《墨子》Vol. 8

In the chapter "Explaining Ghosts," Mozi states: Since the passing of the sage-kings of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, the world has lost its moral compass, and feudal lords contend with military force. In this era, rulers and ministers no longer uphold benevolence and loyalty, fathers and sons lack kindness and filial piety, officials neglect their duties, and the common people fail to devote themselves to labor. People indulge in wanton violence—robbing, killing, wielding weapons and poison, ambushing innocent travelers on the road, and seizing others' carts, horses, and clothing for personal gain. These evils have proliferated, plunging the world into chaos.

Why has this happened? It is because people doubt the existence of ghosts and spirits and fail to understand that they reward the virtuous and punish the wicked. If everyone in the world truly believed that ghosts and spirits dispense justice, how could chaos persist? Those who insist on the "no-ghost" theory claim that spirits do not exist and spread this view widely, sowing confusion among the masses. This very doubt is the root of the world's disorder.

Mozi continues: If the rulers and nobles of today sincerely wish to benefit the world and eliminate its harms, they must clarify the question of whether ghosts and spirits exist. Since this issue cannot be left unexamined, how should we verify it? Mozi argues that to determine whether something exists, we must rely on the actual experiences of the people. If someone claims that ghosts do not exist because they have never seen them, why not investigate among the villagers? Since ancient times, there have indeed been those who have witnessed the forms of spirits or heard their voices—how, then, can we say they do not exist? Conversely, if no one has seen or heard them, how can we assert their existence?

(Here, Mozi's advocacy of "Explaining Ghosts" emphasizes the supervisory role of spirits in human morality, proposing that belief in ghosts and spirits serves as a moral constraint. This reflects a key aspect of Mohist thought—"the Will of Heaven and the Existence of Ghosts"—forming a cohesive system alongside doctrines such as "Universal Love" and "Condemnation of Offensive War.")

Countless people in the world claim to have seen ghosts and spirits, but who can truly prove their existence? Mozi said: If we need examples witnessed and heard by the masses, the story of Du Bo from ancient times serves as the clearest proof.

King Xuan of Zhou unjustly executed his minister Du Bo. Before his execution, Du Bo declared: "My lord kills me though I am innocent. If the dead have no consciousness, so be it. But if they do, within three years, my lord shall know the consequences." True to his word, three years later, while King Xuan was hunting in Putian with hundreds of chariots and thousands of attendants, at high noon, Du Bo's vengeful spirit appeared. Riding a white chariot drawn by white horses, clad in red robes and a crimson crown, he pursued the king with a red bow and arrows. One arrow pierced the king's heart, felling him dead upon his chariot. All the Zhou people present witnessed this, and those afar heard of it—recorded in Zhou's historical annals. Since then, rulers have used this tale to warn ministers, and fathers to admonish sons: those who slay the innocent will face retribution. Such is the swift justice of ghosts and spirits. Given these records, how can there be any doubt about their existence?

This is not merely historical documentation. Duke Mu of Zheng experienced it firsthand. One midday, while in the ancestral temple, a divine being suddenly appeared—a bird's body with a human face, dressed in white—entering through the left gate. Terrified, the duke nearly fled, but the spirit reassured him: "Fear not. The Heavenly Emperor admires your virtue and sends me to grant you nineteen more years of life, ensuring your state's prosperity and descendants' flourishing." Kneeling in reverence, Duke Mu inquired further, and the spirit identified itself as Goumang, the Wood Deity (the spring god of the east). Such firsthand encounters—are they not proof enough of spirits' existence?

Another case: Duke Jian of Yan wrongfully executed his minister Zhuang Ziyi, who likewise swore vengeance before death. A year later, during Yan's grand "Zu Sacrifice" (a major ritual akin to Qi's earth-god worship or Song's mulberry grove ceremony), at midday as Duke Jian stood at the altar, Zhuang Ziyi's vengeful spirit came to exact retribution...

This passage records three historical incidents of divine retribution against evildoers, demonstrating the existence of spirits and their swift punishment.

