. His philosophical discourse and theories exem-
plify sarim learning and the comprehension of Confucian theory of reality accord-
ing to Zhu Xi (1130–1200), the Jujahak. According to Zhu Xi:
Taiji 太極 (Kor. Taegeuk ) is but the name given to the totality of li (Kor, i ) in all the myriad
things in the world. It has no substance or shape of its own; yet li of the myriad things exist
in this (taiji). Therefore, it is said that wuji 無極 (Kor. mugeuk) is taiji. In other words, taiji
is the principle of all the myriad things in the world, it has no substance or shape, therefore
it is said that taiji/in its essence is wuji. It must never be considered as a separate entity apart
from the daily affairs of ordinary people. (Zhuziwenji, Ch. 78)9
Taiji may be translated as the supreme-ultimate or the great ultimate, and signi-
fies the ultimate foundation of the entire universe including all realities and phe-
nomena. Wuji signifies the ultimate of non-being, or the ultimate of nothingness,
and is often translated as non-being. Zhu Xi is defining and illuminating the
8
Kim Si-Sup, Mae-Wol-Dang Mun-Jip (Seoul: Gyemyeung Munhuasa, 1987). See also, Choe
Bong-Ik, Joseon Choel-hak-sa Gae-yo (Pyongyang: Sahoegwahak Press, 1986). Bae Jong-Ho,
Hanguk Yuhak-ei Cholhakjeuk Jeongae (Seoul: Yeonse University Press, 1985).
9
Zhu Xi, Zhuzi Wenji [Complete literary works of Master Zhu; also known as Zhu Tzu Da Chuan]
(Taiwan: Zunghua Book Co). Zhu Xi, Zhu Tzu Yu Lei [Classified sayings of Master Zhu] edited by
Li Zing-De (Taiwan: Zunghua Book Co., 1981). See also, Zhu Xi and Lu Tsu-Chien, Chinsilu
[Reflections on Things at Hand], Translated by Wing-Tsit Chan (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1967).
226 O. C. Kim
importance of Confucian understanding of reality including heaven, earth, and man-

kind, in the context of the li/i qi/gi philosophy. An entity cannot be a foundation, the
meaning, or principle of other entities. Thus, taiji which is inherent in all phenom-
enal things as i/li, the principle and foundation, is neither an entity nor a concrete
object.
It was important for Kim Si-Sup to clarify the existential implications of
Confucian learning and philosophy on the inherent goodness and intellect of all
human beings. Every human individual in the world is necessarily and invariably
endowed with the four cardinal virtues, in terms of in, eui, ye, ji as the innate prin-
ciple and meaning of human nature. Thus, to be human endowed with innate human
nature means; to be humane and compassionate (in), to be righteous and maintain
moral passion for justice (eui), to be civil and refined (ye), and finally, to cultivate
learning and intellectual integrity (ji).
Human beings in the context of finite existence in the world as concrete individu-
als, however, are burdened with existential flaws and superstition as well as igno-
rance and failures. It is therefore, all the more important for the human individuals
to strive for the realization and empowerment of true humanity and social justice. A
humane and just society as well as well-being and civility of the people in the world
must be nurtured and maintained by the genuine endeavors of the finite human indi-
viduals. The warnings of Kim Si-Sup, against the seductive dismissal of human
empowerment, and the abandonment of human undertaking prescribed by Laozi
and Zhuangzi, are important. These warnings exemplify the implications of the
pragmatic humanism and moral passion forged and upheld by the sarim Confucians.
Kim Si-Sup forged complex cosmology and ontology based upon his analysis of
Confucian philosophy. His philosophy and theories documented in his opus, the
Maewoldangjip, have generated diverse scholarly analysis including critiques that
labeled his system as anti Zhu Xi. Indeed, his discourses have employed rather than
discriminate against unorthodox or even heterodox logic and reasoning. Nevertheless,
it is undeniable that his metaphysics and ontology, as well as cosmology, are
grounded on his analysis of Confucian philosophy. His theories on cosmology, and
as well, metaphysics and ontology, are fundamentally Confucian. His philosophy is
discoursed in the context of taegeuk/taiji, the supreme ultimate, and muguk/wuji, the
non-ultimate, as well as i/li, the principle and gi/qi, the substance, as expounded by
Zhu Xi in Jujahak. According to Kim:
The supreme ultimate, taegeuk/taiji is the non-ultimate, muguk/wuji. The supreme ultimate,
in essence is non-ultimate. The phenomena of um/yin and yang and the principle of the
supreme ultimate are in unison. The term, “ultimate,” geuk/ji, signifies the utmost perfect
and complete nature of i/li, the principle. The term, supreme, tae/t’ai, on the other hand,
means all encompassing and incomparable reality of the Confucian path, do/dao, and
Confucian morality.” (Maewoldangjip, Ch. 29)
It was all the more important for Kim Si-Sup to clarify the pragmatic significance
of Confucian philosophy on cosmology and ontology in the context of the human
condition. Included in his opus are his analysis and warnings against the falsities
and vices of ubiquitous customs and rituals promoted by extant major traditions
including Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism as well as Shamanism. These various
rituals and idolatrous practices are exposed as crimes against humanity. His basic
concerns and pragmatic wisdom throughout his philosophical discourse on the
supreme ultimate, the cosmic phenomena, and as well, on human nature and human
knowing, signify Confucian moral passion for civility and egalitarian society.
8.3 Jeong-Am 靜庵 Jo Gwang-Jo 趙光祖 (1482–1519),

and Confucian Sagacity
Jo Gwang-Jo is upheld and memorialized throughout Korean intellectual history, as

the exemplary, and perhaps the most important among the Joseon Dynasty sarim
sages. Kim Goeng-Pil (1454–1504) had survived the Mu-O sahwa in 1498 and
resumed his Confucian study and mentorship with a heightened sense of urgency
during the 6 years of his exile in the Suncheon region. His erudition and integrity as
the leading Confucian scholar had already been well established. More importantly,
his philosophy had become renowned in the context of his discourse on the prag-
matic implications of Confucian learning. His Confucian scholarship embodied
serious moral responsibilities and the life-long commitment to civility and social
justice in the lived world.
According to historical documents, Jo Guang-Jo traveled to Suncheon in the
Pyeungan region of the northern Korean peninsula, to study under Kim Goeng-Pil,
with a letter of recommendation by Yang Hi-Ji (1439–1504). The exact date of their
meeting, and the duration of this special discipleship of Jo Guang-Jo under the tute-
lage of Kim Goeng-Pil, who was in exile, have not been verified. It may have to do
with the fact that any involvement with sarim Confucians in exile had to be confi-
dential in order to avoid governmental persecutions that were rampant throughout
the country. It has been suggested that the length of their special mentorship and
discipleship may have lasted from about a year to less than 2 years. Kim Goeng-Pil
was executed as a renowned sarim sage during the Gapja sahwa in 1504.
The writings and scholarly documents authored by Jo Guang-Jo are not exten-
sive in comparison with other eminent Confucian sages in Korean history.
Nevertheless, his writings collected in Jeong-Am Jip, along with a compilation of
his teachings and correspondence in the Joseon Shillok provide substantial and sig-
nificant sources for investigation and learning.
9 Dohak/Daoxue 道學 and Confucianism
Confucian sagacity signifies life-long commitment to uphold and sustain humanity,

civility, and a just society as constitutive fruition and accomplishment of Confucian
learning. Dohak epitomized Confucian philosophy of sarim tradition, and as well,
the term distinguished Confucian philosophy of Jo Guang-Jo. It is a term combining
228 O. C. Kim
two words: Do means the “path” or a “way”, and hak represents learning as well as
philosophy. Confucian philosophy, as exemplified by dohak, encompasses prag-
matic moral principles and concrete instruction and edification toward the empow-
erment of human individuals to forge and maintain a humane world.
Yulgok 栗谷, Yi I 李珥 (1536–1584) assertively affirmed the importance of the
Confucian legacy of Jo Guang-Jo, in his discourse on the historical unfolding of
Dohak 道學 tradition in Korea. Yulgok argued that Jo Guang-Jo is the first and
foremost Confucian philosopher, who elucidated the true meaning of do/dao, and
found the tradition of dohak philosophy in Korean Confucianism. (Yulgok Jeonseo,
Ch. 31)10 Do/Dao, as the term representing the true path and system of Confucianism,
was thoroughly reviewed and explained with extensive annotations in the book of
Analects. Confucius teaches that Do/Dao is the true way and the path that is to be
sustained by human virtues, in the context of humanity, civility, moral principles,
and justice as can be seen in the following passages from the Analects of Confucius:
The Master said: He who heard the dao (truth) in the morning may be able to die without
regret in the evening. (Analects: IV, 18)
The Master said: be resolute and mindful in the true path (do/dao); rely on your virtues and
moral courage, and abide in compassion and humanity (In/ren) … (Analects: VII, 6)
The Master said: it is up to human individuals to empower and unfold the Confucian path
(do/dao), not the other way around. (Analects: XV, 28).
The dohak philosophy according to Jo Guang-Jo exemplifies the discourse on

the critical significance of Confucian philosophy, and as well, the existential impli-
cations of Confucian morality on the sustenance of humanity and social justice in
the lived world. According to him, “The true way (do) for humanity, heaven, and
earth are but one.” (Jeong-Am Munjip, Vol. 2)11 He also asserts:
There exist no entities outside the Truth and right path (do). And there exist no human
affairs extraneous to the human mind. Truth of humanity (in) born of a sincere human mind,
would flourish under heaven as if in springtime. Humanity (in), thus would nurture and
sustain all things (manmul) under heaven. Righteousness (eui) would renew and rectify the
human condition to uphold morality and a just society. Propriety and congruity (ye), and as
well, wisdom and discernment (ji) would sustain civility in the entire world under heaven.
(Jeong-Am Munjip, Vol. 2)
The dohak Confucian discourse on humanity and a just society unambiguously

uphold the priority of human endeavors and accountability above and beyond all
phenomena, transcendental or otherwise. This is neither to dismiss the validity of
extant religious and philosophical doctrines, nor to invalidate the significance and
10
Yi Yulgok, Yulgok Jeonseo [Complete literary works of Yulgok] (Seoul: Sunggyun’gwan
University Press, 1986). See also, Young-Chan Ro, The Korean Neo-Confucianism of Yi Yulgok
(Albany: SUNY Press, 1989).
11
Jeong-Am Seon-Saeng Munjip, (Park Se-chae, editor. 1685). Jeong-Am Jip, (Seoul: Seongyunguan
University, 1978). See also, Jeong-Am Non-chong Gan-haeng Wiwonhoe, Joeng-Am Dohak Yongu
Nonjip, (Seoul: 1999). Yi Jong-Ho, Jeong-Am Jo Gwang-Jo (Seoul: Iljisa, 1999). Yi Sang-Seong,
Jeong-Am Jo Gwang-Jo ei Dohak Sasang, (Seoul: Simsun Munhwa, 2003).
efficacy of historical narratives and teachings about the Divinity, Heaven and the
Supreme Ultimate.
It was critical for the sarim intellectuals to elucidate and enunciate the pragmatic
implications of Confucian learning about the human nature and the human mind.
Confucian discourse on human nature in the context of humanity (in), righteousness
(eui), propriety/civility (ye), and wisdom/intellect (ji), encompass critical implica-
tions for the survival of humane world. The world in entirety, including heaven,
earth, mankind, creatures, kingdoms, and traditions may flourish and thrive or
degenerate and perish, depending upon human individuals and their existential and
concrete accomplishments as can be seen in the following passage from the
Zhongyong: “The Heavenly Mandate (tianming 天命) conferred is the nature (xing
性); a conformity with this nature is the true path (dao 道). Cultivation in accor-
dance with this true path is Confucian learning. The true path may not be ignored
for an instant. If it could be left, it would not be the true path.” (Zhongyong 中庸,
The Doctrine of the Mean, Ch. 1).
In accordance with his firm belief that the fulfillment and sustenance of a humane
and just society is entirely up to human endeavors, Jeong-Am, Jo Guang-jo empha-
sized the significance of individual self-cultivation and rectification. His philosophy
regarding Confucian self-rectification has been discoursed over the years in terms of
kyeong and seong. Kyeong signifies the fully conscious and alert mind and seong
signifies integrity and sincerity. According to him: “The true path (do) requires judi-
cious decision making, and the human mind sustains justice. The mind must be
maintained in integrity and sincerity (seong) to uphold the true path.” (Jung-Am-
Munjip, Vol. 2).
The human mind encompasses the originally endowed nature and principle (i) of
humanity (in) and righteousness (eui). More importantly, human mind in concrete
existence are substantiated and conditioned in the context of phenomenal contin-
gencies and finite physicality (gi). It is up to human individuals and their persever-
ance to empower and sustain humanity and righteousness. Confucian philosophy
regarding cultivation and sustenance of a truthful human mind and mindful con-
sciousness have been extensively discussed and investigated for many centuries. It
became important to elucidate and document the unique significance of Confucian
teachings about mindfulness in the context of kyeong that would be contradistinc-
tive to the teachings of Buddhism and Daoism.
The term, kyeong/jing 敬, has been translated in many ways: earnestness, seri-
ousness, composure, integrity, and mindfulness. Confucian philosophy on the
human mind and the significance of kyong/jing is extensively discoursed by Zhu Xi
and other eminent Confucians during the Song dynasty. Zhu Xi reiterated that jing
must not be equated with the quietude or meditative calmness of the mind:
“Whenever the mind is in jing, there will be righteousness (yi), and whenever there
is righteousness there is jing.” (Zhuzi Yulei, Ch. 12)12 He also asserts: “There is no
mystery in Confucian learning; it pertains to kyeong from head to tail, i.e., in
entirety.” (Zhuzi Wenji, Ch. 41) Zhu Xi further explains that the human mind rectified
Zhu Xi, Zhuzi Yulei [Classified sayings of Master Zhu] edited by Li Ang-De (Taiwan: Zhonghua
12
Book Co., 1981)

230 O. C. Kim
and empowered in jing/kyeong is free of selfishness (si/sa 私), and is therefore in

perfect unison with its essential nature of humanity (ren/in). As the mind and inner
beings become at one with humanity (ren/In 仁) by virtue of the rectified mind with
its integrity and mindfulness, (jing/kyeong), human individuals are empowered to
seek righteousness and justice in all endeavors and dealings in the world.
The Confucian discourse of Jo Guang-Jo reiterated and highlighted the utmost
concerns and moral passion of sarim intellectuals and the sarim movement. The
sarim intellectuals elucidated and sustained Confucian affirmation of humanity and
righteousness, as the true path for realization of civility, prosperity, and a just soci-
ety. More importantly, the sarim Confucians elucidated and ratified the truth of
utmost significance of human endeavors to forge and sustain the true path, and
humane world. Jo Guang-Jo and his revered predecessors edified and spoke through-
out their lives, the Confucian validation of human endeavors as essential and cru-
cial. More importantly, the sarim movement elucidated and emphasized, in the face
of unlawful persecutions and untimely death, the Confucian affirmation of human-
ity and the ultimate significance of a just society.
10 Conclusion
The sarim tradition and the Confucian intellectuals who embraced the sarim move-
ment have been heralded as the true embodiment of Confucian sagacity in Korean
Confucianism. sarim intellectuals of the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910) had a major
influence on the historical evolution of the narratives chronicling political events,
and the substance of the philosophical and moral discourse of Korean Confucianism.
Throughout the many centuries from the time of Joseon dynasty to the present, his-
torians and Confucian scholars have researched and extensively documented regard-
ing the lives and works of sarim sages. Social historians have documented ongoing
research regarding the achievements of sarim movement as having a profound influ-
ence on social and economic development of the nation. Sarim intellectuals, both
within and outside of the Joseon dynasty government, reinstated and promoted
pragmatic social, cultural, and educational institutions.
More importantly, the sarim movement hastened the edification and empower-
ment of the people, and substantiated the renewal and restoration of civility and the
shared prosperity of all citizens in the country.13 As a tradition and also a movement,
the sarim Confucians enunciated the utmost importance and constitutional essenti-
ality of human endeavors for the realization and sustenance of just society and
humane world.
Jeong-Am, Jo Guang-Jo is upheld as the most important of the sarim sages. Jo
Guang-Jo and his legacy along with his philosophical treatises have generated innu-
merable dissertations, literary essays, and historical documentations throughout
13
Song Jun-Ho, Joseon Sahoesa Yongu (Seoul: Iljogak, 1989). Yi Byeong-Do, Josoen Jeungi
Sarimpa ei Hyonsil Insik gua Dae-eung (Seoul: Iljogak, 1999). Yi Tae-Jin, Joseon Yugyo Sahoe-sa-
ron (Seoul: Jisik- Sanopsa, 1990).
many centuries up to the present era. It has been acknowledged that the historical
record, the Joseon Wangjo Sillok, comprises 810 entries regarding Jo Guang-Jo.
This is extraordinary, first of all, as he served the Joseon Dynasty government for
about only 4 years prior to his untimely death during the Gimyo sahwa. It is all the
more significant in comparison with official entries of other highly revered
Confucian sages. Po-Un, Chung Mong-Ju (1337–1392) has 273 entries; Toegye, Yi
Hwang (1501–1570) has 665 entries, and Yulgok, Yi Yi (1536–1548) has 746 entries.
Historians have documented as well, that Jo Gwang-Jo has generated numerous
controversial and contradictory appraisals among the rulers and kings of Joseon
dynasty. King, Jungjong (1507–1544) despised Jo and declared that even if all other
dissidents may be forgiven, Jo would never receive his pardon. On the other hand,
King, Chungjo (1752–1800) praised Jo in the highest regards and predicated his
regrets for not having known him as a contemporary. Toegye upheld Jo as a person
of extraordinary endowment and unparalleled sagacity. Yulgok praised Jo as the
most important sarim sage who forged the true Confucian path for upholding a just
society.
The sarim sages, beginning with Kim Jong-Jik (1431–1398), Kim Il-Son (1461–
1498), Kim Goeng-Pil (1454–1504), Jo Guang-Jo (1482–1519) as well as a signifi-
cant number of revered scholars including Kim An-Guk (1478–1543), Jeong
Yeo-Chang (1450–1504), Kim Si-Sup (1435–1493), and Seo Gyeong-Deok (1478–
1543) represented as well as epitomized the majority of Confucian intellectuals
during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in Joseon dynasty (1392–1910). The
sarim movement signified, first and last, philosophically articulated denouncement
of inhumanity and injustice, and at the same time, conscious social and political
praxis of participation, partnership, and dissension by morally accountable intel-
lectuals vis a vis the hegemonies and turmoil of their lived world. It is all the more
reassuring, and in a way extraordinary, to discover that the sarim Confucians who
would maintain their integrity often at the expense of their livelihood would be
justly posited by the historians and intellectuals in Korea as the beacons of Confucian
sagacity and morality.
Bibliography
Joseon Wangjo Shillok. 1955–1958. Seoul: Guksa Pyonchan Wiwonhoe.

Kim, Deok-Huang. 1973. Hanguk Sasangsa. Seoul: Baik-am Sa.
Kim, Si-Sup. 1987. Mae-Wol-Dang Mun-Jip. Seoul: Gyemyeung Munhuasa.
Park, Se-Chae. 1978. Jeong-Am Seon-Saeng Munjip.1978. Seoul: Seongyunguan University Press.
Shin, Hak-Sang. 1990. Kim Jong-Jik Dohak Sasang. Seoul: Do-Seo-Chul-Pan.
Soothill, William Edward. 1968. The Analects of Confucius. New York: Paragon Book.
Thompson, Edward P. 1963. The Making of English Working Class. London: Harmondsworth.
Yi, Yulgok. 1986. Yulgok Jeonseo [Complete literary works of Yulgok]. Seoul: Sunggyun’gwan
University Press.
Zhu Xi. 1981a. Zhuzi Wenji Complete literary works of Master Zhu. Taiwan: Zunghua Book Co.
Zhu Xi. 1981b. Zhu Tzu Yu Lei [Classified sayings of Master Zhu]. Taiwan: Zunghua Book Co.
Zhu Xi. 1981c. Zhuzi Yulei [Classified sayings of Master Zhu]. Taiwan: Zhonghua Book Co.
Chapter 11
The Horak Debate Concerning Human
Nature and the Nature of All Other Beings
Suk Gabriel Choi
1 Introduction
The aim of this chapter is to introduce the Horak debate (Horak nonjaeng 湖洛論
爭) in the history of Korean Confucianism and to critically examine some recent
research on that debate. It is widely accepted that the Horak debate deserves spe-
cial attention as one of the representative debates in the history of Korean
Confucianism. Such an evaluation and continuous interest in the debate are sup-
ported not only because the debate has been formulated for a long term with the
participation of numerous Confucian scholars, but also because the debate demon-
strates well a characteristic of the tradition of Korean Confucianism. While I trans-
late and introduce selected passages of the primary texts written by two major
debaters, Han Wonjin 韓元震 (pen name: Namdang 南塘, 1682–1751) and Yi Gan
李柬 (pen name: Oeam 巍巖, 1677–1727), I intend to explore two points; (1)
There is no doubt that one of the major and common concerns of Korean Confucians
was to understand Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism (Jujahak 朱子學). Through
numerous debates, they have analyzed, extended, clarified, and advanced Zhu Xi’s
Neo-Confucianism in new and delicate ways. I shall introduce the Horak debate as
a typical exemplar of such invaluable works; (2) Most researchers of the debate
focus mainly on intelligible descriptions of key concepts or the logical system used
in the debate, but they relatively overlook what makes the debaters develop their
different views. I would like to claim that it is equally significant to understand
practical concerns implied in the debate. Participants’ sincere contemplations on
character-cultivation/nurture, self-cultivation, or gongbu 工夫 (gongfu in Chinese,
S. G. Choi (*)
Philosophy and Religious Studies, Towson University, Towson, MD, USA
e-mail: suchoi@towson.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_11
234 S. G. Choi
practical concern) are essential parts of the debate as a comprehensive Confucian

discussion.1
For this aim, first, I will examine the notion of mibal 未發 (wei-fa in Chinese,
unaroused, not-issued) of emotions such as pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy (喜怒
哀樂) in the Horak debate. Second, I will read the main topic of the Horak debate,
namely, inmulseong-dongi 人物性同異論,2 which means the question of whether
the nature of human beings and the nature of non-human things are the same or dif-
ferent. Then, third, I will introduce the debaters’ notions of self-cultivation based on
their views of nature and mind-heart. Finally, I will note two most recent publica-
tions on the debate and critically examine their contributions and limitations of
them.
Although different claims on the history of the Horak debate have been sug-
gested, there would be no serious objection to the fact that a remarkable event3 has
significantly advanced the debate. It was a scholarly and academic discussion that
Han Wonjin and Yi Gan had with some other disciples of Kwon Sangha 權尙夏
(pen name: Sooam 遂庵, 1641–1721) for a week at Hansan(sa) temple in 1709.4
The term, Ho-Rak 湖洛, was borrowed from the initial letters of the words,
Ho-ron 湖論 (School of Ho) and Nak-ron 洛論 (School of Nak). The letter, Ho,
originally comes from Hoseo 湖西, which refers to an area of Chungcheong-do
province, and the word, Ho-ron, denotes the group of scholars from this area whose
leader was Kwon Sangha. Han Wonjin’s philosophical and political position was
theoretically and politically supported mainly by the school of Ho. The letter, Rak,
originally comes from Nakha 洛下, which refers to an area of Seoul/Gyeonggi-do
province. The word, Nak-ron, denotes the group of scholars from this area who
were led by Kim Changhyeop 金昌協 (pen name: Nongam 農巖, 1651–1708). They
supported Yi Gan’s thought although he was one of Kwon Sangha’s disciples. Since
1
In addition, participants in the debate presented their visions from different social and/or political
concerns, which, in turn, motivated different social and/or political activities. Thus, to understand
the relationship between their visions and activities, and the historical development of their activi-
ties is definitely a significant work, but not a current concern in this chapter. A good deal of excel-
lent research on this topic has been published in Korean and English. Here I just introduce two (one
in Korean and one in English) resources; (1) Moon, Sukyoon. 2006. The Formation and
Development of the Horak Debate 湖洛論爭 형성과 전개. Seoul: Dong-gwa Seo; (2) Lee,
Kyungku. 2011. “The Horak Debate from the Reign of King Sukjong to King Sunjo.” Korea
Journal 51.1: 14–41.
2
For this reason, the Horak debate has often been named inmulseong-dongi-nonjaeng 人物性同異
論爭.
3
Even before the Hansansa seminar, Han Wonjin with Han Hongjo and Choi Jinghu had already
exchanged their thoughts. After Han Hongjo and Choi Jinghu knew Yi Gan’s critique of Han
Wonjin’s argument, they arranged for Han Wonjin and Yi Gan to meet each other for the first time
in 1709.
4
The followers of Yi I’s 李珥 (pen name: Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584) thought were named as the
school of Giho 畿湖. Later this school was divided into two groups, the Noron 老論 and the Soron
少論. One of the representative figures of the Noron side is Song Siyeol 宋時烈 (pen name: Uam
尤庵, 1607–1689). Han Wonjin and Yi Gan who played a central role in initiating the Horak
debate, are two of disciples of Kwon Sangha who was one of Song Siyeol’s disciples.
11 The Horak Debate Concerning Human Nature and the Nature of All Other Beings 235
the academic seminar at the Hansan(sa) temple, the development, elaboration, jus-
tification, and formation of the debate has moved along with the political vicissi-
tudes of participants in each school. So the word, “Horak-nonjaeng 湖洛論爭
(Horak Debate)” together with the names, Ho-ron and Nak-ron, entails a historical
and political phenomenon as well as a scholarly and academic debate among Joseon/
Korean Confucian scholars.
2 O
n Mibal 未發 (wei-fa in Chinese, Unaroused, Not-Issued)
and Ibal 已發 (yi-fa in Chinese, Aroused, Issued)
of the Mind-Heart (sim 心)
Let me start with one of the main topics of the Horak debate, how the mind-heart in
the mibal is to be understood. This topic could be examined later if we follow the
development of the debate, for Yi Gan mainly discussed the topic in 1714 and 1719
after the Hansansa meeting in 1709. However, I examine this topic first because
Han Wonjin dealt with this topic regarding bonyeonjiseong 本然之性 (the original
nature) and gijiljiseong 氣質之性 (psycho-physical nature, temperamental nature)
in 1706, which was the actual beginning of the Horak debate. Thus the debaters’
discussion on this notion presents one of the main avenues of the debate.
Throughout this section, I would also like to suggest that their discussion on this
topic illustrates the philosophical and historical relevance between the Horak and
the Four-Seven debate. The core concern with the mibal in the Horak debate could
be traced back to the Four-Seven debate (四端七情論爭). The Four-Seven debate
discusses the question of the Four Beginnings/sprouts (四端) and seven feelings/
emotions (七情) in terms of their relations to other Confucian concepts such as i/gi
理氣 (li/qi in Chinese), the mibal/ibal 未發已發 state, the nature/the mind-heart
(性心), and substance/function (體用). Yi Hwang 李滉 (pen name: Toegye 退溪,
1501–1570), who is a representative scholar of one side (主理論) of the debate,
emphasized the meaning of i 理 (principle, pattern, or coherence) and human nature
as the normative foundation of goodness and self-cultivation by focusing on the
distinction between the Four Beginnings and the Seven emotions. Yi I 李珥 (pen
name: Yulgok 栗谷, 1536–1584), who is a representative scholar of the other side
(主氣論) of the debate, paid special attention to the inseparability of i and gi.
Regarding the relation of i and gi, Yulgok claims that when gi is aroused, i rides on
it (gibal-iseung 氣發理乘). Both Han Wonjin and Yi Gan are disciples of the schol-
ars’ group who adopted Yulgok’s claims.5 Now, within the school of Yulgok, the
debate between Han Wonjin and Yi Gan is developed to deal with a new question of
the mibal and ibal state in terms of their relation to other relations such as the origi-
nal nature/the psycho-physical nature and good/evil. Accordingly, we may say that
See footnote, no. 4.

5
236 S. G. Choi
the Horak debate is a different version of the Four-Seven debate within the school
of Yulgok.
As is well known, Zhu Xi (朱熹) has struggled to understand the two states of
the mind-heart, the wei-fa and the yi-fa, originally asserted in chapter one of one of
the Confucian classics, Zhongyong 中庸 (Doctrine of the Mean)6;
The state/moment that pleasure (喜), anger (怒), sorrow (哀), and joy (樂) are not aroused
is called zhong 中 (jung in Korean, equilibrium, centrality, mean). When they are aroused
and each and all attain due measure and degree, it is called he 和 (hwa in Korean, harmony).
Equilibrium is the great foundation of the world, and harmony is its universal path. When
equilibrium and harmony are realized to the highest degree, heaven and earth will attain
their proper order and all things will flourish. (Chan 1969: 98)7
(喜怒哀樂之未發謂之中. 發而皆中節謂之化. 中也者, 天下之大本也.
和也者, 天下之達道也. 致中和, 天地位焉. 萬物育焉.)
From this passage, the translation of which I tentatively quote from a widely
accepted translation in English, I could describe wei-fa as follows; The wei-fa
means a state of the mind-heart before it contacts external things and events.
However, when we read the original sentence on the wei-fa, it is not clear whether
the sentence defines conceptually a state of the mind-heart or describes a real state
of the mind-heart. Thus, it is not clear either whether we can use the words such as
‘before’ or ‘after’ when we understand the wei-fa and the yi-fa. The sentence utters
simply that the wei-fa of the emotions is called zhong. This ambiguity has made
many Confucians struggle to understand this passage.
In this sense, Zhu Xi’s comment on this passage seems not quite helpful either;
Pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy are emotions (情). The wei-fa of the emotions is nature
(性). The wei-fa is neither biased nor partial, and thus is called zhong. The roused emo-
tions’ attaining due measure and degree means the correctness (正) of emotions. In this
state, the emotions are not aberrant, so the state is called he.
He only characterized the wei-fa state as neither biased nor partial, which he
understood is the reason the wei-fa state is defined as zhong. In his new and mature
view of Zhong-he (中和新說), Zhu Xi understood the wei-fa as nature and
Substance (體) of the mind-heart, and the emotions as Function (用) of the mind-
heart. From this perspective, he finally re-asserted Zhang Zai’s (張載) key claim
that the mind-heart embraces and also masters nature and emotions (心統性情).
However, when he discussed the wei-fa, zhong, and he, his concern was mainly
with them as theoretical foundation (大本) for self-cultivation. Thus, he character-
ized the wei-fa in terms of originality, purity, and goodness, but relatively over-
looked what the wei-fa of the mind-heart as qi is exactly and/or what the relationship
between the wei-fa and the yi-fa of the mind-heart as qi is.
6
Jungyong in Korean. Doctrine of the Mean is James Legge’s translation of the title. Other transla-
tions of the title are Focusing the Familiar (Roger T. Ames), Centrality and Commonality (Tu
Wei-ming) and so on.
7
Translation adopted with slight modification from Chan, Wing-tsit. 1969. A Source Book in
Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Although Han Wonjin and Yi Gan do not arrive at a complete agreement, their
discussion grasps the ambiguity of the notion of the mibal, and further examines the
point that Zhu Xi seems to have relatively neglected. First, it seems obvious that
both Han Wonjin and Yi Gan agree that; (1) the mind-heart should be understood as
gi 氣; (2) the mibal state should be understood as real and always pure and perfect
state of the mind-heart; (3) in the mibal state, gi does not work itself (氣不用事);
(4) bonyeonjiseong 本然之性 (the original nature) is purely good, whereas gijiljis-
eong 氣質之性 (psycho-physical nature, temperamental nature) is either good or
bad. However, when they develop their views of the mibal state combined with
other related notions such as gijil 氣質 (psycho-physical quality, temperament),
gijiljiseong, and seon-ak 善惡 (good/evil), their different points of view are well
presented. Therefore, to them, the topic of the mibal state actually means how the
mind-heart as gi is to be understood in terms of the relationship between nature and
mind-heart.
Han Wonjin claims that the mibal state of the mind-heart and the psycho-
physical nature can never be separated in reality. To him, it is absurd to think about
the mibal state of the mind-heart as separated from the psycho-physical nature. To
support this inseparability, he accounts for the relationship between i and gi, and the
original nature and the psycho-physical nature as follows;
Nature is only one. Why does nature have two different names, the original nature and
psycho-physical nature? The psycho-physical quality of myriad things in the universe is
completed by receiving the eum-yang 陰陽 (yin-yang in Chinese) gi. Their nature is made
by receiving i of the supreme ultimate. Nature and psycho-physical quality can never be
separated, nor mixed with each other. If we talk only about i in terms of the aspect of ‘not
mixed,’ it is the original nature. If we talk about i together with gi in terms of the aspect of
‘not separated,’ it is the psycho-physical nature. Thus, the so-called psycho-physical nature
denotes the only one nature where the original nature falls into the psycho-physical quality.
Although these two natures mean different things, they are actually the one nature. The one
refers to i and the difference depends on whether i is referred to together with gi.8
For Han Wonjin, nature is only one and it has different names such as bonyeonjis-
eong and gijiljiseong. These two different names are only used in their respective
contexts, depending on how i is discussed. His view of these two natures leads to his
discussion on the mibal state in its relation to the two natures. He also understands
the two natures in terms of good and evil:
The original nature is fully completed and perfectly good. The myriad things in the universe
share this nature. The psycho-physical natures of the myriad things are different because it
is partial/biased, full/completed, good, or evil. Let me take the example of the mind-heart
in human beings. the mind-heart is gi and its nature is i. Before the mibal state of the mind-
heart, i is in gi. With respect to only i, the state is wholly good. It is the so-called original
nature. In terms of gi and i together, it can be said that the state is either good or evil. The
state is the so-called psycho-physical nature. In the ibal state, i rides on gi (理乘氣上).
Thus, good and evil are what the psycho-physical nature has issued. ‘Good’ refers to the
state when the original nature is not obscured by gi. ‘Evil’ refers to the state when the
8
Collection of Works by Namdang (Han Wonjin) 南塘集. 卷 30, Treatise on the Original Nature
and Psycho-physical Nature 本然之性氣質之性說.
238 S. G. Choi
o riginal nature is blocked by gi. Accordingly, what the psycho-physical nature has issued is
actually what the original nature has issued.9
Accordingly, Han Wonjin’s view of the mibal can be understood to support that he
inherits well one of the main claims accepted by the school of Yulgok, gibal-iseung
氣發理乘. Based on this view, he more clearly characterizes the mind-heart with
respect to gi and the mibal;
The clarity of the mind-heart is its very spirit before it has been aroused, whereas partiality,
darkness, fullness, or deficiency of the mind-heart is the manifestation of gi endowed upon
it. The originally endowed gi still exists even when gi itself has not been aroused. The pure-
ness and emptiness emanate from the establishment of jung 中, which is made possible
when gi is not yet working to shield it. (C. Lee 2011: 107)10
Yi Gan’s critique of Han Wonjin’s view on the mibal has two points; (1) the
mibal state should be distinguished from the psycho-physical nature; (2) it does not
make sense if we understand the mibal state in terms of good and evil because good
and evil can be evaluated only regarding the ibal state;
Mibal is the moment when gi does not work. It is the state where clear and pure good exists
without being swayed by the extent of purity and consistency of gi. This is the genuine state
of i, spreading to all directions without bias and thus there is no need to acknowledge
together (兼指) the presence of gi (with the mibal) that does not even work in such a state.
(C. Lee 2011: 109)11
Yi Gan does not agree with the claim that the mibal state of the mind-heart should
be understood in terms of gijil because the mibal refers to the moment when gi does
not work. Because in the mibal state gi does not work and thus li is not corrupted by
gi, it does not make any sense to discuss the mibal state in terms of the different
quality of gi.
As an effective response to Han Wonjin’s claims, Yi Gan attempts to incorporate
two new terms to explain that the mind-heart has two states; the original mind-heart
(本然之心) and the physical mind-heart (氣質之心). To Yi Gan, the mibal state is
identical to the original mind-heart that contains the original and pure condition of
gi. To support this perspective, Yi Gan reminds that Zhu Xi accounted for the mind-
heart as being empty, numinous, and unobscured (虛靈不昧). In a similar way, Zhu
Xi also described the mind-heart as being empty, clear/bright, and penetratingly
lucid (虛明洞澈). From this reading, Yi Gan intends to claim;
The mind-heart is gi and emptiness and numinous is its Substance (體).12
Quoting Zhu Xi’s comment that these qualities are what is received from Heaven,
Yi Gan interprets that it means that all human beings receive such high qualities of
9
Collection of Works by Namdang 南塘集, Ibid.
10
Translation adopted with slight modification from Lee, Cheon Sung. 2011. “Philosophical
Implications of the Discussion of Mibal in the Horak Debate of the Late Joseon Period.” Korea
Journal 51.1: 97–117.
11
Surviving Works of Oeam (Yi Gan) 巍巖遺稿卷 7: 1b. Translation adopted with slight modifica-
tion from Lee, Cheong Sung. Ibid.
12
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿卷 8: 1a.
gi. He uses this idea of the mind-heart in order to support that the mind-heart as gi
contains its original condition such that the condition of gi in the mind-heart could
possibly be regarded as close to the original nature.13
It is not difficult to expect that Han Wonjin does not accept Yi Gan’s view of two
mind-hearts. He criticizes Yi Gan’s notion of the original mind-heart and the physi-
cal mind-heart as two mind-hearts and two natures (二心二性) which means that
while the original mind-heart contains the original nature, the psycho-physical
nature is the nature of the physical mind-heart.
Furthermore, Han Wonjin would not deny that the mind-heart can be character-
ized as being empty, numinous, and unobscured;
In the mibal state of the mind-heart which is clear, empty, and bright, any desires for mate-
rial things do not arise. (For this reason) the mibal state can be said only as good. The origi-
nal reality of nature is eminent in this state and there is nothing concealed. How can one say
about evil regarding this state? When can one say about the psycho-physical nature? One
can talk about the psycho-physical nature even regarding the mibal state. How is this pos-
sible? (Because) although the mibal state of the mind-heart is (said to be) clear, empty, and
bright, there is no moment when different qualities of the endowed gi such as different
clarity and purity (淸濁粹駁) do not abide it.14
He deals with the mibal state neither as separated from the psycho-physical nature,
nor as free from characterization with good or evil. He could also use these qualities
as a basis for different natures, as discussed later. From his understanding of the mibal,
he has no doubt that the mibal experiences of sages and commoners can’t be the same.
Yi Gan’s responses do not seem successful so far. He seems to over-emphasize
the high quality of gi in the mind-heart because he is mainly concerned with how to
shed light on purely good state of the mibal. He notes the meaning of the distinction
between the mibal and the ibal state. To him, only the mibal state is pure and good
and it should not be understood as being mixed with or identical to the ibal state. Yi
Gan wants to establish a foundation of moral practice from the purity and goodness
of the mibal state. For this reason, to him, Han Wonjin overlooks why the state of
mibal must be discussed in terms of moral practice. However, Han Wonjin also uses
the differences between mibal experiences and qualities of sages and commoners as
a necessity and motivation of self-cultivation.
3 O
n Nature, Original Nature, Psycho-physical Nature,
and Five Constant Virtues (五常)
The Horak debate has been known as inmulseong-dongi-nonjaeng 人物性同異論

爭, which literally means the debate on the question of whether human nature and
non-human nature are the same or different from each other. A closer reading of
13
Thus, compared to the condition of gi in the mind-heart, the condition of gi in any other part such
as gi in the physical form (形氣) must be inferior.
14
Collection of Works by Namdang 南塘集. 卷 7.
240 S. G. Choi
their discussion on the topic indicates that they actually focus on more particular
questions; (1) whether humans and non-humans equally possess the Five Constant
Virtues (五常, benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, trustfulness 仁義禮
智信) in their nature; (2) what the relationship between the original nature and
psycho-physical nature is; (3) whether sages and commoners have the same
mind-heart.
Let me return to one of their common favorite resources for their claims on the
questions.
Chapter one of the Doctrine of the Mean contends;
What Heaven commends is called nature (性). To follow our nature is called the Way (道).
Cultivating the Way is called education (敎).
(天命之謂性. 率性之謂道. 修道之謂敎.)
Zhu Xi’s commentary on the passage as follows;

Nature (性) is simply li 理. When Heaven generates the myriad things in accordance with
yin, yang, and the Five Phases, it gives them form with qi. Heaven also endows them with
li. This (process) is just like mandating them (命令). When human beings and things are
generated, each of them is endowed with li. This li constitutes the Five Constant Virtues (五
常). This is what the ‘nature’ means. The word, shuai (率), means ‘follow (循).’ The Way
(道) means the path (路). Each of human beings and things follows what is natural from its
own nature, that is, in all things and affairs every day, each of them has its own path that
each should follow. This is what the ‘Way’ means. The nature and Way of each are the
same, but each endowed qi is different. For this reason, there is a difference between too-
much (過) and not-enough (不及).
Concerning the first passage of the Doctrine of the Mean and Zhu Xi’s commentary
on it, it is obvious that both Han Wonjin and Yi Gan agree with three points; (1)
nature is i; (2) the differences between humans and non-humans are real; (3) humans
and non-humans like animals differ in terms of different qualities of their gi. While
human beings are endowed with gi with clear and pure quality, non-human beings
have gi with turbid and obscured quality. This difference of endowed gi can be also
applied to the difference between different human beings. For example, sages are
born with clearer and purer quality of gi than other ordinary humans. It is why sages
can understand, follow, and perform i perfectly or better than other humans.
Then, the real question of the debate is about the nature of humans and non-
humans and/or sages and commoners. Answers to the questions are supposed to
explore the relationship between nature as i and its different manifestations with gi.
For this work, Han Wonjin and Yi Gan believe that it is necessary to raise once
again and answer the issue of the relationship between the original nature and the
psycho-physical nature.
Yi Gan uses Zhu Xi’s idea of one origin and different bodies (一原異體)15 which
is another version of Zhu Xi’s and other major Neo-Confucians’ claim that li is one
and its manifestations are numerous (理一分殊);
15
This word originally comes from Collection of Works by Zhu Xi 朱熹集. 卷 46. 答黃商伯 4.
From the point of one origin, the Five Constant Virtues transcend the concrete form. Thus,
there is no differentiation of “part and whole” between human beings and non-human
beings. This is original nature. (Hong 2011: 80)16
Human beings and non-humans are identical in terms of originality. Clarity and turbidity of
sages and commoners and openness and closeness of human beings and non-humans are
different bodies (異體) in terms of disposition.17
To Yi Gan, the Five Constant Virtues are inherent in the original nature of all things.
The Five Constant Virtues are identical to i. In this sense, the Supreme Ultimate (太
極), the Five Constant Virtues, i, and nature are all identical.
Although, according to Yi Gan’s critique, Han Wonjin does not understand that
there are one source and different bodies, it seems that Han Wonjin would also
agree partially with the sameness between sages and commoners. However, he is
sure that the sameness can be considered only in terms of vacuous spirit. They differ
in terms of their mind-heart and psycho-physical nature. The nature of sages and
commoners cannot be separated in reality from their psycho-physical nature.
Accordingly, the nature of sages and commoners are different. He argues as
follows:
The mind-heart of sages realizes only i because their mind-heart are vacuous and spiritual
by clear gi. Commoners realize only desires. Their mind-heart are vacuous and spiritual by
turbid gi. This is the difference between sages and commoners.18
Regarding the difference between human beings and non-human beings, Han
Wonjin describes in more detail:
When the myriad things come into being, what is endowed with right (正) and penetrating
(通) gi becomes human beings. What is endowed with biased/partial (偏) and obscured (塞)
gi becomes things. Thus, although it is not that things did not get the whole i, their nature is
also partial and obscured by their psycho-physical quality. Grass and trees can never know
and perceive. Although beasts have the ability of perception, it works only in one direction
and thus is limited by its gi in the material form (形氣). Accordingly, it can’t fulfill its great
wholeness. Because human being are endowed with right and penetrating gi, the mind-heart
of human beings is vacuous and spiritual and thus embodies the virtue of eum-yang and the
five constant virtues (健順五常). To fulfill the ultimate, to participate in Heaven and Earth,
and to assist the transformation and nurture (of the myriad things in the universe) are the
work assigned to human beings. This is the difference between human beings and non-
human things.19
For Han Wonjin, human beings, unlike non-human things, are endowed with right
and penetrating gi. In this sense, the mind-heart of human beings already embodies
16
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿. 卷 7. Translation adopted from Hong, Jung Geun. 2011. “Is
the Morality of Human Beings Superior to the Morality of Non-Human Beings?: Debate over
Human versus Animal Nature in the Joseon Period.” Korea Journal 51.1: 72–96.
17
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿. 卷 12:16 or 31.
18
Han Wonjin 韓元震. Detailed Identifications and Discernment on Master Zhu’s Saying and
Discussions 朱子言論同異考: 1.22–23.
19
Collection of Works by Namdang 南塘集. 卷 29. 示同志說.
242 S. G. Choi
the virtue of eum-yang and the Five Constant Virtues. From this view, he supports
once again that the original nature and the psycho-physical nature should not be
understood as being separated when they are discussed in terms of good and evil.
This claim is also his response to Yi Gan’s view of the so-called two mind-hearts
and two natures.
In order to elaborate his view of the inseparability of the original nature and the
psycho-physical nature and to effectively respond to Yi Gan’s critique of it, Han
Wonjin presents his theory of three levels of nature: nature of chohyeonggi 超形氣
(nature transcending physical form), nature of ingijil 因氣質 (nature originated
from psycho-physical quality), and nature of japgijil 雜氣質 (nature mixed with
psycho-physical quality). He regards the chohyeonggi nature as original nature
which is pure i. He seems to interpret that this nature is identical to what Yi Gan
means by the original nature. However, Han Wonjin also defines the nature of ingi-
jil as original nature and thus relates the original nature of the Five Constant Virtues
to the nature ingijil.
Yi Gan more robustly criticizes Han Wonjin’s idea of three levels of nature as
follows;
Although the authoritative theories of the preceding scholars regarding the big and small
division make clear that i and gi are separated, Deokso (德昭 Han Wonjin) put this point
outside his view. Why didn’t he consider this point well? Deokso’s view is different from
their theories. Deokso said, “the Heavenly Decree (天命) is a term that refers to what is
beyond gi in the physical form (超形氣). The Five Constant Virtues is a name that refers to
what depends on psycho-physical quality (因氣質). Thus, Things are endowed with the
wholeness of the Heavenly Decree, but not with the whole of the Five Constant Virtues.”
Deokso also said, “The Five Constant Virtues are the original (本然) and thus can’t be the
one origin (一原). This is the i of limitations of gi and different bodies (氣局異體之理) and
thus can’t be penetration of i (理通).” He also said, “Whereas the Supreme Ultimate and the
Heavenly Decree are entirely complete and thus impartial, the Five Constant Virtues are
partial and thus not wholly complete.” According to his theory, the Supreme Ultimate is
allocated to ‘what follows good (繼善),’20 and it is regarded as something that exists before
human beings and things come into being. He names it the Decree (命). The Five Constant
Virtues are allocated to ‘what accomplishes the nature (成性)’21 and are regarded as some-
thing that comes after human beings and things come into being. He names them as the
nature. The three characters, chohyeonggi 超形器, actually mean my view of the one origin,
so there is nothing wrong with the word. However, Deokso has an intention to mention the
word without talking about the reality per se of the Five Constant Virtues. Then, the word
denotes only something void and flurried without any real content/object…22
In this passage, Yi Gan points out that Han Wonjin’s concept of the three levels of
nature consequently ignores that nature as i is discussed with different names, and
thus devalues the real meaning of the original nature. With this respect, Yi Gan’s
notion of the one origin plays a crucial role to point out the identity of many differ-
ent manifestations of the nature. He advances to illustrate that numerous Confucian
concepts ultimately refer to li/i with different names.
20
The Book of Changes 周易, 繫辭 ch.5. “繼之者善”
21
The Book of Changes 周易, 繫辭 ch.5. “成之者性”
22
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿. 卷 12. 五常辯: 1.5.
Although there are diverse names such as the Heavenly Decree, the Five Constant Virtues,
the Supreme Ultimate, and the Original (本然, Nature), all of them denote i with different
names. It is not that there are differences of this and that (彼此), the beginning and the end
(本末), part and whole (偏全), and great and small (大小) from the beginning. Briefly
speaking, the Decree is in perfect harmony with the Nature. To be precise, although the
Four Virtues and the Five Constant Virtues are equally bright, the utmost states of them are
named the Supreme Ultimate. The root of them is called the Original. Thus, it is neither that
there are the Four Virtues and the Five Constant Virtues, nor that there is sameness and dif-
ference between nature and the Decree.23
Different names that denote i are used in different contexts. However, their roots are
the same one, the Original, which is why they should not be discussed in terms of
sameness and difference.
In the debate, ‘difference’ means not only ‘different levels, qualities, or activi-
ties’ but also ‘either good or evil.’ As is well known, Mencius’ claim of the good-
ness of human nature (which has been accepted as one of the main claims in the
Confucian tradition) has been often challenged by the question of how all of the
bad/evil aspects of human beings can be explained. Likewise, Yi Gan’s claim of the
sameness of human and non-human nature is attacked mainly by the question of
how we can account for all of the differences between humans and non-humans.
Now an additional burden is to answer in terms of the relationship between nature
and the mind-heart constructed on i-gi system. Yi Gan faces this difficulty by war-
ranting the purely good condition of the mind-heart and nature containing all Five-
Virtues as a ground of the sameness. Han Wonjin positively accepts the difference
between humans and non-humans and also between sages and commoners. It seems
that he is relatively free from the difficulty that Yi Gan has to resolve. However, as
seen from his attempt to organize three different levels of nature, for him, the prob-
lem is how universal criteria of the goodness of nature and/or the possibility of
Confucian sagehood is secured to motivate different humans toward the Confucian
vision.
4 On Self-Cultivation
Although neither Han Wonjin nor Yi Gan intend to interpose severe objections to
Zhu Xi’s philosophical system based on li and qi and his commentaries on the
Confucian classics, they sensitively examine the theoretical and practical value of
the Neo-Confucian core ideas such as the Way, nature, mind-heart, emotion, wei-fa/
yi-fa, and so on. Such efforts lead their followers to re-contemplate the implications
and clarify those key concepts toward a synthetical theory. In Sections 2 and 3, I
note and describe the difference between Han Wonjin’s and Yi Gan’s view of the
mibal state and the nature of humans and non-humans. In doing so, I attempt to
grasp the demand of the question of self-cultivation implied in their debate. The
23
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿. 卷 4. 上遂菴先生: 190-307a.
244 S. G. Choi
debate is mainly about the fundamental metaphysical i-gi framework of Neo-

Confucianism and its relevant core Neo-Confucian concepts. Therefore, it is reason-
able and proper to focus on the issue. It is, however, equally important to understand
how they apply their theoretical reflections to practical concerns. In most of
Confucian discussions, their theoretical concerns and conceptual framework can be
justified if they warrant the continuity of theory and practice. In addition, Confucians
continue to make efforts to support their claims by finding out textual evidences
from the Confucian classics. In this section, I will compare the difference between
Han Wonjin’s and Yi Gan’s view of self-cultivation with Zhu Xi’s theoretical tran-
sition. Through this work, I intend to suggest that although they do not fully develop
their ideas of self-cultivation, their practical concerns in this unique Korean Neo-
Confucian discourse should also be noted as an essential part of a completed
Confucian discussion.
Let me start once again with the first chapter of the Doctrine of the Mean. Several
Confucian core ideas are defined follows;
What Heaven commends is called nature. To follow our nature is called the Way. Cultivating
the Way is called education.
(天命之謂性. 率性之謂道. 修道之謂敎.)
I note two points. First, the passage not only defines nature. It also defines the Way
and education. Second, one’s understanding of what the Way means depends on
one’s understanding of what ‘nature’ means. Although the definition of education
sounds clear, one’s real path of cultivating the Way depends on what one under-
stands regarding nature and the Way. The next passage of the classic addresses on
the path that exemplary men (君子) should follow as follows;
The Way cannot be separated from us for a moment. What can be separated from us is never
the Way. Therefore, exemplary men are thoroughly cautious over what is not seen and also
very apprehensive over what is not heard.
(道也者, 不可須臾離也. 可離,非道也. 是故, 君子戒愼乎期所不睹, 恐懼乎期所不聞.)
The passage of the wei-fa and yi-fa follows this part to develop such understanding
of practical principles with respect to the relationship between nature, mind-heart,
and emotion.
Zhu Xi’s own original philosophical concern and transition is an exemplar of
such theoretical and practical effort. Zhu Xi has for a long term struggled to deal
with the question of nature, mind-heart, wei-fa/yi-fa, and emotion as a necessary
step toward a new system.24 Such a sincere contemplation is well expressed in his
“First Letter to the Gentlemen of Hunan on Equilibrium and Harmony (中和)”
where he clarifies his new and mature theory of zhong-he (中和新設).
…However, the wei-fa state cannot be sought, and the yi-fa state permits no manipulation.
So long as in daily life the effort at jing 敬 (gyeong in Korean, reverence, seriousness, rev-
erential attention) and cultivation is fully extended and there are no selfish desires to disturb
it, then before the emotions are aroused it will be as clear as a mirror and as calm as still
As is well known, this transition is Zhu Xi’s long term philosophical examination on the famous
24
passage in Ch. 1 of the classic, Zhongyong 中庸.

water, and after the emotions are aroused it will attain due measure and degree without
exception. This is the essential task in everyday life… (Chan 1969: 601)25
From this concern, Zhu Xi reflected upon his own learning and cultivation and even
doubted the idea that some of Cheng Yi’s statements are correct. In his new theory
of zhong-he, he realized that nature is substance and emotion is its function (性體情
用). For this reason, he did re-shed light on Zhang Zai’s proposition that the mind-
heart embraces and masters nature and emotion (心統性情). This understanding
mutually supported his emphasis on the way of cultivation, especially that of rever-
ence (敬). In Zhu Xi’s early old theory of zhong-he (中和舊說 Old Theory of cen-
trality/equilibrium and harmony), nature means the wei-fa state and the mind-heart
is understood as the yi-fa state. The main formula of the old version is xingti-xinyong
性體心用, where the mind-heart is understood as function (用). In this view, nature
as li might seem to be separate from the mind-heart as qi.26 And the conceptual and
practical position of emotions and desires are relatively neglected and thus seems to
be more apart from nature as li, although Zhu Xi regards emotions and desires as
manifestations of the mind-heart which is a function of nature. The important point
to note regarding his old version of zhong-he is that in this view Zhu Xi, who is
influenced by the Hunan School, understands the practical significance of self-
cultivation upon the relation of nature as li and the mind-heart as qi, and accepts
“examination and comprehension first and then preservation and nourishment (先察
識後涵養)” as the primary method of self-cultivation.
In this sense, I note that the tension of the debate between Han Wonjin and Yi
Gan can be compared to Zhu Xi’s philosophical transition from the old version to
the new version of his view of zhong-he. Both Han Wonjin and Yi Gan agree that
there must be differences between humans and non-humans. However, the disagree-
ment between their arguments is about what exactly the differences are. This dis-
agreement leads to different approaches to the notion of self-cultivation.
The ultimate goal that Yi Gan wants to pursue through his theory of the Five
Constant Virtues and the mibal state of the mind-heart is to become a sage. All
things have their original nature. This original nature should be realized. He has to
accept that, although human beings possess abilities to realize this original nature,
not all humans will necessarily and naturally realize their original nature. For this
reason, as Zhu Xi did, Yi Gan insists that the mibal state should be considered as a
necessary and normative moment of the mind-heart. The mibal state should be
understood not only as a state where the original nature abides, but also as a goal
that all humans must ultimately achieve. Yi Gan argues for a way of self-cultivation
as follows:
In the case of sages, i becomes [fully manifested in] the mind-heart. Accordingly, the mind-
heart is the nature and the nature is the mind-heart. The substance is the mean/equilibrium
25
Collection of Literary Works by Master Zhu 朱子文集: 64:28b-29b. Translation adopted with
slight modification from Wing-tist Chan, Ibid.
26
As a matter of fact, before Zhu Xi had this old version, he himself kept his efforts to experience
the state of wei-fa as if it is an actual state, by following the teaching of his teacher, Li Tong, and
practicing quiet-sitting.
246 S. G. Choi
and the function is the harmony. There is no need to further discuss this point. In the case of
commoners, there is always the concern that gi does not fully follow i and that the mind-
heart does not present to the fullest the nature. Accordingly, one should be cautious and
restrain oneself when one is alone. By this way of restricting oneself, one should make
oneself sincere. One should abide by this way/rule so that one cannot neglect this practice
at any moment and can always keep the practice. This is the very need for practical concern
and effort toward the level that i and gi come to have the same substance and that the mind-
heart and the nature are identical to each other.27
From this passage, Yi Gan’s idea of self-cultivation also supports more effectively
one of the Zhu Xi’s philosophical slogans, xintongxingqing 心統性情 (the mind-
heart embraces and masters nature and emotions) in the sense that the active role of
the mind-heart is paid more attention to. The mind-heart is not only an ontological
entity where nature and emotions are embraced, but also an active master that can
realize original nature through emotions.
However, his system cannot be identical to Zhu Xi’s new theory of zhong-he.
For his claim on the way of self-cultivation, Yi Gan’s emphasis on the distinction
between nature as i and the mind-heart works only as a means to ultimately contend
that nature should be identical to the mind-heart.28 As Han Wonjin often points out,
such an emphasis on the distinction between nature and the mind-heart can also be
interpreted to mean that there are two natures and two mind-hearts. For this reason,
Han Wonjin is never persuaded by Yi Gan’s vision. To Han Wonjin, the separation
is unacceptable both ontologically and even as a theoretical means toward the way
of cultivation. He even criticizes that Yi Gan’s claim sounds like Lu Xiangshan’s
陸象山 or Wang Yangming’s 王陽明 view that the mind-heart is identical to nature
(心卽理).
To Han Wonjin, any separation between nature and the mind-heart is not possi-
ble. Accordingly, even the mibal state of the mind-heart can be either good or bad,
and the nature of humans and non-humans are different. This view reminds us that
Zhu Xi often emphasized that the mind-heart is precarious. In his concern with self-
cultivation, he notes especially that the difference between sages and commoners
should be approached in terms of the difference of their gi. This difference can work
not only for identifying sages and commoners, but also for influencing whether and
how they can keep their endowed gi. While sages can naturally keep their vacuous
spirit good, commoners cannot do so. Han Wonjin describes in more detail different
ways of self-cultivation according to different levels of human beings;
There are different degrees of clarity, turbidity, purity, and mixture in the right and penetrat-
ing gi that human beings are endowed with. Those who are endowed with the most clean
and pure gi become sages. Those who endowed with more clear and pure gi than turbid and
mixed gi become wise human beings (賢人). Those who are endowed with more turbid and
mixed gi than clean and pure gi become commoners (衆人). Those who are endowed with
the most turbid and mixed gi become fools (下愚). In between them, there are too many
different degrees to enumerate how many they are. Largely there are these four levels,
which is how sages, wise humans, commoners, and fools are classified.
27
Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿. 卷 13. 未發辨後說: 240.
28
This reminds us that Yi Gan is a follower of the School of Yulgok.
Sages are born with the ability of knowing and behave, following their nature. In doing
so, they can complete the original i (理之本體). For this reason, they do not need to culti-
vate themselves. Those under the levels of sages can become sages only after they cultivate
themselves, remove their turbid quality, and recover their original nature. To cultivate one-
self means only to govern one’s mind-heart and nurture one’s gi. When one governs one’s
mind-heart, one’s circumspection inside can be precise. When one nurtures one’s gi, one’s
control outside can be solid. Only when one can nurture both inside and outside, can one’s
effort of cultivation be seamless (無所罅漏). One’s mind-heart is the master of one’s body
and one’s gi is the common soldier (卒) of the mind-heart. Thus, when the mind-heart
becomes right, one’s gi will be naturally nurtured. When one makes an effort to cultivate in
the beginning, one does not need to do one’s best to separately do the two works (govern
one’s mind-heart and nurture one’s gi).29
In this passage, Han Wonjin never separates nature as i and the mind-heart as gi.
For this reason, he does not actually exclude the meaning of nature even when he
discusses the mind-heart. This way may make it possible to read that his seeming
over-emphasis on the mind-heart as gi and the way of cultivation based on the dif-
ference between sages and commoners is similar to Zhu Xi’s concern in his old
theory of zhong-he.
In summary, I do not mean to identify Han Wonjin and Yi Gan’s view to Zhu
Xi’s old and new theory of zhong-he respectively. By comparing the tension between
Yi Gan and Han Wonjin’s concerns with Zhu Xi’s theoretical transition, I would
like to contend two points; (1) Zhu Xi’s theoretical transition is now re-opened in a
new way and in a new horizon of Korean Neo-Confucianism. The Horak debate has
done such a meaningful development; (2) Like other Confucian discussions, the
debate should be approached as a comprehensive one that covers both theoretical
and practical concerns.
5 Recent Works on the Horak Debate
I would like here to introduce two recently published works on the Horak debate,
whose contributions to contemporary discussions on Korean Confucianism deserve
special attention.
First, Professor Lee, Seunghwan presents an ambitious monograph in which he
examines the major debates in the Joseon Dynasty from the perspective of the dis-
tinction between horizontal and vertical arrangement of signs (hoengseol 橫說 and
sooseol 竪說). From this perspective, Lee re-reads the Four-Seven debate, the
Horak debate, and other major Korean Confucians’ thoughts. Although all chapters
of Lee’s book deserves special attention and discussion, here I note only the section
where he analyzes the Horak debate.
According to Lee’s analyses, i as moral disposition and gi as appetite disposition
or the four beginnings and the seven emotions are arranged as contrasted from the
perspective of the horizontal arrangement of signs (橫說) which is an axiological
Collection of Works by Namdang 南塘集. 卷 29. 示同志說.

