Lao Tzu and Confucius: The Way and the Virtues

Historical Context

According to legend, Confucius (551-479 BCE), already a respected teacher, traveled to Luoyang to consult with Lao Tzu (Lao-tze), keeper of the royal archives and reputed sage. Though their historicity and this meeting are debated by scholars, the dialogue represents a fundamental tension in Chinese thought: between Confucian emphasis on moral cultivation, ritual propriety, and social harmony, and Taoist emphasis on naturalness, spontaneity, and alignment with the Way (Tao).

Confucius taught that human flourishing requires cultivating virtue (de), following proper conduct (li), and establishing right relationships in society. Lao Tzu taught that such efforts actually obscure our original nature—that we should return to simplicity, embrace emptiness, and follow the way of water, which benefits all through yielding rather than forcing.

The Dialogue

The First Meeting: On Ambition and the Past

Confucius: “Master Lao Tzu, I have traveled far to consult with one known for wisdom. I have spent years studying the ancient texts, particularly the rites and music of the Duke of Zhou. I wish to restore these golden principles to our troubled times, to bring order to the chaos of our age.”

Lao Tzu (observing Confucius closely): “I see a man of great learning and strong convictions. But tell me—these sages you study, these ancient rituals you wish to restore—are not their bones already dust? What remains is only words, empty as husks.

You speak of restoring the past as if it were some golden treasure. But the past is gone like yesterday’s river. Today’s water is not yesterday’s water. The Way that can be walked is not the eternal Way. The name that can be named is not the eternal Name.

Your ambition to reform the world—this too is clinging. You grasp at what cannot be grasped. Like trying to hold water in your fist—the tighter you squeeze, the more escapes.”

Confucius (taken aback): “But surely we need models! Without the wisdom of the ancients, without proper ritual and virtue, society falls into disorder. People become selfish and cruel. Is it not our duty to teach them righteousness?”

Lao Tzu: “Ah, but here is the paradox: the more you preach righteousness, the more people forget natural goodness. When the great Way is abandoned, we have to resort to ‘benevolence’ and ‘justice.’ When ‘wisdom’ and ‘knowledge’ appear, great hypocrisy follows.

Before there were rules about filial piety, children naturally loved their parents. Before there were laws about loyalty, subjects naturally honored their rulers. Your elaborate virtues are actually evidence that natural virtue has been lost!”

Confucius (struggling to understand): “Then what would you have us do? Nothing? Simply let society decay?”

Lao Tzu: “Not nothing—but wu wei, action without action. Flow like water, which benefits all things without striving. Yield like a reed in the wind rather than stand rigid like a tree that breaks.

The sage leads without leading, teaches without teaching, accomplishes without doing. He places himself last and finds himself first. He empties himself and is filled. This is the secret of the Way.”

On Virtue and Te (De)

Confucius: “You speak of virtue, yet you seem to dismiss the cultivation of virtue that I teach. How can this be?”

Lao Tzu: “I do not dismiss virtue—I point to its source! The virtue (te/de) I speak of is not something to cultivate or add on. It is your original nature, what you are when artifice is stripped away.

Think of an uncarved block of wood. It has no specific form, yet it contains all possible forms. Your ‘cultivation of virtue’ is like carving the block—you may create something that appears beautiful, but you’ve lost the wholeness, the potential of the uncarved state.

The highest virtue is like a valley—low, receptive, embracing all. But you try to build mountains of virtue, creating hierarchies of better and worse, right and wrong. This is already far from the Way.

True virtue is unconscious of being virtuous. The moment you say ‘I am practicing benevolence,’ you have already separated yourself from it. The truly kind person doesn’t think about being kind—kindness flows naturally, like water flowing downward.”

Confucius: “But how can people know what is right without teaching? How can society function without standards and proprieties?”

Lao Tzu: “Look at the infant—does anyone teach it to breathe? Does anyone instruct it in how to grasp? No, it acts according to its nature. Before the mind becomes cluttered with ‘should’ and ‘should not,’ there is spontaneous rightness.

