《通玄真经》Vol. 3

Honoring benevolence and virtue is called righteousness; respecting the worthy is called propriety; delighting in closeness to the worthy is called joy. Those skilled in governing the world in ancient times followed nature and did not force action, yet nothing was left undone. Thus they could contain the world and also be embraced by it. In this way, they could accomplish great things through non-action. If they could not be embraced by the world, their actions would inevitably bring danger.

Those who can contain the world appear like this: hesitant and cautious, as if crossing a great river in winter; alert and wary, as if guarding against neighbors on every side; dignified and solemn, as if respectfully receiving guests; open and unguarded, like ice beginning to melt; plain and uncarved, like an untouched block of wood; indistinct and murky, like turbid water; broad and deep, like a valley. This is what it means to contain the world.

They are hesitant and cautious, like someone crossing a river in winter, because they do not dare to rush ahead. They are alert and wary, as if guarding against neighbors on every side, because they fear being harmed. They are dignified and solemn because they are modest and respectful. They are open and unguarded, like ice melting, because they do not dare to accumulate or conceal things. They are plain and uncarved because they do not dare to consider themselves perfect. They are indistinct and murky, like turbid water, because they do not dare to appear too clear. They are broad and deep, like a valley, because they do not dare to become full and overflowing.

Because they do not dare to rush ahead, they can yield and do not compete to lead. Because they fear being harmed, they hold to softness and do not boast of themselves. Modesty and respect mean lowering oneself and honoring others. Not daring to accumulate or conceal things means willingly diminishing oneself and not clinging stubbornly to one position. Not daring to consider oneself perfect means acknowledging one’s own shortcomings and not demanding perfection in everything. Not daring to appear too clear means accepting a muddied and humiliated position rather than trying to appear pure and distinct. Not daring to become full and overflowing means recognizing one’s own inadequacies and not considering oneself worthy or capable.

Precisely because the Dao yields, it can take the lead; because it holds to softness, it can reveal its strength; because it places itself low, it rises above others; because it willingly diminishes itself, it becomes full and firm; because it acknowledges its shortcomings, it achieves completeness; because it accepts a muddied and humiliated position, it appears fresh and clear; because it recognizes its own inadequacies, it can become wise. This is how the Dao follows nature and does not force action, yet leaves nothing undone.

Laozi said: Anyone who studies and can understand that the Way of Heaven and human affairs each have their proper bounds, grasp the roots of order and disorder, clear the heart, settle the mind, and hold fast to these principles, while also seeing how things proceed from beginning to end and ultimately return to emptiness, may be called well versed.

The root of governance is benevolence and righteousness; laws and institutions are only secondary. Human life is fundamental, while things without life are secondary. Root and branch are originally one, and people value both. To put the root first and the branch second is the way of the noble person; to put the branch first and the root second is the way of the petty person. Laws and institutions are established to support benevolence and righteousness. To prize laws while abandoning benevolence and righteousness is like cherishing only hats and shoes while forgetting the head and feet.

To prize benevolence and righteousness, one must make the foundation broad and the structure firm. If a building is made taller without thickening its foundation, it will collapse; if the foundation is not extended and only the upper structure is raised, it will topple. Thus, a beam that is not thick enough cannot bear a heavy load. Nothing bears a heavy load better than a beam; and nothing is a better root for governing a state than De (Virtue/Power). A ruler should govern the state in the same way.

A ruler’s relationship to the people is like a city’s reliance on its foundation or a tree’s reliance on its roots. When the roots grow deep, the tree is firmly anchored; when the foundation is solid, the city above it is secure. Therefore, actions that do not take the Dao (the Way) as their root cannot serve as enduring principles, and teachings that do not accord with the way of the former kings cannot be called the right way. Seeking only convenience by piecing together scattered methods, or promoting a single method as a technique that can handle everything, is not a way that can be followed throughout the world.

Laozi said: Governing people is like driving the four-horse chariot of Zaofu, an ancient master charioteer. To drive well, one must coordinate the reins and bits, sit upright, and keep a steady sense of measure. One’s inner intention must work in concert with outward movements, while also accommodating the horses’ natural dispositions. Then one can travel a long distance without exhausting the horses, and make every advance, retreat, and turn as desired. This is truly mastery of the art of driving.

Today, power is like the chariot ridden by a ruler, and ministers are like the four horses that pull it. A ruler cannot do without the security that power brings, nor can he lose harmony with his ministers. If the horses will not follow direction, even Zaofu cannot drive the chariot along the planned route. If ruler and ministers are at odds, even a sage cannot govern the state well. A ruler who uses the Dao to guide affairs of state enables people of average ability to contribute. By clarifying duties and titles, he can curb deceitful conduct. When things arise, he observes how they change; when circumstances come, he responds to how they unfold. If those nearby remain orderly, governance in distant places will also be secure. Without imposing rigid doctrines, he follows the natural patterns of things, and so is less likely to mishandle affairs.

Laozi said: All who put the Dao into practice must block crooked paths and prevent trouble before it begins. The key to governing a state lies not in assuming oneself to be right, but in leaving people no opportunity to do wrong. Therefore, do not deliberately stir up people’s desires; otherwise, they will pursue them without end. Do not make people feel that their gains may be taken from them at any moment; otherwise, they will struggle over them day after day. When this is achieved, private desires will fade and what is just can be put into practice. When there is more than enough wealth, one should stop at what is appropriate; when there is too little, one should provide what is genuinely needed. In this way, all under Heaven can be brought into unity.

