《鹖冠子》

The Heguanzi is an ancient text included among the collected works of the masters in the Daoist Canon of China. The book is divided into three volumes—upper, middle, and lower—and contains nineteen chapters. The upper volume comprises “Broad Selection,” “Making the Subtle Known,” “Night Journey,” “Heaven’s Rules,” “Cyclical Flow,” “The Beginning of the Dao,” and “Near Successions.” The middle volume comprises “Measuring the Myriad,” “The King’s Axe,” “Great Vastness,” and “Great Record.” The lower volume comprises “Warfare in the Age,” “Preparing Knowledge,” “The Governance of War,” “Learning and Inquiry,” “Worthies of the Age,” “Heaven’s Authority,” “Capable of Heaven,” and “King Wuling.” The original table of contents has been lost; the extant list was reconstructed from the chapter titles in the text.

“Preface to the Heguanzi” is the title of this book’s preface.

Han Yu said: “The Heguanzi consists of sixteen chapters and combines the teachings of Huang-Lao (Daoist thought) with the School of Names and Punishments, which emphasizes status, laws, and practical government. The ‘Four Examinations and Five Signs’ proposed in the ‘Broad Selection’ chapter makes good sense. If the people of talent described in this book had encountered a suitable age, put their proposals into practice, and used them to govern the state, could their achievements and virtue have been anything less than great? The ‘Learning and Inquiry’ chapter says that things are considered worthless when they cannot be put to use. It also says that when a boat sinks in a river, even a gourd that is ordinarily worth little can become worth a thousand pieces of gold. I read this passage three times, and it filled me with sorrow.”

The text contains omissions and errors. I corrected thirty-five characters, changed the order of three, removed twenty-two, and added notes for twelve.

Lu Dian said: “The Heguanzi was a man of Chu who lived on Mount Tan. He wore a cap made from pheasant feathers, and so came to be known as ‘Master Pheasant-Cap.’ His teachings were eclectic. At first, his writing took the teachings of Huang-Lao as its foundation, but over time it leaned increasingly toward the School of Names and Punishments. The Traditions say that Shen Buhai and Han Fei stressed the correspondence between names and realities and addressed practical affairs. Yet when their teachings were taken to extremes, they became harsh and severe, lacking in compassion. Their roots, however, still lay in ideas of Dao and De. This shows that the study of any doctrine can also give rise to such faults.

“After Confucius and Mozi, the Ruists divided into eight schools and the Mohists into three branches. Alas, how could such a situation fail to make us cautious? Although the Heguanzi combines the teachings of Huang-Lao and the School of Names and Punishments, its fundamental aims seem scattered and interwoven, belonging firmly to neither. Yet it often contains striking statements and profound ideas.

“From the ‘Broad Selection’ chapter through ‘King Wuling’s Questions,’ the book has nineteen chapters in all. Han Yu had read only sixteen, so he did not have the complete text. Although the book has survived, it contains many omissions and errors that are difficult to verify. As the saying goes, after a book has been copied three times, ‘fish’ can turn into ‘Lu’ and ‘Di’ into ‘tiger.’ Can this saying really be empty? I am deeply concerned about this. I have therefore explained what I could understand and left unresolved the passages that cannot be verified, for scholars of broad learning to judge.”

Note: The Heguanzi is traditionally said to have been a native of Chu during the Warring States period. His personal name is unknown. He lived in seclusion in the mountains and wore a cap made from pheasant feathers, which gave rise to his title. The Heguanzi initially centered on Huang-Lao thought, then gradually shifted toward the School of Names and Punishments. In the Treatise on Arts and Letters of the Book of Han, the work is recorded as a single chapter and classified among Daoist writings. Han Yu mentions having seen sixteen chapters, while Lu Dian’s Northern Song commentary divides it into three volumes and nineteen chapters. For this reason, some have suspected that later writers compiled it under another person’s name.

Those who govern the world and establish laws cannot rely on power alone, wielded for a time. They must also possess profound De (Virtue) and appoint people of exceptional ability and virtue.

“Royal axe” refers to the ruler’s laws and punishments. Jia Yi said that power and the law are the axe and battle-axe in a ruler’s hands. If a ruler relies on law alone and does not enforce it through profound De, it is difficult to make his commands effective for long.

The Dao is examined in four aspects: Heaven, Earth, humanity, and command. “Command” means issuing orders.

There are five levels by which people’s relationships may be measured: first, those whose abilities surpass one’s own a hundredfold; second, those who surpass them tenfold; third, those who are one’s equals; fourth, those who work on one’s behalf; and fifth, those of lower status who are made to serve.

“Heaven” refers to the patterns and actual conditions of things. The Dao does not personally attend to specific affairs; it can govern because it follows the Way of Heaven. Education and transformation belong to Earth, while governance belongs to Heaven.

“Earth” refers to the foundation that endures and never departs. The Dao has no fixed place where it resides; it can function because it follows Earth’s constant way. Movement and change belong to the Way of Heaven, while stability and support belong to the Way of Earth.

“Humanity” refers to people who abhor death and cherish life. “Command” means that everyone is bound by the ruler’s orders. When all people obey those orders, this is called “command.”

The ruler is the one who makes the way of the spirits and the divine upright and manifest, and should occupy the honored position through Wuwei (non-action). The spirits and the divine take humanity as their foundation: when the ruler follows the people, he can be at ease; when he relies on himself in every matter, he becomes exhausted.

A ruler should take worthy, capable, and sagely people as his foundation, while the worthy and sagely should take the broad selection of talent as theirs.

Shun.

A ruler is one who sets the spirits in order and keeps them at peace. A ruler need not personally attend to every matter in order to be held in reverence.

The spirits, too, take people as their foundation. By following the people, one can live at ease; by acting solely on one’s own, one will become exhausted.

A ruler should take worthy, capable, and sagely people as his foundation, while the worthy and sagely should take the broad selection of talent as theirs. Shun was raised from the fields; Fu Yue was chosen from among the wall builders; Jiao Ge was selected from among the fish and salt traders; Guan Yiwu was recommended from the hands of a prison officer; Sun Shuao was discovered on the coast; and Baili Xi was raised from the marketplace. In view of this, how could the means of selecting talent not be broad?

Broad selection of talent rests on the “Five Approaches,” five ways of attracting capable people. When a ruler faces north and serves talented people with the courtesy of a disciple, those who surpass him will come.

To face north and serve talented people is to receive them with respect and honor them.

When others have not yet acted, act first; when they have not yet rested, stop first; when they have not yet asked, speak first; when they are still speaking, remain silent first. This will attract people ten times more capable than oneself.

Acting before others and resting after them, asking before others and remaining silent after them, also means lowering oneself, but it differs from respectfully serving them as a disciple. As a result, those who surpass oneself will leave, while those ten times more capable will come.

If others go and one goes too, this will attract people of equal ability. It means following others’ actions and walking alongside them.

If one sits leaning on an armrest, stands leaning on a staff, and orders others about, the only people one will attract are those who treat one as a servant. Sitting and leaning on an armrest, standing and leaning on a staff, and then directing people with gestures still counts as showing some courtesy.

If one scolds people when pleased and berates them when things go against one’s wishes, the only people one will attract are servants to be driven about.

As for what is called “a person who acts first”… to scold people when pleased and berate them when displeased is truly discourteous. Who would willingly endure such treatment unless utterly without shame?

Thus, emperors associate with teachers, kings associate with friends, and rulers who have lost the Way associate with servants. Those whose De exceeds that of ten thousand people (or, according to one interpretation, a hundred people) are called “jùn.”

“Wǔzhě” refers to people who are wise, discerning, and sagely.

Those whose De exceeds that of a thousand people are called “háo.”

This is why the name is taken from the excellence of “huan,” probably referring to someone esteemed by others.

A person whose virtue surpasses that of ordinary people is called “ying.” The name borrows from “ying,” the finest part of a plant. The Mao Shi Zhuan says, “Among ten thousand people, one is called ying.” The Book of Rites says, “Among five people, one is called mao; among ten, one is called xuan; among a hundred, one is called shi; among a thousand, one is called ying.” Yet this passage says that one among ten thousand is called shi, and one among a hundred is called ying, a claim that is difficult to verify. The Renwu Zhi says that the outstanding among animals are called “xiong,” while the finest among plants are called “ying.” Han Xin was a xiong, and Zhang Liang was a ying. This account comes closer to the meaning here.

“Virtuous reputation” means renown. We have never heard of an echo, once a sound has been made, surpassing the original sound. The noble have understanding, the wealthy have possessions, and the poor have at least themselves.

Without understanding, one holds a low position; without possessions, one is poor. What people possess is no more than a body temporarily entrusted to them by Heaven and Earth. The many bones joined together are called the “body”; when all its features and forms are present and manifest, it is called “physical form.”

If tally tokens—paired contracts used to confirm agreements and convey credentials—do not match, the matter cannot be completed.

Another version reads: “When an undertaking does not succeed.”

If one is unwilling either to die or to live, and will not make a decisive choice, the undertaking will not succeed.

If one always remains between two possibilities, how can one ever truly decide?

Calculate achievements to grant rewards; assess virtue to make judgments. The royal executioner’s axe—the emblem of the ruler’s authority—is here. Who, then, could still pursue private gain?

Chapter Two: Making the Obscure Manifest

The Dao has things that can be examined and verified,

with the Dao as the standard of measure.

De has a basis,

with De as the standard of examination.

The ruler does not understand the essentials of governing. Thus, even when acting uprightly and following the constant Way, he cannot make his own qualities shine forth. Though the Dao and De are close at hand, he does not know how to speak of them or put them to use. If the principles of the Dao do not accord with the standard, they cannot be changed.

Averting calamities also includes this kind of matter. “Setting things right” means bringing them into order. The crucial point is failing to recognize what matters most. In that case, how could a ruler fail to understand the important affairs that need his attention? Asking about one’s teeth only after eating in such a disorderly way is equally useless.

If matters are simply left to run their course, the situation may look stable, but in fact it is not secure.

It is only stable for the moment by chance. It is like placing a burning ember beneath a pile of firewood and then sleeping on top of it. The fire may not have started yet, but disaster is bound to follow.

One holds a high position and an official post, yet has nothing left but the title.

This means that the person has strayed far from the Dao and retains only a name.

If you want others to accept you, do not go against their true circumstances and feelings. If you want to fit in with the common world, do not confuse the roles of host and guest.

At such times, people appear who bend low to submit to worldly convention and lift their faces to flatter the prevailing trend.

When the teachings of ritual and culture become mixed with the wilderness, people are no different from animals.

Although lambs and geese display such behaviors as kneeling to suckle and lining up in formation, measured by human ritual and propriety they still retain much of the wild. How, then, could those who lack even the natural qualities of lambs and geese be considered equal to human beings?

Their speech is crude, like that of the barbarians. “Barbarians” here refers to people whose language is unintelligible.

A noble person is easy to approach but difficult to slight. Aware of the danger of calamity, such a person will not readily yield. A noble person dies for what is right, and so does not retreat lightly.

A noble person values profit but does not act unjustly; profit is sought only when it accords with what is right.

A noble person acts in response to circumstances but does not act recklessly; action is taken only when there is no other choice.

Even when the body feels comfortable, one does not dare to cling to ease. In this way, ritual can be established. Broadly speaking, this means that a noble person restrains himself and makes his conduct conform to ritual.

Even when the heart has desires, one does not dare to let them take control. In this way, righteousness can be established. Here, “trust” means to let oneself be guided by something, or to follow it. Broadly speaking, this too means that a noble person restrains himself and makes his conduct conform to what is right.

Righteousness restrains desire and gives conduct a guiding principle; ritual regulates emotion and establishes proper boundaries. Thus a noble person does not act on a passing feeling. In troubled times, however, people mistake shallow understanding for righteousness.

“Yi” means restraining desire and bringing conduct within bounds. “Li” means regulating emotion and discerning whether conduct is appropriate. A noble person, therefore, does not act on impulse alone.

In troubled times, people often use their shallow understanding to guess at others’ intentions. How could subtle motives be seen through by such limited wisdom? They treat scheming as a way of life, watching for chances to harm others. They also make self-interest the rule of their relationships: unless people join in wrongdoing, it is hard for them to grow close; once they have done evil together, they come to hate one another. This is why petty people are so difficult to get along with.

When a worthy person speaks of benevolence and virtue, others assume it is a deception. When they speak of righteousness, they are accused of boasting. Even if they speak plainly and calmly, no one believes them. Self-interest clouds people’s minds, leaving them unable to distinguish right from wrong. The worthy in troubled times are thus denied the chance to offer counsel. Their aims differ from those of ordinary people, and they can find no one to confide in. This is truly painful, and the harm only deepens.

In troubled times, the worthy withdraw and preserve themselves. Above them there is no enlightened ruler whom they can follow; below them they hear no frank speech. Rulers are arrogant, while the people are so wary that they dare not speak openly. People are driven to act against their true abilities, and scholars conceal what they really think. Though they inwardly disagree, they dare not withhold their praise.

This is the kind of situation Yang Xiong describes in “Xianxin.” It is not a matter of casually abandoning one’s principles while being unable to uphold them to the end. Yang Xiong could act as he did because he had his own standards of righteousness. A man of Lu once said, “Liu Xiahui may have been able to do it, but I could not.” Confucius agreed. This shows that without the same grounding in righteousness as Yang Xiong, to drift with the current in a corrupt age and cautiously flatter those in power, yet still compare oneself to Yang Xiong, is foolish indeed.

