《道德真經取善集》Vol. 10

Chapter 5 of Volume 10 in the Collected Good Interpretations of the True Scripture of Dao and De compiles Song Dynasty scholar Li Lin's annotations on Chapter 60 of the Dao De Jing, "Governing a Great State." Multiple scholars elucidate Laozi's governing wisdom of "ruling a large state as one would cook a small fish" from different perspectives.

Laozi uses the metaphor of "cooking small fish" to illustrate that governing a large state is like preparing delicate fish—frequent stirring will break them apart, just as constant changes in laws and policies will unsettle the people. The Imperial Commentary and Wang Bi both emphasize that governing should prioritize stillness and wuwei (non-action). The calmer and more composed the ruler, the more effectively they can unite the hearts of the people. Liu Zhongping further explains that small fish are easily overcooked, just as people are easily disturbed by excessive governance. Ruling a state should be like cooking fish—waiting for it to naturally become tender—allowing the people to settle into stability on their own. As the Dao De Jing states, "When I practice wuwei, the people transform themselves; when I remain tranquil, the people correct themselves"—this is the principle at work.

When the world is governed by the Dao (the Way), even ghosts and spirits do not manifest their powers to cause harm. Lu Dian notes that in ancient times, when the Dao ruled the world, even birds, beasts, fish, and turtles thrived in their natural habitats, mountains and rivers were peaceful, and spirits remained undisturbed—hence, no supernatural phenomena occurred. Wang Yuanze argues that when the people live free from interference, following their innate nature, heaven and earth harmonize, all things flourish, and spirits remain settled in their proper place without manifesting. Humans and spirits each have their own path; only when yin-yang (the cosmic forces) fall out of balance do supernatural disturbances arise.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang clarifies that "its ghosts are not divine" does not mean spirits cease to exist, but rather that though they remain, they do not manifest strange phenomena to harm people. Liu Jinxi adds that while ghosts and spirits inherently possess power, when a ruler governs with the Dao, they instead bless the people rather than harm all things. This demonstrates that when the Great Dao governs the world, even supernatural forces align with harmony.

Governing a great nation is like cooking small fish—the key lies in not overhandling them. The sage (referring to an enlightened ruler) avoids harming the people precisely because he follows the natural Dao (the Way). In this way, the harmonious Qi (vital energy) between heaven and earth responds, and both humans and spirits find their proper places without interfering or harming one another.

When humans and spirits do not harm each other, their De (Virtue/Power) naturally merges. Those who govern the world with the Dao do not act willfully but remain in a state of natural spontaneity—there is no calamity of war, no harsh punishments, and thus no harm to the people. In such a state, spirits do not bring disasters but only bestow blessings; the people do not resort to cunning but live in peace. Where, then, would harm arise?

This chapter admonishes rulers to govern the world with the Dao, avoiding forced action and instead aligning with nature. In this way, both the realms of Yin and Yang remain tranquil, humans and spirits do not interfere with one another, and their Virtue blends harmoniously. Just as in the time of Emperor Yao, when the confusion of direct communication between humans and spirits was resolved, or during the Xia dynasty when mountains, rivers, and spirits were at peace—these were all examples of rulers practicing Wuwei (non-action) in governance.

Regarding the principle that "a great nation should be like the lower reaches of a river": A great nation should position itself humbly, like rivers and seas that lie low. Because rivers and seas occupy the lowest place, all streams flow into them. If a great nation can remain humble and inclusive, the world will naturally submit to it. Knowing how to govern with the Dao ensures that the people are unharmed, but if one does not understand the principles of engaging with the world, even if one does not harm others, harm may still come to them.

The principle of all things converging in the world is this: The feminine (the "female," or pin) often overcomes the masculine (the "male," or mu) through stillness. Quiet humility is the fundamental method for engaging with the world and protecting the people. A great nation should maintain the virtue of humility and inclusiveness, like rivers and seas that lie low—then the people of the world will naturally come to submit. Remain still and unforced, and all things will return of their own accord; one should receive all things with a gentle and tranquil demeanor. The reason the feminine can overcome the masculine lies in its ability to remain still and not actively assert itself.

