The people suffer from famine because of the multitude of taxes consumed by their superiors. It is through this that they suffer famine. The people are difficult to govern because of the (excessive) agency of their superiors (in governing them). It is through this that they are difficult to govern. The people make light of dying because of the greatness of their labours in seeking for the means of living. It is this which makes them think light of dying. Thus it is that to leave the subject of living altogether out of view is better than to set a high value on it.
When those in power overtax and over-control their people, suffering multiplies—not because the people are bad, but because the system exhausts them. The chapter suggests that when survival itself becomes a desperate scramble, people lose the will to live. The Taoist teaching here is radical: stop managing people so heavily. Release the grip, and natural order restores itself.
We live in a culture of relentless optimization and control—at work, in politics, in the metrics we use to measure each other's worth. We are taxed not just by money but by information, by competing demands, by the pressure to constantly improve ourselves and prove our value. Like the people in this chapter, we are exhausted by the machinery itself. The systems meant to serve us have become ends in themselves, consuming our attention and life-force. The Tao Te Ching whispers that the answer is not better management or fiercer ambition, but a radical stepping-back: what if we stopped trying to optimize everything, and let people breathe?
Today, notice one place where you are being driven—by yourself or others—toward something you have already decided matters. Just notice it without judgment. Then ask: what if I set this down for an hour? What if I trusted that life continues when I'm not managing it? That small release is the practice.