Even when the work one is given is unsatisfactory, one dares not fail to do one’s best. This is the attitude encouraged in “Ru Fen” of the Book of Songs. Though it differs from the central meaning of “Yin Qi Lei” in the Book of Songs, it is also a course one may be compelled to take in such circumstances.

Even when what one seeks or gives up does not accord with the demands of those above, one dares not refuse to comply. So long as one retains command of one’s fundamental principles and does not let external forces alter them, praising what one does not agree with, striving to do what one would rather not do, and submitting to arrangements one would rather reject may all be ways of dealing with the affairs of the world.

Thus, by observing how the worthy conduct themselves amid the disorder of the age, we can see that what they possess within themselves is beyond the power of others to change. Even praising what others do not praise, striving to do what others do not strive to do, and yielding where others refuse to yield are all ways of dealing with the affairs of the world.

When we observe the worthy amid the disorder of the age, we find that in some matters they adapt to changes in things. We must never treat adaptation to external things as an unchanging principle. They do this only to keep clear of harm and avoid the unruly crowd. How could it mean that they truly approve of such things?

Third: Night Journey

Heaven is the pattern of forms; Earth is the texture of things. The moon symbolizes punishment: Yin Qi works by carving and restraining.

The sun symbolizes De (Virtue/Power): Yang Qi brings all things into view and restores them to life.

The four seasons are the standards by which the transformations of all things are assessed. Once their patterns are understood, there is no need for repeated debate. Measures are the means of regulating all things. The cycles of Heaven and Earth each follow set measures.

Yin-Yang is Qi (vital energy); the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are the ways things act and manifest on Earth. Because the Five Phases take shape on Earth, they are called “workings.” The five forms of government are the Dao (the Way)—that is, five orders of movement. Since they appear in Heaven as the forms of stars, they are called the “Way.”

The five tones depend on harmony. Sounds combine to create patterns, and their variations produce different pitches; this is called “tone.” To bring sounds into harmony and accord is called “tuning.”

The five kinds of speech are the language customs that develop and endure in different places. People speak the speech of Qi when they live in Qi, and the speech of Jin when they live in Jin. These are the distinct language customs of each region.

The five flavors are expressed through practical affairs; rewards and punishments are ways of regulating people. Rewards encourage people to perform meritorious acts, while punishments help them avoid wrongdoing.

All these principles leave traces and each has its reason. Yet the movement of the Dao: follow it, and you cannot see what lies behind; face it, and you cannot see what lies ahead. The root of the way all things move is the Dao. The Dao has neither beginning nor end. Trying to track its course is like trying to catch the wind: face the wind and you cannot find what lies before it; follow the wind and you cannot find what lies behind it. Even Yan Zi (Yan Hui) would find this bewildering and difficult to determine—how much more so someone like Zi Gong?

When affairs are brought to completion and achievements accomplished, people often do not know exactly how they came about.

Who, in the end, can truly understand it?

Pictures cannot depict it, and names cannot explain it clearly. Even the most skilled artist cannot paint it, and even the most eloquent speaker cannot put it into words.

If we try to describe it, we can only say this: it is deep and obscure, and within it there seems to be an image. Who can know what that is? It is indistinct and hard to make out, yet within it there seems to be an image. It is dark and far-reaching, yet within it there seems to be something real. It seems to exist, and yet seems not to exist.

It is remote and hidden, yet within it there seems to be a subtle substance. Investigate its true condition with sincerity. The Dao has real content and trustworthy evidence; it is not empty or void. Though it has no form, it is not groundless or irrational. The key is to examine and investigate it through the affairs of government.

In the end, it returns to a state without form or appearance. If even appearance is absent, how much more so any concrete shape?

Ghosts and spirits cannot glimpse it, much less use it as a means of carrying out worldly affairs. Once a thing is fully exposed, it is no longer mysterious; how could it then accomplish anything? Thus, those who are skilled at accomplishing things act with subtlety and ingenuity, so that even ghosts and spirits cannot probe their secrets. For this reason, the sages value acting unseen.

Chapter Four: The Laws of Heaven

An enlightened ruler knows how to listen for what is subtle and discern what is doubtful. The ruler can dispel slander and examine the facts, and can also see through gross exaggerations, such as the claims associated with Yang Zhu and Mozi. The ruler can put a stop to rumors that disrupt government, such as the words associated with Guan Shu and Cai Shu, and can cast aside useless things. The art of carving a dragon, or the exquisite skill of carving wood from the paper mulberry tree, may be praised as remarkable and ingenious, but serves no practical purpose.

A ruler should also close off the paths to factional self-interest. Some people covet salaries and cultivate private ties, harming public affairs for the sake of their faction. They appear respectful in serving those above them, yet inwardly plot things contrary to the ruler’s wishes. Such people must not be given an opportunity to gain influence.

Those who are jealous and greedy should not be allowed to display their power. They should always be kept in low and inconspicuous positions.

Only a gentleman who has mastered the laws and is capable of upholding them can hold his position. Evil therefore cannot encroach upon him, nor can calamity harm him. This means that the workings of Heaven and Earth are inexhaustible, yet they always follow certain measures and never overstep them. This is precisely why evil cannot encroach and calamity cannot cause harm.

The Sun does not pass beyond the bounds of its appointed hours. The points where the Sun and Moon meet are called chen. The Moon moves in sequence, lodging at the star mansions assigned to it. Each constellation performs the duty corresponding to its name: when the Moon reaches the Ji mansion, for example, it performs the Ji mansion’s duty; when it reaches the Dou mansion, it performs the Dou mansion’s duty, and the other mansions work in the same way. Each constellation keeps to its own celestial region and does not leave its allotted domain.

The Moon passes through its first quarter, full moon, dark moon, and new moon in a recurring alternation. Crops mature and are harvested in the fields, completing a year; the Moon’s waning and waxing give rise to the crescent and the full moon. These cycles turn back and forth like a grinding stone or a saw drawn repeatedly to and fro. Where could they have an end?

A year is one harvest, when the crops mature once; a sui may include two harvests. The movements of the Sun, Moon, and stars each follow their own measure and do not disappear into boundlessness. This is the authority by which Heaven governs the Dipper mansion and orders the four directions and the four seasons. The Dipper mansion presides over the four directions and moves through the four seasons, as it has from ancient times to the present. The Way of Heaven likewise continues to move according to the patterns described above.

By coordinating with the movements of Heaven and Earth, distinct positions are established between them. The Qi of the four seasons governs the ordinances; that is, movement follows the laws of the seasons. The Zhang mansion, in the south, lies ahead, and the North Star behind; to the left and right, stars such as the Jiao mansion assist one another, each settled in its proper place.

Jiao, a star in the east, corresponds to the east; Tie, the Iron Star, corresponds to the west. The two stars Shen and Fa are also known as Fu-Tie.

Governing affairs according to the Nine Patterns—the patterns and principles of celestial phenomena—makes it possible to assess officials and common people, so that matters great and small are handled properly.

These words are concise and to the point, yet leave nothing out.

In this way, one will arouse no resentment at the outset and leave no later offenses that ruin one’s reputation or corrupt one’s conduct. Thus, one’s authority can reach upward to Heaven and extend downward to Earth; one’s beneficence can spread throughout the four directions without hindrance, extending eastward and covering the west, reaching north and south. It is vast and abundant, impossible to resist.

The reason the Way of Heaven does not depart from the natural order is that it does not leave the One, the fundamental unity. “Moving toward things without dividing into two” means following the myriad things without splitting into two opposing sides. If Heaven departed from the One, it would fall back and become an ordinary thing. Heaven differs from the myriad things only because it holds fast to the One. The Explanation of Characters says: “What unites as One and becomes vast is Heaven; what divides into two and becomes small is ‘showing.’”

Heaven does not deliberately create, and Earth does not deliberately make; their virtue accords with Heaven and Earth. Heaven simply and constantly assists the myriad things in growing naturally, without daring to act recklessly. Heaven does not deliberately create, yet the myriad things still transform; Earth does not deliberately make, yet the myriad things still grow.

When the jiexi—ancient tokens signifying restraint and authority—fit together, they are like the Moon responding to the Sun: the Sun advances and recedes along the courses of the stars, while the Moon follows the Sun through its waxing and waning. This coordination may be called utterly trustworthy.

This is why the sage is suited to govern the world. His insight is enough to disrupt the right Way, and his schemes are enough to invite disaster. In such a perilous situation, the state cannot be stabilized, nor can a state that has already perished be saved. The strength to resist enemies and the eloquence to conceal faults mark a ruin so complete that it cannot be remedied.

Therefore, the Way of Heaven gives foremost importance to sheltering and protecting the myriad things. The Way of Heaven can shelter and protect them, but if a state has reached the point where it cannot be stabilized or saved, then even the protecting power of the Way of Heaven cannot turn things around. If a state cuts off its own path to survival, even Heaven can do nothing.

The way of the earth lies first and foremost in supporting all things.

The earth can only support all things. If things themselves give up living, even the earth can do nothing.

In human affairs, what matters first is carrying out one’s work.

Liu Xiaji said, “If a son does not heed his father’s instructions, and a younger brother does not accept his elder brother’s teaching, then even if a gentleman today is eloquent, what can he do about it?”

Some wine merchants say that what matters most in doing business is grain. The example of the wine merchants is used to show that the worth of Heaven lies in covering all things, the worth of Earth in supporting all things, and the worth of people in getting things done.

When responding to things, one must take the seasons into account. Each of the four seasons governs the climate in its own domain.

Birth and death are the ways of nature’s operation. Making decisions in accordance with the seasons and their laws is the rhythm of the Way of Heaven.

Things do not always proceed smoothly, so they must be examined in accordance with established principles. Human nature and life, too, each have their own natural rhythms.

Divide the land and set people to guard it; divide the people and arrange for them to be governed.

This means that the sage follows the rhythms of the Way of Heaven and makes decisions in accordance with established principles. Thus every region has its guardians, and every group of people has its administrators.

Providing clothing for those who are cold, food for those who are hungry, just judgment for those who have been wronged, and rest for those who are exhausted: this is what the sage hopes for. Knowing to choose a suitable tailor when having clothes made, and knowing to seek suitable talent when governing a state—these are principles that people generally accept.

It has never happened, for example, that brocade was woven by someone who had only learned tailoring.

Only by first seeing what things have in common can one know the Way of Heaven.

The Way of Heaven is unified and without division. From the perspective of what they share, the Yi and the Mo are like one family.

Only by first seeing how things differ can one understand human affairs.

Human affairs involve distinctions and are not entirely uniform. From the perspective of their differences, the liver and gallbladder are as far apart as the states of Chu and Yue.

Only when there is change can the seasons be discerned; their cycle runs on without ever stopping.

Only through change can the Dao be seen.

Gengsangzi said, “Chickens from Yue cannot hatch swan eggs, but chickens from Lu can.” Someone from Zhao traveled south to pay a visit to Laozi. From this, one can see that the Dao has different levels. Only after passing through experience can one discern how circumstances change. Things move continuously and never stop; only through change does the “Dao” become apparent.

Gengsangzi also said, “Chickens from Yue cannot hatch swan eggs, but chickens from Lu can.” Someone from Zhao traveled south to pay a visit to Laozi. This, too, shows that the Dao has different levels.

Only when people face gain can one tell whether they keep their word; when they face wealth, whether they are benevolent and righteous; and when they encounter danger, whether they are brave. Only after withstanding heavy frost and strong winds can the distinct natures of plants and trees be discerned. Only when people face concrete affairs can one see who understands the way of defense and who is skilled at planning.

As for the system of the Nine Sovereigns, the Chunqiu Wei says, “The Human Sovereign had nine brothers, each governing the world in a different region.” Could this be the source of the title “Nine Sovereigns”?

A ruler does not become king without cause; he does so because he possesses the virtue of a king. Ministers do not attain high standing without cause, and official ranks follow an order of precedence rather than being granted arbitrarily. Titles marking distinctions of rank also each have their proper counterpart. Rulers, officials, and common people all have their own status and duties.

A marquis of lower rank, though without a state of his own, could still receive an appointment and enter the court to administer affairs. Such men passed through favor and honor and became renowned. Enfeoffment and appointment were not granted only to ministers who possessed states; even those without a fief could be employed according to their assigned duties.

Heaven and humanity interpenetrate and are closely connected, inseparable from one another. Such an order could take shape because there were no fully developed hooks and probes—that is, no means of holding people to account and restraining them. The point is that this kind of governance could be achieved by teaching people through the Dao rather than relying on severe punishment and coercion. The final phrase, “burning, cutting, and carving,” also refers to the use of such coercive measures.

Hooks and cutting blades are defensive devices used to supervise and punish. The point here is that if people are guided through reason rather than restrained by supervision and punishment, the same result can be achieved. Thus it is said: “Branding, trimming, carving, and binding the horses killed two or three out of every ten.” Horses were originally pure by nature. Their later cunning and thieving ways were the fault of Bole. Even so, the so-called “system of the Nine Emperors”—the governance said to have been practiced by the sage kings of antiquity—expresses its principle only through allegory. The best governance does not rely on written laws and decrees; how could it include a system of ennobling people with titles? Those who understand the principle need only grasp its underlying meaning and need not cling to the stories used to convey it.

What those below resist—

“Resist” means to oppose or defy.

Those above are deceived because they go against human nature and violate the natural measure of things. If they are lenient, matters will settle down; if they press too hard, people will be driven to hardship. When people see an opening they can exploit, they respond with clever schemes. This is human nature.

One must understand the nature of things: if people are given too much slack, they become lax; if pressed too hard, they are driven to hardship. The sages of antiquity therefore used the example of chasing chickens to warn against rushing to press and drive them. “Gap” refers to the space between banners. When a gate is shut, how could even a clever stratagem break in? The “Heavenly Measure” was mentioned above, so here the discussion focuses in detail on human nature.

