Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we are taking
on, well, a ghost. A figure whose name is known
globally, whose writing sits on shelves in pretty
much every major library. And yet, he's shrouded
in more mystery than almost any other foundational
philosopher we're talking about lousy. It's a
spectacular challenge, you know, because here
we have a phenomenon, not just a person. Exactly.
A phenomenon. His book, The Tao Te Ching, is
one of the most translated and influential texts
in human history. I mean, it fundamentally shaped
religion, ethics, politics all across East Asia.
And yet the closer you look at the man himself.
The more he just sort of dissolves into legend.
We aren't even sure if Laozi refers to one single
person or if he's, you know, an invented author
for a compilation that took centuries to write.
Right. And our stack of sources today. is immense.
We're really pulling back the curtain on this
profound historical and philosophical riddle.
So for you, the learner, we're going to try and
cut through all that myth to find the essential
wisdom. Pretty vicious debates around his identity,
the actual textual evolution of the Tao Te Ching.
And its core concepts, which can be so contradictory,
like the Tao and Wu Wei. And then there's this
astonishing afterlife his ideas have had. Oh,
absolutely. From being enshrined as a divine
ancestor by emperors all the way to being claimed
as, what, the intellectual father of modern libertarianism
and anarchism. So our mission today is to navigate
that really fluid line between... verifiable
historical fact and, well, the thick layer of
legendary invention that's been laid down over
two millennia. And the big question we're pursuing
is this. How can a philosopher who might not
have even existed still fundamentally shape religion,
politics, and culture for thousands of years?
And how can he remain so profoundly relevant
to our modern questions about power and progress?
We're focusing on what this legacy means for
understanding our relationship with nature, with
power, and with intentional action today. Okay,
so let's get into it. Let's unpack this old master,
starting with the very first problem, his name.
It's so vital to begin there. You have to recognize
that the name Leonosi isn't a personal identifier,
not in the way we think of one today. Right,
it's not like John Smith. Not at all. It's an
abstraction, really, an honorific title. The
characters translate directly to old master or
venerable teacher. And that structure immediately
gives him this incredible authority. We see the
same thing with other major figures from that
era. Kongzi. Or Confucius, as we know him. And
Zhuangzi. This kind of naming suggests that even
if he wasn't a single person, he was immediately
positioned by later generations as this foundational
thinker. Someone whose wisdom demanded immediate
reverence. Absolutely. The name itself is a declaration
of status. But despite it being an honorific,
traditional accounts do try to give him a personal
name. And the most famous one is? Lyre. That's
L -N -R. And the sources know that the surname
Lyre is common, but it also has another meaning,
right? It means plum or plum tree as a noun.
It does. And this is exactly where the historical
details start to get twisted into the legendary
almost instantly. There we go. A very popular
story cropped up that Lousy's mother gave birth
to him while she was leaning against a plum tree.
It creates this immediate poetic link between
the philosopher's name and a natural, venerable
symbol. It adds a layer of destiny. But Lauer
isn't the only name he's known by. Not by a long
shot. He's also frequently identified as Lao
Dan, Lum Dan. And this name is arguably more
historically crucial. Why is that? Because it
appears in the earliest and most authoritative
sources we have, Sima Qin's Shiji, the records
of the grand historian. And even in the other
major Taoist text, the Zhuangzi. Exactly. And
the character Dan holds this huge symbolic weight.
It's often translated as long ear or the long
-eared one. And in ancient Chinese culture, long
ear... were a big deal. A very big deal. They
were potent symbols of profound wisdom, long
life, and high spiritual attainment. So to call
him Lao Dan is to immediately label him a sage
of ancient, almost mythical wisdom. So if we
trace the names, we're moving from something
potentially practical, Li Er Er, to something
deeply symbolic and venerable, Lao Dan. But there's
another formal name, too, that adds even more
dignity to the figure. Yes, his courtesy name.
This would be used in formal or more respectful
situations. It's recorded as Bo Yang. Bo Yang.
And looking at the characters here adds another
level of aristocratic authority. The character
Bo. Yeah, right. Bo historically meant the eldest
son born to the primary wife. Or sometimes it
was an aristocratic title, something like a count.
