Justifying Imperialism through Compassion

During the early to mid 1900s (ending around 1945) the Japanese state and government expanded their empire into the reaches of China and Korea, with continued expansion into the great Asia continent being planned. These expansions were led by men such as Tanaka Chigaku (1861-1939), whose approach to conquest was justified by his interpretation of the ideal of compassion found in Nichiren Buddhism{1}.  

Tanaka Chigaku was a Japanese nationalist, imperialist, and militarist during the Russo-Japanese War, as well as both World Wars. He was an avid student of Nichiren Buddhism, and professed that it led to the one true path for all humanity: all human, joined together under the banner of the Japanese imperial family while worshipping the gods Amaterasu-kami and Hachiman as universal deities{2}. Tanaka claimed that this was given out by Nichiren under the phrase Nippon no enbudai – to include the whole earth in Japan{3}. This objective of Nippon no enbudai would be complete by what Tanaka called shakubuku – conquer evil aggressively{4}.  

The concept of shakubuku is the main focus, as Tanaka used it as a justification for the aggression against China in the 1930s, saying “When it is said that the Japanese Imperial Army is an army of humanity and justice, for maintaining justice and building peace, it means that it is a force for compassion. The shakubuku of Nichirenism must be like this”{5}. For Tanaka, “compassion” was an extension of the emperor-centric Japanese polity (kokutai) that had dominated the land for since the Meiji Restoration. For Tanaka, and most Nichiren imperialist, the world was destined to united under the emperor by means of the Lotus Sutra – the central sutra of Nichiren Buddhism – and the sword.  

To Tanaka, it was the sacred duty of the Japanese to extend kokutai to those of non-Japanese origin. He claimed that Japan, with its “unbroken line of emperors” was given the right and mandate to “guide and induce every country in the world to become a state ruled by the Way of the Prince”{6}. Tanaka further justified kokutai as a means of imperialism by emphasizing the emperor’s holiness and origin in Heaven as a descendant of Amaterasu-kami, and how the emperors extolled virtues and brilliance inherited from the first Emperor, Jinmu{7}. The implication here being that, due to the emperor’s divine origins and gifts, as well as his inheritance and the Japanese people’s own superiority to endorse shakubuku on a worldwide scale. 

Tanaka placed his beliefs in shakubuku as subordinate to kokutai, yet in his writings and beliefs, certainly seemed to believe that shakubuku was the most important action one could take in their life. His writings and personal beliefs show a strong sense of national pride and superiority, and his fervent belief in Nichiren Buddhism’s such as his Shumon no Ishin{8}. In this, Tanaka shows how fervent his faith in shakubuku is by urging followers of the Lotus Sutra to believe, pray and write aggressively, while also “praying for aggression”, and that when the aggression comes, the people can use the Lotus Sutra as the sword, under their leader – Nichiren – and bring all of Asia – and eventually the world – under Japan’s “guidance” through the “compassion of the Emperor”{9}. This fervent belief can be seen later, during the invasion of Manchuria, which Tanaka was greatly involved in. 

In conclusion, Tanaka’s “compassion” for others was but a front, as while he truly believed that the world could be united under Japan and the Emperor, he also justified it through shakubuku, a practice not unlike that of the Crusades.  

War of Ideals, Kita Ikki’s theory on revolutions

A common theme when studying Japanese intellectuals and thinkers is the problem of placing them within a western ideological spectrum. None may be as difficult to understand as Kita Ikki as he blended both western and eastern philosophy into one world view. Its therefore fascinating to look at his theory on revolution.

Kita Ikki wrote down his observations on the revolutions after his experiences in China between 1911-1913. In his writings in 1916 he identified five points that all revolutions had in common.1

    1. Revolution itself does not consist of sudden or violent change. It is a war of ideas that makes a revolution something more than just violent unrest.
    2. Revolution results in the transformation of social values. It must replace the old, not just reform it.
    3. Modern revolutions have the effect of liberating all elements of society. Both in the political and economical sense.
    4. The agents of revolution are not a class, but a self-conscious elite that use the revolutionary ideals with combined political and military power. The current ruling class are never the agents of a revolution.
    5. Revolution is only an internal affair.

Not that these ideas are a completed analysis like the Marxist theory. Even Kita Ikki did not advocate them as a complete guide. He used the Lotus Sutra definition of revolution as a blurred line between being a traitor and loyal subject to show the uncertainty.2 The ideas above can nonetheless be used as a basic blueprint to predict the course of future revolutions. I want to give special attention to point 5.

The ideas that influenced revolutions usually originated abroad. The French and Japanese revolution (referring to Meiji Ishin) owed a heritage to ideas from Britain and China respectively, but when ideas encountered a new society they would transform into their own unique blend. This is what made the revolution an internal matter. No idea nor ideology was perfect for every country and had to be implemented through a filter of national ideas. Kita Ikki loudly voiced his rejection of the dogmatic socialists within Japan as he himself rejected Marx’s fixation on the need for class revolution.3 Foreign intervention in an attempt to shape the revolution would only create chaos and unrest. The reason was simple; how could the British understand the French or the Japanese lecture the Chinese on being Chinese?

Revolution therefore had to be something each nation went through on their own. The reasons of a revolution had to be to change the internal political and economic nature of a country. It is for this reason Kita Ikki’s view on revolution is unique. Most Japanese liberals and socialist supported a Japanese copy of western society, but Kita Ikki argues instead that only Japan and other Asian countries have the understanding to create their own revolution. It had to be a fight to reform the nation from within. A singular revolution was often not enough as it often would be betrayed by reactionaries. Neither Japan nor France had attained a proper sovereign nor ended oligarchic rule as Kita Ikki put it.4 Kita Ikki did not include struggles like the American war of independence as a revolution since its objective had only been to expel the British.

