《文子》Vol. 2

The earth receives the workings of Heaven and remains stable, allowing all things to find peace. Its vastness and solidity enable all things to gather; stable earth can bear anything, and vast, generous earth can contain anything. When the land is deep and substantial, springs and streams can flow into it and collect. The earth’s paths are broad, so it can endure. When sages take the earth as their model, their De (Virtue/Power) comes to embrace all things.

When Yin Qi (vital energy) withdraws and Yang Qi (vital energy) unfolds, all things flourish. When Yang Qi withdraws and Yin Qi fills out, all things fall quiet. When all things flourish, nothing goes without nourishment; when they are at peace, nothing is denied ease. When all things are at ease, nothing under Heaven cannot be brought into good order. When Yin Qi harms the things of the world, Yang Qi draws itself in. As Yin Qi advances and Yang Qi retreats, petty people gain power while noble people avoid harm. This is how the Dao of Heaven operates.

When Yang Qi stirs, all things grow gently and flourish, each finding its proper place. Therefore, sages follow the Way of Yang. Those who accord with all things are met with their accord; those who oppose them are met with opposition. When lakes and marshes are full, all things grow in season; when they dry up, all things wither. Thus, when rain does not fall, the world is laid waste. Yang Qi rises to its height and then descends again, and so becomes the ruler of all things. Because it does not remain in one place for long, it can complete its cycle and endure. What endures becomes the root of all things under Heaven.

Yang Qi must first accumulate before it can spread; Yin Qi must first gather before it can bring forth transformation. Nothing can bring forth transformation without first accumulating. Therefore, sages take care with what they accumulate. As Yang Qi waxes and wanes, all things flourish; as Yin Qi waxes and wanes, all things decline. So when princes and dukes honor the Way of Yang, all things prosper; when they honor the Way of Yin, the world falls into ruin. If Yang Qi does not descend and join with Yin Qi, all things cannot come into being. If a ruler does not humble himself before his ministers, his transforming influence cannot be put into practice. By humbling himself before his ministers, a ruler can hear clearly and see keenly; if he refuses to do so, he becomes dull and cut off.

When the sun rises above the earth, all things flourish and grow. Princes and dukes stand above the people, and so should make their virtue clear. When the sun sinks below the horizon, all things rest and renew themselves. If petty people stand above the people, all things will flee and hide. Thunder shakes the world, and all things sprout; rain nourishes them, and all things unfold. When great people put kindness into practice, it is the same.

The movements of Yin and Yang each follow their proper measure. The actions of great people, too, should not press all things beyond their limits. When thunder shakes the earth, all things grow gently; when wind shakes the trees, plants and trees are damaged. When great people abandon what is bad and take up what is good, the people will not leave for distant lands. The people abandon one place and turn to another: they leave what is excessively harsh and turn to what is somewhat more lenient.

Without wind, fire will not flare up; when great people do not speak, petty people have nothing to pass on. Once fire burns, it must have fuel; when great people speak, their words must be trustworthy. If one’s words are faithful and true, where could one fail? In the deep reaches of a river, earth settles beneath the mountains; hills rise and fall, yet in the end all flow into the abyss.

When Yang Qi reaches its height, it turns into Yin; when Yin Qi reaches its height, it turns into Yang. Therefore, desire must not be allowed to become excessive, nor joy to reach its limit. When angry, do not speak hurtful words or show an angry face: this is what it means to keep to the proper measure. Flames rise upward and water flows downward; the Dao of the sage follows the shared nature of things in seeking what is like itself.

When sages follow the Way of Yang, the world is harmonious and united; when they follow the Way of Yin, the world sinks into decline.

Laozi said: What begins as a small accumulation can grow abundant; what builds up gradually from a low place can reach great heights. Each day, the noble person diligently strives upward, working to bring their De (Virtue) to radiance. Each day, the petty person seeks only momentary pleasure and in the end invites disgrace. Though the waxing and waning of things is not easy to see, we should still pursue the good with such urgency that we fear we cannot catch up, and guard against the bad as we would against an ill omen.

If you are wholeheartedly inclined toward the good, there is no need to resent yourself for an occasional mistake. But if you refuse to turn toward the good, even if you consider yourself loyal, you will still bring on harmful consequences. Rather than resent others, reflect on yourself; rather than impose demands on others, make demands of yourself. You bring fame upon yourself, and you bring misfortune upon yourself; your reputation is of your own making, and your circumstances depend on you. Nothing can be blamed entirely on someone else. If you take a sharp point and stab someone, or wield a blade and attack, how can you blame others for what follows? That is why the noble person is careful at the outset of every undertaking.

All things turn their backs to Yin and face Yang. When the two Qi (vital energies) mingle, harmony takes shape. Harmonious Qi resides at the center. Thus the fruit of a tree forms within its heartwood, while the fruit of grasses and plants grows near their roots. Some birds and animals hatch from eggs, some are gestated in the womb, and others arise from neither egg nor womb, but must await the right moment to grow. Where the ground is level, water does not rush along; when weight is balanced, the scale beam does not tilt. The growth and transformation of all things take place in response to these influences.

Laozi said: When a mountain reaches a certain height, clouds and rain gather there; when water reaches a certain depth, dragons grow there. When the noble person cultivates the Dao (the Way), their De flows out in all directions. Those who cultivate De in secret will surely receive public recompense; those whose good deeds go unseen will surely leave a visible reputation. Sow millet, and you will not reap a different grain; sow resentment, and you will not receive a reward of De.

Laozi said: The Dao can appear weak or strong; it can be gentle or firm; it can dwell in darkness or shine with light. It can encompass Heaven and Earth, and it can respond without fixed limits, changing without end. Those with only a shallow understanding of the Dao think they understand it. The deeper their understanding, the more they know how much remains beyond their grasp. Knowing its outward principles does not necessarily mean knowing its inner foundation; knowing its broad outlines does not necessarily mean understanding its subtleties. Those who truly know understand the limits of their own knowledge. Those who do not presume to know are closer to true knowledge.

Who can explain how “form” transforms into “formlessness”? Thus, when everyone under Heaven recognizes the good as good, the distinction of “not good” also comes into being. Those who truly understand the Dao do not speak lightly; those who delight in high-flown talk may not understand the Dao.

Wenzi asked, “Can the Dao be expressed in subtle words?”

Laozi replied, “Why not? The key is knowing how to speak. Those who truly know how to speak do not rely on words themselves to convey meaning. People who compete to catch fish get their clothes wet; those who chase wild animals have to run. They do not do these things for the pleasure of getting wet or running. Truly profound words go beyond words, and genuine action goes beyond deliberate action. People with shallow understanding argue only over minor details. Speech has its foundation, and affairs have their guiding principle. Those who mistake ignorance for knowledge therefore do not understand what I mean.”

Wenzi asked, “Does governing a state also require rules?”

Laozi replied, “When those pulling a cart call out in front and the others answer behind, they are singing to spur one another on as they haul. Their song may not be as pleasing as the music of Zheng, Wei, Hu, or Chu, but it serves a more practical purpose. In governing a state, what matters is following rites and laws, not ornate language or elaborate argument. The more numerous and conspicuous the laws and decrees, the more thieves there are.”

Laozi said, “The Dao has no fixed form, yet it can serve as a standard. For example, a mountain forest provides materials for people to gather, but timber is not equal to the forest. The forest is not equal to clouds and rain; clouds and rain are not equal to Yin-Yang; Yin-Yang is not equal to harmony; and harmony is not equal to the Dao. The Dao is the form without fixed shape, the image without any particular thing. Whoever can grasp the meaning of the Dao can shape and transform all things between Heaven and Earth.”

Laozi said, “When sages establish teachings and issue commands, they must examine the whole course of events from beginning to end, observing how things come into being and how they bestow benefits.”

Laozi says: When sages establish teachings and enact policies, they must examine the whole course of events, from beginning to end, and understand the benefits and effects they bring. Therefore, when people come to rely too heavily on written records, their Virtue declines; when they become experts in calculation, their benevolence diminishes; when they depend on contracts and documents, their trustworthiness wanes; and when they rely on mechanical devices, their practical ability weakens.

The se (an ancient stringed instrument) makes no sound on its own. Only when its twenty-five strings each produce different sounds can they combine into a melody. An axle does not turn by itself. Only when the thirty spokes—the wooden rods connecting the axle to the wheel—each bear their share of the load can the wheel rotate. The strings must vary in tension to produce a tune; the parts of a wheel must each take their turn bearing weight and resting for a cart to travel far. What makes sound depends on what is silent; what turns depends on what does not turn.

When those above and below each follow their proper way, governing is easy; when the order between them breaks down, the state falls into disorder. A person in high office who understands only minor principles will bring trouble upon themselves when entrusted with great responsibilities. Small favors damage the greater good; trivial acts of goodness obstruct the Great Way; verbal sparring disrupts good governance. Harshness and severity harm Virtue. If those in authority remain upright without imposing dangerous and cruel restrictions, the people are easy to guide. When governance reaches perfection, affairs proceed with ease and composure, and subordinates are not harmed. When loyalty returns to simplicity, the people no longer deceive or conceal.

Laozi says: If the law of collective responsibility is enforced, the people will grow resentful; if an order to strip officials of their ranks is issued, meritorious servants will rebel. Therefore, those who only study legal documents do not understand the roots of order and disorder; those who know only how to deploy troops in battle formations do not understand the flexibility needed to plan for war at court. Sages prepare for trouble before it appears, and consider possible dangers where they are subtle and hard to detect. The foolish are dazzled by small gains before them and forget greater dangers. An action may bring benefit in the short term but harm in the long term: gaining an advantage in one place may mean losing what matters elsewhere.

Thus, the greatest benevolence lies in caring for others, and the greatest wisdom lies in understanding them. Those who care for others will not provoke resentment or need to rely on punishment to subdue the people. When people are understood, affairs of state will not fall into disorder.

Laozi says: Though rivers are vast, even their floods do not last beyond three days; though winds and rain rage, they subside soon after noon. Those who fail to worry that they have not accumulated Virtue will eventually meet with calamity. Worry can bring prosperity, while ease and pleasure may lead to ruin. Thus, those skilled in handling affairs can turn weakness into strength and transform calamity into good fortune. The Dao is empty and formless, yet it can be drawn upon without end; however much it is used, it is never filled up.

Laozi says: Clarity, stillness, serenity, and equanimity are innate to human nature; bearing and rules of conduct are the principles for dealing with affairs. When you understand human nature, you can cultivate yourself without going against it. When you understand the principles for dealing with affairs, your actions will not become confused.

When one command can set people moving in different directions and then bring them together to work in concert, this is called “mind.” When seeing the root allows you to infer the details, and grasping one principle enables you to respond to countless changes, this is called “method.” When at rest, you know how to act; when facing affairs, you know where to go; when acting, you know what to rely on; and after acting, you know when to stop. This is called the Dao (the Way).

The power of the mind can bring people honor and praise; its faults can bring them contempt and slander. Once words are spoken, you cannot prevent others from hearing them. Actions begin close at hand, yet you cannot prevent them from affecting distant places. Things are often hard to bring to completion but easy to ruin; a reputation is often hard to build but easy to destroy. People often dismiss small dangers and overlook minute details, only to bring about great calamity. People invite misfortune upon themselves, and they also bring good fortune about through their own efforts. Misfortune and good fortune often arise from the same source; benefit and harm, too, often accompany one another. Without insight into subtle things, it is difficult to tell them apart. Thus, deliberation is the gateway through which misfortune and good fortune arise, while action and stillness are the turning points through which benefit and harm change. These must be examined with care.

Laozi also says: Everyone knows what determines whether the world is well governed or in disorder, but few understand how to preserve life. Therefore, the sage observes the conditions of the times and decides what should be done. They weigh the importance of each matter and then devise a response. The sage can follow the yielding Yin as well as employ the forceful Yang; be gentle as well as firm; appear weak as well as exert strength. They decide whether to act or remain still according to the times, and establish their achievements in accordance with actual conditions. Seeing something unfold, they can foresee how it might turn back; encountering a single thing, they can discern the changes within it. When something displays a sign, they respond accordingly. Thus, throughout their lives, their actions have a sound basis, and they do not fall into difficulty.

Some things may be spoken of but not put into practice; some may be put into practice but should not be spoken of openly; some are easy to begin but hard to bring to success; and some are hard to accomplish but easy to ruin. What may be put into practice but should not be spoken of openly is a decision about what to accept or reject. What may be spoken of but not put into practice is deception and falsehood. What is easy to begin but hard to bring to success is carrying out a task. What is hard to accomplish but easy to ruin is a reputation. These four situations are matters to which the sage pays special attention, and which only the wise can see clearly for themselves.

Laozi said, “The Dao is about honoring what is subtle and acting without missing the right moment. Even if you hit the mark a hundred times, you must still remain constantly on guard; only then will calamity fail to grow. When planning for good fortune, do not simply wish for it to arrive quickly. When considering calamity, imagine that it may exceed your expectations.”

“When frost strikes on the same day, those who know how to shield themselves will not be harmed. Even the dull-witted, if prepared, can achieve what the clever achieve. Continually building up affection brings good fortune; continually building up resentment invites calamity. Everyone knows how to seek a remedy after calamity strikes, but few understand how to keep it from arising. Preventing calamity in advance is easier than remedying it afterward; once calamity has appeared, treating it becomes much harder.”

“People today make no effort to prevent trouble before it arises, and busy themselves only with remedying calamities that have already occurred. Even a spirit-like person could not devise a complete plan for them. The causes of calamity change in countless ways and are difficult to foresee. The sage keeps to a quiet life and avoids going out, steering clear of calamity; in stillness and silence, the sage waits for the right moment. Petty people do not understand where good fortune and calamity come from, and their actions lead them into punishment. Even if they guard against danger at every turn, they may still fail to preserve themselves.”

“Therefore, the wise first avoid calamity, then seek benefit; first distance themselves from disgrace, then pursue fame. The sage always responds while events have yet to take shape and does not let the mind become stuck on circumstances that have already formed. Thus calamity finds no way to approach, and neither praise nor blame can cling to them or become dust upon them.”

Laozi says that one should be cautious in thought, broad in ambition, well-rounded in wisdom, upright in conduct, capable in many things, and sparing in one’s affairs.

To be “small in thought” means to consider dangers before they arise, to guard against calamities while they are still slight, and not to indulge one’s desires. To be “great in ambition” means to be broad-minded and able to care for all under Heaven, enabling people with different customs to live in harmony. It also means drawing together differing views of right and wrong and reconciling them from the center, like the spokes of a wheel meeting at its hub.

To be “well-rounded in wisdom” means to understand the beginnings and endings of things and to think things through, like water flowing in every direction and a deep spring that never runs dry. To be “upright in conduct” means to stand straight without bending and to remain untainted in one’s character. One does not abandon one’s principles in hardship, nor let one’s will run unchecked in times of success. To be “capable in many things” means to possess both civil and military abilities, to act and to rest in accordance with proper measure, and to make arrangements that are fitting and appropriate. To be “sparing in one’s affairs” means to handle many matters by grasping their essentials, to govern vast things by simple means, and to master agitation through calm.

Thus, those who are cautious in thought prevent danger while it is still slight; those with great ambition have hearts broad enough to embrace all things; those whose wisdom is well-rounded have nothing they cannot understand; those who are upright in conduct firmly refuse to do certain things; those with broad capabilities can handle many kinds of affairs; and those who keep affairs simple know how to grasp the essentials. The sages do good without neglecting something because it is small, and correct their faults without dismissing them as minor. They do not rely on shamans—people who conduct rites such as sacrifices and divination—and ghosts and spirits dare not act ahead of them to cause trouble. This may be called the highest dignity. Even so, they remain cautious and vigilant, growing more alert with each passing day. In this way, they can accord with nature, act with single-minded focus, and accomplish what they set out to do.

Foolish people have limited understanding yet take on many affairs, so they readily fall into difficulty as soon as they act. Teaching people through the right Way and acting in accord with circumstances makes success comparatively easy. Teaching them through a crooked way requires going against reason and human nature; success is difficult, and failure is inevitable. To abandon the right Way, through which success comes readily, and insist on the crooked way, through which success is difficult, is the result of folly and confusion.

Laozi says that good fortune often grows gradually over time, while calamity can arise from a single thought. Foolish people have limited understanding yet take on many affairs, so they readily fall into difficulty as soon as they act. Teaching people through the right Way and acting in accord with circumstances makes success comparatively easy. Teaching them through a crooked way requires going against reason and human nature; success is difficult, and failure is inevitable. To abandon the right Way, through which success comes readily, and insist on doing what is difficult to bring to success is precisely the result of folly and confusion.

Laozi said: Good fortune often arrives gradually and unfolds over time, while calamities often arise in tangled and hard-to-discern ways. The patterns by which fortune and calamity change are subtle and obscure, and not easy to notice. Sages can see where they begin and how they are likely to unfold, so they must examine them carefully.

A wise ruler rewards and punishes his subjects for the sake of the state, not for himself. If an action pleases him but brings no benefit to the state, he does not reward it. If an action displeases him but benefits the state, he does not punish it. Those who act in accordance with what is right and fitting are called exemplary people; those who cast aside what is right and fitting are called petty people.

The best outcome is to understand the situation and succeed without hardship. The next best is to endure hardship without suffering harm. Worse still is to suffer harm as well as hardship.