It implies rulership or seniority. And Yang,
of course, is the masculine, solar, positive
life force in Taoist cosmology. The Yang in Yin
and Yang. Correct. So his courtesy name layers
dignity, lineage, and cosmic energy onto this
figure. This sheer number of respectful names,
Leier, Laudan, Boyang, and then the ultimate
honorific Laozi, is really the first clearest
sign that we're dealing with a composite construction
built over time. That's it. We're not looking
at a straightforward historical biography of
one man. The name itself is fluid because the
identity underneath it is fluid. Okay, here's
where the tension really ratchets up. We rely
so heavily on Sima Qin's records of the grand
historian from the first century BC for almost...
everything about early Chinese figures. But what's
so fascinating is that Sima Qin, the grand historian
himself, couldn't land on a single version for
Laozi. He couldn't. He presented multiple distinct
accounts and then openly expressed his own skepticism,
saying, you know, I can't choose between them.
Which is a profound act of historical transparency,
really. It is. Sima Qin is essentially admitting
that even just 300 years or so after Laozi supposedly
lived, the facts were already impossible to pin
down. So he gives us three distinct possibilities,
which modern scholars use to analyze how the
myth was layered over time. Let's break down
the first and probably the most enduring account,
the archivist. This is the narrative that really
dominates the popular imagination. It places
Laozi as a contemporary of Kongzi Confucius.
So that situates him historically in the tumultuous
6th or 5th century BC during the spring and autumn
period. And in this version, he wasn't a wandering
sage. No, not at all. He was said to be born
in the southern state of Chu, and crucially,
he held a powerful bureaucratic role, the keeper
of the archives for the royal zoo court. That
position keeper of the archives, that's critical.
It instantly elevates him beyond just some local
philosopher. Absolutely. It implies he was embedded
right in the center of political and intellectual
power. This would have granted him broad access
to the Yellow Emperor's classic works, the entire
repository of zoo history. It makes him the ultimate
authority on traditional knowledge and history.
Exactly. This account firmly positions him as
a high -ranking intellectual. And this is the
version that includes that famous, maybe legendary,
meeting with Confucius. Yeah. That must have
been politically significant for both philosophical
schools. Incredibly significant. Though, ironically,
the most detailed and well -known retelling of
that meeting is actually in the Zhuangzi, the
other great Taoist text. And how does that meeting
go? Well, Confucius is often portrayed as being
a bit overwhelmed or even chastised by Laozi
for his rigid focus on rituals and conventional
morality. Laozi's advice to him is often about
shedding his aristocratic arrogance and seeking
the stillness of the natural way. So whether
it's historical or not, the story immediately
establishes the superiority of Taoist spontaneity
over Confucian formalism, at least in the eyes
of Taoists. Precisely. Okay, so that's the historical
scholarly version. knowledgeable bureaucrat.
What about the second possibility Simakian gave
us? Account two completely swaps out the protagonist.
Here, Laozi is identified as a different contemporary
named Lao Lezi. Lao Lezi, and he's framed differently.
Totally differently. This Lao Lezi is celebrated
as one of the 24 filial exemplars, which gives
him a moral pedigree rather than political one.
He also wrote a book, but Simakian says it was
in 15 parts, which immediately distinguishes
it from the two -part Tao Te Ching. And this
story has a very specific anecdote about military
ethics that changes this whole character. It
does. It tells the story of Zong the warrior
who achieved a major military victory, but, well,
she left the fallen enemy soldiers unburied to
be eaten by vultures. Rim. Very. And Lao Laisi,
traveling through, encounters Zong and reveals
himself to be his long -lost father. And the
core teaching here is profoundly Taoist, that
Zong must treat a defeated enemy with respect.
