Confucius as a Religious Figure in Ku Hung-Ming's Translation of the Lunyu (Analects) Open Access

Abstract

Confucius's religiosity has been a point of contestation since Confucian classics were introduced to the West through translation, and different translators have portrayed Confucius differently as far as religiosity is concerned. Ku Hung-Ming 辜鴻銘 (pinyin: Gu Hongming, 1857–1928) was the first Chinese translator of Confucian classics when he translated the Lunyu into English in 1898, breaking the long-time monopoly of translations of Confucian classics by Western missionaries. This article focuses on Confucius's religiosity in Ku's translated Lunyu and demonstrates that the translation portrays Confucius as religious, rendering unwarranted the argument in the current literature that Ku's translated Lunyu offers a secular Confucius. This article also has important methodological implications in that it challenges the effectiveness of culture-specific-items (CSI) analysis as an approach to culturally loaded texts. It emphasizes that every translational choice, including the use of paratexts, should be taken seriously when attempting to make a generalization for a translated text.

Whether Confucius was religious or not has been an issue of contestation since Confucian classics were introduced to the West through translation. This means that different translators have portrayed Confucius differently as far as religiosity is concerned, due to their different agendas, be they cultural or political. The introduction of Confucian classics to the West had long been monopolized by Western missionaries before Ku Hung-Ming 辜鴻銘 (1857–1928) became the first Chinese translator to translate the Lunyu into English in 1898.¹

Ku Hung-Ming can be dubbed a “cultural amphibian” (Du 2011), given his erudition in both Chinese and Western learning, due in no small part to his complicated life experiences. Ku was born in Malaysia and raised there until he was thirteen, when he was sent to Scotland. There he received his secondary and tertiary education and was awarded a master of arts degree from the University of Edinburgh. He had also studied in other European countries. Through these educational experiences Ku mastered quite a few Western languages (Latin, Greek, German, English, etc.) and received different degrees. Among his various achievements, Ku translated into English three Confucian classics, the Lunyu 論語, the Zhongyong 中庸, and the Daxue 大學, which are conventionally translated in the Anglophone world as, respectively, the Analects, the Doctrine of the Mean, and the Great Learning, making him the first Chinese translator of Confucian classics. Ku's translations are so special that they are considered “idiosyncratic” (Liu 1999: 161).

The idiosyncrasy of Ku's translated Confucian classics can be felt in many aspects, and an important one is his treatment of religiosity in relation to Confucius. As I show in this article, Ku portrays Confucius as a religious figure by, among other things, drawing analogies between Confucian figures and biblical figures, using Christian notions to illustrate Confucian ones, and inserting Christian concepts into the translation. This article focuses only on Ku's translated Lunyu, since its religious dimension is not recognized in existing literature, while the religiosity of his translations of other Confucian classics, such as his translated Zhongyong, has been recognized (St. André 2018: 172).

This article explores how Ku makes Confucius religious in his translated Lunyu. To serve this purpose, I adopt the notion of framing, as applied in the work of Mona Baker (2006: 106), who defines framing as “an active strategy that implies agency and by means of which we consciously participate in the construction of reality.” Translators rely on various framing devices to undermine, modify, and strengthen certain aspects of the narratives encoded in the texts being translated. I here discuss three devices that are relevant to this study: labeling, selective appropriation, and paratextual (re)framing. Labeling is “any discursive process that involves using a lexical item, term or phrase to identify a person, place, group, event or any other key element in a narrative” (122). Selective appropriation “is realized in patterns of omission and addition designed to suppress, accentuate or elaborate particular aspects of a narrative encoded in the source text or utterance, or aspects of the larger narrative(s) in which it is embedded” (114). Paratextual (re)framing refers to the fact that, apart from textual interventions, translators also use such paratexts as title pages, front/back matter, and footnotes to (re)frame the source text to serve their own agenda.

