## 1. Mozi and the Mohists




Mohism springs from the teachings of Mo Di, or Mozi ("Master
Mo"),[1]
 about whom little is known, not even what
state he was from. The *Shi Ji,* a Han dynasty record, tells us
only that he was an official of the state of Song and that he lived
either at the same time as or after Confucius (d. 479 BCE), with whom
he is often paired by Qin (221-206 BCE) and Han dynasty (206 BCE-219
CE) texts as the two great moral teachers of the Warring States era.
Most likely, he flourished during the middle to late decades of the 5th
century BCE, roughly contemporaneous with Socrates in the West.
'Mo' is an unusual surname and the common Chinese word for
"ink." Hence scholars have speculated that the name may have been an epithet referring to the dark or tattooed skin of a laborer or convict or a transliteration from a non-Chinese language. However, 'Mo' could simply have been an uncommon ancient surname that later ceased to be used.




A strong argument can be made that it is Mozi, not Confucius, who
deserves the title of China's first philosopher. Before the rise of the
Mohist school, *Ru* or so-called
 "Confucian"[2]
 thought seems to have consisted mostly of wise aphorisms offering
moral coaching aimed at developing virtuous performers of social roles
as described in traditional *li* (norms of ritual
propriety). Mozi and his followers were the first in the Chinese
tradition to point out that conformity to traditional mores in itself
does not ensure that actions are morally right. This critical insight
motivated a self-conscious search for
 objective moral standards,
 by which the Mohists hoped to unify the moral judgments of everyone in
society, thus eliminating social disorder and ensuring that morality
prevailed. The normative standard through which they proposed to
achieve these aims was the "benefit (*li*) of all 
the world": Actions, practices, and policies that promote the
overall welfare of society were to be considered morally right, those
that interfere with it morally wrong. This consequentialist standard was
justified by appeal to the intention of Heaven (*Tian*),
a sky or nature deity that the Mohists claimed is committed impartially to
the benefit of all. Heaven's intention provides a reliable epistemic
criterion for moral judgment, they held, because Heaven is the wisest
and noblest agent in the cosmos. This basic consequentialist and religious
framework motivated a set of
 ten core ethical and political doctrines,
 which the Mohists sought to persuade the rulers of their day to put into
practice. This article will discuss the
 motivation
 for the Mohist philosophical and
political project, the central
 epistemic
and
 logical
 notions that structure Mohist thought,
and the details of the Mohists'
 ethical
 and
 political
 doctrines, including their strengths
and weaknesses.




Our primary source for the thought of Mozi and his followers is a
corpus of anonymously authored texts collected into a book called the
*Mozi*. Other, less direct sources include anecdotes and
comments about the Mohists preserved in early texts such as the
*Lushi Chunqiu*, *Hanfeizi*, *Zhuangzi*, and
*Huainanzi* and criticisms of them by two of their major
opponents, the Confucians Mencius (ca. 372-289 BCE) and Xunzi (fl.
289-238 BCE). The *Mozi* is a diverse compilation of polemical
essays, short dialogues, anecdotes about Mozi, and compact
philosophical discussions, the different parts of the book ranging in
date from the 5th to the 3rd century BCE. For a detailed discussion of
the organization, nature, and authorship of the *Mozi,* see the
following supplement:



> Texts and Authorship




The Mohist texts provide only the barest handful of clues about
Mozi's life. One passage depicts King Hui of Chu (488-432 BCE)
refusing to grant him an audience because of his low social status.
Several anecdotes in the *Mozi* and other early texts depict him
as a master craftsman and military engineer. The *Huainanzi,* a
Han dynasty text, claims that Mozi was an apostate *Ru*
(Confucian), but the *Mozi* itself provides no particular reason
to believe this. A more likely conjecture, supported by the frequency
of references to the crafts in Mohist texts, is that he was originally
an artisan of some kind, probably a carpenter. Indeed, the many
examples alluding to crafts, mechanics, trade, work, and economic
hardship, the apparent "critical outsider" stance of the earliest
Mohist texts, and the nearly total absence of references to the
*li* (courtly ritual, ceremony, etiquette) so central to
Confucian thought all tend to suggest that Mohism emerged from a rising
class of craftsmen, merchants, and soldiers that grew in size and
political influence during the Warring States era, a time of rapid
social and political change. For an exploration of the impact of this
social background on Mohist thought, see the following supplement:



> 
> Influence of Social Origins on Mohist Thought
> 




As their movement flourished in the 4th and 3rd centuries BCE, the
Mohists branched into a number of groups, each led by a *juzi*,
or grand master. Two early sources, the *Hanfeizi* (Book 50, ca.
233 BCE or later) and the *Zhuangzi* (Book 33, perhaps 2nd
century BCE), mention a total of six groups of Mohists, who apparently
quarreled among themselves over the details of Mohist doctrine. Another
early text, the *Lushi Chunqiu* (ca. 239 BCE), mentions at
least three other Mohist *juzi*. Evidence from the *Mozi*
and *Lushi Chunqiu* indicates that these Mohist groups were
disciplined organizations devoted to moral and practical education,
political advocacy, government service, and in some cases military
service. Members underwent a period of study and training, after which
the organization might find them positions in government or the
military, probably in a Mohist regiment. Members were expected to
contribute funds to the organization and could be expelled for failing
to fulfill their duties. The Mohists were renowned for fervent
commitment to their ethical principles and to a lifestyle of austerity
and self-sacrifice. A Han dynasty text collected in the
*Zhuangzi* claims that many Mohists believed it was their duty
to emulate the legendary altruistic labors of the ancient sage king
Yu:



> Many of the Mohists of later ages
> wear furs and rough clothing, clogs and grass slippers, never resting
> day or night, taking self-sacrifice as the highest. They say, "One who
> cannot do this is not following the way of Yu and doesn't deserve to
> be called a Mohist." ... They press each other forward in
> self-sacrifice until there's no flesh left on their calves or hair on
> their shins. (*Zhuangzi,* Book 33, "Under Heaven")




Such external testimony -- albeit from an unsympathetic source
-- presents a minor puzzle in the interpretation of Mohist
thought, for the texts preserved in the *Mozi* do not directly
advocate self-sacrificing altruism, and at least one clearly rejects
it. The same *Zhuangzi* passage tells us that different groups
of Mohists disagreed strongly concerning the details of Mohist
doctrine; perhaps this was one of the issues about which they
differed.




As the name implies, the Warring States era saw the pre-imperial Chinese world divided into
numerous states that frequently fell to war with each other, each of
the larger, more powerful states aspiring to conquer its neighbors and
unify the empire under its rule. The Mohists were deeply committed to
the ideal of a harmonious, peaceful social order and to universal
concern for the welfare of all the world. They condemned
unprovoked military aggression and attempted to dissuade warlike rulers
from attacking other states. Far from being pacifists, however, they
saw a strong defense force as crucial to state survival. Indeed, many
Mohists seem to have concluded that, since social order was a paramount
value and gratuitous warfare was wrong, they had a duty to assist
victims of aggression. Some Mohists became specialists in defensive
warfare, rushing to the aid of cities and states under threat of
attack. The last quarter of the *Mozi* preserves the texts of
these militias, which present detailed information about ancient
defense tactics and siege fortifications (for an overview, see Yates,
1980).


## 2. The Ten Mohist Doctrines




As their movement developed, the Mohists came to present themselves as
offering a collection of ten key doctrines, divided into five pairs.
The ten doctrines correspond to the titles of the
 ten triads,
 the ten sets of three essays
that form the core of the *Mozi*. Although the essays in each
triad differ in detail, the gist of each doctrine may be briefly
summarized as follows. 


* "**Promoting the Worthy**" and "**Identifying
Upward**." The purpose of government is to achieve a stable
social, economic, and political order (*zhi*, pronounced "jr")
by promulgating a unified conception of morality (*yi*). This
task of moral education is to be carried out by encouraging everyone to
"identify upward" to the good example set by social and political
superiors and by rewarding those who do so and punishing those who do
not. Government is to be structured as a centralized, bureaucratic
state led by a virtuous monarch and managed by a hierarchy of appointed
officials. Appointments are to be made on the basis of competence and
moral merit, without regard for candidates' social status or
origins.
* "**Inclusive Care**" and "**Condemning
Aggression**." To achieve social order and exemplify the key
virtue of *ren* (benevolence, goodwill), people must inclusively
care for each other, having as much concern for others' lives,
families, and communities as for their own, and in their relations with
others seek to benefit them. Military aggression is wrong for the same
reasons that theft, robbery, and murder are: it harms others in pursuit
of selfish benefit, while ultimately failing to benefit Heaven, the
spirits, or society as a whole.
* "**Moderation in Use**" and "**Moderation in
Burial**." To benefit society and care for the welfare of the
people, wasteful luxury and useless expenditures must be eliminated.
Seeking always to bring wealth to the people and order to society, the
*ren* (benevolent) person avoids wasting resources on extravagant
funerals and prolonged mourning (customs promoted by the Ru and others).
* "**Heaven's Intent**" and "**Understanding
Ghosts**." Heaven is the noblest, wisest moral agent, so its
intent is a reliable, objective standard of what is morally righteous
(*yi*) and must be respected. Heaven rewards those who obey its
intent and punishes those who defy it, hence people should strive to
be benevolent and do what is righteous. Social and moral order (*zhi*)
can be advanced by encouraging belief in ghosts and spirits who reward
the good and punish the wicked.
* "**Condemning Music**" and "**Condemning
Fatalism**." The benevolent (*ren*) person opposes the
extravagant musical entertainment and other luxuries enjoyed by rulers
and high officials, because these waste resources that could otherwise
be used for feeding and clothing the common people. Fatalism is not
*ren*, because by teaching that our lot in life is predestined
and human effort is useless, it interferes with the pursuit of economic
wealth, a large population, and social order (three primary goods that
the benevolent person desires for society). Fatalism fails to meet a series
of justificatory criteria and so must be rejected.




When an audience with the ruler of a state was secured, different
doctrines might be advocated first, depending on the circumstances in
that state:



> If the state is in disorder, then expound "promoting the
> worthy" and "identifying upward"; if the state is poor, then expound
> "moderation in use" and "moderation in burial"; if the state
> overindulges in musical entertainment, then expound "condemning music"
> and "condemning fate"; if the state is dissolute and indecorous, expound
> "honoring Heaven" and "serving ghosts"; if the state is devoted to
> aggression and intimidation, then expound "inclusive care" and
> "condemning aggression." (Book 49, "Questions of
>  Lu").[3]




As this passage and the capsule summaries of their ten core
doctrines indicate, the Mohists saw themselves primarily as a moral,
political, and religious advocacy group devoted to realizing what they
saw as a morally right society and way of life, one that promotes
"benefit" (*li*) and eliminates "harm" (*hai*) for
all the world. "Benefit" (*li*) for them is a loose
conception of general welfare comprising material prosperity, an
abundant population, and sociopolitical "order" (*zhi*). This
latter term denotes social conditions in which crime, deceit,
harassment, strife, and military aggression are absent, people
cooperate with and assist each other, those without family to support
them are cared for, and individuals manifest the virtues appropriate to
their roles as rulers, subjects, fathers, sons, and brothers. The
Mohists'
 ethical theory
 is an interesting,
complex form of consequentialism that posits a plurality of intrinsic
goods, which are to be promoted through a variety of strategies.




Aside from their ethical and
 political doctrines
 -- the aspects of their philosophy they themselves see as
central -- the Mohists' explicit theories and implicit assumptions
about language,
 knowledge,
 reasoning,
 and moral psychology are of great
philosophical interest. Many aspects of their views in these areas are
probably not distinctively Mohist, but instead reflect background
assumptions widely shared by other classical Chinese thinkers. Thus a
greater understanding of Mohist thought advances our understanding of
early Confucianism, Daoism, and other schools as well.


## 3. The Search for Objective Standards




A central concern in Mohist thought is to secure *zhi*
(pronounced "jr"), or moral, social, and political order, an intrinsic
good that the Mohists assume everyone in society will value. According
to Mohist
 political theory,
 this aim is
achieved by unifying society's moral standards, so that people will
agree in their value judgments, thus eliminating any potential reasons
for conflict. The unified moral standards cannot be chosen arbitrarily,
however, for if people see that the standards do not genuinely promote
social and moral order, they will defy them. So a crucial question for
the Mohists is: What shall we take as the basis for unified moral norms? 




One answer, accepted by many *Ru* (Confucians) and other
"gentlemen of the world" criticized by the Mohists, is the *li*
(ritual propriety, ceremony), a traditional code of propriety specifying behavior
appropriate for individuals playing different social roles in various
types of
 situations.[4]
 We can take the *li*, supplemented by
the situational discretion (*quan*) of the virtuous gentleman,
as a basic standard of conduct. This solution of course presupposes a
rough, gentlemanly consensus about what is and is not appropriate
behavior. Such a consensus seems to be assumed by the major Confucian
figure Mencius, for instance, who sees little need to develop an
explicit normative ethical theory, focusing instead on moral
psychology.




Perhaps partly because of their
 social origins,
 Mozi and his followers do not identify with the
*li* (ritual) of the traditional high culture and so find this
sort of traditionalist consensus an unconvincing moral guide. To the
suggestion that tradition can serve as a reliable moral standard, they
respond by distinguishing between traditional customs and morality as
such, pointing out that conformity to tradition is not in itself
sufficient to ensure moral correctness. They make this point by
considering -- at roughly the same time Herodotus was raising
similar issues in Greece -- the challenge to parochial
conceptions of what is right posed by the existence of disparate
cultural practices.



