《南華真經義海纂微》Vol. 102

They did not pursue posthumous fame or squander the gifts of the world, nor did they flaunt ritual rules and institutions. Instead, they disciplined themselves by rules so they could meet the world’s urgent needs. One school of ancient Daoist arts advocated this approach. Mo Di (Mozi) and Qin Guli heard of it and took to it, but carried it too far. They followed it to its extreme, opposing music and promoting frugality.

Mozi advocated caring for all people and bringing benefit to everyone, thereby eliminating conflict. His teachings contained no spirit of anger, and he was eager to learn and widely knowledgeable. His doctrine formed a school of its own, yet differed from the Way of the former kings. The Yellow Emperor had the music “Xianchi”; Yao had “Dazhang”; Shun had “Dashao”; Yu had “Daxia”; Tang had “Dahu”; King Wen had the music of Biyong; and King Wu and the Duke of Zhou composed the “Wu” music.

In ancient times, funeral rites reflected distinctions of rank, with different grades of ceremony: the Son of Heaven had a coffin with seven layers, the feudal lords five, high officials three, and scholars two. Mozi, however, advocated that people sing no songs while alive and wear no mourning clothes after death. He prescribed a paulownia-wood coffin only three inches thick, with no outer coffin, and made this the rule. To teach people this way can hardly be called caring for them; to live by it oneself can hardly be called cherishing oneself.

Although Mozi’s doctrine did not fall into decline, songs were no longer sung as songs, laments no longer sounded like laments, and music no longer sounded like music. Could this truly accord with human nature? To toil while alive and then receive a meager burial after death: this doctrine is too harsh. It makes people sorrowful and distressed, and is difficult to put into practice. It can hardly be the Way of the sages; instead, it runs counter to the hearts of people everywhere. The people of the world cannot bear it. Even if Mozi could bear it alone, what could he do about everyone else? Once he separates himself from the people of the world, he is far from the kingly Way.

Mozi praised the Way of the ancients, saying: “Long ago, Yu controlled the floods and opened up the rivers, connecting the four quarters and the Nine Provinces. There were three hundred great rivers, three thousand tributaries, and countless smaller streams. Yu himself carried baskets and wielded a plow, traveling back and forth to manage the rivers throughout the land. His thighs had no fine hairs, and his calves were bare. Though heavy rain drenched him and fierce winds battered his head, he never stopped working as he brought order to the myriad states. Yu was truly a great sage—he wore himself out to such an extent.”

For this reason, many later Mohists wore coarse clothes and straw sandals, and labored without rest day and night, taking self-imposed hardship as their highest standard. They said: “If you cannot do this, you are not following Yu’s Way and do not deserve to be called a Mohist.” Among them were Wuhou and others, disciples of Xiangli Qin, as well as the southern Mohists Ku Huo … (the original text ends here).

The disciples of the Mohist school descended from Deng Lingzi all recited the Mohist Canons, yet they diverged from one another in their doctrines and argued without end. The so-called “Separate Mohists” were the different factions within the Mohist school. They accused one another over dialectical questions such as “hard and white,” “same,” and “different,” while also agreeing with one another through statements that did not conflict. They acclaimed the “Grand Masters”—the leaders of the various Mohist factions—as sages. Each faction was willing to let its leader preside over the teaching, hoping in this way to continue the Mohist tradition. These differences remain unresolved even today.

Mo Di (Mozi) and Qin Huali had good intentions, but their conduct was not necessarily appropriate. If later Mohists all carried on in this way, they would surely torment themselves: their thighs would waste away until they had no flesh, and their calves would lose every hair, as they ceaselessly urged one another on. Can this really be called the best way to govern? In fact, it is a source of great disorder in the world, and one of the poorer methods of governance.

That said, Mozi truly was one of the rare people in the world who sincerely loved others. He pursued benevolence and would not give it up even when he could not attain it. Though he wore himself down until he was gaunt, he still refused to let go. He was a man of talent and virtue.

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: Excessive diligence and frugality leave people haggard; only when goods are plentiful do people have the strength to respond to emergencies. When people take everything too far and bind themselves too tightly, they cease to consider whether others can bear it. When supplies are insufficient, people struggle with one another. Mozi wanted the people to be diligent and frugal so that supplies would be abundant, and so he opposed conflict. He did not get angry; he simply kept restraining himself. Convinced that his own way was right, he wanted all things to be just like him.

