《通玄真经(河北定县汉墓竹简本)》Vol. 3

The expression “cautious as if” describes the care one takes when wading across a great river in winter. “Hesitant as if” describes the wariness of someone mindful of those around them. The ancient masters who were skilled at governing all under Heaven followed nature and did not act presumptuously, yet nothing was left undone. To govern all under Heaven, one must have the breadth to embrace all things. When one can accommodate all things, Wuwei (non-action) can bring results; without such breadth, one’s actions can easily invite danger.

What does it mean to embrace all under Heaven? Be cautious as if wading across a great river in winter, and wary as if mindful of those around you. Be solemn and respectful, like ice beginning to melt; be simple and honest, like murky water that does not reveal its sharpness; let your heart be as vast as a valley.

To be cautious as if wading across a river in winter is to dare not rush forward. To be wary as if mindful of those around you is to fear bringing harm upon yourself. To be solemn and respectful is to be humble and show regard for others. To be like melting ice is to dare not accumulate or possess. To be simple and honest is to dare not regard yourself as perfect. To be like murky water that reveals nothing is to dare not call yourself clear. To be as vast as a valley is to dare not be self-satisfied.

Not daring to rush forward means yielding and not competing to be first. Fearing harm to yourself means remaining soft and weak, without boasting of yourself. Humility means lowering yourself and respecting others. Not accumulating or possessing means willingly letting go, rather than clinging to what you have. Not regarding yourself as perfect means acknowledging what you lack and not demanding that everything be complete. Even amid murkiness and disgrace, do not consider yourself pure and noble. When you see your own shortcomings, do not presume yourself wise and capable.

The Dao, the fundamental law by which nature operates, yields and thereby takes the lead; keeps to softness and thereby remains strong; places itself below and thereby rises above others; willingly diminishes itself and thereby strengthens its foundations; acknowledges what is lacking and thereby achieves completeness; dwells amid murkiness and disgrace and thereby appears pure; sees its own shortcomings and thereby becomes wise. The Dao follows nature and does not act presumptuously, yet nothing is left undone.

Fascicle Eleven: Superior Virtue.

Laozi said: Anyone who studies and can distinguish the Way of Heaven from human affairs, understand the foundations of order and disorder in governing the world, clarify and purify the heart and mind, and keep these principles within, while seeing how things change from beginning to end and ultimately returning to emptiness—the fundamental state of stillness and Wuwei (non-action)—may be called truly discerning.

The foundation of governing a state is benevolence and righteousness; laws and institutions are only secondary details. The benevolence and righteousness people possess by nature are the foundation, while laws and institutions established later are secondary. Both belong to one whole, and people should value them both. But one who values the foundation first and attends to details afterward is called a noble person; one who puts details first and the foundation afterward is called a petty person. Laws and institutions are created to support benevolence and righteousness. To value laws alone and abandon benevolence and righteousness is like cherishing one’s hat and shoes while forgetting one’s head and feet.

To value benevolence and righteousness is to strengthen and broaden their foundation. If one only expands outward without deepening the foundation, it will eventually be ruined. If one does not broaden the foundation but only keeps building upward, it will eventually collapse. A beam that is not strong enough cannot bear a heavy load. Nothing is more dependable than a beam when a great burden must be carried; likewise, nothing is more important in governing a state than De (Virtue/Power). A ruler’s relationship with the people is like a city’s reliance on its foundations and a tree’s reliance on its roots. A tree stands firm only when its roots run deep; a tower above a foundation is secure only when that foundation is solid.

Therefore, actions that do not take virtue as their foundation cannot become enduring principles. Words that do not accord with the principles of the former kings—the wise rulers of antiquity—cannot be called the right way. Seeking only convenience, picking up a method at random, and trying to solve every matter with a single approach is not a way that can guide all under Heaven.

Laozi says: Governing the people is like Zao Fu driving a chariot drawn by four horses. Zao Fu coordinates the reins and bits, and adjusts the harnesses across the horses’ chests. He keeps the principles of driving in mind while adapting to the horses’ natures. In this way, he can travel far along the right road, with strength to spare in the horses, and guide them forward, backward, around, and through turns as he wishes. This is truly to have mastered the art of driving.

Power is like the chariot in which a ruler rides; ministers are like the four horses that draw it. A ruler cannot do without the stability of the chariot, nor can he lose his understanding of the horses’ natures. If the horses are not in harmony, Zao Fu cannot drive the chariot along the right road. If ruler and ministers are at odds, even a sage cannot govern the state well. When a ruler follows the Dao (the fundamental principle for governing things) in directing affairs of state, ordinary people can put their abilities fully to use. When each person’s duties are understood and clearly stated, wrongful conduct can be restrained. When things arise, observe how they change; when events come, respond to their changes. If matters close at hand remain orderly, governance far away will also be stable. Without relying on deliberately imposed commands, but by grasping the natural patterns of things, one can carry out every task without error.

Laozi says: Those who put the Dao into practice must block crooked paths and guard against calamities before they arise. Their priority is not to count on people correcting themselves, but to ensure they have no opportunity to do wrong. Thus it is said: “Do not stir people’s desires, or they will seek without end; do not make them think things can be seized, or they will struggle without end.” In this way, people’s selfish desires will recede, and principles of fairness can be put into effect. Those who have more than enough should be brought to a proper limit; those who lack something should receive what they actually need. Then the whole realm can be governed as one.

