《通玄真经[注](徐灵府)》Vol. 4

When the fields are governed well, they are no longer in disorder. Rewards are sufficient to encourage good conduct, and punishments sufficient to deter wrongdoing. When rewards are given, the ruler does not let pride lead to indulgence toward those rewarded; when punishments are imposed, he does not let pity sway him into favoritism. Then those nearby will benefit from his kindness, and those far away will respect his De. If people each attend to their own work and labor diligently in the fields, there will be few disputes at court, and the crops will flourish.

Thus, the earliest rulers let the people know they were there, but did not deliberately display their achievements. Rulers of later ages knew that the Highest—those most exalted in rule—possessed the Dao, and followed their example. The Way of kings is to govern through Wuwei (non-action) and teach without words: to keep the heart-mind still and free from reckless action, and hold fast to standards without wavering; to follow the nature of things, employ subordinates, and charge them with their tasks without laboring on their behalf. Plans do not go awry, and actions do not err. Speech is not deliberately embellished, and conduct does not assume a fixed pose. Advancing and withdrawing accord with the moment; stillness and movement accord with principle. The ruler neither favors nor detests what is beautiful or ugly, and does not let anger or pleasure sway rewards and punishments. Things each have their own names and categories, and affairs unfold according to their natural patterns, rather than being contrived by the ruler alone. If one tries to narrow and restrict things, they will instead grow distant; if one tries to embellish them deliberately, one will damage them.

A ruler without a broad heart cannot embrace the myriad things; without stillness, he cannot bring peace and harmony to the people. He should put aside favor and aversion, and preserve simplicity and sincerity. If his heart is narrow, he cannot draw people close; excessive ornamentation also harms the natural simplicity of things. Though the myriad things fall into many categories, in the end they should all be left to follow their nature.

The Qi of Heaven is the hun, or ethereal soul; the Qi of Earth is the po, or corporeal soul. Let the hun and po return to the mysterious realm, each abiding in its own place without dispersing, and one can connect upward with the Great One (Taiyi), the Daoist name for the highest source and also for the essence of Taiyi. The essence of Taiyi connects and unites with Heaven. The Dao of Heaven is profound and silent, unconstrained by forms or standards. It is so vast it cannot be exhausted, so deep it cannot be fathomed. It constantly changes along with people, yet human wisdom cannot grasp it. It turns in endless cycles like a wheel; its transformations are wondrous, taking place in emptiness. It responds to things, habitually remaining behind and never striving to be first.

The hun belongs to Yang: it governs life and is received from Heaven. The po belongs to Yin: it governs the dissolution of the body and is received from Earth. The hun is the spirit of Yang, the po the essence of Yin; both are the utmost essence of Heaven and Earth, which is why they are called “mysterious.” Heaven, by holding fast to this, remains ever-bright; people, by holding fast to it, can live long. Thus one must preserve it without loss and connect upward with Taiyi. Taiyi is the source that people receive. If one protects the spirit and keeps oneself from becoming scattered, one can unite with Heaven. By concentrating the spirit and gathering one’s thoughts, one can connect with Taiyi. The way to preserve it is to be still and quiet, unbound by external things and without imposing limits on oneself. Its vastness has no bounds, and its subtlety is hard to fathom. Thus it constantly changes along with people, yet human wisdom cannot grasp it. It turns like a wheel and transforms like a spirit, abiding in emptiness and habitually remaining behind rather than striving to be first. To discern clearly within the profound is what is called the utmost truth.

When governing, a ruler should be open-hearted, lessen private desires, and remain clear-sighted rather than clouded. Then the ministers will come forward to serve together, like the spokes of a wheel converging at its hub. Whether dull or clever, worthy or mediocre, all can put their abilities to use. The ruler knows how to direct his ministers, and the ministers know how to serve their ruler; the government of the state can then be clear and orderly. Only with clear discernment can one perceive what is pure and subtle. Govern a state in this way, and the ministers will hasten to support the ruler. If the ruler does not disparage himself, the people will gather around him to protect him and will not leave his side.

Laozi said: Those who are knowledgeable and willing to ask questions can become sages; those who are brave and willing to ask questions can prevail. One who knows how to draw on the wisdom of many will find nothing impossible to accomplish; one who knows how to marshal the strength of many will find no difficulty impossible to overcome. A person’s strength alone, even that of Wu Huo, the legendary strongman, is not enough to rely on. But one who knows how to draw on the power of many will find no force under Heaven that cannot be put to use. One who is skilled at bringing people together will have no formidable opponent under Heaven.

With the strength of many, even a towering hill can be moved; by gathering the wisdom of many, one can understand the principles behind matters as hidden and obscure as those involving ghosts and spirits. Without knowing how to respond to circumstances or follow the patterns of things, even divine beings and sages cannot accomplish great deeds. Once circumstances and the right moment are in place, even an ordinary, insignificant person can fire a powerful crossbow capable of drawing a force of ten thousand jun; when the principles of a matter have been violated, even the wisest sage cannot refute a child’s words.

Therefore, sages always assign and employ people according to their particular circumstances. Whoever has achieved one accomplishment is given a corresponding position; whoever has one particular ability is entrusted with a fitting task. When a person’s strength is sufficient for a task, carrying it out does not feel burdensome; when their ability suits the work, performing it does not feel difficult. Sages draw on the strengths of many, so no one is left idle and no material goes to waste. By assigning people according to their qualities, they enable each person to make full use of their talents; by appointing them according to their abilities, they enable each person to give their best.

When Laozi speaks of Wuwei (non-action), he does not mean refusing to come when summoned, refusing to leave when pushed, giving no response when pressured, remaining unmoved when stirred, being stubbornly still and unable to flow, or clenching tightly and refusing to open. True Wuwei means being able to adapt and respond to changing circumstances, and to act in the face of external things without obstruction.

Wuwei also means not letting private interests intrude upon the impartial Way, or greedy desires obstruct proper principles. One acts in accordance with how things work, accomplishes what one sets out to do by attending to the conditions, and follows the natural tendencies of things without resorting to trickery. When a task is completed, one does not boast; when an achievement is made, one does not claim its fame.

For example, one travels by boat on water, drives a cart across sand, rides a sled on mud, or uses climbing gear on mountain paths. In summer, waterways serve as routes; in winter, one makes use of frozen ponds. One builds hills on high ground and makes ponds in low places. None of this is forced into being by me. I simply make use of the advantages each place offers, so that things can each serve their purpose. That is why it is said that I have not made them happen.

The sage is not ashamed of holding a low position; what concerns him is that the Great Way cannot be put into practice. He does not worry that his own life is short; what concerns him is that the people are trapped in hardship. Thus the sage keeps his mind still and empty, without acting rashly, preserves simplicity and authenticity, and does not become entangled with external things. He remains in accord with the Dao and is not disturbed by what lies outside him.

Laozi said: In ancient times, emperors were established not to satisfy their personal desires. When sages ascended the imperial throne, it was not so they could enjoy ease and pleasure. In the world, the strong bully the weak and the many oppress the few; the cunning deceive the foolish, and the bold harm the timid. People possess knowledge and plans but refuse to share them, and accumulate wealth but will not distribute it among one another. For this reason, a Son of Heaven was established to govern the world as a whole.

No one person’s understanding can extend across the entire world, so the Three Dukes and Nine Ministers—officials who assist the Son of Heaven and oversee government affairs—were established to help him. Distant states and regions with different customs are difficult to educate, so feudal lords were appointed to instruct them. In this way, the cycles of Heaven and Earth and the four seasons could be brought into harmony; the government had no hidden affairs, and the state overlooked no public good. These arrangements were all made so that the cold could have clothes to wear and the hungry food to eat, so that the old and weak could be cared for and hardship and exhaustion eased.

When a sage holds the highest position, it is not to gain honor or enjoy personal comfort, but to bring peace to the people and remedy what is wrong. Thus, the Son of Heaven holds to a unifying principle in governing the world; the Three Dukes discuss the way of governing and correct deviations; the Nine Ministers carry out the laws and assist the Son of Heaven; and the feudal lords spread moral instruction and uphold government orders. As a result, customs across near and distant regions become alike, ruler and ministers work with one heart, officials do not claim salaries they have not earned, and no improper profiteering takes place in the markets. The Book of Songs says: “Virtue is bright and upright; the lords of the four quarters will all comply.”

Shennong was worn down by toil, Yao grew thin, Shun’s complexion darkened, and Yu’s hands and feet became thickly calloused. Yi Yin carried a cooking tripod on his back to seek an audience with Tang of Shang; Lü Wang (Jiang Taigong) once earned his living as a butcher before assisting the Zhou dynasty. Baili Xi fell so low that he was sold, Guan Zhong was once bound in chains, and Confucius traveled from place to place, with no cooking smoke rising over his home. Mozi journeyed far and wide, without even enough time to sit down and warm his mat. They did not crave salaries or admire positions of power; they wanted to bring benefit to the world and remove the people’s troubles.

From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, no one has ever been known to do no work with their limbs, exert no effort in thought, yet expect abundant returns from their labor. Since the time of Shennong, sages and worthy people have grown thin and calloused their hands and feet, not to rise above the people and win high rank, but because they were determined to help the world. No one can sit idle and expect a salary, and no one can reap millet without sowing it.

Laozi says: A Son of Heaven is someone who governs the world in accordance with the Way of Heaven. The principle for governing the world is to hold fast to the One—the root of the Dao—and take it as one’s safeguard; return to the source and follow things as they are, without acting recklessly; remain empty and still, without clinging to things that have form. The Dao is elusive and hard to grasp, without boundary, deep and without end. Its form cannot be seen and its sound cannot be heard. This is the constant way of the Great Dao.

Laozi says: The substance of the Dao is complete (the original phrase, “its substance is round and…,” seems abbreviated). Hold fast to the One as one’s safeguard; return to the source and follow things as they are, without acting recklessly; remain empty and still, without clinging to things that have form. The Dao is elusive and boundless, deep and without end. Its form cannot be seen and its sound cannot be heard. This is the constant way of the Great Dao. The same meaning has already been explained above.

Laozi says: The substance of the Dao (the Way) is perfectly whole and without flaw, yet its principles of action are orderly and measured. It turns its back to Yin and embraces Yang; on the left it is yielding, on the right it is firm; its feet tread darkness and its head rises toward the light. The Dao changes without end. Grasp the foundation called “attaining the One,” and you can respond to all manner of things. This is called divine illumination.

A person’s round head symbolizes Heaven, and square feet symbolize Earth. The back faces Yin and the front faces Yang; the left hand represents yielding, and the right hand, firmness. Both feet tread the Ninefold Darkness, the place of deepest gloom, while the head is crowned by the Three Lights: the sun, moon, and stars. Human beings move without ceasing, and their Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) shine in every direction. They hold to the unified foundation while changing without end, in a cycle that continually turns back upon itself. This is called spirit. Those who can discern and follow this principle will flourish.

Heaven is round and has no bounds, so its shape cannot be seen. Earth is square and has no end, so its boundaries cannot be found. Heaven’s transformations have no fixed form, and Earth’s growth cannot be measured. Its transformations are endless, and even the most perceptive cannot see their shape; its growth is inexhaustible, and even the best counters cannot tally its number. Among the myriad things, some are strong and some weak, and some prevail while others fail. Only the Dao has no rival. It is without rival because it has no fixed form or position and moves through endless transformations. Like the courses of the sun and moon, the alternation of spring and autumn, and the cycle of day and night, it ends and begins again, turning from brightness to darkness. The Dao allows forms to appear, yet has no fixed form of its own; thus its work is accomplished. It gives rise to the myriad things, yet is confined by none of them; thus it can prevail without being defeated.

Things with form arise from what is formless, and so new forms can continually take shape. The myriad things arise from what is no thing, and so life continues without end.

Those who understand how to plan and use the Dao in warfare can establish imperial rule; those skilled in employing wondrous transformations can establish kingship. Planning before battle means modeling oneself on the Way of Heaven; wondrous transformation means discerning the patterns of the four seasons. When affairs at home are well governed, people in distant lands will feel gratitude for one’s De (Virtue/Power). If one gains the advantage before battle begins, the feudal lords will come and submit. Planning before battle means governing the world through reason and law, thereby establishing imperial rule. Wondrous transformation means winning through military force and thereby establishing kingship. Yet military action is a measure to be taken only when there is no alternative.

The people of ancient times who had attained the Dao modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth in stillness, and followed the courses of the sun and moon in action. Their joy and anger accorded with the changes of the four seasons, and their commands struck with the force of thunder. Their words and breath did not go against the Eight Winds, the winds from the eight directions, and their advancing, withdrawing, bending, and stretching did not depart from the Five Standards, the measures they were required to observe. Those who had attained the Dao did not give way to anger or issue commands lightly. They modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth and followed the sun and moon; thus the Eight Winds did not fall into disorder, and the five planets beyond the sun and moon kept to their proper courses.

One should accord with the people’s wishes, draw on their strength, and remove cruelty and harm on their behalf. Those who share an interest are willing to sacrifice for one another; those whose intentions are aligned help one another succeed; those who act in unison support one another. If each follows only private desires, the world will fall into strife. Thus a skilled commander can inspire people to contribute their strength willingly. An unskilled commander can only force people to serve him. If people can be moved to exert themselves for a common purpose, there is no one in the world who cannot be put to use. If one asks people only to act for one’s own sake, no one is truly of use. Remove the harms that the people despise, and even though the people are many, they can be united and serve one’s cause. Go against their wishes, and even a small number will not sincerely submit.

End of Volume Eight of the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Classic of Perfected Mystery).

“Jiaoli” refers to the gradual decline of social customs. As times change, virtue too comes to be ranked as higher or lower. Only a rare, enlightened ruler can reveal the worth of people of virtue. The “lesser De” mentioned here does not mean virtue at its highest level.

