The Laozi’s Ideal State: Nostalgia, Utopia, State of Nature

Abstract

Among the various statements related to the political philosophy of the Laozi《老子》, Chapter 80 is distinguished by its particular depiction of what may be dubbed an ideal state. By examining the viewpoints of various authors in both English and Chinese works, the chapter will be analyzed and compared with three concepts independently discussed in political philosophy: (1) the call for returning to the past, also referred to as nostalgia; (2) utopianism; and (3) the state of nature. It is probably more than evident that the ideal state is at least reminiscent of these theories. Despite the possible and hypothetical similarities, however, this article will attempt to show that it is acceptable to claim that there is neither sufficient evidence nor support for the argument that the Laozi advocates returning to the past, proposes utopia, or describes a state of nature, and, moreover, that some of its statements are not completely adequate for such interpretations. The thesis that this article will support is that the ideal state is only a metaphorical description of a better world.

1. Introduction

The Laozi《老子》, also known as the Daodejing 道德經 (The Book of the Way and the Virtue), an ancient Chinese work on philosophy, contains various statements and passages on the art of governing, which are scattered around the book and oftentimes disconnected from each other. If we attempt to find the relationship between them in the context of the overall philosophy of the text, we may come to coherent political thought. This is possible if we apply a contextualist reading of the Laozi, contrary to an isolated reading of the chapters (Shen 2003, p. 360). This method will be the crucial tool here in investigating one particular passage of the Laozi, namely, Chapter 80:

Let there be a small country with few people.

Let there be ten times and a hundred times as many utensils.

But let them not be used.

Let the people value their lives highly and not migrate far.

Even if there are ships and carriages, none will ride in them.

Even if there are arrows and weapons, none will display them.

Let the people again knot cords and use them (in place of writing).

Let them relish their food, beautify their clothing, be content with their homes, and delight in their customs.

Though neighboring communities overlook one another and the crowing of cocks and barking of dogs can be heard,

Yet the people there may grow old and die without ever visiting one another.1

Herein, we can see a description of what may be called an “ideal state”. The question that stems from considering this chapter is what this ideal state really means, especially in the context of the political philosophy of the Laozi. There are three readings that are usually seen in contemporary literature. The first is that the chapter calls for a return to the past as a kind of nostalgia for some better time(s), or, in other words, it refers to a so-called golden age. This would mean the Laozi proposes that the ruler should bring about a situation similar to that of the past. The second is that the chapter is probably utopian in character and proposes how a future ideal state should look and, by that, deems that it is necessary for the ruler to strive to realize it. The third is that the chapter might only describe how a past condition looked without really calling for a return to it. This way, it could mean that it depicts a situation known as the state of nature in political philosophy.

However, there is no, so to speak, consensus on these issues; there are both scholars who accept and reject the identification of the ideal state with these concepts. The purpose here is to attempt to come up with something that may be an acceptable interpretation but does not necessarily go in line with those views. Thus, this essay will try to show that the Laozi as a whole does not offer ample evidence and support for the above-mentioned interpretations, as well as that other statements in it show ideas that are not compatible with them.

Almost every work on the Laozi that discusses the chapter, both in English and Chinese, brings up at least one of these issues. Some authors think that the Laozi proposes exactly such a society, whether as a past condition that existed or a future possibility, while others think that all it does is describe an ideal state without seriously trying to promote it. Some discuss these matters in detail, while others just mention them briefly. Nevertheless, it would be impossible here to refer to all of that literature. In the following, we will just consider a few notable examples. It may be the case that most of these examples lack in-depth analysis; however, I would argue that, no matter how weak their theoretical background is, they still contribute in their own way to shaping our understanding of the chapter and the political philosophy of the Laozi.

Before engaging in the discussion, a brief exposition of some key philosophical ideas of the Laozi would be useful.

2. Dao and Governing

The central concept of the philosophy of the Laozi is called Dao道, which can be translated as Way. In its most common meaning, it is the originator of all things and exists independently, before everything else:

There was something undifferentiated and yet complete,

Which existed before heaven and earth.

Soundless and formless, it depends on nothing and does not change.

It operates everywhere and is free from danger.

It may be considered the mother of the universe.

I do not know its name; I call it Dao.

(Laozi 25)

It is bottomless, perhaps the ancestor of all things.

…

Deep and still, it appears to exist forever.

I do not know whose son it is.

It seems to have existed before the Lord.