If a ruler neglects his own duties and listens only to others’ praise and blame, abandons practical achievement and instead appoints members of factions, then opportunists will remain in power for a long time while those who serve faithfully go unpromoted. The customs of the people will deteriorate, and meritorious officials at court will fall to quarrelling among themselves. Thus, a person who has the Dao can guide others, while one who lacks the Dao will be controlled by them.

Laozi said: The principles of governing a state are constant, and their foundation is the people’s well-being. There are also principles for issuing orders and teaching the people, but the specific methods must suit the circumstances of the time. So long as a method benefits the people, there is no need to copy ancient practices; so long as it handles affairs well, there is no need to cling to old customs. The sage, therefore, takes human feelings and circumstances as his guide. If his conduct does not accord with the Dao, he will be controlled by others.

Laozi said: There is a constant principle in governing a state: its foundation lies in benefiting the people. The enactment of laws and the spread of instruction also follow a principle: they should respond to present circumstances rather than blindly copy antiquity. If something benefits the people, there is no need to imitate the ancients in every matter; if affairs can be handled well, there is no need to follow old customs at every turn.

Thus, the sage adjusts laws as times change and adapts ritual to local customs. Clothing and tools should suit their practical uses, while laws and institutions should be made to fit specific circumstances. Changing ancient practices is not necessarily wrong, and preserving old customs is not necessarily praiseworthy.

Reading the books left by the former kings is not as good as hearing them speak for themselves; hearing their words is not as good as grasping why they said them. Once you truly understand their principles, you will see that some meanings cannot be fully expressed in words. Hence the saying: “The Dao that can be spoken is not the constant Dao; the name that can be named is not the constant name.”

The sage’s guiding principle is like the fixed-pitched metal and stone instruments, such as bells and chime stones: their tones need not be changed at will. Specific affairs, however, are like the qin and se zithers: after one piece has been played, the strings must be tuned again. Laws, rituals, and music are instruments of governing a state; they are not governance itself. Names and institutions, therefore, are not eternal and unchanging.

People with narrow understanding cannot be spoken to about the highest principles. Their perception is clouded by worldly ideas and constrained by old doctrines.

Laozi said: “What laws in the world remain unchanged forever? In dealing with worldly affairs, one must accord with human reason, follow the patterns of Heaven and Earth, and carefully examine the affairs of ghosts and spirits. Only then can government be set in order.

“In ancient times, the Three Sovereigns issued no laws, yet the people obeyed them. The Five Emperors established laws, but imposed no punishments. In the Xia dynasty, people kept their word; in the Yin dynasty, they swore oaths; in the Zhou dynasty, they formed covenants. By later ages, as society declined, people endured disgrace yet scorned humiliation, and coveted wealth while feeling little shame. Laws and decrees must therefore take local customs into account and adjust to the urgency and importance of each matter. Tools and institutions, too, must change with the times, and suitable methods must be devised.

“One bound by laws cannot be consulted about long-term plans; one rigidly attached to ritual cannot be entrusted to respond to change. Only someone with independent insight and keen senses can grasp principles flexibly and act appropriately. Those who understand why laws arose can adapt them to the circumstances. Those who do not understand the roots of good governance will ultimately fall into disorder, even if they follow the rules to the letter.

“Today, some scholars cling to inherited doctrines, clutch their books, and adhere rigidly to written words and legal provisions, believing this alone can govern a state well. It is like trying to fit a square tenon into a round hole: a proper fit is unlikely. Wisdom is essential to resolve crises and quell disorder. Anyone, even a fool, can speak at length about governing by tracing everything back to antiquity. Thus, a sage will not put outdated laws into practice, and a wise ruler will not trust words that have not been tested.”

Wenzi asked, “Where do laws and standards come from?”

Laozi said: Laws should be established according to what is just, and what is just comes from practices that people generally consider proper. When such practices accord with human sentiments, they hold the key to good governance. Laws do not descend from heaven or emerge from the earth: they arise among people, and those who make them should first turn inward and put themselves in order. One who truly understands the root will not be unsettled by minor details; one who grasps the essentials will not lose their way in doubt. Do not blame others for faults you yourself have, and do not harshly reproach others for what you have failed to do. Those in high positions must not themselves violate the rules they require the people below them to follow; and what the people are forbidden to do, the ruler must not do either. A ruler should therefore take himself as the first measure when making laws. Only by first observing the prohibitions himself can he make the laws effective among the people.

Law is the common standard that all under heaven must follow, and the measure by which a ruler distinguishes right from wrong. To promulgate laws is to make clear which actions are unlawful. Once the laws are established, those who meet the standard are rewarded, and those who violate it are punished; neither the honored nor the lowly should receive favors or harsher treatment. Those who break the law must be punished, even if they are worthy and capable; those who comply with the rules should not be convicted, even if their conduct is poor. In this way, the principle of impartiality can be put into practice, and private desires kept in check.

The ancients established officials to restrain the people, so they could not act arbitrarily; they established rulers to restrain officials, so they could not act without oversight; and they established laws and principles of governance to restrain rulers, so they could not make decisions as they pleased. When no one acts arbitrarily, reason prevails, and governance follows proper principles. Thus one should return to simplicity and follow what comes naturally. Wuwei (non-action) does not mean doing nothing. It means acting from one’s own nature, without being driven by private desire or coercion.

Laozi said: Those who are skilled at rewarding spend little yet encourage many; those who are skilled at punishing use penalties sparingly yet deter wrongdoing; those who are skilled at giving give with restraint yet inspire gratitude; and those who are skilled at taking gain much without provoking resentment. Thus the sage acts in accordance with the natural course of things.

