From the sixth to the third century BC the chaotic times of
conflicts and wars
somehow produced a golden age of philosophy
in China
comparable to what was going on India and Greece.
This
period of a "hundred contending schools" began with
Confucius
and an obscure philosopher
named Lao-zi, who left a short book that has had
an immense influence
on China and the world called the Dao
De Jing
and which became the basis for the Daoist philosophy
and religion.
A century later Mo-zi founded an original philosophy
which was prominent for two centuries.
The historian Sima Qian tells us that Lao-zi lived during the
sixth century BC
in the state of Chu and was the keeper of the
archives in the imperial capital at Luoyang.
Those who held this
position were usually skilled in divination and astrology.
The
historian also relates that Lao-zi met Confucius once and criticized
him
for his pride and ambition, but Confucius could only compare
Lao-zi
to the powerful symbol of a dragon.
Little else is known
of the life of Lao-zi except the legend that
when in old age he
was leaving Chu, he was stopped by the guardian of the pass
into
the state of Qin and asked to write down his wisdom.
In three
days he produced a book of 5,250 characters known as the Dao De Jing,
which means the "classic
of the way and its virtue (power)"
or simply Way Power
Book.
Some scholars place Lao-zi in the fourth century BC,
because he is not mentioned by anyone else until then.
It is often difficult to accept the ethics of Lao-zi without
first understanding
the mystical ideas in his philosophy, which
is based on an all-pervading unity
he called the way (dao).
This way is the source of heaven and earth and the mother of all
things.
Its essence can be seen by the desireless; those who desire
see its manifestations.
From this unity comes the duality of relative
opposites (yin-yang)
such as beauty and ugliness, good
and bad, being and non-being, difficult and easy,
long and short,
high and low, male and female, beginning and end, and so on.
In
a patriarchal and male-dominated age, Lao-zi saw the value of
relying on the
female aspect of the universe by being receptive,
sensitive, nourishing, etc.
Thus he believed the wise give life
but do not take possession,
act but do not rely on their own ability,
accomplish but claim no credit.
Lao-zi saw a way of not competing by not exalting the worthy
nor valuing
rare treasure nor displaying objects of desire so
that people's hearts will not be disturbed.
The wise keep their
hearts pure, their bellies full,
their ambitions weak, and their
bones strong.
They act without interfering with the natural flow
so that all may live in peace.
The way is eternally present and
infinitely useful as the fountainhead of all things;
it came before
any personified concept of God.
This transcendental nature is
beyond morality and therefore not humane.
Mystically it is empty
yet inexhaustible;
the more it is used the more it produces.
Yet
much talk can be exhausting; it is better to keep to the center.
Lao-zi revered the spirit of the valley as the mystic female
that never dies and is the root of heaven and earth.
The wise
are humble like water, which flows to the lowest level;
yet they
come near the way.
In their dwellings, they love the earth.
In their hearts, they love what is profound.
In their friendship, they love humanity.
In their words, they love sincerity.
In government, they love peace.
In business, they love ability.
In their actions, they love timeliness.
It is because they do not compete that there is no resentment.1
Moderation is taught, as extremes of wealth and honor
cannot
be kept safe or lead to a downfall.
Heaven's way is to withdraw
as soon as one's work is done.
Lao-zi asked if one can concentrate
one's vital force to be gentle like a baby,
attain mystic clarity,
love people and govern the state without interfering,
play the
female in opening the doors of heaven,
and understand all without
using the mind.
Mystical virtue gives birth and nourishes without
taking possession,
acts without obligation, and leads without
dominating.
The usefulness of things is found in the freedom of
their empty spaces.
The way is invisible, inaudible, and intangible.
The wise go beyond the senses and satisfy the inner self.
Troubles
come from being selfish.
Those who value the world as themselves
may be entrusted to care for the world.
The way to make sense of a muddy world is to let it be still
until it becomes clear.
Those who are calm and do not overextend
themselves can come back to life
through activity, but not wearing
out they are not replaced.
In serenity one can see everything
return to its source
like vegetation that grows and flourishes.
Returning to the source is to know the eternal and be enlightened,
impartial, universal,
and in accord with heaven and the way.
Not
to know the eternal is to act blindly and court disaster.
The worst leaders are those who are hated; the next worst are
feared;
the next are loved and praised;
but the best are those
the people barely know, such that they say,
"We did it ourselves."
When the way is forgotten, the doctrines of humanity and morality
arise.
Knowledge and cleverness lead to hypocrisy.
When family
relationships are not harmonious, filial piety is advocated.
When
a country falls into chaos, loyal patriots are praised.
Lao-zi
suggested abandoning religion and cleverness, humanity and morality,
skill and profit, and recommended instead simplicity, the natural,
controlling selfishness, and reducing desires.
Yielding can preserve
unity; bending can straighten; emptying oneself can be fulfilling;
wearing oneself out leads to renewal; having little is to be content,
while having abundance is troubling.
Because the wise do not compete,
no one can compete with them.
Lao-zi observed that those standing on tiptoe are not steady;
those straining their strides cannot keep up;
those displaying
themselves do not illuminate;
those justifying themselves are
not distinguished;
those making claims are not given credit;
and
those seeking glory are not leaders.
Frivolous and hasty leaders
lose their foundation and self-mastery.
The wise are good at helping
people so that no one is rejected,
and they are good at saving
things so that nothing is wasted.
Thus the good can teach the
bad, who are the lessons for the good.
Those who try to take over the world do not succeed;
tampering
with it spoils it, and seizing it loses it.
Lao-zi opposed conquest
by force of arms, because it rebounds.
When armies march, scarcity
and famine follow.
The skillful achieve their purposes and stop
without relying on violence,
which is contrary to the way.
Whatever
is contrary to the way will soon perish.
Weapons are tools of
destruction hated by the people,
and followers of the way never
use them.
Peaceful leaders favor the creative left; war favors
the destructive right.
When the use of weapons cannot be avoided,
the best policy is calm restraint.
Victory is not glorious, and
those who celebrate it delight in slaughter;
such killing should
be mourned.
Sharp weapons of the state should not be displayed.
Lao-zi taught what many taught before him—that the violent die
a violent death.
This he made primary in his teaching.
Those who know others are wise.
Those who know themselves are enlightened.
Those who overcome others require force.
Those who overcome themselves need strength.
Those who are content are wealthy.
Those who persevere have will power.
Those who do not lose their center endure.
Those who die but maintain their power live eternally.2
Virtue does not emphasize its power, and thus is powerful.
The inferior never forget their power, and thus are powerless.
The best virtue does not interfere nor have an ulterior motive.
Lesser virtue interferes with an ulterior motive.
Humanity takes
action without an ulterior motive,
while morality takes action
with an ulterior motive.
Rules of propriety take action, and finding
no response, force it on them.
Thus when the way is lost, things
degenerate from virtue to humanity to morality
to the rules of
propriety, which is the superficial expression of loyalty and
faithfulness
and the beginning of disorder.
By attaining oneness
heaven becomes clear, earth stable, spirits divine,
valleys fertile,
creatures alive and growing, and kings leaders.
When people live in accord with the way, horses work on farms;
but when they do not, the cavalry practices in the parks.
The
greatest temptation to crime is desire; the greatest curse is
discontent;
the greatest calamity is greed.
The wise have no fixed
mind-set but regard the people's minds as their own.
They are
good to the good and bad, honest to the honest and dishonest,
living peacefully and harmoniously sharing a common heart
and
treating the people as their own children.
The mystical virtue
nourishes, cares for, develops, shelters, comforts, nurtures,
and protects, producing without possessing, helping without obligating,
and guiding without controlling.
When the fields are full of weeds
and the granaries are empty,
while some wear fancy clothes, carry
sharp swords, over-indulge in food and drink,
having more possessions
than they can use,
the leaders are robbers; this is not the way.
States are governed by justice, and wars are waged by violations.
Yet the world can be mastered by non-intervention.
The more restrictions there are, the poorer the people.
The more sharp weapons, the more trouble in the state.
The more clever cunning, the more contrivances.
The more rules and regulations, the more thieves and robbers.
Therefore the wise say, "Do not interfere,
and people transform themselves.
Love peace, and people do what is right.
Do not intervene, and people prosper.
Have no desires, and people live simply."3
When government is relaxed, people are happy; but when it is
strict, they are anxious.
When those responsible for justice become
unjust, what seems good becomes evil.
Lao-zi recommended frugality
to be prepared from the start
and in order to build up inner power.
Those with maternal leadership can long endure.
Governing a large
country is like cooking a small fish;
one must be careful not
to overdo it.
As the female overcomes the male with tranquillity,
a country can win over a small or large country by placing itself
below.
The difficult can be handled while it is still easy.
Great
accomplishments begin with what is small.
The wise always confront
difficulties before they get too large.
Handle them before they
appear.
Organize before there is confusion.
Be as careful at the
end as at the beginning, and there will be no failure.
The wise in watching over people speak humbly from below them
and in leading them get behind them.
Thus they do not oppress
them nor block them,
but everyone happily goes along without getting
tired.
From Lao-zi's three treasures of love, frugality, and not
pushing oneself ahead of others
come courage, generosity, and
leadership.
Love wins all battles and is the strongest defense,
heaven giving it to save and protect.
The best soldier is nonviolent;
the best fighter is not angry;
the best employer is humble.
Strategy
says not to be the aggressor but the defender; instead of advancing,
retreat.
This paradoxically is movement without moving, stretching
the arm without showing it,
confronting enemies with the idea
there is no enemy,
while holding in the hand no weapons.
No disaster
is worse than underestimating the enemy;
but when the battle is
joined, the kind will win.
Those brave in killing will be killed,
while those brave in not killing will live.
The way of heaven
does not strive; yet it wins easily.
Like Confucius, Lao-zi
found that the best knowledge is
to know that you do not know,
and like Socrates
he found
that thinking you know when you do not is a disease.
