A spectrum of Chinese Feminism presented by the story of Chi’iu Chin’s.

 

Chi’iu Chin was a feminist that lived in the late nineteenth century and was executed in the early twentieth century. She lived a very liberal life and strongly protested the natural Chinese traditions and Confucian way of life. She travelled to Japan and began studying there and grew in prominence for her views on Feminism and reform. However, it is not her unique form of Feminism that she is most remembered for but instead her death.  An exploration of her background and martial ideology will be evaluated in order to show the spectrum of Feminism.

 

Ch’iu Chin’s independence and strong personality were fostered at a young age, her father encouraged her to learn and treated her as if she was a son. The treatment as an equal meant that Chin very much struggled in the martial sense, while she was a good wife by cultural standards, her independence never vanished, and she decided to leave her husband. At this time, leaving one’s husband was a very controversial decision as Chin had all but in name announced to society that she would not follow social norms. When comparing Chin’s early life to that of other women such as Kanno, the drive behind their aspirations are very much different. Kanno [1]had a difficult childhood and was not appreciated nor given the luxuries that Chin had. It can be argued that the inspirations behind both women were vastly different. For Kanko, it can be argued that it was her coping mechanism and her suffering that shaped her view. While for Chin, her aspiration came from a more naive background, therefore, her interpretation of Feminism was based on fair treatment, and she decided to rebel because she didn’t want the life she had. The stark contrasts in the background of the women very much accounts for Chin’s difference in interpretation of Feminism as hers was driven by more of an educated sense.

In contrast, Kanno was driven into archaism and Feminism in Japan due to reform. The drive behind the two is interesting as it lays a basis for the different approaches the women took but also shows how Chin’s particular view came about and what set her apart. While Kanno is only one woman out of many and she was Japanese, it is interesting to note that regardless of the country, the basis that set both women on their respective course is due to their background. The differences in the background also reflect a spectrum of Feminism. When looking at the overall comparison of the two women, Kanno and Chin sit on opposite ends of the spectrum. Kanno is looking for a way reform, while Chin was very active in politics and her main aim was to modernise and turn the old Confucian system over.

Broadly speaking, the aims are the same. However, there is a difference between reform and modernisation with the purpose of overturning the old traditions. Thus, the spectrum of Feminism is made clear by the active aims of both women, Kanno is looking for reform and acceptance while Chin is actively looking for modernisation.

 

Chin’s unrelenting pursuit of independence and equality enabled her to look at influential figures in the past, and she developed a very martial sense of Feminism. It is this sense that sets her apart from others. This martial sense of Feminism set her apart from others and is what she is most famous for apart from her death. It here that I will draw your attention to, according to Mary Backus Rankin, “The martial, self-sacrificing, sometimes superhuman and often tragic hero was well-defined in Chinese Culture.”[2]  Chin lived by these ideals, and her death reflected them. However, in terms of implementing them, her dressing in male clothing, riding astride, and carrying a weapon, endeared her to the public but also sometimes caused her to be scorned. This is where the spectrum of Feminism comes into play. Using the example just stated, Chin’s use of history gave her historical backing and furthered her cause and added legitimacy, and was accepted.

On the other hand, her controversial dress caused her to be alienated from the higher classes of society and by the more educated women. While the main problem was her controversial dress, an underlying thread is that most women her Chin’s background found it hard to relate to her, because they did not have the unconventional background she had. While the women were accepting of furthering Feminism and stopping foot binding, they were not able to leave their families or their fathers due to the Confucian system. Here we can see the broad spectrum.

 

Overall, while only two main topics were covered, it is clear that there is a spectrum of Feminism and that it can be seen in many different ways. Significantly, throughout the lives of  Chin and Kanno, it is clear that the background of these women is the most important as it forms the basis of the way they choose to interpret and further the aims of Feminism. While these are only two of many women, they are examples of women who lived roughly around the same time. Still, their approaches were vastly different, this is a point that should be kept in mind when evaluating women in Feminism.

 

 

 

 

[1] Mikiso Hane, Reflection on the way to the gallow: rebel women in pre-war Japan, (London:1993),

[2] Mary Backus Rankin, The Emergence of Women at the end of the Ch’ing: The case of Ch’iu Chin, Margery Wolf and Roxane Witike, “Women in Chinese Society,’ (California: 1975), p. 52.

A revolution at the mercy of tradition: Family and Marriage reform in early to mid-twentieth century China

Communist revolutionaries faced an interesting problem following their acquisition of power. Weaponizing the very real class debate won them the civil war, but family and marriage would, like it so often has in Chinese history, get in the way of their vision of progress.

