《道德真經集義(二)》Vol. 7

Collected Commentaries on the True Classic of the Dao and De, Volume Seven, Poem Two

The Chapter “Do Not Elevate the Worthy”

Textual variants: The Heshang Gong edition titles this chapter “Keeping the People at Peace”; the Zhao Shian edition titles it “The Meaning of Transformation Arising from the Divine Alone.”

Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s commentary (in brief): The previous chapter discussed the myriad differences among things and how they change with their circumstances; through skillful transformation, they return to the root. This chapter discusses not exalting the name of the worthy or indulging in boasting, and attaining the highest principle through Wuwei (non-action). It begins with “do not elevate” to put an end to the traces of boasting and display. It then explains the principles by which the sage governs, which serve as standards for establishing instruction. It concludes by pointing to Wuwei: once transformation is complete, things return to simplicity.

Du Guangting says: When the great sage governs the world, worthy people assist him, as fish and water depend on one another. How could he do without the worthy? But “do not elevate” means not promoting conduct marked by boasting and display. When worthy people are employed properly, the people naturally settle into their places. When boasting and display are esteemed, resentment and rivalry arise. If these are not promoted, resentment and rivalry naturally disappear. If splendid appearances and rare goods are not prized, people will not covet them. This is what accords with the sage’s guiding principle: “empty the mind, fill the belly, and have no knowledge or desires.”

Zhang Chongying says: “Peace” means stable governance, and “people” means the common folk. The chapter’s general meaning is that when rulers and nobles turn back toward the Dao and cultivate themselves first, the people follow them as a shadow follows an upright form. The people all take Wuwei as their foundation, and nothing remains beyond good governance.

Scripture

Do not elevate the worthy,

and the people will not compete for fame.

Do not prize hard-to-obtain goods,

and the people will not steal.

Do not display things that stir desire,

and the people’s minds will not be disturbed.

Therefore, in governing the world, the sage:

Empties the mind—so it is not filled with distracting thoughts;

fills the belly—so the body is nourished and the center maintained;

weakens the will—so excessive stubbornness is reduced;

strengthens the bones—so the body becomes strong.

He constantly keeps the people free of scheming and desire,

so that even those who consider themselves clever and daring

do not presume to act recklessly.

Govern by Wuwei,

and nothing will remain poorly governed.

Textual variants: “So the mind is not disturbed” reads “so the people’s minds are not disturbed” in the ancient editions. “Nothing will remain poorly governed” appears as “nothing will remain undone” in the Fu Yi and Sun Deng editions; the ancient editions agree.

Heshang Gong’s Commentary

“Do not elevate the worthy”: “Worthy” refers to those regarded by worldly standards as eloquent and clever, ornate in their writing, departing from the Great Dao, manipulating power, and abandoning simplicity in favor of ornament. “Do not elevate” means not honoring them with stipends or high office.

“The people will not compete”: They will not contend for merit, fame, or profit, and will understand that they should return to simplicity.

The following commentary corresponds line by line to the Heshang Gong interpretation of the scripture. Its central point is that the sage does not exalt worldly reputations for worthiness or hard-to-obtain goods. Through an empty mind, a full belly, freedom from scheming and desire, and Wuwei, the sage keeps the people from competing and stealing and their minds from being disturbed, so that the world naturally finds peace.

This passage says that whether governing the country or cultivating oneself, one should follow the natural order. Do not deliberately exalt the worthy or place great value on rare things; then people will not compete for fame and profit, steal, or cause disorder.

“Do not exalt the worthy” does not mean rejecting worthy people. It means not making a public show of praising and promoting their virtue, which can lead people to compete and struggle for the reputation of being “worthy.” “Do not prize rare goods” means not treating things such as gold and jade as exceedingly valuable. If they were left in the mountains or sunk to the bottom of deep pools, they would no longer tempt people, and no one would steal or take risks to obtain them.

“Do not display what is desirable” means not constantly exposing people to things that stir up desire, such as the decadent music of Zheng or beautiful women. Then people’s minds will not be disturbed, and they will not be led into sexual excess or confusion. Thus, the Sage’s way of governing the world follows the same principle as self-cultivation: keep the mind empty and still, discard attachments and desires, and dispel inner agitation; nourish the belly, embrace the Dao (the Way), and guard the spirits of the Five Viscera; soften one’s ambitions, remain humble and free of contention, and do not cling to rank and power; strengthen the sinews and bones, cherish Jing (essence) and Qi (vital energy), and let the marrow grow full and the bones firm.

The people, too, should remain simple and unspoiled, without excessive cleverness or desire, returning to a plain and authentic state. This also keeps those who think themselves clever and enjoy scheming from daring to act recklessly. The Sage practices Wuwei (non-action): he does not act rashly or impose his will, but follows the natural order. In this way, nothing under Heaven remains unguided.

The explanations that follow, by Wang Bi, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, and other commentators, add that when “exalting the worthy” becomes a public display, it makes people compete for fame; when rare goods are prized too highly, it makes them covet wealth. Thus the Sage “fills the belly and empties the mind”: though wise, he appears free of cunning; though physically strong, he does not misuse his strength. The people are kept “without knowledge or desire,” holding fast to their original nature, so that those who think themselves clever dare not act recklessly. Then peace comes naturally to the world.

Emperor Xuanzong’s interpretation is that “not exalting the worthy” does not mean rejecting worthy people; it means not deliberately promoting them. When the worthy and the unworthy each occupy their proper place, there is no conflict. When rare goods are not prized, people will not steal. If a ruler can achieve this, it will be like the age of Tang Yao: the worthy will naturally hold office and fulfill their respective duties, while the people will not covet one another’s possessions or compete to take them.

Plain Language Interpretation

General meaning of the passage

To keep the people from stealing, we must first understand what “hard-to-obtain goods” means. They are things that do not belong to a person’s allotted share: one cannot obtain them even by forcing the issue, which is why they are called hard to obtain. To refuse to abide by one’s share and envy what one lacks is already to abandon one’s natural allotment. Is that not a kind of theft? If all things are allowed to follow their own nature, and each person’s work is suited to their abilities, hard-to-obtain goods will no longer be prized, and the true state of nature and life will no longer be stolen away.

Commentary One

At birth, each person receives an allotment with its own limits. The abilities and capacities granted to a person are the “goods” they carry within themselves. To seek recklessly beyond one’s share is to seek what cannot be obtained; hence the phrase “hard to obtain.” When people fail to abide by their natural allotment and envy others’ intelligence, they lose their original simplicity and end up stealing for themselves. If each person, whether wise or foolish, abides by their own nature and uses their own abilities, there will be no covetous striving beyond one’s share. People will naturally think little of hard-to-obtain goods, and each will find their proper place. Who, then, would count as a thief?

Zhuangzi says: “Those who are not humane steal the feelings of nature and life, and gorge themselves on wealth and rank.” Another interpretation is that if the ruler does not prize pearls, jade, and other treasures, the government will be calm and clear. The people will follow this example, give up grasping after such things, and learn to be content. Then they will not steal.

Commentary Two

“Do not display what people desire, and their minds will not be confused.” Since there is no outward sign of honoring the able, and people do not recklessly seek hard-to-obtain goods, there is no temptation for them to see, and their minds will not grow clouded. Longing for intelligence is what it means to “display what people desire.” Once desire stirs in the heart, how could confusion fail to follow? If people neither honor the able nor recklessly seek what lies beyond their share, they will see nothing to desire, and their minds will not be confused.

Commentary Three

The sage governs the country and steadies the self, taking this as the foundation of instruction. Governing the country is, in truth, also a matter of cultivating the self: empty the heart, fill the belly, cut off desire, forget knowledge, and take Wuwei (non-action) as the rule. Then nothing will be left unmanaged.

“Empty the heart” means that the heart is not disturbed by what it desires. When the mind chases after things, worldly concerns cloud and confuse it. When thought is quiet and one’s true nature is kept whole, desires do not arise; when desires do not arise, the heart is empty. Zhuangzi says, “An empty room gives rise to brightness.” When the heart is empty, pure brightness arises of itself. Hence the phrase “empty the heart.”

“Fill the belly” means that when Dao and De (Virtue) fill a person within, they do not boast or grasp after more, just as one stops eating when full. When the belly has enough, one does not crave more; when Dao and De fill one within, one does not cling to desires. Hence the phrase “fill the belly.”

The phrase “stop when satisfied” comes from the Spring and Autumn Annals. It appears in the words of Yan Mei and Ru Kuan as they remonstrated with Wei Wuzi. Their point is that one should stop after eating one’s fill, like an ordinary person, rather than giving rise to further greed. Here the phrase serves as a metaphor for knowing contentment and stopping in good time.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Fill the belly, weaken the will, strengthen the bones

“Fill the belly” means that the noble person lets the belly—the place where desires and livelihood find their repose—serve as the heart’s foundation. When the belly is full and content, there is no greedy craving. “Weaken the will” means that when the heart is empty and still, the will—the plans the heart makes—naturally grows weaker and does not strain to prevail over others.

The metaphor of the will and the bones

The will is the heart in action: whatever one thinks or plans to do is called the will. The sage wants the heart’s actions to remain soft and yielding. So when the heart is empty, the will too becomes weak.

The bones support the body. When Dao and De are full within, one is free of grasping greed, and the belly is full. When the belly is full, the bones grow strong. This is how “filling the belly” and “strengthening the bones” are understood as principles of self-cultivation.

Always keep the people free of knowledge and desire

The sage teaches people to empty their hearts and fill their bellies so that the people will not compete for superiority or crave more, but will each transform themselves.

The sage also wants those who think themselves clever and like to stand out to refrain from reckless action. Through stillness and purity, people have already been transformed until they are free of knowledge and desire. If there are still “clever” people, they too must be made to refrain from overstepping their place and acting rashly.

Practice Wuwei, and nothing will remain ungoverned

When each person keeps to their proper place and follows their own nature, whatever they do is, in essence, Wuwei (non-action). If worthy names are not exalted and rare goods are not used to entice people, people will keep to their proper place and things will preserve their natural integrity. Acting through Wuwei requires no display or artifice. It is silent and without scent; people do not even feel that they are being governed. When an unadorned way of life flourishes, how could one say that anything remains ungoverned?

Du Guangting says: Not honoring the worthy is meant to keep people from competing for reputation and putting on a false show. Once worthy names are exalted, deceitful pretenders inevitably arise. The worthy are hard to distinguish: the fraudulent can seem trustworthy, and the ingratiating can seem loyal. How easy is it to tell them apart? The scripture says, “When wisdom appears, great hypocrisy arises.” When those above prize cleverness, those below respond with deceit; when those above prize the worthy, those below respond with pretension. Better to correct oneself and lead those below, governing people through Wuwei, nurturing them with great harmony and transforming them through purity and stillness. Those gifted in assisting with governance will then each put their abilities to full use. This is the meaning of the line “The flying dragon is in the heavens,” the ninth line of the fifth place in the Qian hexagram of the Book of Changes. Confucius explained, “Clouds follow the dragon; wind follows the tiger”: when the dragon rises, clouds follow; when the tiger moves, wind follows. Each follows its own kind, and things respond to one another naturally.

This passage uses natural phenomena as analogies to explain how things of the same kind resonate with one another, then extends the idea to the coming of a sage and the way all things gather around him.