Laozi said: One who is skilled at rewarding can encourage many people with little expense; one who is skilled at punishing can curb wrongdoing with few punishments. One who is skilled at giving can foster virtue with little outlay; one who is skilled at taking can receive much without stirring resentment. Thus, the sage encourages good conduct by building on what the people like, and prohibits wrongdoing by building on what they dislike. Reward one person, and people throughout the realm will turn toward good conduct; punish one person, and people throughout the realm will feel apprehensive. In this way, the finest rewards need not be costly, and the most fitting punishments need not be used excessively. The sage holds to simple principles yet can govern a vast domain: this is what it means.

Laozi said: The principle for serving as a minister is to take the lead in proposing how matters should be discussed and handled, to remain faithful to one’s duties, and to distinguish one’s responsibilities, thereby accomplishing one’s work. When ruler and ministers follow distinct responsibilities and each remains in the proper place, the state is stable; when their responsibilities are confused, the state falls into disorder. Only when each acts appropriately and occupies the proper position can those above and below direct one another and work together. Thus, branches must not grow thicker than the trunk, nor the tips stronger than the roots. This means that light and heavy, large and small, must constrain one another.

Those who hold power have little in their hands but bear great responsibility; they uphold simple principles yet command a wide domain. A tree ten arm spans around can support a house weighing a thousand jun, because it stands in a favorable position. A five-inch door bolt can control whether a door opens or closes, because it occupies a crucial place. Subordinates must carry out orders: those who obey benefit, while those who defy them suffer. Everyone in the realm listens because they comply with the commands. The ability to issue orders and enforce prohibitions comes from the authority created by the people’s collective strength.

Benevolence and righteousness do not mean that everyone in the realm can be made to benefit; rather, when one person benefits, people throughout the realm are willing to follow. Nor does tyranny mean that everyone in the realm can be made to suffer; rather, when one person is harmed, people throughout the realm will turn against the ruler. Therefore, every measure, whether enacted or abolished, must be considered with care.

Laozi said: “Bend down an inch for a while, and you can stretch out a foot; accept a small setback, and you can uphold what is right on a larger scale.” Even sages act this way. Today, when rulers assess their ministers, if they do not weigh their major achievements but instead tally up their ordinary conduct item by item and demand perfection in minor acts of kindness, they will only drive away the worthy.

So a person of deep De need not be judged by small lapses in detail, and a person of great renown need not be condemned for minor faults. Everyone has human shortcomings. If someone’s overall conduct is good, a few small mistakes should not become a burden; if their conduct is poor overall, a few commendable acts in their local community are not enough to show that they deserve an important position.

Those who cling too rigidly to minor points find it hard to accomplish great things; those who are always fault-finding in others’ conduct find it hard to win people’s acceptance. People with broad minds tend to be less demanding about details; those with far-reaching vision can earn a reputation that travels farther. These are the principles for assessing ministers.

Laozi said: From ancient times to the present, no one has been able to do everything perfectly. A noble person, therefore, does not expect someone to excel in every respect. Be upright without hurting others, principled without being harsh, honest without being unrestrained, and broadly learned without disparaging anyone. No one should be expected to possess every quality of moral character, literary talent, or military skill. One should cultivate oneself in accord with the Dao, rather than demand too much of others. Then others will be more willing to accept advice. Cultivating oneself in accord with the Dao also helps one make fewer mistakes.

Even the jade pendant of the Xiahou rulers, an ancient kind of jade artifact, had flaws; even a luminous pearl had blemishes. People throughout the realm still prized them and did not overlook their beauty as a whole because of a few small defects. If, today, we remember only others’ shortcomings and forget their strengths, yet hope to find worthy people throughout the realm, that will be difficult.

People’s understanding, too, is bound to have its limits, but that does not lead everyone to condemn them outright. If, today, we remember only others’ shortcomings and forget their strengths, yet hope to find worthy people throughout the realm, that will be difficult. When assessing someone, do not disregard their overall ability simply because they hold a low position, come from a humble background, or have done something dishonorable. You can judge a person by looking at these things: when they hold high office, whom do they recommend? When they are wealthy, how do they give? When they are in hardship, how do they accept help from others? When they hold a low position, what is their attitude toward their work? In times of danger, what wisdom and courage do they show? When they experience pleasure, can they remain true to themselves? When entrusted with property, are they generous and kind? When tested by fear, can they hold fast to their principles? In this way, you can understand a person’s true character.

Laozi said: “One is kept down so that one may stretch out later; one bends and yields so that one may straighten in time. Yield an inch for a while, and gain a foot in the long run; accept a small hurt in order to uphold what is right on a larger scale. A noble person acts this way. The waters of a hundred rivers converge: unless they flow into the great sea, they cannot be called streams of the valley. People follow different paths; unless their path leads toward goodness, they cannot be called noble people.

Good words are valued because they can be put into practice; good conduct is valued because it accords with benevolence and righteousness. A noble person’s faults are like the sun and moon briefly obscured: though their light may momentarily dim, it is not diminished. Thus, the wise do not act rashly, and the courageous do not kill indiscriminately. They first determine whether something is appropriate, then plan their actions according to ritual and righteousness. In this way, once a task is completed, its achievement can be trusted; once one has accomplished something, one’s reputation deserves praise.

Even with wisdom and talent, one must take benevolence and righteousness as one’s foundation in order to accomplish anything. When wisdom, talent, benevolence, and righteousness go hand in hand, the sage uses benevolence and righteousness as a standard: those who meet it are called noble people; those who do not are called petty people. Even after noble people die, their reputations do not fade; even if petty people enjoy success for a time, their wrongdoing is not thereby erased.

