Natural order and social interpretation: a Daoist response to the world's crises

Daoism is often presented as one of the great philosophical and religious traditions of ancient China, associated with living in harmony with nature, inner peace, simplicity and withdrawal from the world. Yet this presentation can quickly create the impression that Daoism emerged as a sudden reaction to the political and social crises of the Warring States period. The historical picture is somewhat more complex. The fundamental ideas from which Daoist philosophy and religion later developed have much older roots. Nevertheless, it was the unrest of the late Zhou period, particularly the Warring States period, that created an environment in which these older ideas came together into a recognisable philosophical and religious perspective on human beings, society and political authority.

The world as an ordered whole

Before we discuss Daoism, we must look at the historical origins of Chinese thought. During the Zhou period, the idea developed that human beings are not separate from the wider cosmic order. An important concept was Tian, “Heaven”, which meant not merely the physical sky but also a higher order connected with moral and political life. This was also linked to the idea of the Mandate of Heaven – 天命 (Tiānmìng). A ruler did not hold power simply because he possessed it, but because he was required to govern in a way compatible with the order represented by Heaven. If he became tyrannical and caused disorder, he could lose the legitimacy conferred by Heaven. Historically, this could be seen in both preceding dynasties, the Xia and the Shang.

This conception was not yet bounded by the modern concept of Daoism. Yet it contained an important starting point for later Chinese philosophy and religion: human beings and the state are not the ultimate measures of reality. There is a wider order that must serve as their foundation. It arose from attention to the natural world. The changing seasons, the growth of plants, water, heaven and earth, and various natural processes were not merely the backdrop to human life. Human beings were understood as part of the same world. From this, the idea could emerge that living rightly must be understood in relation to a universal order that human beings had not created themselves, but merely interpreted with varying degrees of success. We cannot say that there were already “Daoists” in the early Zhou dynasty. We can, however, say that even before the concept of Daoism emerged, Chinese thought was developing ideas about cosmic order, harmony and humanity’s place in the natural world.

From a crisis of order to a flourishing of philosophy

Throughout the Eastern Zhou dynasty, political unity weakened, while the various states became increasingly independent and competitive. During the Warring States period, approximately between the 5th and 3rd centuries BCE, this competition escalated into prolonged, exhausting wars. Chinese society at the time found itself in a situation where old political ideals of order confronted the actual experience of violence, rivalry and uncertainty. Rulers sought ways to strengthen their states, increase military power, acquire territory and control the population more effectively. It was precisely in this environment that philosophical thought flourished to an extraordinary degree. Different thinkers sought answers to a similar fundamental question: how should people live, and how should society be organised, if the world as it stands is so clearly marked by disorder? The answers varied. The Confucian tradition emphasised morality, proper relationships and social order. Legalist thought emphasised laws, discipline and a strong state. The Daoist tradition offered a different answer: perhaps the problem is not merely that people lack sufficiently good rules or sufficiently effective government. Perhaps the problem is caused by the excessive desire to organise, control and intervene in the world itself.

Dao as an order not created by human beings

At the heart of Daoist thought at the time was Dao as a path, a way, a direction, a possibility of alignment with universal harmony. Dao was not defined as a law laid down by someone, nor is it a personal deity in the usual sense. It was more about accepting the facts of how things actually unfold, about the broader flow of reality that human beings cannot fully comprehend or control. From this comes an important feature of the early Daoist perspective: people should not constantly force the world to conform to their wishes. This becomes particularly understandable when we consider the society of the Warring States period. Rulers sought more territory, more wealth, more soldiers and more political control. Individuals who wanted to succeed had to compete for position and prestige. Daoism, however, began to question the very logic of such competition. Is more power really the solution? Do more laws necessarily mean a better society? Does constant human intervention in the world improve things, or might it do the very opposite – create even greater disharmony?

