“Whoever takes the empire and wishes to do something to it I see will not succeed.
The empire is a sacred vessel;
it is not to be acted upon.
Whoever acts upon it will ruin it;
whoever grasps it will lose it.”
— Tao Te Ching, Chapter 29It is common to try to convince others with our views and judgments. If we are honest, we see that it’s actually our intellectual ego that drives us: we assume that knowledge, experiences, and cleverness can make us better judges of reality.
Yet, seeing the essence of things does not necessarily come from acquiring knowledge. Knowledge does not always equal wisdom. Being competent in intellectual endeavors does not guarantee the resourcefulness and clarity to navigate life's tricky and complex situations. Often, the intellectual ego is not grounded in reality.
Confucius was learned in ritual systems and ancient history and conversed with Lao Tzu several times. From their interactions, we can gain insight into the difference between someone who has grasped the essence of things and the knowledgeable and cultured individual.
The puzzle
Confucius told Lao Tzu that he had studied the Six Classics1 for a long time and had become proficient. He had also traveled to seventy-two kingdoms to offer his counsel, hoping the rulers could listen to his suggestions on the principles of government practiced by the ancient kings. To his surprise, none did. He was dismayed, wondering why it was so difficult to convince others and for people to understand the truth.
Lao Tzu said, “You were fortunate not to meet one of those rulers determined to restore order in the world. The historical records you mentioned are but footprints of the ancient kings. A shoe leaves a footprint, but it is not the shoe itself. Every individual’s nature cannot be changed. Each one’s destiny cannot be altered. Time does not stop, and Tao cannot be blocked. If you follow the Tao, you can go wherever you like. Without it, you are lost wherever you go.”
Confucius returned home, and for three months, he did not go out. Then he revisited Lao Tzu and said, “Now I understand. The birds reproduce by laying eggs, the fish by blowing bubbles, and insects like bees by metamorphosis. For a long time, I have not immersed myself in the common humanity, and without entering the human world, how can I teach humanity?”
“Now you’ve got it,” said Lao Tzu.
The metaphor
The Six Classics in the story, as a symbol, can refer to any object of enchantment: a school of thought, a belief, a social cause, an organization, or a charismatic individual. When we attach ourselves to such an object, we become spiritually paralyzed. Our ability to think and adapt weakens. And the spirit is shackled to that entity, making us unable to adjust to changing realities.
Captured by the object, we live in temporary bewilderment: Why don’t others see what I see? This is the truth. Our attachments, emotions, and enthusiasm become tied to appearances at a specific moment. The person, dream, possession, or goal — no matter how sound — can still divert us from seeing the real image of things. In other words, we can mistake the attributes of things for their substance:
“Since the possession of attributes is an illusion, Subhuti, and no possession of attributes is no illusion, by means of attributes that are no attributes the Tathagata can, indeed, be seen."2
The essence of things
In the story, Confucius intends to use the Six Classics, or the ritual order from the Zhou Dynasty (1046-256 BC), to reform the existing social and political order. From Lao Tzu’s thinking, any proposed change must be aligned with human nature and circumstances.
Changes to ways of life, norms, and habits can take root only when they fit social conditions, including people’s receptivity.
That is to say, forced changes rarely work. Policies should be timely responses to existing conditions; failing to consider essentials means going against the grain. When Confucius realized his advice must heed common human nature, he moved closer to seeing.
A historical analogy helps. When George Kennan wrote the “Long Telegram,” he did not propose the containment strategy out of whim or following the popular tide. Instead, it was the result of years of observation of the local way of life, its cultural traditions, particular customs, and values of the average Russian. Therefore, being “on good terms” with Stalin’s Russia was hardly pragmatic.
In a similar vein, hoping today’s China under the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) to democratize, though I do not doubt that it is a good thing for the country and its people, ignores current conditions. Democratization depends on a set of factors, institutions, incentives, and public sentiment.
First, the nature of the communist regime. A regime founded by a rebellious and radical group with the financial and personnel assistance of the Communist International, who hid in the mountainous northwestern city of Yan’an, Shaanxi Province, during the Sino-Japanese war (1937-1945), kept itself busy with growing its military strength while the National Government was occupied with defending the whole country against Japanese invasion, forged in years of fighting with government crackdowns, and went through a sequence of infighting among different factions within the party itself, the CCP has since shaped its defining character: to fight and dominate. Or it must face having its power taken without a struggle.
It did not want a two-party political system back then, when some social conditions were proper, with the Kuomintang government’s pressure, America’s diplomatic involvement, and the public’s appeal for peace and a democratic future. So, after decades of growing itself, how is it possible to usher in democratic change, which may equate to the reality of losing power?
A second critical factor to monitor is the general social atmosphere. What are the attitudes of the people toward liberal democracy? Do they value the liberty of thought, freedom of conscience, tolerance, and cultural pluralism? Can they understand what the CCP has done to their lives and the cultural fabric of the country (think about the Cultural Revolution)? Can they truly find peace, prosperity, and happiness in a system without private property? Can they stand firm by insisting that one plus one equals two when the regime tells them that the answer is three?
A democratic way of life means mutual adjustment of interests and shared understanding of things. Yet, the challenging task for people is to achieve that understanding in times of confusion. Can they find wisdom from the lost collective memory? A few simple examples will do.
When the Republic of China (ROC) was fighting for its survival, Americans aided China’s fight for sovereign independence and dignity (Claire Lee Chennault and the Republic of China Air Force American Volunteer Group is a case in point). In the 1970s, when Moscow considered a nuclear strike on Beijing, American deterrence helped prevent it. Such reminders suggest that regime interest and national welfare can diverge.
Therefore, expecting near-term democratic change under these conditions is unrealistic. As Lao Tzu’s exchange with Confucius implies, real change begins with grasping the essence of things. Without that, we are probably just trying to catch the moon by reaching for its reflection.
Next in this series:
A reference to the Book of Poetry, the Book of History, the Book of Rites, the Book of Music, the Philosophy of Mutations, and The Spring and Autumn Annals. The story is modified from two sources. See Lin Yutang, The Wisdom of Laotse (Beijing: Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press, 2009), 263-264. And “Lao Tzu.” 太平廣記 Tai Ping Guang Ji, Chinese Text Project, Accessed on December 19, 2024. https://ctext.org/taiping-guangji.
Red Pine, The Diamond Sutra: The Perfection of Wisdom (Berkeley: Counterpoint, 2001), 101.
Social and cultural conditions for change are so important. Besides political change, same can be said for climate change. wWe cannot just respond to environment crisis just through the lens of technology or $ alone.