《道德真經四子古道集解》Vol. 9

This passage expounds the Daoist political philosophy of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Drawing upon perspectives from the Nanhua Jing (the Zhuangzi) and Tongxuan Jing, it illustrates how in ancient times, people followed the natural Dao (the Way), resulting in a harmonious and stable society.

In antiquity, those skilled in practicing the Dao (referring to ideal rulers) did not educate the people through cunning intelligence, but rather allowed them to maintain their simple, unadorned nature. The text mentions the "Land of Established Virtue (De)," where the people were guileless and plain, making them easier to govern. The difficulty in governing contemporary people stems precisely from their excessive cleverness.

To govern a state through cunning intelligence is in fact a disaster for the nation. Relying on personal intellect to rule easily gives rise to deceitful tendencies, ultimately leading to the state's downfall. Conversely, governing without resorting to cleverness is the nation's true blessing. Understanding the distinction between these two approaches to governance means grasping the fundamental principle of statecraft.

In the ideal society of high antiquity, rulers were as naturally effortless as treetops, while the people moved as freely as wild deer. People behaved uprightly without perceiving it as righteousness, cared for one another without considering it benevolence, were honest without viewing it as loyalty, acted appropriately without labeling it trustworthiness, and helped each other without feeling it was bestowing favors. In such a society, actions left no traces, deeds needed no glorification, and the simple customs made governance effortless.

The text emphasizes that when rulers prize cleverness while neglecting the great Dao (the Way), it leads to great disorder in the world—as evidenced by the lessons of Jie of Xia and Zhou of Shang. True wisdom lies in abandoning petty cleverness to attain great wisdom.

A ruler who exhausts their mind and spirit without understanding the fundamental Dao will only labor in vain. Over-reliance on personal cunning often backfires, for when cleverness is exhausted, greater troubles arise. It's like trying to clear muddy water by stirring it—an impossible task. Those who truly grasp governance's essence discard contrived strategies, following instead nature's course to let all things transform spontaneously. This eternal principle constitutes the highest art of rulership.

(The Tongxuan Jing states: Those who now seek to learn governance but fail to comprehend the sage's luminous and profound Dao—clinging rigidly to textual doctrines—will surely govern poorly.) This constitutes the most profound De (Virtue/Power). Ancient sages inwardly maintained this Mysterious Virtue (Xuande), teaching the people as if aided by divine spirits. Only those aligned with natural law can truly govern the world.

Xuande's meaning runs exceedingly deep. (Tongxuan Jing's "Nature Chapter" explains: The primordial sages coexisted with heaven and earth, cultivating human Dao impartially. When human Dao runs deep, De grows profound; when De becomes profound, achievements and renown naturally follow. This is Xuande's profound state.) This Virtue stands diametrically opposed to worldly pursuits. (The Tongxuan Jing commentary notes: Because true excellence lies not in cleverness, we call it contrary.) Attaining this state means complete harmony with the Great Dao.

(The Zhuangzi states: Merging with heaven and earth, this fusion becomes seamless—appearing foolish and chaotic, yet precisely manifesting Xuande in perfect accordance with natural law.)

Like rivers and seas that become kings of all waterways (Tongxuan Jing describes how ancient sages governed through Dao, achieving merit then withdrawing without claiming credit, emulating the humility of oceans that willingly occupy low positions). Without chasing greatness, accomplishments arise naturally—thus one becomes a true sovereign. Human nature submits to De, not force; true Virtue lies in yielding, not contention. Therefore, when ancient sages desired honor, they first honored others; seeking elevation, they first humbled themselves; wishing to surpass others, they first showed weakness; wanting others' humility, they first practiced self-effacement. All hierarchies are regulated by Dao—with humble speech and yielding conduct, the people naturally support without resentment. This demonstrates De's profundity and Qi's smooth flow. Understanding that "giving is receiving" and "retreating is advancing" brings one near the Great Dao. Protecting benevolent governance through humility—this is how ancient kings maintained enduring rule, emulating the royal virtue of oceans that yield.

