《淮南鴻烈解》Vol. 14

Huainan Honglie Jie, Volume 14: Zhu Shu Xun (Main Technique), Part One

Vernacular Interpretation

This chapter discusses the way a ruler governs the state—from the Five Emperors and Three Kings onward, none failed to prosper by using the Dao (the Way); hence the title “Zhu Shu,” the ruler’s technique.

Governance through Wuwei (non-action)

The ruler’s technique lies in occupying himself with affairs of Wuwei and practicing a wordless teaching—without saying much, matters are naturally accomplished. He keeps quiet and unmoving, holds fast to laws and measures without wavering, follows along and entrusts responsibilities to subordinates, and requires results without laboring himself.

Thus, when his mind understands the rules, the master instructs and guides him with the right way; when his mouth can speak, the messenger conveys it on his behalf; when his words are sufficient to be carried out, the ceremonial officer leads the way first; when his ear can hear, the rectifying official offers remonstrance—such were the rules of the crown prince.

In this way, his deliberations never miss the mark, his plans never exceed what is proper, his words become patterns, and his actions become standards for the world. Advancing and withdrawing accord with the times; moving and resting follow principle—he does not love or hate because of beauty or ugliness, nor grow joyful or angry because of reward or punishment. Names and categories each return to their proper place, and affairs proceed as if by natural operation, as though they did not issue from himself.

The Mian with Front Liu and Toukuang Plugging the Ears

Therefore the ancient kings wore the mian crown with front liu—hanging jade strands—to obscure their sight. The Son of Heaven had twelve jade liu; dukes and marquises, nine; ministers, seven; earls and viscounts each according to their appointed number. They plugged their ears with toukuang—yellow-black silk floss—to obscure their hearing, not wishing to hear recklessly. The Son of Heaven set an outer screen, by which he screened himself.

What he manages is distant, yet where he dwells is near; what he governs is great, yet what he safeguards is little.

If the eyes look recklessly, there is excess; if the ears listen recklessly, there is confusion; if the mouth speaks recklessly, there is disorder.

Core Thought

This chapter expounds the ruler’s technique—the ruler should govern through Wuwei: keeping quiet and unmoving, following along and entrusting matters to subordinates, requiring results without laboring himself. Through “the mian with front liu,” “toukuang plugging the ears,” and “the outer screen screening himself,” it symbolizes that the ruler should have things he does not do—not looking recklessly, not listening recklessly, not speaking recklessly—so that ministers each attend to their duties and affairs are naturally accomplished.

Vernacular Interpretation

On the “Three Passes”

The “Three Passes” (sanguan) must be carefully guarded and not neglected. If one single-mindedly caters to and conforms to one’s own cravings, the result is instead dispersal and alienation (the original interlinear note says: “When cravings are accommodated and conformed to, this is dispersal”). If one merely glosses over and adorns one’s cravings, the result is instead injury and ruin (to adorn is to harm and ruin).

Hun-soul, Po-soul, and the Mysterious Chamber

The Qi of Heaven is the hun-soul; the Qi of Earth is the po-soul. Both should return to the Mysterious Chamber (xuanfang) and each settle in its place. Guard them and do not lose them, and one connects upward with Taiyi (the Great One); the Jing (essence) of Taiyi communicates with the Dao of Heaven. The Dao of Heaven is dark, silent, and without form: its greatness cannot be exhausted, its depth cannot be fully fathomed (“fathom” means “exhaust”). It still transforms together with humans, yet human intelligence and deliberation cannot fully attain its wonder (the Dao of Heaven is supremely great and cannot be grasped by human intelligence and deliberation).

Shennong’s Governance of the World (Ideal Political Teaching)

In ancient times, Shennong governed all under Heaven. His spirit did not gallop within his breast—his mind-spirit was calm, neither restless nor active (this explains that the spirit was quiet and calm, not restless or moving). His wisdom did not go beyond the four domains—trusting that the self remained centered within, his wisdom did not recklessly race outward. He cherished a heart of benevolence and completion—“cherish” means to think on; his heart dwelt in benevolence and completion. Sweet rain fell in season, and the five grains flourished and grew—lush and abundant. In spring they sprouted, in summer they grew, in autumn they were harvested, in winter they were stored. Month by month he inspected them, season by season he assessed them; at the year’s end he presented achievements, and in due season tasted the new grain (tasting the new grain and offering it in the Mingtang), sacrificing in the Mingtang (Hall of Light).

The structure of the Mingtang: it had a roof but no four walls; wind and rain could not assail it, cold and heat could not harm it. Wandering leisurely, he entered it and nourished the people with impartiality (“wandering leisurely” means strolling about; this has already been explained in the main scripture).

Its people were plain, weighty, upright, and sincere (upright and straight; sincere and complete): they did not quarrel in anger, yet resources sufficed; they did not tax their bodies, yet achievements were completed—they relied on the resources of Heaven and Earth and were harmonious and united with them. Therefore, he was majestic and severe yet did not kill; punishments were laid aside and not used; laws were concise and not burdensome (concise and restrained; burdensome and numerous). His transformative influence was like that of the divine.

His territory extended south to Jiaozhi, north to Youdu (the capital of darkness), east to Yanggu (where the sun rises), and west to Sanwei (Sanwei, a mountain at the western extreme)—none did not obey. At that time, laws were broad and punishments lenient, prisons were empty, and all under Heaven shared a single custom (they shared the same customs); none harbored treacherous intentions.

