《尹文子》

The Yinwenzi

The scripture is titled The Yinwenzi and is included in the collected works of the various masters in the Chinese Daoist Canon.

Contents: Preface; Part One, “The Great Dao, Part One”; Part Two, “The Great Dao, Part Two.” The original contents list was incomplete, so the headings have been supplied here based on those in the main text.

Preface to the Yinwenzi

Edited and compiled by Zhongchang of Shanyang.

The author of the Yinwenzi probably came from the Yin family of the Zhou dynasty. During the reign of King Xuan of Qi, he lived at Jixia, the scholarly center in Linzi, the capital of Qi. He studied alongside Song Xing, Peng Meng, and Tian Pian, before the time of Gongsun Long. Gongsun Long praised him.

Yin Wen wrote an essay whose subject matter was broad and covered many areas. The Zhuangzi says: “He was not burdened by external things, did not casually ingratiate himself with others, and did not contend with the crowd. He hoped that the world would be at peace and that the people could live in security. When people had all they needed to sustain one another, he knew when to stop. He used these principles to make his purpose clear, and did not consider himself disgraced even when insulted.” This was Yin Wen’s position. Liu Xiang also believed that his teachings were fundamentally rooted in Huang-Lao thought, the tradition associated with the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and that they belonged broadly to the School of Forms and Names, which emphasized social distinctions, the relation between names and realities, and standards of law.

In recent times, some people have criticized this book without good reason. When I first arrived in the capital near the end of the Huangchu era, Miao Xibo showed it to me. I found it very interesting, but the text contained many omissions and errors, so I tried to arrange and edit it into two parts. Even so, I was unable to establish the text fully.

The Yinwenzi, Part One

The Great Dao, Part One

The Great Dao has no concrete form, so it cannot be designated by a name. Things that have form, however, must have names. A name serves to identify a thing’s shape and category accurately. Since names are used to define things, naming must be error-free. As Confucius said, “Then we must first set names aright.” When names are incorrect, speech cannot flow freely.

The Great Dao itself is nameless, while each of the myriad things has its own name. The myriad things arise from the nameless Great Dao, and their various forms naturally reveal distinctions such as round and square. Only once these shapes appear can people name things accordingly, so that each name matches what it refers to.

If one governs in accordance with the Dao, the doctrines of the School of Names, the Legalists, the Confucians, and the Mohists are no longer needed. If one governs by relying on these doctrines, one still cannot depart from the Dao. Laozi said, “The Dao is the hidden root of the myriad things, the treasure of the good, and the support on which those who are not good rely.” Those who govern in accordance with the Dao are called good; those who govern by means of names, laws, Confucianism, or Mohism are called not good. The distinction between the good and the not good is clear and plain, and can be recognized without close examination.

When the Dao is insufficient for governing, laws and orders are used; when they are insufficient, strategy is used; when strategy is insufficient, power is exercised; and when power is insufficient, authority is brought to bear. After using authority, one should return to the exercise of power; after exercising power, return to strategy; after using strategy, return to laws and orders; and after using laws and orders, return to the Dao. Govern by the Dao, and there is no need to impose arrangements: the myriad things govern themselves naturally. Thus, when things reach their limit, they turn toward a new beginning; tracing the end leads back to the beginning. Beginning and end follow one another, cycling without cease.

Things that have form must have names, but not everything that has a name necessarily has form. Even if something has no name, that does not mean it lacks actual features such as roundness, squareness, blackness, or whiteness. When a name is inappropriate, one should not judge by the name alone, but examine whether it corresponds to the thing. Thus, use names to check forms, and use forms to establish names. Names serve to identify what is being discussed, while things can in turn verify names. Once this principle is understood, the relationships among form, name, and thing can no longer remain hidden.

Names fall into three categories, while principles have four modes of expression. The first category consists of names given to things, such as “square,” “round,” “white,” and “black.”

The second kind of designation evaluates people and things through praise or blame, distinguishing good from evil, and the noble from the base. The third kind uses metaphor to speak of people and things, distinguishing the worthy from the foolish, and what is loved from what is hated.

The first kind of standard is an unchanging principle that sets out the relations between ruler and subject, and between those above and below. The second kind brings customs into alignment, setting standards for differences in ability, conduct, and the ways people compare with one another. The third kind governs the people through rewards and punishments. The fourth kind provides fair measures for things, including standards of pitch, length, weight, and capacity.

“Technique” refers to the ruler’s secret methods of statecraft, which officials must not casually pry into. “Authority” refers to the power the ruler uses to enforce standards, which officials must not freely wield. If the ruler has techniques but lets officials see through them, those techniques are not sufficiently well concealed. If the ruler has authority but lets officials wield it freely as well, that authority is not sufficiently concentrated. The key is first to establish clear distinctions in status and role, so that responsibilities do not encroach on or become entangled with one another. In this way, the ruler’s techniques can remain secret, and authority can remain solely in the ruler’s hands.

“Name” is the term used to describe the form and status of something; “actuality” is the reality corresponding to that name. Yet actuality is not the same as a name, and a name is not the same as actuality: clearly, they are two different things. They must not be confused, nor can either be dispensed with. Without names, the Dao cannot be spoken of; with names, things can be identified and distinguished. Now that all things exist, they would fall into confusion if not distinguished by names. But even a complete list of names would be mistaken if no actual things corresponded to them. Names and actualities must therefore both be properly distinguished.