The ancients knew how to discern things in their earliest, most subtle signs, and did not let them pass unnoticed. People today, by contrast, often let such signs pass without examining them closely. When King Zhou of Shang began using ivory chopsticks, Jizi, his uncle, sighed over it. When the state of Lu began burying wooden figures with the dead, Confucius too expressed his concern. From the very beginnings of these practices, they saw what they might ultimately lead to.

Laozi said: Benevolence is what people admire, and righteousness is what they honor. Yet even those who are admired and honored may sometimes lose their lives and see their states destroyed. This happens because they have failed to adapt to their times. So one who understands benevolence and righteousness but not the expedient ways of responding to changes in the world cannot grasp the Great Dao.

The Five Emperors valued De, the Three Kings put righteousness into practice, and the Five Hegemons—the lords who dominated through military strength during the Spring and Autumn period—relied on force. To apply the statecraft of the imperial age in the age of the Five Hegemons would be out of step with the times. Judgments of good and evil, praise and blame, often shift with popular custom; whether an action is fitting, or a situation favorable or adverse, also depends on the age. Only those who understand the workings of Heaven’s Dao as well as human affairs can establish themselves and act in the world. One who knows only Heaven’s Dao but not human feelings cannot engage with society; one who knows only human affairs but not Heaven’s Dao cannot connect with the Great Dao.

Those who cling to their resolve and indulge their personal feelings may instead be harmed by stubbornness and rigidity. Those who let external things rule them will also be depleted by the changes of Yin-Yang. The person who has attained the Dao can adapt outwardly to change while remaining inwardly unchanged. By adapting outwardly, one can understand human affairs; by remaining inwardly unchanged, one can preserve oneself. Thus, one keeps one’s inner principles firm while remaining flexible in outward conduct, adjusting to the changes of things and avoiding a dead end in whatever one does.

The Great Dao is precious because it can change at any moment, like a dragon. To cling to a single principle and follow one fixed course, even if it seems complete, is still to be constrained by it. Attachment to narrow preferences blocks the way to the Great Dao. The Dao is still and empty; it does not deliberately interfere with the myriad things or impose its will upon them. For this reason, acting in accord with the Dao is beyond those who deliberately contrive and cling to action.

The Dao’s workings include Heaven covering and Earth supporting the myriad things, the sun and moon illuminating them, Yin-Yang nourishing them, rain and dew moistening them, and De sustaining them. All these belong to a single harmony. Thus, one who can bear up under the vastness of Heaven, tread upon the breadth of Earth, and contemplate the Great Purity—the clear and empty heights—with an unmuddied mind can see boundless radiance. One who lives in an age of great peace can dwell at ease in a spacious realm. Those able to roam through profound and distant realms shine with the same light as the sun and moon.

The formless Great Dao gives birth to the formed myriad things. The True Person, one who has attained the Dao, therefore entrusts the mind and spirit to the Numinous Terrace, the dwelling place of the heart-mind, and returns to the original state of the myriad things. From the depths of darkness, this person observes; in silence, listens. In the darkness, this person alone sees clearly; in stillness, alone perceives. In using the Great Dao, one seems to do nothing, yet nothing remains undone. In knowing the Great Dao, one seems to know nothing, yet truly knows.

The Dao is the path along which the myriad things move. De is the power that supports the growth of life. Benevolence is the expression of accumulated kindness. Righteousness is a principle recognized inwardly and shared with others. Only when the Great Dao declined did De flourish; only when De declined did benevolence and righteousness appear. In ancient times, people followed the Dao without deliberately elevating De. In the middle ages, they upheld De without deliberately cherishing benevolence and righteousness. Later generations, by contrast, were constantly cautious, afraid of losing benevolence and righteousness.

Without righteousness, a noble person cannot establish himself; to lose righteousness is to lose the basis for standing firm. Without profit, a petty person can scarcely live; to lose profit is to lose the means of survival. Thus, the noble person fears losing righteousness, while the petty person fears losing profit. Observe what each fears losing, and you will see the different fortunes and misfortunes they bring upon themselves.

Laozi says: Some actions seem intended to benefit people, yet in the end they can harm them; other actions seem intended to harm people, yet in the end they can benefit them. Those suffering from dampness insist on eating, while those with fever and thirst force themselves to drink. Ordinary people think these actions are beneficial, but a skilled physician knows they will worsen the illness. Things that please the eyes and delight the heart seem advantageous to fools, but people who follow the Dao (the Way) avoid them. Sages first act against ordinary expectations and only later come into accord with the right way. Ordinary people first follow ordinary expectations, but may later depart from the right way. Misfortune and good fortune, benefit and harm, can therefore transform into one another, and must be examined with care.

Laozi says: If you achieve merit but act against benevolence and righteousness—the principles of love and appropriate conduct—you will be distrusted. If you make a mistake but act in accordance with benevolence and righteousness, you are more likely to be trusted. Benevolence and righteousness are the enduring principles that should guide action, and the most honored standards under Heaven. Even if your plans are thorough and your strategies sound, and you can eliminate danger and preserve the state, your achievements will ultimately fail if your actions violate benevolence and righteousness. Even if your words do not accord with the ruler’s wishes and your strategies bring no benefit to the state, you can still preserve yourself if your intentions are thorough, your loyalty to the ruler is true, and your conduct accords with benevolence and righteousness. Thus, a hundred words and a hundred strategies that are always out of step with the times are no better than setting strategy aside for a while and carefully examining benevolence and righteousness.

Laozi says: Education begins with the exemplary, but its benefits reach even the petty. The petty create material benefits, but the exemplary can also enjoy their fruits. When the exemplary and the petty each have their proper place, they can make use of one another’s skills and exchange food, and the way of governance can flow freely. Too many desires damage moral principle; too many worries damage wisdom. A well-governed state aims at peace and contentment, and so can endure. A tyrannically governed state becomes immersed in pleasure, and so moves toward ruin. Water flows to low places and thus gathers into broad expanses. A ruler who treats ministers with humility can hear different views and understand affairs clearly. Only when the ruler does not contend with ministers for power can the way of governing the state run smoothly. The ruler is therefore the root, and the ministers are the branches and leaves. The root cannot be poor while the branches and leaves flourish; such a thing has never happened.

Laozi says: A loving father cares for his son not to seek a return; if he did not, his heart could not be at peace. A wise ruler cares for the people not to make them serve him, but because this is his nature and he cannot do otherwise. If one relies on one’s own power, depends on one’s own achievements, and pursues a return in everything, one’s kindness cannot truly reach others. Therefore, by responding to what people love, one can gain their support; by carrying out what people delight in, one can win their sincere hearts. See how something begins, and you can know how it will develop in the end.

Laozi said: People care for one another through moral principle, and they grow strong through solidarity. The wider the reach of Virtue (De) in practice, the farther one’s influence extends; the less moral principle is put into practice, the smaller the territory that force can control.

Laozi said: If you acquire things by unjust means and do not share them to benefit others, misfortune will eventually befall you. Someone who can neither help others nor make a living for themselves may be called ignorant and foolish. They are no different from the owl, which, according to legend, cares only for its own young and eats its mother.

It is better to stop before your grasp becomes too tight; a blade sharpened too keenly will not stay sharp for long. Dao is contained within Virtue, and Virtue within Dao; their transformations have no end. Yin is within Yang, and Yang within Yin. This is true of all things, and words can never exhaust it. When good fortune is on its way, signs of auspiciousness have already appeared; when misfortune is approaching, inauspicious signs often appear first. If you see auspicious signs but do no good, good fortune will not come. If you see inauspicious signs and do good, misfortune will not arrive.

Benefit and harm often arise from the same source; calamity and blessing lie close beside each other. Who can discern them clearly, unless they are a sage who understands the way things work? Thus it is said: “Alas, misfortune—within it, blessing leans. Alas, blessing—within it, misfortune hides.” Who can know what they will ultimately become? When people are about to fall ill, they often first grow attached to rich fish and meat. When a state is about to perish, it often first grows tired of a loyal minister’s counsel. So when the sick are near death, even a good physician is powerless; when a state is on the brink of ruin, even a loyal minister’s plans can scarcely save it.

Only after cultivating oneself can one govern the people; only after bringing order to one’s household can one apply the methods of household governance to officials and local administrators. Thus it is said: through cultivating oneself, Virtue becomes genuine; through cultivating one’s family, Virtue becomes abundant; through governing the state, Virtue becomes ample.

The people depend on clothing and food to live. Government deserves credit when it secures these necessities; if it does not, it deserves no credit. Without effective government, Virtue cannot grow. Therefore, act in keeping with the times and do not alter the penal laws arbitrarily; act in keeping with the times and do not change government affairs arbitrarily. Providing the people with clothing and food is an achievement; without such provision, there is no achievement. When government achieves nothing, Virtue cannot grow, and it becomes difficult to act in harmony with the times. Penal laws and government affairs should not be followed unchanged; they must be administered properly in accordance with the times. When the time comes for renewal, this is the guiding principle of the Dao.

When an emperor makes the people prosperous, this is called the Way of the King; when a hegemon makes the land prosperous, this is called the Way of the Hegemon. A state in danger enriches only its officials. In a well-governed state, the treasury may appear not to be full; in a state doomed to perish, the granaries are empty. Thus it is said: when those above do not stir up trouble, the people become prosperous of their own accord; when those above do not impose their will, the people transform themselves and return of their own accord.

Raising an army of a hundred thousand costs a thousand gold pieces each day. After warfare, there will surely be years of famine. Thus weapons are inauspicious objects, not things a gentleman cherishes. Even when one seeks to put an end to deep resentment, resentment often remains. How can that be called good conduct?

In ancient times, those nearby did not need to be persuaded with words, and those far away did not need to be compelled to come. The people nearby rejoiced, and those far away naturally came to join them. When a ruler shares the people’s aspirations, they live in harmony; when ruler and people uphold the same principles, the state is secure. Those who understand the people’s thoughts know how to gain their strength; those who win the people’s praise can rise to prominence.

Actions can invite thieves, and words can bring disaster. Do not be the first to speak what others have to say; those who come later will whisper it to one another. Even words spoken in private may travel a thousand miles. Words can bring disaster; the tongue is like a mechanism that sets calamity in motion. Once spoken, a mistaken word cannot be caught, even by a team of four horses pulling a carriage.

Long ago, Zhonghuangzi, a figure from ancient legend, said: Heaven has five directions, Earth has the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), sound has five tones, things have five flavors, colors have five patterns, and people have five ranks. Thus, there are twenty-five kinds of people between Heaven and Earth.

The highest five ranks are the spirit person, the perfected person, the Daoist, the person of utmost attainment, and the sage. The next five are the person of Virtue, the worthy person, the wise person, the good person, and the eloquent person. The middle five are the public-minded person, the loyal person, the trustworthy person, the righteous person, and the courteous person. The next five are the scholar, the artisan, the forester—one who manages mountains, forests, rivers, and marshes—the farmer, and the merchant. The lowest five are the common person, the enslaved person, the fool, the 𐄂 person, and the petty person. The difference between the highest and lowest five ranks is like the difference between a human being and cattle or horses.

The sage sees with the eyes, hears with the ears, speaks with the mouth, and walks with the feet. The perfected person, however, can see clearly without relying on the eyes and hear distinctly without relying on the ears; can bring things into accord without going there in person, and act justly without speaking. The methods the sage uses to set the world in motion are never overstepped by the perfected person; the practices the worthy person uses to correct society are beneath the sage’s notice.

What is called the Dao has no distinctions of front and back, left and right. All things mysteriously merge within it, and there are no absolute distinctions between right and wrong.

Laozi says that purity and emptiness are Heaven’s clear and luminous state, while Wuwei (non-action) is the constant way of governing. Remove private favors and undue preference; abandon self-assured cleverness; put aside the pursuit of a reputation for worthiness; discard the formalities of benevolence and righteousness; clear away preconceptions and old habits; set aside artful speech; and prohibit deceit and falsehood. Then both the worthy and the unworthy can return to the Great Dao. When the mind is quiet, it can connect with emptiness; when the mind is still and open, it can comprehend the myriad things. When De (Virtue/Power) reaches its highest level without contrived action, all things can find room within it.

The Way of stillness and emptiness endures, circulating mysteriously and filling all things, yet never ruling over them. The twelve months revolve in a cycle, beginning again when they end. The forces of the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—restrain one another, and their movements also depend on one another. Thus severe cold harms the myriad things, yet cold is necessary; scorching heat harms them, yet heat is necessary too. What may be done and what may not each have their proper place. The Great Dao therefore has nothing it absolutely cannot accommodate; what matters is whether something accords with reason. When you see what is fitting, do not rush to attach yourself to it; when you see what is unfitting, there is no need to flee from it at all costs. What may be done and what may not complement one another, like left and right, outside and inside. In every matter, the key is to begin at the root.

The seasons are the governing order of how things move, unchanged from ancient times to the present; this is called the principle of Heaven. Those in high positions grasp the Dao’s clear principles and put its workings into effect below. The Dao gives life to and nurtures the myriad things, bringing Yin and Yang into their proper order, then transforming them into the four seasons and dividing them into the Five Phases. Each thing rests in its place and moves with the seasons; the patterns remain constant. Even when someone of limited ability occupies a low position, the Great Dao is not overturned. When ministers work together in unity, governance remains stable. The way Heaven and Earth operate is to act without contrivance yet be complete, and to seek nothing deliberately yet gain what is needed. Thus, understanding governance through Wuwei reveals its real benefit.

Laozi says that what is most simple and unadorned is boundless, yet has no fixed shape; the Great Dao is boundless too, with no measure by which it can be gauged. Heaven is round, but does not perfectly conform to a compass; Earth is square, but does not perfectly conform to a carpenter’s square. Time from past to present is called “zhou,” and space in all directions, above and below, is called “yu.” The Great Dao exists within them, yet no one can point to exactly where it is. Therefore, one whose understanding is not broad enough cannot be spoken to about what is vast; one whose knowledge is not extensive enough cannot be engaged in discussion of the highest principles.

Those who receive the Great Dao and understand the myriad things do not lightly deny one another. The laws and institutions used by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors—legendary rulers of high antiquity—were all different, yet they shared one thing: each won the people’s support. The compass, carpenter’s square, angle gauge, and ink line are all tools for making objects, but none is craftsmanship itself. Even without strings, Shi Wen, a legendary master of the zither, could not have played a tune; yet strings alone cannot convey sorrow. The strings are merely a means of expressing sorrow, not sorrow itself.

When mind, fingers, and strings come into accord, the player lets feeling flow freely and gives musical changes expression through the strings. This ability cannot be taught directly by a father to his son, nor can a son learn it directly from his father. This is the Dao that cannot be conveyed in words. Solemn composure governs the body; stillness is the root of sound.

Laozi says: The law governing the workings of Heaven and Earth takes De (Virtue/Power) as its foundation. The Dao (the Way) determines the nature each thing receives and sets each thing in its proper course. The Dao is subtle and hidden deep within. It does not rely on worldly affairs to display its eminence, so it need not wait for achievements to be established. It does not rely on status to appear exalted, so it need not borrow fame to make itself known. It needs no ceremonial adornment, yet has its own dignity; it relies on no force of arms, yet has its own power.

Once the Dao is established, it does not impose instruction, because it does not take away the capacities of individual things. It sees things clearly but does not interfere, because it does not obstruct their growth and activity. Imposing instruction instead goes against De and harms the things themselves. Yin-Yang, the four seasons, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) follow the same Great Dao, yet each operates according to its own distinct pattern. The natures of things are connected, but their forms differ. The wise do not impart their abilities to one another, and those who are capable do not let others act in their place.

Thus the sage establishes laws and measures to guide the people’s aspirations, allowing each person to follow their nature. In this way, the living do not feel they have received a favor, and the dead harbor no resentment. The saying, “Heaven and Earth are not benevolent; they treat the myriad things as straw dogs. The sage is not benevolent; he treats the people as straw dogs,” means that Heaven and Earth, and the sage, do not treat the myriad things and the people with partial, personal affection, but let them follow their own nature.

Principles such as kindness and humaneness belong to a narrower sphere of the Dao. Confined to what is narrow, one becomes lost upon entering the vast; focused only on what lies nearby, one grows confused when setting out toward the distant. The sage’s Dao enters the vast without becoming lost and travels toward the distant without confusion. By constantly remaining empty and still, and holding fast to oneself, one can reach the highest state. This is called “Heavenly De,” the virtue that accords with the Dao of Heaven.

Laozi says: The sage is like Heaven and Earth, sheltering and bearing all things; like the sun and moon, shining upon all things. The sage harmonizes Yin-Yang (yin and yang), sets the four seasons in motion and change, and nourishes all things without favoring any one kind. Heaven and Earth have no fixed, unchanging old things, nor do new things appear from nowhere. They neither distance themselves from anyone nor draw especially close to anyone. Thus the sage can take Heaven and Earth as a model.

The seasons are never always the same, the land produces different things in different places, and people act in different ways. So endeavors have many strands, and action has many paths. In war, some are impetuous and some steady; some are greedy and some upright. These four temperaments differ from one another and cannot be treated by a single method. The impetuous are eager to set out; the steady want to hold back. The greedy want to seize wealth; the upright refuse to take what is not theirs.

Thus, the courageous can be ordered to charge into battle, but not to stand firm and hold their ground. The steady can be ordered to defend a position stoutly, but not to advance recklessly against the enemy. The greedy can be ordered to capture wealth, but not to share it. The upright can be ordered to keep to their proper bounds, but not to take the initiative in competing for gain. The trustworthy can be ordered to honor an agreement, but cannot be expected to adapt as circumstances change. The sage employs all five kinds of people, assigning tasks according to each person’s abilities.