Governance in a Declining Age (by Contrast)

In the governance of a declining age, it was not so: those above loved to take without measure, those below were greedy and rapacious and would not yield; the people were poor and bitter and quarreled in anger.

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

If a ruler relies only on reckless force, exhausting the people and draining resources without achieving real results, deceitful tendencies will gain ground and banditry will become more rampant; superiors and subordinates will resent one another, and government orders will not be carried out. If those in power do not return to the root and recover the true, rectify the fundamental, but instead fuss over branches and details, weakening transformation through De (Virtue/Power) and increasing punishments, yet still hope to govern this way, it is like holding a slingshot and waiting for birds to fly over, or shutting a dog in a cage while insisting on closeness—the birds will not come, the dog will not truly submit, and the trouble will only grow worse.

When water becomes muddy, fish float to the surface to gasp for air (yan: when fish lack oxygen, their mouths come to the surface to breathe); when government orders are too harsh, the people become anxious and at a loss (minluan: the people are distressed, without support, and unable to find peace). Those who keep tigers, leopards, rhinoceroses, and elephants build enclosures, satisfy their tastes, regulate their fullness and hunger, and avoid provoking their anger—but if one always uses punishments to “subdue” them, it will still be hard to let them live out their natural lifespan, because execution and killing constantly threaten their nature. Thus: when superiors have many schemes, subordinates have many tricks; when superiors meddle in many matters, subordinates have much flattery; when superiors churn things about violently, subordinates do not know whom to obey (buding: they do not know what to follow); when superiors demand too much, subordinates compete with one another for profit. To make no effort at the root but expend force only at the tips is like raising dust to suppress dust (ke: in Chu, dust is called ke; mi: to stop), and like carrying firewood to put out a fire.

Therefore, when the sage simplifies affairs, governance is easy; when his demands are few, he is easy to satisfy (shan: to supply sufficiently; enough for use). He does not rely on dispensing favors to display benevolence, yet benevolence is naturally present; he does not speak much, yet trust establishes itself; he does not deliberately seek, yet obtains; through Wuwei (non-action), achievements complete themselves. At ease, he embraces the true and guards De (preserving the true and embracing De), and extends a sincere heart to all under Heaven; people follow him as an echo answers a sound or a shadow follows a form. What he cultivates is the root. Zhan He once said: I have never heard of a state falling into disorder when the self is well cultivated—therefore it is said that what the sage cultivates lies in the root. Punishments cannot change customs, and executions cannot stop wickedness and depravity; what is valued is transformation through Shen (spirit); when Jing (essence) reaches its utmost, it comes close to Shen. However loudly one shouts, the sound carries no more than a hundred paces; but where the mind and will reach, they can penetrate a thousand li (yu: to penetrate). The winter sun and the summer shade—all things naturally turn toward them, yet no one can command them to do so (in winter all things tend toward yang warmth; in fierce summer heat all things tend toward yin coolness; this is natural and not ordered by anyone). Thus in the realm of utmost Jing, without being called it comes of itself; without being waved off it goes of itself. Deep, dark, and obscure, no one knows who operates it, yet the work is accomplished of itself.

Thus, one who truly accomplishes himself cannot be made clear by scholars through recitation, nor explained thoroughly by disputers through debate.

In former times, Sunshu Ao (a famous minister of Chu) lived at ease, and even when the people of Ying, the Chu capital, sent out troops, they could not harm his sharp edge. He tended horses for three years and did not even care whether they were male or female—this speaks of his single-minded cultivation of De (Virtue/Power). Resting peacefully, he could break the enemy’s charge and repel foes a thousand li away, so that enemy states did not dare invade; therefore, although the people of Ying sent out troops, they could not harm the edge he turned in all four directions.

Shinan Yiliao (a Chu warrior) played with pellets, and the great disasters of the two families had nothing to do with him. Yiliao was named Xiong and was a warrior who lived south of the market in Chu. Prince Jian, crown prince of King Ping of Chu, was harmed by Fei Wuji and fled to Zheng, where the people of Zheng killed him. His son Xiong Sheng was in Wu, and Prime Minister Zi Xi summoned him home and made him Duke of Bai. He asked to attack Zheng for revenge; Zi Xi agreed but did not send troops. When the people of Jin attacked Zheng, Zi Xi went to rescue it, and Xiong Sheng angrily said, “The Zheng people are here; revenge is not far.” He wanted to kill Zi Xi. His retainer Shi Qi said, “Shinan Xiong Yiliao, if we get him, can match five hundred men.” So he went to see Yiliao and told him the matter. Yiliao would not follow him; he raised his sword without moving, still played with pellets without stopping, his mind unafraid, and said that he could not join in rebellion, nor would he disclose his affair. Later Duke of Bai indeed killed Zi Xi. Although the two families suffered great calamity, they did not resent Yiliao; hence it is said, “No blame attached to his words.”

To wear armor, glare, and wring one’s wrists in order to withstand blades is far inferior to De. Contracts, bundles of silk, punishments, and axes and halberds, used to resolve crises, are also thinner than De. To govern by what the eyes can see and by orders given in words is difficult.

