Confucianism 3 Values Of Critical Thinking

Some years ago I gave a mini-lesson on plagiarism to a Chinese student who’d submitted a first essay full of unsourced quotations. I showed her a classical Chinese passage from the ancient Confucian text “The Mencius,” in which Mencius quotes and cites Confucius by name.

“See?” I said. “Even ancient Chinese scholars cited their sources.” My lesson didn’t quite have the desired effect.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have been surprised. It would be rather like a Chinese professor quoting the King James Bible to make a moral teaching point to an irreligious British student. Such an antiquarian exercise can fall flat because the teacher presumes, as I did, a historical cultural connection that the student doesn’t identify with.

Some intercultural and English language education theorists go a lot further than I did about such historical cultural connections. They argue, for instance, that East Asian students’ Confucian cultural heritage influences their learning styles and attitudes, which can clash with Western teaching methods.

Presumed behavioral traits such as a collectivist sense of harmony that discourages critical thinking, passivity, deference to teachers and plagiaristic proclivities — even struggles with thesis statement writing — are all explained as manifestations of an often unconscious, ancient Confucian influence. Readers teaching in Japan or to East Asian students abroad may wonder how correct this conclusion is. I can hint at some answers here.

Beliefs have waxed and waned

In the past, this alleged Confucian influence was used to explain the perceived backwardness of Asians relative to Western civilization. Today, cultural identity politics and education theorists’ cultural hypersensitivities require a different approach: This alleged influence now points to cultural differences that must be understood and respected.

Culturally respectful or not, such approaches seldom ask whether Confucianism is in any state today to exert the influences claimed for it, and whether even in the past Confucianism was actually encouraging the behavioral traits supposedly associated with East Asian students.

Unlike religious traditions like Buddhism, Confucianism did not weather the transition to modernity very well. By the 14th and 15th centuries, classical Confucian texts had taken center stage in examination systems selecting officials to staff bureaucracies in China, Korea and Vietnam. Neo-Confucian academies educated samurai for bureaucratic jobs in early 19th-century feudal Japan, though recent research has shown that their examinations were less meritocratic, and less focused on Confucian texts.

Generations of Chinese, Korean and Vietnamese youth rote-learned the Confucian classics and endured a grueling regimen of provincial, regional and national examinations to qualify for bureaucratic office. Confucian values were also central to imperial court rituals. These Confucianized political, ritual and educational cultures were swept away by education reforms, political revolutions and colonization in the early 20th century.

However, Confucianism has survived in other forms. Today it’s making a popular comeback in China, and the Communist government has acquired a taste for Confucian slogans. But Confucian revivalism dates back to the late 19th century, when Japanese scholars such as Inoue Tetsujiro used their European philosophical training to revamp Confucianism as an academic philosophy, and as a constituent part of a national morality distinct from “Western individualism.”

Political leaders in late 19th-century Japan and in postwar Taiwan and South Korea were also keen on developing mass education systems to make their citizens literate, obedient and disciplined enough to fulfill national industrialization goals. These leaders — aided by scholars like Inoue — superficially preached Confucian values such as harmony, loyalty and filial piety to instill nationalist sentiment in schoolchildren and army conscripts.

At least some of the behavioral traits claimed for East Asian students, including strong deference to teachers and lack of critical thinking, likely have a shallow 20th-century heritage in the modernized mass education systems of Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and China. Still, it’s worth pointing out what’s wrong with suggesting that Confucianism provides the cultural programming behind such behavioral traits.

History of debate and dissent

Let’s start with critical thinking and student passivity. Two-and-a-half millennia ago, during the Warring States Period in China, Confucianism started out as a tradition of critical thinking. Confucians called for a return to the rites and the moral cultivation of a previous era of sage kings, rebuked princes who failed to live up to their moral standards, and refused to work for them if they ruled unjustly. Mencius even suggested that the most tyrannical princes could be overthrown and executed.