By recognizing
this disease, the wise are free of it.
Since people are not afraid
to die, why threaten them with it?
Those who try to do the work
of the Lord of Death by executing
rarely escape injuring their
own hands.
Only those who do not interfere with living are best
at valuing life.
The way of heaven takes from those who have too
much
and gives to those who do not have enough,
but the human
way is just the opposite.
Only the person of the way has enough
to give to the world.
The wise do not hoard; but the more they
give, the more they have.
Those who bear the humiliation of the
people can minister to them,
and those who take on the sins of
the society can lead the world.
Lao-zi envisioned a simple society
in which food is tasty, clothes are beautiful,
home is comfortable,
and customs are delightful
so that people feel no need to travel.
The way of heaven sharpens but does not harm and accomplishes
without striving.
Confucius died in 479 BC,
and about ten years later
Mo-zi was born in the same state of
Lu;
he probably died about twenty years before Mencius was born
in 371 BC.
According to the Huainan-zi in the second century
BC,
Mo-zi had the same kind of traditional education in the six
classics as Confucius
but
was critical of some Confucian ideas such as elaborate funerals
and therefore rejected Zhou traditions in favor of the older Xia.
Judging by the wagon-load of books Mo-zi took with him
when he
went to Wei as an envoy, he was quite a scholar.
Since the purpose
of his learning was to practice justice and teach others to do
so also,
Mo-zi became a minister in the state of Song and also
traveled to different states
to advise rulers on how they could
apply his teachings.
The Huainan-zi stated that Mo-zi never
stayed anywhere long enough
to make the seat warm.
It goes on
to say that for sages no mountains are too high and no rivers
too wide;
they bear shame and humiliation to advise rulers, not
for wealth or position
but merely to benefit the world and eliminate
human catastrophes.
Mo-zi was such a man.
Mo-zi sent his writing to King Hui (ruled Chu 488-432 BC),
who called it an excellent work but felt he was too old to receive
him.
Mu Ho, who was assigned to receive him, asked Mo-zi why his
great Lord
should employ the ideas of a humble man.
Mo-zi explained
that even the emperor
takes the roots of herbs if their medicine
is applicable.
Once when asked by a rustic in Lu why Mo-zi used so much verbosity,
since justice was just a word, he explained that justice has the
power
to serve people and produce wealth.
Mo-zi thought of being
a farmer to feed people or a weaver to clothe people
or a soldier
to defend people;
but he decided that if he could persuade rulers
to adopt his principles of justice,
then states would be orderly,
and the benefit would be greater than by plowing or weaving.
A
friend said he was foolish for persisting in the struggle for
justice,
since he was almost alone.
Mo-zi replied that like the
farmer who had only one son out of ten actually working,
his efforts
should be encouraged even more.
Gong Shu-zi invented grappling hooks and rams for Chu and asked
Mo-zi
if he had any device as good in his justice.
Mo-zi said
that he pulled with love and pushed with respect,
because without
love there is no intimacy and without respect there is rapid desecration,
which without intimacy leads to separation.
Thus mutual love and
respect bring mutual benefit,
but to pull in order to stop retreat
and to push to stop an advance
is nothing but mutual injury.
Mo-zi already had three hundred disciples when Gong Shu Ban
of Chu completed
his preparations for attacking Song.
Hearing
of it, Mo-zi walked ten days and nights from Qi,
having to tear
off pieces of clothing to wrap up his feet.
He saw Gong Shu Ban
in the Chu capital at Ying,
telling him that someone had humiliated
him;
Mo-zi wanted him to murder the man for him and offered him
a reward.
Gong Shu-zi declared that his principles were against
murdering people.
So Mo-zi bowed and asked him why he was preparing
to attack Song.
The state of Chu is large and has plenty,
while
innocent Song is small in territory with few people.
It does not
seem wise to destroy what is scarce in order to
strive for what
is already plentiful.
Nor does a principle that allows the killing
of many but not a few seem consistent.
Gong Shu Ban was convinced
by these arguments
but said that he could not stop it, because
he had promised his Lord.
So Mo-zi saw the Lord and used similar analogies about a man
who has much taking from those with little;
for Chu to attack
Song would be violating justice for no advantage.
The Lord turned
to Gong Shu Ban, who had already constructed the scaling ladders.
So Mo-zi untied his belt, laid out a city on the floor,
and defended
it nine times against nine different machines using his stick
as a weapon.
Mo-zi knew that he could be put down if he were murdered;
but he warned them that his three hundred disciples
were already
armed with implements of defense on the walls of Song.
Thus the
Lord of Chu decided not to attack Song after all.
Several of Mo-zi's
writings are on the subjects of fortifications and defense
against
attacks from an elevation, with ladders, a sally, tunneling, and
an ant-rush.
On his way back home through Song, Mo-zi was refused
shelter from the rain
by a guard at a mountain pass, but he took
it philosophically,
saying that a man who cultivates himself spiritually
is not recognized by the multitude.
Gong Shang Guo, after talking with Mo-zi, recommended him to
the Lord of Yueh,
who sent fifty wagons to Lu to induce Mo-zi
to come and instruct him,
promising also a large piece of land
in the former state of Wu.
Yet Mo-zi only asked for the food and
clothing necessary for his body;
but if the Lord of Yueh was not
going to listen to his words,
he did not need to go outside of
the empire to sell his justice.
When Lu's master of sacrifice
offered one pig and asked for a hundred blessings,
Mo-zi said
that to give little but expect much from others
would make them
afraid of gifts.
When the Lord of Lu was afraid that Qi was going to attack
him,
he asked Mo-zi if there was any remedy.
Mo-zi suggested that
he revere heaven and the spirits above while loving
and benefiting
the people below; he should humble his speech,
befriend the neighboring
lords, and lead his state in serving Qi.
Mo-zi also advised the
general of Qi that to attack Lu was wrong,
and he gave examples
from history how large states had attacked small states
and been
defeated by the vengeance of the feudal lords.
He asked the Grand
Lord of Qi who would be cursed for capturing a state,
ruining
an army, and destroying the people,
and after deliberation the
Lord realized that it would be himself.
In Wei as an envoy Mo-zi cautioned Gong Liang Huan-zi that
a small state like Wei
between Qi and Jin is like a poor family
in the midst of rich families;
the poor family that imitates the
rich in extravagance will be ruined.
If the money spent on luxuries
was devoted to self-defense in this emergency,
the state would
be more secure.
Sima Qian's Historical Records mention
that Mo-zi was imprisoned in Song
on the advice of Zi Han, who
in 404 BC murdered Duke Zhao of Song.
The historian also credited
Mo-zi with being skilled at defense and practicing frugality.
Mo-zi had recommended Cao Gong-zi to the state of Song,
and
after three years he returned complaining of the frugal food and
clothing
in Mo-zi's school; now several members of his family
have died,
six animals have not bred, and he himself has suffered
ailments.
Mo-zi replied that he was not fair, because the man
did not give up his position
to the virtuous, did not share his
wealth with the poor,
and then merely served the spirits by sacrificing
to them.
This was like shutting one of a hundred gates
and then
wondering how the thieves entered.
In 393 BC Prince Wen of Lu Yang was planning to attack Zheng.
Mo-zi went to stop him and asked him what he would do if his large
cities
attacked his small cities, killing the people and taking
their goods.
Prince Wen replied that he would punish them severely,
to which Mo-zi asked whether heaven would punish him if he attacked
Zheng.
Prince Wen, however, felt that it was the will of heaven,
because they had murdered their lords for three generations
and
had already suffered three hard years of heaven's punishment.
Mo-zi posed the case of a father, who was punishing his son
when
the neighbor's father struck his son, saying it is in accord with
the father's will.
If a lord attacks neighboring states, kills
their people, takes away their goods,
and then writes down how
powerful he is,
is that any better than a common man who does
the same thing to his neighbors?
Prince Wen then realized that
what the world takes for granted may not be right after all.
Mo-zi
said that gentlemen of the world know only trifles, not what is
important.
If a man steals a pig, they call him wrong;
but if
a state is stolen, they call it just.
Finally Prince Wen referred
to the barbarians who practice cannibalism;
but Mo-zi complained
that in the civilized world,
instead of killing the father to
reward the son,
they kill the sons (in war) to reward the fathers.
Mo-zi had a school and recommended several of his disciples
for political positions in Chu, Wei, and Song.
He sent Sheng Zhuo
to serve Xiang-zi Niu, who invaded Lu
three times accompanied
by Sheng Zhuo.
So Mo-zi sent Gao Sun-zi to call him back, saying
that he sent Zhuo there
to cure pride and regulate insolence;
but Zhuo was drawing a large salary and flattering his master.
For Mo-zi, to preach justice and not do it is an intentional wrong.
He thought Zhuo knew better, but his justice had been overcome
by the emolument.
Mo-zi praised his disciple Gao Shi-zi for leaving the Lord
of Wei
after his counsels were ignored three times,
because when
the way is not being observed in the world,
a superior person
does not stay in a position of plenty.
However, when Gao-zi said
that he could administer a country,
Mo-zi replied that to govern
is to carry out what one teaches.
As the students of Mo-zi already
knew, Gao-zi did not behave according to what he taught,
which
means he himself was in revolt.
Being unable to govern himself,
how could he govern a country?
In addition to strategies of defense Mo-zi wrote several treatises
to explain his philosophy.
In an essay on "Universal Love"
he began with the basic principle
that the humane try to promote
what is beneficial to the world
and eliminate what is harmful.
The greatest harm of his time he believed to be great states attacking
small ones,
the strong oppressing the weak, the many bothering
the few,
the cunning deceiving the stupid, and the eminent lording
it over the humble;
mean people seek to injure others with weapons.
These are not caused by people trying to love and benefit each
other
but by trying to injure.
This injuring comes about, because
people are not motivated
by universal love but by partiality,
which is therefore wrong.
Mo-zi felt that one should not criticize others without having
an alternative to offer them.