Qu Boyu (a worthy minister of Wei) served as chancellor. Zigong (a disciple of Confucius, surnamed Duanmu and named Ci) went to see him and asked how to govern the state. He said: govern by “not governing.”

Jianzi (of the Zhao clan in Jin) wanted to attack Wei and sent Shi An (Shi Mo) to observe it. On returning, he reported: “With Qu Boyu as chancellor, Wei cannot yet be attacked.”

A Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Relying solely on worthiness and ability, even the strongest passes and the most precipitous terrain are not enough to win by these means (here “zhi” means “to overcome, to subdue”).

Thus Gaoyao (in ancient legend a minister of Shun who presided over punishments) could not speak, yet he served as Dali (the high official in charge of punishments), and throughout the world cruel punishments were not arbitrarily inflicted—this was more precious than eloquence. Shi Kuang (a music master of Jin in the Spring and Autumn period, traditionally said to have been blind) was blind in both eyes, yet he served as Taizai (the chief minister in charge of government affairs), and Jin had no disorderly government—this was more precious than sight. Therefore “commands that can be put into practice without speech” (referring to Gaoyao, who, though mute, could settle cases justly) and “clear insight that can be grasped without eyes” (referring to Shi Kuang, who, though blind, could govern the state) are precisely why Fuxi and Shennong (honored as sage kings who taught and transformed the myriad people) could become teachers and models for the world: they relied on a virtue and conduct that could be emulated.

Therefore, when instructing and transforming the people, people often do not listen to what they say with their mouths but follow what they actually do (they follow the course their will and intention take). Duke Zhuang of Qi (ruler of Qi, son of Duke Ling of Qi, named Guang) loved courage and physical strength, yet he would not stop private feuds within the state; as a result, calamities continued unabated, and matters deteriorated step by step into Cui Zhu’s rebellion (Cui Zhu was a Qi grandee who rebelled and killed Duke Zhuang). Duke Xiang of Qi indulged in sexual pleasures and would not allow forthright remonstrance; the people were largely benighted, and accumulated abuses finally produced the disaster of Zhaoqi (Zhaoqi was a Chu grandee; here it refers to the troubles in Chu arising from accumulated abuses of this kind).

Therefore, the effect of the resonance of the Qi of utmost Jing (essence) is as swift as the sprouting power of spring Qi and the killing severity of autumn Qi; even fast relay carriages and urgently driven fine horses are not as fast as this transformative influence. Thus those who govern the world are perhaps like archers: a hair’s-breadth error at this end becomes a miss of many feet at the other. It is clear that “caution” is precisely for grasping this resonance.

Rong Qiqi (an ancient skilled qin player) plucked the qin once, and Confucius was joyful for three days—this was being moved by harmonious sound. Zou Ji (also skilled at the qin) plucked the qin once (“hui” refers to the pitch markers on the qin; here it refers generally to plucking the strings to produce sound), yet King Wei of Qi (father of King Xuan of Qi, a Warring States ruler of Qi) grieved all night—this was being moved by sorrowful sound. This resonance is displayed on the qin and se and takes form in sound, yet it can make listeners either sorrowful or joyful (King Wei was sorrowful; Confucius was joyful). However, merely posting laws and ordinances and establishing rewards and grants, without being able to transform customs and change mores, is because sincere heart has not truly been applied to the hearts of the people.

Ning Qi (a man of Wei in the Spring and Autumn period) sang a sorrowful song in the shang mode beneath a cart; when Duke Huan of Qi (one of the five hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period) heard it, he sighed and awoke to understanding—the Qi of utmost Jing moves people truly deeply. Therefore it is said: by hearing the music one can know the customs; by seeing the customs one can know the teaching and transformation.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Confucius learned to play the qin from Shi Xiang. Shi Xiang was the grand music master of the state of Lu. From the sound of the qin, Confucius grasped the aspirations of King Wen of Zhou; he could see the great meaning in subtle details. The piece Shi Xiang taught him was the “Wen Wang Cao” (Composition of King Wen). When Jizi of Yanling listened to the music of Lu, he could discern the ethos of the Yin and Xia dynasties; inferring the distant from the near is the same principle.

The transformative teaching of the sage kings of high antiquity could continue for a thousand years and its culture did not perish; how much more could it transform the people within their own age?

In the time of Tang of Shang there was severe drought for several years. He personally went to Mulberry Grove to pray, and cloud vapors from the four seas gathered (“cou” means to converge; a variant reads “zhengzheng,” meaning vapors rising), and within a thousand li sweet rain fell everywhere. With a sincere heart he moved Heaven and Earth; even spirits beyond this world were moved; government orders were carried out and prohibitions were effective—none of this is surprising.

The ancient sage kings concentrated their spirit to a high degree within, and their likes and dislikes toward the outside had already faded (“xing” means manifestation; “likes and dislikes” means that when desires are already full one can transcend them). Their speech complied with human feelings, and their issuing of orders embodied the essential purpose. They used ritual and music to set forth their transformative teaching, and songs and ballads to spread customs. Their achievements ran through ten thousand generations without obstruction and extended in the four directions without exhaustion; birds and beasts and insects all were transformed and nurtured accordingly (one reading has “transformed and followed the insects,” another has “ghosts and spirits”)—how much more so when they enforced laws and issued orders?