Use good names for what is good, and bad names for what is bad: good has its good names, and evil its evil names. “Sage,” “worthy,” “benevolent,” and “wise” are names for goodness; “stubborn,” “vicious,” “cruel,” and “foolish” are names for evil. But if one searches for actual conduct corresponding to the names “sage,” “worthy,” “benevolent,” and “wise,” one will not find a perfect match; the same is true when searching for realities corresponding to “stubborn,” “vicious,” “cruel,” and “foolish.” As long as the general boundary between good and evil is clear, there is no need to fear serious misjudgment just because names cannot capture every detail of reality. Names must therefore be clearly distinguished.

The purpose of names is to distinguish one thing from another and to compare what is named with what is actually the case. From ancient times to the present, people have relied on this method to reach sound judgments; using it incorrectly leads to error.

People make mistakes when they confuse names with what those names belong to. They act rightly when they distinguish them clearly. From ancient times to the present, people have succeeded by making this distinction and failed by doing the opposite.

Today, people draw near to the worthy and distance themselves from the unworthy, reward good conduct, and punish evil conduct. “Worthy” and “unworthy,” “good” and “evil” are names that describe the objects themselves. Drawing near or keeping one’s distance, rewarding or punishing, are attitudes we take toward those objects. The objects and our responses each have their own names; distinguishing between them is called clarifying names. If we treat “worthy,” “unworthy,” “good,” and “evil” as though they meant “draw near,” “keep one’s distance,” “reward,” and “punish,” we confuse the objects’ qualities with our attitudes toward them.

Names, then, must be examined carefully. As the saying goes, “a good ox”: “good” is a general term for things, while “ox” refers to a particular kind of form. Adding the general term “good” to “ox” still leaves room to specify what is meant. “A good horse” means something good of the kind called a horse; “a good person” means goodness in a person. In this way, what “good” refers to can change with the object, but “good” is not the same as a person, and a person is not the same as “good.” Thus, the names “good ox,” “good horse,” and “good person” can each be clearly distinguished.

Names and what they belong to must not be confused. The five colors, five notes, five kinds of odor, and five flavors exist naturally between Heaven and Earth; they did not come into being for people’s use. People encounter them throughout their lives and each has likes and dislikes, but they should distinguish the names of things from their own responses. The names belong to the objects; choosing or rejecting belongs to oneself.

For example, I like white and dislike black; I favor the shang note and set aside the zhi note; I like the muttony odor and dislike the scorched odor; I enjoy sweetness and reject bitterness. White, black, shang, zhi, muttony, scorched, sweet, and bitter are names of objects. Liking, disliking, favoring, and setting aside are my choices among them. When we clearly establish which names belong to the objects and which choices belong to ourselves, things will not become confused.

People use measures of length to judge long and short, bushel measures to distinguish more from less, scales to weigh light and heavy, musical pitches to harmonize clear and muddy tones, titles and roles to check whether names match reality, and laws and standards to establish order or disorder. They use simple methods to handle complicated problems and doubts, and easy-to-follow methods to deal with difficulties and dangers. They bring all affairs under a single standard and make every system conform to established rules. To bring things under one standard is simplicity at its utmost; to follow established rules is ease of action at its utmost. In this way, even someone dull and uninformed can take part in governing just as someone intelligent and perceptive can.

No one can master every matter under Heaven. If you expect one person to be capable of everything, even a worthy sage will find the task difficult. Suppose someone could handle every affair under Heaven: they still could not attend to left and right, front and back, near and far, urgent and unhurried all at once. The moment something is left unattended, governance develops a gap. Thorough governance without gaps depends on assigning matters of every size and quantity where they belong: farmers, merchants, artisans, and officials each stay with their own work. When experienced farmers and merchants, skilled artisans, and senior officials are all in their proper places, what should those in higher positions do?

Therefore, a gentleman does not speak of principles that do not benefit governance, and does not display abilities that do not help get things done. A gentleman does not speak because he enjoys talking; when words benefit governance, he has no choice but to speak. Nor does he act because he enjoys doing things; when action helps get things done, he has no choice but to act. So his words go no further than titles, laws, and standards of measurement, and his actions go no further than practical affairs such as farming and military matters. All of this serves to manage public affairs thoroughly.

Therefore, a perceptive ruler does not discuss principles outside the scope of governance, while petty people are always boasting of abilities unrelated to public affairs. Petty people know that talking too much hinders governance, yet cannot stop themselves from speaking; they know that showing off their abilities hinders practical work, yet cannot stop themselves from acting. In discussion, they often fall into disputes between Confucians and Mohists over right and wrong; in action, they turn toward stubborn delusion and rigid opposition.

They pursue these actions only to win a reputation, so wise rulers punish them. An old saying goes: “Not knowing these things does no harm to the gentleman; knowing them does no harm to the petty person.” A craftsperson’s temporary lack of a particular skill does not prevent them from becoming highly skilled; what a gentleman does not know does not prevent the affairs of government from being well ordered. There is real truth in this.

Doing good in a way that leaves others unable to follow suit amounts only to cultivating goodness for oneself. Working skillfully in a way that leaves others unable to learn from it is merely a personal knack; it has yet to grasp the true principles of goodness and skill. To do good alongside everyone, and to help everyone master a craft, is goodness at its best and skill at its finest.