Heaven and Earth reject no thing, and Yin-Yang gives birth to more than one kind. Rivers and seas do not spurn small streams that flow into them; that is why they are vast. Mountains and forests do not spurn trees that are crooked or bent; that is why they are tall. The sage, too, does not reject the words of those of low status, and thereby broadens their own renown.

If one clings to a single corner and forgets all directions, or takes only one thing and casts aside the rest, then one gains little and can govern only a limited realm.

Laozi said: Heaven covers all things, the earth supports them, and the sun and moon shine upon them. The things of the world take different forms and have different dispositions; each has a way of life and a place of comfort suited to it. Yet what people think brings happiness often becomes a source of sorrow, and what they think secure may conceal danger.

Thus, when the sage governs the people, he lets them follow their own natures, live in places suited to them, do what is fitting, put their strengths to use, adapt to their circumstances, and receive appropriate assignments. In this way, all things find their proper place. There is no struggle over rank among them, and none can prevail over another.

Nothing in the world is absolutely noble or base. Viewed in terms of what is valuable in each thing, nothing is unworthy of being cherished; viewed in terms of what each lacks, nothing does not seem lowly. Thus, “not elevating the worthy” means not putting fish in trees or sinking birds into deep water. It means letting all things remain true to their natures and find their proper place.

In ancient times, when Yao governed the world, Shun served as Minister of Instruction, in charge of education and civil affairs; Xie served as Minister of War; Yu served as Minister of Works, overseeing construction and water and land management; Houji was responsible for agriculture; and Xizhong served as Master of Crafts, overseeing artisans and the making of tools. They guided the people to make their living according to the environments in which they lived: those by the water fished, those in the forests gathered, those in the valleys raised livestock, and those on hillsides farmed. People were assigned work suited to the land, tasks were matched with suitable tools, and tools were made according to the qualities of their materials.

Nets were woven in marshes and uplands, and fields were cultivated on hillsides. The people could then trade what they had for what they lacked, and what they did well for what they did poorly. As a result, few turned against the community, and many followed its governance. The people were transformed as plants are by the wind, each responding to the world according to their nature. They all moved toward what benefited them and avoided what harmed them.

Thus, neighboring states could see one another and hear the crowing of roosters and the barking of dogs, yet the people did not cross the borders between feudal states, and the tracks of their carts did not extend in intersecting paths for a thousand miles. People were all settled in their own places.

Therefore, a disorderly state may appear populous and powerful, while a well-ordered state may seem quiet and sparsely inhabited. A state on the verge of collapse may always feel that its supplies are insufficient, while one able to endure may seem to have more than enough. “Quiet and sparse” does not mean that there are no people, but that everyone keeps to their proper role. “Populous and powerful” does not mean that there are truly many people, but that people all pursue trivialities. “More than enough” does not mean an abundance of goods, but restrained desires and few demands. “Insufficient” does not necessarily mean a lack of goods, but a small population with excessive consumption.

Thus, the laws established by the former kings were not invented out of nothing; they followed the principles already present in human affairs. Their prohibitions and punishments were not arbitrary; they upheld the principles that ought to be followed. This is the Way of highest De.

Laozi says that governing the world by the Dao (the Way) does not mean changing people’s nature. It means guiding and opening a path for the nature they already have. In this way, one can act in keeping with the circumstances: letting what is large develop, and allowing what is small to grow. The ancients cleared waterways by following the course of the water, grew crops according to the qualities of the land, and undertook military campaigns in accordance with the people’s wishes. Those who understand how to follow what is natural can prevail throughout the world.

All things have their own patterns, and sound governance of human affairs must also be grounded in them. The ancient sage kings therefore made laws by accommodating people’s nature, then setting appropriate rules and limits. Without a corresponding nature, a person cannot be brought to follow instruction; even with that nature, a person cannot follow the right path if the necessary conditions are lacking. People possess the basis of benevolence and righteousness, but without sages to establish standards, it is difficult for their conduct to conform to them. If prohibitions against wrongdoing are shaped around what people themselves dislike, punishments need not be used often, and authority can shine forth like that of the spirits. Follow people’s nature, and the people of the world will obey; go against it, and even numerous laws will be hard to enforce.

Dao and De (Virtue/Power) are the foundation of achievement and reputation, and what the people cherish in their hearts. When the people support them, achievements and reputation can be established. The ancient rulers who governed well took the rivers and seas as their model. The rivers and seas do not force their way, yet they gather into something vast; they occupy low places and thereby become broad. They endure because they take their place like valleys beneath all the world. Their De is great enough to receive every stream: without deliberately seeking, they obtain; without deliberately going, they arrive.

Thus, one who governs the world without meddling and does not regard himself as superior becomes prosperous. He does not deliberately display himself, and so he sees clearly; he does not boast, and so he endures. By dwelling where he claims no possession, he becomes ruler of the world. By not contending with others, no one can contend with him. By never considering himself great, he is able to accomplish greatness. The rivers and seas are close to the Dao; that is why they endure and exist alongside Heaven and Earth.

When lords and princes cultivate the Dao, they do not claim the achievement as their own once it is accomplished. By not claiming it, they make their foundations firm; with firm foundations, they do not use violence against others. When the Dao a person follows is deep, his De is deep; when his De is deep, his achievements and reputation reach completion. This is called profound De: deep and far-reaching, contrary to ordinary worldly expectations.

All things under Heaven have a beginning, but few understand its principle; only the sages know it. The Dao is neither male nor female, neither yin nor yang, yet it brings all things to life without claiming them as its own, and makes them strong without using force to oppress them. When the Dao a person follows is deep, his De is deep, and his achievements follow from it. This profound De is deep and far-reaching, contrary to ordinary worldly expectations.

All things under Heaven arise from the same source, though people do not understand its principle. Heaven and Earth take shape from it, Yin-Yang becomes manifest through it, and all things come forth from it. Thus, the transformations of Yin-Yang take round and square forms, become long or short, and move between existence and extinction. The Dao gives life to all things, yet remains deep and still, guiding them without conscious intent. Its workings are subtle and fitting. Life and death follow the same principle, and all transformations of things return to the same Dao.

Take life and death lightly, and let go of attachment; then you can remain at ease wherever you are, for as long as you live. Lessen your entanglement in affairs and words, act with care, and do not act recklessly. Hold firmly to the Dao with care, without trying to dominate external things. The Dao is subtle and without form, the source of Heaven and Earth. All things come from the same Dao, yet appear in different forms. It is so small that it cannot be seen, yet it cares for all things in every respect; it is so vast that it has no boundaries, and so encompasses all things.

Cherishing the Dao can preserve life; cultivating De can settle the body. To reach the measure of the highest Dao, one must set aside preferences and aversions and avoid becoming attached to distinctions made through knowledge. Then the mind can readily become calm. Heaven and Earth are unified as one whole, divide into the two poles of Yin-Yang, and then return to union; above and below each keep their proper place. The Dao divides from the One into five, then returns to union, fitting the measures and standards precisely. The Dao is closest to people and should not be kept at a distance. It is nearer than anything else, and there is no need to seek it far away. Those who seek it in distant places eventually reach the end of their journey and must return.

Laozi says: The title “Emperor” is certainly exalted, yet no one truly understands what lies behind it. The emperor holds firmly to a single principle and divides it into five modes of application. When these five are brought back to the One, action will surely accord with the proper measure. The Dao is closest to people and cannot be kept at a distance; it lies nearer than anything else and cannot be sought in some faraway place. If one seeks the Dao in distant places, one will reach the end only to return to oneself.

Laozi says: The emperor values De (Virtue/Power), the king esteems righteousness, and the hegemon understands practical affairs. The Dao of the sage, however, does not cling to particular things. Only when the way of governing is narrow does one rely on clever schemes; only when De is insufficient does one depend on punishments; only when understanding is shallow does one resort to excessive surveillance. A ruler who governs through clever schemes will have a troubled heart. Governing through punishments breeds resentment between ruler and ministers, above and below. Governing through close surveillance leads subordinates to ingratiate themselves with their superiors to pursue private gain, ultimately giving rise to abuses.

Thus the sage follows the transformations of Heaven and Earth in carrying out governance through De: like Heaven, covering all things; like Earth, supporting all things. He governs in accord with the seasons, so that all things receive abundant nourishment. When they are properly nourished, the state can be at peace. Not even divine beings or sages can alter this natural way of governing.

Remove selfish cleverness, lessen punishments, and return to stillness: all things will naturally fall into order. A ruler should govern the state by sitting upright and still, like the ritual impersonator of the deceased at a sacrifice, and by dealing with affairs through quiet Wuwei (non-action), so that all the people under Heaven may receive his blessings. A blessing bestowed on one person is never too little; bestowed on ten thousand, it is no more excessive.

Therefore, excessive generosity and excessive tyranny both go against the Great Dao. To give too much means granting lavish rewards without regard for merit and conferring high rank without asking what a person has contributed. Those who faithfully perform their duties then grow lax, while the idle hasten to seek office. Tyranny means killing the innocent at will, even subjecting virtuous people to punishment. This cannot encourage people to cultivate themselves and do good; instead, it leads wrongdoers to hold their ruler in contempt, those who fulfill their duties to grow lax, and opportunists to rush toward advancement.

Thus, lavish generosity breeds treachery, while excessive tyranny brings calamity. The spread of treachery and disorder is a sign that a state is doomed. When the state imposes punishment, the ruler should not act out of personal anger. When the court grants rewards, the ruler should not claim the credit for himself. Those who are punished do not resent the ruler, for they know that they truly deserve the penalty; those who are rewarded do not feel indebted to the ruler, for they understand that their merit comes from their own efforts. People bring rewards or punishments upon themselves through their actions. They should therefore devote themselves to achievement and not regard rewards as favors bestowed by someone else.

In this way, the court need not busy itself with interference, and government orders bear no trace of human manipulation. Fields are cultivated and weeds grow sparse. Under the best rulers of antiquity, the people knew that their ruler existed but did not feel that he was doing anything. The kingly way is to handle affairs without meddling, to teach without relying on verbal admonition, to remain still and refrain from rash action, and to uphold standards without wavering. The ruler follows the natural course of things, appoints ministers and expects them to fulfill their duties, and need not labor himself.

In governing, plans are free of miscalculation and measures are free of error. Words are not deliberately embellished, and conduct does not conform to a fixed pose. One advances or withdraws at the right time, and stillness or movement follows the logic of things. The ruler shows no preference based on beauty or ugliness and does not reward or punish according to personal pleasure or anger. Ministers each bear their own titles, and affairs are handled according to their respective categories. Results arise through the natural working of things, without appearing to be the ruler’s doing alone. If one tries to control things by force, they are driven away from their nature; if one sets out to embellish and reform them, they are damaged.

The breath of Heaven becomes the hun, the breath of Earth the po. Return to the mysterious Dao, let the hun and po each remain in their proper place, and guard them carefully so they do not scatter: then one can connect upward with the Great One, the source of the cosmos. The vital essence of the Great One communicates with Heaven. The Way of Heaven is deep and silent, without fixed form or trace, so vast that it cannot be exhausted and so profound that it cannot be measured. It is always in accord with people, yet human schemes cannot grasp it. It circulates and transforms without end, its transformations wondrous as those of a spirit. Empty and still, it acts through Wuwei, follows the prevailing course, and remains behind without contending to be first.

When hearing matters of government, the ruler should be open-minded and humble, clear-sighted and not confused. Then the ministers, like spokes converging on a wheel’s hub, will each come forward to offer counsel. Whether foolish or intelligent, worthy or unworthy, all can put their abilities to use. In this way, the ruler learns how to direct his ministers, and the ministers know how to serve the ruler and fulfill their duties. This is why the governance of the state can be clear and well ordered.

Laozi says: Someone who is learned and enjoys asking others for guidance may be called wise; someone who is brave and willing to seek advice can prevail. One who knows how to draw on the wisdom of many can undertake any task; one who knows how to draw on the strength of many can overcome any difficulty. Even someone like Wu Huo, the legendary strongman, cannot rely on his own strength alone. When one knows how to draw on the strength of others, Wu Huo is no longer the only person one can depend on. When one knows how to follow the momentum of the people, there is no force in the world that cannot be put to use.

If one does not judge whether circumstances make an undertaking feasible, or follow the patterns of things, then even spirits and sages cannot bring it to completion. Thus, the sage always acts by making use of the conditions already at hand. Those with a particular achievement are assigned fitting positions; those with a particular ability are given suitable responsibilities. When one’s strength is sufficient for a task, it does not feel burdensome; when one’s ability is sufficient, carrying it out does not feel difficult. The sage makes use of everyone’s strengths, thereby abandoning no one and wasting no one’s talent.

Laozi says: “Wuwei” (non-action) does not mean refusing to come when summoned or to go when pushed, remaining unresponsive when pressed or unmoved when touched, or stubbornly refusing to change and clinging tightly to what one holds. Wuwei means not allowing private interests to intrude upon the impartial Way, or personal desires to obstruct proper methods; acting in accord with the principles of the matter, accomplishing things on the basis of existing conditions, and following the natural course of events, so that cunning and opportunism have no opening. When a task is completed, one does not boast of it; when an achievement has been established, one does not claim it as one’s own.

For example, boats are used on waterways, sand sledges on sandy ground, sledges on muddy ground, and mountain carriers in the mountains. Waterways are cleared in summer, while in winter embankments are built to store water. Hills are raised where the terrain is high, and ponds are dug where it is low. None of this is forced into being by me; it is arranged in response to the conditions at hand. The sage is not ashamed of holding a low position; what truly concerns him is that the Way cannot be put into practice. He does not worry that his own life is short, but only that the people are mired in hardship. Thus he constantly maintains emptiness and stillness, follows things as they naturally unfold, preserves simplicity and original nature, and does not become entangled with external things.

Laozi says: The ancient rulers were established not to satisfy their personal desires. The sages who ascended to the throne did not do so to enjoy comfort and pleasure. Among the people of the world, the strong bullied the weak, the many oppressed the few, the crafty deceived the dull-witted, and the brave harmed the timid. People each kept their schemes and tricks to themselves, unwilling to share them, and even when they had goods, they would not divide them among one another. Therefore, the Son of Heaven was established to govern the realm as a whole. One person’s understanding could not encompass the entire world, so offices such as the Three Dukes and the Nine Ministers were created to assist the Son of Heaven. To extend care to distant states and places with different customs, feudal lords were also appointed to teach and govern them.

In this way, the movements of Heaven and Earth and the four seasons could follow their proper course; the government did not conceal its affairs, and the country’s resources were not left unused. People could therefore keep warm and satisfy their hunger; the old and the young were cared for, and those worn out by toil could rest.

Shennong, the legendary ancient ruler, labored at governing until he looked haggard. Yao grew thin, and Shun’s complexion darkened. Yu the Great developed thick calluses while controlling the floods. Yi Yin carried a cooking cauldron on his back to seek an audience with Tang of Shang. Lü Wang, also known as Jiang Taigong, once made his living slaughtering cattle before entering the service of the Zhou. Baili Xi was sold from one owner to another, Guan Zhong was bound, and Confucius traveled from place to place, with scarcely a moment to attend even to the smoke from his cooking stove. Mozi was so busy that he had no time to warm a seat. These people did not covet stipends or envy official rank; they wanted to do what benefited the world and remove the people’s hardships. From the Son of Heaven down to ordinary people, no one has ever been known to seek support without laboring with their limbs or burdening their thoughts with affairs.

Laozi says: The Son of Heaven is one who follows the Dao of Heaven in governing the world. The fundamental principle of governing the world is to hold fast to the One—the root and unifying principle—and rely on it as one’s safeguard. Return to the root, follow what is natural, refrain from forced action, preserve emptiness and stillness, and do not cling to concrete forms. The Great Dao is indistinct and elusive, without bounds or end. Look for it and no form can be seen; listen for it and no sound can be heard. This is the constant principle of the Great Dao.

Laozi says: The essence of the Dao is perfectly integrated and unobstructed, while its ways of operating have measure and direction. It turns its back on Yin and embraces Yang; it is gentle on the left and firm on the right. It dwells in darkness yet bears light. The Dao’s transformations have no fixed pattern. Grasp its root, and you can respond to every kind of circumstance. This is called the numinous.

The sky turns in a circle without end, so its form cannot be seen; the earth stretches out without limit, so its gateways cannot be discerned. The sky’s transformations move without pause and have no fixed shape. The things that grow and multiply on earth are too numerous to count. Among all things, some are strong and some weak, some prevail and some are defeated; only the Dao has nothing that can overcome it. The Dao cannot be overcome because it has no fixed configuration.

The Dao turns without cease like a wheel, like the movements of the sun and moon and the change of spring into autumn. Day and night alternate; when one cycle ends, another begins, and brightness gives way to darkness. The Dao shapes all things, yet has no fixed form of its own, and so it can accomplish great works. It brings forth all things but is not confined by them, and so it can prevail without suffering defeat.

Those skilled in planning warfare can establish an imperial enterprise; those able to govern the world through wondrous transformations can establish a kingly enterprise. In planning warfare, one should model oneself on the way of Heaven. In governing the world through wondrous transformations, one should understand the movements of the four seasons. Put one’s own state in order, and people in distant lands will appreciate its virtuous rule. Win the victory before battle begins, and the feudal lords will naturally submit.

