《唐玄宗御製道德真經疏(一)》Vol. 9

The ancient masters who excelled in governing through the Dao did not seek to make the people clever and cunning, but rather guided them to maintain a state of simplicity and naturalness. The phrase "making them simple" does not imply deceiving the people, but rather refers to removing cunning and artificiality, returning to their pure and genuine nature.

The reason people become difficult to govern lies precisely in their excessive cleverness. This proliferation of cunning often arises when rulers fail to manage according to the principles of the Dao, leading those below to engage in scheming and foster deceit.

To govern a state through cleverness is in fact a calamity for the nation. For when ministers skilled in political maneuvering are employed, they breed an atmosphere of hypocrisy and craftiness, thereby abandoning the true path.

Governing without reliance on cleverness is the true blessing for a state. The ruler should appoint virtuous officials of sincere character, implement the policy of Wuwei (non-action), and preserve an atmosphere of simplicity—thus the nation will achieve harmony and stability.

To understand the distinction between these two approaches to governance—employing cleverness and abstaining from it—is to grasp the fundamental principle of statecraft. One who can consistently adhere to this principle attains the profound "Xuan De" (mysterious virtue), the deep and subtle power of integrity.

This Xuan De is so profound and unfathomable that it appears contrary to worldly methods, yet ultimately achieves supreme harmony. This is praise for rulers of mysterious virtue, who govern through transformation by non-action—their realm is truly immeasurable.

This passage uses the metaphors of rivers and sages to expound the core Daoist principle of "humility and non-contention."

The reason rivers and seas become the sovereign gathering place of all streams is precisely because they excel at occupying the lowest positions. As the Yijing states, the way of Earth causes the full to flow toward the humble. Sages emulate this quality of humility, treating others with gentle words and referring to themselves as "lonely" or "unworthy" to demonstrate modesty—yet this very attitude earns them universal reverence.

When sages wish to stand before others, they instead place themselves behind. This deliberate avoidance of contention causes all things to naturally elevate them. Thus when sages occupy high positions, people feel no burden; when they stand at the forefront, none resent or harm them. This occurs because sages always prioritize others' benefit, lightening the people's burdens.

The virtue (De) of sages is vast and selfless, like spring breezes and nourishing rain, and the people look up to them as they would the sun. Because they never contend with others, no one in the world can contend with them. This "virtue of non-contention" constitutes the fundamental method of Dao cultivation, embodying the highest state of aligning with natural spontaneity.

In his commentary on the Daode Zhenjing (True Classic of the Dao and Its Power), Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains this passage by noting that all under heaven delight in honoring the sage without growing weary, because the sage speaks with humility, acts by putting others first, and never competes with the myriad things for precedence. Precisely because of this, no one in the world can surpass the sage's leading position.

In Chapter 67, "All Under Heaven Say," Laozi states, "All under heaven say my Dao is vast, yet it seems unlike anything." Emperor Xuanzong explains that "seeming unlike" (xiao) means resemblance. Laozi's statement refers to how people perceive the Dao as vast and formless, finding no concrete image to compare it to.

Laozi then responds, "It is precisely because the Dao is vast that it resembles nothing. If it resembled any particular thing, it would long have become insignificant." Emperor Xuanzong elaborates: the Dao's vastness lies in its transcendence of all forms, beyond the complete comprehension of ordinary people. If the Dao had a fixed form like worldly things, it would lose its essential vastness, reduced to a shallow and common practice, no different from ordinary cultivation.

Laozi presents "three treasures" he holds: first, "compassion" (ci, benevolence); second, "frugality" (jian, restraint); and third, "daring not to be first in the world" (humility). Emperor Xuanzong clarifies: extending benevolent care universally is "compassion"; using resources sparingly, treating others generously without waste is "frugality"; acting with humility and avoiding forceful prominence is "daring not to be first."

Regarding the principle that "compassion gives birth to courage," Emperor Xuanzong explains: ordinary people, driven by greed and competition, lack compassion, and their courage often leads to hardship. The sage, rooted in compassion, employs courage to save others. As the Analects state, "The benevolent are necessarily courageous"—true benevolence inherently encompasses great courage.