If someone held a map of the world in the left hand and was about to cut their own throat with the right, even a fool would not do so, because life is more precious than the world. Those who risk death for their ruler or parents regard death as a homecoming because righteousness matters more than the self. Thus, the great benefits of the world are small when compared with the self; yet though the self is precious, it is less weighty than benevolence and righteousness. This is what it means to use benevolence and righteousness as the measure.

Laozi said: When Dao and De are complete, they are as clear and bright as the sun and moon. Even among distant peoples such as the Yi, Di, Man, and Mo, their principles cannot be altered. When a person’s choices accord with those of the majority, praise and blame are judged by common opinion. When a person’s intentions match their conduct, whether their circumstances are troubled or favorable depends on the times. When affairs are handled in a way that fully meets the needs of the age, achievements can be accomplished; when one’s actions suit the times, a reputation can be established. Therefore, those who seek achievement and renown should understand the world and carefully discern the right moment. Once the moment arrives, not an instant should be lost.

In ancient times, armies were not raised out of greed for land and treasure. They were meant to rescue the endangered, quell disorder, and rid the people of harm. The greedy and rapacious brought ruin upon the world and denied the people peace. So the sages rose up to punish the violent, pacify a troubled age, and rid the world of harm, turning corruption into clarity and danger into safety. Thus, they had no choice but to use force to stop disorder. According to legend, the Red Emperor, or Yan Emperor, was captured by the Yellow Emperor because his power of fire ran rampant; Gonggong was executed by Zhuanxu because his floods brought devastation.

Teach the people through reason and guide them through De. If they still will not obey, then use authority to compel them. If authority also fails to bring them into line, then there is no choice but to take up arms. To kill innocent people while sustaining an unjust ruler is the greatest calamity. To gather the wealth of the whole world merely to satisfy one person’s desires is a grave disaster. Giving free rein to one person’s private appetites only deepens the world’s troubles; this is contrary to the natural order. Rulers were established to stop rebellion. But if a ruler now relies on the people’s strength to harm them, it is like giving a tiger wings. How could such a ruler not be brought down?

Those who raise fish must eliminate the otters that prey on them; those who keep livestock must also drive away wolves and jackals. How much more so when governing the people? This is why arms are taken up.

Laozi says: The way to govern a state is for those above not to issue harsh commands, officials not to impose complicated administration, scholars not to feign virtue, and artisans not to make excessively ingenious things. Government should respond to practical needs without disturbing the people, and objects should be sturdy and useful, without excessive ornament.

The age of disorder is different. Those who pursue virtue praise one another’s nobility; those who value ritual boast to one another of their hypocrisy. Carriages and chariots are decorated with every refinement, and utensils are covered in elaborate patterns. Those seeking goods compete for rare items and treat them as treasures; those handling documents and affairs of state chase after urgent and complicated matters. Decrees and conduct become deceptive and argumentative. Matters drag on for a long time without resolution, doing nothing to help govern and instead feeding disorder. Artisans make ingenious objects that take years to complete but serve no practical purpose.

Thus, the Methods of Shennong—said to describe how Shennong governed the world—states: “If adult men do not farm, people somewhere in the world will go hungry; if women of marriageable age do not spin and weave, people somewhere 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 the people of the world. He taught the people not to prize rare goods or use things that served no purpose.

Those who farm cannot feed themselves if they do not work hard; those who weave cannot clothe themselves if they are not diligent. Each person bears the consequences of having either too much or too little. When food and clothing are sufficient, wrongdoing does not arise. When life is settled and free from disturbance, the world is at peace. In such conditions, the clever have no opportunity to put their schemes into practice, and the brave have nowhere to flaunt their might.

Laozi says: A hegemon’s methods rely on planning and calculation. In action, they take right conduct as their guide. Their purpose is not merely to preserve themselves, but to save the state from peril and collapse.

Thus, when they hear that the ruler of another state is tyrannizing and abusing the people, they send troops to its borders. They denounce his unjust conduct and expose his offenses. When the army reaches the outskirts, they order its generals: “Do not cut down trees, dig up graves, destroy crops, or burn granaries and stores. Do not abduct the people or seize their livestock.”

They then issue a proclamation: “The ruler of this state has defied the Way of Heaven and Earth, shown contempt for the spirits, judged cases unfairly, and killed the innocent. Heaven seeks to punish him, and the people despise him. We have sent our troops to root out injustice and entrust power to a person of De. Anyone who dares defy the Way of Heaven, disrupt the people, and become a source of harm will be executed, and their family will be wiped out. If an entire household submits, it will receive a household’s reward. If an entire ward submits, it will receive a ward’s reward. If an entire township submits, it will be granted that township. If an entire county submits, its people will be enfeoffed as the lords of that county.”

After capturing the state, they do not harm its people. They depose the old ruler, replace his policies, honor the talented, commend the virtuous, aid orphans and widows, show compassion for the poor, free prisoners, and reward those who have rendered service. The people then open their gates to welcome the army and prepare stores of rice, afraid that it might not come.

When an army acting in accord with righteousness reaches the border, the enemy often stops resisting without a battle. An army acting without righteousness, by contrast, leaves corpses strewn across the land and rivers of blood. A war waged to seize territory cannot establish a kingly enterprise; one fought solely for personal gain cannot achieve lasting merit. When people act for the sake of everyone, everyone will help them; when they think only of themselves, everyone will leave them. Those supported by the people grow strong even when their power is small; those abandoned by the people will perish in the end, however great their power may be.

