Chapter 7
How to Govern
Argument:—Princes should reign, not rule—Rulers find their standards of right in themselves—They thus coerce their people into obeying artificial laws, instead of leaving them to obey natural laws—By action they accomplish nothing—By inaction there is nothing which they would not accomplish—Individuals think they know what the empire wants—In reality it is the empire itself which know best—Illustrations.
Argument: Princes should reign, not rule. Rulers find their standards of right within themselves. They use these standards to force their people to obey artificial laws, instead of letting them obey natural laws. By acting, rulers accomplish nothing. By doing nothing, they would accomplish everything. Individuals think they know what the empire needs. In fact, the empire itself knows best. Examples.
Yeh Ch'üeh asked Wang I four questions, none of which he could answer. Thereat the former was greatly delighted, and went off and told P'u I Tzŭ.
Yeh Ch'üeh asked Wang I four questions, but Wang I could not answer any of them. Yeh Ch'üeh was delighted and went off to tell P'u I Tzŭ.
See ch. ii.
For he now discovered that ignorance is true knowledge. I accept this explanation only because I have no better one.
Nothing definite is known about this person.
"Have you only just found that out?" said P'u I Tzŭ. "The Emperor Shun was not equal to T'ai Huang.
"Have you only just learned that?" said P'u I Tzŭ. "The Emperor Shun was not as great as T'ai Huang.
A legendary ruler. For Shun, see ch. i.
Shun was all for charity in his zeal for mankind; but although he succeeded in government, he himself never rose above the level of artificiality. Now T'ai Huang was peaceful when asleep and inactive when awake. At one time he would think himself a horse; at another, an ox.
Shun was devoted to charity in his zeal for humanity. But although he succeeded as a ruler, he never rose above artificiality. T'ai Huang, on the other hand, was peaceful when asleep and inactive when awake. At one time, he thought he was a horse. At another, he thought he was an ox.
He had so completely closed off all paths to self-awareness.
His wisdom was substantial and above suspicion. His virtue was genuine indeed. And yet he never sank to the level of artificiality."
His wisdom was solid and beyond doubt. His virtue was truly genuine. Yet he never stooped to being artificial."
He was a ruler who followed the Tao.
Chien Wu meeting the eccentric Chieh Yü, the latter enquired, saying, "What did Jih Chung Shih teach you?"
When Chien Wu met the eccentric Chieh Yü, Chieh Yü asked, "What did Jih Chung Shih teach you?"
Nothing is known about the last. The first two have already been mentioned in chs. i. and vi.
"He taught me," replied Chien Wu, "about the laws and regulations which princes evolve, and which he said none would venture not to hear and obey."
"He taught me about the laws and regulations princes make," replied Chien Wu. "He said no one would dare refuse to listen to them or obey them."
"That is a false teaching indeed," replied Chieh Yü. "To attempt to govern mankind thus,—as well try to wade through the sea, to hew a passage through a river, or make a mosquito fly away with a mountain!
"That is a false teaching indeed," replied Chieh Yü. "Trying to govern people that way is like trying to wade through the sea, carve a path through a river, or make a mosquito carry away a mountain!
"The government of the truly wise man has no concern with externals. He first perfects himself, and then by virtue thereof he is enabled to accomplish what he wants.
"The truly wise man does not concern himself with outward things when he governs. He first perfects himself. This enables him to accomplish what he wants.
Passively, without any effort.
"The bird flies high to avoid snare and dart. The mouse burrows down below the hill to avoid being smoked or cut out of its nest. Is your wit below that of these two creatures?"
"The bird flies high to avoid traps and darts. The mouse burrows deep under the hill to avoid being smoked or cut out of its nest. Are you less clever than these two creatures?"
That you should be unable to find a way around the artificial restrictions imposed by rulers. It is better to let people be good of their own accord than to force them to be good.
T'ien Kên was travelling on the south of the Yin mountain. He had reached the river Liao when he met a certain Sage to whom he said, "I beg to ask about the government of the empire."
T'ien Kên was traveling south of the Yin mountain. When he reached the river Liao, he met a Sage. He asked him, "May I ask about governing the empire?"
Nothing is known about this person.
"Begone!" cried the Sage. "You are a low fellow, and your question is ill timed. God has just turned me out a man. That is enough for me. Borne on light pinions I can soar beyond the cardinal points, to the land of nowhere, in the domain of nothingness. And you come to worry me with government of the empire!"
"Go away!" cried the Sage. "You are a contemptible fellow, and your question comes at a bad time. God has just made me a man. That is enough for me. On light wings, I can soar beyond the four directions, to the land of nowhere, in the realm of nothingness. And you come to bother me about governing the empire!"
But T'ien Kên enquired a second time, and the Sage replied, "Resolve your mental energy into abstraction, your physical energy into inaction. Allow yourself to fall in with the natural order of phenomena, without admitting the element of self,—and the empire will be governed."
But T'ien Kên asked a second time, and the Sage replied, "Let your mind become detached and your body inactive. Follow the natural order of things without bringing your self into it, and the empire will be governed."
Through natural laws that bring about the desired result without human interference.