Early Confucian texts record lively dialogues between students and their masters, and students were not afraid to speak up if they disagreed with their masters. Confucians disagreed with each other and they also came in for philosophically sophisticated criticism from rival thinkers such as the Mohists, Legalists and Daoists. Another early Confucian, Xunzi, recommended the study of persuasive speaking for princes eager to combat these “heretics.”

Even in later eras when Confucianism was reinvented as a state doctrine and rote-learned by students, there was room for dissent. So the 16th-century scholar Wang Yangming famously accused this scholastic Confucianism of being an obstacle to moral self-knowledge. As political philosopher and Confucian scholar Sungmoon Kim told me, “The entire history of Confucianism was propelled by critically minded thinkers.”

What then of plagiarism? Culturally sensitive education theorists explain that what Westerners denounce as plagiarism is, for people reared in Confucian cultures, a means for paying homage to and learning from the ideas of revered scholars. They therefore recommend a culturally respectful, gradual approach to teaching “Western-style” anti-plagiarism norms to Asian students.

Ancient Chinese scholars, who understood the difference between respectful allusion and literary theft, would not have been flattered by this “cultural respect.” Applied linguist Dilin Liu notes that Chinese writers were already criticizing plagiarism by the eighth century. The Wen Ze, a 12th-century textbook teaching essay writing to examination candidates, also condemned plagiarism.

A millennium-long academic arms race pitted examination officials against candidates trying to bribe, cheat or plagiarize their way to a coveted diploma. Today, leading Chinese universities are struggling to enforce plagiarism rules in the face of widespread corruption and weak legal backup.

If East Asian students and researchers plagiarize, it’s not because of some archaic cultural programming; it’s because modern institutional cultures tacitly condone plagiarism, or lack clear policies for explaining and combating it. In any case, researcher plagiarism rates vary greatly between East Asian countries, and they vary between “Western” countries too. Like everyone else, East Asian students and researchers are more likely to plagiarize if it is easy and if there are strong enough incentives to do it.

Stereotyping the 1.5 billion

East Asia today is a vast, culturally diverse region of 1.5 billion people. Its national education systems are in flux, and are the battleground for struggles over national identity, teaching methods and academic integrity, much as they are in America or Europe. Students emerging from these education systems are less likely to conform to “Asian learner” stereotypes.

Anglo-American teachers seeking insight into their students’ learning styles and expectations should research their modern schooling cultures and ask them about their education experiences. For instance, Narahiko Inoue, an expert on competitive debating at Kyushu University, told me that a focus on entrance examination preparation in Japanese schooling has led to a neglect of public speaking, and generated an over-reliance on textbook and teacher authority that discourages more spontaneous, critical thinking.

There may also be motivational, confidence and language proficiency problems lying behind, say, classroom passivity and reluctance to engage in critical thinking and debate. All of these issues can be resolved with patient instruction and improved foreign language skill.

Lastly, teachers may find — as I have, after watching Japanese female students jokingly “talk rough” and flip the bird at their male peers — that ritual propriety and deference aren’t what they used to be.

Shaun O’Dwyer is an associate professor in the Faculty of Languages and Cultures at Kyushu University, and has published widely in philosophy and philosophy of education.

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‘The Confucian Puzzle’ Part Two: Remonstration and Obedience ‘儒家难题’ 第二部分: 规劝和服从

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The ‘son-covering-father’ story in The Analects (13.18) has caused a lot of controversy. When the Duke of Sheh says that ‘Among us here there are those who may be styled upright in their conduct. If their father have stolen a sheep, they will bear witness to the fact’, Confucius replies that ‘Among us, in our part of the country, those who are upright are different from this. The father conceals the misconduct of the son, and the son conceals the misconduct of the father. Uprightness is to be found in this [italics added].” The implication is that not disclosing a crime is morally acceptable if the criminal is a family member, raising the question as to whether filial obligation should override civil obligations or social justice. The passage mirrors a section of Plato’s Euthyphro, which examines whether prosecuting one’s father is a pious thing to do. Sophocles’s Antigone explores a similar theme by showing the struggles of Antigone and the dispute between obeying the laws of the gods, familial loyalty, and social decency.

