Rooted in Cultural Confidence, Standing Tall Among Nations

In white robes, tall caps, and flowing sleeves, several students raise their hands in a traditional salute on a green lawn. This is not a period drama, but a university graduation ceremony. By replacing the conventional Western black gown and mortarboard with Chinese graduation dress modelled on the robes of imperial scholars, they give form to Mao Zedong’s observation that “what is national is also universal”—and display a confidence in their own culture.

General Secretary Xi Jinping has stressed that “firm cultural confidence is a major issue concerning the rise and fall of a nation, cultural security, and the independence of the national spirit.”¹ At a time when some uncritically admire everything European or American and invoke ancient Greece at every turn, strengthening cultural confidence across society has become an urgent task. Only a nation secure in its culture can stand tall among the nations of the world.

Carry the cultural inheritance across the centuries

Chinese civilisation reaches far back into history. An instinctive sensitivity to that inheritance enters our cultural imagination from the moment we first learn to read. At the thatched cottage of the poet Du Fu, who once held office in the Ministry of Works,² one naturally remembers the self-styled “Old Man of Duling”³ pawning his clothes for wine,⁴ choosing a humble place to live,⁵ composing poetry beneath a thatched roof,⁶ and singing of the clear waters of Canglang.⁷ One thinks of the poet who carried forward the finest traditions of Chinese letters,⁸ and recites:

If only I could build a mansion of ten thousand rooms, to shelter every poor scholar beneath heaven in delight—unmoved by wind or rain, solid as a mountain.⁹

One also mourns that a poet of such stature was said to have died after eating beef to excess.¹⁰¹¹ Yet many schoolchildren today forget how to write familiar characters and speak almost entirely in internet slang. Cultural confidence can take root only through deeper immersion in the classical inheritance.

Learn widely, drawing from one source to enrich another

Confidence in one’s own culture does not mean shutting the door, suppressing other traditions, retreating into isolation, or treating everything foreign as a threat. On the contrary, cultures grow through exchange: drawing from one source to enrich another,¹² and repairing what is incomplete.¹³

British scholars were already using methods resembling Bayesian statistics¹⁴ to study Shakespeare in the nineteenth century; authorship analysis has since developed into a mature field capable of distinguishing authentic works from imitations. The collected poems attributed to Li Bai present similar problems of uncertain authorship. Why should we not borrow such methods and spare ourselves endless nights of exhausting textual research?¹⁵

A culture becomes stronger, and more confident, when it is willing to absorb what is excellent in other traditions.

Renew the tradition for the present age

“If you can renew yourself for one day, do so every day—renew yourself again and again.”¹⁶

Culture remains alive only by discarding what has grown stale and creating what is new.¹⁷ Otherwise it becomes like the pedantry of the late Qing: endless repetitions of “Confucius said” and “the Book of Songs says,”¹⁸ until learning hardens into lifeless cliché. One may pile allusion upon allusion like an otter laying out fish,¹⁹ yet lose the spirit behind the words. Tradition can recover its vitality only when it speaks to the present. Liang Qichao, known as Master Ren,²⁰ championed the ideas of Confucius as a Reformer²¹—using the authority of antiquity to argue for contemporary change.²² Renewal of this kind is the path by which cultural confidence is made durable.

Stand tall among the nations of the world

If culture were a human being, its inherited spirit would be the bones, the wisdom it gathers from others the flesh, and its capacity for renewal the mind. Only when all three are present does the person become whole. In the same way, only a complete and living cultural confidence can enable the Chinese nation to stand tall among the nations of the world.

We, the young generation, live in an age of openness and promise²³ and ride the tide of national rejuvenation. Our task is to press forward rather than cling to convention, to learn widely rather than shut ourselves away, and to advance together. By doing so, we can build lasting cultural confidence—and one day stand tall among the nations of the world.