Yang Tzŭ Chü went to see Lao Tzŭ, and said, "Suppose a man were ardent and courageous, acquainted with the order and principles of things, and untiring in the pursuit of Tao—would he be accounted a wise ruler?"
Yang Tzŭ Chü went to see Lao Tzŭ and asked, "Suppose a man were passionate and courageous. Suppose he understood the order and principles of things and never tired of pursuing Tao. Would he be considered a wise ruler?"
"From the point of view of a truly wise man," replied Lao Tzŭ, "such a one would be a mere handicraftsman, wearing out body and mind alike. The tiger and the pard suffer from the beauty of their skins. The cleverness of the monkey, the tractability of the ox, bring them both to the tether. It is not on such grounds that a ruler may be accounted wise."
“From the point of view of a truly wise person,” replied Lao Tzŭ, “such a person would be just a craftsman, wearing out both body and mind. The tiger and the leopard suffer because of their beautiful skins. The monkey’s cleverness and the ox’s willingness to be led get them both tethered. A ruler cannot be considered wise on such grounds.”
"But in what, then," cried Yang Tzŭ Chü, "does the government of a wise man consist?"
"But then," cried Yang Tzŭ Chü, "how does a wise man govern?"
"The goodness of a wise ruler," answered Lao Tzŭ, "covers the whole empire, yet he himself seems to know it not. It influences all creation, yet none is conscious thereof. It appears under countless forms, bringing joy to all things. It is based upon the baseless, and travels through the realms of Nowhere."
"The goodness of a wise ruler," Lao Tzŭ replied, "reaches the whole empire, yet he seems unaware of it himself. It influences all creation, yet no one is aware of it. It takes countless forms, bringing joy to all things. It rests on what has no foundation and travels through the realms of Nowhere."
The workings of true government are invisible to the human eye.
In the State of Chêng there was a wonderful magician, named Chi Han. He knew all about birth and death, gain and loss, misfortune and happiness, long life and short life,—predicting events to a day with supernatural accuracy. The people of Chêng used to flee at his approach; but Lieh Tzŭ went to see him, and became so infatuated that on his return he said to Hu Tzŭ, "I used to look upon your Tao as perfect. Now I know something more perfect still."
In the State of Chêng, there was a wonderful magician named Chi Han. He knew all about birth and death, gain and loss, misfortune and happiness, long life and short life. He predicted events to the day with supernatural accuracy. The people of Chêng used to run away when he approached. But Lieh Tzŭ went to see him and became so captivated that, on his return, he said to Hu Tzŭ, "I used to think your Tao was perfect. Now I know something even more perfect."
See chapter 1.
Who seems to have been his tutor.
"So far," replied Hu Tzŭ, "I have only taught you the ornamentals, not the essentials, of Tao; and yet you think you know all about it. Without cocks in your poultry-yard, what sort of eggs do the hens lay? If you go about trying to force Tao down people's throats, you will be simply exposing yourself. Bring your friend with you, and let me show myself to him."
"So far," replied Hu Tzŭ, "I have only taught you the outward trappings of Tao, not its essentials. Yet you think you know all about Tao. Without roosters in your chicken yard, what kind of eggs do the hens lay? If you go around trying to force Tao down people's throats, you will only expose yourself. Bring your friend with you, and let me show myself to him."
So next day Lieh Tzŭ went with Chi Han to see Hu Tzŭ, and when they came out Chi Han said, "Alas! your teacher is doomed. He cannot live. I hardly give him ten days. I am astonished at him. He is but wet ashes."
So the next day, Lieh Tzŭ went with Chi Han to see Hu Tzŭ. When they came out, Chi Han said, "Alas! Your teacher is doomed. He cannot live. I hardly give him ten days. I am astonished at him. He is nothing but wet ashes."
And can't burn much longer.
Lieh Tzŭ went in and wept bitterly, and told Hu Tzŭ; but the latter said, "I showed myself to him just now as the earth shows us its outward form, motionless and still, while production is all the time going on. I merely prevented him from seeing my pent-up energy within. Bring him again."
Lieh Tzŭ went inside, wept bitterly, and told Hu Tzŭ what had happened. But Hu Tzŭ said, "I showed myself to him just now as the earth appears to us. Its outward form is motionless and still, while life is constantly being produced. I merely kept him from seeing my pent-up energy within. Bring him again."
About Tao.
Next day the interview took place as before; but as they were leaving Chi Han said to Lieh Tzŭ, "It is lucky for your teacher that he met me. He is better. He will recover. I saw he had recuperative power."
The next day, they met again as before. But as they were leaving, Chi Han said to Lieh Tzŭ, "Your teacher is lucky he met me. He is better. He will recover. I saw that he had the power to recover."
Lieh Tzŭ went in and told Hu Tzŭ; whereupon the latter replied, "I showed myself to him just now as heaven shows itself in all its dispassionate grandeur, letting a little energy run out of my heels. He was thus able to detect that I had some. Bring him here again."
Lieh Tzŭ went in and told Hu Tzŭ. Hu Tzŭ replied, "Just now, I showed myself to him as heaven shows itself, in all its dispassionate grandeur. I let a little energy flow from my heels, so he could tell I had some. Bring him here again."
