So then we transition to the Dao as that which replaces Tian, Heaven, as that which is transcendental in the new imperial bureaucratic world. This is what Levi says, "The word Dao refers to absolute generality that is"—at the same time—"infinite extensiveness." Absolute generality—that means this is precisely, we saw it includes everything and it's found everywhere, in the smallest and bigger than the largest. That's what he means by absolute generality. That is to say it is that which contains all. So here we see precisely the conclusion of the process of rationalization, in this one core concept of Dao which includes everything. You cannot, as long as you're using words, you cannot get outside of the world of the Dao—absolute generality. But it's also infinite extensiveness. We just saw that the territory of the Zhou was politically divided between the family members. And so then of course we saw that kingdom was destroyed by these peripheral states became bigger and bigger, the Qin, the Chu, the Qi, which were not part of the family, okay? But that extensiveness we just saw was related to temporality, the lineage temporality, but no longer, it's simply the infinite extensiveness. So how is this territory now going to be governed, if it's no longer governed by a family? Well, it's governed by bureaucrats, officers. And so "administrative division of territory" becomes "the paradigm of rationality" —precisely in the philosopher Zhuangzi that we ended the last session with —and of the imperial bureaucratic system that is emerging. This is how he described it: "The administrative units consist, at the lowest level, in the regrouping of ten families… That is what makes it possible to associate differentelements in a single body politic and to distinguish the [various] elements of a common whole." Now what does that mean? Well, that means that if you divide the population up into groups of ten families —and this is going to continue all the way through Chinese history, it's called the <i>baojia</i> 保甲 system, okay? Then in fact, China is composed of modular units, and each modular unit is identical to all the others. So it's a completely rational system. It reminds me of the way the American West was settled and every town was just simply divided up into a grid with sizes identical. So simply that same pattern was reproduced over the entire West as settlers moved west across the American continent. So it's that same idea of administrative rationality and organization of society according to abstract numerical principles. And he goes on, this is parallel to what we see in that great Confucian philosopher of just before the founding of empire, Xunzi, that we've already talked about and we'll come back to again —the idea of abstract thought: "Even though the things which make up the universe are innumerable" —that's what we called the <i>wanwu</i> 萬物, the ten thousand things—"we sometimes feel the need of referring to them as a whole. We then use the word 'thing,' <i>wu</i> 物. 'Thing' is a 'major common noun,' <i>dagongming</i> 大共名. It is taken from a more restricted term that it includes." So it's why it's called <i>ming</i> 名, is the word for a noun, or a word, okay? A name, <i>gong</i> 共, a common name, and <i>da</i> 大, big. So it's the "major common noun" that includes all the others. So it's like the Platonic passage from this particular table to that particular table —that one is round, this one is rectangular —and gradually we come to a general common noun, <i>dagongming</i>, which includes all tables, okay? So: by going from one inclusion—we can think of this in terms of set theory: these tables are all included in the concept table, then we have the concept of furniture, which includes all the chairs and the tables and the other furniture that we can have in a house and so on. And we go from one inclusive set, one inclusion to another, until we finally get to that <i>dagongming</i>, that "major common noun" which includes everything. Here he says it's <i>wu</i>, it's "thing." But of course in the context of—the political context and the psychological context that we're talking about, the cosmological context—that word is Dao. So let's talk about the Legalist Dao. Why the Legalist Dao? Well, we've referred over and over again to Laozi, but many people don't pay attention to the fact that the very first, the oldest commentary on the <i>Laozi</i> is by Han Feizi 韓非子. Han Feizi was a student of Xunzi, but he's also in the <i>fajia</i> 法家 tradition, the Legalist tradition, the person who represents the idea that there must be in this bureaucratic empire rationally organized and administered, that there must be rule of law. The question of course then is: where does the law come from? Who makes the law? "The sovereign," says Levi, "is the human counterpart of the postulate of the unity of the Dao." That's we talked about the last time how the Dao includes all the Dao and then the person who wishes to become like the Dao has to show, he has to keep that unity. So that unity of the Dao is simply there. It's a part of the whole cosmological construction and the sovereign "is the human counterpart." And that is why he was "called the One or the supreme One… To be One and to control multiplicity," to control the <i>wanwu</i>, but the <i>wanwu</i> here, the ten thousand things, are in fact the ten thousand people, or the <i>baixing</i> 百姓, as they're called, the hundred surnames. So "to be One and to control multiplicity, the prince must, in the face of multiplicity, fulfill his function as the One." How? "By never allowing himself to be caught up in multiplicity as a part of it." He has to be separate from the people. It goes on: "Like the Dao which governs all things by being outside them, the prince only exerts his sovereignty insofar as he is distinct from the apparatus," the state apparatus that he's controlled, "he controls." We could call him an "outlaw"—that is to say outside and above the law. And then we're going to see that he is described—the sovereign—in exactly the way we saw the last time the subject being described, the subject who wishes to be a Dao subject, to embody that unity within himself. "Like the Dao, the sovereign must be empty—pure nothingness: he is empty of all desire, all thought, all intentionality." Now listen carefully: "It is because he is entirely opaque to his subjects—who, on the contrary, are transparent to him —that he can extend his domination over the world." So he's empty. He shows no intention. People come in and report to him about this, that and the other thing, and he shows no response, shows no emotion: that absolute calm, the mirror mind. "In a word, he achieves," like the subject we talked about last time, "he achieves the transcendence of the Dao. Emanation of the cosmic law, he strips himself of all definition." He is the <i>dagongming</i>. He is the all-inclusive definition, so he has no specific definition. "Like nothingness, he takes no initiative, does not act." That concept of <i>wuwei</i> again. And he "allows things to happen spontaneously. Being without desire, immobile and empty, he is one body with the law that he must apply. Indecipherable like the Dao, the norm of all norms, the master of men acts without anyone knowing it. Impenetrable, indeterminate, he is like chaos, the most accomplished form of the Dao." Chaos, the most accomplished form of the Dao? Well, actually we can think about that chaos, that idea of <i>hundun</i> 渾沌, which plays a very very major role particularly in Daoist philosophy. How can this <i>hundun</i>—so like Humpty Dumpty, right? The egg that sat on the wall: "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. And all the king's horses and all king's men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again." Well, that's the whole point, the whole point is to keep it together, to keep that egg on the wall, that Humpty Dumpty, or the wonton soup, okay? So: we're still eating chaos. What? Why is this? Because in <i>hundun</i>, the <i>yin</i> and the <i>yang</i> are still confusedly mixed together. They're not yet separated out to make heaven and earth and humans. All is still in a state of potentiality. And so you could describe it in a way, with respect to the Dao, as before the Big Bang. It's that point, that infinitesimally small point that occupies no space whatsoever. That's the center and then there's the Big Bang and there's this ever-expanding universe, okay? So: "he is like chaos, the most accomplished form of the Dao," precisely, because all things are still potential, "its first manifestation from which the cosmos emerged. But the prince must have the technique which enables him to attain that emptiness. He must know how to control his desires and his passions." So of course you see now the link between what we spoke of last time. "The elimination of desire can be achieved only by Daoist self-cultivation."
