Daoist Unique Pursuit of Tianren Heyi

Abstract

This paper critically examines Lu Guolong’s interpretation of tianren heyi, arguing that his portrayal of it as an inherent virtue of Chinese culture—and his positioning of Daoism between Confucianism and Buddhism—remains conceptually inadequate. Through a textual analysis of oracle-bone inscriptions, the Shangshu, and the Guoyu, the study reconstructs the notions of shenmin bu za and the four historical “transgressions”, thereby demonstrating that tianren heyi is not a singular, unchanging tradition but a historically generated and internally diverse phenomenon. By distinguishing between the Confucian model of you ren zhi tian, the Daoist model of you tian zhi ren or you ziran zhi ren, and the Daoist practice of yi ren zhi tian, this paper highlights the Daoist distinctive emphasis on the embodied dimension—pursuing tianren heyi through corporeal cultivation and the twin disciplines of waidan and neidan. The modern trend of celebrating tianren heyi as an emblem of Chinese cultural excellence calls for cautious reinterpretation—one that carefully distinguishes its ontological meaning from its practical and historical articulations.

1. Introduction

Daoism first entered the purview of modern scholarship as an object of academic study in the early twentieth century. In History of Daoism, Xu Dishan famously remarked, “In general, the early Daojia (道家, philosophical Daoists) spoke of reason, whereas the later Daojiao (道教, religious Daoists) spoke of superstition” (Xu 1991). This statement epitomizes the prevailing modern academic paradigm that evaluated Daojia and Daojiao on the basis of a binary opposition between “scientific rationality” and “religious belief.” In this scheme, scientific rationality represented truth, while religion was reduced to superstition—the former considered superior to the latter. Whatever could be explained, demonstrated, or justified by rational science was deemed good; whatever could not was condemned as false or misguided superstition (G. Lu 2007, pp. 14, 15). This rationalist paradigm, dominant in mainland Chinese scholarship since the May Fourth New Culture Movement of 1919, continued largely unchallenged until the 1990s, when critical reflection upon this epistemic model began to emerge in the Sinophone academy.

Within this wave of re-examination, Lu Guolong (卢国龙) advanced the concept of tianren heyi (天人合一, “the unity of heaven and humanity”) (Huang 2024b) as the central theme of Chinese philosophy. He positioned Daoism between the two poles of Confucianism and Buddhism, seeking thereby to excavate its unique mediating status. Like many Chinese scholars, Lu regarded tianren heyi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”) as the natural and intrinsic condition of Chinese thought—an ideal to be pursued both theoretically and practically. He further claimed that Daoism realized this unity through the path of yi ziran zhi ren (以自然之人, “to be a person in accordance with nature”), in contrast to the Confucian path of you ren zhi tian (由人之天, “from the human toward Heaven”) (Zhang 2024, pp. 1–20). This interpretive framework is indeed suggestive; yet, historically speaking, it presupposes tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) as an ontological constant of Chinese culture and thus overlooks its process of formation and its internal differentiations. Consequently, this study re-examines tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) from linguistic and intellectual-historical perspectives, paying particular attention to the distinctive modes of Daoist practice through which this ideal was historically embodied.

The objectives of this paper are fourfold: (1) to trace the semantic evolution of the tian–ren (Heaven–human) relationship in early Chinese texts, thereby correcting essentialist misreadings of tianren heyi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”); (2) to analyze how the notions of shenmin buza (神民不杂, “the separation of gods and humans”) and the recurring episodes of “transgression” (jianyue, 僭越) constitute a dynamic history of tension between Heaven and humanity in Chinese thought; (3) to reveal how Daoism uniquely realizes “communion with Heaven through yi ren zhi tian (以人之天 “through the human toward Heaven”) by means of embodied cultivation, external and internal alchemy; and (4) finally, to reflect critically on the modern political and cultural appropriations of the discourse of tianren heyi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”).

2. Was Traditional Chinese Culture Originally Characterized by Tianren Heyi (“The Unity of Heaven and Humanity”) or by Shenmin Buza (“Separation Between Gods and Humans”)? (Huang 2024a)

Lu maintains that tianren heyi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”) constitutes a shared cultural tradition of both Confucianism and Daoism (G. Lu 2007, pp. 1–20). Yet can such a position withstand historical scrutiny? To test Lu’s proposition that tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is an inherent and enduring feature of Chinese civilization, it is necessary to trace the semantic evolution of the tian–ren (Heaven–human) relationship in early textual sources. In essence, tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) represents not a fixed cosmological given but a descriptive formulation of the tianren zhiji (天人之际, “boundary between Heaven and humanity”) or, more precisely, the relationship between gods and humans.

