Many readers have felt a deep tension in Zhuangzi’s celebration of perspectival freedom. One recurring criticism is that his relativism seems to undercut its own authority: if all viewpoints are merely relative and none is privileged, then the very claim that “all is relative” cannot stand as anything more than one more parochial view. The text often appears to mock rigid doctrines from what looks like a “higher” vantage point, a freer view aligned with the Dao, while at the same time denying that any standpoint is objectively better. This has led some to see a performative contradiction, where relativism quietly relies on a standard it officially disowns.

A second major concern is ethical: by softening or dissolving sharp distinctions between right and wrong, just and unjust, Zhuangzi’s stance can look like moral quietism. If all values are bound to shifting perspectives, critics ask on what basis one can condemn cruelty or injustice, or feel compelled to act in the face of suffering. The worry is that such equanimity toward change and misfortune may slide into moral indifference, or even a kind of nihilism in which no judgment can claim more weight than any other. From this angle, the ideal of “wandering” beyond fixed norms risks becoming an excuse for inaction.

Related to this is the charge of social and political irresponsibility. The suggestion that the sage should loosen ties to roles, norms, and public commitments has been read as encouraging withdrawal from communal life. Critics argue that, instead of confronting oppressive structures or working for reform, one might simply adapt inwardly and “go along with the flow,” leaving existing injustices untouched. In this sense, the philosophy can appear politically conservative or escapist, more concerned with inner ease than with shared responsibility.

There are also worries about the psychological and practical viability of such thoroughgoing relativization. Human beings ordinarily rely on relatively stable distinctions—self and other, true and false, better and worse—to navigate relationships, institutions, and everyday decisions. Some argue that if Zhuangzi’s skepticism about knowledge and fixed categories were embraced without remainder, coherent action and meaningful communication would become exceedingly difficult. Even within the text, critics note, there are implicit value judgments and patterns of praise, suggesting that absolute relativism is neither fully livable nor consistently maintained.

Finally, some readers detect a hidden standard beneath the rhetoric of openness. Although the text questions all fixed norms, it repeatedly portrays alignment with the Dao—marked by spontaneity, noncoercive harmony, and freedom from fixation—as more desirable than clinging to conventional distinctions. This has led to the charge that Zhuangzi’s relativism is not as radical as it appears, since the “view from the Dao” functions as a privileged standpoint in all but name. The resulting tension between therapeutic flexibility and an implied ideal remains one of the most debated aspects of this vision of spontaneity and freedom.