CONFUCIUS AND SOCRATES: THE DAWN OF A NEW WORLD

Morning rose over the city where East and West had intertwined.

The paved alleys, still damp with sea mist, gradually filled with the cries of merchants and the hurried steps of artisans.

But on the great square, between white columns and curved roofs, an invisible tension hung in the air.

For on that day, an incident broke out.

Two disciples — one from Socrates’ circle, the other raised in Confucius’ tradition — clashed openly.

At the center of the square, before all, they stood face to face, cheeks flushed with anger.

One, a young Greek named Euboulos, accused the other, named Zhi, of having hidden a fault to preserve the honor of an elder.

Zhi, in turn, insisted that collective honor was more important than individual truth.

— He lied! shouted Euboulos, fist raised.

Truth must not be stained to save face!

— You understand nothing of respect! Zhi retorted, trembling.

To publicly expose a master is to break the harmony of the community!

The disciples stirred around them — some leaning toward one, some toward the other.

The argument swelled, like a storm rising.

Then, slowly, Confucius and Socrates stepped forward.

Without a word, they stopped midway, arms crossed, watching the scene.

The uproar gradually died down.

Ashamed, the young men lowered their voices, then their gazes.

Confucius spoke first, solemnly:

— Harmony is the breath of every community.

Without mutual respect, all collapses.

But that respect must not be a shroud of silence over wrongdoing.

It must be the path by which we guide a brother back — not an excuse to forget him.

Socrates added, in a harsher tone:

— Truth is more precious than fragile peace.

A poorly built structure crumbles at the first wind, even if its paintings are beautiful.

Better a bare wall that stands firm than a palace built on the sand of lies.

The two young men trembled, hesitating.

Socrates then stepped toward Euboulos, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder:

— You were right to seek truth.

But never forget: revealing a fault must never be disguised vengeance.

Speak your words as one lays down a remedy — not as one wields a sword.

Then Confucius turned to Zhi:

— You were right to want to preserve harmony.

But remember: to hide a fault is to feed it.

True respect is helping the other rise — not hiding him in the shadows.

A long silence followed.

The two young men bowed their heads.

Euboulos spoke, his voice hoarse:

— Then… how should we act?

Confucius and Socrates exchanged a glance — a smile, almost imperceptible.

They replied with one voice:

— By uniting uprightness and compassion.

Thus it was decided that the elder who had erred would be discreetly invited to acknowledge his mistake before a few elders — not for humiliation, but to restore trust.

The fault would be confessed, not shouted.

The repair would be offered, not imposed.

And all understood that the emerging ethical code was not a chain of dead laws,

but a living art of balance:

between truth and compassion,

between justice and respect,

between firmness and gentleness.

At nightfall, as peace returned to the square,

Socrates, seated beneath a fig tree, declared with a laugh:

— It is harder to make an idea live than to make it be born.

Confucius, stroking his white beard, replied softly:

— It is like tending a fire: one must know how to stoke it without burning, and to cover it without smothering.

And in the shadow of the mingled columns,

the two sages, each in his own way,

watched over the fragile flame

of a new humanity.

Previous chapter <=

Next chapter =>