Unit 13 · Close Reading the Daodejing

The Daodejing opens with two famous lines. In Legge’s translation for the Sacred Books of the East, volume 39, published in 1891: "The Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao. The name that can be named is not the enduring and unchanging name." Legge spells the key word Tao, in the older Wade-Giles system. Pinyin spells it Dao.

Dao means a way or path. It can also mean to speak or to tell. The first line plays on both meanings. Legge chose "trodden," walked on, to keep the idea of a path. Many other translators choose "spoken" or "told." Both are possible readings of the Chinese.

The lines make a claim about language. Words can point at the Dao, the text says, but they cannot hold all of it. Readers notice the irony: a book of about five thousand characters begins by saying words fall short. Many readers think the book asks to be read slowly, as pointing rather than defining.

Tradition says the Daodejing was written by Laozi, an older teacher who lived around the time of Confucius, in the 500s BCE. The historian Sima Qian, writing about 100 BCE, told a story of Laozi leaving China and writing the book at a border pass. Sima Qian himself noted that some accounts differed.

Many modern scholars think the text took shape over time, perhaps between about 400 and 250 BCE. Their evidence includes manuscripts found in tombs. Bamboo slips found at Guodian in 1993 hold parts of the text from around 300 BCE. Silk copies found at Mawangdui in 1973 date to about 200 BCE.

In religious Daoism, Laozi is honored as a divine being, known as Taishang Laojun, the Most High Lord Lao. Temples in China, Taiwan and elsewhere honor him. So readers approach the book in different ways: as scripture, as philosophy or as ancient poetry. This course describes each view without choosing one.

After its opening lines, chapter 1 goes on. It says the nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth, and the named is the mother of all things. In Legge’s words, "it is really the same; but as development takes place, it receives the different names." Then it calls this sameness a mystery, and the "mystery of mysteries."

The chapter moves from what cannot be named to what can. It does not throw language away. It says names grow out of something deeper. Many readers call this a cosmology: an account of how the world comes to be. Others read it more as advice on how to think about words.

Commentators differ here. Wang Bi, in the 200s CE, read the nameless as nonbeing, the root of being. Heshang Gong’s commentary, traditionally dated to the Han dynasty, linked the text to caring for one’s body and breath, and religious Daoists valued that reading. Both readings are still studied.

Chapter 2 opens this way in Legge: "All in the world know the beauty of the beautiful, and in doing this they have (the idea of) what ugliness is; they all know the skill of the skilful, and in doing this they have (the idea of) what the want of skill is." The words in parentheses are Legge’s additions, to make the English clear.

The chapter then lists pairs. Existence and non-existence, hard and easy, long and short, high and low. Each pair gives rise to the other. You cannot have "long" without "short" to compare it to. This idea of paired opposites is often linked with yin and yang, though the Daodejing uses those words only once, in chapter 42.

The chapter ends with the sage. The sage "manages affairs without doing anything," Legge writes, and teaches without speaking. This is wu wei, often glossed as non-action or effortless action. Readers argue whether it means doing nothing at all or acting without forcing.

The Daodejing is full of sayings that seem to turn back on themselves. The soft overcomes the hard. The one who does not strive cannot be beaten. The sage puts himself last and so ends up first. A statement like this, which seems contradictory but may hold a truth, is a paradox.

Readers explain the method in different ways. Some say paradox stops a reader from grabbing onto one side of a pair. Some say it shows how things reverse over time: the full moon wanes, the bent tree survives. Chapter 40 says reversal is the movement of the Dao.

Paradox also makes the text hard to translate. A short Chinese line can fold several meanings together. Translators must choose. Some keep the strangeness. Others smooth it out to make sense in English. Close readers compare versions to see which paradox each translator kept.

Chapter 16 uses a picture from plants. Things grow and flourish, the text says, and each goes back to its root. Going back to the root is called stillness. The chapter links stillness with lasting and with knowing what is constant. The chapter begins by telling the reader to reach utmost emptiness and keep steady calm.

The idea of return runs through the book. Chapter 40 names reversal. Chapter 16 names returning to the root. Readers link it to the seasons: leaves fall, and the tree draws back into itself for winter. The cycle is a repeating pattern, not a straight line.

Religious Daoists have linked chapter 16 with meditation practices of stillness and emptiness. Philosophical readers link it to a way of seeing change. Both readings draw on the same words. This course describes the practices as Daoists describe them. It does not lead them.

Chapter 8 begins with water. Legge: "The highest excellence is like (that of) water. The excellence of water appears in its benefiting all things, and in its occupying, without striving (to the contrary), the low place which all men dislike. Hence (its way) is near to (that of) the Tao."

Water is the book’s favorite image. It is soft but wears down stone. It goes to low places no one wants. It feeds everything without claiming credit. The chapter treats water as a picture of the Dao and of a good person. "Without striving" translates buzheng, not contending or competing.