Laozi said: In cultivating oneself, the best rulers of antiquity made nurturing the spirit their foundation, because the spirit should rest on stillness and emptiness. Only secondarily did they care for the body, which is easily governed by cravings and desires. When the spirit is clear and the mind at peace, every part of the body settles into calm; this is the foundation of nourishing life. Making the skin supple and the belly full to satisfy cravings and desires is merely a lesser detail. The spirit is the root of life, while the body is its branches and leaves. When the root is valued, the body can be preserved and brought into accord with the Dao (the Way). When the lesser details are prized, the body will eventually perish and return to dust. The people of antiquity devoted themselves to the root rather than chasing after lesser details, and acted with moderation. People in later times, by contrast, cast aside the spirit and focused solely on cultivating the body—an excessive imbalance.

In governing a state, the best approach is to nurture and transform the people through the Dao. Only secondarily should one set laws in order—that is, use punishments to restrain them. The people yield to one another, each striving to take the lower place; when faced with wealth and gain, each strives to take less; when work and labor must be undertaken, each strives to do the hardest tasks. Gradually influenced by those above them, they change for the better without knowing why. This is the foundation of governing a state, and the finest form of instruction in antiquity. Governance in later times, however, relied on rewards and benefits to encourage good conduct, and on fear of punishment to keep people from doing evil. Those above issued strict laws, and the people below obeyed. This is the lesser detail of governing a state.

People in antiquity valued the root, while those in later times cared only for lesser details. One must first speak of cultivating oneself, and only then of governing a state. Root and lesser details depend on each other: when the body is preserved, the mind and body are also at ease. Thus, when the Dao and De (Virtue/Power) are understood and made complete, the sources of disputes over right and wrong disappear. If one merely establishes laws, however, avenues for mutual conflict will open. The sage restrains what is secondary and honors the root for good reason.

Laozi says: Rulers capable of governing the world well are rare, and ministers able to assist them in doing so are rarer still. If good governance must depend on finding an exceptionally rare ruler and an even rarer worthy minister, the world may go a thousand years without ever being governed in great order.

The point is that wise rulers and worthy ministers are not absent from every age. What matters is how one distinguishes the worthy from the unworthy and whether one appoints capable people. A ruler need not seek worthy men in precisely the way King Wen of Zhou paid homage to Lü Wang as his teacher or King Wu Ding of Shang sought out Fu Yue. If one insists on following only these examples, one might wait ten thousand years for a ruler and a thousand years for a minister. Who, then, would govern the world? The achievements of a hegemon are not something that appear in every age. What can be done is to place wise people in the positions suited to them.

A ruler should respond to the people’s inclination toward goodness and prevent evil thoughts from taking root. If ruler and people uphold the same right path, the people can become good and public customs can improve. The Sage’s worth lies not in waiting until crimes occur before establishing punishments, but in discerning where disorder and calamity begin to arise.

If people are allowed to follow crooked and unrestrained paths, then punished by law after they commit crimes, even harshly harming people throughout the world will not put a stop to wrongdoing. Law serves to prevent calamities before they occur; punishment serves to deal with crimes that have already been committed. But laws must not be thrown into confusion, and punishments must not be imposed arbitrarily. Confused laws are difficult to obey, while excessive punishments harm the innocent. Even if the people are brutalized, in the end this cannot stop treachery and violence.

Laozi says: Even though people may live among rivers and seas, if their hearts remain fixed on the imperial court, they will further wear down their lives. Those who increase life’s burdens in this way may look down on fame and profit, yet still be unable to control themselves. If they follow the direction of their own hearts, their spirit will not be harmed. But if they clearly cannot control themselves and force themselves not to act, this is called double injury. Those who suffer such injury will find it difficult to live long.

The human heart cannot focus on two things at once, and tasks cannot be carried out well all together. Imagine someone living in a quiet, open place while their aspirations race toward the pursuit of wealth and honor. If they act in keeping with their own inclinations, they may avoid the burdens of inner conflict. But if they suppress themselves and go against their wishes, setting two thoughts at war within their heart, this is double injury. Those who suffer such injury and still hope for long life will find that empty words cannot make up for it.

Thus, to understand how to bring things into harmony is to grasp the constant Way; to understand the constant Way is to be wise. Merely seeking to add to life and nourishing oneself excessively may instead invite misfortune. To let intention drive Qi (vital energy) is to force oneself; this is called joining with the mysterious Dao (the Way). Use your own light, then return to inner clarity. Nurture the spirit until it reaches calm. When the heart and spirit are calm, they can accord with the constant Way of Heaven and Earth. Bring heart and Qi into unity and let inner clarity shine forth, and you will be bright like the sun and moon.

Laozi said: “Nothing in the world is easier than doing good, and nothing is harder than doing evil. Doing good means keeping the heart still, following nature, being content with one’s proper share and not craving more, resisting the lure of external things, following one’s nature and remaining simple and true, without changing one’s original heart. That is why doing good is easy. Doing evil is hard because acts such as usurping, killing, and deceiving, along with impatience and excessive desire, all go against human nature.”

Ordinary people, however, think that doing good is difficult and doing evil easy. Today, people’s greatest troubles come from desires without end and calculations without limit. So when interests and harms are intertwined, and fortune and calamity depend on each other, one must examine things with care.

The sage neither covets nor deliberately avoids. The more one tries to gain certain things, the more likely one is to lose them; the more one tries to avoid other things, the more likely one is to encounter them. Once the will is drawn along by desire, one forgets what one originally meant to do. So the sage carefully distinguishes changes between action and stillness, keeps a proper measure in accepting and giving, regulates feelings of liking and dislike, and balances joy and anger. When action and stillness are appropriate, calamity can scarcely intrude. When accepting and giving are measured, blame does not attach to oneself. When likes and dislikes are handled well, worry does not draw near. When joy and anger stay within bounds, resentment is not invited.

Those who embody the Dao do not grasp at things carelessly, nor do they shirk calamity. They do not abandon what should not be abandoned, and they do not forcefully take what does not belong to them. They are often full without overflowing, and remain empty in a way that is easily contented. People should therefore measure their lives by the principles of the Dao: food need only satisfy hunger, and clothing need only keep out the cold—enough to keep a body of seven feet warm and fed. Without the standards of the Dao, someone who pursues status and honor without restraint may not feel happy even with the power to rule a state of ten thousand chariots; even with all the wealth in the world, they may still feel unsatisfied. Those who know contentment feel they have enough even with a drinking vessel made from a single gourd; those who are insatiable still feel they lack something, even when they possess the wealth of the world.

Thus the sage is peaceful in heart and even in purpose, guarding the inner spirit and remaining unmoved by external things. When the heart is at peace, how could external things disturb one’s desires?

Laozi says, “To surpass others shows that you have strength; to overcome yourself is true power. Those who are truly powerful know how to draw on the strength of the people. Those who can draw on the people’s strength will surely win their hearts. To win their hearts, one must first bring oneself into accord with what is right. No one who has failed to cultivate themselves can avoid losing the people’s hearts, and no one who has lost their own grounding can win the people’s support.”

This passage speaks of overcoming hardness through gentleness, and gaining great strength through weakness. A ruler’s power comes from the people; it does not belong to the ruler personally. Therefore, if a ruler can unite the people’s strength, they will not lose the people’s support. The people’s hearts do not belong to the ruler alone. Only when everyone is willing to give their allegiance can the ruler truly be said to have won their hearts.

The foundation of governing a state lies in bringing stability to the people. To make their lives stable, their needs must be met. To meet those needs, one must not take up the time they need for farming. To avoid taking up their farming time, government business and forced labor must be reduced. To reduce these, spending must be kept down. To keep spending down, extravagance must be cast aside. And the root of casting aside extravagance is maintaining emptiness, stillness, and freedom from desire. If a ruler does not build lofty terraces and grand halls or expand gardens and parks, the people can focus on farming and their agricultural seasons will not be disrupted. Habits of extravagant pleasure and a longing for wealth and splendor cannot be eliminated unless one cultivates oneself through emptiness, stillness, Wuwei (non-action), and adherence to virtue.

Those who understand the nature of life do not pursue what life itself does not need. Those who understand the limits of their allotted fate do not worry over what cannot be changed. When one understands the principles of life and fate, what is there to grieve or fear?

When the eyes greedily take in every color, the mouth seeks only delicacies, and the ears are absorbed in every kind of music, the seven apertures—the senses of sight, hearing, smell, and taste—vie with one another to satisfy their desires, harming human nature. As corrupt desires grow day by day, they exhaust one’s natural harmony. If one cannot govern oneself, how can one govern the world?

To “gain the world” does not mean occupying a position of authority or possessing an honorific title. It means being able to move the hearts and minds of people throughout the world and win their support. To bear only the title of king, facing south on the throne, while not receiving the praise of even one person is to have lost the world. Though Xia Jie and Shang Zhou were kings, they cannot be said to have truly possessed the Way of kingship. And though Shang Tang and King Wu of Zhou raised armies to overthrow tyrants, they cannot simply be regarded as usurpers who murdered their rulers.

When the world is in accord with the Dao (the Way), the power to guard the realm comes from the frontier regions. When the world is without the Dao, its defense depends on the feudal lords. When the feudal lords follow the Dao, their defense rests on the people throughout their territories; when they do not, they can rely only on those close to them. Therefore, it is said: “Do not count on others being unable to take your position from you; count on making your position so secure that it cannot be taken.” If the way one acts is inherently easy to overthrow, then even without usurpation or the murder of a ruler, there is no benefit in trying to hold on to the world.

When sages govern the world, they focus on cultivating themselves and bringing stability to the people, rather than pursuing exalted rank and prominent power. When a ruler follows the Dao, the people will support them; when a ruler lacks De (Virtue/Power), the people will abandon them. The world is not the ruler’s private possession. The people support only those who truly practice goodness.

Laozi said: Those skilled in governing a state do not alter its established institutions or casually change its enduring laws. Anger goes against De (Virtue); weapons are instruments of ill omen, and conflict plunges people into disorder.

To scheme in secret, act against De, and delight in using weapons is to drive people’s turmoil and rebellion to their extreme. Calamity would not take shape if no one brought it on. So it is better to rein in one’s sharpness, resolve disputes, soften one’s radiance, and blend with the world.

People all want to be more worthy than others and dislike being less worthy. The wish to appear more worthy gives rise to a desire to prevail; dislike of being less worthy brings resentment and conflict in its wake. Once resentment and conflict arise, people’s hearts grow unsettled and their Qi (vital energy) falls out of balance. The sage-kings of antiquity therefore dispelled the desire to prevail and resentment, preventing them from taking root. People’s hearts became calm, and their Qi returned to harmony.

Thus it is said: “When the worthy are not held up for esteem, the people do not compete.” To uphold the Great Dao (the Way) and follow the constant Way is how a sage governs a state. To muddle people’s hearts and act against De is the way of a foolish ruler. If the path of competing for status through the esteem of the worthy is not opened, perhaps the calamity of resentment can be avoided.

Laozi said: To govern the myriad things, rely on harmony; to govern harmony, rely on people; to govern people, rely on the ruler; to govern the ruler, rely on restraining desire; to restrain desire, rely on one’s nature; to rectify one’s nature, rely on De (Virtue/Power); to understand De, ultimately rely on the Dao (the Way). Without harmony, the myriad things cannot be governed; without a ruler, people cannot be governed; without relying on one’s nature, De cannot be fully understood; without relying on De, the Dao cannot be understood.

The Dao enables human nature to return to its original state, free of wrongful thoughts and impurities. When people become absorbed in external things for a long time, they forget their nature. Once they reject their nature, they turn instead to accommodating habits acquired from outside. Clothing, food, and social customs are not part of human nature; they come from the external world. The Dao steadies the spirit, while external things nourish the body. Nature belongs to the inner realm; external things belong to the outer. By meeting external things through one’s inner nature and responding to circumstances in accordance with that nature, one can preserve its natural state. Thus, those who follow the Dao can let go of attachment to external things and return to themselves. To return to oneself is to see the desires deep within one’s nature and quiet every kind of craving.

Human nature is originally calm, but appetites and desires harm it. Only those who follow the Dao can set aside external things and turn their attention inward. Those who are skilled at observing themselves inwardly will not mistake the true character of external things. Those unable to observe themselves are easily moved by external things and fall into confusion and turmoil. Indulging desire causes people to lose their nature and makes it difficult for them to act rightly. To make a living this way harms oneself; to govern a state this way plunges the people into disorder. Thus, those who do not understand the Dao cannot restore their nature. From governing the myriad things to cultivating the Dao, whenever one acts improperly, desire is at the root. Desire is the source of danger and the gateway to calamity. Only by understanding the Dao and De can people recover their original state.

The sages of antiquity sought the Dao within themselves. That is why, when they issued an order, people followed it, and when they issued a prohibition, people stopped. In all things, one should first make the mind peaceful and the spirit clear. Only with a clear spirit and a peaceful mind can matters be handled well. It is difficult to accomplish anything well if one believes false praise or blame and lets one’s eyes become absorbed in brilliant colors. Therefore, the sages valued emptiness and stillness. When water is struck violently, waves rise; when the breath is disordered, wisdom grows dim. With a dimmed mind, one cannot act fairly; agitated water cannot remain still.

Therefore, the sage kings held fast to the One—the undivided, unbiased Dao—to bring the conditions and natures of the myriad things into order. The One is most precious because it favors no side in the world. The sage kings relied on this state of nonattachment and were thus able to become rulers of the world. The key to finding the Dao within oneself lies in calming the mind. Those whose minds are peaceful do not let external things disturb their inner selves and do not become absorbed in colors or reputation. By concentrating the spirit and harmonizing joy and anger, they can keep the dust of emotion from rising and the waves of desire from surging. If everyone could return to their nature, no one in the world would fail to follow rightful commands.