The ancient kings allowed all things to differ from one another, then let them come into harmony naturally. Each thing received what it needed, without feeling that some method had forced it into place. Mozi rejected the ancient rites and music, considering them wasteful and extravagant. He argued that all things should act through their labor and in accordance with their natures, and that this was what it meant to love one another. But if frugality is made into a rule and carried to excess, then even if the intention is to make the world prosperous, it is not truly love for others.

Mozi established a doctrine of his own, but it did not accord with the Dao and De, or with the nature of all things. It was narrow and lacked generosity, leaving people distressed and sorrowful. It was difficult to put into practice and could not be called the Way of the sages. The Way of the sages lets the people each find joy by following their own nature; then nothing in the world is difficult to put into practice. A ruler, therefore, must make everyone in the world content, so that all things can develop together in accordance with their nature.

Mozi saw only the outward hardship of Yu the Great, not how Yu was inwardly at ease in his Way. He therefore mistook self-imposed toil for the fulfillment of principle. He clung to his convictions without regard for the conditions of the age, and so became the founder of the Mohists. The Mohists then divided into different factions. Their Grand Masters excelled at explaining the principles each faction upheld, in order to maintain and promote its doctrine. All were willing to honor their leader and continue the Mohist enterprise. Their intention was to oppose extravagance and prepare for emergencies in the world, but they went too far, and that was wrong. Nothing causes greater disorder than going against the nature of all things and harming their innate qualities. This is why their method of governance was inferior.

Mozi did have a sincere and generous heart. He valued the sages and worthies and did not intend to go against others. But his principles cannot be demanded of everyone. Even if people strive to follow them, they may not succeed, for few in the world can be like him.

Mozi (Mo Di) lived a severe and austere life and never gave up his principles. He was certainly a person of outstanding ability, but not a person of virtue.

Lü’s Commentary: When the early kings governed the world, they made their public reputation, rites and music, and the various institutions complete. Yet they did not boast of these achievements to later generations, squander the things of the world through extravagance, or make their rites and institutions showy and cumbersome. This was not because they inherently prized simplicity. Rather, they used rules to restrain themselves in order to meet the urgent needs of their age. This intention was indeed present in the ancient Daoist teachings.

The function of the Dao is to uphold what is constant while responding to the myriad changes. Mozi saw only the need to meet the urgent needs of his age, then treated that response as an unchanging rule. This is what is meant by “grasping just one aspect and taking oneself to be discerning.” He delighted in his own doctrine and refused to be like others. Mozi’s teachings, such as his opposition to music, and the practices he advocated all went too far; he held himself to them too rigidly.

The ancient sages set limits for rites and music, and prescribed ceremonies for mourning. Mozi, by contrast, taught that people should not sing while alive or wear mourning clothes after death. He departed from the early kings, discarded ancient rites and music, and carried frugality and austerity to this extreme. He did not merely fail to care for others; he failed to care for himself as well.

Mozi’s original aim was to love everyone and look after the interests of all. But he did not understand that people could not endure this way of life or willingly bear its hardships. His teachings were simple, and if he had avoided going astray, they might not have failed. Yet Mozi’s practice ultimately departed from the right path. Grief and joy are feelings that people cannot avoid, so the ancient sages established rites and limits for them. Mozi, however, demanded that people not feel genuine joy when singing and not fully express their sorrow when weeping. Can this really accord with human nature? He demanded that the living labor bitterly, while the dead receive only meager honors, leaving people distressed and sorrowful.

The ancient Daoist teachings did include the intention of meeting the urgent needs of an age, but Mozi took this too far. His way cannot be called the Way of the sages. Even if he himself could endure such a practice, how could he ignore the fact that people throughout the world could not? How far this is from the kingly Way—the right path by which the early kings governed the world!