When a sage governs a state, what matters is not governing alone but being able to govern together with everyone. A craftsperson’s skill, too, is prized for making skillful work together with others, not for showing off alone.

People today want to appear wise on their own, to be the only ones capable of handling affairs, to outargue everyone, and to surpass all others in courage and strength. Yet appearing wise on one’s own is not enough to bring about moral instruction; being capable on one’s own is not enough to attend to every affair; outstanding eloquence cannot persuade everyone, household by household; and surpassing others in strength does not, by itself, make someone fit for battle. These four tendencies are all causes of disorder.

Therefore, the sage follows the Great Dao, making rough and perilous paths smooth and easy. The sage establishes rules and orders the differences among people, so that the wise and the foolish do not exclude one another, and neither the capable nor the ordinary are overlooked. When neither the capable nor the ordinary are overlooked, their abilities can all be put to use; when the wise and the dull are not excluded, their thoughts receive equal consideration. This is an essential safeguard for achieving great order.

Once people’s designations are settled, things no longer compete; once duties are clearly defined, private interests are difficult to pursue. Things do not cease competing because people have no private interests, but because settled designations leave those interests no room to take hold. Private interests no longer obstruct public affairs, not because people have no desires, but because clearly defined duties leave desires no room to run unchecked.

Everyone has a desire to acquire wealth and possessions, but there are ways to restrain people and bring them to the state of those who are free of intention and desire.

Tian Pian said, “Among the scholars of the world, none wishes to stay at home and serve his wife and children. They are bound to seek office at the courts of the feudal lords: profit draws them there. Those who bustle about at the lords’ courts all want to become ministers, yet they dare not seek the position of a lord. Their rank and status hold them back.”

Peng Meng said, “In the wild, pheasants and rabbits are pursued by everyone, because ownership has not yet been settled. At the market, chickens and pigs fill the stalls, yet no one fights over them, because their ownership has already been determined. Scarcity makes even the benevolent and wise compete with one another; once status is settled, even the greedy and base do not contend. A round object rolls, not because it intends to roll, but because it cannot help doing so. A square object comes to rest, not because it intends to stop, but because it cannot help stopping. Follow the natural tendency of a round object to roll, and it cannot be made to stop; follow the natural tendency of a square object to stay still, and it cannot be made to roll. If this is how things are handled, why worry that things will lose their proper place?

“Make use of what makes the worthy person useful, so that he cannot help being employed; make use of what makes the foolish person ineffectual, so that he cannot be employed. Whether people are employed or not is not something I forcefully decide. By following what makes each of them useful or not, their proper functions arise naturally. Why worry that things will fall into disorder?

“None of the myriad things can create its own abilities or know itself through its own power. The clever do not choose to be clever, yet become clever; the foolish do not choose to be foolish, yet become foolish. People do not choose to love something, yet love arises; the ugly do not choose to be ugly, yet they become ugly. Since people cannot create their own abilities or know themselves through their own power, what is there to prize in cleverness and beauty, or to despise in foolishness and ugliness? The clever cannot boast of themselves or look down on the foolish, and those who love beauty cannot mock the ugly. This is what accords with the Dao (the Way).

“When the Dao prevails in the world, the poor and lowly do not resent their lot, and the wealthy and powerful are not arrogant. The foolish and weak do not live in fear, and the wise and brave do not bully others, because each person is at ease with their own status. When laws and decrees prevail in the world, the poor and lowly do not resent the wealthy because of their circumstances; the wealthy are not arrogant, the foolish and weak do not live in fear, and the wise and brave do not bully others.”

Wise and courageous people do not oppress others because they understand what is proper to their respective roles. When laws are put into effect throughout the world, the poor and lowly will not harbor resentment over the conduct of the rich and powerful, and the rich and powerful will not dare to bully the poor and lowly. The foolish and weak will not dare to imagine themselves wise and courageous, while the wise and courageous will not dare to look down on the foolish and weak. Yet laws can achieve these things without reaching the realm of the Dao (the Way).

What people in general regard as important is called custom; what they commonly use is called implements. If someone goes against the habits of the people, custom will not tolerate them; if someone violates the standards they share, everyone will reject them. People’s hearts differ, though their behavior may appear alike; their preferences differ, though the things they use are often the same. This is how custom makes people conform and implements exert their influence. For this reason, one must be careful in establishing customs and discerning in choosing implements.

In the past, Duke Huan of Qi liked to wear purple, and the whole state stopped wearing clothes of every other color. King Zhuang of Chu admired slender waists, and people throughout the state went hungry as a result. The example set by those in high positions can bring a state to order or disorder. So when customs go astray, laws must correct them; when implements encourage excessive pursuit, regulations must be established to restrain it. Those who simply accommodate custom and let themselves be swayed by implements cannot be entrusted with governing a state.

In the past, extravagance had become common in Jin, so Duke Wen of Jin corrected it through frugality: he wore no layered silk garments and ate no meal with several kinds of meat. Before long, the people were wearing coarse cloth and eating coarse rice. King Goujian of Yue plotted revenge against Wu and wanted to make his people brave. When he came upon an angry frog on the road, he leaned down from his carriage and saluted it. A few years later, people of every age charged fearlessly into battle, refusing to retreat even when they faced boiling water or fire. These examples show how weighty the responsibility borne by those in high positions is.