(Note: In the text, pin refers to the feminine, passive principle, while mu refers to the masculine, active principle—often used in Daoist thought to symbolize the contrasting qualities of soft stillness and forceful movement.)

This scripture primarily expounds the wisdom of "taking stillness as the lower position," using the relationship between large and small states to illustrate the profound application of the Dao of humility.

Wang Bi explains that the female (pin) overcomes the restless male (mu) precisely because it remains tranquil. The state of stillness naturally occupies the lower position, and thus all things willingly return to it. Just as water flows downward, maintaining a humble and yielding posture attracts others.

Wang Anshi further elaborates that those who willingly occupy the lowly position despised by others will naturally draw the world to them. The reason the female overcomes the male lies in its stillness and humility. Silence is like the ruler—by constantly occupying the lower position, it ultimately prevails.

Regarding the principles of state relations: If a large state humbly treats a small one, it gains the small state’s allegiance; if a small state humbly approaches a large one, it secures the large state’s acceptance. As Emperor Xuanzong of Tang remarked, the large state gains the small state as a vassal, while the small state gains the large state as its protector.

Lü Huiqing particularly emphasizes that the large state actively humbles itself to acquire the small state (yi qu), while the small state has no choice but to humble itself to seek the large state’s shelter (er qu). This recalls Mencius’s words to King Xuan of Qi: The benevolent serve small states as if they were large (like Tang of Shang serving the state of Ge), while the wise serve large states as if they were small (like King Tai of Zhou serving the Xunyu). The key lies in maintaining a posture of humility and gentleness.

This scripture passage primarily discusses the principles governing interactions between large and small states. A great nation should approach smaller states with humility, much like how Goujian of ancient times served the State of Wu—this is called "delighting in Heaven" (顺应天道, following the Dao of Heaven). Conversely, when smaller states serve larger ones with reverence, this is termed "fearing Heaven" (敬畏天道, revering the Dao of Heaven). Those who delight in Heaven can preserve the world, while those who fear Heaven can safeguard their own states.

When a great nation humbles itself before smaller states, it does so not for ulterior motives but to embrace and nurture them (like a shepherd tending livestock). Similarly, when smaller states yield to larger ones, they do so not with hidden agendas but to seek protection through alignment.

Heshanggong explains that when a great nation refrains from belittling smaller states, it can incorporate and govern them. Cheng Xuanying suggests that a great nation's humility stems from a spirit of universal love. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang notes that a great nation's humility aims to win over smaller states, while their tribute signifies a desire for support.

Both parties achieve their respective needs, which is why the greater nation should maintain its humble stance. Liu Renhui observes that large states are prone to arrogance, hence the need for special admonition. Wang Anshi points out that while it's easier for the small to serve the great, it's far harder for the great to serve the small—thus Laozi emphasizes that greater nations must practice humility. Lü Huiqing adds that if smaller states refuse to yield, they not only forfeit protection but invite calamity.

The scripture concludes by stating that when a great nation rules all under Heaven, occupying the highest position, it must guard against pride and complacency. Just as the Dao of Heaven shines downward to illuminate all things, or as rivers and seas become kings of a hundred streams by dwelling in low places, mountains hidden within the earth symbolize humility, and rulers calling themselves "solitary" or "unworthy" demonstrate modesty. This chapter teaches that humility forms the foundation of state relations, with great nations needing particular vigilance in this regard.

(The phrase "The Dao is the mystery of all things" introduces the next chapter, discussing how the Dao holds the secrets of creation—this will not be elaborated here.)

Liu Zhongping explains that "ao" refers to the deepest dwelling place, while "jiao" denotes the most subtle boundary. "Ao" is used to describe the profound mysteries of the Dao, while "jiao" depicts its more apparent manifestations. Speaking of the profound helps one understand the apparent, and discussing the apparent allows one to grasp the profound.

