Mohism for Kids

If you had a single cookie, would you give it to your best friend or a total stranger?

Around 2,400 years ago in China, a man named Mozi suggested something radical. He believed we should care for everyone in the world exactly the same way we care for ourselves. This big idea became known as Mohism, a philosophy that turned ancient China upside down.

Imagine a world where maps were constantly changing. In ancient China, during a time called the Warring States Period, this was reality. Great kingdoms were always at war, and the air was often thick with the smoke of campfires and the sound of marching feet.

Most people were just trying to survive the chaos. They stayed close to their families and looked out for their own villages. They believed that your first duty was to your parents, then your neighbors, and then maybe, if you had any energy left, the rest of the world.

Picture this

Imagine a map of a country that looks like a jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces are constantly trying to push each other off the table. This was the Warring States Period. Every city had to have thick walls, and even children knew the names of the most famous generals.

Then came Mozi. He was likely a carpenter or a low ranking official, someone who knew how to build things with his hands. He looked at the constant fighting and reached a surprising conclusion: the world was broken because people cared too much about their own circles.

He noticed that people would never steal from their own brother, but they would happily lead an army to steal from a neighboring city. To Mozi, this was a logic error. He believed that if you wouldn't hurt your family, you shouldn't hurt anyone else either.

Finn says:

"If I have to care about everyone exactly the same, does that mean I can't have a 'best' friend? That feels like it would be really lonely!"

The Idea of Universal Love

Mozi called his biggest idea Jian'ai, which we usually translate as Universal Love or Impartial Care. This sounds like a very sweet, soft idea, like a giant group hug for the whole planet. But for Mozi, it was actually a very practical, almost mathematical way of looking at the world.

He argued that most of our problems come from "partiality." This is when we pick favorites. We think our own lunch is more important than a stranger's lunch, or our own country is more important than the one across the mountains.

Partiality is the cause of all the great harms in the world.

Mozi didn't think you should love your parents less. He thought you should love everyone else more. He wanted us to expand our circle of care until it covered every single person on Earth, without any gaps.

He used a simple test to prove his point. If you were a soldier, and you were going away to war, who would you trust to look after your family: a person who only cares about their own friends, or someone who treats every family as their own?

Did you know?

Mozi's name actually means 'Master Ink.' Some historians think this was a nickname because he was a worker who often had ink or soot on his skin from building and drawing designs.

The Philosopher-Engineers

One of the most amazing things about the Mohists was that they didn't just sit around and talk about love. They were legendary engineers and architects. They were famous for being the best builders of defensive walls and giant machines in all of China.

Mozi hated aggressive war, but he knew that talking wouldn't stop an army from attacking a small city. So, he and his followers became experts in defense. They would travel to small, weak cities that were about to be attacked and offer to help for free.

Mira says:

"I love that they were engineers! It's like they used math and wood to prove their philosophy. You can't argue with a wall that's too strong to be knocked down."

They built massive catapults, giant sliding ladders, and specialized walls to keep people safe. They were like a team of superhero scientists who used their brains to make sure the "big guys" couldn't pick on the "little guys."

There is a famous story about Mozi walking for ten days and ten nights to reach the King of Chu. The King was planning to attack the state of Song using a brand new invention: the "cloud ladder." Mozi didn't yell at the King: he challenged him to a game.

Benefit and Joy

Mozi was a very practical man. He believed that the value of any idea or action could be measured by its utility, or how much it actually helped people. If something didn't provide food, clothing, or safety, Mozi wasn't very interested in it.

Because of this, he actually disagreed with many other thinkers of his time about things like music and art. He thought that rich kings spent too much money on giant bronze bells and fancy dances while their people were hungry.

To stop the music is not because the sound of the big bells and drums is not pleasant... but because it does not contribute to the benefit of the people.

To a Mohist, a beautiful song was less important than a warm coat. They lived very simple lives, often wearing rough clothes and eating very plain food. They wanted to save every bit of energy and money to help the world reach a state of Great Unity.

They believed that humans were naturally capable of being good, but we get distracted by shiny things and selfish desires. By focusing on what is "beneficial" to everyone, they thought we could create a society where nobody was left behind.

Mira says:

"It reminds me of how we think about the environment today. If we only care about our own backyard, the whole planet stays in trouble. We have to look at the big picture."

The Great Debate: Mozi vs. Confucius

At the time, the biggest celebrity philosopher was Confucius. He had very different ideas about how society should work. This created a massive debate that lasted for hundreds of years in ancient China.

Confucius believed in Hierarchy. He thought the world worked best when there were clear levels of importance. You should love your father most, then your ruler, then your friends. To Confucius, treating a stranger the same as your father was actually disrespectful to your father.

Mozi thought this was a recipe for disaster. He argued that if you only care about your own family, you will eventually fight with other families. He believed that "Universal Love" was the only way to truly keep your own family safe in the long run.

This debate wasn't just about feelings; it was about how to organize a government. Should a King give jobs to his cousins (the Confucian way), or should he give jobs to the smartest, most capable people regardless of who their parents were? Mozi was a big believer in Meritocracy, or giving power to those who earned it.

The purpose of the wise is to promote what is beneficial to the world and eliminate what is harmful.

The Disappearing Act

For about two hundred years, Mohism was one of the most popular schools of thought in China. People loved the idea of a philosophy that was practical, fair, and focused on helping the poor. But then, it almost completely vanished.

When China was finally unified under one Emperor, the new government didn't like the Mohists. The Mohists were too independent, and their idea that a King should be judged by how much he helped the poor was dangerous to a tyrant.

For nearly two thousand years, Mozi's books were mostly ignored or forgotten. People thought his ideas were too difficult or too strange. It wasn't until about a hundred years ago that modern scholars began to realize how ahead of his time Mozi really was.

Today, people look at Mohism and see the early roots of Human Rights and science. Even though the Mohist "knight-engineers" are gone, their question remains: how much of our care are we willing to share with people we've never met?

The Light in the Dark

Mozi’s ideas might seem like they belong to a vanished world of ancient walls and wooden machines. But every time we help someone we don't know, or stand up for someone who is being treated unfairly, we are walking the path of the Master Engineer. The question of how wide we can stretch our hearts is one that every generation has to answer for itself.