(Laozi 4)

There is a pattern or a law of action that Dao’s function or operation follows. It is called ziran 自然 and can be translated as naturalness or self-so:

Man models himself after Earth.

Earth models itself after Heaven.

Heaven models itself after Dao.

And Dao models itself after Nature [ziran].

(Laozi 25)

The function of Dao acts in a so-called natural way. This means that Dao acts from itself and that its actions are not imposed by some outside force. To say that Dao acts according to ziran, means that it acts according to its own naturalness. The naturalness of Dao is characterized by simplicity (pu樸), and, in their original nature, all things contain it and all humans live by it. This is also related to the ideas of reversion (fan反) and returning (fu復). The Laozi states that reversion is the movement of Dao (Laozi 40), which is akin to returning to what is natural and simple, or, in other words, to the roots. The book says:

All things flourish,

But each one returns to its root.

(Laozi 16)

However, the present governments, from Laozi’s perspective, do not follow Dao’s natural function, and people do not live in simplicity anymore. Thus, the Laozi advocates that, since things seek to return to their roots, society should also go back to following the function of Dao and bring back its simplicity in people’s daily lives.

Although a principle of Dao’s action, ziran can have a practical application to society and human beings. As such, it comes to be known as wuwei 無為 (effortless action). Wuwei is not literally doing nothing; it is that activity that comes from Dao and is contrary to any unnatural actions. Such unnatural actions, known as youwei 有為 (having activity), on the part of the rulers, bring disorder and oppression to the state. They also contribute to people diverging further from Dao and their natural simplicity. Hence, wuwei is the one and true principle of governing through Dao. The book says:

By acting without action [wuwei], all things will be in order.

(Laozi 3)

The sage manages affairs without action [wuwei].

(Laozi 2)

The sage is a person who understands Dao’s natural operation and is able to apply wuwei in managing affairs. Thus, the sage would be the best possible ruler. The Laozi often puts words in the mouth of the sage, who may be understood as the one who is supposed to rule. Thus, the sage says:

I take no action [wuwei] and the people of themselves are transformed.

I love tranquility and the people of themselves become correct.

I engage in no activity and the people of themselves become prosperous.

I have no desires and the people of themselves become simple [pu].

(Laozi 57)

The idea is that, under the rulership of the sage, people would return (fu) to the state of simplicity (pu), that is, to following the natural operation of Dao.2

3. A Return to the Past and Utopia

On the surface, the call for returning to the past and utopianism are similar theories; yet, in their original conceptual meanings, they are completely opposite. They are similar in that both campaign for a better society than the present one. However, while the former looks for an example of that society somewhere in history, the latter proposes a new idea of what that society would look like. This view may be challenged in the way that the idealization of the past might be considered utopian in nature. However, this does not completely identify the two concepts “for utopias are usually considered to be invested in futurity and driven by a belief in progress, not by a nostalgic idealization of the past” (Metz 2019, p. 161). Nevertheless, in the literature concerning the Laozi, it is not uncommon to see claims that the book called for returning to or restoring the utopia of the past (Van Norden 1999, p. 192; Ivanhoe 1999, p. 245). According to this explanation, the imagination of the future is to bring into reality the idealized past. Even if it is argued that these two concepts may, to a certain degree, overlap, that would not necessarily interfere with the argumentation of this essay. While this text will not discuss the return to the past and utopia in separate sections precisely because of this possibility of overlap, it will still keep in mind that they are separate ideas.

The most obvious proponents of the call for returning to the past are Confucians and Mohists, contemporaries of Laozi’s author. They advocate that the governments of the time should accept and carry out the practices of the past sage rulers and govern with similar wisdom and virtue as them. For reference, the concept of utopia is probably more developed in the West, with the works of Plato (c.427–347 B.C.E.), Thomas More (1478–1535), and Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639) among the most prominent. In Chinese literature, a utopian society is described in the Peach Blossom Spring, written by Tao Yuanming 陶淵明 (365–427).

The idea that Chapter 80 is a recommendation for a return to the past can be found as early as in Wang Bi’s (226–249) commentary on the Laozi: “Even a small state with a scanty population can return to the ancient, let alone the great state with plenty of people. Therefore, the small state is used as an example” (P. J. Lin 1992, p. 141). What Wang Bi seems to understand is that this passage verbatim suggests an actual return to the past. However, the question may be, what time does this return to the past signify? Or, more precisely, what is the degree of development in life and society to which this proposal to return refers? The Laozi does not say it clearly, but I speculate and consider three possibilities.