What is the most treasured possession of virtuous people? Emperor Xuanzong of Tang (Emperor Ming of Tang) believed that virtuous individuals understand how upholding the Dao leads to prosperity, hence they regard the Dao as their precious treasure to employ. Wang Yuanze further elaborated that what virtuous people cherish is precisely what sages comprehend. There is no one under heaven who does not revere the Dao, but it is the virtuous who truly recognize its value. "Treasure" signifies something of great worth, and the Dao's preciousness manifests in three aspects: Jing (essence), Qi (vital energy), and Shen (spirit). Jing is the foundation of the body—preserving it without dissipation ensures physical wholeness. Focusing on nurturing Qi without roughness leads to robust health. Safeguarding Shen without dispersion maintains the integrity of one's true nature. When these three merge into one, this is why the Dao becomes the supreme treasure of virtuous people.

As for those who are not virtuous, Emperor Xuanzong explains that "bao" means preservation. The unvirtuous do not ordinarily value the great Dao, only seeking to preserve themselves within it when faced with calamity, hoping to escape misfortune. In truth, whether virtuous or not, no one can exist apart from the Dao. Virtuous people actively pursue the Dao and thereby attain perfection, while the unvirtuous, if they repent and humble themselves in times of crisis, can also rely on the Dao to avert disaster.

Beautiful words can earn respect, and noble conduct can surpass the ordinary. Sun Deng said that speech can surpass the value of public debate, while action can rise above the masses. Yet the true Dao, when spoken, is plain and flavorless. Sages practice Wuwei (non-action) and teach without words—how could they use ornate language to please the ears of the people or embellished behavior to dazzle the eyes of the world? Lu Dian added that words are like fleeting wind and waves, while action is the root. Still, beautiful words can earn respect, and noble conduct can surpass the ordinary—how much more so the Dao, the source of all things? This is why the ancients used the Dao to educate the people. Even if one person awakens to it, the merit surpasses filling the entire Dharma realm with the world's most precious treasures as an offering. Thus, beautiful words can earn respect, and noble conduct can surpass the ordinary—so why should the unvirtuous be abandoned?

Therefore, the Son of Heaven (the ruler) is established, and the Three Dukes (Grand Preceptor, Grand Mentor, and Grand Guardian) are appointed to assist in governing the state.

Gu Huan explains that the purpose of establishing rulers and ministers is to govern the state through moral education, guiding all people toward goodness, particularly in transforming those with improper conduct.

Du Guangting observes that with the vastness of the world and abundance of resources, people in their primal state could not exist without governance. Thus the Son of Heaven (Tianzi) was instituted to administer the populace. The Son of Heaven must reverently serve the Supreme Deity (Shangdi), honoring heaven as his father and earth as his mother—hence his title. As one person cannot govern extensive territories alone, the Three Dukes (Grand Preceptor, Grand Mentor, and Grand Guardian) were established as chief ministers. As the Book of Documents states, their duty is to deliberate on governing through the Dao and managing state affairs.

Sima Guang (Duke Wen) notes that rulers are established to govern the people, while ministers are appointed to instruct and protect the ruler.

Though one might use precious jade and chariots drawn by four horses to recruit worthy talents, none compare to quietly cultivating this Dao. True gentlemen uphold the principle of bringing peace to the world through self-cultivation. Even if the Son of Heaven and Three Dukes employ jade and steeds to attract worthies, without dedicated cultivation of De (virtue) and self-refinement, they would be abandoning their essential nature to follow others, losing the root of self-cultivation. Quietly practicing this Dao proves superior, for the Dao is fundamental. Sages revere wherever the Dao resides, hence people follow them as eagerly as attending a marketplace.

Wang Anshi (Duke Shu) and Wang Pang (Wang Yuanze) both maintain that while the Son of Heaven and Three Dukes may use precious gifts to recruit talents, nothing surpasses single-minded cultivation of the Dao. Their responsibility to educate the people can only be fulfilled by mastering the Dao, after which the world will naturally submit. Though talent recruitment matters, without personal Dao cultivation, the people remain unconvinced.