Laozi said: “The highest form of political principle is used to govern the state and bring peace to its territory, promote benevolence and righteousness, extend generous favor, establish proper laws, and put an end to crooked and deviant paths. Then the ministers will draw near and pledge their allegiance, the people will live in harmony, and those above and below will unite and work together. The lords of the feudal states will respect the nation’s might, and people in every direction will be grateful for its kindness. When the government at court is well ordered, conflicts can be resolved even a thousand miles away. Issue a command, and all under Heaven will respond. This is the highest approach.

“When the territory is vast and the population large, the ruler wise and the generals capable, the state prosperous and the army strong, and laws reliable and commands clear, then even when the opposing forces are evenly matched, the enemy will already have fled before battle begins and weapons clash. This is the next best approach.

“To understand the lay of the land and plan a response a thousand miles away, and to issue a command to which all under Heaven will respond, is the highest approach. When the territory is vast and the population large, the ruler wise and the generals capable, the state prosperous and the army strong, and laws reliable and commands clear, then even when the opposing forces are evenly matched, the enemy will already have fled before battle begins and weapons clash. This is the next best approach.

“To understand the character of the land in different regions, know how to use strategic terrain, grasp the effects of harsh orders, and understand the practical matters of forming troops for battle; yet to win only after close combat and crossing arrows, with people dying beside chariots and the wounded being carried away, blood flowing for a thousand miles and corpses strewn across the fields—this is the lowest approach in terms of political principle.

“The outcome of war ultimately depends on whether government is conducted properly. When the people support the laws and heed the ruler, the army is strong; when the people prevail over the laws and turn against the ruler, the army is weak. To follow a political principle that wins the hearts of the people under Heaven, to undertake work that meets the urgent needs of all under Heaven, to select people of talent in a way that wins the trust of the worthy, and to plan with sound judgment of relative importance and gain or loss: this is the way to put the highest political principle into practice.”

Laozi says: A state is powerful because its soldiers are willing to die for it. They are willing to die because they understand what is right. What is right can be put into practice because the state commands authority. Thus, govern through civil administration and orders, and use force to uphold military discipline; in this way, people will submit. When authority and moral principle work together, the state is sure to be powerful.

Even amid clashing blades and a rain of arrows and stones, soldiers still compete to fight at the front because rewards are given faithfully and punishments are clear. When a ruler regards the people as his children, they serve him as they would their father; when he regards them as younger brothers, they serve him as they would an elder brother. A ruler who loves the people as his children can reign over all under Heaven; a people who honor their ruler as a father can help govern the world. When a ruler treats the people as younger brothers, they willingly die for him; when they honor him as an elder brother, they too will willingly die in battle or give their lives for the state. Therefore, one must not wage war against a ruler who treats the people as his own family—as parents treat their children and brothers one another.

Thus, a ruler who puts moral principle into practice sets the affairs of state in order and cultivates De (Virtue/Power) at home, while resisting evil abroad and thereby displaying the state’s authority. He observes when his soldiers labor and rest, and understands whether they are hungry or full. When the appointed time for battle arrives, they will face death without turning back. This is the result of the ruler’s benevolence and virtue.

Volume Twelve

“Esteeming Ritual” (the title of the chapter, meaning to uphold ritual propriety and righteousness).

Laozi says: In ancient times, the perfected people—those who had attained the Dao and joined in harmony with nature—breathed in and out in accord with the changes of Yin-Yang. All beings admired their De, and society was peaceful and harmonious. In those days, the way of governance remained hidden and unseen, while people naturally stayed simple and unspoiled. Because this simplicity had not yet been lost, all things could thrive in comfort.

As the age declined, Fuxi, the legendary ruler of antiquity, appeared. People gradually departed from their innocent, unknowing nature and began to investigate the workings of Heaven and Earth. Their De became complicated and no longer consistent. In the time of Shennong and the Yellow Emperor, they examined and governed the world, established the order of the four seasons, and brought Yin-Yang into balance. The people then stood upright and focused their thoughts, raised their heads to listen, and opened their eyes to look. Society was governed, but it was no longer naturally harmonious.

Later, in the Xia and Yin periods, people’s desires spread to external things, and their intelligence was drawn in by outside influences. Their nature and life lost their original truth. By the Zhou dynasty, what had been rich and genuine had grown thin, and what had been simple and unadorned had been scattered. People left the Great Dao and fabricated falsehoods, making deceit their rule of conduct; scheming and cleverness began to flourish. They imitated the sages, using ornate and empty words to coerce the people, and polished and embellished the Book of Odes and the Book of Documents to win fame. Each sought to make a place in the world through cleverness and pretense, and in doing so lost the fundamental Great Dao. Thus, people have been losing the truth of their nature and life for a long time, through this gradual decline.

The perfected person therefore studies how to return the nature to emptiness and let the spirit wander at ease in a realm of emptiness and Wuwei (non-action). Worldly learning, by contrast, elevates De and damages one’s nature, fills the heart with sorrow, displays one’s conduct, puts cleverness on show, and pursues fame in the world. These are not things the perfected person does.

Elevating De is a way of making oneself conspicuous; damaging one’s nature cuts off the root of life. The perfected person sees clearly the principles of life and death and understands the patterns of honor and disgrace. Even if everyone praises them, they do not become more zealous; even if everyone condemns them, they do not become more dejected. This is what it means to grasp the essentials of the supreme Dao.

Laozi said: In ancient times, people wore their hair loose and had no set style of collar, yet they were able to govern the world. Their De nurtured all things without harming them, and gave without taking by force. People throughout the world did not necessarily dress alike, yet all held their De in their hearts. In those days, Yin and Yang were in harmony, and all things flourished. One could bend down to reach into birds’ nests, and wild animals could be led along on a tether.

