Author: 金剛山

Everydayness and Historical Time: Tosaka Jun and Marc Bloch

Tosaka Jun, a marxist philosopher associated with the Kyoto school of the early 20th century, was highly critical of prewar Japanese philosophy. He rejected the abstract metaphysics of members of the Kyoto School on the grounds that their ‘bourgeois’ ideology easily permitted fascist appropriation. He utilized historical materialism to call for a philosophy of the quotidian, centering the concept of ‘everydayness’. This stance led to his imprisonment under the anti-communist Peace Preservation Law, where he died shortly before Japanese surrender.

Placed in a global context, Tosaka’s work reflects a broader current of intellectuals reacting to an increasingly extremist world. His worldview and historical conception parallel the writings of Marc Bloch, the co-founder of the Annales d’histoire economique et social. Although these two conceptions of historical time emerged from different traditions, one from marxist materialism and the other from social history and mentalities, both rejected linear, abstract models of time and grounded historical understanding in human experience1.  Acknowledged in comparison, Marc Bloch and Tosaka Jun’s conceptions of historical time show that history is constantly being made and remade within the quotidian, it is not simply the stories of ‘great men’ but a reflection of contemporary culture.

Tosaka argues that understanding time as temporal or spatialized deny the existence of historical time2.  ‘Historical time is the fundamental concept of temporal things. And within that—without overemphasizing or understating it—is the division. But what is a division of historical time?’3 For Tosaka, division is a zeit, which comes from the contents or the character of the time itself.3 To explain this, he makes an analogy wherein character is a ripe fruit that falls from the tree of history, and ‘what manner people faithfully receive this fruit depends on the character of the people themselves.’4 Politics and material relations attach a character to a period.5 Tosaka argues that ‘a period then is none other than the dialectical development of various stages of historical time.’6

‘In the principle of the day- to- day—the principle of the quotidian—in the constant repetition of the same act though it is a different day, in the common activity of drinking tea, in the absolute inevitability of the principle of everyday life—in these things dwells the crystallized core of historical time; here lies the secret of history’7. 

Similarly, Marc Bloch defines historical time as ‘a concrete and living reality with an irreversible onward rush. It is the very plasma in which events are immersed, and the field within which they become intelligible’8. For both Tosaka and Bloch, historical time is grounded in the tangible and material. While Tosaka takes this emphasis on the material a step further due to his marxist conception, Bloch ultimately values the contributions of ‘men in time’ to ‘the science of men’ or history9. Both explicitly reject Rankean historicism which they view as a tool of fascist expansion within the academy. 

Though different in practice, both understandings of historical time ground history in ordinary human life, rejecting the narratives of authoritarian regimes. Both sought to reclaim history from abstraction and restore it to the people whose lives constitute it. In doing so, they participated in a broader global effort to resist authoritarianism not only through politics but through intellectual methodology. The Historians Craft became widely known in global scholarship, while Tosaka’s broader influence has remained limited until fairly recently. While Tosaka would disagree with many aspects of the later Annales, I believe he would find camaraderie in the struggle of the founders of the journal in their fight to invigorate their readers against fascism. Ultimately, both aided in redefining what history is and who produces it for future generations of scholars. 

 

  1. Robert Stolz, Fabian Schäfer, and Ken C. Kawashima, (eds.), Tosaka Jun: A Critical Reader (Ithaca, 2013) p.4 [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 7 [↩]
  3. Ibid. [↩] [↩]
  4. Ibid,. p. 9 [↩]
  5. Ibid [↩]
  6. Ibid,. p. 10 [↩]
  7. Ibid., p. 12 [↩]
  8. Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, trans. Peter Putnam, foreword by Joseph R. Strayer (Manchester, 1976), p. 27 [↩]
  9. Ibid., p. 27 [↩]