He suggested universal love instead
of partiality.
How can this be done?
If people were to regard
other states as they regard their own,
they would not attack one
another; for it would be like attacking one's own state.
Now if we seek to benefit the world by taking universality as our standard,
those with sturdy limbs will work for others,
and those with a knowledge of the Way will endeavor to teach others.
Those who are old and without wives or children
will find means of support and be able to live out their days;
the young and orphaned who have no parents
will find someone to care for them and look after their needs.4
The universal person regards one's friend the same as oneself
and the father of one's friend as one's father.
Only the person
who does this can be considered a truly superior person.
Such
a person will feed people when they are hungry, clothe them when
they are cold,
nourish them when they are sick, and bury them
when they die.
The selfish person will not.
To which type of person
will one trust the support of one's parents?
To the universal
person or the selfish one?
Even if one does not believe in universal
love,
that person would trust his or her family to the universal
person.
Thus people criticize universal love in words but adopt
it in practice.
Also if people had to choose between these two
types of rulers,
which would they follow?
If we want other people to love and benefit our parents,
then
we must make it a point first to love and benefit others' parents.
Thus Mo-zi showed how universal love and mutual benefit can be
profitable and easy,
but the only trouble is that no ruler delights
in them.
If rulers did adopt them, Mo-zi predicted that the people
would turn to universal love
and mutual benefit as naturally as
fire turns upward and water flows downward.
This is the way of
the ancient sage kings to bring about safety for the rulers and
officials
and to assure ample food and clothing for the people.
If this is put into practice, rulers will be generous, subjects
loyal, fathers kind,
sons filial, older brothers friendly, and
younger brothers respectful.
In his "Honoring the Worthy" Mo-zi acknowledged that
rulers and officials
all want their states to be wealthy, their
populations numerous,
and their administrations well ordered,
but he found that they are poor, few, and chaotic.
Mo-zi recommended
that those governing honor the worthy and employ the capable
so
that government will be more effective and the people prosperous.
Also those without ability must be demoted
in order to do away
with private likes and dislikes.
Mo-zi taught that when the wise
rule, there will be order;
but when the stupid rule over the wise,
there will be chaos.
Thus the ancient sage kings honored the worthy
and employed the capable
without showing any special consideration
for their own kin,
no partiality for the eminent and rich, and
no favoritism for the good-looking.
Thus the people were encouraged
by these rewards to become more capable,
and the sage kings listened
to the worthy, watched their actions,
observed their abilities,
and assigned them to the proper office.
To accomplish this three principles must be followed:
first,
the positions of the worthy must be exalted enough so that the
people will respect them;
second, the salaries must be generous
so that people will have confidence in them;
and third, their
orders must be enforced so that people will be in awe of them.
According to Mo-zi in the ancient times worthy men who accomplished
anything
gave the credit to the ruler, while all grudges and complaints
were directed
against subordinates so that the ruler always had
peace and joy,
while the ministers handled the cares and sorrows.
The ruler, however, must be willing to delegate responsibility
and pay out stipends.
The unworthy steal and plunder in government
and, if assigned a city,
betray their trust or rebel.
They do
not know to employ the capable but instead
hire their relatives
and those who happen to be eminent or attractive.
In "Identifying with One's Superior" Mo-zi speculated
that at first people lived in chaos,
because each person had their
own views; this resulted in conflict.
Eventually people chose
the most capable as leaders so that government
could be unified
and under intelligent direction.
The son of heaven (emperor) then
appointed high ministers,
who helped regulate the feudal lords
and chiefs,
who in turn chose the worthy and able to act as officials.
Then the son of heaven proclaimed the principle that anyone hearing
of good or evil
must report it to one's superior.
The judgments
of the superior are to be respected;
but if a superior commits
a fault, the subordinates are to remonstrate.
Those who do good
are to be rewarded and those who do evil punished,
and the greatest
care must be taken that these are just.
However, Mo-zi also believed that the people should not only
identify with the son of heaven but with heaven itself,
or else
there will be no end to calamities, which are punishments from
heaven.
Someone asked Mo-zi why then was there such disorder in
the empire.
Mo-zi used the example of the barbarian Miao to explain
that punishments
must be applied with instruction and admonition
or else they become mere tortures.
Originally government intended
to benefit people and eliminate adversity,
to help the poor, increase
the few, bring safety where there was danger,
and restore order
where there was confusion.
At the present, however, administration
is carried on by court flattery,
and fathers and brothers and
other relatives and friends
are appointed rulers of the people.
Since people realize that they have not been appointed for the
welfare of the people,
they do not respect them nor identify with
them.
Thus the purposes of government are not unified;
rewards
do not encourage people to do good;
and punishments do not restrain
them from doing evil.
The ancient sage kings had many to help them see and hear,
because they could trust their staff in administering.
Virtuous
people, even far away, were found and rewarded,
while the wicked
were also punished;
thieves and robbers could not find refuge
anywhere.
Mo-zi believed that whoever asks the people to identify
with their superiors
must love them dearly, or else they will
not trust the ruler and obey orders.
People can be led with the
rewards of wealth and honor ahead of them
and pushed from behind
with just punishments.
Mo-zi wrote most vehemently against offensive warfare.
Everyone
condemns stealing and violence against others on an individual
level.
Yet when it comes to the greater injustice of offensive
warfare against other states,
gentlemen do not know enough to
condemn it;
instead they praise it and call it just.
To kill one
person is a capital crime; but when states kill hundreds,
they
praise it and write down the record for posterity.
Mo-zi complained
that the feudal lords of his day continued to attack and annex
their neighboring states, claiming they were honoring justice.
The ancient sage kings strove to unite the world in harmony
to bring people together.
Contemporary rulers examine the relative
merits of their soldiers and weapons
and then set off to attack
some innocent state, where they cut down the crops,
fell trees,
raze walls, fill in moats and ponds, slaughter animals, burn temples,
and massacre the people, carrying away their treasures.
The soldiers
are urged on with the idea that to die is the highest honor,
and
the penalty for running away is death.
Does this benefit heaven?
It is attacking the people of heaven.
Does this benefit humans?
Mo-zi ironically wrote, "But murdering men is a paltry way
to benefit them indeed,
and when we calculate the expenditures
for such warfare we find that they have
crippled the basis of
the nation's livelihood and exhausted
the resources of the people
to an incalculable degree."5
Mo-zi recounted how many hundreds of officials and how many
thousands of soldiers
were required for these expeditions that
might last several years.
Meanwhile officials must neglect government,
farmers their crops, and women their weaving.
If one-fifth of
the supplies and weapons are salvaged afterwards, it is considered
fortunate.
Countless men will desert or die of starvation, cold,
and sickness.
He asked if it is not perverse that rulers and officials
delight
in the injury and extermination of the people of the world.
Usually it is the larger states like Qi, Jin, Chu, and Yue that
attack the smaller ones,
which is like destroying what one does
not have enough of
for the sake of what one already has in excess.
In this way many states have been made extinct,
while hardly more
than these four powerful states remain.
The world has become as
weary as a little boy who has spent the day playing horse.
Mo-zi wished there were someone, who would conduct diplomacy
in good faith
and think first of how to benefit others, who would
feel concerned with others
when a large state commits an unjust
act,
who when a large state attacked a small one would with others
help rescue the small state,
who would help small states repair
their defenses and get supplies of cloth and grain
and funds;
then the smaller states would be pleased.
If others struggle while
one is at ease, and if one is merciful and generous,
the people
will be won over.
If one substitutes good government for offensive
warfare and spends less on the army,
one will gain rich benefits.
If one acts according to justice and sets an example for others,
then one will have no enemies and bring incalculable benefit to
the world.
Mo-zi also recommended moderation in expenditures by avoiding
beginning enterprises,
employing people, or spending wealth on
anything that is not necessary,
such as elaborate funerals and
courtly musical and cultural extravaganzas.
A strict utilitarian,
Mo-zi considered only
the pragmatic value of activities and expenditures,
complaining that
luxurious music and arts for the court drain
the wealth and abilities of the people.
Mo-zi believed that heaven knows of the crimes people commit.
Heaven loves justice and hates injustice.
If we lead the people
to devote themselves to justice,
then we are doing what heaven
wants.
How does one know heaven wants justice?
In the world where
there is justice there is life, wealth, and order,
and where there
is no justice there is death, poverty, and disorder.
Since heaven
desires life, wealth, and order, it follows that it desires justice.
Whoever obeys the will of heaven by loving all people universally
and working for their benefit will be rewarded.
Those who disobey
the will of heaven by showing partiality and hatred
and in injuring
others will surely incur punishment.
The former regard justice
as right, but the latter believe force is right.
Heaven desires that those who have strength work for others,
those with wealth share with others, those above attend diligently
to government,
and those below diligently carry out their tasks
so that the state will be well ordered.
When the state avoids
armed clashes on its borders,
when it devotes its efforts to feeding
the hungry, giving rest to the weary,
and taking care of its subjects,
then human relations will be good.
Mo-zi believed that heaven
loves the world universally
and seeks mutual benefit for all creatures.
There is not even the tip of a hair that is not the work of heaven.
For Mo-zi the will of heaven was like the compass to the wheelwright
or a square to a carpenter; it is the standard to measure government
as well as words and actions.
The sage kings devoted themselves
to universality and shunned partiality,
but the feudal lords regard
might as right.
Mo-zi also believed in spiritual beings and the spirits of
the ancestors.
As evidence he cited that countless people in the
world have seen or heard such beings.
He was critical of those
who believed in fate, because he felt they lacked benevolence.
Mo-zi had three tests to judge the validity of any theory.
First,
what is the origin of the theory and how does it compare to the
ancient sage kings?
Second, how does it compare to the evidence
of people's eyes and ears?
Third, when it is put into practice,
does it bring benefit to people?
On the first, the sage kings
never declared that good fortune
cannot be sought nor bad fortune
avoided nor that being reverent will not help you
nor doing evil
not harm you.
