Exploring the Analects

Exploring the Analects

Episode 8: Disclaimer: Serving Suggestion

Episode 8 • Passage 13.27

Disclaimer: Serving Suggestion

A six-character phrase about four qualities that lead to human-heartedness.

The Passage

Hover over (or tap on mobile) Chinese characters for definitions. Use the 拼 button to toggle pinyin.

子曰:「剛、毅、木、訥近仁。」
The Master said, "If one is resolute in making decisions and has the grit to follow through, if they choose simplicity in both appearance and words, they may approach having human-heartedness."

Informal interpretation: You shouldn't need a Serving Suggestion disclaimer on your packaging if you want people to understand you.

Today's episode introduces us to the core Confucian concept of 仁, or human-heartedness. We'll explore four qualities—剛, 毅, 木, and 訥—that Confucius considered prerequisites for anyone who wants to act with a deep sense of love and reverence for the humanity of others.

Philosophical Discussion

The Serving Suggestion Disclaimer

We've all had this experience. You're at the supermarket and see a new item, maybe some mac and cheese. The box shows a perfectly crispy layer of baked goodness on top, velvety sauce breaking through in just the right way, and a delicious turkey dinner with all your favorite fixings. You throw it in the cart, get home, open it up, and discover the picture on the box bears no relationship to the sad frozen reality inside. That's when you look a little closer and see the disclaimer "Serving Suggestion" in small white text on the bottom corner.

Now imagine Bob's Red Mill—a clear plastic bag full of rolled oats. No fancy pictures, not much design, just an image of farmer Bob and the product name. Look in the bag, there's the oats. WYSIWYG: what you see is what you get. That's what 13.27 is all about.

The Four Qualities

This passage lists four qualities—剛, 毅, 木, and 訥—that Confucius considers important prerequisites for having the core Confucian value of 仁, or human-heartedness. Each one has an element of simile that helps us understand its meaning.

剛 (gāng) is the quality of a metal blade that's firm, unbending, and stays sharp over time. If a person is 剛, they're resolute in their decisions and don't flip-flop.

毅 (yì) evokes the image of a wild boar bristling when threatened by a dangerous weapon. Someone who's 毅 has grit. They see something threatening to stop them, and they don't turn around and run—they fight back. Combined with 剛, this means they've decided what to do and they're going to follow through.

木 (mù) is an image of a tree. Wood in its rawest form is solid, uncarved, and most importantly, exactly the same on the inside as it is on the outside. Its appearance is plain and simple. That's the Bob's Red Mill package—its exterior shows you exactly what its interior contains, no surprises.

訥 (nè) is a combination of 言 (speech) on the left and 內 (inside) on the right. It suggests words being kept inside or words coming from deep within. While often translated as "reticent," the focus is really on the opposite of making ostentatious claims or being glib. We're talking about simple and straightforward speech—words that might not come out quickly because they represent what's truly inside.

What is 仁?

仁 is one of those terms like 君子, 道, or 德—so completely central to the Analects that no one or two words in English can fully capture its meaning. Translators have variously rendered it as "nobility," "benevolence," "virtue," "goodness," "humanity," "humaneness," "co-humanity," "authoritative conduct," and "consummatory conduct."

The character is composed of two elements: 人 (person) on the left and 二 (the number 2) on the right. This suggests ideas like "between two people" or "co-humanity"—keeping the interpersonal quality in mind.

Archaeological discoveries like the 郭店楚簡 (Guodian Bamboo Texts) show an interesting variant of the character consisting of a body component above a heart. So this quality is something you can cultivate deep within your heart—a kind of ingrained reverence or love for the humanity of others.

Why These Qualities Matter

Think back to the misleading packaging example. How do you feel when that happens to you? Deceived? Confused? Having lost trust? If it's really bad, would you buy that brand again?

According to Confucius, the same thing happens when you try to cooperate with other people but your words or actions are inconsistent. If you say one thing then do another, if you completely reverse course the next day, if you're constantly saying what you think people want to hear rather than what you really believe—you'll lose people's trust. They'll feel they don't understand who you really are, and they're going to move on.

