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September 12, 2013

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Teacher’s Day a time to reflect on true meaning of Chinese culture

In the run-up to another “Teacher’s Day” on Tuesday, many parents were apprehensive: What kinds of gifts should I send my child’s teachers so they will favor him or her? Shopping card? Or a red envelope of cash?

Cashing in on the pandemic anxiety, some outlets on the dominant Taobao shopping site have begun to market their “Teacher’s Day shopping cards.”

To add something uplifting to the day, there has been talk of moving Teacher’s Day to September 28, the day when, according to people who pretend to know, Confucius was born, 2,564 years ago. If Confucius knew how much pomp, double-talk, and even bribery have been attached to Teacher’s Day, would he not turn in his grave?

As some commentators point out, rather than wasting time in resetting the date, it could be more meaningful if we dedicate the day to reflections on the many serious problems plaguing our education system and its ethos. For instance, by requiring our educators to read the Great Learning from the Confucian canon.

Confucius was once very pleased with the observation that he looked “as scared as a stray cur,” probably because the principles he espoused were not followed by policy-makers of the many states at his time, in spite of his efforts.

Are these principles better accepted today? What is the perception of Confucianism that has been part and parcel of Chinese civilization before it was successively subject to debunking, debasing, and demonizing since early last century?

To be honest, at least for people my age Ñ thanks to years of vilification and blasphemy heaped upon the great sage during my formative years Ñ the name Confucius cannot but evoke some facetious image not much better than that of a stray cur.

Allegiance to mammon

Nominally we are heirs to the Confucian legacy. However, the essence of the Confucian outlook had long been, according to progressive thinkers today, out of sync with the dominant ideology and zeitgeist.

It is certainly incompatible with relentless promotion of growth and consumption. Some people still pay reverential lip service to the sage, because we are still shy of professing outright our allegiance to mammon.

For people seeking living evidence of Confucianism, they had better visit neighboring countries and areas which felt the radiance of Confucianism from afar. For instance, in Japan you still find stores of considerable size specializing in Chinese writing brushes, ink sticks, ink stones and rice paper, or rare books on Chinese antiquities unavailable in China.

Recently I bought a copy of the Chinese translation of “Confucius” (1989), a historic novel by Inoue Yasushi (1907-1991), based on the life of the sage. I was astonished by the writer’s intimate knowledge of the period, and the fact that the novel had achieved record sales of 800,000 copies in six months in Japan. It has become a must-read for successive Japanese prime ministers.

During a recent visit to China by South Korean President Park Geun-hye, it was learned that in her most difficult years, she was comforted by Feng Youlan’s works on Chinese philosophy.

I also learned from Monday’s Oriental Morning Post that one of the latest devotees to Chinese calligraphy is UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon. Ban had studied calligraphy as a child, and picked it up again last year, although he admitted he was so busy that he rarely has enough time for sleep.

He drew a parallel between impeccable calligraphy and good diplomatic work, saying that though the outcome might seem effortless in both, it takes a lot of work behind the scenes to achieve good results.

Goodness is like water

Accompanying the article was a picture of the UN leader, writing brush in hand, in the process of writing shang shan ruo shui, from Lao Tzu, meaning “The highest good is like that of water.” It is then explained that “the goodness of water is that it benefits the ten thousand creatures; yet itself does not scramble, but is content with the places that all men disdain.”

In a recent interview. Ban said he hardly had any weekend time, but whenever he does have spare time, be it only a few hours, he would begin practicing calligraphy. Calligraphy calms him, enabling him to be more focused, he said.

Chinese calligraphy is a purely aesthetic experience, while serving no practical purpose. It is not competitive. A veteran craftsman in the art would take genuine pleasure in seeing a good specimen of calligraphy by another man of letters. Who said men of letters disdain each other?

A man capable of writing a good hand is naturally highly disciplined, for he could only have arrived at that excellence by application and unceasing practice. As Lin Yutang, a late Chinese scholar, observed, “So fundamental is the place of calligraphy in Chinese art as a study of form and rhythm in the abstract that we may say it has provided the Chinese people with a basic aesthetics ...”

Peace and harmony is at the root of the Chinese outlook, and regardless of whether you are East or West, the truly enlightened would soon learn to appreciate the value of the Chinese outlook in contrast with crass materialism.

In “Dutch ‘mandarin’ behind Judge Dee novels,” (September 8, Shanghai Daily), there is a picture of Dutch sinologist and diplomat Robert van Gulik (1910-1967) playing his Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) guqin (Confucius’ favorite instrument) in his study in the Netherlands.

These overseas figures have been mesmerized, and profited from, the Chinese outlook and wisdom. By comparison, while some of my compatriots are being increasingly noticed abroad, they are noted chiefly for being restless, noisy, and disrespectful.

 




 

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