If people abandon their duties and heed only baseless praise and blame, set aside merit and appoint those who form factions for private gain, then opportunism will persist, those who faithfully fulfill their responsibilities will not be promoted, public customs will be thrown into disorder by poor governance, and meritorious officials will fight among themselves at court. Therefore, with the Dao one can direct and govern others; without the Dao, one will be controlled by them.

Laozi said: Governing a state requires certain principles, but its foundation lies in benefiting the people. Edicts and instruction should accord with reason, while particular methods should suit the circumstances of the time. If something benefits the people, there is no need to imitate antiquity; if it enables matters to be handled well, there is no need to follow old customs blindly.

Thus, the sage establishes laws in response to the changes of the age and adapts rituals as customs change. Clothing and implements take forms suited to their practical uses, and laws and institutions are likewise fashioned according to specific circumstances. Changing ancient systems is therefore not necessarily wrong, and continuing old customs is not something to praise unconditionally.

Reading the books of the former kings is not as good as hearing them speak in person; hearing them speak is not as good as understanding why they said what they did. Those who truly grasp their intention know that some truths cannot be put into words. As the saying goes: “A Dao that can be clearly expressed is not the constant Dao; a name that can be fully defined is not the constant name.”

The Dao followed by the sage is like metal and stone: its pitch is fixed and does not change at whim. Particular affairs, by contrast, are like the qin and se zithers: when a passage ends, the strings must be tuned again. Laws and institutions, rituals and music are all tools for governing a state; they are not governance itself. Those with narrow vision cannot be spoken with about the highest principles, because their understanding is stirred by worldly ideas and confined by established doctrines.

Laozi said: Are there any unchanging rules in the world? To govern well, one must take account of the actual conditions of society, accord with human feelings and reason, follow the changes of Heaven and Earth, and understand the affairs of spirits and gods. In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns made no laws, yet the people obeyed them; the Five Emperors had laws, yet did not use punishments. The people of the Xia kept their word, the Yin made solemn pledges, and the Zhou formed covenants. When the age declined, people endured humiliation without concern, coveted wealth, and felt little shame. Therefore, laws and institutions should be shaped by examining local customs and adjusting the balance between leniency and severity, urgency and patience. Tools, too, should be made to suit the needs of the times.

Those bound by laws and regulations find it hard to take on great undertakings that require a long view; those rigidly attached to ritual and rules find it hard to respond to change. Only with independent insight and keen discernment can one grasp the principles at work and act flexibly. Those who know where laws come from can adapt them to the demands of the times; those who do not understand the foundations of governance will fall into disorder even if they follow the old laws to the letter. Today, scholars follow the work of those who came before, clutch their books, and cling rigidly to written words and laws. They hope to govern the world by these means, believing that without them governance is impossible. This is like trying to fit a square tenon into a round hole: it is bound to be a poor fit.

Wisdom is needed to turn danger into safety and bring disorder to an end. Anyone, even a dull person, can imitate the ancients. Thus, a sage does not put into practice laws that no longer suit the times, and a wise ruler does not trust claims that have not been tested.

Wenzi asked: Where do laws come from?

Laozi said: Standards arise from what is fitting, and what is fitting comes from practices that the people broadly recognize as appropriate. These practices accord with the human heart and are the key to good governance. Standards do not descend from Heaven or arise from the earth; they are established among people. Those who establish them should examine themselves in turn and set themselves straight.

One who truly understands the foundations of standards will not be distracted by details; one who grasps their essentials will not be led astray by doubts. Do not harshly blame others for lacking what you possess, or for failing to do what you cannot do yourself. Rules set for those in lower positions must not be discarded by those above them. If the people are forbidden to do something, you must not do it yourself. Therefore, when a ruler establishes standards, he should first take himself as the measure. Only when the ruler obeys the prohibitions himself can the laws be put into effect among the people.

Standards are the common measure of all under Heaven and the ruler’s yardstick for judging conduct. They are made public so that people can distinguish conduct that conforms to them from conduct that does not. Once the standards are fixed, those who meet them are rewarded, and those who violate them are punished. Whether a person is high or low in status, rewards and punishments should be neither lenient nor severe on that account. Even a worthy person who breaks the law must be punished, while someone of poor character who meets the standard should not be found guilty. Only then can the principle of fairness be put into practice and private desires and favoritism restrained.

The ancients appointed officials to restrain the people, so they could not act recklessly; they established rulers to restrain officials, so they could not act arbitrarily. They laid down standards and principles of governance to restrain rulers, so they could not make decisions as they pleased. When no one is free to act wantonly, the principles of the Dao prevail and things can be put right.

Thus one should return to simplicity and govern by following nature. Wuwei (non-action) does not mean doing nothing. It means that what one does should arise from one’s proper role and sound principles.

Laozi said: One who is skilled at rewarding spends little yet can encourage many people. One who is skilled at punishing imposes few penalties yet can stop wrongdoing. One who is skilled at giving gives little yet can establish great favor. One who is skilled at taking gains much yet does not provoke resentment. Therefore, the sage encourages good conduct by following what the people value, and forbids wrongdoing by following what they detest. Reward one person, and people throughout the realm will rush to imitate them; punish one person, and people throughout the realm will feel afraid. In this way, the most effective rewards need not cost much, and even the strictest punishments need not be imposed excessively. The sage holds to simple principles yet can govern a vast domain. This is the way to encourage good conduct and forbid wrongdoing by following the people’s likes and dislikes.