Therefore the highest level of governing the state is marvelous transformation; next is to make people unable to do wrong; next is to reward the worthy and punish the violent (“bao” means tyranny and disorder).

The steelyard, in weighing left and right, does not lean toward heavy or light; therefore it can be fair (“heng” is the steelyard weight). The ink line, in measuring inside and outside, does not lean toward crooked or straight; therefore it can rectify. When the ruler applies the law without partiality from private likes and dislikes, he can establish his orders.

Weighing light and heavy without an error of a hair (the “mosquito’s head” is a metaphor for extreme minuteness), straightening the crooked without missing by a needle tip (the “needle point” is a metaphor for extreme fineness), correcting evil and crookedness without yielding to private feeling, so that the treacherous cannot distort, slander cannot disturb, virtue is naturally established (“li” means to manifest), and resentment has nowhere to hide—this is the way of employing laws and setting aside private intentions. Therefore true governance of the state does not rely on these arts of power and cunning (governing lies in the Great Dao, not in cleverness; hence it says “does not participate in them”).

Boats float on water and carts move on land: this is the natural principle of circumstances and forms. When wood strikes and breaks an axle, or rushing water wrecks a boat, one does not blame the wood and stone but the skill or clumsiness of the charioteer or boatman (“to blame the skill or clumsiness of the charioteer and boatman”—what is blamed is their level of skill). Once this principle is understood, cleverness need no longer be relied upon.

(It is said that wood and stone have no cunning or deceit, and therefore do not invite resentment.) Thus, if the Dao (the Way) relies on cleverness, it will become confused (Note: to speak of the Dao by means of cleverness is to be confused); if De (Virtue/Power) harbors selfish intentions, it will become dangerous and malevolent; if the mind is dragged along by the ears and eyes, it will become dazzled and disordered (Note: dazzled by external things).

Among weapons, none is sharper than the will; none is a meaner “enemy” than a depraved mind; and no enemy is greater than Yin-Yang (the transformations of empty and solid, hard and soft), while beating the drum is counted as small (Note: even the small and fine is still sharp). (Note: To attack others with a sincere and concentrated will is advantageous; Laozi says that one who heavily accumulates De will overcome all, and therefore Moye [a famous sword] is considered inferior. An enemy is also a matter of arms; when the Dao of Yin-Yang, empty and solid, is reckoned as great, the drum is therefore small.)

Now scales, weights, compass, and square: once calibrated, they do not change; they do not alter their measure because of Qin or Chu, nor change their form because of the Hu or Yue. They constantly guard the One and do not turn aside; they move squarely and do not drift. If one day they are used as a mold and model, they will be transmitted for ten thousand generations—this is to act by taking Wuwei (non-action) as action (Note: to act without acting is to act of oneself).

Therefore, a state may have a ruler who loses his state (Jie, Zhou, and the like), but in the world there is no Dao that is abolished (Note: Tang and Wu, by attaining the Dao, ruled the world; therefore it is said there is no abolished Dao). People may encounter poverty and hardship, but principle (Dao) is never obstructed (Note: principle is Dao). From this we see that Wuwei is the root of the Dao (Note: the source is the root). If one obtains the root of the Dao, one responds to things without limit; if one merely relies on human talent and wisdom, it is difficult to reach order (Note: talent and wisdom).

Tang and Wu were sage rulers, yet they could not, together with the Yue people, ride a ganzhou (Note: a small boat, dangerous; the Yue people are accustomed to water and can ride it themselves, so Tang and Wu could not; another explanation says a large boat) and float on the rivers and lakes. Yi Yin was a worthy minister, yet he could not, together with the Hu people, ride a yuan horse and drive a taotu (Note: a yellow horse with a white belly is called yuan; the Poetry has “four yuan,” “Pengzu,” “taotu,” and “wild horse”; the Hu people are accustomed to them, and although Yi Yin was worthy he could not train them). Confucius and Mozi were broadly learned (Note: Confucius and Mo Di), yet they could not enter the zhenbo thickets and dangerous obstructions as mountain dwellers do (Note: gathered trees are zhen, deep grass is bo; mountain dwellers are accustomed to them, so Confucius and Mozi could not; “obstruction” is sometimes written as “path”).

From this we see that people’s knowledge of things is originally very shallow, yet they wish to illuminate all within the seas and encompass the ten thousand directions—this is impossible.

The profound subtlety of the Dao lies in employing the strength of the many. If one relies only on one’s own ability, one will run into obstacles everywhere and find it hard to get through. Thus a single person’s intelligence is not sufficient to govern the world.

Jie was so strong that he could snap ox horns, wrench apart iron chains, and move great cauldrons; in water he could kill giant turtles and alligators, and on land he could seize bears and brown bears. (Gu means ox horn; suo is a noose; xi is pronounced “xie” and means to coordinate strength.) Yet Tang of Shang, with only three hundred chariots, trapped him at the battle of Mingtiao and captured him at Jiaomen (some say Chao). From this we see that courage and strength alone are not enough to hold the world. That intelligence is insufficient to govern the state and courage insufficient to establish supremacy shows that talented people each have limitations and cannot alone undertake the affairs of a wise ruler. Yet the ruler need not step down from the hall to know conditions beyond the four seas—this is because he relies on things to know the myriad things and relies on others to know people’s hearts.

