A while ago a friend (thanks, Tracy!) sent me a link to a paper on teaching Western philosophy to Chinese college students in China.  It is written by a Chinese professor, Xuetai Qi, who has good experience and has though a lot about how to teach Western philosophy in China.  A thoughtful piece.  He (she? can't tell from the transliterated name…) makes this point, however, that raises some questions:

We hear this a lot, in different contexts.  And there may be some truth in it.  But here's the question: how do we distinguish the "Confucian" sources of collectivist behavior from "socialist" sources of the same.   The twentieth century saw large and powerful political and social movements against "Confucianism," from the May 4th period onward.  The PRC was, until only rather recently, militantly anti-Confucian.  Most people alive in the PRC today grew up in a political milieu in which Confucianism was disdained, at least in official state sources of cultural imagery.  Does none of that matter?  It may be the case that "Confucianism" or "Confucian culture" somehow survived this onslaught.  But it is more likely that traditional beliefs have been distorted and refracted through socialist politics and culture.  Why not say that mainstream Chinese culture includes a collectivist streak which reflects decades of socialist practice as well as reinvented notions of "Confucianism"?   Not all collectivisms are Confucian.

Moreover, there are elements of Xi's analysis that strike me are decidedly un-Confucian (if by Confucian we mean what is actually written in The Analects and Mencius):

…Chinese students can be characterized as “short-run”
pragmatists, though they also show concern for the long-run realistic
goals. “Short-run goals” refer to the pragmatic goals of good
grades and accumulated credits, and on the perceived relevance of courses
to their career. This realistic or pragmatic approach is especially found
in pre-college students in China, but it continues in college students,
and is nurtured by Chinese social conditions. Thus, for example, it is
very common, yet it still surprises the professor from outside China,
that many students will come to her after the first lecture in a philosophy
course to ask what kind of things they need to memorize in order to get
satisfactory grades on the final examination.

I have no doubt that this observation is empirically true.  But the orientation described is not Confucian.  The goal of Confucian education is moral development, the acquisition of the sensitivity and understanding necessary to perform the proper act in any given social context.  It is not at all about "short-run goals."  It is very much about long-term moral perfectionism.  Indeed, the very first thing that Mencius says, in the book that bears his name, is: "Don't talk to me about profit."  Education should not be about career goals and the like.  It is about Humanity and Duty.  I understand where the contemporary Chinese focus on short-run pragmatism comes from.  In such a large, and therefore competitive, society, individuals must struggle for advantage and opportunities.  But recognizing that fact of Chinese life does not make it Confucian.  Indeed, Confucianism would likely counsel contemporary Chinese students to rise above the material, competitive pressures of society at large and keep their eyes on the larger moral prize of Humanity.

Finally, the way teachers teach in contemporary China does not strike me as Confucian:

…the standard teaching method is that they lecture
in an extensive and explicit manner in which all things are well organized
and explained to students. Everything is made quite clear and detailed
in lectures. Many teachers do not attempt to interact actively with students.
This teaching method has both strengths and weaknesses. The strengths
of this pedagogy lie in the fact that in such a way the instructor can
help students to gain a good understanding of lecture points efficiently.
The drawback is also clear: the pretense that the text contains all that
is needed to know: memorize it!—discourages students from thinking
independently and critically. Clarity is a fetish, if it fails to inspire
students to reconstruct, think beyond the text, to apply, to grow.

Again, I am sure this is true, but it does not live up to the ideal of teaching suggested by Analects 7.8:

The Master said: "I never instruct those who aren't full of passion, and I never enlighten those who aren't struggling to explain themselves.

If I show you one corner and you can't show me the other three, I'll say nothing more."

That last sentence suggests a pedagogy that encourages independent thought.  The teacher should not simply lecture in a manner in which "everything is made quite clear."  Rather the teacher should draw students in with provocative topics and ideas that encourage them to think through and discover conclusions and connections on their own; they have to find the other "three corners" of the question after being shown just one.

I know one objection that can be offered against my ideas here: my notion of "Confucianism" is too idealistic, too rooted in the possibilities of the ancient texts and devoid of any consideration of the institutionalization of actually-existing "Confucianism" (in its real world combination with Legalism and its use as a state ideology).  Yes, that's true.  And that is part of the fight I fight: to reclaim "Confucianism" from its historical distortions and misuses.  And it's in that sense that I think, on balance, the teaching practices and experiences in contemporary PRC universities do not strike me as particularly "Confucian."