These framing devices construct certain narratives out of the texts being translated or, in other words, activate certain narratives among the target readers. The methodological implication is that the researcher is supposed to relate concrete framings to the narratives that can be potentially activated, rather than take these framings as random or trivial. And it is worthwhile to point out that “an individual, one-off . . . choice is considered potentially as important as a recurrent pattern” (Baker 2014: 159). I take seriously Baker's (2007: 156) advice that “we consider every choice—at least potentially—as a kind of index that activates a narrative” (emphasis added). Indeed, I have conducted thorough close readings of Ku's translated Lunyu, giving attention to all Ku's translational choices that may potentially contribute to religionizing Confucius, rather than just analyzing a predetermined list of translations of an array of words and phrases that are normally regarded as signifying Confucian notions. In this sense, this article challenges the effectiveness of the analysis of culture-specific items (CSIs) as an approach to translation of culturally loaded texts.²

A Religious Confucius in Ku Hung-Ming's Translated Lunyu

Ku relies on labeling, selective appropriation, and paratextual (re)framings to reframe Confucius as a religious figure in his translation of the Lunyu. This section demonstrates that Confucius in Ku's translated Lunyu is religious in many aspects. While practicing religious rituals in his routine life, emphasizing the importance of faith, and promoting Christian agape, or charity, Confucius in Ku's translation warns against disobeying the will of God and raises awareness of the fatal consequence of committing sin. More striking, Confucius in Ku's translation is a Jesus-like prophet, sent by God to save the world, delivering divine messages that will be validated in the real world.

One interesting sign of Confucius's religiosity in Ku's translated Lunyu is that Confucius even had the practice of praying to God before meals:

Ku's translational agency is shown in his translation of the latter half of the sentence, which describes how Confucius conducts ancestor worship. Ku omits some detailed information encoded in the source text, such as “sacrifice” and “fasting,” but instead adds one important piece of information, “say grace.” This selective appropriation by omission and addition is significant since the practice of saying grace is common in the Christian tradition. Moreover, Ku attaches to this phrase a footnote pointing out the difference between how Confucius would “say grace” and how Europeans did it. Ku (1898: 79), however, asserts that they were “equivalent in meaning.” In fact, although on the surface it serves to clarify the difference, the footnote strengthens the impression that Confucius had the same notion of saying grace as Europeans. In other words, to Ku they differed only insofar as the means was concerned, but the end was the same: to praise the Grace of God. In so doing, Ku replaces the Confucian notion of ancestor worship with the Christian notion of worshipping God.

Indeed, in Ku's translation, Confucius explicitly highlights the importance of honoring God:

Ku's labeling of 德 (de, morality) as “godliness” is quite striking, as de is not related to God at all. In so doing, Ku substitutes the Confucian emphasis on being moral for the Christian promotion of worshipping God. Indeed, through this labeling Confucius becomes a figure who highlights the importance of belief in God.

While emphasizing the importance of belief in God, Ku also makes Confucius warn against wrong belief by using the word idolatry to label a lexical item:

Ku's labeling of 諂 (chan, flattery) as “idolatry” is striking since chan does not connote anything that is equivalent to idolatry, which in Christianity refers to the worship of false gods. As Moshe Halbertal and Avishai Margalit (1992: 10) point out, “The central theological principle in the Bible is [the refutation of] idolatry.” Ku's use of idolatry here invokes God's second commandment in the Bible, “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing. . . . Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them.”³ Because of Ku's translational intervention, Confucius in the target text becomes an opponent of idolatry, while the source text emphasizes sincerity in worshipping ancestors.

Idolatry, in a Christian framework, is one of the defining characteristics of heathens, and Ku also explicitly refers to heathens in his translation:

Attached to this translation is a footnote, in which Ku (1898: 15) refers to Tennyson: “TENNYSON, interpreting the chivalry of Europe in the dialect of Europe, makes his knights of chivalry swear: ‘To reverence the king as if he were their conscience, and their conscience as their king. To break the heathen and uphold the Christ.’” The interesting point is Ku's labeling of 夷狄 (yidi, foreigners) as “heathen hordes.” The two characters 夷 (yi) and 狄 (di) refer to foreigners from different directions and thus share almost the same meaning, which can be encompassed in the single character 夷 (yi). The English equivalent for yi has been conventionally considered to be “barbarian,” but Lydia Liu (2004: 31–69) has taken issue with this conventional translation, arguing that the identification of yi with barbarian is a result of mapping the West's colonial mindset onto China.⁵ This dispute aside, the meaning of yi has nothing to do with Christian notions. Ku's translation is quite striking, as the word heathen activates the Christian notion of nonbelievers in Christianity. In this sense, Ku introduces a Christian notion to Confucianism. What is more interesting is Ku's citation of Tennyson's poem, which explicitly calls for a resistance to heathens and an embrace of Christ. This paratextual (re)framing, together with the textual labeling, contributes to Christianizing Confucianism, as the Christian mission of converting heathens to Christians is incorporated into Confucianism.