Lü Huiqing (Lü Jifu) interprets this ceremonially: though the Son of Heaven and Three Dukes use jade and steeds to demonstrate reverence to heaven, quiet Dao cultivation proves superior. As the Dao is the world's most precious treasure, even silent seated practice outweighs elaborate rituals and valuable tributes. When the Son of Heaven and Three Dukes sit quietly discussing the Dao, they are fundamentally cultivating it.

Finally, Gu Huan raises a profound question: Why did the ancients so treasure this Dao? This inquiry seeks its underlying reason. Is it not because through cultivating the Dao one attains inner peace and absolution from transgressions? Thus the Dao becomes cherished by all under heaven.

This scripture primarily discusses the importance of the Dao (the Way) and how to practice its principles.

Regarding the "quest for the Dao," it states: The ancients sought the external patterns of Yin-Yang transformations but failed to attain the Dao because they looked outward. In truth, the Dao resides within us—sincere pursuit is all that is needed to attain it. The Dao can transform the wicked into the virtuous, the foolish into the wise, and even absolve transgressions. Thus, the Dao is the most precious treasure in the world.

Lü Jifu (Lü Dongbin) explains: Seeking the Dao leads to attainment—this is the treasure of the virtuous. The Dao absolves transgressions—this is the refuge of the unvirtuous. Precisely because the Dao is so vital to all, the ancients held it in the highest esteem. All things originate from the Dao, making it the most valuable treasure in existence. The virtuous benefit from walking its path, while ordinary people find protection through it.

Chapter 63 discusses the principle of Wuwei (non-action):

"Wuwei" means not forcing action, "no affairs" means not creating complications, and "flavorless" means maintaining simplicity. The essence of the Dao is naturally non-active, formless, and desireless. Though sages engage with worldly matters, their inner state remains aligned with these three qualities of the Dao. Liu Jinxi says: Cultivating the Dao means reaching the state of Wuwei, seeing the Dao means understanding the condition of "no affairs," and realizing the Dao means experiencing the truth of simplicity. Wuwei is the Dao's natural state, "no affairs" its fundamental truth, and "flavorless" its essential nature.

On "repaying resentment with De (Virtue/Power)":

The size, quantity, and complexity of all things are immeasurable—holding grudges makes distinctions impossible. Sages perceive all things as one, enabling them to embrace everything. Wang Yuanze states: Treating resentment with fairness is a method of handling affairs, but transforming resentment with De is the realm of true morality. Methods may vary, but moral understanding must transcend resentment. Cao Daochong adds: Repaying resentment with De dissolves enmity, whereas repaying resentment with resentment perpetuates endless cycles of vengeance.

The core teaching of this scripture is this: The Dao resides within—seek it inwardly; cultivate it through Wuwei and naturalness; and in dealing with the world, repay resentment with De. Only then can one truly comprehend the great Dao.

This passage elucidates the principle of preventing problems at their inception. Difficult situations accumulate from simple beginnings, and major events originate from minute details. Matters like right and wrong, beauty and ugliness, gratitude and resentment—though seemingly significant—all sprout from the tiniest seeds. If we address issues while they're still manageable, they won't escalate into serious troubles; if we respond when problems first appear, they won't develop into grave situations.

Just as a thousand-foot dike may collapse due to an ant hole, or a hundred-foot tower may burn down from sparks escaping a cracked chimney. Bai Gui (a hydraulic engineer from the Warring States period) prevented floods by plugging every ant hole in his dikes, while prudent elders avoid fires by sealing wall cracks. Most calamities in the world stem from the most trivial oversights—once they grow severe, they become irreparable. Thus, the wise always act early.

The Book of Documents wisely states: "Resentment often grows unnoticed." All difficulties in the world begin with ease, and all great undertakings start from the smallest details. The reason sages achieve greatness is precisely because they never dismiss minor matters, handling them properly while they're still small. If one waits until chaos erupts before seeking solutions, isn't it already too late?