In the past, Yu the Great labored to this degree when he faced the floods. This was precisely to meet an urgent need in the world. Mozi, however, treated this emergency measure as the ordinary way of life, and so he was wrong. The intention of working hard and living frugally to meet the urgent needs of an age was sound in itself. But Mozi took it too far: people throughout the world could not endure putting it into practice, and so it was wrong. His example would only spur later followers to compete in treating themselves harshly. Hard work and frugality are difficult to achieve, yet Mozi excelled at them. He was indeed a seeker of the Dao, rare in all the world. It would be difficult to find another like him; he may be called a man of great ability.

Yidu’s Commentary: After the Great Dao was lost, the various schools of thought emerged one after another. There were people like Mo Di and Hua Li, and people like Song Xing and Yin Wen. Later came Hui Shi and others, who debated among themselves in thousands of words. Zhuangzi criticized and refuted them in his writings, setting out his arguments broadly and clearly.

The Mohist teachings emphasized hard work and frugality, and opposed comfort, pleasure, and wasteful extravagance; they therefore established various rules and standards…

The Mohists did not pursue splendor or dazzling display. Instead, they restrained themselves by rules and standards, met the urgent needs of the world, and still had resources to spare. Thus, when Mo Di’s disciples heard his teachings, they gladly accepted them, but in the end carried them too far. The Mohists opposed singing because they believed people should not indulge in music while alive. They also advocated frugality, taking it as the right way. They rejected mourning clothes after death, seeking through this practice to spread their Way and make everyone self-sufficient. Opposing conflict, they disciplined themselves severely and refused to grow angry. Opposing deviant doctrines, they also demanded that everything conform to their own views. They widely promoted “upholding sameness”—bringing everyone’s opinions into agreement—and allowed no differences.

They slighted the living and treated the dead sparingly, discarded the ancient rites and music, and advocated not following the former kings. Since the time of the Yellow Emperor there had been the music of Xianchi, and the Duke of Zhou later composed the Wu music. These examples show that the claim that people should not sing while alive is wrong. In ancient mourning rites, everyone from the Son of Heaven down to the shi had an appropriate mourning period and dress. Shi also wore two layers of mourning clothes for their relatives. This, too, shows that the claim that people should wear no mourning clothes after death is wrong. The Mohists ultimately fell into decline; this shows that their teachings led in the end to failure. To treat singing as something one should not do, and weeping as something one should not do—is that really in accord with human feeling? If the Mohists alone hold to these views, how can they accomplish anything? They go against the natural patterns and changes of things, and their teachings are so harsh that people find them difficult to follow. They are far removed from the Way of the former kings.

The former kings shared the people’s hardships. Their way of bringing order to the world was rooted in human feeling: they did not deliberately pursue what was difficult to practice, nor did they seek to make everyone under Heaven conform to themselves. Long ago, when Yu the Great controlled the floods and opened channels through the rivers, he carried baskets of earth and wielded a digging spade himself, laboring in rain and hurrying through the wind. He worked so hard for the world that later generations imitated him and made self-mortification their highest standard. Yet Yu’s way of bringing order to the world was not the Mohist way. The problem arose from customs that took hold in later generations.

Among the Mohists were Xiangli Qin, Dengling Zi, and others. They memorized Mohist texts but contradicted one another and each held to a different doctrine. They studied together but had different aims; they challenged one another in debate and answered one another with words. They regarded the most skilled debater as a sage and hoped he would lead the school and pass on its teachings. Mozi’s diligence, frugality, and foresight in guarding against idleness are commendable, but excessive self-mortification is wrong. Their arguments are confused, yet they occupy positions of authority; they speak of good government, yet their own position is weak. The Mohists can truly be called the most eccentric school under Heaven; it is hard to find any school like them. Mozi’s abilities came close to those of Yu the Great, but his way of bringing order to the world was far from Yu’s, so its flaws were inevitable. Nor were such flaws confined to the Mohist school alone.

Bixu’s Commentary: The Mohist teaching rejects extravagance and display, and urges diligence and frugality to relieve the world’s urgent needs. But when frugality is taken too far, perhaps one person can practice it, while the many cannot. Opposing music, economizing excessively, grieving during life, and simplifying rites after death can all be said to go greatly against human feeling. Still, the Mohists’ universal care for people comes close to benevolence; their concern for everyone’s benefit comes close to righteousness; their opposition to conflict comes close to ritual propriety; and their refusal to give way to anger comes close to wisdom. The Mohists oppose deviant doctrines and widely promote “upholding sameness,” which also sets them apart from ordinary convention… (The original text ends here unfinished.)

