《宋徽宗道德真經解義》Vol. 9

This scripture primarily discusses the wisdom of interactions between large and small states, as well as the fundamental nature of Dao (the Way) as the source of all things.

Regarding state relations: A great nation should position itself like rivers and seas that flow downward (lower reaches), for it is precisely by occupying the lowest position that the ocean can receive all tributaries. All things under heaven tend to confront strength with strength, but the truly wise approach is to maintain a soft, tranquil, and non-contending attitude. Just as the female (the receptive) often overcomes the male (the active) through stillness, quiet humility is the proper way to engage with the world. If a great nation humbles itself before smaller states, it will gain their allegiance; if a small state approaches a great power with humility, it will receive acceptance. The Way of Heaven shines down upon all things with radiance, while the Way of Earth remains humble yet supports all existence. Thus, great nations should consciously adopt this attitude of humble deference.

Concerning the nature of Dao: Dao is the most subtle and profound essence of all things (the Mysterious). Just as the mysteries of heaven reside in the northwest (ancients believed the northwest represented heaven's deepest recesses), the secrets of earth lie beneath the Yellow Springs, and the mysteries of humanity dwell in the depths of thought. Dao permeates these three realms—heaven, earth, and humanity—as the most refined intrinsic essence of all existence.

This scripture expounds on the profound nature of Dao (the Way) as the origin of all things. The Dao (fundamental cosmic principle) is unfathomable and difficult to fully comprehend, yet it embraces and nourishes all existence. All things manifest the Dao, just as the Dao serves as the shelter for all creation.

For virtuous people, the Dao is like a precious treasure. Emperor Huizong of Song's commentary notes that persistent virtuous conduct cultivates noble character, allowing one's spirit (Shen) to naturally attain enlightenment. Virtuous individuals understand how to cherish the Dao and won't lose themselves in worldly pursuits.

Even for those lacking virtue, the Dao still protects them. By maintaining the purity of one's innate nature and following heavenly principles, one preserves the true path. Like a nurse caring for an infant, the Dao never abandons anyone. Kind words earn respect, noble actions influence others—how much more so the all-encompassing Dao? Therefore, the Dao rejects no one.

The scripture concludes that even the exalted positions of Son of Heaven or the Three Dukes (highest ancient offices), with their jade treasures and fine steeds, cannot compare to quietly cultivating this Dao. Emperor Huizong emphasizes that noble persons should cultivate themselves to govern the world. If one merely uses treasures to attract talent without practicing the great Dao, it's like neglecting the root for the branches. Where the Dao resides, sages revere it and people naturally follow. The Son of Heaven and Three Dukes should govern the world through the Dao—this is the fundamental principle.

This scripture conveys two main teachings:

The first layer speaks of the preciousness of the Dao (the Way). Though four fine horses may be valuable, excessive pursuit of material things leads one astray from the Great Dao. The ancients treasured the Dao precisely because it could transform the wicked into the virtuous and enlighten the foolish, much like absolving sins. The Great Dao excels at redeeming all things, never abandoning any person or object. By turning inward to seek the Dao one may attain it, and by returning to one's original nature one may be freed from transgressions - hence all under heaven value it.

The second layer describes the state of Wuwei (non-action). The Great Dao itself embodies Wuwei (acting without contrivance), Wushi (creating without artifice), and Wuwei (desiring without craving). Though sages engage with worldly affairs, their hearts maintain the Dao's essential emptiness. While ordinary people distinguish things as large or small, many or few, sages perceive the underlying unity of all things. They resolve resentment through De (Virtue), because worldly rewards, punishments, honors and humiliations cannot shake the heart of a true Dao practitioner.

Supplementary notes:

1. "Wuwei" (non-action) is a core Daoist concept referring to natural, unforced action

2. The "imperial commentary" mentioned refers to annotations by Emperor Huizong of Song, while "Chen Yi" indicates another commentator

3. "Repaying resentment with Virtue" exemplifies the Daoist wisdom of overcoming hardness with softness in human affairs

When people become attached to personal gains and losses, they become agitated by honor and disgrace, thus breeding grievances and favors. If one could transcend to a state of true freedom, where would there be distinctions between self and others? Naturally, no grievances would arise. Those who honor De (Virtue) see no objects of resentment—this is why we use virtue to dissolve enmity.

To resolve difficulties, begin where it's easiest; to accomplish great deeds, start with the smallest steps. All difficult matters under heaven necessarily originate from simplicity; all great undertakings under heaven invariably begin with minutiae. (Emperor Huizong's commentary illustrates:) A thousand-zhang dike may collapse due to an ant's burrow; a hundred-foot tower may burn down from a spark in the chimney flue. Just as Bai Gu prevented floods by plugging ant holes, and cautious elders avoided fires by sealing wall cracks—the affairs of the world often sprout from imperceptible signs. Once they grow large, they become unmanageable. Thus, the sage always intervenes at the earliest stage.