To date, scholarship has approached this issue along two main interpretive trajectories. First, Max Weber and Feng Youlan, from the perspectives of rationalization and evolutionary progress, regard Chinese thought as tending toward an inner ethical integration and a process of “disenchantment.” Weber (1864–1920) considered Confucianism to be “a rational ethic that reduces the tension with this world to an absolute minimum.” In The Religion of China, he emphasized that the Calvinist mode of rational thought had “completely eliminated all magical elements” and thus effected “a thorough disenchantment of the world,” creating in contrast “a great and intense tension with the world” (Weber 1951, pp. 226–27). Feng working within an evolutionary framework, argued that the intellectual development from theism to atheism, and further to humanism, rationalism, and naturalism, marked the main line of progress in Chinese philosophy; the key, in his view, lay in a mode of “correlative thinking” that distanced humanity from theism (Feng 2001, pp. 33–34). Second, Marcel Granet, taking a cultural-essentialist stance, emphasized that early Chinese civilization was structured as a monistic cosmos in which human beings and nature were not yet divided. Granet insisted that early Chinese thought was neither “prelogical” nor “mystical,” but rather a coherent and meaningful system. In La pensée chinoise (Chinese Thought), he celebrated the notion that “man and nature did not form two separate realms but constituted a single and indivisible society,” one without any transcendent principle, transcendent law, or divine being and abstract concept (Granet 1934, pp. 25–26, 476, 479; Munro 1969).

Although Weber and Feng represent an evolutionary line of interpretation and Granet a cultural-essentialist one, they converge in assuming that tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is the intrinsic characteristic of traditional Chinese culture. Lu follows this essentialist orientation, viewing tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) as the original state of Chinese thought, a position closely aligned with Granet’s. In contemporary mainland discourse, this view has been embraced by many Confucian scholars as a prized cultural virtue. Yet two crucial questions arise: first, is tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) truly the defining feature of Confucianism, Daoism, and Chinese civilization as a whole? Second, if so, should it be considered a merit or a flaw? At what historical moment did it become such a feature?

The available evidence does not extend back to the Xia dynasty, for which we lack reliable archaeological or written materials. Our earliest textual sources are the Shang oracle-bone inscriptions, dating to roughly 3500 years ago. Do these inscriptions attest to a worldview of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”)? The answer is far from clear. Michael Puett, drawing on the The Book of Documents (Shangshu, 《尚书·吕刑》) argues that a dualistic tradition—marked by the separation of Heaven and humanity, gods and humans—did in fact exist in early China (M. J. Puett 2020, p. 145). The text reads:

“Nüe wei shu lu, fang gao wugu yu shang. Shangdi jian min, wang you xinxiang de, xing fa wen wei xing. Huangdi aijin shu lu zhi bu gu, bao nüe yi wei, e jue Miao min, wu shi zai xia. Nai ming Chong Li, jue di tian tong, wang you jiang ge.”

《尚书·吕刑》云：”虐威庶戮，方告无辜于上。上帝监民，罔有馨香德，刑发闻惟腥。皇帝哀矜庶戮之不辜，报虐以威，遏绝苗民，无世在下。乃命重黎，绝地天通，罔有降格。”

“Excessive cruelty and unjust punishment caused the innocent to appeal to Heaven. The High Lord (Shangdi) observed the people but found no fragrant virtue among them; their punishments reeked of blood. The Emperor, pitying the innocent who suffered, repaid cruelty with awe, suppressing the Miao people so that wickedness should not prevail below. Thus, he commanded Chong and Li to sever the communication between Earth and Heaven, allowing no descent or intercourse between them.”

The crucial expression here is juedi tiantong (绝地天通, “the severing of the connection between Heaven and Earth”), which has become a key phrase for determining the nature of early tian–ren relations. Does it suggest that Earth and Heaven, gods and humans, this world and the afterlife, the temporal and the eternal, the phenomenal and the noumenal, were originally unified and only later separated? Many have read it so. Yet Puett, in To Become a God: Cosmology, Sacrifice, and Self-Divinization in Early China, contends otherwise: according to the oracle-bone inscriptions, in the Shang period Heaven and Earth, humans and deities, were already distinct realms; the problem arose later when priests failed properly to mediate between them, resulting in a paradoxical condition whereby shenmin zarou (神民杂糅, “gods and humans became confused or mixed”) (M. J. Puett 2020, p. 146).

The so-called shen min za rou (神民杂糅, “gods and humans became confused or mixed”), as explained by Guanshefu (观射父) in the Guoyu Chuyu xia (《国语·楚语下》), originally contrasts with the ancient condition of shen min bu za (神民不杂, “separation between gods and humans”). In the early Shang dynasty, the divine and the human realms were distinct and separate. Later, however, the divine and the human became conflated, which led to disastrous consequences. The same text records:

“Zhuan Xu shou zhi, nai ming Nanzheng Chong si tian yi shu shen, ming Huozheng Li si di yi shu min, shi fu jiu chang, wu xiang qin du, shi wei jue di tian tong.”

“颛顼受之, 乃命南正重司天以属神,命火正黎司地以属民,使复旧常,无相侵渎,是谓绝地天通。”

“Zhuan Xu received the charge; he therefore appointed Chong as the Southern Regulator to govern Heaven and to preside over the spirits, and appointed Li as the Fire Regulator to govern Earth and to preside over the people. Thus, he restored the former order so that they should not encroach upon one another—this is called the severing of communication between Heaven and Earth.”

