Quiet Strength

Lao Tzu's Teachings on Leadership Demand a Shift in Governance

November 5 was more than just another election day, it served as a wake-up call. As an 18-year-old running for public office I expected challenges, but I didn’t anticipate how deeply flawed the political system would feel.

My goal was to win, of course, but even more, I sought to change how we think about leadership. I wanted to show that governance doesn’t have to be about control, force, or rigid ideologies. It should center on balance, humility, and the ability to listen. Throughout the campaign, as I navigated the noise and division, I found that Lao Tzu’s teachings in the Tao Te Ching speak to a need for change.

The principles of tolerance, humility, and flexibility should replace repression and control. Leadership should not be about forcing people into a mold, but about allowing them to grow and thrive on their own terms. The Tao offers a clear and powerful blueprint for this approach, and I believe it offers the path forward. 

Lao Tzu’s teachings contrast sharply with today’s political climate. In a society that prides itself on democratic values, our governance often restricts rather than empowers. Lao Tzu’s wisdom, grounded in flexibility and humility, challenges this tendency and suggests a different way. This philosophy advocates for leading by example, stepping back when needed, and trusting the people; actions that seem rare in a world fixated on control.

Lao Tzu calls for tolerance over repression, arguing that true leadership means enabling people to find their way. For me, this represents the kind of leadership our society needs, especially in a world dominated by polarization and force. 

One of Lao Tzu’s most direct critiques of control appears in Verse 58, “If a country is governed with tolerance, / the people are comfortable and honest. / If a country is governed with repression, / the people are depressed and crafty.” The contrast here is stark, but understanding what Lao Tzu means by “depressed and crafty” can open up new insights.

“Depressed” here isn’t necessarily a psychological state but a kind of diminished spirit. In our politics, where rules and divisions are often used to repress, this “depression” manifests as cynicism, a lack of engagement, or even hopelessness. Similarly, “crafty” isn’t simply clever—it points to a defensive reaction. When people feel controlled, they find ways to subvert, deceive, or hide, rather than working in partnership. 

Reflecting on my campaign, I saw people hungry for leadership that felt open rather than rigid. They wanted someone who’d listen and create a comfortable space for them to be honest. Today’s leaders often rule through fear or exclusion, and people respond by shutting down or finding ways around the system. Lao Tzu’s philosophy highlights the power of tolerance to foster openness, while repression shuts it down. True leaders encourage people to be themselves, inspiring creativity and honesty by valuing individuality. 

In Verse 59, Lao Tzu promotes moderation, “For governing a country well, / there is nothing better than moderation. / The mark of a moderate man is freedom from his own ideas.” Lao Tzu’s moderation isn’t ideological centrism. It’s a mindset of flexibility, an openness to what’s best for the community, rather than an adherence to personal beliefs or party lines.

For Lao Tzu, moderation requires being “firm like a mountain, / supple like a tree in the wind.” Such a leader can remain steady in character but flexible in approach, embracing what’s needed for a community rather than what aligns with their views. 

As a politically active person, I wrestle with this idea. I have deeply held beliefs about education, economic justice, and inclusivity, yet Lao Tzu’s wisdom encourages me to question whether rigidity, even in good causes, might harm more than help.

Perhaps moderation means willingness to set aside personal beliefs when they conflict with the broader needs of those I serve. It’s a call for leaders to be rooted in values but willing to adapt, approaching each situation not with a pre-formed answer but with curiosity and a commitment to collaboration. In Lao Tzu’s view, moderation is strength because it opens leaders to possibility, allowing space for true problem-solving. 

Another passage from Lao Tzu, this time in Verse 60, provides a striking metaphor: “Governing a large country / is like frying a small fish. / You spoil it with too much poking.” At first glance, this is cryptic. What does “poking” have to do with governance? But Lao Tzu’s message is that over-regulation or micromanagement can spoil a community, just as constantly turning a fish in a pan can ruin its flavor and texture. Excessive interference—no matter how well-meaning, ultimately disrupts the harmony necessary for growth. 

This teaching struck me because, like many who care about change, I feel tempted to intervene constantly. Lao Tzu’s advice, however, suggests that sometimes the most effective leadership is allowing people to find their path. If I’m always steering or controlling, I don’t leave room for the wisdom of the group. This isn’t about inaction; it’s about setting broad parameters and then stepping back, trusting that people will act responsibly and creatively.

Effective leaders know that people, given support and autonomy, can create their solutions and that excessive control weakens, rather than strengthens, a society. 

In Verse 61, Lao Tzu compares a powerful country to the sea, which receives streams from all directions without resistance. “The more powerful it grows, / the greater the need for humility.” Here, Lao Tzu’s humility is a quiet power, a way of leading without dominating. By acting as the sea, a leader who accepts all perspectives gains true strength, not through force but through openness. Humility allows leaders to take criticism and transform it into insight, something rarely seen in politics today.

Humility isn’t about weakness; it’s about confidence in learning from others, even critics. For young leaders like me, Lao Tzu’s words remind us that real influence doesn’t come from enforcing our views but from being able to learn and evolve.

During my campaign, I often felt a strong desire to prove myself, to validate my position, yet Lao Tzu’s wisdom suggests a different approach. Humble leaders recognize that they don’t have all the answers. They build community by empowering others, showing strength by embracing the strengths of others. 

One of Lao Tzu’s most challenging passages comes in Verse 29, where he questions our impulse to control and improve the world. He writes, “Do you want to improve the world? / I don’t think it can be done. The world is sacred. / It can’t be improved.” This is a difficult concept. As someone who cares deeply about social progress, I struggle with the idea that perhaps our efforts to fix the world may be misplaced. But perhaps Lao Tzu isn’t condemning change itself, only the desire to control change to fit an agenda. 

Lao Tzu’s words encourage us to rethink what “improvement” means. He seems to ask us to see the world as a place where change is natural and should come organically, not as something to be forced into an ideal form. Maybe there is a time to act and a time to refrain from action, a time for progress and a time for patience. He asks us to “see things as they are,” rather than as we think they should be.

For someone in politics, this message is humbling and complex. While I believe in working to improve lives, Lao Tzu reminds me that respecting the world’s natural flow, allowing space for growth without constant “fixing,” might be a truer form of leadership. 

Reflecting on Lao Tzu’s teachings, I am convinced that we need a transformation in leadership. We need leaders who govern with tolerance, embrace moderation, lead with care, and remain humble enough to grow alongside those they serve. Lao Tzu offers wisdom that can guide our steps in creating a more just and compassionate society, not by controlling people but by creating environments where they feel free to thrive. His teachings remind us that true power lies in balance, openness, and quiet resilience. 

In a time when control dominates our politics, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching offers an ancient yet revolutionary path. These principles are not just theoretical; they demand action. Leaders of today, especially young ones like myself, must consider how to apply these lessons in our communities. Perhaps the best future isn’t one where we impose answers, but where we create space for people to live, grow, and lead with strength and compassion.