Laozi said: A minister’s duty is to distinguish right from wrong and understand their proper position, to take the lead in action, to uphold their office and keep responsibilities clear, and thereby accomplish great things. When ruler and ministers each follow a different Dao, the state can be governed; when ruler and ministers are conflated and their duties confused, the state falls into disorder. When each occupies the proper position, those above and below can direct one another and each fulfill their own duties.

Thus, branches must not grow larger than the trunk, and the tips must not become stronger than the roots. This means that there must be checks between what is light and heavy, large and small. Those who hold power may rely on something small while taking responsibility for something vast; the principles they uphold may be simple while the scope of their authority is broad. A tree trunk ten arm spans around can support a roof weighing a thousand jun, because it occupies a position of advantage. A five-inch door bolt can control whether a door opens or closes, because it is placed at a crucial point. Subordinates must carry out commands: obedience brings benefit, while defiance brings harm. People throughout the realm obey orders because following them serves their interests. The ability to issue commands and ensure they are carried out draws its power from the strength of the people.

Those who speak of benevolence and righteousness cannot benefit every person in the realm; rather, they benefit one person, and the people follow. Those who govern tyrannically cannot harm every person in the realm either; rather, they harm one person, and the people turn against them. For this reason, appointments, dismissals, and all measures must be handled with care.

Laozi said: Bend down an inch, and you can straighten up a foot; endure a little humiliation for a time, and you can uphold the greater integrity of the whole. The sage acts this way. When a ruler judges his ministers, if he gives no thought to the great achievements they have made, but instead tallies their ordinary conduct and picks at minor acts of kindness, he will end up burying worthy talent. So, when someone’s De is deep, do not reproach them for shortcomings in the details; when someone has an outstanding reputation, do not dismiss them over small flaws and minor faults. Everyone has weaknesses in their temperament. If they do well overall, a few minor mistakes should not become a burden; if they fail at important matters, conduct beyond reproach among their neighbors is not grounds for excessive praise. Thus, those who are scrupulous only about small details are unlikely to accomplish great things, and those who delight in finding fault with others’ conduct are unlikely to make room for many people. A person of great capacity does not demand perfection in the details; one with a broad outlook can earn a reputation that endures. This is the principle that should guide the judgment of ministers.

Laozi said: From ancient times to the present, no one has been perfect in every respect, so the noble person does not expect anyone to have every quality. Be upright without harming others, honest without being harsh, principled without being unrestrained, and learned and discerning without slandering others. In matters of virtue, civil governance, and military skill alike, do not demand that others be strong and capable in every way. Instead, cultivate yourself by following the Dao, without being harsh in judging others. Then rewards and punishments are easier to administer, and by cultivating yourself in accord with the Dao, you will avoid serious mistakes. Even the jade tablet of the Xia rulers, an ancient ritual object, could not be without flaws; nor could the luminous moon pearl be entirely free of blemishes. Yet people throughout the world still treasured them, because small defects do not obscure great beauty. If we now remember only other people’s shortcomings and forget their strengths, yet hope to find worthy people throughout the world, that will be very difficult.

People commonly judge someone by seeing only their low status, humble position, and the degrading or humiliating tasks they perform, while overlooking their conduct as a whole. So, when assessing someone, look at whom they recommend when they hold high office, how they give when they are wealthy, how they accept help from others when they are poor, and how they conduct themselves when their position is low. In times of crisis, observe their wisdom and courage. Test them with joyful occasions to see whether they can hold fast to their true nature; entrust them with possessions to see whether they are generous and kind; subject them to fear to see whether they can uphold their integrity. In this way, you can understand a person’s true character.

Laozi said: Bending oneself is a way to stretch later; taking a detour for a time is a way to reach the right road in the end. A person may endure a little hardship now in order to gain greater room to grow, or make small concessions for the sake of what is right overall. A noble person acts this way. If all the rivers did not ultimately flow into the sea, they could not be called streams in the valleys. People may each set out in a different direction, but unless their actions lead toward goodness, they cannot be called noble.

In skillful speech, what matters is that one can act on one’s words. In skillful conduct, what matters is that it accords with benevolence and righteousness—compassion and what is morally fitting. A noble person’s mistakes are like eclipses of the sun or moon: they do not diminish the light those bodies possess. Thus, the wise do not act rashly, and the brave do not kill heedlessly. They first distinguish what is right, then act; they consider whether their actions accord with ritual propriety before proceeding. Then, when their work succeeds, their achievements are worthy of reliance; and once they have established themselves, their reputation is worthy of benevolence and righteousness.

Even a person of great intelligence must take benevolence and righteousness as a foundation in order to accomplish anything. Intelligence and action alike must be guided by benevolence and righteousness. The sage uses them as the standard for judging right and wrong. Those who meet this standard are called noble; those who do not are called petty. Even after a noble person dies, their reputation does not vanish. A petty person may enjoy power for a time, but that does not absolve them of blame.