Fatalism would overthrow justice in the world and
replace it with fate.
However, when the just are in authority,
the world will be better.
Thus the ancient sage kings provided
for rewards and punishments
in order to encourage good and prevent
evil.
Secondly then, people are loving to their parents and friendly
to their neighbors,
because they know from their own experience
that their actions can affect their destinies.
Thirdly, if fatalism
was accepted, those above would not attend to the affairs of state
and those below would not pursue their tasks, resulting in disorder
and poverty.
Mo-zi's three tests of validity can be considered
an examination
of the past, present, and future.
The basis of a doctrine is found
in the past history of the early kings;
it can be verified by
present-day experience;
and the pragmatic test applies the theory
to see how it works.
Mo-zi also wrote against his rival school of the Confucians,
but many of his arguments seem to be exaggerated and unfair
to
actual Confucian philosophy and practices.
Mo-zi accused them
of considering heaven unintelligent and spirits inanimate.
He
railed against their elaborate funerals with weeping lasting three
years,
and he felt their music, singing, and dancing were ruining
the empire.
Mo-zi criticized Confucians for supporting wars and
having enemies
and accused several individuals of participating
in revolts.
Mo-zi also accused the Confucians of fatalism.
When
a Confucian disciple complained that
his accusations were false
and too extreme, Mo-zi denied it.
However, the truth was surely
clear to intelligent people,
and this bitter rivalry on Mo-zi's
part may have been
one of the main factors in discrediting the
credibility of his own school.
For about two centuries the school of Mo was the main rival
of the Confucians.
According to Han Fei-zi (d. 233 BC),
after
Mo-zi's death his school split into three branches,
which could
explain why most of his treatises were preserved in three versions.
Zhuang-zi explained that these schools quibbled over logical questions
and called each other heretics,
but they all respected the writings
of Mo-zi and the "Elder Master."
The first Elder Master named Fu Dun in the state of Qin refused
to suspend
the capital punishment of his son for murder because
of his devotion to justice.
Meng Sheng, the second Elder Master,
was given land by the prince of Yang Cheng.
When the king of Jing
died, the ministers rose against Wu Qi,
and the prince of Yang
Cheng had to flee.
The state of Jing demanded Meng Sheng's land,
but he had promised not to give it up
without the matching tally
(representing the contract).
Meng Sheng chose death as the only
honorable solution.
His disciple Xu Ro tried to talk him out of
it,
but failing cut off his own head to prepare the way for his
master.
After he passed the Elder Mastership on to Tian Xiang-zi
of Song,
Meng Sheng and also 183 of his followers committed suicide.
These accounts are from essays on the Spring and Autumn of
Lu,
but a contradiction arises when we discover that the scholar
Sun Yi Rang
listed these three Elder Masters and Meng Sheng's
disciple Xu Ro
as the fourth Elder Master.
The author of the essays
also listed several followers of Mo
who had been convicted criminals.
Xun-zi recorded how a follower of Mo-zi named Song-zi explained
how
realizing that to be insulted is not a dishonor can prevent
struggles.
People fight because they feel they are dishonored
by an insult.
When they discover that it is not a dishonor to
be insulted, they will struggle no more.
Yet in the Period
of Warring States Moism had to face the criticism of realists
like Guan-zi,
who warned that
if agitation for disarmament triumphed,
strategic points would
no longer be guarded;
and if the doctrine of universal love prevailed,
soldiers would no longer fight.
Moism was also criticized for
its frugality in regard to funerals and music by Mencius,
who
also complained that love without difference of degree was unrealistic
when the manifestation of love must begin with our parents.
Xun-zi also criticized Mo-zi for worrying unnecessarily about
insufficiency
and accused him of causing poverty in the empire
by condemning music
and economizing too much on expenditures.
He felt Mo-zi's recommendations of coarse clothing and poor food
undiluted by amusement were too stringent and caused anxiety.
Although Zhuang-zi considered Mo-zi "one of the greatest
souls in the world,"
he likewise criticized him for being
too strict in economizing on funerals and music.
Mo-zi himself
and some of his followers might be able to follow this extreme
asceticism,
but it made most people uncomfortable and unhappy
and thus was difficult to practice.
Zhuang-zi felt that people
will express joy in singing and grief in wailing,
and so he questioned
whether condemning these expressions
was in accordance with human
nature.
Both Confucianism and Moism were persecuted by the Qin
empire,
but according to the Huainan-zi both teachings
were revived and systematized.
However, Moism soon passed out
of fashion and was neglected by Chinese culture,
though fortunately
his writings were passed on by scholars,
and his philosophy could
be studied.
Zhuang-zi lived in the state of Song through most of the fourth
century BC,
probably dying shortly after 300 BC.
According to
the historian Sima Qian he preferred to please himself and turned
down
an offer to be prime minister of Chu from King Wei,
who ruled
from 339 to 329 BC.
Zhuang-zi wrote that he would rather drag
his tail in the mud like a living turtle
than be sacrificed like
a sacred tortoise in the Great Temple.
The book of a hundred thousand
characters named after him was probably added to
by later disciples
in his imaginative and mystical style.
Though he did not call
himself a Daoist,
Zhuang-zi respected Lao-zi more than any other
philosopher,
and the way and its power or virtue is certainly
central in his philosophy.
In the first and last chapters the Zhuang-zi refers
to Song Keng,
a philosopher Mencius
met going to Chu to try to persuade the king not to fight with
Qin
using the argument that war is unprofitable, an idea Mencius
criticized.
Xun-zi described Song Keng as teaching that human
desires are little,
although everyone supposes their own passions
are great.
Xun-zi believed that Song Keng could not see that desires
are many and felt
he did not know the value of virtue.
Xun-zi
credited Song Keng for showing clearly that it is no disgrace
to receive an insult
and that when people realize this, they will
not fight.
According to Xun-zi, Song Keng worked to check aggression
and proposed disarmament,
and so he considered him a Moist;
he
felt Song did too much for others and not enough for himself.
Zhuang-zi likewise considered the checking of aggression and disarmament
proposals
were the external achievement, while desiring few things
was the inner cultivation of Song Keng and Yin Wen.
The legalist
Han Fei-zi wrote that Song Keng preached not fighting, not making
enemies,
not feeling shame for being in prison nor disgrace for
being insulted,
and he was honored by the rulers of the world
for being liberal-minded.
In the first chapter "Free and Easy Wandering" Zhuang-zi
wrote that Song Keng
would burst out laughing at a man who had
enough wisdom to fill one office,
good conduct to impress one
community, virtue to please one ruler,
and talent enough to serve
one state.
Such was Song Keng's equanimity that he would not exert
himself if the whole world
praised him nor would he mope if the
whole world condemned him,
for he drew a clear line between the
internal and external,
recognizing the boundaries of true glory
and disgrace.
In the last chapter the Zhuang-zi discusses
philosophers and says that
Song Keng and Yin Wen designed caps
flat like Mount Hua to symbolize equality and peace.
They preached
liberality of mind to bring people together in harmony and assure
concord.
They walked everywhere to persuade those above them and
teach those below them
to end human strife, outlaw aggression,
and abolish the use of arms in order to
rescue the world from
warfare.
Asking for only five pints of rice, Zhuang-zi was afraid
these teachers did not get their fill.
Even though their disciples
were hungry, they never forgot the rest of the world,
being determined
that everyone should live; even though the world refused to listen,
they never stopped asking to be seen, working for the external
goal of outlawing
aggression and weapons and for the internal
goal of lessening desires.
Zhuang-zi also described how Shen Dao and others heard of the
views of the ancients
and discarded knowledge and any distinction
between right and wrong,
but he decided that this was not the
true way.
He observed that the logician Hui Shih could not seem
to find any peace for himself
but went on separating and analyzing
everything without achieving anything.
Zhuang-zi liked the views
of Lao-zi best—knowing the male but clinging to the female
and
becoming the valley of the world.
In the end the Zhuang-zi
refers to the writings of Zhuang Zhou as a string of queer beads
and baubles with outlandish terms and bombastic language but which
do not look
at things from one angle only or with partisanship;
yet they do no one any harm.
A delightful and enigmatic writer, it is difficult to discuss
the ethics of Zhuang-zi,
because he chose to transcend mundane
activities in a quietistic and reclusive life.
In his chapter
on the equality of all things, he wrote,
Great understanding is broad and generous;
petty understanding is contentious.
Great speech is clear and simple;
petty speech is quarrelsome.
In sleep when the human spirit goes visiting,
or awake when the body is free to move and act,
in all their contacts and associations some minds are relaxed,
some are deep, and some are serious.
We scheme and fight with our minds.
We worry over small fears and are overwhelmed by great fears.
The mind shoots forth like an arrow to be the arbiter of right and wrong.
It clings to its position like a solemn pledge.6
Zhuang-zi pitied humans fixed in their bodily forms, pathetically
clashing with things,
laboring to the end of their days and never
knowing where to look for rest.
"Are humans not muddled?"
he asked.
When the way relies on little accomplishments and vain
show, then we have the
rights and wrongs of the Confucians and
the Moists,
but they call each others' rights wrongs; the best
thing is clarity.
There is always a this and a that, but the wise
see that
they both have right and wrong in them.
The consciousness
which no longer finds their opposites
is the hinge of the way,
seeing both the right and wrong as a single infinity.
A road is made by people walking on it; things are so, because
they are called so.
Only the person of far-reaching vision is
able to make them into one.
The wise harmonize both right and
wrong and rest in heaven the equalizer.
Zhuang-zi called this
walking two roads.
The one who can understand discriminations
that are not spoken and the way
that is not a way may be called
the reservoir of heaven,
which poured into is never full and dipped
from never runs dry;
yet one does not know the source of its supply.
This Zhuang-zi called the hidden Light.
