If Trump Hadn’t Mentioned It, How Many People Would Even Know?
At last night’s welcoming banquet, President Trump mentioned something many Chinese people probably didn’t know.
He said that the image of Confucius is carved into the building of the United States Supreme Court.
When I heard it, my first reaction was: “Really?”
So I looked it up online and confirmed that it is indeed true.
Of course, some online claims are exaggerated. Confucius is not “worshipped” or “enshrined” in the Supreme Court, nor is American law “based on Confucius” as some short videos claim.
The reality is that during the construction of the Supreme Court in the 1930s, the architects included Confucius alongside Moses, Solon, and others as symbolic figures representing the sources of human law and civilization.
What the Americans wanted to express is simple: today’s laws, order, and civilization did not emerge from nothing. They are the accumulated result of many civilizations over long periods of history.
When I learned this, my feelings were complicated.
I knew that the moment Trump said it, many people would get excited:
“Look, even America acknowledges Confucius’ greatness!”
“Chinese civilization is influencing the world!”
“Confucianism has conquered the West!”
These reactions aren’t entirely wrong. Confucius is great. For his image to stand in a building as symbolically important as the U.S. Supreme Court already shows his global influence.
But what truly struck me was something else.
Why would a country separated by oceans, with a completely different system, and often seen as China’s competitor, choose to preserve Confucius in its own symbolic architecture of civilization?
Yet we ourselves once smashed Confucian temples with our own hands. The irony is hard to ignore.
Many may have already forgotten that just decades ago, during that wave of nationwide fervor, countless ancient books were burned, artifacts were destroyed, and things left by our ancestors were treated as “garbage from the old world” and cleared away.
People stormed temples, toppled statues, smashed plaques, burned family genealogies, humiliated teachers, and called the destruction of history “progress.”
At the time, they didn’t think they were destroying civilization. On the contrary, many truly believed they were creating a new era.
Looking back, one realizes something frightening: civilizations are often not destroyed by external enemies, but by a狂热 (frenzied certainty) that believes itself absolutely right.
Once a society starts believing that history can be reset to zero, that tradition has no value, and that everything old should be smashed, disaster is not far away.
Books are burned. Temples are destroyed. Artifacts are smashed. People are humiliated. Once continuity is broken, it can never be fully restored.
So when I heard Trump mention “Confucius on the Supreme Court,” what truly moved me was not some “successful cultural export,” but the sharp contrast in civilizational attitudes.
Americans may not deeply understand Confucianism. Today’s American society might even be more distant from Confucius’ world than we are. Yet they are at least willing to acknowledge that Confucius belongs to the history of human civilization.
That acknowledgment is, at its core, a form of reverence for civilization.
A truly confident civilization is rarely afraid to recognize greatness in others.
Because civilization is not a zero-sum game.
Acknowledging Confucius does not weaken America, just as recognizing Shakespeare does not weaken China.
What is truly dangerous is not the differences between civilizations, but humanity’s loss of reverence for civilization itself in moments of frenzy.
Of course, America is far from perfect. It too has destroyed Native American cultures, waged wars, and done many things that look shameful today.
China is the same. We have Confucius, but also the Burning of Books and Burying of Scholars. We have the glorious Tang Dynasty, but also the decade of catastrophe.
Every civilization has been great. Every civilization is also capable of madness.
So today, the question worth reflecting on is not “Why does America respect Confucius?” but rather:
Why is it that sometimes the people who best understand how to preserve a civilization are not its own descendants?
Confucius’ greatness never depended on whether he was carved on the U.S. Supreme Court.
…
When civilization stands before us, do we choose to revere it — or destroy it?
Because civilization does not automatically belong to us forever just because it belonged to our ancestors.
It must be understood, protected, and cherished.
Otherwise, no matter how brilliant, it can be personally destroyed amid applause, slogans, and狂热.