《道德真經廣聖義》Vol. 31

Volume Thirty of The Broad Meaning of the True Scripture of Dao and De, written by Master Guangcheng, Du Guangting, of the Tang dynasty.

Commentary on the De Section of the Laozi

“Laozi” here is an inner title of the Supreme Lord Lao. A fuller explanation appears in the preceding volume.

De is the functioning of the Dao. If the Dao is not established, De cannot arise; if De is not honored, the Dao cannot be made manifest. The Dao takes emptiness and unobstructed openness as its meaning, while De is named for bringing things to completion and enabling them to attain what they need. The Dao reaches through all things, and all things can obtain something from the Dao. Since each thing finds its proper place, this is called De.

Some also say, “Dao is Dao, and De is De,” just as Confucius, when explaining the names of the hexagrams in the Book of Changes, said that “Waiting” means to wait, “Advance” means to move forward, and “Stripping Away” means to strip away. Yan Junping said, “The Dao that is not the Dao, and the De that is not De, are the foundation of the true Way.” Dao and De depend on one another and cannot be separated.

In ancient script, the character for “Dao” is composed of “origin” and “head”: “origin” means the source of the myriad teachings, and “head” means the foremost among the sages. The character for “De” is composed of “straight” and “heart.” This means that through upright contemplation and a straightforward heart, one attains the highest De of emptiness, stillness, and self-forgetfulness. Other meanings concerning the connection between Dao and De have been discussed in detail in the preceding volume.

The lower section of this scripture takes Yin as its model and symbolizes the earth, so its number of chapters is even, making forty-four chapters in all. The Dao is characterized by emptiness, formlessness, and nothingness; it takes Yang as its model and symbolizes heaven. De, by contrast, is expressed through concrete results; it takes Yin as its model and symbolizes the earth. Some have moved the final chapter of the upper section to the end of the lower section, giving the upper section thirty-six chapters, or four times nine, to match Yang, and the lower section forty-five chapters, or five times nine, to match Yin. This, too, is an arbitrary alteration and forced interpretation by later writers, and may well run counter to the intention of the Profound Sage.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Highest De Does Not Display De

This chapter opens by identifying “the functioning of the Dao” as its theme, preparing to explain the transformation that arises when De is complete. When De is complete, one’s plain and sincere nature is not lost, and there is no sign of people using the names of benevolence and righteousness to give to one another or to hold society together by force. Only after the Dao was abandoned did benevolence and righteousness gradually arise, and worldly customs thereby grew shallow. To change this condition and lead people back to their original state, the chapter first discusses the Wuwei (non-action) of highest De, then traces how benevolence and righteousness developed and declined, and finally concludes by calling for the removal of ostentation and a return to what is real. Its aim is to restore simplicity and return people to sincerity.

The Dao is the substance of De, and De is the functioning of the Dao. Thus, when the chapter opens by identifying “the functioning of the Dao,” it means highest De. Highest De is De that does not deliberately display itself as De. When highest De is complete, one’s plain and sincere nature is not lost.

(Continuing from the previous passage) When simplicity remains whole and undispersed, De can transform people so that they naturally become one. It is like fish in rivers and lakes, each at ease in its own nature, with no need to rely on the mutual aid of “breathing on one another and moistening one another” in times of distress.

Only when De declines do people take up benevolence and righteousness. Benevolence carries the private bias of favoritism; righteousness carries the decisive force of judgment. After the people are taught in this way, customs grow shallow and ostentatious instead. When “foreknowledge” (clever anticipation) is treated as something refined, and “higher rites” (outward rules of etiquette) give rise to disorder, ostentation and confusion deepen, and conflict is bound to arise. The sage therefore leads people back to their original state: dispel ostentation and preserve simple truth. This blocks disorder at its source and opens the way back to simplicity. Hence the saying: “Let them return to the unadorned and come back to the simple.”

“Those of the highest De do not regard themselves as possessing De; therefore they truly have De.”

The commentary says: “‘Highest’ refers to an age; ‘De’ means the workings and expression of De.” In high antiquity, people were simple and unspoiled, and governance proceeded through Wuwei (non-action). Ruling in accord with the principles of the Dao and allowing things to follow their own nature: this was the pure De of antiquity. The highest De, the utmost De, worked unseen, beyond people’s ability to name; hence the phrase “do not regard themselves as possessing De.” As the simple way of life flourished in harmony, all things each fulfilled their own process of growth, and the workings of De remained complete; hence “they truly have De.” The commentary’s quotation, “That by which things are able to come into being is called De,” comes from the Miscellaneous Chapters of the Zhuangzi.

The explanation says: Here the text introduces the rulers of high antiquity, who fully embodied De. They did not claim De as their own, and thus truly had it. The passage then goes on to describe the gradual decline of later ages, which is why it begins with “the highest De.” In the age of the utmost Dao, De was not displayed. The ruler of the highest De was like the “Most High” ruler described in the previous chapter. De blended quietly into the work of nurturing and transforming; all things came into being of themselves. Because the ruler did not boast of De, it became all the more radiant. Thus the text says, “therefore they truly have De.”

What Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things receive has the Dao as its root and De as its beginning. The Dao can be deep or shallow, which is why there is the “Dao that can be spoken” and the “constant Dao.” De can be abundant or slight, which is why there are the highest and lower forms of De. The Dao and De do not belong only to emperors and kings. Those who practice the Dao are people of the Dao; those who practice De are people of De. Their practice differs in depth, and this is what distinguishes the higher from the lower. The Zhuangzi says: “Emptiness and Wuwei open the way for all things; this is called a person of the Dao. Stillness and responsive adaptation are called a person of De.”

