Tag Archives: taoism

Nature has no masters: Lucretius, Epicurus, and Effortless Action

“Nature does nothing, and yet nothing remains unaccomplished.” – Tao Te Ching, with “nature” replacing the Tao

Wu Wei (Doing Nothing 無爲) is a key concept in Taoism and in Chinese philosophy. Encyclopaedia Britannica defines wu wei as:

the practice of taking no action that is not in accord with the natural course of the universe.

Which reminds us of the Epicurean insistence of living in accordance with nature, defined as living pleasantly (rationally and pragmatically following the pleasure impulse and evading the pain signals). According to The School of Life,

It means being at peace while engaged in the most frenetic tasks so that one can carry these out with maximum skill and efficiency. Something of the meaning of wu wei is captured when we talk of being ‘in the zone’ – at one with what we are doing, in a state of profound concentration and flow.

… so that it seems that wu wei is a way of acting that does not interrupt the natural flows, including those of sentience and attention. Wu wei also is associated with the enjoyment of things without clinging or yearning. A metaphor for this is the bee which goes from flower to flower, enjoying the nectar freely, and moving on. We also see the logic of wu wei in the Lathe biosas (Live unknown) teaching, and in the focus on natural and necessary pleasures which are easy to get.

In Taoism, the focus is less on accepting that which you cannot change (as the Stoics do), and more on acting efficiently and effortlessly. A clear, non-mystical understanding of wu wei helps to remind us of the wisdom of choosing our battles, and choosing the most efficient and opportune moments and circumstances in which to act. According to this essay by LR:

A better way to think of it, however, is as a paradoxical “Action of non-action.”

This is very problematic for us, since Epicurean philosophy frowns upon unclear speech. But wu wei is far from a mystical and unpragmatic idea. It’s applied effectively in many fields, including business, politics, and martial arts.

Over 20 years ago, when I studied tai chi under an instructor who had been trained in China, he explained wu wei to me by teaching me that in addition to evading or dodging a blow and allowing the opponent to tire and hurt himself in various ways, we can also use the momentum from our own bodies and the strength of our legs when we counter-attack. This, too, is wu-wei, and it’s not just effortless: it’s efficient. He struck a blow once from a position of being steady on his feet, and then another one with a dancing motion, using his legs to add momentum to the blow. This second blow was, naturally, much stronger than the first (because he used momentum and I felt the weight of his whole body), and it pushed me back. He then said: “THAT is wu wei”. I was planning to move to Chicago in a month, so my tai chi classes were brief, but I always remembered this encounter, and the sense that the Sensei was on to something.

Sometimes wu wei is about the use of observable factors over which we may have no control, and sometimes it’s about the employment of the few other factors over which we DO have control, but that when applied at the right moment and in the right way, create much more effective ways of acting in the world thanks to the assistance of nature. According to this essay,

Another example of Wu Wei is the cutting of wood. If you go against the way the tree grew, the wood is difficult to cut. The wood, however, splits easily if you cut against the grain. When sawing wood, many people are in a great hurry to power through the block and do not realize they are splintering the back edge. Instead, a skilled carpenter will let the saw do the work, patiently allowing the blade to glide across the wood without causing any splinters or tiring themselves out.

Wu wei reminds me of the way in which sleep assists in neuroplasticity and in the process of memorizing and learning. Before we are able to perform a task thoroughly and subconsciously, without even thinking about it, many neural connections must happen in our brains, and these neurons do their repair work at night while we sleep. We do our active memorizing and learning while we’re awake, but (arguably) the most important work happens at night, when the brain really goes to work on learning. We must give up the power over the tasks or information that we’re learning, and allow the brain to rest, in order to learn. Without this effortless aspect of the process, learning does not happen. According to this study:

… during sleep, the brain must also stabilize key synapses to prevent what was learned the previous day from being eliminated by new learning experiences…

… the REM stage may make learning before sleep more resilient to interference from subsequent learning.

Unlike non-REM sleep, the sharp fall in plasticity during REM sleep was only seen among the volunteers with a task to learn.

This suggests that the stabilization that occurred during REM sleep was focused exclusively on synapses involved in learning this task.

Darwinian natural selection provides us another example where, without much effort on the part of sentient beings, things continue along their course, and even evolve into a magnificent variety of lifeforms. If some mutation, or some instinctive behavior, results in advantage for a creature, then that creature is more likely to survive and pass on their genes while others do not. Over time, only the better adapted creatures will remain. Like water, nature in all things takes the path of least resistance.

Another application of wu wei happens in communities where engineers of the beaver species have interfered with human communal engineering decisions. Scientists have figured out that if you play the soundtrack of running water, upon hearing it, beavers will begin to build dams by instinct. So they are using this to manipulate beaver behavior as needed. Rather than fight the critters, rather than make countless efforts, rather than be in control, humans simply need to encourage the creature to do what it’s programmed by nature to do whenever it hears running water.