The Cold War and Cosmopolitanism

Yan Xishan, former premier for the Republic of China, authored a treatise on the establishment of a Cosmopolitan International government for the purpose of ending war globally. This proposal is titled How to Prevent Warfare and Establish the Foundation of World Unity and was dedicated to the Moral Re-Armament World Assembly. Yan Xishan believed that these American based moral reformists would share his cosmopolitan vision for the betterment of the world. The M.R.A World Assembly maintained a similar world view to Xishan in that they detested communism, but were dissatisfied with the inequality of the capitalist system.1 This shared belief reflects the broader global political tension at the time of publication in 1952. The context of the Korean War and the escalation of the nuclear arms race between the United States and Russia acts as a backdrop of Yan Xishan’s cosmopolitan solution to the problem of dissatisfaction with both capitalism and communism. When conflict had implications for the globe, a universal solution was necessary.

Yan Xishan’s proposition for a Cosmopolitan Internal system of government echoes the ideas of K’ang Yu-wei, a late Qing scholar who originated the idea of Ta T’ung Shu or the Great Unity. K’ang Yu-wei’s cosmopolitan vision called for the abolition of the nation state, the family, religion, and all divisions which create suffering.2 Similar to Xishan, K’ang’s worldview is largely influenced by Confucianism. Both align with Mencius’s idea that human nature is inherently good and can be perfected through the cultivation of the individual.3 This perfection of man serves as the basis for the effective establishment of a cosmopolitan world. 

Yan Xishan diverges from K’ang Yu-wei in his reference for establishing his cosmopolitan utopia. Rather than turn towards the United States or Germany as a framework for the unification of states as K’ang does, Xishan turns inwards toward China for a solution. This is likely due to Xishan’s familiarity with American imperial aggression and the destructive consequences of both World Wars. Xishan uses the Golden Mean as the foundation of world unity and rejects American and German models in the process.4 This is a direct recollection of foundational Confucian principles, and the use of Chinese intellectual tradition to establish a new world order outside the confines of Western thought. 

Yan Xishan’s worldview cites conflicting economic interests as the causes of disorder in the world. His proposal largely focuses on economic solutions for the cessation of suffering and the problem of capitalist and communist conflict. He cites the inability of communists and capitalists to find economic harmony as a source of global conflict.5 Yan Xishan’s fear of the spontaneous outbreak of World War III is clearly informed by the proximity and uncertainty of the Korean war.6 For Xishan, Cosmopolitanism is not only a solution to the suffering of the individual, but the ending of the Cold War and the threat of further nuclear destruction in East Asia. In his eyes, the Cosmopolitan solution would ultimately bring peace to the world by establishing a disarmed government, removing the fear of mass nuclear destruction from the equation.  

  1. Boobbyer, Philip. ‘5 Strategy and Organization’. The Spiritual Vision of Frank Buchman, University Park, USA: Penn State University Press, 2013, pp. 110-111 [↩]
  2. Kang, Youwei, and Laurence G Thompson. Ta t’ung Shu: The One-World Philosophy of K’ang Yu-Wei. London: Routledge, 2005. p. 37 [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 46 [↩]
  4. Yan, Xishan. How to Prevent Warfare and Establish Foundation of World Unity, pamphlet, p. 38 [↩]
  5. Ibid., p. 7 [↩]
  6. Ibid., 5 [↩]

Shamanic Nationalism and Colonial Drag: Queer Cultural Resistance to Authoritarianism in Colonial Korea

Merose Hwang’s chapter in Todd A. Henry’s Queer Korea analyzes the ongoing battle for cultural representation in occupied Korea, just after the 1919 revolution, in the context of shamanic rituals. These popular performances acted as sites of gender and sexual fluidity, questioning heteronormative practice. Subsequently, both colonial and nationalist intellectuals attempted to subvert, regulate, and co-opt these practices, distorting historical understandings and erasing their queerness in the process. Queerness, Hwang concludes, allowed shamanic ritual spaces to question Japanese authoritarianism in Korean culture by ‘dragging’ colonialism. 

