The Path of Moderation for the Virtuous

Xuefeng

A large tree that provides shade and shelter is spared from being chopped down by carpenters because it is considered useless. A hen, on the other hand, is spared from slaughter because it is useful and lays eggs. Hence, Confucius advised his disciples to position themselves between being talented and untalented.

How does one find balance between talent and lack of talent? Is there a deeper wisdom hidden in this idea?

When I went abroad as a translator, my superiors considered potential factors beyond just my language skills. I was proficient in accounting, clerical work, and statistics. As a Level 5 fitter, a role often referred to as the “jack-of-all-trades” in mechanical fields, I was well-versed in mechanical schematics and construction. If needed, I could install and repair lathes, gasoline engines, diesel engines, and drilling rigs. Moreover, I had basic knowledge of foreign trade correspondence, credit procedures, import-export processes, and customs clearance. By these standards, I was considered “talented” and deemed an ideal candidate for the overseas assignment.

Before I left, I casually remarked to a colleague that the company could use me in multiple roles due to my varied skills. Unexpectedly, my colleague responded, “Why bother knowing so much? Once you’re abroad, just stick to translating and feign ignorance in everything else. Otherwise, you’ll overwork yourself and invite resentment from others.” I was taken aback but soon understood. The ancients warned that “in troubled times, excessive talent is a root of misfortune” and that “mastering a thousand techniques is less valuable than excelling in one.” A person should neither be overly talented nor completely untalented but should adapt to circumstances.

The balance between talent and lack thereof extends to the philosophy of moderation. The concept of moderation has faced criticism for being indecisive, opportunistic, and overly accommodating. Critics argue, “One is one, and two is two. What is this ambiguous ‘one and a half’? Love is love, and hate is hate. What is this undefined middle ground?” For a long time, I scoffed at the idea of moderation, viewing it as unworthy of a true man.

However, as I gained life experience—especially through the ups and downs of human relationships—I came to realize that moderation embodies the qualities of a virtuous person and reflects the Dao. Without broad knowledge, one cannot grasp its essence.

When dealing with the poor and the rich, leaders and subordinates, intellectuals and laborers, religions and political parties, men and women, governments and underground groups, Chinese and foreigners, the elderly and the young, conservatives and innovators, suppression and resistance, violence and cooperation—I find myself standing in the middle ground, avoiding favoritism. The sun shines equally on the good and the wicked, and flowing water nourishes both the earth and humanity without discrimination. If I am to follow the Dao, I must let things take their natural course.

I grew up in poverty. During my three years at the Zhangjiakou Geological Technical School in Hebei Province, the school cafeteria cook once remarked, “You’ve had the worst meals among the thousands of students here over the past three years.” While studying at the University of International Business and Economics in Beijing, my classmates suggested pooling 12 yuan each for a shared meal, but I declined because I couldn’t afford it. I’ve always finished every grain of rice in my bowl, a habit rooted not only in the understanding that “each grain is hard-earned” but also in my personal experience of near starvation in 1958 and 1960. Whether it’s green onions dipped in soybean paste from the northeast, sour noodles from the northwest, sweet foods from the south, or spicy Sichuan cuisine—whether it’s Chinese or Western dishes—I savor every meal as if it were a delicacy. Friends often remark, “Watching you eat makes the food look delicious!”

Because of my humble beginnings, I once believed that all poor people were inherently righteous, and all rich people were unjust. However, after climbing into the middle class and hiring nearly a hundred workers poorer than me, I was disheartened by their laziness, irresponsibility, theft, lies, and ungratefulness. It became evident that some people are destined to remain poor. I once hired a lawyer to fight a year-long lawsuit against the National Trade Union (representing the poor). In the end, my eloquent speech made a difference, and I won the case. Before the law, the poor were left speechless and without a leg to stand on.

Does this mean I now side with the rich? Not at all. The arrogance of the wealthy, their cutting remarks, and their ostentatious displays often leave the less fortunate feeling humiliated. I sometimes think, “Aside from your money, what else do you have?”

I've always been under others' leadership and detested the domineering and condescending manner of those in power, convinced that no official was truly good. However, when I later had the chance to lead others myself, I came to realize that being in a leadership position is no easy task either. The masses have their reasons, and those in leadership have their challenges—an irreconcilable dilemma exists between the two.