De has degrees of excellence, and the world has periods of flourishing and decline. The ruler of the highest De merges spirit and transformation into one, embodies the Dao and preserves De, and moves in the mystery beyond sight. All under Heaven turn to this ruler, yet neither see nor hear him. De returns to the myriad things, and all say that things are natural. This is why the ruler is called the Most High, who honors De. The Miscellaneous Chapters of the Zhuangzi says: “That by which things are able to come into being is called De.”

General Meaning of the Scripture

All things follow their natural course and each is able to live. This is the expression of De (Virtue/Power). Those who hold fast to the Dao (the Way) can bring De to fulfillment. When De is fulfilled, the body can be kept whole; when the body is whole, the spirit can be full. Those whose spirit is full embody the way of the sage.

“Those of lower De do not lose De; therefore, they have no De.”

Commentary: De is the application of the Dao. Zhuangzi says, “When all things are able to live, this is called De.” Times differ in their simplicity or decline, and so De, too, has higher and lower forms. In antiquity, customs were simple and sincere, and the workings of De were not evident. There was no De to praise, so it is said that people were “without De,” while their unadulterated De remained intact. They transformed things through Wuwei (non-action), and the world was clear and peaceful; thus it is said that they “therefore had De.” When De began to decline, its workings gradually became visible. Though people inwardly understood the Dao, their conduct involved deliberate action. De that could be held to and praised then appeared, which is why it is said they “did not lose De.” But their conduct had become self-conscious and constrained, making it coarser than the De of those above them; hence it is said that they “therefore had no De.”

Explication: This explains how simple customs gradually fell away and De declined with them. The sage praises the way of Wuwei, while the people esteem the signs of deliberate action. To esteem such signs is to be of a lesser order. Thus the text speaks of lower De: when its signs are evident, there is De that can be praised, which is why it says “do not lose” and “De that can be praised.” Yet to preserve De through self-conscious effort is to become constrained, and constraint brings its own flaws. Simplicity is no longer complete; hence “therefore, they have no De.”

Interpretation: A ruler of lower De embodies De in conduct. Since De is plainly visible, those above are matched by Heaven and Earth, and the people below recognize it. Whether seen or heard, De reaches all things, and all things return to that De. It can therefore be praised and made manifest, which is why the ruler does not lose De. But to cling to De, preserve it through self-conscious effort, and maintain it through deliberate action is to have moved far from the Dao. By taking pride in these outward signs, such a ruler has no De when compared with a ruler of higher De.

“Those of higher De act through Wuwei and have no purpose in acting.”

Commentary: To know about Wuwei and then practice it does not reach the highest level. The highest level is to have no thought of “Wuwei” and to act without effort, naturally. Thus, the Wuwei of those of higher De does not result from deliberately seeking the beauty of non-action. They simply contain simplicity within themselves and act naturally without effort. Hence the phrase “have no purpose in acting”: both their mind and their outward conduct are free of deliberate action.

Explication: This further explains higher De. Those of higher De work unseen and govern through Wuwei; their simplicity remains intact, so they have neither name nor trace. When the text says that those of higher De act through Wuwei, it means that they contain simplicity within and act naturally without effort. They do not act through Wuwei because they knowingly recognize its virtue; hence the phrase “have no purpose in acting.” They have no outward traces to take pride in, nor any intention to transform and guide others. This is what the commentary means when it says that both mind and conduct are free of deliberate action.

[Meaning: Superior De]

A ruler of superior De has an inborn nature in accord with the Dao (the Way), and a destiny in accord with the One. He takes nature as his means of action and Great Harmony as his spirit. In movement, he accords with Heaven; in stillness, with Earth. He is at one with the Dao and makes nothing happen through contrivance. His mind and spirit neither think nor deliberate: this is non-action of the mind. He makes no display of his achievements, yet his power is like that of Heaven and Earth; he does not show off his understanding, yet his brightness is like that of the sun and moon. This is non-action in outward conduct. Such non-action is neither learned by imitation nor a deliberate effort made within non-action: it is truly “having nothing by which to act.” Yin and Yang set things in motion for him; spirits and gods devise things for him. Advancing and retreating, pushing and shifting, change and transformation proceed without end. In mystery, silence, and stillness, he moves together with transformation. This is called non-action of both mind and outward conduct. Yet De must also embrace and nourish all things, and so to some extent it must show itself in outward conduct.

[Inferior De acts, and has something by which to act]

Commentary: “Inferior De acts” means that although the mind does not seek to display its functions, outward conduct has already entered the realm of action. Hence the phrase “acts.” Inferior De is non-active, yet has “something by which to act”: the mind is non-active, while outward conduct is active.

Exegesis: This is another explanation of inferior De. “Inferior De acts” means that the mind esteems the Dao of non-action and practices it; hence the phrase “acts.” In outward conduct, however, it has already entered the realm of self-conscious effort and action; hence the words “and has something by which to act.” The actions of inferior De have a “reason for acting.” Thus the commentary says: the mind is non-active, while outward conduct is active.

[Meaning: Inferior De]

In later ages, De declined, and both mind and outward conduct became manifest. Such a ruler knows only that action is wrong, but not that non-action is right: action is shallow, while non-action is sincere and harmonious. Because he makes this distinction, he conceals his mind and hides its workings, practicing non-action to restrain the actions of those who act. Hence the phrase “acts”: the mind desires non-action, but outward conduct still involves self-conscious effort and action. He knows that non-action is good and action bad, and turns from the bad toward the good, aspiring to non-action. Because he makes this distinction, he “has something by which to act.”