The first account occurred in the state of Yan. Tu Zhuangziyi killed a man with a redwood staff, witnessed by all Yan citizens present and heard of by distant observers. Recorded in The Spring and Autumn Annals of Yan, feudal lords across states circulated the lesson: "Those who slay the innocent inevitably invite calamity—such is the immediacy of divine retribution."

The second episode took place during the reign of Duke Wen Bao of Song. An official named Guan Gu presided over sacrifices using improperly sized jade tablets, unclean offerings, underfed sacrificial animals, and irregular seasonal rites. The deity manifested as Li Zhuzi confronted Guan Gu, who blamed the young ruler's ignorance. Li Zhuzi then struck Guan Gu dead upon the altar with a staff, an event likewise documented in The Spring and Autumn Annals of Song.

The third incident unfolded in Qi. After Wang Liguo and Zhong Lijiao's three-year legal dispute remained unresolved, Duke Zhuang of Qi ordered them to swear oaths before the ancestral shrine using sheep's blood. As Zhong Lijiao recited his oath, the sheep suddenly charged, and the manifest deity struck him dead instantly—an event preserved in The Spring and Autumn Annals of Qi.

Through these documented cases, Mozi concludes: Classical records prove spirits undeniably exist. Those who disrespect deities, neglect proper sacrifices, or swear false oaths invariably incur immediate and severe divine punishment.

Mozi here discusses the importance of belief in spirits and deities. He refutes those who deny the existence of spirits by arguing: If even the eyewitness accounts of ordinary people cannot determine the truth of matters, then by what authority do you self-proclaimed gentlemen of the realm dismiss the collective testimony of the multitudes?

Mozi cites examples from ancient sage-kings to prove the existence of spirits. He points out that revered rulers like Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang of Shang, King Wen and King Wu of Zhou all believed in spirits. For instance, when King Wu of Zhou launched his campaign against King Zhou of Shang, he specifically assigned sacrificial duties among the feudal lords—having those closely related perform inner sacrifices while distant relatives conducted outer sacrifices. If spirits didn't exist, why would King Wu make such arrangements?

The ancient sage-kings invariably conducted rewards in ancestral temples and administered punishments at the altars of soil gods. Bestowing rewards in ancestral temples served to report the fairness of distribution to forebears, while executing punishments at soil altars declared the justice of judgments to the deities. This wasn't merely recorded in historical texts—the sage-kings of the Yu, Xia, Shang and Zhou dynasties all maintained this practice when establishing their capitals.

They invariably selected the central location of their capital to build ancestral temples, chose flourishing trees for sacrificial sites, appointed virtuous elders as ceremonial masters (Zhu Zong), selected plump livestock for offerings, prepared appropriate jade vessels according to their means, and used premium grains to brew ritual wines. The richness of offerings would be adjusted according to harvest conditions.

Thus when the ancient sage-kings governed the world, they prioritized service to spirits before human affairs. Government offices would first prepare sacrificial vessels and ceremonial robes, carefully storing them in treasuries; ritual masters and officials were all assigned positions at court; sacrificial animals were kept separately from ordinary livestock. All this demonstrates how the ancient sage-kings truly regarded service to spirits as paramount, showing utmost reverence while fearing any negligence.

In this scripture passage, Mozi presents evidence for the existence of spirits and deities. He argues that the classical texts of ancient sage-kings frequently mention spirits and deities, and to deny their existence would contradict the teachings of these sage-kings and violate the Dao (Way) of noble individuals.

Those who deny the existence of spirits and deities ask: Where do the classical texts of ancient kings record such things? Mozi refutes this by pointing to the "Greater Odes" section of the Zhou Documents, which clearly states that King Wen of Zhou continued to serve by the side of the Supreme Deity (Shangdi) after his death. If spirits didn't exist, how could King Wen remain with the Supreme Deity after death? This, Mozi argues, proves that Zhou dynasty texts acknowledge spirits and deities.