Those in ancient times who attained the Dao, when at rest, modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth; when in action, they followed the sun and moon. Their joy and anger accorded with the four seasons, and their commands carried the force of thunder. Their voices and breath were in harmony with the winds of the eight directions; their bending and stretching, advancing and withdrawing, did not violate the five measures. They followed the wishes of the people, acted through the people’s strength, and rid them of tyranny and harm.

People who share the same interests are willing to sacrifice for one another; those whose feelings align can help one another succeed; those who move in step will support one another. If one acts in accordance with people’s own wishes, the whole world will rise up and contend for a common purpose. Thus, those skilled in warfare make good use of the people’s spontaneous strength; those unskilled in warfare only want the people to serve them. Those who make good use of the people’s spontaneous strength will find no one in the world they cannot put to use; those who only make the people serve them will find no one truly useful.

Laozi says: In cultivating oneself, the most important thing is to nourish the spirit; only after that should one care for the body. When the spirit is tranquil and the mind at peace, every part of the body is calm. This is the root of health cultivation. Making the skin plump and the belly full, and satisfying one’s appetite and preferences, are only its secondary concerns. Governing a state is the same: the most important thing is to nurture moral teaching; only after that should one regulate laws and ordinances. Let the people yield to one another, willingly step back when disputes arise, act humbly, refrain from competing for wealth, accept less rather than vie for credit, and willingly undertake arduous tasks. In this way, the people will gradually become good through moral teaching and change without realizing it. This is the root of governance. Using benefits and rewards to encourage good conduct, using punishments to deter wrongdoing, and having those in authority establish proper laws and make the people obey them—these are only its secondary concerns. The ancients valued the root; later generations busied themselves with the secondary concerns.

Laozi says: Rulers capable of governing the world are rare, and worthy ministers capable of assisting them are rarer still. To wait for an exceptionally rare worthy minister to serve an already rare ruler means that a time of great peace under Heaven may not come even once in a thousand years. The achievements of kingship and hegemony cannot be established often. In governing, one should follow the people’s good intentions and prevent wrongful thoughts from taking root. When the people and their ruler follow the same upright way, the people will turn toward goodness and customs will become refined. What makes a sage worthy is not waiting until people have committed crimes before imposing punishments, but understanding where disorder begins. If one first opens the way to evil, lets people indulge in perversity and excess, and only then tries to restrain them with laws and punishments, even slaughtering the people of the world will not put an end to wrongdoing.

Laozi says: A person may live beside rivers and seas, yet keep their thoughts in the court. This shows that they prize life; and one who prizes life will treat profit lightly. If they still cannot restrain themselves, they yield to their desires and keep the spirit from being harmed. But if they cannot restrain their desires and force themselves to suppress them, they will seriously injure themselves. Those who are seriously injured cannot live long. So it is said: to understand harmony is to understand constancy; to understand constancy is to be enlightened. Trying endlessly to increase one’s life invites misfortune. Using the mind to force Qi (vital energy) is to exert oneself beyond one’s strength. This is called “Xuantong” (joining with the deep and mysterious Dao): use one’s own light, and in the end return to inner clarity.

Laozi says: There is nothing in the world easier than being a person… So it is said: to understand harmony is to understand constancy; to understand constancy is to be enlightened. Trying endlessly to increase one’s life invites misfortune. Using the mind to force Qi (vital energy) is to exert oneself beyond one’s strength. This is called “Xuantong” (joining with the deep and mysterious Dao): use one’s own light, and in the end return to inner clarity.

Laozi said: “There is nothing in the world easier than doing good, and nothing harder than doing evil. Doing good means remaining quiet and following nature, satisfying one’s feelings in moderation, not coveting what is unnecessary, and not being tempted by external things. It means following one’s nature, preserving one’s true nature, and not altering one’s original mind. That is why doing good is easy.

“Doing evil is hard because it goes against human nature. Killing, committing regicide, putting on a false show and deceiving others, restlessness, and excessive desire are not part of human nature. That is why doing evil is hard.

“People today regard many things as great troubles because they do not know when they have enough and have no sense of restraint. When benefits and harms intersect and fortune turns into misfortune, one must examine things carefully. The sage neither insists on pursuing something nor deliberately avoids it. Sometimes, the harder one tries to obtain something, the more surely it slips away; sometimes, the harder one tries to avoid something, the more surely it comes. Once the mind becomes covetous, one forgets what one originally meant to do. So the sage observes how action and stillness change, and keeps the balance between receiving and giving. The sage regulates feelings of liking and dislike, and restrains anger and joy.

“When action and stillness are in proper balance, troubles will not intrude. When receiving and giving are measured, blame will not attach. When liking and dislike are handled well, worry will not draw near. When anger and joy are in harmony, resentment will not be stirred up.

“Those who understand the Great Dao do not take what they have no right to take, nor shift calamity onto others. They do not claim what is not theirs, nor force others under their control. If one is often content, one will not overflow; if one keeps an open space within, it is easy to be satisfied. So live according to the Dao and the principle of moderation: food enough to satisfy hunger and clothing enough to keep out the cold are enough for a well-fed and warmly dressed life. If one lives without regard for the Dao or restraint and instead devotes oneself to pursuing status and prominence, then even the power to rule a kingdom with ten thousand chariots may bring no joy; even possessing the wealth of the world may bring no happiness. The sage is calm in mind and settled in purpose, with the spirit held within. External things therefore cannot mislead him.”

Laozi also said: “To surpass others is a sign of strength; to conquer oneself is true power. Those who are truly powerful know how to draw on the strength of everyone under Heaven. To draw on the strength of others, one must be able to win their hearts; to win their hearts, one must first be able to master oneself. No one has ever gained himself and lost others, or lost himself and gained others.

“So the foundation of governing a state lies in bringing peace to the people. The foundation of bringing peace to the people lies in supplying their daily needs. The foundation of supplying their daily needs lies in not disrupting the farming seasons. The foundation of not disrupting the farming seasons lies in reducing the burdens of government affairs. The foundation of reducing those burdens lies in curbing expenditure. The foundation of curbing expenditure lies in putting an end to arrogance and extravagance. The foundation of putting an end to arrogance and extravagance lies in maintaining emptiness, stillness, and freedom from desire.

“Those who understand the nature of life do not pursue things that life has no need of. Those who understand the nature of fate do not worry over what lies beyond their power to change. When the eyes covet the five colors, the mouth seeks fine flavors, and the ears are captivated by every kind of music, the seven openings of the body—the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and other senses—compete with one another and damage one’s nature. As improper desires grow day by day, they exhaust the harmony bestowed at birth. If a person cannot govern even himself, how can he govern the world?

“To ‘gain the world’ does not mean occupying a position of power and using an honorific title. It means winning the allegiance of the people under Heaven and gaining the strength they offer. To have only the title of ruler of all under Heaven, with not a single person praising you, is to have lost the world.”

Thus, though Jie and Zhou were kings, they could not keep the world for long. Though Tang and Wu overthrew tyrants by force, they did not thereby lose the world. When the Son of Heaven follows the Dao, the four frontiers defend him; when he loses the Dao, only the feudal lords defend him. When a feudal lord follows the Dao, those within his borders defend him; when he loses the Dao, only the people around him defend him. So it is said: “Do not count on others being unable to take what is yours; make yourself impossible to dispossess.” If the Dao one follows can itself be taken away, then even refraining from regicide will not help one keep the world.

Laozi said: Those skilled at governing the state do not alter established laws or lightly change long-standing customs. Anger runs counter to De (Virtue/Power); weapons are inauspicious tools; and conflict throws people into disorder. To plot in secret, act against De, and take pleasure in using weapons of violence to suppress disorder is to bring calamity to its utmost. Such an undertaking cannot succeed without harming others. It is better to draw in one’s sharpness and resolve disputes, concealing one’s edge and blending in with the crowd.

People generally want to be more capable than others and dislike feeling inferior to them. The desire to surpass others gives rise to rivalry; resentment and conflict follow from disliking one’s inferiority. Once resentment and conflict take hold, people’s hearts grow unsettled and their Qi (vital energy) becomes obstructed. Thus the ancient sage kings encouraged people to compete and resent one another less. When rivalry and resentment did not arise, people’s hearts were at peace and their Qi flowed freely. Hence the saying: “Do not elevate the status of the capable, so that the people will not contend with one another for victory.”

“Do not exalt the worthy” is a principle of statecraft in the Dao De Jing. Its purpose is to avoid deliberately singling out the capable and thereby stirring people to seek fame and profit.

Laozi said: “In governing things, do not let the things themselves rule; govern them through harmony. In governing harmony, do not rely on an abstract notion of harmony alone; follow human nature. In governing people, do not rely solely on the will of the people; rely on the way of the ruler. In governing the ruler, do not rely solely on the ruler’s will; follow his desires. In governing desires, do not indulge them; regulate them through one’s nature. In governing one’s nature, do not cling to it; cultivate it through De (Virtue/Power). In governing De, do not be bound by it; return to the Dao (the Way).

“The Dao takes human nature as its root. Human nature is originally free of evil and impurity, but when people remain absorbed in external things for a long time, they forget their roots and gradually lose their original state. Clothing, food, and social customs do not belong to human nature by birth; they are acquired from the outside. Human nature therefore seeks peace, while cravings and desires injure it. Only a person who has the Dao can cast aside external things and return to the self. With a standard for observing oneself, one will not misunderstand the true state of things; without such a standard, one will be confused in action.

“Indulging desires damages one’s nature, making it difficult to act uprightly. To care for one’s life in this state is to harm oneself; to govern a state in this way is to unsettle its people. Thus, those who do not understand the Dao cannot return to their nature. The sages of antiquity knew the Dao through their own experience, and so when they issued an order, prohibitions could be enforced. Before undertaking any task, one must first calm the mind and clarify the spirit. When the spirit is clear and the mind is calm, things can be handled correctly. If one believes false praise and slander, the state will fall into disorder. It is difficult to handle affairs properly while the eyes are captivated by every color.

“Therefore, sage kings prize emptiness and stillness. When water is stirred, waves arise; when Qi (vital energy), the primordial energy that constitutes all things, becomes disordered, wisdom grows clouded. Clouded wisdom cannot judge fairly, just as churning water cannot remain still. The sage king therefore holds fast to the One, the common root of all things, and uses it to bring their circumstances and natures into order. The One is supremely precious; nothing in the world stands opposed to it. Relying on this impartial root, the sage king can become the ruler of all under Heaven.

“Laozi said: ‘Yin-Yang gives birth to and nourishes the myriad things, which all receive the same primordial Qi and come into being. When those above and below are at odds, Qi rises and surges. When ruler and ministers are not in harmony, the Five Grains cannot ripen. A killing chill in spring, flourishing plants in autumn, thunder in winter, and frost in summer—all arise when the movement of Qi is damaged.

“‘The space between Heaven and Earth may be regarded as a person’s body, and the Six Directions—above, below, and the four quarters—as a person’s physical form. Thus, those who understand their nature are not constrained by the transformations of Heaven and Earth; those who discern signs are not bewildered by strange occurrences. The sage understands the distant from what is near, regards lands thousands of miles away as a single whole, and understands how primordial Qi moves between Heaven and Earth.

“‘Ritual, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame are standards for human conduct. If these standards are not established, people will harm and abuse one another, as though they still lived in chaos. When integrity and shame decline and the age falls into decay, desires multiply while resources dwindle; labor grows heavier while support becomes inadequate. The people are poor and distressed, and resentment and conflict arise. Only then is benevolence held in especially high regard.

“‘People fail to live in harmony with one another, form factions for private gain, favor those close to them, and harbor schemes and deceit. Only then is righteousness held in especially high regard. Men and women mingle in communal living without distinction; only then is ritual held in especially high regard. The feelings that govern human life are indulged to excess, people press upon one another, and when matters reach an unavoidable impasse, harmony is lost. Only then is music held in especially high regard. Thus benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and music serve to rescue a world in decline; they are not the fundamental Dao that penetrates everything and governs all under Heaven.

“‘If the way of the spirits could truly be made secure throughout the world, and people’s hearts returned to their original state, the people’s nature would become good. With the people’s nature made good, Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth would respond to them and embrace them; resources would be plentiful, and the people would live in abundance. There would then be no room for greed, meanness, resentment, or conflict. Benevolence would not need to be imposed, and De would naturally be established throughout the world; the people would not be captivated by sights and sounds. Thus, only after De declines do people adorn themselves with benevolence and righteousness; only after harmony is lost do they pursue musical performance; only after ritual becomes excessive do they deliberately embellish their appearance. Understanding De reveals that benevolence and righteousness cannot be practiced in isolation. Understanding benevolence and righteousness reveals that ritual and music, too, are insufficient on their own to bring the world into order.’”

Laozi says: A government that is clear, quiet, and practices Wuwei (non-action) takes shape only after people’s principles have been brought into harmony and what is out of balance has been adjusted. Only then can their voices come into accord. When ritual becomes excessively elaborate, formal appearance is needed to make amends. Thus, one who understands the roots of Dao and De (Virtue/Power) knows that benevolence and righteousness are not the most fundamental standards or the surest basis for action. And one who understands benevolence and righteousness also knows that ritual and music are not indispensable means of governing.

Laozi also says: A government that is clear, quiet, and practices Wuwei is harmonious and peaceful, simple and genuine, unhurried and free of agitation. The heart accords with the Dao, and conduct accords with what is right. Speech is concise and reasonable; actions are joyful and responsive to human feeling. The heart is calm and free of pretense, and deeds are plain and unadorned. One does not plan in advance how an undertaking should begin, nor endlessly debate how it should end. When things are settled, one remains still; when circumstances surge, one acts. Body and mind communicate with Heaven and Earth; Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy) accord with Yin-Yang; one moves in harmony with the seasons and shines with the brightness of the sun and moon.

Those who accord with the Dao do not conceal cunning or deceit in their hearts. Heaven therefore covers all things with its De, while Earth bears all things in comfort and ease. The seasons proceed without disorder, and wind and rain bring no disaster. The sun and moon shine clearly and serenely, and the Five Planets follow their courses without deviation. These are the signs revealed by the way of clarity and stillness.

Laozi also says: The duties of governing the realm should be easy to bear; affairs of state should be easy to manage, rituals easy to perform, and responsibilities easy to fulfill. No one should hold several offices at once, and no official should oversee several kinds of business. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants should each tend to their own occupations, while villages, districts, and commanderies each have their own division of work. Farmers speak of cultivation and storage; scholars, of conduct and integrity; artisans, of their crafts; merchants, of trade and calculation. In this way, scholars do not neglect their virtue, artisans are not burdened by excessive duties, farmers do not miss the farming season, and merchants do not suffer losses of goods. Each person is at ease in their own nature. Though their occupations and categories differ, their work is easy and does not conflict. Those who abandon their proper occupation are looked down upon, while those who put their abilities to use are respected.

Foreknowledge and far-sighted insight are outstanding qualities in a person, but in a well-governed age such talents are not demanded of everyone. People with broad learning, strong memories, and exceptional eloquence may possess knowledge that is excessively diverse; a wise ruler does not expect these qualities from all the people. Scorning worldly conventions and looking down on external things are noble principles for certain scholars, but a well-governed age does not make them a universal standard for teaching the people. Standards too high to attain cannot be used to judge everyone, and actions far beyond ordinary people’s abilities cannot be prescribed as national custom.

People cannot all be put to use according to a single standard, but measures for assessing things and principles of governing can be passed down from age to age. Thus, when the realm is at peace, even ordinary people can join in protecting it; the management of the army, meanwhile, can be unified according to law. Good government need not wait for outstanding talents from ancient times to appear. By drawing on the abilities people already possess and putting them to use in combination, it can enable everyone to contribute their strengths.

In the final age, laws and standards are often set so high that people cannot meet them; responsibilities are made so heavy that people cannot bear them; and tasks are made so urgent and difficult that those who dare not take them on are punished. Pressed by these three burdens, the people show off their cleverness, deceive their superiors, violate the right path, and take reckless risks. Even severe laws and heavy punishments cannot eradicate wrongdoing. A beast driven into a corner will charge; a bird driven into a corner will peck; a person driven into a corner will deceive. This is the situation being described.

Laozi says that the sound of thunder can be imitated with bells and drums, and the changes of wind and rain can be discerned through musical tones. Whatever is large enough to be seen can be measured; whatever is bright enough to be seen can be screened; whatever can be heard can be adjusted; and whatever color can be recognized can be distinguished.

Yet what is vast beyond limit cannot be contained even by Heaven and Earth, and what is minute beyond limit cannot be seen even by the spirits. When people devised systems for pitch and the calendar, distinguished the five colors, identified clear and muddy tones, and tasted sweet and bitter flavors, the natural state that had originally been whole and undivided began to fragment, giving rise to all kinds of objects and distinctions. Once benevolence and righteousness were established and ritual and music cultivated, De (Virtue/Power) also changed, becoming something contrived by human beings. The people adorned themselves with cleverness to deceive the ignorant and devised fraud to manipulate those above them. Though there are people under Heaven who wish to preserve these orders, no one has yet truly been able to govern well.

The more cleverness there is, the more De declines. Therefore, the perfected person—one whose moral cultivation has reached a high level—preserves simplicity and naturalness, never letting the original nature become divided. In governing the world, the perfected person takes emptiness and stillness as the foundation and does not display things that stir desire. They let the mind and spirit rest in peace, bringing body and nature into harmony. In stillness, they preserve De; in action, they follow what is fitting and reach what is attainable. They follow the natural Way and respond to what must be done.