Later, the age fell into decline, and birds, beasts, insects, and snakes became a danger to the people. So people cast iron to make weapons and defend themselves against these threats. When the people faced calamity, they sought ways to make things easier; when they faced danger, they prepared means of protection. Each used their own ingenuity to remove what was harmful and pursue what was beneficial. Thus, old ways cannot be followed forever, and tools cannot remain unchanged. The former kings established laws because circumstances changed, and laws changed with them. Hence the saying: “A name that can be spoken is not an eternal, unchanging name.”

The Five Emperors each governed in different ways, yet all used their De to shelter the world. The Three Kings acted differently from one another, yet each thereby became renowned in later generations. All of them changed in response to their times. This is like the musician Shi Kuang adjusting the five tones—the five basic notes of the ancient scale. The pitches rise and fall, with no fixed pattern; yet when adjusted according to measure, they are just right. Only those who understand the inner principles of music can compose a melody; only those who grasp the foundations of pitch can master change.

Only those who understand the uses of tools such as the carpenter’s square, compass, ruler, and ink line can govern the people. The institutions established by the former kings should not all be discarded; measures adopted by later generations should also be remembered when they prove effective. The sage establishes ritual and music but is not constrained by them; commands the myriad things but is not ruled by them; and sets down laws but is not confined by them. Hence the saying: “A Dao that can be spoken is not an eternal, unchanging Dao.”

Laozi says: The sage kings of ancient times looked up to observe the patterns of the heavens, looked down to examine the terrain, and took guidance from human affairs. They harmonized the Qi of Yin and Yang, followed the changes of the four seasons, and studied the landforms of mountains, hills, plains, and marshes, as well as differences in the soil’s fertility and barrenness and the land’s elevation. On this basis, they organized affairs and developed production, dispelling such misfortunes as hunger, cold, and disease. They also established rites and music in response to human affairs, promoted benevolence and righteousness, and governed human relationships.

They followed the distinct qualities of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth to establish the bonds of affection between fathers and sons, making family life possible. They listened for the clear and muddy qualities of the Five Tones—gong, shang, jue, zhi, and yu—and studied how the Six Pitch Standards, ancient pipes used to determine musical pitch, generate one another. In this way they established the duties between ruler and minister, making the state possible. They examined the sequence of the early, middle, and late months of each season, established the rites governing relations between elders and juniors, and created official posts. They divided the land and established provinces and commanderies, granted territories and governed them, and founded academies to educate the people. These are the basic principles for governing a state.

When governance accords with the Dao (the Way), institutions can be put into effect; when the Dao is lost, they fall into disuse. Nothing expands without eventually contracting, or flourishes without eventually declining. Only a sage can bring a state to prosperity without letting it decay.

When sages first created music, they intended it to settle the spirit, put an end to excess and depravity, and return people to their natural, original nature. But when rites and music declined, music became unrestrained. It could no longer lead people back to the right path, and people became absorbed in sensual pleasures, heedless of proper laws. This decay continued into later generations and even led to the downfall of states. Sages created written contracts to manage all kinds of affairs: the foolish could use them to avoid forgetting, and the wise to record events. But when their proper use declined, some people began to fabricate deceitful and false arguments, exonerating the guilty and instead causing the innocent to be put to death. Sages established parklands—grounds for sacrifices, training, or hunting—originally to provide for ancestral temples, select soldiers, and guard against unexpected events. But as their purpose declined, they became places for riding and hunting, disrupting the people’s farming seasons and exhausting their strength.

Sages honored the worthy in order to spread instruction and judge disputes, placing the worthy in important positions and assigning the capable to their proper duties. Their beneficence then reached the people, and all felt gratitude for virtuous government. But when this practice declined, officials formed factions for private gain and recommended those close to them. They abandoned public justice in pursuit of personal advantage, colluded inside and outside government, and allowed wicked people to occupy office while the worthy and capable withdrew.

The way of Heaven and Earth is that when things reach their extreme, they turn; when they increase to a certain point, they diminish. Therefore, sages address accumulated abuses and revise institutions. Once an undertaking is complete, they also change their methods at the right time. The strength of institutions lies in keeping them balanced and appropriate; their failing lies in relying too heavily on expedient measures.

The sage’s way of governing a state is this: Unless rites and righteousness are upheld, a sense of integrity and shame cannot take root. Without such a sense among the people, they cannot be governed. If people do not understand rites and righteousness, laws and commands cannot be made proper. Unless good conduct is honored and disgraceful conduct rejected, people will not aspire to rites and righteousness. A state cannot be governed without laws and commands, yet laws and commands cannot be properly applied without an understanding of rites and righteousness. The law can punish those who are unfilial, but it cannot make people filial of their own accord; it can punish thieves, but it cannot make people honest of their own accord.

When a wise ruler is in power, the ruler clearly shows people which actions are approved and which are condemned. The ruler guides the people through judgments of right and wrong, praise and blame, draws near to and promotes the worthy, and distances and dismisses the unworthy. In this way, punishments can be set aside or used sparingly, rites and righteousness can be upheld, and virtuous people can be appointed to office. Thus, the foremost people in the realm may serve as the Three Dukes, the highest officials; the foremost people in a province may serve as the Nine Ministers; the foremost people in a state may serve as the Twenty-Seven Grand Officers; and the foremost people in a village may serve as the Eighty-One Senior Scholars.