> Now those who uphold rich burials and prolonged mourning
> say: "If rich burials and prolonged mourning turn out not to be
> the Way of the sage-kings, then how do we explain why the gentlemen of
> the central states perform them without ceasing and maintain them
> without choosing something else?!"
> 
> 
>  Our Master Mozi said, "This is what's called deeming their
> habits convenient and their customs righteous. In the past, east of
> Yue there was the country of Gai Shu. When their eldest son was born,
> they chopped him up and ate him, calling this 'advantageous to the
> younger brothers.' When their grandfather died, they carried off their
> grandmother and abandoned her, saying, 'One cannot live with the wife
> of a ghost.' These practices superiors took as government policy and
> subordinates took as custom, performing them without ceasing and
> maintaining them without choosing something else. Yet how could these
> really be the Way of benevolence and righteousness?!" (Book 25,
> "Moderation in Burial")
> 
> 
> 




Different cultures may have different, conflicting customs, some of
which may be morally wrong by our lights. Since other cultures'
customs may be wrong, by parity of reasoning, so might our own. The
mere fact that a practice is traditional or customary, as
the *li* (rituals, ceremonies) are, does not show that it is
right in the objective, universal sense expressed by moral concepts
such as *ren* (benevolence) and *yi* (righteousness,
morality). The *li* thus cannot serve as an authoritative standard
of a unified morality. We need to find other, objectively justified
standards.




This search for objective moral standards by which to guide action
and reform society lies at the heart of the Mohist philosophical and
political
 project.[5]
 The master idea driving Mohist thought is
that in ethics and politics, as in any other practical field, we can
indeed find and apply such standards, which the Mohists call
*fa* (models, paradigms, standards). A text from one of the
later portions of the *Mozi* explains the role of *fa* in
this way:



> 
> 
> Our Master Mozi said, "Those in the world who perform tasks
> cannot do without models (*fa*) and standards. There is no one
> who can accomplish their task without models and standards. Even
> officers serving as generals or ministers, they all have models; even
> the hundred artisans performing their tasks, they too all have
> models. The hundred artisans make squares with the set square, circles
> with the compass, straight lines with the string, vertical lines with
> the plumb line, and flat surfaces with the level. Whether skilled
> artisans or unskilled artisans, all take these five as models. The
> skilled are able to conform to them. The unskilled, though unable to
> conform to them, by following them in performing their tasks still
> surpass what they can do by themselves. Thus the hundred artisans in
> performing their tasks all have models to measure by."
> 
> 
> 
> "Now for the greatest to order (*zhi*, also
> 'govern') the world and those the next level down to order great
> states without models to measure by, this is to be less
> discriminating than the hundred artisans." (Book 4, "Models and
> Standards")
> 
> 
> 




As this passage indicates, the Mohists regard *fa* (models) as
similar to tools used to guide and check the performance of skilled
tasks, such as sawing a square corner or drawing a straight line.
*Fa* are objective, reliable, and easy to use, so that with
minimal training anyone can employ them to perform a task or check the
results. *Fa* alone do not ensure success, nor do they erase
the distinction between the skilled and unskilled -- or between
the virtuous and those still acquiring virtue -- but for most of
us they at least ensure that we will do better than we would without
them.




Our primary task in governing or "ordering" (*zhi*)
society, then, is to find reliable, objective models or standards to
guide our actions, practices, and policies. As in the case of the
*li* (ritual), however, the Mohists point out that any standard
specific to our particular family, education, or community could turn
out to be unreliable. "Models and Standards," the text
cited above, continues:



> That being so, then what is acceptable to take as a model
> (*fa*) for order (*zhi*)? How would it be for everyone to
> model themselves on their parents? Those in the world who are parents
> are many, but those who are benevolent (*ren*) are few; if
> all model themselves on their parents, this is modeling
> the unbenevolent. Modeling on the unbenevolent -- it's not acceptable to
> take that as a model.




Having objected to taking parents as a fundamental moral model, the
passage next rejects teachers (or "learning") and rulers on
the same grounds: We cannot be sure that all teachers and political
leaders are benevolent (*ren*). The text concludes that
"of these three, parents, teachers, and rulers, none is
acceptable as a model for order." An objective standard is
needed, one that is not morally fallible in the way that any
particular individual role model or cultural tradition might be. The
Mohists propose that we can find such a standard by considering the
attitudes of an ideally impartial, benevolent, and reliable moral
agent: *Tian* (Heaven, nature, the sky), whom they revere as a
quasi-personal god.



> That being so, then what is acceptable to take as a model
> for order? So I say, Nothing is like modeling on Heaven. Heaven's
> conduct is broad and impartial; its favors are rich and incur no debt;
> its brightness endures without fading. So the sage-kings modeled
> themselves on it. (Book 4, "Models and
> Standards")




This notion of taking Heaven as a moral role model leads the Mohists
to develop a credible normative theory based on equal, impartial
concern for the welfare of all. At the same time, however, it steers
them into formulating some of their central normative principles in a
potentially problematic way. Their conception of *Tian*
(Heaven) provides a compelling basis for arguing that everyone's
interests have equal moral worth. But since the Mohists believe
that *Tian* acts impartially on everyone's behalf, adopting it
as a moral model tends to imply that each of us as individuals is
obliged to treat others and ourselves equally -- to act in
others' interest exactly as we act in our own. This view, if indeed
the Mohists hold it, would invite several objections commonly leveled
at crude forms of utilitarianism. The most obvious is that
limitations on our time and resources make it practically impossible
for us to act *equally* on others' behalf as well as our
own. (In practice, I cannot possibly make breakfast for everyone each
morning, only for myself, my family, and perhaps a few neighbors.)
Another possible objection would be that by demanding excessive
attention to the needs of others, Mohist ethics leaves individuals
with insufficient resources to live their own lives well, thus
sacrificing much of what makes an individual life good.




The Mohists' ethical theory thus raises fundamental questions
concerning the moral claim on us of others' interests, the role of
impartiality, fairness, and benevolence in an adequate ethical code,
and the elements of a good life -- questions that remain vital in
moral philosophy today. We will return to some of these issues and the
Mohists' response to them when we assess the Mohist ethical theory
below. First, however, we need to explore further the concept of a
"model" presupposed by Mohists' notion of "taking Heaven as a
model."


### The Concept of *Fa* (Models)




The Mohists refer to the objective ethical standard they seek as a
*fa* (model, standard), a concept that plays a central part in
their ethics and their views on language, knowledge, and argumentation
or reasoning. *Fa* is among the key notions through which Mohism
had an important influence on the late Warring States Confucian thinker
Xunzi and his student Han Fei, leading representative of a style of
realpolitik thought that later became known as the *fa jia*
(school of *fa*, often translated as "legalism"). *Fa*
have a dual role, providing both practical guidelines and justificatory
criteria for judgment and action. In their action-guiding role,
*fa* serve as guidelines or decision criteria that direct action
and practical reasoning. In this respect, they are an important part of
the Mohists' explanation of how we learn language and ethical norms and
of the cognitive processes by which we reason, form judgments, and act.
In their justificatory role, on the other hand, *fa* may
function as fundamental standards of correctness by which to justify
actions and judgments.




A notable feature of "Models and Standards," the Mohist text
discussed in the preceding section, is that the candidate *fa*
considered are not ethical principles, but virtuous agents, such as
parents and teachers, whom we can take as role models. This observation
provides a key to understanding both the concept of *fa* and,
more broadly, the orientation of Mohist views about language,
knowledge, cognition, and reasoning.




The term *fa* denotes any guide, aid, or tool for following a
norm or making a judgment. Explicit rules, laws, and definitions are
all *fa*. But *fa* may also be role models, such as a
virtuous parent, teacher, or ruler. They may be prototypes, exemplars,
analogies, or pictures of some kind of thing, or they may be tools or
measuring devices, such as a yardstick or a carpenter's compass and set square. They may even be concepts, such as "the benefit
(*li*) of the world," which the Mohists take to be
co-extensive with and thus a criterion for identifying what is
*yi* (morally righteous). In short, any criterion or paradigm that
helps us to make correct judgments or to act correctly can be a
*fa*.




The reason such a wide range of items can serve as *fa* is
that the Mohists regard *fa* primarily not as principles or
rules, but as different types of practical models used to guide the
performance of norm-governed activities. The objective ethical
standards they seek are not definitions or universal principles, from
which they will derive particular consequences by deductive reasoning.
Instead, they seek a reliable role model or paradigm for their actions and practices to copy or emulate. This is why they can propose,
as their highest *fa* or ethical standard, not a normative
principle, but Heaven itself, considered as the highest, most reliable
moral agent in the natural order.




The prominence of practical models or exemplars reflects two
fundamental features of Mohist thought and arguably of classical
Chinese philosophy generally. The first is its practical, pragmatic
orientation. The focus of early Chinese thought is on correct practical
performance, not theoretical description or representation. The concept
that stands at the center of the classical discourse is *dao*
(way), a notion that refers to norms, patterns, and methods of
*acting*, specifically of ordering the state and conducting
one's personal life. The central questions for early Chinese
thinkers are not What is the truth, and how do we know it? but What is
the *dao* (way), and how do we follow
 it?[6]
 The fundamental aim is not an intellectual grasp of a definition or
principle, but the practical ability to follow a norm or perform a
task successfully. *Fa* are in effect tools to aid us in
following the *dao*, and anything that guides practical
performance effectively can serve as a *fa*. A concrete
exemplar or model that one can emulate is considered as useful as a
principle or definition (indeed, principles and definitions are
apparently seen as one variety of practical model).




The second, interrelated feature is that the Mohists regard
cognition, judgment, and inference as processes of analogical pattern recognition
-- specifically, processes of distinguishing relevantly similar kinds
of objects, events, or actions from dissimilar
 ones.[7]
 This sort of process is referred to as distinguishing (*bian*)
what is "this" (*shi*) from what is "not"
(*fei*). (*Shi* and *fei* are pronounced roughly
"shr" and "fey.") Drawing such distinctions is a practical skill, the
execution of which can be aided by reference to models or exemplars --
that is, *fa*. *Fa* are in effect reference prototypes
for use in pattern recognition.




Both of these features are illustrated by how the Mohists describe
the application of *fa*. The following passage explains the role
of "Heaven's intent" as an ethical *fa* by likening it to the
compass, a model against which the wheelwright compares objects to
distinguish whether they are round or not.



> Thus our Master Mozi's having Heaven's intent, to give an
> analogy, is no different from the wheelwright's having a compass or
> the carpenter's having a set square. Now the wheelwright grasps his
> compass and uses it to measure the round and not round in the world,
> saying, "What conforms to my compass, call it
> 'round,' what doesn't conform to my compass, call it
> 'not round.'" Hence round and not round can both be
> known. What is the reason for this? It's that the *fa* for
> "round" is clear. (Book 27, "Heaven's
> Intent")




Formally, ethical *fa* are not regarded as general principles
that we apply as the major premise of a kind of deductive argument,
such as a practical syllogism. Rather, they are seen as paradigms or
prototypes against which we compare something to distinguish, or
*bian*, whether or not it falls under the extension of a term,
such as '*yi*' (duty, righteousness). Drawing distinctions
in this way is the functional equivalent, in Mohist thought, of making
a judgment or forming a belief. The ability to draw the distinctions
correctly is knowledge. Moreover, the process of citing a *fa*,
comparing something to it, and then judging whether the two are similar
constitutes the Mohists' basic conception of practical reasoning. Since
for the Mohists *fa* include rules as well as models and
examples, in their eyes the process of deducing a conclusion from a
general rule or principle is in effect a special case of the more
general cognitive process of comparing things to models and drawing
distinctions. Thus they tend to explain all forms of reasoning,
including deductive inference, as species of pattern recognition or
analogical reasoning.




Because they play such a central role in the Mohist conception of
cognition and reasoning, *fa* can be treated as a key to
understanding the Mohists' approach not only to ethics, but to
epistemology, semantics, and logic or argumentation. Action, linguistic
communication, knowledge, and reasoning are all explained by appeal to
the practical activity of drawing distinctions according to public
norms. *Fa* are models or standards that aid us in following
such norms reliably. In ethics, they take the place of universal
ethical principles in moral reasoning and in guiding action. In
epistemology, they are public criteria that guide distinction drawing
and thus justify claims to knowledge. In semantic theory, they are part
of the explanation of why words refer to what they do: a word is
associated with a *fa* (exemplar) by convention and then refers
to everything deemed relevantly similar to the *fa*. In
reasoning or argument, a judgment is established or refuted by citing
one or more *fa* and showing that the object of the judgment
does or does not conform to the *fa*.


## 4. Epistemology




The Mohists apply several closely interrelated conceptions of
knowledge, of which the central one is a form of recognition, or
"knowledge-of." Knowledge-of is manifested as a practical ability to
correctly distinguish the referent(s) of the word, or "name"
(*ming*), that denotes the object of knowledge. It is thus
interrelated with and dependent on a kind of practical knowing-how.
This knowing-how provides a behavioral criterion by which knowledge is
assessed: to qualify as having knowledge of *x*, an agent must
be able to reliably pick out the sorts of things denoted by the word
 '*x*'.[8]




The Mohist conception of knowledge is thus fundamentally practical,
not representational or theoretical. Having knowledge is not a matter
of having a correct representation in one's mind or being able to give
a theoretical description of some state of affairs, but of being able
to *do* something correctly in practice -- specifically, being
able to distinguish various kinds (*lei*) of things from one
another. Propositional knowledge, to the limited extent that it is
addressed, is implicitly explained terms of the ability to distinguish
kinds properly: To know that *a* is *F* is to know to
distinguish *a* as the kind of thing denoted by the term
'*F*'.




The object of knowledge is typically regarded as a kind of object or
event, denoted by a term, rather than a proposition, expressed by a
sentence. (Grammatically, the verb *zhi* (to know) most often
takes a noun or noun phrase as its object.) Also, since to know a thing
is to know how to distinguish it from other kinds of things, the object
of knowledge is sometimes taken to be a distinction, as when the
Mohists speak of "knowing the distinction between righteous and unrighteous"
(Book 17, "Condemning Aggression").