The sage kings knew that the people’s emotions were easily influenced, so they created music to harmonize their hearts and established rites to regulate their conduct. In this way, those in lower positions could not simply act on their private impulses, and the system of rites and music could work on its own. Once rites and music were put into practice, selfish desires gradually subsided. When those desires had faded, people could meet both the worthy and the foolish with equanimity.

If governing a state depends on encountering wise people, while disorder is blamed on encountering foolish ones, then order and disorder depend on the wise and foolish, not on ritual and music. In that case, the sage’s way of governing would vanish with the death of a sage ruler, and the methods of governance from times of peace would no longer be used when dynasties changed. The result would be more times of disorder and fewer times of order. If disorder were common and order rare, the worthy would have nothing to make them precious, and fools nothing to make them contemptible.

When someone occupies a high position, people do not distance themselves from him even if his conduct is poor and his judgment base. Whether people draw near or keep away depends on power and profit, not on whether that person is virtuous and worthy. I dare not call this the principle of Heaven; I can only say that it is the natural result of status and circumstances. In the world today, the unworthy and inept are indeed many, while the benevolent and wise are truly few. The desire to pursue profit is especially strong among the unworthy; a sense of honor and shame is more common among the worthy. Use ritual and righteousness to attract the benevolent and worthy, and you will find one among ten thousand. Use fame and profit to attract the unworthy, and they will answer everywhere. Thus, ritual and righteousness can make a gentleman, but a gentleman does not necessarily become one through ritual and righteousness. Fame and profit can restrain petty people, but petty people cannot do without them.

Rewards and punishments are the ruler’s responsibility; upholding one’s duties and displaying one’s abilities are the ministers’ responsibility. The ruler assesses achievements and determines promotion or demotion, and therefore must administer rewards and punishments. Ministers each carefully fulfill the duties entrusted to them, and therefore must perform their roles to the best of their abilities. The ruler should not take over the ministers’ duties, and ministers must not overstep their authority to interfere in the ruler’s affairs. When those above and below do not overstep one another’s authority, the proper distinctions of office are maintained; when those distinctions are maintained, laws and regulations can be properly carried out.

To govern the myriad things so that each has its proper place; to distinguish the realm so that its parts are not confused; not to resent insults or become complacent when promoted; to stop violence, quell war, and resolve conflict in the world—these are the virtues of a benevolent ruler. Whoever possesses them can become a ruler.

Diligently fulfill your duties and do not let affairs fall into disorder. Choose carefully the office you undertake, and conduct your work without favoritism. Whether hungry or full, keep your resolve steady; whether criticized or praised, judge matters without bias. When rewarded, do not forget your roots; when punished, do not resent it. These are the principles that those in subordinate positions should follow. Only by living up to them can one be called a minister.

In the world, some people gain tangible benefits because of their reputation, while others lose sight of the truth because of it.

King Xuan of Qi enjoyed archery and liked hearing others praise his strength. In fact, the bow he usually used had a draw weight of only three shi, an ancient unit for measuring the force of a bow. He showed it to those around him. They all tried to draw it, but stopped halfway. One after another, they said, “This bow must take at least nine shi of strength to draw. Who but Your Majesty could use it?” King Xuan was delighted. Although he could use only a three-shi bow, he spent the rest of his life believing he could use one of nine shi. Three shi was the reality; nine shi was merely the reputation. King Xuan liked this false reputation and, in doing so, lost sight of the truth.

There was a man in Qi named Huang Gong, known for his modesty. He had two daughters, both exceptionally beautiful. Because of their beauty, Huang Gong often made a show of modesty and described them as ugly and unattractive. Their reputation for ugliness spread far and wide. They passed the usual age for marriage, yet no one in the whole country came to ask for their hands. Later, a widower from Wei happened to marry one of them and discovered that she truly was beautiful. Only then did people say, “Huang Gong is a modest man, so he deliberately made his daughter sound unattractive.” Everyone then rushed to bring gifts and seek her hand, only to discover that she really was exceptionally beautiful. Beauty was the reality; ugliness was merely the reputation. This example shows that sometimes, by going against a reputation, one can arrive at the truth.

A man from Chu was traveling with a pheasant slung over his shoulder. A passerby asked, “What kind of bird is that?” The man carrying it lied: “It’s a phoenix.” The passerby said, “I’ve heard of the phoenix, and now I’ve finally seen one with my own eyes. Will you sell it?” The man replied, “I will.” The passerby refused to pay ten gold pieces and insisted on paying double before buying the bird. He intended to present it to the King of Chu, but the bird died overnight. The passerby did not regret the money he had spent; he regretted only that he had been unable to present it to the king. When people in Chu heard about this, they all believed it had truly been a phoenix and competed to buy birds at high prices to present to the king. The story reached the King of Chu, who was moved by the passerby’s wish to offer him a phoenix. He summoned the man and rewarded him lavishly, giving him more than ten times what he had paid for the bird.

A farmer in Wei was plowing a field when he found a piece of jade. He then presented it to the ruler.

When the King of Chu heard about the matter, he realized that someone wanted to present him with the crow. He summoned the man and rewarded him handsomely, giving him ten times what he had originally paid for the bird.