Those who oppose the Way of the former kings disparage the ancient rites and music most fiercely. From the Xianchi, the Shao, the Huo, and the Wu, the ancient dance-music all used by the sovereigns of high antiquity, to the number of layers and the standards for coffins, all of these belong to the institutions of ancient ritual and music. Mozi (Mo Di, the founder of the Mohist school in the early Warring States period) held that one should not sing while alive, let alone listen to strings and bamboo instruments, and that one should not wear mourning garments after death, let alone bury the dead with pearls and jade. To hold oneself to such a standard runs against ordinary human feeling, and to teach others in this way is unduly severe, so that in the end it inevitably falls into the flaws of strangeness and unreasonableness. Singing, weeping, laughing, and entertainment are all true feelings that arise from human nature. Now Mozi negates them all and removes them entirely, which does not accord with the feelings of the world. When things are withered and lack moisture, they cause people sorrow and grief, and the multitude cannot bear this, yet Mozi alone is able to endure it. This runs against the true feelings of all under heaven and so departs far from the kingly Way.

Mozi revered Yu the Great, taking diligence and frugality as the foundation, and so praised his achievements in controlling the waters: Yu cleared the rivers of the realm, the waters of the nine regions were channeled and cleansed without obstruction, and he himself wore away the flesh of his calves and the hair on his legs with toil. These accounts only record the surface details of his work on the waters and do not grasp the subtle root of it. Later generations imitated him and took self-mortification as the highest standard, and some even cut open their skin and severed their limbs to seek merit. This too is a flaw of those who study Mozi. The disciples of Xiangli Qin, a later representative of the Mohist school, were the ones who ultimately ruined the Way of Mozi. They took skill in debate, broad learning, and grand discourse as orthodox, and so the school descended into the flaws of empty talk and the victory of cunning. To guard against urgent needs through frugality is right; to teach others through hardship is wrong. When later generations imitated and threw the Way into disorder, this was the greatest confusion, and what could be hoped for in governing the world? Yet although the Mohist teachings were diligent and sincere, no one under heaven could rival them. They strove for learning and fixed their aspirations, and their teaching could be compared with that of Confucius. They may be called outstanding among the gifted scholars, but the path they followed lost the proper course of Dao and De.

Lin Xiyi (Kuizhai, a scholar of the Song dynasty, whose commentary is cited here) says: Mozi did not teach later generations to be extravagant, and so did not adorn things with splendor or add to the luster of the myriad things through ritual and music. Mozi restrained oneself in order to correct the desires of the world. When the resources of the realm are abundant and sufficient, this refers to meeting daily needs through frugality; when people lack food and clothing, they then compete and fall into chaos. Later Mohists then suppressed themselves excessively, taking the doctrines of "Condemning Music" and "Economy in Expenditure" (both chapter titles of the Mozi) as their standard, regarding strife as wrong, and not regarding anger as the Way. Those who are learned yet differ from others expand their doctrines and honor uniformity, teaching people to love only themselves. Both sides lose the Way and are inhumane, and so it is said that they are "not of a kind." "Great hardness" is like "great simplicity," meaning plainness to the utmost, and such conduct is very difficult to achieve. To go against the minds of all under heaven while Mozi alone is content with this Way is to be out of accord with human hearts, and such a Way cannot be used to rule the world. That Mozi praised Yu the Great to the point of wearing out his own body and causing all under heaven to suffer along with him is precisely how the merit of Yu is described.

The opening passage, beginning “Nine readings, like cooing doves, work together in a mixed undertaking; the odd and even are originally different, yet it says…,” is damaged, so its meaning is difficult to determine.

The Mohists, in refusing to go against this principle, are merely forcing an argument. The Juzi—the leader of the Mohists—was the person who had achieved the most in Mohist learning, but no one like him can now be found. Even when utterly worn down, he continued to put the Mohist Way into practice; he can be called a man of great resolve.

