《墨子》Vol. 9

In the chapter "Against Fatalism," Mozi critiques the prevalent fatalistic views of his time. He observes that when ancient rulers governed their states, they all desired national prosperity, a large population, and orderly administration, yet often achieved the opposite—poverty, depopulation, and social chaos.

Mozi attributes this primarily to the widespread belief in "fatalism" (the notion that destiny determines everything) among the populace. Proponents of this view claimed: "Wealth comes to those destined to be rich, poverty to those fated to be poor; population size, social order or chaos, prosperity or decline, even lifespan—all are preordained, beyond human effort." This rhetoric permeated society from nobility to commoners.

Mozi sternly condemns this perspective as "inhumane" and insists it must be rigorously examined. He proposes three criteria (the Three Tests) to evaluate the validity of any doctrine: first, examine the records of ancient sage-kings; second, investigate the actual experiences of ordinary people; third, verify the practical effects of the doctrine in governance, assessing whether it benefits the state and its citizens.

Using historical examples, Mozi refutes fatalism: the tyrannical Jie brought chaos to the realm, yet Tang of Shang restored order; the despotic Zhou Xin threw society into turmoil, but King Wu of Zhou established good governance. The same people under Jie and Zhou Xin's rule suffered disorder, yet thrived under Tang and Wu's administration—can this truly be called predestined?

He further argues that the governing principles preserved in ancient kings' texts were meant to educate the people. If fatalism were true, why would these sage-kings have bothered formulating such statecraft? Through historical evidence and classical texts, Mozi delivers a robust rebuttal to passive fatalistic determinism.

This passage comes from Mozi, discussing the relationship between heavenly mandate and human effort. Mozi argues that fortune and misfortune are not predetermined by fate, but rather depend on human conduct. He criticizes those who believe fate cannot be altered, viewing such thinking as destructive to social justice.

Mozi points out that when the ancient sage-kings established laws and military commands, they never claimed that "blessings cannot be sought, calamities cannot be avoided, reverence brings no benefit, nor cruelty any harm." He asserts that such fatalistic statements should be abandoned, as this mindset overturns the Dao (the Way) of righteousness in the world and ultimately harms the people.

Mozi presents a core argument: when virtuous rulers hold power, the world will inevitably achieve peace. He cites two historical examples: When Tang of Shang ruled in Bo (the early Shang capital), though his domain spanned only a hundred li, he practiced mutual love and benefit with the people, honored the Dao by making offerings to spirits and deities, and thus received divine protection and the allegiance of feudal lords, eventually becoming the sovereign of all under heaven. Similarly, King Wen of Zhou in Qizhou (the birthplace of the Zhou dynasty) governed with benevolent policies, attracting people from near and far—even the incompetent sighed, "If only King Wen's grace could reach us!"

Through these historical cases, Mozi demonstrates his thesis: when virtuous leaders govern, celestial spirits bestow blessings, feudal lords submit, the people draw close, and worthy scholars flock to serve. This is the meaning behind the saying, "When the righteous hold authority, the world will surely be well-ordered." Mozi uses these examples to prove that a ruler's virtue and policies—not some elusive notion of fate—determine a nation's stability or chaos.

The wise rulers of antiquity established laws and instituted systems of rewards and punishments to encourage virtuous conduct. This manifested in filial piety toward parents and kindness to relatives at home, respect for elders and harmony with neighbors in public; measured behavior in daily life, proper decorum in comings and goings, and clear boundaries in interactions between men and women. Therefore, such people would not embezzle when managing government affairs, nor betray when guarding city walls. They would willingly sacrifice themselves when their ruler faced peril and provide escort during exile—these were all behaviors commended by the court and praised by the people.

Yet those who advocate the doctrine of "predetermined fate" claim: "When rulers bestow rewards, it is because fate decrees they should be rewarded, not because of their virtue; when rulers impose punishments, it is because fate decrees they should be punished, not because of their cruelty." Those who hold such views show neither filial piety nor kindness at home, nor respect for elders in public. Their behavior lacks restraint, and their interactions between men and women are disorderly. Such people would embezzle when managing government affairs, betray when guarding city walls, refuse to sacrifice themselves when their ruler faces peril, and abandon them during exile—these are all behaviors punished by the court and condemned by the people. Yet the fatalists still argue: "Being punished is decreed by fate, not due to cruelty; being rewarded is decreed by fate, not due to virtue."