Your problem is that you start with the corrupted state of society and try to fix it with rules and rituals. But these very rules and rituals are what corrupted it in the first place! It’s like trying to clean mud with mud.

Better to return to the root. Clear the mind of accumulated knowledge. Empty the heart of desires and attachments. Stand in simplicity. Then natural virtue will arise of itself, without effort or intention.”

On Governing and Non-Interference

Confucius: “I have advised many rulers on how to govern justly—through moral example, through ritual, through the appointment of virtuous ministers. Surely you agree that good governance requires active leadership?”

Lao Tzu: “The best ruler is one the people barely know exists. The next best is one whom they love and praise. The next is one whom they fear. The worst is one whom they hate.

You teach rulers to govern through active intervention—laws, regulations, moral codes, punishments. But each new law creates new criminals. Each regulation creates new evasions. The more prohibitions, the poorer the people become.

The sage governs by emptying the people’s minds, filling their bellies, weakening their ambitions, and strengthening their bones. He keeps them innocent of knowledge and desire, so the clever dare not interfere.

By doing nothing, nothing is left undone. This is the paradox you cannot grasp with your Confucian mind: the less the ruler does, the more is accomplished. Governing a large kingdom is like cooking a small fish—too much handling spoils it.”

Confucius (frustrated): “This sounds like a recipe for chaos! If rulers do nothing, if there are no standards, what prevents disorder?”

Lao Tzu: “Your ‘order’ is imposed from outside, maintained by force and fear. It is artificial, fragile. True order arises from within, from alignment with the natural flow of things.

Watch how the universe operates: the sun and moon follow their courses without commanding each other. The seasons change without planning committee meetings. Water flows to the sea without anyone directing it. This is natural order—effortless, harmonious, enduring.

Human society has become unnatural because clever people have interfered with it. Your Confucian rituals, your moral teachings, your elaborate governance—all this is interference! You’re like a man who, seeing a duck’s legs are short, tries to lengthen them. The duck was fine as it was!

Let things be what they are. Trust the process. The Tao gives birth to all things, nourishes them, lets them mature, and allows them to return. This is how to govern.”

On Knowledge and Wisdom

Confucius: “I have devoted my life to learning—studying the classics, understanding history, mastering the rituals. Knowledge allows us to avoid the mistakes of the past. How can you dismiss its value?”

Lao Tzu: “The more you know, the less you understand. Learning consists of adding day by day; following the Tao consists of subtracting day by day.

Your knowledge is like armor—it protects you but also weighs you down and limits your movement. The wise person knows without studying, sees without looking, accomplishes without doing.

Consider: a wheel has thirty spokes, but it’s the emptiness at the hub that makes it useful. A room has walls, but it’s the empty space inside that makes it livable. Knowledge fills the mind; wisdom empties it.

You accumulate information about virtue—what benevolence is, what righteousness is, what propriety is. But this knowing about virtue is not virtue itself! It’s like collecting maps instead of making the journey.

The sage knows without knowing. He is like the newborn baby who doesn’t know about danger yet is never harmed. Like the perfect person who has forgotten righteousness because he IS righteous. This not-knowing is the highest knowledge.”

Confucius: “But without knowledge, how do we make progress? How do we improve ourselves and society?”

Lao Tzu: “Progress! Always progress! Always trying to get somewhere other than where you are. This striving is the disease, not the cure.

The seed doesn’t ‘try’ to become a tree—it simply unfolds its nature. The bud doesn’t ‘effort’ to become a flower—opening happens naturally. You are trying to force growth, and this very forcing prevents it.

Stop trying to improve yourself! This ‘self’ you’re trying to improve is itself the problem—a collection of concepts, fears, ambitions. See through the illusion of this separate self, and you’ll discover you’re already complete, already whole, already the Tao expressing itself.

This is the great secret your learning has hidden from you: you are already what you seek to become. The journey is over before it begins.”