When the view is extended to the Eight Extremities—the farthest reaches in all eight directions—some things do exist, yet no traces can verify them. This is the law of the Dao of Heaven.

The “Eight Extremities” are the farthest reaches in the eight directions; the “Four Centers” are the four cardinal directions and four corners. The Huainanzi says: “Beyond the Eight Reaches are the Eight Bounds; beyond the Eight Junctions are the Eight Extremities.” Although the Eight Extremities exist, people cannot reach them, so they seem like absurd, groundless claims. This leads people both to believe that they exist and to be unable to confirm their existence. Even when imagined or invoked as a point of reference, the eight directions and the space above and below have no end. What is called endless and limitless likewise cannot be verified through finite experience. This is why it is said to be the law of the Dao of Heaven.

Their differences are mutually at odds, and their accounts cannot be reconciled.

The teachings of Confucius and Mozi both praised Yao and Shun and condemned Jie and Zhou, yet they could never agree. That is where the problem lies.

Ordinary, yet not in accord with the proper standards.

If the rhythm of a sound is even slightly off, it may sound steady yet still fail to accord with the music. A thousand-mile error often begins with the slightest deviation; even interest accumulated over many years can be thrown into disarray by a moment’s mistake. Thus, the exemplary person is careful even in the smallest details.

When the moon is full, the morning sky becomes bright; when it wanes, the celestial signs change accordingly. Pearl oysters and clams open and close with the moon’s waxing and waning, living among the sandbanks in deep water.

Where a current divides, a sandbank forms.

Above and below correspond to one another.

This means that the Qi of things of the same kind depend on and respond to one another. Though they do not speak directly, they can still communicate. Even when animals such as elk are hidden among sandbanks in deep water, their activity changes with the moon’s waxing and waning, as though the change were taking place in the heavens. The Huainanzi says, “When the sun reaches a certain season, elk shed their antlers; when the moon wanes completely, clams open.”

Without being ordered, the people know what to do; without being driven, they know where to go. Those above need make little effort, yet the people each do their part—this is when instruction has taken effect. If orders are issued but no one follows them, prohibitions are announced but no one stops, and those above and below work at cross-purposes while government directives fall into confusion, then the way between above and below has failed to connect. When those in high positions remain aloof and those below receive no reassurance, the people are being kept at a distance. When the Qi of Yin and Yang cannot interact, matters cannot be brought into harmony; when calculations do not agree, it shows that those below are not responding to those above. If tokens of trust, tallies, and similar credentials no longer serve their purpose, how could they bring those above and below into accord?

When government directives are carried out without obstruction and tasks are completed without falling into ruin, when one person sets things in motion and ten thousand respond, as the body follows the mind, then governance has taken effect. It is like brocade wrapped around the axle of a carriage, drawing the spokes together as they turn: the crucial point is the axle itself. A wise ruler values grasping the key point and uses a single command to direct all affairs. Because the axle is wrapped in brocade, it is called a “brocade axle.” The Erya says, “The axle is wrapped in plain brocade.”

Unless one has first identified the illness, it is impossible to remove its root. If civil measures and military force are used in turn yet still fail to bring matters to completion, the reason is that the laws are lax and there is no means of punishing those who disobey. Here, “nie” refers to execution by beheading. When laws cannot be enforced, petty people dare to defy orders without fear. Even so, the state of Qin prided itself on harshness and meticulous scrutiny; yet without understanding where the illness lay, it could not remove the problem.

“Execution stake” refers to execution by beheading. If benevolent laws cannot be put into practice, petty people dare to defy the law without restraint. Yet Qin made a show of strict scrutiny and mutual acclaim, while its failings lay only in the way it performed its documentary procedures; in the end, it collapsed completely. This was worse than having no laws at all, because it lacked genuine compassion. From this we can see that without sincerity and real compassion in one’s heart, relying solely on the law to govern can breed deceit even when the aim is to investigate the truth, and bring disorder even when the aim is to assess the results of governance.

To abandon what is here and seek it elsewhere—how could one possibly find it? It is like pointing a chariot’s pole north while trying to travel south.

The profound, wondrous One—the root of the Dao—undergoes changes that defy description. Even if they are spoken of, putting them into practice is difficult. A father cannot compel his son to do so, and a ruler cannot compel his ministers. If keeping one’s word is so difficult even between ruler and minister, or father and son, how much more difficult must it be for those of low status?

From this, we can already see why Heaven can be trusted by all things: it does not act recklessly. Not acting recklessly is the Way of Heaven. How people might win the trust of all things, however, is still unclear, since people find it hard to act as Heaven does.

To set aside the management of particular things and follow the course of circumstances: this is Heaven’s way. All things are left to change naturally, while Heaven simply follows the course of events. Thus no one can dominate them or cause them to die before their time.

Another text reads: “To perceive things before they emerge was the principle of the Dao among the ancients. By diminishing interference in things and following the course of circumstances, no one can dominate them or cause them to die before their time.” The general meaning is that the ancients’ ability to perceive things in advance accorded with the principle of the Dao. By reducing interference and following the course of circumstances, no one can dominate all things or cause them to die before their time.

According to the principle explained above, Heaven neither dominates all things nor causes them to die before their time. Since things each have their own nature, what is bent can be changed, and people can also put things to use. Ultimately, if things are allowed to follow their nature, there is no need to insist on changing them according to one’s own will. This shows that the Way of Heaven cannot be arbitrarily diverted.

Laws make distinctions among things clear without claiming to be right. This, too, is the Way of Heaven. Laws make distinctions in many ways; when they are examined in light of the Way of Heaven, are they truly unavoidable? They are simply meant to meet the needs of worldly affairs, without claiming to be correct.

Relying solely on ministers who obey edicts and profess their loyalty is not enough to provide a dependable safeguard. Once matters reach a certain point, laws and regulations must also be established.

By laws and regulations is meant a carefully worked out set of specific rules, so that every affair has its proper institutional arrangements and every official has defined duties. These are what the ruler uses to govern the state. Only when officials each abide by the rules can government affairs operate smoothly.

Good conduct should not be recommended on the basis of private ties among officials. No one should be promoted in secret; instead, a person should be appointed only after their good conduct has clearly come to light. Nor should wrongdoing be exposed in secret out of personal resentment. An official should be dismissed only after their misconduct has become publicly evident. The point is to reward good and punish wrongdoing on the basis of facts that are open to view. This is precisely the value of laws and regulations.

If laws and regulations are left unused, like a whetstone set aside, then even the greatest rewards will fail to inspire some people or make them do their best. Rewards and honors are meant to motivate people and rouse the indolent. But if rewards fail to encourage people, exhortations fail to move them, and punishments fail to deter those who should be deterred, then these measures have lost their force. It is like demanding a sharp blade while leaving the whetstone unused: however generous the rewards, they will have no effect.

Once a divide opens between those above and those below, suspicion follows, and both sides may be kept in the dark. To prevent fraud, people devised the dou and hu measures for weighing grain, yet some stole the measuring vessels along with the grain. They devised weights and balances for weighing goods, yet some stole the scales and weights as well.

Thus, power falls into private hands, but the ruler cannot reclaim it; powerful ministers wield authority at will, but the ruler cannot stop them. Rewards go to people without merit, but the ruler cannot withdraw them. Laws and regulations are discarded and no one follows them, but the ruler cannot restore them. Punishments are inflicted on those who do not deserve them, but the ruler cannot put a stop to this. Such a state of affairs arises because the ruler has not governed the state together with the people. If the ruler governed together with the people, and those above and below upheld one another by following the right way, how could matters ever reach this point? When a roof leaks, those below are the first to know; when a boat’s bottom leaks, those above are the first to know.

The aim of instruction is to lead the people to set aside their private interests and take the ruler’s intentions as their standard. Even when governing the farthest reaches in all directions, if one cannot offer timely assistance and clearly understand the conditions there, government orders will be obstructed.

“Unimpeded” means that the four directions are accessible and the roads open. Can one really doubt that the affairs of governing the eight directions can be assisted and brought to clarity? The story of Tang the Successful asking Ji—an ancient figure—is about this.

In ancient times, those who possessed the Dao and governed affairs of state did not rely on what the ears and eyes could directly perceive.

The human mind and spirit may be elusive, yet in a moment of looking up or down they can take in places far away in all directions. But even someone nearby may not hear sounds beyond a wall or see what lies on the other side. Thus the sage governs the world by relying on the Dao, not on ears and eyes.

The ears hear, and the eyes see. A leaf can cover the eyes so that one cannot see Mount Tai; two beans can plug the ears so that one cannot hear thunder. Even something tiny on the skin is enough to block hearing and sight, so what is there to rely on?

Never has it been said that once the Dao is opened, it becomes obstructed.

This shows precisely why the Dao is worthy of reliance. When the Dao is open and accessible, clouds and mist cannot obscure its sight, and thunder cannot disturb its hearing. Even a handle as small as a mosquito’s eyelash appears to it like a peak of Mount Song; even a battle fought on the horns of a snail sounds to it like the din of war between the states of Qi and Wei. Who could obstruct such a Dao? Seeing something lost and not taking it is not in human nature.

This means that no such thing can happen, further clarifying the statement that the Dao has never been said to become obstructed once opened.

If one lets private feelings drive one and fails to follow the proper course of life, one will suffer Heaven’s punishment; if one violates human relationships, one will bring death upon oneself. If, heedless of natural calamities, human misfortunes, and death, one still hopes to preserve one’s life by these means, it is like an ant carrying a grain of rice on its head and hoping to hold down a high mountain. How could it bear such a weight?

Anyone who sets out to accomplish something and seeks success hopes for a clear result.

If success is understood as arising naturally from following the Dao, then even when it is not attained, one can say that this is simply the course of one’s fate and stop treating the outcome as a goal that must be achieved. This is a matter of principle, not of specific affairs.

Governance should begin with the people’s practical needs; this is the key to the way of governing. The sage does not force the people to do what they are not yet ready to settle on, nor does the sage abolish what they have not yet grown tired of. Only when the people themselves know where things must stop does the sage refrain from deciding for them or interfering.

To follow the people’s lead and not impose one’s own will on them accords with the Dao of Heaven. Since the people can know where things must stop, how could the sage overstep them and decide in their place? The Great Director of the Masses says: “Let the people recommend those of worthy character, then appoint them as leaders; let the people recommend those with ability, then employ them to manage affairs.”

This is the method by which sage-kings passed on the way of governing the state and maintained its institutions. If the people are instructed but feel oppressed, their conduct will become shallow. To question children before they are old enough to understand is to lose sight of the root and lead them to contend over minor details. A fish that has left the rivers and lakes can only fight over a little moisture in the foam.

Each person has a place to dwell, and each place has its land; each tract of land has its boundaries. Heaven governs the land, and each region has its own allotted place; different regions have different climates. Heaven is governed by the seasons, and the seasons follow regular numerical patterns. These patterns are expressed in measures and durations: things assigned larger numbers develop over longer periods, while those assigned smaller numbers develop over shorter ones. All measures and numerical patterns have their source in the One. The One is the origin of measurement and number, and each thing proceeds according to its own bounds. The moon, for example, is reflected in water: however many bodies of water there may be, each can reflect the moon.

Heaven occupies a lofty place yet can hear voices from below; this is what the saying means. Though the celestial body is high and far away, its response reaches all things.

Thus the sage-kings follow the timing of Heaven and arrange people’s positions and the boundaries of their land. They need not rely solely on the abilities of those who govern, nor boast of their achievements; they need only act in accordance with the prevailing conditions. The character “king” is formed from three horizontal strokes joined by one vertical stroke; perhaps this is the meaning behind it.

To honor the ruler and place ministers in a subordinate position is not a matter of greater or lesser personal closeness between ruler and minister. Nor are people of worthy character and ability employed because they are personally close to oneself.

In dealing with old friends, one should honor gratitude and affection, but must not let private favors override the public justice that all under Heaven share.

Water and fire cannot be mixed; this is a natural law. Here, water and fire are used as metaphors for gratitude and justice: private kindness and the greater justice of all under Heaven cannot take the place of one another. Those who governed the world in ancient times, when showing deep kindness, did not let it outweigh justice; when upholding justice, they did not let private favors obstruct it. This is like water and fire: they can act upon one another, but cannot be made into a single substance. This applies only to human affairs; the Way of Heaven lies beyond its scope.

Human insight, too, has things it cannot perceive. Even Li Zhu, the legendary figure renowned in antiquity for his keen eyesight, could not find the Dao, no matter how hard he searched. There are things no compass can encompass, and things no human strength can lift.

Though Heaven and Earth ceaselessly move and transform in secret, their true substance endures forever. It is not like someone secretly hiding a boat in a valley at midnight and carrying the valley away: who could move them?

If people rely on their cleverness and forcibly shape uncarved jade into a jade ring or a jade slit-ring, this way of governing only damages the jade’s natural integrity. If the uncarved jade were not damaged, how could rings and slit-rings come into being? The Treatise on Ritual says, “A slit-ring signifies breaking off relations with someone; a ring signifies restoring them.”

If fields are cultivated without following the contours of the land, crops cannot be grown. Rice grows best in low-lying places, while millet grows best on higher ground.

If instruction does not accord with the people’s circumstances, good customs cannot take root. Being excessively severe, or keeping joy and anger in proper balance—though these behaviors differ, either may stray from the Great Dao. On what basis, then, could someone claim the place of a teacher and guide others? The Liezi says, “Those who believe they have grasped and possessed the Way have, in fact, only formed perceptions in response to external things.”