Resonance Between Things of the Same Kind: From Water and Fire to Dragons and Tigers

Water belongs to Yin. When it flows over the earth, it always gathers in damp places. Fire belongs to Yang. When it burns wood, it always spreads toward dry places. Water and fire have no awareness or feelings, yet they behave this way because their Qi resonates. The dragon is a numinous creature of the waters, and clouds are the Qi of water: when the dragon sings, auspicious clouds rise. The tiger is a mighty beast, and wind is Qi in motion: when the tiger roars, wind rises in the mountain valleys. Dragons and tigers have awareness and feelings, yet, like water and fire, which have neither, they respond to one another because their Qi is of the same kind. If this is so, how much more broadly will things unfold when a sage appears in the world, like a flying dragon in the sky, when sages and worthies rely on one another, and all things respond to one another?

Yao, Shun, and the Eight Yuan and Eight Kai

Tang Yao ruled under the imperial title Taotang. His surname was Yiqi and his personal name was Fangxun. Emperor Shun belonged to the Youyu clan. He was a descendant of Zhuanxu, grandson of Qiaoniu, and son of Gusou. His mother was Wodeng. He was born at Yaogiu, and thus took the surname Yao; his personal name was Chonghua. The “Yuan and Kai ministers” were the Eight Yuan and Eight Kai. In ancient times, Gaoxin had eight talented men: Bofen, Zhongkan, Shuxian, Jizhong, Bohu, Zhongxiong, Shubao, and Jili. They were loyal, solemn, respectful, principled, generous, kind, benevolent, and harmonious; the world called them the Eight Yuan. Gaoyang also had eight talented men: Cangshu, Tuikai, Daoyan, Dalin, Longjiang, Tingjian, Zhongrong, and Shuda. They were balanced, wise, broad-minded, profound, clear-sighted, trustworthy, steadfast, and sincere; the world called them the Eight Kai. These sixteen clans each preserved their own excellence, and their reputations never faded. Yao did not employ them at first. Later, he appointed Shun as a minister, then appointed the Eight Yuan to spread the Five Teachings throughout the four regions and the Eight Kai to oversee the earth and its affairs. The phrase “hope for the Three Ministers” evokes the emperor’s establishment of the Three Ministers, whose offices represent the correspondence of the three powers: Heaven, Earth, and Humanity.

Do Not Prize Rare Goods

If rare goods are not prized, the people will not be driven to steal.

The Difference Between the Sage and the Fool, and Laozi’s Teaching on the Changes

At birth, people receive the numinous endowment of Heaven and Earth. Those who receive clear, bright, and open Qi become sages and worthies; those who receive turbid, stagnant, troubled, and obscured Qi become foolish and lowly. Sages and worthies have expansive spiritual understanding, while the foolish and benighted have clouded dispositions and awareness. Thus people differ in the level of their innate nature. Laozi said to Confucius: “The Changes transform and bring forth human beings and all things. Birds, beasts, and insects each have their own patterns of odd and even numbers; this results from differences in Qi. Ordinary people do not understand how this works. Only those who have penetrated Dao and De can recognize it.”

Wenzi says: Clear Qi forms Heaven, turbid Qi forms Earth, and harmonized Qi forms humanity. Within this harmonized Qi, some are bright and some are dim, so there are the wise and the foolish. When the foolish try to imitate the wise, they overstep their place; when the dim try to replace the bright, they make a reckless claim. This is to steal the inherent nature of life and covet wealth and status, as stated in the “Pianmu” chapter of the Zhuangzi.

People covet wealth and status because they see something desirable in them. If there were nothing to admire, people would be content with their lot and act within their means. Why would they resolve to imitate others and crave what lies beyond their station? If a ruler does not prize pearls, jade, and other treasures, the people will not covet them. When everyone is content with what they have, this may be called “not becoming thieves.” When nothing desirable is put on display, the heart is not thrown into disorder. One’s innate understanding has its limits; to envy another’s cleverness is to overstep one’s place, and this is called “desire.”

At the beginning of their practice, those who cultivate the Dao have not yet perfected their De or matured their training. Fearing that alluring sights will draw them in, they withdraw to the mountains and forests to escape the bustle. Once their hearts are at ease and their aims settled, no circumstance can tempt them; they can direct affairs all day and remain serene throughout. As the saying goes, “The lesser hermit lives in the mountains; the greater hermit lives in the marketplace.” When people cannot yet cut off desire and fear being drawn in by their surroundings, they retreat to the mountains and forests to avoid what they might see. But once they have clarified the heart, quieted their thoughts, and turned their attention to the true unity, they are no longer disturbed by external distractions and preserve their inner calm. Even amid the bustle of the court and marketplace, fame and profit do not touch their hearts; amid the hectic world, right and wrong do not trouble their minds. What harm can it do to cultivate the true while living in the city?

Thus the principle of the sages takes the natural truth of Heaven as its foundation. The Immortal Sovereign, a minister of the Yellow Emperor, said to him: “I have never heard of a person who could govern a state without first governing his own body.” A person’s body is like a state: the chest and abdomen are like its palaces, the limbs like its outlying regions, and the bones and joints like its officials. Shen is like the ruler, blood like the ministers, and Qi like the people. Knowing how to govern the body means knowing how to govern a state. Cherish the people, and the state will be secure; preserve Qi, and the body will remain whole. When the people scatter, the state is lost; when Qi is exhausted, the body dies. The dead cannot be kept alive, nor can they be brought back to life. Therefore, the perfected person dispels trouble before it arises and treats illness before it takes hold. Qi is hard to nurture and easy to foul; the people are hard to gather and easy to scatter. It is best to set things in order before trouble begins, rather than regret it afterward.

After events have passed, you should encourage him: when the mind is empty and still, the Dao gathers within the heart. When the Dao gathers in the heart, spirit can roam with transformation and connect with Heaven; the myriad things naturally change below, while the sage rests securely above. This may be called the age in which supreme principle operates.

“An empty room gives birth to whiteness” comes from Zhuangzi, “The Human World.” “Room” means the heart; to regard things as if seeing them yet not clinging to them is emptiness of heart. When the heart is empty and still, pure whiteness naturally appears. “Pure whiteness” describes a state of penetration and clarity. The Scripture of Inner Observation says: “The heart is neither green nor red, white nor yellow; it has neither length nor breadth, neither roundness nor squareness. Great, it embraces Heaven and Earth; small, it enters the finest hair. Restrain it and it stops; release it and it runs wild. When clear and still it lives; when turbid and agitated it perishes; when bright it can illuminate the eight directions; when dim it loses itself in a single corner.”

What is hardest for a person to subdue is precisely their own heart. Therefore, teaching someone to cultivate the Way is teaching them to cultivate the heart; teaching someone to cultivate the heart is teaching them to cultivate the Way. When thoughts are not easily stilled, use the Dao to still them; when the heart’s nature is hard to see, rely on the Dao to reveal it. The two tendencies toward good and evil, and all worldly methods, perish because of the heart and arise because of the heart. Those who cultivate the Way extinguish deluded thoughts and thereby accord with the Great Dao; worldly people indulge their thoughts and thereby endanger themselves. When thoughts arise, affairs become chaotic; when thoughts cease, principle becomes clear.

Therefore the Son of Heaven establishes officials, sets up laws, institutes punishments and rewards, and displays fortune and misfortune to guide the people—all because the human heart is hard to govern. “No-mind” (wuxin) means causing the heart not to grasp at things; “settled heart” means causing the heart not to be confused; “stilled heart” means causing the heart not to move recklessly; “controlled heart” means causing the heart not to fall into disorder; “upright heart” means causing the heart not to take a deviant path; “pure heart” means causing the heart not to be defiled; “empty heart” means causing the heart not to be attached. Only when these seven points are understood may one speak of the Dao, and may one speak of cultivating the heart.

“Fill the belly” means that the heart’s appetites have no limit, while what the belly can hold has a fixed measure. Thoughts are boundless, so they must be made empty and still; when the belly has enough, it must be filled. When the heart is empty and still, many desires will not arise; when the belly is full, greedy seeking naturally stops. Holding loyalty and faith in the heart and keeping to simplicity and plainness—one may then say that De is fulfilled within.

Spring and Autumn is the name of the state chronicle of Lu. The annotation mentions the story of Yan Mo and Ru Kuan remonstrating. Spring and Autumn, Duke Zhao, year 28, records: Shu of Wei, known as Viscount Xianzi, held power in Jin and appointed his son Wu as grand officer of Gengyang; Gengyang is present-day Jinyang. In winter, a lawsuit arose in Gengyang; Wu could not decide it and reported the case to Viscount Xianzi, and those involved in the case were also mentioned thereby.

This passage brings together an anecdote from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States period and the ideas in the Dao De Jing about “weakening the people’s ambitions and strengthening their bones,” “keeping them free of knowledge and desire,” and “governing through Wuwei (non-action).” The account is explained in two parts: the story and an interpretation of the classical teachings.

The Bribe from Gengyang and the Remonstrance of the “Three Sighs”

A powerful state offered female musicians—singers and dancers, a bribe in the form of music and entertainment—as a political gift. Wei Zi, a ruler who held power in the state of Wei, intended to accept it. Here, the name is often taken to evoke a virtuous minister in charge of government, such as Wei Wenzi.

Wu said this to Wei Zi, and the two ministers Yan Mei and Ru Kuan said the same:

“Your lordship has long been known among the feudal lords for refusing bribes. If you accept the bribe sent from Gengyang, no greed could be worse than this. We will certainly remonstrate with you.”

Both ministers agreed to do so.

After court, they waited in the courtyard. When the food and drink sent as a gift were brought in, Wei Zi invited them to dine with him. Once the meal was laid out, Wei Zi sighed three times. After they had eaten, he asked them to sit down and said:

“I have heard an old saying from my elders: ‘Only eating can make a person forget his worries for a while.’ From the time the meal was set out until we finished eating, you sighed three times. Why?”

The two men answered together:

“When someone gives us food and wine, we cannot eat it that same evening; we must wait for the proper occasion and observe the rites. When the gift was first set out, we worried there might not be enough, and so we sighed the first time.

“Halfway through the meal, we reproached ourselves: ‘How can we complain that there is not enough when our general has given us food?’ So we sighed a second time.

“When we had finished the gift, we wished to use the stomachs of petty men to understand the minds of gentlemen. The stomach is easily filled, but the mind is hard to satisfy. So we sighed a third time.”

Wei Zi then declined the bribe from Gengyang. Some versions also associate the account with the posthumous title “Xian”; details vary among sources.

What the Commentary Says: “The Stomach of a Petty Man, the Mind of a Gentleman”

The commentary says that Wuzi, whose personal name was Xian, received the posthumous title Wu. The two ministers Yan Mei and Ru Kuan used these words to remonstrate with Wuzi—or with a virtuous ruler such as Wei Zi.

“To use the stomach of a petty man to understand the mind of a gentleman” means that the stomach is easily satisfied, while the mind is difficult to satisfy. The ministers were urging the ruler to curb his greed and refuse the bribe from Gengyang. Petty people know when they have eaten enough; a gentleman’s mind, too, should know where to stop.

The Spring and Autumn tradition commends such conduct. The Wei clan was able to prosper because it accepted remonstrance.

Connecting the Story to the Dao De Jing: Weakening Ambition, Strengthening the Body, Governing, and Wuwei

As the preface to the Book of Songs explains, “In the heart it is an intention; in action it becomes a deed.” What arises in the heart is an intention; what is carried out becomes a deed. When the heart is gentle and yielding, there are no reckless or contentious actions, and harmony prevails everywhere. Harmony in action is the foundation of good order.

