I wonder if most people regard a Taoist lifestyle as desirable or even worth living. They might read a few Lao-Tzu’s quotes, watch some martial arts movies, and meditate for five minutes, but will they devote time and energy to grasp the principles of Taoism?
Moderation and humility, two key Taoist virtues, are at odds with modern civilization. In fact, contemporary culture, values, and mores revolve around short-term gratification.
The ancient Roman exhortation to seize the day has evolved into seize the hour, the minute and the second. Moderation has been deleted from the social conscience because it breeds non-conformity. Being poor is no shame, but liking it is tantamount to intellectual anorexia.
As for humility, it has turned into brazen virtue signalling at every opportunity. Lack of achievement is presented as worthy, high-minded, and visionary. Failure is publicized as ecological, chaste, and self-effacing. Envy is camouflaged under pretences of brotherly and sisterly love.
Chapter 33 of the Tao Te Ching enunciates that “individuals who know that enough is enough will never care for more.” It’s no wonder that, in today’s cultural climate, such an insight will find no echo.
Nonetheless, for the sake of memory keeping, it is useful to restate the principles of Taoist living. I am going to draw them primarily from Lao-Tzu, complemented by interpretations and shades of meaning given by Yang-Tzu and Chuang-Tzu.
Misconceptions about Taoist softness
Softness defines the core of the Taoist mentality, but not in the sense of endless pliability, servility, obsequiousness or lack of spine. Lao-Tzu, and especially Yang-Tzu, were hard as nails for what concerns principles, but gentle in the implementation.
Taoist softness means that, in the face of evil, it might prove wiser to walk away than engage in an all-out war; and in the face of ignorance, incompetence or delusion, we should look for alternatives rather than criticizing and complaining.
Softness works better than confrontation, affirmed Lao-Tzu, because it is more attuned to reality. When Chapter 36 of the Tao Te Ching indicates that “the soft will overcome the hard,” it’s simply stating a fact. Life itself is characterised by softness, and death, when it eventually ensues, will show as dry rigidity.
I also consider inconspicuousness a pillar of Taoism. It is a virtue that goes deeper than humility because it requires lots of effort. We can practise humility simply by saying and doing nothing, but to remain inconspicuous, we need to apply a layer of protectiveness to every action.
Humble individuals are those who live low, but to be inconspicuous, one needs to find a low path amongst high weeds, speak softly amongst loud refrains, and think laterally to find hidden opportunities.
Taoism and inconspicuousness
Amongst the ancient Taoist masters, Chuang-Tzu gave extra emphasis to inconspicuousness. He correctly considered it the ultimate strategy for avoiding problems. Instead of having to fend off criminals, Taoists want to remain invisible. Instead of having to answer questions, Taoists prefer to pre-empt them.
Let me paraphrase here an ancient Taoist story to this effect: Once upon a time, a wealthy merchant decided to retire and go live in a village; he found a beautiful village on the seaside, but instead of purchasing a large mansion, he bought a little house.
When he moved into the little house, he brought his wealth with him, but in the form of gold coins. He told nobody about the gold coins, and during the night, he buried them deep in his garden, spreading them in several places.
Nobody would have suspected the retired merchant of being wealthy because he lived very modestly. He wore nondescript clothes and never bragged about his past success. When people asked him about his life, he replied that he had gone through good times and bad times, but that he was not sure which one was which.
Seventy-seven days after his arrival at the village, a bunch of violent robbers arrived one day and went house by house in search of booty. When they arrived at the old merchant’s house, he opened the door and inquired about their business.
“Give us everything you have, or we will kill you,” said the robbers. The merchant stepped aside and invited the robbers in. “I have little, but you can take anything you want,” he replied.
The robbers went into the house and looked around, but the furniture was so plain and the household items so ordinary, that the robbers concluded that there was nothing worth stealing. In fact, they almost pitied the man for his humdrum existence.
In the aftermath of the robbery, the retired merchant listened politely to the horror stories recounted by neighbours. Some had had their lifetime’s savings taken by the robbers; others, their family jewellery.
Upon learning about their losses, the retired merchant felt truly sad and expressed his compassion. He told his neighbours that the robbery may teach us a lesson for the future, but then, to everyone’s surprise, he did not change his lifestyle one iota.
Yang-Tzu and self-protection
Self-protection is the most important Taoist principle in the eyes of Yang-Tzu, a principle that contradicts almost all other philosophies, religions or ideologies. Yang-Tzu formulated this idea rather extremely, by stating that “he wouldn’t sacrifice one hair on his head to save the world.”
I would not pay too much attention to Yang-Tzu’s statement, which was clearly made for the show. It is just a metaphor, not to be taken literally. Yang-Tzu got his point across, but we are unlikely to face situations that demand us to sacrifice a hair on our head. Usually, the issue at stake will be substantially larger.
In Chapter 33 of the Tao Te Ching, Lao-Tzu formulated the basis for this principle: “Those devoted to living correctly, live long; but those devoted to the Tao, live even longer.” Some old translations say “live forever” instead of “live even longer.”
Why do I need to explain the Taoist self-protection principle and give examples? Isn’t it obvious that we should take care of our own health and physical integrity? How could anyone fail to understand this principle?
I am afraid that, if we take Lao-Tzu’s advice literally in this respect, we’ll make suboptimal choices. Let me first state what Lao-Tzu did not mean: he was not encouraging us to spend one hour per day practising martial arts, two hours on Saturdays on a shooting range, and two weeks per year on survival training.
Neither was Lao-Tzu encouraging health paranoia, whereby every food item needs to be thoroughly scrutinized or certified before ingestion, every drink of water carried in pristine crystal containers, and every breath of fresh air carefully filtered, lest it may contain some molecules of micro-dust. Luckily, I think, we do not live today in a world that requires those measures.
The Taoist principle of self-protection should be interpreted by using common sense, that is, rationality. It’s good to prevent unnecessary risks, steer away from dangerous characters, make sensible nutrition choices, and drive carefully. However, there is no need to turn self-protection into a sickly obsession.
Chuang-Tzu’s stories illustrate the practical aspects of self-protection in a compelling manner. The stories follow a distinct pattern in which a foolish person (ridiculously ambitious, over-indulgent, ruthless) meets a wise person (benevolent, balanced, forward-thinking).
At the end of Chuang-Tzu’s stories, the foolish persons meet their nemesis, and the wise persons keep living contentedly. It’s not a novel or cryptic message, but it’s one that few people will heed. The delights of short-term thinking seem overpower and silence even the loudest warning signals.
Explanations about Wu Wei
In my enumeration of Taoist principles, I should not forget Wu Wei, which can be translated as “effortless doing,” “smooth action,” or “non action.” It is simply the opposite of inflexible, forceful action.
My preferred explanation of Wu Wei is doing something in a way that minimizes friction. In some cases, this will require circumventing an obstacle, finding alternatives, reformulating our goals, or doing nothing and waiting for an opportunity.
Chapter 8 of the Tao Te Ching describes Wu Wei as “living in accordance with nature” and “in harmony with the present moment.” Taoists are the ultimate smooth operators, preferring to avoid problems rather than work at solving them. They view preventive action as faster and more economical.
Chuang-Tzu’s stories about Wu Wei often involve elements of paradox, whereby seemingly lazy individuals achieve their goals faster than overworked, obsessive zealots.
The stories written by Chuang-Tzu are surely not promoting laziness, but productivity, good sense, and critical thinking. If we acquire those, we’ll spare ourselves plenty of heartache and countless hours of misguided efforts.
If you want to apply effective ideas in all sorts of situations, I recommend my book “Asymmetry: The shortcut to success when success seems impossible.”