They act without contrivance and the world becomes harmonious; they remain tranquil and free of desire, and the people become naturally simple. When there is no contention, material goods can be abundant. Those who give do not consider themselves benefactors, and those who receive do not refuse. De thus returns to everyone, and no one feels that they are bestowing a favor. Reasoning that needs no words, and a Dao that needs no explanation, seem to flow through things naturally. This is called the “Heavenly Treasury,” like a natural storehouse that holds all things. Take from it and it does not diminish; draw from it and it does not run dry. No one knows where it comes from or where it goes. This is called the “Pivot of the Dipper,” the hub and point of operation of the Dao. The Pivot of the Dipper is the sustenance that nourishes all things.

Laozi said, “Heaven cherishes its vital essence, Earth cherishes its evenness and balance, and people cherish their true nature. Heaven’s vital essence consists of the sun, moon, and stars, thunder, lightning, wind, and rain. Earth’s evenness and balance consists of Water, Fire, Metal, Wood, and Earth. Human nature consists of thought, understanding, and the emotions of joy and anger.”

Therefore, close the four gates to the outside world and halt the pathways of the five activities, and you can accord with the Dao (the Way). The spirit will then be stored within the formless, and vital energy will return to its original state. Let the eyes be clear without deliberately looking, the ears keen without deliberately listening, the words spoken appropriately without saying too much, and the mind lucid without being fettered by thought. Let things follow their own course without deliberate action. Know what you know without boasting of it. Follow the true condition of your nature and life, and wisdom will not harm you.

When vital energy gathers in the eyes, sight becomes clear; when it gathers in the ears, hearing becomes keen; when it gathers in the mouth, speech becomes appropriate; and when it gathers in the mind, thought becomes lucid. Therefore, by closing these four gates, one will have few troubles throughout life. When the four limbs and the nine apertures—the two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, mouth, and the front and rear openings—are undisturbed by the changes of life and death, this is called being a “True Person.” The things produced by Earth are rooted in the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The sage regulates the Five Phases so that each is properly ordered, and governance is thereby kept from disorder.

Laozi said, “When the beam of a balance measures both sides, it favors neither lightness nor heaviness, and so maintains equilibrium. When an inked line is stretched along the inside or outside of an object, it favors neither straightness nor crookedness, and so determines what is true. A ruler who administers the law must show no favoritism in love or hate, and only then can the laws be carried out. Virtue (De) neither breeds enmity nor conceals private motives. In this way, one follows the Dao and accords with the human heart.”

Therefore, those who govern do not impose interventions through personal cleverness. A surging current can wreck a boat, and an impact from wood can snap an axle. People do not blame the wood or stone; they ask whether the boatman or driver acted properly, for cleverness applied in the wrong place cannot carry a task through. When cleverness is mixed into the Dao, disorder follows; when private motives are mixed into De, danger follows; and when the mind clings to distinctions, confusion follows.

Once standards of weighing and measurement have been established, they are not lightly changed. By remaining constant, impartial, and upright, and by following a set standard without becoming stuck, they can serve as rules passed down for generations. This “action through non-action,” or Wuwei (non-action), means not forcing things through private cleverness. To hold fast to the One—the foundation of the Dao—is Wuwei. Rulers of every age can put it to use and pass it down through the generations without change.

Laozi said: As the saying goes, a country may lose its ruler, but the world will never be without people who understand how things work. People may find themselves in difficult situations, yet there is always a way to make sense of the circumstances. Thus Wuwei (non-action)—acting in accordance with the natural patterns of things, without forcing interference—is the foundation of the Dao. Once you grasp this foundation, you can respond to change without end. If you disregard the Dao and act solely on your own abilities, you will soon find yourself in difficulty.

A ruler can understand the world without leaving the palace because he can learn about things through things themselves, and understand other people through other people. When people join their efforts, nothing is beyond their ability to overcome; when they pool their wisdom, nothing is beyond their ability to accomplish.

A thousand people can work without running short of provisions, and a group of ten thousand can carry on without their work being delayed. Each craftsperson has a specialty, and each official has a proper duty; they do not overstep their authority or interfere with one another. Everyone does the work suited to them, and everything finds its proper place. In this way, tools do not fall into disrepair, and duties are not neglected.

A small burden is easy to repay; a limited duty is easy to uphold; a light responsibility is easy to fulfill. Those in higher positions take on a few clearly defined duties, while those below them undertake work they can readily complete. Thus rulers and ministers can remain together for a long time without growing weary of one another.

Laozi said: An emperor should take the Great One (Taiyi), the integral Way that is the source of all things in the cosmos, as his foundation. A king should model himself on the transformations of Yin-Yang; a hegemon should follow the order of the four seasons; an ordinary ruler should apply the Six Pitch Standards, ancient measures used to set musical pitch and also representing standards for laws and commands.

Those who take the Great One as their foundation understand how Heaven and Earth truly operate and know the patterns of Dao and De. Their wisdom shines like the sun and moon, and their spirit is in communion with all things. In action and stillness alike, they harmonize Yin-Yang; their joy and anger accord with the four seasons. Whether sheltering or nourishing all things, they act in accord with the Dao, giving widely and without partiality. No flying or crawling creature lives without relying on their De. Their De spreads far, and their reputation endures for generations.

Those who model themselves on Yin-Yang receive the harmonious Qi of Heaven and Earth. Their De stands alongside Heaven and Earth; their radiance shines with the sun and moon, and their spirit resonates with the spirits of the dead and the divine. They hold Heaven’s roundness above their heads and stand upon Earth’s squareness, upholding standards and following laws. They can cultivate themselves within and win people’s hearts beyond themselves. Once they issue a command, all under Heaven respond like grass bending before the wind.

Those who follow the four seasons cause things to sprout in spring, grow in summer, be harvested in autumn, and stored in winter. They give and take in moderation, and set measured limits on what goes out and comes in. Their joy and anger, gentleness and firmness never depart from what is right. They are gentle but not fragile, strong but not rigid, generous but not indulgent, stern but not harsh. Calmly adapting to the times, they nurture people of every kind. Their De embraces the foolish and the unworthy, without favoring one side over another.

To apply the Six Pitch Standards means being able to determine life and death, reward and punishment, giving and taking away. Governance cannot do without these measures: putting down disorder and prohibiting violence; promoting the worthy and dismissing the unfit; correcting what is crooked and setting it right; removing obstacles and making things secure; straightening what is bent. The key is to understand when to give and take, open and close, and to follow the moment and act according to circumstances so that people willingly comply.

If an emperor does not take Yin-Yang as his foundation, he will suffer harm. If a king does not model himself on the seasons, he will decline. If a hegemon does not apply the Six Pitch Standards, he will be disgraced. If a ruler loses his guiding standards, he will be deposed. Thus, trying to accomplish great things with a narrow outlook leads to frustration and estrangement; applying a broad outlook to small matters makes one seem constrained and unable to be accommodating.

Laozi said: A vast territory and a large population do not prove strength. Strong armor and sharp weapons cannot guarantee victory. High walls and deep moats cannot ensure security. Nor are harsh punishments enough to…

Laozi says: A vast territory and a large population are not enough to make a state prosperous. Strong armor and sharp weapons cannot be relied upon to win. High walls and deep moats are not enough to ensure security, and harsh punishments are not enough to establish authority. Follow the way of government that preserves the state, and even a weak state can endure. Follow the way of government that leads a state to ruin, and even a powerful state will eventually fall.

Those skilled in defense need not confront others head-on; those skilled in warfare need not contend with others. Act in accord with the times and the people’s wishes, and all under Heaven will submit. Those skilled in governing a state accumulate De (Virtue/Power); those skilled in employing troops restrain their anger. When De is deep and abundant, the people can be put to use; when anger is restrained, authority can be established. The more fully civil virtue is put into practice, the greater its power to win people’s trust. The farther its benefits reach, the wider the sphere of its influence. With influence spread far and wide, one’s own strength grows while the enemy’s diminishes. Those skilled in warfare first put the enemy at a disadvantage, then begin the battle. In this way, they spend less than half as much yet achieve ten times the results.

A state with a thousand chariots can become a kingly power through civil virtue. A great state with ten thousand chariots that delights in warfare will also perish. An army destined to win first secures victory and then enters battle; an army destined to lose first fights and only afterward tries to find a way to win. This is failing to understand the Way.

Supreme Benevolence

Laozi says: The way a noble ruler governs is to cultivate body and mind through stillness and preserve life through frugality. When the ruler is still, the people are not disturbed; when the people are not disturbed, they do not grow resentful. Disturbing the people throws government into disorder, while their resentment causes De to weaken. A state in disorder will eventually perish. An army destined to win first secures victory and then enters battle; an army destined to lose first fights and only afterward tries to find a way to win. This is failing to understand the Way.

Laozi says: The way a noble ruler governs is to cultivate body and mind through stillness and preserve life through frugality. When the ruler is still, the people are not disturbed; when the people are not disturbed, they do not grow resentful. Disturbing the people throws government into disorder, while their resentment causes De to weaken. The wise do not devise plans for such a ruler, and the virtuous do not fight bravely on his behalf. A benighted ruler, however, does not act this way.

Once a benighted ruler possesses the wealth of the realm and holds the power of a sovereign, he exhausts the people’s strength to gratify his eyes and ears. He devotes himself to building palaces, raised terraces, towers, pavilions, canals, ponds, and gardens, and gathers fierce beasts, rare birds, exotic treasures, and precious curiosities. Meanwhile, the people go hungry and live in poverty, while the beasts feast on fine meat. The people shiver in the cold, while the palace is furnished with brocades and splendid garments. Thus, the ruler hoards these useless things, while the people under Heaven have no way to live in peace.

Laozi said: If one does not remain detached and tranquil, one cannot bring one’s De (Virtue/Power) to light. Without maintaining calm, one cannot plan for the long term. Without a broad mind, one cannot embrace the people. Without holding to fairness and impartiality, one cannot make sound judgments. Observe with the eyes of all under Heaven, listen with the ears of all under Heaven, think with the minds of all under Heaven, and act with the strength of all under Heaven. Then commands can reach those below, and the people’s true circumstances can reach those above. Officials each fulfill their duties, and the ministers join together in their service. The ruler does not hand out rewards on a whim when pleased, nor impose punishments on a whim when angered. Laws and orders are clear but not harsh; the ruler’s eyes and ears are alert and not deceived. The truth about good and evil is presented each day and is not refused a hearing. Thus, the capable give all their wisdom, while those less capable also do their best. Those nearby can live in keeping with their nature, and those far away are grateful for the ruler’s kindness. This is the way to make good use of people.

By riding in a carriage, one can reach a thousand li away without laboring personally; by sailing in a boat, one can cross rivers and seas without wading through the water oneself. If a minister’s proposal is sound, it should not be rejected even if it comes from a merchant or woodcutter; if it is mistaken, it should not be adopted even if it comes from the ruler or a high minister. Right and wrong cannot be judged by a person’s rank or status. A useful plan should not be dismissed because its proposer is low-ranking; a workable suggestion should not be scorned because its proposer is inarticulate.

An unenlightened ruler, however, acts otherwise. Ministers rarely manage to serve with complete sincerity and loyalty without being pushed aside. Those close to the ruler and those who are crooked and corrupt are trusted instead, while capable people go undiscovered. Those who are distant and low in rank, yet strive to serve loyally, cannot make their views heard by the ruler. When someone offers advice, the ruler presses them with words; when someone remonstrates, the ruler punishes them on charges of wrongdoing. To hope in this way to bring peace to the realm and protect all its people is to be far from clear understanding.

Laozi said: One who knows how to cherish life will not damage the body for the sake of pleasure, even when wealthy and honored; nor will one burden body and mind for the sake of gain, even when poor and lowly. Now that one has inherited a title from one’s ancestors, one should be all the more cautious and not lose it lightly. Life has its source in the distant past, yet one damages it recklessly—is that not foolish? If one can govern the realm by cherishing oneself, the realm can be entrusted to that person; if one can govern the realm by caring for oneself, the realm can be placed in that person’s hands.

Wenzi asked what the foundation of governing a state was. Laozi replied, “The foundation lies in cultivating and ordering oneself. I have never heard of someone who has put themselves in order while the state remained in chaos, nor have I heard of someone who was in chaos themselves yet managed to govern the state well. So, by cultivating yourself, your De (Virtue/Power) becomes genuine. This is the wonder of the Dao (the Way): a father cannot teach it directly to his son, and a son cannot directly receive it from his father. You must experience and cultivate the Dao yourself to truly understand it. As the saying goes, ‘The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name.’ What can be spoken and explained is not the eternal, unchanging Dao; what can be named is not an eternal, unchanging name.”

Wenzi asked, “What should be done so that the people will feel close to their ruler?”

Laozi replied, “Put the people to work at the proper times, and treat them with respect and care, as cautiously as if standing at the edge of an abyss or walking across thin ice. In the world between Heaven and Earth, those who treat me well are my supporters; those who treat me badly are my enemies. In the past, the people of Xia and Shang turned against Jie and Zhou and rallied to Tang and Wu. The people of the Shusha clan also rose against their ruler and submitted to Shennong. So it is said: what people hold in awe must not be treated without awe.

“Governing a great state cannot be done with narrow principles. A vast territory cannot be governed by overly restrictive rules; a high position cannot be managed through petty attention to affairs; and a large population cannot be taught through harsh instruction. When government is entangled in too many affairs, it is hard to govern; when laws are harsh, they are hard to carry out. If too much is demanded, it is hard to provide.

“Measure with inches, and by the time you reach a rod, errors are easy to make. Weigh with small units, and by the time you reach a stone, the measure can easily go wrong. Use stones for weighing and rods for measuring: with larger units, there are fewer errors. Grasp the larger pattern, and matters are easy to understand. Quarrels over small details can hardly be called wise. Therefore, the sage does not do things that bring no benefit to good government and instead fuel disorder; the wise person does not do things that serve no practical purpose and merely increase expense.

“An achievement need not be great, affairs need not be numerous, and needs need not be many. A modest achievement is easy to complete; a few affairs are easy to govern; and fewer needs are easy to meet. Sharing work among many people also makes it easier to manage. Therefore, the sage does not engage in petty disputes that serve no just purpose, and the wise person does not do things that merely add expense. Achievements need not be great, affairs need not be numerous, and needs need not be many: modest achievements are easy to complete, a few affairs are easy to govern, fewer needs are easy to meet, and work shared among many is easier to manage.

“Petty arguments injure what is most important, while fixation on minor duties undermines the Great Dao. If the Dao is too narrow, it cannot reach everywhere; to reach everywhere, it must be simple. Rivers wind and stretch, and so they can flow far; mountain ranges extend layer upon layer, and so they rise high; the Great Dao is spacious and unhurried, and so it can nurture the myriad things. Even someone skilled in a craft, familiar with a task, or proficient in a particular ability can see only a part of things; that alone does not enable them to respond broadly to every situation.

“When tuning a zither, tighten the thin strings and loosen the thick ones. When assigning affairs, those of lower rank do more of the work, while those of higher rank remain at ease. Daoist teachings say: the Dao is vast, profound, and beyond words. By following Heaven’s power, it can share Heaven’s Qi. One who shares Heaven’s Qi may be called an emperor; one who accords with the Dao and its principles may be called a king; one whose achievements are comparable may be called a hegemon. If a ruler can be none of these, the state will perish.

“People will trust you without your speaking; you can show benevolence without deliberately bestowing favors; you can command awe without anger. These are the natural workings of Heaven’s heart, stirring and transforming the myriad things. But if you rely on favors to appear benevolent, words to gain trust, and anger to establish authority, then you depend on your own sincerity and actions. If you bestow favors without benevolence, speak without being trusted, and grow angry without commanding awe, you are only putting on a show. Thus, a person who has the Dao governs through the Dao, and even a few laws are enough to bring society stability. A person without the Dao may have many laws, yet they are enough to bring society into disorder.

“Laozi said, ‘A whale that leaves the water becomes subject to ants. When a ruler abandons the duties he should uphold and competes with his ministers to handle practical affairs, he becomes subject to officials at every level. The ruler should hold his position and keep to his responsibilities through Wuwei, allowing his ministers to carry out their respective duties. If ministers conceal their abilities and leave their tasks for the ruler to take up, the ruler grows ever more exhausted while the ministers grow ever more comfortable.

“If a ruler does not appoint capable people, but prefers to do things himself, his own abilities will steadily be worn down, and he will have to shoulder every responsibility. Once ministers’ duties and authority become confused, the ruler can no longer uphold the principles of law or carry out orders. When government is neglected and positions are not properly filled, the system cannot be maintained. If a ruler’s abilities are insufficient to govern the state, or his authority too weak to enforce punishments, he cannot manage relations with the realm.

“When a ruler displays his likes and dislikes in his heart and reveals his preferences and desires to others, officials will stray from the proper path and try to please him. Law officers, too, will distort the law and follow whichever way the wind blows. When rewards do not match merit and punishments do not match offenses, those above and below grow alienated; ruler and ministers resent one another; the officials fall into disorder; and the ruler’s abilities are not enough to resolve it. Right and wrong, praise and blame, keep arising, yet the ruler cannot see clearly. He may even take responsibility himself for faults that are not his. The busier and more exhausted the ruler becomes, the more comfortable his ministers grow. It is like swinging an axe for a master carpenter: it is nearly impossible not to injure your own hand.