A farmer in the state of Wei was plowing a field when he dug up a piece of jade a foot in diameter. Not knowing it was jade, he told his neighbor. The neighbor secretly wanted to take it for himself, so he said to the farmer, “That is a strange stone. Keeping it at home will bring bad luck to your family. You would be better off throwing it away.” Though the farmer had his doubts, he took the jade home and placed it beneath the eaves.

That night, the light from the jade illuminated the entire house. The farmer and his family were terrified, so they went to ask the neighbor again. “This is an ominous sign,” the neighbor said. “Throw it away at once, and the disaster can be averted.” The farmer then discarded the jade in a distant field. Before long, the neighbor secretly retrieved it and presented it to the King of Wei. The king summoned a jade craftsman to examine it. The moment the craftsman saw the jade, he bowed twice, then rose and congratulated the king: “Congratulations, Your Majesty, on obtaining the greatest treasure under Heaven. I have never seen anything like it.” The king asked how much it was worth. The craftsman replied, “Nothing can match its value. Even five cities would be a fair price merely for the chance to look at it once.” The king immediately rewarded the man who had presented the jade with a thousand pieces of gold and granted him the stipend of a senior minister for life.

Among all things under Heaven, there is right and wrong. I would not dare deceive the world: what is right is generally right, and what is wrong is generally wrong. This is what I believe, too. Yet sometimes what is right is not adopted, while what is wrong must be carried out. As a result, following the right course can sometimes bring loss, while taking the wrong course can sometimes bring gain. The principles of right and wrong do not remain fixed; they rise and fall, and change with the times. If that is so, once I take action, how can I be certain what is always right and what is always wrong?

Consider how Yao, Shun, Tang of Shang, and King Wu of Zhou achieved their great deeds. At times they followed what was customary; at other times they did the opposite. They prospered when they suited the times. Jie of Xia, Zhou of Shang, King You of Zhou, and King Li of Zhou met their downfall. At times their actions seemed to follow what was customary, and at other times to go against it. They perished when they lost the favor of the times. The rise and fall of the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period followed the same pattern.

When the ruler of the state of Song fought the people of Chu at Wucheng…

The same was true of the Five Hegemons, the feudal lords who successively held supremacy during the Spring and Autumn period. Duke Xiang of Song fought the people of Chu at the Hong River. Prince Muyi said, “The Chu army is numerous and ours is small. Let us attack while they have not yet all crossed the river.” Duke Xiang of Song replied, “No. I have heard that to beat the drums and attack before the enemy has drawn up its ranks does not accord with the rules of warfare. Though I am descended from a ruler whose state was destroyed, I would not dare do such a thing.” The Song army was defeated, and the people of Chu captured Duke Xiang.

After Duke Xiang of Qi was killed, the people of Qi enthroned Gongsun Wuzhi. Zhaohu and Yiwu escorted Prince Jiu to flee to Lu, while Bao Shuya escorted Prince Xiaobai to flee to Ju. Before long, Gongsun Wuzhi was killed, and the two princes contended for the throne. Prince Jiu had the stronger claim to succeed, but Xiaobai returned to Qi first, so the people of Qi made him ruler. Later, Xiaobai sent men from Lu to kill Prince Jiu. Zhaohu died for Prince Jiu, while Yiwu was summoned to serve as chancellor of Qi.

Duke Wen of Jin fled after being slandered by Li Ji and spent nineteen years in exile. After Duke Hui of Jin died, he bribed Qin to secure his return, killed the son of Duke Huai of Jin, and took the throne himself. One ruler acted with integrity but could not escape capture; two others acted without integrity yet achieved hegemony.

If you believe something is right but everyone in the world says it is wrong, you may fail to recognize that you are right. If you believe something is wrong but everyone in the world says it is right, you may likewise fail to recognize your error. It seems, then, that right and wrong are determined by what the people say, and cannot be judged by an individual alone. Thus, whoever goes against the people is considered wrong, while whoever follows them is considered right.

A ruler therefore wields power by virtue of his position. When he occupies a place the people acknowledge, no one can oppose him. When he sits at rest, the people honor him; when he acts, they follow him; when he speaks, they trust him; when he conducts himself, they take him as their model. This is how a ruler rises above the people and governs his subjects.

There are three causes of disorder in a state. A poor harvest scatters the people, and without grain to gather them back together, disorder follows. If the state is governed without laws, disorder follows. And even when laws exist, if they cannot be enforced, disorder follows. There has never been a case in which a state failed to be well governed when it had enough grain to gather the people and laws that could be put into practice.

Volume One of the Yin Wenzi.

The notes explain textual differences among the various editions. In some places, the Siku edition mistakenly has the character “law”; it has been changed to “punishment” here on the basis of the meaning. Where the Daoist Canon edition omits characters, they have been supplied based on the meaning and the Siku edition. Other characters have been corrected or deleted on the same grounds. In common textual criticism, “superfluous” refers to an extra character, “omitted” to a missing character, and “error” to a corrupted reading.

Note #1: The text has now been revised according to its meaning and the Siku Quanshu edition.

Note #14: The original version of the “Daoluan” chapter omitted the character chen. It has now been added according to the meaning of the passage and the Siku Quanshu edition.