What is not as clear is the definition on how far a nation’s borders extended. While criticizing Japanese and British attempts to get involved in the affairs of China or India, Kita Ikki did not attempt to advocate for the same rights to Ireland or Korea, both currently being ruled as colonies. Was this an unintentional paradox or practical concession to prevent internal disunity? Kita Ikki’s argued for the need to reconcile with China to avoid fighting a two-front war against their Asian brothers and the Western powers. George M. Wilson argues that this is a continuation of the Japanese tradition Naiyu Gaikan (Trouble from within and without). He argues that Kita Ikki believed that Japan faced the same situation as during the Meiji Ishin5. In light of this perspective its reasonable to believe that Kita Ikki could have accepted that Japan’s interior needed to include Korea as the threat of the west was greater than the Koreans right to national independence.

Kita Ikki’s theory of revolution can thus be seen as a response to western imperialism as it sought to create the political justification for Japan and other Asian nations to consolidate their internal revolutions without interference. This revolution would as Kita Ikki saw it lead to economic and political unity within the East Asian societies giving them the power to resist the Western powers. I will address Kita Ikki’s design for Japanese society in a later blog post.

 

  1. George M. Wilson p.90-91 [↩]
  2. George M. Wilson p. 92 [↩]
  3. George M. Wilson p. 96 [↩]
  4. George M. Wilson p.92 [↩]
  5. George M. Wilson p.98 [↩]

Kang Youwei’s One-World Philosophy: Why Germany Is A Bad Example

In 1884, Kang Youwei penned a book called Ta T’ung Shu in which he laid out his utopian vision of the ‘One-World’, in which ‘all the boundaries which created divisions […] have been abolished,’ and ‘causes of suffering’ have been eradicated.[1] This was a world characterised by compassion and moral fibre, in which ‘all creatures are happy’.[2] In Chapter II, Kang laid out a specific way to achieve this world:  the elimination of sovereign states and national boundaries. The ideal world would have ‘no states’ with ‘[t]he people […] united under one public government […]’.[3] Kang argued that the existence of national boundaries would corrupt even ‘the Good and Upright,’ as every individual would be devoted to increasing the power of their own state at the expense of other states.[4] Peace could not exist in such a system, with countries behaving ‘like a bunch of dogs rolling [on the ground in a fight, like savage beasts devouring one another […]’.[5] Thus, Kang argued for ‘disarmament’ which required ‘abolishing [sovereign] states’.[6]

Kang’s ideas were echoed in a text published in the middle of the following century by Yan Xishan, titled ‘How to Prevent Warfare and Establish Foundation of World Unity.’ Yan argued that ‘[F]rom the lessons of world history, we learn that countries tend to grow in size and shrink in number. China combined several countries into one. Small nations have less chance of survival, and tend to form into federations’.[7] Because nations are destined to gradually subsume into one another, and one world would form from the many, ‘It is perfectly natural for us to adopt Cosmopolitanism today’.[8]

Instead of China, Kang used the example of Germany as a state that had successfully annexed other states to form a larger, more powerful entity. He wrote:

‘The parts becoming joined thus being due to natural selection, the swallowing up by the strong and large and the extermination of the weak and small may then be considered to presage One World. But [the way in which] Germany and America have established large states through [uniting their small] federated states is a better method of uniting states. [They have] caused all these small and weak states to forget that they have been destroyed [to form the united states]. […] This will hasten the world along the road to One World’.[9]

There are many issues with Kang using Germany as a model example as his account is not completely accurate. While Germany was formed out of a union of Prussia and smaller southern states like Bavaria and Baden to become the German Empire in 1871, Clark argued that it was not a ‘one-way process in which Prussians swarmed on to the commanding heights of the new German state. It would be truer to say Prussian and German national institutions grew together, intertwining their branches’.[10] Kang’s assertion that the smaller states were ‘destroyed’ in favour of the larger state was therefore incorrect. Clark went on to give an example, stating that ‘[i]t became increasingly common […] for non-Prussians to serve as imperial officials and even as Prussian ministers’.[11] This is not to say that Prussia did not enjoy hegemony in the newly formed German state, but hegemony did not come about, as Kang believed, through the strong swallowing the weak.

Next, Kang moved into discussing what political form the One World would take.

‘Therefore, within this next hundred years all the weak and small states will certainly be annihilated, all monarchical and autocratic forms [of government] will certainly be completely swept away, republican constitutions will certainly be enacted everywhere, democracy and equality will be burning brightly. […] Complete Peace-and-Equality throughout the world is like the rushing of water through a gully: nothing can check it’.[12]

With the advantage of hindsight, we can see that Kang’s centennial prediction did not come true. Not only were the ‘small states’, such as ‘Sweden [and] Denmark’,[13] still in existence but Kang’s reasoning that a ‘republican constitution’ would follow logically from the formation of one unified state was mistaken. Using his example of Germany, the ‘highly artificial product’[14] of a unified Deutschland left ‘a patchwork quilt of types of local governments that needed cleaning up’.[15] The German government suffered from ‘an unsettling sense that what had so swiftly been put together could also be undone’.[16] This combined with the need for a broad ‘Germanization’ to ‘consolidate’ the patchwork quilt of the ‘German Reich’ drove German ‘Iron’ Chancellor Otto von Bismarck to ‘respond with extreme measures’.[17] Throughout the 1870s and 1880s, Bismarck waged his campaign against segments of the population he deemed not German enough, namely the Catholics and the Poles.[18] By 1876, all Prussian bishops were either in custody or in exile.[19] Bismarck also embarked upon a comprehensive project to root out the Poles, advocating expulsion of Poles who have no claims to citizenship as well as a language of government act in 1886 that would ban the use of minority languages in local government affairs, thus excluding monolingual Poles from governmental participation.[20]

The German example is evidence that a world formed through the annexation of ‘weak and small states’ to more powerful ones would not be, as Kang argued, the flame to the torch of ‘democracy and equality’. ‘Complete Peace-and-Equality’ is a far more difficult project that would require more types of unification than merely that of the political and geographic variety.

