In the Mencius, Heaven is the behind-the-scenes force that defines ethics and provides the impetus for people to behave according to its moral precepts. According to Mencius, people are naturally good. All we have to do is find it within ourselves and express it outwardly, and everything will soon fall into place. Ethics is harmony — it is an expression of the deeper patterns of the universe, and it has real social value for those who draw upon its power. Mencius uses the metaphor of seedlings to describe the cultivation of moral behavior time and again: they are within us at birth and can either grow or wither depending on how we live our lives. He does not simply attribute these seeds to Nature, however. He attributes them to Heaven.

To understand what Heaven has to do with ethics in Mencius, we must first understand what Mencius means by Heaven. He does not mean it as a place or a state we hope to reach, but rather as a set of principles by which the world is governed. It is a force beyond the control of individuals: “When something is brought about though there is nothing that brings it about, then it is Heaven that does it” (V. A. 6). Yet Heaven is not a personified deity, for it speaks through people rather than to them. Mencius quotes the T’ai shih as saying, “Heaven sees with the eyes of its people. Heaven hears with the ears of its people.” (V. A. 5). He uses this to explain how Heaven accepted Shun as Emperor exactly when the people did. Heaven was thus embodied by the masses when they chose a True King to lead them, though this does not mean that Heaven controlled the masses like so many puppets. Heaven is more the force of society than any external divine force. Indeed, the very form of society is “due to Heaven” whether “men of small virtue serve men of great virtue” or “the weak serve the strong” (IV. A. 7).

That being said, Heaven definitely has a bias towards the good. Mencius speaks of the Way of Heaven as a path from which the irreverent deviate (IV. A. 12), and of a proper Destiny that can be dodged by straying from that path (VII. A. 2). The world as set up by Heaven resembles a board game that we can only win by being good. Each of us starts the game with the potential for sagehood — what Mencius calls the four germs (II. A. 6) — but this does not guarantee that we will always follow the Way. We must cultivate our innate morality so that what is second nature can express our original nature. For the great man, “the retention of his heart and the nurturing of his nature are the means by which he serves Heaven” (VII. A. 1).

Yet how can Heaven, as a societal force, be so deeply embedded in the individual? Society is composed of individuals, so the patterns it expresses on the large scale must originate somewhere in the small scale. Mencius says the key to social harmony is personal benevolence, the glue that binds people together. When we put benevolence into action, we follow the Way (VII. B. 16). Benevolence is one of the “honours bestowed by Heaven”, along with honesty and dutifulness, which contribute to stable, trustworthy relationships. As we recognize the kindness and respect of others and reciprocate with those we care about, the “honours of man” naturally follow these honours of Heaven (VI. A. 16). Additionally, since goodness is innate, expressing it outwardly by following the traditional roles and rites of society is being to true to oneself as much as it accords with the Way (IV. A. 12). “That is why a gentleman wishes to find the Way in himself” (IV. B. 14).

Because of our natural tendencies toward benevolence, it is both contagious and powerful. Once again, in the game that Heaven has set up, morality is more than just an expression of inner virtue. It is also a very effective force in the world. The game rules favor the benevolent: “The people turn to the benevolent as water flows downwards” (IV. A. 9). The people will follow the lead of benevolent people, for “there has never been a man totally true to himself who fails to move others” (IV. A. 12). This is true for any man, but it is especially true for kings. Heaven’s Mandate is given to the effective ruler, and he loses this seemingly ‘divine’ sanction the moment he fails to bring harmony to his kingdom. A malevolent prince may be able take power, but he can only maintain his rule by brute force. A benevolent prince gains his power from Heaven — which is to say, from the people — and brute force cannot easily take that away. “One who has the Way will have many to support him” (II. B. 1), so although other states “may be big in size… what is there to be afriad of” (III. B. 5)? Heaven’s approval comes in the form of enthusiastic and loyal subjects. Mencius speaks of kings, but even us commoners can appreciate the trust and support of friends that we foster through our own integrity. Ethical behavior gets us ahead in the game of life.