First, it might refer to the most ancient and primitive times when people lived in small communities. Their hierarchical structure was probably centered on one person at the top who was in charge of making decisions, which everybody obeyed. There was limited household tool use and inland tillage and farming, and, more than likely, there were simple weapons used for hunting and fishing. The people knew that there were other similar communities to theirs; however, they had no interest or need to visit them and exchange information and products. This is obviously a very underdeveloped society, even compared to the Laozi’s present, and some authors have ruled out the possibility that it calls for a return to this sort of primitive tribal life (Fu 2003, p. 245; Wang 2006, p. 177).

Another possibility would be that the book calls for a return to a certain time in history, which is, as it were, known to have existed. The production of tools, weapons, and transportation vehicles was probably fairly developed, and some of the products, including the technology for making them, were still used in the time of the Laozi’s author. Moreover, this time may have been so close to the author’s contemporary society that some of its people, or at least its elders, remembered that they had lived in it and dreamed about its return. After all, do not even people today in many different places of the world remember some more perfect past and dream about its return? Thus, is this passage of the Laozi a kind of nostalgia for some peaceful golden age? It is not easy to give an affirmative answer since there is no clear reference to any specific time in either Chapter 80 or elsewhere in the book.

A third possibility would be that it is a return to the past somewhere between the first two, not only in terms of time but also in terms of development. It may be a society that is neither completely primitive nor advanced. It is more advanced than the tribal society but still keeps the benefits of civilization within its confines. Again, the book does not point to a specific time in the past; nonetheless, of all three hypotheses, I would argue that the description of the ideal state in Chapter 80 best suits this possibility. There is some technological development; however, the use of its products is somewhat limited. According to Van Norden, the primitivism advocated by the Laozi can be called “soft” primitivism (Van Norden 1999, p. 193), which best describes this third possibility. “Hard” primitivism is that which needs to be abolished in favor of civilization and the advancement of knowledge. On the other hand, the Laozi’s ideal state adopts some degree of primitivism, allowing at the same time only a limited extent of the advantages of civilization’s development and including only some basic and rudimentary knowledge and skills necessary for daily life. This way, the advancement of humankind is not something that is wished for as a substitute for soft primitivism.

Van Norden goes further to describe how disastrous this primitive society might be. He says:

Most of the children in this “utopia” will die from diseases before they reach maturity. The adults will toil in the fields from dawn until dusk, with little time for leisure. In bad years, there will be mass starvation. And … there is no reason to believe there will be no assault, theft, murder, and even the occasional witch hunt in this primitive society.

(Van Norden 1999, p. 203)

However, it seems hardly likely that the Laozi imagines a society in which the above situation is the case. Its vision would, on the contrary, be a society in which people would live calm and peaceful lives and would rarely face premature deaths. I would agree with Hans-Georg Moeller that, in this ideal society, people will live long and “die at the right time” (Moeller 2006, p. 124), as is also stated at the end of Chapter 80.

Further to this point, Thomas Michael dismisses other sinological views as narrow-minded, saying that the Laozi advocates primitivism (Michael 2018). According to him, they do not see the fact that the Laozi endorses something approaching a unified empire, where “the small states are brought into more expansive systems of cooperation with each other.” This, he goes on, can particularly be seen in Chapter 61, where the small states are being taken over by the large state yet are encouraged to maintain their “life-worlds” despite such incorporation. This way, the small states are allowed to “flourish without interference from threats either internal or external.”

With all this said, an acceptable understanding might be that the Laozi does not call for a return to this past but that the small state is a kind of metaphor for a society in accordance with Dao’s natural (ziran) and simple (pu) function. Similarly, Wang Bangxiong affirms that the return to the past is not the original meaning of the passage; it is not a return to some tribal society, and it is not about the actual number and size; however, it is about the state of mind (Wang 2006, p. 177). This may go in line with Chapter 28 of the Laozi, where a “return (fu) to the simplicity” is mentioned. The simplicity (pu) may stand for that state of mind that is in accordance with Dao.

