I. Why Some Leaders Make People Want to Follow — and Others Make Them Want to Flee

We tend to assume that making others follow you requires standing higher, being stronger, projecting a bigger presence — making people feel "this person is above me."

But in reality, you have probably seen the opposite:

Some leaders hold formal authority and yet no one truly respects them — people avoid them when they can. Others hold no particular rank, never speak sharply, and yet people are genuinely glad to follow them — and come to them whenever something comes up.

Both are "in a position above others." Why does one make people want to flee, the other make people want to follow?

In Chapter 66 of the Daodejing, Laozi uses the simplest possible thing to make this transparent — water.

II. Why the Rivers and Seas Are "King"

Laozi says:

"The reason rivers and seas can be the king of the hundred valleys is that they are good at being below them — and therefore can be the king of the hundred valleys."

First, read the word "king" correctly.

This "king" does not mean "ruler" or "overlord." It means: the place toward which all waters converge — the place everything flows to.

The streams of the world, the water of every mountain valley, all eventually flow into rivers and seas. Not because rivers and seas called them — but because water naturally flows downward, and rivers and seas happen to be in the lowest place.

This "kingship" has nothing to do with issuing commands. Rivers and seas direct no one, constrain no one — they don't even do anything. They are simply there, in the lowest place. And what it means to "become king" is not that they conquered the valleys — the valleys flowed toward them on their own, and recognized them on their own. "Being flowed toward" and "dominating" are two entirely opposite things.

So "being good at being below" here is not a moral stance ("rivers and seas are humble, therefore great"). It is the simplest possible mechanism:

Water flows downward. Whoever is in the lowest place becomes the place everything converges.

This is where the counterintuitive point lives:

We always assume "attracting people" requires charging upward — a louder voice, a brighter sign, a stronger presence. Rivers and seas show you the exact opposite.

The harder you try to elevate yourself, the more you demand to be seen, the further people retreat. The more you lower yourself, the more you bring your posture down, the more people are willing to draw near.

Height is a posture that pushes people away. Lowness is the posture that draws them in.

Seen from today: the person everyone genuinely comes to is not the one shouting "come to me" every day — it is the one who is the least pretentious, the most open, the most plainly useful. That colleague everyone is happy to talk to when something comes up, the open platform everyone is willing to build on — they didn't recruit people; they stood low enough that people naturally gathered.

III. To Be Above, First Lower Your Words; to Be in Front, First Put Yourself Behind

Laozi then brings the teaching of rivers and seas down to the level of people:

"Therefore when the sage wishes to be above the people, he must place himself below them in his words. When he wishes to be in front of the people, he must place himself behind them in his person."

Note that Laozi does not say "the sage refuses positions of leadership." He says: the sage does want to be above and in front — only the way of being above and in front is reversed:

— Lower himself in words — the posture of how he speaks is lowered. No sign that says "I am in charge, I decide, I know best."

— Put himself behind in his person — lets others go first; gives the credit away; takes on the burdens himself.

This sounds like giving ground — but it is not yielding, it is a mechanism:

Just as rivers and seas hold the hundred streams not from "humility" but from being in the low place — people gather around you not from "courtesy" but because you have placed yourself lower, making it possible for them to gather and follow.

Laozi said the same thing as early as Chapter 7: "Withdraw his person to the back — and he ends up in front."

Why does lowering yourself put you above?

Because what makes people chafe is never "you are above me" — it is "you make me feel I am being pressed down." An above-person who lowers their posture removes that sense of being pressed — people no longer resist; and without resistance, "willing to follow" becomes possible. The fewer positions you claim, the more readily others give them to you.

Seen from today: the manager who always says "you decide — I trust you," who puts the team's name on the success and carries the weight himself — people are willing to follow him. The one who is always in the spotlight, always claiming credit, always announcing "I'm the leader" — people avoid him. Same accomplishment: one has "we" on his lips; the other has "I." The difference in who follows is total.

There is a small signal that reveals everything: when something succeeds, who does he stand in front of? The one who pushes the team forward and steps to the back — next time, people give more. The one who rushes to the center of the spotlight every time — next time, people hold something in reserve. Every time you push someone forward, they are willing to lift you up once; every time you push someone back, they quietly register it.

IV. Be Above — Yet Let No One Feel the Weight

And so:

"Therefore though he is in front, the people do not feel harmed by him. Though he is above, the people do not feel his weight. The world is glad to support him and does not grow weary of him."

The most exquisite two words here are "does not feel his weight" — above, yet letting no one feel crushed.