It is easy to see that if everyone were benevolent we would live in a utopia with no conflict or suffering. Benevolence is the seed planted by Heaven, and to bring it to fruition is the extend the power of Heaven — that is, the strength of a well-ordered society. The problem is that people are so often not benevolent, that it is difficult to see how the Way could ever be realized. But Mencius puts so much stress on family and rulership that these must be as fundamental to realizing his ethics as benevolence itself. His ethics concern those in power more often than not, because they are the ones in the best position to change society. “In obscurity a man makes perfect his own person, but in prominence he makes perfect the whole Empire as well” (VII. A. 9). The more relationships he participates in, the more people he can touch with his benevolence. He can lead the Way. A ruler is more than just a moral example, however, for he can also cultivate the seeds of Heaven among his people by removing the weeds of bad influence and strife. For example, he can reform (or fire) faulty feudal lords (V. B. 4) and provide plenty of food to the masses (VII. A. 23). This way people will not be distracted from their benevolent natures.

Since benevolence is indeed our true nature, and because integrity involves coordinating our habits of thought and action with this inner nature, to be true to ourselves we must be actively benevolent. This necessarily involves relationships — self-perfection cannot be done in isolation. Relationships are two-way streets, so as much as we can influence others, evil friends will help us to do evil and good friends will help us to do good (III. B. 6). That is why benevolent people should associate most closely with the good ones (VII. A. 46). They shouldn’t give up entirely on their evil acquaintances, though, because “if those who are morally well-adjusted and talented abandon those who are not, then scarcely an inch will separate the good from the depraved” (IV. B. 7). But Mencius also says benevolent people are justified in leaving when things get really bad (IV. B. 4). Now the source of benevolence is lost among evil friends and malevolent kings, and it is not clear how the seeds of Heaven, once they are found, could possibly flourish in a disordered society so overgrown with weeds that even the sages abandon it. This takes us back to the other fundamental source of ethical behavior: the family.

There is a most puzzling passage in which Mencius praises Shun for loving his brother Hsiang and his father the Blind Man, even though they keep trying to murder him (V. A. 2). His family members are the antithesis of benevolence and an active threat to a harmonious and well-ordered society, yet Shun does not try to escape from his familial relationships. In fact, he is pleased when Hsiang “came [to him] as a loving brother”, though all the while Hsiang was plotting against him. The seeds of our benevolence lie in our innate love for our kin. If we abandon our families, we abandon the roots of moral virtue. For Mencius, like Confucius before him, the relationships between parents and children, and younger siblings and older siblings, are the most fundamental relationships from which all others are based.

In the end, Shun is able both to love his brother and support his subjects. When he becomes Emperor, Shun gives Hsiang the land of Yu Pi, but then puts his own officials in charge of the actual government. “Hsiang was certainly not permitted to ill-use the people” (V. A. 3). Being a True King, Shun is probably better at this sort of compromise than other people, but Mencius makes it clear where our priorities should lie. If our heart is in order, then our family relationships will be in order, and only in then can our more peripheral relationships be made right (IV. A. 12). Indeed, when Shun finally pleases his father by being a dutiful son, the whole Empire “was transformed” (IV. A. 28). Using our Heaven-given hearts to focus on truly important matters, while not getting distracted by the less important concerns presented by our external senses, we, too, can achieve greatness (VI. A. 14).

Heaven is the course through which goodness flows. It is not a divine agency, though it is beyond human control. It is that which gives people the potential to be good, the seeds of benevolence that grow naturally toward kin and other morally virtuous people. It is the rules of life’s game, responsible for the real rewards that ethical behavior can bring in terms of self-fulfillment, supportive relationships, and kingly power. It is also the force of an ethical society to bring peace and unity to the Empire. Heaven can also bring destruction to those who do not follow the prescribed path, and its punishment does not come in the afterlife. Mencius saw the turmoil of his times as being caused by people rejecting their inner goodness. He saw the principles by which ethical and unethical behavior create emergent patterns of harmony and chaos in the larger society, and he called those principles Heaven.