《文子纘義》Vol. 10

This passage from Wenzi Zuanyi expounds on the wisdom of governing a state and cultivating one's person. Laozi states that noble individuals use serenity (qingjing) to nurture themselves and frugality to sustain life. If rulers can maintain serenity, the common people will not be disturbed; when the people are undisturbed, they will not harbor grievances. Conversely, when the lower strata are agitated, governance descends into chaos; when the people resent their rulers, virtue (De) deteriorates. In times of political turmoil, the wise refuse to offer counsel; when virtue declines, the courageous refuse to serve.

Foolish rulers act in direct opposition to this. They hoard the wealth of the realm, abuse state authority, and exhaust the people's strength to satisfy personal desires—indulging in extravagant palaces and towers, digging ponds and gardens, and keeping exotic beasts and rare birds, leaving the populace starving and freezing. While such rulers amass useless luxuries, the people struggle even to secure basic survival.

Laozi then proposes four principles for governance:

• Detachment makes virtue (De) manifest.
• Tranquility enables long-term planning.
• Generosity allows the inclusion of all things.
• Impartiality ensures clear judgment.

A ruler should skillfully employ the eyes of the people to observe, their ears to listen, and their minds to deliberate, gathering their collective strength to accomplish great deeds. Only then can policies be effectively implemented and the concerns of the people reach the ruler’s attention. Officials fulfill their duties, and ministers work in harmony: rewards and punishments are not dispensed arbitrarily based on personal favor, laws are strict but not harsh, and the ruler’s perception remains unobstructed. By daily discerning the true state of good and evil without deviation, the wise are encouraged to offer their wisdom, the capable to contribute their strength, nearby subjects live in peace, and distant peoples are moved by virtue. This is the proper way to employ human talent.

Just as one drives a carriage or sails a boat, mastery of the proper means ensures effortless travel to distant lands. If advice is sound, even the words of a woodcutter or merchant are worth heeding; if speech is erroneous, even the opinions of nobles and high ministers should be disregarded. Judging right and wrong must never be based on status. A useful strategy should not be dismissed due to the lowly position of its proposer; practical words need not be adorned with eloquence.

Foolish rulers do the opposite: few ministers serve them with genuine loyalty because the virtuous and capable are neglected while sycophants and petty men are favored. Those of humble status who offer loyal remonstrance are either refuted with rhetoric or punished for their outspokenness. To expect stability in such a state is to act in direct opposition to the sagely Dao.

Laozi said: Those who truly value life will not harm their bodies with extravagant pleasures even when wealthy and honored, nor burden their hearts with material gains when poor and humble. Modern people often prize inherited noble titles yet disregard life-threatening dangers—is this not utterly confused? The truly noble govern the world through self-cultivation, and thus the world willingly entrusts itself to them; the truly virtuous govern through personal benevolence, and thus the world willingly relies upon them.

Wenzi inquired about the foundation of statecraft. Laozi replied: The root lies in cultivating oneself. Never has there been one who cultivated themselves well yet governed a chaotic state, nor one whose personal disorder brought good governance. Thus we say: When self-cultivation is perfected, virtue becomes authentic. The profound mystery of the Dao (the Way) manifests in this—a father cannot directly transmit it to his son, nor can a son directly inherit it from his father. The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.

Wenzi further asked: How can rulers make the people feel close to them? Laozi responded: Employ the people in accordance with seasonal rhythms; maintain reverence as if standing by an abyss or treading on thin ice. Heaven and Earth’s benevolent acts become our blessings, while their malevolent acts become our enemies. Recall how the subjects of Xia and Shang dynasties turned against tyrants Jie and Zhou, submitting instead to virtuous rulers Tang and Wu; how the Susha people spontaneously rebelled against their oppressor to follow the Divine Farmer. Thus, what the people fear, the ruler must likewise heed.

Laozi elaborated further: Governing a great state cannot follow petty principles; vast territories cannot be managed with narrow systems; exalted status should not entail complicated affairs; populous nations cannot be ruled through harsh decrees. Complex governance becomes unmanageable; severe laws become unenforceable; excessive demands become unfulfillable. Measuring yards with inches invites error; weighing stones with pennyweights invites discrepancy. Grand directions are easily grasped, while minute arguments rarely reveal wisdom. The sage avoids what harms governance without benefit; the wise reject what wastes resources without utility. Therefore: Achievements need not fear simplicity; affairs need not fear conciseness; needs need not fear modesty. Simplicity facilitates accomplishment; conciseness facilitates management; modesty facilitates satisfaction. Employing collective effort ensures success. Petty arguments damage great principles; rigid righteousness undermines the Dao (the Way). A constricted Dao inevitably fails; a flowing Dao remains effortlessly simple. The Yellow River’s winding course ensures its long flow; mountains’ gentle slopes ensure their towering height; the Dao’s unhurried ease ensures its universal transformation. Mastering one skill or comprehending one particular matter may address specific situations, but cannot be broadly applied. Like tuning a zither—over-tightening small strings will snap the large ones.