[1] Kang Yu-wei, Ta T’ung Shu: The One-World Philosophy of K’ang Yu-wei, trans. and. ed. Laurence G. Thompson (London, 2005), p. 37.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid, 106.

[4] Ibid, 82.

[5] Ibid, 83.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Yen Hsi-shan, How to Prevent Warfare and Establish Foundation of World Unity (n.p., 1952), p. 40.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Kang, Ta T’ung, p. 85.

[10] Christopher Clark, Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600-1947 (London, 2007), p. 559.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Kang, Ta T’ung, p. 89.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Clark, Iron, p. 570.

[15] Jonathan Steinberg, Bismarck: A Life (Oxford, 2012), p. 335.

[16] Clark, Iron, p. 570.

[17] Steinberg, Bismarck, p. 335.

[18] Otto Pflanze, Bismarck and the Development of Germany Vol. 2: The Period of Consolidation, 1871-1880 (Princeton, 1990), p. 209.

[19] Steinberg, Bismarck, p. 333.

[20] Pflanze, Bismarck and, p. 205.

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Kang, Yu-wei, Ta T’ung Shu: The One-World Philosophy of K’ang Yu-wei, trans. and. ed. Laurence G. Thompson (London, 2005).    

Yen, Hsi-shan, How to Prevent Warfare and Establish Foundation of World Unity (n.p., 1952).

Secondary Sources

Clark, Christopher, Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600-1947 (London, 2007).

Pflanze, Otto, Bismarck and the Development of Germany Vol. 2: The Period of Consolidation, 1871-1880 (Princeton, 1990).

Steinberg, Jonathan, Bismarck: A Life (Oxford, 2012).

Echoes of Kita Ikki in the Bandung Conference, 1955

At the invitation of Sukarno, the charismatic leader of newly independent Indonesia, delegates from twenty-nine Asian and African states converged on the city of Bandung in April of 1955. Its leaders, who included Mao Zedong and Jawaharlal Nehru, hoped to form a new trans-national axis to better serve the needs of developing states (many of whom had only very recently thrown off the shackled of colonialism). The ‘Bandung Spirit’ wasn’t concerned with the communist internationalism of the Soviet Union or the strategic militarism of the United States. Bandung was “the first inter-continental conference of coloured peoples in the history of mankind”, determined to unite against colonialism and shift the international dialogue away from its exclusionary Cold-War construction1 .

Sunil Amrith’s article in Inter-Asia Cultural Studies (assigned as further reading from week 8) gives an excellent introduction to the ideological forces at play during this symbolic assertion of post-colonial power on the global stage. The principles of the United Nations, so recently enumerated, explicitly delegitimized race as grounds for political discrimination, and forever placed human rights into the international mainstream. Globalism was a powerful force, but it had become “the almost exclusive province of the dominant, mostly Anglophone, elite of development managed, technocrats, strategists and financiers”2 . The common people of Asia and Africa had rallied around state-centric nationalism, which had largely delivered them from colonial rule. Interestingly, this relationship had been reversed before the war, when aristocrats clung to national glory and the working class expressed their discontent through anarchist and communist internationalism. Ultimately, the state-centric model of national development would prevail, newly clarified through the experiences of ‘third world’ states.

Kita Ikki was active several decades before the Bandung Conference, but his advocacy of a ‘people’s state’ would nonetheless inform and inspire the ‘Bandung Spirit’ of later years. Much like the fathers of postcolonial Asia, Kita was disappointed with what he saw as a reactionary, undemocratic international order. The West had dominated Asia’s development with its singular pursuit of capital, perpetuating inequality not just between classes, but between nations within the international order. Kita understood that “the question of Japan’s relations with its neighbors was inextricably bound with how to secure its position against the Western powers”, and felt a bulwark of Asian states (united under Japan) was essential for their continued survival3 . The sensation of Asian resurgence would resurface in Bandung, whose community of states represented more than half of the world’s population and all its “spiritual, moral, and political strength”4 . In Bandung as in prewar Japan, there was a sense that the West was morally bankrupt, leaving Asia to fill the void with an ambitious new direction for mankind.

For Kita, the salvation of humanity would be achieved through the realization of a people’s state (komin kokka), regulating private wealth while also respecting the democratic principles later enshrined in the United Nations Charter5 . Intended as a manual for the the strengthening of Eastern states, Kita’s Reorganization Plan elucidated several elements of Pan-Asianism which would come to force during the Bandung Conference. Most significant, however, was Kita’s awareness of the “crucial task of overturning the authority of the European theories of revolution… (and) advancing a theory founded on indigenous ideas.”6 Having realized a reformed ‘Asian’ revolution, Kita hoped Japan could aid the independence of China and India and establish a new world order. Kita’s radical proposals ultimately led to his execution in 1937, but, as Bandung proves, his model of leadership survived long beyond his short life.