According to this passage, the gods and the people were initially separate. Their subsequent mixture led to chaos; only when Zhuanxu (颛顼) appointed Chong (重) to administer Heaven and Li (黎) to administer Earth—thus re-establishing the division between the two realms—was the ancient order restored. Once Heaven and Earth ceased to transgress upon each other, the outcome was cosmic peace. In this narrative, the original separation of gods and humans was deemed good; their later confusion, disastrous; and the final restoration of separation, again auspicious (M. J. Puett 2020, pp. 146–52). Most contemporary Confucian scholars in China, however—including early interpreters such as Chen Lai of Tsinghua University—now take a different view. Although they may once have recognized the difference between humans and deities, they currently maintain that the original tradition of Chinese civilization was one of unity between the divine and the human, and that this unity was inherently good. Consequently, they interpret the Shangshu (The Book of Documents) passage—nai ming Chong Li, juedi tiantong (乃命重黎，绝地天通 “Then [the Emperor] commanded Chong and Li to sever the connection between Earth and Heaven”)—as describing a negative event: a tragic disruption of a primordial harmony. From this standpoint, the division of Heaven and Earth marks a decline, not a restoration. Therefore, the evidence suggests that early Chinese culture assumed a fundamental separation between the divine and the human realms, and that tianren heyi emerged later as a normative ideal rather than as an original feature of traditional Chinese thought. Tianren heyi is the view that ontemporary Confucian scholars in China have about this point.

Considering the heavy-lifting task of subverting a popular scholarly “consensus” above, I really need to seek out more textual evidence to support the central claim. Shangshu often stresses Heaven’s command (tianming) as external and conditional, granted or withdrawn based on human virtue (“Heaven sees as the people see”), implying moral resonance rather than ontological unity. Guoyu portrays Heaven, spirits, and humans as operating in distinct yet responsive spheres, emphasizing ritual mediation and political virtue, not intrinsic unity. Zuozhuan repeatedly describes calamities as Heaven’s warnings, reinforcing a correlative but separate Heaven–human relationship. Only later texts (e.g., Mengzi) internalize Heaven as moral principle, retrospectively aligning diverse views into tianren heyi.

Interpreting the Guoyu notions of shen min bu za (“the separation between gods and humans”) and jue di tian tong (the severing of communication between Earth and Heaven), it is important to situate this reading within existing scholarship although not many can be found. Michael Puett has argued that early Chinese ritual texts emphasize the deliberate maintenance of boundaries between the human and the divine as a means of social and political order, rather than an assumption of ontological unity (M. J. Puett 2020; M. Puett 2004). Thus, shen min bu za reflects a normative effort to regulate divine–human interaction through ritual specialists, not a metaphysical claim of unity. Similarly, M. Edward Lewis and Y. Pines note that early Zhou thought conceived Heaven as a morally responsive yet transcendent authority, accessible only through mediated practices such as ritual, divination, and political virtue (Lewis 2006; Pines 2002). These interpretations largely corroborate the view that early sources presuppose separation rather than inherent unity between Heaven and humanity, while also suggesting that later formulations of tianren heyi represent a philosophical synthesis retrospectively imposed on a more plural early tradition.

3. Is Tianren Heyi (“The Unity of Heaven and Humanity”) a Virtue or a Flaw?

The preceding discussion, drawing on oracle-bone inscriptions as well as the Shangshu (The Book of Documents) and the Guoyu (《国语》, Discourses of the States), revealed two contrasting early Chinese conceptions of the Heaven–human relationship: juedi tiantong (“the severing of communication between Heaven and Earth”) and shenmin zarou (“the intermingling of gods and humans”). This historical oscillation between separation and fusion later became both the foundation and the inner tension of the idea of tianren heyi (the unity of Heaven and humanity). Most contemporary Confucian scholars tend to emphasize tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) as an essential virtue of Chinese culture. Mou Zongsan, for instance, contrasted Confucianism or the Confucian dao with Christianity, arguing that Christianity is a “religion of separation” (lijiao 离教) in which God and humanity are divided—a deficient and inferior condition—whereas Confucianism is a yuanjiao (圆教 “religion of completeness”), a jiaojiao yuanrong (教教圆融) or “teaching of harmonious totality” where Heaven and humanity, things and the self, form a single unity. Such a state of harmony, he claimed, is superior to separation and division (Mou 1985) Both Weber’s evolutionary model and Granet’s essentialist model characterize Christianity as premised on a dualism between God and humanity, while portraying early Chinese and Confucian thought as monistic. Their divergence lies in evaluation: viewed through the lens of rational development and comparative tradition, Weber considered Confucian monism a negative feature that constrained China’s development, whereas Granet saw it as a positive moral and cultural strength (M. J. Puett 2020, pp. 6–12).

Guanshefu (观射父) remarked that “in ancient times, the people and the spirits did not intermingle” (gu zhe min shen bu za 古者民神不杂, Guoyu, “Chuyu II”). After the appointment of Chong (重) to govern Heaven and Li (黎) to govern Earth, “the former order was restored,” meaning that Heaven and Earth were again separated as before (M. J. Puett 2020, p. 146) On this basis, in the historical development of Chinese civilization there occurred four major “transgressions” in which Heaven and Earth—originally distinct—were forcibly re-joined. The term “transgressions”denotes the improper intrusion of the human sphere into the divine domain, leading ultimately to a condition in which humans and gods became confused and indistinguishable, culture and religion intermingled, and humanity developed a naïve optimism about its own nature and powers, forgetting the difference between Heaven and Earth and neglecting the limits of the human. Consider, for example, the word di (帝). In the oracle-bone inscriptions it referred to the Supreme Deity—Shangdi (上帝)—a transcendent high god distinct from both nature deities and ancestral spirits. This Di governed human destiny and intervened in worldly affairs, yet humans could not offer sacrifice directly to him nor influence him. Accordingly, most oracle-bone inscriptions are not records of offerings but of divination: inquiries comparable to fortune-telling, seeking to determine auspicious days for warfare, travel, agriculture, or construction. Only a small portion concern sacrificial rites, and even these sacrifices were not addressed to Shangdi but to one’s own ancestors.