The Wenzi Zuanyi passage expounds the core principles of governing a state and cultivating one's person. The essential meaning is as follows:

The movement of Heaven and Earth follows patterns that appear formless and indistinct (mangmang meimei), yet contain immense natural power. Those who can harmonize with the primordial Qi of Heaven and Earth (tong qi) become emperors; those who align with the Dao's righteousness become kings; those who achieve through merit become hegemons—while those lacking all three will perish.

Truly enlightened rulers need no deliberate display: they gain the people's trust without words, manifest benevolence (ren) without bestowing favors, and command natural authority without anger—all through attunement to the Heavenly Dao. Conversely, rulers who feign virtue through gifts, force trust through rhetoric, or assert dominance through rage merely cultivate superficiality. Thus governance depends not on the quantity of laws—those embodying the Dao (you dao) govern with simple principles, while those lacking it create chaos despite numerous decrees.

The text employs the metaphor of a stranded whale being overrun by ants to illustrate how rulers who abandon their fundamental practice (the way of wuwei) to contend for power with ministers become controlled by subordinates. Wise monarchs should excel at employing talent: just as skilled charioteers harness a horse's strength, enlightened rulers must utilize their ministers' abilities. When rulers micromanage affairs, their wisdom becomes exhausted; when they treat subordinates too harshly, edicts fail to implement; when wisdom proves inadequate for governance and authority insufficient for law enforcement, they lose the people's hearts.

The passage culminates in emphasizing the essence of "governing through non-action" (wuwei erzhi): the ruler appears to accomplish nothing (wu li) yet achieves everything; seems to have no preferences (wu hao) yet embraces all things. The moment concrete actions manifest, disputes arise; when personal inclinations surface, flattery emerges. Therefore the supreme art of governance lies in establishing formless foundations (jian zhi wuxing), allowing all beings to operate spontaneously like the transformations of nature itself.

This passage from the Wenzi Zuanyi discusses principles of governance and nurturing the people, with its core lying in following natural laws and restraining desires.

Regarding personal cultivation, the text proposes a practice method of "closing external desires and blocking the intrusion of harmful thoughts." When one can refrain from indulging desires indiscriminately (shutting the external) and prevent harmful thoughts from disturbing the mind (closing the internal), achievements will naturally follow. True wisdom lies in accomplishing effects without deliberate action, avoiding contention in words and deeds, acting according to the nature of things, and allowing each department to fulfill its proper function.

In governance, it emphasizes agriculture as the foundation of people's livelihood and the populace as the root of the state. A wise ruler conforms to the timing of Heaven (aligning with celestial seasons), fully utilizes the advantages of Earth (exhausting terrestrial resources), and skillfully employs human effort (harnessing manpower). Specific practices include: felling dead trees in spring, harvesting fruits in summer, storing vegetables in autumn, and gathering firewood in winter—ensuring the people have livelihoods throughout the seasons. The regulations established by ancient sage-kings particularly focused on ecological protection: no mass hunting of animals, no draining ponds to catch fish, no hunting during breeding seasons, and only commencing hunts after animals have completed their natural reproductive cycles like sacrificial rites. These rules embody the natural principle that "all things grow like rising steam."

The text contrasts enlightened and unenlightened rulers: enlightened rulers levy taxes with restraint (moderation in taking from below) and maintain measured personal expenditures (temperance in self-nourishment), adjusting taxation according to harvests and the people's reserves. They share both joy and hardship with the populace, keeping their own diet simple—refraining from multiple dishes when seeing the people starve, and avoiding fur coats in winter when the people suffer cold. Unenlightened rulers, however, impose excessive levies without considering the people's capacity, disrupting men and women from proper farming and weaving until resources are exhausted and survival becomes precarious, breeding mutual resentment between rulers and subjects.

Finally, it uses farming as an example to illustrate the hardships of livelihood: a person tilling land with foot plows can manage no more than ten mu, with average fields yielding only about four dan of harvest. These contents fully embody the Daoist political philosophy of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and "harmonious coexistence with nature."

The Wenzi passage primarily discusses principles of governance and the harmony of Yin-Yang.

