You Are Not Self-Made

On Confucian Relationality and the Myth of Autonomy

Context

Western culture celebrates the self-made individual. The entrepreneur who “pulled himself up by his bootstraps.” The artist who “found her own voice.” The thinker who “thinks for himself.”

It’s a compelling narrative. Attractive, even—especially in cultures shaped by Enlightenment ideals of autonomy, individualism, and self-determination.

There’s just one problem: It’s fundamentally false.

Confucian philosophy offers a corrective—one that’s profoundly relevant to contemporary challenges of isolation, disconnection, and the paradox of individualism that somehow leaves us feeling… less free.

The Confucian Insight: You Are Constituted by Relationships

Confucius (孔子) didn’t begin with the autonomous individual. He began with relationships.

In Confucian thought, the fundamental unit of human existence isn’t the isolated self—it’s the relational self. You don’t exist prior to relationships and then enter into them. Rather, you become who you are through relationships.

This is captured in the concept of ren (仁)—often translated as “benevolence,” “humaneness,” or “goodness,” but more accurately: becoming human through relationships.

The character itself is revealing: 人 (person) + 二 (two). To be human is to be in relationship. Not accidentally. Not optionally. Constitutively.

Consider your own existence. You didn’t choose to be born. You didn’t teach yourself language. You didn’t develop your moral sensibilities in isolation. Everything you are—your values, your vocabulary, your capacity for thought itself—emerged through relationships you didn’t choose.

Your parents (or caregivers). Your teachers. Your culture. Your language community. Your friends. Even your adversaries shaped you.

This isn’t a feel-good observation about connection. It’s a descriptive claim about the nature of human existence: You are who you are because of others.

The Five Relationships and Mutual Responsibility

Confucianism identifies five cardinal relationships (wu lun, 五倫):

  1. Parent and child (fu zi, 父子)
  2. Ruler and subject (jun chen, 君臣) — in modern terms: authority and citizen
  3. Husband and wife (fu fu, 夫婦)
  4. Older and younger sibling (xiong di, 兄弟)
  5. Friend and friend (peng you, 朋友)

What’s crucial is that these aren’t hierarchies of dominance. They’re relationships of mutual obligation.

Yes, children owe parents respect (xiao, 孝—filial piety). But parents owe children care, guidance, and moral formation. The relationship is reciprocal, though asymmetric.

Yes, citizens owe leaders obedience. But leaders owe citizens just governance. When rulers fail this obligation, Confucius argued, their legitimacy evaporates.

Each relationship involves both rights and responsibilities. Neither party exists in isolation. Neither can flourish alone.

Ritual Propriety (Li) and the Cultivation of Character

How do you enact these relationships well? Through li (禮)—ritual propriety, ceremonial conduct, right action in context.

Li isn’t just about formal ceremonies (though it includes that). It’s about the small rituals that constitute daily life:

These aren’t superficial niceties. They’re the practices through which character is formed.

You don’t become benevolent by thinking benevolent thoughts in isolation. You become benevolent by practicing benevolence in actual relationships. Li provides the structure for that practice.

In Western terms: Virtue isn’t just disposition—it’s habitual action in relational context.

Why This Matters Now

Contemporary Western culture is suffering from hyper-individualism. We’re told:

The result? Epidemic loneliness. Fragmented communities. The paradox of infinite choice producing paralysis rather than freedom.

Confucian philosophy offers an alternative frame:

You are not self-made. You are relationally constituted.

And that’s not a limitation—it’s the ground of your humanity.

Practical Implications

If Confucius is right (and I think, at least to some extent, he is), several things follow:

1. Obligations Aren’t Optional

You didn’t choose your parents. But you owe them something—not unlimited obedience, but respect, care, and (when possible) support in their aging.

You didn’t choose your culture. But you owe it something—not uncritical acceptance, but engagement, preservation of what’s valuable, and thoughtful critique of what isn’t.

You didn’t choose your teachers. But you owe them gratitude for the intellectual gifts they gave you.

This isn’t oppressive. It’s recognizing reality: You exist because others invested in you. That creates responsibility.

2. Character Is Relational

You don’t cultivate virtue in isolation. You become generous by practicing generosity with actual people. You become patient by practicing patience in frustrating relationships. You become wise by learning from those who’ve gone before.

If you want to become better, the question isn’t “How do I improve myself?” It’s “How do I enact my relationships well?”

3. Autonomy Isn’t the Highest Good

Western liberalism prizes autonomy above almost everything. But Confucianism asks: Autonomy for what?

If autonomy means “freedom from others,” you’ve lost your humanity. Because to be human is to be relational.

If autonomy means “capacity to enact relationships well”—that’s different. That’s ren. That’s becoming fully human.

4. Technology Must Serve Relationality

Here’s where Confucian ethics meets contemporary challenges.

Social media promised connection. It delivered performance. You’re not relating to persons—you’re managing an audience. You’re not enacting li—you’re curating a brand.

From a Confucian perspective, this is profoundly disordered. Technology that doesn’t serve genuine relationality is technology that dehumanizes.

So the question becomes: How do we use digital tools in ways that support rather than undermine the relationships that constitute us?

5. Individualism Needs Balance

I’m not suggesting we abandon individual rights or personal autonomy entirely. Western liberalism’s insights about human dignity and freedom matter.

But they’re incomplete.

What if we held both truths together?

The synthesis might look like: Persons flourish not through independence, but through well-enacted interdependence.

The Challenge of Modernity

Confucianism emerged in a relatively stable social order where roles were clear. Modernity disrupted that—often for good reason. Hierarchies became exploitative. Traditions became oppressive. Individualism liberated people from unchosen obligations that crushed them.

We can’t simply return to traditional Confucianism. The question is: Can we recover its insights about relationality while honoring modernity’s insights about dignity, freedom, and choice?

I think we can. But it requires nuance:

Keep: Recognition that you’re relationally constituted, that obligations emerge from receiving care, that character develops through relational practice

Discard: Rigid hierarchies, patriarchal assumptions, uncritical acceptance of inherited roles

Integrate: Liberal commitment to human dignity with Confucian understanding of relational constitution

Practical Application

If you take Confucian relationality seriously:

In family life:

In work:

In friendship:

In broader society:

Further Reflection

Questions for continued engagement:

Related Reading:

About the Author

I’m a university professor working at the intersection of ethics, theology, and philosophy. While my formation is primarily Western (Christian personalism, virtue ethics), engagement with Confucian thought has profoundly challenged and enriched my understanding of what it means to be human. This essay attempts to bring Confucian insights into dialogue with contemporary Western challenges around autonomy, individualism, and relationality.

Tags: confucianism, relationality, virtue ethics, ren, li, filial piety, relational self, individualism, community
Date: 2025-09-30 —

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