When many people join forces to lift something, there is nothing they cannot overcome; when they pool their wisdom to plan, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. In a well frog’s well there are no giant turtles or alligators, because the well is too small; in a garden there are no large trees, because the garden is too small. One who lifts a great cauldron cannot succeed if his strength is insufficient; but when it comes time to move the cauldron, it is not necessary for one person to do it alone. Thus when a thousand people form a group, the bridge does not break; when ten thousand people gather, the work is not abandoned.

Hualiu and Lü’er (famous steeds) can travel a thousand li in a day, but if made to chase rabbits, they are no match for jackals and wolves—their abilities are different. (Shu means different.) The owl—a kind of owl; the old owl calls at night on the roof—can at night catch fleas and mosquitoes and discern the tip of an autumn hair, but by day it blunders about and cannot see hills and mountains—form and nature differ. (The chi is the owl; the old owl gathers at night and builds its nest with human fingernails, hence it is said that at night it can discern the tip of an autumn hair, while by day it sees nothing—its temperament is strange and changeable.)

Tengshe moves by swimming in the mist; Yinglong ascends by riding the clouds; apes are nimble when they get trees; fish dart when they get water (wu means swift rushing). Therefore, in ancient times when carts were made, the lacquerer did not paint, the chiseler did not hew; craftsmen did not combine two skills, and scholars did not hold two offices. Each kept to his duty and did not interfere with others (jian means disorder), so people attained what suited them and things attained stability; implements were not marred by coarseness, and official duties did not fall into negligence. (Ku is read “jian,” and man means slow or slack.)

When demands are few, repayment is easy; when duties are few, it is easy to keep them (gua means few); when responsibilities are light, it is easy to plan (quan means planning). When those above hold the handle of power and devise strategies within the tent, and those below each fulfill their duties, the world can then be governed.

Streamline institutions and lighten burdens, and those below will find it easy to follow and easy to produce results. When ruler and ministers associate this way over time, they will also not deceive one another (“yan” here means to deceive).

One who governs the world should best resemble the “personator” (shi, the one who presides over the sacrifice and represents the spirits to receive offerings, sitting upright and receiving the sacrifice without speaking much). When the personator is satiated during the sacrifice, it signifies that the spirits have also “eaten their fill”; as the Book of Songs says, “The ducal personator feasts and drinks; in the ancestral temple, at the place of the deceased father.” The personator is grave and silent (“profound silence,” xuanmo), and thus there is auspiciousness and blessing—because the personator does not open his mouth and speak recklessly, it is called profound silence.

Therefore one who attains the Dao (the Way) does not gloss over ugly things as beautiful, nor pretend to be a good person (he does not deliberately dress things up as beautiful, nor push good deeds to an extreme). When one person clothes himself in this virtue, he will not boast and magnify himself (“bao”); when the myriad people all receive its benefits, it will not appear stingy or narrow (“bian”).

Conferring benefits and using force must be treated with equal caution: if “recklessly conferring favors” and “recklessly using violence” are regarded as equally weighty and regulated with equal strictness, then the way of governance will run smoothly (“tong” means smooth or unobstructed).

What is called recklessly conferring favors is unprincipled giving: generous rewards without merit, high office without achievement. Then those who hold office will grow slack in their posts, and idlers will desperately scheme and seek advancement.

What is called recklessly using force is wanton killing: the innocent are killed and the upright are punished, so those who cultivate themselves will not be willing to turn toward goodness, and the wicked will lightly offend the ruler’s will. (Hence it must not be treated carelessly.)

Thus reckless favor breeds wickedness, and reckless violence throws the world into disorder; the ethos of wickedness and disorder is the teaching that ruins the state.

Therefore the enlightened ruler governs: when there are executions, the ruler does not become angry because of them (he acts according to law, hence no anger); when the court grants rewards, the ruler does not personally stuff benefits into people’s hands (he acts according to merit, hence no personal giving). Those executed do not resent the ruler, because guilt matches their allotted punishment; those rewarded do not feel indebted to the ruler’s private favor, because the merit lies with themselves. When the common people understand that reward and punishment both arise from their own conduct, they will devote themselves to establishing merit and attending to their occupations, and will not bribe the ruler with goods (“gan” refers to bribe goods). Thus no traces of bribery are seen at court, and the fields are opened up and left without weeds.

Therefore the ancients said: “The highest: those below simply know that it exists.” (In the most ideal age, those below merely feel that “there is such a set of arrangements,” and do not feel that the ruler is meddling in everything—everyone can get by according to the rules.)

To use an analogy: the straight timbers and crossbeams of a bridge stand upright and motionless, and pedestrians, whether looking down or up, advancing or retreating, are governed by them (bridge, well-sweep, balance beam, and upright post are metaphors for the ruler and the legal measures). Only when the ruler is quiet, detached, and free of restless action (“zao” means reckless movement) can the hundred officials each keep their duties. This is how the personator’s profound silence and the bridge timbers’ immobility clarify the way of the ruler.

