Series on the History of Philosophy, Pt. 18
Mozi’s 10 Ways to Improve a State
The San Biao and the Ten Theses
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Welcome to Part 18 of the series! The first 17 parts are here:
In this entry let’s go back to the beginning of the Warring States period to follow another philosophical line of thought almost as old as Confucianism — founded by a man named Mozi.
Like many others, Mozi despised the political chaos of his time — though he blamed Confucian philosophy for a lot of those ills. He devised an alternative philosophy that he believed could actually bring peace to the land and improve any State that adopted it. In what follows, I’ll trace the main ideas of that philosophy and let you be the judge of its merits.
Mozi (c. 470 — c. 391 BCE)
Not much is certain about Mozi’s background. Some accounts claim he was a disenchanted Confucian from the state of Lu, others characterize him as being born into a noble family in the state of Song. Since the Chinese word “mo” means “ink-line,” the most widely accepted story is that he was a petty military officer from Song who had been tattooed for some transgression. Tattooing, especially on the face, was a common punishment for criminals in ancient China.
Robert Eno explains it thusly:
The notion that Mozi was a commoner who had fallen afoul of the law fits with the rhetoric of the text that he and his followers compiled… it is likely that most of Mozi’s followers were commoners, perhaps principally the sons of peasants and artisans who had been drafted into the endless wars of the era…During the Warring States period, the Mohists were organized in tight-knit paramilitary bands… Mohist groups made careers of racing from one area of China to another, offering their services to rulers whose states were under attack.
In other words, we might think of Mozi and his followers as an ancient Chinese analog to the protagonists of that 80s television show “The A-team.”
Mohist thinking held significant influence during the Warring States period… although by the time Sima Qian was compiling his Records of the Grand Historian for the Han dynasty a few centuries later, its sway had all but vanished.
A lot of that had to do with Mencius’s criticisms, which we saw in Part 11. Although… at least some of it is probably due to later Mohists shifting their attention from ethics to logic — which was the main focus of the Míng Biàn philosophers.
For over two centuries, Mohism was the main philosophical rival to Confucianism. As H. Gene Blocker puts it:
Mozi opposed Kongzi [Confucius] on several grounds, but three stand out as most important:
A) right action is determined by its practical consequences and not, as Kongzi had urged, because duty requires it;
B) one should not privilege members of one’s own family; and
C) we should not base our ethics on the assumption that there is an eternal, universal human nature [as Mengzi did], but on our ability to transform people into moral individuals through education and law.
The Book of Mozi is another one of those classical Chinese texts that’s surrounded by uncertainties. An early table of contents discovered by archeologists shows that it once contained 71 chapters — though 18 of those are now lost. Also, it is unclear if any of the text was written during Mozi’s lifetime. The oldest parts comprise 32 chapters in the middle of the work and are often called “the core text.” They present ten trios of chapters devoted to what they call the 10 theses, or shí lùn [十論], of their master, plus two chapters devoted to criticizing Confucianism. Ten of those chapters are among those that were lost. In fact, if the Mozi text hadn’t been included in a Daoist compendium (known as the Daoist Canon) from the 4th c. CE, it likely would have been lost altogether.
Nobody knows WHY 4th c. Daoist monks preserved the Mozi. Maybe they found echoes of their own philosophy there (although the Mozi doesn’t speak of a metaphysical Dao). Maybe they appreciated its focus on the welfare of the common-folk. Maybe they just wanted to preserve a text that was so critical of Confucianism — their chief philosophical rival.
Historians have placed the core text (which likewise includes writings from several distinct periods) somewhere between 431 and 334 BCE, based on historical references contained therein. Whether or not Mozi himself espoused the ten theses attributed to him is unknown, but by the middle of the 4th c. BCE, it seems, Mohism had developed into a systematic philosophical movement large enough to rival Confucianism and built around these principles.
For this reason, we’re going to treat the ten theses as central to Mohist philosophy, regardless of whether or not Mozi created them. If you’d like more details on these textual issues, I’d recommend checking out the work on Mozi and the Mohist tradition done by Chris Fraser — who is perhaps the leading English-speaking authority.
A 3-Part Test for Truth
Mozi offers a 3-part test [sān biǎo 三表] to see if a principle is worth adopting.
As the Mozi text explains:
Master Mozi said: One must set up a gauge. Speaking without such a gauge would be like determining sunrise and sunset on the basis of a spinning potter’s wheel. One could never come to know clearly the difference between right and wrong, benefit and harm. Thus one must speak in accordance with the sān biǎo. What is meant by the “sān biǎo”? Master Mozi said: There is “verifying the root,” “verifying the origin,” and “verifying the utility.” (Mozi, Bk 9, ch. 35)
Verifying the Root [Precedent] — Is it as effective as the deeds of ancient sage-kings?