On Death and Transformation

Confucius: “Master Lao Tzu, I have one final question. You speak so lightly of letting things come and go, of non-attachment. But what of death? When we lose a beloved teacher, a parent, a child—should we not grieve? Is not proper mourning one of the marks of a civilized person?”

Lao Tzu: “Grieve if grief arises—that too is natural. But don’t cling to grief, don’t make an identity from it. Understand that birth and death are like the changing seasons, like day following night.

When autumn comes, do the leaves resist falling? No—they let go, they return to the earth. In spring, do the buds refuse to open? No—they burst forth naturally. This is the cycle of the Tao.

You mourn because you see death as an ending, a loss. But there is no absolute ending or beginning. Everything transforms. The caterpillar ‘dies’ to become the butterfly. The ice ‘dies’ to become water. Is this death or transformation?

The sage embraces life and death as one process. He doesn’t cling to life or fear death. He knows he is not this temporary form but the formless Tao itself, which was never born and can never die.

Your elaborate mourning rituals—three years for a parent, specific clothes for specific relationships—these create a prison of grief. By codifying how and how long to mourn, you prevent natural healing. You make death into something more frightening than it is.”

Confucius (quietly): “You speak of things beyond my understanding. But I sense truth in your words, though they contradict much of what I have taught.”

Lao Tzu (softening): “Your way is not wrong, Confucius. For those who have lost connection with their nature, your teachings provide a structure, a path. But don’t mistake the finger pointing at the moon for the moon itself.

Your rituals can be like a raft to cross the river. But once across, must you carry the raft on your head? Know when to put it down.

Perhaps this is my teaching for you: honor the way you have chosen, but hold it lightly. Be earnest in your work, but don’t be attached to outcomes. Teach what you must teach, but know that the greatest teaching happens in silence.”

The Parting

After several days of dialogue, Confucius prepared to leave. As he departed, Lao Tzu offered final words:

Lao Tzu: “Remember this: those who know don’t speak; those who speak don’t know. The sage keeps his mouth shut and his mind open. He blunts his sharpness and untangles his knots. He softens his brightness and merges with dust.

This is the mysterious unity of the Tao—can you understand it? I doubt it. But perhaps in time, when your busy mind quiets and your ambitious heart settles, you’ll suddenly laugh at all your striving. Then you’ll know what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Later, Confucius said to his disciples:

Confucius: “I know how birds can fly, how fish can swim, how animals can run. But today I have seen a dragon—something beyond my understanding. Lao Tzu is like the dragon, riding the winds and clouds. I cannot comprehend him.”

Key Teachings (Lao Tzu’s Perspective)

1. Wu Wei (Non-Action)

Not passivity but effortless action aligned with natural flow. Acting without forcing, achieving without striving, leading without controlling.

2. Return to Simplicity

The uncarved block (pu) represents original nature before socialization, cultivation, and artifice. Wisdom means stripping away accumulated concepts, not adding more.

3. The Paradox of Te (Virtue)

True virtue is unconscious of itself. Conscious cultivation of virtue indicates virtue has already been lost. Natural goodness flows spontaneously when artifice is removed.

4. Governing by Non-Interference

The best leadership creates conditions for natural flourishing rather than imposing external control. Excessive laws create more criminals; excessive teaching creates more confusion.

5. Emptiness as Fullness

Empty space makes rooms useful; hub makes wheels work. Emptying the mind creates space for wisdom. Not-knowing is higher knowledge than accumulated information.

6. Acceptance of Natural Cycles

Birth and death, success and failure, fullness and emptiness—all are natural transformations. Resistance to these cycles creates suffering; acceptance brings peace.

Key Principles (Confucian Perspective - for contrast)

1. Cultivation of Virtue

Human nature requires cultivation through education, practice of rituals, and moral self-development.

2. Importance of Tradition

Ancient sages provide models of virtue and wisdom. Studying and embodying these models elevates society.