Laozi said: Yin and Yang vital energies transform and nurture the myriad things, and all things depend on the same primordial Qi to come into being. When those above and below are divided in heart and virtue, primordial Qi steams upward. When ruler and ministers are at odds, the grain harvest cannot be abundant. A killing chill appears in spring, while plants and trees flourish in autumn; thunder sounds in winter, and frost falls in summer. Such anomalies arise when the normal flow of primordial Qi is violated.

The situation between Heaven and Earth is like a person’s body; the space of Heaven and Earth in the four directions, above and below, is like a person’s form. The “person” meant here is the Son of Heaven. When the Son of Heaven is upright, the realm can be at peace; when he is muddled and disorderly, the people suffer calamity. The Son of Heaven is bound to Heaven and Earth and connected with all under Heaven. How, then, could he fail to act with care?

Those who understand their nature cannot be coerced even by Heaven and Earth; those who understand omens cannot be bewildered by strange things. When one’s nature accords with the true Dao, even approaching thunderbolts inspire no fear. When one sees things clearly, changes in Yin and Yang cause no confusion. The sage infers the distant from what is near and views ten thousand li as a single whole. With inner understanding, one can see external things clearly; by grasping the root, one can comprehend all affairs.

When primordial Qi moves abnormally between Heaven and Earth, the principles of ritual, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame cannot take hold. The people then harm one another and act violently toward one another. This is because they live in confusion and obscurity without realizing it. The sage infers the distant from what is near and views ten thousand li as a single whole. With inner understanding, one can see external things clearly; by grasping the root, one can comprehend all affairs.

Accumulate good deeds, and the spirits will lend their aid; accumulate evil deeds, and the spirits will bring punishment. Qi of the same kind responds to itself, and good and evil each bring their corresponding outcomes. Do not suppose that there is no retribution amid confusion and obscurity.

As integrity and a sense of shame steadily decline, the age declines with them. People have many material needs, but few goods; labor is heavy, yet support remains insufficient. The people are poor and distressed, and resentment and strife arise. That is why benevolence is elevated, to comfort the people through benevolence. People have narrow understanding and differ from one another; they form factions for private gain, favor those close to them, and harbor cunning and deceit. That is why righteousness is elevated, to judge right and wrong through righteousness. Men and women mingle without distinction. That is why ritual is elevated, to regulate conduct through ritual. People’s dispositions and desires run without restraint, pressing upon one another until harmony is lost. That is why music is elevated, to bring people’s emotions and aspirations into balance.

Thus benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music are remedies for rescuing a declining age; they are not the fundamental Great Dao by which to govern the realm. If benevolence and righteousness are merely exalted but cannot remedy the troubles, they cannot be called the highest De. If the way of the spirits can be settled throughout the realm and people’s hearts returned to their original state, their nature will become simple and good. When people’s nature is simple and good, the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth will respond in harmony, goods will be plentiful, and the people will live in abundance. Greed, vulgarity, resentment, and strife will then find no place to arise. Benevolence need not be deliberately practiced; De will settle naturally throughout the realm, and the people will not be enthralled by fine sounds and dazzling sights.

Therefore, only after De has declined do people ostentatiously proclaim benevolence and righteousness; only after harmony has been lost do they make a study of music; only after ritual has become excessive do they embellish appearances. Those who understand De know that benevolence and righteousness alone are not enough to carry out good governance. Those who understand benevolence and righteousness know that embellishment through ritual and music alone cannot address the root of the problem. De is vast and boundless, able to encompass everything under Heaven. A person of the Dao embraces benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music, possessing them all. Some say that one must thoroughly abandon all four to be a person of the Dao; this view is incomplete. A sage ruler pities an age in decline and lacking De, and so elevates benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music: restraining human nature, harmonizing people’s emotions, maintaining proper bounds of conduct, and encouraging respect and humility, so that people dare not overstep and may return to De.

Laozi said that a tranquil way of governing is grounded in calmness, ease, and quiet, while preserving simplicity and authenticity. It therefore places importance on benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music. Ritual disciplines the temperament, keeps emotions calm and joyful, and guides conduct within proper bounds. It also honors respect and humility, so that people do not dare transgress the rules and can return to De.

Laozi also said that a tranquil way of governing is harmonious and peaceful, genuine and simple, composed and still rather than restless. The heart accords with the Dao, and outward conduct accords with righteousness. Speech is concise and reasonable; actions bring ease to others and accord with good sense. The mind is calm and free of pretense, and affairs are handled plainly, without affectation. One does not plan in advance how an affair should begin or argue over how it will end. When things are settled, one remains at rest; when stirred to action, one acts.

Such a person, in their entirety, is joined with Heaven and Earth. Their Jing and Qi accord with Yin-Yang; they follow the changes of the four seasons and shine brightly like the sun and moon, in harmony with the Dao’s transformations. Tranquil and simple, they accord with Heaven and respond to the Dao. For this reason, they are called a “true person”—one who embodies the Dao. Cunning and deceit have no place in their heart.

Thus Heaven covers all things with De, and Earth lets all things grow in peace and comfort. The four seasons proceed without disorder; wind and rain bring no calamity. The sun and moon shine clearly, and the five planets follow their proper courses. These are the signs of being tranquil and simple, in accord with Heaven and responsive to the Dao. A true person who governs can move Heaven and Earth to respond: the sun and moon shine clearly without displaying their might, and no wicked or rebellious disorder arises.

Laozi said: The duties involved in governing a state are easy to observe, its affairs easy to manage, its rites easy to put into practice, and the responsibilities people take on easy to assess and reward. Thus, no one holds several official posts at once, and officials do not also serve as scholars. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants each attend to their own work, while different villages and districts each have their own roles. Farmers talk with farmers about storing supplies, scholars with scholars about conduct, artisans with artisans about their craft, and merchants with merchants about trade and calculation. In this way, scholars do not neglect their conduct, artisans are not hampered in their work, farmers do not waste their labor, and merchants do not suffer losses of goods. Each can settle into a life suited to their nature.

People differ in appearance and kind, but when affairs are properly arranged, they do not come into conflict with one another. Those who lose their proper occupation become poor and low in status; those who can fulfill their aspirations are respected. The “Appended Statements” of the Book of Changes says, “The Way of Qian is level and easy, so it is easy to understand; the Way of Kun is simple, so it can bring all things to completion.” The sage governs through Wuwei (non-action). When the people are not worn down by forced labor, they can each attend to their work and enjoy their lives. Thus, when governance is straightforward, it is not chaotic. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants are respected when each finds their proper place, and fall into a low position when they lose it.

Those with foresight and the ability to perceive things before others may have exceptional talent, but in times of peace this is not treated as a quality everyone must possess. Those with broad learning, strong memories, and eloquence may have abundant knowledge and verbal skill, but an enlightened ruler does not demand that all subjects and officials have these abilities. Cleverness and ingenuity do not necessarily amount to loyalty and integrity, so there is no need to require everyone in a subordinate position to possess them. Those who disdain convention, look down on worldly things, and refuse to follow popular trends may be proud and unyielding in character, but such a manner should not be made a standard for educating the people in the governance of a state. Arrogant disdain for the world cannot serve as a model for everyone.

Therefore, standards so high that ordinary people cannot reach them cannot be used to measure everyone; conduct so difficult to emulate cannot be established as a custom for the whole country. People should not be selected or judged solely by one particular talent. The principles and methods of the Dao, however, can be passed down from one generation to the next. Those who govern a state must assess the abilities of scholars and appoint them according to their strengths. Only those who understand the Dao and can adapt to changing circumstances are fit to govern alongside them. When a state is stable, even ordinary people can preserve what has been achieved; an army, meanwhile, can be managed through a uniform system of rules. Governing a state does not require waiting for outstanding sages of antiquity to appear. Instead, it means making use of the strengths of those already present, so each can contribute what they are capable of. Good governance depends on adapting to the times, not on seeking unusual ideas; speech should get to the point, without elaborate embellishment. As long as abilities are assessed and posts properly assigned, this can be done in any age. Why wait for sages of antiquity to appear before the world can be at peace?

In times of decline, laws often set standards too high for people to meet. The responsibilities assigned are too heavy, and the punishments exceed what people can bear. The prescribed tasks are too dangerous and difficult, yet those who dare not undertake them are put to death. Driven by these three demands, the people use disguise and deception to mislead those above them, and take risks by doing wrong. Even severe laws and harsh punishments cannot put an end to wrongdoing. When beasts are cornered, they fight back; when birds are pressed, they peck; when people are driven to desperation, they deceive. This is what the saying means.

If those who enforce the law exploit its severity, waiting for the people to make mistakes so they can punish them, they are using the law to harm people rather than govern them. When people are filled with fear and anxiety, they resort to cunning and deceit, hoping to survive by sheer luck. It is like birds and beasts that, when cornered, resist with all their strength and care nothing for their lives. Therefore, when the sage governs a state, the priority is to follow the Way of governance, not to prize harsh laws and severe punishments.

Laozi says: The sound of thunder can be imitated with bells and drums; changes in wind and rain can be discerned through musical tones. Whatever is large enough to be seen can be measured; whatever is bright enough to be seen can be examined; whatever can be heard can be harmonized; and whatever colors can be distinguished can be differentiated.

Yet what is greatest cannot be contained even by Heaven and Earth, and what is smallest cannot be seen even by the spirits. Wind and rain, thunder, and all forms, sounds, colors, and images can be understood through things of the same kind, and affairs can be arranged accordingly. But the existence that is supremely great and supremely minute is what is meant by the Dao (the Way): Heaven and Earth cannot contain it, and even the spirits cannot investigate it completely.

Later, people established musical tones and calendars and distinguished the five colors, clear and murky sounds, and sweet and bitter tastes. This was the uncarved simplicity of original nature dispersing into particular things. Establishing benevolence and righteousness and practicing ritual and music, in turn, was Virtue changing into human-made forms. The people adorned themselves with cleverness to deceive the foolish and devised fraud to deal with those above them. Although people throughout the realm tried to control these tendencies, no one could truly govern them well. The more cleverness increased, the more Virtue declined. Therefore, the Perfected Person—one who has reached the highest state—preserves simplicity and does not let original nature scatter.

In governing the realm, the Perfected Person keeps the heart-mind empty, still, and detached. They do not display things that provoke desire, but let the spirit rest in peace and bring the body into harmony with original nature. In stillness, they embody Virtue; in action, they deal with affairs with ease. They follow the natural Dao, responding only to what must be done. Through Wuwei (non-action) and detachment, the realm becomes harmonious. With simplicity and freedom from desire, the people return naturally to their uncarved state. Without contention, material goods can become abundant. Those who give seek no repayment, and those who receive do not refuse. In this way, Virtue returns, yet no one considers themselves a benefactor.

Discernment that does not rely on verbal argument, and a Dao that is expressed without words, seem to flow through all things of themselves. This is called the “Heavenly Treasury,” the source that stores and contains all things. Drawing from it does not diminish it; tapping it does not exhaust it; and no one knows where it comes from. After the uncarved simplicity of original nature is lost and its roots are damaged, the sage steps in to restore and refine things, helping people recover their proper work and return to the natural Dao, which the sage stores in the Heavenly Treasury. Drawing from it does not diminish it, and giving from it does not increase it. This is called “Shaking Light,” one of the stars of the Northern Dipper and also the power that guides the movement of all things. Shaking Light is the foundation on which all things depend for nourishment. The Dipper’s handle points in different directions and moves around the center of the heavens, taking the four quarters as its measure. It governs all things, enabling each to find its proper place and receive nourishment.

Laozi said, “Heaven cherishes its vital essence; Earth cherishes its evenness and balance; people cherish the truth of their own nature.” Heaven’s vital essence is manifested in the sun, moon, stars, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain. Earth’s evenness and balance are manifested in the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). Human nature’s truth includes thoughts, insight, joy, anger, and other emotions.

Therefore, by closing the four gates and quieting the five pathways, one can accord with the Dao (the Way). The “four gates” are the heart, mouth, ears, and eyes; the “five pathways” are the mental and physical activities associated with the five organs. Let spirit reside in the formless and vital energy return to its original state: let the eyes be clear without insisting on seeing, the ears keen without insisting on hearing, speech appropriate without being excessive, and the mind lucid without indulging in unfounded thoughts. Follow what is natural without forcing action; know what can be known without boasting of it. In this way, one can preserve the original truth of nature and life, and avoid being harmed by cleverness and desire.

When vital energy is stored in the eyes, sight is clear; when it is stored in the ears, hearing is keen; when it is stored in the mouth, speech is appropriate; when it gathers in the heart, thought is lucid. Therefore, if one can restrain the heart, mouth, ears, and eyes, and keep them from acting recklessly, one will encounter few misfortunes in life. When the limbs and the nine apertures are no longer constrained by anxieties about life and death, such a person is called a “Realized Person.”

In the workings of Heaven and Earth, Heaven’s “four gates” are the sun, moon, stars, and constellations, while its “five pathways” are the Five Phases. The seasons follow their rhythms, and the Five Phases change according to their patterns. Then Heaven and Earth are clear and bright, and all things and the people can be prosperous and at peace. When people keep their spirit within, the heart, mouth, ears, and eyes do not act recklessly, and the five organs are not disturbed by harmful influences. Their hearing and sight are clear, and their words and actions are appropriate, so misfortune can hardly harm them; nor do they dwell on death. This is the state in which a Realized Person who has attained the Dao dwells in peace.

The resources produced by Earth ultimately belong to the Five Phases. The sage regulates the Five Phases so that governance does not descend into disorder. The sage also restrains the five emotions and brings them into harmony with the Five Phases. In this way, the world is not thrown into turmoil. How much more should ordinary people do the same?