Susan Glosser in her successful work “Chinese Visions of Family and State” provides a unifying narrative that illuminates a common thread running through successive Chinese policy thinkers and makers. Balancing a changing nation in an increasingly globalised world with internal pressures grasping onto tradition would prove difficult for most post-imperial attempts at governance.[1]

The New Culture Movement was perhaps the first attempt at family reform following the collapse of imperial power. What was an ambitious movement seemingly overestimated its support, as a series of surveys revealed the reluctance of the youth population to adopt reforms that would threaten the centralised family model.[2] In fact, 72% of respondents voiced their desire to maintain the family model that ties to them to their parents. Surveys are of course to be taken with a pinch of salt, but it wouldn’t be farfetched if these views were held, as we see opposition to reform crop up in subsequent contexts. Veneration for one’s elders is a matter of morality in this case, as Alan Chan argues.[3]

CCP attempts at family reform faced similar obstacles, revealing a level of continuity and persistence of traditional standpoints. Rural communities, which it ought to be pointed out constituted over 95% of China’s population, appeared to pose a consistent threat to any hopes of family reform. The result of this unwillingness to adopt the entirety of what revolution truly meant had very real impacts on the direction of communist policy in China. Kay Ann Johnson notes the reluctance of the CCP in pushing their family reform agenda in rural communities, and how this reluctance even birthed a system of penalties for those who attempted to raise such issues in these areas.[4] Even a revolutionary movement, hellbent on uprooting much of what China had formed itself around for millennia, seemed to cower away from the prospect of challenging one of the most fundamental structures in society.

This persistence of thought among much of Chinese society throughout a politically turbulent time illuminates a key aspect of Chinese intellectual history. The separation of family and state as matters of different historical fields, or at least as themes that can be discussed independently, would come relatively easily in western historiography. The same cannot be said for the Chinese example, and it is here where the idea of a revolution at the mercy of tradition, I would argue, can be seen. Maurice Freedman notes the importance of filial relationships in their position as a foundation for public and state relationships, specifically in their establishment of the duty of a man.[5] Reading this within the framework given to us in Glosser’s work, we see an interesting conflict between how emerging forms of state view themselves and how the public view them. Paradoxically, regimes with an interest in dismantling family structures face off against an often rural population that believes their existing family situation is necessary to the existence of the state.

Utilising the examples of the New Culture Movement and the CCP, we have outlined a society that is both exposed to the prospect of revolutionary change, yet inherently tied to the Confucian traditions on which its built. Infiltrating this bastion of tradition, the family, is an ongoing battle, and ground has only been won when private spheres are continuously intruded upon. A common thread running through early attempts at reform in early to mid-century China, despite the stark ideological differences, was the inability to completely reform the family.

[1] Susan Glosser, ‘Chinese visions of family and state, 1915-1953’, (California, 2003), p.167.

[2] Ibid. p.59.

[3] Alan Chan, Sor-Hoon Tan, Filial piety in Chinese thought and history’, Psychology Press, (London, 2004), pp.1-11.

[4] Kay Ann Johnson, ‘Women, the family, and peasant revolution in China’, (Chicago, 1983), p.63.

[5] Maurice Freedman, The Family in China, Past and Present’, Pacific Affairs, 34:4, (1962) p.324.

The American Encounter with Buddhism: What it tells us about Japan and it’s Pursuit of Modernity

In the second chapter of The American Encounter with Buddhism, 1844-1912: Victorian Culture and the Limits of Dissent, Thomas Tweed discusses American engagement with Buddhism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Tweed explains that, “This study analyzes the public conversation about Buddhism (in English) and focuses on Euro-American Buddhists.”1 The author describes a contradictory engagement with Buddhism in America: the chapter starts off with evidence of Buddhism’s proliferation in America, but quickly turns to consider the many factors which limited American support of Buddhism. In addition to shedding light on American reactions to Buddhism, Tweed’s chapter, “Shall We All Become Buddhists?” points to major differences in Japanese and Chinese engagement with overseas populations, and illuminates in particular the Japanese relationship with modernity. 

In his discussion about Asian-American Buddhists, Tweed asserts that “The Japanese provided greater support for their immigrant Buddhist communities than the Chinese. They apparently did so, in part, in response to Christian missionary efforts.”2 As evidence for this assertion, he points to the 1898 decision by the Japanese Jodo-Shin-shu (True Pure Land Sect) to send two representatives to the United States to study immigrant spiritual practices and the subsequent move by the Kyoto headquarters to send two missionaries, officially recognizing the Buddhist mission in America. Tweed’s observations are useful in a discussion of Japanese reactions to Western industrialization and modernization. Just as the arrival of Mathew Perry’s “black ships” in 1854 threatened Japanese sovereignty, Christian missionaries’ attempt to convert Japanese immigrants in America jeopardized the future of one of the major Japanese religious traditions. Japanese powers intervened to preserve Pure Land Buddhism in America and therefore prove that it was a religion suited for the modern age. Tweed points out that as opposed to Japanese powers, the Chinese did not send missionaries to their American immigrant communities.3 The resulting poor adherence to Buddhism that Tweed notes among Chinese-Americans mirrors China’s failure to institute the systematic program of modernization undertaken in the Meiji era in Japan.  