Failure often stems from negligence; the hardest planning occurs at the beginning. If one masters the easy and minute aspects, ultimately there will be no mistakes. Once matters go awry, they become irreparable. Therefore, the sage never covets grand achievements yet accomplishes great works. (The imperial commentary notes:) Only by starting small can one achieve greatness—isn't it too late to bring order after chaos has formed? This embodies the principle of accumulating little to become much.

Hasty promises seldom prove trustworthy; treating matters as overly simple inevitably invites greater difficulties. Thus, the sage always approaches affairs with the mindset of handling difficulties, and consequently encounters none. (The commentary explains:) Disasters often lurk in subtle signs and erupt when people are negligent. The sage navigates the world by carefully attending to faint omens, thereby maintaining perfect restraint and ultimately avoiding irresolvable calamities.

(Chapter 64 interpretation) Stable situations are easily maintained; undeveloped changes are easily planned; fragile things are easily resolved; minor issues are easily eliminated. Prepare before problems arise; bring order before chaos forms. (The commentary states:) Stability and danger, unmanifested and manifested, fragile and solid, minute and obvious—all exist in relativity. Taking precautions during stability prevents danger; planning during latency prevents actualization. This is the sage's wisdom of foreseeing the subtle.

When the ice first begins to melt and is promptly addressed, it will not form thick ice; when problems are still minor and resolved in time, they will not escalate into major disasters. The wise understand how to prevent dangers before they arise, much like preventing a chariot from overturning or a ship from sinking. The sage does not wait until matters deteriorate to employ wisdom, but takes action before problems emerge. This embodies the principle of "dealing with matters before they take form and governing before chaos appears."

The minister explains: A state of stability refers to when matters show no signs of emerging; fragility and subtlety describe the initial sprouting of events. To act before matters take shape is to "act when there is nothing"; to govern when matters are still minute is to "bring order before disorder arises." Just as a giant tree that takes several arms to encircle grows from a tiny sprout, a nine-tiered terrace is built basket by basket of earth, and a thousand-mile journey begins with the first step beneath one’s feet.

The emperor annotates: All tangible things—the great must grow from the small, the high must be founded on the low, and the distant must begin from the near. Matters always start simply but inevitably become complex as they near completion. The sage, seeing the beginning, can envision the end; observing the signs, they foresee the outcome. Thus, they neither rush ahead to seek blessings nor become the source of calamity. Acting with caution, they ultimately achieve success.

The minister explains: The tree illustrates growth from small to large, the terrace represents accumulation from low to high, and the journey symbolizes progress from near to far. All grand and lofty things originate from the minute. The sage’s ability to accomplish great deeds is rooted in this principle.

Forcing action leads to failure; clinging stubbornly results in loss. Therefore, the sage follows the natural course without coercion, thus avoiding failure; they do not cling to fixed views, thus avoiding loss.

The emperor annotates: The sage does not force matters and thus does not fail; they do not stubbornly adhere to preconceptions and thus do not lose. Foolish people, however, insist on planning and clinging to subjective ideas, only to stray further from the Dao. How could they not fail?

The minister explains: Striving for success leads to failure; stubborn pursuit results in loss. Only by refraining from deliberate action can one achieve naturally; only by relinquishing rigid views can one gain effortlessly.

Ordinary people often fail when their endeavors are on the verge of success.

The emperor annotates: To abandon tasks midway, diligent at first but lax later—this is the common flaw of ordinary people. Thus, matters often fail just as they near completion.

The minister explains: Only the sage can maintain diligence from start to finish. Ordinary people act contrary to the Dao—how could they endure? Hence, none escape failure.

If one treats the end with the same caution as the beginning, there will be no failed endeavors.

This passage discusses how Dao practitioners should maintain their innate authenticity and avoid being misled by external desires and knowledge.

First, it states that if one can consistently preserve their original pure heart and act with caution, they will not fail in their endeavors. The sages (those who have attained the Dao) pursue what ordinary people do not seek—they do not value rare treasures. They study what others neglect, using this to correct the mistakes of the masses. Ordinary people often lose themselves in the pursuit of profit and become confused by excessive learning, neither of which aligns with the state of Wuwei (non-action, or following the natural flow). Sages do not allow material gains to burden their bodies and minds, knowing contentment brings lasting joy. They do not let artificial pursuits disrupt their innate nature, instead using learning to return to their original authenticity. The common people often deviate from their true nature due to excessive striving, and the sages exist to guide them back to the right path.

