模棱两可

Mó léng liǎng kě

"Rounded edges, either way works"

Character Analysis

To touch both sides of a sharp edge; to be ambiguous enough that either interpretation could be correct

Meaning & Significance

This idiom describes the deliberate avoidance of commitment—speaking or acting in ways that could mean multiple things, allowing one to claim correctness regardless of the outcome.

The politician’s statement was masterful. “We support the initiative in principle, pending further review of implementation frameworks.” He said nothing. He committed to nothing. And when the initiative failed, he could say he’d had reservations. When it succeeded, he could say he’d supported it.

That’s 模棱两可 in action.

The Characters

  • 模 (mó): Model, pattern, to imitate
  • 棱 (léng): Edge, corner, ridge (of an object)
  • 两 (liǎng): Two, both
  • 可 (kě): Can, may, permissible

The imagery comes from carpentry. A 棱 (léng) is the sharp edge where two surfaces meet—like the corner of a table. When you 模 that 棱, you’re smoothing it down, rounding it off. The sharp distinction disappears. What was once clearly this side or that side becomes an ambiguous curve.

两可 means “both are acceptable.” Put it together: the edges have been rounded so that either interpretation works. You haven’t taken a position. You’ve created plausible deniability.

Where It Comes From

This idiom originates from a specific historical figure: Su Weidao (苏味道), a politician during the Tang Dynasty who served as chancellor under Empress Wu Zetian.

Su Weidao was famous—not for his policies, but for his avoidance of them. When asked to make decisions, he would respond with vagueness that could be interpreted favorably no matter what happened. He explicitly advised others: “When making decisions, don’t be too definitive. That way, if things go wrong, you can always say you meant something else.”

His nickname became “模棱手” (the rounded-edge hand), mocking his habit of smoothing over every sharp corner of policy until nothing could be pinned down. The phrase 模棱两可 emerged from his reputation.

Su Weidao served as chancellor from 700 to 704 CE. He survived the treacherous politics of Empress Wu’s court—no small feat—but his legacy became a cautionary tale about the costs of never taking a stand.

The idiom appears in the Old Book of Tang (旧唐书), compiled in 945 CE, which records Su’s philosophy with disapproval. Later collections like Enlarged Words to Guide the World (增广贤文) preserved it as a warning against excessive equivocation.

The Philosophy

Strategic Ambiguity as Survival

In Su Weidao’s world, taking a clear position could get you killed. Empress Wu’s court was a snake pit of competing factions. Say the wrong thing, choose the wrong side, and you might find yourself exiled or worse. Ambiguity was armor.

This dynamic isn’t unique to Tang Dynasty China. Niccolò Machiavelli observed that princes must often “be a great liar and hypocrite.” The political realist understands that survival sometimes requires vagueness.

But survival isn’t the same as honor. Su Weidao’s name became synonymous with unprincipled vacillation. He kept his position but lost his reputation.

The Information Theory of Vagueness

In information theory, a message’s value lies in its specificity. “The meeting is at 3 PM in Room 402” is useful. “The meeting will happen sometime, somewhere” is noise dressed as signal.

模棱两可 describes communication that maximizes plausible interpretations while minimizing actual information transfer. It’s anti-communication: the appearance of speech without the substance.

Modern corporate communication often operates this way. Press releases about “leveraging synergies” and “optimizing stakeholder value” say nothing while appearing to say something. The technique protects speakers from being wrong—and from being right in ways that create accountability.

The Ethics of Indeterminacy

Not all ambiguity is cowardly. Sometimes situations genuinely could go either way. Sometimes preserving options is wise. The Buddhist concept of emptiness (空) suggests that reality resists fixed categories.

But there’s a difference between acknowledging genuine uncertainty and manufacturing vagueness to avoid responsibility. Su Weidao wasn’t grappling with complexity. He was deliberately obscuring.

The 20th-century philosopher Harry Frankfurt distinguished between lying and what he called “bullshit.” A liar knows the truth and conceals it. A bullshitter doesn’t care about truth at all—only about creating an impression. 模棱两可 is often bullshit in Frankfurt’s sense: communication untethered from truth, designed purely for effect.

Decision Theory and Commitment

Game theorists talk about “burning bridges”—making irreversible commitments that force certain outcomes. 模棱两可 is the opposite: keeping all bridges intact, preserving all escape routes.

Sometimes this is wise. The real options approach to decision-making values flexibility. But endless flexibility becomes paralysis. If you never commit, you never move. Su Weidao survived but achieved nothing memorable. His name survives only as a warning about his technique.

When Chinese Speakers Use It

Scenario 1: Criticizing evasive communication

“What did the boss actually decide about the new policy?”

“Nothing. Her whole speech was 模棱两可. She said we’d ‘explore options’ and ‘remain flexible.’ So nothing changes, but she can claim she addressed it.”

Scenario 2: Describing a non-committal person

“Are you dating or not?”

“I have no idea. His texts are so 模棱两可. ‘We should hang out sometime’ could mean anything. I’m tired of guessing.”

Scenario 3: Political or business context

“The contract language seems deliberately vague.”

“That’s the point. 模棱两可 protects them either way. If the deal goes south, they can argue the terms meant something different.”

Tattoo Advice

Think carefully—this idiom carries negative connotations.

模棱两可 is not a compliment. It describes a vice, not a virtue. People use it to criticize others, not to aspire to something. Getting this as a tattoo would be like tattooing “INDECISIVE” or “HEDGES EVERYTHING” on yourself.

Why you might still consider it:

  1. Self-awareness: Perhaps you’re embracing a weakness, acknowledging your tendency toward equivocation as a reminder to be more decisive.
  2. Irony: Some people choose negative or self-deprecating tattoos for humor or provocation.
  3. Historical interest: The Su Weidao story is genuinely interesting—a window into Tang Dynasty court politics.

Better alternatives with similar themes:

  • 当断不断,反受其乱 (8 characters) — “When you can’t decide, you invite chaos.” The antidote to 模棱两可.
  • 谋定后动 (4 characters) — “Plan carefully, then act.” This captures the wisdom of deliberation without the vice of endless vacillation.
  • 一言九鼎 (4 characters) — “One word carries the weight of nine tripods.” Describes someone whose word is unshakeable—the opposite of equivocation.

If you’re determined to use 模棱两可:

The four characters are compact. Any body placement works. But be prepared to explain—and defend—why you chose an idiom that most Chinese speakers use as criticism.

Perhaps the most interesting reading would be as a warning to yourself: “Don’t be this way.” A daily reminder that rounded edges may feel safe, but they prevent you from cutting through to anything real.

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