The Mohists' primary conception of knowledge is illustrated in
following passage, which emphasizes that knowledge lies not in the
ability to make correct statements, but the ability to "select" the
things denoted by a word, or "name."



> Our Master Mozi said, "Now the blind say,
> 'What's bright is white, and what's dark is black.' Even
> the clear-sighted have no grounds for changing this. But collect white
> and black things together and make the blind select from among them,
> and they cannot know. So as to my saying the blind don't know white
> and black, it's not by their naming, it's by their selecting."
> (Book 47, "Valuing Duty")




The passage depicts the knowledge the blind possess of the colors
white and black as, what we would characterize as, propositional
knowledge. Yet the text's central claim is that the blind do
*not* qualify as "knowing white and black," because they are
unable to identify them in practice. For the Mohists, the key
criterion of knowledge is not the mere ability to make correct
statements -- as when the blind "use the names
'white' and 'black' in strings the same way"
as the sighted -- but the ability to "distinguish the things"
denoted by these words (Book 19, "Condemning Aggression").




A natural response here would be to point out that the Mohists' own
view implicitly recognizes that knowledge of words, or "names,"
constitutes a separate type of knowledge, distinct from knowledge of
how to "select" things. The Mohists ought to categorize knowledge more
finely, the response would run, by distinguishing between knowing how
to use names and knowing how to distinguish the referents of
names. (Full mastery of a concept would presumably require both
abilities.) The later Mohist texts do precisely this, presenting a
fourfold categorization of knowledge that includes knowledge of names,
knowledge of things, knowledge of relations between names and things,
and knowledge of how to act (see the separate entry for "Mohist
Canons"). Nevertheless, in this earlier text, no value is attached to
knowledge of names. What counts as genuine knowledge is the reliable
ability to distinguish things in practice.




The Mohists' view of knowledge thus illustrates the practical
orientation of early Chinese thought, as sketched in the discussion of
*fa* (models) in the previous section. For the Mohists, knowing
*x* does not require knowing the definition, the essence, the
meaning, the Platonic Form, nor a description of *x*. It
requires only the practical ability to distinguish *x* from
not-*x*. This pragmatic view of knowledge contrasts with the
semantic orientation of the Greek tradition, as epitomized by
 Plato.[9]
 We find Plato asking What is justice? and
seeking to answer this question by determining the single essential
form shared by all just things. By contrast, the Mohists never ask what
the essence or definition of *yi* (righteousness) is. They are
concerned only with the problem of how to reliably distinguish
*yi* from not-*yi*. This problem can be solved, they
assume, by finding appropriate models for drawing the distinction and
teaching everyone to apply or emulate them. Such models may have a
utilitarian, empirical basis; they may rest on independent moral
grounds; or they may be based simply on the conviction that the actions
of exemplary moral agents, such as *Tian* (Heaven) and the
ancient sage-kings, cannot be wrong.




The Mohist conception of knowledge includes no explicit element
corresponding to the justification component in the traditional Western
analysis of knowledge as justified true belief. Instead, the Mohists
seem to treat knowledge simply as correct judgment, which they
understand as correct distinction drawing. Justification is not
identified as a distinct requirement for knowledge, probably because
the Mohists' conception of "correct" distinction drawing implicitly
incorporates an element of reliability. Knowledge is not merely drawing
a distinction correctly in one case or another, but a reliable ability
or disposition to draw distinctions correctly in a variety of cases
over time.



> Now suppose there is a person here, who, seeing a little
> black, says "Black," but seeing much black, says
> "White." Then surely we'd take this person to not know the
> distinction between white and black. Tasting a little of something
> bitter, he says "Bitter," but tasting much of something
> bitter, he says, "Sweet." Then surely we'd take this
> person to not know the distinction between sweet and bitter. (Book 17,
> "Condemning Aggression")




A plausible account of the purpose of the justification component in
the traditional tripartite analysis of knowledge is that it
disqualifies accidentally true beliefs -- beliefs that happen to be
true, but are based on no good reason -- from counting as knowledge.
The Mohists handle this issue implicitly, by acknowledging only
reliably correct distinction drawing as knowledge. Here again, their
conception of knowledge reflects their overall focus on practical
performance. Fundamentally, for them knowledge is not a correspondence
between a mental state and the world, but an ability to perform certain
skills reliably and correctly.




Accordingly, cognitive error -- false assertion or belief --
is not explained as inaccurate representation, as a lack of
correspondence between assertion or belief and reality, or as a
failure to grasp the unchanging reality behind shifting sensory
appearances. (The distinction between appearance and reality plays no
role in Mohist thought and probably none in early Chinese thought as a
whole.) Instead, error is understood as "disorder" (*luan*) or
"confusion" (*huo*) in drawing distinctions, in effect a
failure to perform a skill correctly. Immorality is due to a failure
to know how to distinguish right from wrong. Those who perpetrate
unprovoked military aggression, for example, are criticized for the
"disorder" in how they distinguish righteous (*yi*) from unrighteous
(Book 17, "Condemning Aggression").


### The Three *Fa* (Models) and the Problem of Justification




The discussion of Mohist epistemology presented so far has been based
on an interpretation of the conception of knowledge implicit in the
Mohists' remarks in a variety of contexts. Since, unlike the Mohist
Canons, early Mohist texts do not treat the concept of knowledge
explicitly, this interpretation is necessarily conjectural and
incomplete. When we turn to the issue of justifying claims to
knowledge, on the other hand, we are on firmer ground, for the Mohists
present an explicit, though sketchy, theory based on the concept of
 *fa* (models, standards). In outline, the
theory is this. To make a judgment is to distinguish what is
"this" or "right" (*shi*, or
"shr") in some context from what is "not" or
"wrong" (*fei*, "fey"). The process of
evaluating whether some statement or action is correct is thus one of
evaluating whether the distinction on which it is based is has been
drawn properly. To guide us in getting the distinctions right, the
Mohists propose that we should establish *fa* as standards or
criteria: What matches the *fa* is "this," and thus
correct; what doesn't is "not." The *fa* can thus
be applied to justify or check knowledge claims. Conformity to
the *fa* provides good grounds for accepting a claim,
non-conformity for rejecting it. 




The Mohists propose three *fa* for "statements" or
"sayings" (*yan*), by which "the distinctions
between 'this' and 'not' and benefit and
harm...can be clearly known" (Book 35, "Condemning
Fatalism"). Three slightly different versions of this doctrine
are found in the *Mozi*, one in each of the three denunciations
of fatalism (books 35-37). For brevity, we will discuss only the
first
 version.[10]




The three *fa* are that statements must have a *root*,
a *source*, and a *use*. The "root" is the
historical precedent and evidence provided by the deeds of the ancient
sage kings, moral exemplars who reliably distinguished right from
wrong correctly and whose way we thus seek to follow. The
"source" is that statements must have an empirical basis;
they must be checked against what people see and hear. The
"use" is that when adopted as a basis for punishment and
government administration, the statement must produce benefit
(*li*) for the state, clan, and people.




The Mohists regularly appeal to these three criteria when
justifying their core doctrines. When questions of existence are at
stake, as when arguing for the existence of ghosts or the nonexistence
of fate, they apply all three standards. In arguing against fatalism,
for example, they contend that (1) historical examples show that
security and order depend on government policy, not fate: the ancient
sage kings achieved peace and security under the same social conditions
in which the tyrants brought turmoil and danger. (2) No one has ever
actually seen or heard fate. (3) Fatalism has detrimental social
consequences: If people listen to the fatalists, they will devote no
effort to being virtuous or industrious. (Oddly, the Mohists overlook
the obvious fatalist rejoinders that the tyrants' failure and sages'
success were predestined, that fate is not a physical object, and that
some people are fated to be diligent, others not.) Similarly, in
arguing for the existence of ghosts and spirits who reward the good and
punish the wicked, the Mohists point out that (1) the sage kings all
venerated the ghosts and spirits; (2) countless well-known stories
report cases in which ghosts have been seen and heard; and (3) the
teaching that ghosts and spirits reward the worthy and punish the
wicked has beneficial social consequences, as fear of punishment will
deter people from wrongdoing.




In contexts where empirical support is irrelevant, only the first
and third standards are applied. In condemning elaborate musical shows,
for instance, the writers contend that levying taxes to pay for
expensive musical instruments contradicts the deeds of the sage-kings, who
would tax the people only to pay for practical items such as boats and
carts, which benefit everyone. Grand concerts and feasts are pleasant,
but on balance they do not benefit the populace, since they interfere
with work and waste resources that could otherwise be devoted to food
and clothing.




How are the three *fa* themselves justified? The texts that
present the theory do not say, but the Mohists probably view the third
standard, benefit to society, as an application of their moral theory,
which they justify by appeal to the model of Heaven, or nature. That
appeal they might justify in turn by independent moral criteria such
as impartiality, benevolence, and reliability, as we suggested briefly
in the section on
 objective standards.
 Critics who reject the Mohist normative theory thus may find
this *fa* objectionable as well. As to the second standard,
what people see and hear, the Mohists offer no defense. They may have
an inchoate theory of sense perception that explains why the second
standard is reliable, but there is little or no discussion of such
issues in early Mohist texts. The first standard reflects a shared
pattern, in the Mohists' intellectual milieu, of appealing to ancient
sage-kings or culture heroes for authority. This habit was grounded in
the assumption that the ancient sage-kings were dependable ethical
exemplars and, in some cases, that they were the originators of the
relevant normative practices. Such appeals are to some extent
defensible, as they can be thought of as an appeal to experience
-- to norms and practices that were found ethically and
practically satisfactory by wise, fair leaders in the past. Still,
later Warring States thinkers will rightly question whether policies
developed under ancient social conditions remain applicable today and
whether we can even be sure what those policies were.




Concerns can be raised about the vagueness of the three standards,
the potential for disagreement about their interpretation and
application, and the extent to which the Mohists apply them fairly and
rigorously (does belief in ghosts really satisfy the second and third
standards?). Moreover, the Mohists seem to overlook the possibility of
conflicts between the three, such as the likelihood that certain
practices of the ancient sage-kings might not benefit society today.
The third standard probably takes priority over the others, since the
first stipulates only that we find some "root" in the (presumably
benevolent) deeds of the sages, not that we imitate them slavishly, and
since, in a remarkable passage in Book 31 ("Elucidating Ghosts"), Mozi
is depicted as arguing that even if there really are no ghosts and
spirits, we should still behave as if there are, because of the social
benefit that ensues.




The priority of the third standard is a striking feature of the Mohist
theory, for it entails that in at least some circumstances, they
advocate applying a utilitarian criterion to resolve not only
normative questions but descriptive ones as well. One explanation for
this extraordinary view is that they see all judgments --
descriptive, prescriptive, or otherwise -- as a matter of
distinguishing "this" (*shi*) from
"not" (*fei*). They use this pair of pronouns to
refer to right and wrong in an extremely general sense, without
distinguishing between different notions of correctness and error as
they bear on describing, ordering, recommending, permitting, or
choosing, or on issues that to us fall into areas as diverse as
science, politics, ethics, prudence, and etiquette. We might say that
the Mohists are applying a very basic, primitive conception of
correctness, of which truth, obligation, permissibility, and other
notions are species. The crucial point is probably that their main
theoretical focus is not descriptive truth, but the
proper *dao* (way) by which to guide social and personal
life. This focus on *dao* leads them to run together the
empirical question of whether ghosts exist with the normative question
of whether we should act on and promulgate the teaching that they
do. The doctrine of the three models thus reflects the pragmatic
orientation of their thought, in particular the assumption, common to
many early Chinese thinkers, that the primary purpose of language and
judgment is to guide action appropriately, rather than to describe
facts.




This pragmatic orientation led Hansen (1985, 1992) to propose that we
should not treat the Mohists (or other early Chinese theorists) as
addressing the semantic issue of whether a claim is true, but the
pragmatic or normative one of whether a certain way of using words is
appropriate. Thus the first standard, the deeds of the sage-kings,
serves as a historical precedent of normatively correct usage, which
complements the straightforwardly normative appeal to utility in the
third standard. Hansen suggests that in general we should avoid
interpreting early Chinese discussions about the proper way to
distinguish *shi* from *fei* as concerned with issues of
truth. (Hansen's view has been criticized by Graham 1989 and
Harbsmeier 1998, among others. See Fraser 2020a for a critical discussion of both sides' positions.) Construed as the claim that the
Mohists are wholly unconcerned with or lack a concept corresponding to
semantic truth, Hansen's thesis is unconvincing, for classical Chinese
notions such as "this" (*shi*), "fitting"
(*dang*), and especially "so" (*ran*) play
conceptual roles that overlap enough with that of semantic truth that
early Chinese thinkers cannot defensibly be said *not* to be
concerned with truth. Moreover, in recognizing the possibility that
there may really be no ghosts--even when the statement that
there are purportedly satisfies the three standards--the Mohists
implicitly recognize that a claim that is useful or satisfies our
criteria of correctness may yet be mistaken in the sense of falling
short of the "facts" or "reality"
(*qing*). Arguably, they thus acknowledge a distinction between
utility or social norms and semantic truth (though their discussion
here uses no word interpretable as "truth"). Yet they
contend that even if ghosts really do not exist, the
proper *dao* (way) is nevertheless to affirm that they
do--a position that tends to support Hansen's view that they are
arguing primarily that we should promulgate and act on the teaching
that ghosts exist. Again, it
is unlikely that early Mohist texts fully distinguish questions of
descriptive truth as a category separate from normative ethical or
political questions. Their theoretical orientation tends to merge the
two under the broader rubric of the proper *dao* by which to
discriminate *shi* from *fei*. 