Laozi said, “A scale weighs things fairly only when it favors neither side. A carpenter’s line corrects what is crooked only when it shows no favoritism between inside and outside. A ruler can put orders into effect only by following the law and showing no preference based on personal likes and dislikes.” Neither displaying personal virtue for show nor harboring resentment within, but following the Dao in a way that accords with people’s hearts—this is the way to govern. All three depend on selflessness: fairness is established, integrity is maintained, and orders are carried out. One does not impair virtue in outward conduct or accumulate resentment inwardly, but acts in accordance with the Dao, so that the people may not even notice the ruler’s deliberate efforts to govern. Therefore, those who govern a state should not impose their own clever schemes upon it.

When water surges, it can wreck a boat; when a tree falls, it can break an axle. People do not blame the water or the tree for this, but instead examine whether the craft was sound. Water has no intention of wrecking a boat, and a tree has no intention of breaking an axle; it is not wise to blame the water or the tree themselves. From this we can see that governing a state should not depend on clever calculation. Governing through cunning can instead bring disaster upon the state.

Thus, when the Dao is mixed with cleverness, it falls into disorder; when De (Virtue/Power) is mixed with self-interest, it becomes precarious; when the mind fixates on external appearances, it becomes deluded. Put cleverness to rest, and the mind will not be disordered; forget self-interest, and there will be no danger; do not fixate on seeing, and there will be no delusion. In each case, the key is to let go of attachment.

Once a scale, a carpenter’s line, or a measuring rule has been established, it can be used for a long time according to the same standard, functioning without bias in either direction. Once its form is set, it can be passed down through generations. To function in this way without forcing anything is Wuwei (non-action). A scale is not unfair, and a carpenter’s line is not crooked; the problem lies in the partiality of those who use them. The Dao is inherently empty and still, and De is inherently clear; the problem lies in errors made by those who cultivate them.

“One” refers to the Dao of Wuwei. Rulers of every age can put it to use, and it can be passed down through countless generations without change. Anyone who is free of attachment to personal desires and deals with things selflessly according to the Dao can attend to affairs all day without acting against it. Only by governing through the Dao can one govern properly and for the long term. Otherwise, how could a scale or a system of weights and measures be established in a single day and remain unchanged for countless generations?

Laozi says: A ruler may die, but the state endures; the Dao in the world does not perish. People may find themselves in difficult circumstances, yet the principles of the Dao always remain accessible. Thus Wuwei (non-action)—following the nature of things without imposing needless action—is the foundation of the Dao. Whoever grasps this foundation can respond to endless change.

Why do states perish? Because they lose the proper way of governing. Remaining open to possibility in difficult circumstances is the function of the Dao; acting without relying on external conditions is an expression of De (Virtue/Power). Wuwei is the foundation, and it enables one to respond to endless change. If you do not follow the principles of the Dao and rely only on your own abilities, difficulties will soon arise. If you consider yourself wiser than others but fail to cultivate your own virtue, your predicament will soon become apparent.

A ruler can understand the world without leaving the palace because he can infer one thing from another, and one person from another. Bring together the strength of many, and no difficulty cannot be overcome; pool the wisdom of many, and no task cannot be accomplished. A thousand people will not run out of provisions, and a group of ten thousand will not leave its work undone. Each craftsperson has a specialty, and each official has a duty; they do not overstep one another’s roles. Everyone does what suits them, and everything is in its proper place. In this way, tools are not damaged and affairs are not neglected.

By inferring one situation from another, you can judge other people’s dispositions by measuring your own. Skillfully harness the strength of many, and you can divert rivers and fill the sea; skillfully employ people, and you can bring out their full effort. Small debts are easy to repay; few duties are easy to keep up; light responsibilities are easy for people to take on eagerly. When a ruler understands the principles of simplicity and moderation, officials can readily complete their work. Ruler and officials can then remain together for a long time without growing weary of one another. The key is to make policies and tasks clear and easy to carry out, so that people do not become exhausted or resentful.

Laozi says: An emperor should take the Great One (Taiyi) as the foundation. The Great One is rooted in emptiness and nonbeing and takes clarity and stillness as its guiding principles, so an emperor should model himself on it. A king should follow the transformations of Yin-Yang, ensuring that governance proceeds in an orderly way. A hegemon should act in accordance with the cycles of the four seasons and never go against what the time calls for. A feudal lord should apply the Six Pitch Pipes—ancient instruments used to set musical pitch, here a metaphor for having standards in matters of reward and punishment, advancement and retreat—and deal with all things with due measure.

Those who understand the Great One can grasp the realities of how Heaven and Earth operate and understand the principles of Dao and De. Their wisdom shines like the sun and moon, illuminating all things; their spirit is attuned to the myriad things. Whether active or at rest, they harmonize Yin-Yang; their joy and anger follow the seasons. They cover and nourish all things, acting always in accord with the Dao. They extend their kindness widely and show no favoritism; even tiny creatures, such as flying and crawling insects, live by their De. Their De reaches distant places, and their reputation endures for generations. The ancient emperors governed the world through the Dao.

Those who model themselves on Yin-Yang receive the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth. Their De reflects Heaven and Earth; their clear insight shines like the sun and moon, and their spirit is wondrously attuned to ghosts and spirits. With the round heavens above their heads and the square earth beneath their feet, they uphold laws and follow standards. They cultivate themselves inwardly and win people’s support outwardly. Once they issue an order, the whole world responds like grass stirred by the wind. The Five Emperors governed the world through De.

Governing in accordance with the seasons means bringing forth the budding of all things in spring, their growth in summer, their harvest in autumn, and their storage in winter. Giving and taking must both be measured; expenditure and income must each have their limits. Joy and anger, firmness and gentleness, must all accord with what is right: be gentle without becoming weak, firm without breaking, generous without being indulgent, and strict without violating principle. Nurture all kinds of beings with a calm, accommodating manner. Such De can make room for the ignorant and unworthy without favoring any side. The Three Kings governed the world through benevolence.

Governing through the Six Pitch Pipes means knowing the proper measure for nurturing and punishing, rewarding and penalizing, giving and taking away. Anything beyond this departs from the right way. A ruler must punish disorder and prohibit violence, appoint the worthy and dismiss the unworthy, correct what is crooked and restore it to what is right, and settle what is dangerous and chaotic so that it becomes secure. The ruler must also understand when to give or withhold, when to open or close, and respond to the moment and act according to circumstances, thereby winning the people’s allegiance. The Five Hegemons governed the world through righteousness.

If an emperor fails to understand Yin-Yang, the state will suffer harm. If a king fails to follow the seasons, his power will weaken. If a hegemon does not act by the Six Pitch Pipes, he will suffer disgrace. If a feudal lord loses his standards, he will be deposed. Thus, someone of low rank who adopts the practices of a ruler of high rank will fall into difficulty and struggle to win people’s closeness; someone of high rank who concerns himself only with small matters will seem narrow-minded and unable to accommodate others. The virtue of the age of emperors had different levels; the benevolence and righteousness of the Five Hegemons varied in depth. Modes of governance belonging to different levels should not be confused with one another.

Laozi says: A vast territory and a large population are not enough to make a powerful state. Strong armor and sharp weapons cannot guarantee victory. High walls and deep moats cannot ensure a secure defense. Severe punishments cannot establish true authority. None of these can be relied upon; only a person of De (Virtue/Power) can be called a king.

The aim of governing a state should be to ensure its long survival. A vast territory and a large population are not enough to make it powerful; strong armor and sharp weapons cannot guarantee victory; high walls and deep moats cannot ensure its security; severe punishments cannot establish authority. A well-governed state can endure even if it is small and weak, while a poorly governed state will perish even if it is powerful.

Those skilled at defending a state need not meet others in direct resistance. Those skilled at warfare need not collide with others head-on. They follow the times and the people’s wishes, bringing all under Heaven to submit. Thus, those skilled at governing a state build up De; those skilled at using military force cultivate a generous and compassionate heart. When De is deep, the people can be relied upon and mobilized; when generosity is accumulated, trust and authority can be established. The more deeply civil virtue is put into practice, the more readily power wins people’s confidence. The farther its beneficence spreads, the wider the reach of its authority. As that reach grows, one’s own strength increases and the enemy’s weakens in comparison.

Those skilled at warfare first put the enemy at a disadvantage and only then engage in battle. They therefore expend less than half the effort yet achieve ten times the result. A state with a thousand chariots can become king through the practice of civil virtue; a great state with ten thousand chariots will eventually perish if it delights in warfare. A righteous army secures victory before going to war; an army destined to lose goes to war first and then tries to win. This is because it does not understand the principles of the Dao (the Way). A state that rashly takes up arms will perish, however great it may be. A state skilled in governing affairs will flourish, however small it may be. By keeping the people from death and allowing them to live, one can prevail; by driving them onto a battlefield strewn with corpses, one is bound to fail.

The chapter titled “Supreme Benevolence” says: People of supreme De (the highest level of virtue) will win the allegiance of all the people under Heaven; people of supreme benevolence will win the allegiance of everyone within the four seas; those who possess supreme righteousness will win the allegiance of a state’s people; and those who possess supreme propriety will win the allegiance of the people in a single district. If these four qualities are absent, the people will not give their allegiance. Beginning with the “Supreme Benevolence” chapter, chapter titles are no longer marked one by one at the start; all follow this same format.

Laozi says: A noble person governing a state should cultivate himself through quietude and sustain the people’s livelihood through frugality. When those above do not disturb the people, the people will not resent them. If those above harass the people, government affairs will fall into disorder; if the people grow resentful, the rulers’ De will decline. When government is disordered, worthy and capable people will not offer their counsel; when De has declined, courageous people will not be willing to serve. A wise ruler cultivates himself through quietude and sustains the people through frugality. The court then imposes no disorderly policies, and the people have no cause for resentment. Worthy and capable people will naturally plan for the state, and courageous people will step forward to serve it.

Confused and disorderly rulers act otherwise. Using the wealth of the realm and the power of the throne, they exhaust the people’s strength to satisfy their own sensual desires, devoting themselves to palaces and towers, gardens and ponds, hunting parks, and rare and exotic animals. The people go hungry in poverty, while tigers and wolves feast on fine meat; the people suffer from cold, while magnificent brocades are laid out in the palace. By accumulating such useless things, rulers make it impossible for the people under Heaven to live securely and preserve their lives. These corrupt rulers occupy the throne while exhausting the realm’s resources and bringing harm to every quarter. They drain the people’s household wealth and care only for indulging their eyes and ears. Qin Er Shi was an example of such a ruler; his actions led the state into disorder.

Laozi said: “If the mind is not detached and still, it cannot bring De to light. If the mind is not at peace, it cannot plan for the long term. If one’s heart is not broad, one cannot embrace the people and protect all things. If one does not deal with affairs fairly and calmly, one cannot make sound judgments.

“A ruler should gather the eyes of all under Heaven to observe, the ears of all under Heaven to listen, the minds of all under Heaven to think, and the strength of all under Heaven to plan. In this way, orders can reach the lowest levels, and the true circumstances of officials can reach the ruler. Each official performs their duties, and the ministers join in service. The ruler does not hand out rewards at whim when pleased, or impose punishments indiscriminately when angry. Laws and orders are clear but not harsh; eyes and ears are alert, not clouded. The facts of good and evil, right and wrong, are reported each day without being turned away. Then the capable can fully exercise their abilities, and even the less capable will do their best. Those nearby are content in their roles, while those far away admire the ruler’s De. This is the way to make good use of people. In broad outline, this is how enlightened rulers govern and appoint talent, as did Emperor Wen of Han and Emperor Taizong of Tang.

“A charioteer can ride a horse and reach a thousand li without running there in person. A person traveling by boat can cross rivers and seas without wading through the water. If something is said well, it should not be dismissed even when the speaker is a merchant or a woodcutter. If it is said poorly, it should not be accepted even when it comes from a ruler or a high minister. Right and wrong cannot be judged by a person’s rank. If a plan is workable, there is no need to feel ashamed because its proposer is low in status; if a proposal can truly be put into practice, there is no need to scorn its proposer for being inarticulate. Put people in the right roles, and much can be accomplished with little effort; affairs can be set in motion without the ruler having to rush about in person.

“Thus, when the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan, a legendary ruler of antiquity, listened to a shepherd boy, the realm was brought to order. Was the boy’s low status a reason not to hear him? By contrast, when Huhai, the Second Emperor of Qin, accepted Zhao Gao’s schemes, the realm was brought to ruin. Did the high status of a minister make Zhao Gao trustworthy?

“Benighted rulers are not like this. Few of their ministers can devote themselves fully to loyal service, because their abilities are not put to use. Those whom the ruler knows and favors are often crooked and unprincipled, while the worthy have no way to gain an audience. Even when distant and lowly people exert themselves to offer loyal counsel, their views do not reach the ruler’s ears. If someone speaks, the ruler cross-examines and challenges them with words; if someone offers remonstrance, the ruler punishes them under some charge. To hope then to bring peace to the realm and secure the four quarters is to be far indeed from clear judgment and attentive listening. Without sage-like De, one cannot bring the four seas to order; without wise judgment, one cannot pacify the realm.”

Laozi said: Those who understand how to cherish life do not harm their bodies through excessive indulgence, even when they are wealthy and honored. Even when poor and lowly, they do not exhaust body and mind in pursuit of profit. Even if they spend ten thousand gold pieces each day, they do not give free rein to their appetites and damage their lives. Even if their household is so poor that it has little food in reserve, they do not resort to any means to gain profit and thereby harm their De (Virtue/Power). Only then can they be said to understand how to cherish life.