29
248 S. G. Choi
standpoint. Yi Gan’s system, like that of Yi Hwang, should be understood as a prod-

uct of the horizontal arrangement of signs. From the perspective of the vertical
arrangement of signs which is an ontological standpoint, i as what supervenes is
related to gi as supervenience base. In this arrangement, the relationship between i
and gi is that of supervenience (乘班) and covarience (共變). The Neo-Confucian
idea of ‘not-separated’ (不離) relationship between i and gi is now understood as
ontological dependency. The relation of ‘not-mixed’ (不雜) between i and gi is now
understood as non-reducibility. Lee interprets that Yi I is a representative of this
position. Han Wonjin who inherits well Yi I’s thought also approaches the question
of the nature of the mind-heart from this perspective. In addition, Lee suggests the
perspective of the generative arrangement of signs (發說 balseol). From this per-
spective, the relationships between mibal and ibal, substance and function (體用),
nature and emotions (性情), and equilibrium and harmony (中和) can be under-
stood as mechanisms of event ontology.
Lee’s analyses point out that one of the serious problems of Yi Gan’s system is
to understand the relation of the original nature and the psycho-physical nature from
a horizontal arrangement of signs like the relationship between mibal and ibal.
Another problem is that Yi Gan does not accept the relation of covarience between
i and gi, because he, like Yi Hwang, contrasts the two words, i and gi, in a way of
horizontal arrangement. From this perspective, they assume that there must be
purely good and thus unchanging nature (the original nature).
For this reason, Yi Gan does not agree with Han Wonjin’s view that both the
mibal and ibal state should be understood with the psycho-physical nature. After all,
the conflict in the debate results from their miscommunication because each does
not accept the different framework of the other.
If we accept this hoeng-sooseol perspective, it is finally possible to criticize the
lack of logical coherence in Zhu Xi’s system and Joseon/Korean Neo-Confucian
discussion. I also support this perspective because it is an effective framework for
re-constructing Neo-Confucian key concepts so that we can understand much better
a complicated net of those concepts. Lee also announces with a strong confidence
that he has untangled an old puzzle.
However, I doubt whether the hoeng-sooseol perspective is a perfect framework
for understanding the Neo-Confucian philosophical system as it is synthesized and
organized toward their ultimate practical concerns. In the Neo-Confucian debate,
there is not always a clear-cut boundary between hoengseol and sooseol. Neo-
Confucians never exclude an axiological perspective in their discussions. Thus,
their description and argument can be often read as presented from diverse mixed
perspectives of hoengseol, sooseol, and balseol. The notion of mibal and ibal is a
good example. From Lee’s reading, the mibal and ibal should be understood from
and arranged in a generative way. I support that if the notion is always arranged and
discussed in that way, it would make readers approach their discussion in a more
effective, convenient, and clear way. However, it is necessary to read correctly their
claims and concerns as they are. For example, as Lee criticizes, it seems that Yi
Gan’s argument with his key terms is constructed in a confused way. On the one
hand, we could blame such inconsistency and unclarity of his system. On the other
hand, if we adopt not a hoengseol and sooseol perspective, but a different stand-
point, it is possible for the perspective to grasp some more implications that might
be overlooked. For this reason, Lee himself also suggests a perspective of heong-
seol and balseol combined, or sooseol and balseol combined. I do not mean to
defend the debaters based on their misunderstanding of different frameworks.
However, it might be necessary to ask once why they do not give up their way at the
risk of inconsistent method of sign arrangement.
Neo-Confucians such as Zhu Xi, Yi Gan, Han Wonjin, and other participants
in the Horak debate tried to make clear their readings of the core texts by analyz-
ing key concepts, critically examining preceding scholars’ work, and participating
in debates. Indeed, we urgently need a framework from which we can conve-
niently access and clearly re-construct their learning and discussions. With respect
to this demand, I support and want to point out once again the great contribution
of Lee’s work. However, we need to also remember the fact that, while they were
strenuously doing this work, they attempted to systematize their thoughts as a path
to the ultimate concern, that is, character/self-cultivation, nurture of personality,
or sagehood.
Secondly, Richard Kim introduces an excellent insight of the main positions in
the Horal debate in his recent article, “Human Nature and Animal Nature: The
Horak Debate and Its Philosophical Significance.”30 Kim also incorporates the
Horak debate into contemporary discussions in order to examine the usefulness of
these ideas in the debate. For this work, he compares the main arguments of the
debate with two contemporary concepts, natural goodness and moral nativism.
First, Kim incorporates Philippa Foot’s argument that the goodness or defect of liv-
ing organisms depends on their species-specific nature. One of the significant points
of Foot’s view on natural goodness is that one’s species-specific nature generates
certain normative facts about the kinds of qualities or features that a particular living
organism ought to have. Kim notes that this view about the intrinsic normativity of
nature is a view that was shared by Korean Neo-Confucian thinkers. In support of
moral nativism, Kim adds his account for the proto-morality argument which is
drawn upon the existence of various proto-moral capacities. These capacities are
found in other animals, especially those that are proximate to our own phylogenetic
line. According to this argument based on accumulated experiments and data,
non-human animals exhibit a variety of pro-social behaviors that resembles a num-
ber of human moral traits.
Kim is quite right in that both Foot and Han Wonjin/Yi Gan understand nature as
a normative concept and that both the proto-morality argument and Han Wonjin/Yi
Gan accept that non-human animals have capacities that manifest certain virtues.
Here I note his significant contribution to contemporary discussions on Neo-
Confucian texts. His comparison of the similarity between the two recent arguments
and the Horak debate supports enough to prove the usefulness of the ideas in the
debate. However, even for such a comparative work, I would like to present a similar
Kim, Richard. 2015. “Human Nature and Animal Nature: The Horak Debate and Its Philosophical
30
Significance.” International Philosophical Quarterly 55.4: 437–456.

250 S. G. Choi
concern I mentioned regarding Lee’s work. There is a crucial difference that Kim
might overlook. Joseon/Korean Confucians’ philosophical system and debates are
about something beyond experimental data, analysis, and theoretical hypotheses.
While they try to maintain sincerity about theoretical works, they never exclude
practical concerns. As Kim tries to demonstrate through the Horak debate, Joseon/
Korean Neo-Confucianism is a philosophical system that can be compatible with
some of modern theoretical system. Korean Neo-Confucians sincerely considered
metaphysical foundation and moral psychology that can be always a target for con-
structive comparison with relevant modern theories. In addition, they as Confucians
never gave up their concern with theorization and the practice of self-cultivation.
The process toward a synthetical and systematic construction was continuously
examined with sincerity and rigidity.
6 Conclusion
The Horak debate is an exemplar that demonstrates how Confucian scholars truly
realize one of the Confucian core teaching, “to get to know what is new by keeping
fresh in mind what one is already familiar with 溫故知新 (Lau 1992: 13).”31 One of
the Confucians’ common concerns is not merely with a construction of theoretical
frameworks, but with the question of how to apply their vision to self-cultivation or
character-nurture and to a real life in diverse human contexts. For this reason,
Confucians’ discussions try to establish a firm theoretical foundation of self-
cultivation. The method of self-cultivation is also a central issue. With a great
respect for Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian thought and texts, participants in the Horak
debate attempt to detect some ambiguity of Zhu Xi’s system, and to clarify them in
their way. On the other hand, they develop further the rich implications of Neo-
Confucian core ideas to establish a stronger version of the synthetical system that
embraces theoretical rigidness and practical realization.
Confronting the empirical cognition that differences between humans and non-
humans and between sages and commoners are real, it was necessary to ask how
these differences are to be understood and how understanding of the differences is
applied to diverse human contexts. Obviously both Yi Gan and Han Wonjin share
the Confucian vision that everyone can become a sage. In the pursuit of the grand
vision, Yi Gan tries to warrant universal criteria of the pure goodness of human
nature and mind-heart and the possibility of being good or achieving sagehood.
Han Wonjin more actively confronts the differences, and urges to maintain an
awareness of our failings in order to work to overcome them on the path to
sagehood.
The Analects. 2.11. Translation adopted from D.C. Lau. trans. by. 1992. The Analects. Hong
31
Kong: The Chinese University Press.

Bibliography
Chan, Wing-tsit. 1969. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Cho, Sung-san. 2011. “Discursive Structures and Cultural Features of Nak-ron Thought in Late
Joseon Korea.” Korea Journal 51.1: 42–71.
Han, Wonjin. Collection of Works by Namdang 南塘集.
Han, Wonjin. Detailed Identifications and Discernment on Master Zhu’s Saying and Discussions
朱子言論同異考.
Hong, Jung Geun. 2011. “Is the Morality of Human Beings Superior to the Morality of Non-
Human Beings?: Debate over Human versus Animal Nature in the Joseon Period.” Korea
Journal 51.1: 72–96.
Hwang, Joonyeon and more, trans. 2009. Translation and Commentary: the Horak Debate 譯註
湖洛論爭. Seoul: Hakgobang.
Kim, Richard. 2015. “Human Nature and Animal Nature: The Horak Debate and Its Philosophical
Significance.” International Philosophical Quarterly 55.4: 437–456.
Lau, D.C. trans. 1992. The Analects 論語. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press.
Moon, Sukyoon. 2006. The Formation and Development of the Horak Debate 湖洛論爭 형성과
전개. Seoul: Dong-gwa Seo.
Moon, Sukyoon and Kim, Hansang. 2011. “Discussions of the Uniqueness of the Sage’s Mind-
and-Heart in the Horak Debate.” Korea Journal 51.2: 201–228.
Lee, Cheon Sung. 2011. “Philosophical Implications of the Discussion of Mibal in the Horak
Debate of the Late Joseon Period.” Korea Journal 51.1: 97–117.
Lee, Kyungku. 2011. “The Horak Debate from the Reign of King Sukjong to King Sunjo.” Korea
Journal 51.1: 14–41.
Lee, Seunghwan, 2012. Horizontal Arrangement of Signs and Vertical Arrangement of Signs 橫
說과 竪說. Seoul: Humanist Books.
Yi, Gan. Surviving Works of Oeam 巍巖遺稿.
Chapter 12
Korean Yangming Learning
So-Yi Chung
1 The Introduction of Yangming Learning to Korea
There are several theories about when exactly Yangming Learning (陽明學) was
introduced to Korea. A renowned historian Jang Jiyeon 張志淵 claimed, “it was
around Toegye’s time when the theories of Wang Yangming first entered Joseon”
without specifying an exact date (Jang J. 1980:[134]269). Later scholars held that it
was after the year 1521 (Jiajing 嘉靖, Ming 明), or during the time of King Myeong
of Joseon (1546–1567). Joseon scholars already had debates over Yangming’s book,
Instructions for Practical Living (傳習錄) in the year 1553. In the year 1551, when
Pak Sang 朴祥 (penname: Nuljae 訥齋, 1474–1519) and Kim Sepil 金世弼
(Penname: Sipchungheon 十淸軒, 1473–1553) through their poetry, criticized
Yangming Learning as Seon Buddhism (禪學).1 Recently, it was discovered that
when Kim Sepil was dispatched as an envoy to Ming in 1520, he brought back the
first edition of Instructions for Practical Living, which was first published in 1518
(Shin 2005:181). In other words, Yangming Learning was introduced to Korea only
2 years after the first publication of Yangming’s masterpiece.
After the initial appearance, in the year 1553 Nam Eongyeong 南彦經 (pen-
name: Donggang 東岡, 1528–1594) discussed with Hong Inu 洪仁祐 (penname:
Chijae 恥齋, 1515–1554) the nature of Yangming Learning (Hong 1989: [2]53).
Until the year 1566 when Yi Hwang 李滉 (penname: Toegye 退溪, 1501–1570,
Toegye hereafter) wrote “Disputation of Instructions for Practical Living (傳習錄
論辨)” criticizing Yangming thoughts article by article, Joseon scholars freely
Further on this point, you may refer to Yi N. (1937), Yi B. (1957), Yun (1972), and Oh (1978).
1
S.-Y. Chung (*)

Department of Religious Studies, Sogang University, Seoul, South Korea
e-mail: soyichung@sogang.ac.kr

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_12
254 S.-Y. Chung
exchanged their opinions on Yangming thoughts for almost half a century (Song
2015: 18–19).
Toegye denounced Yangming Learning in order to maintain the Neo-Confucian
orthodoxy of Zhu Xi. He wrote, “I sighed away my days worrying if the scholarly
tradition that master Cheng and Zhu passed down to us would eventually die out.
That is why I corrected the mistakes by analyzing Baisha’s Teaching of Poetry (白
沙詩敎) and Yangming’s Instructions for Practical Living.”(Yi H. 1989: Book41,
a030_419b) Toegye said:
[Yangming] contrived the theory of mind is the principle, arguing that every principle under
heaven resides only in one’s mind and not in outer things; scholars hence need to keep this
mind only, and should never pursue one single principle from outer things. So-called ‘outer
things’ may refer to things as important as five moral relationships. Yet [he is saying that] it
is fine to be with them, and fine without them; still fine, even when they are completely
wiped out. How can this be different from Buddhist teachings? (Yi H. 1989: [41]419)
Toegye criticized Yangming’s theory of “mind is principle (心卽理)” as no different

in nature from Buddhist doctrines. He was deeply worried that taking Yangming’s
words literally scholars might forego objective reasoning or investigation altogether,
and instead rely on one’s intuitions and blind passions.2
Toegye’s sharp criticism toward Yangming Learning prompted later scholars to
regard Yangming Learning as heresy. One of his disciples, Yu Seongryong 柳成龍
(1542–1607), in his conversation with King Seonjo 宣祖, fiercely condemned
Yangming as follows:
Yu: On what topic did your majesty discuss during today’s conversation meeting?
King Seonjo: During today’s conversation meeting, I assessed the character [of Yi Yo], and
found him well-versed in old classics, far from lowly and uncultivated.
Yu: But his scholarship worships Nam Eongyeong 南彦經.
King Seonjo: He has spelled out everything that he learned, like writings of Yangming and
Buddha, and there is nothing he does not know. He seems to have read extensively, and
he is not an average scholar. He wants to meet scholars specializing Mind Learning (心
學) from China. He also mentioned Wang Yangming’s theory on investigation [of
things] and extension of [knowledge]; he argued that through [Yangming’s method of]
condensing the classics today, we can drive out the barbaric outlanders.
Yu: Yangming’s scholarship is different from Lu Xiangshan 陸象山. Yangming has many
flexible aspects of management
King Seonjo: Yangming does have high competence, something that people with low com-
petence in our country cannot learn well. Yet he seems correct in saying that one should
always look back to one’s mind.
Yu: Such a mind is without a set of standards.
2
Not a few scholars point out that Toegye’s such criticism toward Yangming is based on his misun-
derstanding of Yangming’s claim “mind is principle.” Yangming never divided the mind into inner
and outer. In opposition to Zhu Xi’s division between inner principle of nature (性理) and outer
principle of things (物理), Yangming claimed that mind is in itself the principle. Yangming also
presented practicing five moral relationships in everyday situations as a concrete method to realize
“innate good knowing (良知).” Portraying Yangming Learning as something in conflict with the
five moral relationships, Toegye does not seem to have a full grasp of Yangming studies, especially
his later theories of “extending innate good knowing (致良知).”
12 Korean Yangming Learning 255
King Seonjo: It means that essence lies in rectifying your mind first, in rectifying everyday
affairs.
Yu: Old sages spoke as follows: Confucianism focuses on li the principle, while Chan (kr.
Seon 禪) Buddhism is on the mind and Daoism on qi the material force. This explains
[Confucianism] extremely well. Because it focuses on principle, it holds that there is a
normative principle in affairs and things. Because [Yangming Learning] focuses on
mind, it upholds [the mind] as a light of truth; eventually it brought about various evils
such as leading people to act as they please.
King Seonjo: Yangming explained that it was extension of innate good knowing.
Yu: It is just propaganda (僞).
King Seonjo: Yangming said that the principle of filial duty resides within my mind. How
can it reside within the body of parents so that the principle differs accordingly?
Yu: Going through a funeral process in accordance to mourning rites, and worshiping
ancestors in accordance to commemorative rites, they are all principles of filial duty.
That is why each [doctrine] focuses differently. How can one say this? Yangming
attempts to extend one’s innate good knowing, without reading a word in the Classics
when he was young; how can he be considered as well-informed of all the affairs?3
As seen in the above conversation King Seonjo showed a deep understanding of
Yangming learning. He was taught by Yi Yo 李瑤 (penname: Kyeonganyeong 慶安
令), who believed in Yangming’s scholarship and advocated his learning to King
Seonjo who, even before meeting with Yi Yo, already had a favorable view toward
Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (penname: Xiangshan 象山) and was interested in reading
Yangming’s book. Yi was taught by Nam Eon-gyeong; although none of his works
on Yangming remains today, it is evident that he had a good grasp on the essential
features of Yangming thoughts and made them understandable to King Seonjo. King
Seonjo was searching for a breakthrough because of the frequent Japanese invasions
and he was positively inclined to learning Yangming ideas. Yu’s reply to King
Seonjo’s assessment of Yangming, however, was typical of the time; following
Toegye, Yu asserted that “Yangming replaced Confucianism with Chan Buddhism.”4
Academic advisory officials including Hongmungwan (弘文館) Yu Gongjin 柳供
辰 and Jeong Yup 鄭曄, hearing that King Seonjo had held a conversation meeting
with Yi Yo, likewise rebuked Yangming Learning:
Upon hearing that Yi Yo has praised the scholarship of Wang Shouren (Yangming) and
thereby tantalized your majesty’s ear, we servants were frightened out of our senses. The
scholarship of Shouren is just the combination of Daoism and Buddhism, only borrowing
the name of Confucianism. (…) His misleading arguments stretch as far as prohibiting
reading Classics and investigation the principles, urging people to put efforts into unknow-
able realm of mind. (…) He fabricated evil opinions by betraying Cheng Zhu’s doctrine of
put into practice what you have understood first (先知後行) to the extent of changing the
commentaries to the Classics. (…) The scholarship of Wang Shouren is based on Lu
Xiangshan, but even worse in giving away the Classics and denigrating the sages. (…) If
your majesty should dismiss Yi Yo’s wrongful thoughts and retain what is true, (…) the sage
learning will be illuminated momentously, and deceitful words will disappear.5
3
The 27th Annals of King Seonjo. 宣祖實錄 27年 July.
4
The above conversation reveals Yu’s admonition of Yangming Learning, censuring it as propa-
ganda and groundless, and the beginning of a severe purge of Yangming Learning in Korea.
5
The 27th Annals of King Seonjo. 宣祖實錄 27年
256 S.-Y. Chung
From the introduction period, Yangming Learning faced obstacles from faithful Zhu
Xi followers of Joseon and was labeled as heresy. Despite such obstacles, it was also
actively embraced by some open-minded scholars, whom we now examine.
2 The Acceptance of Yangming Learning
2.1 Nam Eon-gyeong ad Yi Yo
Nam Eon-gyeong 南彦經 (penname: Donggang 東岡, 1528–1594) is perhaps the

first Joseon scholar to accept and support Yangming Learning, as evidenced by Yu’s
comment, “those who are taught by Eon-gyeong today much admire Yangming.”6
Nam’s other names are Sibo 時甫 and Eon-ryun 彦綸 and his first pen name is
Jeongjae (靜齋). He later revised his penname as Donggang (東岡), after his place
nearby East Gate of the capital. Nam’s family relationships include most of Joseon
Yangming scholars that we will discuss in turn. For example, Nam was related
Choe Myeong-gil 崔鳴吉 on his maternal side. Choe’s maternal grandmother was
the daughter of Nam’s cousin Nam Sangjil 南尙質. Nam was a brother-in-law of
Jang Yu 張維 and Hong Inu 洪仁祐. When Hong was lecturing on Mencius and the
Classic of Mind in Heo Yeop 許曄’s place, he first encountered Nam and had the
following impression: “He is only nineteen, but his physical force is vast and firm;
academically, he is also recognized. How lovely!” (Hong 1989: [2]47) Later, Hong
asked Nam to marry with his sister. Hong visited Toegye with Nam, studied together
the theories of mind and nature, and 2 years later, they read Yangming’s Instructions
for Practical Living.
Nam not only had close discussions with the Hwadam (花潭) school from his
early years, he made many visits to famous scholarly families and schools, such as
Toegye, Yulgok and Ugye (Yun 1982: 139–141). Yi Yo 李瑤 (penname:
Kyeonganryeong 慶安令)was Nam’s student and advocated Yangming Learning to
King Seon, as described earlier (Yu 1983: 49).
2.2 Heo Gyun
Heo Gyun 許筠 (penname: Gyosan 蛟山 or Sungsu 惺叟, 1569–1618) was the

third son of Heo Yup 許曄 (penname: Chodang 草堂), and the brother of the famous
Joseon female writer Heo Chohee (penname: Namsulheon 蘭雪軒, 1563–1589).
He introduced the thought of not only Yangming, but also the later Yangming fol-
lowers, including Li Zewu 李卓吾 (1527–1602), who was named as the “traitor of
Confucianism.” When he visited Ming China as an envoy during 1614–1615, he
6
Along with Yi Nenghwa and Yi Byeongdo, many researchers point to Nam Eon-gyeong as the first
advocate of Yangming Learning in the Joseon dynasty. See Yun (1982: 137).
bought and read four thousand books and wrote the seventeen Volumes of
Hanjeonglok (閑情錄, Record of Idle Emotions), in which he cited theories of
Yangming and quoted Li Zewu. He wrote, “According to Wang Yangming, if one
can cut down one portion of human desire, one can gain one portion of Heavenly
principle (Heo 1981: [11]66).” He also quoted Li “one can escape the world by
playing chess; one can forget the world by sleeping (Heo 1981: [13]77).” He evalu-
ated Yangming as follows: “Among the most famous ten writers of Ming is Wang
Yangming (…) But since Baian (Yangming) has not studied the specialized forms
of writing, his style is crude and unpolished (Heo 1983: [26]91).” He further
described him that “Recently, Yangming’s writings show his own realization from
inner (Buddhist) classics. I secretly envied that in my mind (Heo 1983: [4]8).” Heo
aslo expressed, “Human is only one original nature here to realize the truth (Heo
1983: [14]89).” The one word ‘realize (覺)’ can dispel all the doubtful situations” is
also reminiscent of Yangming’s “As my Inner Knowing realizes the truth, every-
thing [doubtful] disappears at once (Wang 2001: 479-80).”7
Heo wrote under the influence of Li Zewu’s theory of “Truth and Falsity of One
Same Mind” that as follows:
Nowadays, scholars describe themselves as ‘I illuminate the Dao’ and ‘I investigate the
Principle’: what they are doing is just trying to gain the fame by deluding people with what
they saw and heard at any particular time. From the perspective of respecting the inner
nature and transmitting the essence of the Way, there is nothing to see from them. Their
intentions are from private desires. The public and the private are to be differentiated: truth
and falsehood are also distinguished. (Heo 1983: [11]62-3)
What Heo criticized was the doctrine of Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucianism. What he
emphasized instead was the true scholarship beyond falsehood and dogmatism.
2.3 Yi Sugwang
Yi Sugwang 李晬光 (penname: Jibong 芝峯, 1563–1628) was a widely travelled

scholar, who introduced many new theories to Joseon academics, including
Yangming Learning and Western Learning (西學). As a foreign envoy he was dis-
patched three times to Beijing, which enabled him to catch up with the latest aca-
demic discussions. After experiencing two of the largest scale Japanese invasions,
he had doubts about the old doctrinal systems and struggled to find new avenues of
thought that would revitalize Joseon scholarship.
Yi was not completely free from the biases of the time. He often criticized
Yangming as directly depending on Chan Buddhism and contended that his theory
of Extending Inner Knowing (致良知) was in essence identical to the Buddhist
doctrine of ‘perceiving one’s mind leads to seeing one’s nature’ (Yi S. 1633: [5]1).
Although he was fond of Yangming’s simple way of cultivating mind and
Wang, Yangming (王陽明). Instructions for Practical Living (傳習錄) Book 2 (中).
7
258 S.-Y. Chung
s traightforward explanation of the Great Void, he was still cautious that they were
of Buddhist origin.
On the topic of modesty (謙), however, Yi wholeheartedly agreed with Yangming
and quoted him:
Yangming said, ‘Arrogance is one of today’s major ills. Arrogance leads one to self-
importance and self-complacency that there is no room to yield one’s way and lower one-
self. An arrogant son can never serve one’s parents with filial piety, an arrogant brother can
never treat one’s elders with respect, and an arrogant subordinate can never serve the king
with loyalty.’ He also said, ‘In learning, one must cure such an ill, only then can one advance
with studying one’s own mind. The opposite of arrogance is modesty. The word “modesty”
is the sure antidote.’ I assume that the reason why today’s big-headed and self-sufficient
scholars can never advance and even go backward is due to such an illness. The ill of arro-
gance is applicable not only to scholars. So-called thousand sins and ten thousand evils all
emerge from arrogance. (Yi S. 1633: [5]1)
Yi followed Yangming that in studying one’s mind modesty is the most important
attitude and also that arrogance is the root of all evil. Further, he emphasized in
detail the value of practice, or acting upon one’s principles.
From early on, what I heard from my teacher about the method of learning was nothing
beyond the two characters: ‘to know (知)’ and ‘to practice (行).’ (…) According to Chen
Zhensheng (陳眞晟),’In one’s study, if one truly knows, then practice lies within.’ I would
say that it is not difficult for a scholar to know a thing; rather, it is difficult to truly know a
thing. It is not difficult to practice the thing; rather, it is difficult to truly practice what one
knows. The reason why one cannot put into practice what one knows is because that is not
the true knowledge. (Yi S. 1633: [5]1)
The above emphasis on putting into practice what one knows is in the same vein
corresponds with Yangming’s theory that knowledge and practice are one (知行合
一). True knowledge and the sincere practice cannot be separated. Yi continued, “I
would say, even if a scholar is glib and refined in his saying, if he cannot put that
into practice, it is even worse than the unlearned. Today, it is lamentable that most
scholars exhaust their sayings without carrying them out (Yi S. 1633: [5]1).”
After quoting Chen, Yi further introduced the late Ming dynasty scholar, Jiao
Hong (焦竑: 1541–1620), who represented the left-wing Yangming school.
Jiao Hong said, “Even one has a profound knowledge in a certain thing, if one is too sure
of oneself, then this a disease. Even if one is full of shortcomings, if one is painfully aware
of them, then this is the Way. Therefore, if one knows one’s illness as illness, then this is not
illness.” I say that if a person can overcome one’s illness, then one can enter into the Way.
If one cannot overcome one’s illness, then one cannot be entitled to have a profound knowl-
edge. (Yi S. 1633: [132]1)
It is notable that Yi had introduced the contemporary scholar Jiao Hong; it reveals
how active and dynamic the scholarly interaction was between Joseon and Ming
China. Yi often reflected left wing Yangming scholars in his writings, for example,
such as “The Way is in the everyday practice of common people. Wearing linens in
summer, wearing furs in winter, eating when hungry, drinking when thirsty – this
is the way. To speak of the Way without this, one cannot but go wrong.” (Yi S.
1633: [5]1).
Like Heo Gyun, Yi Sugwang was critical toward scholars and the academic
atmosphere of his time. He thought that true scholars were few and false scholars
abounded. Although his general attitude toward Yangming learning was critical, he
brought to light some of the key values of not only Yangming but also his
disciples.
2.4 Jang Yu
Jang Yu 張維 (penname: Gyegok 谿谷, 1587–1638) was disciple of Kim Jangsaeng

金長生 (penname: Sagye 沙溪) and the father-in-law of the King Hyojong 孝宗.
He accused the scholars of his time for being narrow in their views, believing that
Cheng Zhu neo-Confucianism was the only value they upheld; he was more open to
various strands of thought, such as Daoism, Buddhism as well as Yangming learn-
ing. He criticized the Joseon academic atmosphere as:
There are various strands of thoughts in China. Besides the right learning (正學, i.e., Zhu
Xi’s neo-Confucianism), there is Chan learning (禪學) and Dan learning (丹學); there are
people who are learning Cheng Zhu, and there are others learning Lu (陸). There is no one
way of learning things. However, everyone in Joseon, whether one is well-versed or not, if
one gets to open a book and read a word, would recite the words of Cheng Zhu, without
realizing that there are other kinds of learning. Is it due to our academic practice is wiser
than that of China? Certainly not. There are scholars in China, but there is no scholar in our
country. Because in China it was never easy for scholars to earn what they desired, so at
times a determined scholar appeared and devoted his life in learning with real heart. Hence
they followed what they liked, and what they studied were different; nevertheless, occasion-
ally they had real gain in their learning. Our country is not like that. They are firmly and
narrowly confined, and without any spirit or willpower. They only hear that Cheng Zhu
learning is the most precious and important in the world, and hence pretend to respect it.
(Jang Y. 1997: [1]24)
Jang reflected thoroughly the ills of his time that there were no true scholars or
free spirits in Joseon and criticized the narrow-mindedness of contemporary aca-
demic circles. He pointed out that although Yangming learning was, along with that
of Chen Baisha and Lu Xiangshan condemned as Chan Buddhism, Yangming learn-
ing was to be differentiated from Baisha in that its spirit was more dynamic. Jang
argued, “While Baisha learning is geared toward stillness and flowing into empty
quietude. Yangming’s teachings such as Inner Knowing, on the other hand, focuses
only on reflection and extension; he was cautious of scholars being fond of stillness
and hating movement (Jang Y. 1997: [1]40).” He further described the difference of
Yangming learning from Cheng Zhu learning that Cheng Zhu “regarded investigation
of the principle as examining things and extending one’s knowledge of them; then it
only belongs to the realm of knowledge (知). Yangming suggested that it belongs to
both the realms of knowledge and practice (Jang Y. 1997: [1]22).” He explained that
investigation of principle should not end in merely knowing what to do: when one is
in the place of a king, one must put one’s best effort in kingly governance; when one
260 S.-Y. Chung
is in the place of a subordinate, one must put one’s best effort in serving the king.
Only following the principle assigned for each position, can one truly be said to be
investigating the principle. It is in the same context that Yangming emphasized the
extending one’s Innate Knowing within the very work one is engaged in.
Jang quoted many poems of Yangming and recognized his natural talent and
depth of learning. He also left many theories of human mind and nature, which are
reminiscent of Yangming’s work. For example, in the similar vein with Yangming’s
theory that mind cannot work without body (sensory organs and four limbs) and
vice versa (Wang 1992: 173),8 Jang wrote:
What eyes see is color; what ears hear is sound; what nose smells is smell; what mouth
tastes is taste; what mind understands is the principle. Eyes can see, but to see and recognize
the color is not the eyes; ears can listen, but to hear and recognize the sound is not the ears;
nose can smell, but to smell and recognize the smell is not the nose; mouth can taste but to
taste and recognize the taste is not mouth. To see and recognize the color is not eyes, but
without eyes, one cannot see; to hear and recognize the sound is not ears, but without ears,
one cannot hear; to taste and recognize the smell and taste is neither nose nor mouth, but
without nose or mouth one cannot smell or taste. Then, does mind’s understanding the
principle also depend on outer things? I would say, the principle must reside within (outer)
things, and the function of mind is stimulated by the things. Sound, shape, smell and tastes
are material constituents of things. To see, hear, smell, and taste are the functions of mind.
If there is no sound, shape, smell or taste, there is no thing. If there is no thing, there is no
principle. There is nothing to see, hear, smell or taste, there is no function of mind. If there
is no function of mind, even if there is a principle there is no way to recognize it (…) Such
is the mystery of “substance and function is of one origin” and “there is no gap between the
obvious and the subtle. (Jang Y. 1994: [3]2)
Jang has his own idea of recognizing the principle. Unlike Cheng-Zhu theories,
there is no objective outer thing that one must investigate. Although he does not
directly follow Yangming’s concise theory that there are no things apart from one’s
mind, he conceded that without mind, there is no way to recognize the principle;
from there he concluded that the substance (體) and function (用) of mind is one and
the same. His theory was further developed by Jeong Jedu 鄭齊斗 (penname:
Hagok 霞谷, 1649–1736).
In regard to the relationship between the principle (li, 理) and the material force
(ki, 氣), Jang, like Yangming, did not divide them sharply into good and evil. He
wrote:
Recent Confucian scholars regard li and qi as two separate things and every time, approve
li as good and disapprove qi as something evil. They do not know that li and qi combine
mysteriously and can never be two things. If they are separated into two things, then they
would establish neither Heavenly Way nor Mysterious Creation, and nothing would be in
right place. (…) If one is to say evil is qi, then it is completely wrong. There is nothing evil
in the origin of qi; only after it is influenced and corrupted does it finally become evil. Even
in saying that qi is both good and evil, there is still a loophole in distinguishing the origin
and the end, the source and the outcome. Today, associating ki directly with evil is the act
of harming righteousness and destroying the Way, which is never a small mistake. Nature is
Wang, Yangming (王陽明). Instructions for Practical Living (傳習錄) Book 3 (下).
8
li, while mind is ki; today, if one says that evil is the mind, what people will think? (Jang Y.
1994: [3]2)
Jang’s argument that there is nothing evil in the origin of qi is in the same line with
Yangming’s theory that li and qi are one and the same, that if li is good, then qi must
be good as well. In this context, Jang developed his own unique theory of human
mind and Dao mind:
The spiritual brightness (神明) of human is called mind (心). The substance (body) of mind
is nature. Among the functions of mind there is something that issues forth for righteous
principles, and compassion, justice, humility and discernment are the examples. There is
also something that issues forth for the physical body, and recognizing cold and feeling
warmth, desiring good sound, color, smell and taste are the examples. The two kinds are
both emotions. What is produced by the physical body is also what the principle has in
itself, there is nothing necessarily wrong in the origin; only after it is turned into self-
indulgence does it become evil. The indulgence of the physical body is called human desire,
and righteous principle is called the heavenly principle. The Way of learning is no other
than restraining the indulgence and bringing it to the right track. Then the function will be
immaculate, and the substance will be whole and sound. It is the study of the essence (精,
concentration) and the oneness (一, constancy). (Jang Y. 1994: [3]2)
Jang accepted that there is a principle even in the emotions related to physical
desires. There is nothing wrong with the physical self or human mind; only when
over-indulging it there may arise a problem. He wrote more in detail that everything
is related to one’s mind:
In general, nature is this mind. The material body is this mind. The mandate of nature is this
mind. The heavenly principle is this mind. The human desire also is this mind. Therefore,
in respect to heavenly principle and human desire, one can exert effort of bringing out
essence and oneness at the very ground of heavenly principle and human desire. In respect
to the material body and the mandate of nature, one can exert effort of bringing out essence
and oneness at the very ground of the material body and the mandate of nature. (Jang Y.
1994: [3]24)
Like Yangming’s theory of one mind, Jang identified mind not only with nature
and emotion, but also with the material body and mandate of nature, and even with
the heavenly principle and human desire as well. He attempted to solve the practical,
real problems of his time through establishing the standard of mind. He strongly
affirmed, “Mind is the standard measurement of things. If it is fair and just (bal-
anced), then ten thousand affairs will be measured fairly and justly; if it is unfair and
unjust (unbalanced), then ten thousand affairs will lose their fairness and justice
(Jang Y. 1994: [17]1).” The concept of the human mind being the fair and just stan-
dard for every matter reminds one of Yangming’s Innate Knowing that functions as
the foundation of discerning right from wrong. He urged the king to keep the origi-
nally good mind (本心) amidst of chaotic situations of the Joseon dynasty after the
Great Invasions; only with real and true mind (實心) can the king bring about the
real and true accomplishment (實功) of recovering the country (Jang Y. 1994: [17]1).
262 S.-Y. Chung
2.5 Choe Myeong-gil
Choe Myeong-gil 崔鳴吉 (penname: Jicheon 遲川, 1586–1647) successively filled

various important government positions during the era of King Seonjo. Politically,
he favored a diplomatic and pragmatic approach to Qing China, against those
strong-headed factions who maintained their loyalty to Ming China as well as hold-
ing firm to Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucianism; throughout his life, he was the successful
negotiator between Joseon and Qing China. Later scholars assessed that his open-
ness to Yangming learning provided him with such a practical and realistic stance in
political matters (Choe 2008: [3]685).
Choe studied Yangming learning with Jang Yu from Nam Gyeok, the son of
Nam Eon-gyeong, to whom he was related on his maternal side. According to his
great grandson Choe Changdae (崔昌大: 1669–1720), they were fond of Lu-Wang’s
direct way of approaching the original substance of mind and deeply appreciated
Yangming learning (Choe 2008: [3]465). Although the great grandson added that
Choe later denied Yangming learning and left few writings in support of Yangming,
we can still find glimpses of his favorable attitude toward Yangming. In his letter to
his son Huryang (後亮) he wrote:
Your letter said, ‘As for the true original self, I could only see occasionally in a dim light.’
This is because your study is not yet mature. But since you were able to feel as such, I can
also see that you have exerted much effort in self-examination; I am deeply happy about
that. Yangming wrote that ‘mind is originally a live thing; when retaining it too long, I am
afraid that the mind will be taken ill.’ This must be out of one’s own experience, so the word
is as clear as such. Even with Yangming’s high spirit he had such worries; how can you, in
the middle of adversity, become peaceful in mind like others? If you try to put strenuous
effort into maintaining [calmness of your mind], it may make you ill; I cannot help worry-
ing about it. In everyday life, just check this mind not to go astray; often sit still and see
quietly the mystery of heavenly mechanism; make the substance of one’s mind become
harmoniously one with heaven where kites soar and fish leap. Then, even fettered in jail you
may feel like returning home citing poems in the cool breeze (…) As for the true original
self, it is contained in an empty, bright and clear place; it appears in various emotions like
pleasure, anger, sorrow and joy. In past ages people did not distinguish movement and still-
ness. Sun and moon, cold and warmth intersect; Wind and cloud, fog and rain alternate.
They are nothing other than the substance of the Way that is mysteriously taking place. If
perceiving function of one’s mind can flow along with ups and downs, mingled into one,
then you may be able to feel this more often, what is dim will become clear and bright, and
what is only occasional will become permanent and lasting (Choe 2008: [3]495-7).
In this letter, Choe not only quoted Yangming but also revealed the dynamic and
vast spirit of the Yangming scholar. The true original self is what Yangming referred
to as Innate Knowing. Choe worried deeply about studying one’s mind to such an
extreme degree as to get sick, just as Yangming had been; he recommended instead
to let go of the self into great mechanism of heavenly way where “kites soar and fish
leap.” Even when one is in a harsh and adverse condition, one can still enjoy the
most free emotions since, according to Yangming, joy (樂) is the original state of
human mind. The true, original self appears along with naturally flowing emotions;
when one is obsessed with emotional pleasures of physical body, it may turn into
private evil desires, but when one lets one’s perception and feelings coordinate with
the flow of heavenly way, then one will see and realize one’s true self in a clear,
lasting manner.
Choe wrote many poems while he was imprisoned by Qing government. Among
his poems, he stated that, “the true power of learning is to be experienced only when
one is in destitution. Whether it is shallow or deep, only one knows in one’s mind
(Choe 2008: [3]649).” He also wrote to his son the following poem:
When learning not much words are needed
The truth and falsity of one’s mind, only one knows
Wait until it becomes clear and bright
Like flowing water and idle cloud, thoughts will rest naturally (Choe 2008: [3]130).
In Choe’s poems, the mind is the ultimate bearer of truth and falsity. Mind is not
merely a tool of perceiving outer substances; it is the agency of true learning and
practicing. When the ground of one’s mind is clear and calm, one’s thoughts, emo-
tions actions will freely issue forth in a way to harmonize with the rest of the world.
3 Koreanized Yangming Learning – Hagok Learning
3.1 The Formation of Hagok Learning
Hagok learning (霞谷學) refers to the philosophy of Jeong Jedu 鄭齊斗 (penname:
Hagok 霞谷, 1649–1736, Hagok hereafter) and his disciples.9 He was deeply
impressed by Yangming learning and devoted his life in understanding its essence
and developing it on his own. During the seventeenth century Joseon, Yangming
learning was tabooed as heresy and anyone who was in support of it must put their
lives at stake. The penname Hagok is after a beautiful valley in Gangwha Island,
where he had settled in his later years. The Hagok learning was built upon not only
Yangming learning but also later Yangming schools. Hagok did not blindly follow
Yangming learning: he pointed out the danger of Yangming learning that it may give
free rein to emotions and desires, leading to immoderation and indulgence. Despite
the prevailing denouncement of Yangming learning as heresy, he argued that it was,
like Cheng Zhu neo-Confucianism, learning to become a sage, and not like Chan
Buddhism that cut off humans from their filial relations. Also he developed the new
theory of principle (理) and material force (氣), different from that of Zhu Xi (Kim
G 1995: 52–91). What he attempted was the synthesis of Zhu Xi and Yangming on
his own terms (Yun 1982: 43). Along with Toegye School and Yulgok School,
9
There are number of notable books on Hagok Jeong Jedu in relation to Yangming Learning.
Learning. Kim K (2004) introduced Hagok learning as a modified version of Yangming Learning.
Lee (2008) portrayed Hagok as ‘right-wing’ Yangming scholar, who tried to reconcile Zhu Xi’s
metaphysics into Yangming’s system. Choi (2017) described Hagok in a broader East-Asian
context.
264 S.-Y. Chung
Hagok School forms a third major school of thoughts in history of Korean

Confucianism (Chung 2014: 408).10
According to Hagok, Zhu Xi founded his study on 10,000 different places (萬殊
處) while Yangming had a sole origin (一本處). The former goes from the end to the
origin, and the latter from the origin to the end; that is the main distinction between
the two. Nothing should be abolished at random, since both have strength and weak-
nesses. If one learns both and puts the into a proper use, then one will see that they
are essentially on the same road – that is, road to become a sage. Such is the ultimate
aim and unique characteristic of Hagok learning.
The disciples of Hagok also followed his spirit of synthesis and emphasis on the
true, sincere mind. Over 200 years the Hagok School continued, in spite of adverse
and difficult conditions. They paid attention to Korean history and paved way for
the study of the Korean language (訓民正音). They focused on the mind and con-
centrated in practical affairs. When Hagok passed away, his disciple Pak Pil-il 朴弼
一 referred Hagok as the Confucian founder (儒宗) of true sincere mind. He peti-
tioned to establish Seowon, a private institution commemorating the spirit of Hagok,
a petition still not granted (Chung 2014: 464).
3.2 Hagok’s Life and His Approach to Learning
Hagok was the 11th descendent of Jeong Mongju 鄭夢周 (penname: Poeun 圃隱,
1337–1392) who promoted neo-Confucianism at the turn of the Joseon dynasty. He
had blood ties with major figures of the Young Faction (少論), such as Yun Jeung
尹拯 (penname: Myeongjae 明齋, 1629–1680), the head of the faction, and the
descendants of Choe Myeong-gil, who voted for the peace treaty with Qing China.
Hagok studied with Pak Sechae 朴世采 (penname: Namgye 南溪, 1631–1695) and
had colleagues such as Min Eonhwi 閔彦暉 (penname: Seongjae 誠齋). The politi-
cal and academic faction he belonged to was not the dominant party, hence aca-
demically, the Young Faction was more open to strands of thoughts that might pose
a challenge to Zhu Xi orthodoxy (Yu 1983:100, 107; Song 2015: 156–7).
Hagok criticized the academic trend of his time that truth and falsity depended
on the rise and fall of socio-political power. “The fight of a Confucian gentleman
should be only for righteousness, not for one’s private desires. The public decision
should depend on right and wrongness of affairs, not on the power of a party. What
a Confucian gentleman should be afraid of is that unrighteous decision will plant a
10
According to Chung (2014), the Hagok learning or Hagok School is often called as Ganghwa
School (江華學派), which is not a proper academic term. Hagok School refers to the philosophy
of Hagok Jeong Jedu and disciples and followers, lineage of which lasts until Jeong Inbo, 200 years
later. Ganghwa School was named after the place where Hagok lived during his later life and where
his descendants studied. Since we do not call Toegye School as Andong School or Tasan learning
as Gangjin learning, we should similarly not call Hagok learning or Hagok School as Ganghwa
learning or Gangwha School. In the similar vein, Chung also opposes to calling Hagok learning as
Ganghwa Yangming learning. Hagok learning should be accounted for its own uniqueness.
seed of injustice that affects hundreds of years to come (Jeong J 1995: [1]11).” In
such an academic and political circumstance, he felt Yangming learning was the true
path to become a sage and defended as follows:
I have thought deeply about that heavenly principle being the nature (…) I do not think
Yangming’s theory is something that can be changed. The Book of Mencius supports his
ideas. Many passages of the Doctrine of Means, and the Great Learning, as well as “pursuit
of Benevolence” in the Analects and the Law of Mind that passed on from Yao, Shun to Yu
all reveal the point no different from what Yangming propounded. (Jeong J 1995: [1]11)
Hagok’s defense of Yangming learning was written as a form of his last will, as
he believed that his health was failing. He strongly stood for Yangming that
“Yangming learning also has its own reasons. Even though it is not same as Cheng
Zhu learning, the essence is not different. Because there may be one or two points
that one must examine with caution, so it is hard to abandon it, and harder to defend
it (Jeong J 1995: [1]9).” Hagok’ pursuit of Yangming learning was not to seek some-
thing strange or unusual, or to have a unique viewpoint. He said, “The reason why I
am attached to Yangming learning is not out of private desire to seek uncommon-
ness; if it is so, then it would not be difficult to cut it out completely. But what is the
point of our study? It is to find out the intention of a sage and to get the real truth at
hand. Now if I abandon finding the right path to sage-learning without discernment
now, then in my heart I would fear that I squandered my entire life in vain (Jeong J
1995: [1]11).”
However, supporting “heretical” thoughts at such a politically sensitive time
meant literally staking one’s life. In reply to his best friend Min who worried about
him being labeled as an “insurgent” threatening the established neo-Confucian
order, Hagok wrote, “If that is a threat of death or coming disaster, then it is not
something I should care. Death and condemnation are not part of endorsement of
study. What I am not sure of is no other than what kind of “Way” it is. If I could be
certain that it is truly right, then I would not regret even if I was found guilty for
speaking of the subject (Jeong J 1995: [1]31).” In such discussions with Min that
lasted over 10 years, Hagok showed the unrelenting spirit of seeking the truth even
if that meant the death penalty. He would not easily be swayed by the opinions of
others; discerning right from wrong solely depended on his own mind.
My study seeks the truth inside, not outside. So-called “seeking truth inside” does not,
however, mean quiet introspection that entirely cuts off outer things. It means, one should
only seek one’s inner satisfaction and fulfillment, and should not fret over outer profits and
losses again. One should only put one’s utmost effort in discerning the right and wrong of
one’s mind and should not look out again for the recognition of others. One should com-
plete the task at the origin of things, and not chase the shadow of things. All reside within
one’s own mind; how can they be with others? (Jeong J 1995: [9]259)
Hagok was certain that his mind can be the measurement of discerning truth and
falsity of outer things and affairs. If one is sincere in one’s own mind, one does not
need to look for outer recognitions and verifications. He also said, “The theory of
investigating principles by approaching outer things asserts that the ontological and
moral principles exist within the thing. This is lacking an original source. The study
of Innate Knowing grasps that the ontological and moral principles of thing emerge
266 S.-Y. Chung
from one’s own mind. That is to investigate the mind to seek the origin (Jeong J
1995: [9]259).” Hagok contended that the mind was the true source of the principle;
to seek the principle outside one’s mind, just as Cheng Zhu neo-Confucianism
guided scholars to, one would never be in touch with the true, inner source where
thousand principles stem from.
3.3 Hagok’s Theory of Life Principle
On the topic of neo-Confucian moral cosmology, Hagok presented a whole new the-
ory of principle and material force. While Yangming dismantled Zhu Xi’s intricate
metaphysical framework of principle and material force (li-qi)11 and simply defined
one’s inner mind as the principle, Hagok revived the theory of li-qi in a unique way
that synthesized Yangming’s mind-based theory with Zhu Xi’s moral cosmology.
First, Hagok was against Zhu Xi’s method of investigating outer principles,
since there is no ‘fixed’ principle in things. For example, scholars consider it as a
fixed principle that cows plow a field, horses carry passengers, hens wake people at
dawn and dogs protect people at night. Even though these are ‘principles’ there are
certain times that these principles should not be implemented; such as making cows
plow other people’s field and riding horses to forbidden places. There are also cir-
cumstances that one needs to ride cows and eat chickens. He asked, “Why these
cannot be called as ‘principles’? In this regard, one must examine the true and ulti-
mate meaning of the affairs. Only when one finalizes the rightness of natural order
(heavenly principle), it can be called as a ‘principle.’ Can one really find so-called
true and ultimate meaning and rightness of natural order by investigating horses,
cows, hens and dogs? (Jeong J 1995: [1]18)” Hagok observed that there is no one
fixed way of guiding things and affairs. There are countless cases of managing
events that are equally appropriate. He continued:
As long as human affairs are concerned, the principle is never fixed in things so that people
can approach things and newly learn about them. To determine according to the character
of a particular event, and to make an order of things in different times, in fact solely depends
on one’s mind. How can there be principles worthy of seeking outside one’s mind? If one is
to hold that the ability to plow and to drive reside in cows and horses and goes out to seek
the principles in them, then one will be out of touch with reality and fall into the ill of being
swayed by outer things. I am afraid that the reason why the sage endorsed neo-Confucianism
does not lie in this. (Jeong J 1995: [1]18)
Zhu Xi distinguished the metaphysical and moral principle li from the physical constitution qi,
11
and held that li was having the primacy over qi in our life. Hagok, unlike Yangming who aban-
doned the li-qi dichotomy, revived the primacy of li by attributing it a more dynamic role in our
everyday life.
Hagok believed that because there was no fixed principle residing in the outer
things, everything must be related to one’s own mind. He illustrated, “Bridle and
rein are created because of a horse; clearly, they are also creations of my mind. In
this perspective, the principle of things and my mind cannot be divided into inner
and outer, this and that. This is what Yangming called, ‘the principle of all things in
my mind, and the principle of myriad things under Heaven are one and the same
(Jeong J 1995: [1]18).’”
Hagok’s argument that the principle of mind cannot be separated from the prin-
ciple of outer things reflects Yangming’s famous two axioms, i.e., “there is no things
outside of one’s mind” and “there is no principle outside of one’s mind.” He regarded
so-called fixed principle of things that can be investigated objectively is “patterning
principle” (物理) that is particular form of pattern (條理) of material force.
Principle is what ki the material force finely penetrates. Spirit (神) is such [a principle]. Ki
is what material force accumulates. Physical basis (質) is such [a material force] (…) Zhu
Xi regarded the patterning way of materials as the principle. The patterning principle has
neither the live principle (生理) nor a real essence; it shares its basis with dead things (死
物). Such a principle does not reside in spiritual brightness of human mind, and is merely
an empty pattern. How can withered tree and dead ashes share the Way with human’s spiri-
tual brightness? How can they be called as the great basis of nature? How can the original
nature of humans be same as the nature of a tree? How can the principle of a tree be same
as the principle of human mind? (Jeong J 1995: [8]235)
According to Hagok, human mind is a live thing that has a unique, live principle
of its own. It should be differentiated from the natural pattern of things that Zhu Xi
regarded as the universal principle. In Hagok’s view, Zhu Xi’s principle was an
empty pattern unable to communicate with a human soul. He added:
Plants and trees, birds and beasts are full of life. Although there is a kind of principle in
them that makes one compassionate about live plants and moving animals, and the life
principle makes them live according to the order of the world. However, there is no original
substance that is illuminating brightly; there is no bright virtue. Therefore, even when they
observe a baby about to fall into a well, they cannot feel the alarm and compassion. (Jeong
J 1995: [1]23)
Just as withered trees and dead ashes have a natural pattern in them that Hagok
labeled as “patterning principle (物理),” live things such as plants and animals have
a “life principle (生理)” in them. This life principle is the source of the mysterious
life-force, providing a basis for the continuous generation of things. But among the
principle of life, there is a higher principle that contains fundamental virtues of
morality. That is, not all living things can act morally; plants and animals are amoral,
while bandits and thieves are immoral. The latter misuse their life-force and cannot
realize their true nature. Hence, the “true principle (眞理)” should be distinguished
from the life principle (Jeong J 1995: [1]23). It is the highest principle in Hagok’s
unique scheme of universe.
268 S.-Y. Chung
3.4 Hagok’s Theory of Innate Knowing
Hagok defined Innate Knowing (良知) in terms of the life principle. He said, “The
life principle of humans has bright cognition. One can master things around and
become aware of its essence; one can feel sympathy, shame, indignation, resigna-
tion; one can discern right from wrong. There is nothing one cannot do. This is due
to one’s innate virtue called ‘Innate Knowing.’ It is also what is so-called
Benevolence (仁) (Jeong J 1995: [1]18).” He identified the sympathetic mind with
the way of living. One is able to sympathize with all the living creatures because
one has Innate Knowing as the basis of mind. Moreover, since the content of mind
is Benevolence, the Innate Knowledge is not a mere faculty of perception. In other
words, Innate Knowing is both the substance (basis) of mind, as well as the function
(compassion) of mind.
Hagok argued that Innate Knowing of our mind is no other than the heavenly
principle (天理). His friend Min Eonhwi 閔彦暉 challenged from Zhu Xi’s point
of view that “heavenly principle lies within human nature, and Innate Knowing is
only the perceiving faculty of our mind. How can Innate Knowing be defined in
terms of heavenly principle? (Jeong J 1995: [1]18)” Hagok answered, “By adding
the word “innate (良)” to the word “knowing (知)” we have the heavenly principle.
If one refers to loving one’s parents and respecting one’s brother as ‘mysterious
function’ and not ‘heavenly principle,’ then where is the heavenly principle apart
from loving parents and respecting brothers? (Jeong J 1995: [1]18)” He reasoned
further that “if one regards the brightness of Innate Knowing, i.e., the mind discern-
ing right from wrong as a mere function and not a substance, then in human nature,
there would only be three virtues – benevolence, righteousness, and propriety; wis-
dom then cannot be part of human nature. Why it cannot be substance and the great
basis? (Jeong J 1995: [1]18)”.
In reply to Choe Yeohwa 崔汝和 who interpreted Innate Knowing only as a
mere perception or knowledge, Hagok explicated that in Yangming’s theory of
“Extending Innate Knowing” (致良知), the word “Innate (良)”elucidates what kind
of knowledge humans has. It is both substance and function. Extending Innate
Knowing is different from Zhu Xi’s extending one’s knowledge (致知), since the
former is related to extension one’s innate bright virtue (明德) while the latter is
related to accumulating knowledge of outer principles (Jeong J 1995: [2]41).
Although some may think bright virtue is the substance while Innate Knowing is the
function, Hagok clarified that they are two sides of one same coin. It is like
Benevolence is the substance while the compassionate mind is the function. They
are not two different things; compassion is the manifested form of Benevolence, and
Benevolence is basis and underlying form of compassion. Hagok maintained that
substance and function are one.
To elucidate the above point, he drew a diagram portraying the substance and
function of Innate Knowing (良知體用圖). The diagram consists of three circles;
the circle of nature (性圈), the circle of emotion (情圈), and finally, the circle of
myriad things (萬物圈). The circle of nature is the substance of Innate Knowing, the
original state of human mind; the circle of emotion is the function of Innate
Knowing, where the original mind is manifested; and finally, the circle of myriad
things is issuance of Innate Knowing describing state of “ten thousand things are of
one substance” and “the society of Great harmony (大同社會) (Song 2015:173).”
Each of the three circles has a correspondence to one of the three principles described
in the previous chapter: the true principle corresponds to the circle of nature, the life
principle to the circle of emotion, and the patterning principle to the circle of myriad
things,
3.5 Hagok’s Theory of Knowledge and Practice
Hagok supported Yangming’s theory that knowledge and practice are one (知行合
一) by claiming that “When Wang Yangming equated the principle with the mind, it
is Innate Knowing. Innate Knowing of mind is the substance (體) and operation of
affairs is the function (用). Principles are all equipped in the mind. Since the mind
inherently possesses Innate Knowing, there is no principle which it is unaware of.
Thus, although there are substance and function, there is no division between inside
and outside, core and peripheral. (…) Knowledge and action are united. Knowledge
is the beginning of action and action is the name of knowledge. Therefore, there is
only one truth and that is sincerity (誠). There are not two truths and it cannot be
separated. (Jeong J 1995: [9]259)” The meaning of knowledge (知) on this passage
is neither perception (知覺) nor information (知識) but Innate Knowing (良知).
This means that since our minds possess Innate Knowing, there is no principle that
we cannot grasp naturally and intuitively. As previously mentioned, although Innate
Knowing has substance and function but it cannot be regarded as a mere perception
as Zhu Xi did, who then further divided it into inside and outside, core and periph-
eral. Knowledge and action are essentially one and the same; knowledge begins
action, and the action is the actualized form of knowledge (知之至). In other words,
the unity of knowledge and action does not mean the mutual accordance of knowl-
edge and action; rather, it refers to Innate Knowing being dynamically actualized in
the real world.
From this point of view, Hagok made the following criticism connoting Zhu Xi’
theory, in which knowledge is separated from action. “When [Zhu Xi] distinguished
a person who only knows without action from another who acts without knowledge,
he claimed that without action, one could not realize one’s original substance (本體)
hence one did not truly know; similarly, without knowledge, one’s action was not
originated from the original substance, hence one did not act truly. Zhu Xi’s such
criticism, however, sees one point and misses the other. Both lose account of the
essence of knowledge and action, hence [Zhu Xi] separated them into two (Jeong J
1995: [1]28).” In particular, he added this remark regarding Zhu Xi’s theory of
“knowledge first, action later (知先行後).”
270 S.-Y. Chung
When a person pursues knowledge first and makes actions later, he tries to do two things
consecutively. Although in his action there is knowledge and in his knowledge there is
action, the two cannot be converged into one. It is because they are not from the naturally
united state of the essence, and during the course of consecutive alteration they are formed
into two, not one. (Jeong J 1995: [1]28).
‘Knowledge first, action later’ refers to Zhu Xi’s belief that one should collect
all the information before taking an action. Although one cannot but learn from
one’s action and one’s action cannot but stem from one’s knowledge, they are not
truly one and the same, as in the case of action from one’s Innate Knowing.
What does it mean to ‘realize one’s Innate Knowing’(致良知)? Following one’s
innate knowledge already implies that one abides by one’s original nature (率性)
and it cannot be separated. When one fulfills one’s essence and conforms to one’s
original substance (體), then one has already done what one knows, and one has
already known what one does. This is the so-called knowledge and action. The sub-
stance and function does neither move nor stop; they are just one and the same.
Hence, the substance is called knowledge and the function is called action. The
substance of knowledge becomes the great foundation (大本) and if that is accom-
plished through action it becomes the Way which everyone has to follow (達道).
When a person has it, it becomes illuminating virtue (明德) and when it is shown to
the world it becomes engagement with the people (親民). All these elements cannot
be divided into two since knowledge and action are in its origin, intrinsically one
and the same (Jeong J 1995: [1]28).
3.6 Practical Learning Based on the Authentic Mind
On the notion of sincere mind (實心) Hagok made the following statement in the
writing given to his nephew ((Jeong J 1995: [3]109). “There are many ways in
learning. When seeing that Confucius urged Zi Xia (子夏) to become the ru (儒) for
noblemen and not for the small-men, without understanding the authentic learning
of the sages and merely following fancy and trendy literary discussions is not the
true way of learning.” Hagok’s ‘authentic learning’ is the learning based on a sin-
cere mind. “My learning seeks the truth from inside and not from outside. (…) It
exhaustively searches every correctness and wrongness of my mind and never fol-
lows others’ judgment of right or wrong. I directly get to the authenticity of things
and affairs, and do not linger on one trace of things. It is only within me,” said
Hagok. His learning is all about actualizing one’s genuine nature, without pursuing
outwardly, superficial fame or recognition. Hagok judges the right from wrong only
according to one’s conscience called Innate Knowing, and it is the kind of judgment
based on the sincere, genuine mind. He told the King Yeong 英祖, “Since the time
of the old sages, we were told to uphold only the sagely governance. Emperor Yao
堯 and Emperor Shun 舜 governed the world with heavenly principle but the suc-
cessors considered only the merits and benefits; that is the reason why politics and
social influence changed so suddenly. What I as your servant expect with a great
hope for you is to perform a practical, fruitful politics (實政) with a genuine, sincere
mind (實心) without slippering into a subordinate meaning (第二義) but always
from the fundamental meaning (第一義). This is the key in learning (Jeong J 1995:
[11]305).”
Hagok warned the king of the kind of politics based on merits and benefits, and
urged him to pursue what is fundamental to the governance with the most genuine
mind; only then his governance will be fruitful and effective (實政).
The appeal made on the second anniversary of Hagok’s death to establish a
Hagok Memorial Hall requested by Hagok’s disciple, Pak Pil-il, shows the similar
notion of genuine, sincere mind. The following is the appeal:
I bow down and think that the genuine learning (實學) consists in promoting purely good
conducts so as to thoroughly reveal our most virtuous nature; the genuine politics (實政)
consists in displaying exemplary virtue so as to set the social customs and atmosphere right.
This is why we servants exalt Hagok’s genuine learning to praise the previous kings’ genu-
ine governance. (…) Zhou Lian-xi 周濂溪 claimed, ‘sincerity (誠) is the basis of the sage’;
What is meant by ‘sincerity’ is no other than the sincere, genuine principle embedded in the
mind. When heaven endows humans this genuine principle, humans take it as their genuine
mind. When they acquire knowledge based on this mind, then the knowledge becomes the
true knowledge (眞知). When they act according to this true knowledge, then the action
becomes the genuine act (實行); all of this is no other than the essence of genuine learning.
(…) Our former master [Hagok]’s genuine learning based on the genuine mind (實心實學)
is the forefather of Confucianism in our time. (Jeong J 1995: [11]304)
In this appeal, we learn that the genuine, fruitful governance cannot but be rooted
in the ‘genuine learning based on the genuine mind.’ Hagok’s notion of genuine
mind refers to our original, heaven-endowed mind, which is a different name for
Innate Knowing. The term ‘sir-hak’ (實學) usually refers to ‘practical learning’ that
focuses on improving quality of people’s lives by amending political systems.
However, we now encounter a different approach to the same term ‘sir-hak’ (genu-
ine learning) which stress the king, the scholars, the ruling elites and the people to
act upon their own ‘genuine mind’ in order to improve the reality.
3.7 The Later Hagok School
According to Hagok’s disciples, when their master Hagok mentioned Yangming

learning he would directly point at its essence, and when he discussed Zhu Xi learn-
ing, he would analyze its underlying foundation. Hagok was not only well-versed in
Zhu Xi learning which was the orthodoxy in Joseon scholarly circles, but also
embraced Yangming learning which was most recent and new trend of thought.
Integrating both streams of thoughts with his own interpretation and insight, Hagok
established a unique theory and singular school that can be referred to as ‘Hagok
learning’(Chung 2014: 408).
His studies were passed down to his son, Jeong Hu-il 鄭厚一, who was a talented
mathematician, and then to his maternal grandson, Shin Jak 申綽 (penname: Seok-
cheon) who later discussed various topics in Confucian Classics with a representative
272 S.-Y. Chung
scholar of practical learning, Jeong Yagyong 丁若鏞 (penname: Dasan 茶山).