[Superior benevolence acts, but has nothing by which to act]

Commentary: Benevolence is the name for loving all. When inferior De declined, superior benevolence appeared, so one practiced benevolence that loves all; hence the phrase “acts.” One practices benevolence yet forgets benevolence, and also seeks non-action; hence the words “but has nothing by which to act.” Here the mind has something, while outward conduct is non-active. Moreover, superior benevolence is called non-active in the sense that outward conduct seeks to be non-active.

[Meaning: Superior Benevolence]

(In the original, this section contains only a heading and commentary. If the explanation were continued, its general sense would be this: superior benevolence still belongs to the category of “acting,” but its aim is to love all and practice benevolence without becoming attached to benevolence. Its outward conduct tends toward non-action. This is the reverse of inferior De, in which the mind is non-active while outward conduct is active: here the mind has something, while outward conduct is non-active.)

Plain Language Commentary

(Continuing from the previous passage) The discussion has reached the level of “righteousness,” but this is still not enough to explain the “lower De” and “deliberate action” that lie beneath it.

Commentary (developing the principles)

What follows explains that benevolence and righteousness flourished only after the Great Dao fell into decline. “Those of superior benevolence” refers to people who take benevolence as their highest ideal, with the other qualities understood in the same way. “Benevolence” means universal love and care for all. When the Great Dao prevailed, all things received its care without favoritism. After the simple and natural way of life faded, the ideal of universal love was left behind.

We can now explain why this kind of universal love is called “superior benevolence.” One practices benevolence while forgetting benevolence: one gives without seeking anything in return. Yet universal love cannot extend throughout the world, and in the end it amounts only to a small kindness that does not win people’s wholehearted trust. Thus the mind is “always acting”—that is, “acting”; yet in outward appearance it comes close to Wuwei (non-action)—that is, “without anything to act for.” The commentator says: the mind acts, but outwardly there is no action.

Explanation

To love all things and give generously without setting limits is called benevolence. The Book of Plain Writings says that benevolence is what draws people close: it is a heart of compassion and kindness that helps others grow and flourish. Benevolence gives widely to all things, but this can easily lead to favoritism. Compared with De (Virtue/Power), it is a lower quality.

In the age of the utmost Dao, there was no name for conduct that encompassed every practice without bias. The Dao was silent, still, deep, and vast; it gave life without ruling. De was the transformation received by all things, each finding its proper place. Benevolence brought things to completion, ripened them, nourished them, and helped them grow. Righteousness enabled creatures that fly, move, or take root to live as they should. Wisdom gave each sentient and insentient thing its own nature. Trust meant that things arose when their time came and rested when it was time to rest. Ritual followed the seasons and established the order of the four seasons. Music stirred harmony between Heaven and Earth and brought joy to all things. Thus, in calmness and simplicity, one practices Wuwei, and nothing is left undone.

When the Great Dao became hidden, the influence of De spread. The transformation of utmost De also nurtured all things through great benevolence, great righteousness, great ritual, great wisdom, great music, and great trust. But when De, too, fell into decline, benevolence became benevolence on its own and righteousness became righteousness on its own; neither could any longer transform things together with the others. Why? Those who practice benevolence make kindness and love their guiding principles, and so lack the force to make firm judgments; righteousness is then lacking. Those who practice righteousness make decisive judgments about right and wrong, and so choose some things and reject others; benevolence is then lacking. Benevolence and righteousness, each acting alone, cannot transform things together. Yet although “superior benevolence” bears the marks of universal love and partiality, one can practice benevolence while forgetting benevolence, and thereby forget its outward traces—the discussion continues below.

Although there is no deliberate intention to spread kindness widely, in dealing with others and showing compassion for all things, one still hopes they will be at ease. The mind has therefore already entered the realm of “action.” A person of the highest benevolence can forget these traces, so that their outward conduct approaches Wuwei (non-action).

The phrase “small favors have not won people’s trust” may be understood through the Spring and Autumn Annals. In the tenth year of Duke Zhuang of Lu, Cao Gui spoke with the duke. In the first month of that year, the Lu army defeated Qi at Changshao. Before the battle, Cao Gui asked to see the duke. A villager said, “Those who eat meat will make the plans. What are you going for?” Cao Gui replied, “Those who eat meat have limited understanding; they may not be capable of far-reaching plans,” and went in to see him.

When asked what grounds he had for fighting, Duke Zhuang said that he did not dare keep for himself the comforts of food and clothing, but always shared them with others. Cao Gui replied, “These small favors have not reached everyone, so the people will not follow you.” The duke then said that he never made false claims about sacrificial offerings, but always kept his word. Cao Gui replied, “This small measure of trust has not won the spirits’ confidence; they will not protect you.” The duke next said that although he could not examine every case, large or small, with complete clarity, he always dealt with them according to the facts. Cao Gui replied, “That is the kind of service that shows devotion. You can fight on that basis; if you do, let me go with you.”

Duke Zhuang took him in his chariot, and they fought at Changshao. When the duke wanted to beat the drums, Cao Gui said, “Not yet.” After the Qi army had sounded its drums three times, Cao Gui said, “Now.” The Qi army was routed. The duke wanted to pursue them, but Cao Gui again said, “Not yet.” He got down to examine the wheel tracks, then climbed back into the chariot to look at the enemy’s flags. Only then did he say, “Now,” and the Lu army pursued the Qi forces and won a decisive victory.

When the duke asked why, Cao Gui explained: “Battle depends on courage. At the first beat of the drums, morale is at its height; at the second, it wanes; at the third, it is spent. Their strength was exhausted while ours was full, so we could win. A great state is difficult to read, and I feared an ambush. I saw that their wheel tracks were disordered and their flags had fallen before I ordered the pursuit.”