Interestingly, one could argue on the Mohists' own grounds that they
should give priority to the second standard over the other
two--or that they should explicitly distinguish descriptive from
normative issues--since doing so would probably be more
beneficial in the long run. As rule of thumb, we probably benefit more
by distinguishing *shi* from *fei* on empirical grounds,
when relevant, rather than on the basis of historical precedent or
short-term utility. If ghosts and spirits indeed do not accord with
people's experience, for instance, then in the long run relying on
fear of their wrath to deter crime will probably be less beneficial
than developing a reliable system of moral education and law
enforcement. Also, in practice, it is unlikely that the alleged social
benefits could motivate doubters to sincerely act as if ghosts exist
or to follow a moral code based partly on the existence of things they
cannot experience.


## 5. Logic and Argumentation




Besides its role in their epistemology, the theory of the
 three *fa* (models)
 epitomizes the Mohists'
view of logic and argumentation. The Mohists do not investigate formal
logic or develop a notion of logical consequence. Rather, since they
see judgment as a matter of distinguishing whether something is one
kind of thing or another, they tend to conceive of all reasoning on the
model of informal, analogical inference. Particular pieces of reasoning
in Mohist texts may be deductive, inductive, analogical, or causal. But
the Mohists themselves seem to regard all of these as different ways of
applying *fa* to draw distinctions between similar and
dissimilar kinds of things.




Their basic model of reasoning can be thought of as comprising three
parts. (1) One or more *fa* (standards, models,
or examples) are cited by which to distinguish "this"
from "not" or to guide the use of some term, such as
*ren* (benevolent) or *yi* (morally righteous). (2) Then
it is indicated how some object, event, or practice does or does not
"conform" to or "coincide" with the
*fa*. (3) Accordingly, the thing in question is distinguished
as "this" or "not," as benevolent and
righteous or unbenevolent and unrighteous. So what we think of as the
major premise in a syllogistic piece of reasoning, the Mohists
probably see as citing a *fa*. What we call a minor premise,
they see as a claim that something "conforms" to the
*fa*. What we think of as drawing a conclusion, they see as
distinguishing whether or not something is the same kind of thing as
the *fa*. Later Mohist texts make it clear that this reasoning
process is regarded as a form of analogical inference or projection,
which they call "extending kinds" (*tui lei*)
-- that is, "extending" our judgment of what counts
as "of the same kind" to include new cases. In practice,
"extending kinds" amounts to taking the judgment that
things are "of a kind" (*lei*) in one or more
respects as a basis for treating them as "of a kind" in
another.




The three *fa* method of argument is one application of this
general type of argument by example or analogy. But the three
*fa* are not the only standards or models the Mohists employ.
They regularly cite others, such as the behavior of the paradigmatic
benevolent person (*ren ren*) or filial son (*xiao zi*). Many
Mohist arguments proceed by establishing such a model or example and
then contending that Mohist doctrine conforms to it, and is thus
correct. For instance, two of the main arguments for the doctrine of
inclusive care begin by citing the model of the benevolent person, who "seeks
to promote the world's benefit and eliminate the world's harm" (books
15 and 16). The text goes on to argue that the doctrine of inclusive
care promotes benefit to all and so conforms to the standard set by the
benevolent person. Thus inclusive care is benevolent and righteous.




A second example is the chief argument against extravagant funerals
(Book 25). It too begins by citing the benevolent person as an ethical
paradigm, but here the opening move is to establish, by analogy, the
attitude of the filial son toward his parents as a model for that of
the benevolent person toward society: "The benevolent person's planning on behalf of
the world, to give an analogy, is in no respect different from the
filial son's planning on behalf of his parents." The filial son seeks
to provide his parents with wealth, a large family, and social order.
So too has the benevolent person "three duties" on behalf of society: to
secure wealth, a large population, and social order. Having established
these "three benefits" as criteria for what is benevolent and righteous, the
text goes on to argue that the practice of lavish funerals and lengthy
mourning yields poverty, a small population, and social turmoil, and
thus is "unbenevolent, unrighteous, and not the deed of a filial son."




Both the inclusive care argument and the funerals argument illustrate
another common Mohist rhetorical strategy: tracing the causal
consequences of a doctrine or policy, typically to show that Mohist
doctrine yields results that tally with some standard while an
opposing doctrine does not. One text (Book 16) dubs this argument
technique "developing two alternatives" (*liang er jin
zhi*). The text identifies two contrasting moral guidelines,
"inclusive" versus "exclusive" moral concern,
and explores their causal consequences to see which yields results
that conform to the ethical standard of "promoting the world's
benefit and eliminating the world's harm." That alternative
-- "inclusive" concern, as the Mohists see it --
is therefore "this" or "right" (*shi*),
the other "not" (*fei*).


## 6. Political Theory




Mohist political thought begins with a distinctive, fascinating
state of nature account of the origin and justification of the state.
Unlike Hobbes's well-known scenario, the Mohist myth depicts violent
social disorder as resulting not from individuals' untrammeled pursuit
of self-interest in conditions of scarcity, but from disagreement about
values. People's primary motivation is not self-interest, but their
diverse, individual conceptions of *yi* (morality,
righteousness).[11]
 Individuals all tend to do what they think
is right; the problem is that everyone disagrees about what that is.
Since for the Mohists *yi* is inherently social and shared, each
person condemns values different from her own as morally wrong. The
plurality of moral standards thus leads to contention, belligerence,
and wasted resources. For simplicity, we will quote mainly from the
first of the three versions of the theory, which describes the state of
primal anarchy in this way:



> Our Master Mozi stated, In antiquity, when people first
> arose, before there were penal codes and government, probably the
> saying was, "People have different norms of righteousness
> (*yi*)." Hence for one person, one norm; for two people, two
> norms; for ten people, ten norms--the more people, the more too
> the things they called 'righteous'. Hence people deemed
> their norm right and by it deemed others' norms wrong, so in
> interacting they deemed each other--wrong. Thus, inside the
> family, fathers and sons, elder and younger brothers became resentful
> and scattered, unable to remain together with each other
> peacefully. The people of the world all injured each other with water,
> fire, and poison. It reached the point that, having surplus strength,
> they couldn't use it to labor for each other; letting surplus
> resources rot, they didn't share them with each other; and concealing
> good *dao* (ways), they didn't teach them to each other. The
> disorder (*luan*) in the world was like that among the birds
> and beasts. (Book 11, "Identifying Upward")




The root of this chaos, as the Mohists see it, is the absence of
political leaders who will unify moral standards and thus put an end to
contention and animosity. The solution is to install a wise, virtuous
sovereign who will establish unified moral norms and thus bring order
(*zhi*, pronounced "jr") to society.



> It was understood that the people lacked government
> leaders to unify the world's norms of righteousness, and so the world
> was in disorder. Thus the most worthy, sagely, and intelligent person
> in the world was chosen, established as the Son of Heaven, and
> commissioned to work to unify the world's norms of righteousness
> (*yi*). (Book 12, "Identifying
> Upward")




The texts do not explain how the ruler is selected, nor, given their
differences, how people manage to agree on who qualifies as the most
worthy candidate. No social contract is envisioned. Instead, the
sovereign's legitimacy seems to rest on an implicit, utilitarian
consensus that social order is a paramount value, one that can be
achieved only by establishing centralized political leadership that
will impose unified moral standards. The texts pass over the question
of how, given this shared commitment to utilitarian social order, the
people developed such diverse conceptions of morality in the first
place.




For the Mohists, then, the purpose of government is to achieve a
stable social order by promulgating a unified conception of morality.
The central task of the state is moral education, training everyone to
reliably conform to the same moral standards in judgment and action.
This is the basis for such other aims as national defense, public
security, economic management, and social welfare. The responsibility
of the state for moral education is a distinctive theme of classical
Chinese thought, prominent in both Mohism and Confucianism and much
criticized in Daoist texts.




To assist him in unifying the world's morality, the sovereign, or
"Son of Heaven," appoints three dukes, who help him to divide the world
into myriad states and appoint a lord for each. These lords in
turn appoint other officials down to the level of the district,
village, or clan head, until a complete hierarchical political system
is established. Then the work of unifying moral standards begins. The
main technique adopted for this task is model
 emulation.[12]
 People are ordered to "identify upward" with the moral judgments
articulated by their political superiors and not to ally together
below. This moral guidance is reinforced by social and behavioral
incentives. Those who conform and do good are praised, rewarded, and
promoted; those who do not are censured and punished. For the Mohists,
rewards and punishments are justified instrumentally, by their role in
encouraging good behavior and discouraging bad.



> 
> 
> 
> Once the government leaders were in place, the Son of Heaven issued a
> government policy to the people of the world, stating, "Hearing
> of good and bad, in all cases report it to your superiors. What
> superiors deem right (*shi*), all must deem right; what
> superiors deem wrong (*fei*), all must deem wrong. If superiors
> commit errors, admonish them; if subordinates do good, recommend
> them. Identify upward and don't align together below. This is what
> superiors will reward and subordinates will praise." 
> 
> 
>  "Or, if you hear of good and bad but don't report it to
> superiors; are unable to deem right what superiors deem right; are
> unable to deem wrong what superiors deem wrong; don't admonish
> superiors when they commit errors; don't recommend subordinates when
> they do good; align together below and don't identify upward, this is
> what superiors will punish and the people will denounce." (Book
> 11, "Identifying Upward")
> 
> 
> 




Officials on each level of the political hierarchy repeat a variant
of these instructions to their subordinates, urging them to model
themselves on the good example set by the judgments, speech, and
conduct of the leader on the next level up. Moral wisdom and a virtuous
character are thus crucial qualifications for political leadership.



> Thus the village head was the most benevolent man in the
> village. The village head issued a government policy to the people of
> the village, stating, "Hearing of good and bad, you must report
> it to the district head. What the district head deems right
> (*shi*), all must deem right; what the district head deems
> wrong (*fei*), all must deem wrong. Eliminate your bad
> statements and learn the good statements of the district head;
> eliminate your bad conduct and learn the good conduct of the district
> head. Then how could the district be in disorder?! Examine what put
> the district in order (*zhi*): it's just that the district head
> was able to unify the district's norms of righteousness (*yi*),
> and hence the district was in order." (Book 11,
> "Identifying Upward")




The village head leads his village to emulate the district head, who
in turn leads his district to emulate the lord of the state. The lords
of states lead their people to emulate the Son of Heaven, who brings
order to all under heaven. The Son of Heaven is still fallible,
however, and so cannot be the highest moral paragon. Above him is
Heaven (*Tian*), to which the people must ultimately conform. In
the Mohist myth, politics is not distinct from ethics and religion, and
unlike in Hobbes, the sovereign's power is not absolute, for he must
answer to independent moral standards.



> If the people of the world all identify upward with the
> Son of Heaven but don't identify upward with Heaven, then disasters
> still will not go away. Now if in the heavens whirlwinds and bitter
> rain come again and again, this is how Heaven punishes the people for
> not identifying upward with Heaven. (Book 11, "Identifying
> Upward")




A distinctive feature of the theory is that, as might be expected
from the practical orientation of Mohist thought, moral education is
regarded as akin to teaching a practical skill, such as how to speak a
language. It is accomplished primarily by emulating the judgments and
conduct of moral exemplars, specifically how they distinguish right
(*shi*) from not (*fei*) and act accordingly. The basic
source of moral guidance is thus practical training in social norms,
which people are expected to master and extend to new cases. As in
language learning, social superiors teach chiefly not by dictating
rules or instructions, but by setting an example to be emulated and
then praising or correcting the learner's performance. Of course,
sometimes they will set forth explicit *fa* (models, rules), as
when the Son of Heaven issues the original order for everyone to
identify upward. But moral education is not seen primarily as a matter
of inculcating knowledge of rules, theoretical knowledge of the good,
nor the reflective habit of testing the maxims on which one acts
against the moral law. It is seen mainly as a kind of skill training.
The outcome of such training will be virtues, reliable dispositions to
distinguish right from not correctly in speech and action. As we saw
earlier, such dispositions constitute the Mohists' basic conception of
knowledge.


### Critical Assessment




Aspects of the Mohist political system are plausible and
psychologically insightful. Consensus in moral judgments is indeed
likely to yield social order, and moral education is probably a more
effective device for ensuring compliance with ethical standards than
laws and punishments alone. Most people probably are motivated to do
what they think is right, and moral education may be an effective tool
for channeling their good intentions. Model emulation is indeed a
powerful educational process, as any parent knows, and many of our
values and judgments are in fact learned by following the example of
admired role models. Social coherence, peer pressure, and the approval
of superiors are important motivational factors even for critical,
reflective adults. The system might succeed in achieving a high degree
of social order and stability, which would benefit everyone in society.
The Mohists' state of nature myth thus provides at least a *prima
facie* instrumental justification of their vision of the state.




Yet the system's authoritarian bent raises serious worries. The
success of the system depends heavily on the moral character of the
rulers. What if their judgment is wrong or misinformed? How can they
be prevented from abusing their power by imposing pernicious,
self-serving norms? The Mohists have several answers, of varying
persuasiveness. The first is their version of the traditional Chinese
doctrine that the sovereign rules by the mandate of Heaven (*tian
ming*). Heaven will punish a corrupt ruler by causing him to be
overthrown. Second, the sovereign and other leaders do not create the
standards of right and wrong, but only exemplify, teach, and enforce
them. Independent moral standards are provided by Mohist ethical
theory, to which subordinates can appeal if their leaders are mistaken
or corrupt. These independent criteria are explicitly incorporated
into the third version of the political theory (Book 13), which
specifies that people are to promote "care and benefit" to
the clan, state, and world, instead of merely conforming to their
superiors' judgments of "right" and "not."
Third, the Mohists hold that facts about moral psychology prevent
malicious abuse of the system, for it will collapse in the hands of a
corrupt ruler. People must see that leaders govern fairly and in the
interest of society as a whole, or they will resist the system and
"ally below" against their superiors. The unified moral
norms will disintegrate, rewards and punishments will lose their
effectiveness, and disorder will ensue. Since this outcome is
antithetical to everyone's interests, including the ruler's, even a
self-interested leader has a motive to govern virtuously.




