Author: 華山

Confucianism as a World Philosophy: Is This East Asian Tradition Portable to the West?

There is a belief that the Confucian tradition can only be understood under an East Asian context—that only by being raised in East Asia, could one truly understand Confucianism. However, the existence of the Boston Confucians contradicts this assumption. The demonstration of how aspects of Confucianism are present within Boston (and, more widely, America), such as in Robert Neville’s connection between ritual propriety and pragmatic semiotics and the articulation of ren and filial love, which can be related to Christianity, illustrates how Confucian tradition is apparent in Western culture, ultimately proving that it is possible as a world philosophy.

In his book, Boston Confucianism: Portable Tradition in the Late-Modern World, Neville draws a link between li, or “ritual propriety”, and pragmatic semiotics.1 By highlighting this connection, Neville reveals Confucian virtues that relate to Western philosophies. Furthermore, this relation exemplifies the West’s ability to conceive Confucianism; thus, it emphasizes Confucian’s possibility as global philosophy. In order to recognize this relationship, let us look at Neville’s definition of both, ritual propriety and pragmatic semiotics. The deeper meaning of ritual propriety to Neville is that it ‘creates culture, is conventional, and is a particular kind of harmony’.2 In other words, rituals are not simply having “good manners” and following some grand exhibition of rites. Rather, ritual propriety should be understood as simpler and common. For instance, rituals transform procreation into the concept of a family. Certain actions which indicate a family dynamic, like parents caring for the wellbeing of their children, are culturally understood. Hence, ritual propriety is communicated through socially acceptable demonstrations of larger concepts, such as family, friendship, and respect.

Pragmatic semiotics holds a similar definition. Pragmatism views language and interpretation as the creation of meaning rather than mirroring reality. Moreover, pragmatic semiotics studies how signs and symbols constitute meaning.3 For example, the difference between mere cooperation and a close friendship are the signs, like a person’s actions, which portray the difference. Certain signs are culturally understood as equating friendship, such as levels of intimacy and trust. In this context, pragmatic semiotics creates culture, is conventional, and is harmonious. These signs symbolize higher associations, like family and friendship, similarly to ritual propriety. Therefore, a formulation of ritual propriety exists in Western culture. This existence shows that vital parts of Confucianism can be perceived outside of the Eastern context. Thus, Confucianism is portable into a world philosophy.

The similarities between Confucianism’s ren and Christianity’s underscore of family also illustrate a Western understanding of Confucian values. Ren is often translated into a benevolent, human “love”, yet it is also a differentiated form of love, which means that it recognizes a difference between a stronger love for one’s family compared to love for a stranger. Still, ren maintains a compassion for others. In Book One, Confucius states that ‘a young person should be filial when at home’ and that ‘he should display a general care for the masses’.4 In Confucian tradition, filial piety plays a vital role as a virtue.5 Likewise, Christianity emphasizes agape and parental love. The Bible contends that ‘thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself’6; additionally, the Bible instructs people to ‘honour thy father and thy mother’.7 Both traditions hold parallel beliefs pertaining to love. Furthermore, both acknowledge the necessity of filial piety to this love. Hence, an essential aspect of Confucianism, that of ren, is already understood in the Western context under Christianity. This understanding allows the West to grasp the teachings of Confucianism—without the requirement of an Eastern context. Thus, Confucianism is possible as a global philosophy.

  1. Robert Neville, Boston Confucianism: Portable Tradition in the Late-Modern World (Albany, 2000), p. 2. [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 9. [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 12. [↩]
  4. Confucius, ‘The Analects’, in Philip J. Ivanhoe and Bryan W. Van Norden (eds), Readings in Classical Chinese Philosophy (Indianapolis, 2001), p. 22. [↩]
  5. Tu Weiming, Centrality and Commonality: An Essay on Chung-yung, (Honolulu, 1976), p. 55. [↩]
  6. Leviticus 19: 18 (KJV). [↩]
  7. Exodus 20: 21 (KJV). [↩]

Nationalism and Propaganda: The Flaws of Kuki Shūzō’s Iki no kōzō as a Nationalistic Ideology

Nationalist undertones are clearly evident in Kuki Shūzō’s Iki no kōzō, or The Structure of Iki; however, critiques on his exploitation of hermeneutic methodology and his universalization of a term concerning a minority for the whole of Japan undermine his book’s ability to serve as nationalistic ideology.