“Weaken the people’s ambitions and strengthen their bones,” in keeping with Laozi’s teaching: when ambition is weakened, people are modest and yielding, and do not violate others; when the bones are strong, they are firm and prepared within. Those who cultivate the Dao have strong sinews and bones, so that a hundred illnesses cannot invade them. A full abdomen strengthens the bones, and harmonious Qi fills the body.

In governing a state, clear administration brings quiet to the people; reducing expenditure leaves them with abundant strength. The people’s quiet reflects the idea of weakening ambition; their abundant strength reflects that of strengthening the bones.

“Always keep the people free of knowledge and desire”: when people pursue what they covet, conflict arises; when they acquire knowledge, affairs multiply. Once contention and desire are gone, clarity and stillness bring about transformation naturally.

“Ensure that the clever dare not act”: those below follow the example of those above, as grass bends before the wind. When simplicity and harmony reach everyone, all return to Wuwei. Through Wuwei, nothing remains unguided. The principle of Wuwei is profound: it does not mean doing nothing, but refraining from rash or forced action, so that the world orders itself.

The Argument in Brief

The story of the “three sighs” persuades Wei Zi to refuse a bribe. It shows that the mind is harder to satisfy than the stomach, and that greed for bribes can bring down a state. Laozi’s teaching follows the same logic: weaken ambition to foster harmony, strengthen the body to uphold what is right, keep people free of selfishness and excessive desire, and let the people transform themselves under a ruler who practices Wuwei. The same principles apply to cultivating oneself and governing a state.

Brief notes on names

Gengyang was a place in the state of Jin during the Spring and Autumn period; here it refers to the state or city that offered the bribe.

Wei Zi usually refers to a virtuous minister who governed the state of Wei, as in traditions surrounding the story of Wei Wenzi.

“Female musicians as a bribe” means using singers and dancers as a political inducement, not offering an ordinary gift.

“Draw it and it does not come; push it and it does not go; press it and it does not respond; move it and it does not stir; make it congeal and it does not overflow; gather it up while it is moist and it does not disperse”—these describe the Dao of Heaven in its natural state: draw it, yet it does not come of its own accord; push it, yet it does not leave; compel it, yet it does not respond; evoke it, yet it does not become unsettled; make it congeal, yet it does not run wild; gather it in its moistness, yet it does not break apart.

“Let private aims have no part in public affairs; let appetites and desires not distort the public way; use proper methods and act in accordance with reason; draw on available resources to accomplish things. When things are done, do not boast; when achievements are made, do not claim their renown as your own”—this means that private intentions do not intrude into public affairs, appetites and desires do not stray from the right path, and matters are handled rationally by proper means, using the conditions at hand to accomplish one’s work. When the work is done, one does not boast; when an achievement is made, one does not claim its fame for oneself.

It is like using a boat on water, a sled on sand, a cart on muddy ground, and a litter in the mountains; clearing river channels in summer and storing water in ponds in winter; planting fields on high ground and digging ponds in low places. None of this is the deliberate “action” I mean. It is Wuwei (non-action): following the circumstances as they are.

The sage’s Wuwei means following the people’s needs and holding those below to account for their work, without exhausting the mind over small details. Plans go awry nowhere, and no task is left incomplete. His words can serve as a model, and his conduct as an example. His advances and retreats accord with the times; his movements and stillness accord with what is fitting. He does not like or dislike things on the basis of beauty or ugliness, nor become pleased or angry because of rewards or punishments. Each person’s position is settled according to its proper place, and each office performs its own function. All this arises naturally, not through the force of one person’s private will. By following the seasons of Heaven, the character of the land, and the people’s hearts, the ministers gather around the ruler like spokes around a wheel’s hub. The worthy and unworthy alike put their abilities to use; the ruler can direct the ministers, and the ministers can serve the ruler. This is the Wuwei way of governing the state.

“Soundless and scentless” comes from “King Wen” in the “Major Odes of the Kingdom” section of the Book of Songs. It describes the Dao of Heaven as difficult to fathom: the ear cannot hear its sound, and the nose cannot detect its scent. Emulate King Wen’s De, and the world will naturally trust and submit to you.

“Without knowing or understanding” comes from “The Great Brightness” in the “Major Odes of the Kingdom” section of the Book of Songs. It describes people who know neither the past nor the present, yet are able to act in accordance with Heaven’s way. These words mean that the Dao of Heaven values honesty and prizes what is natural and inherent. Not exalting the worthy and not esteeming goods accord with this.

Emperor Huizong of Song said: “Not exalting the worthy can go so far as to keep the people from becoming thieves. Exalting the worthy encourages cleverness, until the whole world is thrown into turmoil and Confucians and Mohists arise in contention. Esteeming goods multiplies desire, until people steal in broad daylight and dig through walls at noon. If the worthy are not exalted, people each settle into their proper share of nature and life, without embellishment; this is why it is said that they do not contend. If goods are not esteemed, people each rest in the feelings proper to their nature and life, without coveting what belongs to others; therefore they do not steal.” Zhuangzi said: “Cut away the conduct of the Lu historians and seal the mouths of Yang and Mo, and only then will the world’s De become one at its source.” The “Tribute of the Dog” says: “Do not esteem unusual objects or scorn useful ones, and the people will have enough.” “Do not display what may be desired, lest the heart be thrown into confusion.” When people’s desires lead them to violate what is natural to their nature and life in order to contend for it, to seize and plunder, the meaning is the same as in the passage above.

This passage explains how arrogance and indulgence can grow without limit. When Boyi, the son of the ruler of the state of Guzhu at the end of the Shang dynasty, saw the lure of fame, he starved to death beneath Mount Shouyang, renowned for his steadfast integrity. When Zhi the Robber, a legendary and violent bandit, saw the lure of profit, he committed violence atop Dongling. Their minds were at times restless like a blazing fire and at times frozen like ice; their hearts fell into confusion and angry pride, until nothing could hold them back.

The sage neither pursues profit nor avoids harm. He does not rejoice in a long life or grieve over an early death; he does not feel honored by success or ashamed by poverty. Thus it is integrity that is worthy of esteem, while every greedy thought and desire remains dormant. His mind is calm and clear: it responds when touched, and when still, nothing obstructs it; when it moves, it pursues nothing. What external thing could disturb him? Confucius was free of doubts at forty, and Mencius’s heart was unmoved at forty; perhaps both attained this state. That is why, in governing the world, the sage keeps the people free of knowledge and desire. A valley can respond because it is empty; a mirror can reflect because it is empty; a bellows, an ancient device for blowing air, can receive air because it is empty. The ear can hear, the eye can see, and the nose can smell because each is empty. When the inside is filled, everywhere becomes an obstruction.

When the sage must govern the world, he treats everyone impartially, draws near to those far away, follows the way things naturally are, and lets them develop on their own, keeping no private intentions in his heart. Yao’s appointment of Shun as his successor and execution of Gun came close to this. An empty heart listens and observes impartially, without likes or dislikes. When the belly is full, the heart is content and at ease, free of greedy demands. Why, then, esteem fame or prize wealth? The sage “acts for the belly, not for the eyes”: the belly makes no distinctions and can take things in. That is the meaning.

“Will” is what the heart sets itself toward; “bones” are what the body depends upon. If the will is too strong, one may pursue fame without end, chase wealth without satisfaction, boast of one’s abilities, or flaunt one’s achievements, moving ever farther from the mysterious Dao. If the bones are too weak, one’s conduct becomes scattered; one rubs against things and is worn down by them, sinking without return. The sage keeps his aims low, yet people honor him; he places himself last, yet people put him first. This is what it means to “know the masculine and keep to the feminine; know glory and keep to disgrace.” It is called weakening the will: correct it so it comes to rest, and nothing can move it. Make it firm and hold to it, and no change can topple it.

An imperishable form, like that of Guangchengzi, who lived for twelve hundred years without his body ever growing old—this is called strengthening the bones. Zhuangzi says: “Be at one with unknowing, and your De (Virtue/Power) will not depart. Be at one with desirelessness: this is called simplicity. In simplicity, the people’s nature finds its fulfillment.” In governing the world, the sage strives to let the people realize their true nature.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Nature, Life, and Order and Disorder

Human nature has its own proper bounds. Relying on excessive knowledge and schemes instead damages the natural limits of nature and life. Unchecked desire also disrupts their inherent condition. To call this state “governance” is, in truth, to bring about great disorder. Thus the Jing says: “Always keep the people with little knowledge and few desires, and make the clever afraid to act recklessly”—so that the eloquent do not indulge their rhetorical gifts, the brave do not flaunt their ferocity, the capable do not boast of their talents, and the astute do not display their cunning. The sages forbid all contrived cleverness, ostentatious skill, and piling up laws and regulations to exhaust the people through service. This is what is meant by “making the knowledgeable afraid to act.”

“Let the nine virtues all be practiced, and the worthy and capable serve in office.” Does this mean using “knowledge” as a chisel to force the world into shape? It means only carrying out the ruler’s commands and applying them among the people. Acting through Wuwei (non-action), nothing remains ungoverned. Does the sage’s governance mean abandoning human affairs, cutting off contact with all things, and coldly standing apart in a realm of “doing nothing”? It means only that action arises from Wuwei.

The transformations of all things belong to the realm below form. The sage embodies the Dao and stands above all things, overseeing the principles by which they come into being and governing them. When things engage in making and shaping, the sage follows them and observes their return; when they begin to grow, the sage follows their course and helps them reach completion. How could anything remain unguided? When things above are well governed, the sun, moon, and stars each follow their proper courses; when things below are well governed, birds, beasts, plants, and trees each fulfill their nature.

Wang Jiefu (Wang Anshi) says:

“Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend.” This does not mean that the sage has no wish to win the world’s allegiance through worthiness; the world’s allegiance has always been founded on worthiness. To direct the people and make use of the things in the world, if worthy standards are not upheld, what could serve as the basis for governing? A person has a good nature from infancy, but without instruction from the worthy, cannot understand the goodness of the world. Once goodness is clear to someone, how could they fail to submit to the worthy? The standards of worthiness, then, can still help hold back disorder in later generations. But if worthiness is further exalted throughout the world, how could the people avoid contending? The intention behind this teaching is to have everyone in the world understand goodness, without realizing that the worthy can be held in esteem.

Even so, Heaven does not make people equal; how much less, when the standards for esteeming the worthy have fallen into disuse, can people be expected to understand the goodness of the world? Alas, the worthy cannot remedy the harm caused by failing to nurture the unworthy. Who knows what kind of worthiness could make the whole world willingly and sincerely submit?

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Duke Huan of Qi asked Guan Zhong: “If you, Zhong, should die and the unmentionable were to happen, to whom should I entrust the affairs of state?” Duke Huan valued Yi Ya, but Guan Zhong disagreed. He said that anyone who, in his presence, was “not as good” as he was—that is, anyone who fell short of him or did not suit his preferences—should not be put forward as a model. As for someone like Xi Peng, who could “forget” those above him—that is, avoid currying favor or becoming attached—yet “turn away” from those below him, keeping his distance rather than drawing close, he felt ashamed that he was not the equal of the Yellow Emperor and was often saddened by it. If a person of this kind, who “forgets those above and turns away from those below,” were elevated to a high position, how great could the harm of “esteeming the worthy” really be?