 

Bibliography

Amrith, Sunil S. “Asian Internationalism: Bandung’s Echo in a Colonial Metropolis,” Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 6, no. 4 (December 1, 2005): 557-69.

Tankha, Brij. Kita Ikki and the Making of Modern Japan: A Vision of Empire. Kent: Global Oriental, 2006.

  1. Sunil S. Amrith, “Asian Internationalism: Bandung’s Echo in a Colonial Metropolis,” Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 6, no. 4 (December 1, 2005): 557. [↩]
  2. Ibid, 567. [↩]
  3. Brij Tankha, Kita Ikki and the Making of Modern Japan: A Vision of Empire (Kent: Global Oriental, 2006), 18. [↩]
  4. Amrith, “Asian Internationalism,” 557-58. [↩]
  5. Tankha, The Making of Modern Japan, 34. [↩]
  6. Ibid, 129. [↩]

Reflections on Buddhist Militarism

From reading “Zen at war”  by Brian Daizen Victoria, I was struck by lack of responsibility or accountability of Buddhist involvement in Imperialist Japan’s military campaigns from modern Japanese Buddhist sects. This disconnect from imperialism is highlighted in the abstract with Brian’s tutor, Master Niwa Rempo, outlining “Zen priests do not get involved in politics”[1]. Although in context this is directed as a response to Brian’s activism in the anti-Vietnam war movement in Japan, in a wider context it illustrates the contemporary Buddhist disillusionment of their historical actions.

The most poignant example of this disconnect can be understood from Brian’s assertion that there exist only four proclamations from Japanese Buddhists outlining their responsibility and complicity in the war[2]. One of which was the Nishi Honganji branch (1991), which stated in the fourth paragraph:

“Although there was pressure exerted on us by the military-controlled state, we must be deeply penitent before the Buddhas and patriarchs, for we ended up cooperating with the war and losing sight of the true nature of this sect, this can also be seen in the doctrinal sphere, where the [sect’s] teaching of relative truth and absolute truth was put into cunning use”. [3]

What does this recognition actually infer and perhaps more importantly what does it omit? Firstly, the composition of the apology suggests immediately the lack of any real conviction. This can be evidenced by the Nishi Shin sect commencing the acknowledgement with a deflection  in the likely effort of minimising the justifiable criticism that should be levied against them.

In addition, the apology fails to outline the historiographical relationship with the Imperialist state. This is of fundamental importance, as by not doing so not only does this illustrate a lack of understanding of how deeply Buddhist mechanism were manipulated, as Kawase Takaya highlights, but that these same mechanisms can still be manipulated today[4]. That is to say the issue is not solely with the state, but rather with Buddhism itself. It is therefore the ethics and morality of the Buddhism disposition, and not the nation state it chooses to attach itself to that needs to be assessed.

Brian outlines Ichikawa Hakagen nine-point moral criticism of Buddhism, in which the very roots of Buddhism are scrutinised to illustrate how they can be interpreted as justifications for a militaristic and imperialist society[5]. Some of the most important include:

1) Karma: used as a tool to express the morality of social inequalities. Any attempt to implement social equality was dismissed as “evil equality”.[6] This rejection of socialist thought incites a right-wing agenda that can be manipulated to perpetuate militarism. Additionally, it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy by supporting an imperialist structure, in which the emperor’s grandeur and exploitation is easily justified from his current socio-economic position.

6) On, the concept of gratitude to one’s parents, ruler, wider humanity and existence. Due to the imperialist concept of ancestral veneration, gratitude for one’s parents can be easily manipulated to represent one’s ruler as head of the nation’s family. This shifts the emphasis of ‘on’ towards propagating imperialist social structure and weakens the need to express gratitude for the other proponents. In an extreme case, it is possible to argue that, due to imperialisms traditional placement of the emperor as the figurehead of the nation’s military, there exists an indirect correlation of on supporting militarism.

9) Ancestral veneration: the notion that the nation-state is completely interconnected as a result of previous historical links. Ancestral veneration, to a greater extent, can be closely associated with the familiar themes found within ethnic nationalism. It enforces the sentiment of loyalty between the subjects of the state and the sovereign as the authoritative figure in the family structure. A consequence of this is the removal all conception of independent thought, while introducing a ‘command structures’ within the society. This structure then somewhat endorses militarism as the accountability of military action is no longer considered.

[1] Brian D. Victoria, ‘Zen at War’ , Rowman and Littlefield: 2016, p.XIII
[2] Brian D. Victoria, ‘The Post-war Zen Response to Imperial-way Buddhism, Imperial-state Zen, and Soldier Zen’ in Zen at War, Rowman and Littlefield: 2016, p. 152
[3] Ibid p.153
[4] Kawase Takaya, ‘Anti-war and Peace Movements among Japanese Buddhists after the Second World War’, in (eds.) Vladimir Tikhonov and Torkel Brekke, ‘Buddhism and Violence’, Routledge, 2013, p211
[5] Brian D. Victoria, ‘The Post-war Zen Response to Imperial-way Buddhism, Imperial-state Zen, and Soldier Zen’ in Zen at War, Rowman and Littlefield: 2016, p. 171
[6] Brian D. Victoria, ‘The Post-war Zen Response to Imperial-way Buddhism, Imperial-state Zen, and Soldier Zen’ in Zen at War, Rowman and Littlefield: 2016, p. 172

The Twelve-Point Pledge of Liu Shifu’s ‘Conscience Society’ and its Moralistic Anarchism

