不尙賢,
When the worthy are not raised up,
使民不爭。
the people stop contending.
不貴難得之貨,
When what is hard to get is not prized,
使民不爲盜。
the people stop taking it by force.
不見可欲,
When what is desirable is not put on display,
使民心不亂。
the people's hearts do not fall into disorder.
是以聖人之治,
So the sage governs by:
虛其心,
hollowing the heart,
實其腹,
filling the belly,
弱其志,
weakening the aim,
強其骨。
hardening the bone.
常使民無知無欲,
He keeps the people always without knowledge and without desire,
使夫智者不敢為也。
so those with cunning have nothing to work with.
為無為,
Act by not-acting,
則無不治。
and nothing goes ungoverned.
Chapter 3 is the most politically uncomfortable chapter in this early sequence, and its discomfort has been managed, for two millennia, by misreading it. Wang Bi made it metaphysical. He Shang Gong made it a spiritual regimen for the private monarch. Both moved the discomfort to a safe distance. What the chapter actually says is a program: three mechanisms that produce social disorder, a prescription for their removal, and a four-part operation performed on the bodies of the governed. The chapter is causal and mechanical, not hortatory. It does not suggest that the ruler should have good values. It identifies stimulus-response sequences and says: remove the stimulus.
The Mawangdui manuscripts restore 恆使民無知無欲 — "permanently keep the people without knowledge and without desire" — where the received text has the Han-censored 常 for 恆. This is the same substitution as chapter 1: the self-sustaining, ungovernable 恆 replaced by the regular, administrable 常. The substitution does the same work here as it did there: it converts a permanent condition into a manageable procedure. The original text describes something that runs continuously, without maintenance. The received text describes something you have to keep doing. This is not a small difference.
The chapter can be read first as political anatomy, which it is — the chapter names real institutions (systems of rank and honor, markets for scarce luxury goods, public spectacle) and argues that these institutions produce the disorders they claim to address. But the chapter can also be read from the inside. The three mechanisms it names — ranking worth, prizing scarcity, displaying desire — are also interior operations. You maintain a ranking system in your own head. For yourself, for others. You prize what is scarce: certain kinds of approval, particular forms of recognition, the achievement that only a few can claim. You put what is desirable on display — not just to others, but to yourself. You show yourself your best material so you can keep wanting to be that person. The four-part program that follows describes what you are actually asking for when you say you want to quiet the noise, get back to basics, stop being driven by the career, be stronger in your body. You want to do to yourself what the sage does to the population.
The question this recognition forces: are you the sage or the population? The chapter's answer is that you are both. You govern yourself by these mechanisms and are governed by them. The cost of reading this chapter clearly is losing the comfortable fiction that your ambitions are your own. They are not. They are the output of a ranking system you did not invent and cannot simply decide not to participate in. The chapter does not console you about this. It describes it with the matter-of-fact precision of an engineer who has located where the disorder is produced. The 恆 the manuscripts restore — the permanent, self-sustaining suppression — suggests that the work of recognizing this is not something you do once. It runs.