“If someone runs after a horse, they will be exhausted before they can catch it. But if they ride in a carriage, hold the reins, and let the horse pull it, with Bole inspecting the horses and Wang Liang driving, a wise ruler can travel a thousand miles simply by riding. He need not drive the carriage or inspect the horses himself. This is what it means to make good use of others’ strengths.

“The principle by which a ruler governs is to accomplish things without acting rashly, and to establish what is needed without clinging to personal preferences. Acting rashly invites criticism; favoring particular things invites opportunists to curry favor. Criticism can lead to the ruler’s authority being taken away, and personal preferences can be exploited by others. If a system is established but the ruler remains subject to other people, he cannot safeguard the state. Therefore, those skilled at establishing systems ensure that the systems bear no trace of contrivance. Only through subtle transformation can the myriad things be overcome by nothing.

“Keeping inner desires from showing outwardly is called ‘closing’ the heart’s gate; preventing harmful thoughts from the outside from entering the heart is called ‘securing’ the heart’s gate. If the heart is closed and the outside kept secure, what cannot be restrained? If the outside is secured and the heart closed, what cannot be accomplished? Do not act rashly, yet let things be effective; take action without boasting of it. Speak without silencing others, and do things without taking credit from others. Assess actual results according to each person’s title, and hold every official responsible for their own duties. Make governing without presuming to be clever the guiding principle, and make the prevention of harsh measures that burden the people the chief concern. Then every official’s work can be properly assessed.

“Laozi said, ‘Food and nourishment are the foundation of the people’s survival, and the people are the foundation of the state. Therefore, when a ruler follows the seasons above, makes use of the land’s advantages below, and draws on human effort in between, the myriad things can grow and flourish.

“In spring, cut down dead trees; in summer, gather all kinds of fruit; in autumn, store vegetables and grain; in winter, collect firewood for the people’s use. Ensure that the living have what they need each day and that the dead are properly buried, so no body is left unburied. The laws laid down by the ancient kings forbade catching whole herds of animals or cutting down young trees. They did not drain ponds and marshes to catch fish, or burn forests to hunt. Before jackals had held their ritual feast after a hunt, nets could not be spread across the fields. Before otters had held their ritual feast after catching fish, fishing nets could not be cast into the water. Before hawks and falcons began their hunts, nets could not be set by the water. While plants and trees had not yet withered, people could not enter the mountains and forests to cut them down; while insects had not yet gone into hibernation, fields could not be burned. When animals were pregnant or nursing their young, people did not kill the young birds or take eggs from nests. Fish shorter than a foot could not be caught; dogs and pigs less than a year old could not be slaughtered for food.

“Thus the myriad things flourish, like vapor continually rising. This is how the ancient kings followed the seasons, prepared supplies in advance, enriched the state, and benefited the people. Such a way of governing cannot be achieved through the eyes alone or by hurrying about on foot. If a ruler keeps the people’s welfare in mind, the people too will naturally make their preparations.’”

Laozi said: Wise rulers of antiquity levied goods from the people with restraint and used them for their own needs in moderation. They first estimated the year’s harvest, assessed the people’s savings, and determined whether grain was in surplus or short supply. Only then did they collect what was needed to provide for themselves. In this way, they could accept what Heaven and Earth bestowed and avoid the hardship of hunger and cold. Such rulers cared for their people: when anyone in the state went hungry, they did not indulge in a variety of delicacies; when the people were cold, they did not wear fur robes in winter. Rulers shared their people’s joys and hardships, and so no one under Heaven resented them.

Foolish rulers acted otherwise. They levied from the people without regard for what they could bear, and demanded goods without considering their savings. Men and women could not work calmly in the fields or at the loom to meet the government’s demands. Their strength was exhausted and their possessions spent: what they had today was gone tomorrow. Rulers and ministers resented one another. To make a living, one person might guide a plow and till the land, yet usually could not cultivate even ten mu. An average field yielded no more than four shi of grain. A wife, children, and elderly or frail family members all depended on this harvest; if disaster struck, they could not meet the ruler’s demands. A wise ruler would take pity on the people. A greedy and tyrannical ruler, however, would drain their resources to satisfy his endless desires. As a result, the people could neither receive Heaven’s harmonious Qi nor enjoy Earth’s bounty.

Laozi said: Among the Qi between Heaven and Earth, nothing matters more than harmony. Harmony means Yin and Yang in balance, and day and night of equal length. All things grow at the spring equinox and ripen at the autumn equinox; neither growth nor ripening can occur without the subtle workings of harmonious Qi. When Yin Qi gathers, things cannot grow; when Yang Qi gathers, things cannot develop and transform. Only when Yin and Yang join can harmonious Qi arise. Thus the sage acts with generosity and principle, seriousness and warmth, gentleness and integrity, courage and benevolence.

Excessive hardness leads to breaking; excessive softness leads to bending. The way of conduct lies between firmness and flexibility. A rope can be coiled away or drawn out straight. It can be long without becoming tangled across itself, and short without being severed. It is straight without being rigid, so the sage takes it as a model. Excessive kindness makes people timid; when people become timid, they lose their dignity. Excessive severity makes people fierce; when they become too fierce, harmony is lost. Excessive favor leads to indulgence, and indulgence makes people difficult to govern. Excessive punishment brings disorder; once disorder arises, family bonds also fall apart. Therefore, good governance depends on balance.

Laozi said: A state endures because it accords with the Dao; it moves toward ruin when it loses harmony. Excessive weakness leaves it without authority; excessive severity makes it fierce and destroys harmony. Excessive favor leads to indulgence and makes people difficult to govern; excessive punishment brings disorder and turns people against one another. Therefore, good governance depends on balance.

Laozi says: A state can endure because it has attained the Dao (the natural and proper principles of governance). A state moves toward ruin when the principles of its governance are blocked and cannot function. Thus, the sage observes changes in things and reads the trends in their early signs. Whether virtuous government will flourish or decline is often first revealed in the prevailing customs. A state that understands the way to survive may begin weak and gradually grow strong; a state showing signs of ruin may succeed for a time, but will eventually fail.

When a state is doomed, even a great power is no basis for confidence; when the Dao can be put into practice, even a small state should not be dismissed. Whether a state endures depends on whether it follows the Dao, not on whether it was small to begin with. Whether it is destroyed depends on whether it loses the Dao, not on whether it was strong to begin with. The ruler of a disorderly state cares only about the breadth of its territory and not about benevolence and righteousness; seeks only a high position and does not cultivate the Dao and De. This means abandoning the foundation on which the state depends for its survival and turning instead toward ruin. If the ruler disrupts the natural order symbolized by the sun, moon, and stars, and also loses the people’s support, who will still uphold him? Therefore, one who examines oneself does not place one’s hopes in others.

What ancient rulers practiced deeply was called the Dao and De; what they practiced less deeply was called benevolence and righteousness; what they practiced more superficially was called ritual and wisdom. These six principles—the Dao, De, benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and wisdom—are the guiding principles that hold a state together. The more deeply they are practiced, the greater the blessings they bring; the more shallowly they are practiced, the more limited those blessings. If they are put fully into practice, people throughout the world will submit willingly. Through cultivating the Dao and De, the ancients could set the world in order; through cultivating benevolence and righteousness, they could set a whole state in order; through cultivating ritual and wisdom, they could set a single community in order. Deep virtue has a broad influence; shallow virtue, a limited one.

A position is not established by flaunting military force; victory is not won through hard-fought struggle; and gains do not come from greedily seizing what others have. One can find a place in the world by extending consideration to others; one can prevail over the world by letting its people submit of their own accord; one can gain the world when its people willingly join with one, rather than when one takes it by force. Thus, a way of conduct like that of the female, which symbolizes gentleness and humility, can secure a place in the world; the weak can prevail. Practicing benevolence and righteousness wins people’s hearts. By not contending with others, one leaves no one able to contend with them. The Dao moves through the world like the rivers and streams that flow into the rivers and seas.

The law of Heaven is this: forcing things into action makes failure more likely; insisting on holding on makes loss more likely. If one seeks a great reputation, one would have to pursue it through contention. I believe that in the end this is unlikely to succeed. Even if one grasps a reputation by force for a time, one cannot keep it for long. Reputation cannot be obtained by chasing after it; it comes from the recognition of people throughout the world. People willingly submit because of virtue. Thus, superior De brings the people of the world to submit; superior benevolence brings those within the four seas to submit; superior righteousness brings a whole state to submit; and superior ritual brings a single community to submit. If one lacks all four, the people will not submit. When people’s hearts are not won, resorting to military force is dangerous.

Weapons are instruments of ill omen and should be used only when there is no alternative. Even in victory, one should not take pride in them, for weapons bring death and injury. The battlefield is a place of death, where thorns and brambles grow. The dead and wounded should be mourned with grief and laid to rest according to funeral rites. Therefore, the noble person devotes themselves to the Dao and De and does not resort lightly to military force.

Wenzi asked, “Why are benevolence, righteousness, and ritual shallower than the Dao and De?”

Laozi replied, “Those who speak of benevolence always measure human feelings by grief and joy. Those who speak of righteousness always distinguish right from wrong by giving and taking. Yet across the world, people’s grief and joy cannot be attended to everywhere, and the goods in the storehouses are not enough to support all the people. So rather than speak only of benevolence and righteousness, it is better to cultivate the Dao and practice De, follow the nature of Heaven and Earth, and let all things find stability in their own way. Then the world can flourish, and benevolence and righteousness will follow. Therefore, the great person grounds themself in deep Dao and De, and does not remain at the level of shallow benevolence, righteousness, and ritual.

“Ritual is the outward expression of sincere feeling within; benevolence is the practical expression of affection. Ritual should therefore be shaped by human feeling and should not go beyond what is sincerely felt within. Nor should benevolence exceed the affection actually present. Grief should arise from the heart, and funeral rites should accord with benevolent feeling. In caring for the living, do not compel people to do what lies beyond their ability; in bidding farewell to the dead, do not omit the rites that human feeling requires. When things are measured well and kept within bounds, blame and praise will naturally have no cause to arise.

“Music is made to bring people harmony and joy; it should not go beyond what harmony permits. One must also understand the difference between life and death and grasp the proper measure between extravagance and frugality. In the declining ages, things are otherwise: words and actions contradict one another, and inner feelings and outward expressions do not agree. Ritual becomes elaborate and showy; music grows excessive and disruptive. Customs become absorbed in worldly concerns, while praise and blame pour in from the court. Those who have attained the Dao abandon these practices and no longer employ them.

“If a person races a fine horse on foot, the person cannot outrun the horse. But if the person rides in a carriage, the horse cannot surpass the person. Those skilled in using the Dao draw on the strength of others to accomplish great things: they let people put their abilities to use and entrust them with what they themselves cannot do. When a ruler provides the people with what they need at the right time, the people repay the ruler with their possessions. When a ruler treats them with ritual respect, they repay the ruler with their lives.

“Thus, when the state is in danger, the ruler cannot be at ease; when the ruler is troubled, the ministers cannot be at peace. Those whose virtue exceeds what their position requires should be honored; those whose stipend exceeds what their virtue warrants will bring calamity upon themselves. One should not seek a position higher than one’s virtue merits, nor seek more than righteousness allows. To gain prominence without virtue is to steal an office; to profit without righteousness is to steal property. The sage is content with poverty and takes joy in practicing the Dao. The sage does not let desire damage life or let gain become a burden. Thus, the sage does not violate righteousness or take recklessly.

“In ancient times, those lacking virtue were not honored, those without ability were not given office, those without merit were not rewarded, and those without fault were not punished. People were promoted according to ritual propriety and dismissed according to righteousness. In times when petty people held power, promoting someone was like sending them up to Heaven, while dismissing them was like pushing them into an abyss. These words praise antiquity and criticize the present: people overlook a horse because it is thin, and overlook a worthy person because they are poor. A pig is fattened to fill the kitchen, while a worthy person is buried in obscurity because they have no office. A gentleman should examine what is real and not trust slander. If a ruler makes mistakes and no one remonstrates, the ministers are not loyal. If a minister remonstrates and the ruler refuses to listen, the ruler is unenlightened. If the people fall into hardship and the ruler feels no concern, the ruler is not wise. Therefore, holding firm to one’s integrity and facing danger for one’s country are a minister’s duties; keeping people from cold and hunger is the kindness of a father.

“To use the strong to oppress the weak is to turn away from human ways; for the weak to offend the strong is to go against Heaven’s order. Those who once rose to Heaven will later surely fall into the abyss. Thus, in the village, people honor elders according to age and do not abandon the old who have fallen into hardship; at court, distinctions of rank are made according to title. The noble are honored because they are close to the ruler; the old are respected because they are like one’s kin; those older than oneself are esteemed because they are like elder brothers. Those born to high rank are prone to arrogance, and those born to wealth are prone to extravagance. Therefore, among the rich and powerful, few can avoid wrongdoing if they do not use the illumination of the Dao to examine themselves.

“Learning without becoming satisfied is a way to cultivate oneself; teaching others without growing weary is a way to govern the people. With the help of worthy teachers and good friends, people seldom go astray. Knowing who is worthy is called wisdom; loving the worthy is called benevolence; honoring the worthy is called righteousness; showing respect to the worthy is called ritual; taking joy in the worthy is called music.

“Those skilled in governing the world in ancient times practiced Wuwei (non-action), yet nothing was left undone. To govern the world, one must be able to contain all things. If one can contain them, one can practice Wuwei and still accomplish things; if one cannot, one’s actions will often bring danger. To be able to contain all things means to be cautious, like crossing a river in winter; wary, as if watching out for danger on every side; solemn and respectful, like someone receiving guests; melting and yielding, like ice thawing; plain and substantial, like uncarved wood; indistinct, like muddy water; and open, like a valley.

“To be cautious like someone crossing a river in winter is not to dare act rashly. To be wary, as if watching out for danger on every side, is to fear harming oneself. To be solemn and respectful is to be humble and courteous. To be like ice thawing is not to dare hoard private possessions. To be plain and unadorned is not to dare regard oneself as perfect. To be indistinct like muddy water is not to dare flaunt one’s purity. To be open like a valley is not to dare be self-satisfied. Because one does not dare rush ahead, one does not try to be first. Because one fears harming oneself, one keeps to softness and weakness and does not boast. Because one is humble and places oneself below others, one can respect them. Because one does not hoard, one can reduce harmful excess and avoid clinging to what is hard and fixed. Because one does not consider oneself perfect, one can leave room for imperfection and preserve oneself. Because one remains amid defilement and disgrace without claiming to be pure, one can stay clear-minded. Because one sees one’s own shortcomings and does not presume to be right, one can become worthy.

“The Dao yields, and so takes the lead; it keeps to softness and weakness, and so becomes strong; it places itself below, and so can respect others; it understands how to diminish, and so its foundation becomes full and firm; it does not seek perfection, and so can preserve itself; it remains amid defilement and disgrace, and so stays fresh; it sees its own shortcomings, and so can become worthy. This is the Dao: it practices Wuwei, yet nothing is beyond its accomplishment.”

Laozi said, “Anyone who studies and can understand the difference between the Way of Heaven and human affairs, grasp the foundations of good government and disorder, clarify the spirit, settle the mind, and hold fast to these principles; who observes how things change from beginning to end and ultimately returns to a state of emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action)—such a person may be called truly discerning.

“The foundation of governing a state is benevolence and righteousness; laws and regulations are only secondary details. What people depend on to live is fundamental; what they do not depend on to live is secondary. The fundamental and the secondary have always depended on each other, and both deserve care. Those who give priority to what is fundamental and attend to what is secondary afterward are called exemplary people; those who put what is secondary first and attend to what is fundamental afterward are called petty people. Laws and regulations are established to support benevolence and righteousness. To prize laws and regulations while abandoning benevolence and righteousness is like cherishing only hats and shoes while forgetting the head and feet.

“Benevolence and righteousness are a broad and deep foundation. If the foundation is not made deep but is only widened, it will be ruined; if it is too narrow but continually built higher, it will topple. Thus, if a main beam is not stout enough, it cannot bear a heavy load. Nothing is better suited to carrying a heavy load than a main beam; nothing is more essential to governing a state than De (Virtue/Power). A ruler’s possession of the people is like a city’s foundation or a tree’s roots: when the roots run deep, the base is firm; when the foundation is solid, the structure above is secure. Therefore, an undertaking that does not take moral virtue as its foundation cannot serve as a lasting standard, and words that do not accord with the Way of the former kings cannot be called the right way. A method that selects just one kind of conduct or one particular achievement to promote is not the great Way that can be followed throughout the world.

“Laozi said, ‘The way to govern the people is like Zao Fu driving a chariot drawn by four horses. He must harmonize the reins and bits and keep his posture as a driver upright; he must hold the proper measure in his mind and align himself outwardly with the horses’ intentions. Only then can he travel far along the right road while keeping strength in reserve, able to move forward or back, turn, and stop.’”

Laozi says: Governing the people is like Zao Fu, the skilled charioteer of ancient times, driving a team of four horses. He must adjust the reins and bits, hold himself correctly at the reins, grasp the principles inwardly, and act in keeping with the horses’ nature. Only then can he move forward, travel a long distance, and still have strength to spare. Whether advancing, retreating, or turning, he handles the team with ease. This is truly mastery of the art of driving.