Today, those who inherit rank and property from their ancestors should value them especially and not lose them carelessly. Life has been entrusted to us over a long span, yet people readily destroy it. Is that not foolish? Only those who govern the world with the same care they show for their own lives can be entrusted with the world. Govern the world with such care, and the world, in turn, can be entrusted to you. Those who inherit the work of their forebears but then abandon it must have given little thought to losing it. Therefore, someone who does not hold themselves responsible for fulfilling their duties is not fit to be entrusted with governing the world.

Wenzi asked about the foundation of governing a state. Laozi said: “The foundation lies in cultivating and ordering oneself. I have never heard of a state being in disorder when its ruler was well governed, nor of a state being well governed when its ruler was in disorder. Thus, when you cultivate yourself, your De becomes real. If you have not even put yourself in order, how can you speak of governing a state? The Dao (the Way) is supremely subtle because a father cannot teach it directly to his son, nor can a son receive it directly from his father. For this reason, if the Dao could be fully expressed in words, it would not be the constant Dao; if a name could be fixed and stated, it would not be a constant name. The constant Dao has no fixed name. Anything that can be named and described cannot be equated with the Dao. Thus, the Dao that words and arguments cannot express cannot be passed directly from father to son.”

Wenzi asked: “What should one do so that the people will feel close to their ruler?” Laozi said: “When putting the people to work, act in accordance with the seasons, and treat them with respect and caution, as if facing a deep abyss or walking on thin ice. In the world between Heaven and Earth, the good are our companions, and the wicked are our enemies. In the past, the people of the Xia and Shang dynasties turned away from Jie and Zhou and submitted instead to Tang of Shang and King Wu of Zhou. The people of the Sushashi clan themselves attacked their ruler and pledged allegiance to Shennong. Therefore, we too must respect what others hold in awe. What deserves awe is not the ruler’s status itself; what truly deserves awe is goodness.”

Laozi says: In governing a great state, one’s principles cannot be confined to small matters. When the territory is vast, methods of governance cannot be narrow. Those in high office should not handle affairs in an excessively complicated way; when the people are many, instruction should not be harsh. Complicated affairs are difficult to govern, harsh laws and orders are difficult to carry out, and excessive demands are difficult to meet.

If you measure with inches, then when you reach ten feet, errors easily arise. If you weigh with zhu, a very small unit of weight, then when you reach a shi, a much larger unit, it is easy to overshoot. Measure length directly in feet and weight directly in shi, and the method is simple, with fewer mistakes. Grasping the general picture readily shows wisdom; getting tangled in fine distinctions over details is hardly a sign of good judgment. The truth can be obscured by small, local achievements, and words can be covered over by exaggeration and falsehood. Therefore, the sage does not do what is of no benefit to governing and instead helps sow disorder; the wise person does not do what serves no practical purpose and merely adds expense.

Thus, one need not pursue an abundance of achievements, a multitude of affairs, or excessive wants. Achievements are easier to accomplish when kept simple, affairs easier to govern when kept few, and needs easier to meet when kept modest. When responsibility is shared among the people, matters become easier to accomplish. Trivial arguments damage what is right, and cramped notions of what is right undermine the Great Dao. Principles that are too narrow cannot reach far; principles that truly reach far must be clear and simple. The sage is perceptive and discerning, able to see what has yet to happen. The sage does not let small details obscure the whole, or let complication take the place of simplicity.

Rivers wind and turn, and so they can flow far; they do not rely on a single ladleful of water. Mountains rise in layer upon layer, and so they can tower high; they do not rely on a single handful of earth. The Dao moves at ease, gradually transforming the myriad things; this cannot be brought about all at once. A person may master a particular craft, know a particular matter well, or excel at a particular skill. On that basis, the person can speak in detail about one part, but cannot thereby deal with everything.

When tuning strings, a thin string should be stretched tighter and a thick one left looser. In arranging government affairs, those of lower status often do more work, while those of higher status are often more at ease. The example of tuning strings shows that things of different sizes must be brought into proper balance; in governing a state, the high and the low should each be accorded their proper place.

The Dao is said to be vast and subtle, following Heaven’s power and sharing its Qi. One who shares Heaven’s Qi may be called an emperor; one who accords with Heaven’s justice may be called a king; one whose achievements accord with Heaven’s may be called a hegemon. If one cannot accomplish any of these three, one will head toward ruin. “Sharing Qi” means that one’s merit and virtue remain unseen, yet one earns praise. “Accord with justice” means rescuing the age from peril. “Share in achievement” means sharing benefits with the people. If none of these can be done, one will fall into danger and ultimately be destroyed.

To win people’s trust without issuing commands, to be naturally benevolent without deliberately bestowing favors, and to command awe without anger: this is Heaven’s heart in motion, transforming the myriad things. The Five Emperors followed nature and practiced Wuwei, aligning themselves with Heaven’s heart. The myriad things each received the vitality of life, and, touched by their influence, changed of themselves. To bestow favors and thereby display benevolence, to speak and thereby gain trust, and to become angry and thereby show authority—all this is achieved through sincerity within the heart. The sincerity of the Three Kings arose within and was expressed through outward action. It therefore still bore traces of human contrivance and had not yet reached the state of transformation without intention. To bestow favors without benevolence, to speak without winning trust, and to become angry without commanding awe—to put on an outward show—is the condition of the Five Hegemons. Their sincerity did not arise from within, and external things did not respond; so even when they were angry, they had no authority.

Therefore, when a person who has the Dao governs a state, even a few laws and orders are enough to bring it peace. When a person without the Dao governs, even many laws and orders are enough to bring it into disorder. The key to governing lies in the Great Dao; upheaval often springs from an excess of laws and orders.

Laozi says: When a whale leaves the water, it falls under the power of ants. When a ruler abandons the principles he ought to uphold and competes with his ministers to handle specific affairs, he falls under the power of the officials in charge of them. Fish cannot leave the water; a ruler cannot lose the Dao (the Way).

A ruler should hold fast to his position through Wuwei (non-action), allowing officials to carry out their duties according to their responsibilities. If ministers conceal their abilities and neglect their work, leaving every matter for the ruler to decide alone, while the ruler fails to appoint capable people and prefers to handle everything personally, he will become increasingly entangled in affairs and eventually be constrained by the officials in charge.

If a ruler is in the wrong before his subordinates, he cannot make the facts clear. If he acts improperly and loses the bearing appropriate to his position, he cannot hold authority. If his abilities are insufficient to govern the state and his power too weak to enforce penalties, he cannot command his ministers. When a ruler lets his anger and pleasure show in his heart and displays his likes and desires outwardly, officials will abandon impartiality and cater to him. The officials in charge of laws and affairs will also twist the law and follow the ruler’s changing preferences.

When rewards do not match merit and punishments do not match offenses, those above and below become divided, and ruler and ministers grow resentful of one another. The affairs of the officials become disorderly, and even the ruler’s intelligence cannot sort them out. Accusations and praise keep arising, and even the ruler’s discernment cannot take everything into account. If he blames himself for everything, even when he is clearly not at fault, he only burdens himself further and makes life easier for his ministers.

This is like cutting wood on behalf of a master carpenter: anyone who takes up the axe for him is likely to injure their own hand. A ruler should appoint worthy and capable people instead of deciding everything by himself. Then his abilities have support. Even when he cannot see everything clearly, officials who fulfill their duties will not simply cater to him, and those responsible for administering the law can still act according to it. If innocent people are put to death and those who have earned merit go unrewarded, the ruler will be burdened ever more, while his ministers grow ever more comfortable. This is like sitting down to swing an axe on behalf of a master carpenter, only to injure your own hand.

Run a race against a horse yourself, and even if you run until you are exhausted, you will not catch it. Sit in a carriage and hold the reins, and the horse may die beside the carriage pole. Bole was skilled at assessing horses, and Wang Liang was skilled at driving them. A wise ruler is skilled at directing ministers: without the effort of assessing horses or driving them himself, he can still travel a thousand miles. This is the skill of making use of other people’s abilities.

A ruler occupies the position above and directs his ministers. He need only appoint loyal and upright people; he need not trouble himself with every matter. It is like traveling by horse: with the help of people skilled at assessing and driving horses, one can sit at ease and travel a thousand miles without difficulty. The ruler’s way is to achieve things without forcing them, and to establish accomplishments without claiming credit for them. When the ruler takes action, his ministers will judge him; when he shows a preference, they will flatter him. Their judgments may weaken his authority, while their flattery may tempt him away from the right path. By exploiting the ruler’s private preferences, ministers can deprive him of sound methods of government. If he relies on his own deliberate actions only to be controlled by others, he cannot govern the state well.

Therefore, those skilled at establishing an enterprise lay foundations that cannot be uprooted. This refers to foundations established without visible form or trace. Only the power of wondrous transformation is something that nothing can overcome. Those in positions of authority must be able to direct others without being controlled by them. To remain free of others’ control is to have a firm foundation that is not easily shaken. Because this power works through the formless, it is called “spiritual transformation.”

When desires within the heart do not show outwardly, this is called “latching the gate.” When outside influences that are crooked and harmful do not enter the heart, this is called “closing it.” If the heart is restrained and harmful influences kept out, what cannot be brought under control? If harmful influences do not enter and the heart remains restrained, what enterprise cannot be accomplished? In this way, desires and troubles can be reduced.

“Not using and not acting” does not mean handling nothing at all. When a task needs to be done, one must act; and once one acts, one necessarily does something. A ruler does not boast of his own words or take over his ministers’ responsibilities. Instead, he checks actual results against assigned roles and lets the officials in charge fulfill their duties. The ruler’s principle is not to show off his own abilities, and his chief concern is to prevent oppressive interference. In this way, there is a clear basis for evaluating each official’s work. The ruler grasps the overall picture, appoints his officials, examines their performance closely, and judges their gains and losses.

Laozi says: Food is the foundation of the people’s survival, and the people are the foundation of the state. Therefore, a ruler governing the state must follow the seasons and make full use of the land’s conditions, while relying on the strength of the people. In this way, living things can grow and all things can flourish. In spring, dead trees are cut; in summer, the fruits are harvested; in autumn, vegetables are stored; and in winter, firewood is gathered. These provide for the people’s needs, so that the living have what sustains them and lack nothing in daily life, and the dead are not left unattended. If the ruler can bring Yin-Yang into harmony, life and death will each follow their proper course.

The laws established by the former kings did not sweep up entire herds, drain ponds and marshes to catch fish, or burn forests to hunt. They did not exhaust all things or take without restraint. Before jackals and wolves began to hunt, people were forbidden to set traps in the wild. Before otters began to fish, people were forbidden to cast nets into the water. Before hawks and falcons began to hunt, people were forbidden to spread nets for birds along the water’s edge. Before plants and trees had withered, people were forbidden to cut wood in the mountains and forests. Before insects had gone dormant, people were forbidden to burn the fields. Pregnant animals and those raising their young were not killed; young birds and eggs were not taken from their nests. Fish that had not grown to a foot in length were not caught for food; dogs and pigs were not slaughtered before reaching a certain age. Everything was done in its proper season, without wantonly harming living things.

As all things grow, their vital essence seems to rise like vapor. If living things are killed at the wrong time, or taken inappropriately, their vital essence rises toward Heaven and may ultimately bring calamity. The former kings followed the seasons and ordered the cycles of growth and production precisely to make the state prosperous and benefit the people.

To care for all things appropriately and take from them in season, without violating the natural order, is what makes the state prosperous and the household peaceful. The key to benefiting the people is for the ruler to have no greed for what belongs to others; then the people will naturally build up their own stores. Measure things by your own heart and understand others by considering your own circumstances. Why wait for outward actions such as moving the eyebrows or taking a step before being fully prepared?

Laozi says: The wise rulers of antiquity took the people’s wealth in moderation and provided for themselves with restraint. They first estimated the year’s harvest, assessed the people’s stores, and determined how much grain was left over and how much was lacking. Only then did they collect taxes. In this way, the people could sustain the livelihood granted to them by Heaven and Earth and avoid falling into hunger and cold.

Wise rulers truly cared for the people. When famine struck the state, they did not insist on a variety of delicacies at their own tables. When the people were cold, they too went without fur robes in winter. They shared the people’s hardships and comforts, and so the people under Heaven had no grievances. This is how a wise ruler governs the world.

Foolish rulers are different. They take wealth from the people without regard for what the people can bear, and demand goods without considering their reserves. Men and women then have no time to farm or weave, and cannot meet the government’s demands through their own labor. The people exhaust their strength and deplete their household possessions; they struggle to get by in the present but have nothing to rely on in the future. Rulers and subjects alike grow resentful.

An ordinary person supports a family by farming no more than ten mu of land. Even a middling field yields only four shi of grain. A wife and children, the elderly, and those in frail health all depend on this harvest. At times, disaster strikes, leaving them unable to meet the government’s demands. Even if a ruler feels pity for them, a greedy and brutal ruler will still drain the pond dry, stripping the people of everything to satisfy his endless desires. The people then cannot enjoy the peace that comes from the harmony of Heaven and Earth, or live securely in the blessings of the land. This is how a foolish ruler governs the world.

Laozi says: Among the energies of Heaven and Earth, nothing is more important than harmony. Harmony means the Yin and Yang are in accord and day and night are balanced. All things grow at the spring equinox and mature at the autumn equinox; both growth and maturation depend on the refined essence gathered through harmony. When Yin energy accumulates to its extreme, things can no longer grow; when Yang energy accumulates to its extreme, things can no longer change. Only through the union of Yin and Yang can harmony be attained. Thus, when the energies of Heaven and Earth are balanced, all things can come into being.

The way a sage conducts himself in the world is therefore generous without losing rigor, serious yet still gentle, yielding while holding to what is right, and firm while retaining compassion. Excessive hardness leads to breaking; excessive softness leads to bending. The Dao lies between firmness and softness.