Some ask whether Guan Zhong was not simply saying, “It should be this way.” He was only discussing the matter from the perspective of its potential harm. Laozi said that “not valuing rare goods” keeps the mind from disorder. “Esteeming the worthy” leads to rivalry, while “rare goods” lead the people to become thieves: both arise from desires in the heart. Thus, when a sage rules, he does not force people not to esteem the worthy. Rather, he makes these two things unseen, and the heart naturally remains undisturbed. Another point: esteeming the worthy seems close to goodness, while valuing goods and causing theft seem close to evil. Why, then, are both to be rejected? Because good and evil stand in opposition: where there is good, there must be evil. The aim is to forget both good and evil.

The word “desire” is used in two senses. One is desire for what is desirable, as in Mencius’s saying, “What is desirable is called good.” The other is desire for what should not be desired, such as the eyes’ love of beautiful sights, the ears’ love of pleasing sounds, and the nose’s love of fragrances. A character gloss explains that “desire” combines “valley” and “lack”: a valley can receive, while lack means not having enough. To be able to receive yet constantly feel that one does not have enough is desire.

Laozi said, “Do not esteem the worthy, and the people will not contend; do not value rare goods, and the people will not become thieves; do not display what is desirable, and the heart will not be disturbed.” These words are not a one-sided claim that Laozi alone should make. The ancient kings did not literally refuse to esteem the worthy, value goods, or display what was desirable. Laozi’s argument is largely concerned with what lies beyond the tangible: not esteeming the worthy means not being burdened by the pursuit of goodness; not valuing rare goods means not being burdened by the pursuit of profit. In this way, one can “not see what is desirable.” Mencius said, “What is desirable is called good.” When goodness accumulates and becomes complete, it reaches the spiritual; at that point, what is desirable is no longer seen. Therefore, in governing the world, the sage “empties the heart” to make clear the meaning of not esteeming the worthy. “Filling the belly,” “strengthening the bones,” and the other teachings follow the same principle.

Thus, not placing a high value on rare goods is meant to strengthen the people’s sinews and bones; making sure that desirable things are not displayed is meant to…

Desirable things. In people’s hearts, the worthy and the unworthy are naturally distinguished. But once worthiness is held in high esteem, people begin competing to outrank one another. So the heart should be emptied, and distinctions between the worthy and the unworthy should no longer be made. This is what “not exalting the worthy” means. The belly can hold all things; when it can hold them, people are more likely to value rare goods. When rare goods are prized, the people turn to theft. If the belly is full, then even rare goods are merely wealth, music, and sensual pleasures; everything desirable becomes an object of craving. Weakening the will means having no demands; strengthening the bones means being able to stand firm. Precisely because one makes no demands, one can still stand firm even when desirable things are not displayed. To make no demands yet stand firm is what the noble person prizes. When this is prized, nothing remains ungoverned. Always keep the people free of knowledge and desire: empty their hearts and weaken their wills, so they lack knowledge; fill their bellies and strengthen their bones, so they have no desires. Then even the clever will not dare to act recklessly. When the people are all free of knowledge and desire, even those who are clever will not dare to act recklessly. Govern through Wuwei (non-action), and nothing will remain ungoverned. With purposeful action, nothing can be accomplished; with non-action, nothing is left undone. The sage acts without action, and so nothing remains ungoverned.

Su Yingbin said: “Not exalting the worthy keeps the people from competing and leads to strengthening their bones. Exalting the worthy makes people ashamed of being inferior and leads them to compete. Valuing rare goods makes people suffer from not having them and leads them to steal. Displaying desirable things makes people anxious that they cannot obtain them and leads them into disorder. Yet if people understand that these three things cause harm and want to abolish them all at once, they are mistaken. The sage does not act this way. He has never failed to employ the worthy; he simply does not exalt them. He has never discarded rare goods; he simply does not prize them. He has never removed desirable things; he simply does not display them. Thus the worthy are employed, yet the people do not compete; rare goods and desirable things may all be before them, yet theft, banditry, and disorder do not arise. Is this not to empty the heart without preventing the belly from being filled, and to weaken the will without hindering the bones from being strong? If, instead, one were to raise up the worthy and exalt them, treasure goods and prize them, and flaunt desirable things for all to see, then both the heart and the belly would be full.”

Collected Interpretations of the True Classic of the Dao and De: A Plain-Language Reading

General Meaning of the Scripture

If we stress only “weakening” and fail to speak of “strengthening,” people’s aspirations and backbone will grow weak, while their hearts and bellies may become hollow and unstable. If the people all try to imitate this, their aspirations and backbone will weaken, and they will lose their footing. The people should be kept with little knowledge and few desires, to the point that they dare not act recklessly. If we do not flaunt these three things—“not elevating the worthy,” “not valuing precious goods,” and “not displaying things that stir desire”—the people will not know what to envy, and their hearts will grow calm and free of desire. Even clever people will have no opportunity to put their schemes into practice. Act through Wuwei (non-action), and nothing will remain unguided. This is the natural Way of following “not elevating, not valuing, and not displaying”—what is called “acting through non-action.”

Lü Jifu’s Commentary

“Do not elevate the worthy, and the people will not contend.” The sage knows that wherever there is “beauty,” there is also “ugliness,” and wherever there is “good,” there is also “not good.” Yet the sage does not take sides. Although occupying the highest rank in the world, the sage simply assigns people according to their abilities and does not promote the reputation of worthiness. People often contend because they vie to be seen as worthy. If they understand that the ruler does not elevate the worthy, they will stop contending. Hence the saying: “When the worthy are promoted, the people jostle one another.”

“Do not value rare goods, and the people will not become thieves.” The world’s wealth is gathered to provide for the people; rare goods are not what the ruler values. Theft among the people often arises from greed for profit. When they understand that the ruler does not value goods, they will not steal.

“Do not display things that stir desire, and the people’s hearts will not be unsettled.” Confucius said, “If you can make them have no desires, then even if you reward them, they will not steal.” The gentleman’s desire is for worthiness; the petty person’s desire is for goods. If I display neither as something to be desired, people’s hearts will not be unsettled.

Not elevating the worthy does not mean abandoning worthy people in the wilderness and refusing to employ them. Not valuing rare goods does not mean throwing them on the ground and leaving them uncollected. It simply means holding no attachment inwardly and making no deliberate display outwardly.

In governing the world, the sage strengthens the people’s bones to the utmost. The heart stores Shen (spirit), and the belly is the heart’s dwelling. When the heart is empty, Shen is not diminished, and the belly naturally becomes full. The bones store one’s aspirations; they are the surplus of the kidneys. When aspirations are softened, Jing (essence) is not disturbed, and the bones naturally grow strong. Always keep the people with little knowledge and few desires, and nothing will remain unguided. The wise understand that worthiness is not what the ruler promotes and goods are not what the ruler values; since acting on this understanding brings no benefit, they dare not act. Only in this way does Wuwei lead to nothing being left unguided.

Lu Nongshi’s Commentary

“Do not elevate the worthy, and the people will not contend” belongs to the same category as “Abandon sagehood and discard cleverness, and the people will benefit a hundredfold; abandon benevolence and discard righteousness, and the people will return to filial devotion and kindness.” All of these express what is meant by “not elevating.”

By not exalting those called “worthy and capable,” the people will not compete for reputation. By not prizing rare and hard-to-obtain goods, the people will not steal. When showy cleverness and profit-chasing are cut off, thieves have no foothold. This is what “not prizing rare goods” means.

When people are not allowed to fix their eyes on things worth coveting, the heart is not thrown into disorder. When the people do not treat a good name as something worth pursuing, strife and disorder do not arise; when they do not treat profit as something worth grasping, theft and turmoil do not occur. Therefore, when the sage governs the world, every aspect can be brought into proper order.

The heart has perception and makes distinctions and choices; the belly has no perception—it only receives food. When the heart harbors desire, it grows restless; when the bones are without desire, one can stand at ease. Thus the sage, in governing the people, makes their minds empty and quiet and their bellies full, their aspirations soft and their sinews and bones strong. “Empty heart” means reducing discrimination and cunning; “full belly” means sufficient clothing and food; “soft aspiration” means less chasing of external fame and gain; “strong bones” means the capacity to stand on one’s own. In this way the people are constantly kept with little cunning knowledge and little selfish desire, so that they no longer run after external things.

Wang Yuanze said: “By not exalting the worthy and capable, the people do not compete for names. ‘Worthy’ is a title that stands out among people; when it is exalted, the people boast and compare themselves outwardly—that is precisely where contention begins. By not prizing rare and hard-to-obtain goods, the people do not steal. When the people have enough to eat and wear, their dispositions can settle; if the value of rare things is groundlessly inflated, pursuit has no limit and theft inevitably follows. The people lose their original nature because distinctions are falsely created; this chapter aims at leveling the myriad things so that the people may return to their original nature.

“By not letting people see things worth coveting, the heart is not confused. The deluded arbitrarily decide that something is worth chasing, and so the spirit collapses into disorder. Only the sage understands that nothing among the myriad things is truly fixed and unchanging, and therefore treats all things alike, without picking and choosing. Then the heart is like a clear mirror—still and unbiased—and external things naturally cannot disturb it. Therefore the sage neither exalts the worthy nor prizes goods.

“When the sage governs the world, he makes the people’s sinews and bones strong: an empty, quiet heart means not adding arbitrary distinctions—this further explains not exalting the worthy; a full belly means not grasping—this further explains not prizing goods. Soft aspirations mean not outward boasting, comparing, or contending for superiority; strong sinews and bones mean standing on one’s own, not being pulled by external things. These likewise show, respectively, not exalting the worthy and not prizing goods.

“To constantly keep the people with little cunning knowledge and little desire is because much knowledge easily leads one to decide what to chase, and having desire leads one to seek outwardly. Remove these two, and the disposition can settle. By not exalting the worthy to teach the people, one can bring them to desirelessness; those who think themselves clever dare not act rashly, and the cleverness that would disturb the multitude should be restrained. Governing in this way through Wuwei (non-action) means that order does not depend on forced exertion.”

To practice Wuwei (non-action) does not mean doing nothing at all. It means not doing things that go against one’s nature. This is necessary so that, in the end, people may recover their original, innocent nature.

I have thought deeply about this: since the Three Dynasties of Xia, Shang, and Zhou, most people have lost their inborn nature. Thus, the noble-minded are resolute in their aims, eager to do good, and constantly seek out worthy people; those of lesser character are weak in spirit, covet wealth and profit, and pursue goods without ever being satisfied. The resolute are often full of clever schemes, while the weak-spirited are often full of desires. Whether they pursue cleverness or chase after desires, their paths may differ, but both involve seeking outward and harming the root. In essence, they are the same.

Only the sage is otherwise. To “weaken one’s ambitions” does not mean making one’s aims lowly. It means seeking no grand, illusory goal, but finding sufficiency in what is near at hand and wanting nothing more. Then the Dao is naturally abundant. To “strengthen one’s bones” does not mean striving for independence. It means overcoming the desire for profit and honoring De (Virtue/Power). Then fame cannot shake a person, and profit cannot mislead them; their nature can remain settled for a long time.

Liu Zhongping says:

From “not exalting the worthy” to “causing the people not to become thieves,” and from “not exalting the worthy, so the people do not contend” to “not valuing rare goods, so the people do not become thieves”—these are all ways the sages of antiquity governed the world. Can sages of later generations still restore them? I say: not valuing rare goods is easy; not exalting those called “worthy” is difficult, because the demands of the times make it so. Yet there is a proper way to honor the worthy: exalt only those who are truly worthy, without treating them as precious objects. Then people throughout the world will be convinced, and ultimately they will reach a state of non-contention.

