Unpublished manuscript – comments and suggestions welcome 1

The Too-Good Life: Narratives of Moral Sainthood in Ancient China

by Esther Sunkyung Klein

Based on a paper presented at “Pursuit of Wisdom: Ancient Greece and China,” a

roundtable discussion at University of New South Wales (November 2013).

Chinese tradition is peopled with many exemplary figures, of whom Confucius is

probably the best known. But other exemplary figures also have much to tell us about
traditional Chinese notions of morality and ideas about the good life. There are a variety
of such figures, and representing contrasting and sometimes even conflicting values.
Stories about such figures seem to have been told or alluded to in the ancient Chinese
context for the purpose of achieving a specific effect. The focus of this paper is on a
particularly problematic type of exemplary figure, whom I will call ‘the moral saint’ after
Susan Wolf’s use of the term. I will begin by attempting to define this type as it seems to
have existed in the ancient Chinese context. I will then consider the problems with
ancient Chinese moral sainthood as an ideal, showing why it was considered by some to
be a ‘too-good life’. Finally, I will examine some of the ways in which narratives of moral
sainthood may have functioned in ancient Chinese contexts.

I. What is a “Moral Saint” in the Ancient Chinese Context?

Susan Wolf defines a moral saint as “a person whose every action is as morally
good as possible, a person, that is, who is as morally worthy as can be.”1 She
characterizes moral sainthood as being an intrinsically problematic aspiration, or as she
puts it, “moral sainthood does not constitute a model of personal well-being toward
which it would be particularly rational or good or desirable for a human being to
strive.”2 Wolf goes on to explore the reasons for this within her own cultural context,
relying on what she presumes to be shared intuitions. However, I think the interesting
question for a comparativist is whether the concept of moral sainthood and its
attendant difficulties are translatable to a culture like that of ancient China, where
people had a vastly different set of intuitions. In this section, I will argue that the
concept does usefully apply, and that even in ancient times, observers recognized moral
sainthood as an in some ways problematic ideal.

1 Wolf 1982, 419.

2 Ibid.
 ROUGH DRAFT 2

We might begin asking whether the ancient Chinese had a notion of “morally
good” or of “moral worth.” The answer, as can seen in the vast majority of surviving and
excavated texts, is a resounding yes. The most prevalent terms for people of
extraordinary moral worth in ancient China are 聖 shèng (“sage”) and 賢 xián
(“worthy”). In addition, a person of excellent moral qualities might be called a 君子 jūnzi
(“gentleman”) or described with one of the various terms for high virtues. The texts
spend much energy describing the qualities of such people as well. The Mencius, for
example, argues that one can make a mistake and yet still be a sage,3 while in the Mozi
we find that worthies are “those who respect worthiness and are fond of cultivating
techniques of the way” [尊賢而好功道術].4 Even texts that do not necessarily subscribe
to usual notions of moral worth (e.g., Laozi/Daodejing) tend to show awareness of such
concepts and of what it would mean for people to embody them.
In general, people described as belonging to these categories are not usually
portrayed as particularly unfortunate in their aspirations. Even their more strenuous
labours seem to produce reasonable rewards. For example, although the legendary sage
Yu, controller of the flood, “wearied his body and fretted his thoughts, lived in the open
for thirteen years, and passed the gate of his home without daring to enter” [勞身焦思，
居外十三年，過家門不敢入]5 and although he made do with only the most meager of
clothing, diet, and housing, in the end he did become emperor.
There is one type of exemplary figure, however, that appears to provoke a more
complex response. The best known example of this type is Bo Yi, who with his brother
Shu Qi remonstrated with the future King Wu of Zhou because King Wu was engaged in
a campaign to overthrow his overlord, the Shang tyrant. The brothers argued that no
matter how bad the Shang king was, King Wu had no right to overthrow the ruling
dynasty. King Wu disregarded this advice, going on to conquer the Shang and found his
own Zhou dynasty. After his victory, King Wu summoned Bo Yi and Shu Qi to take part
in the new government but they refused and instead starved to death at the foot of
Mount Shouyang because they “considered it righteous to avoid eating the grain of
Zhou” [義不食周粟].6

3 Mencius 2B.18.
4 Mozi xiangu 37.279, reading 功 as 蓄 as per Sun Yirang’s suggestion.
5 SJ 2.52.
6 SJ 61.2123.
Unpublished manuscript – comments and suggestions welcome 3