Not treating things lavishly, not flaunting ritual, and working diligently and carefully while using resources sparingly to meet the urgent needs of the world—this was one aspect of the Great Yu’s conduct as people saw it. Mo Di and Qin Guli heard of it and admired it, then took this approach too far, making their hardship so severe that it was difficult to sustain. They followed it too rigidly, until their bodies became gaunt and they seemed unlike ordinary people. They advocated “opposing music” and “frugality” to instruct the world. Their refusal to sing while alive and to wear mourning clothes after death were expressions of putting these principles into practice.

They loved people broadly in order to benefit all under Heaven, and opposed fighting, so they did not give way to anger. These teachings still had the merit of being humane and generous. But they pursued learning and breadth of knowledge in order to win others’ approval; in their hearts, they still sought to outdo one another and had not overcome self-interest. As for abolishing the rites and music of antiquity, this not only defied the sages’ classics but also went against the world’s feelings of grief and joy. Forcing the people to accept practices they could not follow meant that neither they nor others could truly love one another. From this we can see that the Mohist Way was ultimately bound to fail and could not be put into practice in the world, either then or in later generations.

To refrain from singing when it is time to sing, and from weeping when it is time to weep, goes against human nature. To toil in life and observe meager rites after death—to endure hardship, worry, and sorrow in defiance of ordinary feeling—is more than people can bear. This is far removed from the Way of the kings. Mozi also praised the Great Yu for laboring so hard to control the floods. As a result, later Mohist followers treated self-imposed hardship as the highest ideal and strove with all their strength to uphold Mohist teachings. Yet they did not understand that Yu faced an extraordinary flood: his father had been banished, and the efforts to control the waters had failed. Circumstances changed again and again, so Yu gave himself over to hardship and service, ultimately completing the work of flood control. Such conduct cannot be made into a general rule. To apply a remedy for an exceptional crisis in ordinary times is like undergoing acupuncture when one is not ill: it only adds wounds and pain for no reason. Nothing could be more foolish.

The school of Xiangli Qin was also called the “Separate Mohists,” referring to different factions within Mohism. They argued and criticized one another, and elevated those who had mastered their studies as sages and Juzi. This was like the Confucians’ use of the term “Great Confucian”: everyone was willing to carry on their work, and even today the matter remains unresolved. This describes a situation within Mohist learning at the time. Mo Di and Qin Guli take up the discussion mentioned earlier; their intention in their conduct was to teach… The original text ends here.

When people strive relentlessly for personal gain, they either bring about chaos or seize positions of power. If they want peace and stability throughout the realm, they can only remain in lowly positions.

Mozi did indeed go against his own nature, yet no one in the world could surpass him. In the end, he established his teaching in his own time. It was certainly not the Way of the sages, but he could still be called a man of talent. In the past, Mencius criticized Yang Zhu and Mozi, judging their teachings contrary to the Way of the sages and refuting them in harsh terms, as though he could not bear to share the world with them. This shows how urgently he sought to defend the true Way. The Nanhua Zhenjing (Zhuangzi), by contrast, gives a detailed account of the Mohists’ practices and origins, pointing out their faults without erasing their strengths. This judgment is fair and retains a spirit of generosity. Though it does not name Yang Zhu, its meaning includes him as well.

The Mohists studied Yu the Great, while Yang Zhu’s school studied Lao Dan (Laozi). Both came from the sages’ tradition, but each learned it in a one-sided way. This is like Confucius’s disciples Zizhang and Zixia: both studied under Confucius, yet later each went too far in some respects or fell short in others. The teachings of Yang Zhu and Mozi arose in the same way. This is why one must be careful in one’s studies.

Do not be burdened by worldly conventions; do not adorn yourself with external things; do not casually accommodate others, and do not resent the masses. It is enough to hope for peace in the world, for the people to be able to live, and for everyone’s needs to be met through mutual support. Use these principles to make your intentions clear. Among the ancient arts of the Dao, one school held roughly these views. Song Xing and Yin Wen heard them and took a great liking to them, so they fashioned Huashan caps to mark their affiliation. In approaching the myriad things, they began by “dispelling obscurations”—setting aside prejudice and preconceptions. They spoke of a way to make the heart-mind receptive, calling it “the heart-mind’s course.” They held that harmony could bring about joy, and aimed to harmonize the world, hoping people would take this as their guiding standard.

