Chinese
Philosophy on Life
Practical
Wisdom in Horse Racing
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| Examination Room No.1 by
Lu Shuang. |
By Lu Shuang. |
By WANG KEPING
June is a significant month in China, as it
is when the state university entrance exams take place. In Beijing
over 80,000 participated in this highly competitive event on
the June 7/8 weekend. Prior to the exams the media carried a
wealth of brainstorming suggestions as to how examinees might
perform to the best of their ability, one of which struck a
particular chord in me. It encouraged participants to focus
their time and energy on consolidating their strong subjects,
rather than waste time on laborious revision of those at which
they had low aptitude in the hope of scoring a few extra points.
Next year's examinees might consider this
advice in the light of the ancient tale of the strategy employed
by General Tian Ji in his annual horse race with the Lord of
Qi.
The story goes that the Lord of Qi and General
Tian Ji held a horse race every year. They selected three horses
each that ran in pairs for three races. The owner of two out
of three of the winners got a trophy. The Lord of Qi would consistently
win as each of his horses ran a little faster than the General's.
One year, shortly before the race, General Tian Ji was at a
loss as to how he might win the trophy from his Lord. Well-known
strategist Sun Bin called to see him at this time, and on the
General telling him about the race, his advice was to alter
the racing sequence of his horses. The General accordingly pitted
his third horse against the Lord's first -- a race he was bound
to lose. He then he raced his first horse against the Lord's
second, and won, and paired his second horse with the Lord's
third, winning again. He thus won two of the three races and
collected the trophy for the first time.
What is the story's message? It indicates
the importance of choosing the correct strategy for any kind
of trial or test. In this case, it should first be clarified
that the Lord's three horses always ran respectively faster
than the General's when in a preset order of first against first
through to third against third. The Lord's first horse was the
best and unbeatable, but his second was probably no better than
the General's first, and his third certainly no better than
the General's second. This being the case, the General was certain
to lose at least one race no matter which of his three horses
he matched against the Lord's first. So this time he changed
his racing order, pairing his slowest horse with the Lord's
fastest. He thus purposely lost one race, but won the other
two and the overall victory. The strategy was that of being
prepared to lose in order to win, whereby a small sacrifice
is paid in order to achieve the greater glory. This is the superficial
message, but on looking deeper another more subtle truth emerges.
It is that of making the most of strengths and weaknesses according
to the demands of any specific situation. This requires intelligence,
but also the courage to create advantages out of disadvantages.
The strategy also constitutes a warning against mechanical conformity
to routinized logic, advocating instead stepping off the beaten
track.
At this point I am reminded of Lao Zi's philosophy
on a similar theme. In his Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching) about
the way and its power, he prescribes a series of metaphoric
strategies. In Chapter 36, for instance, he arrives at the conclusion:
"In order to take, it is necessary first to give."
The contemporary interpretation of this is that initial giving
is expedient to the ultimate end of taking. It may often be
observed that an ostensible giver is actually one who has enough
patience to wait and take the lion's share when the time is
ripe, like a fisherman using a tiny worm to hook a big fish.
In this way, he is prepared to give a little at first in order
to take more later on, as with General Tian Ji, who was prepared
to lose the first race in order to win the following two.
In the same chapter, Lao Zi says: "In
order to contract, it is necessary first to expand. In order
to weaken, it is necessary first to strengthen. In order to
destroy, it is necessary first to promote ...This is called
Subtle Light (wei ming)." These ideas could be based on
empirical observations and life experience. A flower, for instance,
will naturally wither, or contract, after fully blossoming.
Conversely, an inchworm draws itself together, contracting its
body in order to gather strength, when about to stretch out
and expand, thereby advancing its body. Lizards and snakes hibernate
-- a contraction of movement in winter -- in order to preserve
life until expanding into vitality in spring. It is therefore
assumed in The Great Treatise on The Book of Changes that "contraction
and expansion act upon each other; hereby arises that which
furthers." This dialectical speculation indicates that
everything has two aspects that are in a state of continuous
opposition and mutual transformation. On one developing to its
acme, it will inevitably transmute to its opposite. This assertion
also suggests a strategy that may be applicable to personal
development in today's complicated social environment. Very
often we are confronted with the dilemma of whether to contract
-- to retreat or take no action -- or to expand -- to advance
and act. This means weighing up which will bring the greater
benefit. As for the interrelationship between weakening and
strengthening, it follows a similar logic to that of destroying
and promoting. In today's ruthlessly competitive business world,
for example, tricks are played and traps are set. Someone might
be promoted specifically to handle a thorny task, but on accomplishing
it and starting to plan a bright future, be kicked out or cast
aside on the pretext that the task in question is no longer
relevant. They might also be promoted for the sole purpose of
expediting something no one else wants to take responsibility
for, like getting rid of another operative, or signing a contract
that offends a longstanding client or associate.
Such strategies prevail in the political arena,
and Lao Zi himself has been described as a political conspirator.
Certain scholars argue that this interpretation is based on
a purposely conventional misreading or misconception. It is
only feasible on the premise that each reader forms his own
image of Lao Zi in the light of personal opinions and contemporary
parallels to his philosophy. These are, and will continue to
be, relevant to any period of history. Lao Zi appears to focus
on such dialectical interactions in order to illustrate his
concept of the inexorable transformations of opposites. But
he is actually more concerned about natural phenomena than human
affairs, as he consistently seeks to demonstrate how the Dao
of Heaven or the natural law works in binary or bipolar situations.
Citing him as a conspirator in any negative sense is hence groundless.
Furthermore, through Lao Zi's perspective it is possible to
gain insight into the natural movement and transformational
features of all things. As already observed, that given is a
facet of that taken; expansion signals the imminence of contraction;
and promotion can be at the root of destruction. Similarly,
the strong grows out of the weak; and abundance is harbinger
of decline. Both natural phenomena and human affairs develop
and change in this dialectically inevitable fashion. What Lao
Zi calls the Subtle Light (wei ming) may be the kind of practical
wisdom displayed by General Tian Ji, meaning the pragmatism
necessary for self-achievement and self-development. The rich
store of such wisdom within Chinese philosophy should be explored
and rediscovered in the contemporary socio-cultural context.
WANG
KEPING is vice director of the Institute for Transcultural Studies
under the Beijing Second Foreign Languages University.