To govern with such fatalism is to act without righteousness; to serve as a minister with it is to lack loyalty; to be a father with it is to show no kindness; to be a son with it is to lack filial piety; to be an elder brother with it is to fail in guidance; to be a younger brother with it is to disregard fraternal duty. To stubbornly cling to this doctrine is precisely the root of dangerous rhetoric and tyrannical ways. How do we know fatalism is a tyrannical doctrine? Consider the impoverished people of antiquity who were gluttonous and lazy, resulting in insufficient food and clothing, hunger and cold. Instead of admitting, "It is because I am lazy and incompetent, failing to work diligently," they said, "It is my fate to be poor." Consider the tyrants of antiquity who indulged in sensual pleasures and neglected filial duties, leading to the downfall of their states and the extinction of their lineages. Instead of confessing, "It is because I am foolish and inept, failing to govern properly," they said, "It is my fate to lose the kingdom."

Zhong Hui, the virtuous minister of Tang of Shang (a founding hero of the Shang dynasty), once recorded: "I heard that Jie of Xia falsely invoked the Mandate of Heaven to issue commands to the people, and thus Heaven sent down punishment, causing him to lose his subjects." This shows Tang of Shang opposed Jie's fatalism. The "Great Declaration" (Tai Shi) records that King Zhou of Shang acted savagely, showing no reverence for the Lord-on-High or the spirits, abandoning sacrifices to his ancestors, and even declaring, "My people have their own Mandate of Heaven—there is no need to repair the ancestral temples." In the end, he brought about his own destruction.

This passage comes from the "Feiming" (Against Fatalism) chapter of Mozi, primarily critiquing the theory of fatalism (the belief that human destiny is predetermined by heaven). Mozi argues that if rulers believe in predestined fate, it will lead to national chaos and the suffering of the people.

Mozi first points out that King Zhou of Shang lost his kingdom precisely because he believed in the Mandate of Heaven. If the doctrine of fatalism is adopted, those in power will neglect governance, leading to legal disorder, while the common people will slack in their labor, resulting in material scarcity. This would make it impossible to properly honor heaven, earth, and the spirits, let alone treat virtuous scholars and guests with respect. Even the basic sustenance of the elderly, weak, and ordinary people would be difficult to secure. Thus, fatalism "does not accord with the will of heaven above, does not align with the spirits in the middle, and does not benefit the people below"—it is the root cause of calamity.

Mozi emphasizes that all wise and capable individuals in the world desire national prosperity and social stability. Fatalism, however, is a malignant tumor that harms the world and must be refuted. He proposes three criteria for judging the validity of any claim: first, whether it aligns with the will of heaven and the way of the sage-kings (the foundation); second, whether it matches the records of ancient kings (the source); and third, whether it produces practical results in governance (the application). Mozi rhetorically asks: From ancient times to the present, who has truly seen what "fate" looks like? If the claims of ordinary people are dismissed as ignorant and unreliable, where is the evidence of "fate" in the accounts of feudal lords?

This argument embodies the core of Mozi's "Feiming" thought: a rejection of passive fatalism and an emphasis on the importance of human agency in governance. He believes that social order or chaos depends on human action, not on some vague and elusive Mandate of Heaven.

This passage from Mozi primarily critiques the concept of "fatalism." Mozi argues that a state's order or chaos, safety or peril, depends on the governance of its ruler rather than so-called "heaven's mandate."

The text points out that ancient sage-kings encouraged filial piety by honoring exemplary sons, guided people toward virtue by respecting the worthy, educated the populace through laws and decrees, and used rewards and punishments to promote good while deterring evil. In this way, they transformed chaos into order and turned danger into stability. For instance, King Tang of Shang rectified the disorder caused by the tyrant Jie of Xia, and King Wu of Zhou remedied the turmoil under King Zhou of Shang. This demonstrates that order and chaos, safety and peril, are entirely determined by the ruler's governance—how can they be attributed to heaven's mandate?