Those whose talent and intelligence surpass ten thousand people are called “exemplars”; those who surpass a thousand are called “outstanding”; those who surpass a hundred are called “exceptional”; and those who surpass ten are called “eminent.” An exemplar understands the principles governing Heaven and Earth, comprehends human feelings and affairs, has a broad mind capable of embracing many people, possesses benevolence sufficient to comfort those far away, and has the wisdom to weigh circumstances and adapt. An outstanding person has virtue sufficient to guide the people, conduct that brings righteousness to light, integrity that wins the trust of many, and insight that allows them to understand those below. An exceptional person acts as a model, has the wisdom to resolve difficult questions, the integrity to keep agreements, and the honesty to distribute resources fairly; their conduct can be followed and their words have sound reasoning. An eminent person remains steadfast in their duties without slackening, acts according to righteousness without forming factions, does not evade danger for the sake of safety, and does not seize benefits indiscriminately.

Exemplars, outstanding people, exceptional people, and eminent people should each occupy positions suited to the extent of their abilities. By extending from the roots to the branches, using what is important to guide what is secondary, and having those above lead while those below respond, all under Heaven can unite in their devotion to the right path, abandon greed and baseness, and turn toward benevolence and righteousness. Teaching the people is like the wind bending the grass. If the unworthy are put in charge of the worthy, then however harsh the punishments, wickedness cannot be stopped. The weak cannot control the strong, nor can those with little strength command those with greater strength: this is the natural order of Heaven and Earth. Thus wise rulers appoint the worthy to establish their achievements, while foolish rulers appoint those who are close to them and share their inclinations. By observing whom they promote, one can tell whether their government is orderly or chaotic; by examining the factions they associate with, one can judge whether they are worthy and capable.

Laozi says: People who prize ritual and law often carve away at human nature and correct human feelings. The things the eyes wish to see may be pleasing, yet rules are used to forbid them; when the heart feels joy, ritual and law are used to restrain it. People must step forward, withdraw, and turn according to prescribed rules, bowing and lowering their heads in formal obeisance. Their bodies grow stiff as if frozen; they dare not eat, and even when urged to drink, they dare not. In this way, their outward conduct is constrained, their inner De (Virtue/Power) grows troubled and damaged, the harmony of Yin-Yang is suppressed, and their nature and feelings about life are forced into submission. They spend their whole lives in sorrow and suffering.

Why does this happen? Because no one investigates why people have these desires; instead, they simply forbid what people want. No one seeks to understand why people feel joy; instead, they merely prevent them from enjoying it. This is like confining wild animals without repairing the fence, while doing nothing but forbidding them from running into the open wilderness. It is like trying to dam a flowing river with one’s hands. Thus, opening the channels of sensory desire while continually adding more affairs makes it impossible to save people, even over the course of a whole lifetime.

The purpose of ritual and law is to suppress feelings and seal off desires, using ritual propriety to restrain oneself. Even when the heart is stifled and distressed, and the body and nature remain as unsatisfied as if hungry and thirsty, one can only force oneself to endure it helplessly. As a result, it is difficult to live out one’s full natural lifespan. Ritual and law cannot make desire disappear; they can only prevent it from being expressed. Music cannot make joy disappear; it can only prevent joy from becoming excessive.

If the aim is to make everyone under Heaven fear punishment and dare not steal, how could that be better than making them have no desire to steal in the first place? When people understand that something is of no use to them, even the greedy will give it up. When they do not understand what use it has, even the honest may not be willing to yield it to someone else. People lose their states, die at another’s hands, and are mocked by all under Heaven—often because of desire. If they understood that fans are useless in winter and fur coats useless in summer, then all things would be like dust and filth, unworthy of attachment. Thus, ladling boiling water out of a pot only makes it boil more fiercely; those who understand the root cause need only remove the fuel.

Laozi says: Acting in accordance with human nature is called the Dao (the Way); preserving the nature one is born with is called De (Virtue/Power). Only after this nature has been lost do people begin to prize benevolence and righteousness. Once systems of benevolence and righteousness are established, the Dao and De decline. When simplicity fades, ritual and music are used to embellish society; once notions of right and wrong take shape, the people become confused; when pearls and jade grow precious, people throughout the world compete to obtain them.

Ritual is meant to distinguish high from low and noble from humble. Righteousness is meant to harmonize the relationships between ruler and minister, father and son, elder and younger brother, and husband and wife. In a declining age, ritual is reduced to outward displays of respect and the exchange of courtesies. Those who make much of righteousness often give to others in hopes of receiving something in return. Rulers and ministers blame one another, and resentment arises even among relatives. Thus, when water gathers, creatures that devour one another take root in it; when earth accumulates, insects and beasts that gnaw at it take root there. When ritual and music are overdone, deceit and hypocrisy take root.

In a declining age, those who govern do not focus on providing what life requires. Instead, they make the world’s honest and generous ways shallow, dissolve its natural simplicity, and disturb the people. What is clear and upright is treated as corrupt; people’s nature and life are thrown into disorder, and everyone rushes to compete. Trust is undermined, and people lose their nature. Laws and principles conflict, actions run counter to interests, and rich and poor struggle against one another. The distinction between ruler and servant is no longer worth discussing.

When there is enough, people can yield to one another; when there is too little, they compete. Yielding gives rise to ritual and righteousness, while competition leads to violence. So the more desires there are, the harder it is to set things in order; the more people seek satisfaction, the more conflict continues. In a clear and peaceful age, even petty people can remain upright, and profit cannot tempt them. In a chaotic age, even exemplary people may act wickedly, and laws cannot stop them.

