Living with Laozi: Part 3

Chapter 3 | Do not exalt the talented, so that the people will not contend | I want to say 'wait a minute' to the idea of 'aiming high'

The phrase 'you can be anything you want to be' is everywhere.

We are told this from childhood. Have big dreams. Hard work pays off. Don't be satisfied with who you are now. Many people have likely been pushed forward by such words. I was one of them.

But, I stop and think for a moment.

As a result of being pushed by those words, how many people have actually become 'satisfied'?

Looking around, many people are exhausted from constantly aiming higher. A new goal is placed just above the one they just achieved, and the finish line never arrives. After running and running, saying 'more, more,' they lose sight of why they are running—I'm sure you've heard stories like that once or twice.

Laozi saw through this 2,500 years ago.

A quiet provocation: 'Do not praise the wise'

At the beginning of Chapter 3, Laozi starts by saying, 'Do not treat the talented specially.'

In modern terms, this sounds like 'Don't give awards to top employees' or 'Don't post the top scorers.' You might think, 'Wait, why?'

But if you think about it carefully, this is sharp.

The moment you lift someone up by saying 'that person is amazing,' a hierarchy is born. If there is an amazing person, a person who is not amazing is created. If there is someone who is evaluated, someone who is not evaluated is created. The moment you create a ranking, everyone except those at the top becomes 'less than that.'

What Laozi is talking about is that structure. Creating praise or rankings itself becomes the seed of contention and jealousy. It is exactly the same as saying in the previous chapter, 'The moment you decide something is beautiful, ugliness is born.' This chapter is an extension of that.

The act of singling someone out as 'talented' seems to lift that person up, but at the same time, it pulls someone else down. Whether in the workplace, at school, or even at home, there is such a thing as the 'violence of praise.'

It's not done with malice. But as a result, someone is quietly getting hurt. Laozi noticed that.

In the first place, nowadays, everyone tries to benefit from so-called 'success philosophy,' but as you can see if you think about it a little, only a very small number of people can reach the 'top' as it is generally called, and it doesn't mean that everyone will be happy if they aim for it. The fact that there is a top means there are 'others.' Or rather, the top cannot exist without the 'others.'

Therefore, I want to say 'wait a minute' to the current common slogan 'aim high,' but surprisingly, Laozi presses even further here.
What surprised me most in this chapter is 'weaken their ambitions (弱其志).'.

From the perspective of modern common sense, this is quite the contrarian view. Have high ambitions, have dreams, set goals. In an era where such things are spoken of as a matter of course, Laozi dares to say, 'weaken your ambitions.'

When I first read this, I honestly thought, 'What do you mean by weaken it?' But gradually, I began to understand that Laozi is not saying 'give up'.

One of the major causes of human suffering lies in the strength of our belief that 'things must be this way.' I should have this kind of job, I should achieve this by this age, I should be this kind of person—when such 'shoulds' pile up, we start blaming ourselves for even the slightest deviation from them.

The higher the ambition, the greater the gap with reality. And that gap becomes fuel for self-reproach.

I believe 'weakening the ambition' is about reducing that fuel. It's not about becoming lethargic. It's about loosening the constraints of 'it must be this way' just a little bit.

A willow branch doesn't break in the wind because it is flexible. Hard trees are the ones that snap in a gale. 'Weakness of ambition' might not be about fragility, but about flexibility.

Empty the heart, fill the belly
Another phrase in this chapter that leaves an impression is 'Empty the heart, fill the belly'.

Empty your heart, and fill your belly.

When read in conjunction with 'weaken your ambition,' it starts to take on this meaning: whether it's information, desires, or the ambition to 'become someone,' the modern person's 'heart' is packed to the brim. If you open your smartphone, information flows in one after another. Even if you don't intend to compare, someone's recent status catches your eye. You see things you don't want to see.

To that 'state of mental fullness,' Laozi is saying, 'Empty it out for once.' And then, actually 'fill your belly'.

To 'fill your belly' refers to the basics of life. Food, clothing, shelter, health, peace of mind—it means not neglecting those foundations. It reads as if he is saying not to just talk about 'training the mind' through abstract philosophy, but to first ensure a solid foundation for living. I don't think he is trying to romanticize poverty.

If we translate this into modern terms, it might look something like this.

Seeing someone's 'fulfilling daily life' on social media and feeling unsettled—this is a state where the heart is full. In such moments, wouldn't Laozi say, 'First, put down your phone and eat a meal'? It sounds like a joke, but I feel it hits on something essential.

'Ignorance and desirelessness' does not mean becoming a fool
The part of this chapter that says 'always keep the people in a state of ignorance and desirelessness' can sound troublesome if read incorrectly. It can look like the logic of a ruler who wants to 'keep the people ignorant'.

But I don't think that's what Laozi is saying.

'Ignorance' here refers to a state free from cleverness and artificial values. It is a state not swayed by 'unnecessary wisdom'—the competitive spirit born from comparison, or the craving born from stoked desires.

Perhaps we could call it seeing things with a blank slate. It might be a sensation close to that pure wonder a child feels when touching something for the first time.

The more people learn, the more they build a framework within themselves of 'how things should be.' While that framework can bring richness, it also creates a narrowness that judges anything outside that framework as 'wrong.' I read 'ignorance' as the act of temporarily removing those frameworks.

Practice non-action, and nothing will be ungoverned
At the end of the chapter, 'If you practice non-action, there is nothing that will not be governed'.

Chapter 3 concludes with the words that if you practice non-action, there is nothing that will not be governed.

He is not saying that 'if you do nothing, things will go well.' It means that if you don't do unnecessary things, unnecessary conflicts won't arise. If you don't make people want things, there will be no fighting over them. If you don't create hierarchies, jealousy is less likely to be born.

Without a line drawn, there is no one to cross it.

This also applies to individuals. Every time you praise someone at work by saying, 'That person is excellent,' something builds up inside those who were not praised. Every time you compare children in parenting by saying, 'Your older brother could do this,' something accumulates inside the child who was compared.

Doing something does not necessarily bring about good results. Sometimes, things flow better when you refrain from doing unnecessary things.

I believe these words from Chapter 3 are a quiet question posed to modern people. Is what you are trying to do right now truly necessary? Or are you doing something that you do not need to do?

The next chapter, Chapter 4, discusses the idea that 'The Way is empty, yet when used, it never runs dry.' It is a theme about the richness of being empty. Once again, Laozi presents an idea that is the exact opposite of the modern sense that the more you fill something, the richer it becomes.