The Laozi does not reject the whole of civilization. It more likely only calls for an attempt to reduce to a minimum the project of civilization (Schwartz 1985, p. 213), including technological advancement (Lai 2017, p. 126). The message here is that the people return to their natural and simple characters endowed by Dao, which are now somehow lost or hindered, and live in accordance with its standards. In order to achieve this, the sage does not want to actually make people go back to their more primitive society but wants them, so to speak, to be “without (unnecessary) knowledge and (selfish) desires” and to “not value rare (hard to obtain) treasures” (Laozi 3).3 In other words, he hopes that the occupants of civilization will not pollute their simple natures so that they will reside in “a civilized community in which the lives are unharmed by civilization” (Yuan 1991, p. 207). Civilization is a human creation, and its advancements help human development further. However, the Laozi is aware that civilization can harm people’s original nature; therefore, it wants them to understand the possible damage they could incur. Thus, when people enjoy their natural and simple lives, they do not possess a will to engage in warfare and do not touch their weapons; when they feel peace and harmony within, they do not feel like traveling far and do not use transportation. Hence, what Chapter 80 may well illustrate is a state in which people cultivate their original natures and know how to handle the advantages of civilization and not harm themselves by it.

The chapter can also seem like a description of a utopia, that is, a future ideal society, for which realizability and feasibility may be questioned. There is some discussion about this in the literature. For example, Frederic Bender claims that the sagely wisdom of the Laozi contains a utopian dimension. The three classic utopian ends—perpetual peace; happiness; and attainment of a level of moral development—are realized in the small state (Bender 1990, pp. 136–37). Others think that as the Laozi’s authors were unsatisfied with the situation of the state and government of their time, they proposed this ideal state, which is a utopia (Chen and Bai 2002, p. 233). Following this explanation, the passage is not a metaphor but a hope for the future. Thus, this description is not only an ideal but also an imagination or fantasy that cannot be practically implemented. Fantasy is not the same as an ideal; it is a kind of idealized ideal. There is a contrast between the ideal and the real; however, the contrast between the fantasy and the real is even stronger (Chen and Bai 2002, pp. 233–34). In this view, this idealized ideal is actually a utopia.

On the surface, we might agree that the chapter describes a kind of utopia. However, there are some authors who do not accept this interpretation. For example, Fu Peirong claims that this is not a hope for a future ideal state but only an ideal society in the author’s heart (Fu 2003, p. 245). And, further, the passage describes an ideal state in the human soul, which, although it cannot truly be carried out, still does not hurt our hearts (Fu 2003, p. 246). Nevertheless, to say that this is a utopia in the author’s heart might result in the hasty conclusion that the Laozi in general advocates utopianism. An isolated reading of the chapter can lead us to this understanding; however, if we consider it in the context of the whole text, we may see that such an interpretation is not consistent. “Treating it as a constant utopian idea makes the text incoherent” (Hansen 1992, p. 230). Thus, the contextualist reading of the Laozi can lead us to consider some reasons to reject the utopian interpretation.

First, when we discuss the chapter, we cannot neglect the concept of wuwei because its description metaphorically represents and symbolizes the possibility of a society governed by wuwei. As Bai Tongdong stresses, Chapter 80 does not describe “simply an idealized portrayal of the agrarian society of ancient China or a proposal for its restoration, but rather a statement of the very conditions that are needed to make the teaching of non-action in the Laozi possible in a comprehensive and constructive way” (Bai 2009, p. 491). We remember that Chapter 57 says the sage takes no action (wuwei), that is, acts in consonance with Dao, and people transform themselves so that they eventually attain the state of simplicity (pu). Hence, governing through wuwei helps people achieve simplicity, which is the possible meaning of the return implied in the ideal state. Moreover, the Laozi proposes:

Abandon sageliness and discard wisdom;

Then the people will benefit a hundredfold.

Abandon humanity and discard righteousness;

Then the people will return to filial piety and deep love.

Abandon skill and discard profit;

Then there will be no thieves or robbers.

(Laozi 19)

Conventional knowledge, skills, and morality are not welcome in the state governed through wuwei. They are characteristic of any society that has lost the endowment of Dao and is governed by youwei (unnatural activity). Moreover, they may also bring disorder to the state. Therefore, the Laozi calls for leaving them behind in order for the state to be in harmony. This harmonious state governed through wuwei is best represented by the situation described in Chapter 80.

Commenting on the Laozi and the small state, the translator Moss Roberts says: “Laozi undoubtedly knew that his small Utopia was unrealistic. But imagining it may have helped him to formulate other elements of his political philosophy” (Roberts 2001, p. 17). Considered this way, in the context of the whole text, that is, examining all the statements related to governing, it turns out that the small state with few people is not really a utopia but a kind of metaphor for the political philosophy of the Laozi.