Liu Shifu (劉師復) (1884 – 1915) was an influential figure in early twentieth century revolutionary movements in China and regularly cited as the intellectual Father of Chinese Anarchism. In 1912 Liu and several of his comrades founded the ‘Conscience Society’ and a twelve-point pledge that would form the core of the covenant of the Conscience Society. Effectively, the twelve points are rules which members of the Society are expected to adhere to. The points are:

 

  1. Do not eat meat
  2. Do not drink liquor
  3. Do not smoke tobacco
  4. Do not use servants
  5. Do not ride in sedan-chairs or rickshaws
  6. Do not marry
  7. Do not use a family name
  8. Do not serve as an official
  9. Do not serve as a member of a representative body
  10. Do not join a political party
  11. Do not serve in the army or navy
  12. Do not believe in a religion[1]

 

What strikes me a particularly interesting is how the majority of them seem to be only tangentially related to anarchism, if we understand anarchism as simply a commitment to the abolition of government. The twelve points suggest a heavily moral aspect to Liu’s anarchist thinking, it seems to me to be a common theme in early twentieth century Chinese revolutionary movements to aim not just for political restructuring but a moral restructuring of all of society and in some cases the world. For example, the concept of Datong (大同) (‘Grand Unity’) at a surface level is about eliminating nation-states and founding a world government, however, this was arguably just a logical extension of the core of the concept which was the radical democratisation of all human social interaction and the elimination of hierarchical institutions that governed social interactions like class and gender divisions. Liu was acutely aware towards the end of his life that political assassination was not a good long-term strategy for radical social change, rejecting the tactic of political assassination fully in 1912.[2] Of course, the problem is, what happens after the assassination? Many of Liu’s comrades would have supported the idea of attempting to assassinate Yuan Shi Kai (袁世凱) (1859-1916), the man who betrayed the revolution of 1911. Liu understood that, the physical person of the political tyrant is not the problem, the problem is the whole system. History would proceed to prove Liu correct as a decade of Warlord despotism engulfed China following the death of Yuan.

For real radical change, Liu knew, the whole moral, political and social order must be restructured, and this is why so many of the points in the pledge concern person moral behaviour. At least in the West, when thinking about libertarianism, which advocated for severely limited government rather than no government, its common to associate it with “live and let live” thinking; that people should just be free to do as they like without the government interfering with them. Of course Liu did not advocate for anyone or any group to force anyone to abide by these moral standard, but the points reveal a strong commitment on Liu’s part to self-government, not in the sense of collective popular sovereignty,  but in the literal sense of an individual governing themselves, not just acting according to instinct or succumbing to base desires.

The prohibition against alcohol exemplifies this point. Alcohol impairs judgement and would therefore go against Liu’s vision of a sober, independent, free-thinking individual. The point prohibiting the consumption of meat exemplifies a deep commitment to non-violence, a point that should encourage students of radical thinking to expand their conception of the meaning of anarchism, an ideology so often associated with assassination and violent revolution. The fifth point prohibiting the hiring of sedan-chair or rickshaw rides shows the importance of symbolism on Liu’s moralistic anarchism. Whilst in theory, if a person voluntarily chooses to work as a rickshaw-puller, there should be no problem, it’s the symbolism behind this demeaning labour that Liu finds unacceptable. Liu once quoted Bakunin in saying “If others are not free, I am not free either. If others are slaves, I also lose my freedom”.[3] This shows that Liu was not an individualist in a crude sense, he understood that people are social and interdependent, meaningful reform of society must be encompass of sections of society to be meaningful at all.

 

 

 

[1] Krebs, Edward S. 1998. Shifu, soul of Chinese anarchism. Lanham, Md: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. p.102

[2] Ibid. p.103

[3] Ibid. p.104

Ishiwara Kanji: Governing the National Defense State

Ishiwara Kanji’s national defense state was the idea of remodeling the Empire of Japan along a military controlled political order with a planned economy in preparation for an inevitable war with one or all the great powers. I wish to look at how the National Defense State treated the relation between civilian and military government and its contrast to the politics of the late Japanese Empire. Ishiwara had, unlike many other Japanese thinkers, an important position of power in most of major events of Japanese politics in the 1930s and I think it’s interesting to consider to what extent the National Defence State was part of a broader trend in the Japanese army.

Mark R. Peattie argues that the traditional European ideas of fascist or communist is unhelpful to understand Japanese interwar society and Ishiwara Kanji.1 (Peattie, p.254) Peattie’s main points is that Ishiwara’s imagined national defense state unlike a typical fascist state, lacked a military subordinate to a direct central dictator and the glorification of war. I think the National defense states share more similarities than differences to fascist rule Italy and Germany, but that it would be wrong to assume these ideas were imported from Europe. The cause of Japanese militarism was deeply imbedded into the state already by the Meiji constitution and it is important to see Ishiwara as part of a larger movement of statism in the 1930s following thinkers like Kita Ikki and Shumei Okawa.

What makes Ishiwara interesting is his focus on the role of the military. Formally he would place the military and civil administration apart as two distinct entities of the state. Yet in practical terms the military would overrule the civilian government.

