Confucius in My Eyes-国际组-KARIMMDFAISAL

时间：2025-12-29 09:13

Confucius in My Eyes

As a boy from Chattogram, Bangladesh—a bustling port city where the call to prayer merges with the clang of shipyard steel and the gentle flow of the Karnaphuli River—arriving in Changsha two years ago felt like stepping into a living paradox. The towering skyscrapers, piercing misty skies, and ancient temples nestled between megacities were unlike anything I had ever seen. China, with its vibrant blend of the old and the new, seemed like a vast puzzle I longed to solve. Little did I know that the key to understanding this cultural enigma—and perhaps the very essence of humanity—would lie in the teachings of a philosopher who lived over 2,500 years ago: Confucius.

My journey into Confucianism didn’t begin in a classroom but in the rhythm of everyday life in Hunan. I noticed how Chinese friends bowed slightly when greeting elders, how waitresses in noodle shops served tea with both hands, and how even strangers on the Xiang River ferry would strike up conversations about family. When I asked why these customs mattered, the answer was always the same: “It’s what Confucius taught.” At first, I thought this reverence for the past was merely nostalgic, but my visit to Yuelu Academy—one of China’s oldest institutions, founded in 976 CE—completely shifted my perspective. I traced my fingers over stone inscriptions of Confucian maxims and realized that this philosophy was not merely frozen in time. It had been debated in these halls for centuries, adapted by scholars like Zhu Xi during the Song Dynasty, and continues to shape China’s vision of “hexie shehui” (和谐社会), a harmonious society.

It wasn’t just Confucius’s ancient wisdom that I discovered; it was how his ideas had woven themselves into the very fabric of modern life in China. At Yuelu Academy, Professor Zhang explained how the academy’s motto, “博学之，审问之，慎思之，明辨之，笃行之” (Bóxué zhī, shěnwèn zhī, shènsī zhī, míngbiàn zhī, dǔxíng zhī – “Study broadly, question deeply, reflect carefully, discern clearly, practice earnestly”) was drawn from the Book of Rites. He gestured to a mural depicting Zhu Xi lecturing in the 12th century. “Back then, Confucianism was a compass for governance,” he said. “Today, it guides China’s pursuit of hexie shehui—a society where harmony isn’t passive agreement but the music of diverse notes in tune.”

One day, in a crowded noodle shop, I experienced Confucianism in a small but profound way. The owner, Auntie Zhang, handed me my change with both hands. When I asked why, she smiled and explained, “礼者，敬人也” (Lǐ zhě, jìng rén yě – “Propriety is about respecting others”). This simple act of respect echoed the Confucian principle that virtue begins with daily actions—respecting others, practicing propriety, and embracing a deep sense of responsibility.

Later, while volunteering at a rural school, I saw how Confucius’s words guided the lives of students in China’s countryside. One girl, Li Na, showed me her notebook where she had written: “子曰：‘不患人之不己知，患不知人也。’” (“The Master said: ‘Do not worry that others do not know you; worry that you do not know others.’”). She explained that they used Confucius’s teachings to understand farmers’ needs before constructing roads or schools. It struck me how Confucius’s ideas had influenced not only governance and education but even rural development.

Confucius’s influence was not limited to just the rural and academic sectors. Even in the realm of technology, I saw his ideas embedded in AI ethics. At a conference in Changsha, a speaker argued that self-driving cars must embody ren (仁, benevolence): “Machines should serve humans as a filial child serves parents—proactively, humbly, and with moral care.” This notion, blending technology with Confucian principles, resonated deeply with me. In a Beijing startup, engineers were designing robots for elderly care, programmed to bow slightly when greeting users, mimicking li (礼, ritual propriety). “Confucius taught that li isn’t just about formality,” said the CEO, “it’s empathy encoded into action.”

While Confucius shaped my understanding of Chinese culture, I soon realized that his wisdom resonated deeply with my Bengali roots as well. Confucius’s call for harmony and respect for tradition found a striking parallel in Rabindranath Tagore’s “শিক্ষার মিলন” (Shikkhar Milan, Confluence of Education), which stated, “জ্ঞানের আলোয় মানবতা জ্বলে” (Gyaner aloy manobota jwale – “Humanity ignites in the light of knowledge”). I began to see how Confucius’s vision for the “君子” (jūnzǐ, the morally noble person) mirrored Tagore’s ideal of an enlightened human being, one whose actions and character reflect the higher ideals of humanity.

One day, while visiting the Yuelu Academy, I copied a Ming Dynasty scroll that read: “四海之内皆兄弟” (Sìhǎi zhī nèi jiē xiōngdì – “Within the Four Seas, all are brothers”). The curator, noticing my Bangla marginalia, shared a Tang Dynasty poem by Wang Bo: “海内存知己，天涯若比邻” (Hǎinèi cún zhījǐ, tiānyá ruò bǐlín – “Close friends across the seas are neighbors despite distant skies”). In that moment, borders dissolved. Confucius, Tagore, the Karnaphuli and Xiang Rivers—all flowed into one truth: Humanity’s wisdom is a shared river, nourishing every bank it touches.

In Changsha, I also witnessed Confucian principles in action during a community event where teenagers taught elders how to navigate Douyin (TikTok), their laughter dissolving the digital divide. A vendor once chased me to return 10 yuan I had overpaid—not just honesty, but 信 (xìn, trustworthiness) binding society. These small but meaningful interactions showed me how Confucius’s ideas—about propriety, benevolence, and trust—still shape China today.

One evening, as I sat with my friend Li Wei by the Xiang River, we compared our cultures. He remarked, “Your ‘māẏēra kāche śiśu’ (মায়ের কাছে শিশু) sounds exactly like xiào,” referring to filial piety. We laughed, realizing how love for a mother transcends borders. That moment, I understood that Confucius’s teachings were not confined to ancient China but were universal in their appeal, guiding human behavior across time and geography.

As I reflect on these experiences, I realize how Confucius’s ideas have become a compass for my own life. His teachings emphasize empathy, respect, and the importance of education as the foundation of a compassionate society. Whether in the fields of rural China, the debate halls of universities, or the corridors of global development, Confucius’s spirit continues to inspire.

When I return to Chattogram, I will carry more than just my academic credentials. I will carry Confucius’s mandate to “修己以安人” (Xiū jǐ yǐ ān rén – “Cultivate oneself to give peace to others”). I’ll miss the hum of Yuelu Academy, the warmth of Changsha’s streets, and the wisdom of a philosopher who taught me to see my Bengali roots as a bridge, not a boundary.
I offer this: Confucius is not just a Chinese philosopher but a global thinker whose ideas transcend borders. In an age of rapid technological change and fractured societies, his emphasis on compassion and harmony offers a vision for the future. As a son of Chattogram and Changsha, I have learned that to honor one’s heritage is to embrace others’. In the words of the Master himself, “君子和而不同” (Jūnzǐ hé ér bù tóng – “The noble person seeks harmony without uniformity”). May we all strive to become such 君子. 谢谢大家 (Xièxiè dàjiā – Thank you all).


Author’s Note: This article is a tribute to the people of Hunan, whose warmth and wisdom have made China my second home, and to my parents in Chattogram, Bangladesh, who taught me the essence of 孝 (xiào ) long before I knew its name.