When the body clings and refuses to yield while the will continually breeds desires, the body and worldly ambition cannot restrain one another, and trouble arises. The result is the same whether the body cannot control worldly ambition or worldly ambition cannot restrain the body.

Whether the value of virtuous conduct vanishes when a person dies cannot serve as the standard by which it is judged.

Yao and Shun, legendary sage kings of ancient times, died long ago, and their bones have long since decayed. Yet people still praise them to this day. Does that depend on whether they themselves are still alive? Their virtuous conduct is a standard that can be followed for generations to come.

In ancient times, no one who governed the world could do so well apart from the Dao of Heaven. Whether or not people spoke of “Heaven,” they have continued to praise those skilled in governing their countries. Does that depend on whether those rulers themselves are still alive? Their way of governing is a standard that can be followed for generations to come.

In ancient times, no one who governed the world could govern a country well by departing from the Dao of Heaven. “Skilled in governing a country” means just that. Without relying on people, Heaven cannot be put into practice as human governance; without following the Dao of Heaven, people too find it difficult to accomplish anything. If someone acts against the relationship between Heaven and humanity and cannot even govern themselves, how could they govern a country?

The great reputations of the former kings—wise and worthy rulers of antiquity—were all spread and established by the shi, people of learning who could speak about the Dao.

And it was the Dao of Heaven that continually elevated their reputations.

When faults originate among those in high positions but blame falls on those below, that is the norm in a disordered age. O human being, O human being: this is the utmost limit of what Heaven’s mandate can reach.

These words lament fate: they mean that responsibility for fate ultimately falls on the ruler. Yet the source of such calamity has been left in place—how could this not be lamentable? The more deeply the poet grieves, the more indirect the words become. This is the way the poets of the Book of Odes expressed themselves.

The Fifth: Circling Flow

With the One, Qi comes into being. “The One” refers to primal Qi, the fundamental vital energy from which Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things first arose.

With Qi comes intention; intention is produced by the blending Qi that moves through Heaven and Earth.

With intention come images, through which forms can be manifested.

With images come names, through which things can be expressed in words.

With names come forms; with forms come things; with things come conventions. When all eight of these are present, the myriad things remain in an undifferentiated state. This is chaos.

When convention reaches its limit, time comes into being. Some versions write “time is established” instead of “time comes into being.” Here, “sequence” means distinction and separation.

Once time is established, the myriad things come into being.

When Chaos first opened, the four seasons began their course, and all things began to grow.

Qi interacts to form the seasons; seasons accumulate into stages; stages accumulate into results; results accumulate into gains and losses; gains and losses accumulate into good fortune and misfortune. As all things interact, some prevail and others fail. Everything begins with Qi: it is the source from which all things arise and change.

By understanding the Dao, the underlying principles that govern all things, one can make sense of how things fit together. By grasping the guiding principles for handling affairs, one can put them into practice. By acting in accordance with the seasons, one can act at the right time. If one knows the principles but does not apply them to affairs, one’s actions become aimless. If one attends only to practical matters and disregards the circumstances of the time, one’s actions go astray.

The key is to assign things their proper names, bring them into accord with one another, and bring them to completion according to established standards. When standards are applied right before us, this is called “near.” When they are carried outward from what is near, transforming and affecting other places, this is called “far.” When standards are carried outward from what is near and produce their effects, this is called “spirit.” Clarity expressed through the Dao is called “spirit”; clarity expressed through particular implements and affairs is called “illumination.” When standards are carried outward from afar and then return to appear before us, this is called “illumination.”

Laozi said, “The farther one goes away, the more one will eventually return.” The power of insight takes root here, while its radiance shines there; affairs become apparent here, while their results are brought to completion there.

The Du ode says, “Driving the chariot, hold the reins as if weaving a braid.” This is precisely the point. When weaving a braid, one first gathers the threads here, then weaves the pattern there. In other words, an action begins nearby, yet its influence can reach far away. Confucius said, “The person who composed this ode must have understood the conduct of government. If one governs the people by applying these standards, who among them would not be transformed?” The admonition in Dried Meat is indeed profound.

What allows something here to affect something there is a standard; the one who establishes the standard is “I”—the person who puts it into practice. Without “I,” the standard could not arise. The one who enables the standard to be put into practice is “the other”—the person who receives and applies it. Without “the other,” the standard would have nowhere to be applied.

The person who establishes standards should work continuously, without weariness, like the sun on its daily course; the workings of the spirit, too, should renew themselves each day. One who creates and applies standards within oneself is called a sage. The sage shares a subtle accord with others and with the Dao: this is Virtue (De) brought to its highest expression. Only a sage can fathom the reality of the Dao and take the Dao as the standard.

Who could compare with someone who has truly attained a state of undifferentiated wholeness?

When just laws and decrees are put into effect, all under Heaven becomes clear and orderly. When the Dipper’s handle points east, the world enters spring; when it points south, the world enters summer; when it points west, the world enters autumn; and when it points north, the world enters winter. The Dipper’s handle turns in the heavens, and affairs on earth are established accordingly. It points in one direction, and the four quarters each take on their own order. This is how the Dao (the Way) works.

The sages of antiquity could bring order to all under Heaven without leaving their seats. Their faces were ruddy like cinnabar, and their skin white as ice and snow. This was because they put the Dao to use. Those withered, haggard people of the world, however, reversed the truth: they claimed that the Yellow Emperor’s complexion was mottled and dull, and that Yao and Shun had faces like dried cured meat. These are the claims of the Mohists.

Thus, the light of the sun and moon cannot match the sages’ clarity, and the accomplishments of the four seasons cannot match theirs. The sages’ clarity and achievements surpass even the sun and moon and the four seasons.

Take “the One” as the standard, and undertakings can be brought to completion. All things therefore follow the Dao, and the people all put it to use. Once a unified standard is established, all things come under it. All things arise from “the One,” so none can have a separate root of its own.

A rule is valuable when it accords with reason; without trustworthiness, it cannot stand. Reason is the root of all things. What accords with the standard is in harmony with the rule and therefore flourishes; what does not accord with the standard is at odds with the rule and therefore declines. If a rule does not accord with reason, it disrupts the root. Thus, what gives rise to rules is “destiny,” and what comes into being by following rules is likewise “destiny.”

Nothing in the world escapes the sway of destiny. What is called “destiny” is simply that things are as they are: nothing can make them inevitably so, and nothing can make them otherwise. This is called nature. Once destiny is established, the worthy and wise are not guaranteed a good outcome, nor are the unworthy guaranteed a bad one.

What is meant by fate? Peng Zu was no wiser than Yao or Shun, yet lived to a hundred. Yan Yuan was no more talented than an ordinary person, yet lived only to eighteen. Confucius’s virtue was no less than that of the feudal lords, yet he was stranded between Chen and Cai. King Zhou of Yin was no more wicked than the three virtuous ministers, yet he occupied the throne. These, roughly speaking, are the cases in question.

“Fate” is the force that lifts and supports a person.

Someone may begin life among the fields and wilds, then be lifted by fate into a world of splendor and honor. Yet people spend a hundred years moving through the world, looking up and down, coming and going, and in the blink of an eye it all seems like a dream. Rank and riches are appearances; they are not things that remain real and unchanging.

So there is a fate that lasts a day, one that continues for a year, one that endures for a time, and one that extends through a whole life. A person’s lifelong fate does not take shape at any one particular moment. Fate is therefore everywhere: it acts in every affair and reaches every place.

This means that wherever you go, fate is at work.

Sometimes an opportunity comes only after a long delay; this, too, is fate. Since there are both opportunities and fate, “timing” is the movement of Heaven’s seasons, while “fate” is Heaven’s arrangement. The Zhuangzi says, “Though you have long sought to avoid hardship, you still cannot escape fate; though you have long sought to attain success, you have never met the right opportunity.”

When one’s reputation matches one’s proper standing, and the time is right, one’s affairs can succeed. This is called harmony between fate and timing. When the time is not right, one’s spirit is harmed; this is called fate working against one.

Even the same village and the same things seem coarser when offered by someone with an ugly appearance.

Only a sage can handle timing and fate well. The Zhuangzi says, “To know that success has its time, and hardship its fate, and to face great danger without fear—this is the courage of a sage.”

The way the former kings governed was complete in itself, yet rulers still fell into difficulty. This happened because they had not truly understood the way of the former kings.

Ritual propriety and laws should change with the times. Circumstances and Heaven’s Mandate are constantly shifting, so laws must be adjusted accordingly. Yet foolish people cling to old laws, like someone gluing an axle in place or carving a mark on a boat to find a lost sword. They hold fast to the outdated practices handed down by the former kings. As a result, even though the way of the former kings was complete, following it only brings them greater trouble. It is like sleeping with a straw dog used in sacrifice as a pillow and then having nightmares—is that not alarming?

What is called the Dao is to avoid clinging to oneself and instead respond to change.

What is called De is the ability to receive and bring others to fulfillment, while not losing oneself.

The principles of Dao and De are the foundation on which all things draw and fulfill themselves. They are a source that can give continuously without being depleted.

The Dao has no fixed form, yet things each have their own distinctions. It is vast and boundless; no one knows where it comes from.

Thus, east, west, south, and north each have their own directions and boundaries, yet they are defined in relation to one another. As the Zhuangzi, a Daoist classic, says: We know that east and west are opposites, yet neither can be absent without the other; their functions and distinctions are established through this relationship.

The natures of Yin and Yang are different, yet they can be harmonized as one. Sour, salty, sweet, and bitter flavors oppose one another, yet together they make a balanced taste. The Zhuangzi says that fruits such as pears and oranges have different flavors, yet each can please the palate.

The five colors differ, yet together they create a harmonious beauty. The five musical notes also differ, yet each is pleasing to the ear.

These five examples all illustrate the way of the former kings: it does not seek to make things alike, but instead gives all things their proper place and governs them well.

There is nothing among the myriad things that does not connect with and resemble other things. Whether in motion or at rest, all depend on Qi. Thus, if a general can command the right momentum, he can bring success to his own position; if the head of a household can command the right momentum, he can bring success to the whole family; and if a ruler can secure the right momentum for the entire country, he can bring success to the country.

The ancients said that going to war is like gambling: with ample funds, one’s confidence and momentum rise, making victory more likely; with little capital, one grows apprehensive, making defeat more likely. It follows that a general’s fortunes depend on momentum. The Art of War says, “In the morning, morale is vigorous; by midday, it gradually wanes; at dusk, it returns to its source.” A skilled commander avoids the enemy when its morale is high and attacks when it has slackened or ebbed.

When a general loses the right momentum, fortune turns to misfortune. What is the same is called “one”; what differs is called the Dao; mutual mastery is called “grasping”; and fortune and misfortune take shape as success and failure. A worthy person may act ten thousand times and make one mistake; an unworthy person may act ten thousand times and achieve one success. The outcomes may happen to coincide, but their causes are not the same. Thus, only by understanding that “one” is not identical in every case can one honor the Dao.

Difference is called the Dao. Emptiness is called “one”; emptiness and “one” may also be called “the same.”

There is nothing among the myriad things that does not exist within “nonbeing.” The condition in which nothing is lacking is called the Dao. There is likewise nothing among the myriad things that does not exist within “being.” What brings things into existence is called Qi; what makes things correspond is called “kind.” When Qi harms a person, it is called “discomfort”; when a flavor harms a person, it is called “poison.”

The character “wan” has a meaning close to “reach.” The text continues: “This is called discomfort; when a flavor harms a person, it is called poison.” The sentence concerning “she” has variant readings in other versions, including “tian she” and “tian du.” The phrase “if it is not carved, it does not form mist” also appears with variants such as “mist Qi”; the meanings of these characters are difficult to determine.

The character “wan” has a meaning close to “reach.” Here, it refers to the altar of a land god in a conquered state being covered by a roof and thus unable to receive sunlight, so that it cannot produce mist. Large altars are built without roofs. Instead, an open platform is raised for the sacrifices, allowing it to receive the energy of frost and dew; only then can mist form. The altar and mist serve here as metaphors: the altar illustrates the principles of Qi, while the mist illustrates how things of the same kind connect.

Qi can help and harm itself in turn.

Taigong Diao says: Yin and Yang respond to one another, but also cover and constrain one another. The four seasons succeed one another, each both giving rise to and bringing about the extinction of another.

Things of the same kind can bring one another to fulfillment, but can also ruin one another.

Summer belongs to the same category as spring, and winter to the same category as autumn. Other things can be understood in the same way.

As things accumulate and develop, differences emerge. Some become models; others become rulers, who then take them as their guides.

“Ba” means to limp or lean at an angle; “shi” is the same word as the “shi” in “shaman.” Shamans often limp as they walk, so the passage says that as things accumulate and develop, “ba” emerges, and craftsmen take it as their model. Yangzi says: In ancient times, the Si clan managed the waters and land, so many shamans learned Yu’s limping steps. Bian Que was from Lu, so many among the doctors were people of Lu.

Accumulated poisons can be made into medicine; craftsmen thereby become doctors.

This means that methods for making medicine gradually emerged, and doctors came into being along with them. Many of the world’s ills likewise develop from established practices: great bandits plunder states in the name of benevolence and righteousness, while petty scholars make their fortunes in the name of poetry and ritual. How, then, can we know that Zeng Shen and Shi Yu would not become the whistle arrows in the hands of tyrants like Jie and Huai?

Beauty and ugliness set one another off; this phenomenon is called “revolving in cycles.” When things reach an extreme, they turn into their opposites; this is called “cyclic return.”

This means that things recur in cycles, moving like a ring.

The Sixth Section: The Ends of the Dao

Heaven is the root from which all things take form.

