“Wen” and “li” have undergone thousands of years of evolution in China, and then, further reshaped by modern Western languages and influenced by modern science, they long ago became unrecognizable. Hence the talk of choosing between the humanities and the sciences, of emphasizing li over wen, of the integration of wen and li, and so on. But what exactly is wen, and what exactly is li? These notions have long since become ambiguous and obscure, seeming to be something and yet not quite. In people’s minds, “li” probably means mathematics and physics, or more generally those activities that resemble “calculation”; while “wen” seems to mean handling brush and ink, or more generally the activity of “typing out words.” Then one adds impressions such as li = rationality = rigor = rigidity, wen = sensibility = romance = sour affectation, and so on. Of course these associations all have their reasons and logic, but such a tangled mess has obscured the more originary connection between wen and li. If one wants to connect the humanities and the sciences, and to integrate wen and li, rather than piling up flowery rhetoric and forcing arbitrary connections, it would be better first to clear away these layers of obscuration, return to the root of the two, and find the bridge that was there from the very beginning.
The history of concepts always conceals strange and rich clues; the history of Chinese characters is even more of an incomparable treasure house.
理，治玉也。顺玉之文而剖析之。——《说文》
Just from this passage, one can see the relation between wen and li. “Wen” is the ancient form of “wen,” that is, the wen in “wénlǐ” (纹理, texture); while “li” is probably the way one carves jade by following its grain.
Heidegger says things like “technology is the way truth happens,” “the modern technological world is the completed form of metaphysics,” “truth is unconcealment,” and “unconcealment is letting things emerge as they are in themselves.” It sounds wonderfully abstruse, but what does it actually mean? If we combine it with this “li,治玉也” — “li is to work jade” — perhaps understanding will come more easily.
The li in truth is usually in noun form, whereas the li in governance is more in verb form. Of course, classical Chinese does not care much about the distinction between verbs and nouns, but if we say that “li” refers to the action of following the grain and governing accordingly, then here “wen,” in a certain sense, is precisely the noun form of “li” — the path of li is the grain, and the governance of jade is to carve it into form by following its grain.
Still, it sounds as though “pattern” and “path of principle” are not quite the same. Where is the difference? “Patterns,” “decorative patterns” — “wen” probably refers to the stripes on the “surface”; while “li,” since it is phonetically and graphically related to “inside” (里), is naturally connected with it, and must more likely refer to an “inner” orderliness.
And for a piece of jade, the surface pattern is precisely the outward manifestation of its internal order, while the internal order can only be inferred through the surface grain. Put simply, “wen” is the showing-forth of “li.”
So how does one derive li from wen (grain), as 《说文》 says: “顺玉之文而剖析之” — follow the grain of jade and split it open? This is “li” in its verbal form. But from this one cannot obtain the “li” of the “inside,” because once the jade is split open, what one gets is a new “surface” rather than the “inside.” In other words, the process of “governing” does not yield “li”; rather, it is the process by which the original inner “li” is transformed into a new outer “wen.”
This is the process of “unconcealment” — following Heidegger’s later line of thought, unconcealment is always only a process, never a final result. Truth comes to appear in the process of unconcealment, but can never become something “present-at-hand.” The example Professor Wu (Guosheng) gave at the time was planing wood: what is planed away is the surface, and what remains is still a “surface.” Compared with that, the image of “working jade” is probably more intuitive and profound.
Heidegger says technology is art or poetry; art should let things show their own being. For example, sculpture is the work of making the stone’s inherent tenacity, resilience, and other qualities appear more fully. Here again, using “working jade” as the example is more appropriate. If one compares rough jade and finished jade artifacts, the rough material looks almost no different from an ordinary stone, whereas the finished jade object displays the jade’s distinctive qualities and beauty far more fully. And the specific form of the jade object, aside from the factor of human design, depends even more on the characteristics of the jade itself: which rough piece is suitable to be carved into a bracelet, which is fit to become a pendant, all depends on insight into the jade’s original pattern of order, and one must carve in accordance with its natural grain.
The process of seeking truth is also like working jade: following nature, yet not doing nothing; carving by human effort, yet not indulging in artificial affectation. The aim is to organize the chaotic raw material of nature into form, so that it is both beautiful and orderly, while also allowing its natural qualities to emerge more fully.
Human experience is forever limited to “appearances,” just as, however one may “analyze” it, one can only see the surface of the jade. But we believe that this “wen” is precisely the outward manifestation of “li”; working jade should therefore “follow wen and thus li,” in order to “make li appear through wen.”
“Wen” is the “wen” in “patterns,” the “wen” in “tattooing”; as noted above, its original sense should be the outward manifestation of the path of principle. In other words, wen is visible li, the external mark of an inner order. And the “wen” in “writing” and “culture” likewise comes from the original sense of “marking” or “signifying”; one can say that wen is the revealing and expression of an inner nature (essence).
But there are both the naturally appearing patterns that emerge from within outward, and the “decorative patterns” added entirely from the outside. In many cases, deliberate “ornamentation” merely emphasizes and makes explicit an object’s inherent grain. For example, when working jade, one may add markings after identifying the direction of its grain, so that subsequent processing can see things more clearly and distinctly. Likewise, primitive tribes use tattooing, just as modern people use distinctive clothing and adornment to mark their individuality. Individuality is in itself something inner and inherent, but external ornamentation helps distinguish different individualities more conveniently and intuitively. On the other hand, ornamentation is often also false; false ornamentation obscures the true appearance of things, creating illusion and false semblance.
So although the invisible “li,” as the inner nature of things, is not originally a matter of truth or falsity, “wen” does become divided into true and false, real and unreal. If “following the grain of jade and splitting it open” can be called “li,” then following the honest and natural grain of things and analyzing them may be called “truth.” Therefore, the first step in seeking truth is to distinguish the falseness of “wen.” This does not mean denying wen. Wen is impenetrable; people can only discern li through wen. But to distinguish the real from the unreal in wen, besides the harmony and beauty of the pattern itself, one often must first plane away the surface ornamentation, so that the more original, less-carved inner layer may be revealed. If wen and li accord, if inside and outside are coherent, then one may be sure of the sincerity of wen; if inside and outside do not match and contradict one another, then it is more likely to be false. This is also the way philosophy and science seek truth — by investigating and confirming the beauty, coordination, coherence, and unity of the path of order,
July 22, 2008
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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