The Use of Uselessness
In the TV series “Tian Dao” (天道, literally “The Way of Heaven”), there’s a dialogue that resonated with me deeply during a recent rewatch:
丁元英 (Ding Yuanying) says: “There are three levels of perspective on society: technology, systems, and culture. Whether it’s an individual or a nation, their destiny ultimately stems from their cultural attributes. A strong culture creates strong individuals, while a weak culture creates weak individuals. This is a law, a ‘Way of Heaven’, that cannot be shifted by human will.”
“A strong culture follows the laws of things, while a weak culture relies on expectations of moral exceptions from the strong, hoping for a savior. A strong culture’s essence is like a ‘secret manual’ in martial arts, while a weak culture, being easy to learn, understand, and use, becomes the popular choice.”
芮小丹 (Rui Xiaodan) asks: “I understand a little from the words, but what’s the use of knowing this? How do we apply it?”
丁元英 (Ding Yuanying) replies: “Uselessness is precisely its use.” (无所用，无所不用 - wú suǒ yòng, wú suǒ bù yòng)
This concept of “uselessness is precisely its use” provided a perfect answer to the intellectual bottleneck I’d been experiencing.
Let’s first discuss “Tian Dao,” which represents the inherent laws I’ve been seeking, things that operate independently of human will—laws, ways of thinking, and various other phenomena.
Through extensive exploration, I’ve affirmed and embraced the underlying power of “Formal Logic” and the worldview of “Marxist Philosophy.”
After establishing logic and Marxism as fundamental driving forces, I felt a sense of confusion for several days. Perhaps it was the relief of finally finding an answer after a long search, or perhaps it was reaching a temporary destination.
Even with understanding the form, the specific content still requires breakthroughs. I pondered whether to continue researching specific details, but given the vastness of the world, even with immense curiosity and energy, one would eventually become exhausted. This realization led to a moment of boredom and powerlessness, even a loss of direction, possibly exacerbated by the prolonged lockdown in Shanghai.
My confusion stemmed from the seemingly metaphysical nature of these concepts, their apparent inability to solve practical problems like food, clothing, and shelter. I couldn’t help but ask: What can logic and philosophy offer us?
Rui Xiaodan also raised this excellent question: “What’s the use?”
“Uselessness” seems to imply a lack of practical application, but the following phrase, “is precisely its use,” encapsulates what I’ve always believed, though without firm conviction.
The boundary of “is precisely its use” lies in the fact that logic and Marxism can be applied to every aspect of daily life and work.
I mentioned to a friend that I feel like I’ve finally grasped something important in my thirties—fortunate indeed.
Looking back, “Tian Dao” provided a clear answer. The answer was perhaps already within me, but I needed a reason to believe in it and persevere.
An interesting question arises: Why do humans seek meaning in so many things they do? Is this meaning truly that important?
Even now, I don’t know the answer, but for me, it’s crucial to understand the “why” behind many things.
“Uselessness is precisely its use” represents simplicity in its highest form. Achieving seemingly simple things is incredibly difficult, while complex things can actually be simple, only complicated by the unknown or by our perception of them.
Lao Tzu said: “Act without acting, and there is nothing that is not done.” (无为而无不为 - wú wéi ér wú bù wéi)
By aligning with “Tian Dao,” being pragmatic, and seeing the cause and effect, we avoid blindly following existing paths.