Proponents of fatalism claim this doctrine was not their invention but inherited from the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, and Zhou). Mozi refutes this by arguing that if heaven's mandate truly dictated everything, then both the sage-kings and tyrants of the Three Dynasties would have been equally ordained by heaven. Yet in reality, the virtuous ministers and scholars of those eras earned their reputations by admonishing rulers and educating the people, while the tyrants indulged in excess, neglected governance, and ultimately brought ruin to their states and death upon themselves. Could they truly claim this was heaven's will?

The tyrants of the Three Dynasties wallowed in sensual pleasures, drowned in wine and lust, and issued corrupt decrees, yet blamed their downfall on heaven's mandate. Similarly, impoverished commoners who neglected filial duties, disrespected authority, and lived in idleness attributed their misfortunes to fate. Mozi condemns these as misguided beliefs, emphasizing that human effort—not predestination—is the decisive factor in shaping destiny.

Mozi here critiques the doctrine of "predestined fate." He observes that when people encounter hunger, cold, or hardship, instead of reflecting on their own lack of effort, they attribute it to being "fated" to poverty. This notion resembles the deceitful practices of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties, where the concept of "Heaven's Mandate" (天命) was long used to deceive the common people.

Wise rulers were deeply concerned about this ideology, hence they inscribed arguments against fatalism on bamboo slips, metal, and stone. The "Admonitions of Zhong Hui" records how both King Tang of Shang and his virtuous minister Zhong Hui opposed the Xia tyrant Jie's belief in predestined fate. Similarly, the "Great Declaration" documents how the Shang tyrant Zhou neglected sacrifices while claiming "my people have Heaven's Mandate," only to be abandoned by Heaven. King Wu of Zhou likewise refuted this view in the "Great Declaration."

Mozi points out that such fatalistic rhetoric was fabricated by tyrannical rulers. For discerning people today, opposing this harmful doctrine of predestined fate is essential to distinguishing truth from falsehood.

In Chapter 37 of the "Against Fate (非命)" section, Mozi establishes three criteria for evaluating doctrines:

First, examine the deeds of ancient sage-kings;

Second, observe the experiences and perceptions of ordinary people;

Third, verify the practical outcomes of implemented policies.

He employs an analogy: making claims without standards is like measuring time on an unmarked rotating wheel—it yields no accurate results. Therefore, all assertions must undergo these three tests: historical verification, present observation, and practical validation. Sage-kings like Yu of Xia, Tang of Shang, King Wen, and King Wu of Zhou governed precisely by adhering to these principles.

Here Mozi expounds the fundamental principles of governance. He asserts that the key to ruling the world lies in: elevating filial individuals and encouraging their service to parents; honoring the worthy and virtuous while instructing them in benevolent conduct. Through implementing such policies, propagating moral teachings, rewarding good deeds and punishing cruelty, a ruler can rectify national disorder and stabilize the realm in times of crisis.

Mozi cites historical examples: the chaos created by the tyrant Jie of Xia was rectified by Tang of Shang, while the turmoil wrought by Zhou of Shang was pacified by King Wu of Zhou. Though the populace remained unchanged across these periods, merely through changes in governance policies, social customs transformed accordingly. The great disorder under Jie and Zhou contrasted sharply with the peace achieved under Tang and Wu - clear evidence that a nation's safety or peril depends entirely on governance methods, not some predetermined fate.

When ancient sage-kings like Yu, Tang, King Wen and King Wu governed, they focused on feeding the hungry, clothing the cold, granting rest to the overworked, and bringing order to chaos - thereby earning universal praise. Could this possibly be attributed to fate? This was wholly the result of their diligent efforts.

Mozi further observes that fatalists fundamentally misunderstand the virtuous governance of the Three Dynasties' sage-kings. In reality, those who promoted fatalism were tyrants like Jie, Zhou, King You and King Li of Zhou. Though enjoying supreme status and possessing the world's wealth, they indulged their desires, obsessed over hunting and pleasure, neglected state affairs and people's welfare, ultimately losing their thrones. These tyrants never reflected on their own incompetence, instead blaming "inevitable fate" for their downfall. Similarly, unfilial and unworthy commoners would blame misfortune on fate rather than examining their failures in serving parents and rulers.

Through this discourse, Mozi thoroughly refutes "fatalistic determinism," emphasizing that a nation's order or chaos, prosperity or decline, depends entirely on governance approaches and individual exertion.