The ocean, precisely because it occupies the lowest position, can receive the flow of a hundred rivers and thereby achieve its vastness. This is because it excels at maintaining a humble position, thus becoming the sovereign of all waterways. Just as rivers and seas become natural reservoirs through their downward inclination, their abyss-like virtue (De) attracts fish and turtles to return, and the great sea never rejects eastward-flowing waters—this is how it attains ultimate greatness.

The sages understood this principle and thus emulated the humility of rivers and seas. When they wished to stand above others, they instead used humble speech; when they sought to lead the multitude, they placed themselves behind. Though occupying elevated positions, people did not feel oppressed; though walking ahead, none felt harmed. This resembles how ancient rulers Yao and Shun gained universal support through abdication, while Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou became kings through conquest, whereas Duke Bai's grasping for power led to his own destruction.

Truly enlightened leaders never use forceful means to obtain status. Like rivers and seas, they maintain humility and avoid contention, with the result that none in the world can oppose them. Ordinary people always desire to receive more and are unwilling to give, while sages willingly dwell in lowliness. Precisely because they do not contend with the myriad things, nothing in the world can contend with them. This wisdom of "non-contention" (Wuwei) allows their virtue to move unobstructed, making them the most revered existence under heaven.

This passage, drawing from the Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), elucidates the three defining characteristics of the Dao (the Way). It first observes that the Dao appears formless (seemingly without likeness), precisely because its vastness transcends boundaries and remains elusive. If the Dao were as tangible as ordinary objects, it would instead appear insignificant.

The text presents three treasures for Dao cultivators to uphold: The first is ci (compassion, a benevolent heart), mirroring how the Dao of heaven and earth takes humility as its foundation. The second is jian (restraint and conservation), akin to how the Dao of heaven and earth begins with essential simplicity. The third is "daring not to be ahead of the world" (modest withdrawal and non-contention), emulating the Dao of heaven and earth that follows rather than leads.

These three qualities may appear passive yet contain immense power: Compassion paradoxically gives birth to courage, conservation achieves expansive fulfillment, and willingness to follow allows one to become the guide of all things. The ancient sages achieved lasting kingship precisely by adhering to this way of being—embracing softness rather than force, avoiding contention, and refusing to claim merit. This wisdom of advancing by yielding and overcoming hardness through softness reveals the profound operational principles of heavenly Dao.

The ancient sages emulated the Dao's way of humble retreat, thus they could willingly yield. This seemingly backward approach actually allowed them to advance—such is the natural movement of heavenly principle. Yet people today discard benevolence to pursue brute force (the Tongxuan Jing states: People in decadent times prefer aggression and detest gentleness, unaware that the violent inevitably perish). They abandon frugality for extravagance (the Tongxuan Jing says: People in decadent times crave luxury and scorn thrift, ignorant that indulgence leads to ruin). They forsake deference in their rush to compete (the Tongxuan Jing observes: People in decadent times vie to be first and hate falling behind, blind to how contention ultimately costs them everything). Such paths only hasten destruction.

The Tongxuan Jing further explains: True strength arises from humility and softness, abundance is rooted in restraint and frugality, and genuine advancement comes through modest yielding. Losing these three, a nation declines. Waging war with benevolence paradoxically brings victory (the Tongxuan Jing notes: The Dao conquers not through force but by inspiring natural trust—softness overcomes hardness). Defense becomes secure through it (the Tongxuan Jing adds: In decadent times, neither towering walls nor deep moats ensure safety; true defense requires no resistance).

Heaven aids such people (the Tongxuan Jing declares: The Dao reduces excess and supplements deficiency. The Dongling Jing also states: Those of high virtue receive even the spirits' assistance—this defines true De). Benevolence becomes their protection (the Tongxuan Jing teaches: In orderly times, righteousness guards the self; in chaos, the body guards righteousness).