Ku also makes Confucius speak of the Christian notion of sin:

What merits discussion is Ku's translation of 獲罪于天 (huozuiyutian, commit offence against heaven), in which he uses selective appropriation. Apart from labeling 天 (tian, heaven) as “God,” as he frequently does throughout the translation, Ku makes two more important interventions in this example. One is his use of the word sin, a fundamental Christian notion. However, neither Confucianism nor the Chinese culture has such a notion (see, e.g., Chow 2013; Strand 2000; Zhuo 1995),⁶ and the Chinese character 罪 (zui, crime), as Mark Strand (2000: 430) points out, “has no relation to God.” In another intervention, he adds to the sentence “a man” as the agent, which is omitted in the source text. Ku's use of a man rather than indefinite pronouns such as one or whoever, together with his translation of tian as “God,” casts into relief the broken relationship between humans and God as a result of sin. In other words, Ku emphasizes that it is not other sentient beings but humans that commit sin against God. Through this man-sin-God juxtaposition in this translation, Ku makes Confucius possess a notion of sin, as understood in Christianity.

Ku also renders Confucius as promoting the Christian agape:

This is a passage of great importance in the Lunyu as Confucius refers to the one thread that connects all his teachings. Ku's translational agency is reflected in his labeling of 恕 (shu, forgiveness) as “charity,” an important Christian concept referring to the highest form of love, signifying the reciprocal love between God and man that manifests in unselfish love of one's fellow men: “In Christian theology and ethics, charity . . . is most eloquently shown in the life, teachings, and death of Jesus Christ.”⁷ In this sense, Ku's labeling of shu as “charity” is significant since he introduces a notion of love that is absent in Confucianism. While charity, the highest Christian love, has a divine source and is equal to all, Confucians do not seek to love all on an equal basis but instead insist on a hierarchical form of love, depending on different relationships.

More important, Ku's translation portrays Confucius as a Jesus-like figure, which can be detected in one footnote in his translated Lunyu that begins with the sentence, “The prophecy eventually came true” (Ku 1898: 87). This footnote follows the translation of a remark by Confucius:

Important in Ku's footnote is the word prophecy, which carries a strong religious overtone in the Christian sense. The use of this word helps Ku reframe Confucius as a prophet like Jesus, who was able to deliver divine messages that would eventually come true. In this way, Ku introduces the Christian notion of prophet to Confucianism, which does not uphold such a notion.

Ku's reframing of Confucius as being like Jesus includes the following:

Three points merit discussion in this example. The first concerns the translation of 夫子 (fuzi), which in the Lunyu refers to Confucius himself. Ku labels it not as “Confucius” or “master” but as “Teacher,” with the first letter capitalized. Labeling this way contributes to (re)framing Confucius as being like Jesus, who in the Bible is frequently called “teacher” by his disciples and others, in both lower and upper cases (see, e.g., Herzog 2005). Second, as he frequently does throughout the translation, Ku labels 天 (tian, heaven) as “God.” In consequence, Confucius, like Jesus, becomes a teacher sent by God. In the Bible, when Nicodemus came to Jesus by night, he said, “We know that thou art a teacher come from God” (John 3:2). Third, Ku interpolates “to awaken the world.” Through this selective appropriation by addition, Ku strengthens the portrayal of Confucius as being like Jesus, since Jesus was sent by God to save the world. Through these three interventions, Ku (re)frames Confucius as being like Jesus, who was sent by God to save the world.

The parallel between Confucius and Jesus is made explicit in a footnote (Ku 1898: 148):

This lengthy footnote is attached to the phrase “the Laws of God” in a remark by Confucius:

Ku's reframing of Confucius as being like Jesus is conspicuous in the juxtaposition of “Christ or Confucius” in the footnote. This again makes it clear that Confucius in Ku's translated Lunyu is a Jesus-like prophet who delivers God's messages. Both the footnote and the translation strengthen the Christianization of Confucianism in several aspects. The labeling of 聖人 (shengren, sage) as “holy men” carries Christian overtones. Similarly, the labeling of 天命 (tianming, the command of heaven) as “Laws of God” introduces to Confucianism a notion of God in the Christian sense. In particular, Ku's footnote throws into relief this Christian color since Ku refers to “Commandments of God,” which appear in the Old Testament of the Bible.

