Chien de paille
芻狗 (chú gǒu)
The straw-woven effigy of a dog set up for sacrifice: adorned with ornaments for the duration of the rite, then cast aside and trampled once the ceremony was over. Lao-Tzu makes it the image of heaven and earth’s impartiality, which *"regard all creatures as the straw dog"*—without affection at the outset, without contempt at the end. Not cruel indifference, but the perfect equality of a cosmos that prefers no one.
Ils regardent toutes les créatures comme le chien de paille (du sacrifice).
The image comes from a ritual practice. A straw dog was bound, covered “with the richest ornaments” to be placed before the altar, then, once the sacrifice was complete, it was thrown outside where passersby trampled it underfoot. The commentary Julien records draws the lesson: the adornment was not a sign of love, nor was the trampling a sign of hatred—both were “the effect of a fortuitous circumstance.” The object demanded nothing; it was no one’s chosen one.
It is in this light that heaven and earth regard the ten thousand beings. They are bu-ren, “non-ren”: without the partial affection that Confucius placed at the summit of virtues. Far from being harshness, this absence of preference is what allows them to bear all things equally—to let each thing arise, endure, and pass of-itself, without any being favored or wronged. The sage, the chapter says, aligns himself with this equality: his benevolence is so complete that it does not narrow upon any one thing.
The straw dog, then, is neither an emblem of cruelty nor of nothingness: it is the exact opposite of an anthropocentric cosmos. Where teleological thought assumes a world arranged for our use, the straw dog posits a heaven without design concerning us. To be distinguished from contempt (which would still be a preference, negative) as from Confucian ren (which cultivates a directed affection): the impartiality of heaven neither loves nor scorns—it lets be.