Regarding statecraft, the text observes: When common people suffer hardships and cannot secure basic sustenance during calamities, virtuous rulers show them compassion. By contrast, greedy and tyrannical rulers exploit their subjects like draining a pond to catch fish—squeezing them endlessly to satisfy insatiable desires, thereby depriving the people of Heaven-and-Earth's natural blessings.

Laozi said: The supreme principle between Heaven and Earth is "harmony" (the balanced, harmonious state of Yin-Yang). When Yin and Yang are harmonized with clear distinction between day and night, all beings can grow at the spring equinox and mature at the autumn equinox. The flourishing and maturation of all things depend entirely on harmony's subtle function. If either Yin-qi or Yang-qi accumulates excessively without transformation, only their mutual interaction can achieve equilibrium. Thus, the sage's governance combines generosity with dignity, severity with gentleness, flexibility with integrity, and strength with benevolence. Excessive rigidity leads to fracture; excessive softness results in distortion—the true path lies between firmness and pliancy. Like the measuring cord that can be coiled for storage yet unfurled straight when needed.

The text emphasizes measured governance: Excessive benevolence breeds weakness without authority; excessive harshness creates cruelty and discord; excessive favoritism encourages license; excessive punishment invites calamity and alienation. Therefore, the most precious state is maintaining harmony.

Concerning a nation's survival: States endure by following the Dao (the Way), and perish when this path becomes obstructed. Sages discern signs of a country's rise or decline by observing shifts in social customs. Nations adhering to life-preserving principles grow strong though small; those displaying omens of collapse will ultimately fail despite temporary might. Survival depends not on size but on attaining the Dao. Foolish rulers who covet territorial expansion without practicing humaneness (ren) and righteousness (yi), or who consolidate power without cultivating virtue (de), abandon their state's foundation and court self-destruction.

Finally, the text clarifies: Ancient enlightened rulers who deeply embodied these principles practiced "Dao and De (Virtue)"; those with moderate practice upheld "humaneness and righteousness"; superficial adherence manifested as "ritual propriety and wisdom." These six (Dao, De, ren, yi, li, zhi) form governance's fundamental standards. The deeper their practice, the greater the blessings received; perfect practice commands universal allegiance. The more profound one's moral cultivation, the vaster its influence extends.

Those with shallow virtue (De) focus on trivial matters, for true status is not established through force, victory is not achieved through aggression, and gains are not obtained through greed and contention. Genuine status comes when the world elevates you, victory arises when people naturally submit, and harvests are given willingly by all—not seized by force.

Thus, one who is gentle like the feminine can stand firm; one who is yielding like water can overcome; one who embraces benevolence and righteousness can receive; and one who does not contend finds none who can contend with them. The Dao (the Way) moves through the world as naturally as rivers and seas receive all streams. The law of Heaven (Tian) reveals that forced pursuit leads to failure, and desperate grasping results in loss. Those who chase empty fame and seek reputation through struggle—I observe that even if they gain temporarily, they cannot hold it. True reputation is not seized but bestowed naturally by the world—what the world returns to is genuine virtue (De).

Thus it is said:

Those with the highest virtue (De) are embraced by all under Heaven.

Those with the highest benevolence are revered within the Four Seas.

Those with the highest righteousness are followed by an entire nation.

Those with the highest propriety are honored in their village.

Lose these four qualities, and the people will not return. If the people do not return yet force is employed, this is the path of peril. Therefore, weapons are instruments of ill omen, to be used only as a last resort. Even victory is no cause for pride, for battlefields become thorn-choked wastelands—one ought to mourn with sorrow and treat the aftermath as a funeral rite. Thus, the noble person devotes themselves to cultivating virtue (De) and avoids resorting to force lightly.

Wenzi asked: "Why do benevolence, righteousness, and ritual seem shallower than Dao and De?"

Laozi replied: "Those who practice benevolence must rely on stirring emotions of grief and joy; those who uphold righteousness must depend on standards of judgment. Yet the grief and joy of all within the Four Seas cannot be perfectly balanced, and the wealth of treasuries cannot sustain the myriad people. Better to nurture the great Dao (the Way) and embody virtue (De), harmonizing with the nature of Heaven and Earth, letting all things grow spontaneously. Then the world flourishes of itself, and benevolence and righteousness naturally adhere. The true person chooses the profound root of Dao and De, not the shallow forms of appearances."

"Ritual is the outward expression of substance; benevolence is the manifestation of kindness. Thus, rituals should align with human sentiment, never exceeding reality; benevolence should not bestow favor indiscriminately. Express grief from genuine feeling; bury the dead in accordance with benevolence. The way of nurturing life does not demand the impossible, nor cut off the chance for reform—act with moderation, and no blame will arise. Music is made for harmonious joy, never exceeding the balance of the Mean. Understand the principles of life and death; discern the measures of extravagance and frugality."