In the oracle-bone corpus, the divine hierarchy is thus as follows: humans offer sacrifices to their ancestors; the ancestors, in turn, may visit Shangdi as guests—bin (宾)—to intercede on behalf of their living descendants. Hence, the ritual of bin ji (宾祭, “guest sacrifice”) refers to offerings made to deceased ancestors who, as honored guests of Shangdi, could influence him to bless their progeny. This structure endures in Chinese ancestral rites today: when people sweep or tend graves, they do so only for their own lineage, not for the tombs of other families, hoping that their forebears will once again affect Shangdi and secure his favor for the living. The importance of this concept is preserved in the modern term chubin (出殡, “to send off the deceased”), literally meaning “to go as a guest.” It signifies the departure of the ancestor from the human world to visit the realm of Shangdi. The character bin (宾/殡) thus retains its ancient sense of “guest.” Accordingly, the Di of the oracle bones was wholly distinct from humankind and beyond human influence. Yet over the course of Chinese history there emerged four occasions on which humans trespassed into the divine realm of Shangdi—four acts of “transgression”that violated the boundary between the human and the sacred (Hsiao 1979).

The first “transgression” occurred when the functions of shamanic and royal authority were not yet separated—when the divine and the political were fused. This took place in the late Shang period, during the reign of King Wu Ding (武丁, ?–1192 BCE). In the oracle-bone inscriptions from his time, the term Di (帝), which originally designated only the supreme deity Shangdi, began to be used to refer also to deceased ancestors. In earlier inscriptions, Di could never denote a human being, but by Wu Ding’s era it was used for royal forebears who had died and ascended to the realm of spirits. This semantic and ritual expansion of the word Di marked the first “transgression”.

The second “transgression” may be summarized as the usurpation of heavenly authority by political power through ritual sacrifice, that is, the use of worship to legitimize royal sovereignty under the rubric of the tianming (天命, “Mandate of Heaven”). In the Shijing (《诗经》, Book of Songs), the poem Shengmin (《生民》, “Birth of the People”)—a product not of the Shang but of the early Western Zhou dynasty (ca. 1046–771 BCE)—declares that tian sheng zhengmin (天生烝民, “Heaven gave birth to the multitudes”). During the Zhou, the concept of Tian (天, Heaven) gradually replaced Di (帝, Deity). Heaven was no longer the transcendent creator of humankind, but rather the generative source that “gave birth” to humanity. Humanity was not “made” by Heaven but “born” of it. This shift from zao (造, to create) to sheng (生, to give birth) constituted another “transgression”: it ontologically conflated the human and the divine, rendering Heaven and humanity of the same substance (Huang 2011, pp. 1–9).

In the early Western Zhou, during the time of the Duke of Zhou (周公) and the Duke of Shao (召公), an important debate emerged. The Duke of Zhou held that “Heaven granted the Mandate to the Zhou people,” whereas the Duke of Shao contended that “Heaven granted the Mandate to the Zhou king.” The issue was thus one of centralization versus the people’s foundational role. In Zhou political thought, tianming (Heaven’s Mandate) meant that Heaven bestowed legitimacy upon the virtuous individual or family—a notion similar to the Judaic concept of a “chosen people.” Heaven, as deity, chose the Zhou—the Ji (姬) lineage—to overthrow the Shang and establish a new dynasty. Yet the Duke of Shao’s position ultimately prevailed, shifting the focus from Heaven’s mandate to a virtuous people toward a mandate conferred solely upon the ruler. This paved the way for political centralization and monarchical absolutism. According to this view, Heaven bestowed the Mandate not upon the people but upon the king. This sharply contrasts with Mencius’s later doctrine that “the people are most important, the state altars come next, and the ruler is least” (min wei zhong, sheji ci zhi, jun wei qing 民为重，社稷次之，君为轻). In the logic of the Duke of Shao, however, “the ruler is supreme”: Heaven entrusts its authority to the monarch, not to the common people. This constituted the third “transgression”1—the political monopolization of divine authority. The subsequent Confucian moral rationalization of tianming (“Mandate of Heaven”), transforming divine mandate into an inner moral principle, completed this third “transgressive” process by internalizing sacred power within human virtue.

The fourth “transgression” was inaugurated by Qin Shi Huang (259–210 BCE). While still alive, the First Emperor proclaimed himself Huangdi—a title previously reserved for the divine Shangdi—thus designating a living human as an earthly deity. This act epitomized the complete intermixture of human and divine. From the Han through the Tang and Song dynasties, despite the later emergence of Han Yu’s (韩愈) Daoxue (道学, “Learning of the Way”) and the Neo-Confucian Lixue (理学 “Learning of Principle”) of Cheng Yi, Cheng Hao, and Zhu Xi, this intermingling persisted. Its culmination appeared in the thought of Lu Jiuyuan (陆九渊) and Wang Yangming (王阳明), for whom “yuzhou ji woxin, woxin ji yuzhou” (宇宙即吾心，吾心即宇宙”, the universe is my mind, and my mind is the universe”).2 In this vision, the human and the divine not only harmonized completely but became indistinguishable: no boundary remained between shen/tian (神/天, God/Heaven) and the human mind. This represented the final, epistemological form of “transgression” in the Confucian lixue (理学, “Learning of Principle”) and xinxing xue (心性学, “Learning of Mind and Nature”) from the Han through the Ming. Against this historical backdrop, Daoism in its religiously institutionalized phase sought to reestablish communication with Heaven through individual bodily cultivation. This constituted the fourth “transgression”.