When Yao sat on his throne
and found his mind nagging him to attack other rulers,
Shun replied
that long ago ten thousand suns came out all at once and illuminated
all things,
and yet virtue is greater than those suns!
Zhuang-zi asked how one knows that loving life is not a delusion
or hating death is
not like a person who has left home and forgotten
the way back.
Suppose two people have an argument.
Is the one
who beats the other necessarily right and the other necessarily
wrong?
If the two cannot agree, should they get someone else to
decide what is right?
But they can only get someone who agrees
with one or the other or none or both;
so how can anyone else
decide for them?
Rather Zhuang-zi suggested that we harmonize
them with the heavenly equality,
leave them to their endless changes,
and so live out our years.
Leap into the boundless and make it
your home!
Zhuang-zi dreamed he was a butterfly;
but when he awoke,
he thought he might be a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuang Zhou.
This he called the transformation of things.
Zhuang-zi often satirized a caricature of Confucius
for trying
to teach virtue, goodness, and justice.
He observed that when
the world has the way, the wise succeed;
but when the world does
not have the way, the wise survive;
in times like the present
he found they did well to escape penalty.
He suggested leaving
off this teaching of virtue.
Everyone knows the value of the useful,
but no one knows the value of the useless.
Many people excuse
their faults and claim they do not deserve to be punished,
but
few admit their faults.
Only a person of virtue knows what one
cannot do anything about and is content with it.
Zhuang-zi suggested
that one not allow likes or dislikes to get in and do harm.
Just
let things be the way they are and don't try to help life along.
We go around telling each other, I do this or that;
but how do
we know that this I really exists?
When we dream we are something
else, how do we know
whether we are awake or dreaming?
Running
around accusing others is not as good as laughing,
which is not
as good as going along with things.
By forgetting about change,
one can enter the mysterious oneness of heaven.
Zhuang-zi suggested that we not embody fame or store up schemes
or undertake projects or sell wisdom but rather embody to the
fullest
what has no end and wander where there is no trail.
Hold
on to what you receive from heaven, but don't think you have got
anything.
Be empty and use the mind like a mirror.
Go after nothing;
respond but do not store.
Thus one can win out over things and
not hurt oneself.
Zhuang-zi lamented that the way and its virtue have been cast
aside
in the call for goodness and justice.
If the inborn nature
had not been abandoned there would be no need for rites and music.
He blamed the sages for destroying the way and its virtue
in order
to create goodness and justice.
What the ordinary world calls
perfect wisdom he described as piling things up
for the benefit
of a great thief.
He pointed out that several famous persuaders
were destroyed or forced to commit suicide
by their rulers, who
also came to violent deaths as the result of their wickedness.
He observed that whoever steals a belt buckle pays with his life,
but whoever steals a state gets to be a feudal lord;
yet everyone
knows that goodness and justice are found at the gates of the
feudal lords.
Everyone knows enough to search for what they don't
know,
but no one knows enough to search for what they already
know.
Everyone knows enough to condemn what they take to be no
good,
but no one knows enough to condemn what they have already
taken to be good.
Zhuang-zi suggested that by resting in inaction things will
transform themselves.
Forget you are a thing and join in great
unity with the deep and boundless.
Undo the mind, slough off spirit,
be blank and soulless,
and everything will return to the root
and not know why.
But if you try to know it, you have already
departed from it.
Do not ask its name or try to observe its form.
Let things live naturally of themselves.
A great one teaches like
a shadow that follows form, an echo that follows sound,
only answering
when questioned and pouring out thoughts like a companion of the
world.
Such a one blended with the great unity is selfless.
The
"gentleman" of ancient times fixed his eyes on possession,
but the one who fixes on nothingness is the true friend of heaven
and earth.
The sage is not still because of taking stillness as good,
but because the myriad of things are insufficient to distract
the sage's mind.
The mind of the sage in stillness is the mirror
of heaven and earth.
Some of the later writings of the Zhuang-zi
have goodness, justice, loyalty, music,
and rites coming out of
the way and its virtue.
But if all the emphasis is placed on the
rites and music,
then the world falls into disorder.
In the ancient
times people did not use knowledge to trouble the world
but kept
to their inborn nature.
Instead of trying to rectify others, they
rectified themselves
and in complete joy found the fulfillment
of ambition.
In the "Autumn Floods" the god of the north sea explains
to the lord of the river
that right and wrong are points of view
based on preference.
Everything can have some right to it, and
anything can have something wrong with it.
If you try to make
right your master and do away with wrong
or make order your master
and do away with disorder,
you have not understood the principle
of heaven and earth or the nature of things.
It would be like
making heaven your master and doing away with earth
or making yin (feminine) your master and doing away with yang
(masculine).
Obviously this is impossible.
Zhuang-zi questioned whether perfect happiness is found in
what the world honors:
wealth, eminence, long life, and a good
name or in what the world enjoys:
a life of ease, rich food, fine
clothes, beautiful sights, and sweet sounds.
Yet people who cannot
get these things fret a great deal,
which is a stupid way to treat
the body, while others wear themselves out
rushing around on business
to pile up more wealth than they can ever use,
which is a superficial
way to treat the body.
Ambitious people scheme day and night wondering
if they are doing right,
which is a shoddy way to treat the body,
while others spend their lives worrying,
which is a callous way
to treat the body.
Zhuang-zi simply took inaction to be happiness.
After Zhuang-zi's mother died, a friend came and found him
singing and pounding on a tub.
When asked why he was not mourning,
Zhuang-zi explained that at first he grieved;
but then he looked
back at the time before she was born
and before she had a body
or even a spirit, realizing that
now she was merely undergoing
another change.
Zhuang-zi once slept on a skull using it as a
pillow and dreamed that the dead person
told him the dead are
very happy,
because they have no rulers above nor subjects below
and no seasonal chores.
Having more happiness than a king on his
throne
why would he want to come back to the troubles of a human
being?
Once Zhuang-zi went to see the king of Wei who, seeing his
coarse and patched clothes,
thought he was in distress.
Zhuang-zi
explained that he was poor but not in distress.
If a person had
the way and its virtue but could not put them into practice,
that
would be distress.
Zhuang-zi learned from master Geng-sang that
if he wanted to preserve his body and life,
he must think only
of how to hide himself away no matter how remote or secluded the
spot.
Promoting people of worth began with Yao and Shun and led
to people trampling
over each other and stealing from each other.
People have become more diligent in pursuing gain so that sons
kill fathers,
ministers kill their lords, and men filch at mid-day.
Rather one should cling fast to life and keep the body whole,
not falling prey to fidgeting and fussy thoughts and scheming.
If one does not first perceive the sincerity within oneself
before trying to act,
each move will be a mistake.
If outer concerns
enter and are not expelled, each move will only add failure to
failure.
Action has its consequences.
Whoever does what is not
good in clear and open view
will be seized and punished by people.
Whoever does what is not good in the shadow of darkness
will be
seized and punished by spirits.
Only the one who clearly understands
both people and spirits can walk alone.
Whoever concentrates on
the internal and does deeds that bring no fame will have light,
but whoever concentrates on the external hoarding of goods is
a mere merchant.
The inner protects us from the outer; but if
one bets too much in an archery contest,
too much emphasis on
the outer makes the inner clumsy.
Zhuang-zi suggested how to wipe out delusions of the will,
undo the snares of the heart,
rid oneself of the entanglements
to virtue, and open up the roadblocks in the way.
The six delusions
of the will are eminence, wealth, recognition, authority, fame,
and profit.
The six snares of the heart are appearances, carriage,
complexion,
features, temperament, and attitude.
The six entanglements
to virtue are loathing, desire, joy, anger, grief, and happiness.
The six roadblocks in the way are rejecting, accepting, taking,
giving, knowledge, and ability.
When these no longer seethe within,
one may achieve uprightness, stillness, enlightenment,
and the
emptiness, which results in doing nothing;
yet there is nothing
that is not done.
Action which has become artificial is lost.
Action which is done because one cannot do otherwise is virtuous.
If the one who launches into action is not really acting,
then
the action is a launching into inaction.
Whoever wishes to be
still must calm one's energies.
Whoever wishes to be spiritual
must compose one's mind.
Whoever wishes to succeed must go along
with what cannot be avoided.
Yet the wise look at the inevitable and decide that it is not
inevitable,
thus not having recourse to arms.
People usually look
at what is not inevitable and decide that it is inevitable,
thus
having frequent recourse to arms.
Whoever turns to arms is always
seeking something,
and whoever trusts in arms is lost.
Zhuang-zi admired the simpler times, before even the ancient
emperors Yao and Shun,
when the legendary Yellow Emperor ruled.
Once the Yellow Emperor came upon a boy herding horses who advised
him
on ruling the empire by saying that it is not much different
from herding horses—
simply get rid of what is harmful to the
horses; that's all.
Here we find the same universal principle
of not harming that in India is called ahimsa.
Not everyone is suited to the reclusive life.
A prince of Wei
told the Daoist adept Zhan-zi that his body was beside the rivers
and seas,
but his mind was still back at the court of Wei.
Zhan-zi
suggested that he emphasize life more than material gain.
The
prince complained that he knew he should do that,
but it went
against his inclinations.
Zhan-zi recommended that if he could
not overcome his inclinations,
he should follow them; for if he
tried to force himself,
he would do double injury to himself.
Those who do double injury to themselves do not live long.
Zhuang-zi
concluded that although the prince of Wei was not able to follow
the way,
at least he had the will to do so.
The petty person will die for riches; the better person will
die for reputation.
Yet they are both willing to throw away what
is theirs for what is not theirs.
Crooked or straight, it is better
to follow the heaven within.
Right or wrong, it is better to hold
to the center upon which everything turns.
In solitude bring your
will to completion and ramble in the company of the way.
Do not
strive for consistency or try to perfect justice,
or you will
lose what you already have.
Do not race after riches nor risk
your life for success,
or heaven will slip away from you.
In Zhuang-zi an old fisherman teaches Confucius the
eight faults and four evils.