When insulted, they did not feel ashamed. They sought to help the people and put a stop to conflict, prevent attacks and end war, and save the world from the turmoil of battle. They traveled throughout the realm with these teachings, persuading rulers above and instructing the people below. Even when the world would not accept them, they kept urging people with all their strength and would not give up. For this reason, some said that they were disliked by people both above and below, yet still forced themselves upon others to be noticed.

Even so, they thought too much about others and too little about themselves. They said, “All we need is a steady supply of five pints of rice.” The master worried about having enough to eat, and even when his disciples went hungry, they did not forget the world. Day and night they kept saying, “I must ensure the people can live!” What proud and resolute saviors of the world they were! They also said, “A gentleman does not scrutinize others harshly, nor does he let external things dictate his conduct. When it comes to things that one believes do not benefit the world, it is enough to explain them clearly; there is no need to force others to act as one does. Stopping attacks and ending war are their outward teaching; reducing and tempering desires is their inward discipline. In everything they do, whether great or small, subtle or coarse, they go only as far as this.”

Guo Xiang’s commentary says: “Zhi” means to oppose or resent. “When everyone’s needs are met, they stop” means that they do not seek more than they need. The Huashan cap was a hat they used to mark their own teaching.

They sought to bring equality and peace to all under Heaven as a way of demonstrating their conduct. They treated things differently while showing forbearance toward all, and did not want things to encroach upon one another. Song Xing and Yin Wen used their principles to persuade the powerful, urging people to join together and live in harmony. They believed that anyone able to do this could be appointed ruler of all things. Even when insulted, they did not consider themselves insulted. They made saving the people a priority, stopping quarrels and ending the use of arms. This is what is called “harmony through gentleness”: bringing people together with a mild manner. Even when the people under Heaven would not accept their teaching, they did not persist in urging them with forceful words, yet they still did not abandon this way of creating harmony.

If they saw that someone disliked them, they would force their way into his presence; this was called “not being disgraced.” To comfort someone by force before he had changed of his own accord was to expend far too much effort. Set out five sheng of rice, and you will see that they thought they had done too little. Song Xing and Yin Wen called themselves “masters” and the people under Heaven their disciples. They busied themselves day and night, believing they did so for the people. Did they think the people ought to repay them? Their aspirations were lofty, and they did not get caught up in details. They did not scrutinize others harshly, but worked to be tolerant. They did not rely on external things; they always exerted themselves personally. They stopped doing anything that brought no benefit to all under Heaven. Thus, as men who sought to save the world, their efforts went no further than this; they had not yet attained a state of emptiness, stillness, and spacious ease.

Lü’s commentary: They were not burdened by worldly customs and did not seek to adorn themselves with external things; they treated others with sincerity. Even among people who disliked them, they did not contend. They wanted only for people to live in peace, and sought no additional gain. If they found something amiss in their hearts, they regarded it as dirt and washed it away. This is what is called “clearing the heart.”

Things contend because they encroach upon one another. Treating them differently while showing forbearance is precisely a way to quell contention and seek peace. The Dao-heart, as a spiritual state, can contain everything and should therefore be free of contention. Song Xing and Yin Wen spoke of tolerance and put it into practice, using gentleness to bring joy and harmony to the world. This is what it means to put their intentions into practice. They wanted to make this teaching a standard for all, to be revered by everyone. From “being insulted without considering it a disgrace” through “persisting even when forced to persuade,” all of this is the way of creating harmony through gentleness that they described. Ancient teachings of the Dao included ideas close to this, but they did too much for others and too little for themselves. So I say: “I work day and night to save the world; surely others will not regard me as conceited. If those who seek to save the world pay me no heed, I can still stay alive; I need not fear starving to death.” Their efforts went no further than this. The principles beyond it were beyond Song Xing and Yin Wen’s understanding. This means they had not yet heard of the Great Dao.

Yidu’s commentary: As for leaving worldly ways behind without being burdened by external things, following things as they are without deliberately adorning oneself, living among people without being harsh toward them, and accommodating people without harming them, they hoped that all under Heaven … (The original text ends here.)