This is precisely what is meant by “small favors do not reach everyone” and “small measures of trust have not won confidence”: neither is far-reaching. How much less can someone who loves all things necessarily extend kindness to everyone? However hard they strive to practice benevolence, they remain far from Dao and De (Virtue/Power).

“The highest righteousness acts, and has specific aims.”

Righteousness is a standard for judging right and wrong. Hence the phrase “acts”: one acts with intention. “Has specific aims” means making concrete judgments and distinctions so that each thing is suited to its place. Both the mind and its outward traces thus fall within the realm of “action.”

The commentary explains that righteousness means “what is fitting”: distinguishing right from wrong and making judgments so that all things find their proper place. Once simplicity has been damaged and distinctions between right and wrong have arisen, these distinctions must be judged and corrected so that things are set right. This is why the text says, “The highest righteousness acts.” To intend in the mind to correct right and wrong and make things fitting is to “have specific aims,” hence the phrase “and has specific aims.” The note explains that here both mind and conduct involve action.

The meaning is that giving things their proper names, verifying the facts, and handling matters appropriately is called righteousness. The Book of Plain Strategies and other texts also use the term in this sense.

On “Righteousness”

Righteousness concerns how people should act: rewarding good and punishing evil, establishing merit and accomplishing things.

In an age of simplicity, there was originally no right and wrong. Once distinctions between right and wrong appeared, simplicity fell apart. To judge what is right or wrong and decide what to accept or reject is righteousness. To make what one knows to be right more prominent and stop what one knows to be wrong places both thought and action in the realm of deliberate effort. Righteousness can establish integrity, but it can also nurture pretense. If one governs a state or cultivates oneself by clinging only to benevolence and righteousness, without virtue, it is like drilling through ice to kindle a fire, or driving north while hoping to reach Chu: the direction is entirely wrong.

“Those who are highest in ritual act, but when no one responds, they roll up their sleeves and force others to comply.”

Note: Only when the Six Bonds—such as those between parent and child, and ruler and minister—fall into disharmony is ritual used to mend them. That is why the passage says “act.” Ritual depends on reciprocity. If the other person does not respond, the exchange falls short of ritual. If you perform a ritual greeting and the other person does not return it, you roll up your sleeves and use force to make them comply.

Commentary: Ritual is a set of norms that can be put into practice. Zhuangzi says that with ritual as one of your two wings, you can make your way through the world. Ritual was established to remedy decline and disorder, which is why there are three hundred chapters in the Ritual Classic and three thousand rules of proper conduct: they set up safeguards through prescribed forms and establish rules for particular situations. Once simplicity is lost, everything becomes a bustle of activity. One can only begin by preserving outward propriety, which is not the same as letting it arise naturally from within. Bowing and yielding give ritual its refinement; jade and silk make reciprocity visible. To go without returning is contrary to ritual; to come without going is contrary to ritual as well. If those in authority perform ritual toward those below them, but the latter do not respond, the authorities roll up their sleeves in anger and impose it by force. That is why the passage says “roll up their sleeves and force others to comply.”

A Saying on Righteousness: On Ritual

Humility, yielding, and respect, practiced to preserve harmony, are called ritual. The Book of Plain Instructions says: “Ritual is what people put into practice. Rise early and retire late, thereby establishing order in human relationships.” Ritual can cultivate careful respect, but it can also produce slackness and contempt. When ritual is carved up into separate forms and music is allowed to spread without restraint, the world begins to fall apart; only the outward appearance remains, without anything arising from within. As for proper conduct, solemnity and dignified restraint that inspire respect are called “bearing”; measured movements, bows, and turns that provide a model to follow are called “demeanor.” The Book of Odes says, “How stately and composed their bearing, beyond all comparison,” and also, “Friends support one another, supporting one another through their proper demeanor.” The three hundred chapters of the Ritual Classic and the three thousand rules of proper conduct come down, in essence, to the forms of entering and withdrawing respectfully, bending and straightening, bowing and turning. The greatest rituals—marriage, coming of age, funerals, and sacrifices—are the foundations of a state. In all our movements, stillness, bearing, and behavior, what could be separate from ritual?

How profound! Ritual is reverence made visible in one’s station, like the head above and the feet below: distinctions of rank fall naturally into place and do not violate the order of Heaven. Thus ruler and minister, father and son, form an ordered whole. Each remains in the proper place, above and below, without crossing boundaries: this is the reality of the Dao.

Later people often perform rituals with impeccable outward decorum while inwardly harboring contempt. When loyalty and trust are lacking, they blame and accuse one another. They use jade and silk to express their intentions, and formal bows and deference to disguise their true feelings. When one side gives without receiving, or goes out without anything coming back, resentment arises, conflict follows, and disorder takes hold. Rather than thrusting out their arms and grappling with one another, would it not be better to preserve the great beauty of “great ritual, in harmony with the rhythms of Heaven and Earth”?

Ritual as wings—Zhuangzi’s “The Great and Venerable Teacher” says: “The true people of old had this appearance…” (passage omitted). They took punishment as their body and ritual as their wings: to take punishment as the body is to exercise the authority to punish and kill with stern resolve; to take ritual as the wings is to make it possible for people to move through the world.

When the Dao and De were lost, benevolence and righteousness became widespread. When benevolence was taken to an extreme, the spirit of universal love faded; when righteousness was taken to an extreme, standards for right and wrong became confused. The gentleman transgresses ritual; the petty person transgresses the law. The sage observes circumstances and the times before establishing ritual and law. The peoples beyond the borders understand that defying the ruler’s command warrants execution, while ministers and sons understand that they must show respect to those above them. These teachings were established in keeping with human feelings—that is what this means.