From these four “transgressions”, we may discern that the modern discourse which celebrates tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) as a unique cultural advantage of China tends to overlook the complex historical process of “division–union–redivision” that underlies it. I therefore contend that Lu’s assertion—and that of similar thinkers—that Chinese traditional culture is inherently characterized by tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) and that this represents a cultural virtue, must be approached with caution and critical reconsideration.

4. Daoist Unique Pursuit of Tianren Heyi (“The Unity of Heaven and Humanity”)

The actual phrase Tianren Heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is not in any major Daoist classical text and doesn’t come into use until the later Han and then only by Confucian sources. However, the idea of the unity of humanity and Heaven or more specifically, Dao, is certainly in Zhuangzi and Daodejing and other sources.

4.1. Daoist Pursuit of Tianren Heyi (“The Unity of Heaven and Humanity”) Through You Ziran Zhi Ren (“From the Person in Accordance with Nature”)

Lu regards tianren heyi—the unity of Heaven and humanity—as the shared ideal of both Confucianism and Daoism. To realize this ideal, the Confucian approach is characterized as you ren zhi tian, literally “ascending to Heaven through humanity.” This means establishing human relationships and moral education (jian renlun, ming jiaohua 建人伦、明教化), beginning from social reality and constructing a cultural system that ultimately aligns the human world with tianli (天理, “the moral order of Heaven”). Daoism, by contrast, follows the tiandao (天道, “the Way of Heaven”) and illuminates ziran (自然, “the principle of nature”); it is you zi ran zhi ren (“from the person in accordance with nature”) (G. Lu 2007, p. 2). In Lu’s formulation, the term you (由) means “from” or “through.” The word ren (human) denotes not only the human being as a subject but also renxing (人性 “human nature or essence”—“that by which the human becomes human, a kind of self-consciousness of the living subject” (G. Lu 2007, p. 1). While in modern Chinese the term renxing (“human nature or essence”) is often understood as “human characteristics” rather than metaphysical essence, Lu explicitly defines renshi (人事, “human affairs”) as “the comprehensive sphere of the instrumental and empirical realm, whose great foundation and essential function consist in the construction of social civilization” (G. Lu 2007, p. 1). Thus, for Lu, renxing (“human nature or essence”) represents the manifestation of Tian (Heaven) or the Heavenly Dao within the human being, distinct from renshi (“human affairs”). The particle zhi (之) in you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”) signifies direction—“toward” or “up to.” Although Tian may in certain contexts refer to the physical sky or cosmos, here it primarily denotes the tiandao (“the Way of Heaven”): “the rational principle of the natural transformation of all things, an ideal existence referring to the universality and intelligibility of reality” (G. Lu 2007, p. 1).

As discussed above, Lu argues that Confucianism and Daoism share the same ideal pursuit, namely the unity of Heaven and humanity. Both traditions involve the same constitutive elements—tian (“Heaven”) and ren (“human”)—in their quest for this ideal. Yet their approaches are fundamentally opposite: Confucianism proceeds you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”), whereas Daoism proceeds you tian zhi ren (由天之人, “from Heaven toward the human”). The Confucian way of you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”) is grounded in establishing human relations and clarifying moral teaching, that is, it begins from social reality. The foundation here may be summarized in terms of what Western theologies call the moral law (moralis lex): the manifestation of tian (“Heaven”) or tian dao (“the Way of Heaven”) within human nature and human affairs. Much like the moral law, it resides within the human heart, human nature, and the human person, while simultaneously reflecting and representing “Heaven.” Thus, what Lu calls the Confucian you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”) means to construct a metaphysical and cultural system grounded in the moral law inherent in human subjectivity, and to let this moral-metaphysical order exert influence throughout the intellectual history of human society—an intertwining of the metaphysical and the empirical—so that it ultimately becomes an effective praxis within social history.

In contrast, the Daoist notion of you tian zhi ren (“from Heaven toward the human”) takes as its standard the manifestation of tian (“Heaven”) or tian dao (“the Way of Heaven”) within the natural Heaven and within nature itself—that is, within the cosmos and the myriad things. This corresponds to what Western theologies would call the law of nature (lex naturalis) might be problematic, since Dao is not like a musician following a score but models itself on Ziran (自然), not natural law.

It is not “Heaven” or “the Way of Heaven” itself, but rather its manifestation (Lam 2025). If this interpretation holds, then Confucianism begins from the moral law while Daoism begins from the natural law; both thus pursue tian ren he yi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”) from the bottom up. It would be mistaken, therefore, to think that while Confucianism moves upward you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”), Daoism, like the Abrahamic religions, moves downward you tian zhi ren (“from Heaven toward the human”) through a theology of revelation in order to achieve the union of Heaven and humanity (or God and humanity). This distinction is crucial, for any confusion here would lead to a grave misunderstanding of Daoism—a point that Lu himself does not make entirely clear. In fact, Confucianism and Daoism alike seek tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) via bottom-up approaches grounded in moral ethics (lex moralis) and natural law (lex naturalis).