Hagok’s literary study was succeeded by Yi Gwang-sa 李匡師 and his family and
disciples. In the Collected Works of Hagok there are many scholars and disciples who
uphold and advocate Hagok learning. Many scholars and disciples had blood ties with
Hagok or were in close friend- relationships (Yu 1994: 259). Not all Hagok’s descen-
dants and disciples followed Yangming learning. Sim Yuk 沈錥 (1685–1753) for
example, developed his own philosophy by embracing Zhu Xi learning. Sim Yuk’s
later descendent Sim Daeyun 沈大允 (penname: Baegun 白雲, 1806–1872) is also an
original, innovating scholar of practical learning whose philosophy was based on the
theory of “sharing the benefits with others” (與人同利). Other disciple of Hagok, Kim
Taek-soo 金澤秀 made the following statement through Hagok’s funeral oration.
Our country, located in the East, was desolate and much darker than China. Therefore, there
was not even a flash for a thousand years. Then, our master, Hagok, suddenly appeared and
solely enlightened the big torch (一炬) and possessed it as his own treasure during his entire
88 years of lifetime. Yangming at the front and Hagok at the back, they formed a single
bright light. We are truly sorrowful to know that the light has gone out! Now that the light
has gone, who will succeed to the light? (…) I bow down and think that he would surely be
in Heaven as a bright soul. Dear Hagok, let us work on and on by rebuking our idleness and
enlightening our foolishness. Also, please kindle each of our heart with the same thoughts,
so that everyone can illuminate through one’s own innate brightness and finally return to the
great brightness together. (Jeong I 2002: 228-9)
In this funeral oration, Hagok is being highly venerated as the teacher who suc-
ceeded Yangming to brighten the torch in the world. With genuine mind-learning
theory that integrated both Zhu Xi and Yangming, Hagok has founded a school of
his own, with a distinct linage. While he lived in Anseong (安城) he had disciples
like Sim Yuk and Sim Daeyun; as he moved to Gangwha Island (江華島) he had
disciples such as Yi Gwang-xin 李匡信 and Yi Gwang-sa 李匡師. The disciples and
Hagok’s descendants among those who formed the first school of Hagok learning.
It has been again handed down to the descendants of Yi family and Jeong family,
until there came Jeong Inbo 鄭寅普 (1893–1950), another brilliant scholar of his
own who clarified the spirit of Hagok and Korean Yangming learning.
4 Contemporary Yangming Learning
4.1 Pak Eunshik
Contemporary Yangming Learning started from Pak Eunshik 朴殷植, (penname:

Gyeomgok 謙谷, 1859–1925) and developed by Jeong Inbo 鄭寅普 (penname:
Widang 爲堂, 1893–1950).12 Pak Eunshik was born on September 30, 1859, in
12
Choi (2017) argued that Contemporary Yangming Learning of Korea, which was greatly influ-
enced by Japanese Yangming scholar such as Takase Takejiro (高瀨武次郎), could be categorized
into three stages. In its foundational stage, there was Pak Eunshik (朴殷植, Gyeomgok 謙谷,
Hwangju County, Hwanghae Province. He was a prominent scholar of Yangming

learning and Korean history, who put his knowledge into action by leading Korean
independent movement during the Japanese colonial period and served the second
President of the provisional government of Korea. Yangming learning was at the
center of not only his research and knowledge, but also his career and life (Yu
1983:284).
The time Pak lived was a period of turbulence in East Asia. The fate of Korea
hung by a thread. China lost its position as the center of the world due to the inva-
sion by Western powers. In contrast, Japan enjoyed success through the Meiji
Restoration (明治維新) by pursuing ‘Exit from Asia to Europe (脫亞入歐)’ and
after the First Sino-Japanese War, Korea failed to achieve autonomous moderniza-
tion and in 1910, finally came under the colonial rule of Japan.
In this precarious state, Joseon academics were mainly divided into two factions,
viz., Conservative (守舊) and Progressive (開化). The former strove to defend
against foreign ‘evil’ influences by strengthening the traditional neo-Confucian
Zhu Xi learning, while the latter stated that, of necessity, Korea needed to be mod-
ernized by introducing the science and technologies of the Western civilization.
Korea’s modernization was the product of a collision between the traditional
Chinese civilization and the Western industrial civilization. Amid this crisis, Korea
had to accept the Western modern civilization and at the same time confront the
invasion, too. In the past, Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian philosophy was a spiritual pillar
of the Joseon society but at the turn of the century the belief that China was the
center of the world collapsed and the Western Moderno-centrism and the invasion
of Japanese imperialism emerged. It was a natural consequence for intellectuals of
the time to question their role in the society, their belief, and finally their identity as
Koreans: it was the identity crisis they experienced during the Japanese colonial
rule. Against this backdrop Pak was eager to find ‘a genuine self (眞我)’. This is
how the modern national identity of Korea was formed.
Therefore, Pak broke finally from the traditional frame neo-Confucian philoso-
phy and newly embraced the social Darwinism of the West, i.e., the ‘survival of the
fittest.’ In order to create a powerful, new modern nation, he actively undertook
Western science as well as Yangming learning in order to develop a new Confucianism
for modern Korea. He remarked:
Today Confucians are pursuing, alongside various scientific theories, the foundational phi-
losophy that underlies every phenomenon. Yangming learning is a philosophical system
that is simple, to-the-point and succinct. Yangming’s theory of ‘Extending Innate Knowledge
(致良知)’ is the gate of entering the sagehood directly from one’s original mind; the theory
of ‘Knowledge and Action are one and the same (知行合一)’ is the simple method of intro-
specting one’s hidden mind and also of responding spontaneously and decisively to the
changes of affairs. This is why Yangming scholars are of unyielding spirit and their actions
are worthy of praise. (Pak 1975: [5]438)
1859–1925); in the planning stage, there was Choi Nam-seon (崔南善, Yukdang 六堂, 1890–
1957); in the completion stage, there was Jeong Inbo (鄭寅普, Widang 爲堂, 1893–1950). Pak
wrote articles in Choi’s magazine The Boys (少年), which was banned as ‘rebellious’ and discon-
tinued by Japanese government.
274 S.-Y. Chung
Pak’s time and circumstance convinced him that it was necessary for Joseon
Confucianism to be completely renewed; he thought that Yangming learning could
provide a good basis for the new beginning. He wrote a book the Reformation of
Confucianism in which he pointed out three reasons why Confucianism could not
thrive in the modern world as Christianity did. First, the main focus of Confucianism
was on the kings and ruling elites, not on the general public, who were the main
body of modern society; second, Confucian institutions was passive in accepting
students who would come to them, instead of actively propagating their belief and
mission to the general public; thirdly, Confucianism of Zhu Xi learning is tedious
and difficult, which require arduous effort for an extended period time In the fast
changing modern society, students require simpler version of Confucianism, i.e.,
Yangming learning, which could lead them directly to the point (Pak 1975: [5]438).
He wrote:
Some time ago when I was bed-ridden because of illness, I came across the theories of Yao-
jiang [Yangming]. I realized that [Yangming philosophy] inspired me from the deepest part
of my heart and urged me to take an immediate action straight from the heart. (…) Yangming
learning is unlike any other theories, original on its own. It is hence aboveboard and authen-
tic. It is in fact the gist of our Confucian spirit to seek the truth within one’s mind and body.
Only with this kind of spirit one would put one’s genuine effort. Only then could Heaven’s
mandate be realized in this world without stopping. (Pak 1975: [5]124)
Pak’s remark shows that he was highly inspired by the originality of Yangming
learning. It is a kind of study that should be propagated among general people, in
order to them to be inspired and feel the authenticity themselves. On the problem of
authentic identity Pak wrote:
What constitutes a true, authentic self (眞我)? No other than my intention (意) and
knowledge (知). Intention propels both righteousness and greed within human mind;
hence, intention is also divided into the genuine and the false. That is the reason why
there is a saying that ‘for those who want to straighten their mind, first make their inten-
tion genuine (誠).’ Intention arises from knowledge, so the saying goes, ‘for those who
want to make their intention genuine, first fulfill their knowledge (致知).’ There are two
types of knowledge: the empirical knowledge acquired through watching and listening
(見聞) and the inborn knowledge (本然). Empirical knowledge of sheds light on knowl-
edge by studying the principle of external objects. The original knowledge is the original
awakening of empty and pure spirit that is in direct contact with outer things. (Pak 1975:
[5]124)
Pak puts emphasis on ‘making one’s intention sincere (誠)’ and ‘fulfilling knowl-
edge (致知)’ in the Great Learning, since a genuine, authentic self is comprised of
sincere intention and the original knowledge, which are in opposite to false inten-
tion and empirical, informative knowledge. In order to become a kind of person who
are “nothing but a small body, but amidst of complex and ever-changing things and
affairs, in order not to be tempted and driven by outer things but instead to order and
control them actively, then it is essential for humans to find their inner drive called
Innate Knowing (Pak 1975: [5]124).” Pak’s notion of ‘genuine self’ is the kind of
self-driven by one’s own willpower based on Innate Knowing. He explained Innate
Knowing by its six characteristics.
The original substance of Innate Knowing is heavenly principle itself. So what more can be
added to this heavenly principle? For those who want to learn, one must put their mind on
the heavenly principle. (…) The Innate Knowing is the knowledge of naturally bright awak-
ening (自然明覺); the knowledge of pure oneness without artificiality (純一無爲); the
knowledge that flows through without stopping (流行不息); the knowledge that responds
to all things without obstacle (泛應不滯); the knowledge shared by sages and the ordinary
(聖愚無間); and finally the knowledge that unites heaven with humans (天人合一). It is a
mysterious: who wouldn’t earn it and exalt it Oh! A man with the Innate Knowing is like
the sun in the sky. Still, people have doubts about having it. Why is that? Doubting what one
already has is like being blind to one’s own brightness. Because of this reason, I dare say
only Yangming learning is unparalleled in the world of wisdom, East or West. (Pak
1975:[3]10)
Pak explained that all humans were equipped with Innate Knowing, the knowl-
edge of six characters, just as they were born with the good inborn nature as Mencius
argued. Because human nature is good, human knowledge is originally good.
Although Yangming learning is simple, easy, direct and genuine, it is not like ‘sud-
den awakening (頓悟)’ in Buddhism since it is concretely based on the actual affairs
of the world (Pak 1975:11). What does it mean by a learning is based on reality, or
actual affairs of the world? How is it be differentiated from learning based on infor-
mation? He wrote:
[Yangming] learning is based on the knowledge of inner, original substance. (…) It is natu-
rally applicable to everyday affairs of the world that is ever changing, but it never goes
astray and is always illuminating. (…) Why is it more effective, in comparison to having
informative knowledge of seeing and hearing? Secular scholars are not as desperate in seek-
ing the truth so they cannot unfetter themselves from the worldly evaluation and judgment.
Yangming’s learning based on the original substance is practiced at the real affairs of the
world; it is fine and bright, thoroughly reaching at the core of our understanding. Hence, its
discernment is never obscured by worldly approval or disapproval; its confidence in judg-
ment is never swayed by worldly profit and loss; when it is acted upon, it is as natural as
water flows downward, without any obstruction. Therefore, its practical application is in
itself knowledge, and again, practice, too. It is movement and is stillness. The original sub-
stance (本體) is the praxis (工夫), and the praxis is the original substance. (Pak 1975:[3]100)
According to Pak, Yangming learning is based on one’s inborn ability to discern

clearly and brightly the right from wrong, which is independent from the evaluation
of the world. It is hence flexible in its application to the ever-changing affairs of the
world. Although secular scholars are engrossed in the values and information in the
world without practicing it, Yangming learning is the actual praxis of one’s Innate
Knowing. Pak criticized that in his time scholars knew what should be done but did
not actually carry it into action. He said:
Today, everybody in Joseon talks about love of nation, talks about importance of education
and talks about the productivity of industry. However, if one does not carry one’s duty as a
citizen, then one does not truly know the love of nation; if one does not teach and nurture
one’s students, then one does not truly know the importance of education; if one does not
produce any goods, then one does not truly know the productivity of industry. In the same
manner, as to those who only talk about ‘investigating principles (窮理) of Confucianism
and do not act upon the principle, how can they be called as learned men? Most of all, in
this age of industry, how wrong it is just to read books and say, “knowledge first, action
later”! For this reason, I regard the theory of ‘knowledge and action are one and the same’
as the theory of highest value. (Pak 1975: [3]61)
276 S.-Y. Chung
Pak argued that only studying and reading the old books and classics were no use
for the modern time, when, after industrial revolution, rapidly developing science
and technology were becoming part of our lives. He perceived, however, not only
the advantage and comfort the science and technology brought to us, but also their
limits and even possible danger. He pointed, “it is the common character of scien-
tists that they are obsessed in individualistic thoughts without taking care of others
near them. How can such be cured? (Pak 1975: [2]157)” Pak believed that
Yangming’s theory that everything under Heaven are co-existing as one unity could
be the answer to the possible danger of science that was inherently value-neutral.13
In other words, while Pak was the practical-minded scholar of Yangming learning
who emphasized the importance of putting one’s knowledge into action, he was still
not swayed by the worldly value or profits, even if it meant science and modernity;
all the progress the Confucian scholars put their effort in should be directed toward
the right goal, i.e., the moral flourishing of human community.
4.2 Jeong Inbo
Jeong Inbo 鄭寅普 (penname: Widang 爲堂, 1893–unknown) was born in Seoul
on May 6, 1893. In 1903, his family moved to Yangpyeong, Gyeonggi Province and
again in 1907, they moved to Jincheon (鎭川), North Chungcheong Province (忠北)
where many scholars from young faction (少論) lived. In October 1910, he offi-
cially became a disciple of Yi Geonbang 李建芳 (1861–1939) who handed down
the gist of Yangming and Hagok learning. From 1911 to 1913, he visited China to
meet political activists in exile and eventually join them in Shanghai where he par-
ticipated in Korea independence movement. After returning home in 1923 he was
invited to be a full-time professor at Yeonhee College14 worked in research in
national literature for 15 years. In 1933, he published Development of Yangming
Learning (陽明學演論) in Donga Daily Newspaper. In 1947, he was inaugurated as
the dean of Kookmin University and from 1948 to 1949 he served as an inspection
chairperson. On July 31, 1950, in the middle of the Korean War, he was abducted to
North Korea.
In the epilogue of Development of Yangming Learning, Jeong clearly stated his
studies were passed down from his teacher Yi Geonbang, and from late teacher Pak
Eunshik, about whom he felt greatly indebted and wished he could only live to see
this publication (Jeong I 2002: 250). Yi Geonbang is the last scholar of Hagok
school that emphasized the genuine learning based on the sincere mind (實心實學),
who guided Jeong to the modern Yangming Learning.
13
Because everything is related to one another and ultimately forms a great, life-giving whole, one
should eradicate one’s selfish desire. It is also called as “the Root-Out Selfishness Theory (拔本塞
源論)”
14
Now Yonsei University
Jeong faithfully followed his teacher’s theory of authenticity and pretension (眞

假論) and vehemently criticized the 500 years of Joseon dynasty as follows:
The history of Joseon which extends over centuries has developed in emptiness (虛) and
pretension (假). Why do I make such an offensive remark? (…) Isn’t it a courtesy for the
past not to modify anything in falsity and reveal facts as they are? (…) During hundreds of
years of Joseon academics, only Confucianism existed; on top of that, only Zhu Xi’s ver-
sion of Confucianism was faithfully followed. The evil effect of this blind faith diverged
into two ways. One is to use Confucianism only for one’s benefit, or only for the interest of
one’s family (私營派); the other is to adopt Confucianism to praise and uphold Chinese
culture while obscuring the uniqueness of Korea (尊華派). Hence, scholars devoted all
their lives into solving the problem of human nature and mind, but they did not even think
of looking into their own genuine mind; they propagated to the world what is moral and
just, but they saw nothing but themselves. (Jeong I 2002: 44-5)
To label the academics of Joseon dynasty as that of falsity and pretention was not
an exaggerated criticism for Jeong. He pointed out that the reason for Joseon schol-
ars to follow blindly Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucianism was not that it genuinely touched
their heart but to find a specious reason or justification for their private pursuit of
position and power. As a result, Joseon neo-Confucianism could not but degener-
ated into emptiness and falsity.
[Because Joseon scholars blindly followed Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucianism] their learning
became empty learning (虛學), and their action became the pretended action (假行). From
the viewpoint of genuine, sincere mind, the learning is nothing but empty; it is useful only
from the viewpoint of self-interest. From the viewpoint of authentic learning, the action is
fabricated; it is real only from the viewpoint of hypocritical, pretentious social manners. For
hundreds of years, therefore, the sincere mind and genuine action emerged in Joseon only
sporadically, outside the academic realm. What filled the world was full of pretentious
action and empty scholarship. (Jeong I 2002: 45)
Jeong keenly criticized not only the past academic practices of the past, but also
that same pretentious mind in present. He said, “although today’s scholarship seems
quite advanced in its rigor and detail, our mind-set is essentially the same as the
past. (…) We always borrow words ‘English scholar,’ ‘French master,’ ‘German
doctor’ or ‘Russian colleague,’ to assess the truth and falsity of affairs. This ‘mind’
of ours is such a trifle, but that ‘words’ represent the world-class scholarship. We
underestimate our genuine mind and overestimate their theories (Jeong I 2002: 48).”
The common academic practice of diligent reference to the western world features
the same mind-set that had extoled Chinese culture above ours.
In order to recover from trauma of losing the nation and to salvage the national
spirit and dignity, Korean people must start from the new beginning, from their
genuine, sincere mind and attitude (Song 2015: 333). Jeong found Yangming’s
interpretation of a passage in the Great Learning particularly helpful in instilling the
national spirit in general populace.
Yangming opposed Zhu Xi (…) in claiming that the original version of the Great Learning
was correct. To illuminate the bright virtue (明明德) is nothing else but to love the people
(親民). If there was a barrier (間隔) between the ruler and the people so that the ruler could
not feel for (感通) the people that people’s interest and safety are none of his concern, then
278 S.-Y. Chung
how could his inner virtue be regarded as illuminated? Without loving people, there is no
illumination of the bright virtue. Without illuminating the bright virtue, there is no loving
people. (Jeong I 2002: 55)
Although humans build a barrier around themselves in order to protect their own
interests, they are able to feel for others since all humans are connected to one
another deep in their constitution. Not only humans, but all living things can and do
form a bond of sympathy. Yangming described such a connection ‘Ten thousand
things are of one body.’ He believed that humans are born with a bright virtue that
can mirror and feel the mind of others. Because of selfish interest our inner mirror
is often obscured and eclipsed. To cleanse and shine the mirror and recover the
brightness is the meaning of ‘illuminating the bright virtue.’ When the others are in
trouble, our mind in its purity will naturally respond with sympathy; such is the
actualization of the bright virtue. In this vein, illumination of the bright virtue and
the love of people cannot be separated.
Jeong affirmed Yangming’s phrase that all things are of one body with the fol-
lowing remark: “From the perspective of the great body of universe, all the indi-
vidual things are ultimately one and the same. The principle resides in each blade of
grass, or even in a small pebble stone is not different from the principle of the great
universe (Jeong I 2002: 53).” Jeong also claimed that Innate Knowing is what turns
such a principle into an action.
All depends on straightening one’s mind. One can be upright only as long as one’s will
(意) is sincere and genuine that it cannot tolerate any injustice. Being unable to tolerate
injustice is practicing the Innate Knowing and that practice lies within straightening
things out. The will to not tolerate injustice must stem straight from this Innate Knowing.
(Jeong I 2002: 52)
Jeong used Hangeul, the indigenous Korean word, ‘aeteutam (애틋함)’ to

describe the feeling of affection, sympathy, love and humaneness (仁). From our
natural affection toward things around us, we understand that we are connected to
the world. Such affection is, unlike universal love, graded according to familiarity,
relative importance and intimacy; hence, how one’s affection is exemplified cannot
but be different and unique. What is most important thing in displaying and practic-
ing one’s aeteutam is that it should spring directly from one’s inner, genuine mind.
“A real, genuine mind is devout, sincere, courageous, able to make sacrifices with-
out the fear of death, does not feel any difficulty, and invests aeteutam toward its
goal. If it is not aeteutam originating from the real mind, then that is already a
personal, calculated thought,” Jeong said (Jeong I 2002: 69–70). He warned that the
root of aeteutam is torn up when denying the fact that it is the natural state of one’s
original mind. Instead of nurturing this precious feeling of affection and care,
scholars spend their lives pursuing empty words. The feeling of aeteutam or affec-
tion is a kind of empathy that connect people together, enlivens human lives in a
holistic sense.
The original mind lives in mutual affection and empathy and dies from distance and barrier.
If I empathize with the people’s pain and suffering as my own and their hardships as my
own, then I cannot not but help others in need. Even if my body collapses, my spirit will live
with them forever. (…) Although everyone is related in Indra’s net, if one’s private intention
blocks one passage, then the connection based on mutual affection would be cut down
immediately. Cutting-down mutual affection means the blocking of Innate knowing.
Blocking of Innate Knowing means the end of mutual enlivenment. However, even in the
middle of blockage, if one could find a sparkling light of Innate Knowing, then there exists
the kind of mutual affection that connects king to the people, that connects one with myriad
things in the world. (Jeong I 2002: 141-2)
Jeong identified the notion of Innate Knowing with a Hangeul word ‘eol’ (얼). It
is not something that can be acquired through cultivation: it resides within our
nature upon our birth. He said, “Are you trying to find eol? Loiter and look from
there where you can never check with the external things (Jeong I 1983: 12).” Jeong
suggested looking for eol in the place where there is no control. Like Innate
Knowing, eol flows naturally when there is a special need to connect, to form one
body with other people. Eol is not only an individual spirit but also a national, or
inter-national spirit that never dies out. He claimed, “My oel is not limited to myself;
it extends to my nation and even further. It forms one body with myriad things under
Heaven (Jeong I 1983: 12).”
Jeong wrote a history of Korea from the perspective or this oel. He focused on
the national resistant spirit under Japanese colonization and attempted to lit the fire
in restoring the national spirit and dignity. e theory of oel reflects not just Yangming’s
Innate Knowing but Hagok’s theory of Real learning based on the sincere mind.
From Jeong Jedu (Hagok) to Pak Eunshik and Jeong Inbo, we could see how
Yangming learning was adopted, transformed, and Koreanized. Korean Yangming
scholars were not merely diligent, faithful followers of Yangming. Unlike Zhu Xi
scholars, Yangming scholars were in an adverse political position and were often
denounced as preaching a heresy. They regarded Yangming learning, however, not
as a theoretical hypothesis or a philosophical framework conceived by one Chinese
scholar. They accepted it as the undying, undeniable truth that could be found in
their own mind. In Yangming learning Korean scholars found a courage to go
beyond so-called orthodox Zhu Xi learning and finally think for themselves, speak
for themselves, and become themselves. Such confidence showed through in the use
of Korean terms like aeteutam and eol in their own understanding of the humane-
ness and Innate Knowing. And in such uses of Korean terms, Korean Yangming
scholars opened a new possibility and another horizon of Yangming learning,
beyond China, Korea and East Asia.
Bibliography
Choe, Myeong-gil 崔鳴吉. 2008. Collected Works by Mr. Ji Cheon 增補譯註遲川先生集, trans-
lated and commented by Choe Byung-jik 崔秉稷. Seoul: Seonbi Publishers.
Choi, Jae-mok 崔在穆. 2017. Hagok Jeong Jedu’s Yangming Learning 霞谷鄭齊斗의 陽明學.
Seoul: Jisik gwa gyoyang Publishers. (Introducing Jeong Jedu in the East-Asian context).
Chung, In-chai 鄭仁在. 2014. The Spirit of Yangming Learning 陽明學의 精神. Seoul: Taechang
Publishers. (In-depth discussion on the origin and philosophy of Yangming Learning as well
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as its aesthetic, educational, religious characteristics. It also explains Hagok Learning and its
characteristics).
Heo, Gyun 許筠. 1981. Record of Idle Emotions 閑情錄 in Gojeon beonyeokseo 古典飜譯書
translated by Kim Juhee et al. Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon.
Heo, Gyun 許筠. 1983. Seongso Bubugo 惺所覆瓿稿. in Gojeon beonyeokseo 古典飜譯書 trans-
lated by Kim Hyesook and Jeong Yangwan. Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon 韓國古典
飜譯院.
Hong, Inhu 洪仁祐. 1989. Posthumous Writing of Chijae 恥齋遺稿 in Hanguk munjip chonggan
韓國文集叢刊 (Complete Works of Korean Writings). Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon
韓國古典飜譯院.
Jang, Jiyeon 張志淵. 1980. Origin of Joseon Confucianism 朝鮮儒敎淵源. Vol. 134. Seoul:
Samsung Munhwa Publishers. (A prominent, influential book that thorough discusses on the
‘origin’ of Joseon Confucianism since Shilla and Koryo dynasty. It is, the first systematic book
on the history of Korean Confucianism).
Jang, Yu 張維. 1994. The Collected Works of Gyegok 谿谷集 in Gojeon beonyeokseo 古典飜譯書
translated by Yi Sanghyeon. Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon 韓國古典飜譯院.
Jang, Yu 張維. 1997. Essays by Gyegok 谿谷漫筆 in Gojeon beonyeokseo 古典飜譯書 translated
by Yi Sanghyeon. Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon 韓國古典飜譯院.
Jeong, Jedu 鄭齊斗. 1995. Collected Works of Hagok 霞谷集 in Hanguk munjip chonggan 韓國
文集叢刊 (Complete Works of Korean Writings). Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon 韓國
古典飜譯院. Jeong Inbo.
Jeong, Inbo 鄭寅普. 1983. Collected Works of Damwon Jeong Inbo 薝園鄭寅普全集. Seoul:
Yonsei University Press.
Jeong, Inbo 鄭寅普. 2002. Development of Yangming Learning 陽明學演論, trans. by Hong
Wonsik 洪元植. Andong: Advanced Center for Korean Studies. (The first book on the broad
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Kim, Kiel-lak. 2004. Korean Shangsan Learning and Yangming Learning. 韓國의 象山學과 陽明
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Kim, Gyobin 金敎斌. 1995. The Philosophy of Yangming Scholar Jeong Jedu 陽明學者鄭齊斗의
哲學思想. Seoul: Hangilsa.
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by Song Gichae. Seoul: Hanguk gojeon beonyeokwon 韓國古典飜譯院.
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In Cheongguhakchong 靑丘學叢 25.
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beonyeokwon 韓國古典飜譯院.
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Seoul: Yonsei University Press.
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Vol. 1. Seoul: ChungAng University Press.
Yun, Namhan 尹南漢. 1982. On Yangming Learning During the Joseon Dynasty 朝鮮時代의 陽
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specializing on Joseon dynasty).
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In-chai and Han Jeong-gil. Seoul: Chunggye Publishers.
Part V
Korean Confucianism in Encounter
with Other Traditions
Chapter 13
Philosophical Bases of the Goryeo-Joseon
Confucian-Buddhist Confrontation:
The Works of Jeong Dojeon (Sambong)
and Hamheo Deuktong (Gihwa)
A. Charles Muller
1 H
istorical Perspective: Confucianism and Daoism
during the Period of Buddhist Preeminence
The close geographical proximity of Korea to China, along with the concomitant
extensive and continuous exchange of commodities and ideas, allowed the people of
the Korean peninsula to participate in the Chinese religious and philosophical world
at a relatively early point in time, and even to make significant contributions to the
greater East Asian philosophical discourse, as many Korean thinkers traveled to the
Tang and Song centers of learning and made their own mark. Thus, Koreans learned
Chinese ways of thinking well, and bringing Chinese ideas back their homeland,
made their own enhancements, and even developed creative innovations.
During the several centuries during which Buddhism underwent its remarkable
spread throughout East Asia, the Confucian tradition maintained its position as the
framework for basic literary education and as the organizer of the system for civil
service examinations. Thus it was the case in China—and later in Korea—that the
ministers, bureaucrats, teachers, and those connected in any form with the gover-
nance of the realm automatically had a Confucian education. But this Confucian
tradition could not truly compete philosophically—or as a state religion, with the
dominant position that had been taken by Buddhists in terms of providing the spiri-
tual fabric for society—a preeminence that reached its peak during the early-to-mid
Tang. During this period there was relatively little in the way of new developments
in Confucian philosophy, as the same classics were simply learned by rote for the
purpose of passing civil service examinations. Confucians provoked occasional
rumblings and purges that were usually motivated by jealousy over the political and
A. C. Muller (*)
Department of Buddhist Studies, Musashino University, Tokyo, Japan
e-mail: acmuller@l.u-tokyo.ac.jp

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_13
286 A. C. Muller
economic influence of Buddhists (and Daoists), but they remained largely unable to
compete meaningfully in the philosophical arena.
Most of the major religious and philosophical developments of this period that
lay outside of Buddhism were to be seen in the area of Daoism, in the works of the
Neo-Daoists, Daoist alchemists, and the Daoist-influenced literati—all of whom
were stimulated by Buddhist ideas. At the same time, Daoist views influenced the
evolving tendencies of East Asian Buddhism, to the extent that sometimes their
texts were almost indistinguishable from each other.1 Thus, philosophically speak-
ing, the first several centuries of the growth of Buddhism in China can be seen as a
period of philosophical stagnation for Confucianism, but where it nonetheless
remained ensconced in its basic position within the educational system and bureau-
cratic system, while most creative philosophical/religious activity took place within
the Buddhist-Daoist matrix.
Regardless of the lack of active philosophical resistance, the indigenous tradi-
tions transformed the incoming Buddhist religion in the very course of translating it
into their own vernacular, and so a sinified form of Buddhism became part and
parcel of everyday life. There was no sustained philosophical confrontation—at
least during the earlier centuries, when doctrinal Buddhist schools were moving
toward their final formation. But from just about the time that schools such as
Huayan and Tiantai reached a level of maturity, and Chan began to emerge as prom-
inent Buddhist movement, ideological argumentation from the Confucian side
began to emerge.
1.1 Beginnings of the Criticism of Buddhism
The origins of the overt criticism of Buddhism by Confucian leaders are usually
pinpointed in the essays of the Tang scholar Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824).2 Han was an
elite bureaucrat, as well as a literary figure of considerable stature who was troubled
by the steadily growing influence of Buddhism in the imperial court. He believed
Buddhism was leading the rulership to a blindness that was endangering the security
and well-being of the realm. He felt strongly enough about the excesses of Buddhism
that he dared to vehemently memorialize the throne, knowing well that it would lead
him to trouble.
Han Yuʼs two best-known critical essays on Buddhism are the Origin of the Way
原道 3 and Memorial on the Buddhaʼs Bone 諫迎佛骨.4 In these essays he l ambasted
1
The extensive mutual influence that occurred between Buddhism and Daoism is examined in
depth in Sharf, Coming to Terms with Chinese Buddhism.
2
Charles Hartmanʼs Han Yü and the Tʼang Search for Unity (Princeton, 1986), provides an excel-
lent study of Hanʼs life and works.
3
A translation by Bryan Van Norden is online at: http://faculty.vassar.edu/brvannor/Phil210/
HanYu/On the Origin of the Way.pdf.
4
Translated in many anthologies: see, for example, de Bary, Sources of Chinese Tradition, pp. 583–
585. Jeong Dojeon makes extensive use of these two essays in the final passages of his Bulssi
japbyeon.
13 Philosophical Bases of the Goryeo-Joseon Confucian-Buddhist Confrontation… 287
Buddhism as a foreign religion that was leading the emperor to spend inordinate
amounts of time at Buddhist monasteries and which involved great expenditure of
resources for activities such as the carrying of the Buddhaʼs relics (Skt. śarīra)
around the capital. Hanʼs arguments were aimed at pointing out visible excesses on
the part of the members of the Buddhist clergy and the rulers involved with the cler-
ics. These arguments were mostly emotional in character; they did not attempt to
seriously criticize Buddhism for philosophical shortcomings. They had little effect
on the influence of Buddhism, but were nonetheless felt strongly enough to generate
the counter reaction of getting Han sent away into exile, and they served as the point
of departure for the anti-Buddhist arguments that would be presented by later
scholars.5
However, as the Tang drew to an end and the Song began, the philosophical matrix
of China, having been now long enough steeped in Buddhist and Daoist philosophy
that many important concepts were taken for granted as being simply standard philo-
sophical categories (not necessarily being seen as Buddhist or Daoist in origin), saw
the birth of a new, drastically revamped form of Confucianism known as “Song
learning” (Ch. songxue 宋學, known in the West as Neo-Confucianism). While the
Chinese philosophical matrix had had sufficient chance to assimilate Daoist notions
of the dao and alchemical transformation, and the Buddhist principles of karma and
dependent origination, as well as Huayan “principle and phenomena” (Ch. li-shi;
K. i-sa) and Chan meditation, the gradual waning of doctrinal Buddhism in the late
Tang and early Song as a state institution, and the stagnation of much of the doctrinal
Buddhist tradition itself, with the arrival of Chan as the predominant tradition, had
left a bit of a creative intellectual vacuum. The influence of the great doctrinal sys-
tems of Chinese Yogâcāra, Tiantai, and Huayan had faded. In their place in the
Buddhist intellectual realm were the flowering schools of Song Chan, which were
known, even then, for extremes of iconoclasm, antinomianism, and escapism, both
in terms of their behavior, as well as what was contained in the popular texts of the
Song Chan schools. As de Bary points out (citing Yanagida), there were numerous
texts that contained passages that provided good targets for Neo-Confucian critiques
of nihilism.6 Yet it is surprising that no Buddhist scholars of the time appeared who
might have been able to point out that most of the lines cited by Zhu Xi (朱熹
1130–1200) and his predecessors were skillfully selected out of the fuller context of
discussions that were, taken in their entirety, not at all nihilistic.
Regardless of the honesty or accuracy of the criticisms of Chan made by the
leading figures of this reenergized Confucian movement, it is no secret that there
was a strong strain of anti-intellectualism in the literature of the Chan school, and
regardless of whether this “stupification” was really a common state of affairs, there
is no doubt that the overall tendency within the Chan tradition toward academic
study was different from what had been seen in the doctrinal schools.7 This attitude
5
See Gregory, Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity, pp. 35–36.
6
See Message of the Mind, p. 17.
7
The point is often made in present-day Chan historical scholarship that despite Chanʼs anti-tex-
tual rhetoric, Chan adherents ended up composing a voluminous literature that would be studied
288 A. C. Muller
demonstrated by the members of the Chan schools may well have contributed to the
intellectual vacuum that would be filled by the New Confucians.
1.2 Sources of Neo-Confucian Doctrine
Although the classics that were the object of study for the Neo-Confucians were
essentially the same as they had been for their Confucian predecessors (the Four
Books,8 the Five Classics,9 and so forth), they were reanalyzed under the lens of a
new hermeneutic that was the result of several centuries of Buddhist and indigenous
Chinese cross-fertilization: the categories of li 理 (principle) and qi 氣 (pneuma,
material force), which were derived from the li (principle) and shi 事 (phenom-
ena)—popular in the Huayan and Tiantai schools—both of which were a new itera-
tion of the pervasive essence-function (ti-yong 體用) paradigm. The Neo-Confucians
brought this new metaphysics, which also included a heavy reliance on the Yijing
and yin/yang cosmology, to re-explain the relation of humans to humans and humans
to the universe, along with a much more precisely articulated path of cultivation,
relying heavily on the Mencius and the Great Learning.
The most important early figures in this movement were the Neo-Confucian
patriarchs Zhang Cai 張載 (1020–1077) and Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073),10
whose combined works established the bases of this new metaphysics while creat-
ing schema for a new way to understand humans and their world. What is especially
noteworthy about their writings, however, is the degree to which they were ener-
gized by anti-Buddhist polemic.11 But this polemic was only initiated with these
two, and is not especially vehement in their works. After all, Zhou was known to
have been a Chan practitioner in his younger days.
It is in the writings of the Cheng brothers (Cheng Hao 程顥, 1032–1085; and
Cheng Yi 程頤, 1033–1107) that the distinctive Neo-Confucian philosophy really
begins to take on its mature form, as the philosophical elaboration of the categories
of li and qi within the framework of commentary on the classical texts takes on
by succeeding generations. While this is true, we must still pay due consideration to the actual
message of this literature, which points to a Buddhist teaching that emphasizes simplicity, intu-
itiveness, and directness in daily activity and which invariably casts “sutra-lecturers” in an inferior
role to Chan masters of the “great function” 大用.
8
The four books of Confucian learning selected by Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) as a core curriculum
during the Song period. These are the Analects (Lunyu 論語) the Mencius (Mengzi 孟子), the
Great Learning (Daxue 大學), and the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸).
9
This canon was authorized by the emperor in 51 BCE and included the Book of Poems (Shijing 詩
經), the Book of Documents (Shujing 書經), the Book of Changes 易經 (Yijing), the Spring and
Autumn Annals (Chunchiu 春秋), and the Record of Ritual (Liji 禮記).
10
For a study of Zhou Dunyi, especially in the all-important context of his relationship to Zhu Xi,
see Adler, Reconstructing the Confucian DAO.
11
It must be kept in mind here that when we say “Buddhism,” we are referring specifically to the
Chan Buddhism of the Song, which is a distinctive form of Buddhism.
sophisticated form.12 It was Cheng Hao who developed the li-qi cosmological view,
and rereading classical passages such as Analects 12:1, declared that “the humane
man forms a single body with the world.” Even more so than the works of the earlier
generations of Neo-Confucians, the criticism of Buddhism becomes an integral
part—and at times perhaps the central aspect—of the Cheng brothersʼ discourse.
Interestingly, the brother shown to have exhibited the more mystical, or “Channish”
tendencies in his writings, Cheng Hao, is the one who composed the most virulent
critiques of the Chan tradition. The Cheng brothers criticized Chan Buddhism for its
antinomian, escapist tendencies, and its doctrine of emptiness, which they construed
as pure nihilism.13 The arguments composed by the Chengs and their mentors were
digested, explicated, and systematized in the writings of Zhu Xi, who would become
recognized as the grand systematizer of the Neo-Confucian tradition—as the one
most singly responsible for the reinstatement of Confucianism as the predominant
ideology of the Chinese imperial government until the opening of the modern era.
It is important to reiterate that when Zhu and the Chengs talked about “Buddhism,”
they were talking about the form of Buddhism that was in vogue during their life-
times—which was Song dynasty Chan—the same tradition that was in the process
of compiling gong-an collections, teaching strike-and-shout Linji methodologies,
and so forth. Popular Buddhist writings at that time contained very little in the way
of explanation of Indian-style dependent origination, emptiness, or the two levels of
truth. The popular scriptures at the time were mostly East Asian apocrypha (such as
the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment and the *Śūraṃgama-sūtra) and works overtly
composed within the Chan tradition (such as the Platform Sutra), that were sudden-
istic in their approaches, and which devalorized the approach of scholarly study.
While the Chan schools were drawing continuous harsh criticism from their
Confucian contemporaries, I have found very little literature that would represent
any sustained effort made on the Chan side at written self-defense. More than two
centuries earlier, Zongmi (宗密; 780–841) had composed a response of sorts in his
Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity (discussed in some detail below). And in the
eleventh century the Chan monk Qisong (契嵩; 1007–1072), wrote extensively in
defense of Buddhism against Neo-Confucian criticisms.14 But both Zongmiʼs and
Qisongʼs treatises were composed long before the development of the sophisticated
metaphysics of Zai, Zhou, and the Cheng brothers, systematized by Zhu Xi, and
thus they responded to little more than the relatively unsophisticated arguments of
Han Yu. Aside from the Goryeo/Joseon monk Gihwa (whose works we will read
below), I have not found any sustained commensurate response from anyone in the
Chan/Seon tradition to the fully-developed Neo-Confucian position—and this holds
true right down to modern times, and even among modern scholars. On the other
12
The works of these two scholars are available in Chinese, but so far we do not have any full
translations of their works, only small selected portions contained in anthologies. The largest is
that contained in Wing-tsit Chanʼs Source Book, pp. 518–571.
13
See ibid, 554–555.
14
See Elizabeth Morrison, The Power of Patriarchs, esp. pp. 95–100, for Qisongʼs dealings with
Confucianism.
290 A. C. Muller
hand, in the several volumes on Neo-Confucianism published by de Bary and col-

leagues, we find one after another, repetitions of the Neo-Confucian polemic with-
out any critical assessment from the Buddhist perspective.
Why the lack of commensurate Buddhist response? One possible explanation is
that knowing the general character of Chan with its self-proclaimed ill regard
for discursive argumentation, such a debate was outside the purview of what a Chan
teacher was supposed to be doing. It could also be that the Buddhists were suffi-
ciently confident of the status of their religion that they believed that such diatribes
were never going to have any real concrete effect, in terms of government-authorized
restrictions. It may have also been the case that vibrant energy of the Neo-Confucian
movement, coupled with the bright young minds being attracted to it, was simply
too much for the Chan leaders to contend with. This is a question that requires fur-
ther attention.
2 Neo-Confucianism in Korea
During the two centuries after Zhu Xi, a confrontational situation between Neo-
Confucianism and Buddhism developed in the Goryeo, although in a somewhat
different context than that seen in Song China. The most important difference
between the two scenarios was the markedly greater degree to which the Korean
Buddhist establishment was embedded into the state power structure as compared
with the situation in the Song. The Buddhist saṃgha owned vast acres of tax-free
territory, traded in slaves and other commodities, and was influential at all levels of
government. There were too many monks who were ordained for the wrong reasons,
and corruption was rampant. Thus, the ideological fervor with which Neo-
Confucianism rose in Korea had a special dimension, since venom of their rhetoric
was fueled not only by the earlier philosophical arguments of the Cheng brothers
and Zhu Xi, but as well by the extent of the present corruption visible in the Buddhist
establishment. There was a decadent, stumbling government in place, supported by,
and supporting, a religious organization plagued by scandal and corruption. Thus, in
Korea, the mostly philosophical arguments against Buddhism that had originated
with the Cheng brothers became the ideology of a rising movement of resistance on
the part of influential members of the intelligentsia who were determined to over-
throw a decaying Goryeo (918–1392) dynasty—along with the rotting Buddhist
monastic system that was deeply entangled with it. Thus, the anti-Buddhist polemi-
cal dimension of the Neo-Confucianism that developed in Korea took on a focus, a
vehemence, indeed an exclusivism15 not previously seen in China.
15
In using the term “exclusivism” here, I refer especially to the landmark work done on this topic
by John Goulde in his 1984 Ph.D. dissertation, “Anti-Buddhist Polemic in Fourteenth and Fifteenth
Century Korea: The Emergence of Korean Exclusivism.” In this work Goulde traces the develop-
ments of the Neo-Confucian polemic from their Chinese roots, through their failures and successes
in Korea, to their final culmination in the creation of the Joseon dynasty (1392–1910).
A major portion of the Neo-Confucian polemical attack that energized these

sweeping changes was socio-political in nature, focusing on the excesses engaged
in by the Buddhist clergy. Buddhist temples had been tax-exempt, and many
Buddhist leaders enjoyed wealth and power that came in the form of the possession
of prize lands, slaves, and positions of privilege in the court. There was also a philo-
sophical component to the Neo-Confucian criticism of Buddhist doctrine and prac-
tice that developed out of the writings of the above-mentioned Song Neo-Confucian
architects. The main complaint expressed in these arguments was, once again, that
Buddhist practices were antisocial and escapist and that the Buddhist doctrine was
nihilistic. Buddhism, according to the Neo-Confucians, led people to abandon
respect for the norms of society and to forget the all-important task of polishing
oneʼs character in the midst of human relationships.
While there were anti-Buddhist memorials presented in Korea as early as 982,
serious concentrated attacks on Buddhism did not begin until the mid-fourteenth
century. The major initial charges, presented by individuals such as I Saek 李穡
(1328–1396), were that excessive patronage was deleterious to the well-being of the
state. The attacks made on Buddhism by Jo In-ok 趙仁沃 (?–1396) and Jeong
Mongju 鄭夢周 (1337–1392) were also made on political and economic, rather
than philosophical and religious, bases. After this period, the anti-Buddhist polemic
took a turn toward the philosophical in the writings of such prominent Neo-
Confucian figures as Gang Hoebaek 姜淮伯 (1357–1402) and Jeong Chong 鄭摠
(1358–1397), both of whom were active in the late fourteenth century.16 Toward the
end of the fourteenth century the political and economic problems of the Goryeo
court intensified, and with the Buddhists firmly embedded in the body of a weak-
ened political structure, Neo-Confucian activists came to the side of the rebel gen-
eral I Seonggye 李成桂 (1335–1408). I, in a sudden coup dʼétat, toppled the Goryeo
government, establishing the Joseon dynasty in 1392, and was automatically
endowed with a cabinet composed of Neo-Confucian advisers.
With the 1392 coup, the Buddhists were thrust out of their position of political
power. The Buddhists would, over time, become mainly relegated to their existence
in the mountain monasteries, prohibited from setting foot in the cities. The final
polemical push for the Buddhist purge came in the form of the essays of Jeong
Dojeon 鄭道傳 (pen name: Sambong 三峰; 1342–1398), Iʼs main political strate-
gist, who would end up playing a major role in the development of the political
structure of the new Joseon dynasty.17 Jeong wrote three major philosophical essays
that were critical of Buddhism: (1) The Simmun cheondap 心問天答 (Questions
from the Mind Answered by Heaven; 1375), wherein he presented a critique of the
Buddhist doctrine of karma, offering instead a Neo-Confucian interpretation of the
16
See Goulde, “Anti-Buddhist Polemic,” pp. 166–192 for a detailed description of the lives and
works of the five above-mentioned figures, and others.
17
For a comprehensive treatment of Jeong Dojeon, see Han Yeong-u, Jeong Dojeon sasang ui
yeon-gu. In English, see Chai-shik Chung, “Chŏng Tojŏn: ‘Architect’ of Yi Dynasty Government
and Ideology.” Also see the discussion of Jeong in the chapter “The Ideology of Reform” in John
Duncan, The Origins of the Chosŏn Dynasty.
292 A. C. Muller
interaction of principle and material force; (2) the Simgiri pyeon 心氣理篇 (On the
Mind, Material Force, and Principle; 1394), where he argued that the Confucian
definitions and usages of the three terms of mind, material force, and principle are
clear and consistent, and those of Buddhism are vague and inconsistent, and (3) the
Bulssi japbyeon, his final and most complete anti-Buddhist polemical work, which
contained an extensive refutation of Buddhist doctrines and practices from a Neo-
Confucian perspective, including the content of the prior two essays, along with
summaries of the arguments of many of his Neo-Confucian predecessors.18
In these anti-Buddhist essays Jeongʼs intention was to show that the Buddhist
doctrine was deeply and intrinsically flawed. Thus, it was necessary not only to
discipline the Buddhist establishment at the present moment: it was desirable to
seriously curtail, and if possible, to permanently end the activities of this dangerous
belief system. His critique is thorough, covering every major aspect of the Buddhist
doctrine that was being taught at the time. Given the composition of Korean
Buddhism at the time in question, the primary object of his criticism was the Seon
sect, which the Neo-Confucians of course perceived as having strong tendencies
toward other-worldliness, toward denial of the importance of human relationships,
toward denial of respect for the state, and even toward denial of Buddhismʼs own
principle of cause and effect.
The influence of Jeongʼs Chinese predecessors, primarily the Cheng brothers via
Zhu Xi, is apparent throughout his writings. Almost every argument, and every
example made by Jeong is a citation drawn from one of the Cheng brothers, often
through the commentaries of Zhu. While Jeong is often looked down up on by
Korean intellectual historians as being more of an ideologue than a philosopher,
none of Jeongʼs worthy predecessors had ever composed such a well-organized,
complete, and systematic critique of Buddhism, from every angle, that can compare
with the Japbyeon. We will return to look at some of its contents below. First, how-
ever, we need to familiarize ourselves as to what was happening in terms of the
Buddhist response.
3 Buddhist Responses and the Influence of Zongmi
We have noted above that despite the intensity of the critiques made against Chan
Buddhism by the Song Neo-Confucian leaders, there was little in terms of sustained
and reasoned written response from the Chan community from the time that the
criticism took hold during the Song. The most significant early response to the
Confucian critique of Buddhism occurs at the very outset of the renewed opposition
in the mid-Tang from the scholar-monk Zongmi (宗密 780–841). Those with some
knowledge of the history of Korean Buddhism will recognize Zongmi as one of the
Chinese scholar-monks who brought the most direct influence on the later character
18
My English translation of this text has been published in the Korean Classics Library series with
the title Koreaʼs Great Buddhist-Confucian Debate.
of the Korean Seon tradition. In the history of the development of Korean Seon,
issues related to the reconciliation of various approaches to practice came to play a
central role, and one of the most significant of these was that of the relation between
meditation practice and scriptural study. Zongmi, who would end up with the
unusual distinction of being recognized as a “patriarch” of both the Chan and
Huayan traditions, advocated that the approaches of meditative practice and scrip-
tural study were mutually complementary. His statements on this and related mat-
ters, such as explanations of the notion of intrinsic enlightenment and discussions of
the relationship between sudden and gradual in practice and enlightenment, were
followed and repeated by the most influential of the Korean Seon formulators,
including Jinul, Gihwa, and Hyujeong. And as it turns out, the set of texts that held
the greatest level of interest for these later Korean Seon masters, the Sutra of Perfect
Enlightenment, Awakening of Mahāyāna Faith, Diamond Sutra, and Huayan jing,
were also the subject of Zongmi’s most extensive commentarial efforts.
One of the works for which Zongmi is most noted in Chinese intellectual history
is his Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity (Yuanren lun 原人論).19 Composed
around 830, it was a treatise written for a broad audience. It was in some sense a
work typical of Chinese doctrinal scholars of the sixth–eighth century, in being a
hermeneutically-oriented text that classified the teachings of Buddhism into five
levels. Such classifications had been carried out before Zongmi by such scholars as
his Huayan predecessor Fazang, Tiantai founder Zhiyi, and many others.
While the Inquiry is primarily a textbook for understanding Buddhism that uti-
lizes the classification scheme as a pedagogical methodology, the opening passages
take a clear polemical shot at Confucianism, apparently in response to the attacks by
Hanyu. Zongmi criticizes indigenous Chinese philosophy for those of its doctrines
that show a lack of discernment of the basic law of cause and effect. He debunks the
Chinese classical view of spontaneous production, the lack of reasoning for the dif-
ferences in individual endowments of vital force, and the unexplained lack of fair-
ness seen in the operation of the “mandate of heaven” (tianming 天命). According
to Zongmi, all of these paradigms are logically untenable when really thought
through, and cannot match the sophistication of even the most elementary of the
Buddhist teachings—that of the law of karmic retribution. There is, nonetheless, an
ecumenical character to the Inquiry, since, although Confucianism and Daoism are
seen as inferior to Buddhism, they are nonetheless accorded a limited amount of
validity, with Confucius and Laozi being regarded as bona fide sages, along with
Śākyamuni. As Peter Gregory notes:
“Although it should be no surprise that Tsung-mi (Zongmi) regards Buddhism as a higher
level of teaching than either Confucianism or Daoism, what is especially noteworthy is that
his attitude toward the two teachings is sympathetic and inclusive. Even though his
designation of them as exclusively provisional places them in a category inferior to the
Buddhist teachings, it also—and far more significantly—places them within the same realm
of discourse. Its concrete forms of expression may differ, but the truth realized by the three
sages is universal.” (Inquiry, p. 81)
19
Translated into English a few times, most recently and capably by Peter Gregory in 1995 with the
title, “Inquiry into the Origin of Humanity.”
294 A. C. Muller
Given fact that Han Yu’s tracts and Zongmi’s Inquiry were written in the early
part of the ninth century, almost five centuries before the exchange between Jeong
Dojeon and Gihwa, it is surprising the extent to which the content from these early
predecessors from both sides finds its way into the treatises of the two Korean
receivers of their respective traditions. Jeong, for instance, will continue to invoke
Han’s criticism of Buddhism as a “foreign” religion. Gihwa, for his part, will open
up his own treatise by borrowing the correlation from Zongmi made by matching
the five constant virtues of Confucianism with the five basic Buddhist precepts—a
correlation first made as far back as the Diwei Boli jing 提謂波利經.20 While the
Inquiry stands out as the major precedent to Gihwaʼs work, there are nonetheless,
significant differences in content and structure, based largely upon the circum-
stances in which they were written. The Inquiry is first and foremost a panjiao 判教
(doctrinal taxonomy) text, which takes up the critique of Confucianism only in its
opening sections. Zongmi’s Buddhist tradition at the time, even if subjected to the
rants of the likes of Han Yu, certainly did not have its back up against the wall. The
Buddhists in the early Joseon on the other hand were “on the ropes” as it were, and
so Gihwaʼs treatise is in its entirety a defense of the Buddhist tradition, with issues
of doctrinal classification long since forgotten. There are also significant personal
stylistic differences, but before addressing these, we need to introduce Gihwa.
4 Gihwa
Gihwa 己和 (Hamheo Deuktong 涵虚得通, 1376–1433) was born just sixteen

years before the Goryeo/Joseon dynastic transition. The son of a diplomat, he was
educated with other upper-class sons at the recently-established Seongyun-gwan 成
均館 Confucian academy—where Jeong Dojeon was a member of the faculty.21 In
the course of his studies at this institution, Gihwa is said to have attained to a
remarkable level of proficiency in Chinese philosophy and literature, as his biogra-
20
The Sutra of Trapuṣa and Bhallika. Not extant, but cited in many old texts. It is a Chinese indig-
enous sutra composed by Tanjing 曇靖 of the Northern Wei dynasty during the reign period of
Emperor Xiaowu of the Liu-Song dynasty (453–464) in two fascicles. The text takes its name from
its two main protagonists, merchants called Trapuṣa and Bhallika. These merchants are known
elsewhere in the tradition. In the Diwei Boli jing, the two are described as well-versed in knowl-
edge of yin and yang, divination using tortoise-shells, and the Yijing. They meet the Buddha imme-
diately after his awakening, and he teaches them that those who keep the five precepts will be
reborn as human, while those who do the ten good deeds will be reborn in a heaven as a god (hence
the name of the teaching, rentian jiao 人天教, for which the text was known in the doctrinal tax-
onomies of the period; see below); persons who commit various misdeeds will be born into the
unfortunate destinies. The ten good deeds are correlated with the five Confucian virtues 五常; they
are also correlated with various other sets of five, after the manner of the tradition of correlative
cosmology native to Chinese culture.
21
The present-day Seongyun-gwan University in Seoul traces its roots to this academy.
pher goes to unusual lengths to convey the extent to which his professors esteemed
him:
“Entering the academy as a youth, he was able to memorize more than a thousand phrases
daily. As time passed, he deeply penetrated the universality of the single thread, clarifying
the meanings of the classics and expounding their content. His reputation was unmatched.
Grasping the subtlety of the transmitted teachings, he disclosed all their profundities in his
explanations. He was possessed of a sonorous voice and graceful beauty, like flowers laid
upon silk brocade—even such metaphor falls short of description. People said that he would
become the minister truly capable of transmitting the heavenly mandate, extending upward
to the ruler and bringing blessings down to the people. In his grasp of the correct principles
of society he had no need to be ashamed even if he were to appear before the likes of Zhou
and Shao.”22
Acknowledging the obvious hyperbole that is invariably seen in the hagiographical

sketches written by disciples of eminent Buddhist teachers, we must nevertheless
pay attention to what is contained in this passage as (1) there is not, in the entire
corpus of Korean Buddhist hagiographies an appraisal of scholarly (Confucian)
acumen comparable in scope to this, and (2) this strong assessment of Gihwaʼs early
abilities is corroborated in the degree to which he, later in his Buddhist career, took
such a strong interest in and showed such outstanding ability in literary/philosophi-
cal/exegetical pursuits. Furthermore, a reading of his later Buddhist works shows an
unusual frequency of citation from the Five Classics, Four Books, Daode jing and
Zhuangzi.
Despite Gihwaʼs initial deep involvement in Confucian learning, he is said to
have been greatly affected at the age of twenty-one by the tragic death of a close
friend, and as a result, turned to the Buddhist path. After a short period of wandering
and study, he became a disciple of the national preceptor Muhak 無學 (1327–1405),
a master of the Imje Seon 臨濟禪 (Ch. Linji Chan) gong-an 公案 tradition. Gihwa
spent the remainder of his days immersed in meditation, travel, teaching and an
extensive literary pursuit that included commentarial work, essay writing, and
poetry. Despite the diminished influence of Buddhism, toward the end of his career
he served as preceptor to the royal family. After this stint, he retired once again to
the mountain monasteries, where he taught and wrote until his passing in 1433.
During his life, Gihwa wrote several important and influential treatises and com-
mentaries on Buddhist works that established him as one of the leading exegetes in
the Korean Buddhist tradition.23
22
A reference to Zhou Gongdan 周公旦 and Shao Gong 召公, two worthies who are said to have
cooperated in the establishment of the Zhou dynasty. This passage is from the biographical sketch
of Gihwa, entitled “Hamheo tang Deuktong hwasang haengjang,” HBJ 7.250c, pp. 6–11.
23
Gihwaʼs extant writings are contained in volume seven of the Hanguk Bulgyo Jeonseo. One of
his major works, his commentary on the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment, is translated and pub-
lished by Muller with the same title, and his Hyeonjeong non is translated in a forthcoming volume
in the Korean Classics series together with the Bulssi japbyeon. In terms of Gihwaʼs connection
with Zongmi, the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment is of great significance, as it was Zongmiʼs favor-
ite text, which he commented on extensively. In Korea, it was Gihwa who wrote the definitive
commentary on the sutra. Thus, Gihwa and Zongmi are closely linked in terms of mutual interest.
296 A. C. Muller
Placed as he was in the position of being the leading representative of the

