Impartial Care

A nyone who takes the governing of the world as his work has to know where the disorder starts before he can put it right. Not know where it starts, and he cannot fix it. It is exactly like a doctor treating a sickness. He has to know where the illness comes from before he can cure it; not know, and he cannot cure it. Why would setting the world in order be any different? You find the source of the trouble, or you do nothing. So a man who takes the world's order as his work cannot skip this: he has to examine where the disorder begins. The sage who takes ordering the world as his task must know where disorder arises from, and only then can he order it. If he does not know where disorder arises, he cannot order it. It is like a physician attending a person's illness: he must know where the illness arises, and only then can he treat it; if he does not know where it arises, he cannot treat it. How would one who orders disorder be any different? He must know where the disorder arises, and only then can he order it. The sage who takes ordering the world as his task cannot but examine where disorder arises.

So examine it. Where does the disorder come from? It comes from people not caring for one another. A son cares for himself and not his father, so he shortchanges his father to get ahead. A younger brother cares for himself and not his elder brother, so he shortchanges his brother to get ahead. A minister cares for himself and not his ruler, so he shortchanges his ruler to get ahead. That is what we call disorder. And it runs the other way too — a father who cares only for himself and not his son, an elder brother only for himself, a ruler only for himself, each shortchanging the other to get ahead. Why? In every case it comes from people not caring for one another. Let us examine where the disorder arises. It arises from not caring for one another. The minister and son not being filial to ruler and father — this is what is called disorder. The son cares for himself and does not care for his father, so he injures his father to benefit himself; the younger brother cares for himself and not his elder brother, so he injures his brother to benefit himself; the minister cares for himself and not his ruler, so he injures his ruler to benefit himself — this is what is called disorder. Even the father not kind to the son, the elder brother not kind to the younger, the ruler not kind to the minister — this too is what the world calls disorder. The father cares for himself and not his son, so he injures his son to benefit himself; and so with brother and ruler. Why is this? In all cases it arises from not caring for one another.

It is the same with thieves and robbers. A thief cares for his own household and not another's, so he steals from the other to enrich his own. A robber cares for his own body and not another's, so he does violence to the other to enrich himself. Why? The same cause — not caring for one another. And it is the same with great officers throwing each other's houses into chaos, and with the lords of states attacking one another. Each officer cares for his own house and not the others', so he ruins theirs to benefit his own. Each lord cares for his own state and not the others', so he attacks theirs to benefit his own. Run through every disorder in the world and this is all of it. Examine where it starts: it all starts from people not caring for one another. Even among thieves and robbers it is the same. The thief cares for his own household and not another's household, so he steals from the other household to benefit his own. The robber cares for his own person and not others, so he harms others to benefit himself. Why? It all arises from not caring for one another. And it is so even up to the great officers who throw one another's houses into disorder and the feudal lords who attack one another's states. Each great officer cares for his own house and not other houses, so he disorders the other house to benefit his own; each feudal lord cares for his own state and not other states, so he attacks the other state to benefit his own. The disorders of the world are entirely contained in this. Examine where this arises: it all arises from not caring for one another.

“Regard another's state as you regard your own. Regard another's household as your own household. Regard another's body as your own body.”

Now turn it around. Suppose everyone in the world cared for each other inclusively, each caring for others as he cares for himself — would anyone be unfilial? Look on your father, your elder brother, your ruler as you look on yourself, and where would the disregard come from? Would anyone be cruel to those beneath him? Look on your younger brother, your son, your minister as yourself, and where would the cruelty come from? So neglect and cruelty would both be gone. Would there still be thieves and robbers? Look on another's house as your own — who steals? Look on another's body as your own — who robs? So thieves and robbers would be gone. Would officers still wreck each other's houses, lords still attack each other's states? Look on another's house as your own house, another's state as your own state — who wrecks, who attacks? All of it gone. Suppose we made the world care for one another inclusively, each caring for others as he cares for his own body — would there still be the unfilial? Regard father, elder brother, and ruler as one's own body, and how would unfilial conduct be carried out? Would there still be the unkind? Regard younger brother, son, and minister as one's own body, and how would unkindness be carried out? So the unfilial and the unkind would no longer exist. Would there still be thieves and robbers? Regard another's household as one's own household — who would steal? Regard another's person as one's own person — who would rob? So thieves and robbers would no longer exist. Would there still be great officers disordering one another's houses and feudal lords attacking one another's states? Regard another's house as one's own house — who would disorder it? Regard another's state as one's own state — who would attack it? So these would no longer exist.