This wasn’t a call for textual evidence so much as an appeal to the efficacy of traditional authority. All classical Chinese philosophies made appeals to the “way of the former kings and sages,” but Mozi seemed to admire them NOT because they were good or wise, but because they brought peace to the land.
Verifying the Origin [Evidence] — Do the common people hear and see its utility?
This was not a call for empiricism so much as an appeal to the authority of the masses. Mozi thought a principle was only worth adopting if it made a difference in the streets, i.e. in the lives of the common people.
Verifying the Utility [Application] — How beneficial is it to the state once put into governmental policy?
This was not a call for practicality as much as an appeal to promoting the Mohist ethical agenda. Western commentators have often characterized Mohism as a kind of liberal consequentialism, in the vein of the 19th century British philosopher J.S. Mill.
This is a bit of a mischaracterization, however.
While Mozi certainly promoted the well-fare of the people, and his thought might be considered a KIND of consequentialism for its emphasis on the practical effects of an action, he offered very little room for nonconformity or dissent. If it helped the people, it was right, and therefore EVERYONE must accept it, even if entailed one’s own detriment. This seems to run contrary to some of Mill’s deepest commitments — found as much in his On Liberty as they are in his Utilitarianism.
The Ten Theses of Mohism
Based on this three-part litmus test, the early Mohists developed 10 theses:
1. Exalting the Worthy (尚賢 shàngxián)
Like the Confucians, the Mohists advocated for a type of meritocracy — i.e. rule of the “best” — but, unlike the Confucians, the Mohists associated merit with fiscal effectiveness rather than benevolence, military prowess rather than scholarly acumen, and uniformity in the application of policies rather than situational “appropriateness.”
As Chris Fraser explains: “The purpose of government is to achieve a stable social, economic, and political order (zhi) by promulgating a unified conception of morality (yi).”
2. Exalting Unity (尚同 shàngtóng)
Simply put, dissent isn’t beneficial to the State. The way to ensure such unity is to build moral education around the practice of following the example of superiors — or, “upward conformity.” As long as those in charge are meritorious, then the chain of command/social hierarchy will serve to ensure conformity.
3. Universal Love (兼愛 jiān’ài)
This is likely the most famous of the 10 theses. The idea is to “love all equally” — but, this its a far cry from some hippie-era sentiment for the Mohists.
In Fraser’s words: “To achieve social order and exemplify the key virtue of ren (humanity, goodwill), people must inclusively care for each other, having as much concern for others’ lives, families, and communities as for their own.”
Robert Eno quotes a story to illustrate how rigorously jianai was applied:
There was in the state of Qin a Mohist master named Fu Tun whose son murdered a man. King Hui of Qin (r. 337–311) said, “You are old, Sir, and you have no other sons. I have already ordered the officers not to execute your son. I pray that you will permit me to spare your boy.” “The laws of the Mohists,” replied Fu Tun, “say: ‘Murderers shall die and those who inflict injury shall be maimed.’ This law prevents people from committing murder and assault. Preventing the commission of murder and assault is an act of great righteousness. Your Majesty may wish to grant me the gift of sparing the life of my son, but I cannot do other than carry out the laws of the Mohists.” And so he refused the King’s offer and his son was executed. A son is one’s dearest personal possession. To bear to have what is dearest to one killed in order to implement righteousness — Fu Tun may indeed be termed one who acted in the interests of all.
We’ve already seen in the Analects how Confucius would have disagreed: “in my state uprightness is different. Fathers cover up for their sons, and sons cover up for their fathers.” (Bk. XIII.18) That kind of partiality is what the Mohists saw as the main flaw in Confucian thought. As H. Gene Blocker puts it:
Mozi argued that the world’s ills stemmed from the fact that people loved each other “partially”; for example, you love your mother and your countrymen more than you love my mother and my countrymen. The cure for the world’s ills is therefore embracing universal, “impartial” love, in which everyone loves everyone else equally.
4. Against Warmongering (非攻, fēigōng)
In other words, avoid offensive war.
The Mohists thought military aggression was 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.
Tradition holds that Mozi worked tirelessly to end the bloodshed among the Warring States by offering his services in defensive tactics. One story tells of how he walked day and night for 10 days straight to arrive at a state planning an offensive campaign. Once gaining an audience with the ruler and his general, Mozi demonstrated how he could successfully counter each one of the general’s offensive stratagems.
The general then announced that he knew how he could defeat Mozi, but he would not say it.
Mozi announced he knew what the general had in mind, but also wouldn’t say it.
When the ruler demanded to hear what they were withholding, Mozi explained that the general was probably thinking that if he killed Mozi there on the spot they could emerge victorious. But, Mozi pointed out that his band of 300 followers were already stationed at the target village and could deploy his tactics without him. The ruler called off the assault and let Mozi go.
5. Economy in Expenditures (節用 jiéyòng)
The Mohists saw the lavish ritual and ceremony of the Confucians as a waste of State resources.