All things depend on Heaven in order to exist.

Earth is the root that gives all things stability.

Heaven is the father of the Dao, and Earth its mother.

Thus Heaven gives things their defining qualities, Earth gives them their place, and the seasons transform them. All things receive these transformations, and the sage takes them as models. Changes in cold and warmth do not arise from a single vital essence. Only after the five vital essences transform into Qi do cold and heat come into being.

No one can know everything in the world alone. The waters are vast, and their condition cannot be understood from the changes of a single river, nor are they brought into being by only one kind of vital essence. The five kinds of vital essence transform into Qi (vital energy), and from this come cold and heat.

No one can know everything in the world alone; the waters are vast, and their condition cannot be understood from the flow of a single river. During Yao’s reign, there were floods in nine out of ten years, yet the rivers did not rise as a result. During King Tang’s reign, there was drought in seven out of eight years, yet the rivers did not recede. Could this be because the rivers were fed by only one stream?

Therefore, when a wise ruler governs the world, the most important thing is to seek talent widely. He does not bear every burden alone, but governs together with others and works in concert with Heaven and Earth.

The ruler must also establish the “Four Bonds” of the state—ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame—to support government. Rules and standards must work together, with things restraining and harmonizing one another. When arrangements are thorough, the ruler’s position can remain secure.

Heaven and Earth follow constant principles, and governance should accord with their patterns. Acting against the proper season brings misfortune. If matters are entrusted to people who lack ability and virtue, failure is certain even without an external threat. One must investigate the principles of things outwardly and understand the roots of change inwardly. An army may be stationed beyond the borders, while danger lies hidden within.

As with the Ji-sun clan, the danger lay not with Zhuanyu, but within the palace walls. Defenses may seem complete, yet danger can come from those closest at hand. For this reason, the early kings, when establishing offices and choosing people, always recommended the worthy and capable, without showing favoritism because of customary ties. The humane stood to the left, the loyal ministers in front, the righteous ministers to the right, and the sages behind.

This arrangement took its model from the seasons and the cardinal directions. The humane stood to the left, symbolizing spring, when all things grow. The loyal ministers stood in front, symbolizing the brightness of the south and the accomplishments of summer. The righteous ministers stood to the right, symbolizing autumn, when all things ripen. The sages stood behind, symbolizing the stillness and hidden depths of the north, which also correspond to winter’s closure and storage. By choosing people and governing the state in this way, the early kings held their position high without falling and kept the state secure from destruction. This is the root of all things and the gateway through which Heaven and Earth move.

The ruler establishes gateways, a metaphor for the principles that govern the realm, so that benevolence is expressed on the left, righteousness on the right, loyalty in front, and sagehood behind. The ruler also follows the principles of the four seasons: in spring, all things sprout; in summer, they grow; in autumn, they ripen; and in winter, they are stored away. These are the benefits brought by Dao and De.

Benevolence, righteousness, loyalty, and sagehood are the standards rulers take from the world beyond themselves. The ruler is like Heaven. Since left, right, front, and back correspond to the four seasons, it is said that the ruler takes Heaven as a model. Heaven does not shut its gateways, so that those below will not harm one another.

If the east does not model itself on benevolence, the west on righteousness, the south on loyalty, and the north on sagehood, then the gateways through which the ruler governs the realm are blocked.

Recommend the worthy and grant them the highest reward, and those below will no longer conceal one another’s talents. The passage from the He Guan Zi quoted in the Xiuwen Hall says: “Those who recommend the worthy receive the highest reward, and those below will no longer conceal good deeds.” Those who administer government need not give many rewards for the people to rejoice, nor impose many punishments for the people to stand in awe. This refers to recommending worthy people who have already entered office.

If worthy people are recommended before the need arises, their evident achievements will not be concealed. Even if those recommended are not already serving as officials, rewarding the person who recommends them will encourage the ministers who carry out their duties. Thus the passage below says:

“Those entrusted with duties all devote themselves wholeheartedly and faithfully.”

The Chunqiu Fanlu says: “To be single-minded is to be loyal; when the heart is divided in two, stray thoughts arise.”

From this we can understand that when people in the villages admire the Way, people throughout the state will gladly admire it as well.

“Under the influence of teaching, the ruler sits at ease and keeps himself upright.” Mutton does not chase ants, but ants chase the smell of mutton. When the people admire the Way, the ruler need only keep himself upright and guide them through teaching. “Sits at ease and keeps himself upright” means that the ruler conducts himself with care and respect, sits facing south, and governs.

This is the outcome brought about by the Dao and the efficacy accomplished by De. The foundation of all things comes from a single ruler; hence he is called “Heaven,” meaning that above this honored position there is no second.

All things receive their mandate from it, yet no fixed name can be given to it; hence it is called “spirit,” meaning that it can bring all things to life through subtle transformation.

When its subtle power reaches its utmost, it manifests without display and does not flaunt its might.

Following and putting the Dao (the Way), the fundamental law of the cosmos, into practice is what enables De (Virtue/Power) to be realized. All things come from the same source, so it is called “Heaven.”

Above Heaven, there is no other ruler.

All things receive their mandate from Heaven, yet it cannot be named in any specific way, so it is called “spirit.”

Its subtle workings extend throughout all things, and so it can be explained through them.

Its spiritual power is so profound that even when it manifests, it does not appear fierce or imposing. One edition reads “or” in place of “martial.”

How could there be any difference in accord with this Dao?

When faced with turmoil, do not be confused; devote yourself to setting the state in order. When disasters and strange phenomena occur, do not be alarmed or thrown into confusion. For now, take the principles commonly accepted throughout the world as your guide, and examine and correct the failings of your own state. How can one say that an unusual sign appearing in Heaven was brought about by something I did?

The standards for governing a state must first be embodied in oneself. First transform one’s wife through De, then extend this influence to one’s brothers, and from there govern the family and the state. This draws on a passage from the Book of Songs: “He set an example for his wife, and extended it to his brothers, in order to govern his family and state.” Here, “set an example” means to guide and transform through one’s conduct.

Devote oneself to the world until old age. One edition reads “old” as “aged.”

Labor throughout one’s life to aid the people.

Govern the state by the right Way, act in accordance with righteousness and put benevolence into practice, thereby achieving the royal enterprise of unifying all under Heaven. Benevolence is the standard by which a ruler conducts himself; righteousness is the standard by which he acts; loyalty is the standard by which he governs; and trustworthiness is the standard by which he teaches the people. The sage, in turn, is the ruler’s teacher and instructor in the Way.

The ruler’s Way lies in recognizing people; the minister’s duty lies in getting things done. Therefore, when distributing wealth, entrust the task to someone benevolent and generous; when facing danger and hardship, to someone courageous; when hearing opinions and organizing arguments, to someone skilled in debate; when planning affairs and making decisions, to someone intelligent; when governing the people and handling state affairs, to someone gentle and modest; and when receiving guests and conveying commands, to someone who understands ritual.

“Binzou” is also written “binbin,” and “zanjian” is also written “zhao.” The Book of Rites says: “At ritual ceremonies there are attendants who guide and assist with the rites; when music is performed, there are helpers who guide the steps.” This means that ritual calls for careful attention and gentleness.

To put the people to work and unite their hearts, appoint the worthy and capable. To send an envoy far away, beyond the borders and to distant states, appoint someone trustworthy. To govern Heaven and Earth and direct the feudal lords, one must possess the De of a sage.

The principles for appointing capable people are roughly as follows. To explain them more concretely: the wise rulers of antiquity governed the realm through Wuwei (non-action). They did not appoint only those who were benevolent, brave, eloquent, intelligent, modest, courteous, virtuous, trustworthy, or sage. They did not reject people whose bodies were impaired from birth or disfigured by punishment. A hunchback might be put in charge of tying things up, someone with poor eyesight assigned certain tasks, a short person made to perform acrobatics, a deaf person entrusted with tending the fire, a one-eyed person appointed to supervise ropes, someone punished by having their nose cut off set to guard a gate, and someone punished by having a foot or leg cut off assigned to watch a garden or park. Even the frail and the lame could be placed in suitable posts in outlying regions. In this way, nothing was left undone above, and no capable person was overlooked below. The stability and longevity of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties rested on this way of appointing people.

Yet it is not enough merely to know to appoint benevolent people without knowing the extent of their benevolence, or to appoint intelligent people without knowing the reach of their abilities. As the ancients said, Meng Gongchuo was well suited to serve as a steward for the Zhao and Wei families, but not to serve as a minister in a small state such as Teng or Xue. Ran Yong could serve as a ruler, Gongxi Chi could oversee the reception of guests, Ran Qiu could manage the household of a noble family with a hundred war chariots, and Zhong You could administer the military and government affairs of a feudal state with a thousand chariots. This shows that what this book says is only a broad outline of the principle of appointing people according to their abilities.

The Zhuangzi says, “Once the principle of appointing people according to their abilities has been made clear, the next step is to examine and verify them.” Only after people have been appointed in this way can they be examined and verified further. The discussion that follows therefore turns to this matter.

A benevolent person’s role is to take pleasure in helping others without competing with them, and not to resent those above when occupying a lower position. Someone skilled in argument can dispel resentment and resolve difficulties. A wise person can handle matters well when they arise and respond promptly when problems appear. A loyal minister’s role is to speak and act uprightly, correcting the ruler’s errors. A righteous minister can save what is on the verge of ruin, continue what has been cut short, support the weak, and punish the violent. A trustworthy minister holds fast to the right path and does not lightly change what he says. The role of an upright and modest person is to set aside self-interest and serve the public good.

The Han Feizi says: “To concern yourself only with advancing your own interests is selfishness. To cast aside self-interest and put the public good first is impartiality.”

A ritual-minded minister’s role is to show respect to the ruler and regard for fellow ministers. A worthy person’s role is to make enemy states wary and keep the borders free from invasion. A sage’s role is to establish institutions in the most subtle and far-reaching realms. Whatever people seek or hope for receives a response; what the sage says is obeyed, and what the sage puts into practice is followed. Those nearby grow closer, and those far away come to offer their allegiance. Affairs proceed smoothly, and the four directions can all communicate with one another.

To trace these abilities upward, layer by layer, until they reach the subtle and far-reaching realm is to arrive at the responsibility borne by the sage.

One must have an inner standard for assessing people and use it as a basis for examination. This is what is called “the Dao as measure”: taking the Dao as the standard by which to assess things.

One must also have a set of methods for evaluating people’s conduct. Without a clear standard in mind, it is difficult to discern things accurately when observing them.

Observe whom a wealthy person gives his possessions to, and you can tell whether he is benevolent. Observe whom a person of high rank recommends, and you can tell whether he is loyal. Observe how someone handles relationships between people of different ages and ranks—for example, whether elders defer to the young and the distinguished yield to the lowly—and you can tell whether that person understands ritual propriety. Observe what someone refuses to do, and you can tell whether that person acts in accordance with righteousness. Give someone an official post and responsibility for governing affairs, then observe how they advance, withdraw, and make choices; this reveals their wisdom. When faced with coercion, if they are not afraid, this reveals their courage. Observe whether their speech is fluent and their expression skillful; this reveals their eloquence. Assign them a task and observe whether they conceal anything; this reveals their trustworthiness. Observe what a poor person refuses to take, and you can tell whether they are incorruptible; observe what a person of low status refuses to do, and you can tell whether they are worthy. Examine profound principles and observe the Way of Heaven, and you can tell whether someone is a sage.

The key to governing affairs and discerning principles lies in understanding people; understanding people, in turn, requires methods of observation. Confucius said: “Observe the motives behind a person’s actions, watch the path they follow, and examine what they find peace in within themselves—what could they still conceal?” For this reason, the methods of observing people are explained here in greater detail.

The structure of the chapter and its principles can both remain orderly without contradicting one another. Some versions write “principle” as “deceit” or “to carry.” This is like approaching a frontier and keeping strict watch over its passes: one must be on guard. Confucius said, “Look at a person’s aims, observe the means they use, and see what brings them peace of mind. What could they still conceal?” The text therefore goes on to explain the principle in concrete terms.

To preserve order without confusion and understand affairs clearly without contradiction, one must guard against changes in their fundamental conditions and ensure that matters are brought to completion. These fundamental conditions provide the basis for being fully prepared and avoiding difficulty. Bringing matters to completion keeps those who respond to change from becoming exhausted.

When one understands how things work and knows the proper limits of each, laws and standards can be put into practice independently. A ruler without the Dao appoints mediocre and shallow people, and their measures become confused and muddled. A ruler who follows the Dao appoints outstanding and gifted people, and their measures become clear and straightforward. The difference between these two approaches must be established first. Once the foundation is in place, government can become clear from the bottom up. The foundation is like the root that supports a thing.

The vital energies of ruler and ministers are in harmony, and they govern together. This is a metaphor for ruler and ministers as one body: the text says “Qi” rather than “blood,” and “nourishment” rather than “protection,” to show that the two sides cooperate and complement one another.

Above, one must accord with the proper standards; below, one must verify the actual circumstances. The ruler’s intentions should accord with the right moment, and action should wait until the time is ripe.

Worthy people live among the local community and can get along with others, yet may not readily go along with the crowd. Their understanding is different, and they know how to wait for the right moment. If a ruler encounters a person of De, or if a reclusive person of De comes to the ruler’s door, people will be convinced even if little is said, and the people will draw near and rally to the ruler. If the ruler is violent and arrogant, the people will scatter and flee. Ruler and subjects will grow suspicious of one another, their relationship wavering back and forth like a turning wheel, disturbing one another day and night. Those who offer counsel will not be heard; those who speak will instead put themselves in danger. The ruler will have no way to hear of their own faults, and ministers will become deceitful and fail to serve with loyalty.