In the last article on the Confucian Puzzle, valuing family as much as moral integrity and human worth failed to justify why the son should cover for his father’s theft. For example, if Xiao (love for the family) is understood as a convenient setting to develop love towards others (Ren), then the son is morally obliged to report the father since he would be in a position of extending family love towards others and sacrificing the means of family love towards the more important principle of loving others. On the other hand, if Xiao is of equal importance or at least as important as Ren, it is unclear how one should decide which principle to compromise. To assume that turning the father in to authorities would do more harm for the father than the sheep owner is only speculative. Imagine that the stolen sheep was the sheep owner’s only income, the last sheep in his stock, or the only meal left for his family. In such a case, surely covering for the father would do the sheep owner more harm since he would have no means of claiming compensation or recovering his stolen stock. Finally, the claim that Xiao should simply never be compromised also does not answer the puzzle. In a life-threatening situation, there is no moral reason why the son should not report the father as valuing Xiao as tradition does not adequately justify why valuing family love is more important than all other virtues.

Another approach to solving the puzzle is mentioned in Li’s (2012) article. The solution involves understanding different value systems. If family as a whole is more important than each individual and is prioritised in society, then the son should preserve his family’s flourishing by covering his father’s crime. But there are two problems with this conclusion. On the one hand, the meaning of ‘family flourishing’ is unclear. Does family flourishing refer to an increase of wealth, the closeness of the whole family, or the well-being of each family member? Likewise, individual flourishing can also mean wealth, psychological and social well-being, or even the capacity to face adversity (Faulk et al., 2012). To sacrifice individual flourishing for family flourishing is a tricky argument as there are no guidelines as to how one determines that the quality and quantity of the family’s flourishing should outweigh the quantity and quality of the individual’s or the sheep-owner’s flourishing. Such an argument essentially involves the utilitarian approach of satisfying the preferences of the majority over the minority.

When applied at large, ordering society based on familial flourishing could lead to discrimination and prejudice. Suppose that a society made of family units valued harmony within and between families. Reporting abuse in a family would risk disgracing the family, upsetting other family members, and exposing the culprit, resulting in strained family relations. So, it could be argued that keeping quiet about family abuse would be justified as it would avoid risking any damage to familial flourishing. Structuring the economy around familial wealth, where businesses and companies were all run by families, would also create an unfair advantage to in-group members (those in the families) while discriminating against qualified non-familial members. This produces a counter-intuitive moral system and goes against the Confucian ideal where humaneness is developed by setting others up and achieving access for others (The Analects, 6.30). The emphasis on Xiao, while relevant to understanding ideas of learning and devotion during the Zhou era in China, need to be taken in context. As Eno (2015) highlights, “References to filiality concern sons… it seems to tacitly assume that its readers, and the only people who matter in public society, are men. In this sense, it fails to escape the social norms of its time” (p. 6). A fundamentalist position of structuring society around familial flourishing over individual flourishing fails to take Confucian teachings and apply them to the real world.

Huang (2017) provides an alternative understanding to the case. He starts his discussion by explaining Xiao more broadly. When describing filial piety or family love, it is often assumed that to be filial involves being obedient. For instance, Confucius says that “the young should shoulder the hardest chores or that the eldest are served food and wine first at meals” (The Analects, 2.8), and that only by following and observing the father’s conduct three years after his death can the son be called filial (1.11). The act of complying with the father’s authority and dutifully carrying out his conduct shows that filiality is associated with obedience. However, as The School Sayings of Confucius (Kongzi Jiayu) states,