Here Mozi criticizes those who are lazy and indulge in pleasure-seeking. They neglect frugality, prefer a casual and undisciplined lifestyle, indulge in gluttony yet refuse to work diligently, resulting in insufficient food and clothing that plunges them into hunger and cold. Instead of reflecting on their own lack of capability or insufficient effort, they complain that poverty is their inescapable fate.

Mozi points out that the hypocrites of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties behaved similarly. Ancient tyrants devised various methods to impoverish the people, deluding them into becoming dull-witted and foolish. The sage-kings of antiquity foresaw this danger long ago and thus inscribed their teachings on bamboo slips and bronze vessels to pass down to future generations.

He quotes from the Book of Documents: "Though Yu the Great possessed lofty virtue, if he had failed to maintain it with caution, even Heaven would not have blessed him." He also cites Zhong Hui, the wise minister of King Tang of Shang: "The tyrant Jie of Xia exploited the Mandate of Heaven to oppress the people, which justified King Tang's overthrow of him. To claim a heavenly mandate where none exists is pure deception."

Mozi provides examples: Jie stubbornly acted according to his belief in "Heaven's Mandate," prompting Tang to compose Zhong Hui's Admonition to refute it. Likewise, King Zhou of Shang clung to the same belief, leading King Wu of Zhou to oppose it in The Great Declaration. Mozi then asks pointedly: "Why not examine the records from the Shang and Zhou periods? These texts contain no mention of such fatalistic doctrines."

Finally, Mozi observes that when noble scholars of his day wrote treatises, their purpose wasn't mere rhetoric but to bring order to the state. Ministers rise early and retire late to handle affairs because they understand that diligent governance brings stability while negligence causes chaos. Officials exert themselves precisely because they grasp this principle. Through these examples, Mozi emphasizes that people should cultivate diligence rather than believe in so-called "Heaven's decrees."

(Note: This passage embodies Mozi's opposition to fatalism (非命) and his advocacy of human agency. Zhong Hui was King Tang's virtuous minister, while The Great Declaration was King Wu's proclamation—both texts refuting the doctrine of Heaven's Mandate.)

Mozi here expounds on why people work diligently and the grave consequences that would ensue if they believed in fatalistic doctrines.

He first presents three examples of diligent workers: Officials handle government affairs and collect taxes conscientiously because they understand that only through effort can they attain noble status; farmers toil from dawn to dusk in their fields because they know diligence brings sustenance; women weave day and night because they recognize that hard work yields clothing. These three groups all comprehend the principle that "effort produces good results," thus never daring to slacken.

Mozi then poses a hypothetical scenario: If rulers and ministers believed fate determines everything, they would neglect governance; high-ranking officials would abandon their duties; farmers would grow lazy in cultivation; women would slacken in weaving. This would inevitably lead to chaos in the world and scarcity of food and clothing. Governing a state with such an attitude would neither properly serve heaven, earth and spirits, nor sustain the populace, ultimately resulting in the nation's collapse.

Mozi points out that notorious tyrants like Jie of Xia, Zhou of Shang, Youwang and Liwang of Zhou brought about their dynasties' downfall precisely because they believed in fatalism and neglected governance. Therefore he admonishes all virtuous scholars: Those who propagate fatalistic doctrines are actually spreading fabrications created by tyrants and circulated by the destitute—such words should never be spoken by benevolent persons. Those pursuing humaneness and righteousness must clearly recognize this and resolutely oppose such deterministic views.

(Note: This passage comes from the "Feiming" (Against Fatalism) chapter of Mozi, representing the Mohist school's important critique of Confucian concepts of heavenly mandate. The Mohists advocated "rejecting fatalism," emphasizing human agency and asserting that destiny lies in one's own hands.)

Mozi here critiques several Confucian doctrines and practices.

First, Mozi points out the contradictions in the Confucian principle of "graded love and hierarchical respect" (treating people differently based on kinship proximity and social status). Confucian mourning rites prescribe three years of mourning for parents and eldest sons, but only five months for uncles, elder brothers, and other relatives. If measured by kinship closeness, this places wives and eldest sons on par with fathers. If measured by social hierarchy, it equates wives and children with parents while demoting uncles and elder clansmen below one's own offspring - a complete inversion of priorities.