To bring stability to the people and make their lives prosperous—this is where it ends. The doctrines of Song Xing, a Warring States thinker, and Yin Wen, a Warring States thinker, differed slightly from the Mohist path, which is why Zhuangzi discusses them after Mo Di. In later ages their lingering influence still remained, so some people, upon hearing their doctrines, felt affection for them.

Song Xing and Yin Wen wore the Mount Hua cap, a cap said to be modeled on the shape of Mount Hua, thereby displaying their integrity. They embraced the myriad things, beginning with distinguishing great and small and making allowances for differences. The way of the sage, by contrast, holds that things and self are one body, without differentiation; great and small fall within the same compass, and there is no need deliberately to make allowances. The two men’s approach began from outward manifestation, and what they did was not entirely identical with their inner intention.

They spoke of inner forbearance and called it the practice of the heart. Their wish was to bring peace to the world, so with gentle and compliant words and conduct they sought to harmonize the world and wished to take charge of government; people were likewise willing to raise them up as leaders. This was their own understanding. From being insulted without feeling insulted to persisting in persuasion without giving up, both reveal the fault of believing they could bear responsibility for everything: persuading rulers above and teaching the people below shows that they regarded themselves as too important. On the other hand, being satisfied with only five sheng of rice shows that they regarded themselves as too insignificant. What they sought was lax and lenient governance, and they took saving the world as their duty.

Having a benevolent heart but lacking the capacity for flexible response is still insufficient to establish appropriate righteousness. Song Xing and Yin Wen went too far in benevolence but fell short in righteousness. A noble person does not examine everything harshly; when one’s words must be personally carried out with full effort, if they bring no benefit to the world, excessive scrutiny is not as good as stopping. What they called saving the world meant advocating an end to war abroad and a reduction of desires within. Whether what they discussed was subtle or coarse, great or small, their doctrines and actions reached no further than this.

Bixu, a Daoist commentator, explains: they were not entangled by emotions, and therefore had no burdens; they preserved plainness, and therefore did not adorn themselves; they followed the way of uprightness, and therefore did not act carelessly; they complied with the nature of things, and therefore did not envy or harm others. They wished for the world to be peaceful and the people to live securely, yet did not deliberately provide excessive support; they sought only to understand this single intention, and that was all.

The Mount Hua cap was used to signify inner firmness and uprightness; governance was to be flat and even like the top of the cap, so as to distinguish the worthy from the foolish, and broad and generous laws were to be the foundation of governing the state. They believed that when words and actions do not contradict each other and laws are lenient, the hearts of the people can be won; the world praised them and gladly supported them, and so was willing to raise them up as rulers. They endured insults and stopped quarrels, causing the people not to contend; they advocated ending war and upholding compassion, causing the people to esteem gentleness and quietude. With these doctrines they persuaded the world, demanded the people’s obedience, and hoped for the world to be peaceful and the people to live securely; this is what it means to regard themselves as too important.

They were diligent and frugal, imposing hardship on themselves, seeking only five sheng of rice each day, yet still willing to yield the rice to their teacher; preferring to go hungry themselves, they did not forget the world—this is what it means to regard themselves as too insignificant. The following text breaks off at the phrase “I must obtain.”

“I devote myself to rescuing the people, and Heaven will surely preserve me.” This sounds truly arrogant. Is the speaker hoping to win an empty reputation by relieving the people’s suffering? No. Nor is it a matter of scrutinizing others harshly and seeking victory at every turn. Rather, it means holding oneself to strict standards, acting without relying on outside help, and leading others through personal example.

Whatever brings no benefit to the world should not be done. In dealing with others, do not contend with them; instead, reconcile their feelings and reason. Within oneself, lessen desire and temper one’s temperament. Matters may be fine or coarse in nature: remove whatever is unreasonable, then do what remains to be done. This is the essence of the Way of governance.

Yanzhai says: “‘Adornment’ means cultivating and sustaining oneself; ‘resentment’ means going against another’s wishes. ‘Distinguishing and releasing’ means letting people settle into their proper places and treating everyone with tolerance. ‘Understanding’ means observing and embracing; ‘enacting’ means putting into practice. Use a gracious manner to bring people close, harmonize the hearts of those throughout the world, and then ask that these principles be established as the foundation of governance.”

