A short reflection on chapter 48 of the 道德經 (Dào dé Jīng)
48.
The pursuit of learning is to increase day after day.
The pursuit of Tao is to decrease day after day.
It is to decrease and further decrease until one reaches the point of taking no action.
No action is undertaken, and yet nothing is left undone.
An empire is often brought to order by having no activity (laissez-faire).
If one (likes to) undertake activity, he is not qualified to govern the empire.1
The concept of 無為 (wú wéi), which is vital to the “pursuit of Tao,” sounds simple—too simple, in fact, that makes it difficult to be applied—so this chapter, 48, from the 道德經 (Dào dé Jīng) makes sense of it in two ways.
What is and is not learning
The first way is through a comparison with another concept that is familiar to most people who would likely read the text (or those of 老子 (Lǎo Zǐ)’s students): learning. Learning is a word that denotes an action that is both the means as well as the end of the said means. To learn, one needs to do learning, and then in doing learning, one learns. In a similar way, to get to the Way, that is the 道 (dào), one needs to follow it, and in following it, one gets to it. The methodology of the two processes, one of the worldly learning and the other of the other-worldly Dào, is similar—they are, as translated, both pursuits of some kind—but how they differ is with their effects. With learning-the-means comes not only learning-the-end but also simply more learning. This is both what happens and is the objective of learning: when one aspires to learn, one wishes to gain more learning; as one learns, each learning add up to the next. The process is cumulative.
On the other hand, with the 道 (dào), it says the opposite: its pursuit would lead to less and less of it. The third line emphasises that further: it would decrease until it reaches the ultimate end of nothing-ness, or in this passage exactly, of “no action” that is 無為 (wú wéi). As one pursues the 道 (dào), the action, the pursuit itself, decreases until no more pursuing, no more action is done, until the state of 無為 (wú wéi) is “achieved”.
It is quite interesting to use the English word “achieve” to describe the almost-indescribable 無為 (wú wéi): it means “no action” but does not “achieve” imply a doing? “Achieve” works with learning: learning-the-end is an achievement and learning-the-means a way of achieving something.
And yet, “achieve” seems to work: in the next line it says that “nothing is left undone” which can be rephrased as “everything is accomplished”. Everything is achieved, it seems to say.
On good governance
The second way the passage makes sense of this is through an illustration: the governing of an empire. The last two lines tell of how best to do it, that is if the goal of “governing” is to achieve order, then all that one needs to do is… nothing. No activity, else undertaking action means one “is not qualified to govern the empire”.
It sounds simple but seemingly difficult to understand, and subsequently to apply, perhaps because it is the opposite of the “usual” way of looking at things. It is commonly habitual that when there is a situation (of any kind), the questions usually centre around action: “What are you doing? What should be done? What is the plan?” This is especially the case when there is a problem or something that looks like a problem: What should be done? Or, in a more positive way, when one thinks about life—the “big picture life”—one is asked: What are your goals? And following that: what are the steps to those goals?
This is one possible way of how as one follows the 道 (dào) it would lead to “nothing left undone”—of how the “action” of action-less action 無為 (wú wéi) comes about: as things are already happening even without anyone doing anything, “nothing is left undone”.
In the case of an empire: the conventional sign of “good governance” is of a governing body doing something, achieving something, especially of goals they have had promised to achieve. No “successful” politician had ever promised during their campaign that they would “not do anything at all, so as to keep the status quo”. Most if not all of them promises to “change things for the better”. But maybe we might be better off going for the former sort of politician, if ever someone of that kind comes about. After all, is it not also a greal deal of difficulty to not do when one is expected to do so in order to be considered ‘good’ or a ‘success’? As in the case of learning, the proof of learning is with the presence of action and the byproducts of the act. A lack of homework is seen as learning nothing.
But perhaps the key here is connecting the two ways: following the 道 (dào) is like governing an empire but it is the opposite of learning even if their methods seem similar.
(In the same logical fashion: governing an empire is the opposite of learning even if they seem similar. The more one governs, the less governing is done until no more governing is needed and that is when everything would be accomplished).
Toward action-less action
That is what the pursuit of the 道 (dào) entails: an action that leads to less and less doing until there is no doing at all. However, this is not an empty sort of doing because “nothing is left undone” still. 無為 (wú wéi) is not just a “not doing” but an action-less action. Such may look differently. In an empire, that might happen when the governing body is able to efficiently structure both the empire and its way of governance. For example, when procedures are well-designed, like in applying for a document, that act of getting something would seem effortless: no action (that is, not much) but things are accomplished. Another: when there is peace because the constituents follow the law without being forced to do so. No more “governing” needed all because there was good governance.
Yet perhaps the image of learning would help clarify how 無為 (wú wéi) looks further: when reading, for example, one might chance upon a topic that piques one’s interest. Naturally—effortlessly—this would lead to reading more about the topic, desiring to understand it further and further. As such activity is done, it becomes a habit. Over time, learning can seem so natural, like breathing: one does it without having to consciously do so. That state of 無為 (wú wéi) comes about in two ways: in the flow of the first image of getting into a certain subject and down its rabbit-hole of ideas; the other, in its development into a habit.
But how does that differ from the supposed opposite that is the “increase day after day”?
That the “goal”, the end to all such means, ought to be the 道 (dào) if the state were of 無為 (wú wéi). Not learning more, or governing well, but simply: the 道 (dào).
Reference
- Dy, Manuel B. Readings in Chinese Philosophy. Quezon City: Bluebooks, an imprint of Ateneo de Manila University Press. 2020. (electronic version)