Power is like the chariot in which a ruler rides, while the ministers are like the four horses he drives. A ruler depends on the steadiness of his chariot and must not lose the ability to guide his ministers. If the four horses are out of harmony, even Zao Fu cannot drive far; if ruler and ministers are at odds, even a sage cannot govern the state well. When a ruler uses the principles of government to guide his ministers, even people of ordinary ability can put their intelligence to full use. When titles and duties are made clear, those who act crookedly can be kept in check. Observe how circumstances change when issues arise, and respond in keeping with the moment when they present themselves. If affairs nearby are kept in order, governance at a distance will also be secure. Without relying on deliberate force, one can follow the natural patterns of things and act without error.

Laozi says: All who follow the Dao must block off crooked paths and prevent trouble before it arises. The point is not to make people believe they are in the right, but to make wrongdoing impossible. Thus it is said: “Do not stir up excessive desires in people, or they will pursue them day after day. Do not place things within reach that people can fight over, or they will struggle over them day after day.” In this way, private desires will fade, and the principles of fairness can be put into practice. Keep surplus goods within proper bounds and bring what is lacking up to what is sufficient, so that people throughout the realm can live in harmony.

If duties are abandoned and only praise and blame are heeded, or merit is set aside and close associates and factions are appointed instead, then even people of exceptional talent and ability may remain in their posts for a long time without being able to put their gifts to use. The people’s customs will deteriorate as a result, and the state’s meritorious officials will struggle against one another at court. Thus, those who possess the Dao can guide others; those who lack it will be controlled by others.

Laozi said: There are enduring principles for governing a state, and their foundation is the people’s well-being. There are also sound principles for carrying out policies and instruction, and the commands issued should accord with the standards of antiquity. If something benefits the people, it need not necessarily follow ancient methods; if it handles affairs well, it need not necessarily preserve old customs.

Thus, laws established by the sage change with the times, and rituals change with local customs. Clothing and implements should each suit their purpose; laws and policies should be made to fit actual circumstances. Changing ancient methods is not necessarily blameworthy, and preserving old customs is not necessarily praiseworthy.

Reading the books left by the former kings is not as good as hearing what they said; hearing what they said is not as good as understanding why they said it. Once their intention is truly understood, it becomes clear that some principles cannot be fully expressed in words. As the Daodejing says: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.”

The Dao followed by the sage is as constant as metal and stone. But in dealing with particular affairs, it is like playing the zither and lute: when one piece ends, the tune must change. Laws, rituals, and music are tools used in governing; they are not governance itself. Therefore, people of shallow understanding are not fit to discuss the highest Dao, for they are clouded by worldly ideas and bound by established doctrines.

Laozi said: Where in the world is there an unchanging rule? If affairs are suited to their times, accord with human feelings and reason, follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth, and carefully take account of the spirits, then governance can accord with the right way. Establishing rituals and music is a tool used in governing; it is not governance itself. Therefore, people of shallow understanding are not fit to discuss the highest Dao, for they are clouded by worldly ideas and bound by established doctrines.

Laozi said, “Are there perhaps unchanging laws in the world? One must take account of worldly affairs, accord with human feelings, follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth, and examine the spirits as well in order to govern properly.”

In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns made no laws, yet the people willingly obeyed them. The Five Emperors made laws, yet there were no punishments. The Xia people kept their word; the Yin people swore oaths; and the Zhou people made covenants. In later ages, people endured disgrace yet treated honor lightly, and coveted wealth while feeling little shame. Therefore, laws and government orders must be shaped by local customs, adjusting their strictness and leniency, and their pace. Tools and institutions, too, must change with the times and suit their circumstances.

Those bound by laws cannot be asked to discuss the principles of adapting to circumstances; those rigidly attached to ritual cannot be expected to respond to change. Only people with exceptional insight and keen powers of observation can grasp the principles and apply them flexibly. Those who understand why laws were established can adapt to the times; those who do not understand the fundamentals of governance will fall into disorder in the end, even if they follow the rules to the letter.

Today, some scholars carry on the teachings of their predecessors, clutching books and clinging to their words and established methods, believing that this will be enough to govern the state well. This is like trying to fit a square tenon into a round mortise: making it fit is exceedingly difficult. Resolving crises and bringing disorder under control cannot be done without wisdom. Anyone, however foolish, can praise the ancients with ease. That is why the sages do not copy old laws that no longer suit the times, and why enlightened rulers do not put their faith in words that have never been tested.

Wenzi asked, “Where do laws come from?”

Laozi said, “Laws arise from justice, and justice arises from the common will of the people. When the people’s wishes accord with their hearts, the key to good governance is in place. Laws do not descend from Heaven or grow out of the earth; they arise among human beings. Those who govern should first examine themselves and set themselves straight. If they understand the root, details will not confuse them; if they grasp what matters, doubts will not mislead them. Do not blame others for failings you have yourself, and do not demand that others follow rules you do not observe. Those in high positions must not set aside rules they expect those below them to follow; rulers must not do what they forbid the people to do.

“Therefore, when a ruler makes laws, he should first take himself as the standard. Only when prohibitions bind the ruler himself can laws be put into practice among the people. Law is the common standard for all under Heaven and the measure by which a ruler judges conduct. Laws are proclaimed to bring those who break them into line. Once the laws are established, those who meet the standard are rewarded, and those who violate it are punished. A person’s high status does not lessen the reward due; a person’s low status does not make the penalty harsher. Even if someone who breaks the law is capable and worthy, they must still be punished according to the law. And even if someone who meets the standard is not especially worthy, they should not be found guilty. In this way, justice can prevail and selfish desires can be restrained.

“In ancient times, officials were appointed to restrain the people, so they could not act recklessly; rulers were established to restrain officials, so they could not act arbitrarily. Laws and the Way of governance also restrain the ruler, so he cannot act tyrannically or arbitrarily. When no one is free to act recklessly, the Dao prevails and reason can be upheld. Thus, returning to simplicity and following what is natural does not mean doing nothing; it means not acting recklessly according to one’s own private wishes.”

Laozi also said, “Those skilled at rewarding spend little but encourage many; those skilled at punishing use penalties sparingly but still suppress wrongdoing. Those skilled at giving use resources frugally yet accomplish acts of kindness; those skilled at taking receive much without arousing resentment. Thus, sages encourage good conduct by responding to what the people love, and prohibit wrongdoing by acting on what they hate. Reward one person, and all under Heaven will vie to do good; punish one person, and all under Heaven will feel fear. In this way, the highest form of reward requires little expenditure, and punishment is applied appropriately without excess. Sages govern by simple means yet achieve far-reaching results: that is what this principle means.”

Laozi says that ministers should distinguish right from wrong and understand their duties, take the initiative in their work, attend to their own responsibilities, and keep their roles distinct, thereby accomplishing great deeds. Rulers and ministers therefore have different responsibilities; confusing them leads to disorder. When each fulfills their role properly, those above and below can direct and support one another. Branches must not be thicker than the trunk, nor the tips stronger than the roots. This shows that there must be a fitting balance of constraint between the light and the heavy, the small and the great.

Those who wield authority may rely on something small yet gain great benefit; they may need to guard only a narrow place yet control a vast domain. This is because they occupy a crucial position. A tree ten arm spans around can support a roof weighing a thousand jun, because it stands in the right place. A bolt five inches wide can control whether a gate opens or closes, because it is positioned at a vital point. Once an order has been issued, it must be carried out. Those who obey it benefit, while those who defy it suffer; thus the people under Heaven will follow it. Orders and prohibitions can be issued and enforced because those who govern know how to draw on the strength of the people.

A course of action in keeping with right principles will not necessarily benefit everyone under Heaven. Yet if it benefits one person, the people may rally to it. Nor will a tyrannical course necessarily harm everyone under Heaven. Yet if it harms one person, the people may turn against it. Therefore, appointments, dismissals, and decisions about how to handle affairs must all be made with care.

Laozi says that bending an inch to extend a foot, yielding in a small matter to remain upright in a greater one—this is something even a sage will do. When rulers assess their ministers, if they fail to weigh their major achievements and overall performance and instead pick at minor strengths and flaws, they risk losing worthy people. Someone of profound De need not be judged by every minor detail of conduct; someone of great renown should not be dismissed over a small failing. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. What matters is whether they can accomplish what is essential. If they do so well, minor faults need not hold them back. If they do not, there is little to praise in their performance of everyday tasks.

Thus, those who cling to minor details find it hard to accomplish great things; those who constantly criticize others’ conduct find it hard to make room for people. A broad-minded person may be less exacting about details, while someone of great stature may earn a reputation that travels far. This is the principle that should guide the evaluation and appointment of ministers.

Laozi says that from ancient times to the present, no one has acted with perfect virtue in every respect. A noble person therefore does not demand that anyone be flawless. The passage closes by stressing once more that a person cannot be judged solely by their everyday conduct in their village. Clinging to minor details makes great achievements difficult, and constantly finding fault with others makes it hard to accept them. What matters is a person’s overall capacity and their lasting influence.

Laozi said: From ancient times to the present, no one has been able to make every word and deed flawless. Therefore, a noble person does not demand perfection in every matter from others. One should be upright without harming people, honest without being harsh, principled without being unrestrained, and broadly knowledgeable without criticizing others. One should not demand perfection in another’s virtue, literary talent, or military ability. A noble person does not censure others harshly, but cultivates himself in accordance with the Dao. In this way, he will not shift responsibility onto others and can readily discharge his own obligations. Cultivating oneself according to the Dao makes it possible to commit fewer faults.

Even the jade semicircle of the Xia rulers could not be without flaws, and even a luminous pearl could not be without blemishes. Yet people throughout the world still treasured them, because small imperfections do not diminish their great beauty. If one focuses only on others’ shortcomings and forgets their strengths, while hoping to find worthy people among all those in the world, the task will be difficult.

Ordinary people are often misled by someone’s rank, status, or the lowliness of the work they do, and so fail to see that person’s general character. To assess someone, one can look at the following: when he holds high office, see whom he recommends; when he is wealthy, see how he gives; when he is poor, see what he accepts; when he is of low status, see what work he undertakes. Observe how he behaves in adversity to understand his courage. Stir him with pleasure and see whether he can hold to his principles. Entrust him with wealth and observe his benevolence. Test him with fear and observe his integrity. In this way, one can understand a person’s true nature.

Laozi said: Being pressed down prepares one to rise later; meeting with setbacks prepares one to become upright in the end. Yield a little for a time, and you can achieve greater expansion; endure a small hurt for a time, and you can fulfill a greater duty. A noble person is willing to act this way. When the streams of a hundred rivers converge, unless they flow toward the sea, they cannot be called waters of the valleys. If a person’s conduct leads in different directions and cannot be brought into accord with goodness, that person cannot be called a noble person.

Good words are valued because they can be put into practice; good conduct is valued because it accords with benevolence and righteousness. When a noble person makes a mistake, it is like the sun or moon being briefly obscured: their original brightness is not diminished. Thus, the wise do not act rashly, and the brave do not kill indiscriminately. They first determine what is right, then decide what to do; they assess whether an action accords with ritual and law, and only then carry it out. In this way, once the task is done, its achievements are worthy of trust; even after death, one’s reputation remains worthy of praise.

Even a person with wisdom and talent must take benevolence and righteousness as a foundation in order to accomplish anything. Wisdom and talent should go hand in hand with benevolence and righteousness. The sage always uses benevolence and righteousness as a standard for judging conduct: those who meet the standard are called noble people; those who do not are called petty people. Even when a noble person dies, their reputation does not vanish. Even if a petty person gains power for a time, their wrongs are not thereby erased.

To hold a map of the world in one hand and cut one’s own throat with the other is something even a fool would not do, because a person’s life is more precious than the world. But when someone faces danger for the sake of a ruler or parent and can regard death as calmly as returning home, it is because moral duty is more important than life. Thus, even the greatest benefit in the world is small beside life; and what is most precious in life is light beside benevolence and righteousness. This is what it means to use benevolence and righteousness as one’s standard.

Laozi said: Those complete in De (Virtue/Power) shine like the sun and moon. The Yi, Man, and Mo—ancient names for peoples on the borders—can understand this principle even if they do not regard possession of the world as precious. When someone faces danger for the sake of a ruler or parent and can regard death as a return home, it is because moral duty is more important than life. Thus, the greatest benefit in the world is still small beside life; and what is most precious in life is light beside benevolence and righteousness. This is what it means to use benevolence and righteousness as one’s standard.

Laozi said: When the cultivation of Dao and De is complete, it shines like the sun and moon. Its purpose does not change even in remote regions inhabited by the Yi, Di, Man, and Mo peoples. When a person sets aside private interests and shares the aspirations of the people, praise and blame from the outside world depend on conventional opinion. When one’s conduct accords with the times, adversity or success depends on the moment. When an undertaking adapts to the circumstances of the world, it can accomplish great things; when one acts at the right time, a reputation can be established.

Therefore, those who wish to establish a name and achieve distinction should avoid being entangled in worldly concerns while carefully watching for the right moment. Once the moment arrives, the opportunity passes in an instant; not even a brief delay is possible.

In ancient times, armies were not raised out of greed for land or wealth. They were raised to rescue the imperiled, quell disorder, and rid the people of harm. Those consumed by boundless greed brutalized the realm and denied the people peace. The sages therefore rose to punish the violent and pacify troubled times, removing harm from the realm and transforming chaos into order, danger into security. Tradition says that the Red Emperor brought about a fire, so the Yellow Emperor captured him; Gonggong brought about a flood, so Zhuanxu executed him.

The sages first taught the people through reason, then guided them by virtue. Only if they still refused to heed them did the sages use force and authority; if they remained defiant, armies were sent. To kill innocent people while sustaining an unjust ruler is the greatest calamity. To gather the wealth of the realm merely to satisfy one person’s desires is the gravest disaster. Giving free rein to one person’s desires only deepens the suffering of all under Heaven; Heaven does not sanction this.

Rulers were established to put an end to violence. But now a ruler, relying on the strength of the people, turns around and harms them. This is like giving a tiger wings—how could such a ruler not be removed? Those who raise fish must eliminate otters that prey on them; those who keep livestock must clear away wolves and jackals. How much more must this be done when governing the people? This is why war arises.

Laozi says that the way to govern a state is for those in high positions not to issue harsh laws, for officials not to impose cumbersome administration, for scholars not to engage in deceit, and for artisans not to pursue excessively ingenious techniques. Let each matter be handled according to its proper duties, without disruption; let objects be made sound and serviceable, without deliberate ornamentation.

The age of disorder is different. People praise one another’s supposedly noble conduct, and even in observing ceremony they compete in ostentatious display. Chariots and horses are carved and decorated with the greatest intricacy, while utensils are engraved with excessive refinement. Those seeking goods compete to treat rare things as treasures; those who prize fine writing pursue elaborate embellishment, making it their chief concern. Scholars show off their clever arguments, and matters drag on without resolution. This does nothing to help govern; instead, it encourages disorder. Artisans make ingenious objects that take years to complete but are unsuited to practical use.

Thus the principles by which Shennong governed say: if adult men do not farm, people in the world will go hungry; if women of marriageable age do not weave, people in the world will go cold. Shennong therefore farmed with his own hands, and his wife spun and wove with hers, setting an example for all under Heaven. He taught the people not to prize rare goods or treasure useless things. If they did not farm diligently, they could not feed themselves; if they did not work hard at weaving, they would have no clothes to wear. The amount each person had for daily needs depended on that person’s own labor. When food and clothing were plentiful, deceitful and wicked conduct did not arise. The people lived in peace and contentment, and the world was at peace. The clever had no opportunity to scheme, and the strong had nowhere to display their might.

Laozi also says that the way to establish hegemony or kingship is first to plan, then to prepare, and to act in accordance with righteousness. This is not done to secure one’s own survival, but to save a state on the verge of destruction.

Therefore, when one hears that the ruler of an enemy state is cruelly oppressing the people, one sends troops to its borders, denounces his unrighteousness, and exposes his crimes. When the army reaches the outskirts, its commanders are ordered: do not cut down trees, dig up graves, damage crops, burn granaries, seize the people, or plunder livestock.

Then a proclamation is issued: “The ruler of that state has defied the Way of Heaven and shown contempt for the spirits. He has judged cases unjustly and killed innocent people indiscriminately. Heaven seeks to punish him, and the people hate him. We have sent our army to remove unrighteousness and establish a virtuous ruler. Whoever dares to defy the Way of Heaven and bring harm to the people will be put to death, and their whole clan will be destroyed. If the people submit with one household, that household will receive a stipend; if they submit with one li, they will be granted a li; if they submit with one township, they will be granted a township; if they submit with one county, they will be made the lords of that county.”

After taking the enemy state, the army does not harm the people. It deposes the former ruler and changes his government’s orders; honors outstanding scholars and brings worthy people to prominence; provides for orphans and widows, supports the poor, releases prisoners, and rewards those who have rendered service. The people open the city gates to welcome the righteous army and prepare stores of grain, fearing only that it might not come.

When a righteous army reaches the border, the enemy will cease resisting without a battle. When an unrighteous army arrives, corpses will cover the ground and blood will flow in streams. Therefore, those who wage war to seize territory cannot establish kingship, and those who seek only their own gain cannot achieve great things. Those who work for the people will receive everyone’s support; those who think only of themselves will be abandoned by everyone. What the people support can grow strong even when it begins weak; what they abandon will perish even when it is powerful.