Mozi then cites the Shang Documents, which record that during the flourishing period of the Xia dynasty, even the mountain and river spirits dared not remain unsettled, all coming to assist Yu the Great in flood control. This demonstrates that Shang dynasty texts also recognized spirits. To accept the Zhou records of spirits while denying those of the Shang would be inconsistent.

Finally, Mozi references the "Yu's Declaration" from the Xia Documents, which describes how before the great battle at Gan between Xia Qi and the Youhu clan, Xia Qi commanded six ministers to receive orders at the central army, accusing the Youhu clan of disrespecting the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) and abandoning the Three Correct Principles (of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity), thus incurring Heaven's decree to terminate their kingdom. This proves that Xia dynasty texts equally acknowledged the existence of spirits.

Through these historical records, Mozi constructs a cumulative argument: tracing from Zhou back to Shang and then to Xia, he shows that successive generations of sage-kings all recognized the existence of spirits and deities. He maintains these records aren't coincidental but "reiterated repeatedly," demonstrating their actual existence. To deny spirits is to reject the teachings of ancient kings and violate the sage's Dao of governance.

This passage from Mozi emphasizes the importance of belief in spirits and deities for social governance. He argues that ordinary people do not covet land or wealth but collectively carry out Heaven's punishments. If officials fail in their duties—just as one would be punished for neglecting horses under their care—they too must face consequences. The ancient sage-kings rewarded virtue and punished vice through ancestral worship (zu) and earth god sacrifices (she): distributing rewards in ancestral temples symbolized equitable distribution, while executing punishments at the earth altar represented impartial judgment.

Mozi cites records from the Shangshu (Classic of Documents) about the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties as proof of spirits' existence. For instance, the Zhou dynasty performed longevity rituals for the earth god on the auspicious day of Dingmao—a meaningless act if spirits didn't exist. He posits that spirits reward the worthy and punish the tyrannical, a system highly effective for statecraft and public welfare. Without spiritual oversight, officials would corrupt, gender relations would disorder, and banditry would prevail.

Mozi illustrates how the omnipresence of spirits—whether in remote mountains or bustling cities, observing all deeds, and their power to punish regardless of wealth or status—ensures officials dare not embezzle, rewarding good and punishing evil without exception. He concludes with the example of the tyrant Jie of Xia: though exalted as the Son of Heaven, his cruelty invoked Heaven's punishment, proving that no wealth or might can withstand divine retribution.

This scripture uses the examples of the tyrants King Jie of Xia and King Zhou of Shang to illustrate that even those who hold the highest position as the Son of Heaven and possess all the wealth under heaven will face divine punishment if they commit grave evils.

Though King Jie of Xia held the exalted title of Son of Heaven and commanded the riches of the realm, along with fierce warriors like Tui Duo and Da Xi, his cruelty knew no bounds. He slaughtered the common people indiscriminately, filling marshes and hills with corpses. Yet no amount of power could shield him from the retribution of the spirits. Similarly, King Zhou of Shang, though also the Son of Heaven, insulted the deities of heaven and earth, oppressed the people, abandoned the elderly, murdered children, and even cut open the bellies of pregnant women, leaving the widowed, orphaned, and destitute with no recourse for their suffering. Thus, Heaven sent King Wu to execute justice, crushing the Shang army at the Battle of Muye and ultimately capturing and executing King Zhou.

Through these historical lessons, Mozi demonstrates that divine punishment is not withheld from anyone, no matter how noble their status or formidable their military might. As the ancient sage Qin Ai wisely said: "Even the smallest good deed will be rewarded, and even the greatest evil will surely be punished." Some who disbelieve in spirits argue that such beliefs hinder filial piety. But Mozi points out that faith in spirits has existed since antiquity—encompassing celestial deities, the gods of mountains and rivers, and the ghosts of the deceased. The existence of spirits encourages people toward virtue and is by no means a harmful doctrine.

Sometimes a son may pass away before his father, or a younger brother may depart before his elder sibling. Though people consider this contrary to natural order, such phenomena do exist in the world. If we follow the saying "those born first die first," then it would be parents or elder brothers and sisters-in-law who should depart first.