Next, Mozi satirizes the hypocrisy of Confucian funeral rituals: after a relative's death, family members climb rooftops, peer into wells, search rodent holes, and wash utensils in search of the deceased. If they genuinely believe the dead still exist, this would be foolish; if they know the person is dead yet persist in these acts, it's sheer hypocrisy.

Mozi further criticizes the excessive formality of Confucian wedding rites: the groom must personally fetch his bride with servant-like deference, conducting the ceremony with sacrificial solemnity. This reverses proper hierarchy - showing disrespect to parents while elevating the wife excessively. How can this be called filial piety?

When Confucians defend this by claiming wives are honored for presiding over ancestral sacrifices and eldest sons for continuing the family line, Mozi counters: clan elders who guarded ancestral temples for decades receive brief mourning periods, and sisters-in-law who participate in sacrifices get similarly short mourning. Clearly "maintaining sacrifices" is just an excuse. In reality, this "emphasis on kinship" masks selfish partiality.

Finally, Mozi condemns the harm of Confucian "fatalism": believing longevity, wealth, and social order are predetermined by Heaven leads officials to neglect duties and commoners to shun labor. States descend into chaos without governance, and agriculture fails without work. Confucians bewilder people with elaborate rituals, deceive relatives with prolonged mourning and feigned grief, and promote fatalism to make people accept poverty while indulging in pleasures without labor - ultimately leaving them destitute. Such doctrines treat humans like ignorant livestock.

This passage from the Mozi critiques Confucian doctrines in modern terms:

Mozi satirizes self-proclaimed "gentlemen" (junzi) among Confucian scholars: You mock others as idle loafers, but do you yourselves understand what true virtue is? In summer you beg for grain, yet when autumn harvest fills the granaries, you busily arrange funerals. Whole families tag along to feast, and after eating, they rush to organize multiple funeral ceremonies. You flaunt borrowed wealth and parade harvests from others' fields. Seeing wealthy households hold funerals delights you, calling it "opportunities for food and clothing."

When Confucians claim "a gentleman must wear ancient robes and speak archaic language to be virtuous," Mozi retorts: Those so-called ancient robes and speech were once new when first created—did wearing them automatically make ancient people gentlemen? Then must we now wear non-gentlemen's clothing and speak non-gentlemen's words to be virtuous?

To the Confucian assertion that "gentlemen follow old systems without innovation," Mozi counters: The ancient Yi invented bows, Zhu created armor, Xizhong built chariots, and Qiaochui designed boats. By your logic, modern bow-makers and armorers would be gentlemen, while these inventors become petty men? Moreover, what you follow was originally created by someone—doesn't that make your entire path founded by petty men?

Some promote that "gentlemen don't pursue fleeing enemies, won't shoot those taking cover, and even push stranded enemy chariots." Mozi challenges: If both sides were truly virtuous, conflict wouldn't occur. Virtuous men persuade through reason—yielding when wrong, following when ignorant, emulating good deeds. Why would they fight? If battling like torrential rain, yet victors refuse pursuit, spare the wounded, and aid enemy retreat—even such conduct hardly qualifies as gentlemanly.

Finally, addressing the Confucian passive attitude of "being like a bell that sounds only when struck," Mozi asserts: Truly virtuous men serve rulers with loyalty, parents with filial piety, praise goodness and admonish faults—this is a minister's true path. To hoard wisdom like a silent bell, withholding effort until questioned, remaining coldly passive even regarding crucial matters affecting rulers or parents, is no better than condoning banditry and chaos through negligence.

This passage originates from the Mozi, primarily critiquing how Confucius's (Kong Qiu's) words and actions fail to align with the genuine Dao of humaneness and righteousness. Through the dialogue between Duke Jing of Qi and Yanzi, it expresses the Mohist school's skepticism toward Confucian thought.

Yanzi argues that a true worthy should help harmonize the relationship between ruler and ministers while resolving conflicts between superiors and subordinates. Yet when Confucius was in Chu, despite knowing of Duke Bai's (a Chu nobleman) rebellious plot, he still supported his accomplice Shi Qi, nearly causing the ruler's assassination and Duke Bai's death. Yanzi points out that a worthy's conduct should benefit both sovereign and common people, whereas Confucius schemed in secret, teaching subjects to rebel against their superiors—actions utterly contrary to righteousness standards.