What is a "heavy" leader? — His presence is felt every moment: everything must pass through him, everything requires reading his mood, constantly wondering "how will he take this?" He sits on top of you like a stone.

And this "heaviness" is not necessarily because he is mean or bad. Often he is diligent, conscientious, personally involved in everything — but precisely this "everything must pass through me" makes every person underneath immovable, always on edge. The more he is "present in everything," the less others can breathe.

A leader who is "good at being low," by contrast, you barely feel as being above you. Laozi says in Chapter 17: the best of those who are above is the one of whom the people below simply "know they exist" — that is all.

Not that he isn't leading — but that he leads without you feeling led. So people "are glad to support him and do not grow weary" — willing supporters, who will never reach the day they are hoping he leaves.

The best managers I have encountered in Silicon Valley all share one quality: working with them, you nearly forget they are your boss — until you truly need them, and they are there.

V. He Isn't Competing with You — So You Can't Beat Him

The final line is the deepest point in the chapter:

"Because he does not contend, nothing under heaven can contend with him."

This line conceals a crucial textual difference.

The silk manuscript reads "because he has no contention (wu zheng)"; the received text changed it to "because he does not contend (bu zheng)." One word's difference; one whole level of depth.

— Does not contend — "I want to compete but I am restraining myself, I am choosing not to." You are still inside the competition; you have only held back your hand. The game is still there, the opponent is still there, the need to win is still there.

— No contention — there is simply no such thing as "competition" in this person's world. You are not even in the game. There is no opponent because you are not playing that game.

Why can no one in the world outcompete the person with no contention?

Because competing requires two people competing against each other. If one person is simply not competing, who are you competing against? Who are you beating? — You cannot win a competition with no competition against someone who never entered it.

But here is the crucial point: this is not a strategy.

It is not "pretend not to compete, so you can win" — that is still competing, still in the game, just with a different posture. The real "no contention" means you are genuinely no longer in that zero-sum game — you are building something, not defeating someone.

One more observation, because this layer is most easily missed:

Staying in the game of competition is actually exhausting. Exhausting how? — Your direction is set by your opponent.

Wherever they move, you have to guard against it; whatever they do, you have to respond; they cut prices, you cut prices; they ship a feature, you follow. You think you are charging forward — but you have been on someone else's leash the whole time.

The moment you step out of that game and go do the thing only you are doing — you take the direction back. No opponent to chase because you are the one opening the path ahead.

In Silicon Valley there are two entirely different languages: one says "crush the competition"; the other says "make a dent in the universe."

The first keeps its eyes on the opponent — there is always an enemy to defeat. The second keeps its eyes on the thing that does not yet exist — it is not in the same game as anyone.

The people no one can truly outcompete are usually the second kind. Not because they beat all their opponents, but because they were never competing with anyone. Like the rivers and seas — they never compete with any stream for water; they simply stay in the lowest place, and the water comes.

And leaving the zero-sum game is not merely passive ("no one competes with you") — it makes the whole thing larger. Competition is fighting over a fixed pie, arguing over whose slice is bigger. Creation is making the pie itself bigger. Rivers and seas never fight any stream for water — and yet in the end, all the water in the world finds its home through them. They took nothing from anyone, and yet completed all the water.

The deepest meaning of "nothing can contend with him" is not that you beat everyone — it is that on your path, there simply is no "anyone else."

VI. To the Reader

This chapter offers several things you can put to use right now:

First: if you want people to follow you, lower your words first.

Don't put "I'm in charge, I know best" out front (lower in words). Knowing your own mind is one thing; using it as a sign to press others is another.

Second: if you want to be in front, put yourself behind first.

Let others go first; give the credit away; carry the burden yourself (put yourself behind). Stepping back often puts you in front.

Third: make your "being above" lighter.

The best of those who are above are barely felt as pressing on anyone (above, yet they do not feel the weight). The more you make people feel your presence every moment, the more they want to escape.

Fourth: to become the place everyone comes, don't shout "come to me."

Be the lowest, the most open, the most plainly useful — water flows downward, and so do people (rivers and seas, good at being below).

Fifth: know the difference between "choosing not to contend" and "no contention."

Not "I'm holding back from competing" — but simply not being in that zero-sum game at all. You are building something, not beating anyone (no contention). The person you cannot outcompete is usually the one who isn't competing with you.

This chapter's core can be summed in one line —

Rivers and seas never call the water to come — yet the water comes, because they stay in the lowest place. To make people follow, don't raise yourself higher; place yourself lower.