Published in 1930, Iki no kōzō explored the cultural meaning of iki in order to reconcile Japan’s past against the infringing influences of Western modernity. Kuki argues that iki is a Japanese sensibility of taste which can be symbolized through objectification but only truly understood by personal experience. In other words, one may be able to find attributes of iki in Western aesthetics, yet the works would lack the hermeneutic meaning of iki, ‘as a phenomenon of consciousness’.1 Thus, iki becomes a ‘distinct self-expression of an oriental culture,’ —a uniquely Japanese phenomenon.2 In this exposition as a Japanese exclusive taste, Kuki presents a nationalist view: the realization of iki separates Japan from the vulgarity of the West. Hence, in terms of aesthetics, Japan was culturally superior. Nevertheless, this nationalism fails to successfully manifest into nationalist ideology.

In her article ‘In a Labyrinth of Western Desire: Kuki Shūzō and the Discovery of Japanese Being’, Leslie Pincus critiques a paradox in Kuki’s employment of hermeneutics. Although Pincus’s interpretation is contested as ironic and overreaching— ‘[Pincus] removes Kuki’s work from the Japanese context… and tries to build a culturalscape of Japan’s fascism and imperialism in a discourse of Japan’s aesthetics, that may not have existed exactly as she portrayed’ —her evaluation of the hypocritical impact of hermeneutics in Kuki’s argument should not be discounted.3 The paradox stems from Kuki’s revelation that ‘iki has no place in Western culture as a certain meaning in its ethnic being’ and his assertion ‘the study of iki can exist only as a hermeneutic study of ethnic being’.4 The problem, then, lies in the fact that hermeneutics is a Western mode of analysis. Therefore, Kuki ironically ‘the terms in which he articulated Japan’s difference from the West were clearly marked by a long and productive apprenticeship to European letters’.5 If Kuki must rely on European methodology in order to extract Japan’s distinctive aesthetic, iki, then the question of whether this concept would exist without Western modernity emerges. Since Kuki posits iki in direct opposition to Western influences—that iki remains untainted by the West—this question undercuts his book’s appeal to nationalistic ideology. How can Kuki’s argument purport a superiority of Japanese aesthetics, or issue iki as a national defense, when the only way to comprehend this mode of being is through a Western lens. Thus, Western influence infiltrates the very thing Kuki argues it does not, ultimately weakening his nationalistic argument.

Moreover, Kuki’s decision to universalize a term pertaining to a small selection of Japan’s population, hinders his overall assessment of iki as a national mode of being. Iki, as an aesthetic, grew in popularity during the Edo period of Japan. Denoting a specific style of the mercantile class in the city of Edo, iki represented a resistance to the samurai bureaucracy.6 In other words, historically, iki resided in the sentiments and style of the Edo merchant class—a class holding great wealth but lacking status. By choosing a word associated with one social class in one city, Kuki severely limits the inclusive aspect of his argument. How can iki constitute the mode of being for all of Japan when it is only linked to a small percentage of the population? In employing iki as a cultural signifier, Kuki enlarges this minority group to portray Japan. He essentially fabricates a national identity. The lack of consideration for other groups diminishes Kuki’s declaration of iki as a national phenomenon, for iki does not truly represent all of Japan. Consequently, Kuki’s book is unsuccessful as nationalistic ideology.

  1. Shūzō Kuki, ‘The Structure of Iki’, in Hiroshi Nara, J. Thomas Rimer, and Jon Mark Mikkelson (eds), The Structure of Detachment: The Aesthetic Vision of Kuki Shūzō (Honolulu, 2004), p. 58. [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 17. [↩]
  3. Yukiko Koshiro, ‘Fascism and Aesthetics – Leslie Pincus: Authenticating Culture in Imperial Japan: Kuki Shūzō and the Rise of National Aesthetics’, The Review of Politics, 59: 3 (1997), p. 608. [↩]
  4. Kuki, ‘The Structure of Iki’, pp. 58-59. [↩]
  5. Leslie Pincus, ‘In a Labyrinth of Western Desire: Kuki Shuzo and the Discovery of Japanese Being’, boundary 2, 18: 3 (1991), p. 144. [↩]
  6. Ibid., p. 143. [↩]