The faults are officiousness (doing
what is not your business)
obsequiousness (rushing forward when
no one has nodded in your direction),
sycophancy (echoing others'
opinions and trying to draw them out),
flattery (speaking without
regard for what is right or wrong),
calumny (delighting in talking
about others' faults),
maliciousness (breaking up friendships
and family relations),
wickedness (praising falsely so as to cause
injury),
and treachery (two-facedly stealing another party's wishes).
The four evils are avidity (altering accepted ways hoping to enhance
your merit and fame),
avarice (insisting you know it all and that
everything be done your way,
snatching things from others for
your own use),
obstinacy (refusing to change recognized errors,
listening to remonstrance
and behaving worse than before),
and
bigotry (commending those who agree with you
and refusing to see
any good in those who do not agree with you).
For this strange fisherman truth means purity and sincerity
in the highest degree
and is received from heaven, while rites
are created by the vulgar people of the world.
The wise pattern
themselves on heaven, value truth,
and do not allow themselves
to be cramped by the vulgar.
Those who do not depart from the
pure and true are heavenly, holy, and perfect.
The wise make heaven
the source, virtue the root, and the way the gate,
revealing oneself
through change and transformation.
This is contrasted to the gentleman,
who makes goodness the standard of kindness,
justice the model
of reason, ritual the guide of conduct, and music the source of
harmony.
The Daoist Lie-zi is mentioned by Zhuang-zi and is therefore
supposed
to have lived in the fifth or fourth centuries BC
in
the state of Cheng for at least forty years as a common person.
Little else is known about him except from the stories in the Zhuang-zi and the Lie-zi,
a book which is supposed
to have been written over several centuries and formalized
with
a commentary in the fourth century CE.
Lie-zi was also a recluse,
who never accepted political appointment,
and his stories are
similar to those of Zhuang-zi.
His reclusive life is indicated in a story of Lie-zi and his
teacher Hu-zi in the Zhuang-zi.
Lie-zi found a shaman,
who could predict the future including when people would die.
Lie-zi thought he had found a higher teaching;
so Hu-zi told him
to bring the shaman to meet him.
The first time he predicted that
Hu-zi would die within the week;
the second time he predicted
he would get better;
the third time the shaman said the master
was never the same
and asked him to steady himself;
but the fourth
time the shaman ran away and could not be found.
This fourth time
Hu-zi had appeared to him not yet emerged from the source.
Lie-zi
realized that he had not yet begun to learn anything.
Lie-zi went
home and cooked for his wife
and did not go out for the last three
years of his life.
In another story from Zhuang-zi the gatekeeper Yin explains
to Lie-zi
how by guarding the pure breath one may rest within
the bounds that know no excess,
hide within the borders that know
no source,
wander where everything has its end and beginning,
unify one's nature,
nourish one's breath, unite one's virtue,
and thereby communicate with what creates all things.
Such a person
guards what belongs to heaven and keeps it whole.
Lie-zi recounted how he asked Old Shang to be his master and
Baigao-zi his friend
while he worked hard to discipline himself.
For three years he was afraid to have notions of right and wrong
and did not dare to speak of benefit and harm.
Five years later
he thought freely of right and wrong and did speak of benefit
and harm.
Then seven years after that, his thoughts came naturally
without conceptions of right and wrong,
and his words were natural
without intending to please or offend.
After another nine years
nothing he said without restraint whatever came to him
without
knowing whether it was right or wrong, pleasing or offending,
his or another's.
By then he did not think of whether Old Shang
was his master or Baigao-zi his friend.
The barrier between the
inner and outer disappeared.
He perceived with all his senses
at once; his mind concentrated, and his body relaxed.
He drifted
like the wind.
Wen-zi, who is supposed to have studied under Lao-zi,
may have
been another of Lie-zi's teachers.
Wen-zi (or Guanyin) told him
that if his words are beautiful or ugly, so also is their echo.
Conduct will follow one like a shadow.
Thus he is advised to be
careful of his words, for someone may agree with them,
and be
careful of his conduct, because someone may imitate it.
The wise
can know what will go in by seeing what came out,
can know what
is coming by observing what has passed.
We judge by our own experience
and verify it by the experience of others.
If someone loves one,
one will surely love that person;
but if someone hates one, one
will surely hate that person.
The greatest emperors loved the
empire, and the worst hated the empire.
Lie-zi also wrote about Yang Zhu, who lived around 400 BC and
was criticized
by Mencius for having such a selfish philosophy
that he would not give up
one hair off his body to save the empire.
According to the Lie-zi Yang Zhu's philosophy was to preserve
one's own body
and enjoy the present.
Yang Zhu believed that the
ancients correctly placed no value on reputation or honor.
He
believed that if people did not try to make things better,
the
world would be in order.
For Yang Zhu life is temporarily staying
in the world,
and death is a temporary departure.
When Lie-zi was poor and starving in Zheng, a friend told the
chief minister that
Lie-zi had attained the way but was poor and
unrecognized.
He asked the minister to send him a gift.
The chief
minister sent Lie-zi a gift of grain, but Lie-zi politely refused
the gift.
His wife scolded him, complaining that the wives and
children of other sages
live comfortably while they were starving.
How could he refuse this food?
Lie-zi smiled and explained that
if he was honored because of someone else's opinion,
then someone
else's opinion could also condemn him.
Later the chief minister
fell out of popular favor,
and the king swayed by public opinion
had him executed.
The Lie-zi tells a story of a king, who was only interested
in hiring the strong and brave
as being the best to protect him.
Not pleased with those who preach morality,
he asked a visiting
philosopher what he could teach him.
The philosopher asked him
if he would be interested in a strategy that would guarantee
that
anyone who attempted to stab him would miss.
The king wanted to
hear about it.
Yet it would be a better strategy if people did
not dare to strike him at all.
The king agreed.
An even better
strategy than that would be if people did not even want to harm
him.
Yet people not wanting to harm him would still not be as
good
as getting them to love and benefit him.
The king agreed
he was looking for such a strategy,
which is three degrees better
than strength and courage.
The philosopher then pointed out that
Confucius and Mo-zi were respected
even though they were not princes.
If the king, who already has political power, were to rule his
people with virtue and integrity,
would not his greatness surpass
that of Confucius and Mo-zi?
After the philosopher left, the king
admitted that
he had been completely turned around by this argument.
Many of Lie-zi's stories show how psychological impressions
can alter our perception of reality.
An old and poor farmer heard
that the power of Zihua could make a poor man rich.
So he joined
the followers of Zihua, who teased him for being a bumpkin.
He
was offered rewards for doing extraordinary feats like diving
into water
and saving goods from a burning house, which the farmer
did in his innocence,
because he did not know how hard they were.
Impressed, they asked the farmer how he accomplished these feats.
He explained that he merely believed what they said
about how
Zihua could make him rich.
His only concern was that he might
not believe or act on what they told him.
He forgot about his
body and what might benefit or harm him.
Now that he realized
they were making fun of him,
he thought about the dangers he escaped
in the water and fire
and became aware of the worries and fears
inside him.
The story concludes with Confucius drawing the moral
that if a person has perfect faith, one can move heaven and earth.
A man tried to steal gold in the market, because he was so
carried away
by the sight of the gold that he forgot about the
officers, who arrested him.
Another man, who lost his money, thought
his neighbor's son had stolen it.
He noticed that he had the look
and gestures of a thief.
Later he found the money and looking
at his neighbor's son saw that
neither his movements nor his gestures
were those of a thief.
Lie-zi valued emptiness, because he felt that attachments of
recognition,
approval, and disapproval imprison us.
It is better
not to worry about such things.
Rather than be concerned about
taking credit for accomplishments,
why not relax and observe the
workings of heaven and earth?
In emptiness one can cultivate stillness
and peace of mind so that
one will not be drawn into the unnecessary
troubles of this crazy world.
If you lose the way, you lose yourself.
Lie-zi also admired the Yellow Emperor for seeing that
his
people were happy and retiring to a simple life.
First though,
he worked hard for fifteen years in governing,
but his physical
and mental health both became worse.
So he withdrew from courtly
life for three months.
During this vacation the Yellow Emperor
dreamed he visited a western paradise,
where there were no leaders
or teachers,
and desires and aversions did not develop.
Believing
he was enlightened by the dream, the Yellow Emperor
spent the
next twenty years letting his kingdom be as in the dream.
When
he died and ascended into heaven,
his people mourned the passing
of a great ruler.
In the southern state of Chu a man named Ju Yuan
held a high
position under King Huai (r. 328-299 BC).
Sima Qian wrote that
he had wide learning and a good memory.
Ju Yuan advised the king
and spoke on his behalf to representatives of other states.
His
ability and position were resented by a rival,
who as Lord High
Administrator tried to steal a law that Ju Yuan was drafting.
When Ju Yuan would not let him have it, the High Administrator
slandered him to the king,
complaining that he was always boasting
of the laws he made for the king.
This alienated Ju Yuan from
the king, and he was demoted.
In 313 BC Qin wanted to attack Qi, which was allied with Chu,
and King Huiwen of Qin sent Zhang Yi to Chu with lavish gifts
in pretense of forsaking Qin.
He said that if Chu were to break
off with Qi,
Qin would give them a territory 600 li long.
King Huai, greedily duped by this, broke relations with Qi.
However,
his envoy to Qin discovered that Zhang I had lied
and that the
territory was only 6 li.
So King Huai angrily attacked
Qin with his troops;
but his forces were crushed; 80,000 heads
were cut off,
and the Chu commander was captured.
Then King Huai
sent out all his troops in the country to strike deep into Qin.
When the state of Wei heard of this, they launched a surprise
attack against Chu.
Chu's troops had to retreat from Qin, as Qi
was in no mood to rescue Chu.
A year later Qin offered some territory to Chu to make peace
but King Huai said that he would rather have revenge on Zhang
I.
