I. The Matter Was "Resolved" — but the Two of Them Can Never Go Back

You have probably witnessed something like this —

Two people fell out. A mediator stepped in: laid out the facts, made the arguments, and finally delivered a resolution that neither side could directly object to. Each gave a little. The matter was put behind them.

On the surface, it was settled.

But in your heart you know: something is different now. Those two people are polite with each other from then on, no longer joking; they avoid each other's eyes in meetings; when they need something, they prefer to go around rather than go directly to the other person.

The matter was resolved. But something never came back.

In the opening of Chapter 79, Laozi names this directly. And the direction he points after naming it may surprise you — he does not teach you how to mediate more skillfully.

II. No Matter How Fair the Judgment, Something Always Remains

Laozi says —

"In resolving great resentment, there will certainly be a remainder of resentment. How can this be called good?"

When you resolve a great resentment, there will inevitably be some resentment left that has not dissolved. How can that be called doing good?

The three characters "certainly there will be remainder" — Laozi states this absolutely.

Not "there may be" — there will certainly be.

Why certainly?

Because once great resentment has formed, it already exists. Everything you do afterward is managing it — not making it as though it never happened.

And the outcome of management is usually one of three forms:

Either one side feels it got the worse deal;

or the other side feels it was wronged;

or both sides feel they conceded more than the other did.

No matter how fair the judgment, this cannot be avoided. Because resentment is not the kind of thing that can be cleared away by "figuring out who was right": the memory in a person's heart of "I was treated this way" does not disappear because a conclusion was reached.

So Laozi asks: "How can this be called good?"

Note: he is not saying mediation is useless or should not be done. When something happens, of course it must be dealt with.

He is saying: if you understand "good" as "settling things after they go wrong," you will never do better than "a remainder of resentment."

True good has to move earlier — to where great resentment has not yet formed.

III. Valuing the One Who Bridges — Not the One Who Assigns Blame

So where does "earlier" mean? Laozi says —

"Therefore the sage esteems the mediating position and does not use blame against people."

So the sage values the role of the one who intervenes from the middle — and does not deploy blame against people.

Two characters in this line have historically been misread.

"Value" (yòu) here is a verb meaning "to esteem, to prize" (in ancient usage yòu also meant "to favor"; the Shiji says the emperor "valued Prime Minister Li Si" — meaning held him in esteem; "valuing literature" means esteeming civil governance).

"Jiè" means to intervene, to mediate from the middle (diplomatic missions of antiquity included "senior intermediaries" and "company of intermediaries" — people who carried messages and mediated from the center; the "jiè" in "introduce" and "intermediary" today still carries this meaning).

So "valuing jiè" means: prizing the role of the person who bridges from the center.

(The received text has "holds the left half of the tally" — a contract metaphor — which pulls the whole line into a framework about creditors and debtors. The Silk Manuscript's "jiè" connects directly to the following "governs jiè." This chapter follows the Silk Manuscript.)

"Does not use blame against people" — does not deploy blame as the instrument for addressing people.

This does not mean not holding people accountable, or muddling things together. It means: your center of gravity is not placed on "who is to blame for this."

Because the more you pursue "who is to blame," the clearer things become — and the further apart people are pushed.

Seen from today —

After an accident, one approach is to hold a review meeting and trace down layer by layer until you find the person who pressed the wrong button. Another approach is to ask: why does this process allow a single wrong button press to cause an accident?

The first gives you someone to blame; the second gives you a process that will not break down the same way again.

And the first approach, applied repeatedly, means that next time something goes wrong, no one will dare speak up immediately. The harder you pursue blame, the deeper the bad news gets hidden — and by the time it can no longer be hidden, it has become a great resentment.

What does "earlier intervention" actually look like?

Usually, gestures too small to mention:

Noticing that two people have been a little sharp with each other lately — asking each of them privately, "how are things going?"

Finding that two people have different understandings of the same thing — stopping right there to compare notes, instead of letting them walk off in different directions.

Hearing a half-joking complaint — taking it seriously instead of laughing it off and moving on.

