Getting Wet

So, for the benefit of our beloved great white filter-feeder, I present my take on the 78th chapter of the 道 德 經 (dao de jing), the so-called water philosophy. I should note that what I have to say is not canonical, merely my own opinion filtered thru a mostly Western educational upbringing. Even so, I think the Gimlet would prefer that to the kind of aum aum mysticism a discussion of it usually entails. Anyway, the text:

天 下 莫 柔 弱 於 水 ，
而 攻 堅 強 者 莫 之 能 勝 ，
以 其 無 以 易 之 。

In the world, there is nothing as soft and weak as water,
and yet in assaulting the rigid and strong nothing can overcome it,
for they have nothing suitable to replace it.

弱 之 勝 強 ，
柔 之 勝 剛 ，
天 下 莫 不 知 ，
莫 能 行 。

The weak overcomes the strong,
the soft overcomes the rigid,
in the world no one doesn't know this,
yet no one can follow it.

[...]

[a pointless maxim]

正 言 若 反 。

True words seem a paradox.

Lao Zi's system, if you can even call it that, operates on a cascade of paradoxes; true to what he's saying, he never explicitly enumerates anything (which is why I think Bai Juyi's critical poem largely misses the point). You will find no statements of what the Dao is that aren't immediately contradicted. This idea of speaking indirectly, subversively, pervades the entire work; it is the means by which the "wise" act in the world without struggling against it. For, as Lao Zi sees it, the very act of competing is what causes one to become frustrated and unfulfilled. By a kind of dedicated nonchalance, one achieves ones goals. The idea, as I tried to explain it to the whale in a previous conversation, is to harmonize with the way things are (to use Lao Zi's terminology, to reside beneath), and in so doing, if you permit me to stretch the metaphor a bit, completely change the tune.

This chapter can have a sort of queasy mysticism to it, but only if not read in the context of the whole work. It frustrates me that we the great White Western Way try to make these things seem more foofooey than they actually are. In light of the final chapter, I think that water crap makes perfect sense:

信 言 不 美 ，
美 言 不 信 。

What one says believably is not beautiful,
what he says beautifully not believable.

善 者 不 辯 ，
辯 者 不 善 。
知 者 不 博 ，
博 者 不 知 。

Good men don't argue,
Men who argue aren't good.
Those who know aren't learned,
Learned men do not know.

聖 人 不 積 ，
既 以 為 人 己 愈 有 ，
既 以 與 人 己 愈 多 。

Wise men do not hoard;
the more they do for others, the more is done for them;
the more they give to others, the more they have in kind.

If there's a lesson to be learned from all this it is that one should be in the world but not let it get to him. Yielding to the world and its concerns does not have to mean being overcome by them. This is a false assumption that we all too often make: to yield is to lose. However, for Lao Zi's wise man, winning and losing are entirely irrelevant, thus submission becomes an entirely useful tactic with which to engage but not be overcome by the world and its concerns. Of course, all of this will be subject to the savage's quibbling over my translation of 善 as "good."

But in response to your comment, Mike, I think the problem with Benjamin, and incidentally why he blew his brains out, is that like Bai Juyi he just didn't get it. Brecht maintained a sense of humor toward life that I don't think Benjamin ever had, which is why he managed to survive for so long.