3. Social Harmony Through Proper Relationships

Society functions best when proper hierarchies and relationships are maintained—ruler-subject, parent-child, husband-wife, etc.

4. Ritual and Propriety (Li)

Correct behavior in ceremonies and daily interactions trains character and creates social harmony.

5. Learning and Knowledge

Continuous study and accumulation of wisdom from past and present are essential for moral development.

Practical Applications

Practicing Wu Wei

• Notice where you’re forcing results rather than allowing natural flow
• Recognize the difference between appropriate action and compulsive doing
• Practice yielding and receptivity alongside assertion
• Find the path of least resistance—like water finding its way

Returning to Simplicity

• Question accumulated beliefs and concepts—are they truly yours or borrowed?
• Strip away artificial layers of personality to discover original nature
• Spend time in nature to remember natural rhythms and patterns
• Practice contentment with what is rather than constantly seeking more

Emptying to Be Filled

• Practice not-knowing—releasing the need to have answers and opinions
• Create stillness in your mind through meditation or quiet contemplation
• Let go of the identity based on accomplishments and knowledge
• Experience the spaciousness that emerges when mental clutter clears

Accepting Natural Cycles

• Recognize that life includes both fullness and emptiness, activity and rest
• Don’t resist natural endings or force premature beginnings
• Trust the process of transformation even when uncomfortable
• See apparent losses as necessary stages in larger cycles

Questions for Contemplation

1. Where am I forcing and striving when I could be allowing and flowing?

2. What accumulated knowledge, beliefs, and concepts am I clinging to? What would remain if I let them go?

3. Am I cultivating virtue consciously, or am I so busy “being virtuous” that I’ve lost spontaneous goodness?

4. How much of my identity is based on accomplishments, knowledge, and social roles? What lies beneath these constructs?

5. Can I embrace emptiness and not-knowing as valuable rather than constantly filling myself with more information and activity?

The Significance of This Dialogue

The encounter between Lao Tzu and Confucius dramatizes a fundamental philosophical tension that appears across cultures: between cultivating the self and discovering the unconditioned self, between actively improving society and trusting natural processes, between accumulating knowledge and recognizing the limits of knowledge.

Confucianism has profoundly shaped East Asian culture, providing social cohesion, ethical frameworks, and systems of education and governance. Its emphasis on self-cultivation, education, and social responsibility has created magnificent civilizations.

Yet Taoism offers a necessary counterbalance—reminding us that not everything can be controlled, that forcing leads to breaking, that sometimes the wisest action is non-action, that silence can be more profound than speech.

For contemporary seekers, this dialogue addresses timeless questions:

• In a world obsessed with achievement, can we learn to be rather than do?
• In a culture addicted to accumulating information, can we value not-knowing?
• In societies built on competition and striving, can we find the way of yielding and flowing?
• In times fixated on progress, can we recognize perfection in the present moment?

The Taoist perspective is particularly relevant for modern life, where constant activity, information overload, and relentless striving create epidemic stress and burnout. Wu wei—effortless action—offers an alternative that doesn’t mean passivity but rather alignment with natural rhythms and flows.

Both perspectives have truth. Sometimes active cultivation is necessary; sometimes letting go is needed. Sometimes we must engage with the world’s problems; sometimes we must step back and trust larger processes. Wisdom lies in knowing which approach fits the situation.

Ultimately, Lao Tzu’s teaching is not anti-Confucian but meta-Confucian—it doesn’t reject social engagement or moral development but contextualizes them within a larger vision of the Tao. Even Confucius, with all his learning and ambition, stood humbled before the dragon-like mystery Lao Tzu embodied—a mystery that transcends all philosophies, all systems, all attempts to capture truth in concepts.

The dialogue ends not with resolution but with paradox—as it must, for the Tao that can be explained is not the eternal Tao. Perhaps the highest teaching is Lao Tzu’s silence after speaking, and Confucius’s willingness to be confused rather than clinging to his certainties.