Note #15: The Daozang edition originally has yi yi (“also thereby”) where the text should read yi you (“also have”); this is a mistaken character. It has now been corrected according to the meaning of the passage and the Siku Quanshu edition.

Note #16: The Siku Quanshu edition has wen (“hear”) where the text has que (“lack”).

Note #17: The Siku Quanshu edition has yue (“said”) where the text has wang (“king”).

Note #18: The Daozang edition originally has yi (“by means of”) where the text should read yu (“and”); this is a mistaken character. It has now been corrected according to the meaning of the passage and the Siku Quanshu edition.

Note #19: The original Daozang edition omitted one of the two characters in douguo. It has now been added according to the meaning of the passage and the Siku Quanshu edition.

Note #20: In the Daozang edition, this sentence originally reads, “There are laws and food to gather the people.” Following the meaning of the passage and the Siku Quanshu edition, the extra character fa (“law”) has now been deleted.

“Dadao xia” is the title of a chapter or section.

The same textual note about deleting the character fa appears twice in the original.

Benevolence, righteousness, ritual, music, titles, laws, punishments, and rewards are the eight methods the Five Emperors and Three Kings used to govern the world. Thus, people are guided through benevolence, matters are made fitting through righteousness, conduct is regulated through ritual, emotions are harmonized through music, relations between those above and below are set in order through titles, people’s behavior is brought into line through laws, those who resist are deterred through punishments, and people are encouraged through rewards.

Yet each of these eight methods has two sides. Benevolence can extend benefits widely, but it can also lead to favoritism and selfishness. Righteousness can establish integrity, but it can also breed pretension and hypocrisy. Ritual can make people respectful and circumspect, but it can also make them lax and disrespectful. Music can harmonize feelings and emotions, but it can also provoke indulgence. Titles can put ranks of honor and lowliness in order, but they can also give rise to boastfulness and usurpation. Laws can bring people’s behavior into alignment, but they can also undermine the order of titles. Punishments can deter those who resist, but they can also encourage bullying and brutality. Rewards can encourage the loyal and capable, but they can also spark base competition.

These eight methods of governance are no secret, and they have always existed in the world. They did not appear only in the time of Yao and Tang, nor did they disappear in the time of Jie and Zhou. When used well, the world is at peace; when used poorly, the world falls into disorder. Beyond these methods, even a system that brings all things between Heaven and Earth under its rule does not constitute a way of governing that the common people can truly benefit from. For this reason, the sage does not present it as a way to govern the state.

There are six signs by which a state’s survival, decline, and rise may be recognized: weakness, imminent collapse, prosperity, strength, good order, and turmoil. The “disordered state” and “doomed state” discussed here do not mean states that have already become cruel and violent. Nor do the “strong state” and “well-ordered state” mean merely states that possess authority, power, or benevolence and righteousness.

When the ruler is old, has many consorts, few heirs, and distant ties with the clans, the state is weak. When the ruler trusts and favors his ministers, and the ministers in turn attach themselves to the ruler, public law is discarded and private desires prevail: this is a disordered state. When the state is poor, weak, and small, power is concentrated in wealthy great families, the ruler’s authority is slight, and the ministers’ influence is strong, the state is on the verge of collapse. When these three signs appear, the state need not wait until it has become cruel and oppressive to be considered in decline. Even if it still exists in name, it can be judged to be heading toward ruin.

If a state has no exclusive favorites within the court, impartial laws will be discarded and private desires allowed to run rampant. This is a state in disorder. If the state is weak and its territory small, while ministers’ estates are vast and wealthy, and the ruler’s authority is feeble while the ministers’ power is strong, this is a state on the verge of ruin. When these three signs are present, there is no need to wait for a cruel and brutal ruler to appear: the state is already in decline. Even if it still exists in name, I would certainly say that it is already a state in name only.

When there are no exclusive favorites within the court or favored intimates outside it, and the branches of the ruling clan flourish without confusion in rank between the young and old or the honored and humble, this is a prosperous state. When farming and sericulture are carried out in season, granaries are full, weapons are sturdy and sharp, and the borders are carefully secured, this is a powerful state. When those above do not oppress those below, and those below do not encroach upon those above, so that neither side oppresses or encroaches upon the other, prohibitions can be enforced and no one seeks private gain. Such a state will not be harmed by others even amid danger and upheaval; it is a well-governed state. When these three signs are present, there is no need to rely on displays of power or benevolence and righteousness to prove its strength. Even if it appears weak, I would certainly say that it can endure for a long time.

When a ruler skilled at governing a state comes to power, he will surely begin by eliminating a certain kind of threat. The first threats to be eliminated are not thieves or wicked schemers. These two kinds of people are great dangers in particular times, but they are not the root causes of bad government. The root of disorder is when those below usurp the authority of those above, when ministers use methods to manipulate the ruler, and when they fear neither the prohibitions of their time nor observe its laws. This is the path that leads to great disorder.

When Confucius (Kongzi) was serving as acting prime minister of the state of Lu, he had Shaozheng Mao executed after seven days in office. His disciples came forward and asked, “Shaozheng Mao is a well-known figure in Lu. Yet once you took office, you put him to death first. Surely this was not appropriate?”