The story is a curious one. According to traditional accounts, the last Shang
tyrant was a terrible ruler. His debauchery was such that he was said to have “filled a
pond with wine, hung up meat to form a forest, and ordered men and women to get
naked and chase each other around in it” [以酒為池，縣肉為林，使男女裸相逐其閒].
He also was said to have roasted or sliced his more virtuous subjects on the flimsiest of
pretexts. Meanwhile his opponent, King Wu, is portrayed as a capable ruler, able to
build alliances and willing to listen to criticism. This is to say, for all practical purposes,
Bo Yi and Shu Qi chose the wrong side in the conflict (albeit passively). The reason was
that they valued principle above not only their own well-being but even above what
seems to be the greater social good.
Within the pantheon of ancient Chinese exemplary figures, people like Bo Yi and
Shu Qi occupy a particular type of niche. The most common descriptive terms for this
sort of person are lian 廉, meaning “honesty and integrity,” and qing 清 or “purity.” So in
the Mencius, for example, it says, “Bo Yi exemplifies the purity of sagehood” [伯夷，聖之
清者也]. Other figures, meanwhile, are assigned to represent other sagely values or
attributes: service, conciliation, and sense of timing.7
One might ask more specifically what these values of “purity” or “integrity”
entail. The general formulation I would propose is, this type of behavior involves
placing more importance on the fact that an act is moral than on the reasons we usually
take morality to be desirable.8 Often in these stories, it means acting on a principle even
when the consequences appear on the face of it to be wholly negative. This is a slightly
different problem to the one described by Susan Wolf, who is primarily concerned that
moral saints would themselves be unable to live good lives. Here it seems that the “too-
good life” of the pure sage is not only bad for the sage himself but also potentially
lacking in good effects for society as a whole.

II. Problems with the Chinese Moral Saint

Traditional texts raise three main problems with the concept of Chinese moral
sainthood as I have defined it. These problems can be described as extremism,
recklessness, and injustice.

7Mencius 5B.10.
8This discussion owes something to the discussion of moral fetishism in Smith 1994,
75ff.
 ROUGH DRAFT 4

It is the Mencius which levels against Bo Yi and others like him the charge of
moral extremism. Bo Yi is characterized as “narrow-minded” (隘 ai), while a contrasting
figure, the pragmatic Liuxia Hui, is described as “undignified” (不恭 bu gong). The text
adds that the ideal would be to keep away from either extreme.9 It also accuses Bo Yi of
being the sort of person who, “if someone’s hat was slightly maladjusted, would walk
away from the person with an air of aloofness, as if he were about to be tainted by it” [其
冠不正，望望然去之，若將浼焉]10—a level of fastidiousness which by implication
Mencius finds excessive.
A more serious condemnation of the idea of saintly purity in the Mencius
concerns another similar figure, Chen Zhong. Chen Zhong is also described as being a
man of pure integrity (廉士 lian shi), but his main distinction appears to have been his
asceticism. Though born to an aristocratic family, he engaged in extensive fasting and
would weave his own sandals. His brother had an official position and supported their
mother, but Chen Zhong considered the income to be “unrighteous” (不義 bu yi) and
refused to live in his brother’s house. He got particularly judgemental about a goose his
brother had received for a present. Then when his mother covertly served him some of
the goose and his brother told him what it was, he went out and vomited it up. Again,
the Mencius judges this conduct to be extreme and unnecessary: “If one were to be like
Zhong, one could not fully carry out that type of conduct unless one were an earthworm”
[若仲子者，蚓而後充其操者也].11 That is to say, while one may avoid foodstuff and
dwellings one considers corrupt, one has to eat something and live somewhere. Because
it is impossible to know the full history of any food or dwelling place, the potential whiff
of corruption is in truth inescapable. Meanwhile, Chen Zhong’s excessive insistence on
purity resulted in alienating his family.
The second type of objection, regarding recklessness, arises from a different
quarter. Robber Zhi, in the eponymous chapter of the Zhuangzi, lambasts Confucian
moral concerns (personified by Confucius himself). In the course of his rant, he criticizes
Bo Yi and several others for recklessly throwing away their lives, and says their deaths
“are not different from those of a cut-up dog, a drowned pig, or an impoverished

9 Mencius 2A.9.
10 Ibid.
11 Mencius 3B.15.
Unpublished manuscript – comments and suggestions welcome 5

beggar—they got entangled in reputation and took their own deaths lightly, not keeping
in mind the fundamental importance of nourishing their longevity” [無異於磔犬、流豕
、操瓢而乞者，皆離名輕死，不念本養壽命者也].12 Though this statement might be
somewhat suspect—Robber Zhi is such a monster of selfishness that he dines on human
livers, after all—two other passages in the Zhuangzi also criticize Bo Yi and Shu Qi for
not properly caring for their lives,13 while a third belittles them for their self-
importance.14 This objection may well converge with Susan Wolf’s objection, namely,
the worry that the too-good life in fact precludes an actually good life.
The final objection, regarding injustice, is of broader scope. This is stated most
clearly in the Shiji biographical chapter on Bo Yi and Shu Qi. In retelling their story, Sima
Qian includes a “lost ode” attributed to them during the time they were starving on
Mount Shouyang, including the lines, “answering violence with violence, not knowing its
wrongness” [以暴易暴兮，不知其非矣].15 The poem goes on to lament the
disappearance of more righteous rulers and ends with the cry, “how [Heaven’s?]
command has degenerated!” [命之衰矣！]. Sima Qian uses this to suggest that Bo Yi and
Shu Qi were not as serene in their principled starvation as generally believed and that in
fact they did feel resentment (though this directly contradicts Confucius’
pronouncement).16
If Bo Yi and Shu Qi are resentful, Sima Qian implies, then what they should resent
is actually Heaven. Heaven is said to reward the good, but Bo Yi and Shu Qi starved to
death for their goodness. This phenomenon, the injustice of Heaven, has been dubbed
the Chinese “problem of evil.”17 If Heaven does reward the good, why do people who
live the morally best possible lives fail to reap any rewards? In this category, Sima Qian
includes not only Bo Yi and Shu Qi, but also Confucius’ best disciple Yan Hui (who died
young), and (as a negative example) Robber Zhi who lived to a ripe old age. These
objections show that moral sainthood presented various problems for ancient Chinese