Merose Hwang presents shamanistic ritual as an archive of queer community, erased by nationalist and colonial ethnohistoriographical memory. Her analysis of these rituals as ‘colonial drag’ provides historians with a way to ‘queer’ the Korean historical landscape, bypassing the ethnonationalist and eurocentric limitations of Korean studies and queer studies. 

In order to reveal silences created in the historical narrative. Hwang utilized queer forms of analysis. The frameworks provided by José Esteban Muñoz and Petrus Liu, that being the ideas of postcoloniality, the mandate of queer futurity, and neoliberal queer theory, allow Hwang to elucidate the queer nature of ritual specialist performance in colonial Korea. Using this framework, she reveals that shamanistic performers seemingly spiritually assimilated with colonial rule, but were actually mimicking and mocking imperial attempts at cultural modernization.  

Colonial forces used bureaucratic and intellectual institutions, such as the establishment of anthropological schools and commissioning of ethnographic studies of Korean history through the lens of shamanistic ritual, to subvert Korean cultural identity as backwards. Representations of shamanistic practice in media and popular memory shaped the lives of the shamanists, as queerness in ritual practice and social life was punished by the authoritarian regime. Colonial media portrayed shamanists as non-normative, hypersexualized, and perverse.1 Shamans were criminalized as morally inept.2 Thus, shamanism was used as a scapegoat for national demise and a roadblock to modernization.3  

Nationalist resistance focused on the indigenous nature of shamanistic ritual practices as to draw Korean cultural origins away from Japan, inwards towards Siberia and China, co-opting shamanism as a form of resistance but simultaneously erasing its queerness.4  Despite problematically depicting shamans, nationalist thinkers offered a formula for decolonizing, utilizing queerness on the continent as an origin myth for Korean culture.

Shamanism was not simply used for colonial or nationalist reasons, but for the purpose of mocking the empire.5 Hwang argues that ritualists paid homage to imperial spiritual imagery as a form of mockery.6  Regulations on indigenous decentralized religious practice turned performances into a form of ‘colonial drag’, maliciously complying and satirizing Japanese rule in Korea in a distinctly queer way. Ritual experts disguised themselves as devotees of imposed Shinto deities to scrutinize state driven patriarchy and imperial policing of culture.7

In colonial and nationalist cases, anthropology and ethnohistory were used to paint a particular view of Korean culture, silencing the queerness of shamanistic practice along the way. Hwang’s recognition of the anti-modern, queer practices of shamans as a form of resistance has carved a path for historians operating between the fields of Korean studies and queer studies. Korean studies tends to maintain heteronormative, nationalist assumptions, and queer studies tend to privilege the western perspective.8 Hwang bridges this gap in her analysis of Korean culture, effectively ‘queering’ the landscape. She displays the fact that queerness is not imported but native to Korean life, and integral to the preservation of Korean culture.

  1. Merose Hwang, ‘Ritual Specialists in Colonial Drag Shamanic Interventions in 1920s Korea’, in Todd A. Henry (ed.), Queer Korea (Durham, 2020), p. 56. [↩]
  2. Ibid.,  p. 58. [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 62. [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 64. [↩]
  5. Ibid., p. 69. [↩]
  6. Ibid., p. 70. [↩]
  7. Ibid. [↩]
  8. So-Rim Lee, ‘Review of Queer Korea (Durham, 2020), by Todd A. Henry,’ Journal of Korean Studies 26, no. 1 (2021), p. 155. [↩]

Japanese Influence on the Memory of the Tonghak Rebellion

The Tonghak rebellion is remembered as one of the most influential events in modern Korean history. For reference, scholars consider its significance to be on par with the Taiping rebellion in China. The rebellion was led by members of the Tonghak religion. Their doctrine provided poor, rural Korean folk with an outlet for the hardships experienced under a corrupt government. The basic texts of the faith espoused regionalism and anti-foreignism.1 An adherence to these values in the face of foreign threats led to revolution. The Tonghak rebellion would eventually lead to the Sino-Japanese war, as foreign powers fought to quell the conflict and preserve their interests. Since then, the rebellion has become a symbol of Korean national identity, representing resistance to authoritarian power and foreign interference in the nation, as well as a rejection of Japanese interpretations of Koreans.