Even if someone held the map of the whole world in their left hand, no one—not even a fool—would use their right hand to cut their own throat, because one’s own life is more precious than the world. Yet those who face danger for their ruler or family regard death as a homecoming, because righteousness matters more than life. Thus, even the greatest gain in the world seems small beside one’s own life; and what one prizes in oneself seems light beside benevolence and righteousness. This is what it means to take benevolence and righteousness as the standard.

Laozi said: “When Dao and De are complete, they are like the sun and moon: their radiance does not change from one region to another. The Yi, Di, Man, and Mo—ancient names for peoples of different regions—cannot alter their principles. Whether a person’s aims and choices are praised or criticized depends on worldly opinion; whether their intentions and actions lead to success or hardship depends on the times. When something accords with the age, it can accomplish great deeds; when one’s actions accord with the moment, one’s reputation can be established.

Therefore, those who establish a name and achieve distinction conduct themselves simply, act with care, and know how to seize the moment. Once the moment arrives, the opportunity passes in an instant; not even a moment can be wasted.

In ancient times, those who took up arms did not do so to seize territory or covet riches. They sought to rescue the imperiled, quell disorder, and rid the people of harm. The greedy and insatiable brought suffering upon the world, leaving the people unsettled and without a place of peace. Then sages rose up to strike down the violent, pacify a chaotic age, and rid the world of harm. They restored clarity to confusion and turned danger into peace. They therefore had no choice but to use force to stop the disorder. The Red Emperor, a legendary ruler, caused harm through the excess of his fiery power, so the Yellow Emperor captured him. Gonggong, a legendary water deity, caused floods, so Zhuanxu, a legendary ruler, put him to death.

Teach people through reason and guide them through virtue. If they still refuse to obey, warn them with force; if warnings prove ineffective, use weapons to stop them. To kill innocent people while sustaining an unjust ruler is the greatest calamity. To plunder the world’s wealth simply to satisfy one person’s desires is also a grave disaster. Indulging one person’s desires while deepening the suffering of all under Heaven is something the principles of Heaven cannot tolerate.

Rulers were established to put a stop to violence and disorder. But when a ruler relies on the people’s strength and then turns against them, harming them in return, it is like giving a tiger wings. How could such a ruler not be removed? Those who raise fish must get rid of the otters that prey on them; those who raise livestock must get rid of wolves and jackals. How much more so when governing the people? Thus warfare and the use of weapons arise.”

Laozi said: The way to govern a state is for those above not to issue harsh commands, for government offices not to impose complicated administrative duties, for scholars not to engage in hypocrisy, and for craftspeople not to make ornate, showy objects. In carrying out tasks, one should seek only what is necessary and avoid disturbing the people; objects should be made sturdy and durable, without added decoration.

Times of disorder are different. Those who perform good deeds compete with one another, insisting on making their own conduct seem superior. Those who speak of ritual display themselves to one another, and their ceremonies become false. Carriages and carts are carved with extreme lavishness, while everyday implements are covered in elaborate patterns. Those seeking wealth compete to treat hard-to-obtain goods as treasures. Those who prize literary style pursue complexity and twists, believing these to be what matters. When handling affairs, they rely on clever arguments to evade decisions, delaying for a long time without reaching a conclusion. Such practices do not help govern; they deepen disorder. Craftspeople make ingenious curiosities, spending years to complete them, though they serve no practical purpose.

Thus, The Methods of Shennong says: If men in their prime do not farm, people in the world will go hungry; if women of weaving age do not weave, people in the world will go cold. So Shennong farmed with his own hands, and his wife spun and wove with hers, setting an example for the people of the world. He taught them not to prize rare goods or value useless things.

Therefore, if farming is not diligent, one cannot provide for oneself; if weaving is not done with effort, there will be no clothes to cover the body. Any surplus or shortfall is each person’s own responsibility. When food and clothing are sufficient, wrongdoing will not arise. The people will live in peace, the world will be at rest, the clever will have no opportunity to put their schemes into practice, and the brave will have nowhere to display their might.

Laozi said: “The principles of ruling as a king or hegemon must be planned with foresight, arranged through strategy, and guided by righteousness. This is not done to preserve oneself, but to determine whether another state will survive or perish.

“Thus, when one hears that the ruler of an enemy state is cruelly abusing the people, one sends troops to its borders, condemns his unrighteous conduct, and exposes his faults. Once the army reaches the border, its commander must order the soldiers: do not cut down trees, dig up graves, trample crops, burn storehouses or supplies, abduct the people, or seize their livestock.

“Then issue a proclamation: ‘The ruler of that state has turned against the Way of Heaven and Earth, shown contempt for the spirits, judged cases unjustly, and killed the innocent indiscriminately. Heaven seeks to punish him, and the people resent him. We have raised our army to abolish unrighteous rule and install a virtuous person. Whoever dares defy the Way of Heaven and disrupt the people is a robber who harms them, and will die along with his entire clan. If a whole household submits, reward the household; if an entire hamlet submits, reward the hamlet; if a whole township submits, grant it to them as a fief; if an entire county submits, appoint them lords of that county.’

“After taking the enemy state, do not harm its people. Depose the former ruler and change his policies; honor outstanding people and commend the worthy; provide relief to orphans and widows, show compassion to the poor, release prisoners, and reward those who have rendered service. The people will open their gates to welcome the army and bring out their stores of grain, fearing only that they will not submit quickly enough.