Here's a crucial reminder: those who make promises lightly often lack credibility ("light promises, little trust"). Just as managing dikes requires plugging ant holes, fire prevention demands sealing chimney cracks, resolving issues must happen at their budding stage. Ordinary people often dismiss trivial matters as unworthy of attention, only to regret when disaster strikes. Sages, however, remain ever vigilant, thus avoiding major calamities and ultimately accomplishing extraordinary feats.

Those who make promises lightly often lack sincerity. Du Guangting explains that ancient people praised Yang Wuer (a man of his word) and Zhong You (who never delayed fulfilling promises), while the Book of Rites records "better to incur resentment by refusing first than to be blamed for breaking trust later." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang points out that rash promises inevitably lead to broken trust, and acting too casually will surely bring future difficulties. Cheng Xuanying says this reflects the law of cause and effect—reckless actions invite great calamities, while Master Kumarajiva observes that neglectful practice inevitably brings severe retribution.

Even sages handle affairs with meticulous care, thus ultimately avoiding major difficulties. The Imperial Commentary explains that disasters often lurk in subtle details—sages always exercise caution in worldly matters, thereby consistently preventing rash behavior and averting grave misfortunes. Wang Bi adds that if even sages are this prudent with small matters, how much more should ordinary people be? It is precisely this attention to detail that prevents major difficulties. Liu Renhui states that only by thinking thrice before acting can one avoid regret—if sages behave this way, common people should follow suit.

This passage reveals three key insights into embodying the Dao: resolving resentment through virtue, addressing matters while they're still simple, thus preventing them from becoming major problems. Who but Dao-realized sages could accomplish this?

Chapter 64 states: "What remains still is easy to maintain." Du Guangting explains this refers to when the mind is tranquil and desires have not yet arisen—this is the easiest state to preserve. Emperor Xuanzong says when the human mind is calm, maintaining its undistracted state is simplest when cutting off thoughts before they take form. Wang Yuanze emphasizes preventing matters before they occur.

"What is brittle is easy to shatter; what is minute is easy to scatter." Emperor Xuanzong analyzes that desires are easiest to eliminate when newly emerged and still fragile, just as disasters are easiest to prevent when first sprouting. Lü Jifu adds that shattering brittleness prevents solidification, scattering minuteness prevents manifestation—this principle applies equally to objects and the human mind.

This passage elucidates the principle of preventing problems at their inception. Wang Yuanze remarked that addressing matters at their earliest stage is what is meant by "governing before disorder arises."

Yan Zun illustrated this principle with vivid analogies: those who are not yet ill are easily treated, and states not yet in crisis are easily strategized for. Just as a cart that hasn't broken down can be managed by a child, but once overturned in a ravine, a thousand men cannot save it; or an unbroken egg that can be held with one finger, but once hatched into a wild goose spreading its wings to soar beyond the clouds, cannot be caught even with nets.

Laozi employed three classic metaphors to demonstrate the developmental patterns of things: the giant tree that requires arms to encircle grew from a tiny sprout, the nine-tiered tower was built basket by basket of earth, and the thousand-mile journey begins with a single step beneath one's feet. The Imperial Commentary explains that all things develop from small to large, from low to high, from near to far. The sage perceives outcomes by observing initial signs, thus never waiting until fortune or misfortune take shape before acting, but achieves success through prudent conduct.

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang further expounded: disasters invariably sprout from minute beginnings and gradually expand. Just as a tree grows from hair-fine sprouts—this is the natural law of growth; a tall tower accumulates basket by basket of earth—this demonstrates the result of persistent accumulation; the thousand-mile journey starts beneath one's feet—this embodies the principle of perseverance. Regrettably, ordinary people often neglect these subtle beginnings, only to find calamities irreversible once fully formed.

Du Guangting supplemented: people consistently fail to understand preventing problems before they arise, just as states frequently overlook subtle omens. Attempting governance only after turmoil has taken shape is like trying to fell a tree after it's grown thick enough to embrace, dismantling a tower after its completion, or pursuing a destination a thousand miles away—not only exhausting effort, but finding the disaster already beyond remedy. This resembles how someone's whistling at a marketplace gate during the Jin dynasty ultimately sparked rebellion—misfortunes often originate from the most insignificant beginnings.