Buddhist saṃgha at a time when it was coming under great pressure, Gihwa no
doubt felt responsible to offer an answer to the Neo-Confucian charges. Respond he
did, in the form of a philosophical treatise that has become a landmark in Korean
intellectual history—the Hyeonjeong non 顯正論 (“Exposition of Orthodoxy,”
hereafter abbreviated as HJN). In the HJN Gihwa attempted to respond to the entire
accretion of criticisms crafted by the Neo-Confucians that had been organized and
laid out in the Bulssi japbyeon 佛氏雜論. Therefore the relationship between the
Japbyeon and the HJN is such that we might well characterize the latter work as a
fairly direct rebuttal to the former, and thus, the two together can be said to consti-
tute a debate.24
As mentioned above, the circumstances of Gihwaʼs composition of this treatise
in defense of Buddhism against Confucian-based criticisms have a direct precedent
in those surrounding Zongmiʼs Inquiry. Zongmi and Gihwa held much in common,
both being Chan-Seon/Huayan-Hwaeom scholars of considerable classical Chinese
philosophical background and both holding a sincere respect for many aspects of
Confucian and Daoist learning. Both men shared in their broad vision of all three
masters—Confucius, Laozi, and Śākyamuni—being genuine sages, but their way of
evaluating the two non-Buddhist traditions differs somewhat.
While treating similar topics from similar perspectives, the two treatises differ
in their basic line of argumentation. Zongmiʼs work, reflecting its authorʼs interest
in doctrinal classification, is primarily an attempt to show how Confucianism and
Daoism are related to Buddhism as expedient, but nonetheless heterodox 外教
(K. oegyo) teachings. His tone toward Confucianism and Daoism is conciliatory,
but he will clearly distinguish the two from Buddhism as being even less sophis-
ticated than the teachings of “men and gods”—basic teachings of karmic retribu-
tion for moral and immoral actions. Gihwaʼs argument, on the other hand, relies
primarily on an understanding an interpenetration that operates equally in all
three teachings of Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism, but that he claims has
been brought to different levels of actualization by the practitioners of each of the
three teachings. Gihwa perceives the three teachings as varying expressions of a
singular reality. Thus, despite his conversion to Buddhism, he never really rejected
his earlier Confucian and Daoist learning. Accordingly, in his Buddhist apologetic
writings he did not seek to disparage the fundamental Confucian doctrine; none-
theless, although he sought to show that while the Confucian teachings were wor-
24
I stress this point in view of the fact that Han Yeong-u explicitly stated that “the Hyeonjeong non
is not a refutation of the Bulssi japbyeon.” See Hanʼs Jeong Dojeon, p. 53, note. I see Hanʼs view
as being accurate only in a very strict sense. It is no doubt true that Gihwa did not sit down upon
the publication of the Japbyeon and write an immediate, point-by-point rebuttal. In 1398, when
Jeong wrote the Japbyeon, Gihwa would have been twenty-two, a mere novice in Buddhism. Yet
even though Gihwa never directly names Jeong or his treatise, the fact Jeong was a faculty member
of the Seongyun-gwan at the time that Gihwa was a student would make it a virtual impossibility
for Gihwa not to have read the text. Furthermore, in the HJN Gihwa directly replies to all of the
Japbyeonʼs accusations, using mimicry that directly alludes to Jeongʼs text.
thy of deep respect, he argued that the Confucians had often missed the deeper
implications of their own texts.
5 The Texts: Content Analysis
5.1 Bulssi Japbyeon
The chapter headings of the Bulssi japbyeon are as follows:

1. Critique of the Buddhist Doctrine of Transmigration 佛氏輪迴之辨
2. Critique of the Buddhist Notion of Karma 佛氏因果之辨
3. Critique of the Buddhist Theory of Mind and Nature 佛氏心性之辨
4. Critique of the Buddhistsʼ Conflation of Function and Nature 佛氏作用是性
之辨
5. Critique of the Buddhist Notion of the Mind and its Functions 佛氏心跡之辨
6. Critique of the Buddhistsʼ Obscuration of Principles and Concrete Entities 佛
氏昧於道器之辨
7. Critique of the Buddhistsʼ Abandonment of the Basic Human Relationships 佛
氏毀棄人倫之辨
8. Critique of the Buddhist Notion of Compassion 佛氏慈悲之辨
9. Critique of the Buddhist Notions of the Real and the Nominal 佛氏眞假之辨
10. Critique of the Buddhist Notion of Hells 佛氏地獄之辨
11. Critique of the Buddhist Notion of Calamity and Fortune 佛氏禍福之辨
12. Critique of the Buddhistsʼ Practice of Begging for Food 佛氏乞食之辨
13. Critique of the Buddhistsʼ Seon Teachings 佛氏禪教之辨
14. Critique of the Samenesses and Differences between Confucianism and

Buddhism 儒釋同異之辨
15. On the Entry of the Buddhadharma into China 佛法入中國
16. Serve the Buddha and Reap Misfortune 事佛得禍
17. Abandoning the Heavenly Way and Chatting about Buddhahood 舍天道而談
佛果
18. Serving the Buddha Assiduously, the Length of Reign Considerably Shortens
事佛甚謹年代尤促
19. Critique to Expose Heterodox Teachings 闢異端之辨
Jeong starts off, in the first two chapters of his treatise, with a critique of the
Indian notions of karma and transmigration, arguing against these “foreign” Indian
paradigms, based on Chinese cosmological schema such as were developed in con-
nection with the Yijing and its commentaries: yin/yang, the five phases (Ch. wuxing
五行), hun 魂 and po 魄 souls, etc. These chapters do not offer much to establish a
metaphysical high ground for Confucianism, as Jeongʼs proof rests on such asser-
tions as a declaration for the non-increase or decrease for the total number of beings
in the world at a given time—positions that were never really articulated as such in
the foundational Confucian works. He does make a point, however, in bringing to
298 A. C. Muller
mind the fact that when it comes to practical matters, such as the healing of disease,
virtually all East Asians of the time, Buddhists included, rely on Chinese yin/yang
cosmology in the form of traditional medicinal practices.
It is in the third through fifth chapters that he really drives into the core of his
philosophical argument, as he attacks Buddhism at one of its traditional weak
points: that of the contradictory character of the discourse on the nature and the
mind as found in the tathāgatagarbha-influenced texts such as the Awakening of
Mahāyāna Faith and Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment—based on an argument that he
had previously fleshed out in the Simgiri pyeon 心氣理篇. He provides textual
examples from the Śūraṃgama-sūtra and from the writings of Jinul that seem
to show inconsistencies between the various accounts of the relation between the
mind 心 (K. sim) and the nature 性 (K. seong). As Jeong shows in a series of cita-
tions, in one place, the nature is equivalent to the mind; in another, it is an aspect of
the mind, a principle contained in the mind, and then in another place, a function of
the mind. Referring to the disparities and circular reasoning that he finds in the
Buddhist descriptions of the nature, he says:
“[The Buddhist explanations regarding the nature are] all done based on nebulous supposi-
tion, rather than on explicit facts. The teachings of the Buddhists have lots of word play, but
lack a definitive doctrine, and through this, their actual intentions can be understood”. (SBJ
1.78b).
The Confucian teachings, are, by contrast, consistent from beginning to end. They
clearly distinguish between the mind and its nature, between principle and external
events. They allow for clear value and evaluation, with uniformity throughout.
A similar theme runs into the fourth chapter, where Jeong criticizes Buddhists, in
this case, especially Chan Buddhists, for conflating the notion of nature with that of
mundane function, citing the likes of Layman Pang, who said: “Hauling water and
carrying firewood are nothing but marvelous function” (SBJ 1.78d). Jeong here
relies on Zhu Xi, who said: “If you take functional activity to be [the same as] the
nature, then are not peoplesʼ irresponsible actions such as taking a sword to murder
someone and transgressing the Way [also] the nature?” (SBJ 1.79b). This line of
argumentation continues on into chapter six, where the focus is placed directly on
the relationship between the mind and its external/functional manifestations. To
clarify the Confucian position (which Jeong argues is rationally and metaphysically
consistent), he cites the Mencian “four beginnings” (K. sadan 四端) that are innate
to humans, along with their four directly associated manifest functions of humane-
ness (in 仁), propriety (i 禮), due-giving (ui 義), and wisdom (ji 智). The Buddhists,
by contrast, espouse doctrines that dissociate the innate capacities of the mind from
the manifestations of human activity. This chapter contains the passage that consti-
tutes the crux of Jeongʼs argument. He says:
“It is like the saying ‘essence and function spring from the same source; the manifest and
the subtle have no gap between them.’25 The Buddhist method of study addresses the mind,
but does not address its manifestations. This can be seen in the Buddhistsʼ saying things like
In Zhu Xiʼs Chuanxilu 體用一原、顯微無間 is identified as a citation from Cheng Yi, but I have
25
not yet located it.

‘The bodhisattva Mañjuśrī wanders through the taverns, but these activities are not his
mind.’ Excuses like this for sloppy behavior abound [in the Buddhist teachings]. Is this not
a separation of the mind from its activities? Chengzi said: ‘The study of the Buddhists
includes reverence to correct the internal, but does not include justice to straighten the
external.’26 Therefore those who are stuck in these [incorrect views] wither away. "(SBJ
1.79c–d)
Jeongʼs critique runs through several chapters, addressing issues such as the
Buddhistsʼ abandonment of societal obligations, perverted application of the notion
of “compassion,” criticism of the idea of two levels of reality, the practice of beg-
ging, and most of all, the perceived escapist and nihilistic views of Chan. But all can
be summarized with Jeongʼs understanding of the components of the Buddhist doc-
trine to be disconnected from each other, of being contradictory, conveniently used
for excusing responsibility, of not providing a viable system of values. Confucianism,
by contrast, is completely aligned through essence and function, is unitary, without
contradictions, teaches a concrete system of values, articulating a clear relationship
between inner and outer.
5.2 Hyeonjeong Non
The section titles for the Hyeonjeong non are as follows:27

1. Prologue
2. Distinctions in Levels of Teaching
3. The Constant and the Expedient
4. Śākyamuniʼs Attainment of Freedom from Attachment
5. Societal Obligations
6. Harming Life
7. The Meaning of Humaneness
8. Drinking Alcohol
9. Making Offerings
10. Defense of the Doctrine of Karma and Rebirth
11. Defense of the Buddhist Practice of Cremation
12. Refutation of the Complaint against Buddhism as a Foreign Religion
13. Refutation of the Accusation of Buddhism as a Harbinger of Calamity
14. Refutation of the Accusation of Monks being Parasites
15. Refutation of the Charge of Decadence in the Saṃgha
16. Refutation of the Charges of Nihilism and Antinomianism
26
“Correcting the internal with reverence, correcting the external with due-giving.” is a repeated
aphorism found in the texts of the Cheng brothers, Zhu Xi, and many other Neo-Confucianism
writers, originally drawn from the Yijing: in the text of kun 坤, the second hexagram. See Wilhelm,
p. 393.
27
Note that unlike the Bulssi japbyeon, the Hyeonjeong non does not have its own section headings
supplied by its author. The heading titles below are my own suggestions.
300 A. C. Muller
17. The Unity of the Three Teachings

To set the stage for his argument, Gihwa goes to some lengths to clarify the Buddhist
position on the nature of the mind and the relevance of and gradations of methods
of practices—basically summarizing the view of mind that is expressed in the fun-
damental East Asian Buddhist scriptures, the Awakening of Mahāyāna Faith, Sutra
of Perfect Enlightenment, etc. That is, that the mind is originally pure, but when it
moves into activity, it has the potential to be distorted. Gihwa opens the Hyeonjeong
non by saying:
“Though its essence neither exists nor not-exists, it permeates existence and non-existence.
Though it originally lacks past and present, it permeates past and present: this is the Dao.
Existence and non-existence are based in nature and sentiency. Past and present are based
in life-and-death. The nature originally lacks sentiency, but when you are confused about
the nature you give rise to sentiency; with the production of sentiency, wisdom is blocked—
thoughts transform, and the essence is differentiated. It is through this that the myriad forms
take shape and life-and-death begin”. (HBJ 7.217a)
In this way, Gihwa starts off by grounding his argument in an essence-function view
of the mind and its activities. The mind is originally pure, but as it engages in situa-
tions, it can become enmeshed in the troubles of mundane life. As Zongmi had well
clarified more than five centuries earlier, for the purpose of recovering the original
mind, Buddhism has a wide spectrum of practices, which range from the most expe-
dient and superficial, to the most profound. In outlining the teaching starting from
the most profound and extending to the most superficial teachings, he ends up with
the teaching of the law of cause and effect. As it was stated in the Inquiry, this teach-
ing, however, no matter how superficial, is one level above the typical application of
the Confucian teaching, which he defines as the mere conditioning of people through
reward and punishment on the part of the state. But he later shifts his position and
shows how the true, correctly understood Confucian teaching, when applied with
the right understanding, can also extend to profound levels. This, Gihwa does to an
extent not seen in Zongmiʼs Inquiry.
The Hyeonjeong non is markedly conciliatory in tone compared to the Japbyeon.
Gihwa has no intention of entirely discrediting the Confucian tradition. Rather, his
aim is to point out the underlying unity of the three teachings and to see them as
varying expressions of a mysterious unifying principle. He will not say that the
Confucian teachings fundamentally are wrong, as he believes they serve an impor-
tant purpose. Unfortunately, however, they have been incorrectly understood and
practiced by even the most important figures of their own tradition.
Gihwa defends the charges made against Buddhist practices that are seen to be
antisocial, such as the abandonment of family relationships, by showing how they
are actually helpful to society, rather than harmful, when practiced correctly.
Responsibility for excesses indulged in by saṃgha members is laid upon the offend-
ers as individuals making their own decisions, rather than upon the tradition as a
whole. Jeongʼs criticisms of the Buddhist doctrines of karma and causation are dealt
with by logical argumentation, showing that the law of cause and effect cannot but
be universally valid; criticisms of the doctrine of rebirth are defended with anec-
dotes of people who have memories of past lives.
The core of Gihwaʼs argument lies in the presentation of what he takes as com-
mon denominator of all three traditions (Confucianism, Daoism and Buddhism): a
doctrine of humaneness (K. in; 仁), based on the ubiquitously-expressed assertion
that the myriad living beings of the universe are deeply interlinked with one another.
While notion of the mutual containment of the myriad things is ostensibly Buddhist
in origin, it ended up being one of the central tenets of the most influential of the
Song Neo-Confucian founders, including Zhou Dunyi and the Cheng brothers, and
especially Cheng Hao, who declared that “the myriad things and I form a single
body.”28 With this being the characteristic and seminal Neo-Confucian development
of the Confucian/Mencian “humaneness,” Gihwa finds an inconsistency between
what Confucians say and what they do, and makes this point the central issue of his
essay.
Buddhism and (Neo-)Confucianism share in the view that it is fundamentally
wrong to harm others. Since others are intimately connected with oneself, harming
others is the same as harming oneself. Buddhists have the doctrine of ahiṃsā (non-
injury) at the core of their practice of moral discipline, and this is observed in all
Buddhist practices. Confucians, on the other hand, take humaneness as the most
fundamental element to their path of cultivation. Confucius himself continually
referred to humaneness as the source of all forms of goodness. Mencius made it
clear that humaneness was innate to all people, explaining its function through a
variety of metaphors, the best known being that of the stranger who automatically
rushes to prevent a toddler from falling into a well.
However, Gihwa says, the Confucian corpus riddled with inconsistencies on this
matter. For example, although Cheng Hao has told us that humaneness means that
we form a single body with the myriad things, Confucius himself only went halfway
in his practice of single-bodiedness, as he still enjoyed the sports of hunting and
fishing.29 For Mencius, the taking of life of an animal was not problematic for the
humane man, as long as he didnʼt hear the animalʼs screams in its death throes.30
And, in general, the Confucian tradition fully endorsed the practices of ritual sacri-
fice. Gihwa says:
“[Since animals share, with people] the sense of aversion to being killed, how do they differ
from human beings? With the sound of ripping flesh and the cutting of the knife, they are in
utter fright as they approach their death. Their eyes are wild and they cry out in agony. How
could they not harbor bitterness and resentment? And yet people are able to turn a deaf ear.
In this way human beings and the creatures of the world affect each other without aware-
28
Henan Er Cheng yishu, p. 15. Also see Wing-tsit Chan, A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy,
p. 530, sec. 11. No doubt Gihwa focuses on this particular citation partly because it comes from the
same section of Cheng Haoʼs Yishu that contains most of the philosophical arguments that form the
basis for Jeongʼs arguments in the Japbyeon.
29
Analects 7:27 says: “When fishing, the Master would not use a net; when hunting, he would not
shoot at a perched bird.”
30
Mencius 1A:7 says: “The Superior Man keeps his distance from the kitchen, for if he hears the
screams of slaughtered beasts, he cannot stand to eat their meat.”
302 A. C. Muller
ness and bring retribution to each other each other without pause. How could a humane
person, observing such suffering, continue to act as if nothing was wrong?” (HBJ
7.220a–b)
As Gihwa goes on to tell us, it was precisely the difference on this point that
turned him toward Buddhism during the time when he was weighing the two sys-
tems in the balance.
“One time, during the period when I still had not yet entered the Buddhist order, a monk
named Haeweol 海月 was reading the Analects to me. He reached the passage that says:
[Zi Gong asked:] ‘Suppose there were a ruler who benefited the people far and wide and
was capable of bringing salvation to the multitude; what would you think of him? Might he
be called humane’? The Master said, ‘Why only humane? He would undoubtedly be a sage.
Even Yao and Shun would have had to work hard to achieve this’” (Analects 6:28.)
Haeweol commented: ‘The humane man forms a single body with heaven and earth and
the myriad things’ With this, he put the scroll aside and asked me: ‘Was Mencius a humane
man?’ ‘Yes,” I replied. ‘Are ‘fowl, pigs, dogs, and swine’ to be counted among the ‘myriad
things?’ ‘Yes’ I replied. [Haeweol continued, citing Cheng Hao:] ‘The humane man forms
a single body with heaven and earth and the myriad things.’ If this statement is to be taken
as a true expression of the principle, how are we supposed to see Mencius as humane? If
‘fowl, pigs, dogs, and swine’ are to be counted among the ‘myriad things’ then how could
Mencius say: ‘If, in the raising of fowl, pigs, dogs, and swine, their breeding times are not
missed, then people in their seventies can eat meat.’(Mencius 1A:3) I was completely sty-
mied by this question, and could not answer. I pondered over all of the classical transmis-
sions, and could not come up with a single text that could support a principle that condoned
the taking of life. I inquired widely among the brightest thinkers of the day, but not one of
them could offer an explanation that could resolve my perplexity.
This doubt remained buried within my mind for a long time without being resolved.
Then, while traveling around Samgak-san in 1396, I arrived at Seunggasa 僧伽寺, where I
had the chance to chat with an old Seon monk throughout the night. The monk said: ‘In
Buddhism there are ten grave precepts, the first of which is to not take life.’ Upon hearing
this explanation, my mind was suddenly overturned, and I recognized for myself that this
was indeed the behavior of the truly humane man. I was hereupon able to deeply embody
the teachings of the Way of humanity. From this time forth, I was never again to be confused
regarding the differences between Confucianism and Buddhism. I subsequently composed
a verse, which went:
‘Up till now, knowing only the teachings of the classics and histories
And the criticisms of the Chengs and Zhu,
I was unable to recognize whether the Buddha was wrong or right.
But after reflecting deep in my mind for long years,
Knowing the truth for the first time, I reject [Confucianism]
And take refuge in [the Buddhadharma].’” (HBJ 7.220a3–18)
The charge, then, that Gihwa will lay on the Confucians, is strikingly similar to
that which Jeong wants to apply the Buddhists, in that both want to show the other
side to be guilty of inconsistency. The difference, however, is that Jeong wants to
point out inconsistencies in the Buddhist doctrine in itself, where Gihwa centers his
argument on showing inconsistencies between Confucian doctrine and practice.
That is, Confucians say one thing, but do another. Gihwaʼs final pronouncement of
his treatise, however, is the conclusion that the three teachings should be understood
as three types of expression of the same reality. Here he no doubt had in mind the
concluding chapter of the Bulssi japbyeon, “Criticism of the Differences between
Buddhism and Confucianism” (“Yuseok dong-i ji byeon”; 儒釋同異之辨). There,

Jeong gives a final summation of all the ways that the Buddhist teaching is vacuous
and nihilistic and thus inferior to Confucianism, which is substantial and consistent
throughout. Jeong says:
“Prior Confucian scholars have [already] shown that the Confucian and Buddhist paths dif-
fer with every single phrase and every single situation. Here I will elaborate based on these.
We say voidness, and they also say voidness. We say quiescence, and they also say quies-
cence. However, our voidness is void yet existent. Their voidness is void and non-existent.
Our quiescence is quiescent yet aware; their quiescence is quiescent and nihilating. We
speak of knowledge and action; they speak of awakening and cultivation. Yet our knowl-
edge is to know that the principle of the myriad things is replete in our own minds. Their
awakening awakens to the fact that the mind that is originally empty, lacking anything. Our
action is to return to the principle of the myriad things and act according to it, without error.
Their cultivation is to sever connection with the myriad things and regard them as uncon-
nected to oneʼs mind.” (SBJ 1.84a)
Gihwa, in obvious reference to Jeongʼs summation, also concludes his own argu-
ment by focusing on these two concepts of voidness and quiescence (and this sec-
tion provides the most solid evidence that Gihwa was most certainly responding to
Jeong when he wrote this piece) by showing instead that the connotations of these
terms are basically the same throughout all three traditions and that at their most
fundamental level, the three are equally valid approaches to the same reality.
“If you can grasp this, then the words of the three teachers fit together like the broken pieces
of the same board—as if they had all come out of the same mouth! If you would like to
actually demonstrate the high and low among these teachings, exposing their points of simi-
larity and difference clearly in their actual function, then you must first completely wash the
pollution from your mind and completely clarify your eye of wisdom. Then you can study
all of the texts contained in the Buddhist, Confucian, and Daoist canons. Compare them in
your daily activities, at the times of birth and death, fortune and misfortune. Without need-
ing words, you will spontaneously nod in assent. How strong do I need to make my argu-
ment to get the prince to listen?” (HBJ 7.225b)
The much softer stance of Gihwa can be attributable to various factors. First,
throughout all of East Asia, it had never been part of the Buddhist agenda to expend
energy in debunking the Confucian tradition, it was, indeed, the tradition of the
Chinese and the Koreans.31 Although Gihwa, who had taken his literary training in
a Confucian academy, eventually opted for Buddhism to complete his spiritual
quest, he never lost his deep respect for the more profound aspects of both
Confucianism and Daoism. Indeed, he cites from the Chinese classics with regular-
ity in his Buddhist commentaries. We might even imagine that it may have pained
him considerably to be forced into the position of having to criticize Confucianism
in the Hyeonjeong non.
31
A good example for this point is the Inquiry, which includes an important chapter on the relation-
ship of the three teachings. While Zongmi includes Confucianism and Daoism in the status of a
lower order than the Buddhist teachings, they are nonetheless taken to be part of a continuum of
ultimately valid teachings. Like Gihwa, Zongmi was noted for the depth of his Confucian learning
prior to his entering the Buddhist order.
304 A. C. Muller
6 S
ome Philosophical Observations on the Background
of the Debate
The two texts that we have looked at above together represent a pivotal moment in
Korean intellectual history, and thus their titles and authors are quite often known to
modern-day Korean intellectuals from many areas in the humanities—not only spe-
cialists in philosophy and religion. But they are also important for the degree in
which they encapsulate, to some degree, much of the history of East Asian thought
in general. They can also be seen as important from the perspective of world phi-
losophy and religion in general, in the sense that they constitute a rational, sus-
tained, and substantive debate between members of different religious or
philosophical systems. This kind of debate between members of different religious
traditions does not happen all that often in the world—interactions between reli-
gious traditions are more often typified by outright fighting, even war, or superficial
attempts at simple co-existence.
This is because the phenomenon of interreligious debate necessarily includes
certain conditions. One is basic physical proximity—the fact that the traditions are
forced to compete with each other for adherents within the same society. This forces
them to deal with each other, whether or not it is in an amiable manner.
But more important, for such debate to occur, is the existence of a shared world-
view, a shared vocabulary, and some sharing in basic values. We can see a one of the
best examples of such a situation in ancient India, where Buddhists, Jainas,
Sāṃkhyas, Vedantists, and members of other Indian philosophical traditions
engaged with each other in public debate. They were able to do this based on the
fact that they shared a number of important principles in their worldviews: belief in
the eternal return of the soul; belief in the liberation of the human being through the
practice of a path (mārga) and the following of a proper set of beliefs (darśana).
They even went as far as to agree upon some ground rules of debate, known as
nyāya.
In similar fashion, the Confucians and Buddhists—as well as the Daoists in East
Asia—clearly shared in some important principles. And perhaps it takes someone
who comes from outside of the tradition to see it from a removed vantage point, but
this reader at least, picks up in this discourse a clear sharing of a principle, that of
ti-yong, or essence-function.
Essence-function is a characteristic traditional East Asian way of interpreting the
world, society, events, phenomena, and the human being, that understands all things
to have two contrasting, yet wholly contiguous and mutually containing aspects: (1)
an underlying, deeper, more fundamental, hidden aspect, called in Chinese ti (體 K.
che) usually translated into English as “essence,” or “substance,” and (2) a visibly
manifest, surface aspect, called yong (用 K. yong) translated into English as “func-
tion” or “activity.” This pair has many analogs in East Asian thought, one of the
earliest and most readily recognizable being the “roots and branches” 本末 para-
digm taught in the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), epitomized in the line that says
“Things have their roots and branches, affairs have their end and beginning. When
you know what comes first and what comes last, then you are near the Way.” It can
also be seen in Confucianism in the pair of “nature” (Ch. xing 性) and “emotions”
(Ch. qing 情) which are foregrounded in the opening passage of the Doctrine of the
Mean, as well as the relationship between “humaneness” and “propriety” 禮 (Ch. li;
K. ye) taught in the Analects.32
In the Daode jing, analogous pairs abound that express the dynamic relation of
inner/outer, or fundamental/superficial, most prominent among these being the
notions of the Way 道 (Ch. dao) and its power 德 (Ch. de), as well as the “white” 白
(Ch. bai) and the “black” 黑 (Ch. hei),33 the uncarved block 樸 (Ch. pu) and the
implements carved from it 器 (Ch. qi), etc. Later on, when Buddhism becomes
thoroughly Sinified, the same paradigm finds expression in a general manner in the
pairs of nature 性 (Ch. xing)/aspects 相 (Ch. xiang), and in specifically in Huayan
Buddhism, principle 理 (Ch. li) and phenomena 事 (Ch. shi).34
If we reflect on the two treatises presented above, we can see that although their
positions differ regarding practice and interpretation of the doctrine, both Jeong and
Gihwa fully agree on the basic essence-function structure of the human being,
human development, and practice. Both assume the existence of a good mind that
can be developed to a high level of purity and wisdom by engagement in a given set
of practices. And they both must operate within the basic vocabulary of roots and
branches, nature and emotions, principle and material force, or—essence and func-
tion. Neither proponent says that the otherʼs categories are wrong—the categories
themselves are accepted. It is in their interpretation and practice that they are wrong.
Jeong accuses the Buddhists of being inconsistent in their definitions of these terms.
Gihwa accuses the Confucians of being inconsistent in terms of doctrine and prac-
tice. But they are functioning in the same worldview, and thus they can argue.35
32
Those who are familiar with the influential little book The Secular as Sacred, written a genera-
tion ago by Herbert Fingarette, will recognize that I am here disagreeing with the central tenet
expressed in that work—that it is the concept of propriety that is most fundamental to the world-
view of the Confucian classics, with ren having only secondary significance. Fingarette was duly
praised for his interesting and profound analyses regarding the pervasiveness of the unconscious
uses of propriety, not only in ancient Chinese society, but society in general. But in his prioritiza-
tion of li over ren, he ignores a mountain of evidence in the Confucian classical texts that belies his
position, as the textual evidence in the Analects that points to a greater “psychological interiority”
for ren than the other virtues of the sage or junzi is overwhelming. And to merely state that ren is
more internal, deeper than the other virtues is to stop short—as the relation between ren and the
other virtues is quintessentially tiyong in its nature.
33
It is notable that in traditional East Asian thought, the relationship of black and white markedly
distinguished from the common association seen in the West where black tends to be associated
with evil and white with good. From the earliest periods of East Asian history, black (also written
with the ideograph xuan 玄) has the connotations of depths, profundity, mastery, etc., while white
tends to be associated with superficiality.
34
On the role of li in Chinese thought, see Ziporyn, “Coherence.”
35
For those who have an interest in the ti-yong paradigm, I have published a few articles devoted
to this topic that are available through my web site at http://www.acmuller.net/articles-shisou.html.
Sung Bae Park has published a full-length work devoted to this discussion of ti-yong: One Korean’s
Approach to Buddhism: The Mom/Momjit Paradigm, with mom/momjit being the equivalent
Korean vernacular terms.
306 A. C. Muller
7 Aftermath
Modern scholarship in both Korea and the West has long gotten past the mistaken
perception that Buddhism was entirely suppressed during the Joseon periods, as
political leaders as well as regular people openly engaged in Buddhist practice.36
The Confucian arguments had been pretty much exhausted in the Bulssi japbyeon,
and so no major polemical publications appeared from the Confucian side after-
ward. Buddhists, on the other hand, fully adopted Gihwaʼs “essential unity of the
three teachings” approach. The most important representative work of this type is
Hyujeongʼs Samga gwigam 三家龜鑑37 which takes the three teachings as fitting
together to form a large system of spiritual cultivation. Buddhism is taken as a more
essential (ti, che) teaching, Confucianism as a more functional (yong) teaching, with
Daoism occupying the place in between. It can be said that this general view of the
three teachings prevails down to the present day.
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SBJ = Sambong Jip 三峯集
T = Taishō Shinshū Daizōkyō 大正新脩大藏經
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Chapter 14
A Meeting of Extremes: The Symbiosis
of Confucians and Shamans
Boudewijn C. A. Walraven
1 Introduction
It is commonly assumed that shamanism was the original religion of the inhabitants
of the Korean peninsula before Buddhism, Confucianism and Daoism were intro-
duced from China, where ecstatic religion, usually referred to as shamanism, also is
supposed to have been a most ancient form of religion.1 Although this cannot be
confidently rejected, we have first of all to recognize that our knowledge of the
original native religion of Korea is extremely limited and that we possess only scant
information concerning the concrete rituals and beliefs of this religion. We therefore
lack firm proof that it equaled shamanism, even if we have some evidence of the
presence of figures that perhaps may be called shamans.2 The oldest sources we
have are Chinese, the earliest of them dating back to the Han dynasty, and mention
a variety of cults of the peoples on the Korean peninsula, of celestial bodies and
different kinds of spirits and ancestors, but hardly refer to shamans. When the pres-
ence of shamans is noted, it is in the age when the kingdoms on the Korean penin-
sula already had been influenced by Confucianism, Buddhism and Daoism. The Xin
Tangshu (New Standard History of the Tang) mentions that in the final days of
Koguryŏ a shaman in an oracle conveyed the pleasure of Chumong, the dynastic
founder who was worshiped in a shrine inside a Liaodong fortress, when he was
presented with a beautiful woman as a bride and (incorrectly) assured the defenders
1
This chapter draws to a large extent on two earlier treatments of this subject of my hand (Walraven
1991–1992 and Walraven 1999). For ecstatic religion in China, see Paper 1995, and Loewe 2005:
Chapter 10.
2
For a warning against equaling shamanism too easily with the indigenous religion of ancient
Korea, see McBride 2006.
B. C. A. Walraven (*)
Academy of East Asian Studies, Sungkyunkwan University, Seoul, Republic of Korea

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_14
312 B. C. A. Walraven
of the fortress that it would not fall.3 We do find a few more references to mu 巫,
usually translated as shaman, in the oldest Korean sources at our disposal, the
Samguk sagi (Histories of the Three Kingdoms) and Samguk yusa (Vestiges of the
Three Kingdoms), compiled in the twelfth and thirteenth century. The information
they provide, however, is extremely limited. These histories are of course of a much
later date than the events they record (although based on older material) and were
heavily influenced by Confucianism and Buddhism. Secondly, there is no doubt that
whatever the original nature of the native religion, the advent of the new faiths, with
their wealth of scriptures and institutional structures, together with the changes in
social and political configurations that accompanied their acceptance, substantially
altered the nature of indigenous religious beliefs and practices. Even if we agree that
figures that might be called shamans existed before and after the changes, we may
wonder to which extent we really witness the same phenomenon on both sides of
this watershed.
Although it is commonly accepted usage, we also must consider whether there is
sufficient justification to use the terms shaman and shamanism with reference to
Korea. One might sidestep this problem by using the terms the Chinese and Koreans
have used: wu 巫 in China and mu, mudang 巫堂 (a term that was originally used to
refer to a shamanic shrine rather than a person4), munyŏ 巫女 (“mu woman”) or
mugyŏk 巫覡 (“male mu”) in Korea. For both China and Korea, there is some dis-
pute whether these religious specialists more properly ought to be called mediums
rather than shamans.5 It is certain that if we accept Mircea Eliade’s concept of a
“true shaman” (someone whose spirit is supposed to leave his body through the
technique of ecstasy to travel to celestial realms) one cannot refer to Korean practi-
tioners as shamans (Eliade 1974: 22). But there is no need to cling to the definition
dictated by Eliade (who in some ways was more of a theologian than an empirical
researcher) and in recent decades most anthropologists have preferred definitions
that emphasize the social role of the shaman as an intermediary. A characterization
of the activities of the shaman I consider most useful for comparative purposes, and
which accommodates the Korean mudang without problem, has been presented by
Roberte Hamayon (Hamayon 1991):
Shamanism is a symbolic system founded on a dualist conception of the world which
implies that mankind entertains relations of alliance and exchange with supernatural beings
that are thought to govern human beings, [supernatural beings] on whom its survival
depends, [or] more generally [on which depend] the factors of uncertainty in its existence.
The shaman assumes general responsibility for this system of alliance and exchange with
the supernatural, which on his [or her] part demands a personal skill…6
3
Xin Tangshu, “Dongyichuan: Gaoli”.
4
An alternative way to write mudang with Chinese characters is 巫黨. In this case it refers to sha-
mans in the plural.
5
For a discussion about the possible distinction between shamans and mediums, see Jordan Paper
1995.
6
Translation as in Walraven 2009, where there is also a more detailed discussion of Hamayon’s
concept of the shaman.
14 A Meeting of Extremes: The Symbiosis of Confucians and Shamans 313
This definition completely bypasses the question whether the “personal skill”
involves ecstasy or possession. Mudang are able to mediate between our world and
the invisible on behalf of others because a very personal experience allows them to
become possessed by deities and spirits, and thus may be included in the category
of shamans. The term medium is less apt, because it suggests a passive role and the
possession of Korean shamans is voluntary and completely controlled by the sha-
mans themselves. Unlike cases in which a medium is controlled by another practi-
tioner who directs the proceedings (as, for instance, is seen more frequently in Japan
or Vietnam), in Korea it is generally the possessed shaman who takes the lead in
every step of the ritual (Walraven 1993b).7 It is also makes more sense to speak of
shamans rather than mediums if we consider the various functions Korean shamans
have. On the basis of their ability to communicate with the supernatural they do not
only transmit the words of deities and spirits (although this is an essential part of
their activities), but also act as diviners, priests who conduct sacrifices, guides who
conduct the spirits of the dead to a place of rest, healers and counselors, and, not to
forget, entertainers of gods and men alike (Kendall 1991–1992).
2 S
hamanism in Coexistence with Confucianism
and Buddhism
While it is very difficult to say anything with certainty about the shamans of the
very earliest stages of Korean history, it appears likely that before Buddhism and
Confucianism were introduced in the Three Kingdoms shamanic ritual occupied a
more or less prominent place at the center of power, and then in later years was
gradually pushed out of the realm of state ritual and increasingly came to serve the
needs of individuals and their families, or of non-elite and marginal groups. This
was a very slow process that extended over many centuries, but its direction is
clearly discernible in the longue durée. It may also be described as the creation of
popular religion as opposed to elite forms of religiosity or Weltanschauung. Yet one
should remember that shamanism never became the exclusive domain of popular
religion, which also included certain practices within Buddhism and even
Confucianism (Dix 1977; Yi Yong Bhum 2015), not to mention traditional beliefs
that existed independent of the practices of the shamans (even if they are often
labeled as “shamanic” or “Daoist” merely because they do not agree with the prefer-
ences of the elite).
7
Cf. Ching 1993: 43. In the twentieth century scholars have classified Korean shamans as pos-
sessed shamans, kangshin mu 降神巫, (predominantly in the northern part of the country) and
hereditary shamans, sesŭp mu 世襲巫 (mainly in the south). In the latter case, the mudang tend to
be the persons who control mediums (often family members of the deceased). The distinction has
been relativized in recent research and is difficult to attest in older sources. The sixteenth-century
diary Mukchae ilgi 默齋日記, however, seems to contain instances of both types of possession (Yi
Pokkyu 1999: 63–65).
One important factor in the changes that came with the introduction of Buddhism,
Confucianism and Daoism was the spread of literacy. With their scriptures these
systems of thought stimulated the acquisition of a competence in reading and writ-
ing in Koguryŏ, Paekche and Shilla, even if this required great effort as it simultane-
ously involved learning the foreign language of Chinese.8 With the scriptures,
moreover, came a new source of authority, which did not rely on personal charisma
(a typical characteristic of a successful shaman) and allowed the literate to build
their influence and power on the foundation of an impressive extended canon of
writings, a storehouse not only of accumulated wisdom and ideas, but also of aes-
thetic values and the charisma of tradition. There is no reason to assume that sha-
mans would, in principle, not be capable of gaining access to this written culture,
but in practice those who devoted vast amounts of time to learning how to handle
written Chinese would absorb the values of the systems they studied and be discour-
aged from following any inclination toward the following of shamanic tradition they
might have. They would also become involved in more complex, hierarchically
structured social configurations that would discourage a reliance on the spontaneity
of direct access to the world of the spirits that is characteristic of shamanism. This
access can be acquired by persons from whatever social status, however lowly,
through a very personal “calling” in the form of the so-called shamanic illness
(interpreted as the instrument through which the gods force a person to accept the
call).
In this way shamanism in the end turned into predominantly oral “popular reli-
gion” and the rituals of the shamans became representative of the less privileged
layers of society, and of women irrespective of social class, in short of those who
could derive less solace from elite culture than upper-class men. Another way to
describe the divergence is to say that shamanism served the personal needs of indi-
viduals and their families, while Confucianism predominantly served larger estab-
lished social and political structures and emphasized the duties of individuals and
families within these structures. The role of Buddhism was more ambiguous. It
could do both, attracting persons who valued scriptures and a philosophy that went
beyond individual desires, while also allowing devotion and prayer for the fulfil-
ment of urgent personal wishes. Because of the latter it was closer to shamanism
and therefore it is not surprising that shamans adopted numerous elements of
Buddhism for their own purposes.9 In this way Confucianism and shamanism grad-
ually turned into the two opposite poles of Korean society, with Buddhism in an
intermediate position.
Most commonly popular beliefs involved prayers for certain benefits in this
world, prayers for happiness. Members of the elite, who would be inclined to favor
the common good as it was promoted by the ethical prescriptions of their own faith
or ideology, tended to reject such beliefs, which they judged to be selfish (while
8
Chinese characters were sometimes used to write Korean, but this was quite cumbersome because
of the very different nature of the Chinese and Korean languages and little was written in this way.
9
E.g., Koryŏsa kw. 111, “Yŏlchŏn 24: Yu T’ak,” about a shaman who said she was the heavenly
ruler Indra.
conveniently ignoring the benefits they themselves might receive from the elite sys-
tem). Confucianism in particular tended to propagate self-cultivation (sushin 修身)
or the development of personal virtue (sudŏk 修德), as opposed to praying for hap-
piness (kibok 祈福) in whatever form. This sometimes leads people to assume that
popular beliefs and shamanism have no ethics and in this respect are inferior to
religions that are fully equipped with formalized ethical prescriptions. It is true that
popular religion does not possess explicit ethical commands, nor is self-cultivation
its primary aim, but that does not mean that its practices are amoral. As anthropolo-
gists will readily agree, there are no societies or subcultures without ethical norms.
The difference is that the ethics popular religion promotes tend to be those of soci-
ety at large (or a particular sub-group). In most cases the morality implicit in them
will be based on the principle of reciprocity, which is also at the foundation of most
systems of formalized ethics.
One consequence of the virtual elite monopoly on writing, particularly writing in
literary Chinese, the predominant form of writing until the final years of the Chosŏn
period, was that most documents we have about the religious beliefs and practices
of the common people have a strong bias in favor of the views of the educated ruling
class. This is particularly strong with regard to shamanism. Consequently, we are
presented with a highly prejudiced view of the shamans and possess, for instance,
very few traces of the rich oral literature of the shamans predating the twentieth
century. This literature included narrative songs about the origin of shaman deities,
which folklorists started to record only in modern times. In their motifs and struc-
ture these songs sometimes resemble the myths concerning the origin of the rulers
of the ancient Korean states and therefore they may be assumed to be the tail end of
a very long tradition, which goes back to the Three Kingdoms. Fieldwork by mod-
ern folklorists and anthropologists has been useful to overcome some of the preju-
dices against shamanism and gain a deeper understanding of the practices of the
mudang, but when it comes to a reconstruction of ancient shamanism this has obvi-
ous limitations.
3 Shamans in the Three Kingdoms and Unified Shilla
While the use of the term shaman is defensible if one adheres to Hamayon’s defini-
tion, it is useful to dwell briefly on the origin and use of the term wu, or as the
Chinese character for this word is pronounced in Korean, mu. The ideogram depicts
two persons who stand between two horizontal lines (linked by a vertical line) that
are assumed to represent heaven and earth, or the world of man and the supernatu-
ral.10 This accords perfectly with the shaman’s role as an intermediary between the
The two horizontal lines joined by the vertical line of course constitute the character kong
10
工 (work, worker), but that meaning seems less apt for the explanation of the character. The term
“supernatural” is used here for want of a better alternative. Actually heaven, too, generally was
seen as part of the natural order.
two sides of the universe (Hamayon’s dualist conception of the world). As long as
only this aspect of the shaman’s role is regarded, it also makes sense to consider
Tan’gun 檀君, the (mythical) founder of what is considered to be the oldest Korean
state and the grandson of the ruler of Heaven, as a shaman, although otherwise there
is nothing that links him to shamans as they are known in later Korean history.
However, pioneering scholar of Korean religions Yi Nŭnghwa, who in 1927 pub-
lished a concise study of shamanism that still is useful in many ways, saw the sha-
manism of his own times as a remnant of the original religion of the Korean people,
going back to Tan’gun, which he called shin’gyo 神教, “divine teaching.”11 This
was an idea that was current at the end of the nineteenth or in the early twentieth
century and went together with the suggestion that some contemporary aspects of
shamanism were due to a degeneration of the cult that originally had focused on
Tan’gun (Mudang naeryŏk 1996). As there is no evidential basis for this, this is best
considered an invented tradition. The idea that secular and spiritual power were
initially not separate is plausible, but in the absence of additional evidence caution
is advisable in characterizing Tan’gun as an early shaman.
What is crucial in a discussion of the relationship of shamanism and Confucianism
in the Three Kingdoms and later ages about which we have more information is the
aspect of power in connection with the intermediary role of the shaman. Before the
introduction of Buddhism and Confucianism, the leaders of the Three Kingdoms
quite likely combined political and spiritual power. In the case of Shilla, ch’ach’aung
or ch’ach’ung, the old appellation of King Namhae, is glossed explicitly in the
Samguk yusa as a term of respect for mu, and it is said that the mu were revered by
the people because they served the spirits (kwishin 鬼神).12 In later years, however,
there was a division of roles. The identification of kings with shamanic figures
became anathema, and yet the idea of the monarch as an intermediary between
heaven and earth remained. In the elite conception of the cosmos in East Asia as it
developed over time the ruler, the emperor or the king, became the exclusive link
between Heaven (generally seen as an impersonal force) and the world of man. The
ruler might delegate this role to his officials but would not tolerate its appropriation
by others. To a large proportion of the population, however, who would not have a
substantial stake in the establishment, this made the distance to the numinous much
too vast to soothe anxieties concerning Hamayon’s “factors of uncertainty in their
existence.” Here lies the simplest explanation of the continuous practice of sha-
manic ritual in spite of growing oppression, as the shamans offered an attractive
and, I would argue, satisfying shortcut to the intervention of the supernatural on
their behalf (Walraven 2002), which as will be shown below, in moments of need
was not disdained by the elites either.
11
Yi Nŭnghwa’s study of shamanism, “Chosŏn musokko,” originally appeared in the periodical
Kyemyŏng. The best modern edition, with translations of the original hanmun text, an introduction
and copious annotations, has been prepared by Sŏ Yŏngdae (Yi Nŭnghwa 2008: 71–72, 509).
Ch’oe Namsŏn, too, put forth the theory that Tan’gun was a shaman in his efforts to show that
ancient Korea was the center of a North-East Asian cultural sphere.
12
Samguk yusa kw. 1, “Namhae-wang”.
The sources at our disposal, which we should remember were redacted in the
later Koryŏ period, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, provide little information
about the transformation of the king from a shamanic intermediary to a Confucian
ruler, and hence we may assume that this took place quite early. The Samguk yusa,
however, contains an intriguing passage that might make us wonder to what extent
this may have been due to the bias of the sources. The record concerning the 49th
king of Shilla, Hŏn’gang 憲康王 (r. 875–886), is best known for the story of
Ch’ŏyong 處容, the son of the Dragon King, who by his father was sent to the capi-
tal of Shilla to assist the king and there got married to a woman who was so beauti-
ful that she was repeatedly preyed upon by concupiscent supernatural beings. The
song Ch’ŏyong sang to make a demon leave his wife’s bed is often cited as an early
example of a shamanic chant. What follows this episode in the narrative of the
Samguk yusa is, however, even more interesting in the present context.13 While
Hŏn’gang is on his way to a pavilion in the countryside, the deity of South Mountain
appears to him, dancing and singing. This was not visible to the king’s entourage,
but the king himself danced and sang to make it visible to the others. Later the Deity
of the Northern Peak appeared to the king, and the Earth Deity during a banquet in
the palace. In the Samguk yusa all this is regarded as presaging the fall of Shilla
(predicted in the song of the Mountain God, but not understood at the time) and
as explaining the origin of an exorcistic dance performed at court, but it is obvious
that the king, although he apparently failed to understand the meaning of the mes-
sage, in crucial ways acted like a shaman: while dancing and singing he transmitted
the words of a deity thanks to a special, personal connection with the supernatural.
It is an intriguing passage, although the evidence is insufficient to conclude that at
the time the rulers still commonly acted as shamans.
From the evidence we possess we may infer in any case that even in the early
days of the Three Kingdoms, Koguryŏ, Paekche and Shilla, there already was a
diversification of tasks, with certain tasks of the shamans being taken over by other
functionaries. If the earliest rulers indeed also acted as shamans, the emergence of
shamans as a separate group may have been one example of this. There are indica-
tions that initially these shamans were not seen as beings whose status was so low
that they could not transmit the will of deceased kings. When a shaman claimed to
convey a message from the Koguryŏ King Kogukch’ŏn 故國川王 (r. 179–197) this
was taken very seriously and action was taken accordingly.14 Later in Korean history
shamans who presumed to channel the words of kings after their demise risked
severe punishment. There was a differentiation of functions in other respects as well
(Ch’oe Chongsŏng 2002b).15 This was certainly the case in the realm of ritual,
where Buddhist monks assumed a leading role. The performance of ritual also
became part of the duties of court officials. In this respect the influence of
Confucianism was important. Sometimes monks also acted as healers,16 in
13
Samguk yusa kw. 2, “Ch’ŏyong-nang Manghaesa”.
14
Samguk sagi kw. 17, “Koguryŏ pon’gi” 5, 8th year, 9th month.
15
Also see Sŏ Yŏngdae 1997, and Ch’oe Sŏgyŏng 1996.
16
E.g. Samguk sagi kw. 5, Sŏndŏk yŏwang, 5th year, 3rd month.
competition with medical officials of various stripes. For divination, the court
employed ilcha 日者or ilgwan 日官, who predominantly explained the meaning of
unusual natural phenomena, largely on the basis of knowledge introduced in writing
from China, whereas shamans would rather use their spiritual power to divine the
causes of illness. The ilgwan also occupied themselves with astronomy, the calendar
and timekeeping, thus further distinguishing themselves from the shamans. In spite
of the differentiation in functions, however, shamans still were accepted at court and
took part in official rituals.
4 Koryŏ
In the Koryŏ period (936–1392) the ongoing trend toward greater literacy was
accelerated by the establishment of a system of education and examination for vari-
ous official functions. The content of this education was predominantly Confucian.
With the increase in number of scholars educated in competing literate traditions
and particularly in Confucianism, the potential for a clash with shamanism grew
over the years, but overall this period was characterized by pluralism. No single
faith managed to achieve absolute dominance in state ritual. One tally of different
forms of rain prayers mentioned in the Koryŏsa (History of Koryŏ), for instance,
shows 258 recorded rituals, of which 87 were conducted in Confucian style, 53
were Buddhist, 14 Daoist, and 20 shamanic, with 57 rituals in “traditional style” at
numinous mountains and rivers or shrines that did not clearly belong to a single
denomination, and 27 rituals that were impossible to classify (Kim Ilgwŏn 2002).
This is sufficient to conclude that the Koryŏ court was religiously pluralistic,
although one would need more information than we have, for instance about the
persons who conducted the “traditional” rituals, to gain a more exact understanding
of the relative weight of the diverse religious currents. A striking demonstration of
this pluralism is found in the Samguk yusa, which presents a Buddhist view of his-
tory, but in the preface quotes from the Analects of Confucius.17
A record from the early Chosŏn period (1411) makes clear that even then in
many of the rituals at numinous mountains and rivers mudang were still involved,
although not exclusively.18 We also know that in Koryŏ large numbers of shamans
were frequently mobilized to put an end to droughts by exposing them to the scorch-
ing heat of the sun while they were praying for rain, a practice that was sanctioned
by the Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites), although in China it was discontinued during the
Song (Ch’oe Chongsŏng 2002b: 162). The reasoning behind this was that Heaven
might take pity on the shamans, who served as a conduit for messages from Heaven;
as such it was not entirely based on the assumption that shamans possessed particu-
lar powers enabling them to end a drought.
17
Samguk yusa kw. 1, “Kii 1.”
18
T’aejong shillok 22:10b.
In spite of the continued presence of shamans in court rituals, there is evidence

that by the twelfth century some among the educated elite of Koryŏ tended to look
down on shamans or even tried to put an end to their activities. The activities of the
shamans on behalf of the common people in particular became a target of their criti-
cism. Behind this was the Chinese, Confucian, concept of “illicit rituals” (in Korean
pronunciation ŭmsa 淫祀), defined in the Quli section of the Liji, which implied that
proper worship should depend on one’s social status.19 Whenever someone wor-
shiped spirits that were not his to worship the ritual was illicit.20 To this category
belonged, in the eyes of the ruling elite, the majority of popular rituals. Another
reason to consider rituals as illicit was the fact that the deities addressed were unrec-
ognized by the ritual manuals or supposed to be inefficacious.
There also was opposition to the activities of shamans from persons one might
regard as their professional competitors. Thus in 1131, a court astrologer (ilgwan 日
官) successfully proposed that shamans, who he said were increasingly popular (a
stereotypical complaint that should not necessarily be taken literally), should be
banished. This is an example of the literate objecting to the competition of those
who had not received the same formal training. In this case, however, the shamans
collected funds to bribe persons in power, with equal success. The argument to
revoke the ban was that spirits (kwishin) were without form and that therefore it was
difficult to decide whether they were real or not.21
Several entries in the Koryŏsa (History of Koryŏ) show the ambivalent attitude
of Confucian officials toward shamans. A mudang who claimed to speak the words
of the “Great King of Kŭmsŏng” (a mountain god and local guardian deity) said she
had to transmit a message to the court. This sufficiently impressed an official to
provide her with a horse for the journey. Along the road, other local officials respect-
fully waited for her to arrive and were eager to expedite her traveling. When she
came to Kongju, however, the local magistrate Shim Yang refused to do so. The
mudang then threatened him with dire consequences. When Shim discovered that at
night she slept with a male companion, he had them both arrested.22 In another biog-
raphy from the Koryŏsa, a local official in 1277 takes the words of a shaman seri-
ously when she transmits a complaint from the same Kŭmsŏng mountain deity that
he had received no compensation for his spiritual support of the campaign against
the Sambyŏlch’o rebels, who after the surrender of Koryŏ had continued to fight the
combined forces of the court and the Mongols. The court then granted the deity a
title of nobility and a stipend.23 This was a common way to honor deities in this age
and in itself shows a certain ambiguity toward the gods: they were honored, but at
19
非其所祭而祭之, 名曰淫祀. The Book of Rites cautioned that such rituals would not bring
blessings: 淫祀无福.
20
For this reason, the translation “licentious rituals” or “wanton rituals”, although justifiable
because of the basic meaning of the character ŭm, seems less apt.
21
Koryŏsa kw.16 “Sega 16; Injong 9, 8th month, pyŏngja.”
22
Koryŏsa kw. 106, “Yŏlchŏn 19: Shim Yang”.
23
Koryŏsa kw. 105, “Yŏlchŏn 18: Chŏng Kashin”; English translation in Peter H. Lee 1993: 446.
the same time placed within a spiritual hierarchy that was controlled by the govern-
ment. In other words, the supernatural was subordinated to the secular.
Famous author and statesman Yi Kyubo (1168–1241) has left us a poem entitled
“Nomup’yŏn” (老巫篇 The Old Mudang), in which he heaps scorn on a mudang
living near his house (Yi Nŭnghwa 2008: 111–15, 527–29). In the introduction to
the poem he noted that the shamans led the people astray with improper songs and
strange tales and that therefore the government had denied them access to the capi-
tal, reason for him to celebrate the decision by composing the poem. He also pointed
out that to lead the masses astray as the shamans purportedly did was not compati-
ble with the (Confucian) duty of a subject to serve the monarch with loyalty (ch’ung
忠). In the poem Yi ridicules the claim that supreme deities (chishin 至神) would
descend in the body of lowly shamans. This appeared an unacceptable provocation
to someone in power like Yi Kyubo, who served as a prime minister, and seemed
even more absurd when the shaman in her little hovel was an old crone who uttered
that she was the deity Chesŏk 帝釋 (Indra) presiding over heaven.
In his poem Yi Kyubo expressed appreciation for an official called Ham Yuil
(1106–1185) who had taken measures against mudang, but noted that after his death
the mudang had emerged again. The ambivalence of the Koryŏ elite with regard to
the shamans is well illustrated in the biography of Ham Yuil in the Koryŏsa.24 Ham
is represented as a perfect example of the good Confucian official who always first
thinks of the public interest. He was very suspicious of popular cults and shamans
whose influence he judged to be detrimental to the people. Therefore, he put an end
to ŭmsa in private homes and made all the shamans leave the capital. He also aimed
to destroy the shrines (usually tended by shamans) of mountain deities whose aid
was not efficacious. When to test the deity of Kuryongsan he shot an arrow at the
image of the god from outside the shrine, however, a gust of wind closed the doors,
protecting the image. Thus, in this case the Koryŏsa confirms the powers of the
deity. Similarly, when Ham Yuil burned the shrine of a god who in his opinion had
failed to prove his efficacy, the deity appeared in a dream to the king to appeal for
help, and so the shrine was rebuilt. These stories fit a familiar type of tales intended
to demonstrate the numinosity of certain shrines and may have reflected local tradi-
tions of believers who aimed to show the vanity of elite objections against their
cults.25
In the late Koryŏ period, the introduction of Neo-Confucianism reinforced the
existing tendency among the literate elite to distance themselves from popular reli-
gion and other forms of religion, including Buddhism, that were thought to be con-
trary to orthodoxy. An Hyang (1243–1306), the man who is reputed to have
introduced Neo-Confucianism to Korea, had shamans flogged because in his view
they deluded the people.26 He was not the first to resort to violence against mudang,
24
Koryŏsa kw. 99, “Yŏlchŏn 12: Ham Yuil”.
25
This may be the reason that the stories about Ham Yuil are also found in a later Chosŏn source
that recorded local traditions, the Shinjŭng Tongguk yŏji sŭngnam (Revised and Augmented
Gazetteer of Korea), kw. 42:24b and kw. 5:1a.
26
Koryŏsa kw. 105, “Yŏlchŏn 18: An Hyang”; English translation in Peter Lee 1993: 445.
as Ham Yuil and a another magistrate called Kim Yŏnsu (1237–1306) had done the
same.27 The gradual establishment of Neo-Confucianism as the state ideology in the
following Chosŏn period continued developments that could already be observed in
Koryŏ, but would have even graver consequences for the position of shamanism in
society.
5 Confucian Attitudes Toward Shamanism in Chosŏn
When there was a change of dynasty in 1392, the “Confucian transformation” of

Korea began in earnest, but it was a gradual process that took centuries. Below we
will discuss the question to which extent the process was ultimately successful
(Deuchler 1992 and Deuchler 2007). What is certain, however, is that from the out-
set the intention was to redress the “[ritual] mistakes the state inherited from the
previous dynasty” on the basis of Neo-Confucian orthodoxy.28 As part of this,
Confucian zealots did not hesitate to destroy the sanctuaries of deities they disap-
proved of. There is also no doubt that Confucianism quickly became the dominant
discourse, in the sense that other faiths, such as Buddhism, felt the need for apolo-
getics that argued that they did not contravene Confucian values (Buswell 1999;
Muller 2015).29 This is not to say, however, that Confucianism established an abso-
lute hegemony, although a one-sided focus on official and elite pronouncements
might create this impression. Buddhism and shamanism succeeded in finding tactics
to survive and managed to maintain considerable support in spite of discriminatory
government policies, and not just among the lower echelons of society that were
less directly affected by Confucianization, which initially was particularly directed
at the yangban elite. Ch’oe Chongsŏng has aptly characterized the relation between
Confucianism and shamans we witness in the Chosŏn period as “co-existence
within conflict” (Ch’oe 2002a: 52).
The way the conflict between Confucianism and shamanism was handled in
many cases involved the creation of actual or symbolic distance between the two.
This was most pronounced in the case of the capital, the “King’s City,”30 which was
conceived as the center of the country’s moral universe, from which the civilizing
influence of the monarch’s virtue radiated out to the most far-away corners of the
realm (Walraven 2012b). Care was taken to turn the capital in what may be called a
Confucian sacred city, by purging the space within the city walls completely of non-
Confucian sacred places, leaving within this enclosure only the Sajik 社稷 altars
(for the Gods of Land and Grain, from early in Chinese history symbols of the
27
Shinjŭng Tongguk yŏji sŭngnam, 14:19b.
28
T’aejong shillok 22:10b (國家承前朝之謬); Han Ugŭn 1976.
29
Evidence from recent periods suggests that shamans, too, made similar efforts to justify their
rituals in Confucian terms.
30
The “King’s City” was the term the Dutch shipwrecked sailor Hendrik Hamel used to refer to
Seoul in his Journal and, like many descriptions in his report, hit the nail right on the head.
nation rather than objects of popular veneration), the Chongmyo 宗廟 (the royal
ancestral temple) and the Munmyo 文廟 (the temple for Confucius and other Sages)
as official places of worship (Walraven 2000). The symbolic and at the same time
pragmatic nature of this arrangement becomes clear when one realizes that through-
out the Chosŏn period the city outside the walls was surrounded by a host of
Buddhist temples and several communities of shamans. As the complete eradication
of non-orthodox worship was impossible for reasons that will be further discussed
below, this at least maintained formal propriety. Similarly, outside the capital offi-
cials made sure that in their public behavior they maintained a certain distance from
popular worship, even if it was conducted right in front of their noses by the clerks
of their own offices. What these officials and yangban in general did privately was
another matter. Hence Buddhist monks and shamans could continue to serve many
members of the elite, both inside and outside the capital, as long as certain rules that
maintained decorum were respected.
As a ruling class that claimed to strive for the common good rather than being
intent on the fulfillment of private desires, the Chosŏn elite, increasingly influenced
by Neo-Confucianism, tended to dissociate itself from what we may call popular
religion as represented by shamanic rituals and Buddhism, which both were regarded
as heterodox (idan 異端). They were inclined to think in terms of an opposition
between what was kong 公 “public,” that is in the general interest, and what was sa
私 “private” (Walraven 1994: 544). Confucianism was in the public interest, while
other faiths and rituals catered to more personal, more partial needs, and in that
sense were inferior and to be rejected (Yi Uk 2009: 49–54). Rituals for private needs
were not completely suppressed, but members of the elite who were supposed to
serve the public interest of the state should show restraint in seeking recourse to
them. In the case of illness, for instance, the proper recommended attitude was to
leave everything to the will of Heaven, which was said to be impartial (kongp’yŏng
公平), and not to resort to prayer or to call mudang to perform a healing ritual in the
vain hope that the fate Heaven had ordained could be averted. The fact that when the
Crown-prince was ill the court sent people to pray at numinous rivers and moun-
tains31 may seem to contradict this, but of course the recovery of a public figure like
a Crown-Prince was in the national interest and therefore prayers for his convales-
cence could be considered to be kong, not sa. At the same time private concerns for
the wellbeing of children and other relatives frequently persuaded even yangban,
not to heed Confucian injunctions to reject the rituals of shamans or Buddhist
monks. Actually, in such cases, Confucians, might legitimate their actions by
appealing to the Confucian principle that in one’s carrying out of social duties one
should demonstrate “utmost sincerity” (chisŏng 至誠), which meant that one should
not leave anything untried.32 This, for instance, might imply that in order to fulfil the
filial duty of producing a male heir one might resort to Buddhist or shamanic ritual,
although one would tend to be discreet about it.
E.g., Injo shillok 39:19b.