From Xi Jinping’s speech at the opening of the Tenth National Congress of the China Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Ninth National Congress of the China Writers Association, 30 November 2016. ↩
The thatched cottage of the Ministry official: Du Fu’s thatched cottage in Chengdu. Because Du Fu once served nominally as a junior official in the Ministry of Works, later generations called him “Du of the Ministry of Works.” ↩
The Old Man of Duling: One of Du Fu’s literary names. Duling was the site of the tomb of Emperor Xuan of Han, and Du Fu’s ancestors had lived in the area. ↩
Pawning clothes for wine: An allusion to the second of Du Fu’s “Two Poems on Qujiang”: “Each day after court I pawn my spring clothes; each day beside the river I return completely drunk.” It evokes poverty borne with an unrestrained spirit. ↩
Choosing a dwelling: The classical expression buju originally referred to selecting a place to settle through divination. ↩
Thatched roof (maoci): A roof made of straw; by extension, a plain and humble cottage. ↩
Canglang: Originally the name of a body of water, here suggesting a life of reclusion or moral independence. A song recorded in Mencius says: “When the waters of Canglang are clear, I may wash the tassels of my cap in them.” ↩
Fengsao: Originally a compound referring to the “Airs of the States” in the Book of Songs and the “Encountering Sorrow” in the Songs of Chu. It later became a general term for distinguished literature and literary achievement. ↩
From Du Fu’s “My Thatched Roof Is Ruined by the Autumn Wind.” Though living in hardship himself, the poet imagines shelter for every impoverished scholar beneath heaven. ↩
Overfull (zhangyu): To have eaten excessively; yu means to eat one’s fill. ↩
The New Book of Tang records that late in life Du Fu travelled from Tanzhou toward Hengzhou and was stranded by flooding at Leiyang. A county magistrate sent him roast beef and white wine. After a long period without food, the poet ate and drank heavily and died that night. The preface to Supplementary Notes on Du Fu’s Poetry, citing the Tang writer Liu Fu’s Collected Anecdotes, states that “Du Zimei died overfull with white wine and roast beef.” ↩
Drawing from here and pouring there (yi zi zhu bi): Literally, to ladle water from one place and pour it into another; a metaphor for learning from each other’s strengths and making up for weaknesses. ↩
Mending cracks and leaks (buju xialou): A metaphor for supplying what is missing or repairing defects. The expression appears in Han Yu’s “An Explanation of Learning.” ↩
Bayesian statistics: A branch of statistics centred on Bayes’ theorem, using known information—a prior probability—to infer the probability of an unknown condition. In stylometry, Bayesian reasoning can combine quantitative features such as word frequency and sentence patterns to assess authorship, including disputed works of Shakespeare and essays in The Federalist Papers. ↩
Burning lamp oil to continue the daylight (fen gao ji gui): To work diligently through the night. The phrase comes from Han Yu’s “An Explanation of Learning”: “Burning lamp oil to carry on after daylight, labouring ceaselessly through the years.” ↩
From the Great Learning in the Book of Rites. The words were traditionally said to have been inscribed by Tang, founder of the Shang dynasty, on his washbasin: if one can cleanse and renew oneself for a single day, one should continue doing so every day. ↩
Discard the old and establish the new (ge gu ding xin): An expression from the Book of Changes: “Revolution removes the old; the cauldron takes up the new.” ↩
“Confucius said” and “the Book of Songs says”: Stock formulas for quoting the Confucian classics, often used mockingly of scholars who can recite old doctrines but cannot think beyond them. ↩
The otter’s offering (taji): Otters lay captured fish along the bank, which ancient observers imagined to be a ritual offering. The image later became a metaphor for writing overloaded with quotations and allusions but lacking an original idea or living spirit. It appears in the Book of Rites. ↩
Master Ren: Liang Qichao (1873–1929), courtesy name Zhuoru and literary name Rengong, a prominent thinker, writer, and public figure of the late Qing and early Republican periods. ↩
Confucius as a Reformer: The work was in fact written by Kang Youwei (1858–1927). It portrayed Confucius as a teacher who invoked antiquity to authorise reform, thereby seeking historical legitimacy for the late-Qing reform movement. Liang Qichao, Kang’s student, energetically promoted and developed its arguments in his early career. ↩
Using antiquity to authorise reform: Presenting a contemporary political programme in the name of an ancient institution or revered sage. ↩
Clear breeze and bright moon after rain (guangfeng jiyue): An image of clarity after a storm, later used for an open mind, a pure character, or an age of peace. Huang Tingjian wrote of a mind “open and untroubled, like the clear breeze and bright moon after rain.” ↩