Reciprocity in giving and responding—The “Record of Music” says: “Music is giving; ritual is responding. Music brings virtue to light, and ritual responds to others’ feelings. This is the principle of exchange.”

Careful measures of prevention—The “Record of the Dykes” says: Confucius put it this way: “The gentleman’s way includes precautions and barriers; both serve to guard against what the people lack.” If a dyke is not made high enough, people will still cross it. So the gentleman uses ritual to guard against the loss of virtue, punishment to guard against disorderly conduct, and commands to guard against excessive desire. Confucius said: “When petty people are poor, they become constrained; when rich, they grow arrogant. Constraint leads to theft; arrogance leads to rebellion.” Ritual sets patterns and limits according to human feelings, creating safeguards for the people. Therefore the sage established limits on wealth, rank, and privilege, so that the rich would not become arrogant, the poor would not be destitute, and the high-ranking would not overstep those above them. This reduced disorder. Yet even when a state was limited to a thousand chariots, its capital to a hundred zhi of wall, and a noble household’s wealth to a hundred chariots, some feudal lords still rebelled.

The text also says: “Ritual brings what is doubtful to light, distinguishes fine differences, and establishes safeguards for the people.” So rank is graded, clothing is distinguished, and places at court are assigned, allowing the people to yield to one another. There cannot be two suns in Heaven, two kings on the land, two heads of a household, or two supreme authorities. Thus the people know whom to yield to.

In essence, ritual is no empty formality: it expresses reverence and proper distinctions, safeguards against excess, and gives a fitting response. When virtue is lost, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual proliferate. The sage establishes teachings in response to the time and the circumstances, using ritual to guide the world and safeguards to prevent disorder.

“Without Duality”: Those in positions of authority should make the people understand the distinction between ruler and minister. A ruler rides in the same carriage with someone of a different surname, but not with someone who shares his surname, to show that there is no need to distrust people of the same surname too much. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still kill their ruler out of kinship with someone of the same surname.

Confucius said: If the dying are cared for before the living, the people will not compete for what they need. If the dead are buried before the living are settled, the people will have something to rely on. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still agree to die together, weeping and wailing with no one to whom they can appeal.

Confucius said: Repairing ancestral temples and conducting sacrifices with reverence is meant to teach the people to remember their ancestors and honor their parents. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still forget their parents.

The Yin people mourned in the open countryside, while the Zhou people mourned at home. This was meant to show that funerary rites should not be performed carelessly on someone else’s land. Confucius said: Death and mourning are great matters for the people, and I follow the rites of Zhou. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, there are still lords who are not buried after they die.

Ascending the hall by the guests’ steps and receiving condolences in the guest’s place is meant to teach the people to honor their parents after death. Refraining from using the ruler’s name before the mourning period has ended is meant to show that people should not compete. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, there are still sons who kill their fathers.

Serving three years of mourning for one’s father and three years for one’s ruler is meant to show beyond doubt the obligations between ruler and subject. Thus, throughout the realm under Heaven, the Son of Heaven has no guest rites, and no one dares to claim the place of host. While one’s parents are alive, one dares not regard one’s own body as belonging to oneself. Gifts that do not extend to carriages and horses show that people dare not act on their own authority. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still forget their parents and be disloyal to their ruler.

Confucius said: If profit is discussed before ritual propriety, the people will care only for gain. If people act without guidance from words, they will fight. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still prize high salaries and disregard De (Virtue/Power).

When a gentleman holds office, he does not farm; in the fields, he does not fish. He eats what is in season and does not indulge in rare delicacies. A senior official does not ride in a cart drawn by sheep, and a knight does not ride in one drawn by dogs. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, they may still forget righteousness and compete for profit, even to the point of losing their lives.

The purpose of ritual propriety is to prevent licentiousness, make distinctions of rank clear, remove suspicion between people, and serve as the guiding code for the people. Thus, a man and a woman do not associate without a matchmaker or meet without betrothal gifts, for fear that the distinctions of human relationships will be lost. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, there are still women who offer themselves.

Confucius said: A man should not marry a woman of the same surname, in order to reinforce distinctions in human relationships. When buying a concubine whose surname is unknown, one consults an oracle. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, in the Spring and Autumn period the wife’s surname was omitted and she was called “Wu”; when she died, the record says, “Mengzi died.” (Duke Zhao married a descendant of Taibo, who shared his surname.)

Outside of sacrificial rites, men and women do not exchange cups. Yet even when these measures are used to restrain the people, Lord Yang still killed Lord Miu and stole his wife. For this reason, the rite for the grand banquet omits the ceremony for the wife.

Note: This chapter extensively quotes statements about Confucian ritual from works such as the Book of Rites. Following the theme of “restraining the people,” it explains how rituals are established to instruct the people, yet they still act in ways that violate ritual. This is an argument about the world through Confucian ritual, distinct from the central intent of the Dao De Jing. The title Extensive Meaning of the Sages may reflect a format for compiling and elucidating “sagely teachings.” Proper names such as Lord Yang, Lord Miu, Duke Zhao, and Mengzi (the wife’s name) have been retained as they appear in the classical text.

A Plain-Language Interpretation

On Ritual Safeguards and “After the Dao Is Lost, De Appears”

A widower’s son should not casually associate with a widow if they have had no dealings before and do not know each other well. A gentleman should avoid situations that might give rise to suspicion. Friendship, too, has its rules: if the host is away, one should not enter his home unless there is an important reason. Such rules were meant to restrain the people. Yet people still valued appearances more than De, so gentlemen kept their distance from women to set an example. Men and women did not hand things directly to one another; they did not sit on the same mat; widows did not weep at night; and when a woman fell ill, people did not ask what illness she had. These rules were intended to prevent sexual misconduct, yet some people in the clan still committed incest.