A further worry is that the Mohist political system implements a
kind of command morality, in which subordinates do nothing but
mindlessly follow their leaders, who decide for them what is right and
wrong. This concern seems unfounded, however, for the sovereign's
original edict makes subordinates responsible for criticizing their
superiors if they err. Clearly, those on the lower levels of the social
hierarchy are expected to have the capacity to exercise independent
judgment. The Mohists do tend toward a form of social, behavioral
psychology and do not say enough about individual moral deliberation.
But the aim of their system is education, not passive obedience. Their
notion of a unified morality is two-sided. In one respect, subordinates
must conform to their superiors, who lead and educate them, but in
another, those above must conform to those below, for the system works
only if the people genuinely approve of their leaders' decisions.




A third worry, to contemporary eyes probably the most serious, is that
the Mohists' notion of a unified morality and their conception of
social order (*zhi*) are disturbingly totalitarian. The Mohists
are probably right to hold that social stability requires consensus on
at least a minimal set of moral norms -- one that rules out murder and
theft, for instance -- and that a strong government is needed to
enforce such norms. The Mohist movement originated during an era of
turmoil and violence, and it is possible that their conception of a
unified morality is intended to comprise only the minimal moral
standards needed to preserve social harmony. But the scope of the
norms they envision seems much broader than this. Indeed, it
seems to cover all value judgments whatsoever -- all distinctions
between "right" and "not" (*shi* and *fei*). To the
Mohists, one suspects, even a moderate degree of diversity in how we
draw such distinctions counts as social, moral, and even intellectual
"disorder" (*luan*). The natural objection, for contemporary
liberal readers, is that social order doesn't require total consensus
on values. It can be achieved through agreement on a limited, norms of justice, which leaves individuals free to determine other
values for themselves. The Mohist system unduly restricts individual
liberty, the objection would run, and in fact the Mohists' own moral
ideal of inclusive care and reciprocal benefit among everyone might
best be satisfied by a political system that ensures extensive
individual liberty.




These concerns underscore the nearly complete absence of individualism
in Mohist thought. The Mohists presuppose a kind of communitarian
system in which the fundamental concern is the interests of society as
a whole, specifically social order (*zhi*), economic wealth,
and a large population. What is right for the individual is determined
by whatever *dao* (way) is right for society. The salient level
of moral choice is that of the society; individuals who desire to do
what is right are expected to take for granted that they should
conform to the *dao* that is best for society. The
individualist stance of the selfish, rational egoist does not occur to
the Mohists as an alternative to be addressed or refuted. Nor do they
see room for a distinction between public and private morality,
between values that everyone must share in order to maintain a stable
society and values about which individuals can disagree without
disrupting social harmony.




The Mohists devote little or no attention to the rights, liberty, or
equality of individuals, nor even to the question of what the most
fulfilling kind of individual life is. They simply assume that the
best life is one of adherence to *yi* (morality, duty) and thus
of promoting overall utility. The paradigmatic individual -- the
benevolent person (*ren ren*) -- is one who devotes himself to
"promoting the benefit of and eliminating harm to the world."
Legitimate individual interests are identified through the
individual's role in the social project. The Mohists, like the
Confucians, see individuals as largely constituted by the
hierarchical, relational social roles they occupy, such as ruler or
subject, father or son, elder or younger brother, male or female,
elder or youth, or member of a family or community. It is primarily as
occupants of such roles that individuals have ethical norms to follow
and interests to pursue.




This communitarian focus is a major point of contrast with Western
social contract theories and utilitarian political
theory. Utilitarians and social contract theorists (excepting perhaps
Rousseau) typically treat individuals' interests as primary and
construct social good out of individual good. The state is justified
because it promotes individuals' rights and interests better than any
alternative. For the Mohists, by contrast, the state is instrumentally
justified because social order (*zhi*) is an intrinsic good,
sought by all, and government by a hierarchy of moral leaders is
needed to achieve it.




Indeed, as we might expect from their communitarianism, the Mohists'
conception of *zhi* (order) contains the seeds of an argument
that the state is intrinsically justified as well. The Mohists most
often use *zhi* in a narrow sense, to refer to harmonious
family and social relations. But some Mohist texts -- mainly the
triad devoted to the doctrine of "Heaven's intent" -- use
*zhi* in a broader sense, in which it is identified with
*yi* (righteousness, morality) and *zheng* (good governance), which
in turn is taken to require a hierarchical political system
administered by the noble and wise. The texts thus imply that the
Mohist political system is not merely an instrument for producing
utility, but is itself a component of the goods that constitute moral
right and thus is intrinsically justified. Of course, even if we allow
the Mohists to identify "morality" with
"order" and "order" with their preferred form
of political organization in this way, their line of argument
justifies at most only the existence of the state, not the state's
promulgation of a totalitarian, all-encompassing norms of conduct. 




Mohist political theory probably strongly influenced later Warring
States political thinkers, such as the Confucian Xunzi and his two most
famous students, the realpolitik theorist Han Fei and the statesman Li
Si, political architect of China's first empire. Yet this strand of
authoritarian political thought did not lack critics. The Mohist
conception of social order (*zhi*), along with those of Xunzi
and Han Fei, epitomize views that are attacked sharply in ancient
Daoist texts such as the *Daodejing* and *Zhuangzi*. By
contrast, some parts of the *Zhuangzi* imply a relatively
liberal political stance, on which individuals would probably be
allowed the maximum amount of liberty compatible with avoiding social
conflict.


### Promoting the Worthy




As we have seen, the theory of "conforming upward" argues
for a centralized state with a hierarchical, tightly organized
bureaucracy. The other prominent Mohist political doctrine,
"promoting the worthy," contends that to ensure the
success of the state in securing wealth, a large population, and
social order, appointments to the bureaucracy must be based on ethical
merit and professional ability. Talented commoners should be
considered for office as well as those from elite backgrounds
(particularly kinsmen of the ruler). This doctrine is partly a
response to new administrative challenges arising from population
growth, economic expansion, and interstate military rivalry, which
called for a move beyond the traditional feudal system and the
development of a more specialized, professional cohort of government
officials. It is also a reaction against nepotism and incompetence and
an appeal for greater equality of opportunity for those of non-elite
origin, such as the Mohists themselves.




Above all, however, the doctrine is an important complement to the Mohist moral education
and incentive system, an integral part of the implementation of the unified moral norms the Mohists see as crucial to social order and political legitimacy. For the system to work, it must be perceived as applying consistent, unified norms to promote and reward the worthy while offering a fair opportunity for advancement to all. Otherwise, those below will may be unable to identify with the system and thus may see no
reason to emulate their superiors or cooperate with the state. 
Consistent with their communitarian orientation, the Mohists' defense
of equality of opportunity does not rest on the individualist view
that, other things being equal, people intrinsically deserve to be
treated similarly. The argument is rather that the utility of the
state and society is promoted by employing the most qualified
candidates, without regard for their social background, both because of their competence and because the state must be publicly perceived as enforcing unified, consistent standards. 


## 7. Ethical Theory




Early Mohist writings have a practical, not theoretical orientation.
The Mohists wrote political tracts aimed at persuading rulers,
officials, and gentlemen to adopt their ethical and political
doctrines, not abstract inquiries into ethical theory. In the course of
arguing for their doctrines, however, they present a loose yet
sophisticated form of consequentialism, an updated version of which
would merit critical attention today. The leading principle -- or as
they think of it, *fa* (model, standard) -- of their ethics is
that people should have an attitude of "inclusive care" (*jian
ai*) toward others and in their interactions seek to benefit
(*li*) each other. In this way, we promote "the benefit
of all under
 heaven."[13]




The Mohists do not attempt to ground all ethical values or judgments
on a single, fundamental good or principle, such as happiness or the
moral law. Instead, plausibly, their theory is based on a loose notion
of human welfare comprising a plurality of basic goods. Nor do they
suggest that the ethical standards they propose will automatically
resolve all moral problems, without the need for practical wisdom or
trade-offs between goods. But they do hold, again plausibly, that a
reflective, self-aware moral life demands that we develop some form of
normative theory, some account of what practices are right and wrong
and the reasons why.




The Mohist ethical theory bears a similarity to rule utilitarianism,
but is probably better characterized as "practice consequentialism" or,
even more appropriately, "*dao* (way) consequentialism." For the
Mohists, as for other classical Chinese thinkers, the salient unit of
human activity and the focus of ethical reflection is not individual
acts but *dao* (way), a general notion referring to a way,
style, or pattern of life or of performing some kind of activity.
*Dao* may be very broad in scope, including practices,
institutions, and traditions, along with the rules, techniques, styles,
attitudes, and dispositions associated with them. Since, as a way of
life, a *dao* includes dispositions, and thus virtues, Mohist
consequentialism incorporates some of the characteristics of motive
consequentialism.




The Mohists' primary concern, then, is not to provide a theory by
which to judge whether particular acts are right or wrong, but to
identify "the *dao* (way) of the benevolent (*ren*) and right
(*yi*)." To the Mohists, the defining feature of this
*dao* is that it promotes the welfare or "benefit"
(*li*) of and eliminates harm to everyone in society.
"Benefit" is the general standard of moral permissibility.



> The task of the benevolent is surely to diligently seek to
> promote the benefit of the world and eliminate harm to the world and
> to take this as a model (*fa*) throughout the world. Does it
> benefit people? Then do it. Does it not benefit people? Then
> stop. (Book 32, "Condemning Music")




Some passages in the texts go beyond the simple distinction between
what does and does not benefit people to recognize differences in
degree. The extent to which an act is right or wrong is determined by
the degree to which it benefits or harms others: "The more one injures
another, the greater his unbenevolence, and the more severe the crime"
(Book 17, "Condemning Aggression"). Typically, however, the moral
problems the Mohists discuss concern general practices, such as funeral
customs and warfare, not specific acts. The early texts are vague as to
how the standard of benefit (*li*) is to be applied in
specific cases that do not fall neatly under one practice or
another.




Unlike the classical utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill, Mohist
consequentialism seeks to promote not individual happiness, but a range
of goods, many of them public or collective. The general notion of
"benefit" refers to an objective list of three sorts of goods: material wealth, a
large population or family, and social order. These goods provide
relatively concrete moral criteria. Practices and institutions that
tend to advance them are benevolent and righteous; those that do not are
malicious and wrong.



> Might it be that, supposing we model ourselves on their
> statements, use their plans, and have rich burials with prolonged
> mourning, this can really enrich the poor, increase the few, secure
> the endangered, and bring order to the disordered? Then this is
> benevolent, righteous, and the task of a filial son. In planning for
> others, it is unacceptable not to encourage it. The benevolent will
> promote it throughout the world, establish it and make the people
> praise it, and never abandon it.
> 
> 
> On the other hand, suppose that, modeling ourselves on their
> statements, using their plans, and having rich burials and prolonged
> mourning, this really cannot enrich the poor, increase the few, secure
> the endangered, and bring order to the disordered. Then this is not
> benevolent, not righteous, and not the task of a filially devoted
> son. In planning for others, it is unacceptable not to discourage
> it. The benevolent will seek to eliminate it from the world, abandon
> it and make people deem it wrong, and never do it. (Book 25,
> "Moderation in Burial")
> 
> 
> 




Consequentialist arguments based on one or more of these goods are
used to justify nine of the ten core Mohist doctrines, including the
fundamental moral principles of inclusive care and rejecting
aggression. The tenth doctrine, "Heaven's intent," elucidates the
justification for the consequentialist theory itself. (We will consider
this doctrine below.)




Of the three goods, the Mohists' concept of "order" (*zhi*)
calls for special attention. This is a complex good comprising a
variety of conditions the Mohists probably regard as constitutive of
the good social life. From passages in which the Mohists characterize
*zhi* (order) and its opposite, *luan* (disorder,
turmoil), the elements of "order" seem to include at least four
sorts of conditions.


1. All levels of society conform to unified moral standards, and
incentives and disincentives based on these standards are administered
fairly by virtuous leaders, as described in Mohist
 political theory.
2. Peace, security, and social harmony prevail, characterized negatively as the
absence of crime, deceit, harassment, injury, conflict, and military
aggression.
3. Members of society manifest virtues constitutive of the proper
performance of their relational social roles as ruler or subject,
father or son, and elder or younger brother. Order obtains only when
the ruler is benevolent, his subjects are loyal, fathers are kind, sons
are filial, and elder and younger brothers display brotherly love and
respect. (Like much ancient thought, Mohism has a sexist bias, and with
few exceptions the texts disregard the social roles of women.)
4. Community members habitually engage in reciprocal assistance and
charity, sharing information, labor, education, and surplus goods and
aiding the destitute and unfortunate.




In summary, "benefit to the world" is a general conception of
welfare comprising social harmony and public security; economic
prosperity and a thriving population and family; reciprocal cooperation
among neighbors and charity for the needy; and good social relations,
manifested in the exercise of virtues corresponding to the fundamental
social roles.




This list of goods calls for several observations. First, though
Mohist texts frequently state that the duty of the benevolent person is to
promote benefit for all of society, the characterizations of "benefit"
and "order" the texts give suggest that in itself the Mohist ethical
theory does not call for selfless altruism. Rather, what is envisioned
amounts to respect for others' lives, property, families, and political
sovereignty and reciprocal assistance and cooperation among community
members. Altruistic charity is required only in cases of special
hardship.




