Moeller on Heroism and Noble Failure.
There's a lot in Hans-Georg Moeller's The Philosophy of the Daodejing that I take issue with. His insistent on the Laozi as (mainly) an elitist manual of male statesmanship, for one thing - completely disregarding his prior comment that the written version that has been passed down to us virtually unchanged over the last 2000 years, very likely had its origins in an even more ancient oral tradition, where it was transmitted mouth-to-mouth.
This bit from the chapter "On War", however, made me laugh.
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Often the "iconography" of war in the Western tradition differs significantly from that of war in the Laozi. As opposed to many Western images of war and warfare, the "defensive" Laozi does not connect war with heroism, justice, and collective pride.
Since Greek antinuity, Western representations of war have been tightly connected to images of heroes and deeds of heroism - and this general trend continues uninterrupted into the Hollywood movies of today. ... In the Laozi, the military leader appears, if seen from the perspective of heroism, more like a coward. He is, if at all possible, on the retreat; he shuns battles, and his major concern is to stay hidden as much as he can. He clearly does not rely on "shock and awe."
Another type of warrior that one does not find in the Laozi is that of the "lethal weapon" type - to use the title of a popular series of American movies. The "lethal weapon" character has gone through some sort of personal experience that has hardened him into a "desperado." His despair, his lack of hope in his personal life, has turned him into a fearless, risk-taking fighter. His fearlessness, however, gives him an aura of invincibility. He thus becomes a master fighter - because he has no fear, he is feared by others. This type of warrior is typically a loner, a unique individual with a strong "subjectivity." The "lethal weapon" character serves as a Western model of what it can mean to be a warrior; and an army of such warriors would consequently be an assembly of very special people, a collection of unusual men. The Laozi, however, is not interested in the individual psyche of the soldiers. There is no focus on the subjective qualities of war. It is seen as a social or group phenomenon rather than something decided by extraordinary personalities. Even - or rather, particularly - the highest military commander lacks a unique personality. He has to restrict all his personal issues and desires; his individual "background" is of no relevance or, rather, he has no background, psychological depth, or complexity.
A figure related to the lone warrior is the passionate fighter...a man whose whole (masculine) emotionality is focused on war and triumph in battle. ... Again, there is nothing like this in the Laozi; the element of passion and (male) ecstasy is practically absent from its depiction of war - or at least from war successfully fought.
In comparison with the above patterns of heroism, the military leader in the Laozi is clearly an antihero, he lacks all their "glorious" qualities. From the perspective on the Laozi, however, this lack is, of course, the very condition for his success - and seen from this angle, the Western hero appears more like a fool, a person who is doomed to end tragically by becoming a victim of his own activity and strength. The genre of tragedy is highly respected in Western literature, and it is closely related to the Western iconography of war and heroism. This is, once more, in striking contrast to the ancient Chinese culture in general, and to the Laozi and Daoism in particular. The Laozi was interested in how to be effective, and not in glorious failure. In fact, it had difficulty in seeing any glory in failure at all.
This bit from the chapter "On War", however, made me laugh.
~
Often the "iconography" of war in the Western tradition differs significantly from that of war in the Laozi. As opposed to many Western images of war and warfare, the "defensive" Laozi does not connect war with heroism, justice, and collective pride.
Since Greek antinuity, Western representations of war have been tightly connected to images of heroes and deeds of heroism - and this general trend continues uninterrupted into the Hollywood movies of today. ... In the Laozi, the military leader appears, if seen from the perspective of heroism, more like a coward. He is, if at all possible, on the retreat; he shuns battles, and his major concern is to stay hidden as much as he can. He clearly does not rely on "shock and awe."
Another type of warrior that one does not find in the Laozi is that of the "lethal weapon" type - to use the title of a popular series of American movies. The "lethal weapon" character has gone through some sort of personal experience that has hardened him into a "desperado." His despair, his lack of hope in his personal life, has turned him into a fearless, risk-taking fighter. His fearlessness, however, gives him an aura of invincibility. He thus becomes a master fighter - because he has no fear, he is feared by others. This type of warrior is typically a loner, a unique individual with a strong "subjectivity." The "lethal weapon" character serves as a Western model of what it can mean to be a warrior; and an army of such warriors would consequently be an assembly of very special people, a collection of unusual men. The Laozi, however, is not interested in the individual psyche of the soldiers. There is no focus on the subjective qualities of war. It is seen as a social or group phenomenon rather than something decided by extraordinary personalities. Even - or rather, particularly - the highest military commander lacks a unique personality. He has to restrict all his personal issues and desires; his individual "background" is of no relevance or, rather, he has no background, psychological depth, or complexity.
A figure related to the lone warrior is the passionate fighter...a man whose whole (masculine) emotionality is focused on war and triumph in battle. ... Again, there is nothing like this in the Laozi; the element of passion and (male) ecstasy is practically absent from its depiction of war - or at least from war successfully fought.
In comparison with the above patterns of heroism, the military leader in the Laozi is clearly an antihero, he lacks all their "glorious" qualities. From the perspective on the Laozi, however, this lack is, of course, the very condition for his success - and seen from this angle, the Western hero appears more like a fool, a person who is doomed to end tragically by becoming a victim of his own activity and strength. The genre of tragedy is highly respected in Western literature, and it is closely related to the Western iconography of war and heroism. This is, once more, in striking contrast to the ancient Chinese culture in general, and to the Laozi and Daoism in particular. The Laozi was interested in how to be effective, and not in glorious failure. In fact, it had difficulty in seeing any glory in failure at all.