We must not force Nature but persuade her. We shall persuade her if we satisfy the necessary desires and also those bodily desires that do not harm us while sternly rejecting those that are harmful. – Epicurean Saying 21

I have long considered that pleasure ethics often involves a practice of applying the same technique that we apply with the beavers, with ourselves; a practice which–in my view–requires insight, wisdom and self-compassion.

Epicurean Effortless Action

I have shared all these case studies on effortless yet efficient action in order to show that, while sometimes our instincts are triggered in vain, most of the time it does make sense to trust the wisdom of nature. A clear insight into wu wei may help us in our choices and avoidances, to more efficiently choose our efforts, and to act in a manner that is more confident, more efficient, less anxious, and yet paradoxically less in need of control. But what does Epicurean philosophy say concretely concerning effortless action? Epicurus’ Principal Doctrine 26 says:

The desires that do not bring pain when they go unfulfilled are not necessary; indeed they are easy to reject if they are hard to achieve or if they seem to produce harm.

Epicurus offers us two criteria in our choices and avoidances that justify not pursuing unnecessary pleasures: if they’re hard to achieve, or if they’re harmful, then it’s easy to dismiss them. This first criteria, of course, reminds us of wu wei (effortless action), and also the Doctrine seems to imply that it is desirable to live in such a way that our choices and avoidances tend to produce pleasures that generally require little effort.

Principal Doctrine 30, on the other hand, offers us two criteria to classify some natural desires as arising from groundless opinion:

Among natural desires, those that do not bring pain when unfulfilled and that require intense exertion arise from groundless opinion; and such desires fail to be stamped out not by nature but because of the groundless opinions of humankind.

Notice the second criterion involves the desires that require intense exertion. Here again, we find an ethics of effortless (or low effort) action in Epicurean Doctrines, tied to the accusation that the justifications for exertion involve faulty thinking not based on the study of nature.

We see in Epicurean pleasure calculus and in wu-wei a tendency to affirm nature, as well as some distrust of culture or artifice. We also see a tendency to follow the path of least resistance. But when we read Lucretius and consider Epicurean physics, wu wei comes into a different relief.

Effortless Action and Epicurean Atheology

The fullness of the pragmatic repercussions of these considerations, ordinary and seemingly unrelated as they are, is carried to its conclusion by Lucretius. This is the beauty of Epicurean philosophy: it rationally and pragmatically weaves cosmology, physics, epistemology, and ethics into a single, coherent tapestry.

If you grasp these points well and hold to them,
you will see at once that nature is free,
liberated from her proud possessors,
doing all things on her own initiative,
without divinities playing any part.

Lucretius, On the nature of things, Book II

… which, of course, has repercussions for how we should live our lives (the ethics). The gods do not govern, create, or interrupt the workings of nature. Therefore, even if we attribute an artistic-aesthetic or ethical role to the gods in our lives, we need not worry about appeasing them. This, too, allows us to engage in more effective action in our environment, as it protects us from the degrading superstitions of the mobs who are forever appeasing gods out of unwarranted shame or fear.

Without gods managing everything, nature is free. Nature acts according to its own laws and cycles, which are unconscious and impersonal, and it is by prudently acting in accordance with (or not against) these cycles and laws that we act most efficiently.

Further reading:

Contemplations on Tao

The Taoist Hedonism of Yang Chu

The Taoist Hedonism of Yang Chu

What the mind likes is to be at peace; and its not being permitted rest I call obstruction of the mind’s nature. – Yang Chu, The Art of Life

Yang Chu replied: “According to the laws of nature there is no such thing as immortality.” – Yang Chu, The Folly of Desire for Long Life

In the past, I’ve shared a blog series titled Contemplations on Tao. In reality, the blog was based on the Tao Te Ching, and although TTC is solid ground to consider Taoism, the tradition is much more rich and diverse than merely that single book. Also, as I wrote the series, it seemed to me like there was a stronger connection between Epicurean philosophy and Taoism than most people recognized–particularly when considered against the backdrop of the “philosophies of the polis”, Confucianism, Stoicism, Platonism, etc. Tao and Epicurus trust nature, whereas these other ways felt forced, unnatural.

One of the most divergent thinkers in Taoist philosophy was a contemporary of Epicurus known as Yang Chu (sometimes spelled Zhu), a hedonist and highly individualistic philosopher–perhaps too much, for traditional Chinese society–who drew his views from naturalism and from his understanding of human nature. He proposed an individualist alternative to the ethics of the Mohists (universalists) and Confucians (who stressed social order). Yang Chu is the connection to Tao I was looking for. Not only that: he constitutes an untapped literary source from which we can study “Epicurean” philosophy with a fresh perspective, with its own anecdotes, parables, and wise, Yoda-like-sounding aphorisms.