The Kabo reforms imposed by the Japanese occupants in the wake of the rebellion attempted to restructure the Korean government and social life, receiving much pushback from the Korean people.2  The sweeping reforms eliminated slavery, punishment by association, class distinction, and altered the calendar.3 Anti-Japanese irritation persisted in the wake of these edicts that attempted to ‘modernize’ Korea.

In addition to altering Korea’s structure and identity, Japanese occupation shaped interpretations of the rebellion. Japan’s aggressive foreign policy was validated through portrayals of the conflict in Western facing chronicles. An installment in the February 18, 1903 edition of the Japan Chronicle claimed that ‘the history of Japan’s foreign troubles may be traced almost entirely to her relationships with Korea’.4   This article represents the destruction of the Tonghak ‘disturbance’ as protecting Japanese settlers from danger.5  Blaming Korea for interfering with Japan’s interests in the Far East, the author of this article suggests that Korea must be annexed immediately, or else what is the purpose of the Anglo-Japanese alliance?6

This excerpt reflects Japanese attitudes before stripping Korea of sovereignty and making it a protectorate. It calls into question what is to be done about problems in Japanese foreign policy, and validates feelings of anxiety around the question of Korea. The article clearly shows the connection between the foreign policy of the British empire and Japan’s aggressive policy of expansion. It also provides grounds for Korean nationalism’s use of the rebellion as a source of nationalist pride. 

Another article from the Japan Chronicle in 1907 describes the behavior of the Japanese troops in quelling the rebellion. The author claims ‘the Japanese took excessive pains to see that the Korean troops did not ill treat the people… Unless Japanese soldiers were with them the Koreans committed great excesses’. 7 Japan portrays itself as ‘big brother’ to the selfish, backwards Koreans, seemingly validating its annexation of the nation. 

Japan’s representation of the Korean people as violent, underdeveloped, and in need of paternalistic leadership after the Tonghak rebellion led to the religion’s association with nationalistic zeal. For modern Koreans, the Tonghak rebellion and Cheondogyo have come to represent Korea’s history of resistance to foreign intervention. Subsequently, Tonghak is used to downplay the impact of external forces in shaping Korea, rejecting the idea of history portrayed in the Japanese Chronicle. The political importance of the goals and ideals of the Tonghak rebellion tend to be back-projected by historians looking to find evidence of a uniquely Korean form of anti-authoritarian resistance. As a result of it being co-opted by nationalists the religion has become stuck in the past.8 Perhaps if Koreans had not needed a source of optimism to rally behind after Japanese colonization, followers of Cheondogyo would represent more than 1% of the population, and the Tonghak rebellion might be remembered differently.

 

  1. George L. Kallander, Salvation through Dissent: Tonghak Heterodoxy and Early Modern Korea (Honolulu, 2013), p. 68 [↩]
  2. Peter H. Lee, William Theodore De Bary, and Yongho Ch’oe, eds. Sources of Korean Tradition, (New York, 1997), p. 272. [↩]
  3. Ibid, 274-5. [↩]
  4. ‘Date 18 February 1903’, in Robert Young (ed.) Japan Chronicle Weekly Edition, no. 288–339, 2nd section, (Kobe, 1903) Japan Chronicle Online. p. 146. [↩]
  5. Ibid [↩]
  6. Ibid,. [↩]
  7. ‘Date 24 January 1907’, in Robert Young (ed.) Japan Chronicle Weekly Edition, no. 497–548, 2nd section, (Kobe 1907) Japan Chronicle Online. p. 112-3. [↩]
  8. Kirsten Bell, ‘Cheondogyo and the Donghak Revolution: The (Un)Making of a Religion’, Korea Journal, vol 44: no. 2 (2004), p. 141. [↩]