Therefore, if a ruler cares for the people as for their own children, the people will return of their own accord without being summoned. This is the efficacy revealed by the “Numinous Terrace,” a symbol of the ruler’s observation of the people’s condition and responsiveness to their hearts.

Thus the sun, by shining brightly, can ultimately win a fine reputation. If you give people no kindness but ask something of them, they will not accept it. If someone shows love to others while demanding that they become close to him, this will bring calamity and ultimately an ill-fated outcome.

When ministers serve a ruler, elders should be skilled at reconciling differences and keeping those above and below in harmony. Through their sincere and upright conduct, they should set an example for the officers. The officers, in turn, should keep their own conduct proper. By guiding and educating the people, all under Heaven will willingly follow. Adhering to this principle will ultimately bring prosperity.

Petty men serve a ruler with the single aim of obscuring his clear judgment and blocking his eyes and ears. They use his authority to suppress others and intimidate them, relying on the ruler’s power to manipulate other people’s circumstances at will. All under Heaven despise such conduct. If these people gain ever greater influence, they will ultimately bring danger upon themselves and are certain to fail; calamity may even befall their entire clan. These are the key signs of change in the relationship between ruler and ministers, of the divide between good and disorderly government, and of a state’s rise and decline. They also provide standards for assessing a state’s condition. “Inspect” means to monitor and examine.

From this arise compliance and resistance, benefit and harm. The only things one can do without learning are breathing and eating. For this reason, the former kings handed down the principles of governing, so that later generations could model themselves on one another and carry on the tradition. When an enlightened ruler follows established laws, the state can endure. When a benighted ruler refuses to follow them, the state often perishes within his own reign.

The laws laid down by Yu the Great have survived, yet the Xia dynasty failed to rule as kings from generation to generation. The reason lies here.

“Near Succession,” Chapter Seven

Pangzi asked He Guan-zi, “Where should the Way of the sages begin?”

He Guan-zi replied, “It should begin with how one conducts oneself as a human being.”

Pangzi asked again, “Where should the principles of human society begin?”

He Guan-zi replied, “They should begin with military affairs.”

Pangzi asked, “Why not begin by following Heaven, and instead speak first of human affairs?”

He Guan-zi replied, “Heaven is lofty and remote, difficult to understand. One cannot ask Heaven for blessings, nor escape its calamities. If one insists on following Heaven, one may instead go against reason. The earth is vast and deep. It can bring many benefits, yet has little power to command…”

The sky is lofty and distant, and does not draw near. The earth is close to all things, yet does not display its dignity.

To take the earth as one’s model may invite humiliation. Circumstances are constantly changing; if one acts only according to fixed conditions, one will fall into error. The sage holds that Heaven, Earth, and the seasons cannot each, on its own, serve as the standard for governing, teaching, and establishing customs. So the sage does not follow them blindly.

Pang Zi asked, “What is the nature of Yin and Yang?” He Guan Zi replied, “The awe-inspiring clarity of the spirits accords with Heaven; the vital essence of spirit is pure and wondrous. The sprouting, growth, and movement of plants accord with Earth: when a bent branch puts forth a new shoot, the force of life becomes visible. The changes of Yin and Yang and the alternation of cold and heat follow the arrival of the seasons. If the sage can grasp these three, the world will be at peace; if they are lost, the world will fall into disorder. Therefore, in governing, they must be given priority.”

Wealth can easily make people arrogant, while high status can also lead to decline. Though war may be needed only once in a hundred years, it must not be forgotten for even a single day. Therefore, the art of governing a state must give military preparedness first consideration.

Pang Zi asked, “Why should military preparedness come first?” He Guan Zi replied, “The foundations of warfare are ritual, righteousness, loyalty, and trust.” Pang Zi asked again, “Please explain the moral principles of using force.” He Guan Zi said, “When the other side has abandoned the Way, a lower-ranking party may attack a noble one; when the other side is unrighteous, the weak may resist the strong.”

Pang Zi asked, “What should one do in practice?” He Guan Zi replied, “When the other side acts wrongly, it should be restrained through shame and prohibition. When it returns to the Way, the attack should cease and punishment be set aside. Therefore, do not kill those who surrender. Even a hawk does not attack prey lying still on the ground—how much less should a human being do so?”

In governing a state, a ruler must above all value restraint and keep faith. Even if he gains territory, a wise and enlightened ruler will not claim it for himself if he has lost the people’s trust. Those who break their word and abandon their agreements may each have their own reasons.

Pang Zi said, “I have heard that a broad territory makes a state wealthy, a large population makes its army strong, and a strong army lets it gain the advantage in the world. But when I consider both what is before my eyes and what I have not yet seen, this still seems unsound. Why, then, are the armies of great states criticized and left without a convincing argument, while prohibitions fail to stop violations and orders cannot be carried out?”

If someone is to be made to do something, issue an order requiring them to do it; if something is forbidden, issue an order prohibiting it.

He Guan Zi said: “To know what the future will bring, examine the past; to understand antiquity, observe the present. A ruler who can choose suitable people for office may be called a king. If, when appointing people, the ruler instead lets them choose their own sovereign, the state will perish. This is how a situation that runs counter to what is right takes shape: the unworthy harm the worthy and rise above them, and this grows worse over time. This is called ‘the lower overstepping the higher.’

“When the people dare not speak frankly about their ruler’s faults, this is called ‘the higher overpowering the lower.’

“Be very cautious about what you have just asked; do not speak of it lightly. A state’s vast territory, abundant wealth, large population, and strong military are only favorable conditions. Even when scholars have strength to spare, if they cannot first put their ambitions into practice in the world, the reason is that their ruler is unworthy, arrogant, and complacent. ‘Haughty’ means proud; ‘full’ means excessively self-satisfied. An unworthy ruler cannot govern through Wuwei (non-action), nor can he work with others to bring things to completion.

“Mencius said: ‘Only when people refrain from doing some things can they accomplish others.’

“When a ruler is arrogant, he will underestimate his enemies. Underestimating them, he will consult close associates about matters they do not understand, appoint unsuitable people to tasks beyond their abilities, and imagine he can defeat opponents who are no match for him. He gives no thought to distant dangers and seeks only immediate satisfaction. Thus, by listening to one side and trusting it blindly, the ruler earns a bad name and is shamed before the world; his advisers, too, incur blame by abusing their authority. An enemy state then seizes on these failings and condemns them, and the ruler tries to defend himself with words. The one who offers a defense consequently appears weak, while the accuser gains still greater advantage from that display of weakness. In the end, the situation may escalate to the use of military force.

“The uprightness of thousands upon thousands of lowly people cannot correct the crookedness of a single high-ranking person; those in low positions are powerless to turn the situation around. Once a state has been wounded, the forces behind the damage will gradually spread until they erupt in war.”

Once trauma erupts, it brings about war.

War means leading the people of the world to their deaths. A treacherous minister miscalculates; the ruler causes the error, yet the blame falls on the subjects. The ruler appears solemn, but secretly builds ties with the feudal lords, who then let blame accumulate. Someone consequently rebels, placing the state and its altars of soil and grain in danger. The ruler is alarmed, inwardly fearful and cold, and without support. Unless this person is punished, the calamity between the two states cannot be quelled, and the ruler’s position cannot be restored. The ruler regrets his earlier mistakes and plans to relocate and change course, but it is already too late. To place primary responsibility on one person makes that person’s guilt undeniably grave. But how could one person’s hand shield him from the eyes of everyone under Heaven?

A household is wiped out and an entire clan is slaughtered. The so-called “extermination of a household” is what the Zhou Offices calls “execution of the house”—putting the offender’s family to death along with the offender.

The ruler should apologize to all under Heaven and yield the state to the enemy. Otherwise, the war will not cease, and the state’s wounds will not heal.

This is why it is called “extending the wound”: the reason lies here.

The calamity is truly immense, for the harm caused by failing to understand reason is immense.

How tragic, that calamity should reach such an extreme!

This means that the calamity is truly lamentable.

All this comes from relying on power, departing from the right way, despising others, and thinking only of oneself. The harm caused by failing to understand reason is immense; calamity has reached this point, and it is truly lamentable. This is precisely the fault of relying on the powerful, departing from the right way, and despising others while thinking only of oneself.

To think only of oneself is to regard others lightly.

Thus, even before the army sets out, military calamities may already occur one after another.

The title of the chapter “Jindie” probably takes its meaning from this passage.

Today, the rulers of great states do not seek the sages of antiquity for guidance in governing, but act rashly. The ministers around them have no worthy advisers to help them understand the great principles of governance; instead, they have only petty stratagems that disrupt the right way. They act against righteousness and wage war in defiance of Virtue; the army’s reputation is damaged, and their words are reduced to embarrassment. Their orders cannot be carried out, and their prohibitions go unheeded. What is there to wonder at in this?

Pangzi asked, “What do you mean by stratagems that disrupt the right way?”

Heguanzi replied, “The laws and standards cannot serve as a model for people.” Here, “yi” is pronounced like the “yi” in “Yi bi xiao xing.”

Even sages who act in accordance with the order and principles of things still fall short in some respects. Therefore, those who do not fully grasp the various principles cannot govern the world. Nowadays, some people act without following any principles, relying only on themselves. Though they lack laws and standards, they imagine they have everything in order. They do not follow the precepts of the sages of old; instead, they make decisions based on their own understanding, convinced that they have understood everything.

Judgments based only on one’s own understanding will inevitably be mistaken in some way.

Even if all human affairs have been put in order, what can make up for what is lacking in oneself?

What does it mean to make up for what is lacking in oneself? Is it something found only in other people? Human beings receive the balanced Qi of Heaven and Earth at birth, take bodily form, and preserve their spirit; from the beginning, they possess many subtle capacities. From what we can see, a person seems to hold hundreds or thousands of abilities within. Yet in practice, they can recognize only one or two of them. In the end, those capacities disappear with life and go unknown, simply because people cannot recognize and bring them into play again.

The ruler’s understanding is clouded. He treats status and punishment as the Dao of governance, and his personal intentions as laws and standards. He uses constraint, confinement, or scarcity to control the people, deceives the world and conceals what is happening below, and cuts off communication between those above and below. Affairs are handled at cross-purposes, and both sides suffer as a result.

This turns caring for the people into a continual source of harm: quiet becomes disturbance, and stability becomes danger. The people’s households fall into hardship and resentment grows in their hearts. What calamity could be greater? Such governance is like an army fleeing northward after a defeat. Only later does one realize that the state is already on the brink of ruin; one has been in a place of death for a long time, yet notices it only now.

Pangzi asked, “How can human affairs be used to make up for what is lacking in the various principles?”

He Guanguan replied, “Cang Jie established the principles.” Cang Jie was the Yellow Emperor’s historian. Tradition says that he observed the tracks left by birds and animals and began creating written characters and carved symbols. Writing begins with the sexagenary cycle: the sequence of days begins with jia, and the sequence of hours begins with zi.

“Completing the record” means reporting a case to the chief official once it has been adjudicated. A “Li official” is an official in charge of criminal cases.

Although Cangjie, the legendary inventor of writing, did not accord with the Great Dao, without him writing would never have come into being.

Cangjie created writing not for Daoist practitioners or court historians. Yet with it, the first steps toward written language began, and this was the starting point of all systems of law and order.

Even if every principle were drawn in pictures to awaken the mind, express ideas, and clarify the Great Dao, such images could probably convey no more than a tenth of it.

In other words, if writing did not exist and one tried to depict every principle in pictures, how could one express its meaning in full? Looking back from later times, we can see that written characters were developed to make expression and practical use easier. Seal script is less convenient than clerical script, and clerical script is slower than cursive script. Pictures, then, are slower when it comes to handling affairs. Nothing surpasses writing for governing the affairs of the world, recording what happened long ago, explaining distant principles, and conveying things unseen by the eyes or beyond the mind’s understanding. “Minmin” refers to things invisible to the eyes; “zizi” refers to matters the mind cannot understand.

Thus, those who understand all kinds of principles are outstanding heroes. Those who go further and perceive things that are formless, about to happen, or not yet manifest have wisdom surpassing that of ten thousand people.

This is what it means to fully bring De’s power into play; such a person is more than merely an outstanding hero. Their insight surpasses ordinary people at all three levels, and they can perceive principles that even ten thousand people cannot understand.

Those who understand all kinds of principles are outstanding heroes. Those who go further and perceive things that are formless, about to happen, or not yet manifest have wisdom surpassing that of ten thousand people.

This is what it means to fully bring De’s power into play; such a person is more than merely an outstanding hero. Their insight surpasses ordinary people at all three levels, placing them above ten thousand people. “About to happen” is not as deep as “formless,” and “formless” is not as deep as “not yet manifest.” To use an example, “Great Change” (Taiyi) refers to what has not yet manifested; “Great Beginning” (Taichu) refers to what is formless; and “undifferentiated flux” (hunlun) refers to the state in which things are about to take shape. These terms describe different stages: before things appear, when they have no form, and when they are about to take shape.

Without wisdom surpassing that of ten thousand people, one cannot raise one’s understanding above the learning of the world. Pangzi said, “I was fortunate to receive your stern instruction, and I asked questions as I took up my studies. But after I withdrew and reflected on your words, I became even more apprehensive.”

The upper volume of He Guanzi ends here.

The following collation notes explain textual differences among editions and the corrections made by the editors on that basis:

1. For the character “fu,” a note in the Siku edition says that some versions have “tie” and considers that reading incorrect.