Religion or Propaganda: The Red Swastika Society and the Conflict between Nationalism and Imperialism in Manchuria

The Red Swastika Society was founded in early twentieth century China as a philanthropic faith-based organization. However, with the encroaching Japanese militarism in Manchuria, the society was constantly drifting between being persecuted by the ruling authorities and being utilized by them for political purposes. So, to what extent did this organization actually partake in propagandistic politics? Although both Chinese nationalists and Japanese imperialists manipulated the Red Swastika Society to promote their ideals, the founding principles of the society, the persecution by the KMT, and the confusion of its classification under the Manchukuo regime all demonstrate the failure to successfully apply this organization as political propaganda.

In 1922, the Red Swastika Society was officially approved as a legitimate association with the goal of advancing social welfare and world peace. Its founding principles included ‘promoting moral virtue’ and ‘no involvement in partisan politics’.1 As a philanthropic group, the society desired a universal humanitarianism; they wanted to transcend national borders in the name of altruism. For instance, the Red Swastika Society held offices in Paris, London, and Tokyo—showcasing its international quality.2 Motivating certain ideologies would divide the organization from its original purpose. Therefore, at least in the beginning, the Red Swastika Society had little interest in politics.

Furthermore, the persecution of redemptive societies by both the KMT and the Japanese imperialists highlights their distrust of superstitious organizations—including the Red Swastika Society. Ultimately, this distrust hindered these authorities’ usage of the Red Swatika Society as propaganda. The Red Swastika Society is recognized as a redemptive society, which is a term for the religious organizations popularized in China during the early twentieth century. These religious organizations often followed local religions rather than the major groups like Buddhism and Christianity. For example, the Red Swastika Society combined Daoism and Buddhism practices.3 Along with its goal of transcending national boundaries, the superstitious character of the society marked it as a target of KMT’s persecution. The KMT focused on Chinese nationalism and modernity. So, the KMT was critical of superstitious religions, which conflicted with their idea of modernity; they were also threatened by the society’s challenge to nationalism. Therefore, the KMT banned redemptive societies in 1928.4 Although the Red Swastika Society was permitted to operate in the 1930s, this underlying distrust made it difficult for the two groups to work together. Thus, the Red Swastika Society was not completely politicized by the KMT.

While the Japanese imperialists had more success in transforming the Red Swastika Society into a propagandistic tool, they still faced difficulties due to their own troubles understanding how to treat the society. In 1932, Japan set up a puppet government (Manchukuo) in Manchuria. Unlike the KMT, the Manchukuo government sought to convert redemptive societies into jiaohua organizations by minimizing their religious qualities and emphasizing their welfare focus—rather than trying to simply eradicate the groups.5 This goal of transformation influenced the government’s classification of the Red Swastika Society, consequently causing it to be separated into three different categories. First acknowledging the society as a similar religion, the Japanese officials desired to restrict it for fear of encouraging political apathy.6 In this way, the society was treated as it was under the KMT rule. However, the Japanese realized that a manipulation of the society would benefit them. The second classification of the Red Swastika Society as a solely philanthropic entity, without religious connections, demonstrated the early changes to the society. By removing superstitious aspects of the society, the Manchukuo government could mold the society to promote their ideology. The third classification was as a moral suasion organization. With this classification, the society was overseen by the Union Society.7 The Union Society assisted the Manchukuo government in public security. Hence, the Red Swastika Society reinforced imperialist propaganda under the authority of the Union Society. These three different classifications of the Red Swastika Society exemplify how the Manchukuo government could not cohesively decide on a singular strategy for handling the society. This indecision weakened the society’s application as propaganda, for two of the three classifications understood it in non-political terms. Therefore, it was difficult to reconcile these conceptualizations and portray the society as motivating imperialism. Consequently, the Red Swastika Society did not interact with propagandistic politics to the extent in which it could have.