Furthermore, Lu insightfully distinguishes between the tension of ideal and reality, and the contradiction between theory and practice. He observes: “Every culture must constantly move between the real and the ideal. Both the Confucian you ren zhi tian (“from the human toward Heaven”) and the Daoist you tian zhi ren (“from Heaven toward the human”) are cultural ideals. Yet actual societies neither can nor do completely conform to such ideals, which makes it difficult for either Confucianism or Daoism to lead reality toward the ideal independently” (G. Lu 2007, p. 2). Indeed, between the theoretical ideal and practical reality there exists a third dimension: sixiang (思想, “thought”). Thought is the mediating activity through which the metaphysical ideal attempts to enter the empirical world via human knowledge, emotion, and volition—a movement from above downward. Conversely, it is also the upward movement through which empirical practice seeks validation and support from the ideal, again by means of knowledge, emotion, and will. Situated between the metaphysical and the practical, thought thus constitutes an autonomous domain in its own right, bridging the ideal and the real (You 2021, pp. 31–35).

Third, Lu’s proposal that the tension between ideal theory and practical reality can be resolved by allowing Confucianism and Daoism to take turns “reigning in alternation”—each dominating cultural life for a time—deserves critical reconsideration. Although Lu correctly identifies that both Confucianism and Daoism experience an irreconcilable conflict between ideal theory and social practice, his analysis of the cause and nature of this phenomenon remains debatable. As Martin Luther emphasized in his paradoxical theology of revelation under the cross, God is encountered precisely in suffering, not through rational speculation about nature, mystical ascent through inner cultivation, or moral perfection through good works (LW31:53). Hence, whether Confucian moral cultivation can truly attain the summum bonum, and whether Daoist return to nature can genuinely disclose truth,3 are both open to question.

4.2. Daoist Pursuit of Tianren Heyi (“The Unity of Heaven and Humanity”) Through Yi Ren Zhi Tian (“Through the Human Toward Heaven”) Aligns with the Paradigms of Confucianism and Buddhism in Seeking This Same Unity

To understand Daoist unique mode of pursuing tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”), one must situate it in a comparative framework alongside Confucianism and Buddhism. Lu places Daoism between these two: if Confucianism and Buddhism form opposing poles, Daoism occupies the mediating third position. First, Confucianism, located at one pole, focuses on the immanent realm of moral cultivation—xiushen, qijia, zhiguo, ping tianxia (修身、齐家、治国、平天下), that is, self-cultivation, family regulation, governance of the state, and pacification of the world. It views the human being as a social member of family, state, and cosmos. Through the dual path of neisheng waiwang (内圣外王, “inner sageliness and outer kingship”), it actively pursues tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) via a paradigm of “augmentation”—to li gong, li de, li yan (立功、立德、立言,” establish achievements, virtue, and words”) in order to attain sagehood. According to the tripartite schema of spirit–soul–body, Confucianism pays close attention to the moral-ethical attributes of the hun (魂, “soul”) but gives comparatively little attention to the ling (灵, “spirit”) and rou (肉, “body”).

Buddhism, occupying the opposite pole, focuses on the infinite transformations between emptiness (kong, 空) and form (se, 色), seeking to apprehend the thing-in-itself or spiritual reality. It emphasizes chewu (彻悟, “enlightenment”) and chengfo (成佛, “Buddhahood”) yet remains non-theistic in essence.

Daoism, situated between the two, centers on the shen (身, “body”). It abandons the Confucian focus on family, state, and empire (jia, guo, tianxia, 家、国、天下), emphasizing instead physical and psychological individuality and liberation from political and social entanglement. By following the ziran wuwei zhi dao (自然无为之道, “the Way of Naturalness and Non-Action”), Daoism seeks tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) through a dual cultivation of waidan (外丹, “external alchemy”) and neidan (内丹, “internal alchemy”). External alchemy concerns elixirs and the refinement of substances, intersecting with early Chinese medicine, chemistry, and proto-biology. Internal alchemy divides into two modalities: one involves Qi Gong (气功, “energy cultivation”), meditation, and the circulation of thought and vital energy—activities that may appear esoteric but in fact operate within the physical, immanent realm; the other involves xing shan ji de (行善积德, “moral conduct and accumulation of virtue”), resembling the Confucian path. According to the same tripartite schema, Daoism devotes relatively little attention to the ling (spirit), but focuses on the rou (“body”) and hun (“soul”), seeking changsheng bulao (长生不老, “physical immortality”) or fanlao huantong (返老还童, “rejuvenation”), ultimately achieving dedao chengxian (得道成仙, “attaining the Dao and becoming an immortal”) (Y. Yang 2024, pp. 167–86). One may argue also that Wang Bi’s comments in Zhuangzi. Qiwulun (《齊物論》, Discussion on Making All Things Equal), Liezi （列子）and Bohun Wuren （伯昏无人）in Tian Zi-fang (田子方) paid attention to spirit.

Lu divides the evolution of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) in Chinese culture into three stages.