31
On the basis of this “no deity could not be worshiped” 靡神不舉 (Ch’oe Chongsŏng 2002a:
32
250–52).
Confucian education did not entirely exclude women, who were assigned an
important role for the prospering of the household, which was the center from which
the proper ordering of society was to proceed. Yet, in practice a strongly gendered
pattern emerged according to which men, particularly elite men, became the stron-
gest proponents of Confucianism, while women tended to favor Buddhism and sha-
manism. It is telling that upper-class women who against the propensities of their
sex rejected recourse to the services of shamans were singled out by their male rela-
tives for special praise. Apparently, it was not the normal behavior expected from
women. The reasons for women’s reliance on the shamans are not difficult to detect.
Even though the Daxue 大學 (Great Learning) made clear that the family was
essential to the state,33 and Confucians liked to stress that women were essential to
the fortunes of a family and that therefore efforts should be made to teach them
Confucian values,34 the Confucian system offered much more scope to elite men,
who would study for the state examinations from a young age and for many years in
order to pursue a public career, thereby strengthening their identification with the
official ideology. Conversely, Confucianism had little to offer for the trials and trib-
ulations of women’s daily lives, such as anxiety because of childlessness, or the
naughtiness and sickness of children. Mudang would offer special prayers and ritu-
als for such problems.
While the elite generally was inimical to popular religion, they did not necessar-
ily reject all the premises of popular beliefs. It is important to be aware of this when
the relationship between Confucianism and the “heterodox” religions is considered,
because it helps explain why some members of the elite looked for assistance from
shamanic deities or Buddhism when faced with urgent personal problems or in situ-
ations of social crisis. Confucianism emphasized the importance of social relations
in the here and now, but it did not deny the existence of invisible numinous forces.
Accordingly, the official ritual handbooks contained numerous prescriptions for
sacrifices to such forces, including the deities of Land and Grain, the deities of
Wind, Clouds, Thunder and Rain, star deities, and deities of mountains and rivers.35
The elite tended to view these sacrifices in their own way as symbols of government
power or an expression of care for the people, but the existence of such invisible
forces was not denied. There was also a strong belief in cosmic correspondences,
which for instance implied on the one hand that human resentments could cause
natural disasters such as drought and on the other hand that Heaven might signify its
displeasure with the failings of the ruler through unseasonable weather or lightning
striking palace buildings (Park 1998). Most literati would also believe in the
33
The classic formulation of this, which makes some matters that we might consider to be private
a matter of public concern, is found in the introduction of the Daxue: “The ancients who wished to
illustrate illustrious virtue throughout the kingdom, first ordered well their own States. Wishing to
order well their States, they first regulated their families. Wishing to regulate their families they
first cultivated their persons. Wishing to cultivate their persons, they first rectified their hearts.”
(Daxue 1892: 357)
34
Examples of books compiled to this end are Naehun 內訓 (Instructions for Women) of 1475, and
Yŏsasŏ ŏnhae 女四書諺解 (The Four Books for Women, explained in the vernacular) of 1736.
35
These deities were to be venerated by every local magistrate, together with the spirit of Confucius.
p ossibility of prognostication, although they would tend to see it as based on a pro-

found understanding of the principles of the universe rather than as due to informa-
tion proffered by spirits.
Rather than flatly denying the existence of an unseen world, Confucian philoso-
phers in both China and Korea also strove to clarify what was the exact nature of
spirits or ghosts, explaining their existence as rationally as their basic assumptions
allowed, as manifestations of yin (as opposed to yang) (Murayama 1929: 99–133).
Typical of the way of thinking of the elite was however that the invisible world was
seen as strictly hierarchical, paralleling the human world as it should be according
to Confucian standards, and that the beings in the invisible world were not necessar-
ily superior to humans and might not always deserve to be respected. Already for
the Koryŏ period it is recorded that King Ch’ungsuk (r. 1313–1330 and 1332–1339)
burned down the shrine of a local guardian deity whom he held responsible for the
death of his falcons and horses.36 Generally the reason that certain gods were thought
unfit to be worshiped was not so much that they did not exist, but that they were
inferior and unreliable, lacking the proper qualifications to warrant veneration. One
might also interpret this as disdain for the social status of the (predominantly female)
shamans and their rituals, rather than as a rejection of the “theological” premises of
the rituals.
Early childhood experiences may also have contributed to men’s (guarded)
acceptance of shamanic ritual. The fact that most women, even those of high status,
would invite shamans to perform rituals at their homes may have predisposed yang-
ban men to believe, deep down, in the efficacy of shamanic ritual, as they would
have frequently assisted at such rituals at a sensitive age.
The public rejection of shamanic ritual and other illicit rituals became something
that was obligatory for members of the elite to maintain proper yangban status,
irrespective of what they actually believed. In the privacy of the home, however,
yangban might condone the performance of shamanic rituals, even though they
would tend to keep somewhat aloof from them. The resulting ambiguities are clearly
shown in the diary kept by the scholar-official Yi Mun’gŏn (1494–1567) (Yi Pokkyu
1999). Although he shows some skepticism with regard to the shamans who fre-
quently visit his household, the illness of a grandson prompts him to seek the assis-
tance of a mudang to find out what was the matter with him. Even if men themselves
completely rejected shamanic rituals, they might have a good reason to allow their
performance in their homes because this would please their mothers and wives. The
French missionaries who in the nineteenth century illegally entered the country fur-
nished information that allowed Dallet to conclude that “the husbands tolerate
[mudang rituals] for the sake of domestic peace, even if they refuse to take part in
them, so that from the palace down to the meanest hovel they are widely practiced.”
(Dallet 1874: cxlviii-cxlviv)
36
Shinjŭng Tongguk yŏji sŭngnam kw. 13:4a.
6 Actual Practice: Accommodation and Appropriation
Although the policies of the Chosŏn government with regard to non-orthodox faiths
such as Buddhism and shamanism from the outset tended to reflect a negative atti-
tude that already could be observed to some degree in late Koryŏ and efforts were
made to “civilize” ritual, the reality on the ground was such that a total ban on sha-
manism was not feasible. Accordingly, there was both change and accommodation.
While violence by Confucian zealots against popular shrines was not uncommon,
the Kyŏngguk taejŏn law code, promulgated in 1485, stated that shamans from both
the capital and the provinces should be charged with tending to the ill, an effort to
bring them under control as well as a recognition of sorts of their role as healers
(Yŏkchu Kyŏngguk taejŏn 1985: 259).37 This shows on the one hand that not all
shamans had been evicted from the capital (although attempts had been made) while
on the other hand the inclusion of this regulation in the section “Charity” (hyehyul
惠恤) of the code for the Department of Rites reflects a typically Confucian pater-
nalistic concern for the wellbeing of the people. Although different kinds of medical
practitioners had been around for centuries, many still relied on the services of the
shamans for healing.
The position of a shaman called the kungmu 國巫, the national or royal mudang,
deserves special mention in this context.38 The Sejong shillok (Veritable Records of
the Reign of King Sejong) states that in 1443 this figure, together with more than
twenty “mudang soothsayers” (chŏm munyŏ 占巫女) was still present within the
city walls and requested that these shamans would be sent outside the city and put
under the control of the Hwarwŏn 活院 (or Hwarinsŏ 活人署), the agency in charge
of the sick, with the exception of the kungmu.39 The kungmu was given an official
position in the Sŏngsuch’ŏng 星宿廳 a bureau with a name that has a Daoist ring
(“Bureau of Astral Mansions”), but practically was in charge of state-sponsored
shamanic rituals, including sacrifices to numinous mountains. Quite likely the use
of sŏngsu as an appellation for personal guardian spirits by modern-day mudang
performing rituals in Hwanghae Province style is a last trace of the name of this
bureau. The Sŏngsuch’ŏng itself, however, disappeared from the records in the early
sixteenth century, together with the kungmu as the celebrant of official state sacri-
fices. This did not mean that shamans no longer frequented the royal palaces. There
is ample evidence in records of incidents that took place there to show that mudang
continued to offer their services, but it was no longer in an official capacity. When
Chang Hŭibin, the concubine of King Sukchong who was briefly made queen and
then again demoted, was charged with the use of sorcery against her rival, Queen
Inhyŏn, a mudang who served her was accused as an accomplice (Walraven 1987).
37
A similar measure had already been taken during the reign of King Sejong in 1423 (Sejong
shillok 19:21a).
38
The kungmu (originally probably called nara mudang) and the government bureau they belonged
to, and the debate they caused, are discussed in detail in Ch’oe Chongsŏng 2002a: 117–30.
39
Sejong shillok 102:8b.
We also know that when in another palace tragedy Crown-Prince Sado (1735–1762)
was killed, quite a few persons around him were executed, including some mudang
(Hyegyŏng 1976: 274–75; Haboush 1996, 325). As reliance on mudang often was
considered typical of women, it should be noted that in this case the shamans were
part of the entourage of a man. At the end of the nineteenth century, Queen Min, the
consort of King Kojong, was famous for her patronage of shamans (Walraven 1998:
58), and even in the first decade of the twentieth century a mudang with connections
in high places confidently challenged policemen who wanted to refuse her entrance
to the palace (Walraven 1995: 116–22).
The government also took measures to rectify the customs of the governing elite.
In the early Chosŏn period, it was common for elite families to entrust the mortuary
tablets of their ancestors, which were the focus of the ancestral rituals that were the
foundation of Confucian orthopraxis, to Buddhist temples or shamans. Henceforth
yangban were expected to establish separate family shrines (kamyo 家廟) for the
worship of these tablets. In 1437 a royal edict was issued to reform funerary
practices:40 “From now on the playing of music, the gathering of guests, and the
performance of wanton ceremonies for the spirits as well as visits of mourners to
shaman houses to feast the spirits of the dead, or the invitation of guests to pray for
the soul’s repose, and the serving of wine on funeral days must be clearly and sternly
prohibited by the censorial offices in the capital and by the local authorities in the
province.”
Pressure from above prompted a steadily increasing number of yangban lineages
to create their own shrines to worship their ancestors and keep the ancestral tablets,
but it did not put an end to shamanic rituals for the recently deceased performed on
behalf of the elite, in spite of the fierce opposition of Confucian officials. This led to
occasional clashes. When King Hyojong died in 1659, his wife had mudang per-
form an elaborate ritual outside the East Gate where, as was the custom, the deceased
spoke through the mouth of a shaman.41 The ritual was attended by many spectators.
This quasi-public flouting of decorum aroused the ire of an official of the Censorate,
who had the head shaman arrested and killed. He himself then had to face the anger
of the queen. In this case there was open conflict because of the very high status of
the persons involved, but those at (somewhat) lower echelons of society would be
able to have such rituals performed without problem.
Generally, an equilibrium was reached in the relationship between the elite ideol-
ogy of Confucianism and the shamans in the sixteenth century. Private shamanic
rituals were usually condoned, as long as they did not attract too much attention. On
the one hand, the resistance against shamanism was successful in that shamans were
excluded from virtually all official state functions, at least at the central level,
although the state formally recognized their existence as payers of a special sha-
mans’ tax (Rim Haksŏng 1993: 90–126). The latter was characteristic of the
40
Sejong shillok 76:15b–16a. Translation by Martina Deuchler, in Peter Lee 1993: vol. 1, 558.
41
Ku Suhun 1983: 431. It is typical that we know about this case from an individual’s private
record. There is no trace of it in the Shillok although the official who angered the queen was him-
self threatened by her with death.
p ragmatism in official attitudes toward shamans, which compromised fundamental

objections to heterodoxy. Chosŏn intellectuals ware aware of the inconsistency
implied in this and occasionally objected to it (Yi Ik 1967 vol. 1: 114).
The area of public ritual where shamans participated longest were rituals to pray
for rain, which addressed the greatest vulnerability of the agricultural economy of
Chosŏn. Prolonged drought would not only endanger the lives of many, but also
cause great anxiety among the population and concern among the ruling class that
the stability of government would be threatened. The last instance of rain ritual in
which shamans participated that was actually conducted at the behest of the central
government dates to 1638, although a century later in 1745 rain rituals by shamans
and blind exorcists42 where still mentioned in the handbook of the Office of Rites
(T’aesangshi 太常寺) to the chagrin of King Yŏngjo (Walraven 1999: 173).43 In the
provinces, affairs were less strictly regulated and shamans still might be called upon
to pray for rain, although magistrates tended to maintain a certain distance from
them.
Generally, the government made a concerted effort to control rituals and limit the
worship of particular spirits to officials appointed by the court, excluding worship
by members of the general public or shamans. The effect of this was to subordinate
worship to the political order. An early example of an attempt to bring rituals that
belonged to unorthodox religious practices under government control was the insti-
tution of sacrifices at the yŏdan 厲壇 altar in 1401 (Walraven 1993a; Yi Uk 2009:
279–85). This was located to the north of Seoul or of any place where there was a
magistrate sent by the central government and was intended to placate the spirits of
persons without offspring, but also and predominantly those who had died before
their time, because of violence, injustice, accidents or disease. Such spirits of the
unquiet dead are feared in many cultures and in Korean shamanic rituals are held
responsible for all kinds of misfortune. They also figure in Buddhist rituals (as
“hungry ghosts” agwi 餓鬼). In the early years of the Chosŏn period the govern-
ment would prescribe the Buddhist “Assembly of Water and Land” (suryukchae 水
陸齋) ritual for such spirits, for example when the accumulated resentment of sol-
diers fallen in battle was held responsible for a raging epidemic. In later centuries
people who had died such premature violent deaths were depicted in the Sweet Dew
paintings (kamno t’aeng 甘露幀) that from the mid-sixteenth century were pre-
sented to many Buddhist temples (often by court ladies) and were related to rituals
for both the restless dead and deceased family members. Yŏje 厲祭, the ritual at the
yŏdan, was however to put an end to the heterodox shamanic and Buddhist rituals
for potentially dangerous resentful spirits. It claimed to have its basis in the canonic
Book of Rites (Liji 禮記), but was actually largely a tradition invented in Ming
China, because the Book of Rites only speaks of the spirits of those who had died
42
The male blind exorcists (p’ansu) performed rituals that in some ways were similar to those of
the shamans, but slightly more acceptable to the yangban elite, because of their sex and the style
of their rituals, which was more decorous according to Confucian standards.
43
For much more detailed discussions of government rain ritual, see Ch’oe Chongsŏng 2002a, b:
142–276, and Yi Uk 2009: 135–228.
without posterity to conduct sacrifices for them. The yŏje rituals were performed by
government officials (locally perhaps aided by members of the gentry, but not by
shamans) for more than 500 years, until 1908, but in their basic rationale were so
similar to the rituals of the shamans that present-day Confucians, if they are at all
aware of the existence of yŏje in the past, sometimes think that it was a shamanic
ritual. It was intended, however, as a decorous, civilized substitute for shamanic or
Buddhist ritual and, moreover, was given a typically Confucian justification. When
epidemics raged, it was seen as the expression of the paternal care the king bestowed
on his “babies” (chŏkcha 赤子), the common people, doing whatever was possible
to console them.
Another example of efforts to control worship is the cult of the sŏnghwang 城隍.
The name is derived from China, where it denoted the city god. In Korea, the term
first crops up in the Koryŏ period and refers to local tutelary deities, not necessarily
of cities (Sŏ Yŏngdae 1998: 479). It has been suggested that the cult of the
sŏnghwang was first adopted by local gentry and that this is behind the fact that a
number of these cults were devoted to the spirits of historical figures, ancestors of
local elite groups. This did not preclude that such deities were at the same time
mountain spirits, a natural combination as the role of mountain deities as local
guardian deities was one of the oldest strands of the indigenous religion. In fact,
according to the Samguk yusa, Tan’gun, too, turned into a mountain god after he had
founded and ruled the state of Ko-Chosŏn. Accordingly, from the outset in Korea
the sŏnghwang was not worshipped within the city, as in China, but at a nearby
mountain. A famous and still extant example is the sŏnghwang of Kangnŭng, whose
shrine since days immemorial has been located at the Taegwallyŏng mountain pass,
about eleven kilometers from the town.
In the earliest years of the Chosŏn period, the justification for the existence of the
altars for the sŏnghwang was still a subject of debate, with some regarding them as
deplorable remnants of irregular worship that should be eradicated. Eventually,
however, the government decided to regard the sŏnghwang as the supernatural
counterpart of the local magistrate, establishing a place for his worship in every
location where a magistrate was sent by the court, while at the same time making
efforts to get rid of the irregular forms of worship. Only the magistrate was entitled
to worship the sŏnghwang. It was not so easy, however, to suppress the older
sŏnghwang cult, which continued on a large scale, although often at a different
place than the official sŏnghwang altar. The name remained the same, but usually
was rendered in a simplified pronunciation: sŏnang. Sometimes the place of wor-
ship was a shrine, but more often it was a heap of stones, or a sacred tree. If we
consider the contemporary practice of shamans from the Hwanghae Province tradi-
tion (who in South Korea maintain the rituals of this area of North Korea), there is
an interesting parallel between this and the official Chosŏn cult. In the Chosŏn
period, officials 3 days in advance had to notify the local sŏnghwang that a ritual
would be held for the restless spirits worshiped at the yŏdan, so that in the realm of
the supernatural the sŏnghwang, as the “magistrate of the other world,” could lead
his charges to the place of worship (Walraven 1993a: 74). In the same way, in the
Hwanghae tradition it is the sŏnang who gathers the dead to come to the shamanic
ritual for them (Bruno 2002: 139). Interestingly, moreover, the Hwanghae sŏnang is
often depicted as a tiger. This confirms that the Korean sŏnghwang/sŏnang origi-
nally is a mountain god, because there is general agreement that Korean mountain
gods originally appeared in this animal shape.44
As the official sŏnghwang were no longer represented as the spirits of human
beings, the government also got rid of the spouses that were worshiped together
with them, and of the images of the deities that were a common characteristic of the
earlier sŏnghwang cult. Doing so, the government followed the example of the
Ming, which had issued a similar decree in 1369 (Sŏ Yŏngdae 1998: 393). In this
way, the proper Confucian style of worship distanced itself further from the venera-
tion of tutelary deities by the mudang, who in the Koryŏ period typically had been
the keepers of the sŏnghwang shrines.
It is worth noting that there also emerged a sŏnghwang cult that stood between
the official, governmental cult, which practically functioned as a symbol of political
domination, and the popular cult practiced by shamans to pray for benefits of their
clients. This was the veneration of local tutelary deities by the clerks in government
offices, who also socially stood between the yangban elite and the masses of the
population (Pak Howŏn 1998: 147–91). Such deities would include sŏnghwang, but
might also comprise other spirits with different names. Thus, a deity called Pugun
府君 was worshiped as a protector of many government offices. The purpose of the
rituals for such deities was to promote good fortune and avert calamities, but the
style of the rituals in many instances could be characterized as Confucian. The
result of all this was that in the end there emerged a variety of forms of worship. At
one end there was the official, aniconic Confucian-style worship of deities who had
a proper place in the ritual codes, executed by servants of the monarch, and at the
other end of the spectrum there were the uncodified rituals of ordinary people and
shamans. In-between there were rituals that were performed by persons who in
some way were associated with the government, sometimes aided by shamans and
sometimes not, of deities who in one way or another had retained characteristics of
the older cults. While such cults were condoned, some care was taken to distinguish
them from the official cult. The Tanoje festival of Kangnŭng, which in the twentieth
century achieved the status of cultural heritage, maintains traces of this. Celebrated
around the fifth day of the fifth month, not a day for the official veneration of the
sŏnghwang under the auspices of government clerks, the sŏnghwang of the city for
the occasion is taken to the city from his shrine at the Taegwallyŏng mountain pass
to be united with his spouse, the Yŏ-Sŏnghwang (female sŏnghwang), whose shrine
is situated closer to the town. At the altar that is the focus of the veneration there are
two kinds of worship. Early in the morning, before the numerous spectators who
watch the spectacle later in the day arrive, representatives of local government and
various organizations, like Kangnŭng University, attired like Chosŏn officials,
44
Modern depictions of the mountain god commonly take the form of an old man accompanied by
a tiger, but I have met an old lady who had made a sacrifice to the mountain god of Samgaksan in
Seoul and claimed that the deity himself would appear in the shape of a tiger.
c onduct a ritual in Confucian style, while in the daytime mudang worship the deities
on behalf of the visitors of the festival. This demarcation between different types of
worship, separated by the time when veneration takes place, also was characteristic
of similar rituals in the past.
An interesting case in which Confucianism and ideas that may be called sha-
manic peacefully coexisted is the worship of “chaste women” (yŏllyŏ 烈女)。These
women typically had chosen to die rather than give in to rapists. This was virtuous
from a Confucian point of view, sufficient reason for the government to grant them
official tokens of appreciation, but at the same from a shamanic perspective might
be a cause for resentment that might pose a danger to the living, causing drought for
instance. There is some evidence that in some cases the decision of the government
to venerate yŏllyŏ was motivated by the fear of wrathful spirits rather than admira-
tion for superior virtue (Murayama 1929: 208–09; Walraven 1999: 191). In the case
of soldiers who had demonstrated their virtue by dying in defense of the country,
too, government veneration of their spirits at a special altar, the minch’ungdan 民忠
壇, simultaneously will have assuaged fears for the consequences of their resent-
ment because of their early death that might be shared by the shamans and their
followers.
7 C
onclusion: The Limits of Confucianization and the Fate
of Shamanism in Modern Times
It is surmised that in China the ru (儒), who eventually turned into “Confucians,”
originally conducted rituals that were very similar to those of shamans, or even were
shamans themselves. One may note that even now the structure of the rituals con-
ducted by Confucians and shamans in some ways is strikingly similar. Care is taken
to ensure ritual purity before the ritual, spirits are invited to the place of the rituals,
they are presented with offerings of food and drink, and then sent off again, after
which some of the ritual implements are burned. Over time, however, these superfi-
cial similarities became much less important than the differences in the mental
world behind the rituals and the purpose of the rituals. While Confucianism turned
into a philosophy, based on writings that became canonical and offered elaborate
views on the social world and the cosmos, it became deeply invested in the larger
social structure and the organization of the state. An emphasis on the interests of a
complexly structured society, rather than individual wishes, led to a rejection of
ritual that just aimed to satisfy private desires, and “praying for individual happi-
ness.” Conducting ritual became a form of spiritual cultivation rather than a means
to the realization of particular wishes. A focus on the actual world of man also dis-
couraged speculation about the spirit world and life after death. All this left room,
however, for ritual specialists like the shamans, who as mediators between man and
an unseen world that is supposed to deeply influence, or even to govern daily life act
to solve acute practical problems and psychological impasses, which frequently are
of a quite personal nature. The human needs they catered to are eternal and explain
why shamanic ritual did not disappear, in spite of sustained efforts to establish an
official public discourse that vehemently rejected it.
When Confucianism was introduced in Korea, it had already distinguished itself
radically from popular beliefs such as one finds in shamanism, but it took many
centuries before the influence of shamanism disappeared from public life as it was
institutionalized in the organization of the state. Even when Confucianism estab-
lished itself as the dominant discourse of the elite in the first half of the Chosŏn
period shamans initially still were occasionally called upon by the state to perform
some tasks, but this happened less and less, and in the end stopped completely at the
central official level.
In the second half of the Chosŏn period the differences between the official
Confucian cults and popular religion were quite clearly defined conceptually.
Consequently, the urge to strictly enforce the dominance of the elite ideology was
less strong, except in areas that were thought to be lagging behind, such as Cheju
Island, where in the early eighteenth century the magistrate Yi Hyŏngsang (1653–
1733) still thought it necessary to destroy a host of shamanic shrines and two
Buddhist temples to “rectify customs” (Walraven 1999).
It is tempting to describe the state of affairs that was prevalent in the late Chosŏn
period as the final victory of Confucianism. It is possible, however, to interpret this
in a rather different way, particularly if one takes into account what happened in the
twentieth century. At first sight, in previous centuries the Confucian orthodoxy of
the Zhu Xi variety had been firmly established thanks to the examination system,
which required mastery of its principles as the only way to advancement in the
bureaucracy. At the same time, respect for the “Confucian virtues” of filial piety and
loyalty to the monarch had spread among virtually all layers of the population, and
was praised by Buddhist monks and shamans alike. Nonetheless, privately many
literate persons, both elite yangban and marginal scholars without hopes of advance-
ment, would read all kinds of non-Confucian literature, including Buddhist writ-
ings. Moreover, because both Buddhism and shamanism, too, unambiguously
embraced the virtues of filial piety and loyalty, as the generally accepted virtues of
Chosŏn society these ceased to be specifically Confucian. Confucian ethics had
turned into Korean ethics (Walraven 2012a). At the same time, even persons with a
great personal stake in Confucianism showed openness to other ways of thinking. In
the nineteenth century, for instance, several headmasters of the Confucian National
Academy, the Sŏnggyun’gwan 成均館, contributed to the printing of a Buddhist
sutra, together with prominent members of the royal family (Y Lee 2012: 98). The
conclusion that may be drawn from this is that the Confucian transformation of
Chosŏn, which undoubtedly had radically changed Korean society in many respects,
slowed down or even ground to a halt in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
This interpretation is particularly persuasive when one considers that after 1894,
when the examination system was abolished, Confucianism as the primary spiritual
allegiance of individuals took a heavy blow, although its influence even now lingers
in many diffuse ways. The beneficiaries of this were Buddhism and Christianity, and
some of the new religions. The position of shamanism, however, changed but little,
because it retained low status, now as a remnant of hoary superstitious beliefs that
did not agree with the civilization of modernity (Walraven 1995). Christianity, in
particular, has perpetuated the disdain for shamanism that was characteristic of the
attitude of many Confucians in the Chosŏn period. Whereas more organized reli-
gions, such as Christianity, Ch’ŏndogyo, or Wŏn Buddhism, managed to file a suc-
cessful claim to modernity in some form, the shamans have struggled to justify
themselves in these terms. The only way they have been able to legitimate them-
selves successfully in modern terms is as keepers of Korean cultural heritage. This
is not to say that they have not “modernized” themselves in various ways. They have
adapted to the times and the needs of a largely urban society, for instance by short-
ening their rituals to accommodate the pace of modern life. In this way they have
maintained their place in Korean society, largely outside the limelight, as spiritual
healers and counselors who help people deal with loss and uncertainty, as they have
done throughout Korean history. Ironically, in one respect Confucianism and sha-
manism, opposite poles of Korean society as they have been and still are, have
shared a similar fate in contemporary Korea. Both have been hugely influential in
defining different modes of Korean culture, but neither plays a dominant role any
longer at the forefront of contemporary life, although both make efforts to adapt to
changing times.45
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Chapter 15
Western Learning and New Directions
in Korean Neo-Confucianism
Don Baker
1 Introduction
Scholars today, when they look back at Neo-Confucianism during the Chosŏn
dynasty, often refer to it as “Sŏngnihak (C. xinglixue 性理學),” meaning the study
of human nature and li (理). This title accurately reflects the mainstream focus of
most Korean Neo-Confucians. Not only did they make human nature and li the
focus of their philosophical explorations, they usually viewed those two as almost
two sides of the same coin. Human nature (sŏng, C. xing 性), they assumed, was
innately good because its ch’e (C. ti 體) what it essentially was and what its basic
tendencies and functions were) was defined by li. Li, though that term sometimes
was applied to the broad cosmic network of patterns of appropriate interactions,
also referred to the specific ways human beings should behave. That meant that true
human nature was nothing other than thoughts, emotions, and actions of human
beings which were in conformity with li. In other words, though it was articulated
in metaphysical terminology, Sŏngnihak was moral psychology, the examination of
those principles which inform human nature.
Neo-Confucians used the term “human nature” when they wanted to emphasize
the potential for human beings to live moral lives. They also used that term when
they wanted to contrast our moral mind (doshim C. daoxin 道心) with what they
referred to as our “human mind” (inshim C. renxin 人心), which blinded us to our
true human nature and caused us to act in selfish and inappropriate ways. They used
the term li when they wanted to emphasize the way we should behave. They also
talked about li when they wanted to contrast the immaterial moral order in the cos-
mos with ki (C. Qi 氣), the energized material realm within which moral action had
to take place but which often raised barriers to the smooth operation of li.
D. Baker (*)
Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada
e-mail: don.baker@ubc.ca

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_15
338 D. Baker
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, we begin to see some cracks in this
philosophical consensus. The metaphysical language used in the fifteenth through
the seventeenth centuries, such as is found in the Four-Seven debate, obscured the
practical implications for moral cultivation of much of what was said and written in
Neo-Confucian discussions of that time, causing concern among those who believed
that moral cultivation should be the primary focus of Neo-Confucian scholarship.
Moreover, the emphasis on human nature as innately moral worried those who
thought it downplayed the practical difficulty of consistently leading a moral life. In
a search for a more usable Neo-Confucian philosophy, a few Neo-Confucian think-
ers began focusing more attention on the heart-mind. The heart-mind, as understood
in Neo-Confucianism, was both li and ki and therefore was a useful site for philo-
sophical investigations of the reasons for the gap between Confucian ideals and the
actual behavior of Confucians.
Mainstream Neo-Confucians often found it difficult to probe deeply into the rea-
sons for that gap because of the priority Neo-Confucianism gave to synthesis over
analysis, to unity over differentiation. That meant that, even when they distinguished
different constituent elements of their psychological and metaphysical frameworks,
they still assumed that such distinctions were more heuristic than actual since,
though everything could be described as either li and ki, in the realm of concrete
existence rather than viewed as abstract concepts li and ki were intertwined and
inseparable. This preference for synthesis over analysis was particularly the case
among the disciples of Yulgok 栗谷 (Yi I 李珥 1536–1594) but even the disciples of
T’oegye 退溪 (Yi Hwang 李滉 1501–1570), although they were comfortable distin-
guishing between impulses grounded in li and feelings generated by ki, still assumed
that the true nature of human beings was a unitary ch’e.
In the eighteenth century, a possible solution to this dilemma appeared from an
unexpected source. Neo-Confucianism had never been free from philosophical
challenges. Even during the Chosŏn dynasty, a few Buddhist thinkers, such as
Kihwa 己和 (1376–1433), Pou 普雨 (1515–1565), and Hyujŏng 休靜 (1520–
1604), challenged the Neo-Confucianism claim to have all the answers to questions
about human nature and the place of human beings in the cosmos. However, such
challenges were unable to undermine the fundamental assumptions that shaped
Neo-Confucianism because Buddhism and Neo-Confucianism had entered Korea
via the same Chinese gateway and as a result shared many of the same assumptions,
limiting the range of debates over the meaning of such core concepts as human
nature and virtue.
The new challenger also arrived in Korea via China, but, when it entered Korea,
it had not been in China long enough to have modified its fundamental assumptions
to fit more comfortably into the Sino-Korean philosophical landscape. This new
challenger was given the name Western Learning (sǒhak C. xixue 西學), because it
originated in Europe, a place considered to lie to the far west of China. Western
Learning included both the mathematics and the natural philosophy of late medieval
Europe as well as the theology of Roman Catholicism. Books introducing both the
scientific and the theological aspects of Western Learning began entering Korea in
the seventeenth century. At first, when it was noticed at all, Western Learning
15 Western Learning and New Directions in Korean Neo-Confucianism 339
attracted only curiosity or criticism. That criticism came from a few Neo-Confucians
who noticed, and became alarmed at, how different European reasoning and philo-
sophical assumptions were. By the end of the eighteenth century, however, the phil-
osophical underpinnings of Western Learning were beginning to influence the
thinking of a few Korean Confucians, changing the way Koreans discussed core
concepts such as ch’e. Changes in how ch’e was defined led to changes in how li, ki,
the mind, and even human nature were conceived, paving the way for a frontal
assault on the synthesizing perspective which imposed an essential unity on all that
was real.
2 Encountering Western Learning
The first encounter Koreans had with Western Learning came when they saw world
maps drawn by Jesuit missionaries in China. Not long after their arrival in China at
the end of the sixteenth century, Matteo Ricci (1552–1610) and Michele Ruggieri
(1543–1607) announced that “the earth is round and has inhabitants living all around
it.” (Ch’en 1939: 327; Hsia 2010; Liu 2011a) The Chinese, who believed that they
lived in the center of the world, were surprised by this challenge to the popular East
Asian belief that heaven is round but the earth was square. (Yongrong 1933, 106:
67)1 Koreans, who received a copy of a Jesuit map of the globe as early as 1603,
were just as surprised as the Chinese. (S. Yi, 1978) For the next century and a half
Koreans debated this European assertion. Some rejected outright the claim that the
earth was a sphere, primarily because that would mean China was not the “central
kingdom.” Chinese and Korean maps had traditionally drawn China in the center of
world maps, signifying not only China’s political dominance of that part of the world
but its assumed cultural supremacy as well. Others accepted Jesuit geography with-
out drawing from it the conclusions the Jesuits hoped they would draw, that if China
wasn’t geographically the center of the world neither was it the cultural center.
Along with their new maps of the earth, those Jesuit missionaries from Europe
also brought with them to China new ways of envisioning the celestial realm, as
well as more accurate tools for calculating movement in the sky above. The Jesuits
learned soon after their arrival in China that they could predict solar and lunar
eclipses as well as other celestial phenomena more accurately than the Chinese
could. They assumed that their calendrical calculations were more exact because
they were based on a more accurate geometric map of the universe, reflecting the
actual constitution of physical reality.2 Practical success in applied astronomy
1
This is a note on Sabastino De Ursis’s Biaodu Shuo 表度說 (The Gnomon): “Talk that the earth
was a small sphere shocked a great many people when first heard in China.”
2
Jesuit confidence in their Aristotelian cosmology appears misplaced to modern observers. Ricci
made the smug comment that the Chinese “never knew, in fact, they had never heard, that the skies
are composed of solid substances, that the stars are fixed and not wandering about aimlessly, and that
there were ten celestial orbs enveloping one another, and moved by contrary forces. Their primitive
science of astronomy knew nothing of eccentric orbits and epicycles.” (Gallagher 1953: 325)
340 D. Baker
p rovided confirmation that their cosmological theories were correct. Moreover, in

their view, precise prediction of movement of the sun, the moon, and the stars was
possible only because the universe itself was orderly and amenable to mathematical
representation. The regularity in empyreal movement, in turn, was possible only
because the universe was regulated by a Regulator, the Christian God who created
the universe and continued to govern it.3
The Jesuits did not travel the thousands of miles from Europe to China just to
amaze and amuse the Confucian world with depictions of a spherical earth and tales
of the Supreme Ruler who presided over it. Those missionaries risked their lives
sailing dangerous seas all the way from Europe to China in order to overpower and
transform the Neo-Confucian worldview which then provided the lens through
which educated Chinese and Koreans viewed the world around them. These
Europeans brought with them the most advanced geographical and astronomical
technology and techniques of their day in order to use their undeniable skill in map-
ping the earth and predicting movement in the heavens to convince the Confucian
world that their description of the structure of the heavens and the earth, and of the
Ruler of heaven and earth, was accurate as well.
The Jesuits also brought with them the either-or logic of Aristotelianism. They
believed that if they could convince Confucians that the Christian description of the
physical universe was true, then those same Confucians would automatically recog-
nize that the Neo-Confucian description of that same universe was false, since they
believed no rational man could possibly hold two contradictory views of that same
phenomenon at the same time. Moreover, since these Catholic priests believed
Christian astronomy and cosmology were inextricably intertwined with Christian
philosophy and theology, they expected acceptance of Western science and technol-
ogy to lead to acceptance of Western philosophical and religious beliefs and values,
and, of course, to rejection of those aspects of the Neo-Confucian tradition which
were incompatible with Christianity. To use the language of twentieth-century psy-
chology, the Jesuits expected the obvious superiority of the Western approach to the
natural world to create cognitive dissonance in the minds of their Confucian audi-
ence. And they expected that in most cases that cognitive dissonance would be
resolved in favor of the West.
They were too optimistic. Though many in the Confucian world recognized the
utility of Western techniques for geographic and, particularly, astronomical calcula-
tions, few went on to the next step of replacing their Confucian assumptions about
the nature of the universe with Western assumptions. (Elman 2005) However, there
3
See, for example, Ricci’s influential introduction to Catholic teachings, Tianzhu shiyi 天主實義
The true significance of the lord of heaven]: “When we observe the supreme heaven we see that it
moves from the east while the sun, moon, and stars travel from the west. Without the slightest error,
each thing follows the laws proper to it, and each is secure in its own place. If there were no
Supreme Lord to control and to exercise authority [over these things], would it be possible to avoid
confusion?” (Lancashire and Hu 2016: 49).
were some Confucian thinkers in both China and Korea who recognized that there
were some advantages to this new way of viewing the universe and tried to incorpo-
rate insights provided by the West into their Confucian philosophies. Some were
even convinced that behind the Westerners’ accurate predictions of when and where
celestial objects would move lay an equally accurate knowledge of why and how
such movements occurred. However, those imported descriptions of the shape and
structure of the universe were often placed next to, rather than in place of, indige-
nous notions. The lack of the exclusionary either-or logic of the West meant that
competing cosmological claims could be treated as complementary instead.
(Henderson 1986: 134).
As early as 1653, the Chosŏn court followed the new Manchu rulers of China in
adopting, with little debate, the new Western-style Sihŏn (C. Shixian 時憲) calen-
dar. Kim Yuk 金堉 (1580–1658), then the director of the Bureau of Astronomy and
Meteorology, argued successfully that the reliability of the Jesuits’ ephemerides and
the formulae from which they were derived merited their adoption. (Chosŏn wangjo
sillok Injo 23:12 pyŏngsin-1645; Chŭngbo munhŏn pigo I, 5a–b) Korea, as a part of
the Sino-centric world order, was supposed to simply adopt as its calendar the cal-
endar promulgated by China. However, Koreans wanted to be able to predict what
was going to happen in their skies, which sometimes differed from what happened
in the skies over China. They needed to know when comets or eclipses would appear
over the peninsula. Consequently, Korea discretely sent men to Beijing to learn the
Western methods of calendrical calculation. (Sillok, Injo 23:12 pyǒngsin-1645).
That discretion, plus substantial quantities of silver placed in the right hands,
enabled Korea to circumvent Qing restrictions and obtain enough information on
Western ways of calculating the movements of the sun and the moon to promulgate
its own limited version of a calendar based on Western techniques in 1653. (Sillok,
Injo 24:6 muin-1646; Jeon 1974: 83) Qing barriers to the release of astronomical
formulae to foreigners prevented Koreans from learning the additional information
on planetary movement necessary to implement their own full Sihŏn calendar until
1807, however. (Jeon 1974: 84; Chŭngbo munhŏn pigo I, 6b) To try to keep abreast
of later refinements of the astronomers’ art introduced from the West, Korea added
an occasional astronomer to the entourage of official tribute missions to Beijing. As
late as 1823, despite an official policy of suppression of Catholicism at home,
Korean records reveal that court astronomers were still seeking out Catholic mis-
sionary astronomers in Beijing with the blessing of the Korean court. (Chŭngbo
munhŏn pigo I, 6a–10b).
We find the same ability to extract useful techniques from the philosophy in
which they are embedded in the Korean response to Western mathematics. The abil-
ity of Koreans Confucians to extract what they found valuable in Western mathe-
matics and throw away the rest frustrated the Jesuit strategy for presenting “Western
Learning” as an integrated whole that had to be accepted in its entirely or not at all.
The missionaries had not expected Confucians who took their mathematical writ-
ings seriously to be able to deconstruct that mathematics into three different fea-
tures, weakening even further the link between Jesuit mathematics and Jesuit
theology. Those three separable components are, first of all, the formulae, especially
342 D. Baker
geometric formulae; secondly, the method of calculating on paper with symbols for
numbers instead of representations of counting rods or abacus beads, and, third, the
notion of deductive proofs. It was the notion of deductive proofs that the Jesuits
counted on the most, since they believed that would lead Confucians to belief in the
Christian God. Yet that was the part of Western mathematics Koreans found the least
useful.
Koreans first learned about both Western astronomy and the mathematics behind
it from an early collection of Jesuit writings entitled Tianxue chuhan [An introduc-
tion to heavenly learning] (K. Ch’ŏnhak ch’oham 天學初函)] compiled by the
Chinese Catholic convert Leo Li Zhizao 李之藻 (1565–1630) in 1628. Li’s title was
a deliberate play on the fruitful ambiguity of the term 天 (K. Ch’ŏn C. Tian). (Liu
2011b)4 In Jesuit writings on astronomy and calendrical calculations, “Tian” meant
the heavens above where the sun and the stars shined. When Jesuits wrote about
their religion, however, “Tian” meant Heaven, the God above whose existence and
characteristics were the primary focus of Jesuit proselytizing writings. Li Zhizao
thus presented Western civilization to the Confucian world as the Jesuit missionar-
ies wanted it presented: European science, technology, and mathematics linked
inseparably with Roman Catholic philosophy and religion under the rubric of
Tianxue (K. Ch’ŏnhak 天學).
Though the Jesuit mission in China was less than five decades old in 1628, Li
Zhizao found enough material to fill 52 volumes. The 20 titles of the Tianxue chu-
han were divided into two major sections, a section on principle (li), containing ten
religious works such as Ricci’s The true significance of the Lord of Heaven (Tianzhu
shiyi K. Ch’ŏnju silŭi 天主實義), and a section on “tools and instruments” (qi K. ki
器), containing ten works on mathematics, astronomy, and technology, such as the
translation of the first six books of Euclid’s geometry, Elementary Geometry (Jihe
yuanben K. Kiha wŏnbon 幾何原本) by Matteo Ricci and Xu Guangqi 徐光啓
(1562–1633) (Li 1965).
The books in the “tools and instruments” section of Tianxue chuhan were written
to convince Confucians not only that the Jesuits were superior mathematicians and
astronomers but also that they earned that superiority by following a specific mode
of accurate reasoning, a logical method which they also followed in their moral
reasoning and in their arguments for the existence of God. The missionaries hoped
that if Confucians could be convinced to adopt Western techniques for calculating
movement in the heavens, they could also be convinced to adopt the Christianity
that underlay the civilization that had produced those techniques. Their hope was
that Confucians who respected Western knowledge of heaven would also respect
Western claims about Heaven.
For their mathematics to have the persuasive power it needed if it were to play its
assigned role in the Jesuit campaign to convert Confucians to Christianity, the mis-
sionaries had to convince Confucians that Western mathematics offered a degree of
certainty unavailable in Confucian mathematics. That certainty came from the
axiom-driven deductive reasoning found in Euclid’s Elements, introduced by Ricci
For more on Leo Li Zhizao, see Liu 2011b.

4
and Xu in Jihe yuanben. In their introduction to that work, Ricci and Xu described
the steps by which such certainty was obtained.
You begin with explicit definitions of the key concepts to be used in the proposed mathemati-
cal arguments. Next you list the axioms that will provide the basis for the proofs of those
arguments. Only then do you state the specific problems to be addressed. After that, you go
through the steps necessary to solve each problem one by one and, finally, you end up with
theorems that are the only possible logical deductions from the application of those axioms
to those problems. More complex problems build upon the axioms, definitions and theorems
of earlier, simpler problems so that the process can take you step by step from the obvious
to the surprising without losing any degree of certitude. (Li 1965: 1935–36)
The definitions for such geometrical figures as a line, a plane surface, an acute
angle, a circle and an equilateral triangle, and the axioms that accompany those defi-
nitions, are abstract enough that the theorems they produce can be applied to all
possible physical representations of those mathematical entities, providing the
applicability so important as a selling point. Moreover, the axioms, the Jesuits
believed, are self-evident and logically undeniable. After all, who could deny that,
for example, things equal to the same thing are also equal to one another or that two
lines at right angles to one another can only meet in one point on a flat surface? (Li
1965: 1970–1977) Since those axioms are indisputable, the conclusions drawn from
them are equally logically unassailable, providing the reliability the Jesuits needed.
As Ricci and Xu stated of the Jihe yuanben,
At the beginning it speaks of veritable principles which are very easy and clear. Gradually
accumulating [propositions], in the last sections it brings out subtle, obscure ideas. If one
cursorily glances at a couple of the later points, then what is said is difficult to comprehend
as well as difficult to believe. If, taking the earlier propositions as proofs, one accumulates
evidence and develops [the proof] step by step, then, the ideas being in sequence, frequently
on comprehending one laughs [at how easy the later proposition is]. (Li 1965: 1942)
Precision was also important, since reliability would be irrelevant and applicability
impossible unless mathematics provided answers both clear and specific enough,
for example, to allow astronomers to pinpoint the exact movements of heavenly
bodies and military leaders to pinpoint the exact positions of their earthly targets.5
An unspoken assumption behind this Jesuit argument was that such precision was
made possible only by the rigorous definitions, unforgiving logic, and specialized
language of Western mathematics.
The epitome of this mathematical certainty, precision, reliability, and applicabil-
ity was, in Ricci’s view, Euclid’s Elements. Ricci and Xu’s Jihe yuanben translated
only the first six books of the 13 books of Euclid’s Elements, covering plane geom-
etry, geometrical algebra, circles, angles, figures inscribed around circles, and
ratios. However, for Xu that was sufficient to prove that, with the tools and tech-
niques Western geometry, and only Western geometry, made available, there was no
longer any reason to rely on rough estimates in solving problems, no need to doubt
the conclusions reached with those tools and techniques, no reason to test those
5
In his introduction, Ricci wrote at length on the many practical benefits of knowledge of Euclidean
geometry.
344 D. Baker
conclusions empirically and no need to change anything. (Li 1965: 1942) In Xu’s
view, the geometrical tools Ricci provided were reliable, practical, and specific
enough for immediate and unquestioning acceptance by his Confucian audience.
(Engelfriet 1998; Ogawa 2011).
The efficacy of Ricci and Xu’s mathematical proselytizing depended, of course,
on their Confucian audience sharing their assumption that deductive reasoning and
the analytical manipulation of numbers and geometrical figures were the only way
to build a practical, precise, and reliable mathematics. Only if Western mathemati-
cal formulae were seen to be only as good as the arguments behind them would
these Christians be able to convincingly present Euclidean geometry as a model of
mathematical reasoning. In other words, if those in Korea who read Jihe yuanben
believed that the usefulness and reliability of the mathematical tools they contained
was a direct reflection of the usefulness and reliability of the techniques used to
build them, then acceptance of Euclidean theorems could lead to acceptance of
Euclidean reasoning, preparing Neo-Confucians for arguments for Christianity for-
mulated in the same manner. However, if most Confucians found it relatively easily
to adopt the products of Western mathematics while ignoring the process that pro-
duced them, then the Jesuit use of mathematics to convert Confucians to Christianity
would not be nearly as effective as Ricci and Xu expected it to be. Unfortunately for
the missionaries, the latter was the case. Mathematics in the Neo-Confucian world
was structured and conceptualized differently from Western mathematics and such
differences severely weakened the impact of Jesuit mathematical writings on Neo-
Confucian thinking.
Confucians preferred working with abstractions expressed in concrete terms and
with specific numbers rather than with nebulous substitutes such as the x, y, and z
utilized in the Euclidean geometry the Jesuits presented as a model of Western
mathematical thinking. Whether in mathematical or in other modes of discourse,
they tended to favor abstractions created by assigning a wider range to already exist-
ing words drawn from everyday life over abstractions created by neologisms lack-
ing a history of tangible reference. Moreover, Confucian mathematicians were more
inclined to algebraic than geometric formulations, since they were more interested
in the relations between particular numbers than in the properties of generic lines,
planes, and solids. (Needham 1959: Vol. 3, 23–24).
This has significant implications for the persuasiveness, or lack thereof, of
Western logic. The Confucian approach to abstraction, which entailed a different
understanding of logical implication, rendered the deductive proofs of Euclidean
geometry irrelevant to mainstream Confucian thinkers. One scholar has noted that,
“Whereas Euclid’s work is organized into the form of propositions, derived via
deductive chains from ‘first principles,’ the basic concern of Chinese mathematics
was the algorithm.” (Engelfriet 1998: 106–7) Another scholar explains what an
algorithm means in a Chinese context. It means a “procedure, i.e., a sequence of
operations that brings into play the data provided by the outline of a problem in
order to determine the unknowns for it.” (Chemla 2010: 255) Moreover, these algo-
rithms are derived, not from abstract principles, but from what works in particular
types of mathematical situations.
There are two reasons for the Confucian preference for algorithms over proposi-
tions. First of all, though Confucian thinkers were as comfortable with abstractions
as Westerners were, they preferred abstractions that were constructed by embracing
a large number of specific particulars rather than by subtracting from those particu-
lars. For example, the most important abstraction in the Neo–Confucian philosophi-
cal universe is li (理), often misleadingly translated as “principle.” Though li is
frequently described in Neo-Confucian writings as “above the realm of material
forms” (形以上 hyŏngisang C. xingyishang), that merely means it is not confined to
any particular form. Li is the umbrella term for the sum total of all the patterns of
appropriate interactions that generate and direct the cosmos, including the various
material forms within it. The “principles” of Sino-Korean mathematics are subsets
of this all-embracing cosmic li. Therefore, rather than abstract propositions emptied
of all specific content, Confucians preferred instructions for addressing a variety of
related specific problems and situations drawn from those patterns of appropriate
interactions within the physical world. They wanted their abstract instructions to be
grounded in concrete examples, to embrace a multitude of specific applications.
A second reason Confucians preferred algorithms over propositions is that
Euclidian propositions appeared to them to be too closely linked to static entities.
The Neo-Confucian vision of the universe was one in which change, and the pat-
terns that direct it, are fundamental. In fact, it can be argued that all that was really
real to a Neo-Confucian were changes, the patterns (li) that direct those changes,
and the interactions that result from those changes. Neo-Confucians saw the uni-
verse through the lens provided by the ancient classic the Book of Changes (Yijing
K. Yŏkkyŏng 易經), which identifies 64 basic dynamic patterns underlying all
change, and therefore all existence, in the universe.
The Western approach to abstraction, and to constructing propositions, was quite
different. Two of the universal properties Western abstractions tend to extract from
specific things are change and interactions. This is particularly true of Western
mathematics before calculus emerged. Geometry, for example, appeared in
Confucian eyes to be the study of static triangles and rectangles. Rather than focus-
ing on how one object might change into one of a different size, it focused instead
on the invariable relationships between the various parts of fixed forms. This runs
counter to the Confucian preference for focusing on patterns of change and interac-
tions in constructing abstractions. Rather than focusing on what something is at a
specific point in time, they have preferred to examine what something was and did
and what it might be and do in the future, and on the underlying patterns behind
such changes. The Book of Changes served as both a manifestation of this prefer-
ence and a stimulus of it.
Consequently, an argument couched in Euclidean geometric generalities was
unlikely to be adopted by Confucian scholars. Those Koreans and Chinese who
accepted the conclusions presented in Western mathematical works, and borrowed
the techniques they offered, by and large ignored the process by which Westerners
had reached those conclusions and produced those techniques. The Jesuit mission-
aries in China intended mathematics to serve as a proselytizing tool, convincing
Confucians that the Western mode of reasoning was superior and deserving of
346 D. Baker
a doption. Instead, the Confucian understanding of abstraction as rooted in, rather

than rising above, change and multiplicity undercut the theoretical force of the
Jesuit argument, severing the intended link between the accuracy of the results the
Jesuits’ mathematical formulae produced from the validity of the deductive reason-
ing by which those formulae had been discovered. An examination of the mathemat-
ical writings of Yi Ik 李瀷 (1681–1763), Ch’oe Sŏkchŏng 崔錫鼎 (1646–1725),
Hwang Yunsŏk 黃胤錫 (1729–1791), and Hong Taeyong 洪大容 (1737–1783)
confirms that Koreans felt comfortable extracting formulae from Western mathe-
matical works while leaving the logic underlying them behind. (Baker 2012).
3 Koreans Encounter Thomism
A century after the first Korean encounter with Western maps, mathematics, and
astronomy, we see the first signs of Koreans beginning to grapple with Western
philosophy, in this case, the Scholastic Thomism of the Roman Catholic Church. A
young Confucian scholar, Sin Hudam 愼後聃 (1702–1761), in 1724 when he was
still a young man in his twenties and had just passed the civil service examination
that allowed him to keep his status as a member of the yangban elite, was given a
copy of both Matteo Ricci’s Tianzhu shiyi as well as On the nature of the soul
(Lingyan lishao K. Yŏngŏnyŏjak 靈言蠡勺), a Thomistic explanation of the nature
of the human soul and its faculties by Francis Sambiasi (1582–1649). (Sambiasi
1976; Shen 2009) Sin read those works carefully and then penned an incisive criti-
cism of what he saw as serious mistakes in what those books wrote about li and the
process of human cognition (Sin 2014). Underlying his criticisms was a sharp chal-
lenge to the Western notion of substance.
According to Thomistic philosophy, universals outside the mind (and that is how
the Jesuits in China understood li) were nothing more than rational principles human
beings used to understand the world around them and were dependent on the pro-
cessing intellect to extract them from concrete individual material substances and
actualize them in the mind.
Before you can understand the principles (li) that make something what it is, the processing
intellect has to first make those principles comprehensible. Only then can the receiving
intellect comprehend them. (Sambiasi 1976: 320).
Sambiasi explained the dependency of principle on the intellect with an analogy to

color. A white object would only appear white when illuminated, though it was still
called a white object even when hidden in the dark. Likewise, the principles that
defined the nature of an object subsisted as real principles, potentially available to
the mind, whether human beings were aware of them or not, though they could not
be grasped directly until they were processed by a processing intellect and made
intelligible. (Sambiasi 1976: 320).
Sin, as a follower of the T’oegye school of Korean Neo-Confucianism which
placed particular emphasis on the independent generative power of li, rejected this
picture of li. Li to him meant a dynamic pattern rather than a static principle. He
conceived of li as a formative force that gave shape and purpose to ki and thus cre-
ated and sustained concrete existence rather than as some lifeless logical phantasm
abstracted from concrete existence. Li, as Sin understood it, did not require a human
mind to activate it.
Sambiasi, caught up in his own foolish thoughts, insists that all the phenomena in the uni-
verse are nothing but myriad images created to serve the intellect....He does not recognize
that the li of things are as they are in themselves and are nothing which human beings
through their power to know them can add to or subtract from.(Sin 2014: 205)
Moreover, Sin believed that the Catholic effort to rip li from the particular context
in which it dwelled destroyed the unity of the concrete substance and led to empty
abstractions. (Sin 2014,1: 205–06).
Sin was a naive realist. He believed that the li that determined what an object
was, which role an object played within the cosmic network of interactions, could
be found complete and activated within that object and be fully and directly fath-
omed by the human mind. Part of his disagreement with Sambiasi was linguistic.
The Sino-Korean character (li 理) the Jesuits borrowed to refer to universals, the
characteristics of a thing that determined what that thing was, in other words, the
properties of a thing that determined what sort of substance it was, actually referred
more to functions and processes than to properties when it appeared in Korean Neo-
Confucian arguments.
Not only li but also the very term substance took on different meanings in Neo-
Confucian and Thomistic discourse. Whereas in Thomism a substance was primar-
ily an object distinguished from other substances by its separate and distinct
ontological characteristics, in mainstream Neo-Confucianism the term often trans-
lated as substance or essence (ch’e C. ti 體) is better translated in behavioral terms,
as “potential but not yet actualized functions,” since the “substance” of something
in Neo-Confucianism is normally paired with function with the first the not-yet
actualized and the second the actualized facets of the role that thing plays in the
network of appropriate interactions. Such semantic discrepancies, such use of the
same terms with different concepts of what those terms referred to, exacerbated an
already existing philosophical incompatibility. That is particularly clear in the case
of li.
Li in the Neo-Confucian sense had little connection with mental images, with
universal categories of beings. (Graham 1992: 18) Unlike Thomistic principles,
which were concerned more with what something should look like (a dog, for exam-
ple, should have four legs, a tail, and a distinctive head and body shape) than what
it should act like, li focused more on behavior, particularly patterns of interaction.
As such, li could be conceived as either universal (since li permeated and gave
direction to the cosmic pattern of interactions which constituted the universe) or
particular (since li also gave direction to specific individual patterns of interaction
within that universe.) As the universal network of appropriate interrelationships, li
shaped the respective roles various things and events played in the immanent uni-
versal pattern which determined how everything related to everything else. Therefore
348 D. Baker
each individual pattern of interaction was a manifestation of one unifying Pattern,