Next, it explains the principle of "assisting the natural course of all things": Heaven and Earth and all beings follow their own inherent patterns, requiring no human interference. Sages simply align with these natural laws, helping all things develop according to their innate tendencies rather than using cleverness to alter them. Forcing intervention only leads to harm. Thus, sages rely solely on the teachings of the Dao, avoiding petty cleverness.

Finally, it quotes Daode Jing Chapter 65, which states that in ancient times, those skilled in practicing the Dao did not seek to make the people clever and cunning but instead encouraged them to remain simple and honest. They allowed the people to follow the Dao without necessarily understanding its principles. In the earliest times, people lived in harmony with nature, walking the path of the Dao without scheming. However, by the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, this purity gradually faded.

The core message of this passage is: Cultivating the Dao requires returning to one’s innate nature and finding contentment in simplicity. Governing should follow natural principles and preserve honesty—excessive pursuit of knowledge and profit only leads to losing one’s true self.

This passage discusses the art of governance, with its core argument opposing excessive reliance on cleverness and artificial intervention, advocating instead for a return to natural simplicity.

During the ancient Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, and Zhou), education was thorough and the ritual-music system complete, yet major problems emerged by the late Zhou period precisely because of overemphasis on "enlightening the people" (making them too clever). Laozi's advocacy of "keeping the people simple" was not about making them foolish, but rather about discouraging excessive pursuit of superficial goodness and beauty, encouraging each to abide by their inherent nature and maintain primal authenticity. Only thus can society return to a state of natural simplicity.

The difficulty in governing people stems precisely from their excessive cleverness. The root of great chaos in the world often lies in rulers excessively valuing cunning strategies. Governing through cleverness backfires: the more laws are established, the more deceitful behavior emerges; the more detailed the decrees, the more fraudulent methods flourish. Therefore, governing through cleverness becomes the nation's misfortune.

Conversely, governing without cleverness is the nation's blessing. Just as burning tallies and smashing jade seals (symbolizing abolishing cumbersome decrees) can return people to simplicity, or breaking measuring vessels and snapping steelyards (symbolizing removing harsh controls) can stop people from contention—this represents the true grandeur of governance.

Understanding the distinction between these two approaches—"using cleverness" and "not using cleverness"—means grasping the principle of governance. The people will emulate this principle. Consistently following this principle constitutes "profound virtue" (Xuande). This virtue is unfathomably deep, immeasurably vast, and completely contrary to worldly methods. Like the profound hue of heaven (xuan), it aligns with the Dao of Heaven, transcending all things.

Truly comprehending this principle without abusing cleverness leads to the state of no-mind and no-knowledge. This Xuande reaches ultimate profundity—opposing worldly ways yet harmonizing with the Great Dao. Achieving this state realizes true "great accord" (complete alignment with nature).

This passage elucidates the realm of "Great Accordance" (Da Shun) and the wisdom of sages in worldly affairs:

Emperor Huizong of Song interprets "Great Accordance" as the supreme state of following cosmic principles, akin to Zhuangzi's concept of complete harmony with heaven and earth. This condition may appear dull and dim-witted superficially, yet in truth represents the most profound Virtue (De), for it discards artificial cleverness, allowing all things to follow their inherent nature unconsciously—this constitutes genuine "Great Accordance."

Just as rivers and seas become monarchs of all waterways (the kings of a hundred valleys) by virtue of occupying low positions, so too when rulers humbly serve their people (maintaining the lowest position), the populace will naturally gravitate toward them like water flowing downward. Though sages desire to stand above others, they speak with humility; though wishing to lead, they position themselves behind. Thus, while occupying elevated stations, they never oppress others; standing at the forefront, they incur no envy, and all under heaven gladly support them without weariness.

The Book of Changes states that "the noble lowering to the humble" wins popular support. When sages treat others with modesty, people naturally elevate them; when they willingly stay behind, the masses propel them forward. Because they contend with none, none under heaven can contend with them. Like those possessing Virtue yet never boasting of it, they are cherished wherever they go.

All under heaven say the Dao is so vast that it seems to resemble nothing (bu xiao). Precisely because of its vastness, it cannot resemble any particular thing. Were it to resemble something specific, it would long have become insignificant. The Great Dao embraces all things, boundless and limitless, thus appearing formless. To confine it to any particular form would constrain its infinite expanse.

If there were anything beyond the Dao (the Way), how could it be considered the greatest? The true Dao transcends physical form—it encompasses all things, leaving nothing outside itself. Since all beings in the world originate from the Dao, nothing surpasses it in greatness, yet the Dao also resides within the smallest of things.