Next, the Laozi also warns that breeding desires for things that are not really necessary can make people slaves to those desires; however, at the same time, acknowledges the importance of natural desires for survival (Laozi 3). The ideal state is a description of a life in which people are not blinded by selfish desires and greed is not known to them. However, it is assured that they have everything they need in terms of food and shelter. This also goes in line with governing through wuwei, which puts people’s lives in a state of simplicity.

And finally, the Laozi also speaks about governing a big state:

Ruling a big country is like cooking a small fish.

(Laozi 60)

A small fish is fragile, and when we cook it, we must be careful not to damage it. This is a metaphorical example of concrete advice on how to rule a big state, which means less interference in people’s original natures and being careful not to disturb their harmony with the natural operation of Dao. Heshang Gong’s commentary on the first line of Chapter 80 is different from Wang Bi’s and goes in line with the above passage: “Although the sage may be ruling a large country, he treats it like a small one: being frugal and not given to excesses. Although the people may be many, he treats them as if they were only a few; he does not dare to overburden them” (A. K. L. Chan 1991, p. 168). Moreover, in Chapter 61, the Laozi talks about the relationship between the big and the small states. Is it then possible that the Laozi really wants its ideal state to be small and its people to be few? Probably, as Vincent Shen stresses, the terms “small” and “few” mean nothing quantitative; however, the question is more how to apply Dao in governing (Shen 2003, p. 360). Similarly, Ames and Hall conclude: “The point is not the absolute size of the state, but the way in which it is governed” (Ames and Hall 2003, p. 202). In other words, it would be acceptable to say that the Laozi is not really interested in the size of the state and the number of people, but in establishing, by carrying out governing through wuwei, a state in accordance with the natural operation of Dao.

4. State of Nature

Another reading of Chapter 80 is that it possibly describes a past condition that is already lost and that hypothetically precedes our civilized and civil society. In political philosophy, this condition is known as the state of nature.

The theory of the state of nature was advocated by some early modern Western philosophers, such as Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), John Locke (1632–1704), Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–1778), etc. The assumption is that before civil society and the institution of government were established, people lived in a kind of natural state, without government or any type of organization. Although these philosophers have their own different views on the state of nature, they all agree that its existence is not necessarily a historical fact but a hypothetical state. Hence, “the state of nature is imagined as a situation that lacks not only political institutions but any form of organized social co-operation: there is no public law, no market structure, no detailed division of labour” (Beitz 2007, p. 633). Further, this theory presupposes that the people made a hypothetical contract, known as the social contract, and decided to leave the state of nature in order to live in a society with a government, laws, public protection, prohibitions, and punishments for those who break the laws and harm others. This way, it can only be assumed, hypothetically, that in Chapter 80, the Laozi imagined a condition that resembles the state of nature. However, we need to note that nowhere else in the book can we find anything related to something that might be called a social contract.

Chapter 80, as we already have seen, is open to multiple interpretations, and, since there is no strong textual support, we can only say that treating it as a kind of state of nature is an acceptable presupposition. The book also talks about the ancient or the old (guzhi 古之), which can be used as a mild support for this hypothesis.

The word guzhi appears in six chapters, five of which explain the advantages of life when Dao is used in government:

Of old those who were the best rulers were subtly mysterious and profoundly penetrating.

(Laozi 15)

In ancient times those who practiced Dao well

Did not seek to enlighten the people, but to make them ignorant.

(Laozi 65)

Why did the ancients highly value this Dao?

Did they not say, “Those who seek shall have it and those who sin shall be freed”?

For this reason it is valued by the world.

(Laozi 62)

One who is skillful in using men puts himself below them.

This is called the virtue of non-competing.

This is called the strength to use men.

This is called matching Heaven, the highest principle of old.

(Laozi 68)

It is precisely because he [the sage] does not compete that the world cannot compete with him.

Is the ancient saying, “To yield is to be preserved whole,” empty words?

(Laozi 22)

In one chapter, there is a direct proposal to use the governing Dao of the ancient people in the present:

Hold on to the Dao of old in order to master the things of the present.

(Laozi 14)

Whether the Laozi believes this ancient time is a historical fact or not is also a question. Nonetheless, at least we can say it is a hypothetical, supposed state that logically precedes this non-Daoist society. The assumption is that there was a state in accordance with Dao that was governed through wuwei; however, at some point in time, people somehow lost Dao, resulting in what we have today. The proposals to carry out governing through various concepts from conventional morality, such as humanity (ren 仁) and righteousness (yi 義), are not in accordance with Dao and wuwei. Thus, the book says:

When the great Dao declined,

The doctrine of humanity [ren] and righteousness [yi] arose.

