In 403 BC, the summer rains came down in torrents. The Yellow River overflowed, and the Luo burst its banks. I…
In 403 BC, the summer rains came down in torrents. The Yellow River overflowed, and the Luo burst its banks.
In the third month, twenty-seven dikes stood on the verge of collapse. Three thousand Mohists were sent out to the breach sites, bearing earth and stone on their backs to fill the gaps, laboring through the night without rest. Yet for all the strength the Mohists spent, it was still no more than a cup of water thrown on a blazing cartload of firewood.
At that time, the king was enfeoffing Han, Zhao, and Wei. Lords and nobles gathered in glittering array, the rites resplendent, pipes and drums shaking the heavens. When Mozi heard of it, he put on his coarse robe, stepped out into the frost, and hurried to the Zhou capital, hoping to admonish the rulers and save the world. But those exalted lords saw only the fat of sacrificial beasts within their cauldrons, never the floating corpses beyond the hall. Instead they spoke of the waxing and waning of Heaven's Dao, of what no human power could resist, and drove him out for disturbing the sacred order. Mozi cried out in grief: was human life truly worth less than Heaven's decree?
Yet Mozi would not let the matter rest. He went among the villages, teaching the common people how to dredge channels and guide the waters. But those willing to learn were pitifully few. The people did not think to save themselves. Instead, they bound young boys and girls and cast them into the river, praying to Heaven for mercy. Everywhere he went, it was the same.
That night, the flood ran wild, drowning the lands of the Nine Provinces. Millions perished. Mozi wept amid the ruined walls, and at last understood this: if Heaven's decree was the flood, then the hearts of men were the dam. This was not the fault of the feudal lords alone, nor of the common people alone. It was the fault of Heaven. To clear a blocked river is easy. To clear a blocked heart is hard. A river is dredged by opening its course. A heart is dredged by breaking through its ignorance. And so he set his will upon Beholding Heaven and Denying Fate.
Gongmeng Zigao urged him, saying, "If Heaven's decree is a lock, it has stood fast for a thousand years. The rise and fall of Xia, Shang, and Zhou were all explained in its name. If you would break through that barrier, I fear it cannot be done within a single age."
Mozi was unmoved. He said, "A lock of a thousand years must be opened with a key of a thousand years. If ten years fail, if a hundred years bear no fruit, then what is there to fear in a thousand?"
Gongmeng Zigao urged him again. "It is not that there are none beneath Heaven who reject fate, but how few dare say so aloud. Why is that? Have you not heard? The feudal lords use Heaven to rule the people. The hundred schools use Heaven to uphold their teachings. The common people take Heaven as their faith. Would you make yourself the enemy of all under Heaven?"
Mozi said, "The feudal lords fear Heaven because they fear losing their mandate to rule. The learned fear Heaven because they fear losing their principles. The common people fear Heaven because they fear losing their lives. But when men's hearts are blocked and their lives are bound to Heaven, how can one retreat merely because of fear? In ages past, Yu the Great cut through Longmen and opened the Nine Marshes, not for his own sake. Now, since no one else will stand forth to deny Heaven, then the Mohists must go first. If it is for the benefit of the world, what is one life to a Mohist?"
Gongmeng Zigao bowed and asked, "What then will you do?"
Mozi said, "From this day onward, the Mohists shall strip the heavens of their mystique and lay the sky plain before all eyes. Though it take a thousand years, ten thousand years, we shall teach the world to know that thunder is not Heaven's wrath, rain is not Heaven's lament, and Heaven's decree is nothing to fear."