Disrespect to the dead, Laozi warns, will just
lead to cycles of revenge and unending war. And
the sources say Zong was convinced. He buried
the enemy dead, held a shared funeral, and it
led to a lasting peace. Right. So this narrative
links Laozi to foundational teachings on military
restraint and compassion. It's a completely different
focus from the archivist who was all about historical
records. It really shows the sage was already
a kind of blank slate onto which these powerful
moral lessons could be projected. Now for account
three, the one most directly linked to how we
think the Tao Te Ching came to be. This one is
pure poetry. It really is. It identifies him
as the court astrologer Lao Dan, a figure who
lived much later, maybe during the fourth century
B .C. This account dramatically shifts the timeline.
It suggests the foundational text is later than
the traditional Confucius timeline. And in this
version, Lao Dan grows weary of the moral decay
and political turmoil of the collapsing Zhou
kingdom. He does. And at the advanced age of
80, he decides to abandon civilization entirely
and venture west toward the unsettled frontier.
The journey to the edge of the known world, leaving
society for a hermitage. Precisely. And at the
westernmost pass of the kingdom, he was recognized
by the guard, a man named Yingxi. The sentry,
knowing this man was a great sage, begged the
old master to record his wisdom for posterity
before he would let him pass and disappear. And
that text, supposedly written in a single sitting,
basically as an exit visa. Was the Tao Te Ching.
And the legend finishes with that powerful note
that Yingxi was so moved by the work, he either
became a disciple and left with Laozi, or just
watched the old master vanish into the West,
never to be seen again. That Western journey,
that disappearance into the unknown, became the
most powerful image of all. It even evolved into
this highly influential idea that the old master
kept going all the way to India. Where he taught
Siddhartha Gautama. or that he was the Buddha
himself in an earlier incarnation. This final
legend tries to unify the intellectual traditions
of China and India, which just shows the staggering
stature Laozi had attained. If we just pause
on that for a second, the desire to fuse Laozi
and the Buddha. That tells you so much, not just
about the spiritual power of Laozi's legend,
but maybe about a cultural anxiety over foreign
influence. How so? Well, by making the Buddha
a disciple of a Chinese master, the Chinese philosophical
tradition retains its perceived seniority. It's
a profound act of cultural self -assertion. And
that profound cultural self -assertion runs directly
into the cold hard logic of modern textual criticism.
With three conflicting biographies, a figure
who writes a book in 15 parts, a timeline that
shifts over centuries, modern scholars had immense
difficulty establishing a historical lousy. This
skepticism led to a pretty strong consensus by
the mid -20th century, right? A very strong consensus
that the historicity of a single person named
Laozi is highly doubtful. The scholarly view
now generally regards the Tao Te Ching as a compilation
of Taoist sayings by many hands. With the old
master being invented later to consolidate these
sayings and give the tradition an authority figure.
Exactly. And this is reinforced by the style
of the book itself. The Tao Te Ching is unique
among... early Chinese philosophical works because
it conspicuously lacks a central master figure.
Right. You don't read the master said like you
do in the Analects or even in this onesie. The
text just speaks for itself, which suggests that
maybe there was no single master speaking. And
this scholarly doubt moved from just theoretical
skepticism to near certainty. Thanks to some
monumental archaeological discoveries in the
late 20th century, they provided actual textual
evidence of the text evolving over time. This
is where the archaeology just fundamentally shatters
the traditional story of the single -session
masterpiece. We have to look first at the Gordian
Chu slips. So what exactly did the Gordian Chu
slips reveal, and why were they so revolutionary?
Well, they were discovered in a tomb in Hubei,
and they date to the late 4th century BC, so
they predate the traditional timeline for a singular
author. They are the oldest manuscript fragments
containing text we can recognize from the Tao
Te Ching, about a third of the final received
text. But the truly crucial finding wasn't just
the age, it was the context of the passages on
those bamboo slips. Exactly. These passages were
not collected neatly together. They were interspersed,
mixed in with texts that were not... carried
into the later official Tao Te Ching. So what
does that prove? It's decisive evidence that
in the late 4th century BC, the core verses of
what would become the Tao Te Ching were still
circulating as independent sayings. They were
being edited, compiled, and actively revised
within this wider body of Taoist wisdom. It was
a fluid body of knowledge, proving the compilation
was still in progress. So the whole idea of an
80 -year -old man sitting down and writing the
whole thing in one go for Yingxi at the gate
becomes, well, highly unlikely. Very unlikely.