Chapter Six discusses the way of exemplary scholars (the Nanhua Jing records Marquis Wu of Wei asking Xu Wugui: "May I love the people by ceasing war?" Xu replied: "Your troops resemble cranes arrayed on ornate towers—their formations awe enemies without deploying chariots or infantry. Is this not the finest 'disarming'? The ancients neither clung to gain nor won through cunning").

This passage expounds on ancient wisdom regarding military strategy and leadership. Those truly skilled in commanding troops do not resort to force lightly; those adept at warfare remain unprovoked by anger; those who excel at victory do not rely on brute strength; and those proficient in employing others always maintain humility. This embodies the concept of "the virtue (De) of non-contention" — by not competing with others, one naturally wins people's hearts.

The text cites the Dongling Jing (Cavern of Numinous Scripture) stating that weapons and armor alone cannot sustain true might. The Tongxuan Jing (Penetrating the Mysteries Scripture) adds that ancient masters of warfare knew how to restrain anger, for only by accumulating dignified presence could they establish true authority. Genuine military skill lies not in direct confrontation, but in aligning with the momentum of circumstances and popular sentiment — thus the world naturally submits.

Regarding talent utilization, the text employs vivid analogies: like a centipede's numerous legs that never hinder each other, or teeth and tongue — one hard, one soft — working in perfect harmony. Just as the jade ceremonial tablet of the Xia rulers inevitably contained flaws, or night-shining pearls bore minor blemishes, people still treasured them, for wise rulers never dismiss great merits due to minor defects. Those who fixate on others' shortcomings while overlooking their strengths will find it difficult to attract worthy talents.

The passage concludes with fundamental principles: those who win hearts must first perfect themselves; those who establish dominance must first conquer their own weaknesses; those who overcome adversaries must first cultivate virtue (De). Cherishing the worthy constitutes benevolence (Ren), while honoring them embodies propriety (Li) — only such virtue can resonate with the Dao of Heaven.

The text further classifies five types of military campaigns: righteous armies fighting for justice, responsive forces countering invasion, wrathful troops mobilized by anger, greedy armies driven by desire, and arrogant soldiers underestimating enemies. Among these, only the righteous army — mobilized to punish tyranny and rescue the vulnerable — qualifies as truly justified.

This passage primarily discusses the classification and principles of military strategy. According to Daoist classics like the Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), military action can be divided into four types:

The first is "responsive warfare" — using arms for legitimate self-defense. The second is "wrathful warfare" — launching impulsive attacks over minor disputes. The third is "avaricious warfare" — mobilizing troops to plunder others' territories and possessions. The fourth is "arrogant warfare" — relying on national might and population size to subjugate other states. The scripture clarifies that only armies fighting for justice can achieve victory: impulsive forces are doomed to fail, greedy troops will ultimately collapse, and arrogant armies cannot escape destruction — this is the immutable law of the Dao (the Way).

The text then outlines strategic principles: master strategists emphasize "securing victory through unconventional tactics," gaining advantage by surprising the enemy. Examples include exhausting well-rested foes, starving well-fed adversaries, using stillness to counter movement, employing order to await chaos, and striking only after the enemy has made the first move. Truly brilliant commanders never initiate conflicts but excel at counteroffensives; they would rather retreat a foot than recklessly advance an inch.

The scripture emphasizes that the highest art of warfare lies in "victory without battle": appearing to neither deploy troops nor arrange formations, yet mobilizing the entire army; seemingly never raising an arm, yet commanding all forces; projecting no visible military might, yet intimidating the enemy; holding no apparent authority, yet achieving triumph through formless means. Most crucially, one must never underestimate opponents, for contempt invites calamity. Those who rely solely on brute courage, clever rhetoric, or petty cunning may gain temporary advantage, but ultimately cannot handle complex situations.

