3        As little as possible

Not praising the deserving prevents envy.

Not valuing wealth prevents theft.

Not displaying the desirable prevents confusion of the senses.

Therefore the sapient governs by emptying senses and filling bellies, by curbing strife and strengthening backs.

He keeps the people ignorant and without desire.

He makes the knowledgeable afraid to act.

If he acts without action, order will prevail.

As little as possible

Society is obsessed with the eagerness to change. Changes for the better, we would like to believe. Today we call it progress, as if that is automatically the case. We encourage impatience and hurry onward, convinced that letting go of the past will bring an increasingly splendid future.

            But this mentality is doomed to escalate and accelerate, until we have no time at all to compare our innovations with what they replace. We don’t know if they are for better or for worse, or even what they lead to at length. We might one day destroy our world without realizing it.

            Lao Tzu is wary of change, of interfering with the present state of things. He sees the world as one of precious balance, where an action that is not carefully considered might easily lead to an avalanche of unwanted effects until balance is restored. So he praises non-action, wu-wei. Do as little as possible, and only when you absolutely have to. A minimum of interference ensures a maximum of stability.

            The more power you have, the more important it is to stick to non-action. A good ruler has the patience to refrain from action before knowing exactly what to do, and then to do as little as possible. Even for great problems, small solutions are usually the safest – and the more efficient. Big solutions cause new problems of equal size.

            There are those who claim to know what is needed, but they seldom know what needs may arise out of their solutions. So, they don’t know enough. Knowledge is also power, and should be treated with the same concern. The ones who know the most should be the most humble about the certainty of their knowledge. If they are aware of the risk of being proven wrong by a future of their suggestion, they will be afraid to propagate it. That is how they can make their responsibility equal their knowledge.

            Mankind is a longing species. Each of us knows that we are mortal, so we are desperate to live our lives to the fullest. This easily makes us victims of greed and envy. We guard each other with envy, suffering to the extent that others seem to enjoy themselves, struggling for a surplus surpassed by none, losing any sense of what is enough. Greed makes it impossible to delight in what we have, since there will always be more to get. This cannot last.

            Lao Tzu’s cure for such galloping madness is moderation in all. Only if we cease to cherish what we do not possess, can we appreciate what we have. If so, we will find that we don’t need much at all. Anything beyond food to keep us from getting hungry is luxury that we can do without. Any other power than the strength to endure is a burden.

            We live in a society of mass consumption. We are all both producers and consumers, but we tend to reluctantly forebear the former just for the reason of being able to indulge in the latter. Should we not be happier about what we are able to create, than what we hurry to destroy? At least, we should be able to ask ourselves if we really want everything that we set our eyes on. The joy of giving in to greed is quickly replaced by the disappointment of its minute reward. That is the trap of longing: Few things are as pleasing when we get them, as they were tempting when we longed for them.

            We must learn the deep and lasting pleasure of discovering how much it is that we do not need. Thereby we also learn how much we already have, and how precious that is.

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