The text seems to have existed before the man
did. And then we have the Muang Dui manuscripts,
which push the evidence even further. These were
the early complete versions, correct? Yes. The
Muang Dui manuscripts are essential because they
represent the oldest complete versions of the
Tao Te Ching ever discovered. They were sealed
in a tomb in Hunan in 168 BC. And they show the
final stage of the text's evolution. They do.
And what's fascinating is that... These manuscripts
divide the text differently than the version
we have now. The ti se or virtue section comes
before the tao, the way section. The order is
reversed. So it's the ti tao ching instead of
the tao ti ching. Right. And while they are complete,
they still predate the canonical received text
by centuries, and they reveal slight variations
in wording, content arrangement, and even how
the chapters are divided. It just shows that
the structure was built up over time by anonymous
editors and contributors. An evolutionary creation,
not an instantaneous one. That's it. The tension
here is immense. You have this beautiful, powerful
narrative of the wise old man earlier who wrote
a perfect, unified book before vanishing. But
then you have the archaeology of bamboo and silk
slips showing the text was a dynamic, collaborative,
and evolving tradition over at least two centuries.
So what's clear is that the text itself has become
the ultimate authority, regardless of whether
the man ever existed. Right. Which brings us
to the actual content. Let's shift our focus
entirely from the author debate to the work itself.
The Tao Te Ching is revered not just for its
wisdom, but for its utterly distinctive literary
form. The literary style is inseparable from
the philosophy it imparts. It's deliberately
elusive. It doesn't teach through, you know.
linear instruction or argument. No, it's not
a textbook. Not at all. It uses a highly specialized
method that relies on paradox, evocative analogy,
repetition, symmetry, rhyme, rhythm. It's designed
to be absorbed intuitively, not logically. It's
designed to make you think sideways, to break
you out of conventional binary thought patterns.
And that's the core Taoist critique. Taoism fundamentally
holds that language and conventional wisdom are
inherently biased and artificial. The human distinctions
we insist on good versus bad, beautiful versus
ugly, full versus empty, these are constructs
that lead directly to struggle and suffering.
So if language is the problem, the solution is
using language to undermine itself. How does
the text do that? Can you give us some specific
examples of those paradoxes? The paradoxes are
absolutely key to that subversion. They challenge
your ingrained assumptions. For example, the
text states, the softest thing in the world overcomes
the hardest thing in the world. Water eroding
stone. Exactly. It's a literal statement about
that, but it's a philosophical instruction about
yielding over forcing. Or consider the spatial
paradoxes like the great swear has no corners
or the great image has no shape. Those statements
are intentionally baffling to the logical mind.
I mean, a square has corners by definition. It
does to the logical mind. But the philosopher
is instructing you that the most complete, the
most perfect square, the square that is everywhere,
must, by definition, transcend the limiting concept
of corners. By forcing you, the reader, to embrace
a logical absurdity, the text tries to get around
those ingrained linguistic biases. This literary
strategy also gives the text its famed air of
timelessness. That's the other crucial characteristic.
Unlike the Analects, or many philosophical works
from that era, the Tao Te Ching almost entirely
avoids referencing specific historical people,
events, or battles. Right. There are no political
hot takes on specific dukes or historical policies.
None. By avoiding those historical markers, the
text achieves a universal applicability that
transcends dynastic concerns. It means that whether
you're reading it in the 4th century BC or in
the 21st century AD, the core concepts feel accessible
and direct. It's not constrained by its historical
context. Okay, let's move to the ultimate yet
most elusive concept, the Tao itself. We often
just translate it as the way. For the listener,
what is the Tao in the context of this text beyond
that literal definition? The Tao is described
as the source, the pattern, and the ideal of
all existence. It's the underlying, spontaneous,
natural order that governs the universe. It's
simultaneously the origin of all things and the
way that all things follow. The text... uses
some profound imagery to describe it. It does.
