I used to find it annoying when readers misunderstand my writings, but in the meantime, I have realized that I’m the only one to blame. If I had formulated my ideas more clearly, they wouldn’t have been misunderstood; and if I had provided better examples, I would have driven my points home.

When it comes to quotes from Lao-Tzu, Chuang-Tzu, and Yang-Tzu, misinterpretations are as common and widespread as grammar mistakes. They are everywhere and tend to grow in size over time.

Why does it matter? Why should we care whether readers grasp Lao-Tzu’s original intent? I view accurate interpretations as crucial for conveying a fair picture of Taoism. If the original insight becomes distorted, it might achieve the opposite effect.

The worst that can happen in those cases, I fear, is to spread discouragement instead of self-reliance, and scepticism instead of certainty. That’s why we should do our best to prevent those distortions and the ensuing emotional paralysis.

Looking beyond the obvious

Take for instance the quotes from Chapter 47 of the Tao Te Ching, which conveys the insight that wisdom requires looking beyond the obvious. Since perceptions can prove deceitful and treacherous, we need to use sound principles and keep a clear head.

Socrates (470-399 BC), Plato (427-347 BC), Aristotle (384-322 BC) and many other philosophers also warned us against misperceptions, although in contrast to the Tao Te Ching, they did not employ metaphors for this purpose.

Quotes from Chapter 47 of the Tao Te Ching read in some cases “knowing the whole world without going outdoors” and “knowing the ways of heaven without opening the window.” In these formulations, I cannot fail to detect elements of physical impossibility.

Those beautiful metaphors require explanations, so that the readers are not sent in the wrong direction. How can we see the world truthfully if we do not go outdoors? And how can we get to know the ways of heaven if we do not open the window?

As an explanation, I would first say that Lao-Tzu refers to identifying the Tao, that is, identifying natural law. He used the terms “know the ways of heaven” and “know the whole world” as illustrations of the Tao, which actually comprises everything in the universe.

If we elucidate those parts of the metaphor, we are left with the following text for Chapter 47 of the Tao Te Ching: We can identify natural law without having to go outdoors and without having to open the window.

Does the quote from the Tao Te Ching make sense yet? No, not quite. After having removed the deepest metaphors, we are still left with a proposition that defies physics. Nobody can get a clear picture of the universe if he stays indoors and does not look outside.

The proper context

What was Lao-Tzu trying to say? There are no connections between Taoism and the rationalism of René Descartes (1596-1650). Lao-Tzu was not attempting to establish a philosophical system based on pure logical deductions.

In order to solve this conundrum, we need to look at the Tao Te Ching as a whole. Since Lao-Tzu used daring metaphors, it becomes necessary to place them in context. We cannot arrive at the truth if we narrow down our vision.

The word “Tao” appears more than eighty times in the Tao Te Ching, linked to different metaphors. Chapter 4 tells us that the Tao is present in every element of the universe; Chapter 32 compares the Tao to water streams; and Chapter 46 compares it to horses used for peaceful purposes.

Amongst those heterogeneous metaphors, which one should prevail? Which one bears stronger credence? This is precisely the root of the confusion. If we choose one metaphor and let go of the others, we will just shift the interpretation problem from one Chapter to the other.

The intellectual charm of the Tao Te Ching is that all those metaphors are correct. We should interpret them by widening our concept of the Tao, not by narrowing it down. The concept of the Tao needs to be sufficiently elevated, so that it can cover all those metaphors at the same time.

Let us go back now to the quote of Chapter 47 of the Tao Te Ching, where it speaks about knowing the ways of heaven without opening the window, and knowing the whole world without going outdoors.

Integrated concepts

If we integrate the approximately eighty times in which the Tao Te Ching mentions the Tao, we come to a concept that we can infer from experience (from contemplating water streams or wild horses), or that we can construct intellectually because it is present in every element of the universe.

On this basis, after having cleared all the metaphors, I can reformulate the quote from Chapter 47 as follows: “In order to identify the Tao, we should use our experiences, observations, or reflections, present or past, that is, we should make do with whatever is available, without making our conclusions depend on just one element, whatever it is.”

If Lao-Tzu had employed my wording, devoid of metaphors but also devoid of poetry, the Tao Te Ching would have tripled its size and lost a great part of its literary appeal. The point of my exercise in metaphor clarification is to show how easy it is to get into the wrong track.

Unfortunately, Taoist wisdom quotes are often presented out of context, leaving the readers to figure out if the references to water streams and horses should be extrapolated to other cases, or if they actually mean what they say and nothing else.

The Tao Te Ching’s interpretation issues compound when a quote refers to nothing or emptiness. For instance, Chapter 48 affirms that “by doing nothing, nothing is left undone.” Does it mean that we can achieve prosperity and happiness by doing as little as possible?

Of course not. Once again, the quote from Lao-Tzu needs to be placed in context. The Tao Te Ching is not recommending a passive attitude as the key to success. That would be ludicrous, impractical, and counterproductive.

In order to arrive at an integrated interpretation, one needs to weigh off the approximately twenty times that the Tao Te Ching mentions nothingness. If we integrate those, nothingness means “doing what’s strictly necessary for the purpose at hand, instead of wasting time and energy.”

I don’t contest the beauty of the metaphors employed by the ancient Taoists, but we should strive at finding interpretations that are workable and solid. Neither Lao-Tzu, Chuang-Tzu or Yang-Tzu had imagined that their writings would be read many centuries later. The burden is on us to find the correct meaning.

If you are interested in putting rational ideas into practice in all sorts of situations, I recommend my book “Against all odds: How to achieve great victories in desperate times.”