Partially it can be explained with the justification of the Meiji emperor’s “Imperial Rescript to soldiers and sailors” the military were considered outside politics and the public opinion only charged with the duty of protecting the state. The rescript, as James L. McClain puts it, said that the soldier’s role was “To be loyal was to stand outside the fray of the political arena”. (McClain, p.202)  Ishiwara, and several other high-ranking army officers, interpreted this as the military had a duty to administer the protection of society without involvement from the civilian or “political” government. In the age of total war the army needed to mobilize civilian industry and resources to such an extent that it would have to be assured of its proper use. When challenged on financial concerns by a civilian official Ishikawa replied, “If the finance minister should declare that the five-year plan could not be completed, then the government should replace him with someone who could complete it.”(Peattie, p. 250) There was no doubt Ishiwara thought the military had the legitimacy to intervene in all affairs of the state because of the threat of war. The army clad in the justification of protecting the empire and serving the emperor would thus work as a ruling body outside of any control or administration. While not being controlled by a single dictator like a fascist state, its power would be held by a small clique of leading officers and channeled through a religious figurehead emperor and a bureaucratic civilian government. The military would not be subject to any obligation other than war.

If this sounds familiar within Japanese history, it’s because it was the political situation within the Japanese government just two years after the outbreak of war in China. One could even argue that military rule had been already assumed in 1932 with the May 15th incident and the death of party governments so that Ishiwara was designing the National Defense State in a political climate of military supremacy. The military with the army and navy ministries could prevent any government to form without their approval, effectively determining all important matters of policy. (McClain, p.424) Under the later cabinet of Konoe Fumimaro from (1940-41) then Hideki Tojo (1941-44) the military ruled without any political opposition. (McClain, p. 456) It would be over disagreement on foreign policy and long-term goals that Ishiwara would a vocal critic of official army policy. The way of ruling the state through the military was based on the same political order he imagined his National Defense State implementing.

It is then interesting to ask if the political design of the National Defense State was made for practical or ideological reasons. I think the urgent matter of preparation to secure a National Defence state in East Asia was the only goal and exploiting an already established system was certainly the path of least resistance. Ishiwara was an opportunist throughout his career. E.g. the planning of the Manchuria incident and his attempt at the exploitation of martial law during the 26th February crisis. But this is not enough to prove anything beyond speculation.

A state with a military dominated political structure, justification of power because of imminent war and legitimacy through the emperor. While similarities appear, there are a lot of unanswered questions about the National Defense State. What was the role of the Emperor? Who would lead the military? How would it prevent rivalry between the branches of the military? It would require a further in-depth study on Ishiwara to accurately prove his ambitions when it came to Japanese society and the governing of the state. Thus, it is hard without additional perspective to determine the full implication of his ideological connection to the established militarist order when Ishiwara wrote about the National Defense State in 1935.

P.S Japanese historians have in recent years emphasized the positive aspects of Ishiwara, but there is little written on him in English literature outside of Mark R. Peattie, Ishiwara Kanji and Japan’s confrontation with the West.

I avoided the ideas of the East Asian League organization formed in 1939 and just focusing on the ideas of the National Defense State. This is because I think his ideas had changed significantly by the founding of the EAL in 1939. 

Bibliography:

McClain, James L., Japan, A modern history, W.W. Norton, (New York, London, 2001)

Mark R. Peattie, Ishiwara Kanji and Japan’s confrontation with the West, Princeton University Press, (Princeton, N.J., 1975)

Gender or: How Buddhism Learned to Stop Floating and Love the State

The focus of this week’s readings was on Buddhist world orders, and in particular the way in which the religion – and its followers – oriented themselves within the world. In particular, I wanted to understand how Buddhism was deployed in support of the Japanese state. At a first glance, it seems like such a move is impossible. Buddhism is an other-wordly religion which argues that ‘attachment’ to the material world brings about suffering.1 Nevertheless, Buddhism was used to legitimate Japanese power, the tension between this/other-worldly resolved. In order to understand how this was done, I took a look at several ways in which ‘Buddhism’, as an idea, was reinterpreted and imagined by the state. One such way was through gender. The extract below, from the journal Chūō Bukkyō (1934), demonstrates how Buddhism was reimagined in gendered ways, and how this helped resolved the this/other-worldly tension described.

Through a karmic connection Japan received a daughter from another home as its wife. With a sincere heart this wife worked hard to take care of our home, having children and then grandchildren. Our home, not her original home, has been foremost in her mind. Indeed, from early on, more than a daughter from another home, she has been our wife and mother. (( Ōta Kakumin, ‘Zokuhi zokkai’ in Chūō Bukkyō 18:3 (1934), p. 194 in Christoper Ives (tr.), ‘The Mobilization of Doctrine: Buddhist Contributions to Imperial Ideology in Japan’ in Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, Vol. 26, No. 1/2 (Spring 1999), p. 86 ))

This extract encodes Buddhism with the female gender (‘wife’, ‘home’, ‘children’) contra the Japanese state, which is coded male. This has two effects. Firstly, the term ‘wife’ is used to build a sense of unity between the Emperor’s law and Buddha’s law (王法佛法一如).2 ‘Marriage’ conveys the notion that the Japanese state is in line with the Heavenly Way (天道), and that there is a lot of doctrinal overlap between Buddhism and the state. The emperor, for example, plays the role of the buddha, looking out for his subjects-as-children with the compassionate heart (心). In turn, this gives the state spiritual-legitimacy, with the added bonus of elevating the emperor to an ethereal, buddha-like status.

Secondly, this gendering also imparts feminine stereotypes onto Buddhism, and presents us with an image of the religion as passive and – crucially – subjugated to men.3 This limits Buddhism’s influence within society by channelling its doctrine into areas that are ‘acceptable’ for its ‘gender’, so to speak. Any priests that choose to rebel against the state, therefore, are seen as stepping beyond the boundaries of their ‘gendered’ role. Thus, in siphoning Buddhism’s influence into specific areas, gender imposes boundaries onto the religion so as to limit its power. Buddhists are now no longer unconfined by space and time, like clouds.4 Gender confines Buddhism – and Buddhists – to specific realms that are appropriate and least disruptive to the state.

