What Was Not Done Is Often Just as Important as What Was Done

It is true that when Alan Greenspan handled the Black Monday crisis, he did not introduce any particularly dramatic measures. If he had been required to submit a report detailing what actions he took, that report might have appeared almost blank.

But can we therefore conclude that Greenspan truly did nothing at all?

What exactly counts as “action,” and what counts as “non-action”? Is the distinction really so clear-cut and black-and-white?

Author: GUDORDI |  2025-01-22

What you don’t do is often just as important as what you do.
Facebook
Twitter
LinkedIn
Pinterest
WhatsApp
Email

「天下皆知美之為美,斯惡已。皆知善之為善,斯不善已。
故有無相生,難易相成,長短相較,高下相傾,音聲相和,前後相隨。
是以聖人處無為之事,行不言之教;萬物作焉而不辭,生而不有。為而不恃,功成而弗居。夫唯弗居,是以不去。
──《道德經》,老子

In the previous article, the author mentioned the famous remark by Alan Greenspan: “We sweated a lot, but in the end did nothing,” referring to his handling of the Black Monday crisis.

According to historical accounts, Greenspan stayed awake through at least one entire night, maintaining constant contact with market participants and preparing one contingency plan after another. On several occasions, intervention appeared imminent, yet in the end he never “pressed the button.” Eventually, the market stabilized on its own without the Federal Reserve needing to take direct action.

“To Subdue the Enemy Without Fighting Is the Highest Form of Excellence” — Sun Tzu

This case raises an important question: it is true that when Alan Greenspan handled the Black Monday crisis, he did not implement any especially dramatic measures. If he had been asked to submit a report explaining what actions he took, the report might well have been blank. But can we therefore conclude that he truly did nothing?

What exactly counts as “action,” and what counts as “non-action”? Is the distinction really so black and white?

At this point, the author is reminded of a question raised by economist Armen Alchian: what constitutes waste? If 100 ships are sent out to search for missing survivors, and only one ship eventually finds them, does that mean the deployment of the other 99 ships was wasteful?

Similarly, what does it mean to “handle” a crisis? If someone stands by, fully prepared to intervene while continuously guiding others to solve the problem themselves — and in the end the people involved successfully resolve it — does that not also count as handling the situation? And compared with direct intervention, might such an approach actually be the more sophisticated one?

We may push this question even further. Suppose the person leading the Federal Reserve at the time had been someone else — let us call him “Greenspan Zhang.” Imagine that he had introduced some grandly named “Eight Major Measures,” accompanied by a 500-page report defending those policies. Which scenario would really have been better?

And suppose there had been a reward for whoever managed the crisis most effectively. Would Greenspan or “Greenspan Zhang” have been more likely to receive the prize?

What if those “Eight Major Measures” were actually unnecessary and even worsened a problem that was not originally so severe — but “Greenspan Zhang,” being highly eloquent, successfully convinced political leaders and the public that he had heroically defended society from an extremely dangerous threat and prevented unimaginable disasters that might theoretically have occurred? In that case, would he not only receive the reward, but perhaps also portray himself as a hero?

Viewed from this angle, could the deliberate or unconscious creation of crises — followed by loudly advertising one’s own actions and achievements — become a convenient path for ambitious officials and politicians?

And for society as a whole, would we prefer to have more officials like Greenspan, or more like “Greenspan Zhang”?

Forces That Are Difficult to Describe or Perceive May Be Even More Important

These are not simple questions. The passage from Tao Te Ching quoted at the beginning of this article shows that more than two thousand years ago, the sage Laozi had already pointed out that the surface appearance of things often does not reflect their true nature. Thus, “when everyone recognizes something as good, goodness itself may already have become problematic.”

Likewise, opposing aspects of reality often coexist simultaneously: “being and non-being give rise to each other; difficulty and ease complete each other; long and short contrast each other; high and low depend upon each other.”

To accomplish things well, one often cannot rely solely on direct and obvious action. On the contrary, the unseen intentions and the subtle, difficult-to-describe forces operating beneath the surface may be even more important in generating healthy interaction between opposing forces. For this reason, the sage “handles affairs through non-action and teaches without words.”

And even when problems are resolved successfully, the sage “accomplishes merit without claiming ownership of it,” because the full truth is rarely the achievement of one or two individuals alone. A true gentleman does not seek such credit or vanity.

It is worth noting that the passage cited at the beginning of this article comes from the second section of the Tao Te Ching, immediately following its famous opening line: “The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.” The concluding phrase of that opening passage is “mystery upon mystery, the gateway to all wonders.”

From this perspective, the second passage quoted in this article can be understood as a continuation of that idea — “mystery upon mystery, the gateway to all wonders.”

Do Market Forces Also Follow the Universal Tao Envisioned by Laozi?

It is also worth noting that the essence of the entire Tao Te Ching can be understood as an exploration of the underlying way of the universe and of how human beings should position themselves within it.

The structure of this great work begins with a worldview — or what might be called an ontology of the universe. For this reason, the opening line of the book serves as its fundamental guiding principle: “The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.” The sentences that follow can be understood as further elaborations of this ontological framework.

Viewed from this perspective, the second passage from the Tao Te Ching quoted earlier may be regarded as part of Laozi’s conception of the fundamental nature of the universe itself — that is, the essential nature of all things.

Perhaps the emergence and development of market forces also follow the operation of that subtle and difficult-to-name force permeating the universe that Laozi described. If this is true, then what is not done may often be just as important as what is done.

And if so, when considering the future of Hong Kong, should our focus rest solely on what actions ought to be taken?

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top