This passage expounds the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Emperor Xuanzong of Tang explains that "action" refers to deliberate effort, while "grasping" denotes stubborn persistence. Ordinary people often fail to prepare before events occur or prevent chaos before it arises. Instead, they force actions beyond their nature and cling to worldly desires, inevitably meeting with failure and loss.

Lü Ji-fu further elaborates: Taking action before events manifest is actually "action through non-action"; governing before chaos emerges is "order through non-governance." If one waits until situations develop before acting, the very attempt to succeed leads to failure; if one intervenes only after chaos forms, the effort to stabilize causes loss of control.

Thus, the sage who attains the Dao (the Way) does not act deliberately and therefore never fails; does not grasp stubbornly and therefore never loses. They neither cling to specific matters nor adhere to fixed views. Those who consider themselves clever—the more they scheme and insist on their views—only distance themselves further from the Dao. How could they avoid failure?

Common people often fail when nearing success. Emperor Xuanzong observes that abandoning tasks midway—starting diligently but growing lax—reflects human nature, explaining why endeavors often collapse at the brink of completion. Lü Ji-fu adds that ordinary people act only after events unfold, hence their frequent failures near success, as they lack understanding of fundamental principles.

The Book of Documents states: "To build a nine-ren mountain, the effort may fail for lack of one final basket of earth." If one remains as cautious at the end as at the beginning, no endeavor would fail. Emperor Xuanzong remarks that maintaining the same virtuous intention from start to finish ensures freedom from calamity.

Lü Ji-fu concludes: Understand that great things arise from small accumulations, lofty achievements begin from humble origins, and distant goals start with nearby steps. With unwavering caution throughout, how could failure occur?

Therefore, the sage pursues what others neglect (the Dao), not valuing rare treasures; learns what others ignore (returning to simplicity), rectifying collective faults.

This passage discusses the core Daoist concept of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)." Several commentators elucidate the profound meanings of "no desire" and "no learning" in the Daode Jing from different perspectives.

Laozi believed that those who pursue material gain become enslaved by external things, while those who crave extensive knowledge become mentally obscured by learning. The sage (one who has attained the Dao) does not allow profit to burden their inherent nature. Their desire lies in "having no desire"—stopping once basic survival needs are met, thus not valuing rare treasures. True learning consists in "not learning," meaning returning to the innate clarity of one's nature and correcting the common tendency to chase after external things.

Lu Dian illustrates this with metaphors: burying gold and silver back in the mountains, casting pearls into deep waters, relinquishing seemingly precious objects, and abandoning excessively refined skills—this is the true meaning of "desiring what they do not desire." Forgetting artificial concepts of benevolence, righteousness, and ritual music, and discarding stale, useless doctrines—this is genuine "learning what they do not learn."

Wang Yuanze further explains: "No desire" does not mean having no desires at all, but rather keeping desires within necessary limits. Food and clothing satisfy people's natural needs, but craving rare objects beyond these basics leads to losing one's true nature. The sage corrects this deviation through "desiring what they do not desire." Similarly, "no learning" does not reject all study but uses learning to rectify the common tendency to pursue trivial knowledge.

Lu Yu and Du Guangting add: Human nature is originally serene and should assist all things in developing naturally through an attitude of desirelessness. Worldly learning is overly complex, making it difficult to return to non-action (Wuwei); excessive desires inevitably obscure one's true nature. The sage advocates "learning what they do not learn" to preserve simplicity and "desiring what they do not desire" to attain inner peace, gradually realizing the illumination of the true Dao and assisting the natural expression of inherent nature.

In summary, this passage teaches that not coveting rare objects or pursuing excessive abilities—seemingly acts of self-restraint—actually leads to achieving the great Dao. Maintaining cautious consistency, detecting subtle signs to prevent misfortune, and returning to a simple, uncomplicated life enable one, like the ancient Daoist masters, to bring peace to the nation and stability to oneself.