When people prepare pure offerings of wine and food with reverent care to honor their ancestors, if spirits and deities truly exist, these offerings allow departed parents and elder siblings to partake—is this not profoundly meaningful? Even if no spirits exist, at worst it means some resources are spent on offerings—yet these same resources would otherwise be wasted, poured into the gutter without purpose.

In truth, these offerings can be shared among clan members, friends, and neighbors. Even without spirits, such rituals strengthen bonds, foster unity, and bring harmony to the community. Yet those who insist on denying the existence of spirits argue: "Since ghosts and deities do not exist, why waste wine, food, and sacrificial animals?" I am not begrudging these offerings, but I ask: What is gained by this stance? It contradicts the teachings of the sages, wounds the people's filial devotion to ancestors, and yet still claims moral superiority—what kind of noble Dao is this?

Thus, Mozi said: "I advocate maintaining sacrifices not to discard offerings into gutters, but for higher and lower purposes: Above, to seek blessings from the spirits; below, to unite kin and harmonize the community. If spirits truly exist, parents and siblings may partake; if not, it still benefits society."

Therefore, Mozi concluded: If the lords, nobles, and noble-minded scholars of today truly wish to bring benefit to the world and eliminate its harms, they should acknowledge the possibility of spirits and follow the teachings of the sage-kings. This is no trivial matter.

In the chapter Against Music, Mozi further elaborates: The benevolent act only to promote the world's benefit and remove its harms. This principle must be the standard—what benefits the people is done; what does not is abandoned. When true humanitarians consider the world's welfare, they do not chase mere sensory pleasures—what delights the eye, ear, mouth, or body. If such pleasures come at the cost of the people's food and clothing, the benevolent will never indulge in them.

Mozi's opposition to music was not because the sounds of bells, drums, zithers, pipes, and reed instruments were unpleasant to the ear, nor because intricately carved decorations were unattractive to the eye. It wasn't that the flavors of beef, mutton, pork, and dog meat were unpalatable, nor that towering pavilions and secluded mansions provided uncomfortable living quarters. Personally, he certainly recognized these pleasures as enjoyable—the mouth knows delicacies are sweet, the eyes perceive colors as beautiful, and the ears appreciate music as harmonious.

But Mozi considered two perspectives: Looking upward, such indulgences didn't align with the governing principles of ancient sage-kings; looking downward, these luxuries brought no practical benefits to common people. Thus he concluded: The pursuit of pleasure was fundamentally wrong.

Contemporary nobles and officials, though not yet at the stage of manufacturing musical instruments specifically for state governance, inevitably imposed heavy taxes and levies upon the populace to acquire those massive bells, resonant drums, zithers, pipes, and reed instruments. This contrasted sharply with how ancient sage-kings created carts and boats—which Mozi didn't oppose. Though sage-kings also collected resources from people to build these vehicles, they clearly stated their purpose afterwards: boats served waterways while carts served land routes, allowing nobles to rest their feet and commoners to relieve their burden-bearing toil. People contributed funds without resentment precisely because these vehicles genuinely benefited them.

Had musical instruments provided similar public utility as carts and boats, Mozi naturally wouldn't have objected. But reality showed three great sufferings among the populace: the hungry lacked food, the cold lacked clothing, and the exhausted lacked rest. Under such circumstances, would banging great bells, beating loud drums, playing zithers and pipes, or waving shields and axes in dance solve people's basic needs? Clearly not.

Consider also how major states attacked minor ones, great clans oppressed smaller families, the strong robbed the weak, the numerous bullied the few, the cunning deceived the honest, nobles looked down on commoners, and banditry flourished uncontrollably. Faced with such social chaos, could tolling bells and playing zithers possibly bring peace to the world? Obviously not. Therefore Mozi declared: Rather than extorting people to pursue fleeting pleasures, we must first address these fundamental problems.

Mozi held that the sounds of great bells, drums, zithers, panpipes and other musical instruments could not truly benefit the world or eliminate its calamities. Therefore, Mozi declared: the pursuit of music is wrong.