(1) From the pre-Qin period to Wei–Jin xuanxue (玄学, Neo-Daoist). This period involves the transformation from shenren heyi (“the unity of gods and humans”) in the Shang dynasty to tianren heyi (“the unity of Heaven and humans”) in the Zhou, marking a shift from divine–human communication to the moral correspondence between human virtue and heavenly virtue. Lu interprets the Shang notion of shen ren he yi (“the unity of gods and humans”) as exhibiting the natural-theological features of Daoist or religious Daoist you tian zhi ren (“from Heaven to the human”), marked by a strong naturalistic conception of tiandao (天道, the Heavenly Way). This true theory of the Dao (道)—yuan yi (元一, “the primordial oneness”) in the words of Laozi, or yuan yi (原一, the “original unity”) in Zhuangzi—refers to the undifferentiated unity of Heaven and humanity prior to their bifurcation, and thus differs from any practical or value-oriented doctrine.

“Daoist axiology,” Lu notes, “is grounded in a naturalistic cosmology, whose distinctive feature lies in opposing the alienation produced by civilization; its theoretical form restores socially conditioned humanity to an independent individual, thereby revaluing the human sphere.” (G. Lu 2007, p. 4) Through the intellectual lineage of the Jixia xuegong (稷下学宫, Jixia Academy), the Lüshi chunqiu (《吕氏春秋》, The Annals of Lü Buwei), the Huainanzi (《淮南子》, The Huainan Masters), and the rise of Yizhuan (《易传》, Commentaries on the Book of Changes), the Han synthesis of Legalist-Daoist statecraft and Confucian moral order gradually emerged. Under Emperor Wu’s policy of “exalting Confucianism alone” (duzun rushu 独尊儒术), Daoist reverence for the transcendent Heavenly Dao contrasted with Confucianism’s humanistic order of inferring Heaven’s Way from human affairs. After the failure of the Yellow Turban Rebellion (Huangjin qiyi, 黄巾起义) led by the Taiping dao (太平道, Way of Great Peace)—a revolutionary movement seeking cosmic and social equality—Daoism re-emerged under the repressive conditions of the late Eastern Han. In response to both the authoritarian rule of the state and the justificatory discourse of Confucian orthodoxy, Daoism, now in its xuanxue (Neo-Daoist) form, sought to reconstruct humanism through a return to Daoist naturalistic ontology and the duhua lun (独化论 “theory of independent transformation”) articulated by Guo Xiang (郭象). These served as philosophical foundations to transcend the Confucian framework of the Yizhuan (“Commentaries on the Book of Changes”) system and to pursue anew the ideal of tian ren he yi (“the unity of Heaven and humanity”) (G. Lu 2007, pp. 4–6). This stage thus represents a bottom-up approach, distinct from the traditional top-down Confucian model, inviting reconsideration of whether tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is truly a Confucian monopoly (Huang 2018).

(2) From Wei–Jin xuanxue (Neo-Daoist) to Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism and Neo-Daoism. In this period, thought extends inward to xingli (性理, “principle and human nature”) and outward to wangdao (王道, “the Way of kingship”), involving all three traditions—Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism. When the political ideals of xuanxue (Neo-Daoist) proved unattainable in practice, Eastern Jin scholarship turned inward to xiushen (修身, “self-cultivation”) and dedao chengxian (得道成仙, “attaining immortality”) as the locus of personal meaning. The Daoist concept of wu (无, non-being) was integrated with the Buddhist kong (空, “emptiness”). Though distinct from the Confucian pursuit of rushi (入仕, “official service”), this gave rise to the phenomenon of “the Three Teachings coexisting or converging” (sanjiao dingli, 三教鼎立/sanjiao heliu, 三教合流). As Lu writes: “Taking secular society as the coordinate origin, Buddhism descends from its lofty heights toward the mundane world; Confucianism stands within the world, ever harboring distant ideals; Daoism, meanwhile, occupies the middle ground between the two” (G. Lu 2007, p. 7). This dialectic laid the theoretical groundwork for the Neo-Confucian conception of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) in the Song. Yet the Daoist foundation of this synthesis lay not in the chongxuan zhi dao (重玄之道, “Way of the Double Mystery”) but in neidan (internal alchemy), combining Daoist cultivation with Confucian moral principle. Merging the traditions of the Yi (易) and Lao (老), neidan (internal alchemy) conceived the cosmos and human body as homologous dynamic systems—xiudan yu tiandi zaohua tongtu (修丹与天地造化同途, “the cultivation of the elixir follows the same path as the transformations of Heaven and Earth”). The cyclical and interpenetrating yin–yang energies serve as the inexhaustible source of cosmic and human vitality; their interaction achieves tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”).

The neidan dao (内丹道, Way of Internal Alchemy), which emphasizes the cultivation of the individual, pursued the eternal preservation of the physical body on the basis of a naturalistic view of the Heavenly Way (tiandao, 天道). By contrast, the shenxian jia (神仙家,” immortalist traditions”) of the Warring States and the shenxian dao (神仙道,” Dao of immortality”) of the Wei–Jin period, which emphasized the moral and cosmic renewal of the social whole and its ultimate return to the universe, were grounded in faith and mythic narrative. Yet as the contradiction between ideal theory and practical reality deepened and eventually collapsed, post-Song Daoism increasingly came to be represented by the image of the sanxian (散仙, “wandering immortal”)—a figure who disdains the mundane world and wanders playfully within the dust of human existence. In the mid-Tang dynasty, Han Yu (韩愈) and the Ancient Prose Movement (guwen yundong, 古文运动) launched a critique of both Buddhism and Daoism yet failed to correct Daoist growing orientation toward the individual as its fundamental locus. After the chaos of the Five Dynasties, the ideal of the tianren heyi became the shared aspiration among thinkers of the Song and Ming periods. Although the Song scholars identified themselves under the banner of Confucianism, their intellectual synthesis eventually evolved into a confluence of the Three Teachings—the defining feature of what Lu describes as the second major stage of traditional Chinese culture (G. Lu 2007, pp. 8, 9).