This scripture conveys two key teachings:

The first layer expounds the wisdom of "advancing by retreating" in worldly affairs. Citing the Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), it observes that studying shadows reveals the principle of humility—a shadow always follows behind yet never loses its position. The sage's approach resembles stacking firewood, where the last pieces placed end up on top. This principle applies even in warfare: when confronting a tyrannical ruler with equal military strength, the side adopting a defensive posture and counterattacking later often prevails. This is because sages follow the "Way of Stillness" (the Dao of Wuwei, non-action), maintaining a soft and yielding stance while adapting to circumstances. By not striving to lead yet always remaining behind, they accomplish great deeds that none can rival.

The second layer elucidates the true meaning of sagehood through a dialogue between Confucius and Minister Shang. When asked whether the Three Sovereigns (legendary culture heroes), Five Emperors (mythical rulers like Huangdi), and Three Kings (founding rulers of Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties) were sages, Confucius replied they merely excelled in employing wisdom, valor, benevolence, or timely adaptation. Only when mentioning Lao Dan (Laozi) of Zhou did Confucius show reverence, declaring this imperial archivist the true sage—one who governs without deliberate action yet maintains order, persuades without words, transforms people without forced teachings, and possesses De (Virtue) so profound it defies description. The passage concludes by revealing the ultimate truth: Laozi's teaching embodies the supreme state of "the Great Dao's Wuwei" (non-interference with natural law).

(Note: "Maintaining feminine restraint" refers to preserving yin softness; "following natural patterns" means aligning with cosmic rhythms; the "Chongxu Jing" is a Daoist classic.)

The Nanhua Zhenjing (Classic of the Perfected Nanhua) mentions that Laozi (Lao Dan) profoundly understood the De (Virtue/Power) of heaven and earth—natural, effortless, simple, and uncomplicated. This is what is called the "Great Ancestral Teacher" (Dazongshi), the most fundamental model to emulate. Such principles are actually quite easy to grasp.

The Tongxuan Jing (Scripture of Penetrating Mystery) explains: Those who govern a large state cannot employ the narrow methods used for small states. For a vast territory, institutions must not be overly restrictive; for a lofty position, governance must not be excessively complicated; for ruling the people, teachings must not be overly harsh. Complex governance makes order difficult, harsh laws make implementation impossible, and excessive demands make satisfaction unattainable. Overly intricate schemes and sophistry, in fact, harm governance. Therefore, the sage does not engage in actions that seem beneficial but actually disrupt order, and the wise do not adopt methods that appear useful but waste resources. Achievements need not be elaborate—simplicity makes them easier to attain; affairs need not be numerous—streamlining makes them easier to manage; desires need not be excessive—moderation makes them easier to fulfill.

Such principles are also easy to put into practice. The Tongxuan Jing states: The Yellow River flows far precisely because of its winding course; mountains grow tall precisely because of their gentle slopes; the Dao nurtures all things precisely because of its unhurried ease. Those who master only a single skill, understand only one matter, or observe only one talent may discuss details, but they cannot grasp the essence of governance. The Dao teaches us: The state of primal chaos and simplicity is one that breathes in unison with heaven and earth. Those who can breathe with heaven and earth may be called emperors; those who embody great righteousness may be called kings; those who establish great achievements may be called hegemons; those who lack all three will perish. Thus, the highest form of governance requires no words to rule and no action to teach—it follows the Wuwei (non-action) of heaven’s way. Govern with the Dao, and few laws suffice; govern without the Dao, and countless laws only bring chaos.

Yet, alas, the people of the world (the Tongxuan Jing says: people of the declining age) are entangled in trivial pursuits and obscured from the Dao, unable to comprehend or practice it. The Tongxuan Jing points out: The shallow learning of the declining age obscures De (Virtue), making it impossible to understand; the Nanhua Jing (Classic of Nanhua) says: The De of the ancients was never confined to petty knowledge, yet the petty knowledge of later generations damages De, making it impossible to grasp. The Tongxuan Jing further observes: The minor virtues of the declining age obstruct the Dao, making it impossible to practice; the Nanhua Jing states: The Dao of the ancients was never limited to small deeds, yet the small deeds of later generations damage the Dao, making it impossible to enact.