If one insists on talking at length and will not stop, people will grow weary of listening. The same is true of endless boasting. Someone who gets only five sheng of rice a day shares it with his teacher and disciples; the teacher himself is still not full, so one can imagine the disciples’ plight. He endures hunger and hardship without pause, day and night. Can this really be a way to live for long? Perhaps this is meant to correct those who invoke “saving the world” while actually pursuing private gain. “Seeking to correct arrogance” means trying to rectify this kind of tendency. For example, Yu Rang said, “I undertake this extremely difficult deed so that ministers throughout the world who harbor divided loyalties may feel ashamed.”

Another interpretation is this: do not scrutinize things harshly or distinguish between yourself and others; do everything yourself, without relying on other people’s strength to assist you. If you know that something brings no benefit to the world, then even if you are capable of doing it, it is better not to. The general aim of this teaching is for people to refrain from fighting with others and, inwardly, to avoid being disturbed by desire. That is all.

When one is not burdened by external things and does not deliberately adorn oneself, the heart can remain empty and still, holding fast to its original nature. When one does not act carelessly or go against others, one can act with sincerity and treat people with kindness. Use this to shape customs and welcome people, hoping that everyone may live in peace. If one takes only a share for one’s own use, one will not recklessly seek to accumulate wealth, nor invite negligence and harm by storing up too much. This is a way to bring people lasting peace.

To use such principles to teach the world is to let one’s true heart shine openly, concealing none of one’s genuine feelings. When Song Yin heard of this way of life, he was greatly pleased and then put its principles into practice. He wore a crown from Mount Daihua to show that his conduct was upright and impartial. He treated good people as distinct from others while showing tolerance toward the ignorant and unenlightened. In this way, people would naturally be less likely to turn toward evil; it could also strengthen customs and renew instruction. Yet this approach has its shortcomings in practice, and is not as comprehensive or lasting as the way the sages govern. The heart’s capacity to embrace…

As people commonly say, “the comportment of the hands” and “the comportment of the feet,” referring to one’s bearing and manner, so the passage here concerns what a person’s conduct reveals about their intentions. In arranging affairs and taking action, a person can generally express the kindness within their own heart, bringing harmony and stability to the world: preventing conflict and anger, enabling people everywhere to live in peace, and ensuring that they have food and clothing. These words suggest that one may have a benevolent heart without necessarily understanding the governance of public affairs. Someone wanted to put him in charge and was willing to follow his teachings.

Enduring humiliation, calming conflict, and putting an end to war all embody the principle of keeping to softness and avoiding contention. He strove to remain calm while holding firmly to his own convictions, hoping others would heed him; so he asked someone to give him five sheng of rice. Seeing that he was eating too little, he would rather go hungry himself than forget the people of the world. Seeing, too, that he was doing too much for others, working day and night until utterly exhausted, he sighed, “Surely I will manage to stay alive!” He meant that since he worked so hard to help others, the Creator would surely let him live.

The ascetics of his own age, who were strict with themselves, lived frugally, and did their best to help others, resembled him in some ways. But they lacked learning and experience, and so fell far short of him.

The phrase “tú ào hū” is difficult to explain. Of the various commentaries, only Guo Xiang’s comes close. “Tú ào” probably means making plans that are far-fetched and impractical. The point is that these two men hoped to save everyone in the world through their own efforts, without reckoning with how difficult the task would be.

Not conducting harsh, meticulous inspections is called “practicing generous forbearance.” Not adorning oneself with external things, and refraining from anything that does not benefit the world, is called “practicing discernment.” In public affairs, one should forbid attacks and end wars, so that everyone has enough to live on and does not contend. In one’s private life, one should reduce shallow desires and restrain oneself from greed, thereby avoiding calamity. Principles may differ in scale and in degree of refinement, but their actions ultimately reach no further than this. The passage says that they have not yet entered deeply into the learning of the sages, and so ultimately stop at the teachings of the Mohists.

This passage discusses the failings of Mohism in that period. Some of its statements belong to the two sides of the exchange, so they must be carefully distinguished as one reads.

Collected Subtlety in the Sea of Meaning of the True Classic of Nanhua, juan 104