(3) The modern stage: Neo-Confucianism and Neo-Daoism confronting Western modernity, which centers autonomous individuals, emphasizing reason, rights, and human agency, while prioritizing secular institutions and progress, often creating tension between freedom, community, nature, and transcendent moral values. Here, tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”), as reinterpreted through Confucian–Daoist synthesis and Buddhist absorption, becomes the cultural foundation for responding to Western science and philosophy. On the ideal level, the triadic synthesis of the Three Teachings sought harmony between the person in accordance with nature and the self as independent consciousness; yet in practice it was fraught with contradiction. Either the imperative to cun tianli, mie renyu (存天理、灭人欲, “preserve Heavenly principle and extinguish human desire”) reinforced hierarchical structures of oppression, turning religious leaders into accomplices of power, or, conversely, individuals rebelled “on behalf of Heaven’s Way” through popular religious movements. Meanwhile, Western modernity, propelled by the rise of the sciences and humanities, ushered both the West and the world into modernization, drawing China into a global system shaped without Chinese categories. Integrating China into this world presents ongoing challenges—whether through total Westernization, strict rejection, selective adaptation, or other models yet to be discovered. Lu argues that the Western conflict between technological science and humanistic spirit results in a division between Heaven and humanity, whereas the Chinese ideal of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) offers a possible resolution—a precious resource for the world, with Daoist philosophy particularly suited to bridge this divide (G. Lu 2007, pp. 12–14).

Yet two aspects of Lu’s claim invite critique. First, both Confucianism and Daoism pursue tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) through bottom-up paths: moral ethics (moralis lex) and natural law (lex naturalis). The former seeks goodness through human effort; the latter, knowledge through rational inquiry into nature, is more accepted for Confucians, since Daoist texts are radically critical of reliance on reason. Both, however, are what Martin Luther called moral theology and natural theology—anthropocentric attempts to ascend toward the divine through human effort. Second, Western scientific and humanistic modernity, rooted in Renaissance humanism and the Enlightenment’s exaltation of reason, shares the same paradigm. Both Chinese tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) and Western humanism are humanistic approaches of subjective exploration from humanity to Heaven (or God or Truth), not the theistic approach of objective revelation from God to humanity found in Judaism and Christianity.

Thus, the real tension today is not between Chinese tradition and Western science or humanism—for both share an anthropocentric framework—but between this anthropocentrism and the theocentrism of the Judeo-Christian tradition. The Shang concept of Shangdi and the Zhou conception of Tian both bore theistic overtones (though not fully identical with biblical revelation), yet through the four major “transgressions” discussed above, theocentrism was gradually supplanted by anthropocentrism. Facing the goal of tianren heyi, the essential modern conflict seems to lie between theistic revelation and humanistic striving, in fact Daoism has at its basis the practice of quietude, stillness, emptiness. (zuowang) and wu-wei (which is a path not bependent on a rational or discursive process). Thus, Lu’s interest might be to fit Daoism into the middle ground between Confucianism and Buddhism may lean too much toward Confucian rationality. Therefore, any discussion of Daoist relevance to contemporary life must clarify the original meaning of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”); otherwise, confusion and misinterpretation will inevitably follow.

5. Conclusions

Through textual and intellectual-historical analysis, this study seeks to correct the widespread assumption that tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is an a priori virtue of Chinese culture. In particular, it offers a critical response to Lu’s framework, which situates Daoism between Confucianism and Buddhism and idealizes its model of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) as an unqualified harmony.

The research yields three main findings. First, tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is not a timeless, monolithic paradigm but a historically generated discourse that took shape across multiple periods and contexts. It evolved through shifting negotiations between Heaven and humanity rather than existing as a fixed cultural essence. Second, Daoist pursuit of tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) exhibits a distinctive embodied and psychophysical dimension. It emphasizes corporeal cultivation through waidan and neidan, highlighting the body-soul continuum as the locus of transformation. This differs fundamentally from the Confucian path of ethical construction and the Buddhist path of transcendental liberation. Third, evidence from oracle-bone inscriptions and early classical texts supports a historical narrative of shenmin bu za (“separation between gods and humans”) punctuated by four major “transgression”. These episodes reveal that the boundary between the divine and the human was repeatedly redrawn throughout Chinese intellectual history.

In modern academic and cultural discourse, tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) is often celebrated as “the most beautiful spiritual quality” of Chinese civilization, functioning as a shared emblem in both political and philosophical rhetoric. Yet this homogenizing praise obscures the historical complexity of the concept—its dialectic of separation and union, its tension between divine and human domains, and the profound religious, bodily, and political conflicts generated by each act of “transgression”. To recover this complexity is to restore to tianren heyi (“the unity of heaven and humanity”) not an idealized harmony, but a dynamic history of negotiation, instability, and continual re-articulation.