Learning from the Master: The Value of Foundational Knowledge

Confucius books

The other day, a former Dutch diplomat and friend, Ton van Zeeland—whom I had invited several times in the past—came to the university where I work to give a guest lecture. His lectures have always been inspiring. His wit, humour, and the occasional sharp insight scattered throughout his sessions make his talks both thought-provoking and enjoyable.

The lecture Ton gave this time particularly reminded me of the foundational importance of learning the basics before entering a professional field. He mentioned that we are surrounded today by examples of poor diplomacy and a lack of basic understanding of the field.

During that moment, and after the lecture, my mind was stretching to reach an ancient piece of wisdom from my part of the world that has struck me time and again over the years:

師傅領進門，修行在個人

"The master can lead you to the door, but the practice is up to you."

Some sources said it was an ancient Chinese proverb.

Its original meaning may go like this:

You can learn the basics by studying under a master, but how far you grow depends on your own efforts.

I tend to believe that this proverb also suggests that those who rely solely on their own methods, without a proper foundation taught by a master, risk missing out on essential and profound knowledge. We cannot acquire profound, real knowledge and skill through self-study alone—it must be learned from someone who has mastered the craft in the field. Without this, it is easy to fall into the trap of superficial understanding, self-satisfaction, and the illusion of professionalism.

Well, there are a lot of people in the world who seem to have mastered and excelled in their field after working on it alone through self-study. Of course, I am in no position to say there is something wrong with them. I just believe that there are definitely differences between self-trained experts and those who built their expertise with the feedback of a master’s eye.

Another teaching that I have cherished is this well-known saying by Confucius:

學而不思則罔，思而不學則殆

"To learn without thinking is confusing; to think without learning is dangerous."

The Japanese translation in a book I have reads:「外からいくら学んでも自分で考えなければ、ものごとは本当にはわからない。自分でいくら考えていても外から学ばなければ、独断的になって誤る危険がある。」

If I may translate from it, it might go like this:

However much you learn from external sources, unless you think for yourself, you cannot truly understand it. However much you think on your own, unless you learn from others, you risk becoming dogmatic.

These words have become a kind of personal mantra – an important reminder to me in recent years as I keep learning, professionally, in coaching, facilitation, and teaching in higher education. Looking back, they could have applied to my humanitarian work as well, though I never consciously thought about this wisdom during that time.

Why do these teachings come back to me so often these days?

Perhaps because there is a growing tendency to believe that we can quickly equip ourselves with surface-level knowledge and skills, manoeuvre our way through things, be “creative”, and still succeed—at least in the short term. If you manage that, you’re seen as a star of the era. But I sense something troubling about that approach.

Even in education, you may sometimes pass courses without ever reading the basic textbooks—just by browsing the internet and putting together arguments that sound right but lack a grounded understanding of core concepts. Is it acceptable just because you passed? I don’t think so. Something essential is missing.

Then, as if by fate (that I believe), the day after the guest lecture by Ton, a Japanese hair stylist, Hiro Nakamura, came to our home to cut my hair. I’ve been trusting him for several years now.

When it comes to haircuts, I don't feel like trusting anyone other than a properly trained and experienced Japanese hairstylist. Though I’ve spent over 25 years overseas, there have only been a few occasions when I had to compromise with others.

In Japan, hair stylist education is highly formalised, requiring graduation from an accredited school and passing a national licensing exam in order to practise professionally. Even after licensing, many stylists spend years training under senior professionals, reflecting a strong cultural emphasis on mastery through disciplined apprenticeship.

As we chatted, something Hiro said struck me. He mentioned, almost casually, how important it is to learn and respect the basics taught in hairstyling school in Japan. He added that some stylists try to be creative from the start, but something always feels off—because they lack the basics. Here is Hiro's Instagram account.

I believe everything happens at the right moment for a reason. The guest lecture by the former diplomat and the haircut conversation reinforced a belief I’ve long held dear: though it is commendable to make the effort to self-learn, I can never disregard the importance of learning from true masters of the field—no matter how normal it seems to skip that step these days.