《老子道德经憨山注》Vol. 4

Giving to others without seeking repayment comes from having kindness within oneself. Ordinary people, when focused on demanding returns and calculating their interests at every turn, think that giving without asking for anything back means losing out. In fact, though they may lose something in human affairs, they gain something through the Way of Heaven. As the saying goes, “The Way of Heaven is impartial; it always aids those who do good.” Since you have given without seeking anything in return, you have already done good. Even if the other person does not repay you, Heaven will surely repay you in some way. This is what is meant by “Heaven’s protection brings good fortune, and all things are favorable.” How could ordinary people easily understand this?

Chapter 80

Make the state small and its people few. Even if there are all kinds of tools, do not use them. Let the people cherish life and not lightly move far away. Though there are boats and carriages, let there be no need to ride in them; though there are armor and weapons, let there be no need to display or use them. Let the people return to the simple practice of tying knots to keep records, find their food delicious and their clothes comfortable, be content in their homes, and delight in their local customs. Neighboring states can see one another, and the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs can be heard across their borders, yet the people grow old and die without visiting one another.

This passage summarizes the benefits of the “Wuwei” (non-action) governance discussed throughout the text: applying the Way of Wuwei to government can restore the simple, unspoiled customs of high antiquity.

“Implements for ten or a hundred” refers to people with the ability of ten or a hundred ordinary people. Here, “implement” means talent or aptitude. Laozi imagines that if a small state were governed according to his Way of Wuwei, even people of exceptional ability would have no complicated affairs in which to exercise their skills, because the people would be simple and unspoiled and society would have few disputes. When a state is burdened with too many affairs, the people suffer: waging war brings turmoil, while heavy taxes leave them hungry. Unable to live in peace, people will risk death to flee. When these calamities are absent, the people cherish life and do not travel far from home.

“Boats and carriages” are means of transport on water and on land. If the people do not migrate far, there is no need for boats and carriages, even if they are available. If society does not prize conflict, there is no need to display armor and weapons. “Display” means to set out or exhibit. When government does not rely on clever schemes and stratagems, the people can keep records by tying knots, as in high antiquity. Each person is content with the life already at hand and feels no desire to seek more elsewhere.

When people do not chase after pleasures of food and bodily comfort, ordinary food and clothing seem delicious to them, and their homes and village life feel peaceful and joyful. Neighboring states may be so close that the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs can be heard across the border, yet their people grow old and die without visiting one another. This is simplicity at its highest, the teaching of high antiquity.

The commentator believes Laozi is criticizing the ills of his own time: rulers deliberately intervened, relied on clever schemes, flaunted their strength and fought for advantage, and pursued profit for themselves without caring for the people. The result was turmoil in the state and poverty among the people, making governance more difficult still. Laozi therefore commends the government of antiquity and advocates following Wuwei. This is the central purpose of the whole text, which is why it concludes here, adding that if this approach is put into practice, the benefits of antiquity’s simple way of life will soon become visible. The commentator also cites, “If one day a person can master the self and return to ritual, all under Heaven will return to benevolence,” to show that the benefits of this kind of governance can appear quickly. Laozi’s teaching is not an attempt to defy the world deliberately or withdraw from it.

Chapter 81

Truthful words are often not beautiful; beautiful words are often not truthful. Those who are good at acting do not rely on argument to prevail; those skilled in argument are not necessarily truly good. Those who possess genuine wisdom do not flaunt the breadth of their knowledge; people with extensive knowledge are not necessarily truly wise.

The sage does not hoard private wealth. The more fully the sage helps others, the more abundant the sage becomes; the more the sage gives to others, the richer the sage becomes. The Dao of Heaven benefits all things without harming them. The sage’s way of acting is to act without contending with anyone.

“Truthful words are often not ornate.” This explains the doubts that may arise and also shows that the Dao is originally wordless; speech is only a means of revealing the meaning of the Dao. The first chapter says, “The Dao that can be spoken of is not the constant Dao.” The “Dao that can be spoken of” here refers to what language expresses. Laozi seems to be saying that if the Dao could be fully explained in words, it would not be the true Dao. Yet this book contains more than five thousand characters. Are they not words too? Since words have already been used, the Dao might seem no longer to be the true Dao. So, at the end of the book, Laozi offers an explanation to dispel the doubts of later readers.

Earlier commentaries explain “trustworthy” as truthful: words that come from the heart. “Beautiful words,” by contrast, are ornate and artfully embellished speech. Laozi’s meaning is that the Dao is originally wordless and can only be revealed through language. Every sentence I speak flows from what is true in the Dao; I use these words only to bring the Dao’s mysteries to light, so they are truthful rather than ornate. This differs from the exaggerated, empty words of worldly people, which sound pleasing but cannot be trusted.

In those times, the age was in decline, and people’s hearts were less simple and sincere than in antiquity. Scholars did not understand the principle of wordlessness. They were eager to debate and amass knowledge, each promoting a different school. Yang Zhu, Mo Di, Liezi, Gongsun Long, and others inherited and transmitted the doctrines of various schools, taking debate and erudition as their guiding principles and believing themselves skilled in learning from the ancients. They failed to realize that too many branching paths cause sheep to go astray, and too many methods cause people to lose what is true. The result was that they strayed ever further from the Dao.

That is why Laozi rebukes them: “Who understands the teaching without words and the debate without argument?” Those who argue endlessly do not understand the Dao; those who truly understand it naturally do not cling to argument. The Dao is originally wordless and supremely simple. Once the heart grasps it, one can directly experience and silently accord with the Dao. What need is there for an abundance of words? Hence the saying, “Those who understand the Dao do not boast of their learning.” People of that time did not understand this. They concerned themselves only with accumulating information and increasing their knowledge, taking erudition for wisdom, though they had not truly understood the Dao. Excessive talk often brings a person into difficulty, so it is said: “The learned do not necessarily understand the Dao.”

They did not understand that the essence of the Great Dao is empty, and instead pursued accumulation without restraint, creating ever more obstructions. Where there is accumulation, there will be dispersal; where there is dispersal, there will be exhaustion. If nothing is accumulated, there is nothing to disperse and nothing that can be exhausted. The sage’s nature is empty and still, in accord with the Dao. Forgetting words and following what is true, the sage accumulates nothing. Precisely because nothing is accumulated, there is no exhaustion. This is what is meant by “empty yet inexhaustible; set in motion, it pours forth without end”: like a door pivot at the center of its ring, able to respond to endless changes.

Thus, the more the sage helps others, the more the sage possesses; the more the sage gives to others, the more abundant the sage becomes. Heaven’s Dao is like the wordless sage, while the sage is like one who can speak of Heaven’s Dao. Heaven’s Dao accumulates nothing and is empty in its very essence. For this reason, the seasons move on without ceasing, benefiting all things without harming itself. Hence the saying: “Heaven’s Dao benefits all things and does not harm them.” “Does not harm” here does not mean that it does not harm all things; it means that it does not damage itself.

The sage takes Heaven’s Dao as a model, acting without clinging to the pursuit of gain. The sage works throughout the day and sets an example for all things, yet allows nothing to weigh on the heart. Hence the saying: “Act, yet do not contend with others.” “Contend” here means competing with external things. The sage lives among the world with an empty and still heart, standing apart from all things.

The truthfulness and directness of Laozi’s learning and cultivation are all expressed here. This is also a summary of the purpose behind the words of the whole book. Those who study the Dao should strive to understand it.

This concludes the lower section of A Commentary on Laozi’s Dao De Jing.