The Book of Documents says, “When distant goods are not treasured, people from afar will come and submit.” This is the principle of not valuing goods. It also says, “When only the worthy are treasured, those nearby will be at peace.” This is the principle of exalting the worthy. When people from afar submit, the people will not become thieves; when those nearby are at peace, the people will not contend.

“Do not display what arouses desire, and the people’s hearts will not be thrown into disorder.” What arouses desire is goodness; what is not desired is what is not good. The sage’s way guides people by what is “desirable”—the good that is worth pursuing—so that they become free of desire. What is desirable is investigating principle to its utmost; freedom from desire is bringing one’s nature to full expression. What is desirable can show people where to begin, but they cannot be required to reach the end by that same standard. If what is desirable remains the standard at the end, it will ultimately lead back to what is not good.

Laozi says, “Do not display what arouses desire, and the people’s hearts will not be thrown into disorder.” What arouses desire is goodness. Hence he also says, “When everyone under Heaven knows goodness as goodness, this itself is not good.” Once one knows why goodness is good, one must understand this principle deeply. Thus, when the sage governs the world, at the highest point, nothing remains unguided. Empty the heart, and likes and dislikes subside. When likes and dislikes subside, one’s aims become calm and unified, and one becomes one with the Dao.

Emptying the heart-mind and weakening the will are ways to nurture Shen (spirit). Filling the belly and strengthening the bones are ways to conserve Jing (essence)—to save and secure the vital essence—and to keep the people free of knowledge and desire.

Liu Jujì said, “Do not esteem the worthy, and the people will not contend.” In ancient times, when the sages established their teachings, their Way was enough to care for the people’s hardships; the worthy were not yet held in high esteem. When the age declined and sages no longer appeared, people made “esteeming the worthy” their fashion. Those held in esteem were not necessarily truly worthy, and this only drove people to compete for fame and profit; even the unworthy felt compelled to contend. Zhuangzi said that in an age of perfect De (Virtue/Power), the worthy were not esteemed and rare goods were not prized, so the people did not become thieves. In ancient times, goods were lightly regarded, and people sought only enough clothing and food for their needs. As the age declined, those above prized goods and monopolized profit, leaving the people in need. How could there be no thieves? Yet if the worthy are not esteemed, it is also harder to attract those who prize goods. A ruler who expands territory and fills the treasury was called a “thief” by the ancients, but is called a “good minister” today. “Do not display things that may be desired, and the heart will not be unsettled”: when whatever lies before us is judged desirable because it pleases us, we cannot help but see it. Taking “not seeing” as the rule allows the heart to settle. Neither esteeming the worthy nor prizing goods is a model for good governance. Thus, when the sage governs the country, he goes so far as to “strengthen the bones.” “Emptying the heart-mind” addresses the esteem for the worthy and the prizing of goods that arise in a declining age; these are not part of the sage’s original way of governing.

When the heart-mind is empty, all things find sufficiency within themselves. Why depend on the worthy? To fill the belly—the Jing says, “Which matters more, the body or goods?”—is to nourish Jing until the belly is full. Then what is possessed need not be treated as something to possess; why chase after goods? To weaken the will: the will is the heart-mind’s servant. Nurturing Shen empties the heart-mind; when the heart-mind is empty, Shen settles; when Shen settles, there is no need for action, and the will weakens of itself. To strengthen the bones: the bones are the frame of the body. Nurturing Jing fills the belly; when the belly is full, Jing flourishes; when Jing flourishes, the bones grow strong and can support the body. “Always keep the people free of knowledge and desire”: ordinary people cannot rid themselves of knowledge and desire on their own; only those above can bring this about. Emptying the heart-mind and weakening the will leave people without knowledge; filling the belly and strengthening the bones leave them without desire. Keeping the people in this state “always” is beneficial: if they have knowledge, they feel ashamed not to esteem the worthy and so contend; if they have desires, they covet goods and steal. “Make those who know not dare to act”: it is best to keep the people in this state always. If that cannot be done, there will still be those who know. Make those who know not dare to act recklessly: this is the Way of “acting through non-action.”

“Acting through non-action” means taking non-action as one’s way of acting. When the age declines, people esteem the worthy and prize goods. The sage counters this by emptying and filling, weakening and strengthening. In the end, the aim is to keep the people free of knowledge and desire and to make those who know not dare to act. This teaching belongs to the same thread of thought as the Daodejing’s “Cut off sageliness and discard wisdom” and “Empty the heart-mind and fill the belly.”

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Main idea: On “not exalting the worthy” and “governing through Wuwei (non-action)”

A wise person does not promote the idea that one way of acting is right or that another is worthy of admiration. If those who dare to act recklessly can be made to refrain from doing so, this is already in accord with the Great Dao.

“Not speaking of desire” means that desires often arise from making distinctions and calculating gains and losses. When the sage governs through Wuwei, it does not mean doing nothing at all. It means that those who strive to outdo others and dare to act recklessly are kept from acting presumptuously. When those who dare to act no longer do so, the people can return to a state of having no knowledge or desire, each settled in their own nature. This is the kind of governance that can truly bring peace to the world.

The previous chapter discussed how the sage “teaches through events,” teaching in response to circumstances. Matters such as “exalting the worthy” and “valuing goods” are subsidiary aspects of teaching through events, so the discussion now turns to “not exalting the worthy.” This chapter says that the sage first cultivates himself, thereby transforming the people, so that people throughout the world gradually return to a state of having no knowledge or desire. At that point, reputations for worthiness and material gain are naturally seen as things outside oneself. Later generations could not entirely abolish systems that exalt the worthy and value goods. But if those in high positions can remain humble and weaken their ambitions, then even if they still appear to pursue profit, at least they will not relentlessly drive the people to compete for food and empty fame. If they can “fill the belly” and “strengthen the bones,” making people well nourished and physically strong, people will be less easily led by material gain, and disasters such as “those below being deprived to benefit those above,” or “treasuring pearls and jade at the cost of one’s life,” will become less common.

If governance still rests on the arrangement in which “those who rule the people live off them,” who is driving the people to compete against one another? Once what is in excess and what is lacking have been apportioned, one should stop there. If rewards are still lavish and fame is still exalted, is that not the same as teaching people to steal and compete?

Commentary from the eighth year of Chongning (paraphrased excerpt)

“Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend”—carried to its fullest, this means that “nothing will remain ungov­erned.” People are naturally still at birth; this is their nature given by Heaven. When they are moved by things, desire arises from their nature. When the sage is in power, he does not exalt the worthy or value goods, so the people are not burdened by reputations for goodness or by material gain. If the mind is not kept empty, it becomes unsettled; if the belly is not full, desire arises; if the will is not weakened, people become aggressive and competitive; if the bones are not strong, they cannot stand firm. “Filling the belly” naturally diminishes cravings and desires. Mencius said: “If your conduct leaves you dissatisfied with yourself, do not let your resolve falter”; he also said that once people are free of the distress of hunger and thirst, the mind becomes their concern. Zhuangzi said: “The deeper one’s cravings and desires, the shallower one’s natural endowment”; when it is shallow, one is impaired. “Weakening the will” complements “not letting the vital energy become violent.” Mencius argued that the scholar should “esteem the will,” while this passage says to “weaken the will.” This is because Mencius spoke from the standpoint of scholars striving to advance, whereas Laozi spoke from the standpoint of returning to the root and restoring simplicity. Thus one advocates advancing and the other retreating, each appropriate to its own place.

Liu Ji said (main idea)

“Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend”: carried to its furthest point, this means that nothing will remain ungov­erned. Not exalting the worthy means forgetting fame; when fame is forgotten, the people have nothing with which to boast or outdo one another, and so they do not contend. Not valuing goods means forgetting profit; when profit is forgotten, the people have nothing to covet, and so they do not steal. “Do not display what can be desired” means letting people quiet the heart’s craving for what they love.

Plain-Language Interpretation

Main Meaning of the Text

Thus, once those three things have not been thrown into disorder and have been entirely removed, one’s nature and temperament can settle. Only then can one empty the heart and fill the belly.

To empty the heart means to forget both things and oneself. To fill the belly means to keep one’s spirit turned inward.

When things and self are both forgotten, desires and distracting thoughts do not arise, and one’s ambitions naturally grow mild. When the spirit is kept inward, the body becomes full and strong, and the sinews and bones naturally become robust. The point of softening one’s ambitions is to value lack of knowledge; the point of strengthening one’s bones is to value lack of desire. Thus the people should always be kept without knowledge and without desire. Free of knowledge and desire, they can see the unadorned and hold to the uncarved, returning to the Dao (the Way).

The way of the sage is empty, still, and natural; it cannot be brought about by deliberate action. Action driven by intention leads to failure, and grasping at things leads to loss. Thus even those who consider themselves clever are made unwilling to act recklessly. Acting through non-action means that what is done arises from not doing: this is the subtle working of nature, through which nothing is left untended. This is what Zhuangzi meant when he said that the mind wanders in calm detachment, Qi (vital energy) joins with vast stillness, and all things are followed in their natural course, without making private claims on what is one’s own; then the world governs itself. This is because one has attained the use of the Great Dao’s empty openness. Hence the following passage begins, “The Dao is empty.”

Zhao Shian’s Commentary on the “Do Not Exalt the Worthy” Chapter

The opening statement, “Do not exalt the worthy,” means not setting up clever schemes or making use of ornate rhetoric and disputation.

The phrase “Do not exalt the worthy, and the people will not contend” follows from the previous chapter. The sage governs the world through the work of Wuwei (non-action), and does not claim credit once the work is done. This is to attain the use of what is truly constant. Why, then, carve and embellish things from the outside? There is no need to proclaim oneself “sage,” nor to cast away “wisdom”; one need only be utterly free of intent.

Looking back to the Three Dynasties and after, we find that most people did not understand what Wuwei meant. They carried provisions for a thousand miles and sought out worthy men in order to bring order to the realm. Laozi lamented that they had failed to seek the root, and so he continued by saying, “Do not exalt the worthy.” One need not rely on lesser means when undertaking a great task; if there is a sage, there is no need for the worthy. The great is to embody the Dao’s Wuwei, which is the work of the sage. The lesser is to rely on cleverness and boast of it, which is the work of the worthy. The great sage’s way of acting, then, lies in governing through Wuwei: allowing the people of the world to live each according to the true nature of their life, and cutting off their desire to admire, boast, and contend. This is like what the Book of Changes says: “The Way of Heaven transforms, and each thing finds its nature and destiny.” Once nature and destiny are properly aligned, all is simple and true; scheming does not arise, and who could still distinguish the worthy from the unworthy? “I desire non-action, and make their ears and eyes dull.”