Second, the prominence of virtues associated with fundamental social
roles indicates that the Mohists, like the Confucians, attach great
importance to certain paradigmatic social relationships, probably
seeing them as forming the basic framework of society. A flourishing
society will be one in which these social roles are performed properly
and wholeheartedly. Hence the Mohists view flourishing instances of
these relationships as partly constitutive of social order
(*zhi*) and thus of benefit (*li*). Intriguingly,
however, what the texts identify as goods are not the flourishing
relationships themselves, but the role-specific virtues manifested by
the persons bound together in them. This is probably because the
Mohists see sincere, proper, fulfilling relationships as constituted by
the practice of these role-specific virtues. The virtues are not simply
a means to good relationships; their exercise is part of what it is to
have a flourishing relationship of the relevant type. A morally
admirable ruler-subject, father-son, or elder-younger brother bond is
just one in which both parties exercise the relevant virtues -- in
which the ruler manifests benevolence and the subject loyalty, for
example. For the Mohists, then, social order is partly constituted by
the exercise of these virtues by persons in the relevant social roles.
Accordingly, since these virtues are among the intrinsic goods of their
ethical theory, the Mohists think it is intrinsically morally admirable
and right to be a good brother, son, father, subject, or ruler.




If correct, this interpretation has interesting consequences.
Despite their commitment to the principle of "inclusive care," or moral
concern for all, the Mohists evidently agree with the commonsense view
that we have a greater ethical responsibility toward those with whom we
have close personal relationships, and in practice we should care for
them first. For in order to be a kind father or filial son, for
example, we must give our children or parents preferential treatment
over others. "Benefit to the world" includes good family relationships,
and such relationships require special loving emotions toward and
treatment for family members. Contrary to a common misperception,
Mohist ethics does not advocate that we treat everyone alike, but only
that we have similar moral concern for everyone. (We will explore this
point further in the next subsection.)




Finally, the role of virtues in Mohist ethics suggests that a suitably
revised version of their theory might be immune to an important
criticism of modern moral theories such as utilitarianism. The
criticism is that in focusing on abstract principles of justification,
modern theories have tended to overlook the crucial role of motivation
in the ethical life. Indeed, a theory that fails to adequately account
for moral motivation may be self-defeating. For example, if my motive
in giving a friend a birthday present is not friendship and affection,
but a general desire to promote the greatest happiness of the greatest
number, I may only succeed in disappointing and offending her, and
thus actually reducing the amount of happiness in the world. To
succeed in making others happy, we typically need to be motivated not
by the greatest happiness principle, but by attitudes such as love,
concern, or respect for them as individuals standing in particular
relationships to us. To have such attitudes, of course, is just part
of what it is to be benevolent, loyal, kind, filial, and brotherly. So
by including these virtues among the goods that provide its
fundamental ethical justifications, the Mohist theory may have the
resources to avoid an untenable split between justification and
motivation. It is possible that Mohist ethics may help to provide
insights -- whether positive or negative remains to be seen
-- into how to incorporate virtues into an adequate normative
 theory.[14]


### Inclusive Care




The ethical guideline for which the Mohists are most well known is
*jian ai*, sometimes translated as "universal love" but probably
better rendered as "inclusive care." *Jian* (together, jointly)
in this context has the connotation of including everyone in society
together within a whole. Like the English 'care',
*ai* (love, care) is ambiguous, since it may refer to a range of
attitudes from strong affection to detached concern. In Mohist texts
the word typically seems to refer to a dispassionate concern about the
welfare of its object.




Inclusive care was generally not the doctrine that attracted
criticism from the Mohists' contemporaries. Ancient critics objected
mostly to their frugal, austere lifestyle, opposition to music, and
plain burial practices, which recognized no differences in social rank.
Little was said about their core ethical doctrines. The exception was
Mencius, who is reported to have equated inclusive care with renouncing
one's father (for this reason, he dismissed Mozi as a "beast"). Many
later Confucian critics have followed Mencius in focusing on inclusive
care, maintaining that it runs counter to human nature. The doctrine
deserves careful attention, partly to evaluate this criticism and
partly to draw philosophical lessons from how the Mohists apply the
notion of impartiality that stands at the heart of their ethics.




In its complete form, the Mohist doctrine is that people are to
follow the *fa* (standard, model) of "inclusively caring for
each other, and in interaction benefiting each other." As the full
phrase suggests, the Mohists see the psychological attitude of care and
the beneficial behavior that results from this attitude as two sides of
a coin. They may hold that the presence of one is a sufficient
condition for the other. Yet an important difference between the two is
indicated by the adverbs in the two parts of the slogan. The attitude
of care is all-inclusive, encompassing everyone. Beneficial behavior is
not all-inclusive, but directed only at those with whom we actually
 interact.[15]
 In practice, then, the slogan does not
call for self-sacrificing altruism, but mainly for us to interact with
others in a reciprocally beneficial way.




The Mohists offer two sorts of arguments to justify inclusive care.
One, which we will treat shortly, is that inclusive care is
 Heaven's intention.
 The other, applied in all three of the "Inclusive Care" texts, is by
appeal to its good consequences. Social harm arises from excluding
other people, families, cities, and states from the scope of moral
concern. This exclusion leads to injury, crime, violence, and failure
to practice the virtues associated with the fundamental social
relations. By contrast, were we to practice inclusive care, we would
eliminate these harms and promote "benefit to the world." Or so argues
the following passage, which interprets inclusive care as the attitude
of being "for" -- that is, concerned for the sake of --
others' interests just as we are "for" our own.



> 
> That being so, then what is the reason that inclusion can replace
> exclusion? He said, "Suppose people were for others' states as
> for their state. Then who alone would deploy his state to attack
> others' states? One would be for others as for oneself. Were people
> for others' cities as for their city, then who alone would deploy his
> city to assault others' cities? One would be for others as for
> oneself. Were people for others' clans for their clan, then who alone
> would deploy his clan to disorder others' clans? One would be for
> others as for oneself. That being so, then states and cities not
> attacking and assaulting each other, people and clans not disordering
> and injuring each other, is this harm to the world? Or is it benefit
> to the world? Then we must say, It is benefit to the world."
> 
> 
> 
> 
> "If we try to fundamentally investigate what these many benefits
> are produced from, what are they produced from? Are they produced from
> detesting others and injuring others? Then we must say, It's not
> so. We must say, They are produced from caring about others and
> benefiting others. If we demarcate and name caring about others and
> benefiting others in the world, is it 'exclusion'? Or is it
> 'inclusion'? Then we must say it is 'inclusion.' That being so, then
> doesn't this interacting by inclusion turn out to produce great
> benefit to the world?" Thus our Master Mozi said,
> "Inclusion is right (*shi*)." (Book 16,
> "Inclusive Care")
> 
> 
> 




The Mohists contrast inclusive concern with an attitude they call
"exclusion" (*bie*, distinguishing or separating off as
"other"). This attitude is not, as sometimes thought, one of
distinguishing differences of degree in our concern for others,
according to the closeness of their relation to us. Indeed, the Mohists
never seriously consider that
 alternative.[16]
 Rather, *bie*
refers to "despising and hurting others," excluding them from moral
consideration altogether. So the Mohists' case is for inclusive care as
against complete disregard for others. We can grant that their
arguments establish that *bie*, or excluding others from all
concern, is morally wrong, and that inclusive care has good
consequences and is thus benevolent and permissible. But if their aim is to
show that inclusive care is obligatory, then the Mohists are posing a
false dilemma. A different ethical guideline might promote "benefit to
the world" equally or more effectively, without the stringent demand
that everyone be as concerned for others' interests as for their own.
Alternatively, instead of criticizing the Mohists for trading on a
false dilemma, we could say that their arguments justify inclusive
care, but only in the weak sense that we are obliged to be morally
concerned for everyone to at least some degree. The question then is,
to what
 degree?[17]




When we look to the texts for specifics of what inclusive care
demands, the answer is not obvious. What we find is a disparity
between statements describing the attitude of inclusive care and
concrete examples of its practice. In theory, inclusive care is
apparently equal concern for all. The passage quoted above, for
example, describes it as being concerned "for others as though
for oneself." Another text tells us that "the *fa*
(model) of inclusively caring for each other and in interaction
benefiting each other" is "to regard others' states as
though regarding one's state, regard others' families as though
regarding one's family, and regard other persons as though regarding
one's person" (Book 15). Adopting this as a moral *fa*
(model, standard) probably involves doing two things: striving toward
the ideal of caring about others' lives, families, and communities to
exactly the same degree as we care about our own, and in the meantime,
acting as if we in fact already cared about them equally.




If this interpretation is correct, the doctrine is probably
untenable. Most human beings are naturally inclined to feel sympathy
for others, including strangers, and thus to care to some degree about
their welfare. But it would take a heroic feat of social engineering to
get us all to care about strangers exactly as much as we care about
ourselves and those close to us. And even with the proviso that we need
benefit only those with whom we actually interact, the standard of
equal care for others would seem to carry with it impossibly high
practical demands.




Oddly, then, the consequences and examples of inclusive care
described elsewhere in the texts suggest that the practical
requirements of the doctrine are not especially burdensome. Indeed, the
specific examples given largely conform to what many citizens of
contemporary Western liberal democracies would consider commonsense
moral decency. The actual practice of inclusive care seems to demand no more
than the absence of harm or hostility to others;
virtuous performance of our social roles as ruler, subject, father,
son, or brother, thus contributing to the welfare of our family and
community; helping friends and neighbors in need; and assisting the
elderly, solitary, and orphaned, who have no family to care for them.
Since lacking a family is identified as the main reason people are
likely to need assistance, we can infer that the Mohists take the
family to be the primary institution for meeting people's needs, and
that in practice inclusive care normally involves caring chiefly for
our own family. The only individuals expected to work equally on behalf
of everyone are government leaders, who are responsible for benefiting
all of their subjects. So we find a gap between the description of
inclusive care as the attitude of caring equally for everyone and the
practical examples in the texts. The latter suggest that inclusive care
does not require extensive self-sacrifice or altruism, but is mainly a
matter of looking after our family, neighbors, and community and not
interfering with others as they attempt to do the same.




The later Mohist texts provide an explanation of this disparity,
though one might dispute whether we are justified in reading the later
doctrine into the earlier essays. Fragments preserved in the *Da
Qu*, Book 44 of the *Mozi*, maintain that we are to care
equally for everyone, but to benefit some people more and others less,
depending on the nature of their relation to us. Equal care does not
entail equal treatment. How we treat people is determined by the notion
of righteousness (*yi*), which is based on intrinsic goods such as
social order (*zhi*), the Mohists' conception of which, as we
saw above, entails that we do more for those standing in close
relationships to us. The later Mohist view is roughly that attributed
to a Mohist named Yi Zhi in a dialogue in the *Mencius* (3A:5):
"In care, no degrees; in practice, begin from what is close."


### Practical Objections




As political and moral reformers, the Mohists were concerned not
only to justify the doctrine of inclusive care, but to persuade
everyone in society to adopt and practice it. This aim induces a number
of practical problems concerning moral reform and motivation, some of
which are raised in a series of objections discussed in the "Inclusive
Care" texts. The main point of the Mohists' response to these
objections is that inclusive care is consistent with most people's
existing motives and values, so we already have the motivation needed
to practice it.




The first and most obvious objection is that inclusive care is too
difficult. In response, the Mohists claim that in fact it is far less
difficult than other deeds rulers have led their people to perform in
the past, such as sacrificing their lives, limiting their diets, and
wearing rough clothing. Inclusive care seems difficult only because
people don't recognize that it is to their long-term benefit. If, as
Mohist political theory proposes, institutions are set up to encourage
cooperation and prevent abuse, then "within a generation" people can be
led to practice it, because several existing lines of motivation will
converge to support it. First, people naturally tend to emulate admired
and respected leaders, so if rulers encourage inclusive care, people
will tend to practice it. Second, rulers can institute rewards and
punishments so that practicing inclusive care is in everyone's
short-term self-interest. Third, people naturally tend to reciprocate
good treatment, so caring for and benefiting others is in our long-term
self-interest. The Mohists' case here is reasonably persuasive,
provided we keep in mind that they are focusing on the practice of
reciprocal benefit, not the psychological attitude of equal concern,
and that the practical demands of inclusive care are not especially
taxing.




The second objection is that inclusive care is practically
impossible. The reply is that it is possible, because the sage-kings
actually practiced it. The texts cite purportedly historical examples
to show that the sage-kings ruled fairly and impartially, performed
public works projects that benefited everyone, brought peace to
society, and ensured that the needy were provided for. Again, these
examples tend to suggest that the crux of, and perhaps a sufficient
condition for, the practice of inclusive care is beneficial actions,
not the psychological attitude of equal care for everyone.




A third challenge is that inclusive care cannot be "used,"
referring most likely to implementing it as a policy people can
follow. (Generating benefits when put into use as a social policy
is the third of the three models the Mohists
propose to evaluate statements or teachings.) The Mohists present a
pair of hypothetical scenarios intended to show that people committed
to caring for their own and their family's welfare would prefer
inclusive care as a policy to be followed by those around them, since
we would all prefer to live under the rule of or entrust the care of
our family to someone who practices it. That is, acting from an
existing motive that nearly all people share--protecting one's
own and one's family's welfare--people select inclusive care as a
*dao* to be followed by those around them, and therefore it
indeed "can be used." The Mohists criticize opponents who
raise this objection for a practical contradiction: In their
statements, they reject inclusive care, but in practice, they would
select it as a social *dao*, just as the people in the
hypothetical scenarios do. Interestingly, this criticism works only
because the writers assume that the issue at hand is the choice of a
*dao* (way), a universal, social system of norms of conduct. They seem to
assume that all of our choices and actions issue from such norms. Thus they hold that in preferring inclusive care in others, we
commit ourselves to it as a code to be observed by all, including
ourselves. To them, the stance of a rational egoist who prefers that
everyone else, but not he, practice the *dao* is
incoherent.