When knowledge and wisdom appeared,

There emerged great hypocrisy.

When the six family relationships are not in harmony,

There will be the advocacy of filial piety and deep love to children.

When a country is in disorder,

There will be the praise of loyal ministers.

(Laozi 19)4

When Dao is lost, only then does the doctrine of virtue arise.

When virtue is lost, only then does the doctrine of humanity arise.

When humanity is lost, only then does the doctrine of righteousness arise.

When righteousness is lost, only then does the doctrine of propriety arise.

Now, propriety is a superficial expression of loyalty and faithfulness, and the beginning of disorder.

(Laozi 38)

The ideal state of the Laozi would mostly resemble the state of nature described by Rousseau. If the book imagines a past, it is a state in accordance with Dao. The central figure of this state is the sage-ruler, who governs through wuwei. His presence is not very clear to the people; however, they still know of his existence (Laozi 17). On the other hand, Rousseau depicts a not-yet-civilized, pre-political state of nature. However, what is common is that, in both states, people are somehow closer to their original characters. They all live in a state before the actual contamination of unnatural morality and selfish desires, which gives rise to societies with too much activity, that is, the practice of youwei and the loss of Dao in the case of the Laozi, and inequality among humans in the case of Rousseau. People are not harmed by civilization, or at least in the Laozi’s state, it is reduced to a minimum. Rousseau describes the human in the state of nature in the following way: “I see him eating his fill under an oak tree, quenching his thirst at the first stream, making his bed at the base of the same tree that supplied his meal, and, behold, his needs are met” (Rousseau 1994, p. 26). Further, he says:

If he had had an axe, would his arm have been able to break such solid branches? If he had had a slingshot, would his hand have been able to cast a stone with such speed? If he had had a ladder, would he have been able to climb up a tree so nimbly? If he had had a horse, would he have been able to run so speedily?

(Rousseau 1994, p. 27)

This passage may remind us of the situation in the ideal state when people are not using the advantages of civilization. At the end, Rousseau imagines the savage man “wandering in the forest, without work, without speech, without a dwelling, without war, and without ties, with no need of his fellow men and no desire to harm them…” (Rousseau 1994, p. 51).

In the twentieth century, some scholars recognized similarities between the two. For example, Liang Qichao explains: “To the Daoist, Nature is absolute beauty and absolute good. Therefore their watchword is that of Rousseau in the latter half of the 18th century,—‘Back to Nature’” (Liang 1930, p. 75). When Xiao Gongquan discusses the various mentions of the concepts of “returning” in the Laozi, he says that “returning to what is destined” (Laozi 16) means “to return again to the absence of things” (Laozi 14), “which means nothing more or less than the meticulous preservation of the pristine natural Dao” (Hsiao 1979, p. 293). It seems justifiable to relate this to the idea of returning to the state of simplicity (Laozi 28); however, in a footnote to this sentence, Xiao adds: “This is somewhat similar in import to the eighteenth-century European‘return to nature’. The early writings of Rousseau represent one example of it” (Hsiao 1979, 293 fn. 48).5 Although there is a comparison with Rousseau here, from the previous quote, it can still be assumed that this might not really mean a return to a tribal life, but only a return to the natural function of Dao. Another author says that “[b]oth denounce culture and civilization; both wish to return to nature. They assume that in the beginning man is a solitary and happy being” (M. Lin 1942, p. 72). In more recent times, in an encyclopedia entry, it is said that the “Daoist society is very similar to Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s state of nature where humans live natural, free, and peaceful life” (Seok 2011, p. 634).

These statements are made in passing, so to speak, without deeper analysis of the issue. Some of them use the term nature or Nature as if it can be applied to the philosophy of the Laozi or Daoism in general. If by “nature” is meant ziran, then we have an inaccurate comparison, especially in the context of Rousseau’s philosophy. In Rousseau’s state of nature, there is no leading ontological principle such as Dao, nor is there a mode of activity such as wuwei. Dao follows ziran in its functioning, and the practical implementation of ziran is wuwei. Thus, it would be misleading if we interpreted the Laozi’s ziran as nature in our common sense.6 Moreover, by using the comparison with Rousseau, some of the above statements claim that the Laozi is nostalgic toward the past and that it hopes, in a way, to restore it. This issue was already discussed in the previous section.