If I wished to govern the world well, then as soon as people’s cleverness and scheming took root, deceit would follow. Once cunning and deceit became widespread, the desire to compete and seize would arise as well. When the world had come to this, how could “governance” possibly set things right? People of middling capacity can be guided either upward or downward: influence them with the Great Dao, and they will return to simplicity; lure them with “worthiness and ability,” and they will turn toward rivalry. As people pass this competitive spirit from one to another, the people’s nature changes. At that point, even if one wishes to employ the worthy and capable and prevent people from becoming too clever, if one does not correct their bearing and awaken them to the Dao, one is like using seductive adornment to teach licentiousness. Thus, only one who has reached the utmost spirit can act freely in the realm of “not elevating the worthy.” No one has heard of the rulers of high antiquity having assistants. Nor, in the age of Fuxi and Shennong, has anyone heard of worthy ministers. It was only in the time of the Yellow Emperor, after the battles at Banquan, that ministers such as Feng Hou and Li Mu appeared; and only when he sought instruction in the art of nourishing life did teachers and friends such as Guangcheng and Qibo appear. The Way of the sages still survived in later times, but the search for the worthy had become urgent. The Book of Songs says that “Fish in the South” celebrates the joy of being among the worthy, and “The Terrace on the Southern Mountain” the joy of gaining worthy people. “Jian Xi” criticizes the failure to employ the worthy; “Hemp in the Hill” laments the exile of the worthy; and “The Shameless Youth” criticizes those who do not consult the worthy. These show that once great simplicity had scattered, the worthy could not help but be esteemed. Laozi wanted to restore purity and simplicity amid the decline of the Zhou, so he said “do not elevate the worthy.” His point was simply that if the people were kept simple, they would not compete; if they learned to prize things less, they would not covet them. This was a remedy for the ills of his time. In an age already shaped by such conditions, esteeming the worthy and employing the capable was how the former kings established proper rites, duties, and laws. Laozi, by contrast, sought to avoid esteeming the worthy and employing the capable, and instead to cultivate quietude and Wuwei (non-action). Their methods differed, but their principles of governance were one. Thus, the man who watered his garden by carrying jars prompted Zigong’s question; the man who farmed and refused office was the one from whom Bocheng Zigao fled; and the chapters “Horse Hooves” and “Rifling Trunks” express the criticisms attributed to Meng.

II. Removing Attachment to Gain

“Do not prize rare goods, and the people will not steal. Do not esteem the worthy, and the people will not compete. Do not prize rare goods, and the people will not steal. Do not display what is desirable, and people’s minds will not be disordered.” This section is called “the three methods that reach the profound principle”: the first two lines concern governing, and the last concerns self-cultivation. One must first learn the way of governing oneself before one can govern the people. To govern the people is to set things right. When things are right, there is no deviation; without deviation, there is no desire; without desire, the mind is empty; when the mind is empty, it is not disordered, and all things submit. When all things submit, there is no need to use schemes or cleverness. Why, then, make a fuss over anything?

(Note: In the standard received text of the Dao De Jing, Chapter Three, the order is “Do not esteem the worthy … Do not prize rare goods … Do not display what is desirable …” The wording quoted here differs slightly from the text cited in the commentary, but the meaning is consistent.)

Prize Virtue, and Give All What They Need

When virtue is prized, people’s dealings benefit both sides, and each provides for the other’s needs. Once everyone has enough to sustain themselves, they should stop there. Gold and jade may be precious, but they cannot satisfy hunger. When the Dao transforms the people, each is content with their place and has enough. The lowly must not be allowed to usurp the honored, nor the poor to outdo the wealthy. If people compete for advancement, they will go beyond the natural conditions of life and death, boasting of rare things. This can be prevented only when the ruler esteems simplicity and does not pursue outward splendor; then the people of the world will be transformed without being compelled. When Emperor Wen of Han sent back a horse that had traveled a thousand li, and Emperor Wu of Jin burned a robe made of pheasant feathers, the people’s desire for precious goods could subside. From this we can see that perfect governance does not lie in the Three Vessels of ritual. Han Feizi said that the essentials of governance rest on the Four Bonds: ritual propriety, righteousness, integrity, and a sense of shame. Jia Yi argued at length that governing oneself by eliminating desire leaves the mind calm and free of concerns; when there are no concerns, stability arises. When the clever dare not boast of their intelligence and the capable dare not boast of their talent, who could exploit their preferences? In the past, rulers who failed to embody the highest Dao strove to overcome themselves through desire and profit. Treacherous ministers could then cater to their preferences, and no ruler who did so escaped ruin. The Taijia says: “Desire disrupts the standard; it is desire that puts the ears and eyes to work.” Xunzi also said: “When desire is followed, the Dao is exhausted.” To indulge in what people desire without setting limits is to exhaust the Dao of the world in the pursuit of gratification. If a sage ruler can cast off desire and empty the mind, then the clarity of Shen and Heaven will shine through, and they will know that the four directions are not far away.

Three: Rectify Nature and Feelings—Seeing Desirable Things Does Not Disturb the Mind

“Do not see what is desirable, and the mind will not be disturbed” means that if nothing burdens the mind, the mind will naturally be free of burdens. “Seeing” does not refer only to what the eyes see; all six faculties see. Seeing gives rise to desire, and many desires disturb the mind, which is then no longer pure.

The eye is the foremost of the six faculties and is the faculty of sight. The eye’s function is seeing; what is seen becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. Though the ear is said to hear, hearing is in fact a kind of seeing through the ear: what is perceived becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. Though the nose is said to smell, smelling is in fact a kind of seeing: what is perceived becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. Though the tongue is said to taste, tasting is in fact a kind of seeing: what is perceived becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. Though the body is said to touch, touch is in fact a kind of seeing: what is perceived becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. Though the mind is said to know, knowing is in fact a kind of seeing: what is perceived becomes an object of sense, and discerning things makes them an external realm. These are called the six faculties. The six faculties give rise to the six sense objects, which correspond to the six realms of perception. Together they are called the eighteen realms, formed by three groups of six, and they revolve without cease.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

Birth and death both arise from the convergence of causes and conditions. People awaken in different ways, yet each is called “awakening”; they see different things, yet each is called “seeing.”

At the root of what the six desires covet and grasp is the same mind. When mind divides, the Three Realms appear: hence the saying, “The Three Realms are mind alone.” When the six sense faculties meet the outer world, what follows is stored in “intention”—and intention, too, is mind; mind is the storehouse consciousness. The six faculties correspond to the six consciousnesses. With the sixth and seventh consciousnesses added, they are collectively called the eight consciousnesses. The seventh consciousness carries the karmic objects of the six consciousnesses onward and deposits them in the eighth. The seventh consciousness is also called “intention,” while the eighth is called “storehouse consciousness.” Because it is interdependent with what stores, what is stored, and the act of grasping and storing, as well as with defiled and pure phenomena and all that can be known, it is also called the “seed.” The seventh and eighth consciousnesses are both called intention, and both are also called mind.

Thus the six desires disturb one’s original nature. Nature is mind as it is in its original state; mind is true nature. Since time without beginning, what has kept people from returning to the right path is the ceaseless grasping and enjoyment of the six consciousnesses. It keeps the mind rushing and turning all day long; the wind of “craving” never stops. When it moves swiftly, in the space of a single bow and rise, the mind has already raced beyond the four seas. It is like a lamp flame that flickers without pause in the wind, or tangled threads that cannot be straightened as they blow about. Unable to settle in single-minded stillness, the mind follows its circumstances and turns without end. Its vitality is depleted, and day by day it moves toward illusory realms, transforming into other kinds of beings with no way to return to its source. Should we not be cautious about how desire harms our nature?

Desire does not accumulate in a day, and nature is not stained in a day. At work within it is ignorance, acting on its own from time without beginning up to the present. For example, when one first enters the womb, love arises because of impure conditions and karmic retribution. Entry into the womb comes through love; desire grows from love, and this mind arises from desire. In infancy, although the emotions have not yet unfolded, joy and anger are already present in the heart. When a child becomes able to distinguish people and events, the six desires arise and take hold through the six faculties. Each object and each desire gives rise to a mind. Objects are without limit, and so the mind is without bounds; only that one mind is nowhere to be found. When desire surges, the mind becomes confused.

The six highest heavens of the Three Realms are called the Desire Realm: the Heaven of Great Sovereign Yellow Zeng, where the six faculties of its inhabitants are all stained by coarse desires; the Heaven of Great Bright Jade Perfection, where one faculty is coarsely pure and five are coarsely stained; the Heaven of Clear Brightness and Childlike Purity, where two faculties are coarsely pure and four are coarsely stained; and the Heaven of Mysterious Embryonic Peace and Equality, where three faculties are coarsely pure and three are coarsely stained. (In the following heavens, the number of faculties that are stained or pure decreases in sequence, as described in the scripture, showing how the heavens of the Desire Realm gradually become more refined.)

“Coarse roots” (gen cu) means desires that are relatively heavy and crude; “coarse roots with defilement” (gen cu ran) means one is still pulled by such coarse desires; “coarse roots purified” (gen cu jing) means those desires have already diminished. The scripture says that for those whose desires are coarse and defiled, in the heavens there are the Seven Luminaries (qiyao) heavens, and in the human realm there are the five kinds of desire; for those whose desires are somewhat purified, one kind of desire still remains. Beings whose desires are coarse and defiled dwell in the six heavenly layers mentioned above; together these heavens are called the Realm of Desire (yujie)—the sphere where desire still exists.

The Taizhen Ke (Regulations of the Great Perfection) says that beings in the two lowest layers of the Realm of Desire still bear heavy karmic fruit and take physical union as their object of desire; in the next two layers, holding hands suffices; in the fifth, speech; in the sixth, the gaze. Because of these six kinds of desire, beings are born into these six heavens. Whenever one coarse desire is cleared away, they can ascend one layer further; only when all six desires are transcended can they enter the Realm of Form (sejie)—heavens where form remains but desire is lighter. After that, even all attributes of form are gradually exhausted, and they enter the formless heavens (wusejie tian). “Formless” means free of desire.

At the start of cultivation, removing desire is hardest. From the six destinies (liuqu, the six paths of rebirth) to being human, and from the human path to sagehood and awakening, desire must be reduced step by step. The Daodejing says “lessen selfishness and reduce desires” (shao si gua yu); the Yijing says “restrain anger and choke off desire” (cheng fen zhi yu)—both teach gradual restraint of desire. Though practitioners should work in this way, they must also accord with outer things and live among affairs without being dragged by them; if from the outset one deliberately cuts everything off with forced effort, that is rather like clinging in the heart and makes true freedom from root and dust hard to attain. What ultimately counts as dust and what does not, as realm and what is not realm? Only one who understands this can be called a true person (zhenren).

What follows treats the essentials of governance. The first three lines state three principles of rule; the next four state four things to be done in governing. “Therefore” (shi yi) links what came before with what follows: the sage, knowing these three principles, must also “empty the heart, fill the belly, weaken the will, and strengthen the bones”—these are the sage’s concrete methods of practicing the Way, set out in clear layers.

“Do not exalt the worthy” (bu shang xian) means not promoting the name of worthiness, so as to cut off cleverness and rivalry; “do not prize goods” (bu gui huo) means not valuing rare and precious things; “do not display what can be desired” (bu jian ke yu) means not parading what would stir people’s wants, so that hearts may be at peace. These three are the foundation of governing the world. If the foundation is not laid, how can stability be sought? To study the art of governing is originally a king’s chief duty; the sage too has always heard these three principles. After hearing them, one must resolve to put them into practice, and that practice must take the form of four things. Hence Master Zeng said: “Honor what you have heard, and understanding will be lofty; practice what you know, and virtue will be broad.” “Virtue broad” means carrying out these four: first, empty the heart; second, fill the belly; third, weaken the will; fourth, strengthen the bones.

“Empty the heart” means making the inner heart empty and still, not stuffed with stray thoughts and desires.

There are four interpretations of “emptiness”: three are wrong, and only one is right.

First: comparing emptiness to the void of space.

Some people think the mind should be as empty as space. In this view, the solitary awakened person turns away from affliction and lets not even a trace of distracting thought remain in the mind, sitting in contemplation of the void until it is vast, boundless, and inactive. But can this be the “emptiness” upheld by the sages who govern the world? This is the first interpretation, and it is wrong.

Second: comparing emptiness to the hollow of a valley.