6. Economy in Funerals (節葬 jiézàng)
Because of the Confucian emphasis on family reverence (see Part 10) funerals were often the MOST lavish of the rituals performed in ancient China — but they also were instances of exclusive love, which violates the 3rd thesis of Universal Love.
That’s a Mohist double-whammy!
7. Heaven’s Will (天志 tiānzhì)
Although we’ve already noted in past entries how tiān is often used in a sense that’s closer to our concept of Nature — the Mohists come the closest to imbuing with a moral agency that approached divinity. According to Chris Fraser: “Heaven is the noblest, wisest moral agent, so its intention is a reliable, objective standard of what is morally right (yi) and must be respected.”
We see this in Book 7 of the Mozi text:
Whoever possesses righteousness in the world lives; whoever lacks righteousness dies. Whoever possesses righteousness is wealthy; whoever lacks righteousness is poor. Whoever possesses righteousness is orderly; whoever lacks righteousness is disorderly. Thus Heaven desires life and hates death, desires wealth and hates poverty, desires order and hates disorder. This is how we know that Heaven desires righteousness and hates unrighteousness.(Mozi, Bk 7, Ch. 26)
In other words, to the Mohists it would have been inconceivable that bad things could happen to good people.
If something bad happened it meant either: 1) the victim wasn’t TRULY good, 2) the event wasn’t as bad as it seemed, or 3) the bad was necessary to bring about some future good.
8. On Spirits (明鬼 míngguǐ)
The Mohists thought everyone should believe in ghosts.
Regardless of the existence or non-existence of ghosts, the Mohists thought belief in ghosts was beneficial to the State because it inspired people to do good through fear of punishment or hope for reward.
9. Against Music (非樂 fēilè)
Music is a luxury best avoided.
The humane (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.
10. Against Fatalism (非命 fēimìng)
Although its tempting to see this thesis as the Chinese equivalent of a free-will objection to determinism — Mozi probably had different fish to fry.
What he was actually railing against was a common “defeatist” belief that one’s lot in life (wealth or poverty) or the politics of a State (chaos or order) was something that couldn’t be altered through human action. The worry was that if people believed their actions had no bearing on their moral worth or well-being, they would give up trying to do good.
And, as we’ve already seen above, human agents still constrained in many ways (by Heaven, by spirits, by social welfare) under a Mohist program. So this thesis is more about moral striving and negotiating with external forces than it is about will or causation.
From Mozi to Mao Zedong
There’s a troubling assumption about modern Chinese politics that’s still pretty common, viz. that contemporary Chinese political effects can be traced back to ancient ideological causes.
For instance, in many post-Mao writings, the development of communism is often attributed to the collectivism found in the writings of Confucius.
Yet, one of the main principles of Mao’s political platform was a rejection of traditional ideals — particularly Confucian ones. So, such ideological reductionism could never fully account for the rise of communism in China.
That being said, it should be noted that Mao himself hailed Mozi as the “true philosopher of the people” and called him both “The Grand Master of Dialectical Materialism” and a “Chinese Heraclitus.”
It’s hard to say how much influence Mozi’s philosophy actually had on Mao, but… for years Mao had searched for a philosophical foundation to his “Sinicized” Marxism and he eventually promoted a historian and Mozi-expert by the name of Chen Boda to Deputy Secretary General of the Chairman’s Office of the Central Military Commission.
This effectively made Chen the chief theoretical aide to Mao.
Mao believed the best way for the Chinese people to skip over the capitalist phase of development and move directly into a socialist state was to shift revolutionary impetus from the working class to the peasants.
Through re-education and party purges, Mao ensured that any other interpretation of Marx was quickly silenced.
As the Sino-Japanese war broke out in 1937, the Communist Party was almost as powerful as the ruling Nationalists (KMT). Realizing this, leaders sought to mend rifts among the two parties to present a unified front against the Japanese invaders.
However, after four years of accord, the Nationalists turned on the Communists for allegedly failing to comply with military orders. For the remaining four years of the war, the Communists, Nationalists, and Japanese all fought one another for land control. By 1944, the Chinese forces had retreated from nearly every major industrial center.
The time was ripe for Mao’s provocation of the peasantry.
Nearly all Chinese civilians who fled the major cities — occupied by the Japanese — had lost what little they owned and when their numbers were added to the already struggling farmer-peasants, the people begging for an ideology like Maoism were legion.
Once the Japanese were forced to pull out of China, the Communists and Nationalists turned their attention toward one another. In 1947, fighting broke out in what we now call the Chinese Civil War, and although they were not as well armed, the Communists won in just under two years.
Mao and his subordinates established the People’s Republic of China in 1949.
That wraps up this entry. So, what do YOU think… do Mozi’s 10 Theses seem like ideas that might improve a State?
I’d love to hear your thoughts!
In Part 19 we’ll consider the legacy of Mohism and how it may have given rise to another school of thought known as the “School of Names.”
Hope to see you there.