It's unseen, yet immensely powerful. It's supremely
humble, yet at the same time, it's the root of
all things. The humility aspect is often tied
to the imagery of water, isn't it? Absolutely.
Water is the perfect Taoist metaphor. Chapter
8 of the text describes how the highest good
is like water because water benefits all things
and doesn't strive. It's content to dwell in
low places that people disdain. And yet water
is unstoppable. Unstoppable. It adapts to any
vessel, and over time, it carves canyons. This
is the power of the Tao. Passive strength, not
aggressive force. It sounds a bit like a deity
or some transcendent force. Is the Tao meant
to be worshipped? Crucially, no. The sources
really emphasize that the Tao is unseen, but
it is not transcendent. Okay, what's the difference?
It's imminent. It's right here, woven into the
fabric of the universe. It's in the flow of the
river, in the growth of the trees, in the silence
of the valley. It's a natural pattern, which
is why Taoism focuses on observation and yielding
rather than striving towards some distant heavenly
goal, like in some Western philosophies or theistic
religions. This brings us to the human condition.
If the Tao is a perfect natural order, where
do people fit in and why do we always seem to
mess it up? Well, we possess desires and free
will, which allows us to act unnaturally. Our
ambition, our insistence on rigid moral and political
distinctions, our striving for wealth or fame,
these are human -made constructs that upset the
natural balance of the Tao. So the core intention
of the Tao Te Ching isn't to introduce a new
ethical code? Not at all. It's to lead the student
to a return, a kind of philosophical and spiritual
de -learning back to their original natural state
in spontaneous harmony with the way. And this
process of returning is achieved primarily through
the practice of wu -wei. Ah, wu -wei. Probably
the most famous and most misleadingly translated
concept in the text. Literally, wu -wei means
non -action or not acting. But if we took that
literally... We'd all just be sitting in a cave
starving. Exactly. We have to move beyond that
literal translation. Wu Wei describes the quality
of the action, not the absence of movement. It's
deeply multifaceted. It can mean not forcing,
not acting in a theatrical or self -conscious
sense. Or acting spontaneously. Or my favorite,
flowing with the moment. So it's not about inaction,
but non -coercive action. Can we use a modern
analogy to ground this a bit? Sure. Think of
the concept of flow state in high performance
sports or creative work. When a jazz musician
improvises perfectly or an athlete performs flawlessly,
they aren't consciously straining or calculating
every single move. They're in the zone. They
are in the zone. They're acting without self
-consciousness, allowing their training in the
moment to guide them. That spontaneous, effortless
integration with the task at hand. That's the
form of wu -wei. It's like riding a wave rather
than trying to wrestle it to the shore. And this
requires recognizing that all these human imposed
value distinctions, our desperate need to label
and control things, are just artificial constructs
that lead to effort and strain. Yes. The practice
of Wu Wei demands simplicity and humility in
contrast to ambitious, selfish striving. It's
the direct connection to Xeron, which is spontaneity
or harmony with the Tao. It's about being like
the uncarved block, undifferentiated potential
that remains whole. This concept immediately
gained profound political relevance. How does
Wu Wei translate into statecraft? On political
level, it translates into radical governmental
restraint. The ideal ruler practices non -interference.
in politics means avoiding war, harsh laws, excessive
bureaucracy, and critically heavy taxes. So the
text suggests that the perfect ruler is the one
that people barely even know exists. Exactly,
because they aren't constantly interfering or
trying to mold society. The idea is that minimizing
the role of government allows individuals and
society to develop spontaneously, which naturally
achieves harmony. Chapter 57 is often cited here.
I take no action and the people are transformed
by themselves. I love tranquility and the people
become righteous by themselves. I engage in no
activity and the people prosper by themselves.
However, this interpretation runs into a really
serious philosophical ambiguity. There are statements
in the Tao Te Ching that seem to encourage rulers
to keep their people in ignorance or simple -minded,
which sounds highly authoritarian. This is the
crucial point of scholarly debate. Some insist
that these controversial lines are indeed pragmatic,
maybe somewhat cynical, political advice meant
to stabilize a chaotic state. But if the text
is truly about returning to the Tao, that simplicity
can't just be enforced ignorance. It can't be.