Withdrawal rather than revolution

Here we come to an important feature of early Daoism: its response to crisis was generally not revolutionary. A Daoist thinker did not necessarily say: “The current ruler is bad, so we must overthrow him and establish a new government.” Such thinking would still remain within the same logic of the struggle for power. Instead, a thinker of the time often offered a different possibility: to withdraw from the competition for power and allow nature as a whole to unfold spontaneously. This  was expressed in renouncing a political career (Zhuangzi), rejecting prestige, living simply or even symbolically withdrawing from the centre of the political world (Laozi). The point was not to flee out of fear, but to refuse to participate in a game that the early “Daoist” understood as harmful. If everyone is fighting for power, the sage of the time tries not to take part. Sometimes he simply refuses to join the competition. In this sense, withdrawal can also be understood as a form of unobtrusive criticism. A person does not always need a revolution to reject the values of the world in which they live. Often, it is enough not to accept or follow them.

Wu wei: acting without force

Closely connected with this is wu wei, which later became one of the most important Daoist concepts. It is often translated literally as “unforced action”, yet even this translation can easily mislead. Daoism is not pointing simply to passivity or to unforced action. Wu wei means above all that a person does not act forcefully or constantly try to compel the world to conform to their plans and their perspective. This can also be understood as a political principle. If a ruler constantly introduces new measures, increases control, punishes, demands and intervenes in people’s lives, he may create the very unrest he wishes to eliminate. The Daoist ideal of a ruler is therefore rather unusual: a good ruler is one who knows how to govern in accordance with the natural flow. His actions are restrained, and his authority does not intrude unnecessarily into every aspect of life. Here, personal withdrawal and political philosophy meet. The individual withdraws from the competition for power; the ruler, in turn, should step back from unnecessary intervention in people’s lives.

Zhuangzi and the value of withdrawal

This feature is particularly pronounced in the tradition associated with Zhuangzi. His stories often feature sages and unusual figures who reject social recognition, careers and political office. This had powerful significance in the society of the time. Political service could represent the highest form of social success. Zhuangzi, however, said: I do not need this position. Why? Because someone who constantly strives for success, position and influence can lose touch with themselves and with the natural flow of life. If they wish to live in accordance with Dao, they must be prepared to relinquish even what society presents as the highest value. Daoist withdrawal can therefore be understood as a very radical critique of social values, even though it is not revolutionary in the usual political sense.

Withdrawal is not simply a rejection of the world

It would, however, be wrong to portray early Daoism as merely a philosophy of escape. Daoist texts did not speak only to individuals wishing to withdraw; they also reflected on governance. This is precisely why it is important to distinguish between rejecting politics as such and rejecting a coercive, ambitious and excessively controlling way of governing. Daoist thought did not call for the abolition of the state. More radically, it asked how much state power, how many rules and how much intervention are needed at all for the natural expression of humaneness. This question was particularly important during the Warring States period, since states were then developing ever more effective mechanisms for mobilising people and resources for warfare. The Daoist response moved in the opposite direction: less coercion, less ambition, less competition and more simplicity and humaneness.

From older traditions to Daoism

If we look at the overall development of Chinese thought, it becomes clear that Daoism did not emerge from nothing. During the Shang dynasty and the early Zhou dynasty, there were already ideas about cosmic order, humanity’s connection with the natural world and the limits of human authority. When the political world later entered a crisis, these older ideas found an updated philosophical expression. During the Warring States period, the question arose of how to live in a world where people constantly compete for power. The Daoist response was not a call for even fiercer competition, but a questioning of this expression of humanity.

From this, we can understand several key Daoist ideas: Dao as the broader flow of reality, wu wei as action without force, simplicity, non-violence and withdrawal from unnecessary political and social competition. Daoism was not simply a product of wars. The wars and unrest of that era were primarily the historical context in which older ideas acquired a more defined meaning. Its fundamental gesture, however, was unusual and therefore philosophically and religiously significant: rather than becoming even more deeply involved in the struggle to shape the world, a person can withdraw from that struggle and try to live in accordance with an order older and broader than human authority. In a world where individuals and states fought for ever more power or to ward it off, the very decision to relinquish power could be a profoundly radical form of thought …

Yuan Weiqi