Readers from many traditions have loved this chapter. Some read it as personal advice about humility. Some read it as a lesson for rulers, who should serve from below. Some Legalist and military readers liked water’s power to win by yielding. Each reading takes a different side of the same image.

Chapter 11 gives three examples. Legge: "The thirty spokes unite in the one nave; but it is on the empty space (for the axle), that the use of the wheel depends. Clay is fashioned into vessels; but it is on their empty hollowness, that their use depends." A "nave" is the hub at the center of a wheel. The third example is a room, with doors and windows cut out.

The chapter ends with a pair of terms. What is there, being, gives benefit. What is not there, nonbeing or emptiness, gives use. The two work together. A wheel needs both spokes and a hole. The chapter turns a simple object into a lesson about how things work.

Readers carry the chapter into many fields. Potters and architects quote it. Wang Bi used it to explain nonbeing as the root. Some Buddhist readers in China linked it to Buddhist teaching on emptiness, though the two ideas are not the same. Scholars caution against merging them too fast.

Legge tried to stay close to the Chinese. He added words in parentheses to show what was his. The result is exact but slow. Many modern English versions of the Daodejing take the opposite path. They are smooth and poetic. Some, such as Ursula K. Le Guin’s 1997 version, say openly that they are renderings, not strict translations.

A paraphrase restates a passage in new words. It can make a hard line clear. It can also add ideas that are not in the original. A strict translation keeps more of the original but may be hard to read. Neither is simply right. Each serves a different reader.

Scholars often warn that some popular versions were made by writers who did not read Chinese. They worked from other English translations. Those versions can still be beautiful and widely loved. But a close reader checks them against a scholarly translation before citing them as evidence.

The Daodejing most people read today has 81 short chapters. Chapters 1 to 37 form the Dao part. Chapters 38 to 81 form the De part. That is where the title comes from: jing means classic, so Daodejing means the classic of the Dao and de, the way and its virtue or power.

The Mawangdui silk copies found in 1973 put the De part first and the Dao part second. They also had fewer chapter breaks. The Guodian slips hold only parts of the text, in a different order again. This evidence shows that the book’s shape changed over time.

Legge used the received text with 81 chapters. Most translations use the same numbers. So "chapter 8" points to the same passage in almost any modern edition. When a scholar cites the Mawangdui order, they usually say so. Careful readers note which text a translation follows.

Chapter 17 gives a ranking. The best rulers, it says, are those the people barely know exist. Next come rulers the people love and praise. Next, rulers they fear. Last, rulers they despise. The chapter moves from rule that is almost invisible to rule that is hated.

The chapter ends with the people’s voice. In Legge’s translation: "Their work was done and their undertakings were successful, while the people all said, ’We are as we are, of ourselves!’" The best ruler’s success is that the people feel they did it themselves. The Chinese word is ziran, often glossed "so of itself" or naturalness.

Readers compare this with the Analects. Analects 2.1 praises a ruler whose virtue draws the people like the pole star. Chapter 17 places the loved and praised ruler only second. Some readers see a sharp difference between the books here. Others see two ways of saying that the best rule does not force.

Chapter 60 opens with one of the book’s best-known lines. Legge: "Governing a great state is like cooking small fish." Small fish are delicate. Turn them too often and they fall to pieces. For centuries readers have taken the line as advice against meddling.

This is an aphorism: a short, memorable saying that packs an idea into a few words. The Daodejing is full of them. Aphorisms travel well. Chapter 60’s line has been quoted by modern political leaders, including a U.S. president in the 1980s, as an image of limited government.

The rest of chapter 60 is less often quoted. It goes on to speak of spirits and the Dao. It says that when a state is ruled by the Dao, spirits do no harm to the people. Religious Daoist readers attend to this part. Political readers often stop after the first line. A close reader reads the whole chapter.

Chapter 57 makes a list of causes and effects. The more prohibitions there are, the poorer the people become. The more sharp weapons, the more disorder. The more clever skills, the more strange things appear. The more laws are posted, the more thieves there are. Each line pairs a ruler’s action with a bad result.

Then the sage speaks. In paraphrase: I do not act, and the people change by themselves. I love stillness, and the people become upright. I do not meddle, and the people grow rich. I have no desires, and the people become simple. This is wu wei, non-action, applied to government.

Chapter 57 invites comparison with Analects 2.3, which also doubts laws and punishments. But the two books offer different cures. The Analects offers virtue and li, ritual. The Daodejing often doubts ritual too, and offers stillness and fewer desires. Both books question rule by force, in different ways.

Chapter 80 draws a picture of a small state with few people. They have tools but do not use them. They have boats and carriages but no reason to ride them. They have weapons but no need to show them. They enjoy their food, clothes, homes and customs. The chapter describes a whole way of life in a few lines.