Laozi says: The rulers of a declining age dig into mountains and stone, extract gold and jade, mine slate and shells, and smelt copper and iron, yet leave all things unable to flourish. They cut open pregnant animals, burn grasses and trees in the wilderness, overturn nests, and smash eggs. When things reach this point, even exemplary people may act wickedly, and laws cannot stop them.

Laozi says: “The rulers of a declining age cut into mountains and stone, carry off gold and jade, mine inkstone material and giant clamshells, and smelt copper and iron, yet prevent the myriad things from flourishing and growing. They cut open the bellies of mother beasts, burn the wilds, overturn nests, and destroy eggs. As a result, phoenixes no longer come, and qilin no longer appear.

“They build wooden platforms, burn forests to hunt, drain lakes and marshes to catch fish, pile up earthworks for dwellings, dig wells for water, dredge rivers into ponds, and build walls for defense. They confine wild animals and keep them as livestock. These practices throw Yin-Yang—the two forces interacting throughout Heaven and Earth—into disorder and make the seasons lose their regular pattern. Thunder and lightning destroy the myriad things; hail and frost bring calamity. All things wither and die young, and more than half the population suffers disaster. Plants and trees die in summer, and the three great rivers run dry.

“People divide mountains, rivers, and valleys, lay down boundaries for the land, count the population, and establish ranks. They set up offices and fortified passes for defense, and use different clothing to mark high and low status. They reward and punish people according to whether they are old, worthy, or unworthy. Then war arises, resentment and strife break out, and calamities follow: the wanton killing of the innocent and the punishment of the guiltless.”

Laozi said: When all under Heaven is about to lose its life and nature, it is like dark Qi gradually rising. The ruler is muddled and unenlightened, so the Dao is abandoned and cannot be put into practice, while De fades and can no longer be made manifest. In governing, he acts against the course of Heaven and issues orders contrary to the four seasons, causing spring and autumn to lose their harmonizing Qi. Heaven and Earth, too, cease to bestow their bounty. Though the ruler occupies his position, he finds no peace. The great ministers withdraw from the world and refuse to offer counsel; the officials merely try to discern the ruler’s wishes, allowing the constant way to be disrupted without setting it right. They distance themselves from their own kin to protect themselves, while crooked and sycophantic people flatter the ruler and plot in secret. In haste, they install an arrogant ruler and imitate the deeds of rebellious ministers to advance their own schemes.

As a result, ruler and ministers become estranged and no longer trust one another; kin grow distant and cease to rely on one another. No crops ripen in the fields, and no one walks at ease along the roads. Metal gathered in heaps loses its edges; no matter how much jade is stored away, there is never enough. The tortoise shell used for divination has lost its underside, yet divination with milfoil is performed day after day. All under Heaven can no longer be united as one family: the feudal states follow different systems and customs. They turn their backs on what is fundamental and abandon their roots, then impose harsh punishments and make unreasonable demands of the people. They fight over petty gains and slaughter the people, until more than half have died.

They wage war and slaughter indiscriminately when attacking cities. They overthrow those in high positions, endanger the peace, build massive battering rams and towering ramparts, arrange battle formations, drive soldiers into places from which they cannot escape, and set them against powerful enemies. When the people rebel, the rulers care only for empty fame and the annexation of land. The battlefield is strewn with corpses, and hundreds of thousands perish. Countless old and weak people die of hunger and cold. From then on, people throughout the land can no longer enjoy their inborn nature and life in peace, nor live according to the customs they have long known.

Later, worthy sages arose, taking Dao and De as their guiding principles and supporting them with benevolence and righteousness. Those nearby displayed their abilities, while those far away were moved by their De; thus all under Heaven was brought into unity. Their descendants continued to assist in governing: they dismissed slanderers, settled disputes that had yet to be resolved, abolished harsh laws, removed cumbersome and vexing duties, stopped rumors from spreading, and blocked the paths by which factions pursued private interests. They eliminated cunning schemes, followed the fundamental way, set aside the pursuit of peripheral concerns, and did not endlessly show off their cleverness. They allowed the myriad things to return to a state of undivided wholeness, depth, and stillness, each returning to its source.

Sages cannot create the times in which they live. When the moment comes, they simply do not let it pass them by. That is why their work does not come to an untimely end.

Laozi said: The Feng River is ten ren deep—a ren is an ancient unit of length—yet it admits no dust or grime. Gold and stone on its bed can be seen clearly from the surface. This is not because the river lacks depth or clarity; it is simply that fish, turtles, and dragons do not wish to dwell in it. Crops cannot grow on bare rock, and even a beautiful mountain has no elk roaming it if there is nowhere to shelter or make a home.

So, in governing, to mistake harshness for discernment, severity for clarity, treating subordinates with contempt for loyalty, or skillful scheming for achievement is like stretching leather too tight: in the end, it will split apart. When government is generous and restrained, the people are plain and at ease. When government is exacting and harsh, the people become distressed and unsettled.

Laozi said: Govern the state through Virtue; use unconventional strategy in warfare. First establish a political order that cannot be defeated, then look for an opportunity to overcome the enemy. If you have not yet brought your own affairs into order but go to attack another’s disorder, it is like using fire against fire or water against water: things of the same kind cannot overcome one another. Instead, prevail through surprise by using different methods: stillness to master agitation, order to master chaos, fullness to master hunger, and ease to master exhaustion. Opposites restrain one another, like water, fire, metal, and wood. Wherever one goes to wage war, victory is therefore possible.

Thus, when the two sides are equal in Virtue, the larger force defeats the smaller. When their strength is equal, the wise prevail over the dull. When their wisdom is equal, those with plans can capture those without them.