This effort to Christianize Confucianism can also account for Ku's labeling of 小人 (xiaoren, small man) and 君子 (junzi, gentleman) as a “fool” and a “wise and good man,” respectively. In Confucianism, xiaoren refers to the people in low positions or those with low morality. Ku's labeling of 小人 (xiaoren, small man) as a “fool” betrays a strong translational agency, in that a xiaoren is not necessarily a fool. More important, a fool, in the Bible, can be someone who disregards God's word, as the Bible says, “The fool hath said in his heart, [sic] There is no God,” (Psalm 14:1) a remark that Ku (1906: 4) cites in his translated Zhongyong. Although the labeling of 君子 (junzi, gentleman) as a “wise and good man” maintains a certain degree of semantic equivalence between the source and target texts, in that being good and wise is indeed a characteristic of junzi, this diction does not preclude religious implications, as James St. André (2018: 168) claims, as far as the context is concerned. Specifically, the common word wise gains a religious overtone from the contrast between the wise and the fool in this translated passage.⁹ This contrast can remind target readers of biblical remarks, as it is not a rare contrast in the Bible. To cite but three examples, the Bible says, “A wise man's heart is at his right hand; but a fool's heart at his left” (Ecclesiastes 10:2); “A fool uttereth all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterwards” (Proverbs 29:11); and “The wise shall inherit glory: but shame shall be the promotion of fools” (Proverbs 3:35).

Ku also strengthens Confucius's religiosity in his translation by comparing Confucius's disciples with Jesus's disciples and portraying the Confucian figures before Confucius as the biblical figures in the Old Testament. Ku keeps the Chinese proper names of Confucius's two best-known disciples and compares them to two of Jesus's disciples, although he refers to almost all the other disciples merely as “one disciple” or “another disciple.” Ku (1898: 29) in one footnote calls the disciple Zilu “the St. Peter of the Confucian gospel” and in another refers to Confucius's favorite disciple Yanhui as “the St. John of the Confucian gospel” (9).

The same strategy of reframing Confucian figures as biblical ones is also conspicuous in his treatment of two Confucian sages, who lived long before Confucius's time and were highly admired by Confucius. In Ku's (1898: 47) translated Lunyu, one footnote provides the following information: “The Abraham and Isaac in patriarchal times of Chinese history.” This footnote explains two Confucian sages, named 堯 (Yao) and 舜 (Shun), who appear in the following passage:

Confucius's answer is to the question, from one of his disciples, of whether someone can be said to possess the virtue of 仁 (ren, humanity) if he is able to satisfy both the physical and mental needs of the people. Yao and Shun were two of the three legendary sage-kings (Yao, Shun, and Yu) promoted by early Confucians as ideal rulers and highly revered in the Confucian tradition.¹⁰ In light of the Confucian tradition, Yao and Shun can evoke two narratives. One is of voluntary abdication of the throne, where Yao, instead of giving the throne to his own son, passed the throne to Shun, based on the latter's virtue. The other narrative is of filial piety, since Yao valued in Shun the unconditional filial piety Shun showed toward his father, who was so cruel that he even plotted to kill Shun with Shun's stepmother and half-brother. As Whalen Lai (1995: 164) points out, Shun, to early Confucians, was “the paragon of filial piety.”

The interesting point is that Ku, in the footnote above, uses two biblical figures, Abraham and Isaac, to refer to Yao and Shun. This first adds a Christian color to Confucianism since Abraham and Isaac are important figures in the Bible. More important, Ku replaces Confucian filial piety with Christian loyalty to God: the Confucian story of Yao and Shun, as discussed above, shows the great virtue of filial piety on the part of Shun, while the Christian one of Abraham and Isaac is mainly a manifestation of Abraham's absolute loyalty to God. In this way, Ku dispenses with the Confucian notion of filial piety and reframes Confucianism as having the notion of absolute loyalty to God.

A Methodological Rethinking of Research on Translation of Culturally Loaded Texts

My discovery of Confucius in Ku's translation of the Lunyu as a religious figure, contrasted with St. André’s (2018: 168) assertion that Confucius in Ku's translated Lunyu is “more like a secular sage than a religious figure,” and that Ku “distances Confucian philosophy from Christian ethics,” has motivated me to reflect on the methodological issues in relation to research on translation of culturally loaded texts. Simply put, my discussion of Ku's religionization of the text has methodological implications for research on translation of culturally loaded texts. Specifically, it questions the effectiveness of CSI analysis, which has been commonly adopted in research on translation of culturally loaded texts, and raises awareness of the importance of paratextual analysis.