“When an army guided by righteousness reaches the border, the enemy will often surrender without a fight. An unrighteous army, by contrast, leaves corpses strewn across the land and rivers running with blood. Fighting to seize territory cannot establish kingly rule; seeking only one’s own benefit cannot achieve great deeds. Serve the people, and they will help you; serve only yourself, and they will abandon you. With the people’s support, even the weak can grow strong; without it, even the powerful will perish.”

Laozi said, “The highest form of righteous governance is to govern the state and bring peace to its territory, practice benevolence and righteousness, extend kindness and favor, establish upright laws, and block crooked and harmful paths. The ministers draw close and give their allegiance; the people live in harmony, and those above and below unite and work together. The feudal lords respect the ruler’s authority, and people in all four directions remember his kindness. When the court governs well, it can defeat enemy forces a thousand miles away. Once its commands are issued, the whole world responds. This is the most excellent approach.

“When a state has broad territory and a large population, a worthy ruler and capable generals, abundant resources and strong forces, reliable laws and clear commands, even two evenly matched armies may never come to battle: before their weapons meet, the enemy has already scattered and fled. This is the next best approach.

“To know what uses the land is suited for, understand the advantages of strategic passes, grasp the effects of harsh commands, and be skilled in marching and deployment; then, when the armies close in and arrows cross, when people fall beside the chariots and others carry the wounded, when blood runs across a thousand miles and corpses cover the wilderness—that is the worst form of righteous governance.

“The outcome of war often depends on politics. When sound governance has the upper hand over the people, they rally to their rulers and the army grows strong. When the people gain the upper hand over the government and turn against their rulers, the army grows weak. Righteous governance must be enough to win the people of the world; political affairs must be managed well enough to meet the world’s urgent crises; the selection and appointment of talent must be enough to win the hearts of worthy people; and planning and judgment must be enough to weigh advantages and harms and reach decisions. These are the principles of the highest form of righteous governance.”

Laozi said: “A state’s strength depends on its soldiers being willing to die for it, and they are willing to do so because they value righteousness. Righteousness can be upheld through authority. Therefore, teach the people through civil virtue and enforce military discipline through force. This is what it means to be able to prevail. When authority and righteousness go hand in hand, the state will surely be strong.

“When swords clash and arrows and stones fall like rain, soldiers still vie to charge forward bravely because rewards are trustworthy and punishments are clear. If the ruler regards his subjects as his children, they will serve him as they would their father; if he regards them as brothers, they will honor him as they would an elder brother. A ruler who loves the people as his children can govern the realm; when subjects respect their ruler as their father, he can govern all under Heaven. If the ruler treats his subjects as brothers, they will be willing to die for him; if they honor him as an elder brother, they will gladly sacrifice themselves for him. When ruler and subjects are as close as father and children, or brothers, they cannot be defeated in battle.

“Thus, a righteous ruler attends to affairs of state at home and builds up De (virtue), while warding off evil abroad and displaying the state’s power. He observes whether the people are weary or at ease, and learns whether they are hungry or well fed. When the day comes for battle, the soldiers face death as though returning home because the ruler has shown them kindness in ordinary times.”

Volume Twelve: Highest Rites

Laozi said: “The perfected people of antiquity breathed the Qi of Yin and Yang. All living things looked up to their De, and under its influence lived together in harmony. In those times, they governed affairs without drawing attention to themselves and naturally preserved their simplicity. While simplicity remained intact, all things were at ease and well supplied.

“When the age began to decline, Fuxi arose. People grew confused and busied themselves with seeking and striving. They all wanted to leave behind the natural innocence of an untutored mind and gain insight into heaven, earth, and all things. As a result, their De became complicated and divided. Later, Shennong and the Yellow Emperor observed and governed the world, established the order of the four seasons, and harmonized Yin and Yang. The people began to stand upright and deliberate, to raise their heads and listen, and to open their eyes and look. The world was brought under control, but its natural harmony was lost.

“By the Xia and Shang periods, people’s desires had spread to external things. Their senses and cleverness were drawn out by what lay outside them, and their nature and life lost their original simplicity. By the Zhou dynasty, honesty had faded and simplicity had been ruined. People turned away from the Dao and fashioned artificial ways, treating perilous conduct as De. Cunning and schemes then began to flourish. Some deliberately imitated sages, using empty and extravagant words to pressure the people, and polishing the Book of Songs and the Book of Documents to win fame and honor. They all sought to act through cleverness and deceit in order to accommodate the world, and so lost the root of life. People’s nature and life have been lost, and this decline has lasted a long time.

“Thus, the learning of the perfected person aims to return nature to Wuwei (non-action) and let the spirit roam in emptiness and stillness. The learning of the world, by contrast, exalts De and harms nature, burdening the heart with worry; it also indulges in action and flaunts cleverness in order to compete for fame in the world. None of this is what the perfected person does. To exalt De is to show oneself off; to harm nature is to sever the root of life. The perfected person sees through the meaning of life and death and understands the nature of honor and disgrace. If the whole world praises them, they do not strive any harder; if the whole world condemns them, they do not grow more dejected. This is what it means to grasp the essentials of the highest Dao.”