Confucius said: At a wedding, the groom should go in person to the bride’s home to escort her back. Her parents hand their daughter over to him for fear that the marriage might go wrong. Even with such strict ritual, there are still brides who do not go to their husbands’ homes. These prohibitions are already severe, yet they cannot stop misconduct—so what would happen if there were no prohibitions? From this we can see that once De has been lost and benevolence and righteousness have fallen into ruin, ritual is used to hold a troubled age together. But when ritual is pushed to extremes, it can bring about even greater disorder. As the days of the Dao of Wuwei (non-action) recede further and further into the past, how can rulers who govern the world abandon De and rely only on ritual rules and laws?

Thus it is said: Only after the Dao is lost does De appear; only after De is lost does benevolence appear; only after benevolence is lost does righteousness appear; only after righteousness is lost does ritual appear.

Main Point of the Commentary

“Losing the Dao” means losing the highest De. Highest De is originally one with the Dao, which is why this is called losing the Dao. The terms Dao, De, benevolence, righteousness, and ritual are names applied according to whether the condition of the age is peaceful or troubled. When the Dao declines, De becomes conspicuous; when De is gone, benevolence remains; when benevolence is gone, righteousness is established; when righteousness is gone, ritual comes to repair the damage. These are all responses to the needs of their time. So to speak at length about ritual in an age of simplicity is either presumptuous or contrary to reason; to forget ritual in a time of moral decay is either foolish or deceitful. Once people recognize the problem and change course, they should step back: step back from ritual and practice righteousness, step back from righteousness and practice benevolence, step back from benevolence and practice De, then forget De and return to the Dao. When people return to simplicity, the Wuwei of highest De can appear again.

Main Point of the Explanatory Commentary

This passage explains where the decline begins. “Losing the Dao” means losing the highest De; since the highest De is one with the Dao, it is described as losing the Dao. The Dao De Jing says, “When the Great Dao is abandoned, benevolence and righteousness arise”; Zhuangzi says, “The Dao is obscured by partial achievements.” The Dao is everywhere. Here, “lost” refers to human affairs and the conditions of a particular age. In a simple age, the Great Dao is openly followed; when customs grow shallow, limited forms of achievement arise, obscuring the Great Dao. Benevolence and righteousness then take hold, and the highest De declines. This is simply how the sages adapted their response to the difference between an age of deep simplicity and one of moral decline. As simplicity gradually disperses, the Dao is lost and De appears; as De disperses, benevolence, then righteousness, then ritual follow in succession.

Plain-Language Interpretation

As the age declines further, people can no longer preserve De, so they turn to benevolence. Once the traces of benevolent care become visible, they can no longer preserve benevolence, so they turn to righteousness to judge right and wrong. When righteousness is no longer enough to set things straight, they turn to ritual. To insist on ritual in an age of simplicity is either arrogance or a violation of reason; to abandon ritual altogether in an age of decline and disorder is either foolishness or self-deception. Thus, the Sage’s intention to save the age has always been the same, but the methods used in times of peace and disorder cannot remain fixed.

The commentary explains: The loss of each of these five states follows in turn as an age grows either more debased or more simple. Once the Great Simplicity has dispersed, people must preserve De in its entirety. When De declines, benevolence and care take its place. When these are not enough, righteousness is used to regulate conduct. When righteousness can no longer be put into practice, ritual is used to restore order. Ritual is meant to curb disorder, yet it can also give rise to disorder. Why? When ritual becomes too elaborate, people grow less sincere. As sincerity fades, people contend with one another, and disorder follows.

Nevertheless, when it comes to governing a state, ritual remains the foremost concern. In the twenty-sixth year of Duke Zhao’s reign, as recorded in the Spring and Autumn Annals, Yan Zi said to Duke Jing of Qi: “Ritual is as essential to a state as Heaven and Earth. A ruler gives orders and ministers show respect; a father is caring and a son is filial; an elder brother is loving and a younger brother is respectful; a husband is harmonious and a wife is gentle; a mother-in-law is kind and a daughter-in-law is obedient. These are all ritual. A ruler gives orders without being defied; ministers are respectful and without divided loyalties; a father is caring and teaches; a son is filial and offers admonition; an elder brother is loving and friendly; a younger brother is respectful and compliant; a husband is harmonious and acts with righteousness; a wife is gentle and upright; a mother-in-law is kind and accepting; a daughter-in-law is obedient and gracious. This is called making relationships good.” Duke Jing said, “Excellent! Only now have I heard how important ritual is.” Yan Zi replied, “The former kings received their principles from Heaven and Earth and used them to govern their people. That is why the former kings placed ritual above all else.” This shows that ritual is an urgent concern in the way of governing the world.

If Dao and De have already been lost, and ritual can no longer be put into practice, is that a different kind of matter? As Dao, De, benevolence, and righteousness are lost day by day, ritual is what is used to curb disorder and govern the people. Should it not be treated with care? That is why the exemplary person restrains their conduct to make ritual clear. Ritual does not descend from Heaven or emerge from Earth; it is simply shaped by taking human feelings into account.

Tian: Ritual marks the thinning of loyalty and trust, and is the beginning of disorder.

Note: Ritual rules are established because loyalty and trust have already grown faint, and ritual is then treated as the foremost means of curbing disorder. The purpose of ritual is to bring stability to ruler and people; it is not merely a matter of ceremonial jade and silk.