Frugality enables the vast expansion of one's endeavors. By understanding the need to control expenditures and cherish resources—wasting neither material goods nor harming the people—one's achievements can broadly benefit all under heaven.

Those who dare not compete for gain ahead of others in the world instead become the honored leaders of all things. This is because they restrain themselves to benefit others, yielding their own position to fulfill all beings. Such an attitude of non-competition makes all things willingly uphold them as sovereign.

Nowadays, some abandon benevolence to indulge in aggressive displays of courage, discard frugality to pursue extravagance, and refuse humility while striving to be first in all things—such behavior only invites self-destruction. The term "且" (qiě) here implies acting recklessly or carelessly. People are often driven by desires, their actions contradicting the Dao: they forsake the benevolence that benefits all and instead recklessly employ harmful aggression; they abandon the virtue of frugal restraint and recklessly chase lavish displays; they discard the duty of humble yielding and recklessly flaunt boastful, competitive postures. Governing a state in this manner will surely lead to its downfall, and cultivating oneself this way will surely bring ruin—thus, this is truly the path to destruction.

With a heart of benevolence, one prevails in battle; with benevolence, one achieves steadfast defense. Benevolence is the foremost of the "Three Treasures" (referring to compassion, frugality, and not daring to be first in the world), and thus is especially worthy of praise. Using benevolence to resist enemies preserves the people; using benevolence to guard the land brings stability to all. As long as one does not lose benevolence, they can both triumph and remain secure.

When heaven wishes to aid someone, it protects them with benevolence. "Aid" here means assistance, and "protection" means safeguarding. The Dao of heaven always bestows blessings upon the virtuous, ensuring they meet with good fortune and avoid calamity. Thus, those who fight with benevolence receive heaven's aid, and those who defend with benevolence receive heaven's protection. Victory in battle and steadfast defense first depend on the practice of benevolence; receiving aid and protection ultimately comes from heaven's evident support.

A skilled commander does not rely on martial prowess. Here, "士" (shì) refers to those who lead military affairs, and "武" (wǔ) signifies martial might. A virtuous ruler governs the world through the Dao, promoting benevolence and frugality to nurture all things, rather than ruling the people through displays of force. What they honor is benevolence—hence it is said they do not rely on martial prowess.

A skilled warrior does not act in anger. When deploying troops to face the enemy, one should maintain a compassionate heart, as if merely driving away bothersome insects—seeking only to stop the enemy without fighting in rage. Thus, it is said that a skilled warrior does not act in anger.

A skilled victor does not engage in contention.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explained in his commentary on the "Dao De Jing":

Regarding the principle of "conquering through compassion rather than contention," true virtue never relies on forceful struggle. When one influences distant lands with gentleness and pacifies nearby regions with kindness, fully embodying benevolence and harmony without contending with adversaries, opponents will naturally submit. This is what we call "achieving victory without contention."

Those skilled at employing others always maintain a humble posture. Understanding how to treat people with modesty ensures their wholehearted service, thereby accomplishing great deeds. The "Book of Changes" states that "when the noble show courtesy to the humble, they win people's hearts." This exemplifies the virtue of non-contention.

To summarize: Truly virtuous individuals remain gentle without asserting dominance; skilled warriors demonstrate compassion without wrath; masters of victory yield rather than contend; and those adept at employing people stay humble, willingly positioning themselves below others. By embodying these principles, all things fulfill their potential, and talented individuals willingly offer their service—all fruits of humble conduct. Is this not the very essence of "the virtue of non-contention"?

Maintaining a composed, humble demeanor and treating the worthy with respect inspires people to devote themselves wholeheartedly. As the "Book of Changes" states, "When people are motivated through joy, they forget their toil"—this is the way of skillfully harnessing human potential.

These behavioral principles align perfectly with the Dao of Heaven, representing the most profound wisdom since ancient times.