Laozi says: In ancient times, people with loose hair and no ornamental collars could govern the world. Their De (Virtue) allowed all things to grow without destroying them. They gave to the people without taking from them. The people of the world did not necessarily wear the same clothes, yet all admired their De. In those days, Yin-Yang was in harmony and all things flourished. One could bend down to look into birds’ nests, and even tether wild animals and lead them along. Later, the world declined, and birds, beasts, insects, and snakes became a danger to the people. So people cast iron and forged weapons to defend themselves against disaster.

When people are harmed, they seek what will help them; when disaster strikes, they prepare to meet it. Each person uses their own judgment to ward off harm and pursue what is beneficial. For this reason, old ways cannot be followed unchanged, and tools and systems cannot simply be copied without alteration. Some laws established by ancient sage kings must change with the times. As the saying goes: “A name that can be spoken is not an eternal name.”

The Five Emperors governed in different ways, yet their De benefited the whole world. The Three Kings acted differently from one another, yet their names endured for generations. This was because they knew how to adapt to changing times. Consider the musician Shi Kuang, who tuned the five notes: the pitches continually shifted, but he still measured them against a standard and always brought them into harmony. Only those who understand the principles of music can compose it, because its foundations are grasped in the heart. Only those who understand how to use tools such as the carpenter’s square, compass, and marking line can manage affairs well.

Therefore, institutions established by ancient sage kings should not be discarded lightly; if later practices truly prove beneficial, they too should be recorded and adopted. The sage establishes rites and music without being constrained by them; directs things without being ruled by them; and makes laws without being confined by them. As the saying goes: “A Dao that can be spoken is not an eternal Dao.”

Laozi said:

The wise kings of antiquity looked up to observe the patterns of the heavens and down to examine the earth. They sought principles of governance in the lives of the people. They harmonized Yin-Yang energies and followed the changing seasons. They assessed the fertility and elevation of different kinds of land—mountains, plains, marshes, and waterways—and arranged production accordingly, increasing resources, relieving hunger and cold, and preventing and treating illness. They also drew lessons from human affairs, established rites and music, and promoted benevolence and righteousness to govern relations among people.

They established the bonds of affection between fathers and sons according to the distinct qualities of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, thereby forming the family. They examined the differences between clear and turbid tones and the principles by which the six pitch pipes generate one another, establishing the duties of ruler and minister and thereby founding the state. They observed the order of the early, middle, and late months within each season, set the rites governing relations between elders and juniors, and created the offices to carry them out. They then divided the land into regions, established provinces and commanderies, enfeoffed the feudal lords to govern their own territories, and founded academies to provide instruction. These are the basic principles of governing a state. When one follows the Great Dao, government flourishes; when one turns away from it, government declines. Nothing can expand without ever contracting, or flourish without ever waning. Only a sage can keep a state prosperous for a long time without letting it fall.

The sages first created music to settle the spirit, put an end to excessive indulgence, and return people to their natural nature. In times of decline, however, music became licentious. Instead of guiding people back to the right path, it tempted them to cling to sensual pleasures and disregard the proper laws. This custom passed down to later generations and even led to the destruction of states. The sages created written records to bring order to all affairs: the dull-witted could use them to avoid forgetting, while the intelligent could use them to record events. In times of decline, however, some used writing to fabricate schemes, exonerate criminals, and even harm the innocent. The sages established gardens and parks, intended for sacrifices, training, and defense, to prepare what was needed for ancestral temple rites, select soldiers, and guard against unforeseen events. In times of decline, however, people used them for riding and hunting, disrupting the people’s agricultural seasons and exhausting their strength.

The sages honored the worthy to ensure that instruction was impartial and lawsuits were judged fairly. They placed capable people in office and entrusted those with talent to their duties, so that their benevolence might reach the people and the whole populace might feel grateful for good government. In times of decline, however, officials formed factions for private gain, recommended their associates to one another, abandoned public duty in pursuit of personal profit, and colluded inside and outside the government. The wicked took office, while the worthy withdrew.

The way Heaven and Earth operate is this: when development reaches its peak, it turns in the opposite direction; when increase becomes excessive, something is diminished. Therefore, when sages address accumulated abuses in governance, they reform institutions; when an undertaking reaches its end, they also change their methods. The strength of institutions lies in bringing things into balance; their weakness lies in an imbalance of power.

The sage’s way of governing a state is this: unless rites and righteousness are brought into order, a sense of integrity and shame cannot take root. Without such a sense among the people, they are difficult to govern. If people do not understand rites and righteousness, even laws and decrees cannot set customs right. Unless good conduct is honored and shameful conduct rooted out, the people will not turn toward rites and righteousness. Without laws and decrees, the state cannot be governed; without understanding rites and righteousness, laws cannot be properly enforced. The law can punish those who are unfilial, but it cannot make people understand filial devotion. It can punish thieves, but it cannot make people cultivate integrity.

When a wise and enlightened ruler is on the throne, the ruler makes clear what should be cherished and what should be disliked, thereby guiding the people. The ruler draws near to the worthy and promotes them, while keeping a distance from the unworthy and dismissing them. In this way, punishments can be set aside and left unused, rites and righteousness can be upheld, and virtuous people can be appointed. Thus, the most outstanding people under Heaven can serve as the Three Dukes; the most outstanding people in a province can serve as the Nine Ministers; those most outstanding within a state can serve as the twenty-seven senior officers; and those most outstanding in a district can serve as the eighty-one junior officers.