When Zhang I heard this, he volunteered to go again to Chu,
where he bribed an influential minister and seduced one of the
king's concubines,
who persuaded King Huai to release him.
Out
of favor, Ju Yuan was in Qi on an embassy,
but he returned to
criticize his king's behavior in letting go of Zhang I.
The king
regretted his mistake, but it was too late.
In 310 BC the feudal lords combined to crush Chu's army, killing
Chu's general.
Qin's king Zhao invited King Huai to Qin, and Ju
Yuan warned him not to go,
because Qin was a country of tigers
and wolves, not to be trusted.
Urged to go by his youngest son,
King Huai was detained.
He refused to grant territorial concessions
and fled to the state of Zhao,
but they sent him back to Qin,
where he eventually died.
The eldest son of King Huai was made
king of Chu,
and he appointed the youngest son Premier;
but the
latter was blamed for the loss of his father
and resented the
criticism of Ju Yuan and had him banished.
Thus much is history
recounted by Sima Qian,
who saw this as the turning point leading
to Chu's decline and eventual defeat by Qin.
A poem called "The Fisherman" tells how Ju Yuan wandered
by the banks of the Jiang River,
let down his hair (Men usually
wore their long hair tied in a bun.) and sang.
A fisherman asks
him if he is not the Lord of the Three Wards,
and Ju replies that
all the world is muddy, although he is clear.
Because everyone
is drunk and he is sober, he has been sent into exile.
The fisherman
suggests that the wise can move as the world does
in muddy water
or enjoy drinking.
Why get banished?
Ju has heard that after bathing
one should shake out one's clothes.
Not wanting to submit to the
dirt of others,
he would throw himself into the water and be buried
in the bowels of fish
rather than hide his light in a murky world.
In the poem the fisherman goes off singing that when the water
is clear
he can wash his hat strings, and when it is muddy he
can wash his feet.
After much lamenting and composing of songs
somewhere along the way,
Ju Yuan clasped a large stone, threw
himself into the river, and drowned.
The songs of Ju Yuan and other Chu poets,
who wrote on similar
themes of his life and laments,
were gathered together as the Songs of Chu.
Drawing on traditions of shamanic spiritual
travels and the sadness of his experience,
Ju Yuan and his followers
created a poetry expressive of the feelings
of frustration and
despair in the Period of Warring States and after.
Ju Yuan began his song on "Encountering Trouble"
with his own auspicious birth
when his father named him True Exemplar
with the title Divine Balance.
He gathered the flowers of youth
and cast out the impure.
He glorified his ruler as the Fragrant
One and lamented that
the Fair One refused to examine his true
feelings but instead listened to slander.
Like Lie-zi he did not
mind poverty.
"If only my mind can be truly beautiful,
it
matters nothing that I often faint for famine."7
Though he
may die nine times, he does not regret it;
he only regrets the
Fair One's waywardness.
He would rather die than emulate the flatterers.
Yet humbling one's spirit and curbing one's pride,
Bearing blame humbly and enduring insults,
But keeping pure and spotless and dying in righteousness:
Such conduct was greatly prized by the wise men of old.8
The fragrant and foul mingle in confusion, but he has kept
his inner brightness undimmed.
With the love of beauty as his
constant joy he decides to visit the world's quarters.
But how
can he tell people to look into his mind?
He looks to the wise
men of old for his guidance and cites numerous examples.
Examining
human outcomes, he asks where is the unjust person who can be
trusted?
He grieves for having been born in an unlucky time.
With
a team of jade dragons he goes on a fantastic journey.
At heaven's
gate he learns to hide beauty out of jealousy.
Seeking a mate,
he is told to go beyond the world or to wander the earth,
seeking
one whose thoughts are of his measure.
If his inner soul is beautiful,
he needs no matchmaker.
Finally arriving at the western heaven
he sees his home below,
and the horses refuse to go further.
Feeling
that no one understands him and that there are no true men in
the state
to work with in making good government,
Ju Yuan decides
to go join the ancestral shaman Peng Xian.
The "Nine Songs" celebrate Ju Yuan's shaman journeys
in heaven,
where he tries to woo a goddess; but they end praising
the heroism of soldiers,
who have died in battle.
The "Heavenly
Questions" ask for explanations for the
many injustices and
inconsistencies in life and tradition.
Even though heaven is considered
to be too exalted to be questioned,
Ju Yuan nevertheless does
just that.
He asks about the origin of heaven and earth and who
passed down the story.
What is darkness and light, and how did yang and yin come together?
Who accomplished all
this? Where are the nine fields of heaven?
How do the sun and
moon hold to their courses and the fixed stars keep their places?
From heavenly questions he turns to ancient myths
and then to
perplexing incidents in history.
Why did Shun's brother not come
to harm when he behaved
worse than a brute beast toward Shun?
Why did heaven favor Duke Huan of Qi, the first protector, and
then later punish him?
Why does the High God confer the mandate
of heaven and how is notice given of it?
Why is the mandate of
heaven taken away and given to another?
The entire song has nothing
but questions for the listeners to ponder.
In "Grieving at the Eddying Wind" Ju Yuan, or another
poet inspired by him,
lamented that delicate things by nature
are prone to fall.
He admired the noble thoughts of Peng Xian,
the shamanic ancestor believed to have been a Shang minister who
drowned himself.
His purpose was strong, and the poet asks, who
by deceiving can succeed for long?
Only the good person's lasting
beauty is preserved through the ages.
Remote is the ideal that my thoughts aspire to:
I would be as the clouds that wander above in freedom.
But because there was that by which my high thoughts were shaken,
I have written these songs to make my meaning clear.
The good man nurses his thoughts in isolation.9
He lies in a secret place and broods in his sorrow.
He would
rather sweetly die.
He climbs a rocky summit and looks into the
distance, hears no echo,
but his sadness cannot be dispelled.
Even the simplest act became impossible,
and inconsolable he rushed
toward the heavens.
He would not swerve from his resolution to
float down the river
until he entered the ocean, but the last
line asks,
"But what good did it do to clasp a great stone
and drown?"10
In the second century BC some Daoists put together the Songs
of Chu
and added their own compositions like the "Far-off
Journey."
In melancholy the poet sought to learn from where
the primal spirit comes.
In emptiness and silence he found serenity.
In peaceful inaction he gained satisfaction.
In his journey he
received the following teaching from a legendary Master Wang:
The Way can only be received; it cannot be given.
Small, it has no content; great, it has no bounds.
Keep your soul from confusion, and it will come naturally.
By unifying essence (qi), strengthen the spirit;
Preserve it inside you in the midnight hour.
Await it in emptiness, before even Inaction.
All other things proceed from this: this is the Door of Power.11
In "Divination" the poet went to consult an oracle and asked,
Is it better to be painstakingly honest, simple-hearted and loyal,
or to keep out of trouble by welcoming each change as it comes?
Is it better to risk one's life by speaking truthfully and without concealment,
or to save one's skin by following the whims of the wealthy and highly placed?
Is it better to preserve one's integrity by means of a lofty detachment,
or to wait on a king's mistress with flattery, fawning,
and strained, smirking laughter?
Is it better to be honest and incorruptible and to keep oneself pure,
or to be accommodating and slippery,
to be compliant, as lard or leather?12
The Great Diviner threw aside the divining stalks
and said
that they were unable to help in this case.
In the "Nine Changes" the poet declared that rather
than live by unjust means to be famous,
he would live poor; for
he can eat without greed and be full,
and he can dress without
luxury and be warm.
The shamanic tradition is further seen in
the two songs about summoning the soul
that has left the body
of the deceased.
There also follows more laments about how the
virtuous are rebuffed,
while sycophants are always there to bring
them down.
Here we have both Confucian martyrs and Daoists
who
escape by floating away on clouds.
Custom advances the flatterers
and promotes the rich,
while those who act honestly are shut out
and unnoticed.
Thus the wise and good live obscurely and do not
flock with others.
The poet complained that the government is
selfish and not for the common good.
The flatterer rises into
the hall of judgment,
while the just withdraw and escape into
hiding.
True feelings are submerged and not expressed,
because
one cannot reason of higher things with the vulgar crowd.
In the middle of the first century BC the poet Wang Bao added
his regrets
that the world is averse to justice, and he realized
that
he cannot stay in these parts for long.
Liu Xian (77-6 BC)
lamented after reading Ju Yuan's "Encountering Trouble"
that he had struck out at slander and righted infamy,
but his
virtue raised him above the floating clouds.
The Daoist collection of 21 essays called the Huainan-zi
seems to have been
a combined effort of eight Daoist scholars
and several admirers of Ju Yuan
under the sponsorship of Liu An,
the king of Huainan,
who committed suicide when his planned revolt
was aborted in 122 BC.
The Huainan-zi was presented to
Emperor Wu in 139 BC.
The resentful attitude, military plans,
and planned revolt of the king of Huainan,
however, are in direct
contradiction to the teachings of this book,
though Liu An was
known to have had literary gifts and may have contributed
to the Huainan-zi.
The essays amplify and illustrate the philosophical
ideas of Lao-zi,
focusing on the way, goodness, and justice;
its
alternate title means "greatly enlightening."
The first essay is on the way (dao) which embraces heaven
and supports the earth.
A person in the way lives happily without
anxiety.
The authors pointed out that militarism breeds militarism,
just as fighting fire with fire makes it more violent,
and beating
a vicious dog or whipping a kicking horse
does not correct them
nor enable them to travel far.
Violent measures and strict punishments
are not fit instruments for a king.
The one who follows the natural
way of heaven and earth
finds it easy to manage the whole world
without acting,
yet is equal to a sudden crisis, disposes of calamities,
and prevents difficulties.
Firmness can be attained and strength
overcome by yielding.
Military fire will be extinguished with
humble water.
Hard things die sooner, just as teeth decay, but
the tongue does not.
Finding one's true self results in the highest
joy.
The inner is always better than the outer; the heart governs
life.