A cord can be coiled and tucked into one’s breast, or drawn out and laid flat. It can extend without sprawling sideways, and be shortened without losing its usefulness. It can remain straight without becoming rigid. The sage follows these qualities of the cord: this is the sage’s way of balance and harmony. To yield while remaining upright is the principle by which a skilled craftsperson uses the carpenter’s tools for checking angles and curves. To be able both to coil up and to stretch out is the principle by which a sage establishes laws and measures.

If kindness is extended too far, it turns into weakness, and weakness has no authority. If severity goes too far, it becomes ferocity, and ferocity loses harmony. Excessive favor leads to indulgence, and indulgence cannot make people obey. Excessive punishment invites disorder; once disorder arises, family bonds are damaged as well. Therefore, what matters is holding to balance and harmony.

Laozi says: A state can endure because it accords with the Dao, the fundamental principle by which all things in the universe operate. A state moves toward collapse when its governance fails and affairs become obstructed. Thus, the sage observes changes in the world to discern the signs of flourishing and decline. The rise or decline of virtuous governance often first becomes visible in the prevailing social climate. A state that follows the way of life and growth may begin weak and gradually become strong; a state already showing signs of collapse will ultimately fail, even if it is flourishing now. Whether a state will perish cannot be judged by its strength alone. What accords with the Dao must not be dismissed, even when it is small in scale. A state endures because it has attained the Dao, not because its territory is vast; it falls because it has lost the Dao, not because its power is limited.

A benighted ruler devotes himself to expanding his territory but gives no thought to benevolence and righteousness. He seeks high office but does not cultivate virtue. In doing so, he abandons the foundation on which his state depends for its survival and instead creates the conditions for its ruin. The difference between flourishing and decline can be seen by observing the wise and the foolish. Preserving virtue does not depend on the size of a state. If a ruler above disrupts the natural order symbolized by the sun, moon, and stars, and below loses the people’s support, who will stand by him? Thus, one who is skilled at examining himself does not make constant demands of others.

When ancient rulers practiced these principles deeply, they called them Dao and De; when they practiced them less fully, they called them benevolence and righteousness; when they practiced them more superficially, they called them propriety and wisdom. These six—Dao, De, benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom—are the guiding principles that hold a state together. Deep practice brings abundant blessings; shallow practice brings limited blessings. If all are practiced fully, the world will submit. The ancients held that cultivating virtue could set the world right, cultivating benevolence and righteousness could set a state right, and cultivating propriety and wisdom could set a community right. Deep virtue has a wide influence; shallow virtue has a narrow one.

Attaining the Dao, then, does not depend on showing off military strength or winning through force, still less on greed and rivalry. To establish oneself in the world requires extending to others the consideration one wishes for oneself. The world submits when people do so willingly. One gains the world when its people offer it freely, not when one seizes it by force. Thus, by occupying a yielding, humble position, one can establish oneself; by remaining soft and weak, one can prevail; by treating others with benevolence and righteousness, one can win their support; and by refusing to contend, one leaves no one able to contend with oneself. The Dao moves through the world like rivers and seas: because they lie low, they gather all the streams.

The law of Heaven is this: forceful action often brings failure, and clinging to what one holds often leads to loss. If a person devotes himself to pursuing fame and contending at every turn, I believe he will ultimately fail to achieve what he seeks. Even if he grasps fame for a time, he cannot keep it for long. Fame cannot be obtained by demanding it; it is bestowed by the people of the world. Those to whom the people give it are the ones they will follow. The world rallies to a person because of that person’s virtue. Thus, people everywhere rally to the one of supreme virtue; within the four seas, they rally to the one distinguished for benevolence; in a state, they rally to the one who honors righteousness; and in a community, they rally to the one who values propriety. If someone lacks all four of these virtues, the people will not rally to them. To use military force when the people will not rally to you is dangerous.

Weapons, then, are ill-omened things, to be used only when there is no other choice. Even when victorious and having killed or wounded the enemy, one should not rejoice. The places where soldiers have fallen will grow thick with brambles; one should mourn them in sorrow and observe the rites for the dead. For this reason, the noble person devotes himself to cultivating virtue and does not resort lightly to military force. The practice of virtue has degrees of depth, and virtue itself has degrees of fullness. Virtue must never be abandoned, even for a moment; weapons, those instruments of calamity, must never be used casually.

Wenzi asked Laozi, “Why are benevolence, righteousness, and ritual not as deep and enduring as Dao and De?”

Laozi replied, “When practicing benevolence and De, one should take Dao and De as one’s foundation and not use weapons lightly. Some actions are shallow and others profound; De, too, may be deep or thin. Dao and De must never be abandoned, even for a moment. Weapons, being instruments of violence, should not be used casually.”

Wenzi asked the same question again. Laozi said, “Those who speak of benevolence often judge things by sorrow and joy; those who speak of righteousness often explain principles in terms of giving and taking. But across the four seas, it is impossible to attend to everyone’s sorrow and joy one by one. Even if the state treasury were emptied, there would not be enough to support all the people. This shows that kindness alone cannot benefit everyone. It is better, then, to cultivate Dao and put De into practice: follow the nature of heaven, earth, and the myriad things, and each thing will naturally find its proper place. The people of the world will then be provided for, and benevolence and righteousness will emerge in turn.

“A great person chooses a deep foundation and does not linger on a shallow surface. Dao and De are profound, while benevolence and righteousness are comparatively shallow. So the sage stands firm in Dao and De rather than remaining with the outward forms of benevolence and righteousness. Ritual is the outward expression of what is true and reasonable within; benevolence is the practical expression of affection. Ritual should therefore be shaped in keeping with human feeling, without going beyond what that feeling warrants; benevolence, too, should not exceed genuine affection. Grief arises from within, and funeral rites should accord with the feelings of benevolence.

“When caring for the living, do not force people to do what they cannot manage, and do not stop them from doing what they cannot stop doing. If matters are measured just right, false praise and blame have no grounds to arise. Music is made to bring people into harmony and joy, so it should not go beyond what is peaceful. One must also understand the boundary between life and death, and know the proper measure of extravagance and frugality. Only when human feeling loses its harmony do benevolence and righteousness arise; ritual and music then regulate them, so that each person understands their proper limits and does not overstep them.

“In times of decline and disorder, things are different: words and actions contradict each other, and inner feelings oppose outward appearances. Ritual becomes elaborate and artificial; music becomes chaotic and unrestrained. Customs are submerged by worldly concerns, and the court fills with praise and blame. When the Perfected One sees this, he no longer adopts such practices. Instead, he holds to simplicity and reforms corrupt customs.

“When a person races against a fine horse, the person cannot outrun it. But when the person rides in a carriage, the horse cannot outrun the person. This shows that those who know how to use Dao well accomplish things by drawing on the strength of others: they bring out what others can do and make up for what they themselves cannot. When a ruler governs in season, the people repay him with their wealth; when a ruler treats them with courtesy, they repay him with their lives. Thus, there are states that fall into ruin, but no ruler who remains secure forever; there are rulers beset by troubles, but no ministers who remain at ease forever.

“When a person’s De exceeds what their position calls for, they may be honored. When their salary exceeds what their De deserves, disaster follows. Honor should rest on De, and the acquisition of wealth should accord with righteousness. To hold high office without De is to steal a position; to acquire wealth without righteousness is to steal wealth. Holding high office without De invites danger, while acquiring wealth without righteousness is theft.

“The sage is content in poverty and takes joy in Dao. He does not harm his life through desire or burden himself for profit, and so he does not violate righteousness to seize what is not his. In ancient times, people without De were not honored, those without ability were not appointed to office, those without merit were not rewarded, and those without fault were not punished. Appointments were made in accordance with ritual, and dismissals in accordance with righteousness.

“When petty people are in power, they raise someone up as though they would lift him to the heavens, and cast him down as though they would push him into an abyss. The sage does not appoint people casually or dismiss them rashly. Petty people, by contrast, always think the promotion was not high enough and the dismissal not harsh enough. In ancient times, criticism of the past was often a way of satirizing the present. People today are frivolous and impulsive: if they like someone, they wish he would live forever; if they dislike someone, they wish he would die.

“If you choose horses only by looking for the lean ones, you will easily make a mistake. If you reject candidates for office simply because they are poor, you will also judge them wrongly. A fat pig can be food for the kitchen, while a bony, weak-looking horse may still be fit for service. A horse is prized for its good qualities: even if lean, it can travel a long way. A minister is prized for loyalty: even if poor, he can accomplish great things. A noble person examines the facts and does not readily believe slander. If a ruler does wrong and a minister does not admonish him, that minister is not loyal. If a minister offers admonition and the ruler does not listen, the ruler is unwise. Those who fail to admonish merely occupy their posts and draw their salaries without doing their work. A ruler who will not listen to admonition is tyrannical. And a ruler who is not troubled when the people are suffering cannot be called a worthy ruler.

“To uphold one’s integrity and die for the country in a time of danger is a minister’s duty. To keep one’s children from going cold and hungry is a compassionate father’s care. If a ruler can do this, why worry that the state will fall? If a minister can do this, why worry that rank and salary will not be enough?

“When a great state oppresses a small one, it is called a violation of the human way; when a small state affronts a great one, it is called a defiance of the order of Heaven. Those who act this way may prosper for a time, but in the end they will fall into an abyss. Thus, in the village, people are ranked by age, and the old and destitute are not abandoned; at court, people are ranked by their titles, each in their proper order. When young and old each keep to their place, disaster has no grounds to arise. The honored are esteemed because they are close to the ruler; the old are respected because they are close to one’s parents and elders; those older than oneself are treated with deference because they are like elder brothers. The honored are esteemed on account of their place beside the ruler, the old are respected through family affection, and elders are honored through ritual.

“Those born to high rank are prone to arrogance; those born to wealth are prone to extravagance. Unless they discipline themselves through understanding Dao and De, few among the rich and powerful can avoid wrongdoing. Of those who occupy high office without understanding Dao and De, scarcely any can avoid acting wickedly.

“To learn without weariness is to cultivate oneself; to teach without fatigue is to govern the people. If one keeps company with worthy teachers and good friends, fewer people will abandon the right path and go astray. By observing and learning, one can understand principles; by accepting instruction, one can gain something from anyone. Enter an orchard filled with orchids and other fragrant plants, and their scent will naturally cling to you. Knowing who is worthy is wisdom; caring for the worthy is benevolence; respecting the benevolent is righteousness; honoring the worthy is ritual; taking joy in the worthy is joy.

“In ancient times, those skilled at governing the world followed nature and did not impose their own designs, yet there was nothing they could not accomplish. They did not invent tasks for the people, and so their way was called ‘Wuwei’ (non-action). They acted in line with the people’s interests, and so there was nothing they left undone. Governing the world requires a spirit of openness. With such openness, one can practice Wuwei and achieve results; without it, one’s actions can easily invite danger.

“Those who govern the world should be like this: cautious, as if crossing a river on foot in winter; hesitant, as if wary of threats from neighboring states on every side; dignified and respectful, like a guest; melting and dissolving, like ice turning to water; solid and plain, like uncarved wood; indistinct and without sharp edges, like muddy water; and spacious, like a valley. These are the qualities needed to govern the world.

“A commentator explains: To be cautious like someone crossing a river in winter is not to dare move forward rashly. To be wary of neighboring states is to fear inviting trouble from every direction. To be dignified like a guest is to be humble and respectful. To be like melting ice is not to dare hoard things for oneself. To be like uncarved wood is not to presume oneself perfect. To be like muddy water is not to boast of one’s purity. To be like a valley is not to presume oneself full. Seeming not to dare move forward, one can in fact take the lead. Fearing self-injury, one holds to weakness and does not boast. Taking the lowest place, one earns the respect of others. By neither hoarding nor clinging, one becomes full and strong. By not seeking completeness, one preserves oneself. Dwelling amid what is polluted without claiming to be pure, one can remain uncorrupted. Knowing oneself to be insufficient, one can become worthy.

“Dao seems to yield, yet it takes the lead; it holds to weakness, yet becomes strong; it takes the lower place, yet rises above others; it diminishes itself, yet becomes full and firm; it does not seek completeness, yet preserves itself; it dwells in a muddy world, yet brings freshness to light; it knows its own insufficiency, yet becomes worthy. Dao follows nature, practicing Wuwei while leaving nothing undone. These ways of seeming to yield are precisely the reverse expressions of Dao. By taking the place behind, people put it in front; by diminishing itself, people entrust things to it. Thus the people of the world uphold it without feeling burdened, and willingly choose it without growing weary.”

End of Volume Ten of the Tongxuan Zhenjing

Collation notes:

1 “Xiuda” appears as “Tiaotong” in the Qu edition.

2 “Cong” appears as “Tong” in the Qu edition.

3 The original reads “tianxia”; “tian” has been deleted on the basis of the Qu edition.

4 “Yi” appears as “Sui” in the Qu edition.

5 “Zheng” appears as “Chao” in the Qu edition.

6 “Jun” appears as “Dao” in the Qu edition.

7 “Wangqugu” appears as “Qu’angu” in the Qu edition.

8 The original reads “Yue”; this has been changed to “Zhi” on the basis of the Qu edition.

The collation notes for #4 through #8 are repeated once in the original.

Volume Eleven of the Tongxuan Zhenjing

Commentary by Moxi Zi (the sobriquet of Xu Lingfu)

“Shangyi” (chapter title)

Laozi says: Anyone who studies can be called discerning if they understand the proper bounds between the Way of Heaven and human affairs, grasp the fundamental causes of order and disorder in governing the world, and keep these principles firmly in mind with a clear heart and still thoughts. By seeing how things change from beginning to end, then returning to emptiness—a calm state free from the constraints of private desires and fixed opinions—they become truly perceptive. Only those with an inward clarity who can return to still emptiness can understand the bounds between the Way of Heaven and human affairs and investigate the roots of disorder.

