I. The Wisdom of the Small Fish

Anyone who cooks knows what you must never do when frying a small fish.

Keep flipping it.

Flip it every minute, poke at it, nudge it around — and the small fish quickly falls apart into pieces, a ruined mess.

The right approach: once it's in the pan, let it fry in peace. Don't keep disturbing it. When the heat is right, it's done — whole, beautiful, perfect.

In Chapter 60 of the Daodejing, Laozi takes this small lesson from the kitchen and makes it a great wisdom about governance —

"Governing a great state is like frying a small fish."

Don't keep flipping, don't keep stirring, don't keep meddling.

This sentence has been quoted for over two thousand years. Its core is one thing: don't interfere needlessly.

Governing a state, leading a team, raising a child, managing a relationship — often, the more frequently you meddle, flip, and interfere, the more you ruin things.

This chapter is about —

Why "don't interfere needlessly" is the highest wisdom of governance. And a deeper point: when you don't place yourself in an adversarial position, many things that could have harmed you simply can't.

II. Governing a Great State — Like Frying a Small Fish

The chapter opens —

"Governing a great state is like frying a small fish. When the Dao presides over the world —"

"Like frying a small fish" — the entire art is in "don't keep flipping."

Put the fish in the pan — the more often you flip it, the more it falls apart. Let it fry in peace and it cooks whole.

Governance is the same — the more often you issue new rules, change policies, meddle in details, interfere this way and that, the more the system falls apart. Let it operate stably in a settled environment, and it runs well on its own.

This connects the chain that runs through the preceding chapters —

Ch. 57: the more you control, the more chaos (more prohibitions, the worse it gets). Ch. 58: the looser the governance, the better (dim governance produces wholesome people). Ch. 59: save something, don't burn through (啬). Ch. 60: don't interfere needlessly (like frying a small fish).

One line running through them all: don't over-interfere. Let things operate stably on their own.

"When the Dao presides over the world" — what does "the Dao presiding" mean?

Exactly this approach: not hanging up signs, not forcing things, not stirring up trouble, keeping margin.

Not ruling through power, controlling through rules, managing through stratagems — but like the Dao itself: not interfering, not meddling, letting the world run on its own.

Seen from 2026 —

A good manager knows "like frying a small fish" — sets the direction, builds the environment, then does not constantly meddle, does not chop and change policy, does not interfere in every detail — lets the team, in a stable environment, do the work well on its own.

The manager who changes direction every day, issues new rules every day, pokes at the details every day — breaks the team apart like a repeatedly flipped small fish.

Don't interfere needlessly — this is the highest wisdom of governance.

III. The Things That Could Have Harmed You

The next passage is the more unusual, more profound part of this chapter —

Laozi uses a reference familiar to his contemporaries: ghosts and spirits.

"Is it that the spirits lose their power? Not that they lose their power. Is it that their power does not harm people? Not that their power does not harm people — it is that the sage does not place himself where he can be harmed."

A clarification first —

When Laozi speaks of "ghosts" and "spirits" here, he is using the conceptual framework of his time — the understanding that the world contains unseen forces that may harm people.

We today need not take the "ghosts and spirits" literally — we can understand it as: those latent forces that could potentially harm you.

Whether it's hidden hostility, unexpected blows, others' malice, the capriciousness of fate — those things that could harm you.

Laozi's reasoning is exquisite — three steps —

Step one (acknowledging): those forces do have "spirit-power" — they are genuinely operative. Laozi doesn't deny their existence or capacity.

Step two (acknowledging): those forces are genuinely capable of harming people. Laozi doesn't deny they can cause real harm.

Step three (the key): But "the sage does not place himself where he can be harmed" — the truly enlightened person does not place himself in the position of being reachable by harm.

What does this mean?

Not that those forces have vanished, or that they've suddenly turned benevolent —

But that the truly enlightened person does not make enemies, does not stir up opposition, does not place himself in the position of confrontation and conflict —

So those "forces capable of harming" find no place to gain purchase.