  1. Rupert Gethin, The Foundations of Buddhism (1998), pp. 70, 73 [↩]
  2. Christopher Ives, ‘The Mobilization of Doctrine: Buddhist Contributions to Imperial Ideology in Japan’ in Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, Vol. 26, No. 1/2 (Spring 1999), p. 85 [↩]
  3. See He-Yin Zhen, ‘On the Revenge of Women: Part 1: Instruments of Men’s Rule Over Women’ (1907) in Lydia He Liu, Rebecca Karl, Dorothy Ko (eds.), The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts in Transnational Theory (2013) [↩]
  4. Hwansoo Kim, ‘The Adventures of a Japanese Monk in Colonial Korea: Sōma Shōei’s Zen training with Korean masters’ in E. Anderson (ed.), Belief and Practice in Imperial Japan and Colonial Korea (2017), p. 63 [↩]

Buddhism and Social Darwinism: The Changing Functions of Korean Buddhism

When Liang Qichao’s (1873-1929) writings were first introduced into Korea in the late 1890s, his Social Darwinist understanding of evolution took hold of the Korean intellectual consciousness.[1] Liang believed in a world defined by competition, and suggested several ideas to emerge victorious, such as ‘self-strengthening through (modern) education’ and ‘the encouragement of a collectivist, self-sacrificing and adventurous spirit’.[2] We see evidence of Liang’s influence across Korean Buddhist thinkers during the turn of the century like Han Yong-un (1879-1944), Kwon Sangno (1879-1965) and Yongsong Jinjong (1864-1940). I will examine how they engaged with the evolutionary and scientific ideas of their time, highlighting similarities not just within their ideas but also with prominent Western theories at the time, concluding that evolutionary theory was ultimately inescapable as an influencing factor, and on a broader scale, ask what this meant for the existential role Korean Buddhism was to play.

Han Yong-un wrote extensively on the ‘modern’ aspects of Buddhism, citing its altruism and the idea of a Buddha-nature present in all beings as indicators of equality – and hence, modernity – inherent in Buddhist ideas.[3] Han also drew Social Darwinist ideas from the translated works of Liang, emphasizing ideas such as degradation, strength, and competition in his works.

On the topic of the education of monks, Han writes: ‘The absence of education mean[t] degradation to the level of barbarians or animals’.[4] This conveyed a fear particularly popular in the West during the late 19th century when theories of degeneration took off. Cesare Lombroso and other public intellectuals proposed the notion that as there was no moral rationale to evolution, there is no guarantee that progress will take place instead of regression.[5]

The other great ‘forebearer’ of Korean Buddhism alongside Han was Kwon Sangno, who published a treatise titled ‘Materials on the Evolution of Korean Buddhism,’ in which he set out four key reforms to revitalize Korean Buddhism.[6] Social Darwinist principles appeared not just in Kwon’s title but also throughout the treatise. For instance, Kwon warned that ‘if Buddhism does not conform with the civilization of the future we will definitely fail in revitalizing it, even if we were to bring back to life Martin Luther and Cromwell and put them to the task’.[7] This idea had obvious parallels to Liang Qichao’s earlier work. Liang’s writings discussed heroism extensively, including pieces on heroes such as Napoleon, Columbus, Bismarck, Washington and others on which the ‘survival of nations in the evolutionary competition’ depended.[8] But unlike Liang, Kwon took pains to emphasize that heroism alone was not enough to revive Buddhism in the modern landscape.

Han and Kwon evidently integrated ideas of Social Darwinism, but other Buddhist monks were less accommodating. Yongsong Jinjong was concerned with the longevity of Buddhism in a time when Christianity was rapidly on the rise. He believed that in order to rival Christianity, he must offer a Buddhist narrative on the ‘arising’ of the world and its inhabitants.[9] His ‘Mind-Only Theory’ did just that, arguing that the mind was the origin of all dharmas including everything from the four elements to the ripening of fruit.[10] Yongsong further critiqued scientific explanations of natural phenomena, disregarding evolutionary theory for his own version of the ten causes for human life, including such causes as ‘thought arising’, ‘essence of the true mind’ and ‘non-enlightenment’.[11]

Yet, Yongsong’s ideas are more similar to Han and Kwon than immediately apparent. Kwon placed a similar priority on the mind as Yongsong does, emphasizing as his first rule of reform for Korean Buddhism that monks must ‘reform their minds before the material realities’ such that all monks would be ‘unified in mind’.[12] In this way, Kwon almost appeared as a middle way between Yongsong who disregarded science and leaned on the primacy of the mind instead and Han who fully endorsed evolutionary theory as the primary cause of the environment surrounding us.

However, we must not discount evolutionary theory from Yongsong’s ideas completely. Huh argued that Yongsong refused to provide more detailed answers regarding his theory of how the world came to be because ‘he just assume[d] that the evolution of the corrupted world “naturally” proceeded. By perceiving the corrupted situation of the world as a “natural” phenomenon, Yongsong avoid[ed] the necessity of answering those questions’.[13] Much like his Social Darwinist counterparts, Yongsong assumed that the world proceeded along its natural stages to become what it is now. Also, similar to the proponents of the degeneration theory of the time, Yongsong does not preclude the rising of a corrupted world from natural phenomena, because as Lombroso argued, there was no moral rationale behind evolution.