In addition to giving us as legacy a treasure trove of Taoist literature, Yang Chu is alone among the ancient sages of China in calling pleasure the end of life, and also–like his Greek counterparts–he acknowledges the natural limits of desires and pleasures in his chapter on the Brevity of Conscious Life. According to EB:

Yang felt that human beings should live pleasurably, which for him implied a life in which both selfish inaction and selfless intervention in human affairs would be contrary extremes; instead, one should lead a natural life by cultivating and following one’s innate natural tendencies.

Although these teachings may seem out of place in Taoism according to some, in reality the teaching on these two extremes reminds us of our Taoist essays on military advise and on laissez faire: his thought is rooted in Tao, and in the view that we do not need to intervene in nature for it to run its course either via self-sacrifice or via selfish inaction (or withdrawal). It is in our nature to intervene when needed, and to take care of our own priorities when prudent. A similar logic is applied to the five senses: their obstruction is seen as going against nature and against Tao.

IEP summarizes the seventh chapter of Liezi, which is believed to have been authored by him, this way:

… It espouses a hedonistic philosophy: Life is short; Live for pleasure alone; Don’t waste time cultivating virtues.

The seventh chapter of the Lieh Tzu–a lesser-known source for Taoism than the Tao Te Ching–underwent a 1912 English translation by Anton Forke, who titled it Yang Chu’s Garden of Pleasure, and divided it into 19 short chapters. Some of the themes mirror Epicurean teachings to the point of being near-identical parallel doctrines. One example is in their joint rejection of fame and of traditional virtue as taught by other schools. The following passage reminds us of Polystratus’ indictment of blind pursuit of virtue without the study of nature.

CHAPTER V: FALSE VIRTUES

YANG CHU said: Po Yi was not without desire, for being too proud of his purity of mind, he was led to death by starvation. Chan-Chi was not passionless, for being too proud of his virtue he happened to reduce his family. Those who in pursuit of purity and virtue do good in a false way resemble these men.

As did the ancient Cyrenaics, Yang Chu’s philosophizing took the body as the starting point. For instance, Yang Chu articulates a defense of non-violence as an ethical principle and a rejection of brute force, argued from the perspective of human nature (chapter 16): since humans lack fangs, claws, and other natural defenses, man therefore must live by his wisdom. We find here a Taoist-libertarian theory of non-aggression (whose political, societal, and practical repercussions are many) rooted in the study of nature. Although the body is at the root of Chu’s intellectual life, the end result still constitutes an embodied and practical wisdom and philosophy that goes well beyond merely entertaining the seductions of the senses, which is how hedonists are typically stereotyped.

We also find a passage somewhat reminiscent of Jesus’ Gospels when the philosopher is arguing that we must not treat the dead as we do the living, which was a common superstition of his day.

CHAPTER VII: DUTY TO THE LIVING AND THE DEAD

So we may give the feverish rest, satiety to the hungry, warmth to the cold, and assistance to the miserable; but for the dead, when we have rightly bewailed them, to what use is it to place pearls and jewels in their mouths, or to dress them in state robes, or offer animals in sacrifice, or to expose effigies of paper?

In another chapter, we find a clash between a so-called “virtuous” king and his two pleasure-seeking brothers, who tell him:

CHAPTER IX: THE HAPPY VOLUPTUARIES

It is very difficult to preserve life, and easy to come by one’s death. Yet who would think of awaiting death, which comes so easily, on account of the difficulty of preserving life? You value proper conduct and righteousness in order to excel before others, and you do violence to your feelings and nature in striving for glory. That to us appears to be worse than death.

… See now. If anybody knows how to regulate external things, the things do not of necessity become regulated, and his body has still to toil and labour. But if anybody knows how to regulate internals, the things go on all right, and the mind obtains peace and rest.

The last paragraph resonates with the 20th Principal Doctrine of Epicurus. They seem to be arguing before their brother, the king, that it is best to stay away from political life, and that by fulfilling so many duties and virtues and expectations from others, these externalities rob us of happiness and compete against our true nature. At the end of the chapter, the king has gone to a sage to ask for guidance concerning his brothers, who are leading lives of indulgence. Here’s the verdict:

Teng-hsi said: “You are living together with real men without knowing it. Who calls you wise? Cheng has been governed by chance, and without merit of yours.”

In this passage, we see also a proto-Nietzschean repudiation of artificial, man-made morality–here, not merely as a reaction against the repression of nature that the dominant philosophy imposes on us, but positively in favor of the Taoist virtue of ziran, naturalness and authenticity. This acting in accordance to nature is the main platform from which Yang Chu philosophizes.

If Cyrene is, as Michel Onfray argues, a philosophical Atlantis, then perhaps Yang Chu’s city of Liang is a philosophical Shangri-La and, just like with the Cyrenaics, his long-dismissed school of Taoist thought deserves a second look.

Further Reading:

Yang Chu’s Garden of Pleasure (Classic Reprint)

Contemplations on Tao

Nature has no masters: Lucretius, Epicurus, and Effortless Action