Confucius said, “Sit down, and I will tell you why. There are five kinds of wicked conduct in a person, not counting theft, depravity, or self-serving behavior. First, being perceptive yet devious; second, acting perversely yet remaining stubborn; third, speaking falsely yet arguing persuasively; fourth, having a strong memory and wide knowledge; fifth, embellishing mistaken views until they seem smooth and pleasing. Anyone with even one of these traits will inevitably be punished by a gentleman. Shaozheng Mao had all five. His home was large enough to gather followers and form a faction; his words could dress up false teachings and mislead the people; and his broad memory and knowledge were enough to distort right and wrong and make him seem to have a doctrine of his own. He was a leader among petty men and could not be allowed to live.”

Thus Shang Tang executed Yin Xie, King Wen of Zhou executed Pan Zheng, Jiang Taigong executed Hua Shi, Guan Zhong executed Fu Li Yi, and Zichan executed Deng Xi and Shi Fu. Though these six lived in different ages, they harbored the same intentions, and so they had to be executed. The Book of Songs says, “My heart is heavy with worry; I am angered by those petty men who band together.” Petty men gathering in groups truly inspire fear.

As the saying goes, those skilled in speech and argument can even deceive ghosts and spirits. Someone asked, “Ghosts and spirits are wise and upright. How could they be deceived?” The reply was, “Ghosts and spirits indeed cannot be fooled; this saying simply shows how formidable the silver-tongued are. There is almost no one they cannot deceive.” Though they cannot mislead ghosts and spirits, the skilled speakers can plainly mislead people. They read people’s minds and guess their desires, indulging their preferences and never daring to oppose them. Then they lead them into wickedness and use this to pursue their own gain. People like to hear themselves praised, so these speakers are adept at flattery; people dislike having their faults pointed out, so they are adept at concealing them. They can discern people’s thoughts from the expressions in their eyes and brows, and anticipate their wishes before they speak or act.

As the saying goes, “We detest purple passing itself off as vermilion, and we detest clever, persuasive speech that overturns a state.” These words are enough to make one vigilant, yet people remain unaware throughout their lives, and ruin follows one calamity after another. The Laozi says, “Govern the state by the correct way, wage war by stratagem, and gain all under Heaven through non-action.” Here, “correct” refers to proper distinctions and laws. Govern a state through proper distinctions and laws, and nothing can disrupt its administration. “Stratagem” refers to adaptable schemes; lead troops through stratagem, and the enemy will be hard pressed to resist. Whoever can apply proper distinctions, laws, and strategic methods to correct and restrain violent impulses can rule through non-action. When one’s own person is undisturbed, one can gain all under Heaven. Therefore, when governance fails, one must rely on laws; when laws fail, one must rely on the army.

To achieve a state free of disorder, one cannot rely on forceful suppression. Those who persist in showing their strength may instead be overcome by the weak. The Laozi says, “If the people are not afraid of death, how can they be frightened with death?” The people are unafraid of death because the punishments are too severe. When punishments are too severe, they feel they have nothing to depend on in life. With nothing to rely on, they come to see the ruler’s authority as nothing to fear. Only when punishments are appropriate will the people fear death. People fear death because they value being alive; only when they know life is precious can the death penalty serve as a warning. This is a principle rulers should grasp and officials should treat with caution.

While reading, Tianzi remarked, “In the time of Yao, all under Heaven was at peace.” Songzi asked, “Can a sage govern all under Heaven and bring about such a state?” Peng Meng, speaking out of turn from the side, replied, “Such a state is achieved by governing all under Heaven through the laws of the sage—that is, the principles that accord with the way things are—not by the personal rule of a sage.” Songzi asked, “What is the difference between a sage and the laws of the sage?” Peng Meng said, “You are confusing the terms too much. A sage creates principles on his own; the laws of the sage arise from the nature of things themselves. If principles come from an individual, that individual is not the same as the principles. And if an individual can create principles, then the principles are not the same as that individual. So when a sage governs personally, he can govern only through one person. But when governance follows the laws of the sage, there is nothing that cannot be governed well. This is a way that benefits the ages to come, and only a sage can understand and put it into practice.” Songzi still did not understand, so he asked Tianzi for an explanation. Tianzi said, “Peng Meng is right.”

In a village, an old man named his elder son “Thief” and his younger son “Strike.” When the elder son went out, his father ran after him, shouting, “Thief! Thief!” The officials heard and tied the boy up. The father tried to call out “Strike” to explain things to them, but in his panic he could not turn his voice around and only shouted, “Strike! Strike!” The officials beat him, nearly killing him.

An elder from Kangqu named his servant boy “Good at Grappling” and his dog “Good at Biting.” For three years, guests dared not pass his door. The elder found this strange and asked why. The guests told him frankly, so he changed the names, and they began visiting again.

People in Zheng called uncarved jade “pu”; people in Zhou called mice that had not yet been salted …

Someone named his dog “Good Biter,” meaning that it was skilled at biting people. For three years, guests did not dare pass his house. The elders of the family found this strange and asked him why. He answered truthfully. So he changed the dog’s name, and guests began visiting again.

People in Zheng called unworked jade “pu,” while people in Zhou called unpickled rat meat “pu.” A man from Zhou was carrying rat meat when he said to a Zheng merchant, “Would you like to buy some pu?” The merchant replied, “I would.” The man from Zhou showed him what he called “pu.” Seeing that it was a rat, the merchant declined to buy it.