This article motivates us to rethink the effectiveness of CSI analysis, which has been a continued interest in translation studies. My recognition of Confucius in Ku's translation of the Lunyu as religious does not derive from CSI analysis, as I have given due attention to all translational interventions, rather than just analyzing translations of those lexical items that are considered vehicles of Confucianism. However, St. André’s conclusion concerning Ku's translated Lunyu is, in large part, due to a reliance on CSI analysis. Comparing Ku's translation of the first chapter with that of James Legge's, St. André (2018: 168) writes, “Where Legge has ‘virtue,’ [K]u has ‘wise and good’ or ‘moral feeling’; ‘benevolence’ becomes ‘moral’; ‘true virtue’ becomes ‘moral character’; ‘funeral rites’ and ‘ceremonies of sacrifice’ become ‘respect for the dead’ and ‘carrying memory back.’ . . . Where Legge has ‘love,’ [K]u has ‘sympath.’” St. André offers these words and phrases as evidence supporting his claim that Ku's Confucius is secular and that Ku refrains from invoking Christian ethics. Although he does not provide the Chinese words for these English translations, it is easy to note that St. André relies mainly on CSI analysis, since the first three instances he offers refer to the translations of such Confucian words as 君子 (junzi, gentleman), 德 (de, morality), and 仁 (ren, humanity). These lexical items can be identified as CSIs because of their unique associations with Confucianism or Chinese culture. As “the main thread running through the whole system of Confucianism” (Yao 1995: 181), ren is “the central axis, the supreme unifier of all moral values” (Chang and Prior 2016: 561). Junzi is a particular kind of person that Confucianism aims to cultivate. Specifically, junzi is “a paradigmatic individual who sets the tone and quality of the life of ordinary moral agents” (Cua 2007: 125). Although morality can be a topic in every culture, discussions of de “occupy a central position in Chinese culture” (Yao 2021: 5). Indeed, ren, junzi, and de, appearing frequently in Confucian classics, are typical lexical items that are specific to Confucianism or Chinese culture.

Using CSI analysis to make generalizations regarding the whole translated text under investigation can be misleading, as it downplays translational interventions that the translator makes in relation to other lexical items. Simply put, CSI analysis is simplistic, overgeneralizing, and streamlining. As Harald Olk (2013: 345) points out, CSI analysis tends to “give undue weight to some items . . . while ignoring others.” This is true of St. André’s case, as his argument is generally based on Ku's translations of some CSIs in Confucianism, such as ren, junzi, and de. Ku's translations of these words may “mut[e] possible religious overtones,” as St. André (2018: 168) argues, but these are far from adequate in making a generalization in relation to Confucius's religiosity in Ku's translation. As shown in the examples above, Ku indeed makes Confucius religious by translating the Chinese words that are not considered culturally specific into English words that are religious.

CSI analysis also tends to assume (often erroneously) that a translator is consistent in translating CSIs in a text. This may have caused St. André to generalize Ku's translated Lunyu as a whole by analyzing CSIs in just the first chapter. Although St. André (2018: 168) conducts “a close line-by-line reading of the first chapter,” this practice of drawing conclusions about an entire book by analyzing one chapter can be risky, since, as Olk (2013: 345) points out, translators often have “no consistent treatment of [CSIs] within a text.” Indeed, Ku's translation of a certain CSI varies from place to place. This renders unwarranted St. André’s use of Ku's translation of de as “moral feeling” as his evidence for his argument that Confucius is not religious in Ku's translation, as Ku translates it in several places as “godliness,” which is indisputably a religious word (Ku 1898: 48, 49, 84, 169).

Furthermore, CSI analysis has the added problem of analyzing CSIs on an isolated basis, since it tends to focus on a certain CSI alone and ignores the impact of its surrounding lexical items. A case in point is the recognition of the religious effect of Ku's contrasting the word fool with his translation of junzi into phrases that contain the word wise, as discussed above. Without considering Ku's translation of junzi in relation to other translational interventions in the same passage, it seems reasonable to dismiss Ku's use of such phrases as wise and good as carrying no religious meanings, as St. André (2018: 168) asserts. However, its religious overtone can be brought to the surface if the word wise is considered in contrast to the word fool, which appears in Ku's translation of xiaoren in the same passage. Indeed, it is the contrast between these two words, rather than either of them alone, that conveys a strong religious message.