The text emphasizes that genuine Daoist learning should take "promoting benefit for all under heaven" as its guiding principle, maintaining upright conduct and knowing moderation when encountering personal gain. Confucius's actions directly oppose this: entering other states yet befriending treacherous ministers, recognizing disloyalty yet abetting rebellion, then evading responsibility afterward. Thus, Yanzi refuses to acknowledge Confucius as a worthy and remains silent when questioned by Duke Jing.

Through this anecdote, Mozi elucidates Mohism's core tenets of "universal love" and "condemnation of offensive warfare"—true humaneness and righteousness must yield tangible benefits and maintain social order, unlike the Confucian approach (as Mohists saw it) of empty moralizing that incites chaos.

This passage recounts Confucius' experience in the state of Qi and Yanzi's criticism of the Confucian school.

When Confucius visited Duke Jing of Qi, the ruler admired him and considered granting him the fief of Nixi. Upon consulting his minister Yanzi, however, the duke met with firm opposition. Yanzi outlined five major flaws of Confucians: their arrogance made them unfit to educate common people; their indulgence in music and pleasure would lead to licentiousness; their belief in fatalism caused neglect of governance, rendering them unqualified for office; their excessive mourning rituals showed no compassion for the living; and their eccentric clothing made them poor role models. Yanzi specifically criticized Confucius for using elaborate appearances to dazzle people, gathering disciples through music and dance, and establishing cumbersome rituals to display authority—all practices detrimental to statecraft.

Ultimately, Duke Jing withheld the land grant. Resentful toward both the duke and Yanzi, Confucius later leveraged connections with Tian Chang (a powerful Qi minister), dispatching his disciple Zigong to Qi for political maneuvering. Confucius instructed Zigong to persuade Tian Chang to attack Wu while instigating infighting among other Qi officials and encouraging Yue to invade Wu. Within three years, these machinations plunged both Qi and Wu into warfare.

The text further enumerates contradictory behaviors attributed to Confucius: abandoning his post as Minister of Justice in Lu to serve the Ji Sun clan; eating indiscriminately when trapped between Chen and Cai states; consuming meat and wine without inquiring about their origins; yet later in Lu becoming fastidious about seating arrangements and food etiquette. When questioned by disciple Zilu about these inconsistencies, Confucius reportedly justified them as necessary adaptations to different circumstances.

This account primarily reflects the Mohist school's critical stance toward Confucianism, portraying Confucian teachings as superficially elegant but impractical, with practitioners displaying behavioral contradictions. It's important to note this comes from Mohist texts carrying distinct sectarian bias, presenting a Confucius markedly different from the figure depicted in Confucian classics.

This passage contains Mozi's critique of Confucius and Confucian doctrine. Mozi states: Let me tell you, in ancient times there were men who, like you, boasted of benevolence (Ren) and righteousness (Yi), yet during famine they stole others' possessions to survive, then cloaked themselves in hypocritical virtue once sated. Could anything be more defiled and deceitful?

Mozi cites examples: When Confucius and his disciples sat discussing, they praised Emperor Shun's filial deference to his blind father Gusou—but was the world truly at peace then? Wasn't the Duke of Zhou (Zhougong Dan) a truly capable man? Why then did he abandon his own household to dwell elsewhere?

Mozi then condemns Confucius' conduct: Confucius' mind was crooked, and his disciples all emulated him. Consider how Zigong and Jilu (Confucius' students) assisted Kong Kui in seizing power in Wei, how Yang Hu (a Lu official) stirred rebellion in Qi, or how Bi Xi occupied Zhongmu in revolt. Their obsession with elaborate rites led to cruel punishments—nothing could be more excessive.

Mozi concludes: Disciples and successors should learn their master's words and deeds, requiring instruction only when lacking ability or wisdom. Yet Confucius' behavior proves so despicable that the moral character of Confucian scholars is indeed questionable.

(Note: This represents the Mohist school's sharp criticism of Confucianism, reflecting the intellectual clashes during the Warring States period's "Hundred Schools of Thought." Mohism advocated "universal love" (Jian'ai) and "condemnation of offensive war" (Feigong), opposing Confucianism's elaborate rituals and hypocritical moralizing.)