2. For the character “shi,” the Daozang edition originally has “zhi,” an old form of “shi.” Here the Siku edition’s “shi” is used. The sentence comes from Jia Yi’s New Writings, “On the Unsettled System”: “Power and authority, laws and institutions—these are the axe of the ruler.”

3. The Siku edition assigns “quan” to the preceding sentence, so the phrase reads “ming quan.”

4. The character “chuan” is incorrect in the original Daozang edition and has been corrected according to the Siku edition. The Shang king Wu Ding had a minister named Fu Yue. According to tradition, he had been an enslaved laborer who built walls using rammed earth.

5. The character “mo” is written “mo” in the original Daozang edition. It has been corrected here according to the following text and the Siku edition.

6. The Daozang edition originally omitted the three characters “le jie ku”; they have been added according to the Siku edition.

7. The Daozang edition originally omitted the character “ren”; it has been added according to the Siku edition.

8. The Daozang edition originally omitted the character “jie”; it has been added according to the Siku edition.

9. The Siku edition has “yi” instead of “he.”

10. The Siku edition has “wu” instead of “yuan.”

11. The Daozang edition originally omitted “bu”; it has been added according to the Siku edition.

12. A note in the Siku edition says that some versions have “nao” instead of “Yao.”

13. The Siku edition has “yi” instead of “yi.”

14. The Siku edition reads, “Use the wisdom of the court to devise the plan.” The Baizi and Daozang editions both read “wei zhi.” The text has been corrected here in accordance with the collation.

15. The Siku edition also has “kua” for “kua.”

16. The Siku edition has “yi” instead of “yi.”

17. The Siku edition has “wu” instead of “wu.”

18. The Siku edition has “ma” instead of “yan.”

19. The Siku edition reads, “This is what is called harmony.”

20. The Daozang edition originally omitted “wei”; it has been added according to the Siku edition.

21. A note in the Siku edition says that some versions have “gong” instead of “guan.”

22. The Siku edition has “zhi” instead of “yi.”

23. The Siku edition has “tong” instead of “he.”

24. The Daozang edition originally has “cheng” instead of “huo.” This has been changed to “huo” according to the meaning of the passage and the Siku edition.

25. The Siku edition has “shan” instead of “zu.”

26. The Siku edition has “er yi” instead of “yi er.”

27. The Siku edition has “ju” instead of “qi.”

28. The Siku edition has “zheng” instead of “wang.”

29. The Siku edition has “zhi” instead of “zhi.”

30. The character “si” is written “yao” in the original Daozang edition, which is incorrect; the Siku edition has “si.” The reading has been settled here on the basis of the Shuowen: “Han Fei said, ‘Cang Jie created writing: what one keeps for oneself is si.’”

31. The Siku edition has “liu li” instead of “li liu.”

32. The Siku edition has “yan” instead of “wei.”

33. The Siku edition has “can ji zu” instead of “can zu.”

34. In the Daozang edition, this sentence was originally placed after “Pangzi said: ‘Use people to serve the hundred laws.’” Its position is unsuitable; it has been moved here according to the passage’s meaning and the Siku edition.

Pangzi asked Heguanzi, “Can sages consult with the spirits?”

Heguanzi replied, “Those who follow different paths cannot conspire together. The Dao must be brought to completion through people. If it does not meet the right person, the Dao cannot put itself into practice.”

Pangzi said, “I would like to ask what is essential for the plans of the spirits to be realized and for things to be accomplished.”

Heguanzi replied, “Heaven represents spirit; Earth represents form. When the Earth’s Qi is moist, fire arises from it. The utmost Yang Qi is bright and blazing: this radiant, flourishing Qi rises from the Earth.

“Heaven is dry, so why does it produce water? Heaven represents spirit; Earth represents form. When the Earth’s Qi is moist, fire arises from it; the utmost Yang Qi is bright and blazing, and this radiant, flourishing Qi rises from the Earth. When Heaven is dry, it produces water: the utmost Yin Qi is still and congealed, and this quiet Qi descends from Heaven.

“Harsh laws and unjust punishments make the spirit Qi damp. Punishments and laws belong to Yin; when spirit Qi is damp, Heaven cannot produce water. When musical tones and pitch are out of harmony, the body becomes dry. Sounds and pitch belong to Yang; when the body is dry, Earth cannot produce fire.

“If water and fire cannot arise, Yin and Yang cannot form Qi, measures cannot establish standards, and the dynamic of the Five Phases overcoming one another cannot take shape. The myriad things cannot be sorted into categories, every undertaking will be cut off, and all living beings will fall into hardship. Heaven and Earth will be in confusion and disorder—who, then, will know the cause?

“The patterns of celestial signs and human affairs are alike, and the principles of geography and human affairs also correspond. The abilities of the worthy and the unworthy differ, so the highest sages are not thrown into confusion. The ignorant and lowly cannot be distinguished or persuaded through words. Thus, in the time of Yao and Shun, Gonggong and Huandou sought to do evil and were put to death; in the time of Jie and Zhou, Longfeng and Bigan sought to do good but were put to death instead.

“Yin and Yang are the proper course of Qi; Heaven and Earth are the proper course of form and spirit; sages are the proper course of De; and laws and ordinances are the proper course of the four seasons.”

If, in the third month of spring, the ordinances of winter are put into effect, the weather will turn cold; if, in the third month of autumn, the ordinances of summer are put into effect, the weather will turn warm.

Thus, neglecting a single principle can throw many things into disorder. The mistake may seem small, yet it can cause widespread harm.

“Heaven” does not mean the distant, boundless sky, and “Earth” does not mean the broad, level soil. “Heaven” refers to the principle by which all things find their proper place, with nothing able to surpass it. When the Dao of the ruler is compared to Heaven, this means that the ruler should govern all things under Heaven, with nothing standing above him. “Earth” refers to the principle by which all things are kept balanced and orderly, beyond disruption. When the Dao of ministers is compared to Earth, this means that ministers should keep all things under Heaven stable and orderly, free from disturbance.

“Tone” refers to deliberation: different views interact and combine to form counsel. “Sound” refers to concrete affairs: as tasks are distributed, they become distinct duties. “Tone” is like the sun, moon, and stars—the three celestial lights—which shine together above. “Sound” is like the Five Offices on Earth—the various posts in the ancient system of official duties—each carrying out its role in its proper place below. When a person’s body and spirit are in harmony, the course of life can flow smoothly. When the body is not harmed by heat and dryness, and the spirit is not troubled by dampness and stagnation, the principles of life can be nurtured.

If one focuses only on nourishing life while turning away from its root, De (Virtue) will be obscured, and one will care only for oneself. If one attends only to protecting the body, carrying this beyond due measure, without understanding how to bring oneself into harmony with the things around one, self-nurturing becomes excessive, and De separates from all things. How, then, could one speak of the fundamental principles of nourishing life? That is why it is said that one who is skilled at nourishing life is like a shepherd: when he sees a sheep falling behind, he drives it forward with his whip. This means that care should be given to what has fallen out of balance or lagged behind, so that the whole may return to proper measure.

Those who do not understand the Dao will disrupt the patterns of Heaven above and damage the geography of Earth below. The order of Heaven and humanity follows the same principles, and Earth and humanity share principles as well; this makes the point clear. If harmony among people is cut off, governance will gradually come to an end.

Those who do not understand the Dao (the Way) throw the patterns of Heaven into disorder above and destroy the patterns of Earth below. Heaven and humanity follow the same laws, as do Earth and humanity; this is clear from these examples.

When harmony among people is lost, governance gradually strays from beginning to end. In other words, the skill of governing attends only to what comes first and last, yet has already lost the way of the Center.

Thus, people hear as though they had not heard and see as though they had not seen, and the affairs of the world fall into ruin amid darkness and confusion. Day itself grows dim, like the image of “seeing the Northern Dipper when the sun stands at its zenith”: the natural order has been turned upside down.

There is a sense of right and duty, yet peace has been lost. What people possess cannot be summed up in a posthumous title—a judgment on a person’s life given after death. Without a fitting assessment, they fall into confusion. To demand what someone does not have, or to require what lies beyond their ability, is to set the goal too far away and then punish them for failing to reach it.

When people employ one another, the task may already be complete, yet they have not shown the care they owe; instead, they demand that others devote themselves wholeheartedly. Here, “shi” means to direct or employ. The point is that one fails to show care oneself, then reproaches others for failing to give their whole heart.

Once the task is complete, they drive others onward without checking or seeking whether it has truly been carried out. “Qu” can mean to drive or compel. The point is that one fails to exhaust one’s own loyalty, yet expects others to get the task done.

They raise one another up with empty reputations, calling what is pure and bright black: for the sake of false renown, they blur the facts. Some versions write “mo” for “black”; mo also means black. The Book of Songs says, “The fox is naturally ash-gray, yet takes the color of ink for brightness.” This describes turning black into white and white into black.

In action and stillness alike, they are pulled about by external things, like someone tugged and manipulated by a cord.

Their expression shuts them off from others, and their responses run counter to what is natural. “Fu” means to respond upward; “ni” means to speak upward in reply. The passage describes a cold expression that seems to keep everyone at a great distance.

The Qi that circulates constantly loses its regular course, and the form of things no longer matches their proper names. The Book of Documents says, “There are forms and there are names.” A form is how something actually appears; a name is the designation assigned to it. The Qi’s movement has become irregular, so form and name no longer correspond.

The Five Qi lose their order, and the four seasons can no longer run their proper course. Yin and Yang become unevenly dominant, and the seasons can no longer arrive on time.

When the Five Qi—the five kinds of vital energy that form all things between Heaven and Earth—lose their proper order, the four seasons can no longer proceed as they should.

When Yin and Yang fall out of balance, the four seasons no longer arrive on time, and cold and heat can no longer be brought into harmony.

Misdeeds begin with those in high positions, but blame and death fall upon those below. The age is then nearing its end. People rush about in pursuit of things, only to invite disaster; when calamity comes, they meet it as though driving straight toward it.

When good fortune arrives, people open the door and flee. They treat good fortune as though opening the door to escape from it.

The worthy are mocked, while the foolish govern the state. Heaven’s warnings have already appeared, and calamity may follow. All kinds of misfortune arise together, yet people act only on the signs before them. Who can know how far disaster will go?

People see only appearances and do not understand the principles beneath them.

Seeing the sun and moon does not mean one truly sees clearly; hearing thunder does not mean one is truly perceptive. To discuss events only after they have happened cannot stop change before it begins, nor can it avert the many harms that follow. Calamities arise together, yet people act only on the signs before them. Who can know how far disaster will go?

People see only appearances and do not understand the principles beneath them.

Thus, those skilled at assessing change first examine its root. When the root is sound, affairs can be handled well. When it is deficient, virtue must be shallow and military strength must be weak. How, then, can people of narrow ability conceal their lack of virtue and limited understanding of what is right? Those who embellish their words and act decisively in war, yet cannot stop treachery, suffer from a deficient root.

The problem is not that their words are insufficiently ornate or their military force insufficiently strong.

A ruler’s administration therefore follows two methods, and a minister’s conduct follows two standards. If ministers refuse to serve, the ruler cannot compel them; if they are determined to die, the ruler cannot stop them. A sage ruler can therefore discern matters on his own, establish official posts, and entrust them to capable people who can shoulder responsibility. Those serving within the court must uphold fairness; those serving outside it must remain faithful to their duties; and those who enforce the law must govern impartially.

A person who can rectify himself does not, in the first place, bring about calamity. In this way, the order of Heaven and Earth can be set right. When commands issue from a single source, the many competing channels of government can be closed. Things spread throughout the world have no fixed form, yet they can give rise to all things. By remaining faithful to their duties and governing according to the law, people can bring stability to society.

It spreads out in every direction and gives rise to the myriad things. The myriad things return to a single source. This source is called “No-thing,” and is also called a “command” (an order or decree). Holding fast to the unified Dao in order to regulate the myriad things is called “law.” Law, in this sense, safeguards internal order.

Law keeps to established bounds; a command issues directives and imposes constraints. The purpose of commands is to put the law into effect.

A law can endure if it does not violate the principles of how things work. But some matters cannot always be handled according to old laws because the principles of right conduct change. Commands must therefore be issued in response to changing circumstances. Yet commands, too, must not violate those principles. A ruler who acts in accordance with unified principles and does not change commands arbitrarily can uphold the law. Thus, when the noble person receives the law, they honor it; when the petty person receives it, they act with caution. In this way, everyone can preserve their own well-being.

The divine is present within the heart, while the Dao is present in the body. When the principles that fill and sustain Heaven and Earth are complete within oneself, one’s bearing can accord with the divine. People then establish standards on this basis, use those standards to make laws, and take them as a measuring line for things. They arrange the transformations of Qi according to the seasons and thereby determine the proper distinctions among roles. Once the laws are established, Yin and Yang can be brought into harmony.

The phoenix corresponds to the southern stellar sector Chunhuo, “Quail Fire,” and is the essence of Yang Qi. The male bird is called feng, and the female huang. Chunhuo is the region where the southern constellations lie. The qilin corresponds to the northern stellar sector Xuanxiao and is the essence of Yin Qi. The female beast is called lin, and the male qi; the qi resembles the qilin but has no horn. Xuanxiao is the region where the northern constellations lie.

The common people are the essence of De. When virtuous conduct brings the people together, their essential qualities can all be brought forth. Pangzi asked, “How can they be brought together?” He Guan Zi replied, “The patterns of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth can be examined within oneself. Therefore, the ‘Five Rectifiers’ are established to govern the ‘Five Manifestations.’” The “Five Rectifiers” are discussed below. The “Five Manifestations” may refer to such categories as names, corpses, Qi, sovereign, spirit-brightness, worthies and sages, later kings, and lords and nobles.