The last objection considered is that inclusive care may fail to
benefit one's parents and thus interfere with filial piety. The
Mohists' response is that a filial son would desire that others care
about and benefit his parents. An effective way to achieve this end,
they contend, is by caring for and benefiting others' parents, leading
others to reciprocate in kind. (Here, as in their reply to the first
objection, the Mohists make the plausible assumption that humans have a
natural tendency toward reciprocity.) Psychologically, then, inclusive
care is consistent with our existing motivation to care for our
parents, while morally it is justified as an indirect means of
benefiting them.




Because these arguments are directed at opponents who resist the
more optimistic aspects of Mohist moral psychology, they appeal mainly
to self-interest and the interest of one's in-group, motives the
writers assume are reliably shared by everyone. Other Mohist texts
present a fuller picture of moral motivation. Its central premises are
that people tend to be strongly committed to doing what they think is
right, they tend to desire the basic goods that follow from the
practice of inclusive care, they tend to follow political leadership
and seek peer approval, and with the exception of miscreants
responsible for social disorder, they tend to seek not only their own
self-interest but the interest of their family and community. Hence
most people already possess strong moral motivation and some degree of
empathy for others. Moreover, because they desire to be good, or
*ren* (benevolent), they are prepared to accept the force of
the better normative reason (*gu*, also "cause,"
"basis") in discussion.



> Benevolent people inform each other of the patterns by
> which they select or reject, deem right or deem wrong. Those who lack
> a reason follow those who have a reason. Those who don't know
> something follow those who have knowledge. Lacking remarks to offer in
> their defense, they surely submit; seeing good, they surely reform.
> (Book 39, "Condemning Confucianism")




What is needed to get most people to act morally, then, is mainly
education and normative arguments, which will help them to correctly
identify what is right. Such arguments will convince them to guide
their actions by the *fa* (model) of "regarding others as though
regarding oneself," and this *fa* will in turn strengthen the
habit of acting out of sympathy for others' interests.


### Justification and the Role of Heaven




The Mohists justify their consequentialist ethics by appeal to the
intention of Heaven (*Tian*), which they believe provides an
objective criterion of morality. Among their reasons for obeying
Heaven's intention are gratitude for its gifts, fear of punishment,
and their belief that it is the noblest, wisest moral agent in the
cosmos. Here we will examine this third, philosophically more
interesting rationale, setting aside for the moment Heaven's role as
an object of
 religious worship
 and enforcer of moral
order.




The crux of the Mohists' appeal to Heaven is that as the highest,
wisest moral agent, Heaven conducts itself in a way (a *dao*)
that unfailingly sets an example of correct ethical norms. Its
intentions are consistently or reliably benevolent and righteous. To obtain an
objective criterion of moral right and wrong, then, we can observe
Heaven's conduct and notice the norms it is committed to and
enforces. Heaven's intention can serve as a fundamental
ethical *fa* (model, standard), one that is clear and easy for
anyone to apply, just as a craftsman's measuring tools are.



> 
>  
> 
> Thus our Master Mozi's having Heaven's intention, to give an analogy,
> is no different from the wheelwright's having a compass or the
> carpenter's having a set square.... Above, he uses it to measure how
> the kings, dukes, and great men of the world administer the penal
> codes and government; below, he uses it to gauge how the myriad people
> of the world engage in writings and studies and present statements and
> discussions. Observe their conduct; if it follows Heaven's intention,
> call it good intentions and conduct; if it opposes Heaven's intention,
> call it bad intentions and conduct. Observe their statements and
> discussions; if they follow Heaven's intention, call them good
> statements and discussions; if they oppose Heaven's intention, call
> them bad statements and discussions. Observe their penal codes and
> government; if they follow Heaven's intention, call them good penal
> codes and government; if they oppose Heaven's intention, call them bad
> penal codes and government. So he sets this up as a *fa*
> (model), establishes this as a standard, and uses it to measure the
> benevolence (*ren*) and unbenevolence of the kings, dukes,
> great men, secretaries, and ministers in the world, and, to give an
> analogy, it is like dividing black from white.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Thus our Master Mozi said, "Now the kings, dukes, great men, officers,
> and gentlemen of the world, if, within, they really desire to follow the
> *dao* (way), benefit the people, and fundamentally examine the
> root of benevolence (*ren*) and righteousness (*yi*), then
> it's unacceptable not to follow Heaven's intention. Following Heaven's
> intention is the *fa* (model) of righteousness (*yi*)." (Book 27,
> "Heaven's Intent")
> 
> 
> 




Though the Mohists themselves do not draw the distinction, we can
identify two interrelated roles that Heaven's intention plays. On the
one hand, it serves as a criterion of what is morally righteous and thus a
basis for ethical justification. In the passage above, for example, it
is used to evaluate whether actions, statements, and practices are
morally right. On the other hand, it also serves as a practical moral
guideline. In practice, we can test particular actions or types of
conduct against it to determine how to proceed. "Having taken Heaven as
*fa*, we must measure our movements and conduct against Heaven.
What Heaven desires, do it; what Heaven does not desire, stop" (Book 4,
"Models and Standards").




Why is Heaven's intention a reliable ethical standard? The Mohists
give a number of moral reasons. As we saw
 earlier,
 they argue that unlike any particular human role model or cultural or
historical standard, Heaven is reliably *ren* (benevolent), because
it is impartial, benevolent, and enduring. They further claim that if
we examine "that from which righteousness (*yi*) issues," we find
that "righteousness issues from Heaven" (Book 27, "Heaven's
Intent"). They support this conclusion by running through a quick
circle of extensional
equivalences. Righteousness is good government, because a necessary and
sufficient condition for social order is that righteousness obtain in the
world. In good government, the noble and knowledgeable govern the ignorant and
common. Moral righteousness thus "issues from" the noble and knowledgeable, in
that it obtains only in circumstances in which they rule. Heaven is
the noblest and most knowledgeable, so righteousness issues from it.




To follow the right *dao*, then, we can emulate Heaven and
learn to conform to the norms it follows. Of course, we are not
deities and so cannot imitate Heaven's actions directly. But we can
observe its actions, deduce its desires and intentions, and then
conform to those. And what we find is that Heaven desires that people
care for and benefit each other (Book 4). It desires that righteousness
(*yi*) prevail, and thus desires life, wealth, and social order
for people (Book 26). Indeed, it desires all of the goods posited by
Mohist ethical theory, including peace and security, social harmony and
cooperation, economic sufficiency, and the practice of the virtues
associated with the key social roles (Book 27). We know Heaven desires
these things because its actions show that it cares for and benefits
everyone without discrimination. It is benevolent, providing all
people with life, sustenance, and natural resources. It enforces
morality by avenging crimes against the innocent. It rewarded the six
ancient sage-kings, who cared for and benefited the people, and
punished the four tyrants, who despised and hurt the people. It
possesses all the people of the world as a ruler possesses his
subjects, and thus it cares about everyone, just as a ruler cares
about his subjects.


 In short, Heaven itself desires the goods the Mohist ethical
theory adopts as criteria of what is morally right. That theory is
thus correct, the Mohists think, because it captures the ethical norms
followed by Heaven, the wise, impartial, and benevolent agent at the
apex of the cosmic political hierarchy, to whom all people should
"identifying upward".




This appeal to a conjunction religious beliefs about Heaven and the political
doctrine of "identifying upward" has led some scholars to suggest that
Mohist ethics might ultimately be a form of divine command theory.
Drawing mainly on the claim that Heaven is "that from which righteousness
issues," for instance, Soles (1999) contends that for the Mohists,
"What makes Heaven's commands right is the mere fact that Heaven
commands them" (p. 46). Without question, a few passages in the texts
urge people to conform to moral norms specifically because doing so is
Heaven's intention, and the doctrine that obedience to Heaven brings
reward and disobedience punishment is redolent of a divine command theory.
Moreover, these religious beliefs are crucial to the Mohist worldview,
and an inaccurate, distorted picture of their thought results if we
neglect them.




Still, there are strong grounds for denying that the Mohists hold a
divine command theory. First, the texts never analyze, define, or
explain the notion of righteousness (*yi*) in terms of Heaven's
intention. To the contrary, all four of the texts about Heaven's
intention assign it an epistemic role, as a test or criterion by which
to distinguish right from wrong. They argue that Heaven's intention
can be taken as a model (*fa*) or canon (*jing*) of
righteousness (*yi*). This claim asserts an extensional
equivalence, not an analysis, definition, or exposition. The point is
that Heaven's intention and 'righteousness' distinguish
the same things, not that what is righteous is so because it is
Heaven's intention. Even the claim that righteousness "issues
from" Heaven need not be read as implying anything stronger than
that a righteous society can exist only when people all follow the
model or example set by Heaven's intentions and conduct.




Second, and more important, the Mohists give independent moral reasons
to support their claim that Heaven's intention is a reliable moral
guide. Their grounds are not simply the religious belief that Heaven
must be obeyed because it is a deity or because it punishes
disobedience. Rather, they argue that Heaven is a guide to what is
benevolent and righteous because it is a supremely noble, wise,
impartial, benevolent, and reliable agent. Their reasons apply
evaluative concepts of benevolence, righteousness, good government,
and social order (*zhi*) that are independent of Heaven's
intention. To support their contention that Heaven desires what is
righteous (*yi*), for example, they characterize righteousness
as comprising life, wealth, and order and claim that Heaven desires
these. Phrased in terms of the *Euthyphro* dilemma, their
stance is fairly clear: What is righteous is not righteous
*because* Heaven intends it. Rather, Heaven intends it because
it is righteous. Heaven's conduct and intentions exemplify moral norms
that hold independently of its intent.




Given how the Mohists' conception of Heaven fits into the framework of
their ethics, the appeal to Heaven to justify and explicate their
normative stance risks circularity. Their conception of Heaven is in
effect that of a morally ideal sovereign, whom they characterize as
wise or all-knowing, all-embracing, benevolent, generous, and
impartial. The Mohists imply that the correct moral norms are those
that such an agent would follow or intend that human beings
follow. The problem is that the characteristics they build into this
conception of an ideal agent are just those they already hold should
be articulated by a satisfactory ethical theory, such as impartial,
benevolent concern for the welfare of all. Arguably, then, the appeal
to Heaven does not justify Mohist ethics so much as simply illustrate
or articulate it. 




A potential problem with the appeal to Heaven arises from the way the
Mohists' concept of a *fa* (model) runs together the notions of
a criterion of righteousness, a practical guideline, and a role
model. The idea of objectively justifying our practices and standards
of conduct by appeal to the abstract, decontextualized stance of an
ideally impartial and benevolent agent is at least *prima
facie* plausible. But the Mohist theory risks confusing this with
the much less plausible idea that in practice we should guide our
conduct by emulating a benevolent deity who cares impartially for
all. In effect, they conflate the idea of seeking an impartial
justification for our actions, which are taken from within a
particular, and thus necessarily partial, context, with that of
adopting an impartial point of view, but one that, impossibly, is
abstracted from any particular context. In some contexts, Mohist
arguments are careful to avoid conflating these points, but in others
they verge on identifying the attitudes of the benevolent person with
those of Heaven itself. 


### Critical Assessment




The basic structure of the Mohist ethical theory is simple yet
profound. At its base stands the notion of impartial concern for the
benefit of all, as epitomized by the point of view of Heaven, an
ideally benevolent, impartial agent who cares equally about everyone's
welfare. From this foundation, the Mohists develop a consequentialist
account of the benevolent (*ren*) and the righteous (*yi*) in
terms of a set of goods that constitute benefit or welfare. Community
practices are justified by their instrumental value in promoting the
welfare of all. The theory recognizes that individuals exist within a
web of social relations, which partly define their identities and
duties, and that strong social relationships are a crucial part of
human welfare. It assigns virtues a role in guiding action and in
constituting good social relations. The theory is loosely formulated,
inelegantly expressed, and supported by arguments that to modern
readers may in places seem rudimentary or simplistic. Still, coming at
the beginning of the philosophical discourse of ancient China, it
represents a quantum leap in theory construction and argumentation in
comparison to earlier Confucian discourse. Moreover, the general type
of consequentialist approach it lays out remains a well-regarded
option in ethical theory today.




The strong point of the Mohist theory is that it grounds moral
righteousness (*yi*) on two key notions, impartiality and human
welfare. Yet the major defects of Mohist ethical thought lie precisely
in how these ideas are handled. The locus of impartiality is
misplaced, and the conception of human welfare is too narrow. 




The problem with the Mohists' treatment of impartiality is that they
locate it in the attitude of moral concern, instead of in the
justification for our actions or practices. Their approach to finding
objective, impartial ethical norms is to advocate that each individual
be impartially motivated by equal concern for all. We are to conform
to the standard of "regarding others as though regarding oneself" or
to model ourselves on the God's-eye stance of Heaven. But in practice
we cannot possibly act for all others as though acting for ourselves,
and unlike Heaven, we are rarely in a position to act on behalf of
everyone. So the Mohists fail to articulate a conception of impartiality that
is viable in practice. Impartial, equal concern cannot defensibly be
advocated as the ideal ethical motivation of individual agents.




One plausible response to this problem would be to develop a form of
rule or practice consequentialism. The Mohists could apply their basic
standard of righteousness -- what "promotes benefit to and eliminates harm from
the world" -- as a criterion by which to justify a social *dao*
(way), or set of practices and norms, that best promotes everyone's
welfare. These impartially justified practices and norms could then
guide action in particular situations. In practice, of course, the
Mohists adopt roughly just this approach. They advocate equal care for all,
but allow that how we actually treat others will vary depending on our
relation to them. According to the later Mohist texts, where this
doctrine of equal care but different treatment is presented explicitly,
our treatment of others will be guided by standards of *yi*
(righteousness), which probably articulate practices the Mohists think
best promote the welfare of everyone in society.