Lu Dian (a Song Dynasty scholar) explains: By relinquishing desires to reach the state of desirelessness, and abandoning deliberate study to attain the condition of non-learning, one can thereby use their own primordial spirit (Shen) to protect the spiritual nature of all beings, resonating mutually with Heaven and Earth. The so-called "assisting the natural course of all things" means avoiding artificial interference—birds and beasts inherently have their communal habits, plants and trees naturally follow their growth patterns, all things spontaneously transform and take shape. The sage simply assists them by following their intrinsic nature: not disturbing natural laws, not violating innate tendencies, helping life forms achieve complete growth according to their characteristics, and aiding their natural formation in accordance with structural principles.

Just as the ancient Emperor Shun established officials to manage mountains, rivers, and vegetation, and Yu the Great implemented virtuous governance so that birds, beasts, fish, and turtles each found their proper place. This chapter speaks of how sages prepare early when matters are still manageable and begin governance before chaos arises. Through three historical examples, it illustrates that proper planning in advance can prevent future troubles, that non-action (Wuwei) avoids failure, and that non-coercion prevents loss. By maintaining constant vigilance, how could things go awry? The sage eliminates worries through purity and desirelessness, abandoning cunning to follow the natural tendencies of all things, comprehending the Dao of non-action—thus maintaining stability and ultimately avoiding irretrievable situations.

Chapter 65 discusses the ancient masters of the Dao: True adepts do not teach people to become clever and cunning but guide them back to their original simplicity. The Imperial Commentary states: People may be led to follow the great Dao (Da Dao), but they need not understand too many doctrines. Ancient practitioners of the Dao simply allowed people to naturally follow the Heavenly Way and return to their authentic state. The great Dao can bear all things and coexist with them—there is no need for schemes or cleverness, hence the saying "to make the people simple" (returning them to purity). After the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou), people abandoned tranquility and non-action (Wuwei), instead favoring complex doctrines, using ritual and music to correct behavior, and preaching benevolence and righteousness to pacify minds. Though claiming to civilize the people, nothing has caused greater chaos than this.

Wang Bi (a Wei-Jin Dynasty philosopher) annotates: "Enlightenment" (ming) refers to teaching people excessive cunning, thereby damaging their original simplicity; "simplicity" (yu) means preserving natural innocence and maintaining authenticity in harmony with nature. Sima Guang (Duke Wen) advocates discarding superficiality to seek substance, returning to honest simplicity. Cao Daochong (a Song Dynasty Daoist) points out: When people become clever, deceit arises; preserving simplicity allows a return to original purity. The so-called "enlightening the people" means instructing them with cleverness, but the true Dao does not act this way.

This passage expounds the wisdom of governing a state through simplicity versus cunning. Laozi believed that employing clever stratagems in governance actually breeds chaos, while the true way of ruling lies in guiding people back to their original simplicity.

Though intelligence and ingenuity may appear as effective tools for statecraft, ancient masters who followed the Dao (the Way) never used cunning to govern the people. Instead, they guided them to return to unadorned purity. As Zhuangzi observed, when rulers excessively value cleverness instead of following the great Dao, the world falls into disorder. Consider these analogies: when bird traps become overly ingenious, birds scatter in chaotic flight; when fishing gear grows too elaborate, fish dart wildly through the waters; when hunting nets are excessively intricate, beasts flee in panic through the marshes. Similarly, when a society becomes steeped in sophistry and deceit, the people become bewildered by specious arguments.

The difficulty in governing ordinary people stems precisely from their excessive cleverness. Where cunning proliferates, deception arises—when everyone employs petty shrewdness and manipulative tactics, orderly governance becomes impossible. Thus using cleverness to govern ultimately harms the state. As Emperor Xuanzong of Tang noted, when a ruler appoints too many scheming ministers, they inevitably create convoluted laws. Yet the more laws proliferate, the more fraudulent practices emerge, plunging the nation into chaos. Historically, Cao Shen maintained the simple legal codes established by Xiao He, bringing stability to the Han dynasty, while Shang Yang's overly harsh reforms ultimately contributed to the Qin dynasty's collapse.