Commentary: “Now” is a particle that introduces a statement. The sages of the declining age continued to teach ritual because they sought to remedy the decline of loyalty and trust. If people held loyalty and trust in their hearts, what need would there be for ritual rules? As for “the beginning of disorder,” this means that when ritual is used improperly or carried too far… (The original passage appears incomplete here. A common interpretation is that ritual belongs to a later stage; if people cling to its forms without loyalty and trust, it can become the beginning of calamity.)

Plain-Language Interpretation

The Main Point of the Scripture

Preventing disorder can, at most, be the first step toward bringing disorder under control. It is not the fundamental instruction embodied in Dao and De (Virtue/Power).

Explanation

Here, “disorder” also carries the sense of “governing.” For example, in the Zhou dynasty, “ministers of governance” meant ministers capable of governing the state. When loyalty and trust had grown weak and those above and below had become estranged, the sages established ritual to instruct people and set rules to restrain them. They clarified distinctions of rank and position to encourage proper conduct, and used levels of promotion, demotion, reduction, and reward to impose limits. Although loyalty and trust had declined, people did not dare to rebel because ritual was used to govern them. If all four of these qualities—loyalty, trust, and the others—were lost, and ritual no longer restrained people, the common people would not know what to do. As the passage above says, “Even when safeguards are devised in every way, people may still overstep them.” Ritual, then, is essential to bringing disorder to an end and establishing order.

The Book of Rites says: “To stabilize those in high positions and govern the people, nothing is better than ritual; to transform customs and habits, nothing is better than music.” Thus a king creates music after achieving success and establishes ritual once good order has been secured. Each age conveys instruction in its own way. Practices change from one dynasty to the next, so one cannot cling to ancient methods and refuse to adapt.

Confucius said: “Those who understand ritual and music are the parents of the people.” If one grasps the foundations of ritual and music, brings about the “Five Attainments,” and practices the “Three Non-actions,” then one’s intent and vital energy fill Heaven and Earth, and ritual and music reach the spirits. So when we speak of music, is it merely bells and drums? When we speak of ritual, is it merely jade and silk? Only then can their influence extend across the Four Seas and nurture the myriad states. For this reason, using ritual to end disorder and establish order was an urgent concern of the former kings. If people were to return to simplicity, deepen their honesty and harmony, and return to Dao and De, then ritual could be done away with.

“Foreknowledge is the flower of Dao, and the beginning of folly.”

Commentary: “Knowledge” here refers to the knowing faculty of human nature. This means establishing outward rules of restraint before that faculty has awakened. Though the intent may be to respond to the needs of the times, the result is actually a loss of simplicity; hence the phrase “the flower of Dao.” The value of ritual as a remedy for disorder lies in bringing people into harmony and unity. But those who lose sight of ritual’s meaning pride themselves on jade and silk and attach importance to bowing and kneeling. Such people mark the beginning of folly.

Subcommentary: “Those who have foreknowledge” refers to the people who establish ritual. The phrase “foreknowledge” means that they establish outward rules of restraint before people’s knowing faculty has awakened. Dao follows human nature, while ritual preserves outward forms. When ritual is used in a way that departs from what is genuine, it becomes “the flower of Dao.” “The beginning of folly” means this: ritual was originally intended to quiet disorder. It arose in response to disorder, and its purpose was to foster harmony and return people to simplicity. But in successive ages, those who practiced ritual, if they did not attend to… [The continuation is not included here; in commonly transmitted subcommentaries, the idea is that they attend to outward details rather than the underlying principle.]

The commentary and first half of the subcommentary above follow the interpretation commonly found in the Guangshengyi.

Plain-Language Interpretation

The passage in brief

If a person acts only according to their nature yet devotes themselves to outward adornment, they lack the reverence and love that should be in the heart, while their outward display of gifts and ritual objects is excessive. This is not the inner disposition of someone who understands the Way. It can truly be called the beginning of foolishness; hence the phrase, “and the beginning of foolishness.”

Explanation and commentary

The original purpose of establishing ritual was to remedy the ills of the age. Why was this necessary? Once the Great Dao and De had been lost, benevolence and righteousness declined in turn. Without ritual to restrain people, treachery and disorder would take root. Ritual was therefore established to remedy these ills.

In recognizing one’s nature and discerning principle, ritual regulates every advance and retreat, every movement and stillness: all are governed by ritual. The sage understands this and takes precautions in advance. Hence the phrase “before recognizing one’s nature”—that is, before one has clarified one’s nature. Those who recognize the Dao hold firmly to simplicity; those who follow ritual become constrained by outward appearances. The gulf between what is shallow and what is sincere is vast, and this is what is meant by “the embellishment of the Dao.” “Embellishment” means what lacks substance. When ritual is lost, troubles arise; when these troubles reach their height, disorder follows. Remedying the troubles brings disorder to an end, so ritual is said to quiet turmoil.

When ritual is fitting, it is called harmony. But if someone puts on a show of decorum and adorns their appearance while lacking inner substance, this is the beginning of foolishness. Ritual was originally meant to teach love through family affection and reverence through proper solemnity: love is shown in serving one’s parents, reverence in serving one’s ruler. If love and reverence do not come from the heart, but are displayed outwardly only through jade and silk, what could that be but foolishness?

Ritual was established to order relations between high and low, clarify the place of superiors and subordinates, distinguish what is alike from what is different, and set human relationships in proper order, so that ruler and minister, father and son would each keep to their place. Yet today, those who practice ritual are at odds within and without: outward splendor grows while substance is ruined; the branches flourish while the roots wither. Ritual is valued above loyalty, expediency is given more weight than trust, authority falls short of righteousness, and De does not reach benevolence. This is the end of good government and the beginning of disorder; it is where deceit arises and the cause of resentment and conflict. When people possess the forms of ritual but not its inner spirit, and their actions do not come from within, their attempts to remedy social ills are inadequate and instead bring disorder.