Plain-Language Interpretation

On Military Banners and Governing the State

If the banner-bearer in the army points in random directions, the army will fall into great disorder. Petty cleverness is not enough to bring lasting peace, and petty stratagems are not enough to resolve true dangers. Rather than constantly praising Yao and disparaging Jie in order to advertise the names of good and evil, one should restrain one’s own cleverness and cunning and turn back to cultivating the great Dao (the Way). (The phrase “not enough for great peace” refers to petty beneficence; “not enough to settle danger” refers to petty wisdom. Such a person still wishes to gain fame by criticizing and praising Yao and Jie—this is merely forcing cleverness; better to conceal cleverness and ground oneself in cultivating the Dao. The way of a ruler is likewise so.)

Clarity and Stillness, Frugality, and What Heaven and Earth Bestow

With clarity and stillness and Wuwei (non-action), Heaven bestows the seasons; with integrity, frugality, and adherence to restraint, Earth produces wealth. (When a ruler’s De (Virtue/Power) is like this, he obtains favorable timing from Heaven and advantages from Earth. Obtaining favorable timing is like Tang of Shang and Wu of Zhou; obtaining earthly advantage is like Shennong and Houji.) If he rests content in simplicity and claims De as his own, the sage will plan for him. (For example, Yi Yin planned for Tang, and Fu Yue planned for Gaozong—Mencius speaks of Yi Yin’s sense of responsibility, and the Guoyu says that Wuding dreamed of an image and sought the sage on every side, obtaining Fu Yue at Fuyan.) Therefore, by placing himself below, all things attach to him; by guarding emptiness, the world does not contend with him. (“Yi” is the same as “yu.”)

Emptying the Heart and Weakening the Will, with Ministers Advancing Together

When the ruler attends to government, he must be clear and bright rather than benighted, empty his heart and weaken his will. In this way the assembled ministers, like spokes converging on the hub, all advance their words together; whether foolish or wise, worthy or unworthy, each can exhaust his ability; only then does he set forth ritual institutions and establish the foundation of rule. (Establishing the foundation of rule.) This is to use the power of the multitude as a carriage and the wisdom of the multitude as horses; even on deep, dangerous, and distant roads, he will not go astray. (“Deep and dangerous” means the road is long and hazardous.)

Dwelling in Seclusion and Emerging Rarely, Yet Understanding All Under Heaven

The ruler dwells deep in seclusion to avoid dryness and dampness, and sets up double gates and layered doors to guard against traitors and thieves; within, he does not know the minute affairs of the lanes and neighborhoods; without, he does not know the forms of mountains and marshes; beyond the curtains his eyes cannot see ten li ahead, and his ears cannot hear a hundred paces away—yet there is nothing in the world that he does not know. (“Tong” means to know.) This is because those who supply him with information are many and those who weigh and decide are numerous. Therefore, without leaving his door he knows all under Heaven; without peering through the window he knows the Dao of Heaven. Riding on the wisdom of the multitude, he does not have to monopolize all under Heaven by himself; if he uses only his own heart, then as a solitary person he will be hard-pressed to sustain himself.

Note: This piece belongs to the exegetical genre of the Huainanzi. It discusses that a ruler should “conceal his cleverness” and “return to cultivating the Dao,” through clarity and stillness, frugality, and resting in simplicity while claiming De, and should “ride on the power of the multitude” and “govern with the wisdom of the multitude.” It intertwines Daoist Wuwei, the Confucian promotion of the worthy, and early legends of emperors and kings (Tang and Wu, Yi Yin, Fu Yue, Shennong, and Houji). The parentheses contain original annotations and have been integrated into the above text.

Vernacular Interpretation of the Huainan Honglie Jie

Unable to Guard It for Long (“bao” means to guard, to preserve).

Therefore, the ruler must use De (Virtue/Power) to protect the world. He does not make arbitrary decisions or show off his intelligence; rather, he acts in accordance with what benefits the myriad people. When he lifts his heels in the world, each person obtains what benefits them; the common people do not feel him to be a burden when he is above them. When responsibility is placed before them, they do not feel harmed; when they are promoted, they do not feel raised too high; when they are entrusted with duties, they do not feel annoyed. (They respect him, yet he is not self-conscious; they promote him, yet he does not exalt himself; they seek him out and serve him, yet he does not grow weary.) The ruler’s Dao is round, complete, and all-embracing: it revolves endlessly without limit (“duan” means boundary, limit), transforms and nurtures the myriad things with wondrous efficacy, is empty and still in Wuwei (non-action), follows natural spontaneity, and constantly remains in the rear without striving to be first.

The minister’s Dao is round, complete, and all-embracing: it revolves without fixed direction; in judging right and wrong and occupying the proper position, when undertaking affairs it first initiates the beginning, keeps duties clear and distinct, and only then can it establish merit and accomplish tasks.

Therefore, if ruler and minister each keep to their own Dao, there is order (they do not usurp each other’s authority, and their words and deliberations are harmonious); if they follow the same Dao, there is disorder (when the ruler says yes, the minister also says yes; when the ruler says no, the minister also says no—a single identical tune, with no one to correct and assist, is therefore called disorder). Only when each attains what is fitting and occupies its proper position can superior and inferior employ each other (the ruler attains the ruler’s Dao, the minister attains the minister’s Dao; hence it is said each attains what is fitting).

When the ruler attends to government and manages affairs, he must empty his mind and weaken his will, be clear and bright rather than dim and dark. In this way, the assembled ministers gather like spokes around a hub and all come forward with advice; whether foolish or wise, worthy or unworthy, each exhausts his capacity. Then the ruler can control the ministers, and the ministers can serve the ruler, and the Dao of governing the state becomes clear.