If the whole world cared for each other inclusively — states not attacking states, houses not wrecking houses, no thieves or robbers, rulers and ministers and fathers and sons all kind and dutiful — then the world would be in order. So how can a man whose work is governing the world fail to restrain hatred and urge care? When there is inclusive care in the world, there is order; when people deal with each other in hatred, there is disorder. That is why Mozi said there is no choice but to urge people to care for one another. If the whole world cared for one another inclusively — states not attacking one another, houses not disordering one another, thieves and robbers no more, ruler and minister, father and son all able to be kind and filial — like this the world would be ordered. So how could the sage who takes ordering the world as his task fail to forbid hatred and encourage care? Therefore when the world cares inclusively it is ordered, and when it deals in mutual hatred it is disordered. This is why Master Mozi said: there is no choice but to urge people to care for others.

Here is the other side of the same coin. A person of conscience makes it his work to promote what benefits the world and get rid of what harms it. So what harms the world? States attacking states, houses seizing from houses, the strong forcing the weak, the many bullying the few, the cunning cheating the simple, the highborn lording it over the low — these harm the world. And rulers without grace, ministers without loyalty, fathers without kindness, sons without duty — these harm it too. Where does all this harm come from? It comes from people not caring for one another. A person of benevolence makes it his task to promote what benefits the world and to eliminate what harms the world. Then what harms the world? It is states attacking one another, houses seizing from one another, persons injuring one another; ruler and ministers without grace and loyalty, father and son without kindness and duty, brothers out of harmony — these harm the world. When all the world's people do not care for one another, the strong will surely dominate the weak, the many surely plunder the few, the rich surely insult the poor, the noble surely disdain the lowly, the cunning surely deceive the simple. Every misery, seizure, grudge, and hatred in the world arises because people do not care for one another; this is why the benevolent condemn it.

Once you have condemned a thing, you owe a replacement — condemn it with nothing to put in its place and you are trying to put out fire with fire. So replace partiality with inclusion. How does inclusion replace partiality? If a man treated another's state as his own, who would raise his state to attack another's? He acts for the other as for himself. Treat another's city as your own, and who marches on it? Treat another's house as your own, and who throws it into chaos? Then states do not attack each other and houses do not prey on each other. Is that harm to the world, or benefit? Benefit, plainly. And trace where benefit comes from: from caring for others and benefiting them. So the inclusive way is right, and the partial way is wrong. Whoever condemns something must have something to replace it with; to condemn without a replacement is like trying to put out fire with water that one withholds — the argument can lead nowhere. Therefore: replace partiality with inclusion. How can inclusion replace partiality? If one acts for another's state as for one's own state, who alone would raise his state to attack another's state? He acts for the other as for himself. If one acts for another's city as for one's own, who would raise his city to assault another's? If one acts for another's house as for one's own, who would raise his house to disorder another's? Then states and cities do not attack one another and houses do not disorder one another — is this the world's harm or the world's benefit? Surely the world's benefit. Trace where these benefits arise: from caring for and benefiting others. Therefore inclusion is right.

The objectors are not done. Fine, they say — inclusion may be good, but is it any use? You can't use it. Mozi answers: if a thing truly could not be used, even I would condemn it. But how can something be good and yet of no use? Take two men. One holds to partiality, one to inclusion. The partial man says, I could never treat my friend's body as my own, his parents as my own — so when his friend goes hungry he does not feed him, cold he does not clothe him, sick he does not tend him, dead he does not bury him. The inclusive man says the opposite: to be worth anything I must treat my friend's body as my own and his parents as my own — so he feeds him, clothes him, tends him, buries him. Two men, opposite in word and deed. Still the objectors do not stop. They say: it may be good, but how can it be put to use? Mozi said: if it could not be used, then even I would condemn it. But how can there be something good that cannot be used? Let us set two cases side by side. Suppose two men: let one hold to partiality and one hold to inclusion. So the partial man says: how could I treat my friend's body as my own body, my friend's parents as my own parents? And so, seeing his friend hungry he does not feed him, cold he does not clothe him, sick he does not tend him, dead he does not bury him. The partial man's words are like this and his deeds like this. The inclusive man's words and deeds are not so. He says: I have heard that one who would be a noble man in the world must treat his friend's body as his own body, his friend's parents as his own parents — only then can he be a noble man. And so, seeing his friend hungry he feeds him, cold he clothes him, sick he tends him, dead he buries him.