one thread in the all-embracing web of interrelationships. As Cheng Yi 程頤 stated,
“The pattern of one thing is one with the Pattern of all things.” (Cheng Hao and
Cheng Yi 1965. 2A: 1a; Chan 1969: 551).
The ambiguity of the Chinese language, with no demands for grammatical dis-
tinctions between singular and plural, encouraged such linkage of the universal and
the particular. The same Sino-Korean character could refer to a specific individual
pattern of interaction (li), a set of related patterns (li), or the all-embracing Cosmic
Pattern (li) with no morphological changes, suggesting to Chinese and Koreans a
unity in situations in which Western grammatical signals would indicate diversity.
(Graham 1992: 57) This unified diversity and diversified unity embraced all things,
human beings and their minds included. Cheng Yi gave an explicit statement of this
seminal Neo-Confucian doctrine. “There is but one pattern in things and in the self.
If you understand one, then you understand the other. This is the way the internal
and the external are united.” (Cheng and Cheng 1965: 18: 8b; Chan 1969: 563;
Graham 1992: 8).
This intermingling of the singular and the plural was confusing for Jesuits, who
in the grammar which shaped both their language and their philosophy differenti-
ated sharply between the one and the many, and between the particular and the
universal. Moreover, the Neo-Confucian Confucian metaphysical vision, which
placed the one in the many and the many in the one rather than separating them into
separate spheres, eliminated any need for the elaborate epistemological gymnastics
Sambiasi engaged in, distinguishing between an active intellect as well as a passive
intellect, for example.6 When humanity, nature, and heaven are one, with no sharp
ontological gaps between the physical and the mental world, there is no need to
explain how the mind can know material objects. The “corporeal” world of physical
entities and the “immaterial” world of the mind represented to Sin different stages
on a continuum of functioning, not qualitatively distinct categories of existence.
The mind was composed of a more rarefied ki, that was all. That which thought was
ki, though that which was thought was li. Just as patterns could be found amidst the
ki of material objects, so, too, they could be found amidst the li of the mind. Mind-
matter dualism, which looms so large in the history of Western thought, was obvi-
ated in Korean orthodox Neo-Confucianism.
Sambiasi does not see that the Dao and that in which it is realized are one, that no gap
exists between the manifest and the hidden, or that the material and the immaterial have the
same patterns. (Sin 2014: 202)
The gap Thomists saw between things and the principles which define them and the
assumption of Neo-Confucians of the dynamic immanence of principles that direct
how things behave is reflected in their differing views of human nature. In Thomism
human nature is both incomplete and imperfect. In Neo-Confucianism, however,
human nature is by definition essentially complete and perfect. Ironically, Thomistic
philosophy, with its recognition of the gap between the abstract and concrete reality,
This complicated account of the process of cognition can be found in Sambiasi 1976: 314–25.
6
was more realistic in its psychology than Neo-Confucianism was despite its sever-
ing of the essential ties between li and things since Neo-Confucianism, because it
blurs the distinction between the “is” and the “ought” as well as the distinction
between a thing and those characteristics it shares with other things, found it more
difficult to acknowledge the fact of human moral frailty.
4 Chŏng Yagyong and the Influence of Western Learning
More than a half century after Sin Hudam wrote his criticism of Western Learning,
there was a different reaction to these new ideas from the West. Chŏng Yagyong 丁
若鏞 (1762–1826), better known as Tasan 茶山, was one of the most prolific, if not
the most prolific, writer in the entire five centuries of the Chosŏn dynasty. A combi-
nation of a first-class intellect, an insatiable curiosity, and 18 years in exile giving
him plenty of time to read, think, and write made it possible for him to produce, in
addition to works on government administration, geography and medicine, com-
mentaries on every major Confucian Classic. In writing those commentaries, Tasan
drew not only on earlier generations of Chinese and Korean writings on the classics
but also on works by writers on Confucianism in Tokugawa Japan and even on
works by Jesuit missionaries in China introducing Thomism.
Stimulated by the wide range of materials he immersed himself in, Tasan
rethought many of the fundamental assumptions of the Neo-Confucianism that was
dominant in the Korea of his time.
Tasan created an original Confucian philosophy from those mostly Confucian
materials out of a desire to resolve what had become for him a core concern. As
noted in chapter three of this volume, Tasan was particularly conscious of the con-
tradiction between the Confucian belief in the innate goodness and perfectibility of
human beings and the reality of human moral frailty. He spent much of his philo-
sophical energy on searching for a way to resolve that problem.
Tasan’s solution was to extricate human beings from the universe. (Kalton 1981)
In mainstream Neo-Confucianism, li was both that which made human beings an
integral part of the cosmic network of appropriate relations as well as that which
made human beings moral by nature. For Tasan, such an assumption of universal
moral linkage through li, which assumed that human beings would naturally act as
members of the human and cosmic community rather than as self-centered indi-
viduals, made it difficult to explain the inability of human beings to consistently
interact with the world around them the way they knew they should. Tasan reasoned
that a more realistic approach to understanding human behavior would be to narrow
the range of concepts such as li so that the frequent tendency of human beings to act
contrary to li could become comprehensible. To do that, however, he had to dis-
mantle the grand edifice of moral cosmic unity Neo-Confucianism had erected. He
borrowed conceptual tools from Western Learning to carry out that project.
Tasan’s wide-ranging scholarship combined with his departures from the ortho-
doxy prevailing in the second half of the Chosŏn dynasty has made him the subject
350 D. Baker
of hundreds of scholarly articles and books. In those articles and books we can find
significant differences in how to characterize Tasan’s philosophical orientation. For
example, there are arguments over whether or not he should be considered a Neo-
Confucian or as someone who had renounced Neo-Confucianism in his desire to
return to what he believed were the core messages in the ancient Confucian Classics.
Those who argue that he was not a Neo-Confucian point to his denial of a defining
concept of Neo-Confucianism, a pivotal role for li in both the natural world and in
the human ability to live a moral life. They also note that he called for a return to the
Confucianism that he believed prevailed prior to the Han, making it more accurate
to call him a Confucian fundamentalist than a Neo-Confucian. Those who argue to
the contrary insist that he still used a lot of Neo-Confucian terminology, including
li and ki, and shared the Neo-Confucian emphasis on the moral psychology of the
Doctrine of the Mean and therefore has to be seen as still within the Neo-Confucian
camp, albeit on its edges.
Both descriptions of Tasan have some validity. There is no doubt that Tasan
shared the Neo-Confucian concern for the cultivation of a moral character, and
relied heavily on the Four Books promoted by Neo-Confucians as guides to self-
cultivation. He also used Neo-Confucian terms in his commentaries and essays.
However, there is also no doubt that Tasan redefined key Neo-Confucian concepts
to make them more compatible with his vision of human beings as autonomous
individuals who had to struggle to live the virtuous life demanded by Confucianism.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to call Tasan “post-Neo-Confucian,” someone
who built his philosophy on a broad Neo-Confucian foundation but then redesigned
that foundation and added additional elements to create something original. (Setton
2002).
Tasan’s familiarity with Western Learning was particularly influential in deter-
mining his original philosophical orientation. (Song 2001; Keum 2000) When Tasan
was still young and impressionable, he read some of the Catholic-authored mission-
ary publications from China and was at first impressed by them. As he later con-
fessed to King Chŏngjo 正祖 (r. 1776–1800) when Tasan was trying to counter a
threat to his political career his youthful involvement with Catholicism posed, “I
was infected with Catholic ideas when I was young, as delighted with them as a
child would be with a toy.” (Chŏng 1989 I: 9, 43b) However, when the government
started killing Catholics for their refusal to adhere to government regulations regard-
ing ancestor memorial rituals (祭祀 chesa C. jisi), Tasan abandoned the infant
Korean Catholic community he had helped found. He spent the rest of his life focus-
ing his scholarly energy on writing Confucian texts, including commentaries on all
the great Confucian Classics. (He had time to do that during the 18 years he spent
in exile from 1801 to 1818 because of his connection to Korea’s first Catholic com-
munity.) Ever mindful of the deadly hostility of his government toward Catholicism,
Tasan was very careful never to say anything explicitly favorable to Catholic ideas
in any of his writings. However, he also departed significantly from mainstream
Neo-Confucianism in his interpretations of the Confucian Classics, and we can
identify Western Learning influence in some of those departures.
Even when he did not show obvious signs of Western influence, Tasan was quite
critical of the Neo-Confucians of his day for what he saw as their failure to adhere
to the original moral purpose of Confucianism:
In the past, people who studied nature and principle realized that nature and principle
originate in Heaven. They knew that the Way and the moral rules governing human behav-
ior are one and the same. Therefore they took filial piety, fraternal love, loyalty, and fidelity
as the basis for serving Heaven. They took ritual, music, and a legal system as tools for
governing the people. And they took a sincere will and a righteous heart as the link between
Heaven and man. They called this Way in (benevolence C. ren 仁). They called acting in
accordance with this Way sŏ (being considerate in your dealings with others C. shu 恕).
They called the manifestation of this Way kyŏng (reverence C. jing 敬). And they called
adhering to the Way through one’s own efforts chunghwaji yong (consistently maintaining
moderate and harmonious behavior C. zhonghe zhi yong 中和之庸). That is all there was
to it. They felt no need to say more. Anything else said about it was just another way to
repeat what had already been said.
Those who study nature and principle these days, on the other hand, babble on about li
(patterning principle) and ki (material force), nature and the emotions, essence [ch’e] and
function, original nature and physical nature, generation by principle and generation by
material force, the quiescent mind and the engaged mind, whether principle and material
force are one thing or two, whether li unites and ki differentiates or ki unites and li differ-
entiates, and whether the human heart is pure goodness or contains evil mixed in with the
good….They are not true Confucians, these Neo-Confucians of today. (Chŏng 1989 I: 11,
19a–20a.)
However, Tasan didn’t just criticize his contemporaries. He proposed a different

approach to the philosophical issues both he and they considered important. Tasan
presented specific philosophical arguments the way Confucians had normally done
since the Han dynasty. He wrote commentaries on the Classics in which he explained
his philosophical insights as nothing more than a faithful interpretation of what
those Classics actually said. In his commentary on the Mencius, for example, he
provides the philosophical background for his later argument (also, according to
him, drawn from an accurate readings of the Classics) that human beings are not
unitary beings in which their nature is identical with the li that directs appropriate
interaction throughout the universe but instead are a composite of a material body
and a non-material consciousness and that, as a result of their composite nature,
human beings are capable of choosing between acting in a moral fashion or acting
contrary to moral principles. Tasan not only argued that we need to distinguish
between our non-material ability to think, understand, evaluate, and choose, on the
one hand, and the desires for physical pleasure generated by our bodies, on the
other, but that we have to recognize that our sense organs, and the contact with the
material world they provide us, do not control our thoughts and decisions, which are
the domain of our immaterial mind.
To make such an argument, Tasan had to break with the traditional Neo-Confucian
understanding of substance (ch’e) that generated a vision of human beings as more
an integrated whole than a combination of disparate parts and functions. Tasan
insisted he was simply getting back to the basics, returning to what Confucianism
was all about before its core message was obscured by the complicated i nterpretations
352 D. Baker
of Song and even Han dynasty interpretations. (U. Yi 1973: 20–32) However, his
attempted reconstruction of what he believed was original Confucianism continues
to reveal Neo-Confucian influence (in the emphasis he shares with them on the Four
Books and his use of Neo-Confucian terminology, albeit with altering meanings)
while at the same time manifesting clear evidence of the influence of Western
Learning.
For example, echoing Ricci (Lancashire and Hu 2016: 191–95), Tasan chal-
lenged the basic Neo-Confucian assumption that human beings share one “sub-
stance” (ch’e C.ti 體) with the cosmos. Tasan launched a frontal assault on the core
Neo-Confucian notion that human beings form one body with the universe, along
with its accompanying assumption that human beings and animals share the same
basic nature. Reading the term ch’e in its narrow literal meaning of “body,” rather
than in its more common philosophical meaning of potential or un-activated func-
tion, Tasan argued that it is contrary to both the words of the Classics and the nature
of the real world to say that all the things in the universe share one “ch’e.” “How can
we possibly think that we share one body with plants, trees, and animals?” he asked.
(Chŏng 1989 II: 4: 8b–9a) Tasan could only ask that question because he understood
“ch’e” in its literal sense, as a separate and distinct physical entity rather than as one
node in a network of interactions. That was the same sense with which Ricci used
that term in his Tianzhu shiyi.
As Ricci explained it, ch’e referred to a substance (charipcha C. zilizhe 自立者),
something, such as a horse, that could stand alone and therefore did not depend on
anything else. The opposite of substance was not function (yong 用), as it is in main-
stream Confucianism, but an attribute, or accident, a quality that was dependent on
something else for its existence or operation, such as the color white as seen on a
white horse (ŭiloeja C. yilaizhe 依賴者). (Lancashire and Hu 2016: 83–85) As an
example, Ricci said you could point to an animal and say “that is a horse” no matter
what color it was, but you could not point to a color and say “that is white” unless
you were pointing to something such as a horse which was white. In other words, a
substance was any entity, material or immaterial, capable of independent
existence.
Tasan slightly modified the terms Ricci used in order to deny li the cosmic unify-
ing role it has been awarded by Neo-Confucianism. Tasan wrote that li cannot oper-
ate alone but instead is something that has to rely on something else (ŭibu ji p’um
C. yifu zhi pin 依附之品) for it to be able to play its role. In other words, li is a mere
attribute. Ki (氣), on the other hand, according to Tasan, is a substance. He doesn’t
use the word “ch’e” for substance here, since that term has other connotations in
Neo-Confucianism. Instead, he says ki “exists in and of itself”(chayu ji mul C. yiyou
zhi wu 自有之物), which is the way Ricci had defined substance. (Chŏng 1989 b: 4,
65a).
Redefining substance, li, and ki the way he did, Tasan shows that he has been
influenced by his reading of Western Learning texts and has begun to shift from the
Neo-Confucian emphasis on defining things by what they do, particularly by what
they do in their interactions with other things, toward understanding things by what
they are in themselves. In other words, in order to find a way to understand how
human beings can act contrary to the way they should act in accordance with the
dictates of li, he takes some early steps toward dismantling the universe as Neo-
Confucians conceived it. Rather than pursuing the mainstream Neo-Confucian proj-
ect of conceiving the universe as an integrated whole, he proceeds to fragment it.
We can see his substance-oriented interpretation of Neo-Confucian concepts in
his criticism of such key components of Neo-Confucian holistic cosmology as yin
and yang. Tasan agrees with Jesuit missionaries in China that yin and yang cannot
play the creative role Neo- Confucian cosmology assigns them. He points out that
yin and yang are simply labels for things that are dark or light and are not concrete
entities in themselves that we can point to. Since they are not material objects them-
selves, he argues, they cannot create any material objects. Instead, he says heaven
combines with heat to generate wind, fire splits the heavens to generate thunder,
water cuts into mountains to sculpt mountains, earth blocks up water to create ponds
and lakes, and so on. Tasan rejects yin-yang cosmology for more concrete explana-
tions of how the universe came to be and why it operates the way it does. (Chŏng
1989 II: 4, 1b–2a).
He does the same with the Five Phases (wuhaeng C. wuxing 五行). He says that
fire, water, wood, metal, and dirt are just five things out of the myriad things that
exist in the universe. How could those five alone produce the rest, he asks? (Chŏng
Yagyong 1989 II: II: 4, 3a) He also says, in his commentary on the “Hongfan” (K.
Hongbŏm 洪範) section of the Book of Documents (Sogyŏng C. Shujing (書經) that
is the locus classicus for the Five Phases (Legge 1960: 320–326), that the Five
Phases are just five of the many material objects created by Heaven. There is noth-
ing special about those five. We could just as easily talk about four, six, or eight
basic elements, if we wanted to. However, later generations misread that early text
as saying that there were only Five Phases, no more, no less, and that they were the
building blocks of the cosmos in a correlative cosmology. This, he says, is a mis-
take. We should go back to the original meaning of the Classics and treat dirt, fire,
water, wood, and metal as the five basic material entities (in other words, sub-
stances) that they are. (Chŏng 1989 II: 25: 30a–31b).
Tasan was drawn to the Catholic notion of separate and distinct substances
because of his own personal experience with self-cultivation. In mainstream Neo-
Confucianism, since human beings, like everything else in the universe, are inextri-
cably intertwined with the cosmic network of appropriate relationships that
constitutes the universe, human nature is essentially good. In other words, it is our
nature to act in accordance with the cosmic network in which we are embedded.
However, Tasan, in reflecting on his own attempts to consistently adhere to the
moral principles of Confucianism, realized that he interacted with people and the
world around him as a separate and distinct individual. That was the only way he
could explain his inability to live up to his own high moral standards. Tasan seized
upon the notion of individual substance as a way to explain his own moral frailty
and that of humanity in general.
This notion of individual substances not only allowed Tasan to shatter into sepa-
rate entities the Neo-Confucian concepts of yin, yang, and the Five Phases, it also
allowed him to distinguish different components of the human nature mainstream
354 D. Baker
Neo-Confucianism normally treated as inseparably integrated. We saw in chap-

ter three of this volume that Tasan denied the Confucian assertion that human nature
is innately good, if that is taken to mean that human beings are naturally moral.
Instead, he argued that human nature has a preference for the good. However, these
are two such goods, the good of morality and the good of physical pleasure.
Sometimes, he pointed out, those two preferences are in conflict.
In his commentary on the Mencius, Tasan interpreted the language in that classic
to support his depiction of human nature as actually composed of two different
basic components, and their corresponding different orientations. In a conversation
with Gongduzi about whether human nature is the same for everyone or not,
Mencius (6A: 15) stated “Those who follow the part of themselves that is great
become great persons, while those who follow the part that is small become small
persons.” (Bloom 2009) Tasan understood the phrases “the part of themselves that
is great” (taech’e C.dati 大體) and “the part that is small” (soch’e C. xiaoti 小體) to
be references to separate and distinct substances that together constitute human
nature rather than to mere parts of a unified human nature. He wrote:
The term “the part of themselves that is great” refers to our immaterial penetrating intel-
ligence. The term “the part that is small” refers to our material flesh and bones. To act in
accordance with the greater part of yourself is to act in accordance with your moral human
nature. To act in accordance with your lesser part is to act in accordance with your egocen-
tric desires. The moral mind is that which always seeks to cultivate the ability to act in
accordance with the greater part of yourself. The human mind, on the other hand, always
seeks to nurture the ability to act in accordance with egocentric desires.... Here lies the dif-
ference between good and evil….
If our mind-and-heart is focused, then we certainly would not act in accordance with the
impulses of our lessor substance and act contrary to the direction of the greater substance.
However, if our mind-and-heart doesn’t think clearly, then it is certain that our mind-and-
heart will become mired in selfishness and fail to lead us in the right direction. Isn’t it for-
tunate that we are able to think clearly? This is a gift from Heaven.… (Chŏng 1989 II: 6,
29b)
Since, in his view, our human nature consists of both an immaterial intelligence and
a material body, and that material body produces desires for individual benefit and
pleasure at the expense of the common good, Tasan argues against the mainstream
Neo-Confucian notion that virtue is innate. Instead, he insists no one should be
called virtuous unless they consistently act in a virtuous manner.
Confucius said, “exercising self-discipline so that you can once again act in accordance
with propriety is perfect virtue.” (Slingerland 2003, 125) Analects, 12:] This makes it clear
that only after they curb their egocentric desires can a person be said to be virtuous. If you
assume that virtue is already present in your mind-and-heart before you have exercised
sufficient self-discipline to control your egocentric desires, then this implies that even after
you are perfectly virtuous you are still engaged in an inconclusive battle with your baser
instincts. If that were the case, how can someone’s possession of perfect virtue be used to
tell if they are a moral person or not? This does not make any sense at all…. (Chŏng 1989
II: 6, 30b)
As already noted, Tasan challenged the core Neo-Confucian assertion of li as a for-

mative moral force that functions within yet independently of the physical world.
His insistence on the dual nature of human nature also led him to deny that li unites,
and defines, everything in the universe. The belief in a universal li was an expression
of the Neo-Confucian belief, which Tasan believed was influenced by Buddhism,
that everything in the world was connected to everything else. Tasan believed that a
focus on what things have in common with everything else distracts from the atten-
tion we need to give to the distinctive characteristics of each and every thing and
process in the world so that we can learn how to act properly in each and every
encounter and situation.
The Confucians of recent centuries say that there is one li in everything in heaven and on
earth, immaterial and material, intelligent and dumb. It makes no difference whether it is
large or small, whether it is something that is able to take command or something that is
dependent on other things to determine what it does. They say they all originate from the
same li. It doesn’t matter whether it is concentrated or scattered to the winds. They say they
all are formed by the one li. There is not one bit of difference between such statements and
what the Tang monk Zhao Zhou (778-897) said about “all things ultimately are the same
thing.” The Song dynasty scholars of Confucianism were entangled in Chan Buddhism
when they were young. Even after they returned to Confucianism, they could not cleanse
their philosophy from its lingering effects. Every day they said that the more the Buddhists
drew closer to li, the more damage they did to the truth. Yet, because they said that the
Buddhists drew close to li, we know that they picked up some ideas from the Buddhists. …
What sort of thing is this thing called li they write about? Li is unable to feel love or hate.
Li is unable to feel happy or angry. Li is just some empty concept that lacks any real sub-
stance. How can we say that Heaven instilled in us li, which serves as our human nature?
That is difficult to reconcile with the notion of the Way. (Chŏng 1989 II: 6, 38a-b)
In Tasan’s view, a focus on li not only blinds us to the diverse nature of both the
world around us and our own human nature, it also masks the role of consciousness
in not only our own moral decision-making but also in the maintenance of order,
including moral order, in the universe. He believed that the overemphasis on li he
sees in mainstream Neo-Confucianism keeps us from recognizing that the uncon-
scious way nature operates is very different from the way human beings, with their
ability to think and choose, operate. And it keeps us from acknowledging that the
role of human agents in bringing order to human society tells us that order we see in
universe overall can only be explained by reference to an external conscious agent.
In particular, he charges that confusing the term “heaven,” for the sky above, with
Heaven, the moral ruler of the universe, leads us to a misunderstanding of the foun-
dation of morality and order in the universe and as a result keeps us from developing
the attitude we need to cultivate in order to overcome our “lesser substance” and
lead moral lives.
That which governs heaven is the Lord on High. Sometimes we use the term Heaven for the
Lord on High just as we sometimes use “state” as synonymous with the ruler of the state.
That’s only because we don’t dare to use the actual name. But we have to distinguish differ-
ent meanings of heaven. The material vast expanse of blue above, which we also call
heaven, is like a roof over our heads. It is the same type of thing as the earth below as well
as water and fire. In other words, it is just an ordinary material object. How can it possibly
be foundation of the Way that defines human nature?...
356 D. Baker
Something that lacks consciousness is incapable of serving as a ruler. Think about it. If the
head of a household is totally dim-witted with no sense at all, then the affairs of that house-
hold will be mismanaged. If the magistrate of a district is dim-witted with no sense at all,
then the affairs of that district will be mismanaged. Similarly, if you take li, which is empty,
lacking any concrete content, and try to make it the ruler and foundation of the ten thousand
things in heaven and earth, then would there be any order in the universe? (Chŏng 1989 II:
6, 38b)
Tasan was a true Confucian in that his ultimate concern was morality. His disman-
tling of Neo-Confucian holistic metaphysics had one ultimate goal: to come to an
understanding of human nature and the universe in which human beings act that
would make it easier for us to live up to the high moral standards of Confucianism.
Tasan argues that there are two reasons we don’t live up to the Confucian promise
of human perfectibility. First of all, we don’t recognize that it is not natural, in the
sense of easy, to always do the right thing. Once we realize that, then we need to find
a way to inspire us to exert the energy necessary to overcome the selfish tendencies
of our physical nature and follow the guidance of our desire for the moral good.
Tasan thought that li, because of its impersonal and unconscious character, was
unable to rouse in us the attitude of caution and apprehension necessary to over-
come an innate tendency to follow the more comfortable (temporarily, at least) path
of the pursuit of personal pleasure and benefit. Therefore, and here again he shows
the influence of Western Learning, he insisted we need to believe there is an actual
supreme supernatural personality observing everything we think and do from above.
He called that God above by the ancient Confucian term Lord on High (Sangje C.
Shangdi 上帝), and argued that belief in such a God is a necessary incentive to
moral behavior.
When the people are able to help each other live better lives and are able to keep from doing
harm to each other, it is because a wise king rules over them. If they don’t have such a king,
then all the otherwise good people will turn on each other and will openly engage in such
immoral behavior as stealing from those around them. Such chaos could just go on and on.
However, despite such behavior, we know that the only reason they appear to have such evil
within them, the only reason they appear to have such a rotten core, is that there is no wise
king watching over them and therefore their hearts are not enlightened by wise governance.
They act the way they do because there is no law enforcement system to point them in the
right direction and no government to punish them when they do wrong. They behave in such
an unacceptable fashion because no one is watching them from above. They are as brazen
as they are because there is no one around to stop them.
Why is that people will not act in an appropriate manner unless someone above is watching
them? The mind-and-hearts of human beings are such that they are inclined to act in a fool-
ish and headstrong manner. If there is no one who can enlighten them to the proper norms
of behavior, then they will just act any which way they please without any regard for the
consequences. Even when they put on a show of good behavior, in their hearts they still are
basically immoral.
However, if you get them to engage in serious study so that at the core of their minds-and-
hearts they are cautious and apprehensive, if they can see the connection linking Heaven
with humanity, and human nature with that which Heaven has conferred, and if you get
them to engage in the reverence for the Lord on High the wise sages of old engaged in, then
they will be both circumspect and diligent instead of being thoughtless and lazy. Then, when
they engage in quiet-sitting, they won’t have a blank look on their face, looking no different
from an inert boulder. And when they are up and about, engaging in some important busi-
ness, they won’t act with reckless abandon, like a horse that has slipped its reins. By damp-
ening the selfish orientations of human desires, they will preserve the concern for the
common good that defines the principles conferred by Heaven. (Chŏng 1989 I: 8, 31a)
As noted in chapter three, Tasan argued:

The only reason why a superior person is watchful over his thoughts and behavior even in
the privacy of his own room is that he knows that there is a Lord Above (Sangje) watching
him. If we think that the term “Sangje” is nothing by a metaphorical way of referring to li,
then we wouldn’t be cautious and apprehensive. Li, after all, is not a conscious being. It is
unable to inspire caution and apprehension. (Chŏng 1989 II: 3, 5a)
Tasan’s God is a Confucian God. He doesn’t communicate with the human race
through revealed scriptures. He doesn’t judge us after we die and reward us with
eternal life in heaven or punish us with eternal suffering in hell, depending on how
faithfully we obeyed his dictates. And he doesn’t require regular ritual displays of
recognition and devotion. His God is simply a personification of morality, and func-
tions only to inspire us to overcome our own moral frailty.
Nevertheless, when Tasan fragmented the universe and pushed li aside, putting a
supernatural personality in its place, he proposed such a radical transformation of
the basic assumptions of Neo-Confucian thought that in the decades after his death
in 1836 few followed him down the path he blazed. Tonghak (東學), a new religious
movement which emerged in 1860 with a belief in one supreme supernatural force
which it identified with the dynamic and creative ki which fills the universe, and
Ch’oe Han’gi (崔漢綺 1803–1877), who in his later years redefined li in order to
make it easier to analyze the things of this world as separate and distinct substances,
emerged on their own out of Korea’s Confucian soil and owe no debt to Tasan and
his essays and commentaries, though they, too, dealt with li and ki in ways that
depart substantially from the way they were dealt with by mainstream
Neo-Confucians.
5 Western Learning and Practical Learning
In the first half of the twentieth century, when Korea was for a few decades under
Japanese rule, Korean historians began looking back at the Chosŏn dynasty for
indigenous roots of the modernization project Koreans had begun to embark on.
Those historians thought they uncovered a new current in Chosŏn intellectual life
which they called “sirhak” (practical learning C.shixue 實學). They noticed that,
starting in the seventeenth century, a few Korean Confucian scholars expanded the
range of subjects they wrote about, moving beyond ritual and philosophy to propose
reforms in government policies and government administration. Some of them dis-
cussed the natural world and advances in technology as well, producing encyclope-
dic collections of essays. Even though the various men to whom the sirhak label was
358 D. Baker
applied disagreed on many important issues, such as whether Korea should main-
tain the focus it placed on agriculture in its economy or should try to encourage
commercial activity, they all represent an increased interest in practical issues and
the material world and therefore have been placed, despite their many differences,
under the umbrella term “practical learning.”7
One way many of those “practical learning” scholars showed that they had
expanded the boundaries of acceptable Confucian scholarship was their willingness
to discuss Western Learning. Some of them, such as Chŏng Yagyong, absorbed ele-
ments gained from reading European-authored books into their own philosophies.
Others, such as Sin Hudam, read European books only to criticize them from a
staunchly Neo-Confucian point of view. Nevertheless, because an acquaintance
with Western Learning and an interest in addressing practical issues often appear
together, some contemporary Korean scholars have pointed to the stimulus of the
Western Learning challenge to traditional Confucian thought as one of the reasons
“practical learning” emerged in Korea when it did.
It is difficult to determine how much of a stimulus Western Learning actually was
in Korean Confucian circles in the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries. There
is no doubt that some Korean scholars at that time, particularly those who are today
given the “sirhak” label, reveal a tendency to question the usefulness of some of the
more nebulous metaphysical concepts central to mainstream Neo-Confucianism,
such as yin and yang. Moreover, a few, particularly Chŏng Yagyong, appear to be
moving away from the traditional focus on process and function to also pay atten-
tion to concrete objects and how one substance, as substance, can be different from
other substances. There also appears to be a growing tendency to treat the world of
facts, such as seen in nature, and the world of morality, as seen in human interac-
tions, as not as closely intertwined as earlier Confucians saw them. (Baker 2007).
Nevertheless, it is not clear if those new ways of viewing the world, which can
be plausibly interpreted as representing a more practical stance toward the material
realm, are primarily the result of reading European-authored books on philosophy
and science or are the product of internal dynamics within Korea’s own Confucian
tradition. It is undeniable that Chŏng Yagyong and Ch’oe Han’gi took Western
ideas seriously. Nor can the influence of Western Learning on Tonghak be over-
looked, especially since Tonghak adopted that name, which means “Eastern
Learning,” to place itself in direct opposition to Western Learning which it nonethe-
less clearly was influenced by. However, their adaptation of some ideas acquired
from Western Learning, and the interest in Western Learning shown by some of
their predecessors, may have been because they were already drawing closer in their
own ways of thinking to a more practical viewpoint, and their growing practically
may have been reinforced rather than created by exposure to Western Learning.
7
For a useful survey of “sirhak” in the second half of the Chosŏn dynasty, see Youn Sasoon 2015:
579–666), and Kalton 2004.
6 Conclusion
However strong may be the relationship between Western Learning and a more
practical orientation in Chosŏn Confucian circles, Western Learning remained noth-
ing more than a side story in the narrative of Korean intellectual history as long as
Confucianism, including its natural philosophy, maintained its dominance as the
official philosophy of the Chosŏn government. It was not until the twentieth cen-
tury, after the Chosŏn dynasty fell in 1910, that modern science convinced most
Koreans that viewing the material world as composed of separate and discrete sub-
stances was more useful than conceiving the world as a collection of interconnected
processes. And it was not until Christianity had grown large and influential enough
to cause a significant percentage of the Korean population to accept belief in a
supernatural personality as a rational response to the problem of human moral
frailty, that Tasan’s philosophical contributions began to be taken seriously. It was
only then that Tasan won recognition as one of the most creative thinkers of the
entire Chosŏn dynasty, and only then that the contributions of Western Learning to
new directions in Korean Neo-Confucianism came to be appreciated.
Works Cited
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including translations of excerpts from texts of philosophical importance.
Chapter 16
Dasan Jeong Yak-yong: A Synthesizer
of Korean Confucianism
Hongkyung Kim
1 Introduction
Despite the dominant practice in contemporary Korean academia since 1936 to

define Dasan’s philosophy and Practical Learning (Silhak: 實學) as intellectual defi-
ance against neo-Confucianism and neo-Confucian society, some scholarly efforts
that have sought to disprove this understanding attract the unremitting attention of
many modern skeptics.1 These efforts revolve around one point: they are not sepa-
rated from neo-Confucianism philosophically, politically, and historically. In this
view, these “new” intellectual trends are perceived as redemption of the ideal
Confucian statecraft commonly cherished by all types of Confucians, and a natural
development consequent on the expansion of neo-Confucian interest in Confucian
classical texts. In stark contrast to the prevailing perspective on Dasan’s philosophy
and Practical Learning, which sees them as estranged from their neo-Confucian
predecessors probably with hope of positioning them closer to modernity, the oppo-
sition insists continuity exists between the two Confucian traditions, somewhat pro-
voking disconnection of all Joseon intelligentsia from modernity.
In fact, the earliest modern research of Dasan’s philosophy and Practical
Learning, carried out in North Korea, predicated their ties to neo-Confucianism
1
Jeong Yak-yong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836) is a representative of Korean Confucianism in the Joseon
dynasty (1392–1910), and Dasan 茶山 is Jeong’s pen name. It was in 1936, the year of the one
hundredth anniversary of Dasan’s death, that a new recognition and conceptualization of the intel-
lectual movement of the late Joseon emerged and was initially named Silhak, Practical Learning.
Primary references in English to Dasan’s life and philosophy include: Kalton (1981: 3–37); Keum
(1986: 4–15); Setton (1989: 377–391); Henderson (1992: 305–314); Setton (1997); Lee (2004:
357–372); Han (2004: 357–372); Kim (2016: 1–30).
H. Kim (*)
Stony Brook University, Stony Brook, NY, USA
e-mail: hongkyung.kim@stonybrook.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_16
364 H. Kim
before Cheon Gwan-u and Hong I-seop in South Korea initially embedded
modernity into them. Choe Ik-hwan, who fled South Korea to North Korea in 1948,
initiated the research on Dasan’s study of the Confucian classics during the colonial
period in Korea. His Silhakpa wa Jeong Dasan (The School of Practical Learning
and Jeong Dasan) published in 1955 outlined Dasan’s study of the Confucian clas-
sics, suggesting Dasan’s connection to the neo-Confucian tradition, while his writ-
ing largely spotlighted Dasan’s social and political ideas (Yu 2005: 385–98).
Opening a full-scale debate of this issue, Yi U-seong professed that Practical
Learning, especially the philosophy of Yu Hyeong-won 柳馨遠 (1622–73), essen-
tially derived from neo-Confucianism (Yi 1988: 15–22), and his theory was but-
tressed and complemented by Kim Jun-seok (Kim 1995: 69–113). In the same
context, following an examination of the entire Practical Learning tradition, Ji
Du-hwan asserted that until the emergence of Northern Learning (Bukhak 北學) in
the eighteenth century no scholar in Practical Learning severed ties to neo-Confucian
ontological, epistemological, and metaphysical discussions (Ji 1987). More recently
some young Korean historians, encouraged by Han Yeong-u and Choe Wan-su,
have accounted the formation of the Practical Learning movement, using various
concepts such as the “ancient learning of the six classics,” “era of true view land-
scape,” “society of scholar-officials in Seoul,” and “scholars at Pavilion Chimryu”
(Han et al. 2007). Though they display a variety in denominating the origin of
Practical Learning, these new approaches uniformly relate Practical Learning to the
then mainstream neo-Confucianism. In the West, James Palais alleged that the refor-
mative political suggestions made by proponents of Practical Learning were by no
means innovative but instead reminiscent of the theoretical Zhou institutions (Palais
1996: 3–21). Some specialists in Korean religion and philosophy have also opposed
the separation of Practical Learning from Joseon neo-Confucianism (Baker 1981:
183–254; Setton 1997: 67–122). This article agrees that continuity between the two
Confucian traditions should be highlighted, and furthermore proposes an examina-
tion to locate Dasan’s philosophy closer to “Learning of Principle (Ihak 理學),” that
is, neo-Confucianism, than to “Practical” Learning.
This is based on a direct reading of his writings where “principle [理],” not
“practicality [實],” reigns supreme in making his judgments, speculations, and argu-
ments. This conclusion may be made available if one becomes cognizant of several
problems in defining Dasan’s study as Practical Learning. As previously noted by Yi
U-seong, before nationalist Korean historians refurbished the term Silhak (practical
learning) in the 1930s for characterizing Dasan’s philosophy it had widely been
circulated among Joseon Confucians who strove to distinguish their practical teach-
ings from Buddhist and Daoist abstract soteriology. For example, in his well-known
criticism of Buddhism Jeong Do-jeon 鄭道傳 (1337–1398), the real planner for the
Joseon dynasty, stated, “This reflects the mistakes of the deceitfulness, conspiracy,
perversion, and evasiveness of Buddhism today: it attempts to change people to ruin
the practical learning (Silhak) in ancient times, which aimed at enlightening virtues
and renewing the people” (Jeong 1989: 5: 499c). This usage of the term was not
only appropriate in revealing the very nature of Confucianism but also served as an
effective tool for neo-Confucian scholars within the dynasty who often sought to
substantiate and legitimize claims of superiority of neo-Confucianism over other
16 Dasan Jeong Yak-yong: A Synthesizer of Korean Confucianism 365
ways of thinking. With the same aim of emphasizing practicality, the nationalist
historians adopted this term to differentiate the political ideas of Dasan and scholars
in Practical Learning from the abstract metaphysical discourses of neo-Confucianism,
since in their eyes neo-Confucianism lapsed into heretical abstractness. This repur-
posing of the term, however, unavoidably implies that Practical Learning was a
mere restoration of the “practical learning in ancient times,” while it must have been
intended more than that. Furthermore, scholars in Practical Learning never attempted
to introduce their studies with this term. In fact, it was used less frequently by the
scholars traditionally associated with Practical Learning than those commonly
attached to the neo-Confucian camp. For example, Dasan, in his impressively volu-
minous writings, used this term only once, loosely identifying Confucianism, not
for the academic proclivity of the so-called Practical Learning (see Jeong 1996c.
281: 268d).
Calling this intellectual trend of the late Joseon “Practical Learning” implies a
segregation from the precedent neo-Confucian tradition, and thus inevitably entails
fragmentation of the Joseon Confucianism. In this understanding, the two segments
of the Joseon Confucianism appear mutually contradictory and disconnected. This
supposed incongruity might have been sought out by nationalist Korean historians
as a means of displaying the inner dynamics of progress inherent in the tradition of
Korean thought, rebutting Japanese colonial accusations of stagnation. This view-
point, however, is not without cost because it obscures perception of the penetrating
and overarching characteristic of the Joseon Confucianism: all parts of the Joseon
Confucianism uniformly prioritized the pursuit of universal morality and commonly
preserved the Confucian continuum between politics and morals, nature and human,
and language and edification. Even though Practical Learning can be paralleled with
the intellectual criticisms of neo-Confucianism in the Evidential Studies of Qing
China and Ancient Learning in Tokugawa Japan, it is also distinguished from them.
Though they all invoked the archetypical teachings of the early Confucianism to
break through the confines of neo-Confucianism, unlike its parallels, Joseon
Practical Learning neither surmounted nor replaced the neo-Confucian spirits both
theoretically and historically. In other words, Practical Learning was not as rebel-
lious to neo-Confucian orthodoxy as its Chinese and Japanese counterparts. Also
historically it never dominated the country’s scholarly discourses in the same man-
ner as Qing and Tokugawa contemporaries did. Practical Learning by and large
respected and preserved not only the neo-Confucian contribution to the develop-
ment of Confucianism but also its universal and ontological projection of everyday
morals. Consequently, the division between neo-Confucianism and Practical
Learning is not explicit.
In line with this, a comparison between Dasan and Dazai Jun 太宰純 (1680–
1747), a scholar associated with the Ancient Learning in Tokugawa Japan, accu-
rately demonstrates the dissimilarity of their attitudes toward neo-Confucianism.
Over the course of his interpretations of the Confucian classics, Dasan always hon-
ored Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200), calling him “Master Zhu [朱子],” whereas Dazai
usually debased Zhu Xi’s reputation by calling him by his personal name “Xi.”
Additionally, the widely accepted core values of Practical Learning—criticism,
practicality, and practical evidence—are observed in Dazai’s writings more con-
366 H. Kim
spicuously than those of analogous Joseon scholars including Dasan. In Dazai’s

eyes, Practical Learning’s stress on these values might be seen as meager emulation
of the Ancient Learning: Dasan and Dazai Jun might have viewed Dasan’s writings
as those of a neo-Confucian scholar. A comparison between Dasan and Mao Qiling
毛奇齡 (1623–1716), one of the initiative figures in Qing’s Evidential Studies,
serves to bolster this distinction because Mao’s interpretation of the Confucian clas-
sical texts was solidly aimed at criticizing Zhu Xi’s views while Dasan’s remained
reverent to them.
Indeed, Dasan’s esteem for “Master Zhu” is clearly illustrated in his criticism of
Dazai’s and Mao’s attacks on neo-Confucianism:
Master Cheng (Cheng Yi 程颐: 1033–1107) said, ‘How come filial piety and brotherly
respect existed in human nature from the beginning?’ This does not mean that there is no
principle in the human nature to enable people to practice filial piety and brotherly respect,
but that they are accomplished in outer world. However, Xiaoshan 蕭山 (Mao Qiling)
intended to persistently oppose the theories…[s]o that his theories have become more dis-
torted (Jeong 1996h. 282: 159a).
Notwithstanding that Dazai has no idea of what the moral principle is, he tenaciously
opposed the theories of Neo-Confucianism. How absurd this is! (Jeong 1996h. 282: 322c).
These are denigrations of what Dasan saw as a radical attempt to uproot the
foundation of the Neo-Confucian moral philosophy. Thus, the separation of Dasan’s
philosophy from neo-Confucianism is hardly free from distortion. The obsession
for excavating modernity from the intellectual traditions of East Asia, a trick ini-
tially suggested by Maruyama Masao in the realm of East Asian tradition (see
Maruyama 1952), is one possible motivation for this modern association between
Dasan’s work and Practical Learning. However, it is unlikely that East Asia could
recover its pride, using this trick. Although the argument that Practical Learning
was oriented to generate innate source of modernity somewhat pronounces resis-
tance to colonialism, it may eventually realign the provincial history of Korean
philosophy with the absolutized historical view of modernity whereby the West
often finds superior.
These are only some of the reasons why the label of “Practical Leaning” does not
reflect the true nature of Dasan’s philosophy. More important is the fact that practi-
cality was not the value that Dasan laid the most stress on in his extensive writings.
Dasan even once stated:
Among all things under heaven, something intangible [虛] is precious, and something prac-
tical [實] is humble; something with no form is precious, and something with form is hum-
ble. Morals, humaneness and rightness, ritual propriety and laws, and social teachings
uniformly rule something practical by something intangible, and guide something with
form by something with no form (Jeong 1996h. 282: 332c).
Contrary to the prevailing understanding of contemporary Korean readers with

regard to Dasan, intangibility takes precedence over practicality here. The problem
is that the contemporary scholarly approach to Dasan has primarily been based
off of his so-called “one Exposition and two Books” [一表二書]. Suggestions for
political and institutional reforms found in these writings naturally came to be dis-
tanced from his other abstract philosophical discussions. As Dasan clarified in his
autobiographical epitaph, however, they were just one of the two pillars sustaining
the entire structure of Dasan’s philosophy: “The Six Classics and the Four Books
are for self-cultivation; the one Exposition and the two Books are for governing all
under heaven and the state. Through these, both foundation and application are
prepared” (Jeong 1996b. 281: 339d). “The Six Classics and the Four Books” here
refers to the Confucian classical texts, while “the one Exposition and the two
Books” indicate Dasan’s writings of social and political reform. Thus, his political
and institutional suggestions were applications of his philosophical foundation
stated in his critical reading and interpretation of the Confucian classics.
One of the impressions that readers may have while reading Dasan’s commentar-
ies on the classics is that judgments permeate in his writings. Ethical judgments for
discerning the good from the evil are unavoidable to any Confucian since
Confucianism itself is didactically judgmental. However, Dasan didn’t suspend his
judgments even in his investigation of philological meanings and provenances of
words, historical events and figures pertinent to the given passages, or details of
Confucian rituals and institutions, and so on. Almost every time disputes arose, he
tried to reach his resolutions by making judgments. When taking in this plethora of
judgments, readers often cannot help but raise questions: provided the judgments
are coherent to one another, what is Dasan’s criterial basis for making these judg-
ments? Is there any value on which most of Dasan’s judgments are hinged? Why did
Dasan selectively take some of Zhu Xi’s views while refuting the others? What did
Dasan want to reveal when he proposed his creative interpretations even after delv-
ing into many transmitted understandings of the passages, phrases, and words in the
classics? If Dasan’s philosophy deserves to be called Practical Learning, the crite-
rial basis must be “practicality.” In my view, however, Dasan’s philosophy did not
take it as the final rationale. I believe that the penetrating value in his thought is
“principle” [理], the Confucian moral reason. If it is true, we need to re-define
Dasan’s philosophy.
2 “Principle” in Dasan’s writings
To begin with, it is necessary to examine how frequently Dasan adopted this notion
of “principle” in his writings. According to my examination of the Institution for
Translation of Korean Classics database, the Collected Works of Yeoyudang
(Yeoyudang jeonseo 與猶堂全書) contain 2042 writings in which the character for
“li 理” (principle) appears, regardless of disparity in their lengths, genres and
natures. After eliminating instances where this character is used as a verb meaning
“to control” or “to manage,” there are more than 17,000 writings of Dasan that con-
tain the philosophical notion of “principle.” This frequency should be contrasted
with that of other important concepts in Dasan’s philosophy, such as heaven (天:
368 H. Kim
3028), humaneness (仁: 878), virtue (德: 1599), ritual propriety (禮: 2733), human
nature (性: 604), filial piety (孝: 782), wholeheartedness (忠: 511), and correlation
of the mind (恕: 192). The quantity following each concept in the parenthesis indi-
cates the number of writings in the Collected Works of Yeoyudang where it appears.
In some of the writings numerated here, the character for each concept in discussion
is sometimes used as part of proper names. In particular, the character for heaven
[天] is more frequently used for constituting proper names than other characters. If
those cases are removed, the number of writings containing each concept philo-
sophically will certainly be reduced. Only writings containing the concepts “heaven”
and “ritual propriety” outnumber those of “principle.” This is remarkable consider-
ing that “principle” is an abandoned concept in common discourse surrounding
Dasan’s philosophy, whereas “heaven” and “ritual propriety” have been stressed as
pivotal components of it. To be sure, “heaven” is the one of the premier philosophi-
cal categories in Dasan’s work. To him, it is the ontological and axiological founda-
tion of all beings. In reflection of this fact, scholars have often asserted that in
Dasan’s philosophy the concept “heaven” accentuated in early Confucian classics
replaced the neo-Confucian kernel concept of “principle.” This statement is not
valid, however, since “principle” is working fine in Dasan’s philosophical paradigm,
though not in the same way as it was in the neo-Confucian philosophy. In Dasan’s
philosophy “heaven” is more foundational than “principle” because as he clarified
“principle derives from heaven” (Jeong 1996b. 281: 241a). In contrast, neo-Confu-
cians claims that “heaven is no more than principle” [天卽理]. However, “heaven”
in Dasan’s philosophy remains metaphysical. More often than not, when this con-
cept is applied to the concrete context of human relationships, societal issues, and
natural phenomena, it is replaced by “principle.” Dasan said, “The Way of the noble
person (junzi 君子) is no more than the Way of heaven. If we observe it through its
application and diversification, its principle will become clearly seen” (Jeong 1996i.
282: 53b). Dasan thought that the ultimate Way of heaven could be comprehended
through the understanding of principles in proper context. In other words, in Dasan’s
conception “heaven” and “principle” form a continuum by which universal morality
is realized. The reason contemporary scholars have not paid attention to the concept
of “principle” in their account for Dasan’s philosophy is probably because they
view “principle” as attributed to neo-Confucianism and Dasan as a dissident to
neo-Confucianism.
Meanwhile, the character for “practicality” [實] is used in 1692 writings in the
Collected Works of Yeoyudang. The frequency is noticeable, but in most cases the
character plays the role of either an adjective or an adverb without conveying philo-
sophical connotations. Further examination of this character reveals that the number
of times when it is attached to philosophical association drastically reduces the
frequency to two digits. An interesting concept arises from the combination of the
two concepts in discussion, that is, “practical principle” or “practical reason” (silli
實理). Yi U-seong argued, in his discussion of the philosophical foundation for Yu
Hyeong-won’s reformative ideas, that this concept “silli” was the cornerstone of his
thought and the source from which all his political and institutional suggestions
derived (Yi 1988: 15–22). Kim Jun-seok also agreed with this point of view (Kim
1995: 69–113). This argument is enlightening since for the first time it shed light on
the missing link between neo-Confucianism and Practical Learning. The concept
“practical principle” is also symbolic because it simultaneously extends to the two
camps in the Joseon Confucianism.
Dasan did not place a great deal of emphasis on this concept: he wrote the term
“silli” in 33 writings. When he adopted this term, however, he wished to convey
some philosophical messages. For example, in Noneo gogeum ju 論語古今註, his
commentary of the Analects, Dasan directly used the term silli four times: 7.35,
10.6, 17.2, and 17.17 in his chapter division of the Analects. In these chapters, the
term typically functions as a basis for rebutting certain arguments. In 7.35, Dasan
shows that he considers Mao Qiling’s argument unacceptable because it overlooks
the fact that the multifarious assumptions about sageness and humanity contain no
silli; in 10.6, Dasan rejects the relationships of mutual subjugation in the theory of
five phases because they contain no silli; in 17.2, Dasan repudiates the notion of the
human nature of original thus-ness, a crucial notion in Zhu Xi’s philosophy because
it is not compatible with silli; and in 17.17, Dasan criticizes Huang Kan’s 皇侃
(488–545) attempt to associate the theory of five phases with various colors because
it does not match silli (see relevant chapters in Noneo gogeum ju. Jeong 1996h).
This implies that, in Dasan’s philosophy, the concept silli plays the same role as the
concept li: in brief, silli ontologically exists a priori, paired with silsim 實心, liter-
ally meaning “practical mind-heart,” which is also endowed by nature. Dasan’s phi-
losophy posits that one of the goals in learning is to understand silli (practical
principle) through silsim (practical mind-heart). To a certain extent, this paradigm
recalls the epistemological implications in neo-Confucianism: neo- Confucian
scholars also pursue the completion of their learning by grasping li (principle)
through xin 心 (mind-heart).
When Dasan adopted this term silli, he did not intend to use it in comparison
with the term “void principle” or “empty principle” (gongli 空理), the opposite to
“practical principle.” Contemporary critics of neo-Confucianism have usually said
that it was of “void principle and void discussion [空理空談]” and that Practical
Learning tried to overcome it through its focus on practicality. However, the term
“gongli” was never used in reference to neo-Confucianism until Japanese interpret-
ers of Korean philosophical tradition in the colonial period started using it to criti-
cize the abstractness of Korean Confucianism. This is because “principle” in
Confucian tradition was always conceived as practical. Confucianism, unlike
Buddhism and Daoism, attempts to deal with practical matters fundamental truth of
which is conceptualized as “principle” in neo-Confucian academia. Cheng Yi’s
remark is brief and to the point in this regard: “There is nothing more practical than
principle” (Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi 1983). This understanding of “principle” was
accepted so widely by Joseon Confucians that Dasan did not even attempt to dichot-
omize “practical principle” from the so-called “void principle.”
Listed below are some of the significant concepts combined with “principle” in
Dasan’s writings. The figure following each concept indicates the number of writ-
ings where it appears:
370 H. Kim
Moral principle [義理]: 190

Principle in human relationships [事理]: 76
Universal principle [公理]: 21
Principle of heaven [天理]: 133
Investigation on principle [窮理]: 33
Principle of things [物理]: 22
Principle of the Way [道理]: 39
True principle [實理]: 33
Right principle [正理]: 35
Principle of human beings [人理]: 20
Fundamental principle [本理]: 16
Principle of order [條理]: 38
Utmost principle [至理]: 36
Principle in mysterious function [妙理]: 7
Dasan sometimes also used the concept of “principle” to indicate the “princi-
ples” in various sciences or disciplines. Examples of this include:
Principle in governing [治理]
Principles in farming [農理]
Principles in diseases [病理]
Principles of yang [陽理]
Principles in medicines [醫理]
Principles in management of living [生理]
Principles in geography [地理]
Principles in entertainment [歡樂理]
Principles in geomancy [風水理]
Principles of comets [彗星理]
All the “principles” here are interconnected because in neo-Confucian philoso-
phy “principle” is universal and pervasive, and the variety of its extended terms can
only be explained by various ways of its association with concrete contextual condi-
tions. For example, “principles” in various sciences derive from “principle of
things,” which again reflects “universal principle” and “principle of heaven.” Due to
this universality of the concept “principle,” it was mentioned by Dasan without
specified associations too frequently to be counted.
More important is the fact that the concept “principle” is categorical in Dasan’s
philosophical paradigm and criterial in his reasoning. His discussions can easily be
reduced to an examination of the compatibility of given topics to “principle.” If a
given philosophical discourse, or a political suggestion, or even a philological argu-
ment is judged to fit to “principle,” it is valid to him; if not, it is invalid. Because of
this, readers often discover in many of Dasan’s writings a recurrence of expressions
such as:
Being compatible with principle [合理]: 127
Basing our reasoning on principle [以理推之]: 43
In discussion of principle [論理]: 47
Going against principle [非理]: 101

In light of principle [於理]: 116
In observance of principle [見理]: 9
Understanding principle [知理]: 5
Fitting into principle [中理]: 74
Having no principle [無理]: 37
Distorting principle [悖理]: 18
Illuminating principle [明理]: 20
In accord with principle [有理]: 51
Topics and contexts of discussion where these expressions are found vary.
However, they consistently play crucial roles in Dasan’s discussions and, in many
cases, they are associated with his conclusion. Even when he discussed empirical
and experimental issues, such as strategies for improving people’s lives or explora-
tion of the ancient Confucian rituals, he often returned to his final judgment: are
they harmonious with “principle?” He seemed to feel that he could strengthen the
validity of his arguments by doing so, probably assuming the “principle” was uni-
versal. In this sense, Dasan’s philosophy is idealistic and his methodology is deduc-
tive. And this is the philosophical nature of neo-Confucianism. Here are a few of
many examples of Dasan’s reductive examination on topics:
What should be valued in the holy classics is in general to see what is compatible or incom-
patible with principle, and, in this matter, one should refer to the words of the sage
(Confucius). If one insists on his views regardless of the sage’s words, what on earth is he
going to do with them? (Jeong 1996h. 282: 301c–d).
There is no such a rule as enshrining a tablet before the completion of a funeral. Shiji 史
記 earlier noted that ‘The father died and the funeral was not finished yet,’ but also said,
‘King Wu 武 enshrined the wooden tablet of his father on a cart and granted him the post-
humous title of King Wen 文.’ How can this be compatible with principle? (Jeong 1996g.
282: 108a).
Zi Chan 子産 from the state of Zheng cultivated himself and accomplished things, so that
the points [praised by Confucius] are as many as four. He is a person of conserving virtue.
Aren’t Wu (Wu Yue 吳棫 (c. 1100—1154)’s likes and dislikes in his theory derailed from
the constant principle? (Jeong 1996h. 282: 197c).
Dasan’s philosophy, of course, is distinct from neo-Confucian li philosophy: as seen

in his discussion in 17.2 of Noneo gogeum ju above, he did not accept its core ele-
ments (such as, the theory of the human nature of original thus-ness), arguing that it
is not compatible with silli. In fact, neo-Confucian scholars also used this concept,
silli, considerably. For example, Zhu Xi states, “The principles of Heaven and Earth
are truly practical, displaying not even the slightest sign of distortion. Therefore,
there has never existed a single thing that is not practical, from ancient times to
today. Everything and all events, from the beginning to the end, are without excep-
tion the result of the work of practical principles (實理)” (Taiwan shangwu yinshu-
guan vol. 197, 5:6a). Although it seems that Dasan has derived the concept “practical
principle” from this neo-Confucian lexicon, he raised a question about the last
372 H. Kim
sentence of Zhu Xi’s remarks above because it seems to suggest that “practical
principle” determines the existence of all beings. In other words, Zhu Xi argues
here that the events that involve all things in existence occur because practical prin-
ciple exists and orders things as such. Zhu Xi addresses this neo-Confucian notion
of the nature of practical principle more explicitly in another one of his writings:
If this principle exists, then this thing exists; if this principle does not exist, then this thing
seems as though it does not exist even when it exists. In general, all events involving every-
thing in existence are the result of the work of the practical principles (Taiwan shangwu
yinshuguan vol. 701: 33b).
To Dasan, this idealistic ontology of the neo-Confucian “practical principle” has

no grounds and thus is not compatible with his “practical principle.” He believed
that it was not practical that this “principle,” a mere concept, could yield influence
on the generation or the existence of things. Indeed, Dasan made it clear that his
theory had nothing to do with this kind of neo-Confucian “principle,” which causes
the myriad things to exist and be generated. When he interpreted a well-known
proposition from Constant Mean 中庸 that says, “Sincerity is the end and the begin-
ning of things (誠者物之終始),” he refused to interpret the proposition as contain-
ing a genealogical paradigm and rather asserted that the concept zong shi 終始 (“the
end and the beginning”) merely indicated the end and the beginning of one’s prac-
tices or learning in her life. His conclusions on the neo-Confucian attempt to inter-
pret this proposition as containing the genealogical li and qi paradigm are evident in
the following: “What connection can the principle of causing the myriad things to
be generated find in me?” (Jeong 1996g. 282: 87b).
3 Neo-Confucianism and Dasan’s philosophy
Dasan was not concerned with the neo-Confucian metaphysical discourses on the
relationship between principle and vital force, the mechanism of human nature and
sentiment, the subtle but distinctive conceptualization of various perspectives on
human nature, the structure of the mind-heart, or epistemological possibility and
methodology for understanding principle, etc. He seemed to avoid being involved in
these complicated discussions, because he recognized them as unnecessary. Dasan
regarded these discourses as studies of “human nature and principle” (性理) and
criticized it as an excessive inclination toward metaphysics. In his well-known arti-
cle on the “five studies,” Dasan viewed “studies of human nature and principle,” in
addition to the other four studies (Han philological studies, studies of literature,
studies for the civil service examination, and studies of the Chinese pre-sciences),
as something “impossible to be associated with in our returning to the gate of Yao,
Shun, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius” (Jeong 1996c, d. 281: 241a–c). This is
because “Today, scholars who are said to study human nature and principle [性理]
just keep talking about principle, vital force, human nature, sentiments, substance,
and function; they discuss noumenonal human nature and phenomenal human
nature [本然氣質], psychological activation by principle or by vital force [理發氣