King Wen was intelligent and fond of asking questions, and thus became a sage (to be fond of asking is to wish to accomplish the work together with others). King Wu was brave and martial and fond of asking questions, and thus was able to conquer (defeat Yin). Relying on the wisdom of the multitude, there is nothing he cannot undertake; using the strength of the multitude, there is nothing he cannot overcome.

The weight of a thousand jun (a thousand jun is thirty thousand jin), even Wu Huo (a strongman of Qin; King Wu of Qin once tested his strength, ordering him to lift a great cauldron; his wrist dislocated and he could not lift it, hence it is said he could not lift it) could not lift. When people are of one mind and united, then a hundred people have surplus strength. Therefore, if one relies solely on the strength of one person, even Wu Huo is not enough to be relied upon (he cannot prevail alone, so he cannot be depended on). If one grasps the combined strength of the multitude, then the whole world is not something one can monopolize (the people are many and their strength is great).

Note: This chapter belongs to political philosophy. It discusses the ruler “following the benefits of the myriad people,” the division of duties between ruler and minister, emptying the mind to accept those below, and “riding on the wisdom of the multitude and using the strength of the multitude.” It is not a cultivation formula; the story of Wu Huo in the text is found in pre-Qin historical traditions and related accounts in the Huainanzi, and the vernacular explanation has annotated it with interlinear notes.

Yu opened up rivers and channels and dredged waterways, bringing benefit to the world, yet he could not make water flow westward; Hou Ji cleared wasteland and taught the people to farm, doing his utmost for the common folk, yet he could not make grain sprouts grow in winter. Was it that human effort fell short? In fact, conditions did not permit it. To insist on violating objective laws and going against natural disposition—even a sage could not succeed, let alone the rulers of the present age. If the cart is heavy and the horse lean, even Zao Fu (a famous minister under King Mu of Zhou who was skilled at driving horses) could not go far; if the cart is light and the horse good, even an ordinary craftsman can drive it swiftly. How then can the sage act by violating principle and going against nature, treating the crooked as straight and the extended as bent? There is no case in which he does not employ each according to its capacity: acting with accumulated strength, nothing is not overcome; acting with the collective wisdom of many, nothing is not accomplished.

A deaf person can be set to blow the yu (an ancient wind instrument), but cannot be made to hear sounds; a mute person can be set to guard enclosures and parks, but cannot be made to speak. In bodily form there are things unsuitable for use, and in ability there are things impossible to do. Therefore one person occupies one position, and one ability assumes one task: when strength is equal to the burden, lifting it does not feel heavy; when talent matches the task, doing it does not feel difficult. Whether great or small, long or short, when each attains its proper place, the world becomes orderly and unified, and no one can overstep the proper track. The sage employs all people together, and therefore there is no discarded talent. A ruler prizes uprightness and esteems loyalty; when the upright and loyal occupy high positions and manage statutes and government affairs, slanderous flatterers and the wicked have no way to advance. It is like a square and a round that cannot cover each other, or the crooked and the straight that cannot be inserted into one another.

Birds and beasts cannot flock together, because their kinds are different; tigers and deer cannot roam together, because their strength is far apart. When the sage attains his aim and occupies a high position, if slanderous flatterers and the wicked wish to encroach upon the ruler, it is like small birds meeting a zhan (bird of prey) or rats encountering a li (wildcat): they will surely have no way to survive. Therefore the ruler must be cautious in every movement and action: if appointments obtain the right people, the state is governed; if appointments are improper, calamity comes of itself.

When governance within the household is properly ordered, those above and below live in harmony, the ministers draw close, and the people rally to their side. When the wrong people are appointed, the state is placed in danger: those above and below lose heart, the ministers grow resentful, and the people fall into disorder. A single misguided measure can therefore bring harm that lasts a lifetime. The key to gain and loss lies in the ruler’s hands—that is the point.

When the marking line is straight at the top, the timber below is straight. There is no special process of “handling” or “adjusting” things; the timber is simply shaped along the line, and so it naturally becomes straight. When a ruler is sincere and upright, principled people take charge of affairs, while the crooked and wicked go into hiding. When the ruler is not upright, the wicked prosper and the loyal withdraw.

Why do people not use jade as a pestle, but use gourds instead? Jade is so hard that a pestle cannot pound into it, so people do not use it. When no benefit can be gained from jade, people do not try to strike it. If a ruler upholds justice and remains balanced and impartial, like a marking line that measures what is high and low, then ministers who approach with crooked intentions will be like eggs striking stone or fire cast into water: they will bring about their own ruin.

Thus, when King Ling of Chu prized slender waists, some people starved themselves by cutting back on food. When King Goujian of Yue prized martial courage, the people all put themselves in danger and competed to die in battle. This shows that the handle of authority can indeed change customs and transform social conduct. If Yao had been only a commoner, he could not have spread benevolence even within a single village; Jie, though in the highest position, could make his orders obeyed and his prohibitions enforced. This makes clear that virtue alone is not enough to govern a state, while position and power can change customs. The Book of Documents says, “When one person is blessed, the myriad people depend on him.” This is what it means.