When rulers and nobles dwell in their lofty towers and pavilions, gazing upon those bells that resemble upturned tripods - if they are not struck, how can there be music? But to strike the bells requires employing young men, for the elderly and dull-witted have poor hearing and vision, unresponsive limbs, and voices that cannot harmonize. This inevitably delays strong men from plowing the fields and women from spinning and weaving. Thus do the rulers and nobles, in their pursuit of pleasure, massively encroach upon the people's time for producing clothing and food.

Mozi further points out: when all manner of musical instruments are prepared, what enjoyment can nobles derive from listening alone? They inevitably summon commoners to listen together. The result is officials delayed in governance and commoners delayed in production. In their musical indulgence, rulers and nobles plunder the people's clothing, food and resources.

Mozi cites the example of Duke Kang of Qi: addicted to music, he maintained ten thousand musicians. These men created no goods yet consumed fine rice and meat, dressed in embroidered silks. They produced no clothing or food, only consuming others' labor. Thus Mozi repeatedly emphasizes: for rulers and nobles to rob the people's clothing and food for pleasure is profoundly mistaken.

Finally Mozi states: humans differ from beasts like deer, birds and insects. Beasts use feathers as clothing and hooves as footwear. But humans must labor to obtain clothing and food. If they indulge in music and neglect production, they become inferior even to beasts.

(Note: This passage illustrates Mozi's doctrine of "condemning music" (非乐), arguing musical indulgence hinders social production and burdens the people. "Deer" refers to elk-like creatures, "insects" to small creatures, and "birds" to flying creatures.)

This passage comes from the "Condemnation of Music" chapter in Mozi, criticizing how excessive pursuit of musical pleasures can hinder proper governance. Mozi employs a comparative approach: in ancient times, people lived off nature (drinking from streams and eating wild plants, where male birds didn't plow and female birds didn't weave), while in modern society, each social class has its own duties—rulers and ministers must rise early and retire late to handle state affairs, scholars must diligently manage government offices and taxes, farmers must toil in the fields, and women must weave day and night. If they all indulge in musical pleasures, their essential duties will be neglected: if rulers neglect governance, the state falls into chaos; if scholars fail to collect taxes, granaries empty; if farmers don't grow grain, food runs short; if women don't weave cloth, clothing becomes scarce.

Mozi particularly cites records from the Official Penalties of Shang Tang: indulging in song and dance at court was deemed "shamanistic decadence" (a licentious practice akin to sorcery) and punishable—nobles were fined two bundles of silk, commoners two bolts of cloth. He laments that these grand performances and ornate rhetoric (huangjing), though superficially vibrant and lively, ultimately lead to "cloth and silk not flourishing" (a decline in textile production). The root cause lies in those in power neglecting governance for the sake of music. Thus, Mozi concludes: excessive pursuit of music is improper.

This passage comes from the "Condemnation of Music" chapter in Mozi, primarily criticizing how excessive indulgence in pleasure leads to the decline of states. Mozi argues that activities like music and entertainment should be restricted.

The text cites historical lessons, stating that the ancient emperors (Shangdi, the Supreme Deity) did not protect rulers who indulged in pleasure, causing them to lose their kingdoms. Examining the reasons for the collapse of nine dynasties, all were due to the pursuit of sensual pleasures. For example, the Wuguan records that Xia Qi (a ruler of the Xia dynasty) abandoned himself to indulgence, feasting and reveling in the wild every day with the clamor of bells and chime stones, drowning in wine and lust, and even holding grand Wan dance performances in the open. When Heaven became aware of these actions, it withdrew its protection. The consequence was that he received neither divine favor from above nor the support of the people below.

Thus, Mozi concludes: If the scholars and gentlemen of today truly wish to benefit the people and eliminate harm, they must recognize the dangers of activities like music and entertainment and should prohibit them. Mozi does not oppose music itself but rather the rulers' excessive indulgence in pleasure, which exhausts the people's resources and drains state finances. He believed such extravagant pursuits would deplete the people's strength, disrupt productivity, and ultimately lead to the downfall of the state.