is the vast primary force in the universe, the text then defines the de in a variety of ways, including as the power derived from the dao. It identifies the dao with nature and relates it to the development and deterioration of material phenomena. The constant changes in the world simply reflect the manifestations of the dao. Study of texts or use of the senses will not necessarily lead to greater understanding of the dao. Only by looking inward will an individual be in touch with and understand the dao. Neither science nor reason will result in true knowledge. Like other mystical texts, the Daodejing envisioned a sudden illumination as a means of gaining insight into one’s kinship with the universe.
The dao did not necessarily translate into tangible benefits, nor could morality or good behavior guarantee rewards. The later Confucian emphasis on virtue and on proper, occasionally deferential conduct toward others struck Daoists as irrelevant. The dao would not intervene in human affairs on behalf of those who had received illumination. It bore no relation to human standards of morality. Daoism offered solace to the individual in an era of chaos and social fragmentation. Liberated from obligations to society and from expectations of specific ethical behavior, the individual was free to cultivate himself and to achieve a union with the dao. When he became enlightened, he would rise above the tribulations of his times and would experience inner peace and harmony.
Daoism, as described in the Daodejing, also proffered what it believed to be beneficial advice to rulers, which included a response to the turbulence of the Warring States period. It asserted that the best rulers practiced a policy of nonaction (wu-wei). If they wanted to cope with banditry, plundering, and rebellion, the terrible plagues of this unsettled time, they would simply avoid doing anything. The more laws or restrictions that the ruler imposed, the greater the deterioration he would face. Inaction and initially yielding to others would eventually lead to success. Through inaction, compassion, and avoidance of distinctions between good and evil, the ruler often reflected the people’s views and at other times persuaded others by his example. Compulsion and harsh laws would not be effective in achieving order and stability.
Though Lao Zi perceived nonaction as a sound political philosophy for the rulers and for the entire population, his impact on politics was negligible. Centralization and unification were essential during the Warring States period, and the rulers of the various “feudal” states were not persuaded that Daoism provided a proper vehicle for their political needs. Instead Daoism, with its affinity for nature and its espousal of a harmonious and contemplative life, appealed principally to those artists and intellectuals who sought refuge from difficult and dangerous times.
Zhuang Zi (or Zhuang Zhou), a Daoist who lived in the fourth and third centuries BCE, amplified the ideas found in the Daodejing. Instead of cryptic verses, Zhuang Zi used anecdotes and paradoxes to illustrate the principles of Daoism. His amusing yet pointed stories provided revealing introductions to the basic Daoist precepts and also poked fun at and satirized contemporary and earlier thinkers.
Like the Daodejing, Zhuang Zi sought unison with the Way (dao), identified with nature or Heaven. Such an effort required liberation from social standards. Conventional morality and behavior would lead the individual astray, and only actions divorced from a desire for material gain or any other kinds of advantage deserved praise. Spontaneous and intuitive actions reflected the Way. Zhuang Zi repeatedly praised artisans who produced beautiful and useful artifacts instinctively without the burden of ponderous intellectualizing about their craft. He valued imagination and freedom from convention more than incessant intellectual discourse. His views on morality and on overreliance on intellect and reason thus clashed with the philosophy of Confucius, who appears in several of Zhuang Zi’s anecdotes. He deflated Confucius with ridicule rather than with scathing denunciations of the earlier philosopher’s ideas. He valued those who forgot about morality, about the untenable distinctions between good and evil, and about constant use of reason.
As a mystic, Zhuang Zi tended to distrust knowledge derived from the senses or so-called experience. He wrote that the true sage looked inward rather than to external reality in order to become enlightened. Dependence on the senses would mislead and would be deadening. One of Zhuang Zi’s anecdotes, in the translation by Burton Watson, aptly demonstrates his views of the senses. Two emperors frequently met “in the territory of [emperor] Hundun, and Hundun treated them very generously.” They “discussed how they could repay his kindness. ‘All men,’ they said, ‘have seven openings so they can see, hear, eat, and breathe. But Hundun alone doesn’t have any. Let’s try boring him some.’ Every day they bored another hole (for his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose), and on the seventh day Hundun died.”1
Zhuang Zi’s connections with Lao Zi, the reputed founder of Daoism, are uncertain. Since Lao Zi is not an attested figure and the exact dating of the Daodejing is contested, the possible links between the philosophers will probably remain unknown. Zhuang Zi mentions Lao Zi in several of his anecdotes but does not cite the Daodejing. Yet this does not prove that Lao Zi was a real figure because Zhuang Zi mentions numerous legendary and mythical personages. In any event, both the Daodejing and Zhuang Zi have attracted the attention of numerous translators in the West. Their mysticism, their occasional playfulness, and their elusiveness have appealed to Western interpreters of east Asian thought, making them among the most translated texts in world literature.
In their own times, neither Lao Zi nor Zhuang Zi appealed to the political elite. Their ideas did not appear to provide useful guides to decision making or to bolstering the power of individual rulers. Unlike the other pragmatic moral and political philosophies of the era, Daoism offered scant practical aid to rulers seeking to expand their territories and to promote unity within their domains. Its murkiness and its espousal of nonaction were deemed too unrealistic by political leaders. By emphasizing social order and by prescribing proper conduct between the governors and the governed, Confucianism, Legalism, and the other philosophies of the time seemed more attuned to the rulers’ needs; Daoism did not appear as useful politically. Yet the eventual success of Confucianism did not lead to the extirpation of Daoism. Indeed, Confucianism and Daoism were not mutually exclusive. Because each dealt with different needs and facets of mankind – Confucianism with the political and the social and Daoism with the individual, the aesthetic, and emotions – they could and did coexist.
POPULAR RELIGIONS
Popular religions offered another means of solace in unstable times, although written sources for such expressions are limited. However, glimpses may be garnered through inference. Some texts cite belief in spirits and in deities associated with nature, but details about specific rituals are scarce. A work of poetry, known as the Chu ci (Songs of the South or Songs of Chu), mentions shamanism, which was an easily accessible religion because it did not depend on written sources. With the help of musical instruments and a whirling dance, a shaman would fall into a trance and allegedly reach the sky and speak in the names of the spirits. Judging from modern shamanism in Japan and Korea, shamans also provided rudimentary medical care. To be sure, shamanism developed different forms and practices in northeast Asia, including Manchuria and Mongolia. In any event, the Chu ci includes a poem called “Li Sao” (Departing in Sorrow), which had profound reverberations on Chinese history and yielded set themes about a badly treated official who commits suicide in response and, in that manner, clears his name. Qu Yuan (343–278 BCE), the writer of the poem, himself had been dismissed from government service for warning about taking precautions against the state of Qin. His warnings fell on deaf ears and the Qin conquered his region. In despair, Qu committed suicide. The annual Dragon Boat Festival, on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, commemorates this heroic figure.
Popular religions may have had as great an influence on the ordinary person as Daoism and other clearly defined philosophies. They had few specific texts and no clergy except for practitioners. The lack of a canon made these views accessible to the largest segment of the population, most of whom could not read or write. Worshippers did not limit themselves to set beliefs and instead