Now put the two to the test. Say you are about to march to a war where life and death are a coin-toss, or you are sent on a long mission to a far country and no one knows if you will return. Who do you leave your parents, your wife, your children with? Do you hand them to the inclusive man, or the partial one? I think on a day like that there is no man and no woman in the world, however much they sneered at inclusion, who would not entrust their family to the inclusive man. People condemn inclusion with their mouths and choose it with their hands. Word and deed run opposite. So I cannot understand it — why does everyone who hears of inclusion turn around and condemn it? Suppose now there is a broad open plain here, and one is about to don armor and helmet and go to war, where the odds of death or life cannot be known; or a ruler's high officer is sent far away to Ba, Yue, Qi, or Jing, and whether he comes back cannot be known. Then let me ask: to whom does one entrust his household, the care of his parents, the keeping of his wife and children? Is it to the inclusive man, or to the partial man? I hold that at such a time there is no foolish man or foolish woman in the world — even one who condemns inclusion — who would not entrust them to the inclusive man. This is to condemn inclusion in word and choose it in deed; word and deed are at odds. I do not understand why everyone in the world who hears of inclusion condemns it.

Still they will not stop. Inclusion may be benevolent and right, they say, but can it actually be done? It is like hoisting Mount Tai and stepping over a river. Mozi answers: hoisting Mount Tai and stepping over a river has never once been done since there were people. But inclusive care and mutual benefit were practiced, in person, by the ancient sage-kings. And consider the hard things people have done. Lord Ling of Chu liked slender waists, so his courtiers starved themselves down to one meal a day, holding the wall to stand, and within a generation the whole court had changed. King Goujian of Yue prized courage, so he set fire to his own ships and beat the drum to advance, and his men walked into fire and water and died beyond counting. Starving yourself, walking into fire — these are the hardest things there are, and people did them because their lord wanted it. Inclusive care and mutual benefit are easier than any of that, and they actually help. The only thing missing is a ruler who wants it. Still the objectors do not stop. They say: inclusion may be benevolent and right, but how can it be done? I compare its impossibility to hoisting Mount Tai and leaping over the rivers. Mozi said: hoisting Mount Tai and leaping the rivers has never, from antiquity to now, since there were people, been done. But inclusive care and mutual benefit were personally practiced by the six sage-kings of old. Take the hard things that have been done. Lord Ling of Jing liked slender waists; in his time the men of Jing ate no more than one meal, propped themselves up before rising, leaned on the wall before walking. Strict eating is hard to do, yet they did it because Lord Ling was pleased by it, and within a generation the people could be changed — they sought to conform to their superior. King Goujian of Yue liked courage; he set fire to his ships and beat the drum to advance, and his men fell into fire and water and died beyond counting. Now inclusive care and mutual benefit are beneficial and easy beyond reckoning; the only lack is a superior who takes pleasure in it.

So inclusion is the way of the sage-kings. It is what keeps rulers and great men secure; it is what fills the bellies and backs of the common people. The best thing a person of standing can do is look hard at inclusion and set about practicing it. As a ruler, be gracious; as a minister, loyal; as a father, kind; as a son, dutiful; as an elder brother, good to the younger; as a younger brother, respectful to the elder. So anyone who wants to be a gracious ruler, a loyal minister, a kind father, a dutiful son, a good brother — inclusion is the thing he cannot leave undone. It is the way of the sage-kings and the great benefit of all the people. Therefore inclusion is the way of the sage-kings, that by which rulers and great men are made secure, that by which the food and clothing of the myriad people are made sufficient. So nothing is better for the gentleman than to examine inclusion and devote himself to practicing it: as a ruler, be gracious; as a minister, loyal; as a father, kind; as a son, filial; as an elder brother, good; as a younger brother, respectful. So if the gentleman wishes to be a gracious ruler, a loyal minister, a kind father, a filial son, a good elder brother, a respectful younger brother, then inclusion cannot but be practiced. This is the way of the sage-kings and the great benefit of the myriad people.

兼愛 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

聖人以治天下為事者也，必知亂之所自起，焉能治之。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · The Mozi 墨子