Those whose ability surpasses that of ten thousand people are called “heroes”; those who surpass a thousand are called “talented leaders”; those who surpass a hundred are called “outstanding men”; and those who surpass ten are called “men of distinction.” A person who understands the patterns of Heaven and Earth and the principles of human affairs, whose breadth of mind can contain the people, whose generosity can bring peace to those far away, and whose wisdom can meet changing circumstances is called a “hero.” A person whose virtue can instruct the people, whose conduct can serve as a model of righteousness, whose trustworthiness can win the confidence of the multitude, and whose discernment can attend to the needs of those below is called a “talented leader.” A person whose conduct can serve as an example, whose wisdom can judge difficult cases, whose trustworthiness can keep promises, whose integrity can ensure a fair distribution of wealth, whose work can serve as a standard, and whose words are reasonable is called an “outstanding man.” A person who faithfully maintains the duties of office without forming cliques for private reasons, does not evade danger out of self-interest, and does not seize benefits carelessly is called a “man of distinction.”

Heroes, talented leaders, outstanding men, and men of distinction each serve in positions suited to their abilities. Begin with the root and extend its influence to the farthest branches; use strong institutions to regulate weaker points. When those above lead, those below respond, and the people under Heaven can unite in their allegiance, turning away from greed and baseness and toward benevolence and righteousness. To instruct the people in this way is like wind passing over grass: the grass naturally bends before it.

If unworthy people are made to command the worthy, even harsh punishments and severe laws cannot prevent wrongdoing. The weak cannot subdue the strong, nor can the lesser rule the greater; this is the nature of the myriad things under Heaven and Earth. Therefore, sages promote the worthy to establish their achievements, while unworthy rulers promote those who share their own inclinations. By observing whom they appoint, one can distinguish whether a state is well governed or in chaos; by examining their followers, one can judge who is worthy and who is not.

Laozi said: “Instituting rites and laws carves away at people’s nature and distorts their genuine feelings. Though the eyes may delight in certain things, rules are used to forbid them; though the heart may take pleasure in certain activities, rites and laws are used to restrain it. People must follow ritual conventions in every step and turn. When performing a bow, they bend low and kneel; even when faced with rich, tender meat, they must resist eating it; even when wine is available, they must refrain from drinking. In this way, their outward behavior is constrained, while the Virtue (De) within them grows troubled and diminished. The harmony of Yin-Yang is suppressed, and the genuine feelings of life are forced down. As a result, people live in misery all their lives.

Why does this happen? Rites and laws do not investigate why people develop desires; they simply forbid what people want. They do not ask why people feel pleasure; they merely guard against their enjoying it. This is like locking wild animals in an enclosure without repairing the walls, while trying only to suppress their wildness; or like trying to block a rushing river with one’s hands. That is why it is said: once people’s minds are opened and their many activities encouraged, the damage can no longer be undone. Rites and laws suppress feelings and close off desires, making people guard themselves with what is called righteousness. Even when their hearts are stifled and their bodies and nature endure hunger and thirst, they can only struggle on. Thus, no one can live out the full span of their natural life.

Rites and laws cannot make people desire nothing; they can only stop them from acting on desire. Music cannot make people feel no pleasure; it can only limit their enjoyment. What is better: making everyone in the world fear punishment and therefore dare not steal, or having people never harbor the desire to steal at all? If people know that something is of no use to them, even the greedy will give it up. If they do not know what use it has, even the upright may not be willing to yield it to someone else. People often lose their states, die at the hands of others, and incur the world’s ridicule because of desire. If they understood that fans are useless in winter and fur garments in summer, then all things would be like dust to them, inspiring no attachment.

Pouring hot water over boiling water only makes it boil more fiercely. Those who understand the root cause need only remove the source of the fire.”

Laozi says: Acting in accordance with one’s nature is called the Dao (the Way); preserving the nature one is born with is called De (Virtue/Power). Only after people lose their nature do they begin to prize benevolence and righteousness. As benevolence and righteousness arise, the Dao and De decline. When simplicity fades, ritual and music are used to embellish it. When distinctions between right and wrong appear, the people become confused. When pearls and jade grow precious, people throughout the world begin to fight over them.

Ritual distinguishes high from low and noble from humble. Righteousness harmonizes relationships among people, such as those between ruler and minister, father and son, brothers, and husband and wife. In a decadent age, ritual is reduced to outward displays of respect and social exchange. Those who pursue righteousness give in order to receive something in return. Rulers and ministers blame one another, and even close relatives come to harbor resentment. Thus, when water gathers in abundance, creatures that devour one another breed in it; when soil piles up, beasts that gnaw at it emerge. In the same way, excessive embellishment through ritual and music breeds deceit and hypocrisy.

Rulers in a decadent age do not store up the resources needed to sustain life. Instead, they make the world’s honest, generous customs shallow, strip away its simplicity, disturb the people, and muddy what was clear. People’s dispositions and vital energy grow unsettled and turbulent, and everyone busies themselves chasing after gain. Trust is trampled, and people lose their nature. Laws and principles run counter to one another, while conduct and self-interest clash; rich and poor grind against each other. At such a time, there is little point in speaking of distinctions between ruler and servant.

Those with more than enough can yield; those with too little will fight to get what they need. Yielding allows ritual and righteousness to flourish, while fighting gives rise to disorder. So when desires become excessive, it is difficult to put things in order; when people pursue satisfaction without restraint, conflict will never cease. When the world is at peace, even people of low status can hold to what is right and remain unmoved by profit. When the world is in turmoil, even exemplary people may act treacherously, and laws cannot stop them.