Laozi said: The highest form of rule grounded in the Dao is to govern the state and bring peace to its lands, promote benevolence and righteousness, extend kindness and favor, establish just laws, and close off crooked paths. Then ministers will draw near and pledge their allegiance, the people will live in harmony, those above and below will be united in purpose, and officials will work together. The regional lords will respect their ruler’s authority, and people from the four directions will be grateful for his kindness. By putting the affairs of the court in good order, he can resolve conflicts a thousand miles away. Once he issues a command, the whole realm will respond. This is the highest way to govern a state.

Even if a state has vast territory and a large population, a wise ruler and capable generals, abundant resources and a powerful army, with strict discipline and clear commands, it can still make an enemy flee before battle begins and weapons meet, even when the two armies are evenly matched. This is the next best approach.

If a state can rely only on knowing the terrain and its strategic passes, understanding the effects of harsh rule, and grasping the tactics of marching and deployment, then battle will bring blades clashing and arrows flying. Soldiers will die, the wounded will need treatment, blood will flow for a thousand miles, and corpses will cover the wilderness. This is the lowest state of the Dao.

Victory and defeat in war ultimately depend on governance. When government is just, the people will rally to their ruler and the army will grow strong. When government is misguided, the people will turn against their ruler and the army will weaken. A Dao sufficient to win the allegiance of the people throughout the realm; an undertaking sufficient to meet the realm’s urgent needs; the selection and appointment of capable people sufficient to win the hearts of the worthy; and plans and decisions sufficient to weigh gains against losses: this is the highest way to govern a state.

Laozi says: A state can become strong only when its soldiers are willing to die for it. This readiness to face death comes from a sense of righteousness, and putting righteousness into practice depends on authority. The people must therefore be guided through education and government directives, and the ranks brought into order through military discipline. Only by combining civil governance with force can a state hope to win; only when authority and righteousness go hand in hand can it become truly strong.

When blades clash and arrows and stones fall like rain, soldiers still rush forward because rewards are trustworthy and punishments clear. When a ruler regards his people as his children, they regard him as their father; when he regards them as brothers, they regard him as an elder brother. A ruler who truly cares for his people as he would his children can govern the four quarters. When the people serve him as they would their father, his orders can be carried out throughout the realm. If he treats them as brothers, they will be willing to die for him; if they honor him as an elder brother, they too will be willing to sacrifice themselves.

For this reason, the bonds of affection between parent and child or between brothers cannot be applied to enemies. A ruler who upholds righteousness puts his government in order at home and cultivates De (Virtue/Power), while abroad he guards against evil and makes the state’s strength known. He also takes account of his soldiers’ toil and rest, and learns whether they are hungry or full. When the appointed day for battle arrives, they will face death without turning back, because their ruler has shown them kindness in their daily lives.

The highest form of ritual.

Laozi says: In ancient times, the perfected people—those who had attained the Dao—breathed by harmonizing the Qi of Yin and Yang. All beings revered their De, and through it lived in harmony and peace. In those days, governance remained hidden and unseen, and people naturally kept their simplicity. While simplicity had not yet dispersed, all things could live in peace and abundance.

As the age declined, in the time of Fuxi, people began to depart from their original, unknowing nature and sought to understand the many principles of heaven and earth. Their De gradually grew more complicated and ceased to be whole. Later, when Shennong and the Yellow Emperor governed the world, they established laws and systems and directed the people; they ordered the seasons and harmonized Yin and Yang. The people then stood and looked up to them, listening intently and hoping to rely on them to govern the world. Thus, although the world was brought under governance, it did not attain true harmony.

By the Xia and Shang dynasties, people’s desires increasingly pursued external things, and their intelligence was drawn outward. Their nature and life lost their original simplicity and truth. In the Zhou dynasty, the ways of sincerity grew shallow, and simple nature was lost. People turned away from the Great Dao and pursued what was false. They treated deliberate restraint in De as cultivation, giving rise to crafty schemes. They imitated sages and embellished the Odes and Documents to win a reputation and deceive the people. Each displayed cleverness and artifice to secure a place in the world, yet lost what was fundamental. The causes of people’s loss of their nature and the gradual decline of their lives have therefore been at work for a very long time.

Thus, the perfected person—one who has reached the realm of the Dao—studies in order to return their nature to its natural state and let their mind and Shen roam in emptiness and stillness. Conventional learning, by contrast, exalts De and harms nature, filling the heart with anxiety and leading people to act without restraint and exceed their proper bounds, all in pursuit of fame in the world. These are not things the perfected person does. Exalting De is a way of showing oneself off; harming one’s nature cuts off the root of life.

The perfected person sees through the principles of life and death and understands the truth of honor and disgrace. If all under heaven praises them, they do not become more zealous; if all under heaven condemns them, they do not become more dejected. This is what it means to grasp the essential principle of the supreme Dao.

Laozi says: The ancient rulers wore their hair loose and their garments without collars, yet they were able to govern the world. Their De nourished all things without killing indiscriminately; they gave to the people without plundering them. The people of the world did not necessarily wear the same clothes, yet all cherished and honored their De. In such an age, Yin and Yang were in harmony, and all things flourished. One could bend down and reach into birds’ nests, and wild beasts could be tethered and led along by people. When the age fell into decline, birds, beasts, insects, and snakes all became a source of harm to the people.

People then cast iron and forged weapons to defend themselves against danger. When the people were afflicted by calamity, they sought convenient ways to cope; when danger arose, they prepared measures to meet it. Each person used their own intelligence to remove what harmed them and pursue what benefited them. Thus, old institutions could not remain unchanged, and tools could not be made solely by following old precedents. The laws established by former kings also had to change. Hence it is said: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao.” The Five Emperors governed in different ways, yet each spread the benefits of De throughout the world. The Three Kings likewise followed different practices, yet each became renowned in later generations. The way of governing must respond to changes in the times.

This is like the musician Shi Kuang adjusting the five notes: their pitches rise and fall without any fixed, unchanging measure, yet he can bring them into perfect accord. One who truly understands music has grasped its foundations and can therefore compose melodies. In the same way, only those who grasp the foundations of governing and understand the purpose of rules and measures can govern the people. If the institutions of former kings no longer suit the times, they should be abolished; if later practices are genuinely beneficial, they should be established. A sage is not bound by rites and music in themselves, nor restricted by things and laws in themselves. Hence it is said: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao.”

Laozi also says: The sage kings of antiquity looked up to observe the celestial patterns, looked down to examine the laws of the earth, and took human affairs as their guide. They harmonized the Qi of Yin and Yang and coordinated the seasons. They assessed the fertility and barrenness of the soil, and the heights and lowlands of mountains, plains, and wetlands, in order to organize production and create goods, relieve hunger and cold, and prevent illness. They established rites and music according to human feelings and circumstances, put the way of benevolence and righteousness into practice, and regulated relations among people. They set out the bonds between fathers and sons and formed households according to the qualities of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth. By discerning the clear and muddy qualities of the five notes and studying how the six pitch standards generate one another, they established the roles of ruler and minister and founded the state. They established the rites governing age and seniority according to the sequence of the first, middle, and last months of each season, and created official posts. They divided territories and established provinces and commanderies, enfeoffed lords and governed their states, and founded schools to educate the people. These are the essentials of governance.

When people accord with the Dao, they flourish; when they depart from it, they decline. Nothing only expands without contracting, or flourishes without waning. Only a sage can make a state flourish without letting it decay. Sage kings created music to settle people’s hearts and communicate with the spirits. In later ages, however, music became indulgent and went against people’s true nature. It came to mean immersion in sights and sounds, disregard for proper standards, and in the end brought calamity upon later generations and even led to the downfall of states. Writing was created to organize all affairs: the foolish used it to remember things, and the wise to record them. In later ages, however, some used writing and documents to commit fraud and deceit, to exonerate the guilty, and instead to kill the innocent. Gardens and parks were built to make offerings at ancestral temples and train soldiers against unforeseen dangers. In times of decline, however, they became places for riding and hunting, causing the people to miss the season for farming and exhausting their strength.

The promotion of worthy people was intended to spread education and hear legal cases, placing the virtuous in positions of authority and the capable in office, so that kindness would reach the people and they would be grateful for the influence of virtue. In later ages, however, officials formed factions for private gain and recommended those close to them. They abandoned public duty and pursued private interests, with people inside and outside the court recommending one another. The crooked took office while the worthy went into seclusion. The principle governing Heaven and Earth is that whatever reaches an extreme turns around, and whatever grows too much is diminished. Therefore, the sage removes accumulated abuses and changes institutions; once one task is complete, he makes new arrangements. The strength of reform lies in bringing things into balance; its failure lies in losing a sense of proportion.

The sage’s way of governing a state is this: if rites, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame are not upheld, the state cannot be established; if the people have no sense of shame, they cannot be governed. Without understanding rites and righteousness, laws and commands cannot correct the social order. Unless good conduct is encouraged and shameful conduct rejected, people will not turn toward rites and righteousness. Yet society cannot be governed without laws. Laws can punish those who are unfilial, but cannot make people truly filial; they can punish thieves, but cannot make people naturally honest. When a sage king is in power, he makes his likes and dislikes clear to guide the people. He draws near to the worthy and advances them, while demoting those who are unworthy and removing them from office. Punishments can then be set aside, rites and righteousness upheld, and people of virtue entrusted with affairs of state.

The most outstanding people in the world may serve as the Three Ministers; the most outstanding people in a province may serve as the Nine Ministers; the most outstanding people in a state may serve as the twenty-seven Grand Officers; and the most outstanding people in a district may serve as the eighty-one Gentlemen. Those whose talent surpasses that of ten thousand people are called “exemplary leaders”; those who surpass a thousand are called “outstanding talents”; those who surpass a hundred are called “exceptional people”; and those who surpass ten are called “capable men.”

Those who understand the way of Heaven and Earth, know human affairs and relationships, have a spirit broad enough to embrace many people, kindness sufficient to comfort those far away, and wisdom adequate to judge changing circumstances are called “exemplary leaders.” Those whose virtue can educate the people, whose conduct accords with righteousness, whose trustworthiness wins the confidence of many, and whose insight reaches the circumstances of those below them are called “outstanding talents.” Those whose conduct can serve as a model, whose wisdom can resolve doubts, whose trustworthiness keeps their word, whose integrity ensures fairness in sharing wealth, and whose work can be emulated and speech can guide others are called “exceptional people.” Those who are faithful to their duties and do not ally themselves with the unrighteous, who do not flee ignobly in times of danger, and who do not greedily seize whatever benefits them are called “capable men.”

Exemplary leaders, outstanding talents, exceptional people, and capable men should each be assigned positions suited to their abilities. By extending from fundamentals to details, having those with authority direct those with less power, and ensuring that those above and below respond to one another, the world can unite in purpose and virtue, turning from greed and baseness toward benevolence and righteousness. Educating the people in this way is like wind bending the grass. If the unworthy are made to rule over the worthy, even severe punishments cannot prevent wrongdoing. The weak cannot subdue the strong: this is a natural principle of Heaven and Earth. Therefore, the sage promotes the worthy to establish achievements, while an unenlightened ruler advances only those who are close and similar to himself. By observing whom they promote, one can distinguish an age of order from an age of chaos; by examining their factions, one can also judge whether they are worthy or unworthy.

Laozi says: Those who place great emphasis on etiquette often carve away at people’s nature and correct their feelings. They use ritual rules to restrain what the eyes want to see and etiquette to curb what the heart takes pleasure in. Walking must follow prescribed steps; giving a bow requires bending low. Drinking is limited, and eating is restricted as well. In this way, outward conduct is bound, while the heart grows distressed; the harmonious Qi of Yin and Yang is suppressed, and the needs of people’s nature and life are constrained. The result is a lifetime of sorrow. Why does this happen? Because people do not ask why someone has a particular desire; they simply forbid it. They do not examine why someone takes pleasure in something; they simply block it. This is like keeping wild beasts in an enclosure without closing its gaps, or trying to hold back the surging waters of a river with one’s hands.

Therefore, only by opening people’s hearts and responding to their circumstances can problems be resolved. Rites can restrain desires and help people govern themselves through righteousness. But if the heart is oppressed and the body’s natural needs go unmet, people can only endure by force, and so cannot enjoy a full lifespan. Rites cannot make desire disappear; they can only prevent people from indulging it. Music cannot make people stop loving pleasure; it can only guide and moderate that pleasure.

What is better: making everyone in the world fear punishment and dare not steal, or ensuring that people have no thought of stealing in the first place? Once people know that something is of no use to them, even the greedy will give it up. If they do not know what use it has, even the honest may not be willing to yield it to others. People often bring down states, lose their lives, and become objects of ridicule throughout the world because of their desires. Something that is of no use to oneself—like using a fan in winter or wearing a fur coat in summer—will eventually turn to dust. Thus, pouring hot liquid over boiling water to stop it from boiling only makes it boil more fiercely. Those who understand the root of the problem simply remove the source of the fire.

Laozi said: Acting in accordance with people’s natural nature is called the Dao (the Way); preserving and fulfilling that nature is called De (Virtue/Power). Only after people lose their natural nature do they begin to prize benevolence and righteousness. Once benevolence and righteousness become principles deliberately promoted, morality declines. When simplicity is lost, ritual and music are used to embellish social customs. Ideas of right and wrong proliferate, and the people are confused. When pearls and jade are prized, people everywhere begin to compete for them.

Ritual distinguishes between high and low status, noble and humble; righteousness harmonizes relations between ruler and minister, father and son, elder and younger brother, and husband and wife. In a declining age, ritual becomes elaborate and deferential, while people mistake the giving of favors to one another for righteousness. Ministers use such favors to curry favor with their rulers; rulers and ministers accuse each other, and even close family members become resentful.

Thus, when water collects, it breeds creatures that devour one another; when earth piles up, it breeds beasts that gnaw at it. When ritual and music become mere outward display, they too breed deceit and hypocrisy. Rulers in a declining age do not work to secure the people’s basic needs. Instead, they make the world’s honest customs shallow and corrupt its natural simplicity. They unsettle the people, call what is clear and upright polluted, and disturb both human nature and the Way of life. People busy themselves chasing profit, and trustworthiness fades with it. Once people lose their natural nature, laws and moral principles fall out of alignment, conduct conflicts with self-interest, and the poor and rich struggle against one another.

The difference between ruler and servant does not show that one person’s nature is higher than another’s. When people have more than enough goods, they yield to one another; when they lack what they need, they compete. Yielding gives rise to ritual and righteousness, while competition sparks disorder. When desires are excessive, affairs are hard to govern; when everyone seeks satisfaction, conflict never ends. Therefore, in a stable age even petty people can remain upright and resist the lure of profit; in a chaotic age, even noble-minded people may act wickedly, and laws cannot stop them.

Laozi also said: Rulers in a declining age quarry mountains and search for gold and jade to satisfy their desires and compete for wealth, thereby provoking disorder. When desires are excessive, affairs are hard to govern; when everyone seeks satisfaction, conflict never ends. Therefore, in a stable age even petty people can remain upright and resist the lure of profit; in a chaotic age, even noble-minded people may act wickedly, and laws cannot stop them.

Laozi says: The rulers of a declining age cut into mountains and rocks, carry away gold and jade, quarry stone for inkstones and gather shells, smelt copper and iron, yet prevent the myriad things from growing naturally. They cut open unborn young and burn the fields, destroy nests and break eggs. The phoenix no longer comes, and the qilin no longer appears. They build platforms from timber, set fires in the forests to hunt, drain ponds and marshes to catch fish, pile up earth to make mounds for their dwellings, dig wells for water, divert rivers to form ponds, and raise city walls for defense. They also capture wild animals and keep them in pens.

As a result, Yin-Yang falls out of balance and the seasons lose their order. Thunder and lightning batter the myriad things; hail and frost bring disaster. Most living things wither or die young. Plants and trees wilt in summer, and the three great rivers run dry. People divide mountains, rivers, streams, and valleys, assigning each its own boundaries. They set quotas according to population, then establish offices and strategic defenses. They wear different colors to mark rank, arrange people by status and worth, and govern through rewards and punishments. War and strife then arise, along with brutal killings of the innocent and punishments inflicted on those who have committed no crime.

Laozi says: When the world is about to decay and life is about to be harmed, it is like Yin energy beginning to rise. The ruler is benighted and unclear; the Dao is abandoned and no longer put into practice, while De fades away and is no longer displayed. What the ruler does goes against the Way of Heaven, and the commands he issues violate the turning of the seasons. The harmonious influence of spring and autumn is diminished, and Heaven and Earth withhold their blessings. The ruler occupies his position but cannot bring stability. The senior ministers withdraw from the world and offer no counsel. The officials read the ruler’s wishes and undermine the established order. People distance themselves from their kin to protect themselves, while treacherous men flatter and scheme in secret. Eager to uphold an arrogant and indulgent ruler, they imitate his disorder and use it to advance their own plans.

Thus ruler and ministers become estranged and no longer draw close to one another; kin turn away and cease to support one another. No orderly rows of grain grow in the fields, and no one walks calmly along the roads. Metals are hoarded, yet the spirit of integrity is diminished. Jade discs are plundered, and the granaries have no surplus grain. Tortoise shells are no longer used for divination, while yarrow stalks are consulted again and again without bringing the people’s views into agreement or uniting the realm. The feudal lords each make their own laws, customs depart from the established order, and people pull up the roots and abandon the source. They impose the harsh Five Punishments, persecuting people over trifling gains. Great numbers of common people are killed, and more than half perish. Then armies are raised and rebellion breaks out; cities are attacked and the innocent slaughtered, bringing down what stands high and turning stability into chaos.