I hold three treasures, which I guard steadfastly: The first is "compassion" (benevolence), the essence of De (Virtue). With compassion toward all beings, one harms no life nor disrupts nature, allowing everything to grow according to its inherent nature. The second is "frugality" (restraint), the foundation of propriety. By maintaining frugality, one remains content, never losing oneself in the pursuit of external things. Neither squandering resources nor burdening the people, the populace naturally follows the right path. The third is "daring not to be ahead of the world" (humility and non-contention). Striving to lead in all matters fosters a reliance on force rather than virtue, whereas a humble and yielding attitude paradoxically makes one the master of all things.

Compassion, in fact, gives rise to true courage—just as King Wen of Zhou, out of love for his people, could pacify the realm with a single act of righteous anger. Because of his benevolence, the people defended him as they would their own fathers and brothers. Frugality, in turn, ensures abundance—like the winter's conservation of energy that allows spring's flourishing. Even Heaven and Earth do not indulge in extravagance—how much less should humans? And by not contending for precedence, one becomes a true leader, for winning through non-contention is the very principle of the Dao.

Yet people today cast aside compassion to flaunt their might, abandon frugality to chase luxury, and reject humility to scramble for advantage—this is the path to ruin. They know only that brute force can subdue others, unaware that compassion is true courage; they recognize only that extravagance dazzles, oblivious that frugality brings endurance; they grasp only at immediate gains, blind to the wisdom of yielding.

This passage elucidates the core wisdom of Daoist philosophy regarding statecraft and military strategy. Emperor Huizong of Song notes in his commentary that those who merely pursue external power and status (the allure of being a vessel's master) without understanding the importance of humble retreat and self-preservation (holding oneself back) are merely the strong and violent type, destined for eventual ruin.

The truly profound art of warfare lies in "compassion" (ci) — the heart of benevolence. When warfare is waged with compassion, victory is assured; when used in defense, stability is secured. Because the benevolent have no enemies under heaven, the people will pledge their loyalty as fiercely as they would protect their own limbs and heads, or as children defending their parents. When heaven wishes to save someone, it shields them with compassion. This is why "compassion" ranks first among the Three Treasures of Daoism.

The text then discusses how those skilled in leadership (shan wei shi zhe) do not rely on brute force (bu wu), for martial prowess is an inferior method—true leaders pursue righteousness and benevolence. Those skilled in warfare are not swayed by anger (bu nu), for the highest military strategy triumphs through wisdom. Those adept at overcoming enemies do not engage in direct confrontation (bu zheng), because contention violates heavenly virtue (De). History is replete with lessons of bloodshed from battles fought over land and cities.

The truly profound approach lies in the "virtue of non-contention" (bu zheng zhi De): by not asserting strength, one achieves martial success; by not giving in to anger, one accomplishes what anger seeks to do; by not contending, one resolves contention. All these stem from inner virtue. Those skilled in employing others know how to humble themselves (wei zhi xia), allowing the wise to devise strategies, the capable to exert their efforts, and the eloquent to speak on their behalf. Though this may appear as non-action (Wuwei), it actually harnesses the collective talents of the world.

Finally, the text emphasizes that this virtue of non-contention is not superficial but genuine wisdom in governance. True leaders need not be exceptionally intelligent or capable themselves—they simply excel at gathering the wisdom of others, allowing each person to fulfill their role appropriately.

This passage discusses the highest state of aligning with the Heavenly Dao (Tian Dao). The ancients believed that "acting through non-action (Wuwei)" meant conforming to the Heavenly Dao—not contending deliberately yet being able to utilize all things. Only in this way can one become matched with Heaven. To achieve this alignment is to reach the supreme state, beyond which there is nothing higher. Thus it is called the "ultimate principle of antiquity" (Gu zhi ji), where "ji" signifies the pinnacle, much like the ridgepole is the highest point of a house.

The Heavenly Dao has the characteristic of lowering the elevated and raising the humble. Only by willingly occupying the lower position and avoiding contention can one be said to match Heaven. To align with Heaven means to unite with the Heavenly Dao—this is the highest realm of Dao cultivation.

Regarding the art of warfare, when two armies face each other, the side that harbors compassion often prevails. The sage employs military force solely to rescue people from dire suffering, merely eliminating cruelty. A truly divine and martial commander does not slaughter indiscriminately but holds compassion as his treasure. When benevolence (Ren) spreads throughout the world, all people submit; when righteousness (Yi) manifests under Heaven, no enemy remains unawed—this is the constant way of victory.

Though warfare employs killing as its means, this is merely its outward appearance. The true essence of military strategy lies in wielding arms with a compassionate heart to bring deliverance. Those with benevolent hearts who engage in warfare often achieve victory without battle.