The hitch is that such a practice-consequentialist approach is
unlikely to support the Mohist doctrine of equal care for all.
Presumably, in line with the compelling points in the Mohists'
arguments, the norms and practices justified by this approach would
lead individuals to adopt the attitude of *inclusive* care, and
so to include everyone within the scope of their moral concern. But the
consequentialist standard of promoting everyone's welfare probably
would not demand that each of us realize the attitude of *equal*
care, or equal and impartial concern for everyone. Rather, both
treatment and care would probably be allowed to vary with relationship
and context, provided that a basic minimum standard of concern --
perhaps only non-interference, basic courtesy, and help in emergencies
-- were met for strangers to whom we have no special relation.




To this, the Mohists might respond that we should still practice
equal care, because it is the way of the sage-kings and the intention
of Heaven, the highest moral exemplar, and its practice produces great
benefit for the world. The Mohists recognize no distinction between
obligation and supererogation, and perhaps their religious beliefs
convince them that the best life is one that most fully complies with
Heaven's desire that we care for and benefit others. Also, as the
*Zhuangzi* passage
 quoted earlier
 attests,
many Mohists particularly revered and emulated Yu, the most
self-sacrificing and altruistic of the sage-kings.




But it is probably false that the general practice of equal care
would yield the most benefit for the world. Setting aside emergencies
and the special duties of highly demanding jobs such as sage-king, it is likely that the
Mohists' own basic goods are best promoted not only by treating those
closest to us differently from others, but by caring about them more,
too. The idea of disconnecting care from treatment is counterintuitive.
In particular, it seems unlikely that we could genuinely exercise the
virtues associated with the key social relations without also caring
more about the people to whom we are related. It is hard to envision
someone really being a loyal minister or kind father without also
caring more about his ruler or children than a stranger's. Moreover,
tremendous practical problems would be involved in training everyone to
care equally for all, requiring a vast expenditure of effort and wealth
on ends that could be achieved just as well by the practice of
inclusive, but unequal care.




The second major defect of Mohist ethical thought is its excessively
narrow, material conception of human welfare or benefit
(*li*), which comprises little more than material
well-being and peaceful, harmonious social relations. With a handful
of exceptions, Mohist ethics dismisses aesthetic value and overlooks
the psychophysical fulfillment achieved through the exercise of
acquired skills--goods that are central to the Confucian and
Daoist ways of life. Little attention is devoted to individual
happiness or fulfillment or to articulating a conception of
well-rounded human excellence. Moreover, the Mohist conception of
morality can at times seem aggressively one-sided and burdensome. One
passage in the *Mozi* presents a conception of ideal human
flourishing as a life of complete devotion to moral duty:



> When silent, ponder; when speaking, instruct; when acting,
> work. Make these three alternate and surely you will be a sage. You
> must eliminate happiness and eliminate anger, eliminate joy and
> eliminate sorrow, eliminate fondness and eliminate dislike, and use
> benevolence and righteousness. Your hands, feet, mouth, nose, and ears
> undertaking righteousness, surely you will be a sage. (Book 47,
> "Valuing Righteousness")




Their thin conception of human welfare may be one reason some
Mohists saw a life of altruistic self-sacrifice as the way of the
sages. If satisfying basic material needs is sufficient to secure our
welfare, then once those needs are met, we have little
worthwhile to do but help others.




To be fair, however, the Mohists' minimalist conception of welfare may
have been a reasonable response to the difficult social and economic
circumstances in which they lived, particularly as representatives of
sub-elite social classes. Their texts imply an environment in which
hardship due to poverty, poor harvests, cold, hunger, or war is never
far off. So naturally they focus on the basic goods needed for
physical and economic security: a stable government, material wealth,
strong family bonds, and charity to neighbors in need. Mohism is in
effect a refugee ethic, born from hard times, that values material
welfare and parsimony above all else. Their doctrine of "Moderation in
Use" advocates eliminating all luxuries--particularly
those of the aristocracy--and reducing consumption of food,
clothing, and housing to the minimum level needed for basic
comfort. If conditions are really as harsh as the Mohists imply
-- a premise that Xunzi, a friend of the aristocracy, will deny
-- then their narrow focus is defensible, and in arguing that
elaborate musical shows and burial practices are wasteful and immoral,
for instance, they are on firm ground. The problem is that the Mohists
never reflect on the possibility that in more prosperous and
egalitarian conditions, music and other cultural activities could be
valuable contributions to human well-being.




If Mohist ethics faces a problem of moral motivation, it is probably
because their impoverished conception of human welfare excludes too
much that people genuinely value. When the *Zhuangzi* criticizes
the Mohists for "going against the heart of all under heaven," it is
not referring to inclusive care, but to their severe, frugal lifestyle.
As Xunzi said, "Mozi was blinkered by utility and did not recognize adornment"
(*Xunzi*, Book 21, "Dispelling Blindness").


## 8. Religion




The Mohists' religious beliefs play a central part in their
thought, providing a foundation for their view that an objective
moral code obtains in the cosmos and thus perhaps much of the
motivation for their way of life. Though brief, their descriptions of
their beliefs and practices provide a rare direct glimpse into the
religion of one portion of the sub-elite populace of ancient China.




Like much traditional Chinese religious thought, Mohist beliefs are in
effect an extension of the social and political system to incorporate
relations with a personified conception of nature and various
sentient, intelligent entities with whom humans share the natural
world. The Zhou dynasty nature deity *Tian* (Heaven, nature,
the sky) is the counterpart (and superior) in this extended system of
the human sovereign. Other elements include the Shang dynasty high
god *di* and a variety of ghosts and spirits, from those of
deceased human ancestors to those of natural, geographical features
such as mountains and rivers. The various beings that constitute this
personified natural setting enforce morality by rewarding the worthy
and punishing the wicked. Humans view them as objects of respect,
gratitude, and fear, sacrificing animals and offering millet and wine
to feed and placate them and to seek their blessings.




At the pinnacle of the cosmic sociopolitical hierarchy stands *Tian*.
*Tian* created humans, set the sun, moon, and stars on their
regular paths through the sky, fashioned the landscape, and
established the four seasons and weather so that crops could grow. It
provides people with the sustenance and natural resources by which
they live. It established government to watch over people and
administer rewards and punishments. All people are its subjects and
owe it veneration and gratitude for its many gifts. It reigns
virtuously over the human emperor -- the "Son of
*Tian*" -- as a kind of cosmic sovereign and all-seeing,
all-powerful policeman. As the highest, noblest, and wisest moral
agent, it embodies correct moral norms and thus serves as a role model
by which to judge the morality of practices and actions.




It is often convenient to translate *Tian* as "Heaven," a word
that similarly refers to both the sky and a deity. Yet *Tian*
is dissimilar from the Judeo-Christian conception of God or Heaven in
several ways. *Tian* does not exist outside of time, space, or
nature, nor is it considered perfect or unchanging. It is not the
creator of nature, but rather *is* nature, or part
thereof. (Combined with '*di*' (earth), the word
'*tian*' forms the compound
'*tian-di*' (sky-and-earth), which refers to the
natural world.) *Tian* is personified as a sociopolitical
authority, but it is considerably less anthropomorphic than the
Judeo-Christian God. It has desires and intentions, and it speaks, but
only as if thinking to itself, not directly to humans. *Tian*
generally does not inform humans of its desires or intentions by
revelation (though in crises it may dispatch a spirit envoy, such as a
fantastic talking bird). Rather, we must discern them for ourselves by
observing its behavior. Humans sacrifice to *Tian*, but usually
do not pray to it or address it directly. However, we do have an
implicit agreement with
*Tian* that if we conform to its desires, it will reward us in
turn. Specifically, care for and benefit to others will be rewarded,
contempt and injury punished.




The Mohists have no concept of religious salvation or of another realm
to which we go after death. (*Tian* is of course not a
transcendent place or realm but an embodiment of nature.) When people die,
they become ghosts, which exist within the natural world. Unlike in
Christianity, people are not rewarded or punished in the next world
for their deeds in this one. Rather, the Mohists insist that
*Tian* and the ghosts will reward and punish people while they
are alive. As one might expect, this belief was strongly challenged by
the Mohists' opponents, who pointed out instances in which it is at
odds with everyday experience. Unfortunately, the Mohist responses to
these criticisms in the end amount mainly to ad hoc excuses.




Despite the genuine tone of reverence in the Mohists' descriptions of
*Tian*, some readers find Mohist religion to lack the sense of
holiness, religious awe, and spiritual transcendence that contemporary
Westerners customarily associate with religion, particularly in
contrast with Confucian appreciation of the beauty of ritual or Daoist
wonder at the mysteries of nature. The mundane tone of their religious
thought is perhaps partly due to the Mohists' general disregard of
aesthetic and cultural value. Yet it would be indefensibly parochial
to expect them to conform to a modern Westerner's conception of
religiosity, since the comparatively mundane character of Mohist
religion is typical of much traditional Chinese folk religion. In
fact, the Mohists are deeply dedicated to maintaining harmonious,
reverential relations with *Tian*, ancestral ghosts, and nature
spirits, and both their rhetoric and practices devote much energy to
religious veneration. 


## 9. Historical Influence and Decline




The Mohists can be credited with a number of significant philosophical
achievements, including China's first ethical and political theories
and history's earliest form of consequentialism. They strive for but
do not quite achieve a viable account of an impartial, objectively
justified moral code. Both their insights and their errors are of
great philosophical interest. Their ethical theory has important
defects, but one of its major strengths is that these could probably
be remedied without abandoning the basic structure of the theory.




Mohism never achieved a position of dominance or orthodoxy, but at
its peak in the 4th and 3rd centuries BCE, no school was more
influential. This status is attested by no less an authority than
Mencius, who lamented that "the statements of Mo Di and Yang Zhu
[another rival thinker] fill the world," and by the attention Xunzi
devotes to refuting Mohist economic doctrines. Though their importance
is routinely slighted in Confucian-biased accounts of Chinese thought,
the Mohists articulated much of the theoretical framework of early
Chinese epistemology, logic, political theory, and ethics. Their ideas
were a crucial stimulus for Mencius, Xunzi, the Daoists, and the
so-called "legalist" political thinkers, all of whom either borrowed
Mohist ideas or developed their own views partly in reaction to them.
One sign of the Mohists' status is that their shared critics typically
paired them with the Confucians (*Ru*) as a bloc, referring to
the two as *Ru-Mo*, the two "moralizing" schools devoted to
*ren* (benevolence) and *yi* (righteousness). Confucianism owes an
unacknowledged debt to Mohism for its notion of comprehensive moral
concern, as reflected, for instance, in Mencius's doctrine of extending
our natural concern for kin so that it reaches everyone. The phrase
"inclusive care" begins to appear in Confucian texts toward the end of
the Warring States era -- a late passage in the *Xunzi* refers
to "comprehensive benefit and inclusive care" (Book 25) -- and by the
Han dynasty, we find the Confucian Gongsun Hong explaining the virtue
of *ren* (benevolence) in explicitly Mohist terms, as "extending
benefit and eliminating harm, inclusively caring without partiality"
(*Han Shu*, Vol.
 58).[18]




With few exceptions, Chinese thought after the Han turned away from
the Mohists' epistemological, semantic, and logical interests to focus
on moral metaphysics and moral psychology, thus passing over what might
have been their chief legacy. Hence Mohism is sometimes depicted as a
splinter movement not genuinely representative of the Chinese
philosophical tradition. This view is false and anachronistic, however.
Much of what is plausible or intriguing in Mohist thought directly
reflects concepts, assumptions, and problems that were elements of
mainstream Warring States intellectual discourse.




Following the unification of China under the Qin dynasty
(221-207 BCE), the Mohist movement declined, eventually
vanishing altogether by the middle of the Western Han (206
BCE-24 CE). After Confucianism won imperial favor in 136
BCE, Confucius gradually came to be venerated as China's greatest
sage. Mozi and his school fell into neglect and obscurity, their texts
largely unread. Centuries later, the bulk of the *Mozi* was
nearly lost to history, surviving only because it had been copied into
a massive collection of Daoist scripture. Interest in Mohism revived
only late in the Qing dynasty (1644-1911 CE), when scholars,
stimulated partly by contact with the West, went looking for untapped
intellectual resources in their own tradition, particularly materials
related to science and logic.




A number of factors can be cited to explain Mohism's decline and
disappearance. Graham is probably right, for instance, to suggest that
after the Qin unification, the Mohists lost the political influence
they had exerted as expert craftsmen and defense specialists who
helped smaller states survive during the Warring States era (1989,
p. 34). But the major factor is probably that as a social and
philosophical movement, Mohism gradually collapsed into
irrelevance. By the middle of the former Han dynasty, the more
appealing aspects of Mohist thought were all shared with rival
schools. Their core ethical doctrines had largely been absorbed into
Confucianism, though in a modified and unsystematic form. Key features
of their political philosophy were probably shared with most other
political thinkers, and their trademark opposition to warfare had been
rendered effectively redundant by unification. The philosophy of
language, epistemology, metaphysics, and science of
the later
 Mohist Canons
 were recorded in difficult, dense texts
that would have been nearly unintelligible to most readers (and that
in any case quickly became corrupt). What remained as distinctively
Mohist was a package of harsh, unappealing economic and cultural
views, such as their obsession with parsimony and their rejection of
music and ritual. Compared with the classical learning and rituals of
the Confucians, the speculative metaphysics of Yin-Yang thinkers, and
the romantic nature mysticism and literary sophistication of the
Daoists, Mohism offered little to attract adherents, especially
politically powerful ones.




The Mohists helped to articulate much of the framework of classical
Chinese philosophical discourse while advocating a way of life so at
odds with most people's conception of the good life that it stood
little chance of ever inspiring a wide following. The school had
always shown undue enthusiasm for radical, simplistic
positions. Unwilling or unable to modify their doctrines or to develop
new positions in response to their changing social and intellectual
setting, the Mohists probably died out in the imperial era because
their Warring States reformist social and political platform had
become obsolete.