If the goal is spiritual return, then the simplicity
must be internal. And this is where those highly
technical metaphysical terms come in, which really
challenge a simple political reading. You mentioned
the valley spirit, jingshen, and the soul, po.
Right. What do those terms imply? These terms
elevate the discussion immediately out of political
theory and into cosmology. Zheng Shen, the valley
spirit, is an early Taoist term often associated
with the primordial feminine receptive energy,
the eternal nurturing void that gives birth to
the universe. It represents the deepest, most
mysterious source of vitality. So it's the generative
force that is receptive, like a valley collecting
water. Precisely. And Poe refers to the corporeal
soul or the animal, instinctive aspect of the
self. which is often contrasted with the more
ethereal or spiritual soul, the Hun. So when
the text mentions these concepts, it's grounding
the philosophy in the internal cultivation of
this primordial energy, not just social engineering.
Exactly. The argument is that the text is advocating
for cultivating a spiritual state of simple -mindedness,
a state free from the corrupting desires and
artificial complexities that our animal self,
our paw, creates, not enforcing political stupidity.
It shifts the goal from controlling the masses
to achieving internal freedom. And that internal
quiet is what Alan Chan connects to the modern
world, especially regarding technology and manufactured
desire. He suggests that our constant striving,
our technological progress, it often brings about
this false sense of superiority and leads us
further from our natural state, from the Tao.
And the answer isn't a Luddite rejection of the
material world. No, not at all. Instead, the
answer is cultivating the calm state of wu -wei,
free from the consuming desires that technology
or any complex artificial system is constant.
So Wu Wei is ultimately about choosing quiet
presence over noisy ambition. That's a powerful
idea for a world just saturated by information.
It's truly remarkable that a text compiled anonymously
and attributed to a possibly fictional old master
could have such wide -ranging influence. We've
established the text's power. Now let's look
at the astonishing afterlife of the man, the
legend Laozi. The transformation from skeptical
archivist to divine figure really began during
the Han Dynasty. As Taoism organized itself into
a formal structured religion rather than just
a philosophical school, they needed a divine
source of revelation. And Laozi filled that gap
perfectly. He did. He went from a philosophical
ancestor to a full -fledged divine ancestor,
a figure whose wisdom was not merely earned but
revealed. And this belief in revelation from
the divine Laozi led directly to the formation
of the Way of the Celestial Masters, the very
first organized religious Taoist sect. In later
tradition, he became nothing less than a personification
of the Tao itself. The source incarnate. He was
said to have undergone numerous transformations
and taken on various guises across history to
initiate the faithful. And this deification demanded
increasingly spectacular origin myths. The birth
story is one of the most memorable in all of
Chinese religion. The myth of his virgin birth
is key to his divine status. It describes him
being conceived when his mother gazed upon a
falling star, a clear sign of cosmic intervention.
But the famous fantastic detail is the gestation
period. He supposedly remained in her womb for...
62 years. 62 years. He was born ancient. He was.
When he was finally born, he emerged as a grown
man with a full gray beard and those long earlobes
we mentioned already possessing the wisdom of
age. This established him as Laozi, the old master,
from the moment of his birth under the plum tree.
These myths were essential for cementing his
religious authority, and this political dimension
just exploded during the Tang Dynasty. Why did
the Tang emperors elevate Laozi's status so significantly?
It was a monumental act of political legitimization.
The Tang imperial family, the powerful Longshi
Li lineage, claimed descent from Laozi. They
capitalized on his traditional personal name,
Lair. So the ruling family wasn't just sanctioned
by the Tao. They were literally related to its
physical manifestation. Exactly. That is an incredible
political maneuver. It tied their mandate to
heaven, to the wisdom and lineage of the ultimate
old master. It provided an unassailable foundation
for their authority. And it guaranteed him unprecedented
veneration. Oh, the state invested immense capital
in his legend. This manifested in escalating
imperial titles. In 666, Emperor Gaozong named
Laozi the supremely mysterious and primordial
emperor. The titles just kept getting grander.