Laozi said: In an age of decline, rulers cut into mountains and quarried stone, mined gold and jade, extracted grinding stone and shells, and smelted copper and iron. In doing so, they prevented the myriad things from flourishing. They cut open the wombs of pregnant animals, set fire to the countryside, destroyed birds’ nests, and smashed their eggs. As a result, the phoenix no longer came, and the qilin no longer appeared. They built platforms of wood, burned forests to hunt, drained lakes and marshes to catch fish, piled up earth to make hills for their dwellings, dug wells for water, dredged rivers to build ponds, raised walls for defense, and captured wild animals to keep in enclosures.

This threw Yin-Yang out of balance and the seasons into disorder. Thunder and lightning devastated the myriad things; hail and frost brought calamity, and most living things withered or died young. Plants withered in summer, and the three rivers ran dry. People divided up mountains, rivers, streams, and valleys, and marked off boundaries between lands. They set quotas according to population and established offices and barriers for defense. They used different clothing to distinguish high from low, and made old age, worthiness, or lack of worth the basis for rewards and punishments. Thus military campaigns arose, resentment and conflict took hold, and the indiscriminate killing of the innocent and punishment of the blameless followed.

Laozi says: People in the world are often on the verge of losing their lives when a darkening Qi first arises. At that time, the ruler is benighted and unclear. The Dao is abandoned and no longer put into practice; De fades away and is no longer made manifest. Actions go against the Way of Heaven, and commands run counter to the four seasons. The harmonious Qi of spring and autumn is thereby diminished, and Heaven and Earth cease to bestow their beneficence. The ruler occupies his position but finds no peace. The high ministers withdraw into silence, while the assembled officials probe the ruler’s intentions and undermine established norms. They distance themselves from their own kin to protect themselves. Devious and sycophantic people flatter and ingratiate themselves, plotting in secret. They hasten to support an arrogant ruler and imitate the conduct of rebellious ministers to advance their own schemes.

As a result, ruler and ministers lose harmony and draw apart; kin become estranged and no longer support one another. No crops stand in the fields, and no one walks calmly along the roads. Bronze vessels pile up, yet their edges are chipped away; jade bi discs—ancient ritual objects—are stored layer upon layer, yet none remain in reserve. Tortoise shells have no plastrons, while divination with milfoil stalks is practiced day after day. The realm can no longer be united as one. The feudal lords each make their own laws, creating different customs. They turn from the foundation and abandon their roots, impose the harsh Five Punishments—the five forms of punishment used in antiquity—and exact severe penalties. Fighting over petty gains, they slaughter the people, until more than half are dead.

They raise armies and bring calamity, storm cities and kill indiscriminately, topple what stands high and endanger what is secure. They build massive battering rams and towering fortifications, arrange their battle formations, and send people into places of certain death to attack powerful enemies. When the people resist, the ruler invokes a hollow reputation for greatness to seize their lands. Tens of thousands of bodies lie unburied, while the old and weak who die of hunger and cold are beyond counting. From then on, the world can no longer enjoy its natural life or live in its customary ways.

The worthy and the sages rise up, making Dao and De their foundation and using benevolence and righteousness to support them. Those nearby exercise their talents; those far away feel their De, and the realm is thereby brought into unity. Their descendants continue to assist them, uprooting the first stirrings of slander and settling disputes before they can be clearly defined. They abolish harsh laws and remove burdensome, intrusive administration; they cast aside rumors and close off avenues for factional self-interest. They put an end to scheming, follow the constant Way, relinquish branch-like desires, and set aside the presumption of their own cleverness. In this way, all things return to a state of free and harmonious wholeness, each returning to its root.

Sages cannot create the moment. When the opportunity arrives, they simply do not miss it, and so their work is never cut short halfway.

Laozi said: The Feng River, an ancient river, is ten fathoms deep, yet it gathers no dust or grime. Metal and stone sink into it, yet their shapes can still be seen from the surface. This is not because the water is shallow or clear, but because fish, turtles, and dragons do not wish to dwell there. Grain cannot grow on bare stone, and even a beautiful mountain has no deer roaming it if there is nowhere to shelter or rest.

Therefore, in governing a state, to mistake harshness for clear-sightedness, haste for wisdom, treating subordinates severely for loyalty, and devising many schemes for achievement is like stretching leather too far: in the end, it splits apart disastrously. When government is generous and peaceful, the people are simple and sincere; when it is exacting and harsh, the people fall into hardship.

Laozi said: Govern a state by the right way, and use unconventional strategies in war. First establish sound governance and defenses so that you cannot easily be defeated; only then seek to defeat the enemy. If you have not yet put your own affairs in order but attack the disorder of others, it is like using fire against fire or water against water: forces of the same kind cannot govern one another. So use different methods to win through surprise: meet agitation with stillness, disorder with order, hunger with fullness, and exhaustion with ease. Opposing forces answer one another, as Water, Fire, Metal, and Wood overcome one another; in any place, victory may be possible.

Therefore, when moral qualities are equal, the larger force prevails over the smaller. When strength is equal, the clever can overcome the dull. When intelligence is equal, those with organization and laws can capture those who lack them.