That is merely a hollow in the mountains. A sound echoes through an empty valley: emptiness receives the sound, and the sound that emerges is also empty. Only when the two emptinesses meet can they answer one another. Though the valley is used as a metaphor for the mind—doing nothing, yet responding when there is a sound—the scripture also says, “The Valley Spirit never dies.” To speak of the Valley Spirit is to say that there is a spirit in the valley, not merely an empty valley. If the valley had no spirit, what would this so-called spirit be? I call, and it answers: this is harmony. But would the governance of a ruler consist only in harmonizing, without initiating? To harmonize without initiating is to depart from the proper order. Such valley-like emptiness cannot be compared with the mind of a sage who governs the world. This is the second interpretation, and it too is wrong.

Third: dictionaries say that the character for “emptiness” is written with the “mound” radical, and refers to an empty hill where a tiger sits.

When a hill is desolate, people dare not approach it. The ruler regards all under Heaven as one family, showing no exclusive affection for his own kin and treating no children as his own alone. He extends care and benefit to the four seas, drawing all people to himself. How could this be like a tiger perched on a hill, making the place empty by driving everything away? This is the third interpretation, and it too is wrong.

Fourth: in the present discussion of governance, emptiness means “the One.” This is the right interpretation.

In the Kan trigram, “the One” is solid; in the Li trigram, it is empty. Water and fire generate one another, and the workings of spirit and essence cannot be separated for even an instant. Thus the workings of the sage’s spirit and the movements of his mind follow the forms of water and fire, possessing an unfathomable numinous power whose source lies in the One. The Dao gives birth to the One; the One is emptiness: it does not give birth, yet is the source of all that is born; it has no use, yet is the root of all uses. Consider the One in relation to a ruler: in its image, three strokes form Qian; in combinations of threes, the Three Powers transform and respond to one another. From one to three, then to six, and on to the 384 lines, there is nothing in which the One is not present.

Collected Interpretations of the True Scripture of the Way and Its Virtue: A Plain-Language Reading (Excerpt)

I. On “The One” and the Way of the Sage

“The One” is Shen (spirit). Responding to the empty with what is empty may at first seem “useless”—but does that mean its result is truly “of no use”?

The sage’s way is to direct people without being directed by them, and to direct things without being directed by them. To remain single-minded and undivided is to “govern one’s destiny.” A Han dynasty policy question says, “Destiny does not operate without a sage.” To remain single-minded and undisturbed is the utmost stillness. Stillness without change is the Dao’s constant; what does not change yet can bring about change is the Dao’s function. Things change, while I hold to the One in stillness: this is holding to the One. I am still while things move: this is observing their return. From this we can see that the One is Wuwei (non-action): through non-action, nothing is left undone.

The mind of an emperor must comprehend the Three Profound Teachings and put four practices into effect. Who says that emptiness and non-action cannot govern the world? This “One” is emptiness.

II. “Make the Belly Full”: The Eight Trigrams, Body, and Mind

“Make the belly full”—in the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), Kun represents the belly. The Five Materials take form on Earth; Kun governs storage, and therefore takes the belly as its image. The back is associated with Yang and the belly with Yin; the belly governs storage, holding what has passed. Earth governs intention. What emerges is new, and what returns is past; both are governed by storage. Because it stores so much, the text says, “make the belly full.”

We can also consider the two trigrams Kan and Li. Kan is solid in the middle, and thus resembles a “full belly”; Li is empty in the middle, and thus resembles an “empty mind.” Kan is firm and Li is yielding, so the mind and belly correspond to firmness and yielding. The Scripture says, “Humanity takes Earth as its model”; the Book of Changes says, “The way established on Earth is called yielding and firmness.” What is full will not be numinous unless it is opened through emptiness; hence the saying, “The yellow center connects with principle.” If what is empty does not tread firm ground, it cannot reach the clear and pure realm of awakening. The imperial commentary says: “With an empty mind, one listens and observes impartially, without feelings of liking or dislike. Impartiality brings clarity.” Li is Fire, and Fire governs civilizing brightness; the sage faces south and listens to all under Heaven. A full belly brings ample sufficiency and calm balance, free from grasping desire; only then can one be receptive and impartial. Kun represents the belly, and the belly governs receptivity. The sage observes the world from a centered and upright position: this is what is meant.

The discussion above of an empty mind and a full belly shows how the sage puts governance into practice. In human affairs, this is a way of acting; in the trigrams, it is expressed through Kan and Li; in Qi (vital energy), through Yin and Yang. Its use in human affairs is as described above, while its principles when applied to Kan and Li are different. Yang is full and Yin is empty. The practice of alchemy requires Yin to wane by “two and eight” and Yang to grow by “nine and three.” When Yang is pure, one becomes an immortal; when Yin is pure, one dies. As for Kan… (The original scroll may have continued here; this translation ends at the passage provided.)

Inner and outer are Yin; within the Li trigram, they are Yang. With Fire above and Water below, the state is “Before Completion” (Weiji). Only when Fire descends and joins with Water does it become “After Completion” (Jiji).

Looking at the patterns by which Heaven and Earth operate, from the hour of the Rat to the hour of the Horse, Yang Qi grows from weak to strong and becomes pure Yang. From the hour of the Horse to the hour of the Pig, Yin Qi grows from weak to strong and becomes pure Yin. This is the natural course of things. Thus, it is said, “Heaven and Earth move by following their course”: they transform and bring forth the myriad things in accordance with the constant Way.

When it comes to the human body, does it not also follow the Yin-Yang of Heaven and Earth? If one simply follows the flow of Heaven and Earth’s Yin and Yang, one has yet to learn the art of mastery. One cannot escape being driven along by the transformations of the world like an ordinary person, unaware that “one’s life is in one’s own hands.”

The Way of Yin and Yang: follow it, and you die; reverse it, and you live.

The Hermit of Mount Taibai says: “The method of inverting the Five Phases: the Dragon emerges from Fire, and the Five Phases do not proceed in their usual order; the Tiger is born in Water. This is called ‘reversal’; through reversal, one lives.”

On closer examination, however, this is not truly a disorderly reversal, but rather a joining in harmony. It appears to be reversal, but at its root it is harmony. The Supreme One (Laozi) says: “Water and Fire are brought into accord with the true substance of the Dao and matched with the functions of Water and Fire. By using methods to master them, the single Yang within Kan is brought to fill the emptiness of the Li palace. Li then transforms into Qian, and the Dao is accomplished.” If the emptiness has not been made full, Kan and Li merely mislead the perfected person. This is what is meant by “one Yang departs from Li and takes visible form.” Ping Shu says: “Transforming the Li palace and reaching the extreme of Yin within the abdomen ultimately comes down to attaining the One. Attaining the One, in turn, depends on the firing times: if the count of the firing times is insufficient, how can it be filled completely?”

Someone might ask: “The scripture may not be speaking about this at all; most of it seems to concern how sages govern the state. Why bring cultivation into it?”

They do not realize that the five thousand words of the Dao De Jing are fundamentally a teaching on longevity and transcendence: outwardly, they can guide the governance of the state; inwardly, they can lead one to become an immortal. An Qisheng was a strategist, and Zhang Zifang had the talent to assist a king. An Qisheng was not employed by Chu, while Zhang Liang rose to prominence under the Han; both attained immortality. Each knew the right way to enter public life or withdraw from it. How could those who are ignorant of this understand such matters?

“Guarding oneself through softness and weakness”; “weaken one’s will” (Chapter Four)

Mencius says: “The will commands the Qi.” The Imperial Commentary explains: “When the will is too forceful, one may pursue fame without restraint or chase wealth without satisfaction.” When people stumble or hurry about, it is Qi that is moving. Qi can be brought into harmony: inwardly, the spirit is at peace; outwardly, one does not go against things. Without harmony, one may inevitably seize and damage things, or act violently and offend others. This is not Qi acting on its own; it is the will driving it. Hence the saying that the will commands the Qi. Laozi’s teaching on softness and weakness means the same thing: with harmony, there is peace; without harmony, the will drags the Qi into disorder.

A Humble Bearing in the World

On “keeping one’s aspirations subdued”: If one’s aspirations are small and one’s understanding does not reach far, how can one take on great responsibilities? One must have a firm and vigorous side—firmness makes decisive action possible. But does firmness mean only firmness, without any softness? Softness is used to return and harmonize firmness; the sage embodies Heaven, alternating between firmness and softness in their application.

Without decisive action, matters cannot be settled; with it, the Way of Heaven is fulfilled. But if firmness goes too far and loses balance, excess brings regret. Only through the “Origin” line of the Qian hexagram, the Nine in Use (yongjiu), does the law of Heaven become apparent. Those who can use the Nine are said to have subdued aspirations: they rein in their ambitions and do not act on impulse. Yang Xiong said, “When you see goodness, be clear; when you apply your mind, be firm.” Seeing goodness makes the Way clear; once the Way is clear within oneself, one’s resolve naturally grows strong. The exemplary person, however, guards their aspirations carefully and keeps them deeply within, as though empty; thus they use softness to hold fast to them. If one cannot guard one’s aspirations through softness, one’s vital energy becomes violent and impure.

In every method of nurturing Qi, gentleness and compliance are fundamental. The Classic says: “Be cautious as though crossing a river in winter, and wary as though watched by neighbors on all sides.” This means not letting the inner transgress the outer, and remaining like an uninitiated young woman. Otherwise, joy and anger will assail one another and damage one’s harmonious Qi. All who follow the way of longevity are careful about this. Why not look at the Qian hexagram’s fifth line, “The flying dragon is in the heavens”? It is firm and in the proper position, yet it must not advance to the extreme, for the extreme brings regret. The top line of the Great Possession hexagram ought to be firm, though not in the proper position; yet because it treads in trust and considers what is compliant, Heaven blesses it, and there is nothing unfavorable. Though this concerns the time and position, its nature is also present in it. To guard the One with subdued aspirations, one must listen with Qi; otherwise, one will surely act in the opposite way.

Five: Establishing De and Clarifying the Way

Strengthen the bones

Earlier, the discussion said that not esteeming the worthy and placing oneself below others enable understanding, while emptying the mind and the next three practices enable action. As for strengthening the bones, this especially shows the capacity to act. Why? Strong bones make it possible to stand firm. The Book of Changes (Yijing) says, “Trust brings forth resolve”: when trust is the foundation, one can stand firm. It also says, “Heaven moves with vigor; the exemplary person strengthens themselves without ceasing.” Embodying the Way of Qian, one acts without obstruction and moves without being driven by anything, with trust as one’s foundation. Without trust, one cannot stand firm. This, too, is something only the most firm and great can put into practice. From emptying the mind, filling the belly, and subduing the aspirations, one arrives at this point. This is what is meant by skillfully nurturing the vast, flowing Qi until it fills the space between Heaven and Earth—steadfast and impossible to uproot. Who could withstand it?

Brief explanations of terms

Subdued aspirations: Restraining outwardly displayed ambition and guarding one’s original mind with humility, in contrast to acting through forceful resolve.

The Nine in Use (yongjiu): In the Qian hexagram, all yang lines are represented by “Nine.” Here it refers to Heaven’s principle of firmness that can also change and yield.

Strengthen the bones: After emptying the mind, filling the belly, and subduing the aspirations, one gives the spirit a firm foundation for standing. This is connected with the vast, flowing Qi in the Mencius and the Commentary on the Book of Changes’ teaching to “strengthen oneself without ceasing.”