Some orders from a father to his son can certainly be carried out, while others cannot. For instance, if he tells his son to divorce his beloved wife or sell his favored concubine, the son may comply. But if he then orders him, “You must not resent them or miss them,” that is an order he certainly cannot obey. Those in positions of authority must therefore be careful when issuing commands.

Generally speaking, the wealthy do not covet rank and emoluments, and the poor do not fear punishment. The wealthy do not covet rank and emoluments because they feel they already have enough; the poor do not fear punishment because they do not care about preserving their lives. These are the two situations a state most needs to guard against, yet there is no adequate way to prevent them. As a result, orders go unheeded and prohibitions cannot be enforced. If orders cannot be carried out and prohibitions cannot be upheld, the state cannot be governed. Though the ruler remains on the throne, he has only the title of ruler, and the people are subjects only in name. Disorder and ruin will soon follow.

If the people can become wealthy only through rank and emoluments, they will compete to serve the ruler with all their might. If they can fall into hardship only through punishment, they will all fear crime and follow the path of good conduct. Thus the rulers of old who were skilled at governing did not let the people determine their own wealth or poverty. Instead, they kept both in the ruler’s hands. In this way, the ruler could control rewards and punishments, and the people knew where they ought to turn.

When people are poor, they are quick to blame others; when their status is low, they are quick to blame their circumstances. Yet few blame themselves. This is a common human tendency. Still, we should not condemn it outright simply because it is common; there may be reasons for sympathy, and we must distinguish among cases. Suppose two people have equal ability and the same qualifications, yet the other is wealthy while I am poor. It would of course be better not to resent this, but even if resentment arises, that alone does not prove the person is in the wrong. Suppose their abilities and intelligence are equal, yet the other holds an honored position while I am humble. It would of course be better not to resent this, but even if resentment arises, that alone does not mean the other person is undeserving of their position.

Its flaw lies in failing to understand the difference between “riding on authority” and “drawing on circumstances,” while claiming that the wisdom behind both is the same. This is a failure of discernment. Even a gentleman may make such a mistake and grow angry as a result.

When people are poor, they are prone to resent others; when they are wealthy, they are prone to treat others with arrogance. Those who resent others do so because others have not given them any benefit. Their hearts cannot find peace, yet they cannot bring themselves to calm down; this is still understandable. Those who treat others arrogantly have suffered no hardship and have no reason for it, yet they are arrogant without cause. This feeling should be easy to restrain, but they cannot restrain it, and so they are hard to excuse.

Ordinary people, when they see someone poor and low in status, neglect and avoid them; when they see someone rich and powerful, they respect and seek their company. If a poor person asks them for money or goods, it may be reasonable to avoid that person. But the poor person may not harm them at all, and still they insist on keeping their distance, simply because the person cannot offer them any advantage. If a rich person gives them something, it may be reasonable to draw close. But the rich person may not actually benefit them, and still they insist on seeking their company. In the end, the other person may not dare to approach them. People should stand on their own and should not let considerations of gain and loss dictate whom they draw near to or avoid. Yet human feelings are ultimately bound to alter one’s judgment according to poverty or wealth, high or low status. This is therefore called a great delusion.

In times of peace, the poor, isolated, and low in status are often pitied; in times of disorder, they are often despised. The age is not peaceful because these people are pitied; their treatment is simply one sign of good governance. Nor is the age in disorder because they are despised; this is merely one feature of disorder. When everything is well governed, the world will not be in chaos; when disorder prevails everywhere, the world cannot be said to be well governed. The rise and decline of the Xia and Shang dynasties bear this out.

The poor and lowly ask little of the rich and powerful, yet the rich and powerful cannot satisfy even these modest hopes. What the wealthy dislike is often what the poor value; what those of high status dismiss is often what those of low status take pride in. The wealthy fail to answer these hopes because they do not share the poor and lowly people’s joys and hardships. Even if they do not respond, they suffer no harm themselves. The people’s hopes of their ruler today are just like the poor and lowly people’s hopes of the rich and powerful.

What ordinary people hope for is simply that the ruler will take account of the needs of people of different ages and social positions, distribute taxes fairly, attend in good time to their hunger and cold, lessen their suffering from illness, make rewards and punishments just and not excessive, and assign labor and service at appropriate times. Doing these things does not harm the ruler’s interests. Yet the ruler still cannot avoid repaying the people, because he has not shared their hardship or their ease. To rule, one must share both hardship and comfort with the people.

The wealthy and high-ranking may choose not to repay the poor and lowly, but a ruler cannot refuse to repay the people as a whole. If the ruler does not repay them, they will not willingly support him; and once they no longer support him, the throne will change hands. Nothing is more dangerous, and nothing brings greater calamity.

At the ninth place, the character “yuan” was originally written as “ran” in the Daoist Canon edition; this is an error. Based on the context and the Siku edition, it has been corrected to “yuan.”

At the tenth place, the character “zhi” was originally written as “gui” in the Daoist Canon edition; this is an error. Based on the context and the Siku edition, it has been corrected to “zhi.”

At the eleventh place, the character “zhi” was originally written as “ye” in the Daoist Canon edition; this is an error. Based on the context and the Siku edition, it has been corrected to “zhi.”

At the twelfth place, the Siku edition writes “yi” as “yi” (with the meaning “service”).