12 Zhuangzi jishi 29.998.

13 Zhuangzi jishi 6.232, 8.323.
14 Zhuangzi jishi 17.561. Interestingly, a fourth passage portrays the two

sympathetically and praises their lack of interest in worldly success (Zhuangzi jishi
28.987-88). The inconsistency of attitude reinforces the notion of a multiply authored
Zhuangzi.
15 SJ 61.2123.
16 Lunyu 7.15.
17 Most recently by Franklin Perkins in Heaven and Earth are Not Humane.
 ROUGH DRAFT 6

thinkers, whether in terms of its aims (judged to be too extreme), its priorities (judged
by some to be wrong-headed), or its results (judged to be undeserved calamity).

III. Narrative Functions of Moral Sainthood

On the surface, the efficacy of these ancient Chinese moral saints is doubtful at
best, and they frequently come to a bad end. Why then do they have any place in the
pantheon of exemplary figures? Why do we find that the majority of references to them
are actually positive and admiring? I would argue that this is related to the function
played by narratives such as these.
The Mencius explicitly discusses the function of the Bo Yi story: when people
hear this story, “the corrupt become pure and the weak are able to establish their
aspirations” [頑夫廉，懦夫有立志].18 The role Bo Yi and Shu Qi play is an inspirational
one, unrelated to practical achievements. According to the Mencius, “the sage is the
teacher of ten thousand generations” [聖人，百世之師也].19 The point of the Bo Yi story
is to serve as a shining example to people who might be inclined to count too closely the
costs of doing the right thing.
This conclusion fits nicely with the Zhuangzi’s observation that moral saints like
Bo Yi and Shu Qi value their lives too little and their reputations too much—implying
(perhaps unfairly) that what they wanted most was to be remembered as having been
moral. In a context where stories like this are serving as examples for imitation, the
fame of moral saints like Bo Yi and Shu Qi could inspire ordinary people to be good even
when it might work against their own apparent interests. By offering a good reputation
as a substitute for a good life, these stories set up an ideal that few are actually in danger
of reaching.
Connecting this inspirational function with the “problem of evil” critique
mentioned earlier, stories like that of Bo Yi and Shu Qi show that heaven does not
necessarily reward goodness and so if one is living a good and righteous life, one would
not also necessarily expect rewards of any worldly sort. Or as the Shuoyuan puts it, “Do
you believe that those who are pure must necessarily be employed? Then how is it that
Bo Yi and Shu Qi starved at the foot of Mount Shouyang?” [子以廉者為必用乎？伯夷、

18 Mencius 5B.10.
19 Mencius 7B.61.
Unpublished manuscript – comments and suggestions welcome 7

叔齊何為餓死於首陽山之下？].20 This is to say, lack of success does not invalidate the

virtue of one’s actions.
In short, narratives of moral sainthood in China seem to serve three main
positive functions: they instruct, they inspire, and at times they console. Yet even so, for
ancient and modern readers alike, there remains a certain tension between the too-
good life and a genuinely good outcome.

Works Cited

Mozi xiangu 墨子閒沽. Annotations by Sun Yirang 孫詒讓. Beijing: Zhonghua shuju,
2001.
Liu Xiang 劉向. Shuoyuan jiaozheng 說苑校證. Annotations by Xiang Zonglu 向宗魯.
Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1987.
Perkins, Franklin. Heaven and Earth are Not Humane: The Problem of Evil in Classical
Chinese Philosophy. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014.
Ruan Yuan 阮元. Shisanjing zhushu [Commentaries and sub-commentaries on the
thirteen classics] (SSJZS). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982.
Sima Qian 司馬遷. Shiji 史記 (SJ). Beijing: Zhonghua shuju, 1982.
Smith, Michael (1994). The Moral Problem. Malden MA, Oxford, Carlton VIC: Blackwell
Publishing Ltd.
Wolf, Susan (1982). “Moral Saints.” The Journal of Philosophy Vol.79 No.8: 419-439.

20 Shuoyuan 17.422.