In 743, Emperor Xuanzong declared him the sage
ancestor of the dynasty and gave him the posthumous
title of mysterious and primordial emperor. This
wasn't just religious patronage. It was dynastic
policy. It absolutely was. They also elevated
Laozi's parents to the ranks of innately supreme
emperor and innate empress. By 754, his official
title had ballooned to the utterly magnificent.
Great sage ancestor and mysterious and primordial
heavenly emperor and great sovereign of the golden
palace of the high and supreme great way. Yeah,
it's perhaps the ultimate demonstration of how
a philosopher's legend can be adapted and repurposed
by the ruling class to solidify their own power.
And this established the clear ideal of the master
-student relationship in Taoist thought, focusing
on Laozi as the model of perfection. Yes. The
7th century Sandong Zunang, the pearly bag of
the three caverns, codified this. It used Luozi
as the perfect master in Ningxi, the humble gate
-sentry who begged him to write down his wisdom
as the ultimate ideal student. It emphasizes
the notion that profound truth is revealed not
in the clamor of the court, but at the periphery,
to the pure of heart. The journey to the West,
which began as a philosophical retreat, morphed
into a divine mission. But what truly speaks
to the universal, adaptable nature of his wisdom
is his influence thousands of miles away in a
completely different spiritual and linguistic
tradition. This is one of the most compelling
cross -cultural links. We find Laozi woven into
the Siddhar tradition of Tamil Nadu in South
India. In this tradition, the greatly revered
Siddhar Bagar, one of the 18 esteemed Siddhars
of yore, is believed to be none other than Laozi
himself, having traveled from China. A Chinese
philosopher traveling to South India and integrating
into their highly esoteric spiritual lineage.
How is this identity handled in the Tamil tradition?
Well, Bogar is even sometimes noted by the caste
designation Sanatakarkuivar, or Chinese potter,
confirming his perceived foreign origin. His
principal book of poetry, the Bogar 7000, actually
contains autobiographical sections that describe
his travels to China and back to India. And what
specifically did he carry from the Taoist tradition
into the Siddharth practices? The philosophical
focus he brought was highly esoteric, aligning
with specific Taoist internal alchemy practices.
Bogar's work deals heavily with kaya kalpa methods
for achieving immortality or radical longevity
and the sublimation of sexual energies for self
-realization. So it blends the Taoist concept
of vital energy cultivation, qi, with the unique
demands of the Siddhar system. Exactly. Bogar's
shrine, his Jivasamadhi, is found at the Tandayuth
Bunny Temple, making him a cornerstone of this
regional religious framework. It confirms how
profoundly the legend of the old master's journey
was adapted and internalized into a completely
foreign context, fulfilling that early legend
that he went west to teach. Now, we jump ahead
nearly two millennia across continents and political
systems where Laozi's teachings on limited government
and non -intervention find fertile ground in
contemporary political philosophy. The anti -authoritarian
streak inherent in Wu Wei has resonated deeply
with thinkers looking for alternatives to centralize
state power. Historically, this was evident in
China, where potential officials would use the
authority of Laozi and Zhuangzi to justify denying
service to corrupted rulers. They advocated for
radical humility and restraint in leadership.
Right. So let's start with the contemporary libertarian
claim, which is very explicit in our sources.
The right libertarian economist Murray Rothbard
actually called Laozi the first libertarian.
He did. Rothbard drew a clear parallel between
Lousy's ideas on minimizing government and Friedrich
Hayek's theory of spontaneous order, the idea
that harmony emerges organically in a complex
system without central planning or coercion.
Can we point to a specific verse or concept in
the Tao Te Ching that these libertarian thinkers
cite to support this claim? A classic citation
is often Chapter 57, which speaks directly to
the ill effects of interference. The more restrictions
and prohibitions there are in the world, the
poorer the people become. The more sharp weapons
the people have, the more turmoil the country
is in. That's a direct critique of regulation
and state force. Precisely. James A. Dorn argued
that lousy, much like 18th century classical
liberals, sought social and economic harmony
by minimizing government interference. David
Boaz of the Cato Institute, who published Lousy
Passages in the Libertarian Reader, highlighted
that Lousy advocated for rulers to do nothing
because without law or compulsion, men would
dwell in harmony. The core appeal is the inherent
trust in the natural order, the Tao or Xeron,
over the coerced order of state control. It's
important to note, however, that it's not just
the right libertarian space that claims him.