The original text offers no further explanation of the phrase “Ten Transformations and Nine Ways.”

The standards by which things are calibrated should begin with the human person. The five tones—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu—and the six pitch standards, the ancient pipes used to establish pitch, must all take their measure from the human body.

Yu the Great used sound as the standard for pitch and the body as the measure. This is what is called taking the model from oneself, known as “Shi Gongbo.” I have not heard a detailed explanation of the “ten transformations and nine ways.”

The standards by which things are calibrated should begin with the human person. The five tones and six pitch standards must all take their measure from the human body. Yu the Great used sound as the standard for pitch and the body as the measure. Perhaps this is what is meant by taking the model from oneself?

Five times five makes twenty-five, and this is used to govern the world. Here, “five times five” means that each of the five tones has five variations.

Six times six makes thirty-six, and this serves as the system for the year. Here, “six times six” means that each of the six pitch standards has six variations. The annual system is counted in thirty-six ten-day periods.

Qi (vital energy) arises from Shen (spirit), and the Dao (the Way) is brought to completion by Shen. When Qi disperses, it is called emptiness; when emptiness disperses, it is called the Dao. Shen is neither Qi nor the Dao, yet Qi arises through Shen, and the Dao is brought to completion through Shen.

Only a sage can set the pitches aright and harmonize the sounds. Thus, his De (Virtue/Power) reaches upward to the Great Clarity (Heaven), downward to Supreme Tranquility (Earth), and, between them, to all the spirits. Oily dew descends, white elixir appears, and sweet wine springs forth—said to prolong life. Vermilion grass grows, said to be used as dye to distinguish rank; every kind of auspicious omen is present.

The ancient books say: When a ruler can harmonize Yin-Yang (Yin and Yang), auspicious energy fills the realm, and all kinds of signs of good fortune appear in succession, responding to the way his De (Virtue/Power) resonates with Heaven and Earth. When his De reaches Heaven, the Northern Dipper and the Pole Star shine brightly, the sun and moon grow radiant, and sweet dew descends. When his De resonates with Earth, fine crops flourish, the mingjia grass—a legendary auspicious plant that grew in step with the months—appears, and juchang, fragrant wine made from black millet for ancient sacrifices, wells forth. When his De is manifest in the celestial patterns, the Auspicious Star appears and the Five Planets—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—move in harmony.

When his De resonates with plants and trees, red auspicious plants grow and the branches of trees join together. When it resonates with birds and beasts, phoenixes fly and luan birds dance; qilin arrive, white tigers appear, white pheasants descend, white deer are seen, and white crows fly down. When it resonates with mountains and hills, auspicious clouds rise, lingzhi mushrooms flourish, extraordinary cinnabar emerges from the mountains, xiepu, a legendary auspicious plant, grows on earthen mounds, miraculous chariots appear in the mountains, and divine tripods emerge from marshes. When it resonates with deep waters and springs, yellow dragons appear, sweet springs well up, a dragon chart emerges from the Yellow River, a tortoise text from the Luo River, great shells from the Yangtze, and luminous pearls from the sea. When his De extends to the eight directions, auspicious winds blow, harmonious energy arrives in season, musical pitches accord and melodies fall into measure, the peoples of the four regions are transformed, and the kingdom of Yuèshāng comes to present tribute.

Everyone says these are signs that the ruler has risen beyond the ordinary model of imperial rule and attained a wondrous power of transformation. When all the auspicious signs are present, the ruler has also attained the state of possessing divine virtue within and imperial governance without.

The Auspicious Star shines with a lustrous glow. It is a star that signifies De. It has no fixed shape and often appears over a country governed by the Dao. When the moon sets, the star appears, helping people light their way as they weave at night.

Governing by cultured virtue can bring about the storing away of weapons throughout the realm; governing by force leaves no one able to resist. Whether things seem distant or near, visible or hidden, great or small, numerous or few, they all begin in what is subtle. Thus, the things accomplished through De are too many to describe one by one, and the defeats that follow its loss are likewise too many to recount in full. Following this reasoning, you could never ask about everything, and I could never tell you everything. The key to asking is to begin with what is before you and see what lies far ahead, and to infer all things from a single principle. A ruler without desire cannot share in the work of bringing things to completion.

What does this mean? As I understand it, a ruler’s trouble lies in having too many desires. Mencius met the King of Qi three times without offering advice. He said, “I want first to understand what is near, then infer the principles of what is distant, and use one principle to measure all things.” Only a ruler free of selfish desires can work together with him to accomplish great things.

What does this mean? As I understand it, a ruler’s trouble lies in having too many desires. Mencius met the King of Qi three times without offering advice, saying, “First I must break through the evil thoughts in his heart.” When the heart is full of desire but one outwardly practices benevolence and righteousness, how could one possibly emulate the governance of Tang Yao and Yu Shun? The Nanhua (another name for the Zhuangzi) says, “When desires are satisfied, the breath is calm. To settle the spirit, keep the heart still. To act appropriately, follow the circumstances that cannot be avoided.” This also differs from what the Heguanzi says.

In the past, Guiguzi wrote a book about how to persuade the feudal lords: one should guide them openly while holding back one’s words in private, and must shape one’s strategy according to their likes and dislikes, worries and joys. But when someone has no clear likes or dislikes, there is presumably no way to persuade them. If so, rulers with many desires are precisely the targets for the persuasion techniques of the strategists. The Heguanzi discusses the Dao, yet its teachings were passed down to later generations in this form. Is that not far too shallow?

When worthy people are not appointed, the state cannot benefit from them; that is the central point. Pangzi asked, “May I ask what the five methods of governance are?” Heguanzi replied, “There are governance through spiritual transformation, governance through officials, governance through instruction, governance by following what is already in place, and governance through affairs (some versions read ‘governance through contention’).” Pangzi said, “Please describe how each appears.” Heguanzi replied, “Governance through spiritual transformation brings order before events arise. Governance through officials begins with fundamental principles. Governance through instruction is carried out by cultivating oneself. Governance by following what is already in place conforms to existing customs. Governance through affairs corrects matters at the margins.” Pangzi then asked, “Could you explain the specific methods?” Heguanzi replied, “Governance through spiritual transformation means bringing order to Heaven and Earth and arranging the movements of the four seasons in advance.

Its form remains constant throughout.

It harmonizes Yin-Yang (yin and yang) and alters cold and heat.

Its form, in turn, changes with the times. The Zhuan (a term for an ancient classic) says, ‘The perfected people of antiquity upheld Heaven and Earth and grasped Yin-Yang.’

To make the right way flow freely alongside all things, to keep things from harming one another, and to preserve every kind of thing—this is called ‘Shiqi Huang.’”

Fuxi received this teaching and used it to take up and follow the source of the Qi of Heaven and Earth. Is this perhaps what the passage means?

Those who govern should take the changes of Yin-Yang as their teacher. The Way of Yin-Yang is the foundation of governing a state. They should respond to changes as they are about to unfold and act in accordance with the current momentum.

Mystical transformation can take effect before things have appeared, and so it can bring every matter to completion. Such a person is called “Shiqi Huang.”

Fuxi received this teaching and used it to take up and follow the source of the Qi of Heaven and Earth. Is this perhaps what the passage means?

Those who govern should take the changes of Yin-Yang as their teacher. The Way of Yin-Yang is the foundation of governing a state. They should respond to changes as they are about to unfold and act in accordance with the current momentum.

“Spirit transformation” responds to things and acts upon them before they appear, thereby raising one to a higher state.

The earth is peaceful, the sky is clear, and all kinds of good things gather. Such a person is called “Shishen Ming.” Those responsible for teaching and governing should arrange their work according to the four seasons: reciting in spring, practicing string music in summer, studying ritual in autumn, and reading in winter. By following the seasons and their Qi, their efforts readily bear fruit.

In handling affairs, follow the Great Way: lower your head and attend diligently to your work; raise it and follow the Great Way.

Such a person is called “Xian Sheng.” According to the needs of governance, summon worthy and accomplished people to explain the Way and the art of the mind—the methods for cultivating the spirit and applying the intellect. When they carry out their work with reverence, the people can live in harmony. Such a person is called “Hou Wang.” Those who govern should recruit people of benevolence and wisdom to explain the Way of wisdom.

If they cannot recruit worthy and accomplished people, they should instead recruit people of benevolence. If they cannot explain the art of the mind, they should instead teach wisdom. What is called “sagehood” is the Way of Heaven; what is called “worthiness” is the Way of Earth; what is called “benevolence” is the Way of humanity.

If one is single-mindedly intent on restraining and driving the spirit,

offices are assigned, and separate duties and procedures are established for each,

the spirit grows weary from ceaseless activity and cannot attend to everything, so still more offices must be created.

Although instruction is arduous, its benefits endure.

Thus laws and institutions came into being.

The many and tangled laws all began here.

The purpose of laws is to make people put aside private interests and turn toward what is just. Laws are meant to correct and remove problems, not to obtain any benefit.

Thus laws and institutions came into being.

The many and tangled laws all began here.

The purpose of laws is to make people put aside private interests and turn toward what is just. Laws are meant to correct and remove problems, not to obtain any benefit.

Making everyone aware of warnings and abide by them together is meant to give all a common standard to follow, not to serve private interests or force everyone into uniformity. Therefore, those who govern at the highest level do not rely on these laws. Such a person is called “Shi Gong Bo.” “Gong” is gong as in a duke; “bo” is bo as in a hegemon.

“King’s Axe,” Chapter Nine.

Pangzi asked Heguanzi, “The highest way of Chengjiu in ancient times was followed by one people for eighteen thousand years.”

The Commentary records: “When Heaven and Earth had just been established, the Heavenly Emperor, also called the Heavenly Spirit, governed the world for eighteen thousand years.” Chengjiu was therefore probably another name for the Heavenly Emperor.

Once it possessed the world, its military strength was so great that no generation could take it away.

But when Heaven and Earth had just been established, how could there already have been armies? Such claims are only tools for conveying principles, like a fish trap or a snare for catching rabbits. They cannot be mistaken for the Dao itself. The Nanhua Scripture says, “Parables make up nine-tenths of what is said, and weighty words make up seven-tenths.”

Chengjiu existed alongside Heaven and Earth, enduring without equal.

“Without equal” means subtle to the utmost degree. The Doctrine of the Mean says, “Even a single hair has a measure by which it can be compared.”

It could bring different things into unity,

as if no longer distinguishing the great Peng bird from a small bird, or the short legs of a wild duck from the long legs of a crane.

Thus, words cannot explain the differences that originally existed between them.

This means their disparity could reach such an extreme.

People of the world all speak of establishing customs and spreading teachings. What Dao did Chengjiu follow to reach such a state?

Heguanzi said, “The Chengjiu people took Heaven as their teacher. Thus, no one could raise their state any higher or exalt their spirit further.”

Pangzi asked, “What is meant by Heaven? What is it like, that no one can raise their state higher or honor their spirit more?”

Pangzi was asking for the principle behind it.

Heguanzi replied, “By Heaven, I mean that the sun’s course has a definite De. The sun appears and disappears at its appointed times, and its northward and southward courses each have an end.

At the winter solstice, the sun reaches its northernmost point; at the summer solstice, it reaches its southernmost point.

Therefore, no one fails to take the sun’s course as a model.

People follow the sun’s measured course.

By Heaven, I also mean that the moon’s course has a reliable rhythm. The moon waxes and wanes in due time, going round and round, ending and beginning again.

After the new moon, its light gradually appears; after the full moon, its light gradually fades.

Therefore, no one fails to govern affairs by the moon’s course.

People use the pattern of the moon’s waxing and waning to regulate government.

By Heaven, I also mean taking the bright stars as grounds for observation and measurement.”

Thus, there is nothing that is not governed according to it.

It takes as its model the moon’s pattern of punishment—that is, the regularity shown by the moon’s movements.

The heavenly bodies use the bright stars as a basis for observation and calibration. “Bright stars” means the great stars, such as those of the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, the star regions that the ancients divided the sky near the ecliptic into.

The stars are arranged in order and move without disorder, each following its turn. Thus the stars, both great and small, display a clear order. Even the smaller stars are not obscured or hidden.

The heavenly bodies take the seasons as their standard. Each of the four seasons has its own name and place in the sequence. They alternate in turn without obstructing one another: as one withdraws, another takes its place, and neither crosses the other’s bounds nor encroaches upon it.

Thus, there is nothing that is not necessarily so. The heavenly bodies follow “one and the same law”: before and after, left and right, past and present, all are naturally so. If this is the case, why worry through sacrifice about human decline and death?

Thus, there is nothing that is not constant. Heaven has five qualities: sincerity, trustworthiness, clarity, accordance, and unity. “Sincerity” means that the sun’s De is true and unchanging; “trustworthiness” means that the moon’s pattern of punishment is regular; “clarity” means using the bright stars as a basis for observation; “accordance” means following the pattern of the seasons; and “unity” means following one and the same law.

It does not act as the ancestor of all things, nor as their father. It transforms as one body, and so nothing can precede it.

The Nanhua Jing, another name for the Zhuangzi, says: “That which is one yet cannot help but change is the Dao.” Here, “precede” is written as “light” in some versions.

The “one” amid transformation is not a fixed, unchanging “one,” so it cannot be confined within a single “one.” Therefore, it cannot be revered or exalted as the ancestor or father of all things. It transforms as one body, and so nothing can precede it.

The Nanhua Jing says: “That which is one yet cannot help but change is the Dao.” Here, “precede” is written as “light” in some versions.

The “one” amid transformation is not a fixed, unchanging “one.”