The foundation of governance lies in benevolence and righteousness; its lesser details lie in laws and regulations. What nourishes people is fundamental; what does not directly nourish them is secondary. Foundation and detail are parts of one whole, and both require attention. One who puts the foundation first and attends to details afterward is called a noble person; one who puts details first and attends to the foundation afterward is called a petty person.

A person’s life takes spirit as its foundation and the body as secondary. Thus, the wise rulers of antiquity gave priority to nurturing the spirit and regulating the emotions and temperament. People in later generations, however, cared only for preserving the body and indulged their preferences and desires. Regulating one’s emotions and temperament brings clarity to the spirit; indulging desire harms the body. Only when the spirit is clear and the body well balanced, with foundation and detail in harmony, can one preserve the body, nurture the spirit, and avoid damaging one’s innate nature. People differ in how they cultivate themselves and in the conditions they inherit; hence the distinction between noble and petty persons.

Laws and regulations are established to support benevolence and righteousness. To value laws while abandoning benevolence and righteousness is like cherishing hats and shoes while forgetting the head and feet. In governing a state, one should first take benevolence and righteousness as the foundation, then use laws to bring order and set standards. To value laws alone and discard benevolence and righteousness is like casting aside the head and feet and caring only for hats and shoes.

Benevolence and righteousness must be deep-rooted and broad. If one enlarges the structure without strengthening its foundation, it will collapse; if one builds higher without widening its base, it will topple. Thus, beams and pillars that are not stout enough cannot bear heavy loads. Nothing is more suited to bearing heavy loads than the main beams; nothing is more essential to governing a state than De (Virtue/Power).

A ruler’s relationship to the people is like a city’s relationship to its foundations, or a tree’s to its roots. When roots reach deep, a tree’s foundation is secure; when foundations are substantial, a ruler can be at ease. Roots and foundations are like moral character. There has never been a case of deep roots and broad foundations being destroyed and uprooted; nor has anyone heard of a ruler whose high moral character and profound De failed to win the people’s respect and support.

Therefore, conduct that does not take moral character as its foundation cannot become a constant way; words that do not accord with the principles of the former kings cannot be called the Great Way. Conduct that does not follow the ancients and adhere to the Great Way cannot serve as a standard for governing the state. Methods that speak only of a particular action or a temporary result are not principles that apply throughout the world; strange, deceptive, and ever-changing techniques are not the Great Way of the world.

Laozi said: Governing the people is like Zao Fu driving a chariot drawn by four horses. Zao Fu was the charioteer in the time of King Mu of Zhou. He skillfully adjusted the reins and bits, kept the right measure and rhythm in handling the horses at their chests, and attuned his mind to them. His movements accorded with their will, enabling him to follow the road into the distance. He drove with strength to spare and could move forward, back up, and turn as he wished. He had truly mastered the art of driving.

Power and authority are like the chariot in which a ruler rides; ministers are like the four horses that pull it. A ruler cannot do without the security the chariot provides, nor can he lose his hold over his ministers. If the horses are out of step, Zao Fu cannot make the chariot move smoothly forward or backward, or turn. If ruler and ministers are at odds, even a sage cannot govern the state well. Only by governing the state through the Dao can every talent be put to its proper use. When each person’s duties are made clear and shown publicly, treacherous conduct can be curbed. When things arise, observe how they change; when affairs come before you, respond in keeping with how they unfold. If matters at hand remain orderly, situations farther off can also be governed well. By avoiding rigid adherence to rules imposed by human design and instead grasping the natural Way, one can act without readily making mistakes. With Zao Fu’s mastery of driving, there is no need to fear the chariot and horses will run out of control; with a sage’s mastery of governance, there is no need to fear that the people will fall into distress.

Laozi says: Everyone who cultivates the Dao (the Way) should block the paths of evil and guard against calamity before it arises. What is precious is not believing oneself to be right, but making sure one does not act wrongly. So do not give desire an opening to exploit; otherwise, people will have no day when they do not pursue what they want. Do not leave anything open to contention; otherwise, people will have no day when they do not struggle over it. When this is achieved, private desires will fade, and the way of justice can be put into practice.

What is in excess should be brought back to what is fitting; what is insufficient should be replenished until it is enough. Then all under Heaven can be brought into unity. But if people abandon their duties and responsibilities, listening only to slander and praise; if they set aside merit and real accomplishment and instead appoint their own factions, opportunists will hold power for a long time, while those who faithfully fulfill their duties will be unable to advance. The customs of the people will disrupt the state, and meritorious officials will struggle against one another at court. Thus, one who has the Dao can govern others; one who lacks the Dao will be controlled by others.

When Shun was still a commoner, all under Heaven supported him because the Dao he practiced remained intact, enabling him to govern all under Heaven. Though Zhou was Son of Heaven, all under Heaven turned away from him because he had lost the Dao; as a result, the people came to control him.

Laozi says: Governance has enduring principles, with the people’s welfare as its foundation. The promulgation of laws and the provision of instruction each have their own rationale, and ensuring that laws are carried out has been an essential concern of governance since ancient times. If something benefits the people, there is no need to imitate ancient institutions; if it handles affairs well, there is no need to follow old customs.

Thus, the sage changes laws and regulations as the times change, and adapts rites to local customs. Clothing and tools should suit practical needs, and laws and institutions should fit local conditions. Changing ancient institutions is not necessarily wrong, and following old customs does not deserve unqualified praise. The art of governance lies in adapting to the times, not in making change for its own sake.

Reciting the laws established by the former kings is not as good as hearing them explain those laws in person; hearing their explanations is not as good as grasping the underlying principles behind what they say. Those who truly grasp these principles understand that words cannot fully express them. The saying “A Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; a name that can be named is not the constant name” means that the Dao expressible in words is not the enduring, unchanging Dao, and a name that can be clearly defined is not an enduring, unchanging name. If we mistake words themselves for the Dao, attachment to words will lead us away from the Dao. Calling a stone jade does not turn it into jade.

The Dao followed by the sage is like metal and stone: it has definite standards. Once a musical pitch has been established, it cannot be changed at will. But particular affairs are like playing the qin and se: when one piece ends, the tuning must change. Since melodies and rhythms differ, the way of dealing with them should change accordingly. Laws and institutions, rites, and music are tools used in governance; they are not governance itself.

Those with narrow understanding cannot discuss the highest Dao, because their thinking is clouded by conventional ideas and constrained by established doctrines. Climbing Lang Peak, a legendary mountain, is beyond the reach of ordinary people; likewise, the highest Dao is beyond the understanding of those with narrow vision.

Laozi said: Where in the world could there be a rule that never changes? Governance must be guided by the affairs of the age, accord with human feelings and reason, follow the transformations of Heaven and Earth, and examine the matters of spirits and gods. In this way, public affairs can be set on the right course. When methods fit the circumstances and accord with human nature, the world can be governed. Nature and the divine are in communication—why would fixed, unchanging rules be needed?

In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns issued no commands, yet the people followed them willingly. The Five Emperors issued commands, yet there were no punishments. The Xia people kept their word; the Shang people bound themselves by oaths; and the Zhou people gave pledges to guarantee their agreements. The Three Sovereigns referred to here are Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor; the Five Emperors are Shaohao, Zhuanxu, Gaoxin, Tang Yao, and Yu Shun. The Three Kings are Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, and King Wen of Zhou.

In high antiquity, the people obeyed without being commanded. In later ages, laws and ordinances grew harsh, and the people became deceitful instead. It is easy to nurture the people through Wuwei (non-action), but difficult to govern through deliberate intervention and coercion. Oaths could not restrain people, and so punishments and executions followed. When the age declined, people endured disgrace while treating integrity lightly; they sought profit greedily and felt little shame.

Therefore, laws and ordinances should be drawn up in accordance with the people’s customs, and their severity, leniency, urgency, and pace should be adjusted. Tools and institutions, too, should change with the times so that they remain appropriate. Those who are confined to legal provisions cannot deal with affairs with understanding; those who cling to ritual cannot respond to change. A ruler needs independent insight and keen judgment to grasp how things work and act flexibly. Those who cling to statutes and old texts often find themselves obstructed at every turn, while those who observe and judge for themselves must still remain true to the principles of the Dao (the Way).

Only by understanding why laws and institutions arose can one adapt them to the times. Without understanding the foundations of governance, one will end in disorder even if one follows the rules to the letter. Today, some who study and administer affairs merely repeat the teachings of earlier generations, clutching books and clinging to old regulations, believing that this is enough to govern the world. This is like trying to fit a square tenon into a round hole: a proper fit is exceedingly difficult. To cling to statutes and old rules without knowing how to adapt them, while imagining that one is governing well, is likewise to force a square object into a round hole. How could it ever fit just right?

Averting danger and bringing order to a turbulent age cannot be done without wisdom. Yet anyone—even a dull-witted person—can speak fluently by merely repeating the words of the ancients. Therefore, a sage does not put into practice laws already shown to be ineffective, and a wise ruler does not trust claims that have not been tested. If something fits the circumstances, it should be adopted even when proposed by a fool; if it does not accord with reason, it should be rejected even when proposed by a worthy person.

Wenzi asked, “What should law be founded on?”

Laozi replied, “Law arises from principles of right and reason, and these in turn arise from what people generally consider proper. Principles that people accept together accord with human feelings; this is the key to governing a state. Law does not descend from Heaven or spring from the earth. It is established among people. Once established, it must first be used to restrain oneself and set oneself straight. One who truly understands the roots of law will not be distracted by trivial details; one who grasps what is essential will not be led astray by doubts. Do not blame others for faults you have yourself, and do not reproach others for failing to do what you have not done. Do not violate what you require your subordinates to observe, and do not do what you forbid the people to do.

“So when a ruler makes laws, he must first treat them as standards for restraining himself. Only when he can obey the prohibitions can his commands be carried out among the people. Law is the common standard under Heaven and the measure by which a ruler judges right and wrong. When the ruler first disciplines himself by law, the people too will be restrained. Laws and decrees are announced so that people know which actions are unlawful; the standards they set should be measures that both the world and the ruler observe. Once laws are established, reward those who meet the standards and punish those who violate them. Even the exalted must receive no less than the rewards they deserve; even the lowly must not be given harsher punishments than they deserve. Whoever breaks the law must be punished according to it, even if virtuous and wise; whoever meets its standards should not be punished without cause, even if their conduct is poor. In this way, impartial principles can be put into effect and private desires 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; and they set down laws and principles of governance to restrain rulers, so they could not make decisions as they pleased. When no one is free to act recklessly, the Dao prevails and governance follows what is right. Therefore, governing a state should return to simplicity and accord with nature. Wuwei (non-action) does not mean doing nothing at all; it means acting without recklessly imposing one’s personal wishes. Rulers and officials should be appointed so that those above cannot act capriciously and those below cannot take matters into their own hands. Then, as those above and below each keep to the right path, no one can distort the law. What difficulty, then, could there be in governing the world?”

Those skilled in rewarding spend little yet encourage many people to do good; those skilled in punishing impose few penalties yet deter wrongdoing. Those skilled in giving use their resources sparingly yet cultivate virtue; those skilled in acquiring gain much without arousing resentment. Therefore, the sage encourages good conduct by following what the people favor, and deters wrongdoing by following what they dislike. Reward one person, and people throughout the realm will vie to follow suit; punish one person, and people throughout the realm will feel awe. In this way, the highest form of reward need not cost much, and the most powerful punishment need not be applied excessively. The sage governs the vast realm by simple means: this is the principle at work, and the way the sage achieves good government.

Laozi said: The standard for a minister is to judge whether matters accord with reason and are handled properly; to take the lead in advocating action, keep faithfully to one’s duties, understand the limits of one’s role, and thereby accomplish one’s work. When ruler and minister each observe their distinct responsibilities, the state can be governed; when their responsibilities become confused, the state falls into disorder. Only when each does the work suited to them and occupies the proper position can those above and below direct one another. A branch must not grow thicker than the trunk, nor the tips stronger than the roots. This means that things must be kept in proportion and checked against one another. When the responsibilities of ruler and minister are clearly distinguished, what is greater and lesser will not overstep its place.

Those who hold power may rely on something small in their hands yet have great influence; the principles they uphold may be few and simple, yet the scope of their authority may be vast. For example, a tree ten armspans around can support a roof weighing a thousand jun, because it occupies an advantageous position; a door bolt only five inches long can control whether a door opens or closes, because it is placed at a crucial point. Subordinates must carry out the orders currently issued by their superiors: obedience brings benefit, while defiance brings trouble. People throughout the realm heed commands and prohibitions can be enforced because the ruler draws on the strength of the people to establish power.

Benevolence and righteousness do not mean that every person in the realm can be made to benefit. Rather, benefit one person, and people throughout the realm will follow and submit. Tyranny does not mean that everyone in the realm can be made to suffer; rather, harm one person, and people throughout the realm may turn against the ruler. Therefore, appointments and dismissals, and the adoption or abolition of measures, must all be handled with care. When carrying out such measures, consider people’s likes and dislikes closely. Do not give benefits by showing favoritism toward certain people, and do not impose punishments by targeting certain people unfairly.

Laozi says: “Bend one inch, and you can stretch a foot. To achieve great uprightness, one may allow small bends—and the sage does the same.”

When rulers discuss their ministers, they will lose worthy people if they judge them only by combining their day-to-day conduct, without examining their major achievements, and focus solely on small acts of kindness and minor faults. A person of deep virtue need not be faulted for minor lapses in ritual propriety; a person of great renown should not be rejected for a small blemish. Human nature always has its shortcomings. If someone is sound in the main, a few minor faults should not be treated as a burden. This is the way to bring out the best in the worthy.