"Yet a declining age does the opposite: words and deeds contradict; appearances mask reality; elaborate rituals disguise emptiness; and decadent music corrupts customs."

The Wenzi Zuanyi passage discusses principles for personal conduct and state governance. Ordinary people are obsessed with fame and status, while courts are filled with empty titles and hollow praise—thus, truly enlightened individuals (zhiren, "perfected persons") are cast aside. Just as a man racing against a thousand-mile steed will surely lose, but riding a carriage can surpass the horse, this illustrates that those skilled in applying the Dao understand how to leverage others' strengths to accomplish tasks, compensating for their own shortcomings with what they excel in.

When rulers arrange agricultural activities according to seasonal cycles, the people reciprocate with wealth; when rulers treat subjects with ritual propriety, the people willingly pledge loyalty unto death. Thus, when the state faces peril, the ruler finds no peace, and when the ruler is troubled, ministers know no joy. Virtue (De) exceeding one's position brings honor, while emoluments surpassing one's virtue invite disaster. True nobility lies not in rank but in moderation—holding high office without virtue is theft, and acquiring wealth without righteousness is robbery.

Sages find contentment in poverty and joy in upholding the Dao. They never harm life through desire nor burden themselves for profit, thus never grasping recklessly against principle. Ancient standards for selecting talent decreed: without virtue, one receives no honor; without ability, no office; without merit, no reward; without offense, no punishment. Appointments followed ritual propriety, dismissals accorded with righteousness. But in eras dominated by petty men, promotions lift one to heaven while demotions cast one into the abyss.

Choosing horses—never reject a fine steed for its leanness; selecting talent—never overlook a worthy for their poverty. A fattened pig ends as banquet fare, while bony limbs preserve life. Gentlemen discern truth, ignoring slander. Ministers who fail to remonstrate a ruler's faults lack loyalty; if admonitions go unheeded, the ruler is benighted. Rulers unconcerned with their people's suffering are no true sovereigns. Holding fast to integrity and facing national crises define ministerial duty; shielding children from hunger and cold embodies paternal love.

Handling affairs requires discernment: when great states serve small ones, it's strategic flexibility; when small states provoke great ones, it's defiance of heaven's order. Even momentary ascents to high position end in precipitous falls. Villages honor age—none abandon the elderly for poverty; courts rank by nobility—each station maintains its propriety. We esteem the powerful for their proximity to rulers, revere elders as surrogate parents, and respect seniors as elder brothers. Heaven-born nobility breeds arrogance; innate wealth fosters extravagance—those blessed with both who fail to restrain themselves through the Dao rarely escape recklessness.

Diligent study without weariness cultivates self-refinement; tireless teaching nurtures the people. Few surrounded by wise mentors persist in wrongdoing. Discerning worth is wisdom; cherishing worth is benevolence; honoring benevolence is righteousness; revering worthies is ritual propriety; delighting in worthies is true joy. Ancient masters of governance achieved all by appearing to practice wuwei (non-action). Governing all-under-heaven requires capacious tolerance—only through such containment can wuwei accomplish all deeds.

This passage describes the conduct and attitude of those who have attained the Dao (the Way). Those who have realized the Dao move with cautious vigilance, as if crossing a winter river on foot—treading carefully with apprehension. In social interactions, they remain watchful as if mindful of neighbors' gazes. Their demeanor maintains the solemnity of an honored guest, while their inner state flows with the gentle adaptability of melting ice.

Those who embody the Dao possess the unadorned simplicity of uncarved wood, the inclusive turbidity of muddy waters, and the expansive openness of an empty valley. Their winter-river caution manifests as reluctance to act rashly; their neighborly wariness prevents self-inflicted harm; their guest-like dignity expresses humble propriety. Like flowing meltwater, they avoid accumulation and possession; like raw timber, they shun artificial perfection; like murky currents, they resist excessive clarity; like mountain valleys, they reject arrogant fullness.

They neither rush ahead nor lag behind. Maintaining softness stems from understanding that force invites injury; practicing humility arises from genuine respect for others. Avoiding accumulation prevents rigid attachments; eschewing perfection acknowledges the natural state of incompleteness. They dwell content in worldly turbidity without seeking novelty, recognizing their limitations without claiming sagehood.

The great Dao (the fundamental principle of the universe) appears to yield yet ultimately leads, remains soft yet proves strong. Humility invites reverence, voluntary reduction brings true stability, acknowledging flaws leads toward wholeness, abiding in turbidity preserves authenticity, and recognizing insufficiency cultivates wisdom. The Dao seems to practice non-action (Wuwei), yet accomplishes all things.