Traditionally, Buddhism has been regarded more as a way of life rather than a religion. However, by the end of the 19th century, Buddhists were beginning to turn to Buddhism for answers to questions beyond the ‘how,’ as they delved deeper into the ‘why’. Korean Buddhists wrestled with questions on what it means to be human by engaging with theories of evolution or of the mind, either looking to integrate science into their worldview or by forming a theory distinctive due to its opposition to science. And in a climate where Buddhism seemed to have fallen out of favour in comparison to Christianity, Buddhists attempted to modernize their own religion by incorporating science. Ultimately, evolutionary theory permeated the ideas of major Korean Buddhist figures during this time, and even those who attempted to disregard it had themes of evolutionary theory in their writings.

[1] Han Yongun, Selected Writings of Han Yongun: From Social Darwinism to Socialism with a Buddhist Face, trans. Vladimir Tikhonov and Owen Miller (Folkestone, 2008), p. 1.

[2] Ibid, 2.

[3] Ibid, 7.

[4] Ibid, 58.

[5] R.B. Kershner, ‘Degeneration: The Explanatory Nightmare’, The Georgia Review 40 (1986), pp. 431.

[6] Kim Hwansoo Ilmee, Empire of the Dharma: Korean and Japanese Buddhism, 1877-1912 (London, 2012), p. 301.

[7] Ibid, 304-5.

[8] Han, Selected Writings, p. 6.

[9] Huh Woosung, ‘Individual Salvation and Compassionate Action’ in Jin Y. Park (ed.), Makers of Modern Korean Buddhism (Albany, 2010), p. 29.

[10] Ibid, 31.

[11] Ibid, 30.

[12] Kim Hwansoo, Empire, p. 303.

[13] Huh, ‘Individual Salvation’, p. 32.

 

The Conservative Character of the Taiping Rebellion

A surface level study of the ideology of the Taiping Rebellion may lead one to view the movement as distinctly unique and unprecedented in Chinese history. Though Christianity, a religion obviously not indigenous to China, had made itself known to China for centuries prior to the rebellion, it certainly never inspired social movements anywhere near the scale of the Taiping. A first impression of the Taiping rebellion as revolutionary and progressive may be reinforced by historiographical schools of thought that see the Taiping’s as peasant rebels and revolutionary ancestors of the Communists.[1] Whilst land redistribution was a theme in the rhetoric of the Taiping’s it was never realized in practice. Additionally, whilst foot-binding was abolished in areas controlled by the Taiping rebels, the practice was far less common in Guangdong and Guangxi province where the revolt effectively was born, therefore, for the leaders of the rebellion abolition of foot-binding was a less revolutionary step than it would have been in other parts of China.[2]

The political and theological orientation of the Taiping’s was conservative in nature, rhetoric and ideology concerned a return to a time when China was favoured by God (Tianzhu). The connection between God and the Chinese people was severed at the time of Qin Shi Huang’s wars of unification when Qin adopted the title of (Di), usurping a title that can only legitimately be held by God, and began worshipping Daoist false Gods.[3] Since then, China had become increasingly morally corrupt not least due to the idolatry associated with foreign Buddhism. It is of course, a classic conservative rhetorical move to harken back to a Golden Age when people had pure morals and society existed in perfect order. The widespread iconoclastic attacks on Buddhist and Daoist idols bare superficial resemblance in imagery to the iconoclastic attacks perpetrated by the Communist Party against antiquated superstition. However, the purpose of the iconoclastic attacks conducted by the Taiping’s was not to destroy old ways to make way for a new, progressive society, but to reverse the spiritual decline that China had suffered due to the worship of false Gods.[4]

Perhaps the most striking example of the Taiping’s conservatism was their distinctly patriarchal view of the role of women in society. In Poems of the Heavenly Father, Hong Xiuquan, leader of the Taiping rebellion, outlines his misogynistic feminine ideal. The poems lay out ten offences which are punishable by beating, clearly establishing a link with the Decalogue so that women serving Hong in the palace would associate the ten offences with the will of heaven. The ten offences are:

 

          1. Disrespectfulness
          2. Refusing to obey instructions
          3. Raising the eyes
          4. Disrespectfulness in asking for instructions
          5. Rashness
          6. Speaking to loudly
          7. Refusing to respond
          8. Cheerlessness
          9. Casting the eyes to the left or right
          10. Unmannerly speech[5]

 

In the palace of Heavenly Capital (Tianjing) feminine virtue was an instrument of patriarchal domination. Hong’s patriarchal doctrines where not always Biblically inspired, but in the case of the ‘three obedience’s’ inspired by the Chinese classics. The three obedience’s instructed women to obey their fathers, then their husbands, then (as widows) their sons.[6] In his monograph on Taiping ideology, Carl S Kilcourse argues that the patriarchal nature of the Taiping movement was the clearest example of Hong’s attachment to classical Confucian morality, even though the movement’s outward rhetoric disavowed Confucianism.[7] Poems of the Heavenly Father demonstrate Hong’s reluctance to move away, even nominally, from the oppressive patriarchal role of women that was the norm in China, and is perhaps the most illustrative feature of the Taiping movement’s conservative character.

[1] Kilcourse, Carl S. Taiping Theology: The Localization of Christianity in China, 1843–64. Springer, 2016. p.157

[2] Ibid. p.158

[3] Ibid. p.51

[4] Ibid. p.54

[5] Ibid. p.161-162

[6] Ibid. p.164

[7] Ibid. p.165