Speech must have a fundamental purpose (Tongxuan Jing: Weiming Pian says: Words must have a guiding principle; actions must have a basis; the highest wisdom seems to say nothing at all). Action must have a core standard (Tongxuan Jing: Jingcheng Pian says: Speech must have a guiding principle).

This passage discusses the essence of the Dao (the Way) and the realm of sages, while critiquing how various schools of thought have deviated from the Great Dao.

All things have their roots and branches. Only those who don't understand the Dao act like fish fighting over scraps in shallow water or hunters exhausting themselves chasing prey. Such people contend over trivial matters because they fail to grasp the true meaning of the Great Dao.

Those obsessed with skills and techniques may master many crafts but lose sight of the fundamental. Like fish blowing bubbles in shallow water that will soon dry up, they'd be better off speaking less and doing more. Excessive display of skill can be harmful—just as cutting off the fingers of master craftsman Chui would help him understand that true "great skill" isn't about superficial technique.

Few truly comprehend the Dao. Take the Zhou dynasty's Grand Historian Lao Dan (Laozi)—he didn't actively govern yet maintained order, spoke little yet commanded belief, imposed no teachings yet people naturally transformed. Such great sages leave people without adequate words to praise them.

The value of sages lies in their mysterious silence—appearing to practice wuwei (non-action) yet accomplishing great deeds. The Dao's most precious quality is its dragon-like capacity for miraculous transformation, for only the wondrous changes of nature are truly valuable.

True sages (as referenced in the Zhuangzi) never depart from the Dao's root. Taking nature as their guiding principle and virtue (De) as their foundation, they use the Dao as their gateway to foresee transformations. Like someone wearing coarse clothes yet carrying precious jade, their plain exteriors conceal the Dao's radiant essence within.

The passage concludes by criticizing contemporary schools (Confucianism, Mohism, etc.) for straying from the ancient sage-kings' Great Dao. While Confucian scholar Hui Shi possessed vast learning, his doctrines were muddled and imprecise. The Mohist Mozi and his disciple Qin Guli rejected ancient rites and music to promote Yu's methods—all leading later generations away from true virtue (De) and the Dao's fundamental principles.

This passage contrasts the approaches of ancient sages with those of various philosophical schools of its time, expounding the Daoist governance principle of "governing through non-action" (Wuwei).

It first enumerates the shortcomings of contemporary schools: Though figures like Song Jian and Yin Wen from the School of Names adorned themselves with ornate Hua Mountain caps, their teachings brought no real benefit to the world; Legalists such as Peng Meng, Tian Pian, and Shen Dao promoted doctrines contrary to human nature, resembling the logic of dead men; Sophists like Gongsun Long could win arguments through rhetoric but never truly won hearts. These schools used clever teachings to instruct the people, only to foster hypocrisy and deviance. Even legal prohibitions couldn't eradicate these ills.

Natural metaphors follow: Mountains produce metal and stone, yet these same minerals erode the cliffs; trees give birth to insects that gnaw at their hosts; humans pursue learning only to become confused by it. Just as trying to stop boiling water by adding hot water only intensifies the boil, the fundamental principle of governance lies in Wuwei—just as removing the fire naturally stops the boiling.

Multiple Daoist scriptures are cited to elaborate: Ancient masters of the Dao understood "transformation through non-action" (knowing not-knowing is supreme), while modern people, ignorant of the Dao yet forcing action, invite disaster (not knowing yet claiming to know is sickness). Ordinary people pursue knowledge and profit without realizing these very pursuits are the root of illness (to recognize sickness as sickness). The sage who attains the Dao understands this truth (the sage is without sickness), much like a patient taking medicine—awareness of one's illness prevents true sickness (because they recognize sickness as sickness).

The conclusion emphasizes how only ancient sages comprehended the supreme truth that "what appears as sickness is actually non-sickness" (only the ancient sages knew that sickness is non-sickness), which constitutes the foundation of proper governance.