Most people under Heaven are taken in by reputation, and few see things as they truly are. Thus recluses are honored for their renown, while itinerant persuaders rise to prominence through their skill in argument. A close examination of why they are honored or promoted reveals no other reason; yet rulers fail to distinguish names from realities, or benefits from harms, and instead admire the arguments heard from the crowd.

Governing a state is different. Affairs must be examined according to the law, and actions must be supervised by the offices of government. Those above hold the “name” and call those below to account for the “reality”; ministers keep to their assigned duties and deliver results. Words must not go beyond the facts, and actions must not exceed the bounds of the law.

The ruler must govern his ministers by fixed laws and standards, so that they gather around him like spokes converging on a wheel's hub, and no one dares to usurp power on his own. If affairs of state do not follow the law, the realm cannot be governed. Those who govern should also take the changes of the Five Phases (Wuxing) and Yin-Yang as a reference, listen to opinions from all quarters, examine how things reach their ends and how they change, and neither cling to one extreme nor shield one side. Their conduct should be upright and balanced, so that their commands circulate throughout the four seas. When the ministers hold fast to fairness, no one dares to engage in crooked or private dealings; when the officials each fulfill their duties, they leave behind merits that can be examined. When the ruler is clear-sighted above and the officials exert themselves below, treachery has nowhere to hide, achievements steadily grow, and brave warriors, for this reason, strive to win military merit.

A disordered state is otherwise: those whom the crowd praises receive rewards without merit, and those who keep faithfully to their posts are put to death without guilt. The ruler hears of these things but cannot discern them, and the ministers form factions for private gain and are not loyal to their lord. Persuasive speakers roam from state to state, and self-proclaimed cultivators compete for fame and profit. When the ruler issues an order, they raise objections; what the law forbids, they deliberately violate, and through factional slander they defame their sovereign. This is treachery. The wise devote themselves to deception, and the brave to fighting. Great ministers monopolize power, and lower officials wield authority, colluding with one another to manipulate the ruler. Though the state may still survive, in truth what the ancients called "ruin" has already arrived.

Moreover, to neglect one's own duties while donning armor and taking up weapons, or to refuse to till the fields while seeking the name of sages and worthies, are not ways of stabilizing a state. The qiji and luer (both famous steeds of antiquity) are the finest horses under heaven, yet when driven they will not advance, and when led they will not stop; even a foolish man would not willingly ride them. Now the key to order and disorder is as plain as the ruts of a cart's wheels, clearly visible, yet the rulers of the age cannot perceive it, and this is precisely why the Way of governing is obstructed. Power is like the ruler's carriage; rank and emolument are like the reins held by the ministers. Therefore the key for a ruler who holds power lies in firmly grasping the authority of rank and emolument, prudently judging the measure of urgency and leisure, and bestowing and withholding appropriately. Then the people under heaven will exert themselves to serve him without tiring. Between ruler and minister there is originally no bond of father and son, no intimacy of flesh and blood, yet they strive to die for him and do not spare their own lives. Why? It is because of power that they act so. From this we see that ruler and minister are held together by the pull of power and rank.

Classic: Huainan Honglie Jie

Yu Rang was originally a retainer in the household of Zhonghang Wenzi (Wenzi was Xun Yin, son of the Jin grand officer Zhonghang Muzi). Later, when Zhi Bo attacked the Zhonghang clan and annexed its territory, Yu Rang abandoned his former lord and went to serve Zhi Bo.

Zhi Bo fought Zhao Xiangzi beneath the walls of Jinyang; he was defeated, killed, and his corpse mutilated, and his territory was divided among the three houses of Han, Wei, and Zhao (each took a share—this was the “three-part division of Jin”). Yu Rang wished to avenge Zhi Bo and planned to assassinate Zhao Xiangzi (to avenge Zhi Bo by killing Zhao Xiangzi). He lacquered his body to disfigure himself, swallowed charcoal to change his voice, and knocked out his teeth to alter his appearance, single-mindedly pursuing the assassination.

Yet one man in his heart served two lords in succession: sometimes abandoning a lord and leaving, sometimes wanting to die for a lord—was it merely a matter of pursuing advantage and avoiding harm, or of favor being generous or slight? In fact, it was the grace bestowed by the ruler that made him choose thus.

King Zhou once annexed the world and made the feudal lords come to court; wherever people reached and boats and oars could pass, none did not submit. Yet King Wu, leading only three thousand armored soldiers, captured him at Muye. Was it because the Zhou people died for principle and the Yin people betrayed him? No—it was because the ruler’s De (Virtue/Power) and righteousness were profound, and his commands could be carried out below.

When the wind is fierce, waves arise; when trees are luxuriant, birds come to roost—this is caused by the Qi (vital energy) of mutual generation. Therefore, if a minister cannot obtain what he seeks from his ruler, the ruler likewise cannot obtain what he seeks from his minister; the giving and requiting between ruler and minister are circumstances that correspond to each other. Thus ministers exhaust their hearts and strength, even dying for principle, to plan for their ruler; the ruler, in turn, enfeoffs them with ranks and titles to repay them. If a ruler cannot extend his De and grace downward to the people, yet wishes to drive the common people, it is like whipping a lame horse; to expect crops to ripen before rain falls is likewise an impossible method (shu here means principle or method).