  1. Jiang Sun, ‘The Predicament of a Redemptive Religion: The Red Swastika Society Under the Rule of Manchukuo’, Journal of Modern Chinese History, 7: 1 (2013), p. 110. [↩]
  2. Prasenjit Duara, Sovereignty and Authenticity: Manchukuo and the East Asian Modern (Lanham, 2003), p. 105. [↩]
  3. Sun, ‘The Predicament of a Redemptive Religion’, p. 108. [↩]
  4. Duara, Sovereignty and Authenticity, p. 109. [↩]
  5. Ibid., p. 115. [↩]
  6. Sun, ‘The Predicament of a Redemptive Religion’, p. 117. [↩]
  7. Ibid., p. 122. [↩]

Shifu’s Purist Anarchism: How His Beliefs Separated Him from Other Anarchists

Although Shifu’s introduction to anarchism followed similar paths of his fellow anarchists, his later articulation of a pure anarchist ideology and critiques of various anarchists differentiated him from others.

Born as Liu Shaobin in 1884, Liu grew up in a supportive, prosperous family. His father encouraged progressive ideals, such as educating his daughters and advocating to end foot binding.1 Liu performed well in school, and he eventually went to study abroad in Japan. There, he encountered revolutionary ideas, which served as the preface to many other contemporary anarchists as well. Following this introduction, Liu changed his name to Liu Sifu and joined Sun Yat-Sen’s Revolutionary Alliance, which promoted assassination as a means for reform. After a failed assassination attempt, Liu lost his left hand and was arrested. In prison, Liu’s conceptualizations of anarchism would foster, ultimately leading to his rejection of violence as the path for reform and to the creation of his own understanding of anarchism.2 

In 1912, three years after his release, Liu and three others established the Conscience Society. The twelve points of this society serve as the basis of Liu’s anarchist ideology, which members must follow. Despite the inclusion of a loophole for members to join while not precisely following the twelve points, Liu committed to them fully.3 His change of name to Shifu, rejecting the patriarchal power of a family name, most clearly represents his strict adherence to the points. His refusal to eat meat and ride in rickshas, even in his ailing health, further depicts his devotion. Shifu understood anarchism as a rejection of politics. Politics caused corruption in humanity, and the only way to rid this corruption from society was to take on social revolution. Shifu reasoned that ‘government would be replaced by people’s voluntary self-regulation’, which would depend on people’s management of their consciousness and behavior.4 The problem with society was politics; only with the complete eradication—not a mere replacement—of all forms of government could China be free. And in order to initiate this eradication, one must strictly devote themselves to dismantling the structure which society was built on by holding themselves to these specific standards.

His critique of fellow anarchists illustrates how Shifu’s strict belief in a pure anarchism separated him from other contemporaries. Shifu condemned multiple people for a failure to uphold anarchist ideology, including Zhang Ji and Wu Zhihui of the Paris anarchists and Sun Yat-Sen and Jiang Kanghu of the socialists. For Shifu, to maintain the anarchist ideology, one must reflect on themselves to completely reject the current structure of society: politics. Restructuring is difficult to do, for a complete reimagination of the foundation of society is often impractical. So, many anarchists accepted offices in the new Republican government, such as Zhang Ji and Wu Zhihui, under the pretense that these offices would allow them to strengthen their beliefs through government-backed organizations.5 However, Shifu contended that this acceptance of governmental office fundamentally went against the concept of anarchism and leaders of the Paris anarchists failed to moderate their own behaviors. Thus, Zhang and Wu could no longer be considered anarchists, for they did not align with Shifu’s strict anarchism.

Furthermore, Shifu discredited socialism as anarchism, on the basis of socialism’s narrowness. Shifu’s explanation that socialism concerns only the economy, while anarchism concerns all politics, sets the foundation for his criticism. In this explanation, anarchism is the broader concept which socialism fits under.6 Socialism argues for social policy to economically equalize society, not social revolution and the elimination of politics. Moreover, socialism works within the government to enact these policies; it simply replaces one government with another sympathetic to its ideology. Therefore, socialists should not portray themselves as anarchists, for they do not follow all of the requirements of anarchism. From this separation between socialism and anarchism, Shifu cements his concept of anarchism, which is strictly followed, as true anarchism. Thus, Shifu’s pure anarchism distinguishes Shifu from other contemporary anarchists.

  1. Edward S. Krebs, Shifu, Soul of Chinese Anarchism (Lanham, 1998), p. 2. [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 7. [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 115. [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 119. [↩]
  5. Ibid., p. 121. [↩]
  6. Arif Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution (Berkeley, 1991), p. 142. [↩]