Anarchists who distrust all concentrated authority
have also found immense wisdom in the old master.
Absolutely. The anarcho -syndicalist Rudolf Rocker
praised Laozi's gentle wisdom and specifically
noted his deep understanding of the opposition
between coercive political power and the spontaneous
natural cultural activities of the people and
the community. Lousy's emphasis on decentralized
simplicity fits perfectly within the anarchist
rejection of hierarchical control. It does. And
Peter Kropotkin, another foundational anarchist
thinker, similarly noted that Lousy was among
the earliest historical proponents of essential
anarchist concepts, suggesting the philosophy
predated its Western articulation by millennia.
Ursula K. Le Guin, in her famous translation,
she connects the dots perfectly. She does. She
highlights the anti -authoritarian spirit, noting
that Lousy does not see political power as magic.
Instead, rightful power is earned by aligning
with the way, and wrongful power is inherently
usurped and corrupted by striving. She specifically
concludes that Laozi sees the ultimate self -sacrifice
or sacrifice of others as a corruption of power,
stating that the old master teaches restraint,
not domination. And her conclusion. No wonder
anarchists and Taoists make good friends. This
shared value of self -mastery and community spontaneity
over external coercive authority unites the anti
-authoritarian left and right. However, in maintaining
our impartial analysis, we have to note the critical
counterpoint. Not all scholars agree that Taoism
is the original source for these anti -statist
ideas, which is a fascinating complication. Roderick
Long, for instance, challenges the narrative
of Taoist originality. Long argues that while
libertarian themes are profoundly present in
Taoist thought, these ideas might actually have
been borrowed from earlier non -statist Confucian
or even legalist writers who are also deeply
concerned with the proper limits and function
of government. It suggests a more complex intellectual
history where ideas were exchanged and refined
across competing schools before coalescing into
the Tao Te Ching. Exactly. It reminds us that
intellectual history is a constantly flowing
river, not a simple linear progression from a
single spring. This has been a profound journey.
We started with the search for a single historical
archivist named Li Er, and ended up with a deified
ancestor, a Tamil Siddhar, and the spiritual
guide for anti -authoritarian political movements
globally. The core takeaways are really defined
by radical transformation and tension. We tracked
the shift from the potentially historical archivist
to the philosophical legend of Lao Dan, whose
disappearance is key to his myth. We explored
the textual evidence of the anonymous Tao Te
Ching, the Gordian, and Ma Long Tui slips, which
reveal the text to be a slow compilation rather
than an instantaneous masterpiece. And we defined
the core concepts. The Tao is the imminent, spontaneous
way, and Wu Wei as spontaneous, non -coercive
action, which demands internal simplicity rather
than political oppression. The true power of
Laozi is that whether he existed as a single
person in the 6th century BC or not is now. Well,
it's entirely irrelevant. His work forces you,
the learner, to question the most foundational
assumptions of society, conventional wisdom,
the reliability of language, and the fundamental
nature of political power. The text has become
the master. It's a remarkable legacy built on
the power of absence, the utility of the empty
space in the cup, the usefulness, the uncarved
lock, the strength of the invisible way. And
that leads us back to the most poignant part
of the legend, account three. The old master
found enlightenment not in the center of the
court, but by retreating into the unsettled frontier,
recording his wisdom for Yinksi, the gate sentry.
He wrote his definitive philosophy literally
at the edge of civilization just before he chose
to vanish from it. It raises a profound question
for us today, in a modern world drowning in information,
connectivity, and constant noise. What essential
knowledge, what spiritual clarity might we gain
if we too sought a Western jade, a deliberate
internal or physical retreat, to escape the striving,
the desires, and the artificial constraints of
our hyper -connected world? The search for wisdom,
Laozi suggests, begins with the courageous choice
to disappear.