Concerning the art of warfare, Laozi lamented how people of his time courted disaster by underestimating enemies and delighting in battle, thus he offered this admonition through ancient wisdom. The phrase "there is a saying about using arms" refers to the following principles:

Skilled commanders never initiate conflict but maintain a defensive posture. The aggressor is called "host," while the defender is called "guest." Launching attacks signifies stirring trouble and insatiable greed, whereas defensive postures embody self-preservation through compassion. Ancient military codes mandated maintaining benevolent defense—never provoking conflict or coveting achievement—hence the saying "daring not play the host but rather the guest."

Only those who understand Heaven's Dao by yielding can achieve ultimate victory, while reckless aggressors inevitably meet defeat. They dare not advance an inch, but would rather retreat a foot.

This passage discusses the principle of "non-contention" (bu zheng) that should be followed in warfare. Even minimal advancement in battle can lead to losses due to greed for merit, while greater retreat demonstrates the virtue of yielding. By devaluing contentious behavior, one avoids seeking even an inch of gain; by honoring benevolence and humility, one willingly yields a foot.

The most skillful military formations appear as if taking no action at all. True mastery in warfare lies not in aggressive attacks but in restraining the enemy. As the defending side (guest army), yielding a foot with an attitude of non-contention achieves victory—though seemingly responding to the enemy, the effect is equivalent to taking no action (wuwei).

When angry, people roll up their sleeves (rangbi) to prepare for conflict, but those truly skilled in combat remain composed, as if having no sleeves to roll. Though one may seek to provoke the enemy into battle, adhering to non-contention means there is ultimately no enemy to engage.

Though weapons are meant for killing, when rooted in compassion and sheathed unused, their presence becomes as harmless as having no weapons at all.

The greatest calamity is underestimating the enemy. Such arrogance nearly costs us our most precious quality: compassion (ci). Engaging in war due to underestimation leads to defeat, while defensive efforts collapse. Though disasters take many forms, disintegration and rout are the most severe.

When two nations mobilize against each other, victory will come to the side whose ruler employs the Dao's principles, whose commanders treat the enemy with compassionate mercy, and who refrain from excessive slaughter.

Laozi said: My teaching is actually easy to understand and simple to practice. When the principle is grasped, words become superfluous.

This passage elucidates the philosophical concepts of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and "knowing versus not knowing" from the Daodejing.

The principle of "non-action" is actually quite simple to comprehend. What I refer to as "non-action" means refraining from unnecessary actions—when matters are simplified, they become easier to accomplish. Yet people in the world struggle to truly understand and practice this. The reason lies in their bondage to doctrines and words, clinging to superficial expressions while failing to grasp their true meaning; they are also troubled by worldly affairs, unable to perceive the profundity of "non-action."

Words have their fundamental purpose, and actions have their core principles. Words exist to clarify the Dao (the Way), and once the Dao is understood, one need not cling to the words themselves. Actions are meant to achieve results, and once accomplished, one should not be confined by formalities. This is why "non-speaking" is regarded as the root of speech, and "non-doing" as the guiding principle of action.

Laozi laments: It is precisely because people cling to superficial "knowledge" that they fail to understand my true meaning. Those who genuinely comprehend my teaching of "no words, no actions" are few, and those who embody and practice it are even rarer. The sage is like someone wearing coarse cloth yet holding precious jade within—outwardly plain but inwardly luminous.

Regarding the question of "knowing versus not knowing," true wisdom lies in recognizing what one does not know—this is the highest form of understanding. Those who pretend to know what they do not actually have a problem. The sage recognizes this "forced knowing" as a kind of affliction and therefore does not strive for superficial knowledge.

(Note: In the text, "coarse cloth" refers to plain garments, while "jade" symbolizes the sage's inner virtue; "essential nature" refers to the intrinsic attributes of things; "fixation on names and forms" denotes attachment to conceptual labels.)

This passage expounds on the wisdom of perception and spiritual cultivation. The essential meaning is:

Ordinary people tend to cling to superficial understanding, mistaking illusions for reality. This forced grasping at knowledge becomes a shackle and affliction. The truly wise (sages) comprehend the true essence and don't cling to conceptual knowledge, thus remaining unburdened by cognitive constraints. It's like recognizing that "forcing knowledge" itself is a kind of illness—by understanding this, one avoids contracting the malady.