And, in line with the principle of considering every choice potentially important, this article does not downplay paratextual analysis but, rather, gives adequate attention to paratexts in Ku's translation, however minor or seemingly insignificant they are. St. André does not take Ku's paratexts seriously enough, most probably because his discussion is based on a comparison between Ku's version and that of James Legge's, and the latter's paratexts dwarf those of the former in their size and specificity. In comparison with Legge's “voluminous notes on every other word,” St. André (2018: 169) thinks that “Ku almost completely abandons any attempt to use footnotes to explain the original context and meaning of the Lunyu.” In the very chapter that he analyses, St. André finds Ku's three footnotes “quite short” (169), making passing comments on them. Among the three footnotes, he pays the least attention to the second one, which reads “ Cogitavi dies antiquos et annos aeternos in mente habui (Psalm lxxvii, 5).” This footnote follows the translation of the first part of a remark by a disciple of Confucius:

This is a typical example that can illustrate the importance of paratexts. As mentioned above, Ku's use of such nonreligious phrases as respect for the dead and carrying the memory back here, contrasted with Legge's religious ones, such as funeral rites and ceremonies of sacrifice, has been taken by St. André (2018: 168) as textual instances for his assertion of Confucius's secularity in Ku's translated Lunyu. He does not pay serious attention to the footnote, although he does notice it and dismisses it as “quite short” (169). However, I would argue that, brief as it is, this is not at all an unimportant footnote because it is a citation from the Bible and thus brings about religious effect. This citation is part of a psalm in the Bible, which can be rendered in modern English as “I have considered the days of old, the years of ancient times.” While the religious effect can be easily felt by those who read Latin, the presence of the word Psalm itself is enough to convey the religiosity to readers for whom the Latin is unintelligible. Indeed, while the citation itself is in Latin, Ku uses the English word Psalm instead of the Latin one, Palmus. This may suggest that Ku tries to make sure that all readers could receive his translation through a religious lens, regardless of their ability to read Latin. In other words, Ku intends the English word Psalm to remind the readers, who have no command of Latin, of the religious color of his translation.

Conclusion

My analysis shows that, contrary to St. André’s assertion of Confucius's secularity in Ku's translation of the Lunyu, Ku offers a religious Confucius. In Ku's translated Lunyu, Confucius practices religious rituals, promotes Christian agape and absolute loyalty to God, and warns against disobeying the Christian commandments and committing sin. More striking, Ku's Confucius is a Jesus-like figure who delivers divine messages and is able to save the world.

Apart from excavating a religious Confucius in Ku's translation of the Lunyu, this article also raises methodological issues in approaching translations of culturally loaded texts. It calls into question the effectiveness of CSI analysis, a methodology commonly used in research on translations of culturally loaded texts: CSI analysis runs the risk of making hasty generalizations and missing important points by prioritizing translations of a predetermined list of lexical items considered culturally specific to the text under investigation while marginalizing or ignoring other translational interventions and carrying out isolated analyses. This article takes seriously Baker's exhortation that “we consider every choice—at least potentially—as a kind of index that activates a narrative” (Baker 2007: 156; emphasis added) to argue that, rather than just dwell on translations of CSIs, we should give equal if not more attention to the choices involved in translations of lexical items not considered culturally specific, especially when we attempt to make a generalization of a translated text. This article also insists on the importance of paratextual analysis.

While understanding that the assertion of Confucius's religiosity in Ku's translation of the Lunyu in this article may naturally motivate readers to wonder why Ku does so, it would exceed the scope of this article to offer a detailed elaboration on this point. Nonetheless, I would like to clarify here that I would not conceptualize this issue with respect to Ku's complex identity or the so-called cultural inequality between China and the West, as has been discussed in existing literature (Du 2011: 735; St. André 2018: 175; Zhang 2004: 70–74), let alone uncritically turn to the platitude that Ku's reference to Christianity is simply a strategy to facilitate reception of his translation in the Anglophone world. Rather, in line with my rejection of the assertion of Ku as an “eccentric” historical figure in current scholarship and recasting Ku as a serious thinker and a profound critic of modernity (Zhang 2024), I would consider Ku's religionization as a form of sociopolitical resistance. This leads to the question, Resistance to what? As Maria Tymoczko (2010: 250) points out, this basic question is to be asked when understanding translation as resistance. I intend to hazard an answer to this question in another article (see Zhang, forthcoming).

Notes

References