Furthermore, let us consider other statements from the Laozi that may be related to the state of nature:

Do not value rare treasures, so that the people shall not steal.

Do not display objects of desire, so that the people’s hearts shall not be disturbed.

Therefore in the government of the sage,

He keeps their hearts vacuous,

Fills their bellies,

Weakens their ambitions,

And strengthens their bones,

He always causes his people to be without knowledge (cunning) or desire,

And the crafty to be afraid to act.

(Laozi 3)

This passage suggests that knowledge, especially the knowledge of selfish desires, should be abandoned in order to achieve a state in accordance with Dao. There is nothing wrong with the natural desires for survival and preservation, though, and they should remain. Other places in the Laozi also suggest discarding the knowledge and wisdom that might interfere with people’s natural hearts, such as Chapters 19, 20, and 65. What we can notice is that some of Rousseau’s descriptions of the state of nature may remind us of the above reasoning. Thus, about the savage man, he says: “His imagination portrays nothing; his heart yearns for nothing; his modest needs are easily within reach; and he is so far from having sufficient knowledge to wish to acquire even more that he can have neither foresight nor curiosity” (Rousseau 1994, p. 35).

Moreover, in Rousseau’s state of nature, there is a lack of conventional morality. The people are not evil just because they do not know what good is, and they are not vicious just because they do not know what virtue is (Rousseau 1994, p. 44). In the state of nature, people “have no kind of moral relationships to each other, nor any recognized duties, they would be neither good nor evil” (Rousseau 1994, p. 43). They, so to speak, go beyond the distinction between good and evil; they lack a sense of morality; they are amoral. According to a Rousseau expert, “It appears that although primitive man is ‘innocent’, he lacks not merely the ‘idea of goodness’, but also the sentiment of ‘goodness’ in his ‘heart’ (without which morality and virtue are impossible)” (Masters 1976, p. 152). The Laozi raises a similar point:

When they all know the good as good,

There arises the recognition of evil.

(Laozi 2)

If the savage man has no idea of the good, he also cannot have an idea of the evil. The Laozi also suggests that conventional morality should be abolished (Laozi 18, 19, 38) and that the sage is not humane (ren), but regards all people as straw dogs (Laozi 5), which is another statement of rejection of morality. The ideal state, in accordance with Dao in Chapter 80, is probably the closest description to a society that transcends morality, an amoral society, just like Rousseau’s state of nature.

Although we can recognize some similarities between the two, we still need to emphasize the considerable differences. Thus, we should be aware that, unlike Rousseau’s state of nature, in the Laozi’s ideal state, there is still spoken and written language as well as agriculture and metallurgy (Bai 2009, p. 492). The Daoist state recognizes the existence of civilization but hopes to reduce the harm that may come from it. It also has weapons, but no one is supposed to use them. If the weapons are employed, the state has already failed to some extent (Moeller 2006, p. 79).7 If we use modern language, the ideal state is a kind of civil society. Moreover, in Rousseau’s state of nature, not only are there no moral relationships; however, it seems that there are almost no relationships at all (Rousseau 1994, p. 51).8 The Laozi is maybe not clear about this; however, from the description of the ideal state, we can still assume that there are some relationships. If we may borrow Michael’s words, there is no domination or competition; however, there is a system of cooperation (Michael 2018). Thus, if it is a form of agrarian society, there must be families centered around the land to cultivate it. Since it is known that there are weapons and vehicles, there must be crafts that also produce tools and carriages for those who till the land. Then, there must also be some trade between people for food, clothes, and other goods. Moreover, although the Laozi rejects knowledge and education,9 there still must be some sort of transmission of knowledge and skills necessary for work and life. Otherwise, how could the craftsmen and farmers learn their skills? Or, how could people learn to tie the knots instead of writing? This is not a systematic education organized in institutions, which includes also reading the classics; it is transmitted from masters to apprentices during their work and from elders to the young during their daily activities. Hence, contrary to the state of nature, the ideal state is clearly a society based on relationships and communication between people as members of families and communities. The last point worth mentioning is that there is no governing system in the state of nature. This is not the case with the Laozi’s ideal state, which is governed by the sage-ruler.

