During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, warfare was a central component of social dynamics.
Philosophers and thinkers were not detached from these realities of war. Laozi was no exception. Through observing military processes, they identified issues of philosophical significance, elevating their study to a metaphysical plane.
He who would assist a lord of men in harmony with the Dao will not assert his mastery in the kingdom by force of arms. Such a course is sure to meet with its proper return.
Wherever a host is stationed, briars and thorns spring up. In the sequence of great armies there are sure to be bad years.
A skilful (commander) strikes a decisive blow, and stops. He does not dare (by continuing his operations) to assert and complete his mastery. He will strike the blow, but will be on his guard against being vain or boastful or arrogant in consequence of it. He strikes it as a matter of necessity; he strikes it, but not from a wish for mastery.
When things have attained their strong maturity they become old. This may be said to be not in accordance with the Dao: and what is not in accordance with it soon comes to an end.
Note
The Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching) is primarily a philosophical work, not a military treatise. Its reflections on military strategy emerge from metaphysical epistemology, not from practical military praxiology.
When addressing ontological questions such as the movement of the Dao or the dynamics of yin-yang, it inevitably intersects with the phenomena of war: though philosophy and military art belong to distinct disciplinary domains, they share essential interconnected vessels in their logical structures and transformative patterns.
Further Reading
Chapter Thirty of the Tao Te Ching centers on the “anti-war philosophy,” emphasizing the dangers of warfare and the wisdom of restraint through propositions such as “those who assist a ruler with the Dao do not rely on military force to dominate the world” and “after a great war, calamitous years inevitably follow.”
The statement in Chapter Thirty, “those who assist a ruler with the Dao do not rely on military force to dominate the world,” and Chapter Thirty-One’s declaration that “fine weapons are instruments of misfortune” form a dual critique of the nature of war. Chapter Thirty highlights the consequences of war, pointing out that it leads to “thorns and brambles grow” and “calamitous years,” while Chapter Thirty-One emphasizes the inherent nature of war, stating that “weapons are instruments of misfortune, not instruments of the noble.” Together, they construct the complete Daoist logic of “thorough opposition to war.” Chapter Thirty proposes “achieving results without arrogance, never daring to seize by force,” while Chapter Thirty-One further criticizes the glorification of military might with the statement “victory is not beautiful, and those who call it beautiful delight in killing.” Both chapters point toward the philosophy of “achieving results without arrogance” in conduct.
Chapter Thirty reveals the destruction of ecology and society caused by war through the phrase “where armies have camped, thorns and brambles grow,” while Chapter Eighty depicts an ideal society without war with the line “let the people return to small states with sparse populations, ….though they had buff coats and sharp weapons, they should have no occasion to don or use them.” Together, they reflect the Daoist ultimate pursuit of peace. Chapter Thirty emphasizes “assisting a ruler with the Dao,” while Chapter Eighty proposes a concrete governance model: “neighboring states are within sight, and the sounds of roosters and dogs are heard, yet the people grow old and die without ever interacting.” Both chapters point toward the peaceful path of “governing through non-action.”
以道佐人主者，不以兵強天下。其事好還。師之所處，荊棘生焉。大軍之後，必有凶年。善有果而已，不敢以取強。果而勿矜，果而勿伐，果而勿驕。果而不得已，果而勿強。物壯則老，是謂不道，不道早已。
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