發], human conscious before and after the psychological activation [未發已發],
conformity of principles and nonconformity of vital forces [理同氣異], conformity
of vital forces and nonconformity of principles [氣同理異], theory of the existence
or non-existence of the distinction between the good and the evil in mind-heart [心
有善惡]” (Jeong 1996a. 281: 241a), whereas they do not understand the Confucian
rituals, music, statecraft, and sciences of utility. In Dasan’s philosophy, however,
“human nature and principle” is one of the many possible combinations of Confucian
values and “principle,” just as neo-Confucianism is one of several Confucian schools
in the history of Confucianism. As introduced before, Dasan employed various
notions combining “principle” with Confucian values such as principle of the Way,
principle of heaven, principle in human relationships, moral principle, principle of
things, and so on. The paucity of his discussion of conventional themes in neo-
Confucian metaphysics should not be rendered as his refutation of the entire con-
cept of “principle.” Furthermore, I believe that his criticism of the “studies of human
nature and principle” should not be deemed as negation of neo-Confucianism itself,
especially since he acknowledged the neo-Confucian contributions to the develop-
ment of Confucianism with conviction: “This case shows that those Confucians of
Han and Tang who only studied chapters and sentences of the classics did not under-
stand what human nature and mandate of moral behaviors meant to be. So, theories
of this sort were formed owing to the Song Confucianism. How can the contribu-
tions of the Song Confucianism be obliterated?” (Jeong 1996a. 283: 144a) In this
context, he severely castigated his contemporary scholars precisely because they
disrespected the achievements of neo-Confucianism.
The contemporary scholars (of Qing) strive to rectify the flaws of the Confucian scholars in
the Song and Yuan dynasties, which are substantially imbued with the Buddhist ideas under
the disguise of Confucianism in the discussions of principle and vital forces. What they
discuss and interpret concerning the classics uniformly tends to follow the theories of the
Han and Jin dynasties. They persistently try to make it their tasks to disprove the discus-
sions of Song Confucianism regarding rightness and principle, no matter whether they are
distorted or not. This has become maladies in their minds (Jeong 1996d. 282: 267a).
At this moment, it would be useful to outline neo-Confucian theory of “princi-

ple.” In neo-Confucianism “principle” has two different dimensions, i.e., a dimen-
sion of “one principle” [一理] as a pure pronouncement of taiji 太極 and a dimension
of “diversified principles” [分殊理] as the embodiment of the “one principle” in
specific beings. “One principle” is substantial, abstract, and noumenonal whereas
“diversified principles” are always associated with phenomena. If they are associ-
ated with concrete human relationships, they are collectively defined as “principle
in human relationships” [事理] in reflection of one of the two aspects of “principle,”
that is, “principle” as “deontological rule” [所當然之則]; if they are associated with
physical beings in nature, they are collectively defined as “principle of things” [物
理] in reflection of another aspect of “principle,” that is, “principle” as “ontological
ground” [所以然之故]. Through discussion of the human being, neo-Confucian
theorists perceive “human nature of original thus-ness” [本然之性] and “human
nature represented in human psychophysical conditions” [氣質之性] as exactly
374 H. Kim
matching “one principle” and “diversified principles,” creating more complicated

discussion of the relationship between them and mind-heart, the notion of human
subjectivity.
Among concepts introduced in this brief explanation of neo-Confucian theory of
“principle,” the notions that Dasan most vehemently opposed were “one principle”
and “human nature of original thus-ness”:
This is the so-called human nature of original thus-ness, but there is nothing more detrimen-
tal than this theory in betraying heaven, neglecting the mandate of moral behaviors, distort-
ing principle, and bringing harm to the good (Jeong 1996h. 282: 38a).
Human beings have no duel natures. It is like the fact that rice in its nature favors water and
has no other nature of favoring dryness…[T]he theory of the original goodness of human
nature is the real idea of the ancient sages and not an individual argument of a private
school. Nevertheless, neo-Confucians see it as incomplete. Is this contention in accord with
principle? (Jeong 1996f. 282: 38a).
If principle is truly one, how can it be diversified? I am afraid that the theory of one prin-
ciple is not reasonable (Jeong 1996f. 282: 151a).
As he denied the core of neo-Confucian metaphysics, he also disagreed with

neo-Confucian application of the ti-yong 體用 paradigm to the relationships
between “one principle” and “diversified principles” and between the two different
human natures. In his view, it was Buddhist and Daoist theologies to say that “[One
penetrating Way of Confucius] begins with one principle, becomes diversified in
myriad things in the middle of changes, and eventually integrated into the one prin-
ciple again” (Jeong 1996g. 282: 45d). Dasan’s negative assessment of these neo-
Confucian theories is consistent with his criticism of the “studies of human nature
and principle” because they were its main topics. However, while being critical of
the neo-Confucian indulgence in the metaphysical discourses, Dasan still approved
of many “principles” as long as they were manifested in reality. Dasan actively
employed the concept of “principle” when his discussions arrived at the dimension
of “diversified principles,” although he did not accept the distinction between “one
principle” and “diversified principles.” For example, such concepts in the lexicon of
Dasan’s philosophy as “principle of things,” “principle in order,” “principle in
human relationships,” “principle in governing,” and “principles” in various sciences
and disciplines are in relation with “diversified principle,” while his concept of
“principle of human beings” is directly linked to the phenomenal human nature.
The reason Dasan endorsed this concept of “principle,” while rejecting “the stud-
ies of principle and human nature,” was that Confucian discussion of “principle”
was not appropriated by neo-Confucianism. In his opinion, this concept had been
discussed in many classical texts, such as the Huainanzi, the Inner Classic of the
Yellow Emperor (Huangdi neijing), the History of Han (Hanshu), the Constant
Mean, the Record of Rites, the Commentaries of the Changes, the Mencius, the
Poetry, the Zuo’s Commentary of the Spring and Autumn, and the Change. After
examining these sources with regards to the concept of “principle,” he concluded:
“[All these concepts] have derived from either regularity of pulses [脈理] or regu-
larity in governing [治理] or regularity of laws [法理]. Is there any trustful ground
for the neo-Confucian assertion which directly relates human nature to principle?”
(Jeong 1996f. 282: 139d) Consequently, Dasan attempted to keep distance from
only the excessive metaphysical discussion in the “studies of human nature and
principle,” while accepting and utilizing the concept of “principle.”
However, questions remain: what is the difference between neo-Confucian “one
principle” and Dasan’s “principle of heaven,” “universal principle,” “fundamental
principle,” and “principle of the Way?” How is the neo-Confucian understanding of
human nature revolving around “human nature of original thus-ness” different from
Dasan’s understanding of human nature? If he denied the transcendental aspect of
“principle,” why did he frequently reduce his investigations on many topics to a
deductive judgment to see if the opinions were compatible with principle?
Reductionism premises a single or much simpler cause of universe, which is inevi-
tably transcendental.
Dasan might have played the same game that neo-Confucians did: pieces of pre-
scribed Confucian norms are given, and he was expected to assemble those pieces
to build the structure for a moral philosophy. And Confucianism’s confrontation
with Buddhism may perhaps have required philosophers at that time to grope for
metaphysical and ontological grounds for the morals. Even though Dasan refused to
squarely accept the neo-Confucian structure because he experienced the abusive
effect of the neo-Confucian indulgence in metaphysical discourses, by and large,
he, like many other Joseon neo-Confucians, could not avoid working on the same
project. Even though Dasan attempted to diminish the transcendental connotation of
“principle of heaven” by saying that the “principle of heaven means the humaneness
that has been accomplished by the utmost sincerity, commiseration, and compassion
penetrated into heaven and earth, the actual virtues observed when a filial son
deplored his fate of having immoral parents [as in the case of King Shun and his
parents]” (Jeong 1996g. 282: 129d), it is still ontological and categorical in so far as
Dasan professed that “if something is compatible with principle of heaven there is
nothing wrong in it” (Jeong 1996g. 282: 139d). In his moral philosophy, Dasan
substituted “one principle” by the various notions of “principle,” including the
“principle of heaven,” “universal principle,” “fundamental principle,” and “princi-
ple in the Way.” Despite Dasan’s intent to shun metaphysical discourses, however,
all these concepts played the same role in their respective moral philosophies.
Similar to his resistance to “one principle,” he also obviated the concept “human
nature of original thus-ness” from his lexicon. However, this doesn’t mean that he
truly abandoned the philosophical implication of the concept, that is, the optimistic
and idealistic understanding of the possibility for self-perfection. In the same man-
ner as he utilized to deal with “one principle,” he discarded “human nature of origi-
nal thus-ness,” replacing it with another metaphysical concept: in this case, the
concept of “dao-mind” [道心]. One of the well-known propositions in Dasan’s phi-
losophy is “human nature is the mind-heart’s natural tendency of favor” [性卽嗜
好]. This was suggested by Dasan because he thought it necessary to deny the neo-
Confucian view of human nature, i.e., “human nature is no more than principle” [性
卽理], to indict the neo-Confucian abuse or reliance on abstract notions. As some
376 H. Kim
interpretations of Dasan’s philosophy suggest, this approach might be understood as

an attempt to orient it towards a modern perspective on the human being in that it
seems to affirm human desire. However, Dasan tempered what was naturally favored
by the discourse of the mind-heart with a sense of disciplinarian censorship, which
was reminiscent of Mencius’ discussion of the commonality of human psychology
[心之所同然]:
In my examination, human nature is the mind-heart’s natural tendency of favor. Like vege-
tables favoring excrement and algae favoring water, human nature favors the good (Jeong
1996g. 282: 26b).
When it comes to the discussion of human nature, I would say that everyone is delighted
with the good and ashamed of the bad. Therefore when one behaves moral his/her mind-
heart becomes filled with delight; when one behaves immoral his/her mind-heart becomes
filled with self-dissatisfaction…[B]ased on these examples, I know that the good is what
mind-heart is delighted with and the bad is what the mind-heart is ashamed of (Jeong
1996e. 282: 38a).
As manifested here, Dasan asserted that the intrinsic psychology of human

beings tended to the good. In Dasan’s philosophy, this intrinsic psychological ten-
dency is conceptualized as dao-mind:
Dao-mind always wants to practice the good and enables us to choose the good. If one
continues to listen to what dao-mind wants to do, it is called following human nature: fol-
lowing human nature is being compliant to the mandate of heaven (Jeong 1996f. 282: 47d).
To Dasan, “dao-mind” is a metaphysical concept because “the nature of dao-

mind is to have neither form nor substantial quality; it is ultimately subtle and ulti-
mately elusive” (Jeong 1996i. 282: 125d). Then, what is the difference between Zhu
Xi’s “noumenonal human nature” and Dasan’s “dao-mind?” One may argue that the
difference can be found in the fact that Dasan clearly professed the exclusive projec-
tion of “dao-mind” to human beings, whereas in Zhu Xi’s philosophy the “human
nature of original thus-ness” can be said to be universal among all beings including
animals. However, Zhu Xi’s idea can also be interpreted as acknowledging that
“dao-mind” is only found in human beings. This was one of the fierce debates
among Joseon Confucian scholars.
4 Conclusion
In the history of Confucianism, it was neo-Confucianism’s contribution to concep-

tualize the ontological foundation for the universality of Confucian morals as “prin-
ciple.” Neo-Confucians correctly perceived that an awareness of reasonability in
Confucian morality underlay all the teachings of the ancient Confucian thinkers,
and with reference to Huayan philosophy and some Confucian classical texts such
as the Changes and the Constant Mean, they made the concept “principle” pivotal
in their philosophy. The goal of this scholarly activity was to strengthen, prioritize,
and absolutize the necessity of safeguarding Confucian norms. Dasan positively
recognized this contribution, and his philosophy also posited a transcendental and
noumenonal regularity of the world, which was often conceptualized in conjugation
with notions of “principle.” Although Dasan might not have agreed that his “prin-
ciples” were transcendental and noumenonal, it is evident that his philosophy pre-
sumed it.
The problem with neo-Confucianism, as Dasan saw it, derived from the exces-
sive emphasis on the metaphysical affirmation of Confucian norms. He pointed out
that the defect of Song Confucianism was the imbalance between its metaphysical
interpretation and relevant evidence. He claimed that this stemmed from its narrow
speculation on principle, which brought about the enervation of practices. In con-
trast, Dasan thought that the fatal weakness of Han Confucianism was its lack of
rational and insightful thinking, which engendered many unreasonable and formal-
ized interpretations. This stemmed from its overreaching focus on the historical and
philological “investigation for the evidence,” and resulted in overlooking the essence
of learning. Based on this estimation, Dasan attempted to integrate into his philoso-
phy some topics, such as reformation of society and exploration of modern science,
that have been considered by contemporary interpreters as prevailing idea in the
so-called Practical Learning. However, his voice on these topics can be better
sheathed by Learning of Practical Principle, because his suggestions for social
reform were about “principle in human relationships” and his studies on the modern
sciences were about the “principle of things.”
In light of this academic orientation, I suggest that Dasan’s philosophy be con-
ceptualized as the Learning of Practical Principle [實理學], instead of Practical
Learning. Pre-Qin Confucian scholars emphasized practicality [實], and neo-
Confucian scholars developed Confucian metaphysical theory by adopting univer-
sality—the principle [理]. What Dasan wished to achieve in his studies on Confucian
classical texts was to synthesize these Confucian legacies to create a new theoretical
paradigm. Defining his scholarship Learning of Practical Principle credits him with
attempting to integrate all transmitted Confucian philosophies into a syncretic or
synthetic system.
In my understanding, the most outstanding tendency in Korean philosophy, evi-
dent in certain representative philosophers’ works, is the pursuit of universality and
emphasis on humanity. Even though the forms this combination have taken vary and
consequently have generated a diversity of thought, these two main themes
permeated the thinking of these philosophers, who shared a premise that each
human being represents universality. Over the course of constructing this character-
istic, philosophers often adopted a syncretic approach to the existing theories, which
they would synthesize and integrate into a new paradigm. Dasan’s philosophy dem-
onstrates this characteristic of Korean philosophy well: he tried to synthesize the old
Confucian teachings on practical issues and the neo-Confucian learning of principle
to form the learning of practical principle; he tried to synthesize the moral principle
and the principles of human relationships and things to suggest a new dimension of
the philosophy of principle; and he tried to combine the new Confucian develop-
ments in China and Japan with the persistent Korean awareness of moral founda-
tions. This sense of moderation or syncretism extends in his writings to his efforts
378 H. Kim
to bring balance between inner cultivation and social merit, between refined cultural
expressions and natural substance, between ideals and reality, between textual
investigations and contemplation, and between words and meaning. All these
endeavors aimed at reconfirming universality—principles, reasonability, dao-mind,
and Heaven—in order to help promote humanity in his society.
Although the difference between the orthodox Joseon Confucians and Dasan in
their approaches to the practical issues has been emphasized enough in contempo-
rary Korean academia, it can be explained with their distinctive stress on either
“inner cultivation” or “outer merits.” Dasan consistently emphasized outer merits
over inner cultivation and “advancing [出]” over “staying in self-satisfaction [處]”
(see Kim 2009: 55–71). Regardless of this difference in their priorities, however,
both the Joseon neo-Confucianism and Dasan’s philosophy are equally expressive
of the Confucian spirit, which aims to achieve the two goals of inner virtue and
outer merits simultaneously. Thus, the value of Dasan’s philosophy lies in his timely
awareness of the historical tasks necessary for the development of the Joseon
dynasty, not in its theoretical uniqueness. Dasan knew that the success or failure of
the dynasty hinged on its ability to properly perceive the responsibilities of the time.
Since it is a time of decline and disorder, we cannot fastidiously criticize immoral deeds
such as lords not acting like lords, subjects not acting like subjects, parents not acting like
parents, and children not acting like children, in the same way as we might do in an age of
purity and peace. Therefore, when the noble person chooses to act, he naturally considers
the responsibilities of the time. These days, people always say that the sages were inclined
to neither yes nor no, and thus they want to blindly practice the Way regardless of the cir-
cumstances. How can this be deemed as the words from those who understand the time?
(Jeong 1996g. 282: 347a–b)
This remark may succinctly present the essence of Dasan’s philosophy. As he

said, in a time when “the Confucian scholars replied to the kings, who talked to us
with a sense of urgency, only with the great principles and the great laws,” he him-
self attempted to respond to the responsibilities of his time.
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jinheungwon.
Part VI
Confucianism and Women in Korea
Chapter 17
Neo-Confucianism, Women, and the Law
in Chosŏn Korea
Jisoo M. Kim
1 Introduction
Previous scholarships of women in Confucian civility have been often portrayed as

oppressed victims who lack a voice of their own even as late as the 1990s (Ko 1994:
1–26).1 In Korea, while many scholars depicted women as subjects devoid of agency,
others portrayed them as active agents (Kendall and Peterson 1983; Kim 1994; Kim
and Pettid 2011). Revisionist historiography demonstrates how women were able to
exercise agency within the strictures of the Confucian gender system. The imple-
mentation of strict patrilineality fundamentally changed the family structure from
that of the preceding Koryŏ dynasty (918–1392), and the consolidation of Confucian
patriarchal and patrilineal systems in the Chosŏn (1392–1910) altered native Korean
customs. We can see that the Confucian transformation in the Chosŏn was a slow
process that took about two centuries, if we reflect on its effect by the seventeenth
century (Deuchler 1992). Despite the impact of Confucianization on the lives of
women, they continued to exercise a limited degree of authority within the domestic
space (Deuchler 2003; Cho 1998). Also, by examining women’s creative products,
we can see how women projected their own visions and expressed their inner selves
through writings, paintings, and embroidery (Kim-Renaud 2004).
Just as women were losing economic and social privileges, they increasingly
engaged in literary discourse in the Korean script and began to write in quantity,
1
In China, the May Fourth reformers rendered traditional Chinese women as oppressed objects;
this perception, as Dorothy Ko argues, stemmed from confusing normative prescriptions with
actual practice in premodern society and was a political and ideological construct that reflects
Chinese modernity.
J. M. Kim (*)
Department of History, George Washington University, Washington, DC, USA
e-mail: jsk10@gwu.edu

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_17
384 J. M. Kim
according to scholars who have examined women’s literary practice.2 With the
invention of the Korean script in the mid-fifteenth century, during King Sejong’s
reign (r. 1418–1450), the written culture was divided into public and private, where
classical Chinese was rendered public and the Korean script private. Unlike classi-
cal Chinese, the Korean script was easy to learn, and it was suitable for women and
children. By utilizing this medium, women emerged as writing subjects and greatly
contributed to vernacular writing, especially in the late Chosŏn (Haboush 2002:
220–57; 2003: 279–303; 2013: 1–36).
Many studies have illuminated the lives of elite women during the Chosŏn. In
order to examine the lives of Chosŏn women in a Neo-Confucian society more com-
prehensively, scholars have looked to sources that encompass a broader population
of women. By using census registers as a site, a recent study has focused on margin-
alized women such as widows, single women, and concubines and demonstrated
that the implementation of the Neo-Confucian patriarchal and patrilineal systems
had an impact on the family structure of the elite but was insufficient to transform
the lower social strata. Unlike elite women, commoner and slave women led much
more diverse lives according to their practical socioeconomic situations and were
less bound by Confucian gender norms (Chŏng 2015).
By examining legal testimonies on homicides and female suicides, another study
reexamined the issue of female chastity during the Chosŏn period from a revisionist
perspective. Demonstrating various marriage and sexual practices especially among
nonelite women, the study argues that the chastity ideology was not a rigid one but
was often manipulated by both women and men in everyday power struggles (Kim
2007, 2014a, b). Another recent study uses women’s petitions as a site to examine
the actual practices of both elite and nonelite women and shows that female agents
actively exercised the right to petition to represent themselves as well as family
grievances in courts. According to this study, women petitioned the sovereign as
early as 1409 and continued to appeal at both local and capital levels until the
demise of dynasty in 1910 (Kim 2010, 2013, 2015a, b). There seems to be a consen-
sus among these recent studies of women in the Chosŏn that, unlike elite women,
nonelite women depended more on their socioeconomic positions rather than the
society’s Confucian gender norms throughout their daily lives.
By examining women’s petitioning practice during the Chosŏn, this paper aims
to show how women’s legal practice allows us to rethink the two pillars of Confucian
gender norms−Thrice Following (samjongjido 三從之道) and the Doctrine of
Spheres, inner and outer (naeoepŏp 內外法). Through capitalizing on the right to
petition, women engaged in dialogue with authorities when their interests conflicted
with the official representation of gender norms. By recognizing women as legal
subjects and conferring the legal capacity to petition, the state provided an opportu-
nity for women to challenge the state’s hegemonic values through their own
2
There was a parallel phenomenon in Ming China (1368–1644) when elite women actively partici-
pated in cultural life through writing; this period was when they similarly experienced a loss in
their legal and economic status compared to the Song (960–1279) dynasty (Ko 1994: 1–26).
17 Neo-Confucianism, Women, and the Law in Chosŏn Korea 385
p erformance of petitioning.3 Women appear as legal agents of negotiations who

simultaneously embodied and defied Confucian gender norms.
Based on my study of women’s petitions, few of their grievances challenged the
status hierarchy. The distinction between elite and nonelite was relatively clear even
when there was instability in the status system toward the late Chosŏn.4 The heredi-
tary system was only abolished during the Japanese-sponsored Kabo 甲午 Reform
of 1894. During the late Chosŏn, the state regulated elite women’s sexual conduct
more rigorously compared to earlier period in the dynasty. However, at least in the
Chosŏn legal codes, there was no such legal regulations on nonelite women.5
Commoner women who did not have economic means to sustain their life had no
choice but to remarry, become concubines of elite men, or engage in labor outside
their domestic boundary. While it was mandatory for elite women to abide by the
Confucian gender norms, it was voluntary for nonelite women. If elite women trans-
gressed the norms, then the state took punitive actions. In the case of nonelite
women, the state in general did not interfere when they remarried or committed
adultery unless they were indicted by husbands or others. As recent studies have
shown, and my study concurs, unlike elite women whose lives were affected by the
Confucian gender norms, commoner and lowborn women’s lives varied greatly
depending on their socioeconomic position.
2 Confucian Gender Ethics and Women’s Legal Practice
The adoption in the Chosŏn of two pillars of Confucian gender ethics, that is, the
doctrine of separate spheres, inner and outer, and the “Thrice Following,”6 brought
paramount changes to women’s lived experience vis-à-vis women in the preceding
Koryŏ dynasty. The doctrine of separate spheres was the basis for a demarcation
3
By “legal subjects,” I mean those who had the capacity to engage in legal activities such as filing
petitions or suits, entering into contracts, buying or selling, borrowing or lending, and making
bequests (Kim 2015a: 3−21).
4
The Chosŏn state maintained a hereditary status system throughout its dynasty that distinguished
its subjects according to one’s social status. There was a small group of governing aristocrats at the
top of the society known as the yangban 兩班. This group enjoyed most of the socioeconomic
privileges in the Chosŏn. Due to status instability in the late Chosŏn, people acknowledged as
yangban did not immediately signify the ruling class, whereas sadaebu 士大夫 did refer specifi-
cally to the ruling group. In the status system there was another small group known as the “middle
people” (chungin 中人) that consisted mostly of technical specialists and functionaries. Under the
middle class, there were the commoners, most of whom were peasants known as yangin 良人 or
sangmin 常民. These people made up the majority of the population and carried most of the burden
of taxation, military service, and corvée labor. Lastly, the lowborn known as ch’ŏnmin 賤民 were
mostly slaves but also included those with debased occupations such as butchers, tanners, sha-
mans, and female entertainers.
5
During the Chosŏn dynasty, the state applied the criminal law of the Great Ming Code (Tae
myŏngryul 大明侓) in addition to Korea’s indigenous legal codes.
6
I borrow Dorothy Ko’s translation in Teachers of the Inner Chambers (Ko 1994: 6–7).
386 J. M. Kim
between the domestic and public spheres in Confucian cultures where women were
secluded in the former and men had free reign in the latter. This dichotomy of public
and domestic has long been challenged by scholars of various regions. Regarding
China, Dorothy Ko argues that “the inner and outer construct does not demarcate
mutually exclusive social and symbolic spaces but the two define and constitute
each other according to shifting contexts and perspectives” (Ko 1994: 12–14). In
other words, the concept rests on a continuum of inner and outer rather than two
demarcating divisions. Leonore Davidoff points out that in the West the vision of
public and private space embodied in the law poorly reflects the life experience of
poor and minority subjects, and in England it was applied differently depending on
one’s class (Davidoff 2003: 11–27). Scholars of the Middle East have also ques-
tioned separate spheres and noted that it is hard to find discourses that discern public
and private boundaries. Judith Tucker’s research on women and Islamic law prior to
the twentieth century shows that Muslim jurists did not address the question of gen-
dered space and there was no male/female dichotomy in spatial arrangements for
Muslim communities except in the context of religious duties (Tucker 2008:
175–217).
The Chosŏn dynasty was no different in that this dichotomy of space was blurry.
The legal codes of the Chosŏn show that Neo-Confucian legislators did not explic-
itly address the question of gendered space except when discussing women’s sexual
promiscuity. When the purpose of travel was for pleasure, the state sought to limit
women’s presence in public spaces. However, when it was for redressing grievance,
no restrictions applied to women’s visibility outside the domestic boundary. Not
only did the state sanction women to raise their voices in public but it also allowed
them to publicize their grievance in the street during the royal procession or in front
of the royal palace. The act of petitioning the king was performed in the street with
the presence of spectators. The petitioners first struck a gong, which was a signal to
petition the king. Once petitioners had gotten the attention of the authorities, they
approached and kneeled down in front of the officials to speak of their grievances.
The state did not restrict this kind of petitioning activity for women even as the state
became more Confucianized in the late Chosŏn.7 Although moral precepts admon-
ished women to remain in inner quarters, women’s petitioning activity shows that
even elite women traveled long distances to the capital to directly petition the
sovereign.
The analytical tool of the dichotomy between public and domestic becomes even
less applicable when it comes to the lower strata, because nonelite women engaged
in manual labor and entered into public spaces such as fields, marketplaces, courts,
and so on. Unlike elite women, commoner and slave women had greater freedom in
their physical mobility. Even when women had to appear in court for hearings, elite
women were prohibited from appearing in person, unlike nonelite women, because
it was deemed improper for elite women to go through such a procedure. Sejong
ordered that hearings be conducted via writing for elite women. Kim Kyŏng-suk
7
For further details of the performance of petitioning in the Chosŏn, see Jisoo M. Kim’s study
(Kim 2015a: 42–73).
claims that the king issued such a command to restrict elite women’s outings accord-
ing to the consolidation of Confucian norms (Kim 2005: 110–11). Although it is
possible that Sejong had such an intention, it makes more sense to understand his
command as attributing privilege to a certain group of people rather than in terms of
gender segregation, because he also inhibited high-ranking officials from being
heard at court (Sejong sillok 世宗實錄 1430/6/1).
In the context of the status-based Chosŏn society, the doctrine of separate spheres
primarily applied to elite women rather than to women of all social statuses. When
elite women’s sexual promiscuity was at issue, officials had recourse to the doctrine
of separate spheres and claimed that it was improper for elite women to be visible
outside their inner quarters for the purpose of seeking pleasure. The state also
expressed that the doctrine of inner and outer was inapplicable for nonelite women
and that they could not be treated the same as elite women. Because Chosŏn society
was organized based on the hereditary status system, social inequality was tempered
not only by gender but also status. Status was another critical component that should
not be neglected when discussing the inner and outer spheres. This doctrine cannot
be simply interpreted in terms of women = inner and men = outer. When Neo-
Confucian legislators discussed elite women’s presence in public, they were more
concerned with behavioral norms and controlling sexual desire that posed threat to
social stability and harmony than with demarcating social boundaries according to
gender.8 If we understand social boundaries without demarcating separate domains,
then women’s petitioning without male tutelage in Confucian culture may not seem
so unusual.
Another Confucian gender ethic that conflicted with women’s legal practice was
the “Thrice Following”: following one’s father as daughter, husband as wife, and
son as widow. In China, women’s legal status conformed to this idea of Thrice
Following in that a widow needed to be represented by her son. In the Chosŏn,
women’s legal capacity absent a father, husband, or son continued to be recognized
throughout the dynasty. The petitions I examined show that women not only
appealed for themselves but also for family members such as husbands, natal and
in-law parents, and children. This legal capacity further demonstrates how widows
assumed power over their adult sons by maintaining control over household
activities.
The Chosŏn state envisioned building a different kind of gendered society from
either Koryŏ or China by reaching a compromise between the Confucian gender
system and indigenous legal practices. At the level of official representation, the
state clearly attempted to impose a uniform vision of gender order based on
Confucian texts. However, the state’s creation of new laws and policies to enforce
gender order were fraught with contradictions with legal practice. Although the
8
In examining the discourse of Muslim jurists, Tucker argues that the focus was not on demarcat-
ing boundaries of public and private but on promoting public interest; jurists sought to regulate
sexual activity through controlling male and female interactions in space and dress. Similarly in
the Chosŏn, whenever officials cite inner and outer in dealing with legal cases, they are primarily
referring to women’s sexual conduct (Tucker 2008: 175–217).
388 J. M. Kim
state forced female subjects to internalize Confucian gender norms, it was also the
state that provided leeway for women to voice concerns that stemmed from the
newly imposed norms. Whereas women were deprived of economic and ritual privi-
leges by the seventeenth century, the state continued to recognize women as legal
subjects until the demise of the dynasty. Contrary to silencing women in public
spaces, the state was willing to listen to women’s voices and further sanctioned their
expression of sense of being wronged. It is my contention that the sentiment to
redress grievances engendered the legal space of the Chosŏn to operate as a site of
rectification, contestation, and negotiation where subjects, especially female sub-
jects, were enabled to address their problems with Confucian gender norms (Kim
2015a: 153).
3 Seeking Restoration of Husband’s Honor
Although women petitioned on personal grievances at both local and capital levels,
petitions for a husband or other family members were the most commonly and fre-
quently addressed type of petition presented by women to the sovereign during the
late Chosŏn period. The following three written petitions submitted by an elite
woman, Madam Yun (1731–1813), illustrate her petitioning on behalf of dead hus-
band to restore his posthumous official title and honor.9 Madam Yun was married to
Yi Ch’ang’im (1730–1775), who held various official positions during the reign of
Yŏngjo (r. 1724–1776). Yi was appointed as county magistrate of Anju in 1774 but
died a year later due to an illness (Han 2006: 384). Before Madam Yun could even
overcome the grief of her husband’s death, Ch’ang’im was condemned of treason
along with many other officials and was deprived of his posthumous official title.10
One of the issues Chŏngjo (r. 1776–1800) dealt with when he succeeded the
throne was to denounce officials who wrote memorials on the issue of his father’s
tragic death in 1762. Chŏngjo’s father, Crown Prince Sado (1735–1762), was put to
death by his own father, Yŏngjo, at the age of twenty-eight, which was recorded as
the only filicide in the Chosŏn dynasty’s court (Haboush 2001: 166–234; 2013).
When Chŏngjo ascended the throne, Yi Tŏksa, Pak Sangro, Cho Chaehan, and Yi
Ilhwa along with several others colluded with two eunuchs, Yi Hŭngnok and Kim
Suhyŏn, to send memorials to the king addressing how they sympathized with the
Prince Sado and how his death might have stemmed from an ill-spirited conspiracy.
After reading the memorials, Chŏngjo charged them for slandering his immediate
predecessor, Yŏngjo (Chŏngjo sillok 正祖實錄 1776/04/01). During the interroga-
tion of the criminals, Kim Suhyŏn stated Ch’ang’im’s name several times,
9
Madam Yun’s case originally appeared elsewhere in Jisoo M. Kim’s study (Kim 2010: 221– 43).
I would like to acknowledge Kim Hyuk-Rae for giving the permission to republish Madam Yun’s
case here.
10
In Confucian society, a posthumous official title allowed the deceased’s family members to pre-
serve honor and privileges, which was crucial in order to maintain the family lineage.
incriminating him. Chŏng Wŏnsi, who was an opponent of Ch’ang’im, recom-

mended withdrawing Ch’ang’im’s official title and relieving his elder brother, Yi
Ch’anggŭp, of his county magistrate post (Chŏngjo sillok 正祖實錄 1776/04/26).
Among the officials charged with treason, many were later exculpated. However,
Ch’ang’im was unable to verify his innocence because he was unfortunately already
dead.
Madam Yun, after her husband’s death, initially decided to commit suicide, but
her adopted son’s filial devotion moved her to change her mind.11 She realized that
there was one critical assignment she had to take care of prior to her death, and that
was to restore her husband’s honor and regain his official title. One of the reasons
she felt that her husband’s case was particularly unjust was that her deceased hus-
band could not prove his innocence as other officials had done. Madam Yun waited
patiently for the political climate to shift favorably to her side. When Sunjo (r.
1800–1834) ascended the throne in 1800, her brother-in-law, Yi Ch’anggŭp, was
reappointed to office, and Madam Yun perceived this as a positive sign that she
could now petition the king. Beginning in 1802, Madam Yun presented one petition
per year in the course of five consecutive years. Among the five written petitions she
submitted, the extant petitions are the last three, which she wrote in the years 1805
(Ŭlch’uk sangŏn 乙丑上言), 1806 (Pyŏngin sangŏn 丙寅上言), and 1807
(Chŏngmyo sangŏn 丁卯上言).12 All three petitions are similar in content, asking
for the vindication of her husband’s innocence and conveying her wish of restoring
his honor. Each petition is divided into three sections; the first explicates her motive
for petitioning; the second illustrates her husband’s innocence; the final concludes
by expressing her desperate desire to see her husband’s honor restored before her
death. The honor of Madam Yun’s husband was ultimately restored in 1809, and she
died 4 years later.13
In the Yi family record book, Yi Family’s Record (Yigasego 李家世稿), there is a
sentence that states “Someone had drafted for Madam Yun” (Yigasego 1805; Han
2006: 401). This is peculiar considering the fact that she was a well-versed writer in
vernacular Korean. Madam Yun was one of the prolific female writers of her time
and the author of a novel titled A Record of Good Deeds of the Paek and Kye Families
(Paek Kye yangmun sŏnhaeng nok 伯季兩門善行錄),14 which was widely read in
the late nineteenth century.15 Despite her ability to write in the Korean script, Madam
Yun chose to submit her petitions in literary Chinese. Presenting the petitions in
11
Madam Yun’s adopted son, Yi Sŏnjŏng, was a biological son of Yi Ch’anggŭp.
12
Han only mentions the existing three petitions of Madam Yun (Han 2006). However, if we read
the petition written in 1805, Madam Yun herself mentions that she had previously written petitions
in 1802 and 1803.
13
Madam Yun’s adopted son, Yi Sŏnjŏng, also petitioned twice regarding Yi Ch’angim, in 1808 and
1809.
14
Regarding the details of this novel, see Han Kil-yŏn’s study (Han 2005: 329–61).
15
Madam Yun’s novel A Record of Good Deeds of the Paek and Kye Families is listed in the Ŏnmun
ch’aek mongnok 언문책목록 [A list of vernacular Korean novels] (1872), which gives the titles of
both vernacular Korean and translated classical Chinese novels. Han argues that there is a high
possibility the title listed in the Ŏnmun ch’aek mongnok is Madam Yun’s work (Han 2005:
329–61).
390 J. M. Kim
official language may have been one of the strategies she used to attain her
purpose.16
Although we cannot be certain why Madam Yun decided to submit in literary
Chinese instead of vernacular Korean, she might have purposefully chosen to write
in male literary writing in order to better persuade the king to restore her husband’s
honor. It may be the case that she had written the first two petitions in vernacular
Korean, but as she did not receive a positive response from the authorities, she
decided to change the language into one that appeared more favorably to the offi-
cials. The following is part of Madam Yun’s petition submitted in 1805:
I was afraid no one in this world would ever find out about my husband’s innocence if I died
without appealing and revealing the truth. This is why I am petitioning as my life is nearing
the end [and I am] reaching the age of eighty. Although the king is like heaven and earth and
bright as the moon, how can Your Majesty be aware of all the things that are taking place in
this world?! The more I think of this, the more my heart aches. In the spring of the year
imsul 壬戌 [1802], the officials took turns to read the petition I submitted and said they
should report it to the king since it was an extremely mortifying matter. Therefore, when it
was the officials’ reporting day to the king, I went in front of the royal palace hoping for an
opportunity to have access to the royal palace. In the first month of the year kyehae 癸亥
[1803], during Your Majesty’s procession, … Your Majesty stopped by my palanquin right
outside the palace, showing mercy to this old woman. Your Majesty took a look at my peti-
tion and told the officials to transfer it to the Office of Border and Defense and Your Majesty
was well aware of the fact that it was not my first petition. However, three years have passed
already but I still have not heard any response. Because I have committed a lot of sins, I was
not able to move Your Majesty and was not trustworthy enough. I thought my life would end
without being able to appeal again to redress grievances that had accumulated for several
decades. However, I once again meet Your Majesty during your procession and am able to
petition as I did three years ago. I risk my life once again and dare cry out in front of Your
Majesty (Yigasego, 1784–6; Han 2006: 384).
Almost at the age of eighty, Madam Yun went in person to the royal palace in order
to directly submit the petition. She knew when the king’s procession would take
place and had planned accordingly. By showing her presence in front of the royal
palace several times, she made it clear that restoring her husband’s honor was her
duty, and she did not wish to place the burden on male members of the family such
as her adopted son or grandson.
In the second section of Madam Yun’s petition, she claimed her husband inno-
cent of the charge based on the two grounds. First, she argued that Chŏng Wŏnsi
and other opponents tried to frame her husband by implicating him in the crime. She
wrote:
Kim Suhyŏn stated during his interrogation, “… about ten years ago Yi Hŭngnok said,
‘there are many who could be on our side,’” referring to officials such as Song Chaekyŏng,
Kim Sangmuk, Ch’ae Chaegong, Sim Yiji, and Cho Chonghyun. My husband’s name was
also included. However, among those mentioned, some were able to escape the interroga-
tion while others were not. Even those interrogated were exculpated shortly after. As a
16
During the Chosŏn, the official written language for writing petition was literary Chinese.
However, women also petitioned using vernacular Korean. For further discussion of the usage of
literary Chinese and vernacular Korean when writing petitions, see Jisoo M. Kim (2015a: 42−73;
2015b).
result, some easily escaped from the crime, restoring their previous official titles and hon-
ors. However, it was only my husband who was unable to prove his innocence because he
was dead. Chŏng Wŏnsi and others who disliked my husband took this opportunity to set
him up. After all, my husband was referred to as merely an uncanny old man in the docu-
ment.17 Chŏng Wŏnsi and his group bribed high officials in order to gain their support.
They were vicious and evil in achieving their interest. However, they were unable to escape
from the bright insight the king’s predecessor had. When my husband’s name was men-
tioned, he said he could not believe it.18 How could my dead husband not shed a tear in the
underworld? The trust Your Majesty’s predecessor had toward my husband proves that he is
more than innocent (Yigasego, 1784–6: Han 2006: 384).
Madam Yun was adamant and bold in criticizing the viciousness of Chŏng Wŏnsi
and his faction, and she risked her life by not hesitating to condemn this opponent
in defense of her husband.
Her second point of emphasis was an explanation of why Chŏngo had accused
her husband despite his original trust in him. According to her, Chŏngjo decided to
punish her husband because of a statement Sado had once made; he had referred to
Ch’ang’im as “a traitor and a man of small caliber.” Madam Yun tried to vindicate
her husband by claiming this statement did not have much meaning because it had
been said merely out of his rage against her husband. Once his rage was appeased,
the prince regretted having called him such. Madam Yun then elaborated in her peti-
tion on how much Sado had cared for Yi and trusted in him. She wrote:
Prince Sado’s reprimand seems to have been one of the major causes that led my husband
to be charged for treason.19 In the year sinsa 辛巳 [1761], when my husband entered the
court, Prince Sado ordered my husband to urgently go to Ch’unch’ŏn to send his message
to Cho Chaeho. My husband replied stating that he was hesitant to obey the order. Prince
Sado chided my husband and said, “What is holding you back?” My husband responded
and said, “How could an official leave the capital without reporting to the king? If I left
upholding the Prince’s order, I am afraid it might later bring unfavorable consequences to
the Prince.” After listening to my husband, the Crown Prince acceded to my husband’s
opinion. Thereafter, he sent Cho Yujin, who was a cousin of Cho Chaeho, to Ch’unch’ŏn.
The Prince was at first enraged with my husband but that was only because he misunder-
stood him. When he realized my husband’s real intention, the Prince was gracious enough
to assuage his rage just as if melting ice. There was nothing else added to this incident. The
story was as such [for calling my husband a traitor and a man of small caliber]. If my hus-
band had committed a crime that was unpardonable, how could the Prince not punish my
husband and instead love him more by continuing to rely on him, asking questions when-
ever he faced difficulties? If the Prince had not understood my husband’s real intention, how
could my husband have continuously assisted him? From that day on throughout the autumn
and winter, the Prince continued to trust my husband as his only assistant. Whenever he
needed help, he wrote to my husband. The descendants preserve those letters and consider
them as the family’s proudest and most valuable assets. On the ninth day of the tenth month,
the King complimented the Prince when he had visited his father. The Prince had told my
17
This part of the text is not clear but I think Madam Yun is referring to the interrogation record in
which others called her husband an “uncanny old man.”
18
In Chŏngjo sillok 正祖實錄, the record shows that Chŏngjo stated he could not believe Ch’angim
was involved in the case (Chŏngjo sillok 正祖實錄 1776/04/26).
19
Madam Yun is referring to the statement Crown Prince Sado had made to her late husband that
he was “a traitor and a man of small caliber.”
392 J. M. Kim
husband, saying, “I owe you greatly for what happened today.” The king and queen also
rewarded my husband with wine (Yigasego, 1784–6; Han 2006: 384).
Madam Yun succinctly explained the context of the statement “a traitor and a man
of small caliber” that Prince Sado had made. Not only did she suggest that his state-
ment was insignificant, but she also emphasized how her husband had been thought-
ful in assisting the prince and how the prince had appreciated it in return.
After providing thorough explanations of why the accusation against Ch’ang’im
was unjust, Madam Yun ended the petition by making an emotional appeal. She
stated:
Although the dead cannot regain his life, my husband’s charge continues to exist. When I
first heard of his charge, my body trembled because I was extremely afraid of the conse-
quences. The grievance and utter wretchedness penetrated my flesh and bones. If I continue
to be afraid, I will then have to take my regrets to the afterworld, which will make me dis-
honorable to face my husband for not having fulfilled my duty. This is why I overcame my
fear and am ready to be beheaded by reading aloud [the petition] in front of Your Majesty.
Although I am extremely grieved, I do not know how to convey this eloquently in words.
However, whether my words are true or false is all recorded in the State Tribunal’s interro-
gation document. If there is the slightest lie, I am well prepared to receive punishment even
if it means my whole family will be beheaded and thereby bring an end to the family lin-
eage. I now bow and beg in front of Your Majesty. Please allow my lonely soul to be
relieved from extreme sorrow. I also ask Your Majesty to rule the world with benevolence
and brightness and particularly bear in mind to do politics that rectifies the wrong (Yigasego,
1784–6; Han 2006: 384).
In constructing her narrative, Madam Yun first utilized passive statements then grad-
ually switched to active tone. She began by expressing how she was afraid when she
first heard of the charge made against her husband and decided to commit suicide.
However, her narrative slowly shifted to demonstrate her firm determination by
criticizing the officials who had framed her husband. She boldly stated in the peti-
tion that she was not afraid of the punishment if only she could restore her hus-
band’s honor and regain his posthumous title. What she was really afraid of was not
being able to face her husband in the afterworld because she had not fulfilled her
duty as a wife. Since one of the foremost female virtues was being faithful to one’s
husband, Madam Yun was sincere in performing her role. She also shows that, for
female subjects, family came before the state, whereas it was the opposite for men.
Although in general the choice of words was deferential, Madam Yun was not hesi-
tant to seek restoration of husband’s honor by using bold statements toward the end
of the petition.
Although Madam Yun addressed the sensitive political affairs of the time, the
government did not take issue with her gender on the grounds that political com-
mentary be reserved for men. Instead, they took her petition into serious consider-
ation because it touched upon a weighty matter that could not simply be disregarded.
Yi Ingmo summarized Madam Yun’s petition and reported to Sunjo about her two
major points. Ingmo’s reading of the petition is particularly interesting when exam-
ining his perception of Madam Yun. Despite the emotion of her appeal, he was
impressed with her detailed knowledge of political affairs and with her persuasive
writing. He perceived Madam Yun as a rational rather than an emotional and irratio-
nal being. He described Madam Yun’s writing as having a logical sequence in its
actions and words. His description is intriguing when taking into consideration that
women’s moral judgments were often disputable during this period. Compared to
nonelite women, elite women were afforded some respect as regards their petition-
ing. Government officials hardly referred to elite women as ignorant, although elite
women often described themselves as such in a self-effacing way.
As Madam Yun’s petitions show, a wife of high-ranking official was active in
discussions of political affairs within her household. In petitioning for the sake of
family, it was critical for her to have the knowledge of the kind of political affairs in
which her husband was involved if she was to construct persuasive narrative. In this
sense, domestic issues were suffused with public and political meanings, which
shows how the analytical tool of the public and private divide does not work within
the context of Chosŏn society and how women’s petitions reflect the continuum of
inner and outer. Although Madam Yun’s act of criticizing a political faction and
voicing political issues via petitions may seem to transgress the Confucian gender
norms, it actually conforms to the state’s ideology of educating women as moral
agents. Being educated with Confucian tenets through texts such as the Naehun 內
訓 (Instructions for the inner quarters), Yŏsasŏ 女四書 (Four books for women),
Yŏlnyochŏn 烈女傳 (Biographies of women), Sohak 小學 (Elementary learning),
and Samgang haengsilto 三綱行實圖 (Illustrated guide to the three bonds), elite
women were indoctrinated with their proper roles in the Confucian scheme of
things. For example, Queen Sohye (1437–1504), in the preface of the Naehun
(1745), which was regarded as one of the most basic texts in women’s education,
emphasized women be educated in order to fulfill their “sociopolitical role” within
the Confucian model of gender relations (Duncan 2004: 29–32).20 Imbued with such
thoughts, yangban women exercised agency in a justifiable way through legal chan-
nels by making use of their right to petition. Instead of remaining silent about unjust
charge made against her husband, Madam Yun voiced grievance to restore her hus-
band’s honor. She regarded it as her duty to speak for her husband before the king
and restore his posthumous official title.
4 Conclusion
Instead of remaining silent about unjust charges made against her husband, Madam
Yun voiced grievance on behalf of her dead husband without relying on male mem-
bers of the family. She regarded it as her duty to speak before the king and redress
grievance of the deceased husband. It cannot be denied that Neo-Confucian
20
Duncan compared Sohye Wanghu’s Naehun and the Chinese Wen Huanghou’s Neixun and
points out that Wen does not mention in her preface about specific roles of women or the reasons
for the importance of women’s education. In contrast to Wen, Sohye expresses the importance of
women in the realms of society, culture, and politics along with her claim for the necessity of
women’s education (Duncan 2004: 29–32).
394 J. M. Kim
bureaucrats sought to limit elite women’s activity by regulating their behaviors out-
side the inner quarters, especially for the purpose of controlling elite women’s sexu-
ality. However, they simultaneously allowed them to cross the boundary of inner
quarters to voice grievances in the legal space. If elite women’s position were merely
understood in terms of inner and outer spheres, it is difficult to reconcile the appar-
ent paradox inherent in the state’s vision of gender order. As Joan Kelly has noted,
women’s place should be understood as not a separate domain of existence but a
position within social existence generally (Kelly 1984: 57). The state authorized
women to petition but it was women who frequently made themselves visible in the
realm of law expanding their activity beyond their domestic space.
In the juridical domain of the Chosŏn dynasty, the gender and status hierarchies
remained neutral in terms of subject’s legal capacity, which allowed even manumit-
ted female slaves to bring suits against aristocrats. Since the state upheld Neo-
Confucianism as its sole ideology and reorganized the society according to the
Confucian gender norms, the judicial realm was utilized as a space to contest and
negotiate grievances that were generated from the new systems. The legal practice
of the Chosŏn shows that the state construed gender norms not as fixed but as a fluid
entity that could be contested and negotiated between the state and subjects.
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Chapter 18
Korean Confucianism and Women’s
Leadership in the Twenty-First Century –
A Religious Reflection on Gang
Jeongildang 姜靜一堂 (1772–1832),
a Woman Confucian Scholar in the Late
Joseon Dynasty
Un-sunn Lee
1 Introduction
Just as it was shown some years ago amidst the controversy among Korean women
about whether Shin Saimdang 申師任堂 (1504–1551) should be selected as the
figure on a large denomination bill of Korean currency, the tradition of Confucianism
is still the one with which Korean women would not like to associate. As one of the
representative figures of the Korean Confucian tradition, Shin Saimdang is consid-
ered simply a mother or a wife of someone, so she might not be regarded as some-
one suitable for the female figure on Korean currency in the contemporary age of
feminism. Today’s Korean women want to keep a distance from the identity of
mother or wife; on the other hand, however, they emphasize ‘the maternal leader-
ship’ or the virtue of “taking care,” “looking after” in their search for the new female
leadership of the twenty-first century. This seems to be contradictory, since ‘taking
care’, ‘considerateness’, and ‘looking after’ having been the core virtues for women
playing their roles of mother or wife in Confucian tradition.
In order to resolve such a contradiction today, it is necessary to illuminate tradi-
tional Confucian women’s lives and thoughts from a new perspective. It is the task
of a new interpretation of their roles of mother and wife that views them as a place
where one can practice human virtues that are meaningful today to both men and
women. The task is to show that their lives were not merely subservient or self-
depreciating as they used to be seen, and at the same time reveal how well their lives
have embodied the virtues of “taking care” and “considerateness” which men as
U.-s. Lee (*)

Department of Education, Sejong University/Institute of Korean Feminist Integral
Studies for Faith, Seoul, South Korea
e-mail: leeus@sejong.ac.kr

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2933-1_18
398 U.-s. Lee
well as women today take for new models of genuine humanity and leadership. This
reflection will show that their lives and social roles in their time were not that of a
“lost time” at all, but a driving force that made it possible for modern Korea, and
particularly Korean women, to exist today, and a support for the future for all of us.
Therefore, I intend to reexamine their lives and roles.
I think the reason why women’s lives in the Joseon period are not properly evalu-
ated, is that the religiosity of Confucianism as the spiritual support for their lives has
not been fully recognized in the general understanding of Confucianism (Lee
Un-sunn 2007: 36). The important question here is what we mean by ‘religiosity.’ I
do not see religion from the prevailing Western understanding of religion in which
religiosity depends on whether there is faith in the existence of a certain anthropo-
morphic deity, or whether there is a separate group of priests, but rather understand
it as related to ‘the great ultimate concern’ or ‘the question of meanings’ (die Sinn-
Sein Frage). That is to say, the core of Confucian religiosity does not lie in whether
it has some view of God or a view of afterlife, but in its pursuit of the ultimate mean-
ing, or its pursuit of “the way to become a sage”. (seonginjido 聖人之道) In other
words, its religiosity lies in its ultimate concern for how one can be an authentic
human being through the internalization of the utmost transcendence of Heaven
(cheon 天), the Mandate of Heaven (cheonmyeong 天命), virtue (deok 德) and
humanity (in 仁), human nature (seong 性) and propriety (ye 禮), in what way one
can achieve the ideal form of human being, and how such human beings ultimately
establish a union with all things in the universe (daedong 大同). This understanding
goes beyond the general understanding of Confucianism that has reduced it to a
secular pursuit of virtue, politics, or social ethics only, and recognizes it as a higher
level of ultimate religious questions. From this perspective, the special meaning of
the Confucian spirit of “learning from the bottom and thereby reaching the top”
(hahakisangdal 下學而上達) and “pursuing the highest and yet following the mid-
dle way of everyday life” (geukomyeong’i dojungyong 極高明而道中庸) an be bet-
ter known. It sees Confucian religiosity as the effort to make the entire space of our
lives a sacred one, and the project to transform the entire spheres of everyday life
into the sphere of holiness (Ibid: 41–56).
Doubts arise as to whether Confucian women were indeed able to pursue this
goal, that men did, under their conditions of everyday hard work and gender dis-
crimination. There is also the question of how the life and thoughts of Gang
Jeongildang, a woman in the late Joseon, can be considered an example of the pur-
suit of Confucian religiosity, while the late Joseon period, according to the study of
history of Korean women in general, is regarded one in which women’s lives suf-
fered from a more rigorous application of Confucian patriarchal ideas. Although
there is certain justification for raising those questions, it should be noted that the
religiosity of Confucianism as the way to become a sage lies in its efforts to achieve
the sacred in this secular world, more than other religious traditions, so the women’s
lives and work, generally considered as secular, should not be located outside the
Confucian project to transform the whole world into the sacred one. It also should
be noted that, in the late Joseon period, Confucian ethics and consciousness were
spread among Korean women to the highest degree since the period of the Three
18 Korean Confucianism and Women’s Leadership in the Twenty-First Century… 399
Kingdoms, and the emphasis on literature (mun 文) and learning (hak 學) as its
major traditional characteristic began to have a full-scale influence on women, too
(Dorothy Ko 2003:6).
Religiosity or religious pursuit, though it is expressed in diverse forms, is
intended to transcend one’s self. Whether its goal is expressed as a “sage” (seongin
聖人) or a “great person” (daein 大人), “Buddha” or “Christ,” it is to unite with
something great, like the Sacred (seong 聖), Heaven (cheon 天), Emptiness (gong
空), or the Universe (uju 宇宙) beyond a limited self here and now. Therefore, every
form of religiosity includes “sacrifice,” “humility,” or “self-denial”’ as its essence.
This is true of Confucianism, too. So, if we consider the pursuit of the Confucian
way such as “giving up one’s own way to follow that of others” (sagijongin 捨己從
人), and “overcoming one’s self and returning to propriety” (geukgibokryae 克己復
禮), or “abandoning life and following justice” (sasaengchwiui 捨生取義) merely
as moral pursuit of secular ethics, its meanings cannot be fully expressed. Confucian
women’s womanly virtue (budeok 婦德), modesty and humility, or their lives as
geondo (坤道) can be justly evaluated in the same context. As we see today,
Confucian community ethics are drawing attention again in our contemporary cir-
cumstances of being threatened by excessive emphasis on the Western principle of
subjectivity and the subsequent flood of individualism. So the lives of Confucian
women must be evaluated as real executors and practitioners of human community
ethics. The feminism of the twentieth century taught us that biological sexual differ-
ences are now no longer an obstacle or discrimination in our efforts to become a
genuine human being. It also showed us that our sexual identity in many cases has
the dimension of “social gender” and thus is not merely related to reproduction. On
the basis of such a fundamental change of understanding, I will examine what the
lives of Confucian women tell, both men and women in our contemporary era, espe-
cially by looking at Gang Jeongildang’s life in the late Joseon era.
2 T
he Religiosity of Korean Confucianism and Women’s
Lives
Unlike Buddhism or Daoism, Confucianism is not totally supra-worldly, and unlike

Mohism or Legalism (bupka/fajia, 法家), it is not totally worldly, but holds both
aspects at the same time, so Confucius considered its spirit as consisting in the task
of “learning from the bottom and thereby reaching the top”. The Doctrine of the
Mean expressed it as “pursuing the highest and yet following the middle way of
everyday life”. As an expression of Confucian religiosity that holds and yet goes
beyond a subject’s will and decision, in comparison with the contemporary spirit of
excessive self-centeredness, I suggest the spirit of “giving up one’s own way to fol-
low that of others” (捨己從人), which Confucius and Mencius had mentioned in
their discussion of the person of the ancient King Shun 舜 (Lee Dongjun 2007:31).
This spirit at a glance may seem to be lacking in selfhood or subjectivity and to be
400 U.-s. Lee
very passive. However, this very stage is the one of a greater person who surpassed
the narrow sense of modern subjectivity and thus includes the essence of Confucian
religiosity which recognizes the relativity of one’s own self existing here and now
and embraces the other coming as the manifestation of the Heaven. Mencius said of
the King Shun, who had been called the great sage of beauty (mi/mei 美), goodness
(seon/shan 善), and filial Piety (hyo/xiao 孝), “When any one told zilu 子路 that he
had a fault, he rejoiced. When the King Yu 禹heard good words, he bowed to the
speaker. The great Shun had a still greater delight in what was good. He was greatly
delighted in practicing goodness together with others (seonyeoindong 善與人同),
giving up his own way to follow that of others, and learning from others to practice
what was good.”1
A new excellent expression of such ancient Confucian religiosity is found in the
Neo-Confucian proposition that “the principle is one, but its manifestations are
many” (i-il bun-ju/li-i fen-shu 理一分殊). With this, Neo-Confucianism proclaimed
its belief that all things in the world hold the seed of the sacred nature (seong/xing
性) or principle (i/li 理), and pursued the realization of that seed in all things. This
means that Confucian quest of self-cultivation emerged to a full scale in this era.
Especially in the Joseon period, this inquiry developed a profound discussion of i/li
and gi/qi theory (理氣論), and of “Four Beginnings and Seven
Emotions”(sadanchiljeongnon/siduanqiqing 四端七情論), and that brought the
Study of the Way(dohak/daoxue 道學) into full flourish, which took the interiority
of human moral nature as its essential focus of study to the utmost degree. According
to the biography of Shin Saimdang 申師任堂 (1504–1551), the mother and nur-
turer of Yulgok 栗谷 (1536–1584), one of the great scholars of Joseon dohak/
daoxue, when she was present as a daughter-in-law at a feast of her husband’s
extended family, someone asked her, “Why are you, a new daughter-in-law not
speaking at all?” Seeing her sitting without a word, She then answered, “With no
chance to see things outside the house, what can I say?” and thus made everyone in
the feast feel ashamed. This episode shows that, Confucian women’s lives of humil-
ity and self-denial were not merely lacking subjectivity or were as lowly as usually
considered, but were connected to the efforts of “giving up one’s own way to follow
that of others” and “cultivating oneself to give peace to others”(sugianin 修己安人)
that they made while checking their own relativity and limitations, and to the efforts
of “pursuing the highest and yet following the middle way of everyday life” by
relating their everyday lives to the pursuit of the Way.
The true character of Confucian religiosity lies in the art of cultivating oneself to
become an authentic human being, and women’s lives should be understood in the
same spirit. Of course, the women of Joseon were actually restricted in many ways
within the limits of patriarchy. Compared to other religious traditions, however, the
Confucianism of immanent transcendence as a means of realizing the heavenly Way
within this world, included women’s everyday lives of life-giving and caring as part
of the pursuit of the Way. As it is well known, The Great Learning in the ninth
1
Mencius, 「公孫丑上」8: 子路, 人告之以有過則喜. 禹聞善言則拜. 大舜有大焉, 善與人同.
舍己從人, 樂取於人以爲善.
c hapter on “Managing the Household’ says, “The superior person, without going
beyond his family, completes the lessons for the state (君子不出家而成敎於國).”
These words indicate a uniquely Confucian way, distinct from Buddhist or Daoist
ways of realizing the heavenly Mandate, suggesting that it is impossible to realize
the heavenly Way away from our everyday lives, our household duties, or the efforts
to cultivate ourselves. Because Confucian women, too, lived their lives believing in
the teachings of The Great Learning as the fundamental lessons of life, we cannot
accept that their lives were not included in that pursuit of sagehood. Accordingly, in
the later period of Joseon, more and more women came to have that self-awareness
(Lee Un-sunn 2007: 64), the representatives of which were Yim Yunjidang 任允摯
堂 (1721–1792), a female Confucian scholar who lived in Won-ju in the reigns of
King Yeongjo 英祖 and King Jeongjo 正祖, and her spiritual heir, Gang Jeongildang
姜靜一堂 (1772–1832). Contemporary female scholarship of the Confucian clas-
sics is demonstrating that Joseon women’s lives in the eighteenth century, in spite of
the limits brought by the rigidity of Confucian household rules, experienced a great
expansion in literacy, along with increased economic power and other changes due
to the extension of the duties relating practical matters. Besides Yim Yunjidang and
Gang Jeongildang, there were Nam Euiyudang 意幽堂南氏 (1727–1823) who
wrote Journal of Euiyudang 意幽堂日記, Yi Sajudang 師朱堂李氏 (1739–1821)
who wrote A New Record on Prenatal Education 胎敎新記, and Yi Bingheogak 憑
虛閣李氏 (1759–1824) who wrote the Encyclopedia of Women’s Lives 閨閤叢書.
Yim Yunjidang, who was a sister of Yim Seongju 任聖周 (pen name: Nongmun
鹿門, 1711–1788), from her early age learned Confucian scriptures and history
such as The Book of Filial Duty 孝經, Biographies of Exemplary Virtuous Women
烈女傳, The Learning for Minors 小學, and the Four Books: Confucian Analects 論
語, Mencius 孟子, The Great Learning 大學, and The Doctrine of the Mean 中庸
from her older brother, Yim Seongju, who assumed the place of her father who had
passed away.2 At the age of nineteen, she married a scholar named Sin Gwangyu 申
光裕 (1722–1747) but was widowed at the age of twenty-eight. However, she did
her best in taking care of both her own mother and her mother-in-law, and became
the great senior of the extended family already at the age of forty-seven holding
ancestral rites, giving hospitality to guests, meeting relatives, and running the whole
household. At the same time, she studied till late into the night. She concludes A
Treatise on Principle of Nature and Human Mind 理氣心性說 in The Posthumous
Works of Yunjidang 允摯堂遺稿 with the following statement:
… Ah-ah! Although I am a wife, my given nature is not different at first from a man’s
nature. Even if I cannot learn what Yen Yuan 顔淵 learned, my intention to become a sage
is sincere. Therefore, I add my intention by briefly describing and writing my opinion here.3
2
Yim Yunjidang. 2001. The Posthumous Works of Yunjidang Translated into Korean (國譯允摯堂
遺稿). 238.
3
『允摯堂遺稿』「克己復禮爲仁說」: 噫! 我雖婦人, 而所受之性, 則初無男女之殊. 縱不能
學顔淵之所學, 而其慕聖之志則切, 故略叙所見而述此, 以寓意焉.; Ibid., 158.
402 U.-s. Lee
In Confucian tradition, the theory of yin-yang (陰陽) was applied and practiced
on the basis of repressing yin and respecting yang, so oppressed women did not eas-
ily earn the opportunity to learn. However, when we reinterpret it on the basis of
today’s feminist awareness, we can discover other aspects and implications. In the
understanding of “one yin, one yang”(一陰一陽) and guengon/qiankun (乾坤) as
divinatory expressions of Confucian ontology and cosmology, yin (陰) and kun (坤)
have been so far negatively evaluated as being very passive, low, and mean, having
been mostly interpreted as “female trigram.” However, this trigram of kun is nowa-
days recognized as the Way of controlling the “formation and growth” of all things,
in which the Confucian ideal of the bodily realization of the heavenly Way can be
actually accomplished, in comparison with the Way of kun in charge of “creation of
life.” Confucius’ “passing on the old but not creating the new” (述而不作) as his
ideal way of creating civilization is also recognized to be none other than the Way
of kun, because the trigram of gon/kun as combination of tu (土) and shen (申) indi-
cates one’s way of lowering oneself on whom all things can spread out, and the
attitude of endurance and continuity, which is not to boast of one’s own accomplish-
ments but to actually continue to perform one’s duties (Lee Sungkyung 2007: 448).
This means that Confucius talked about his creation of civilization not in a way of
creating new things, but in the way of “passing on the old but not creating the new,”
that is, believing in, loving, and transmitting the old, which is the same Way of kun
as humbleness, self-emptying, and fulfilling of life (Ibid: 455).
All the above interpretations make it unjustifiable for us to denigrate the Way of
kun and the way of ‘giving up one’s own way to follow that of others’ any longer,
but rather to call for us, men as well as women, to accept and embody that way of
life as the greater way to create genuine lives. Whereas, in the past, the Way of kun
was considered a virtue of passivity applied mostly to women, as captured by gen-
der determinism, it is now accepted rather as the highest dimension of activity and
subjectivity, or a feature of authentic religiosity to realize oneself and to continu-
ously cultivate lives through the way of giving up one’s own way (Lee Un-sunn
2007: 147). The Doctrine of the Mean in the last part discusses the sage or the
superior man’s fullest sincerity (天下至誠) that can adjust the strings of the great
net of the world, establish the foundations of the world, and understand the transfor-
mations and the nurturing of Heaven and Earth. It then expresses the quality of that
virtue as being “concealed (隱),”“subtle (微),” “warm-hearted (溫),” “virtuous with
no need to be displayed (不顯惟德),” and “having no sounds or smells (無聲無
臭).” It means that the genuinely utmost Way is not realized in any superficial out-
ward form, but manifested quietly and subtly every day through that fullest sincerity
as if “someone covers her brocade gown with a plain robe,” gives peace to all things
in the world with courtesy, and thus becomes the virtue by which everyone is really
awed. About the superior man who embodied such a deep spirituality and religios-
ity, The Doctrine of the Mean (chapter 33) says, “Those things that the superior man
is unable to attain to are exactly the things that others cannot perceive (君子所不可
及者, 其唯人之所不見乎).”
I think that women’s lives in the Confucian tradition also attempted to practice
such Confucian religiosity with their whole beings, although they were likely not
aware it. Because it belonged to the essence of Confucian humanism and the spirit
of ye/li 禮 (propriety), it could become the principle of life that was required for
both men and women, and an investigation of their way of life can offer us a lot of
lessons. It is in this context that I want to understand the lives of Yim Yunjidang and
Gang Jeongildang.
3 A
n Example of the Religiosity of Korean Confucianism:
The Life and Thoughts of Gang Jeongildang
Gang Jeongildang (1722–1832) was born in Je-cheon (堤川), Northern