These moves are all too small — so small that when you do them, nothing happens — which is why no one will thank you for them.

And this is precisely what makes it hard: the great resentment that was prevented will never appear, so no one will ever know what was prevented.

IV. Those with Virtue Govern Mediation; Those Not Yet There Govern Cultivation

Next, Laozi says a line that has been misread for two thousand years —

"Therefore those who have virtue govern mediating; those who have not yet arrived at virtue govern cultivating."

Those who hold virtue take on the work of mediation from the middle; those who have not yet arrived at virtue take on the work of cultivating the ground.

Two things need to be clarified here.

First: "chè" means cultivating land — not collecting taxes.

The Book of Songs has "cultivate the fields to grow grain" — this is chè's original meaning.

(Later commentators read "governs chè" as "manages tax collection" because they were reading along the creditor/debtor framework introduced by "holds the left tally." With the Silk Manuscript's "jiè," everything around it becomes concrete governing work: one is mediating, the other is cultivating.)

Second: "not yet at virtue" (wú dé) means "has not yet developed virtue" — not "is devoid of virtue."

This difference is enormous.

Read as "devoid of virtue," the line becomes: people without virtue deserve only the crude work. That is a sneer.

Read as "not yet there," the line becomes: everyone has the work they can do now and that suits them now. That is an arrangement.

Only the second reading fits Laozi's consistent meaning.

Why this arrangement?

Because mediating from the center is work that requires virtue.

You must stand in the middle without tilting; you must be able to hear things from both sides that neither side wants to hear; and most importantly, that remainder of resentment left behind by "inevitably some resentment remains" must be absorbed by you. Without this virtue, your mediation will only make things worse.

This point deserves a little more.

We said earlier: even the fairest handling will leave some resentment. That remainder has to go somewhere.

A mediator who can hold it absorbs it themselves — both sides have released a little, and what remains falls on the mediator, who neither argues nor pushes it back outward.

One who cannot hold it pushes it back to the parties: "I was completely fair — you two are the ones who can't let it go." The moment those words are said, the remaining resentment doubles — and from then on, it is aimed at the mediator.

So "those with virtue govern mediating" is not a courtesy formula. That position genuinely requires you to take things in.

There is another layer here: why is making a judgment not something anyone can do?

Usually it is not that people cannot see clearly. On many things, who is in the right and who overstepped — people watching from the side can often tell.

The hard part is: once you have made a judgment, you have to stand there and absorb the displeasure from both sides.

Judging is a momentary thing; bearing the consequences is a long ongoing thing. And most people get stuck not in the moment of judgment, but in the stretch that follows — which is why people prefer to stay neutral, muddle through, and say things that neither side can object to.

Many people can see clearly; few are willing to stand there and take it. This is the boundary between "has virtue" and "has not yet arrived at virtue."

And this is exactly the other side of the preceding chapter's teaching.

(ch. 78) says: whoever is willing to take on the filth and difficulty of a place is its true ruler.

This chapter adds: not everyone can take that on.

One says: what defines your position is how much you can absorb; the other says: not everyone can absorb it. Together these two chapters are one complete statement.

And cultivating is work that does not require this virtue. What it requires is effort, patience, and tending a piece of ground bit by bit — and this work itself is what grows the person.

This is not dividing people into grades. It is precisely the opposite:

Laozi's meaning is: the virtue you do not yet have is not grown through lectures — it is grown day by day in the work you can do right now.

First give someone the work they can do today. Virtue grows in doing.

V. The Way of Heaven Has No Favorites — and Abandons No One

The chapter's final eight characters —

"The way of Heaven has no favorites; it is always with the good person."

The way of Heaven has no partiality — and yet it is always aligned with those who are good.

This line is among the most widely transmitted — and most easily misread as "Heaven favors good people."

But Laozi just said in the same breath "has no favorites." Having said "no partiality," immediately following with "favors the good" would be self-contradictory.