The chapter ends with a famous image. The next state is so close its roosters and dogs can be heard. Yet the people grow old and die without going back and forth. Readers call this a utopia: a picture of an ideal society. Some readers find it peaceful. Others find it closed off.

Scholars debate whether chapter 80 is a real political plan or a picture meant to make readers question ambition and conquest. The Daodejing was written in a time of wars between states. Some readers see the small state as a quiet answer to that age. Others read it as a picture of a calm inner life.

Chapter 67 speaks in the first person. Legge: "But I have three precious things which I prize and hold fast. The first is gentleness; the second is economy; and the third is shrinking from taking precedence of others." "Economy" here means frugality, using little. "Taking precedence" means going first or ranking above others.

Translators choose different words for the first treasure. Legge writes "gentleness." Many others write "compassion" or "kindness," the love a mother has for a child. The chapter says gentleness brings courage, economy brings generosity, and not going first lets one lead. Each treasure turns into a strength.

Readers find a pattern here. Each treasure looks weak at first. Each turns out strong. That fits the book’s love of paradox and of water. Religious Daoists have treated the three treasures as guides for conduct. Philosophical readers treat them as the ruler’s virtues. The same list serves both.

Readers who count find that a large share of the Daodejing mentions the sage, the ruler or the state. Chapter 3 talks about keeping the people’s hearts empty and their bellies full. Chapter 17 ranks rulers. Chapters 57, 60 and 80 speak of states. The book often addresses someone who rules.

That is why some scholars call it a guide for rulers, like other political writings of the Warring States. Others notice that almost every line can also be read about a single life. "The sage" can mean a king, or anyone who follows the Dao. Both readings have long histories.

This is a matter of audience: who a text is written for. The audience shapes the meaning. A line about not meddling means one thing to a king and another to a parent. Close readers ask who the speaker seems to address in each chapter, and note where the answer is unclear.

Han Feizi, who died in 233 BCE, was the leading Legalist writer. Legalists stressed clear laws, rewards and punishments, and a strong ruler. It may seem surprising that such a writer would read the Daodejing. Yet the book called the Han Feizi includes two chapters devoted to explaining and illustrating the Laozi.

Han Feizi read the Dao’s quiet as a ruler’s hidden power. A ruler who shows no desires, he argued, cannot be manipulated by ministers. He sits still and lets the laws work. In this reading, wu wei becomes a technique of control. It is very different from the gentle ruler of chapter 17.

Scholars call this a case of appropriation: taking a text and using it for one’s own purpose. Many Daoist readers reject the Legalist reading. Others note that the Daodejing’s short lines can support it. The case shows how a text about gentleness can be read as a text about power.

Early Han dynasty rulers, in the 100s BCE, favored a mix of Laozi’s teaching and ideas linked to the Yellow Emperor. Historians describe court figures such as Empress Dou as supporters. Later, the Tang dynasty emperors, whose family name was Li, honored Laozi, also said to be named Li, as their ancestor.

Tang emperors had the Daodejing studied and, at times, added to the state exams. Emperor Xuanzong, in the 700s, wrote his own commentary on it. For these readers, the ruling chapters were real advice for real government. They also honored Laozi with temples and titles.

Religious Daoists read the same chapters within their own practice. For them, ruling the state and caring for the body can mirror each other. Heshang Gong’s commentary often reads "the state" as the body as well. This double reading, state and self, is one of the oldest ways the book has been read.

Take the line from chapter 60: governing is like cooking small fish. A political reader hears advice to leaders: do not over-regulate. A personal reader hears advice about any task: do not fuss. A religious Daoist reader may hear advice about caring for body and spirit. The words stay the same. The frame changes.

Modern readers add new frames. Some writers on business quote the book on leadership. Some thinkers who favor limited government quote chapter 57. Some environmental writers quote its praise of letting things be. Scholars sometimes worry these readings pull lines out of their setting.

A close reader can hold several frames at once. First, ask what the chapter says in its own words. Second, ask who it seems to address. Third, describe how different readers have used it. The Daodejing’s short, open lines make this range of readings possible. That openness is part of why it has lasted.

Set the two books side by side. Analects 2.1: a ruler of virtue is like the pole star, which all stars turn toward. Analects 2.3: lead by virtue and li, not punishments. Daodejing 17: the best ruler is barely known. Daodejing 57: more laws bring more thieves. Both books doubt harsh law.

They differ on ritual and praise. The Analects values li as the shape of good conduct and wants a ruler to be a visible model. The Daodejing is often wary of ritual; chapter 38 calls ritual a thin form of loyalty. It prefers a ruler who is hardly seen.

Readers have handled this difference in many ways. Some see the two as rivals. Some Chinese thinkers treated them as complements, one for public life and one for private. The idea of the "three teachings," Confucian, Daoist and Buddhist, as parts of one whole became common in later China. The course names these views without ranking them.