If someone’s conduct is not sound in the main, then their everyday behavior in the local community is not enough to merit praise. Human abilities are inherently difficult to perfect in every respect. We should therefore not distrust or reject someone over small flaws, but allow them to fulfill their greater potential. Talk about people’s conduct in the community, along with words of slander and exclusion, should not be taken on trust.

Thus, those who cling to petty details find it hard to accomplish great things, and those who delight in criticizing others find it hard to make room for everyone. People with broad minds are often less rigid about details; people of great bearing can earn a reputation that travels farther. This is the principle for assessing ministers. Appoint ministers according to this principle, and it will be harder to overlook talent.

Laozi said: From ancient times to the present, no one has been able to perfect their character in every respect. Therefore, a noble person does not demand that anyone be accomplished in all things. Each person has strengths and abilities, and responsibilities should be assigned according to their talents. To act uprightly without harming others; to live honorably without being harsh; to be forthright without giving oneself over to excess; and to be widely learned and discerning without slandering others—if someone can do these things, their cultivation may be considered complete.

A noble person does not demand perfection from everyone but appoints each according to their abilities. Whether in virtue, literary skill, or military strategy, no one should be expected to excel in everything. Those who cultivate their virtue through their own efforts instead of shifting responsibility to others are likely to earn recognition. One who cultivates oneself is less likely to make mistakes.

Even the jade pendant of the Xia rulers had flaws, and the Bright Moon Pearl could not be free of impurities. Yet people throughout the realm still treasured them, because their small defects did not diminish their overall beauty. If we focus only on others’ shortcomings, forget their strengths, and still hope to find worthy people throughout the realm, we will find it difficult. If even jade pendants and the Bright Moon Pearl have flaws, how could worthy and noble people be perfect in every respect? Set aside their shortcomings and make use of their strengths, and their talents will not go unrecognized.

Ordinary people often fail to see someone’s long-term potential because that person holds a low position, comes from a humble background, or has done something considered shameful or degrading. Many people despise low status and humiliation, but a noble person, when appointing someone, looks to their overall ability.

A person can be assessed by observing whom they recommend when they are successful; this reveals their judgment of character. See how they give when they are wealthy, and you will know whether they are willing to help others. See what they accept when they are poor, and you will know whether they refuse what is unjust. See what they do when they hold a low position, and you will know whether they uphold the right path. Also observe how they behave in adversity, for this reveals their courage: benevolence, righteousness, and courage often emerge only in times of danger.

Give someone cause for joy, and you can observe whether they keep within proper bounds and restrain themselves. Entrust them with wealth, and you can observe whether they are generous and do not take what is not theirs. Put them in fear or under threat, and you can observe their integrity: whether they would give up their life to uphold benevolence and righteousness. In this way, a person’s true nature will become clear.

If someone excels in even one of these seven areas, they may be called talented; if they excel in all seven, they are an outstanding talent of the world. Assessing people by these standards makes it possible to distinguish the worthy from the foolish and to see whether someone is loyal and trustworthy.

Laozi says: Bending is a way to stretch out later; bearing a little grievance is a way to achieve integrity in the end. Bend down an inch for a time, and you can straighten by a foot; endure a small humiliation to achieve great integrity. A gentleman acts this way.

The many rivers flow together, but only a watercourse that empties into the sea is truly called a great river. People pursue different paths, but only those who turn toward the good Dao (the Way) can truly be called gentlemen. Speech is valuable when it can be put into practice; conduct is valuable when it accords with benevolence and righteousness. A gentleman can make mistakes, just as the sun and moon can be eclipsed without losing their brightness. Everyone can see his errors, and when he corrects them, everyone will admire him.

Thus, the wise do not act rashly, and the brave do not kill at will. They choose what is fitting and act only after weighing it against ritual and righteousness. In this way, when they succeed, their achievements are worthy of reliance; even after they die, their reputation is worthy of praise. Do what ought to be done and kill those who ought to be killed; once the work is complete and a reputation established, they can be praised by later generations. Even with wisdom and talent, one must take benevolence and righteousness as one’s foundation to achieve anything. Wisdom and talent can be brought to bear together, but the sage always uses benevolence and righteousness as the standard. Those who meet this standard are called gentlemen; those who do not are called petty people. Even after a gentleman dies, his reputation does not fade. Even if a petty person gains power, his crimes are not thereby excused.

Thus, Yao and Shun practiced goodness and were praised by later generations; Jie and Zhou committed evil, and only infamy remained. Reputations for good and evil both endure, so a gentleman acts carefully and does nothing unworthy. If someone held the map of the world in his left hand and cut his own throat with his right, even a fool would not do it, because one’s own life is more precious than the world. To call oneself ruler in the morning and lie exposed as a corpse by night is the way of the foolish and shallow, not of a gentleman. Those who die when their ruler or family members face danger regard death as a homecoming, because they value righteousness more than their own lives.

The greatest benefit in the world is small when compared with oneself; yet one’s own life, however important, is slight beside benevolence and righteousness. This is what it means to take benevolence and righteousness as the standard. Here, the passage laments the lack of benevolence and righteousness in its own time, and therefore emphasizes that a gentleman dies for righteousness, while a petty person dies for profit.

Laozi said: When the Dao and De are complete, they are like the sun and moon. Neither the Yi, Di, Man, nor Mo—the ancient names for different frontier peoples—can alter their principles. As long as government is carried out in accordance with the Dao, it can succeed even in a distant land. Without the Dao, what can be accomplished even among the states of the Central Plains? When people make the same choices, customary judgments of praise and blame follow accordingly. When people share the same intentions and conduct, whether they prosper or fall into hardship depends on the times. If one acts with care and meets the needs of the age, one can accomplish great things; if one devotes oneself to what suits the times, one can establish a reputation.

Thus, those who seek to establish merit and fame should act simply in their dealings with the world and judge the moment with care. Once an opportunity arrives, it passes in an instant, leaving scarcely time to breathe. If you would support what is in danger, save the weak, and accomplish great things, how can you hesitate for even a moment when you see a crucial opportunity and an urgent crisis?

In ancient times, armies were not raised out of greed for land or wealth. They were raised to rescue what was in peril, 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 to live in peace. Then sages rose up to punish the violent, pacify a troubled age, and rid the world of harm, turning chaos into order and danger into security. They had no choice but to use force to put an end to disorder. The Red Emperor, a ruler of ancient legend, caused a great fire, so the Yellow Emperor captured him. Gonggong, a legendary water deity or tribal leader, caused a flood, so Zhuanxu, an ancient ruler, put him to death. These two rulers took action neither to elevate their own power and status, nor to seize land or covet wealth. They acted to remove the cruel, bring peace to the people, and rid the world of harm. They used force only because they had no other choice.

Teach people through reason and guide them through virtue. Only if they will not listen should you restrain them with force; only if they still refuse to submit should you subdue them with troops and weapons. Killing innocent people to sustain an unjust ruler is the greatest harm. Taking the wealth of the whole world merely to satisfy one person’s desires is the gravest calamity. Indulging one person’s desires while adding to the world’s troubles is against the order of Heaven. In other words, Heaven brings such rulers to ruin, as it did Xia Jie and Shang Zhou.

Rulers were established to put an end to violence. But when a ruler relies on the strength of the people only to deepen the world’s suffering, that too is against the order of Heaven. A ruler who turns the people’s strength against them and harms them is like a tiger given wings. How could such a ruler be left in place? Those who raise fish must remove the otters that prey on them; those who keep birds and animals must drive away jackals and wolves. How much more so when governing the people? This is why war arises. No cause is more righteous than punishing a tyrant, and no virtue is greater than bringing peace to the people. When a ruler is cruel and without the Dao, and the people cannot live in peace, failing to remove him is like letting wild beasts attack people and livestock, or allowing otters to prey on the fish one is raising. This is the greatest wrong.

Laozi says that the way to govern a state is for the ruler not to issue harsh commands, officials not to impose complicated rules, scholars not to engage in hypocrisy, and artisans not to make excessively elaborate objects. Public affairs are handled appropriately without disturbing the people, and objects are sturdy and useful without ornament. This is the age of the best governance.

A chaotic age is different. People praise one another for their supposed virtue, while those who prize etiquette boast of their hypocrisy. Chariots, horses, and vehicles are fashioned with the utmost ingenuity, and everyday objects are carved with elaborate designs. Those seeking goods compete for rare items and treat them as treasures. Those fond of debate chase after tangled, trivial matters and call them important. Public affairs become mired in sophistry and disputes, delayed for a long time without resolution. This does nothing to improve governance and instead fuels disorder. Such is the way of a declining age. Artisans make strangely ingenious objects that take years to complete yet are unsuited to practical use.

Therefore, Shennong, the legendary ancient ruler known for teaching the people to farm, established this principle: if men in their prime do not cultivate the fields, people in the world will go hungry; if women of working age do not spin and 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 all under Heaven. The Son of Heaven plowed the fields himself to encourage farming, while the empress gathered mulberry leaves and raised silkworms herself to encourage weaving. How much more, then, would ordinary men and women go hungry and cold if they were lazy about farming and weaving?

Rare and hard-to-obtain goods should not be considered precious, and useless things should not be valued. A farmer who does not work hard cannot provide for himself; a weaver who is not diligent will have no clothes to wear. Whether people have more than enough or too little depends on their own labor. When food and clothing are sufficient, wrongdoing is less likely to arise; when life is settled, the world can be at peace.

In such circumstances, the wise have no opportunity to exercise their schemes, and the brave have nowhere to display their force. Wisdom is meant to relieve crises, and courage to put down rebellion. If there are no crises or rebellions, what need is there for either?

Laozi said: The art of ruling as a king or hegemon in warfare depends on careful planning and strategy. When sending out troops, one must do so in the name of justice—not merely to preserve oneself, but to save those on the brink of destruction and keep them from perishing.

If we hear that the ruler of another state is cruelly abusing the people, we send troops to its borders, challenge him for acting unjustly, and point out his wrongs. When the army reaches the outskirts of the city, the commander is ordered: do not cut down trees, dig up graves, damage crops, burn granaries or stores of wealth, seize the people, or plunder livestock. Then a proclamation is issued: The ruler of that state has defied Heaven and Earth and shown contempt for the spirits. He judges cases unjustly and kills the innocent. Heaven is about to punish him, and the people despise him. We have sent our troops to end unjust rule and hand power to a person of De. Anyone who dares to defy the Way of Heaven and harm the people will be executed, and their clan will be wiped out.

Those who submit along with one household will be rewarded with one household’s lands; those who submit along with one li will be rewarded with one li; those who submit along with one township will be granted that township; and those who submit along with one county will be made its marquis. After taking the state, we do not implicate its people. We depose the ruler and change the laws, honor outstanding people, commend the worthy, provide relief to orphans and widows, aid the poor, free prisoners, and reward those who have rendered service. The people open their doors to welcome the army and wash rice to store as provisions, fearing only that the army may not come. When a righteous army reaches the border, the enemy state often submits without a fight.

Before setting out, a righteous army makes its purpose known to Heaven and Earth. In secret, it also communicates with the spirits, extending its De to all things. It comforts the people with words and confronts the enemy state with its crimes, but does not lightly resort to weapons. The people willingly submit to and support the righteous army, fearing only that it will not arrive soon enough. Tang of Shang, King Wen of Zhou, and King Wu of Zhou all relied on justice to quell rebellion.

An unrighteous army leaves corpses strewn across the land and rivers running with blood. A war waged to seize territory cannot establish a king’s rule; nor can one waged solely for personal gain achieve lasting success. When people act for the sake of the people, others will help them; when they act only for themselves, others will leave them. Those supported by the people grow strong even if they begin weak; those abandoned by the people will ultimately perish, however great their power.

An unrighteous army uses its strength to bully the weak and its power to seize from small states, killing the innocent and harming those who follow the Way. Xiang Ji (Xiang Yu) once shook the world with his might and imposing presence, yet in the end he was defeated by Gaozu, Liu Bang, because he did not follow the Way of justice. A state that violates justice will fail, however large it may be; an army that violates justice will perish, however powerful it may be. Such a person cannot even become a hegemon, let alone achieve the work of a true king.

Laozi says: At the highest level, righteousness means governing the state and bringing stability to its lands, putting benevolence and justice into practice, promoting rule through De, extending generous favor, establishing proper laws, and blocking crooked ways. Then ministers will draw close and pledge their loyalty, the people will live in harmony, those above and below will act as one, and the ministers will work together. The feudal lords will submit to the ruler’s authority, and people from the four directions will remember his kindness. When affairs are handled properly at court, conflicts can be settled a thousand miles away; once commands are issued, the whole realm responds. This is the highest way to govern a state.

A state has vast territory and a large population; its ruler is wise and its generals capable; the country is prosperous and its army strong; its laws are trustworthy and its orders clear. The two states are evenly matched, and people from the four directions remember its kindness. When affairs are handled properly at court, conflicts can be settled a thousand miles away; once commands are issued, the whole realm responds. This is a lesser degree: even when the two sides are evenly matched, before they have fought or crossed blades, the enemy has already broken ranks and fled.

Knowing what crops suit the land and how to make use of strategic terrain, understanding the consequences of harsh rule, and being familiar with the deployment of troops—then, when blades clash and arrows fly, the dead are carried beside the chariots and the wounded are helped along, while blood flows for a thousand miles and corpses litter the fields: this is the lower level of “righteousness.”

Victory through De is the highest; victory through laws and institutions is the middle; victory through military force is the lowest. The outcome of war depends fundamentally on governance. When governance wins the people’s hearts, they support their ruler and the military grows strong. When the people instead suppress government orders and turn against their ruler, the military grows weak.

A sense of what is right that wins the people of the realm, a capacity to meet the realm’s urgent needs, the ability to select and appoint people so as to earn the trust of the worthy, and the wisdom to weigh competing considerations and reach sound judgments: these together make up the highest way to govern a state.