So these two are not contradictory — they are two sides of one thing:

The way of Heaven genuinely has no partiality (exactly (ch. 5)'s "Heaven and earth are not humane": they treat all things the same, with no preferences and no emotions).

And "always with the good person" means: those whose conduct aligns with the direction the way of Heaven moves in — naturally find things flowing.

It is not that Heaven rewards them — it is that the path they walk is simply open.

Like someone rowing with the current versus against it — the river does not favor the one going with it; they are simply going the way the water flows.

But don't read this as a success philosophy: going with the current does not mean everything goes smoothly.

Good people still encounter misfortune; still get let down — "has no favorites" — Laozi says this plainly; it will truly not make an exception for anyone.

"Always with the good person" describes a direction, not a guarantee: the path you are on is open — whether there are stones on it is another matter.

And this line closes out the whole chapter:

The way of Heaven favors no one — and abandons no one.

Those with virtue get the work of mediating; those not yet there get the work of cultivating. Everyone has something they can do; everyone, in doing it, is gradually growing into a good person.

This is what Laozi means by "good" — not waiting for great resentment to form and then adjudicating it, but putting each person in the position where they can grow, and letting them grow slowly.

VI. To the Reader

This chapter gives us several things useful right now —

First: don't think that "settling" something is the same as resolving it.

Even the fairest handling will leave something behind. Seeing that remainder is the beginning of maturity.

Second: the real work happens before things escalate.

Once great resentment has formed, the best you can do is a discounted resolution. Those small tensions that seem too trivial to bother with — those are where the real work should happen.

Third: ask less "who's to blame" and more "why did this happen."

Pursuing blame gives you a person to blame; pursuing cause gives you a practice that won't break down the same way again. And the harder you pursue blame, the deeper bad news gets buried.

Fourth: seeing clearly is not the same as being able to hold it.

Judging who was right and who overstepped is often not the hard part; the hard part is standing there afterward and absorbing the displeasure from both sides. Give that position to someone who can hold it — and don't force yourself to stand there before you can hold it either.

Fifth: first give someone the work they can do right now.

Virtue is not grown through lectures — it is grown in doing. "Not yet there" is not the same as "unable."

The core of this chapter can be gathered into one line —

Even the fairest resolution leaves some resentment — so the real work happens earlier: stop chasing blame, give each person something they can do right now — virtue grows in doing, day by day.

VII. Connecting Forward and Back

Chapter 79 picks up from the heaviest line of the preceding chapter — (ch. 78) says: whoever is willing to take on the filth and difficulty of a place is its true ruler; this chapter says: that kind of taking-on is not something everyone can do — hence "those with virtue govern mediating." One says what defines a position; the other says who can stand in it.

And this chapter's "the way of Heaven has no favorites" continues the "way of Heaven" thread from recent chapters — (ch. 73) said "the net of Heaven is vast — sparse yet nothing slips through"; (ch. 77) said "the way of Heaven reduces excess and supplements deficiency"; this chapter says "the way of Heaven has no favorites, yet is always with the good person." Three statements, one meaning: there is no one adjudicating above, yet the direction is there; go with it, and things flow naturally.

And "those with virtue govern mediating; those not yet there govern cultivating" connects to something Laozi has said many times: (ch. 27) said "the sage is always good at rescuing people — therefore no one is abandoned." In this chapter, he makes it more concrete: not abandoning someone is not just words — it is giving them something they can do today.

The next chapter (ch. 80) is the most vivid in the whole book: "small state, few people… feel the food in their bowl is fragrant, feel their clothing is fine, feel their customs are meaningful, feel their home is settled." We will see it next.

Han Qin (Dazhi) · @hqinjarsy · Dazhi Daodejing Commentary

Full annotations, textual comparisons between Silk Manuscript and received text, and parallel tables with the Remainder Canon are archived on Zenodo. This chapter belongs to Paper 9 (Chapters 73–81): 10.5281/zenodo.20145192. Previous papers: Paper 1, Paper 2, Paper 3, Paper 4, Paper 5, Paper 6, Paper 7, Paper 8.