Next day a third interview took place, and as they were leaving, Chi Han said to Lieh Tzŭ, "Your teacher is never one day like another. I can tell nothing from his physiognomy. Get him to be regular, and I will then examine him again."
The next day, they met for a third time. As they were leaving, Chi Han said to Lieh Tzŭ, "Your teacher is different every day. I can't tell anything from his face. Get him to be consistent, and I will examine him again."
This being repeated to Hu Tzŭ as before, the latter said, "I showed myself to him just now in a state of harmonious equilibrium. Where the whale disports itself,—is the abyss. Where water is at rest,—is the abyss. Where water is in motion,—is the abyss. The abyss has nine names. These are three of them."
When this was repeated to Hu Tzŭ as before, he said, "Just now, I appeared to him in a state of harmonious balance. Where the whale plays, there is the abyss. Where water is still, there is the abyss. Where water moves, there is the abyss. The abyss has nine names. These are three of them."
This refers to three phases of Tao shown in the three interviews described above. Tao is the abyss.
Next day the two went once more to see Hu Tzŭ; but Chi Han was unable to stand still, and in his confusion turned and fled.
The next day, the two went to see Hu Tzŭ again. But Chi Han could not stand still. Confused, he turned and fled.
"Pursue him!" cried Hu Tzŭ; whereupon Lieh Tzŭ ran after him, but could not overtake him, so he returned and told Hu Tzŭ that the fugitive had disappeared.
"Chase him!" cried Hu Tzŭ. Lieh Tzŭ ran after him but could not catch him. So he returned and told Hu Tzŭ that the man had disappeared.
"I showed myself to him just now," said Hu Tzŭ, "as Tao appeared before time was. I was to him as a great blank, existing of itself. He knew not who I was. His face fell. He became confused. And so he fled."
"I just showed myself to him," said Hu Tzŭ, "as Tao appeared before time began. To him, I was like a vast blank, existing on its own. He did not know who I was. His face fell. He became confused. And so he ran away."
Upon this Lieh Tzŭ stood convinced that he had not yet acquired any real knowledge, and at once set to work in earnest, passing three years without leaving the house. He helped his wife to cook the family dinner, and fed his pigs just like human beings. He discarded the artificial and reverted to the natural. He became merely a shape. Amidst confusion, he was unconfounded. And so he continued to the end.
After this, Lieh Tzŭ became convinced that he had not yet gained any real knowledge. He immediately began working in earnest and did not leave the house for three years. He helped his wife cook the family dinner and fed his pigs as if they were human beings. He gave up what was artificial and returned to what was natural. He became merely a shape. Amid confusion, he remained unconfused. He continued this way to the end.
Of this physical world.
By Inaction, fame comes as the spirits of the dead come to the boy who impersonates the corpse.
Through inaction, fame comes as the spirits of the dead come to the boy who acts as the corpse.
See ch. i. In ancient Chinese funeral rites, a boy was made to sit silently and motionless like a corpse, for the reason given in the text.
By Inaction, one can become the centre of thought, the focus of responsibility, the arbiter of wisdom. Full allowance must be made for others, while remaining unmoved oneself. There must be a thorough compliance with divine principles, without any manifestation thereof.
Through inaction, one can become the center of thought, the focus of responsibility, and the judge of wisdom. One must give others complete freedom while remaining unmoved oneself. One must fully follow divine principles without showing them outwardly.
I try to adapt myself to circumstances, not circumstances to myself.
All of which may be summed up in the one word passivity. For the perfect man employs his mind as a mirror. It grasps nothing: it refuses nothing. It receives, but does not keep. And thus he can triumph over matter, without injury to himself.
All of this may be summed up in one word: passivity. For the perfect man uses his mind like a mirror. It grasps nothing and refuses nothing. It receives but does not hold on. Thus he can overcome matter without harming himself.
Without the wear and tear suffered by those who give free rein to their activities.
The ruler of the southern sea was called Shu. The ruler of the northern sea was called Hu. The ruler of the central zone was called Hun Tun.
The ruler of the southern sea was named Shu. The ruler of the northern sea was named Hu. The ruler of the central region was named Hun Tun.
This term generally refers to matter before it separated and divided into the phenomena of the visible universe.
Shu and Hu often met on Hun Tun's territory, and being always well treated by him, determined to repay his kindness.
Shu and Hu often met in Hun Tun's territory, where he always treated them well. So they decided to repay his kindness.
They said, "All men have seven holes,—for seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing. Hun Tun alone has none. We will bore some for him."
They said, "All people have seven holes for seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing. Hun Tun alone has none. We will bore some for him."
So every day they bored one hole; but on the seventh day Hun Tun died.
So they drilled one hole each day. But on the seventh day, Hun Tun died.
Illustrating the dangers of action. "The empire," says Lao Tzŭ, "is a divine trust, and may not be ruled. He who rules, ruins. He who holds by force, loses."
"Men's actions," says Emerson, "are too strong for them."
With this chapter, Chuang Tzŭ completes the outline of his system. The remaining chapters either supplement the preceding seven or are independent essays on related subjects.