Conversely, governing without cunning becomes a nation's true blessing. When rulers avoid employing ministers skilled in petty cleverness, instead selecting virtuous individuals of simple integrity, and allow people to live as leisurely as ancient hermits, cunning naturally diminishes while simple honesty flourishes. When people live in harmony, the harvests prosper—this constitutes a state's genuine good fortune. As Liu Zhongping observed, governing without cunning accords with heavenly principles (Tian Dao), allowing for effortless rule through non-action (Wuwei); governing through cunning constitutes artificial interference, and such interference disrupts natural harmony.

This passage discusses the dialectical relationship between "using wisdom" and "not using wisdom" in governing a state and cultivating oneself. If a ruler governs through excessive cunning and calculation, it will make the people crafty and dishonest—thus governing through cleverness becomes the nation's misfortune, while governing without clever artifice becomes its blessing.

The wisdom of Yao and Shun (legendary sage-kings) lay in not interfering excessively with all things, while Yu the Great's wisdom consisted in acting according to nature. By not forcibly interfering with all things, one avoids the delusion of omniscience; by following nature's course, one refrains from damaging the essence of things for personal gain—this constitutes true wisdom. Laozi's teaching of "not governing through cleverness" fundamentally maintains this natural state, through which the people actually gain hundredfold benefits.

Heshang Gong (the renowned Daoist commentator on the Daode Jing) explains that one must understand the distinction between these two approaches: recognizing that using cleverness brings harm while avoiding it brings benefit—this is the fundamental principle for self-cultivation and state governance. Emperor Xuanzong of Tang further clarifies that appointing ministers who rely on cunning and deceit harms the people, whereas employing ministers of simple virtue benefits the nation. A ruler who understands this principle and appoints virtuous ministers embodies the model of true kingship.

Lü Ji Fu (a Song Dynasty Daoist) adds that this principle applies not only to governance but equally to self-cultivation. One who can consistently follow this law attains what is called "Mysterious Virtue" (Xuande—profound and subtle power). Heshang Gong explains that "mysterious" (xuan) represents Heaven, and mastering this way of self-cultivation and governance means sharing Heaven's virtue. Emperor Xuanzong considers xuan as representing profundity and subtlety—when a ruler comprehends this principle of appointment, they possess the supreme virtue of ultimate profundity.

This Mysterious Virtue is unfathomably deep and infinitely vast, completely contrary to worldly practices. The Imperial Commentary (official Song Dynasty annotation) explains that xuan is the color of Heaven—understanding this principle without abusing cleverness allows harmony with the Dao of Heaven. Scholar Liu Renhui states that Mysterious Virtue is called "deep" because it's immeasurable, "vast" because it's omnipresent, and "contrary to things" because it abandons cleverness to return to simplicity. Upon reaching this state, one completely follows natural law—as Zhuangzi describes merging with Heaven and Earth in natural harmony. Though appearing foolish and chaotic, one actually attains the realm of Mysterious Virtue, in perfect accord with the Heavenly Dao.

Gu Huan (a Daoist master of the Southern Dynasties) explains: Although these practices may appear contrary to conventional worldly wisdom, they are in complete accord with the fundamental patterns of the Dao. This chapter speaks of subtly applying the principles of the Dao so that the people follow them naturally without conscious awareness. It requires no clever or deceitful wisdom, but rather a return to the purest, most authentic state of simplicity. Those who comprehend this principle and take it as their guiding standard possess the most profound and mysterious De (Virtue/Power). Abandoning artificial cleverness and conforming to the natural patterns of heaven—this is the fundamental way.

(Supplementary note: Here "contrary" refers to the Daoist characteristic of reverse thinking, as seen in expressions like "Great skill appears clumsy." "Subtly applying the principles" describes how sages govern without leaving traces, akin to the state described in the Daodejing: "The highest rulers are those whose existence the people barely notice." "Returning to simplicity" echoes Laozi's cultivation ideal of "returning to the state of an infant.")