You can't develop the quality of human-heartedness if you have no humanity around you to cherish. If people can't trust you, they move on. And then whose humanity is left to love? So if you want to approach being human-hearted, Confucius insists that you first have to learn to make decisions and follow through on them, and choose simplicity in both your appearance and your words.

Context and Connections

比德: Comparing Virtues

What's most striking about 13.27 is its use of simile. Of the four characters 剛、毅、木, and 訥, three are tangible in nature. The durable blade, the bristling wild boar, and the solid block of wood all embody qualities we should strive to cultivate. This appreciation of nature appears throughout the Analects.

Peimin Ni points to this approach as 比德 (comparing virtues). In passage 6.23, Confucius explains that those with wisdom enjoy water and those with human-heartedness enjoy mountains. While science interprets human beings as part of nature, the 比德 approach interprets nature in terms of humanity.

A similar example appears in the 荀子, where Confucius says jade is valued not because it is rare, but because of its qualities: "It shines through warm, smooth texture, that is human-heartedness; it is fully embodied with consistent veins, that is wisdom; it is hard, strong, and would not bend, that is appropriateness; it is pure, simple, and not injurious, that is its conduct; and it would rather break but not subdue, that is its courage."

This tradition appears in the 詩經 (Book of Odes) as well, with lyrics like "Carving and filing, grinding and polishing"—processes used to refine bone and jade into works of art, instructing readers to refine their own qualities until they have reached a fine polish.

質 and 文: Raw Material and Polish

There's a strong connection to concepts of 質 (raw material) and 文 (polish), discussed in Episode 4. While Confucius encourages students to work on their cultural refinement, he strongly warns against doing so at the expense of their raw material. That fancy mac and cheese box? It's all polish, no substance. Being plain in speech and appearance may prioritize substance over polish, but everyone needs that solid foundation before they can properly develop their refinement.

Clever Words and Human-Heartedness

Since this passage warns against being too clever or flashy, it connects strongly to passage 1.3: "Clever words and insinuating appearance are seldom associated with human-heartedness." Clever words, often referred to as 佞 (glibness) in the Analects, will be a recurring topic. 佞 is an interesting contrast to 仁—with 仁 we focus on polish of character, whereas with 佞 we focus on polish of words.

Related Passages

  • 1.3 — Clever words and insinuating appearance
  • 5.10 — About rotten wood
  • 6.6 — About the calf of a plow-ox
  • 6.16 — Lamentation about overvaluing clever words
  • 6.23 — Wisdom enjoys water, human-heartedness enjoys mountains
  • 12.19 — About the grass bending when the wind blows

Language Notes

剛 (gāng)

Means firm or unyielding, the opposite of 柔 (gentle, flexible). It's the quality of a durable blade. In modern Mandarin, it's also often used to mean "just" or "barely," as in 剛剛好 (just right) or 剛才 (just a moment ago).

毅 (yì)

Staunch or resolute, rendered here as "grit." It can be combined with 剛 to form 剛毅, meaning "resolute" or "steadfast." Outside of this combination, it's not a common character in modern Mandarin.

木 (mù)

An image of a tree. In the context of this passage, it means plain or unadorned. In modern Mandarin, it's not usually used alone to mean tree—you're more likely to use 樹. Instead, it appears in combinations like 木頭 (wood) and 木材 (timber/lumber).

訥 (nè)

Not common in modern Mandarin. There are other ways to say someone is reticent or hesitant to speak, the most common being 沉默.

近 (jìn)

Quite common today with the same meaning of nearness or recentness. 靠近 means to be next to something or to come close. 近代歷史 means modern history. Don't confuse 近代 with 現代—history can't be 現代 because that refers to now, and the history of now hasn't been written yet.

仁 (rén)

The variant character 忎 found in the Guodian bamboo texts consists of a cursive form of 身 (body/self) on top and 心 (heart-mind) below. As Peimin Ni writes: "The combination of body and heart-mind suggests that 仁 is not just a subjective feeling; it has to be saturated in the body to become a bodily disposition, which allows the compassionate self to manifest through loving and caring human conduct in the external world and, at the same time, make the external world part of the self."

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