What does “excess” refer to? Ritual becomes too elaborate: each advance and retreat is carefully measured, each gesture made to fit a rule; every movement is graceful and winding, at one moment like a dragon, at another like a tiger. One remonstrates with others as a son would, guides them as a father would. After practicing these forms for a long time, people come to scorn what is plain and prize what is elaborate. They trade on reputation to claim empty honors, devise clever flourishes to outdo one another, and use outward display to impose restraint. This is what is meant by “when ritual becomes cumbersome, disorder follows; when intelligence becomes contrivance, deceit follows.” Thus Dan Zhu, the son of Yao, was not transformed by the music of Xianchi, nor was Shang Jun, the son of Shun, changed by the music of Jiucheng. Even when ritual and music are established, they cannot remedy the problem. So what use is ritual when customs have fallen into disorder?

Someone may exert themselves to perform refined hymns and songs, yet the “wind”—the people’s hearts—will not be stirred. Bells and drums, strings and pipes may all sound together, yet the common world will not be changed. People do not trust the one who yields and gives way; they do not draw near to the one who remains soft and takes the feminine position. Offering titles and rewards will not bring worthy people; reaching out with open arms in a warm greeting will not bring gentlemen. One may appear respectful and speak at length, yet inwardly fail to put these things into practice. Such conduct is mere ritual display and cannot help save the world.

From this we can understand that to move Heaven and Earth, and to move the spirits, one must be wholehearted and reverent, use the heart to follow the Dao, and let clear De (Virtue/Power) give off its own fragrance. Only then will the spirits partake of the offering. Water from muddy pools and roadside rivulets, and edible plants such as duckweed and pondweed, placed in baskets and cooking vessels, may be offered to princes and nobles or presented to the spirits. This is ritual that arises from the heart. To fail to do this is the beginning of folly.

Therefore, the great man dwells in what is substantial, not what is shallow; he abides in what is real, not what is ornate.

Commentary:

“Action” is the shallow side of the Dao, while “ritual and righteousness” are the showy side of De. The sage carries out affairs through Wuwei (non-action), dwelling in what is substantial rather than what is shallow. He withdraws from the practice of ritual and righteousness, does not abide in show, and makes what is real his own.

Explanatory commentary:

The great man means the Daoist gentleman, the ruler of highest De mentioned earlier. Acting through Dao and De without contrivance is called substantial; ritual and righteousness pursued through deliberate action are called shallow and showy. The sage first transforms people through Dao and De, so the text says he dwells in what is substantial and real. Later, he transforms them through ritual and righteousness, so the text says he does not abide in show or dwell in what is shallow.

The explanation says: A ruler who follows the Dao and a person who embodies the true are broad in aspiration and profound in Dao and De; hence they are called “great.” The word “man” in “great man” signifies the utmost in measure: ten people make a zhang, as do ten feet, conveying completeness and greatness. Among the ten titles of Lao Jun are “Great Man” and “Great Sage and Teacher.” A ruler who embraces the Dao brings about the transformation of highest De, acting without contrivance or interference, with utmost subtlety and precision. He teaches people through the Dao, and people take the Dao as their model, abiding in what is real. He nurtures all things through De, and all things take De as their model, dwelling in what is substantial. He does not transform people through the show of prior learning or through the worn-out shallowness of ritual, and so the text says that he does not abide in what is showy and shallow. The Tongxuan Zhenjing says: “The great man is calm and free of favors, tranquil and free of worry. He walks where there is no road and roams where there is no danger.”

“Neglect” (laxness and ease) emerges from the “Gate of No Gate” (the mysterious realm with no fixed entrance or exit) and enters the “Roomless Void” (emptiness unconfined by any trace or form). It gathers the spirit and stills the intellect, remaining detached and without contrivance (with no impulse to act deliberately), yet leaving nothing undone (so that all things come naturally to completion).

Thus it is said: “Let go of that and take up this.”

Note: Let go of that which is superficial and shallow; take up this, which is substantial and genuine.

Commentary: “That” refers to ritual and righteousness; “this” refers to Dao and De (Virtue/Power). The sage abandons the flashy exterior of ritual and righteousness and takes up the substantial inner reality of Dao and De. Hence the saying, “Let go of that and take up this.” If we extend this reasoning, all the sage’s many reflections converge in the One Dao, and opposing realms alike dissolve. How, then, could there be any distinction between “that” and “this,” or any choice to abandon one and take up the other? These are merely words spoken as a teaching (established to guide ordinary people onto the Dao), offered under borrowed names.

Explanation: From “the great man” onward, this passage aims to lead rulers who enact moral instruction to honor the Dao and esteem De, returning to simplicity and restoring naturalness. They should cast off the residual traces of ritual and righteousness and their showy superficiality; rest in the substance of Dao and De rather than in the thinness of ritual and righteousness; dwell in genuine simplicity rather than in the splendor of jade and silk. In this way, they can guide those who understand to enter the Mysterious Unity together, and help all sentient beings ascend to the realm of the Dao. To speak of letting go of ritual and righteousness and taking up Dao and De is to establish a teaching and set forth a warning. It does not mean that the sage truly makes distinctions of letting go and taking up in the mind. If a ruler can set aside ritual and practice righteousness, set aside righteousness and practice benevolence, set aside benevolence and esteem De, then go beyond De and accord with the Dao—leaving behind the superficiality of what is secondary and returning to the substance of what is fundamental—and use this to guide the world, how could the desired outcome fail to be achieved?