Chungcheong (忠淸) province on October 15 as a daughter of Gang Jaesu 姜在洙
and Madam Kwon from An-dong (安東權氏), the forty-eighth year of King Yeongjo
(1772), fifty-one years later than Yim Yunjidang. Her mother came from the family
of Kwon Sangha 權尙夏 (1641–1721) who maintained the Study of Human Nature
and Principle (seongnihak/xinglixueh 性理學) of gi-ho (畿湖) school. When
Jeongildang at the age of twenty got married to Yun Gwangyeon 尹光演 (1778–
1838), a scholar from Chung-ju (忠州), six years younger than her, in 1791, her
mother asked Yun, her son-in-law, what he had studied, and pointed out, “If you do
not personally acquire and practice what you have learned, it would be a study in
vain.”4
Gang Jeongildang, although her family was poor, earnestly successfully encour-
aged her husband to continue the studies of a sage. So she too, learned with him,
while doing her needlework for a living and listening to her husband’s reading.
Being very smart, she was able to recite what she read once in the scriptures. In this
way, she read a wide range of the thirteen Confucian scriptures and reflected deeply
on them. She liked writing and calligraphy, and her writing strokes were said to be
very powerful and neat.5
3.1 G
ang Jeongildang’s Life and the Way to Become
a Woman Sage
In spite of her poor family environment and frail health, Jeongildang put in a great
deal of effort in study and wrote more than ten pieces of work, including Compilation
of Questions and Answers 問答編 and A Chronicle of Sayings and Doings 言行錄,
4
『靜一堂遺稿』「外姑孺人安東權氏行狀」: 孺人謂曰: “若不體行, 便是虛讀”, Gang
Jeongildang 2002. The Posthumous Works of Jeongildang Translated into Korean (國譯靜一堂遺
稿). 116.
5
「行狀」: 喜作字書, 常於燈下運毫, 遒逸楷正.; Ibid., 150.
404 U.-s. Lee
but all of them have been lost. There remains only one collected volume of her post-
humous works that her husband compiled in 1836, four years after she passed away.
So we do not have much knowledge about her systematic study, but we can grasp
the stage that her life and thoughts reached, in the poems that she left, in the pieces
of paper in which she wrote down her thoughts from time to time to her husband, in
the biographies that several people wrote after she passed away, and in her hus-
band’s memorial address to her. In short, she was a figure of “Superior Woman” (女
性君子), showing how dohak/daoxue (道學) of Joseon as a true learning of sage-
hood could become a profound religious activity for realizing the Way through daily
mundane life
Besides holding ancestral rites, receiving guests, doing needlework, cooking food
and setting the table, and taking care of parents, she took the Thirteen Confucian
Scriptures as everyday works to attend to, so she clearly knew thoroughly the politi-
cal changes and main figures’ activities in the past and present.6 Her favorite books
were The Rites of Zhou 周禮, Er-YaDictionary 爾雅, Commentary on Spring-
Autumn Annals 春秋左傳, Reflection on Things at Hand 近思錄, A Key to Abolishing
Ignorance 擊蒙要訣.7 Although we know that she educated herself, we can consider
her relationship with Song Chigyu 宋穉圭 (pen name: Gangjae 剛齋, 1759–1838),
who was her husband’s teacher. It is pointed out that, since Gang-jae was the sixth
generation grandson of Song Siyeol, Jeongildang was succeeding the Study of
Human Nature and Principle (seongnikak/xinglixue 性理學) of the no-ron (Old
Doctrine 老論) orthodox gi-ho school from Yulgok Yi Yi to Kim Jangsaeng 金長生
(pen name: Sagye 沙溪, 1548–1631) and to Song Siyeol 宋時烈 (pen name: Uam 尤
庵, 1607–1689). In addition to this linage, Jeongildang’s relationship with Yunjidang
was special in her devotion to study. Although she was born fifty years later than
Yunjidang, and never met her, she admired Yunjidang so much as to consider the
following paragraph as the most important mark for her everyday practice:
Yunjidang said, “Although I am a wife, my given nature is not different at first from man’s
nature.” and she also said, “If there are people who were born to be a wife but do not take
the Great Mother and Wife, tae-im (太任) and tae-sa (太似) as their life’s goal, all of them
are the ones who give up their lives.” Therefore, if a wife can make efforts, she can also
reach the sagehood. What do you think about that?8
Like Yunjidang, Jeongildang did not acknowledge any substantial difference

between men and women, and firmly believed that women, too, can reach sagehood
through their efforts and practiced her faith as such. Among her posthumous writ-
ings, the significant ones that give us insight into her study are the poems that she
wrote about the cultivation of mind and the state of sagehood. Notably, her poems
6
「行狀」: 遍讀十三經, 沈潛闡繹窮, 晝夜罔倦. 博通典籍, 古今治亂人物臧否, 燦然若指掌.;
Ibid., 159, 172.
7
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「孺人靜一堂姜氏誄文」: 嘗愛有周公․爾雅․左氏春秋․近思錄․擊蒙訣
諸書, 而閭巷諺稗, 一不經眼.; Ibid.,173.
8
『靜一堂遺稿拾遺』「附尺牘」: 允摯堂曰: “我雖婦人, 而所受之性, 初無男女之殊.” 又曰:
“婦人而不以任姒自期者, 皆自棄也.” 然則雖婦人而能有爲, 則亦可至於聖人. 未審夫子以爲
如何?; The Posthumous Works of Jeongildang (國譯靜一堂遺稿), 90.
were not like other women’s songs of love or scenery, but revealed her making ear-
nest and diligent efforts in the study of the sincere mind, and thus made the readers
sit up and take notice.9 Being proficient at poetry and xing-li-xue (性理學) at the
same time, Jeongildang emulated what Saimdang and Yunjidang had already
accomplished.10
Jeongildang repeatedly emphasized that the human way lies in the way of learn-
ing to cultivate oneself. So she pointed out that her husband’s business activities
were “giving up the righteousness and attempting to earn a livelihood,” and that
such a living was “inferior to listening to the Way and being content with poverty.”11
For her, the way of learning was the task given as human duty that should never
apply to men alone but to both men and women, as she noted in a letter to her
husband.
The superior man’s practice of the Way is to cultivate oneself and govern others, so I am
afraid that my diligent efforts day and night might be rather insufficient. How can you for-
sake yourself the lesson that the superior man’s responsibilities are serious, and the destina-
tion is far away, with little time to spare, while uselessly thinking and chatting, idly receiving
guests, and going around here and there? My husband, I request you to be cautious and
make efforts. Whether one has a long life or a short life, whether one is poor or successful,
one has one’s own calling. I see parents believe what people in the world say, and shun
teaching their daughters to read books, and thus women often do not know justice and prin-
ciple, it is very ridiculous.12
Jeongildang did not deny a wife’s limited position and role in accordance with
the conventions of her time. Thus her perception as a moral subject is not necessar-
ily consistent with today’s feminist awareness. Living under the restrictions of the
time, however, she firmly believed that there is no difference between men and
women in the cultivating the Way to become a sage, carried out her duties even in
the midst of extreme poverty, and devoted herself purely to learning. This was not
what any male scholar of xinglixue could easily accomplish at that time. It was a
religious or spiritual attitude making her life in accordance with the Way (Lee
Youngchun 2002: 36). Male scholars at that time praised Jeongildang’s life as such,
saying that, even if there were ones with the talents of intelligence and clear knowl-
edge among women, “there was no one like Jeongildang, who made efforts in the
Way of sagehood (daoxue道學).”13 Among a total number of fourteen people’s
funeral odes for Jeongildang’s life as such, here is one:
9
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「靜一堂詩跋雖」: 其懇懇孜孜於省己誠心之工也, 不覺斂膝更坐.;
Ibid., 188.
10
「靜一堂詩跋雖」: 而我東有師任․允摯兩夫人, 俱有德行, 而師任傳吟詠, 允摯播著述, 最
有稱焉. 今孺人, 非特此詩, 好讀四書, 多有箚記, 兼兩夫人之所能; Ibid., 188.
11
「行狀」: 人以不學, 無以爲人. 與其棄義而營生, 不若聞道而安貧.; Ibid., 145.
12
「附尺牘」: 君子之爲道, 修己治人而已, 日夜孜孜, 猶恐不及. 夫奚暇於閑思慮, 閑言語, 閒
酬應, 閒出入, 以自損乎任重致遠之志哉! 請夫子戒之勉之. 人之壽夭窮達, 有命焉. 爲父母
者, 信世俗之語, 以敎女子讀書爲大忌, 故婦女往往全不識義理, 甚可笑也.; Ibid., 90.
13
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「孺人晉州姜氏墓誌銘」: 以故簪珥中, 雖有英資朗識, 未嘗以道學
目朂.; The Posthumous Works of Jeongildang Translated into Korean (國譯靜一堂遺稿), 161.
406 U.-s. Lee
From old times, there were many women who just freely released a scent in poetry,
But now in Jeongildang, I hear that learning has reached the stage of precision and
subtlety.
She searched for the truth between Heaven and men and studied the origin of the Mandate
of Nature (性命),
And then drew at one stroke how serious our way is for women.
Who experienced the substance of my mind when it has not yet arisen?
She was excellent in the stage when mind has not yet arisen.
How great it is to make the promise to preserve mind and cultivate nature (存心養性),
engraved in a sword and a ruler!14
3.2 Jeongildang’s Study of Sagehood
3.2.1 Cultivation Through “Learning” (學問)
Although she started study in her later years, Jeongildang kept on deepening her
own research, saying, “All things in the world make one body with me, so if I do not
search for one principle, my knowledge will be flawed in one area.” She thus made
a list of such items as heavenly and earthly spirits (天地鬼神), divination signs (卦
象), land system (井田制), insects, plants and trees, hard questions of principle in
history, and even questions in everyday life.15 She made a comment on The Great
Learning, saying, “There is nothing more advanced than investigation of things and
extension of knowledge (格物致知) in learning. The reason why most people today
make a mistake in cultivating oneself and governing one’s household is that they fail
to devote their energies to the “investigation of things and extension of knowledge,”
and practiced the way of studying more thoroughly than anyone else.16 So it was
said about her that she left nothing in her deductive learning, from nature, human
nature and destiny to the rule of right (王道) and the rule of might (覇道), and wrote
down and followed the example of other people’s words and behaviors in their
actual lives whenever there were something good.17 I think this was the women’s
way of studying who could not easily spare separate time for study, and at the same
time, it was true method of learning what The Doctrine of the Mean taught.
Jeongildang Yu-go 靜一堂遺稿, the collection of her posthumous works,
includes many of the vicarious writings that she made for her husband Yun
Gwangyeon. Although vicarious writing was often found in Chinese literature, there
were few women writers who actually left such writings in the Joseon period, and
14
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「挽章」:古來多女士, 往往播芬芳. 學造精微域, 今聞靜一堂. 探賾天
人際, 硏窮性命源. 却將吾道重, 一筆狀閨門. 誰驗吾心體, 能於未發時. 偉哉刀尺上, 存養以
爲期.; Ibid., 183.
15
「行狀」: “天地萬物, 與我一體也. 苟未格一物之理, 則欠吾一知.” 自天地․鬼神․卦象․井田,
以至昆蟲․草木, 與夫經史難義․日用所疑, 一一條列, 以質于坦齋. 坦齋隨知隨答, 所不知者,
問于師友而答之.; Ibid., 152.
16
「行狀」: 學莫先於格致, 今人多不能脩齊, 由其不能格致上用功也.; Ibid., 151.
17
「行狀」: 人有一言一行之善, 則聞輒入錄, 以爲模楷.; Ibid., 152.
there was almost no woman like Jeongildang who wrote as a woman and wife most
of the essays in substitution for a man and husband (Kim Namyi 2005: 54).
Moreover, the collection of Jeongildang’s works was recorded with the clear
acknowledgement that she wrote those essays in substitution for her husband. As it
is recognized today, it shows us the circumstances in which Jeongildang, as a
woman, personally participated in social, academic discussions through writing as
a wife in substitution for her husband, and allows us to know that she herself
engaged in the academic discussion of public and social discourses among male
Confucian scholar-officials (Park 1999: 205).
Jeongildang not only composed poems replying to noted male authors, but also
wrote in prose letters, epilogues, memorial inscriptions, biographies, and memo-
rial messages. Her husband, Yun Gwangyeon, who had allowed her to write on his
behalf studied dohak/dao-xue late on her advice, studied under Song Chigyu, a
great scholar of no-ron at that time, and later became one of the ten literary persons
listed in Song Chigyu’s Record of Literary Persons 文人錄 (Kim Namyi 2005:
72). When we examine his relationship with teachers or friends who left records in
the collection of Jeongildang’s posthumous works, we find that Yi Wujae 李愚在
(pen name: Ohheon 梧軒) was Director of the National Academy, Sunggyungwan
(成均館), at that time, entrusted Yun Gwangyeon with his son as he departed as an
envoy to the Qing dynasty; Kim Jaechan 金載瓚 (pen name: Haeseok 海石, 1746–
1827) had a deep affection for this couple;18 Song Heumseong 宋欽成, a son of
his teacher’s, and Kim Byeongwun 金炳雲, a descendant of Kim Wonhaeng, the
teacher of his father Yun Dongyeop, frequently visited their house; and they were
goods friends with Hong Jikpil 洪直弼 (pen name: Mae-san梅山, 1776–1852), Yi
Euiseung李義勝, and Choi Hangi 崔漢綺 (pen name: Haegang 惠崗, 1803–1875).
Moreover, when we read Jeongildang’s letters show that she evaluated the detailed
features of people who had visited her husband Yun Gwangyeon and gave advice
to her husband, and asked him to teach her the contents of their academic exchanges,
we find that she interacted with persons like Yim Noh 任魯 (1755–1828) and Sim
Hongmo 沈弘模 (pen name: Ganjae 簡齋, 1767–1832) who studied under her
older brother Yim Seongju 任聖周 (pen name: Nongmun鹿門, 1711–1788).
Jeongildang keenly felt the necessity of having teachers and friends and actively
encouraged her husband to associate with them. As we have seen, her husband asso-
ciated mainly with the scholars of the nak-ron (洛論) line of gi-ho (畿湖) school,
and he thought differently of his wife who was “a women locked in her living room.”
When his wife was sick, he would not stop his guests from leaving the house, and
tried to cancel his schedule to visit his teacher. He was also her sincere partner in
discussing in detail her own family affairs, and opened up and led her and her rela-
tives’ on a journey of study. The following poem was written by her husband Yun
Gwangyeong, and recited by Jeongildang:
『靜一堂遺稿拾遺』「尺牘」: 海石金相公, 嘗謂夫子曰: “某在山亭, 終日, 只對坦園. 見屋

18
上烟生, 則想饘粥之炊否, 見學徒出入, 則知敎授之多少.” 此固出於相愛之意, 然又安知非

戒? 夫子以固窮樂道篤學誨人耶? 每思其言, 深覺感荷.; Ibid., 138.
408 U.-s. Lee
Confucius and Yan-yuan顔子 are the ones from whom I intend to learn,
tae-im and tae-sa are the ones who you promise to be.
We encourage each other in our goals and works,
So much more in this declining and darkening age!19
3.2.2 Cultivation of Mind (心性)
Although she started the study later in life, she tried her best and thus was not cut
off from the academic accomplishments at the time. However, the essence of her
study lay in the cultivation of mind, in which sense she showed what a true scholar
of the Way should look like. Just like Yunjidang, Jeongildang liked The Doctrine of
the Mean, and devoted herself especially to studying the chapter on vigilance and
caution (戒愼章), as her husband revealed that she embodied the stage of the Golden
Mean (中和) to the extent that she was able to even forget about cold and hunger
and to control illness;
She studied the origin of heavenly Mandate, researched into how to stay in it precisely and
consistently, and always sat straight up and learned the state that the mind has not yet arisen
whenever she responded to affairs and made contact with things. She said, “Whenever I got
sick, I composed myself and sat straight up to see the boundary of sincerity and brightness;
naturally, my spirit and vital force became peaceful, and I did not realize the sickness go
away from my body.”20
Jeongildang said that the two virtues of sincerity (誠) and mindfulness/reverence
(敬) are “the entrance gate to the Way (入道之門).” Between these two, she put
emphasis on mindfulness/reverence (主敬), because she thought that reverence
enables us to clearly see the true features of human nature and emotions, and that
there is no other way than reverence in making a long journey to control such human
nature and emotions:
Every principle has its origin in Heaven and Earth;
One mind controls human nature and emotions.
If one does not attend first to reverence,
How can she possibly make a long journey?21
She also made a comment on The Learning for Minors 小學, saying, “Our
body is the basis of all of our actions, and reverence is the master of one body.
Therefore, the chapter on reverence of the body is the most comprehensive of all
the chapters of The Learning for Minors.”22 The fact that Jeongildang paid great
attention to mindfulness/reverence (敬) as her way of learning, reveals that her
19
『靜一堂遺稿拾遺』「尺牘」: 孔顔吾願學, 妊姒子攸期. 志業且相勉, 况玆衰暮時!; Ibid.,
136.
20
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「祭文」: 硏窮性命之源, 探賾精一之要, 常於應事接物之際, 凡然端
坐, 體認未發. 自言: “每行疾恙, 輒收斂端坐, 覰得誠明之界, 自然神氣和平, 不知疾之去體
也.; Ibid., 67.
21
「詩: 主敬」:(以下年條未考) 萬理原天地, 一心統性情. 若非敬爲主, 安能駕遠程?; Ibid.,
61.
22
「行狀」: 論小學則曰: “身爲萬事之本, 敬爲一身之主, 故敬身一篇, 乃是摠會.”; Ibid., 151.
study of xing-li-xueh was very religious and oriented toward dohak/dao-xue (道

學). Accordingly, she was not particularly interested in the discussion of i-gi (理
氣) at the time, and said, “The subtle and consistent features of human nature and
mandate should not be dealt with in an empty academic discussion.”23
Jeongildang talked a great deal about how to control human nature and emotions.
She often worried about her husband Yun Gwangyeon when he became excessive
without keeping the middle way in expressing his anger, and told him to guard
against the great danger of being excessive without a warm feeling when he scolded
others.24 Jeongildang knew for sure that, if one’s academic study were not accompa-
nied with such an effort to cultivate human nature and emotions, it would not be the
proper study. So she asked her husband to make an effort to compose poems because
she thought that embodying human nature and emotions in poems was important to
him.25
This means that Jeongildang’s study covers all the areas of the human mind,
nature, and emotions, and that she emphasized it must be expressed in action
through the practice of humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom (仁義禮
智). There are many letters to her husband, showing that she unexceptionally
pointed out anything against righteousness in her husband’s ways and requested
him to correct it; for example, when he treated other people against the words and
principle that he had usually kept, or when he was concerned with wealth and prof-
its. Here are some examples:
Because some child’s household has not been able to set a fire for four days, and our house-
hold has not been able to cook rice for three days, we should not take the food that the child
has brought to us…. Righteousness is the source of ruling, but profit is the core of disorder.
I have heard that someone came to our guesthouse and talked so much about profit, so I am
afraid that the pupils studying under your guidance might frequently hear what he says and
gradually indulge in it. Why didn’t you keep away from him earlier?26
Was it not excessive that you offered a wealthy man as many as three cups of wine? The
officer Yun Haengjik 尹行直 (Yeongwongun 鈴原君, 1760–1838) was an old man, but we
did not offer him any stew or soup, which seems to have been a case of inappropriate treat-
ment. Although it is a little incident, we cannot but deal with it with due consideration.27
23
「行狀」: 又曰: “性命之微, 一貫之妙, 無徒作一場空說話, 須先從人事上篤實求之.”; Ibid.,
151.
24
「附尺牘」: 俄聞, 夫子責人, 聲氣過厲, 此非中道也. 如是而設或正其人, 己先不正, 其可
乎? 願加審思.; Ibid., 72, 73, 85.
25
「附尺牘」: 夫陶情抒感, 達意導志, 是亦儒者之所不可無也. 請於究會六經之暇, 時時從事
焉.; Ibid., 77.
26
「附尺牘」: 某兒家, 聞四不擧火; 吾家, 則三不炊. 此兒所饋, 不可受. 況非其親之意而渠私
自持來, 雖是升米分銅之小, 義則未安. 若向來金童之饋, 則雖是石米之多, 與受旣合情誼, 又
以親命爲之, 不宜辭也. 義者, 治之源也; 利者, 亂之樞也. 聞, 或人日來外舍, 多言利說, 恐門
生小子習聞其言, 浸浸然入於其中. 夫子何不早遠此人?; Ibid., 83.
27
「附尺牘」: 某富人而勸酒三盃, 無乃過歟? 鈴原(尹參判行直)老矣, 湯羹間, 未及接待, 似
爲欠事. 此雖小節, 不可不量處也.; Ibid., 78.
410 U.-s. Lee
The couple was so poor that it was difficult for them to feed themselves, but with
Jeongildang’s hard work and effort to manage her household, they came in their
latter years to live at a house with a garden that they would call “Dan-won” (坦園)
located in Nak-hyeon (藥峴) currently, Jung-lim (中林) District. A poem that
Jeongildang wrote and titled “Dan-won,” which was also her husband’s pen name,
shows well how the couple lived their lives there with confidence, aiming at the
realization of the Way in their pursuit of spiritual life going beyond material posses-
sion and fame, although the house was located in a secluded valley:
Dan-won is secluded and quiet,
And its simplicity fits a sincere person’s living.
Exploring in solitude the everlasting books,
Living aloof in a small house (Lee 2002: 98).28
It is said that Jeongildang devoted herself to mindful cultivation to such an extent
as to be consistent, whether she was in action or at rest. It is also said that she always
wore patched clothes, and paid respect to the family shrine at dawn, following her
husband; when she was free from any work, she closed the door, sat straight up, and
experienced the state in which the human mind has not yet arisen.29 She continued
making lifetime efforts in such a spiritual cultivation of sincerity and mindfulness
(誠敬) to reach the definite stage in which she could transcend life and death, wealth
and poverty. Even when she spent three days and nights without food, losing all of
her nine children at young ages, she rather comforted and encouraged her husband
than having a grudge or worry at each time of this tragedy. It was a profound life of
a convinced religious person who did her duty in such an extremely tragic environ-
ment of loss without blaming fate, and sincerely did her best in the face of the harsh
reality. The following poem shows well how she came to have the deep Confucian
spirituality of dohak/dao-xue (道學), being one with the universe through study and
self-cultivation.
While all kinds of trees and plants welcome the vitality of the fall,
Cicadas are loudly chirring at sunset.
Deeply moved by nature of things,
I am wandering alone in the forest.30
At the deep night, every motion of animals has ceased
On the rear yard, bright moonlight shines
My mind is so clear like washed
I now understand very clearly what the true reality of nature and emotion.31
When Jeongildang passed away, her husband Yun Gwangyeon mourned over her
death with the following funeral address:
When she found anything good in me, she did not only rejoice in it but also encouraged me;
when she found any fault in me, she did not only worry about it but also reprimanded me,
so she did make me stand on the stage of mean and justice, to become a person with no fault
28
「詩: 坦園」: 坦園(甲申)坦園幽且靜, 端合至人居. 獨探千古籍, 高臥數椽廬.; Ibid., 54.
29
「行狀」: 閑居無事, 闔戶端坐, 體認未發,; Ibid., 149.
30
「詩: 聽秋蟬」: 萬木迎秋氣, 蟬聲亂夕陽. 沈吟感物性, 林下獨彷徨.; Ibid., 61.
31
「詩: 夜坐」: (癸未) 夜久群動息, 庭空晧月明. 方寸淸如洗, 豁然見性情.; Ibid., 53–54.
between heaven and earth. Although I was foolish and inferior and thus unable to follow her
any further, I accepted her beautiful words and sound logic to the end. That is why our
relationship as husband and wife was strict like the one between teacher and student, and
neat and cautious without carelessness at all. Whenever I sat with you, it was like I faced a
god; whenever I talked with you, I felt dizzying of my eyes. From now on, I will not be able
to see such a person again.32
3.3 Sanctification of Everyday Life and Confucian Religiosity
3.3.1 Study of Propriety and Sanctification
Jeongildang showed a deep interest in li/ye 禮 (propriety) along with her profound
religious gyeong/jing (敬, reverence). In the collection of her posthumous works,
we can find that Jeongildang was acutely aware of the importance of li-xue (禮學,
study of propriety) and studied it closely. Having a deep respect for li as the order
and expression of cheonli/tian-li (天理, heavenly principle), she had to know how
one should follow the heavenly principle in everyday life, and thus carried out in-
depth research on proprieties and developed many of the discussions.
The contents of the letters that she wrote for her husband to his teacher were
mostly about the proprieties. They are about the dress code for funeral rites, about
how many times one should offer the table of steamed rice in water before the spirit
of the departed in the mortuary, and about appropriateness of setting a spoon up in
the middle of rice porridge when it is offered. There is a question of whether it is
appropriate to wear the clothes called “sim-eui”(深衣), because they were usually
worn on either auspicious or inauspicious occasions.33 There are also discussions
included in the letters. The argument that “dan-eui”(褖衣), as clothes of the wives
of Confucian scholars, might not be appropriate for gi-je-sa (忌祭祀, memorial
service for ancestors) because of their true black color. She wrote on the matter of
Chinese women’s color, doubt as to whether wives could use a hat, questions on
how to wear the funeral head-towel (幅巾), and discussions on how to arrange prop-
erly the funerals and sacrifices of native and adoptive parents when they overlapped.
All those discussions may be seen as evidence that her study of propriety had
reached a stage beyond the ordinary understanding of the household rites and rituals
in her time (Lee Youngchun 2002: 35).
In regard to her interest in the study of propriety, Jeongildang’s writing on her
ancestors’ favorite possessions is very important. In it, she tells what kind of hob-
bies, favorite goods and foods her ancestors had for eleven generations. She also
32
「祭亡室孺人姜氏文」: 吾有一善, 則非徒喜之, 又加勉焉; 見吾有愆尤, 非徒憂之, 又從以
責焉, 必使吾立於中正之域, 爲天地間無過之人. 雖吾闇劣, 未能悉從, 然嘉言格論, 終身服膺,
所以夫婦之間, 嚴若尊師, 肅肅祗祗, 罔或有忽. 每與君坐, 如對神明; 每與君語, 如眼瞑眩. 自
今以後, 斯人也, 不可得而復見.; Ibid., 167.
33
『靜一堂遺稿』「附別紙」: 師門往復別紙深衣, 通吉凶之服, 則弔哭亦當服深衣耶? (剛
齋答曰: “深衣弔哭, 恐似不穩, 未見明據, 何敢質言?” 性潭答曰: “深衣之著, 凡於吉凶, 何所
不可?” 右癸亥); Ibid., 93–95.
412 U.-s. Lee
tells in detail how they enjoyed wine and food in the past, how diligently they them-
selves served their own parents and helped their neighbors, and how they held
memorial services for their ancestors. Being so interested in the details of her remote
ancestors’ lives, Jeongildang said, “Because people in the past served the dead as if
they were living, during the time of purification before memorial services for their
ancestors, they were usually immersed in meditation on where the ancestors had
been, their laughs and words, their wills and intentions, and what they had enjoyed
and liked while alive.”34 This shows very vividly how sincerely she cultivated her
spirituality of ‘gratifying the origin and returning to the beginning’ (報本反始), and
how she did her best in serving properly her ancestors and parents in such sincere
reverence for them. One of the funeral odes (挽章) for Jeongildang tells of her as
follows:
There was a woman-seonbi (scholar) in the south of the capital city,
Her housing was so calm and clean
She was the model for three thousands of rites and rituals,
Lived a simple life of joy and peace for forty years.35
3.3.2 Equal Education for Nobility and Commoners (班常平等)
Jeongildang, who had deep reverence for the heavenly principle, did not want to put
any area of life outside its regulations and expressions, and this spirituality of com-
bining the heavenly principle and everyday life extended its attention to following
generations. It is, in fact, her authentic concern for education for them. Her husband
Yun Gwanyeon became a renowned teacher through his study and cultivation of
virtues, and their residence became a learning place for their relatives and neigh-
bors. Many of her writings were produced out of that consideration for them, and
also for the purpose of reminding her husband of his responsibilities as a teacher. In
a letter to her brother Ilhoe 日會, which was written on behalf of her husband, she
recommended in various ways that, even in the midst of several occasions of funeral
in the family, he should not neglect but take good care of the great job of teaching
people (爲人大節). For her, the education of descendants was important. She wrote
the following poems to explain how human education and study ought to be
performed.
Every human nature is good,
Everyone can become a sage by doing one’s best with it.
Humanity can be fulfilled when authentically endeavored.
Let our bodily sincerity be fulfilled through making the Principle clear.36
34
『靜一堂遺稿』「雜著」: 思嗜錄, 古之人事死如事生, 故齋之日, 思其居處․笑語․志意․所
樂及其所嗜.; Ibid., 130.
35
『靜一堂遺稿附錄』「挽章」: 城南有女士, 堂靜座無塵, 模範三千禮, 簞瓢四十春.; Ibid.,
176.
36
「詩: 性善」: 人性本皆善, 盡之爲聖人. 欲仁仁在此, 明理以誠身.; Ibid., 51.
Please don’t waste away your young ages

Give sincere efforts to studying and reading
Why do you halt between reading and remembering?
You must make up to become a sage.37
She sincerely asked her husband to help the children of her own family before
marriage continue their studies, while mentioning each one’s merits. And she also
requested him not to look at a few occasions of good and evil but to recognize the
origin of them, and urged him to pay attention to the positive sides. She reminded
him that the most rewarding thing in education is to recognize diligent and sincere
students and to cultivate them with love and sincerity so that they can accomplish
great things. To her husband, who complained about the difficulties of teaching
foolish students, she asked the question what a sage would do in this situation, and
advised him to think rather about his own lack of ability as a teacher, searching for
even a small clue to educate them. So she asserted equal education for nobility and
commoners based upon openness and equality, which was far ahead of her time.
In your letter to me, you said that water can wet everything but clay stone. I guess, you
mentioned it to tell that it is difficult to teach stupid people. However, what if a sage were
to take over the teaching job and cultivate them, relying on one clue? Hopefully, you do not
worry about them not to be wet, but about yourself being unable to wet them.38
Even in the three ancient dynasties of Xia (夏), Shang (商), Zhou (周), the outstanding
among people were not be neglected. Now in our school, No Gu 盧龜 is attentive and
smart; Yi Am 李巖 is warm-hearted; and Yu Cheol 劉喆 pious and sincere. They all are
worthy of teaching. So, please do not neglect them, although they are humble and young.39
The Doctrine of the Mean, Chapters 18 and 19 tell the story of the work of hand-
ing down the Mandate of Heaven from generation to generation. Chapter 18 says,
“The only one who didn’t suffer from grief was King Wen文王, since his father was
King Chi 王季 and his son was King Wu 武王. His father set him up and his son
continued his way (善繼).” In the following chapter, King Wu and the Duke of Zhou
were applauded for actualizing their filial piety (達孝), while filial piety was indi-
cated as the work of “passing down the wills of their forefathers” (善繼) and “cor-
rectly transmitting their works” (善述). From this understanding, we can see that,
because the will of parents is ultimately the will of heaven when traced back to its
origin: thus, the very one who has great interest in the work of transmitting the will
of their parents is truly a person of filial piety and at the same time a religious per-
son. As for the King Wen, because his father’s generation had begun to receive and
transmit the Mandate of Heaven, and King Wen himself and King Wu of the next
generation continued the same duty of “receiving the Mandate of Heaven,” “passing
down the wills of their forefathers,” and “correctly transmitting their works,” he was
considered a person who had no suffering. So in this way, Confucian religiosity is
37
「詩: 性善」: 人性本皆善, 盡之爲聖人. 欲仁仁在此, 明理以誠身.; Ibid., 51.
38
「尺牘」: 下敎, 水能潤物而粘石不潤, 此似爲下愚而發. 然如使聖人當之, 則安知或因其一
端而化之也? 竊願, 不患其不潤, 而患不能潤.; Ibid., 133.
39
「尺牘」: 凡民俊秀, 三古之所不棄也. 今書童中, 盧龜詳明, 李巖敦厚, 劉喆孝謹, 皆可敎
也. 請勿以卑幼而忽之.; Ibid., 134.
414 U.-s. Lee
very closely connected with the virtue of filial piety (孝) and with the education of
next generations. In this sense, Gang Jeongildang can be regarded as a truly reli-
gious (pious) person with her great concern for educating the next generations.
3.3.3 T
he Life of Gang Jeongildang and the Virtue of Sincerity
and Reverence (誠敬)
Here we can see Jeongildang’s all-encompassing and profound spirituality and

practice of deep insights and humility which tried to transform every space and time
of her life into a sacred one. She comprehended her own life as an experimental
place for realizing the truth, and wrote the following poem three days before death:
Only three days are left for the rest of my life.
I am ashamed of breaking the promise to become a sage.
I have been always longing for Master Zeng,
Finally, it is time to die.40
Jeongildang’s study was what she accomplished in humility through an enduring
process of giving up one’s own way to follow that of others (捨己從人) in her
everyday life, in every relationship she had. Her husband acclaimed her study as
having reached a divine dimension (神明). She woke early in the morning and did
not sleep until she finished her daily duties of filial piety and reverence for her par-
ents. When she got some food, she kept it safe in order to serve parents or to use it
for the memorial service for ancestors. Her mother-in-law loved her very much, but
she did not settle for it take it for granted but consistently served her with deep rev-
erence for sixteen years until she passed away. Also in the funeral service for her,
which was held in the cold winter of a year of famine, she did her very best in
observing the rites.41 The food that Jeongildang made was meticulously clean, and
her sewing was extremely precise. Because her daily life and housekeeping were so
thorough that the parents-in-law could enjoy great comfort since she had moved in
after her marriage, the sisters-in-law appreciated her work very much, the relatives
acclaimed her, and servants relied on her.42 Although her household was very poor,
there was no lack of materials for holding memorial services. With an empty pocket,
she did her joyful best in welcoming quests. She was so clear about giving and
receiving, she did not accept even one penny if it was not righteous. She rushed out
to help others facing difficulties, and was very strict with herself but generous
towards others in approaching them.43
40
「詩」: (夢中詩) 餘生只三日, 慙負聖賢期. 想慕曾夫子, 正終易簀時.; Ibid., 61.
41
「行狀」: 己巳, 尊姑之喪, 哀毁甚切, 晨夕之哭, 上食之節, 盡其誠禮. 時値荒年, 冬且寒, 嚴
家罄銖粒, 而竭力營葬.; Ibid., 144.
42
「祭亡室孺人姜氏文(三篇)」: 君之于歸, 父母安之, 娣姒宜之, 宗黨稱之, 婢僕依之.; Ibid.,
164.
43
「祭亡室孺人姜氏文(三篇)」: 室無升斗之儲, 而奉祭祀, 罔或有缺; 囊罄錙銖之資, 而接賓
客, 必盡其歡. 信於踐言, 及期, 則一刻不宿. 明於辭受, 非義, 則一介不取. 急於周濟, 簡於自
奉, 嚴於律己, 寬於責人.; Ibid., 164.
Here is a story from the biography of her achievements, showing vividly how
thoroughly she embodied the work of self-cultivation at every moment:
Since she had learned that the master Zhu Xi said, “When I stay in Dong-an (同安), hearing
the bell ringing, I could not control my mind, and various miscellaneous thoughts arose,”
she also silently experienced it every morning and evening when she heard the bell ringing.
When the school children playing with a bucket, as they beat it, she did not find any mea-
sure in their beats. So she let them beat it consistently and could experience the moments of
holding and losing her mind. And when she did a sewing work with a needle, she promised
to herself not to change her mind, as she started from here to there.44
Jeongildang never ceased cultivating virtues, even during the moment of the bell
ringing in the morning or in the evening, when she heard children playing and mak-
ing noise, or when she did her ordinary work like sewing. This is a feature of the
highest level of the genuine Confucian learning of dao-xue (道學). According the
biography, there was no urgency in words or hurriedness in action in her daily life,
and no sound of reproaching servants was heard. In serving food, she placed the
deceased first and then left the living till last, and ascribed good things to others and
found fault with herself when things went wrong.45 When praising other people’s
merits, she worried if she might have hesitated to do so, and also whether others
might know about her talents, though she kept them to herself. She did not look her
beloved people’s faults; she did not even talk about other people’s faults or wrong
doings.
It was studying to become a sage that her learning and cultivation become sin-
cere. Therefore, she confessed, “At the beginning, I worried about my mind being
agitated and shaken, but I gradually got used to the state of mind; in my later years,
the inside and outside of my mind became calm.46 It was said in regard to
Jeongildang’s life as such, “She studied with all sincerity only for the purpose of
becoming a sage, and the rest while writing and books were for her the second con-
cern; the couple were themselves teachers to each other; there was desk in the
kitchen, and scriptures were mixed with food.47 So the long posthumous record of
her life has the following praise:
I have seen in her the person of talent and virtue who has cultivated not only knowledge, but
also virtue. So how would she be evaluated only as one woman-sunbi among many others?
There truly never has been such a lady in the history of women. Perhaps do I praise her too
much, because I am her relation?48
44
「行狀」: 又嘗見朱夫子“在同安, 聞鐘一聲, 未絶此心, 已自走作”之語, 每當昏曉鐘時, 黙
黙體驗. 書童擊水杓爲戱, 疏數無節, 孺人令勻其聲, 以驗此心操捨之頃. 又或持針紉線, 期以
從此至彼, 不易此心.; Ibid., 149.
45
「行狀」: 平居, 無疾言․遽色; 呵叱, 不及於僕隸. 音樂優戱, 喧闐外庭, 而未嘗窺戶; 夜不秉
燭, 則未嘗下堂. 用財, 則先人而後己; 分飪, 則先死而後生. 善則歸美於人, 過則歸咎於己.;
Ibid., 148.
46
「行狀」: 自言始患浮撓, 漸至瀜習, 洎晩年, 表裏泰然矣.; Ibid., 149-150.
47
「挽章」: 篤工惟聖學, 餘事是文章. 夫婦兼師友, 豆籩間几床!,;「挽章」: 君子修身士, 平
生師其婦. 几案間甁俎, 典謨雜醢韭.; Ibid., 181-182.
48
「行狀」惟才德兼備知行交須者, 余於孺人見之. 然則如孺人者, 奚止爲女中之君子! 實女
史中所未有也. 余豈或阿其親而溢美乎哉?; Ibid., 155.
416 U.-s. Lee
4 T
he Religiosity of Korean Confucianism and the Life
of Modern Women
I have tried so far to show that the nature of Confucian Way lies in its pursuit of
sagehood, and that it does not only have politico-economic or socio-ethical mean-
ings only, but also imply profound immanent religiosity that everybody becomes a
sage through learning (學以至聖之道).
I have pointed out that the methodology of the Confucian realization of Tao was
developed in the spiritual tradition of daoxue (道學) in the Joseon era, and that,
since the late eighteenth century, women’s lives were also involved in that pursuit of
dao; which brought many women to the realization of their own ethical subjectivity.
I have also attempted to interpret such Confucian women’s lives as the followers of
the great sage-king Shun whom Confucius had admired in the Doctrine of the Mean
as a person of great wisdom (大智慧), who loved to ask questions and to study their
words, though they might be shallow, while following the virtue of giving up one’s
own way to follow that of others. To modern feminists, such a life of self-sacrifice
could seem to be very submissive and humiliating. I know there were many exam-
ples of such lives in Confucian tradition. However, I believe their way of life implies
other meanings and lessons for modern feminism that which beyond that narrow
interpretation and general recognition. It is related to the human quest for the ulti-
mate meaning of life that Gang Jeongildang embodied in her life.
4.1 A
New Spiritual Ground for the Construction of Renewed
Postmodern Feminist Subjectivity of the Twenty-First
Century
Jeongildang demonstrated very clearly that intellectual learning and self-cultivation

are not two different things. She diligently studied the Thirteen Confucian Scriptures
in spite of extensive work of hospitality, cooking, and sewing, and always tried to
find an occasion to cultivate her virtues and experiment what she had learned from
the scriptures even when she was doing her small duties of housekeeping. She
repeatedly reminded her husband that the most important thing in life is the pursuit
of the truth, and that gathering wealth, earning a livelihood, or passing in a civil
service examination should never be the goal of life. This highly cultivated spirit of
dao enabled her to endure poverty, sickness, various pains and namelessness of life,
while understanding all these difficulties as the heavenly mandate, and perceiving
their marital relationship as a partnership on the way to sagehood. In my view,
Jeongildang’s consciousness of study and self-cultivation while engaged in the tasks
and rituals of domestic life as noted above, can be comprehended as stronger and
healthier than modern feminists’ consciousness of the subject, because her pursuit
of subjectivity implied a dimension of the search for the ultimate meaning of life
that she tried to realize far beyond the socio-political sphere, to which many modern
feminists limit themselves.
It is very obvious that women’s search for subjectivity are groundless if they can-
not stand on their own in terms of ultimate quest for the meaning of life, which is
traditionally the sphere of religion and metaphysics. This is because such questions
are concerned with the root of our being and life, and the liberating and constructive
influences give us authenticity and orientation in our life and action. In that sense,
the French feminist philosopher Luce Irigaray also insisted that women’s genuine
recovery of subjectivity would definitely need religious thinking (Luce Irigaray
1993: 7). Prior to Irigaray, according to Mary Daly, Simone de Beauvoir pointed out
that, having recognized gender discrimination and repression against themselves,
women were so committed to making a breakthrough in their attempt to find out
their human identities and images that, as a result, there was almost no strength left
for the work of constructing their own interpretation of the universe (Mary Daly
1997: 56).
In the second chapter of jinxin (盡心章下 13), Mencius said, “There are instances
of men without humanity, who got possession of a single state (國), but there has
been no instance of the throne’s being (天下) got by one without humanity.”
Confucian women’s spiritual quest like Jeongildang’s was oriented toward the goal
of humanity (仁). In my mind, when modern feminists search for subjectivity and
leadership also wants to reach that standard, it must be surely concerned with reli-
gious or ontological questions about the ultimate meaning of life. As I have men-
tioned earlier, my exposition of Confucian women’s religiosity of “giving up one’s
own way to follow that of others” (捨己從人) and their leadership based upon this
religiosity does not ignore the aspects of individual rights and justice that modern
feminism emphasizes, but tries to go beyond those aspects and ultimately find a
more comprehensive basis, on which a human ethic of fairness and disinterested-
ness (公平無私) can be built. In the last chapter of The Great Learning, which
deals with how to reach sagehood (聖人) and great humanity (大人), it is said, “It
is only a man of humanity who can love or who can hate others.” (唯仁人爲能愛
人能惡人) This describes the dimension of the one who has become a person of
ultimate fairness and disinterestedness (至公無私) through continuous self-exami-
nation and study, thus being able to set the criterion of human emotions, likes or
dislikes (好惡之正), as the fundamental basis on which to actually do things fairly
and disinterestedly in the human community. The common life of humanity really
needs such an different criterion of human emotions for everyday activities of judg-
ment, as Kant’s Critique of Judgment indicates. It is in this sense that Confucian
religiosity, excellently embodied in the life of Gang Jeongildang, can give a funda-
mental lesson for modern women to genuinely construct their subjectivity and
leadership.
418 U.-s. Lee
4.2 T
he Spiritual Power of Unification of Public Sphere
and Private Sphere
The second implication of Confucian women’s religiosity lies in its ability to con-
tinuously bring up the public concerns in our mind, as we have seen in the case of
Gang Jeongildang. We cannot deny the fact that traditional Confucian had many
limitations in their public lives, as compared with women today. However, their
domestic lives in their households were not merely private. They did all kinds of
work such as holding memorial services for ancestor, hospitality, child-rearing, and
countless obligations in a strong sense of public responsibility.
For example, Jeongildang did her best in transmitting ancestors’ wills and stories
through the work of relocating her ancestor’s grave yard located in a remote place
in spite of her poor household. She helped extensively her poor relatives in marriage
and funeral rites. She always concerned and advised her husband not to think of
merits and advantages in his public relationship and friendship, but rather to mind
righteousness and truth. She accepted the poor children of her neighborhood as
students and provided education for them. All those things demonstrate that her life
was never one locked in private spheres. On the contrary, her mind was wide open
to public concerns. In regard to this point, although modern women’s lives have
been generally emancipated from traditional gender limitations and are now partici-
pating more actively in public spheres, they seem to be more occupied with personal
and private interests in their mind than the traditional Confucian women were, as
they live in the age, in which private spheres are distinctively separated from public
spheres. So we cannot compare their lives naively in a limited perspective (Lee
Un-sunn 2016: 248). In this context, I suggest that we should reconsider the tradi-
tional Confucian motherhood and the institution of adoption (入後制度) in Joseon
society.
Confucian tradition has regarded family as the place where humanity (仁) is
most fundamentally cultivated, and considered the relationship between parents and
children and that between siblings as its core. Of course, in history, this family-
oriented Confucian idea has largely degenerated into the androcentric, women-
suppressing ideology. However, when we acknowledge that fundamental human
characters and qualities can be built and nourished through the intimate relationship
of family, it is of vital importance to hold and continue the fundamental spirit of
family even in our postmodern era, in which we see different forms of family have
appeared. The Confucian institution of adoption has been criticized as a bad custom
of patriarchal tradition. In fact, the notion of preferring a son to daughter to keep
androcentric family lineage has caused a lot of negative effects till today. But, now
that the institution of male headship of the family (戶主制度) has been abolished,
and discrimination against girls has become almost an old story in Korea, we can
think about the practice of the institution of adoption differently. Many Koreans still
find it difficult to adopt a child, while at the same time many Korean children are
nevertheless sent abroad for adoption, single mothers and children without family
are neglected in Korean society. When we consider this situation, we can learn a
spiritual lesson by seeing how traditional Confucian women built a sincere mother-
child relationship even for adopted children. According to the records, Yim Yunjidang
built up a heartwarming relationship with her adopted son, and Gang Jeongildang
helped seven or eight times her poor siblings and relatives arrange adoption.
Today, we tend not to regard motherhood as only physically determined. We are
talking about “mothering as experience,” “spiritual mothering,” or “spiritual womb”
rather than a bodily one. This means that “being a mother” or motherhood cannot be
counted any more as female identity only, but as everyone’s possibility regardless of
one’s sexual distinction (Lee Un-sunn 2013: 193). Even for women, mothering has
become a matter of personal choice among multiple identities and activities.
Although Confucian women at that time could not choose that identity on their own,
they really uplifted motherhood to a higher level in human life. Jeongildang lost
unfortunately all of her own nine children, but she took care of and educated all the
children of her extended family like her own, and sincerely took care of people sur-
rounding her with the heart of a great mother. If we today more than ever need the
capability of being a mother as the ability to “take care” and “empathy,” there is no
reason to discard the model of Confucian motherhood. Rather, we women can elab-
orate our distinctive maternal properties that we have as our vested rights and thus
promote them to a higher human level to empower our postmodern subjectivities.
In the year of 2008, a massive street candle demonstration took place against
unjust meat importation, which was suspected to have been infected with BSE or
Mad Cow Disease. At that time, some demonstrators came out on the street, namely,
the mommy-troops with baby carriages in their hands. They participated in the pub-
lic activity as child-caring mothers and housewives with a clear sense of responsi-
bility and a consciousness of public health. I think the capability of Korean grassroots
democracy and those women’s active role are not only the result of modern Western
feminist consciousness of subjectivity, but also the fruits that were brought up in the
long tradition of Korean Confucian women’s culture of public responsibility. It is in
this sense that we can still learn many lessons from Korean Confucian women’s
sincerity and authenticity in their practice.
4.3 T
he All-Embracing and Enduring Power of Confucian
Women’s Religiosity
Finally, I want to bring Korean Confucian women’s spirituality of enduring and

embracing power as one of the implications for our postmodern age. A Confucian
woman’s life aims at sanctifying all areas of human life. As an excellent caregiver
and organizer of family life, she integrates the entirety of ordinary life and brings it
all together to her care. Confucian learning of sagehood is a search for the unity of
the whole world (萬物一體). In the commentary on The Great Learning, master
Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) articulated in the words of The Book of Odes the four
ideal standards indicating the achievement of peace for the world (平天下): namely,
420 U.-s. Lee
‘love’ (親), ‘wisdom’ (賢), ‘ joy’ (樂) and ‘profit’ (利). According to his explana-
tion, when a state takes not financial profit but righteousness as its real benefit, the
regulating principles of love, wisdom, joy and benefit will spread over the whole
state and ultimately achieve peace in the world. If we interpret those four notions in
today’s language, love (親) would be the principle to lead family life; wisdom (賢)
the political principle to select wise civil officers; joy (樂) the cultural and educa-
tional standard to regulate human mind and heart, so that the cultural life of a state
can be in the right direction; and profit (樂) the principle of economic activities. In
fact, these four principles cover all areas of life. So, in this way, the Confucian dao
pursues the goal of bringing harmony and peace to all the areas of our life. This is
the very expression of Confucian religiosity that tries to sanctify the whole area of
our life and thus to realize the ultimate sacredness in every corner of the secular
world. In my view, Confucian women’s enduring work of housekeeping is none
other than the same sacred practice.
Jeongildang’s short writings and biography show brilliantly how she managed
her household with her enduring spirit of authenticity (敬) and sincerity (誠), and
how she did her best to cultivate her husband’s mind as well as her own to embody
propriety. She even controlled a physical illness with her peaceful mind, and accus-
tomed herself to three thousand kinds of rites and manners. She also had an insight
into her contemporaries’ personal characters. Her evaluations of their characters
were very just and right. All these demonstrate that her life excellently embodied the
virtues of endurance and integrity. Modern women can learn in their building of
leadership from the lives of Confucian women like Jeongildang the insight to com-
prehend politics, culture, and economy on the basis of peace in their families, their
determination to realize their ideals by making continuous efforts without being
influenced by temporary effects, their embracing mind of care and responsibility for
all forms of life, paying attention to all things in the world, transcending the bound-
aries of their families or private spheres. All these virtues are urgently needed in our
age of egocentrism and misled subjectivity.
5 Concluding Remarks
The Doctrine of the Mean repeatedly talks about sincerity (誠) with which one com-
pletes not only the character of oneself but also that of others and all other things.
This means that one should not stop at self-cultivation and self-completion but con-
tinue the works of sincere concern and life-giving to be extended to all things in the
world. The book says such enduring efforts make a change (久則微), and enduring
sincerity accomplishes the completion of all things. (悠久所以成物也). I think the
principle of today’s ecofeminism or the ethic of life is not different from the prin-
ciples of The Doctrine of the Mean, and that Confucian women’s lives were the very
examples of those who sincerely embodied the principles of life-giving and reviving
(生物) and thing-completing (成物) in their lives (Lee Un-sunn 2011: 103). On that
way towards fulfilling the heavenly mandate, Mencius has taught that faith (信) is
the action to realize what one really wants and hopes for. (可欲之謂善, 有諸己謂
信, 「盡心下」25) Faith is not merely a matter of language or mind, but rather a

matter of embodying what one wants as the ultimate good. This faith is urgently
needed for the twenty-first century, and we can draw it from the experiences of tra-
ditional Korean Confucian women. For them, the ultimate and transcendent was life
itself which exists simply before them asking for their care, love, and hospitality.
They spent countless days and nights giving up themselves, and listening carefully
and responding to the crises of life.
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Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 11

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/8596

Dao Companion to Korean

ISSN 2211-0275 ISSN 2542-8780 (electronic)

© Springer Nature B.V. 2019

I would like to express my sincere appreciation to the contributors of this volume

Clarification of Using Korean Scholars Names

Part I Historical and Philosophical Overview

Part II Development of Korean Neo-Confucian Philosophical

Part III Major Figurers of Korean Confucianism

9 Song Siyŏl: The Revival of a Qi-Oriented Approach

Part IV Diverse Developments of Korean Confucianism

Part V Korean Confucianism in Encounter with Other Traditions

Part VI Confucianism and Women in Korea

Don Baker Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia,

A. Charles Muller Department of Buddhist Studies, Musashino University, Tokyo,

Korean Confucianism is a unique phenomenon in which Korea received

© Springer Nature B.V. 2019 1

Korean Confucianism” is a thematic survey of Korean Confucianism highlighting

Ming loyalist, became an icon of this conservative wing of Korean

(pen-name: Ugye 牛溪 (1535–1598). He discusses the Four-Seven debate in detail,

1546, pen name: Hwadam 花潭). According to Kim, although Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s

relationship between Buddhism and Confucianism in Korea. Korean Confucianism

theme of Gihwa’s assertion was basically Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism

Don Baker’s “Western Learning and New Directions in Korean Neo-­

departed significantly from mainstream Neo-Confucianism in his interpretation of

1 Introduction: Early Joseon Neo-Confucianism

Neo-Confucianism was introduced to Korea in the early fourteenth century, at about

© Springer Nature B.V. 2019 17

2 The Sarim Mentality and the Maturation of Seongnihak

s­ elf-­cultivation in retirement in the countryside far from the corrupting games of

Cheng-Zhu metaphysics in effect presented an epistemology of sagehood, a goal

Cheng-Zhu thought is forced into a more dualistic mode because i is no longer

This line of emphasis on moral cultivation in terms of the conduct of everyday

From the Korean translation found in Yi B 1987, 217–18.

3 The Four-Seven Debate

In Neo-Confucian thought, there was a conventional list of feelings taken from a

“i pervades and gi delimits (i tong gi guk/li tong qi ju 理通氣局)” which he regards

In Cheng-Zhu spirituality great importance was attached to the notion of the

4 The Seventeenth Century: Custodians of Orthodoxy

5 The Horak Debate

c­ onceptualization of the nature. If one attends to the “not admixed” or transcendent

The question of self-differentiation versus differentiation by gi led to serious dif-

6 Conclusion: Challenge and Radicalization in Late Joseon

Picking up Yi Gan’s notion of a mind-and-heart of enduringly pure gi but abandon-

For an account of this development in China, see Elman 1985.

strong leaning towards a historical-critical methodology, Kim readily affirmed that

while in the nineteenth century Gi Jeongjin 奇正鎭 (1798–1876) and Yi Jinsang 李

The seongnihak synthesis of cosmic metaphysics and human spiritual psychol-

© Springer Nature B.V. 2019 47

n­ etwork of appropriate interactions (that is how li in Neo-Confucianism should nor-

2 The Four-Seven Debate

3 The Moral Rationale for T’oegye’s Analytical Approach

5 Ethical Optimism and Moral Tension in the Yulgok School

Tasan goes on to say a couple of pages later, “Heaven’s numinous consciousness is

7 The Confucian Origins of the Tonghak Religion

To understand what is Korean about Korean Confucianism, we have to look at the

© Springer Nature B.V. 2019 75

2.1 Confucian Classics and the Four-Seven Questions

Here Mencius specifically referred to the moral feelings (mind-and-hearts) of com-

2.2 Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucian Texts and Korean Issues

An excellent discussion of the Doctrine of the Mean is Tu 1989.

p­ hilosophy and psychology. Consequently, various perspectives about such unclear

Clarification of Using Korean Scholars Names

Part I Historical and Philosophical Overview

Part II Development of Korean Neo-Confucian Philosophical

Part III Major Figurers of Korean Confucianism

9 Song Siyŏl: The Revival of a Qi-Oriented Approach

Part IV Diverse Developments of Korean Confucianism

Part V Korean Confucianism in Encounter with Other Traditions

Part VI Confucianism and Women in Korea

Don Baker’s “Western Learning and New Directions in Korean Neo-

1 Introduction: Early Joseon Neo-Confucianism

2 The Sarim Mentality and the Maturation of Seongnihak

s elf-cultivation in retirement in the countryside far from the corrupting games of

3 The Four-Seven Debate

4 The Seventeenth Century: Custodians of Orthodoxy

5 The Horak Debate

c onceptualization of the nature. If one attends to the “not admixed” or transcendent

6 Conclusion: Challenge and Radicalization in Late Joseon

n etwork of appropriate interactions (that is how li in Neo-Confucianism should nor-

2 The Four-Seven Debate

3 The Moral Rationale for T’oegye’s Analytical Approach

5 Ethical Optimism and Moral Tension in the Yulgok School

7 The Confucian Origins of the Tonghak Religion

2.1 Confucian Classics and the Four-Seven Questions

2.2 Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucian Texts and Korean Issues

p hilosophy and psychology. Consequently, various perspectives about such unclear

3 Yi T’oegye’s Four-Seven Debate

3.4 Self-Cultivation: Distinguish the Four from the Seven

T’oegye developed an innovative-yet-controversial theory that i has its own self-

4 Yi Yulgok’s Four-Seven Debate

4.2 One Human Nature and the Oneness of Feelings

4.3 The Role of Ki in Feelings and Self-Cultivation

4.4 The Mutual Inseparability and Dependency of I and Ki

5.1 The School of the Primacy of I

self-manifesting power in the Four. Chŏng Sihan (Udam, 1675–1707), a friend of

5.2 The School of the Primacy of Ki

5.3 The Eclectic School

p articularizations refers principally to ki.”118 He also supported T’oegye’s theory

Note on Transliteration, Citation, and Translation Style

Abbreviated Titles Used in the Footnotes and Quotations120

Glossary: Key Terms and Phrases, Textual Titles, and Personal

3 No Sojae’s Full Acceptance of Luo Zheng’an’s Theory

4 Yi Iljae and No Sojae’s Debate on Human Mind

5 Yi Toegye, Gi Gobong and Yi Yulgok’s Assessments of Luo

2 Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s Philosophy of Ki

In this section, I investigate the practical implications of Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s ki-

4.1 Ritual Propriety

4.2 Aesthetic Engagement with Nature

5 Conclusion: Sŏ Kyŏngdŏk’s Philosophy of Ki as a Way

ppendix: Selected Translations from the Collected Works

The Source of Coherence and Vital Energy

曰道總以無不具曰太極動靜之不能不相禪而用事之機自爾所謂一陰一陽之

On Coherence and Vital Energy

On the Vast Emptiness

A Discussion of Ghosts and Spirits and Life and Death

n ‘In Return We Can See the Heart-Mind of the Sky

宮可不謂之無方也乎晝夜改度寒暑相禪無一刻停留可不謂之無體也乎一

1 Introduction: His Early Life