When each individual follows the law of nature, everything
identifies with heaven;
there is no right or wrong, and everything
is as it should be.
The covetous and ambitious desires allured
by power distance the spirit
from the body and close off the heart
from higher influences,
leading to actions contrary to justice
and disasters.
The second essay of the Huainan-zi on beginning and
reality reflects on the primeval
paradise when the artificial
doctrines of goodness and justice had not arisen yet.
When the
senses are closed, ambitions stopped, one may roam in the void,
breathe in yin and breathe out yang in harmony with
the virtue of creation.
When these overflow, there will be goodness
and justice;
but when the Confucians set up goodness and justice
as ultimate,
then the way and its virtue are abandoned and lost.
The wise cultivate the way within, not by the outward adornment
of goodness and justice.
In the original simplicity was unity,
quietness,
and no governing authority and divided classes.
When
purity and simplicity disappeared, truth was adulterated by opinions,
and the spirit of cooperation was lost.
With the decaying of the
Zhou dynasty, the philosophies
of Confucius,
Mo-zi, and Yang Zhu competed with polemics.
Not having power,
they were not able to put their ideals into operation;
thus they
were never free of anxiety.
Yet the soul not clogged with desires
and knowledge
meets every perception without bias and in serenity.
The essay on the living soul describes how the person who follows
the stillness
of the inner way does not fear death and therefore
cannot be made to do wrong.
Several examples are given of rulers
whose desires led them to bad ends.
Confucianism does not remove
the root of desire from the mind.
To try to keep society from
theft and burglary by fear of punishment
is not as good as to
remove the desire for stealing from the heart.
In discussing natural law the authors described a decadent
age when men dug up mountains
for gems, wrought metals, killed
animals for skins and furs, cut down forests for wood
or burnt
them to drive out game;
yet the luxuries and abundance of the
rulers still did not satisfy them.
Mountains and streams were
divided by boundaries;
classes of people were differentiated;
then soldiers and weapons brought about wars
and the untimely
deaths of the oppressed people.
The harmonious cooperation of
heaven and earth depends on the human spirit.
Excess leads to
waste, conflict, taxes, despair, and degeneration.
In the ancient
times if a ruler oppressed the people, he was removed and replaced.
Now rulers use soldiers unjustly, rob people, and make slaves.
Use of the military should depend on justice.
In the eleventh essay the difference between a disordered country
that is full and a well governed country that is void is explained.
"Void" does not mean empty of people but that everyone
guards their duties,
while "full" does not mean many
people
but that they are involved in inconsequential (branch-tip)
matters.
Also a preserved country being insufficient does not
mean a lack of goods
but that desires are moderated so that regulations
are few,
while a ruined country having a surplus does not mean
having many resources but that people are impetuous and have many
expenses.
Right and wrong are considered to be relative to each situation.
Each generation takes as right what is right by it and wrong what
is wrong by it.
Thus each generation is different, considering
themselves right and others wrong.
The heart seeks the right and
pushes away the wrong.
Goodness depends on timing.
On the other
hand, sufficiency and surplus enable one to yield;
but insufficiency
leads to competition, cruelty, and disorder.
When things are abundant,
desire decreases, seeking is sated, and competition stops.
Even
the strict laws of the Qin empire could not prohibit disorder,
while the wealth of Han dynasty times led to correctness.
The twelfth essay discusses how actions have their consequences
and points out that frequent wars exhaust the people,
and the
pride of victories can consume their vitality.
The saying is quoted,
"Don't fight for peace.
Peace will come naturally."13
This essay illustrates and quotes many passages from the Dao De Jing.
The thirteenth essay declares that the good of the people
is
the fundamental and unvarying law.
Legislation must be determined
by considering current conditions.
During disturbances it should
be swift and severe,
but in times of peace easy and tolerant.
Most healthy is a balance of female and male energy.
Strict enforcement
is harsh and destroys concord; love is lenient,
but too much leniency
results in disobedience.
Punishment is cruel, and too much punishment
dissipates affection.
The wise judge success by the life of the
people;
those following the right way are bound to grow, though
it may be small at first.
Those who follow ways of death are bound
to come to end.
A government that follows a policy of selfish
gain will be ruined.
The wise adapt to circumstances, bending
and yielding to achieve the end in view.
Those who are satisfied
with simple needs will find it easy to be good,
but lying, stealing,
and murdering are contrary to nature and very difficult.
Perhaps the most illuminating essay in the Huainan-zi
is the fifteenth
on "Generalship and Prevention of Anarchy."
The authors believed that the ancients did not use the military
to enlarge territory
or from lust for gain, but to preserve a
dynasty, pacify rebels,
and eliminate dangers afflicting the people.
However, when goods are unequally distributed, communities contend
with the strong oppressing the weak, and the bold terrorizing
the timid.
Instead of using teeth and claws, humans make weapons
and armor,
enabling the greedy to rob others.
The wise attempt
to quell this rapacity and bring peace to disturbed people by
defining duty.
The wise kings of old employed soldiers
to quell
anarchy and discipline the unruly.
No crime is worse than killing the innocent to feed
unprincipled
rulers or to grab territory for an ambitious person.
The authors
point out that if certain individuals, who ruined their countries,
had been arrested early in their evil course,
they never could
have robbed violently as they did.
One person pandering to vicious
desires causes general suffering,
an outrage intolerable to the
law of heaven.
Kings were established primarily to restrain violence
and punish anarchy,
but kings have come to take advantage of their
power,
becoming an instrument for burdening the people.
The authors
asked if it is not justifiable to exterminate those who play the
tiger.
Thus troops were put in motion to curtail
an oppressive
enemy prince and reprimand his injustice.
The army was not allowed
to cut down trees, injure graves, burn crops,
destroy property,
rob animals, or enslave people.
The prince, who had killed innocent
people,
was doomed by heaven and hated by people;
the army came
to replace him with someone just.
Violators of this law were considered
traitors to the people.
The country that surrenders will have its freedom.
In a word, the punishment of the kingdom shall not fall on the people.
With the punishment of the king, and a change of government,
the gentry shall be honored, the worthy employed,
the orphans and widows shall be cared for,
and kindness shown to the poor and needy.
Further, innocent prisoners shall be released,
and the meritorious shall be rewarded.
Such justice and clemency will ensure the allegiance of the people,
who will open their doors to the invading army and await its coming.14
Thus when the king does not have the way,
his subjects look
to invading soldiers as a parched land looks for rain.
When just
soldiers come, there is no war.
However, in recent times even
when the king does not have the way,
his soldiers defend the city;
the invading army attacks for conquest
and aggrandizement rather
than to curb a wrongdoer.
Thus men are slain in war, because it
is "all for self now."
The selfish aggressor is left
to his own fate.
Whoever has the goodwill of the people will be
strong in spite of small resources,
but the powerful monarch who
has lost the people's goodwill is certain to perish.
Destruction
is the aim of the soldier, but what is better is to have no destruction,
no war.
Thus the best soldier in accord with the divine is not
harmful.
Weapons are not sharpened; yet no enemy dare attack.
The one who fights without leaving the temple is the emperor;
the one whose virtue is felt is the king.
The practice of perfect
government leads people to long for such virtue.
Victory won without
drawing the sword, resulting in obedience,
implies the art of
perfect rule, which imitates the way of heaven.
Soldiers of the way never need to send forth the war chariot,
because when justice is advertised to the many and the delinquent
are reprimanded for their faults, powerful states will pay attention
and small principalities will bow their heads in obedience to
the wishes
of the people who desire peace.
The reprimand takes
advantage of the people's strength,
for it is in their interest
to eliminate wrongs.
Identity of interests brings mutual cooperation:
identity of feeling brings unity of action and mutual achievement.
When there is identity of desire, mutual help follows,
and when action is carried on in the spirit of the Tao,
the whole empire is responsive.
When the anxieties of the people are considered,
the whole empire will join in a conflict.15
The enlightened king uses soldiers in the interests of the
community
for the elimination of evil in the land.
Everyone participates
in the benefit.
No enemy can withstand this when the troops serve
all.
When soldiers are used for public ends, anything can be accomplished;
when they are used selfishly, little can be done.
The essentials
of victory do not lie in the weapons, tools, and supplies,
which
are the army's capital; what is essential for the general is intuitive
intelligence.
When the people are more worthy than the rulers,
there will be estrangement and a weak army.
The essentials of
victory are when virtue and justice influence all the people,
when means are sufficient to meet dangers,
when officers are selected
well,
and when measures and plans are made with knowledge of strengths
and weaknesses.
The example of the second Qin
emperor is given to show how
his personal extravagance heedless
of the people's needs,
conscription and taxes amounting to half
the nation's wealth,
and harsh punishments led to discontent,
suspicion, and a rebellion
in which people started out with no
weapons at all.
Led by a humble man, the rebel army led all before
it,
and the old order was swept away like a fleeting cloud,
because
the hearts of the people were full of anger and resentment.
Yet
those who govern well need never fear an enemy,
and those who
follow high moral principles will have no wars to wage.
Good leaders
and generals accumulate virtue, and the people will serve loyally.
The essay goes on to describe specific tactics according to Daoist
principles,
always emphasizing the higher unity and transcendent
way.
1. Lao-zi, Dao De Jing 8 tr. Sanderson Beck and Ken
Tsang.
2. Ibid., 33.
3. Ibid., 57.
4. The Basic Writings of Mo Tzu tr. Burton Watson, p. 41.
5. Ibid., p. 54.
6. Zhuang-zi, 2 (author's version).
7. The Songs of the South tr. David Hawkes, p. 70.
8. Ibid., p. 71.
9. Ibid., p. 180.
10. Ibid., p. 183.
11. Ibid., p. 195.
12. Ibid., p. 204-205.
13. Tao, the Great Illuminant: Essays from the Huai Nan Tzu
tr. Evan Morgan, p. 110.
14. Ibid., p. 185.
15. Ibid., p. 188-189.
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