This passage of scripture discusses how “softness and weakness” and “hardness and strength” work together in the Daodejing, and why the sage, in governing the state, must cause the people to be “without knowledge and without desire.”

The scripture says, “One who forces himself onward has will.” Only by being willing to push oneself and endure hard effort can one be said to have true resolve. This means first nurturing oneself through softness, so that one may gradually arrive at strength. The Yijing speaks of strength first and softness afterward, while Laozi speaks of softness first and strength afterward. Their applications differ, and each has its own rationale.

The kidneys belong to Water and are used as a metaphor for “will”; the bones are like stone and are used as a metaphor for hardness and strength. From softness to strength, the transformation is clearly visible: one yang is born within utmost yin, and when softness reaches its extreme it turns into strength; one yin is born within utmost yang, and when strength reaches its extreme it turns into softness. From this we know that hardness and softness alternate and serve one another. If one only guards oneself and does not act, simply concealing oneself, how can one benefit the world and bring blessings to later generations? The sage observes the Dao of Heaven and moves in accordance with it: wind, thunder, clouds, and rain are sent forth in Heaven; rites, music, punishments, and government are applied among people. If there is no hardness within, one cannot stand firm. Therefore, only when the bones are strong can one stand, and yet one must guard this with weakness and carry it out with correctness. If one establishes something and stands toweringly, one will not seem to be dragged along by desires.

Many people in the world study the Dao. Some know it but cannot guard it; some can guard it but cannot put it into practice. This is nothing but their profit-seeking mind being too heavy, so that the Dao of clarity and emptiness is hard to recover; they can only forcibly bolster their resolve and suppress and weaken their bones and sinews. It is like hoarding much wealth and goods, shutting the doors and guarding them stubbornly, unable to trade or circulate them: how could one truly be rich? The imperial commentary says that when the bones are strong, there is movement, flow, dispersal, and shifting; this means there is no middle way left to guard. Only one who strengthens himself ceaselessly can appreciate this meaning.

III. The Reach of Governance and Transformation

The line “always cause the people to be without knowledge and without desire” summarizes the preceding passage; the next line gives the explanation. When the sage governs the world and always causes the people to be without knowledge and without desire, this is again emphasizing: do not exalt the worthy, do not prize goods, do not display desirable things, and further empty the mind, fill the belly, weaken the will, and strengthen the bones. The sage has these seven principles for governing the state, and in the end they all come down to causing the people to be without knowledge and without desire. If the worthy are exalted, people will be full of cleverness, the world will be thrown into great confusion, and Confucians and Mohists will arise together. If goods are prized, people will be full of desire, even to the point of disregarding life and death in contention, and seizure, plunder, and fraud will reach everywhere. To see reputation as desirable and profit as worthy of esteem is in every case to lose the Dao. Only the sage can remove these three things, and then the people will naturally be without knowledge and also without desire.

The people are generous by nature but shift according to external things, and this is because they are moved by what they encounter.

Those in positions of authority who rely entirely on cleverness and contrivance, and teach others to do the same, eventually find that even the law can no longer suppress the resulting disorder. Dong Zhongshu, a Confucian scholar of the Han dynasty, said: “When laws are introduced, wickedness follows; when directives are issued, deceit arises.” This happened because earlier rulers failed to guide the people well, and customs were so deeply corrupted that they could not be changed in a day. Even if rulers now wish to forbid such conduct with harsh laws and admonish people with commands, the wickedness in their hearts remains. Only the Dao can transform them.

Law began to take shape in the time of Fuxi, the legendary sage ruler said to have established rites and laws. It took form under Emperor Yao and reached its fullest development during the flourishing rites and music of the Zhou dynasty. Cleverness and contrivance were then carried to their limits. This explains why it is said that the Zhou declined and the Great Dao grew obscure. This was the concern behind Laozi’s writing of the Dao De Jing. He was not writing only for his own time; he meant it to serve as a warning for generations to come. When the world falls into disorder again, how could it be any different from the Warring States period? Confucius said of the faults of that age—admiring the worthy, valuing wealth, and indulging desire: “The people may be made to follow the way, but they cannot be made to understand every artifice behind it.” When Emperor Yao heard a children’s song, it said: “Knowing nothing, understanding nothing, follow the pattern of Heaven’s Lord.” If those in authority are themselves full of knowledge and desire, yet expect those below them to be ignorant and desireless, it is impossible—like hating drunkenness while forcing people to drink. Better to transform them through utmost sincerity and preserve their simplicity: those above should seem dull, and those below should seem unaware. This is what Zhuangzi meant when he said, “Above, like withered branches; below, like wild deer.” What need would there be to drive people with rewards and punishments?

(Second section, continuing the previous discussion.) Cleverness and contrivance should have no opportunity to take hold, so that even the clever do not dare to act recklessly. The Jing says: “Treat the people with simplicity. The people are hard to govern because they have too much cleverness.” Zhuangzi says: “When the world has the Dao, the sage helps everyone flourish; when the world lacks the Dao, the sage preserves his life.” Abundant knowledge and desire throw the world into disorder. Once the people have lost their true nature, trying to restrain them through punishments and force only creates further turmoil. The Qin dynasty brought calamity upon the world. Its cleverness and contrivance overcame benevolence and righteousness. It tried to govern through punishments and force alone, without benevolence or righteousness; its kindness never reached the people, and so it fell quickly. The people are not without cleverness, but they can keep it hidden and unused, provided those in authority do not speak first or set things in motion. Then even those below who are clever will not dare to act recklessly. The Yinfu Jing says: “Cut off one source of profit, and your forces will be worth ten times as much.” This is what it means. If the clever are allowed to act recklessly, the resulting turmoil cannot be contained. Once matters reach this point, even if…

(The following text continues the idea of “ensuring that the knowledgeable do not dare to act,” and connects with the passage above.)

Main point: This passage argues that disorder begins when those in authority teach cleverness and contrivance and prize excessive desire; laws and commands can address only the symptoms. Laozi and Zhuangzi advocate simplicity above and below, and avoiding the first stirrings of wrongdoing. Read alongside Confucius’s “The people may be made to follow the way, but they cannot be made to understand it” and the saying from Yao’s time, the passage opposes the Warring States’ admiration of the worthy and pursuit of wealth. It calls for guiding the people through the Dao rather than relying on punishment alone.

Trying to “exterminate” them through harsh punishment rarely succeeds in wiping them all out. That is why Laozi says, “I practice Wuwei (non-action), and the people will transform and flourish of their own accord.” This infers the Way of Wuwei from its effects on governance.

Chapter Four brings out the efficacy of Wuwei. “Transformation proceeds without display” means that instruction is put into practice without drawing attention to itself. “Act through non-action” sums up the whole text: when a sage takes charge of the state, things may appear to happen through non-action, but this does not mean doing nothing at all. Wuwei means keeping free of attachment to particular things; action means engaging with the affairs of daily life. Affairs themselves are not the Dao, yet action must still take the Dao as its starting point. To act without leaving traces of “I am acting,” and to govern without boasting, “How well I have governed”—this is the highest good.

What does it mean to act without leaving traces, and to govern without displaying one’s merit? The Yi says: “In stillness, there is no movement; in response, all things are understood.” What remains still is one’s nature; what responds and connects is one’s feelings. Nature is inherently without action: it is the substance of the Dao. As nature, the Dao is formless. When the ultimate begins to stir, Heaven and Earth come into being, and all things arise from it. The commentary says: “All things each fulfill their proper roles, and all grow through Wuwei.” This is the Dao: flowing from the sage’s heart and corresponding to the subtle workings of Heaven and Earth. Hidden in Heaven, it moves Heaven; hidden in Earth, it sets Earth in motion. This is nothing other than the transformation of spirit. When the movement of spirit can be seen, it is called action; when transformation occurs without visible traces, its underlying nature remains Wuwei.

Besides, even if one does not act, the myriad affairs of the realm arrive in great number each day. Can they simply be left unattended? To disregard them all is to fail to govern. But to handle every matter personally and scrutinize every detail is exhausting. Exhaustion leads to decline, and decline again means failing to govern. In conducting affairs of state, how could one do without benevolence, righteousness, ritual, trustworthiness, favor, and punishment? Benevolence means caring for people; righteousness, doing what is fitting; ritual, establishing proper forms; trustworthiness, seeking what is real; favor, extending kindness; and punishment, establishing authority. If one leaves these aside in governing the state yet still hopes to govern well, that cannot be achieved.

In ancient times, ritual and law were not needed: in the age of Fuxi, people recorded events by tying knots. In general, people’s nature was simple and affairs were few, so the effects of Wuwei were easy to see. To say that later generations can only act and cannot practice Wuwei would be to say that the Dao can no longer be put into practice. Only a sage who embodies the Dao can grasp this principle. The Yi also says: “Its Way is vast; no thing is left out.” Precisely because nothing is left out, the Dao displays the breadth of what appears to be action. Yet if one seeks only the Dao, the Dao itself is Wuwei. This is what “act through non-action” means.

Try to understand it this way: “Wuwei (non-action) belongs to the way of inward sageliness; action belongs to the way of outward kingship.”

Inward sageliness means a mind that is deeply still, empty, and lucid; outward kingship means taking up affairs and accomplishing great works. When affairs are handled with such a profound, empty, still mind, they arise from the Dao (the Way), and the Dao itself is rooted in emptiness. Action and non-action merge without leaving a trace. Why seek anything else? This chapter comes down to “not honoring the worthy”: the sage is to nurture and transform the world alone. Transforming things alone approaches the numinous. To reach Wuwei and spontaneity without relying on the worthy—that is the way of the great sage’s rule.

If one must depend on worthy ministers for assistance, one has already fallen into visible traces. Consider how the great sage teaches people from the “spirit” side: stirring their hearts so that they receive his teaching and their customs change—their simplicity grows gradually, their awakening unfolds slowly. When nothing is done, the myriad things transform; when there is non-action, the people settle. This is the realm of the “spirit.”

Now consider the matter from the side of “visible traces”: Yao abdicated in favor of Shun, and Shun appointed the Nine Ministers. Gao Yao said, “Wisdom lies in knowing people. Knowing people is discernment; being able to appoint capable officials and bring peace to the people is benevolence.” He also said, “Let the many offices perform their duties at the proper time, and the myriad undertakings will be brought to completion.” Once the court was in order, it could guide the world. Zhong Hui praised Tang for “using others as he would use himself”; Tang needed worthy people to assist him. He also “sought far and wide for outstanding talent” so that together they could bring order to the world: the wise devised plans, the capable carried them out, and the ruler rested while his ministers labored. This is rule through visible traces: the ruler can achieve governance through non-action by employing others.

In the first case, the sage’s Wuwei relies on nothing; in the second, non-action is attained by relying on worthy people. With worthy people, the realm is well governed; without them, it falls into ruin. “Not honoring the worthy” belongs to the great sage. People often say that Laozi’s teaching sounds like the distant past. But if it were not a teaching of balanced practice, how could it speak of action? Action means not abandoning the mean. When the two ways accord with spontaneity, all is well governed: above, one sees the efficacy of non-action; at the point of non-action, one becomes one with the Dao.

Note: This passage develops ideas such as “not honoring the worthy” in Collected Commentaries on the True Scripture of the Dao, volume seven. It contrasts “inward sageliness and outward kingship” and “spirit and visible traces” to set Laozi’s ideal against the rule through appointing worthy people described in accounts of Yao, Shun, and Tang. It also emphasizes reconciling this ideal with the mean and with action. Proper names and technical terms are briefly explained in parentheses at first mention.