The latter part discusses cultivation methods:

• When people lack reverence, calamity befalls them. One should broaden the mind ("not constrict one's dwelling place") to attain mental tranquility.
• Do not despise one's life source ("do not loathe that which gives you life"), which is the Shen (referring to one's spiritual essence). The divine spirit delights in purity—when humans clear away distracting thoughts, the spirit naturally settles. If desires run wild and disturb the heart-mind, the vital essence (Jing) and energy (Qi) will scatter.

In summary, one should maintain a state of empty stillness—not clinging to surface-level perceptions but nurturing the inner spirit. Only then can lasting peace be attained. The reason sages remain free from such afflictions is precisely because they understand these principles.

The text expounds principles of self-cultivation and nurturing one's nature. The truly wise engage in self-reflection without ostentation, and cherish themselves without self-importance.

First, it speaks of "not wearying in cleansing impurities and stilling thoughts," which means maintaining inner purity by eliminating distractions and focusing the mind in unified concentration (a Daoist practice called "shouyi," where consciousness remains undivided). In this way, the spirit (Shen) does not become exhausted. The sages understand the importance of self-awareness, constantly examining themselves and addressing problems at their inception, preventing calamities before they arise. They do not deliberately display their talents, as such boasting violates natural principles and invites misfortune.

The sages know how to cherish themselves by avoiding excessive desires, ensuring their spirit remains untroubled. They do not hold themselves in high regard, for arrogance toward others only breeds resentment. Therefore, one must abandon self-display and self-importance, choosing instead self-awareness and self-care. The sages attain impartial wisdom, recognizing the emptiness of all things' nature (a Buddhist concept, "shunyata," meaning phenomena lack inherent, unchanging substance), neither grasping nor rejecting, yet using these truths to instruct ordinary people.

Next, it distinguishes between true courage and recklessness. Those who act rashly and aggressively often disregard caution, losing their innate gentleness and humility, daring to defy authority—this is the path to self-destruction. In contrast, those who are prudent, restrained, and know when to yield may appear unheroic, yet they preserve their lives. Though both attitudes may be called "courage," their outcomes differ vastly.

Heaven despises those who act recklessly, for their behavior inevitably invites disaster, yet who among ordinary people truly understands this principle? Even the sages find this balance difficult to master.

By contrasting these two approaches to life, the text advises restraint and self-preservation over aggressive competitiveness, for this is the wisdom of survival in harmony with the Dao.

The text uses the example of sages to encourage ordinary people. Even with the wisdom of sages, true courage remains difficult to attain, for fear that bravery may bring calamity. How much more so for ordinary people who seek to flaunt their strength and contend with others—how could they avoid inviting disaster?

The Dao (Way) of Heaven operates without contention yet naturally achieves victory. Building on the earlier mention of what Heaven abhors, these four lines further clarify: the Dao of Heaven honors humility and emptiness, warning people against reckless displays of courage. Humans obsess over winning and losing, hence they contend; but the Dao of Heaven impartially bestows its favor, rewarding only goodness, and nothing dares to defy it—thus it is said to "prevail without striving."

Heaven requires no words to respond perfectly to all things. Does Heaven need to speak? It simply bestows blessings upon the virtuous and calamities upon the wicked—fortune and misfortune manifest naturally, hence it is said to "respond well without words."

Without being summoned, all things return to it of their own accord. The coming and going of all things are governed by Heaven's decree. Heaven does not deliberately call to them, yet all things follow it spontaneously. Just as yin and yang harmonize and the four seasons rotate—spring's sprouting and summer's growth—none arrive because they were summoned.

Though profound and unfathomable, the Dao of Heaven appears calm and magnanimous. It reveals omens through celestial phenomena, allowing people to emulate it—hence it is said to "plan well."

Heaven's net is vast and boundless, seeming sparse yet leaving nothing unaccounted for. "Vast" here means all-encompassing. This further elaborates on the earlier description of Heaven's nature. Though its net appears wide-meshed and far-reaching, its rewards for good and punishments for evil never err by the slightest.