Daodejing Review

About the same time Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, Xenophon, and their contemporaries were writing the foundational works of what is today considered “Western” philosophy, one of the core pieces of “Eastern” philosophy appeared in China.  I say “appeared,” because Daodejing’s provenance is something of a mystery; no one is quite certain who wrote it, or even if it was written by a single individual (most believe it was not), and even precisely what chapters should be included is a subject of debate.  Numerous primary versions exist across a range of ages, each with slightly different contents and emphases, such that what is today called Daodejing is simply the core, shared chapters from across these versions.  It is also the most translated piece of literature in human history, surpassing even the Bible in number of distinct translations, if not in proliferation or number of unique languages, which makes choosing which version to read its own adventure.

Normally, I don’t concern myself too much with which translation of a work I read, but with such an array from which to choose, I felt it necessary to think a little more deeply about the matter.  Because the original language is further from English than is ancient Greek or Latin, because the language is famous for ambiguity in meaning and significance between minute variations and contexts, and because Daodejing is itself a somewhat ambiguous and highly interpretable work, translations vary far more than in slight shifts of nuance, the use of a different synonym here or a struggle with an idiom there – different translations can offer entirely different experiences.  Eventually, I settled on Brook Ziporyn’s recent translation, which I first came across in a Wall Street Journal review, and which strikes me as providing a thoughtful balance between literal faith to the original texts, incorporating the multiple primary sources, and providing the meaning and nuance of the verses, not just their literal contents.  This was borne out in reading it, although some of the additional interpretation provided in the endnotes is more proscriptive than I prefer.

“Verses” is an appropriate word; Daodejing reads more like a book of poetry than what might be in your head for a book of philosophy if you’re familiar with philosophical works in the western canon (from Aristotle to Locke).  Its 81 chapters are almost never longer than a page or two, and a full line is rare.  You might think this would make for a fast read, and it’s true there are many longer, denser works, but Daodejing is deceptive.  If you’re just reading it to finish it, you won’t get much out of it; this is a true example of a case where, to a large extent, you will get out of the book what you put into reading it.  Some passages are reasonably straightforward, but many others must be read, reread, and pondered before they will give up a meaning.

“A” meaning, not “their” meaning, because Daodejing is not a proscriptive text.  In an essay associated with the translation, Ziporyn explores what he calls Daodejing’s “minimally discernible position,” spending probably more words than are in the original text to stake out one perspective on a single common thread he perceives running through the text (next Tuesday’s post will explore this essay and its position in more detail).  Even this position is just one possible interpretation of one possible theme running through the text, without addressing the specific implications of each chapter or passage, or the other possible themes and motifs which can be surfaced.  It might be fair to say there is a running theme of temperance or moderation, a consistent message that striving too much for something undermines that something, which is more apt to be fulfilled without the striving, but even that is only one possible interpretation.  Hence, it is the reader’s responsibility to ponder and comprehend the sometimes contradictory-seeming assertions into a form which is individually useful and meaningful.

Such ambiguity is not something I favor in most works.  If the writing is so unspecific and vague that each individual reader derives something entirely different from the text, what was the point of putting the words on paper in the first place?  However, Daodejing does not endure simply because it can be endlessly interpreted and reinterpreted to suit the needs of the reader (as I sometimes feel is the case for Sun Tzu’s Art of War), nor because its enduring mysteries manufacture a dialogue across the centuries.  For all its possibly patchwork nature and sometimes obscure statements, it is not vague or ambiguous in the sense of not having a meaning or purpose; its author or authors were purposive in their effort.  The reader simply must apply effort, too, which is, I believe, part of the point.  Reading, understanding, and internalizing Daodejing is a case of a philosophical experience which is found in the journey as much as (or more than) the destination.

This is not philosophy in the moralistic sense, but rather closer to a philosophy like stoicism in that it is guiding the reader towards a way of living, a course, which is another recurring motif.  Daodejing expresses through its varied and loosely linked chapters and axioms an alternative to the driven, goal-oriented, deterministic patterns of thought common to the western world (not just in its philosophies).  It is easy to be intimidated by the mystery and endless commentary surrounding Daodejing, but even out of context, without exploring others’ interpretations and thoughts on the text, there is much for a reader to appreciate and comprehend from the text.  Indeed, that – out of context, without confounding interpretations – is how I would most recommend you first approach it.