This connects the thread running through earlier chapters —

Ch. 50 (no place of death): those truly skilled at self-preservation don't oppose fierce beasts — they never place themselves where the fierce beasts can reach them. "Rhinoceroses find no place to thrust their horn; tigers find no place to use their claws."

Ch. 55 (the infant): venomous creatures and fierce beasts don't harm the infant — not because the infant has protective magic, but because the infant carries no aggression, is enemy to nothing, so nothing is its enemy.

Ch. 60 is the same principle —

Those forces can harm (acknowledged), but when you don't place yourself in a position of confrontation, don't make enemies, they cannot harm you (the sage is not harmed).

Seen from 2026 —

Someone who makes enemies everywhere, who is in constant combat, who treats everything as confrontation — they are full of places where attack can land. Crises surround them.

Someone who makes no enemies, who does not place himself in an adversarial position — others' hostility finds no purchase; many things that could have harmed him simply can't.

It's not that external threats disappear — it's that you no longer give them a position from which to harm you.

IV. Neither Side Harms — And Virtue Returns

The chapter closes —

"Both sides do not harm each other — therefore virtue (德) flows back to meet them both."

"Both sides do not harm each other" —

Those "harmful forces" cannot harm the sage (because the sage gives them no purchase); the sage does not go out to harm others (the sage never held a "harming" position) — neither side is in a position of harm, so neither harms the other.

"Therefore virtue flows back to meet them both" —

When there is no harm, no opposition, no conflict — virtue (that harmonious, nourishing, generative force) naturally flows back, gathers, and returns here.

Like a place without war, without internal exhaustion, without mutual harm — all good things (talent, resources, trust, vitality) naturally flow in.

This connects the recurring thread of "virtue" (德) —

Ch. 51: the Dao nurtures all things without possessing them (xuan de, dark virtue). Ch. 59: not burning through is accumulating virtue (layered virtue). Ch. 60: neither side harms the other, and virtue flows back to meet them (virtue flows back).

Running through: don't interfere, don't make enemies, don't harm — and virtue naturally gathers and flows, generative and unbroken.

Seen from 2026 —

An organization that doesn't stir things up, doesn't exhaust itself internally, doesn't harm one another — talent wants to come, trust can be built, vitality can grow — all good things naturally gather (virtue flows back).

An organization that stirs things up constantly, is in constant opposition, constantly harms — no amount of resources can be retained; the best people will leave.

Not harming is the prerequisite for good things to gather.

V. To the Reader

This chapter offers two layers of wisdom —

First layer: don't interfere needlessly.

In anything you manage (team, project, family, relationship) —

Are you accustomed to constantly meddling, constantly changing things, constantly intervening, always feeling that "if I don't manage this, something will go wrong"?

Try — like frying a small fish, don't keep flipping it.

Set the direction, build the environment, then give it stability and space — let it run on its own.

Often, your "not interfering" produces far better results than your "interfering."

That repeatedly flipped small fish falls apart. That repeatedly disturbed team, child, relationship — so does it.

Second layer: don't make enemies.

In the way you relate to the world —

Are you accustomed to treating many people as adversaries, treating many things as confrontation, constantly in combat, constantly on guard?

Then you are full of places where attack can land.

Try — don't make enemies; don't place yourself in an adversarial position.

Not weakness, not yielding — but not giving those "forces capable of harming you" a position from which to reach you.

When you stop making enemies, many things that could have harmed you simply can't (the sage is not harmed).

These two layers are the same wisdom —

Don't be adversarial.

Inwardly (governance): don't constantly meddle against the natural rhythm of things (don't interfere); outwardly (relating): don't place yourself against people (don't make enemies).

Without adversarial posture —

Things run well on their own (like frying a small fish); harm can't reach you (the sage is not harmed); good things naturally gather (virtue flows back).

Finally, back to that small fish.

The secret of frying it well is not how attentively you flip it, tend it, and fuss over it —

It is precisely: let it fry in peace. Don't disturb it.

Governing a great state, leading a team, raising a child, living your own life —

Often the best action is "not interfering needlessly."

Don't flip that small fish. Don't make enemies of the world.

Then you will find — things will be fine on their own, harm can't reach you, and good things will naturally return to your side.