If a father has a remonstrating child, he will not fall into doing things without propriety; and if a scholar has a remonstrating friend, he will not do immoral things. So how can a son who merely obeys the parents be regarded as filial, and a minister who merely obeys the ruler be regarded as loyal? To be filial and loyal is to examine what to follow. (bk 9, p. 57)

Rather than understanding filial piety as blind obedience, the passage emphasises the importance of ‘remonstration’ or arguing in protest. As a result, it is only right to obey one’s parents if they ask about right things. If they ask for obedience for morally corrupt things, such as murder, then the filial child should protest against the parents’ actions. In the Xunzi, this idea is reinforced,

There are three scenarios in which filial children ought not to obey their parents: (1) if their obedience will endanger their parents, while their disobedience will make their parents safe…(2) if obedience will bring disgrace to their parents, while disobedience will bring [sic] honor to their parents…(3) if obedience will lead to the life of a beast, while disobedience will lead to a civilised life (29.2)

The passage concludes by stating that only by understanding when to obey and when not to obey can one practice reverence, respect, loyalty, and act with sincerity. Although obedience is important, since acting correctly and obediently is what creates harmony and respect, obedience without thought and reflection amounts to empty ritual.

The way in which remonstration is carried out is also important. Referencing the Book of Rites, Huang (2012) shows that filial children should not shout or assault their parents. Instead, one ought to “remonstrate with low tone, nice facial expression, and soft voice” (Liji 12.15). The important point is that the manner in which remonstration is carried out needs to be gentle and considerate so as to continue being respectful and righteous. Shouting or assaulting, even with good intention, could make the situation worse by upsetting one’s parents and resulting in disharmony. So, while it is wrong to stop remonstrating, it is also wrong to remonstrate incorrectly, that is, in a way that makes the situation worse and one’s parents even more angry. The extent to which remonstration should be carried out is also highlighted in the Book of Rites. As passage 12.15 points out, one ought to remain filial,

If they [one’s parents] are happy, you ought to resume gentle remonstration; if they are not happy, however, instead of letting your parents cause harm to your neighbors, you ought to use an extreme form of remonstration. If at this extreme form of remonstration your parents get angry and unhappy, hitting you with hard whips, you still ought not to complain about them; instead you ought to remain reverent and filial to them.

Rather than letting one’s parents commit a bad deed, efforts at remonstration should not be given up. Even when physically and mentally exhausted, the child has a duty to remonstrate repeatedly until the parents stop committing their wrongdoings.

When applying the understanding of Xiao as obedience and remonstration to the son-covering-father story, then it is clear that the actions of the child must be conducive to ensuring the parents’ well-being. That is the first concern for the child. The reason why Confucius emphasised non-disclosure or concealing the father’s wrongdoings relates to remonstration. Remonstrating works best if protesting against the parents’ actions is conducted in an intimate setting and carried out in a gentle manner, creating “an atmosphere favourable to such remedies” (Huang, 2012, p. 32). While there is no guarantee that giving parents space will create a favourable situation for correcting their wrongdoings, the son’s non-disclosure becomes a morally correct action as it aims to rectify not only the wrong carried out by the father but also giving the son a chance to confront and rectify the wrong-doer.

It should be noted that Confucius does not say that a filial child obstructs justice when authorities are investigating or that authorities should not investigate the case. Concealing, in this sense, does not refer to active concealment or taking part in the father’s crime. Rather, Confucius emphasises the importance of passive concealment (not reporting the father) as the correct action to remonstrate until the father corrects his actions. The passage in which the ‘son-covering-father’ story takes place does not state what correcting the father’s actions looks like. The idea of justice in Confucianism needs to be further explored.

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This entry was posted in Articles on Confucianism, Chinese culture, confucian beliefs, Confucian in the modern world and tagged Confucian beliefs, Confucian teachings, confucian values, confucianism, Filial Piety, justice, obedience, remonstration, The Analects.

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