5. Chapter 80 Reconsidered

The political vision of the Laozi is that the ruler does nothing, and nothing is left undone. This is called governing through wuwei, which is the core concept of this political philosophy. Wuwei is the activity on the side of the ruler that is in accordance with ziran, which, so to speak, is the function of Dao. To govern through wuwei means to govern in accordance with Dao. Thus, the political imagination of the Laozi is a society in consonance with the natural operation of Dao. This is contrary to governing through youwei, which is grounded on the ruler’s unnatural activity, that is, activity devoid of the natural function of Dao. The type of government that uses youwei, according to the Laozi, can only bring disorder and oppression.

If we take this as the essential political idea of the book, then it would be acceptable to say that all the statements related to governing and society should somehow fit it. The apparent inconsistencies of some parts of the text would be placed in a coherent structure to make some sense of them within the context of its overall political philosophy. This way, we may come to interpretations that are in line with the general political outlook.

A call for a return to the past means a call to restore a previous state. This state may be something that the one who calls for it claims to know has already really existed, or maybe it is something that people in the past talked about and hoped for. To bring this state into realization would be fulfilling a dream for a better society and life. The reasoning is that, if the people in the past enjoyed living in it or hoped to achieve it, there is no reason not to endeavor to build such a state.

A utopia, on the other hand, is a proposal for a state that has never existed before. It is a state created by a proponent from their own imagination for a better society and life. To bring this state into realization would also be fulfilling a dream for an ideal state. Unlike the call for a return to the past that allegedly existed before, utopia remains untested and, with that, bears the risk of being unrealizable, or, if it is established, even doomed to destruction. However, sometimes the restoration of the past is considered a restoration of utopia, as if the ideal past itself is the utopian imagination for the future. In other words, in this case, the utopia is not created from one’s inventiveness; however, it is just copied from a state that existed, or, better to say, it is copied from a state that is claimed to have existed sometime in the past.

There are a few questions we may ask. Is the Laozi really obsessed with some kind of nostalgic sentiment towards the past? Does the Laozi really call for a restoration of this past? Or, does the Laozi really attempt to propose an ideal state for the future? Does the Laozi think it is really achievable? As we have seen above, there may be differing answers to these questions. And the problem is not that there are right and wrong answers, especially not with a book such as this, which is full of seeming incongruences. The challenge is to find an answer that is consistent with the main political vision of the book. In order to perform that, its plan for an ideal state must be seen in the context of its political philosophy as a whole.

Lastly, the Laozi’s concept of ziran is not to be identified with "nature." Ziran may be translated as naturalness or even better as natural in adjectival form, and, as we know from Chapter 25, Dao models on ziran. In modern Chinese, ziran is an adequate translation of the word nature; however, that is not the original meaning in the Laozi. It denotes the spontaneous activity derived from Dao, according to which all things assume their course. Thus, the state of nature cannot be called a state of ziran, as it were, because, in that case, it would be wrongly assumed that it is a state in accordance with Dao.

In sum, the description in Chapter 80 may look like some past golden age or some future ideal state. However, it is acceptable to claim that it is inconsistent with the whole text of the Laozi to assert that it either represents a call to return to the past or proposes a kind of utopia. Based on some interpretations quoted above, the present author is inclined to think that the ideal state may be a metaphorical description of the sage’s dream or even the dreams of the people themselves for a better society in which people are closer to their original, that is, simple nature endowed by Dao. It is a depiction of a state in which the government, through wuwei is administered. It is also a state that fulfills the goal of reducing unnecessary knowledge and desires to a minimum, thus letting people cultivate their original natures endowed by Dao.

6. Conclusions

Chapter 80 in the Laozi is one of the many passages related to its political philosophy. It is subject to different interpretations, and this text analyzed three of the most common ones among the literature. The first claim is that the chapter advocates a return to the past. The Laozi does not clearly state a requirement for actual return; however, what the book more obviously advocates is a sort of return to the natural and simple lives in accordance with Dao. According to the second, it is a description of a future ideal state, a utopia. However, this can also be ruled out since this interpretation neglects the overall political theory of the Laozi, including governing through wuwei and statements about ruling a big state. And the third compares the ideal state with the state of nature, especially the one described by Rousseau. There are striking similarities between the two, but we cannot neglect the crucial differing points, such as that in the Laozi’s ideal state, there are relationships, civilization, and a ruler, while in the state of nature, there are not. In short, it is acceptable to believe that the above interpretations of the chapter may not be completely consistent with the context of the whole political thought of the book. However, a plausible reading might be that Chapter 80 is a metaphorical description of a dream for an ideal state.