I was once a member of the working class and deeply envied intellectuals. I thought they understood many principles, could distinguish truth from falsehood, and upheld justice, serving as the backbone of enterprises and the nation. Later, after graduating from the Education Institute and becoming a middle school teacher, I became an intellectual myself. However, I quickly discovered that intellectuals can be narrow-minded, self-serving, and overly concerned with trivial matters. On the surface, they may appear courteous and witty, but deep down, they are often masters of internal conflict.

Currently, I have written nearly a million words in articles and can now be considered a genuine intellectual. My ten months of experience online have profoundly revealed to me that intellectuals are not necessarily admirable. Famous intellectuals often disregard those without status, speaking in grandiose and polished rhetoric while their true intentions and actions often tell a different story.

As for the majority of ordinary intellectuals, deep down, their attitude seems to be: “I know you’re capable, but I’ll do everything I can to prevent your success.” Jealousy may well be the innate nature of intellectuals. They envy not only the talents of their colleagues, classmates, and friends but also those of people everywhere—whether in the present or throughout history. Intellectuals tend to be more adept at hindering progress than fostering it. If they do offer praise or admiration for someone, it is usually because they stand to gain something from it, or the person being praised is a historical figure, deceased, or a foreigner. Otherwise, such praise rarely comes from a place of genuine sincerity.

I was once a devout Communist, idolizing Marx and Lenin and firmly believing that “religion is the opium of the people.” However, after studying the Bible, the Quran, Buddhist scriptures, and the Dao De Jing, I came to realize how shallow and uninformed Marx and Lenin truly were. Later, I participated in religious activities and experienced various practices and rituals. Coupled with observing the fanaticism and zealotry of certain religious organizations and individuals, I came to understand that religion not only anesthetizes people's spirits but also constrains their souls and instills a sense of terror in their minds.

I am a chauvinist, believing that men should have the final say in family matters and that women should stay out of politics. In my view, men should naturally be strong and brave, while women should be gentle and virtuous. This balance of strength and softness is the way of nature. However, I later realized that some men do not fit this mold—they are neither strong nor brave but instead gentle, even competing with women for the role of gentleness. This inevitably causes distress for women. When faced with such men, women have no choice but to become strong and assertive, embracing a form of "female chauvinism."

I am also a statist, firmly believing that everyone must operate within the framework of the constitution and laws. Only in this way can society maintain order and harmony, enabling people to fully utilize their talents and resources. If societal problems arise, the first course of action should be to amend the constitution and laws. Once established, these laws must be strictly adhered to by everyone, from top to bottom. No one should act outside the boundaries of the constitution and laws, and any violation should be treated as a crime.

The problem is that sometimes, in certain places, some people go beyond the bounds of the law. They bully others without facing legal restraint or punishment. What should I do then? I can’t always endure such situations. I must take action. I firmly believe that being pitied or sympathized with is a disgrace for a man. When left with no other choice, I would have to "go rogue." When cries for help go unanswered, I have no choice but to join or form a criminal group. Regardless of the consequences, I will fight back. If you won’t let me live, why should I let you live comfortably?

Somebody once said something absurd: “Those who are not of our kind must have different hearts.” After interacting with black and white people for over ten years, I came to realize that “all human hearts are made of flesh.” Many black and white people have been exceptionally friendly to me—more sincere and easier to get along with than some of my own compatriots. “There is no place in the world without fragrant grass.” Wherever there is human warmth, one can find a home. A true man’s ambitions should reach all corners of the world. Chinese, foreigners, black, white, yellow—aren’t we all human beings?

The issue between the elderly and the young boils down to one unchanging principle: the young must respect the elderly, and the elderly must care for the young. Beyond this, judgments cannot be based on age alone. “The young should not read Water Margin, and the old should not read Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” which proves that both young and old have their own strengths and weaknesses. Determining who is right or wrong must be done on a case-by-case basis.

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In summary, nothing is conclusive, and human affairs are never set in stone. Our minds must remain in a state of emptiness, ignorance, humility, and moderation, ready to act according to circumstances and adapt to the flow of life. When the weather is fair, the people harmonious, and all is well, the virtuous should remain dormant, silent for a thousand years, letting everything take its natural course. But when chaos abounds and lives are plunged into suffering, the virtuous must act swiftly and decisively, guiding the world back to order.

To become a virtuous person, one must practice moderation. Any bias will turn one into a scoundrel.