Both the adoption of Western ideas about Chinese-Americans and the copying of certain Western elements of Buddhism that Tweed observes also represent manifestations of Japan’s pursuit of modernity. Although they largely arrived after the Chinese, “Japanese immigrants, often repeating American criticism of the Chinese, tried to distinguish themselves from the “lower class” Chinese who seemed unable to assimilate.”4 This adoption of western beliefs allow Japanese-Americans to elevate themselves to a status above Chinese-Americans, and therefore separate themselves from a “less developed” nation. In addition, Tweed comments that “A limited amount of Americanization and Protestantization also occurred in Japanese Pure Land Buddhist communities before World War I.”4 The construction of Buddhism along Western lines demonstrates Japan’s attempt to Westernize within the traditional Japanese framework of Pure Land Buddhism. Modern Western powers attained global primacy through intense industrialization and a Christian civilizing mission, Japan sought to do the same by utilizing the discursive tradition made available by Buddhism. 

This pattern is indicative of the new conceptualization of religion which emerged in mid nineteenth century Japan “as both transcending the profane society and responsible for improving and ‘civilizing’ its mores.”5 Religion was now seen as a force separate from the state, that could be used as a tool in Japan’s civilizing and modernizing mission. The Japanese policy regarding Buddhism in America mirrors the propagation of Christianity as a “civilizing religion” by Western powers and is a reaction to the introduction of Western modernity which reached Japan, along with Perry’s ships, in 1854. 

 

Bibliography 

Tikhonov, V. M, Social Darwinism and Nationalism in Korea – The Beginnings, 1883-1910: Survival as an Ideology of Korean Modernity (Brill, 2010). 

Tweed, Thomas, The American Encounter with Buddhism, 1844-1912: Victorian Culture and the Limits of Dissent (UNC Press Books, 2005). 

 

 

  1. Thomas Tweed, The American Encounter with Buddhism, 1844-1912: Victorian Culture and the Limits of Dissent (UNC Press Books, 2005), p. 38 [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 36 [↩]
  3. Ibid., p. 35 [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 37 [↩] [↩]
  5. V. M. Tikhonov, Social Darwinism and Nationalism in Korea – The Beginnings, 1883-1910: Survival as an Ideology of Korean Modernity (Brill, 2010), p. 113. [↩]

The Buddhist-Imperialist Nexus: How Buddhist Doctrine Conformed to the Imperial Ambitions of Japan in the Early Twentieth Century.

In the early twentieth century, Japan sought to assert itself as a great power. Japanese victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1905 dismantled any notion of ‘white invincibility’, launching Japan into an imperialist odyssey whereby it attempted to become the hegemon of East Asia. Arguably, such hegemonic ambitions were achieved, for by 1942, according to Aaron Moore, Japan had secured one of the largest empires ever known in the history of the world[1]. Yet, the effects of Japan’s militaristic expansion were devastating, especially in China, whereby Japan’s territorial conquest resulted in some 14 million Chinese deaths[2]. Given such seismic consequences, how did Japan legitimise its imperialist expansion? Rana Mitter and Jeremy Yellen argue that Japanese imperialism was an attempt to rival the ‘west’: a quest to be considered equal to Great Britain and the United States[3]. Yet, such explanations overlook important cultural factors, most notably, the malleability of Buddhist doctrine in supporting Japan’s imperial ideology. As Brian Victoria notes, Zen Buddhism was viewed as the ideal doctrine for a modernizing Japan, and thus an explanation of Buddhist justifications for Japanese imperialism merits further exploration[4].

An interesting point of departure in our analysis is what Christopher Ives describes as the ‘accomodationism’ of Japanese Buddhism. For Ives, Buddhists in the 1930s interpreted concepts such as ‘on’, which is a debt of gratitude owed to those from whom one gets a favour, as representative of the categorical imperative of self-sacrifice central to a militaristic, imperialist regime[5]. Furthermore, citing a Buddhist journal called Chūō Bukkyō, Ives argues that Buddhist authors equated Japan’s imperial mission with the bodhisattva: the state of Buddhahood whereby one seeks to alleviate the suffering of others, not just oneself[6]. Evidently, Buddhist doctrine was used in myriad ways to justify the multitudinous aspects of Japan’s imperial regime and justified the pursuit of empire by framing it in terms of a virtuous and compassionate mission.

In addition, in Zen at War, Brian Victoria exposits the arguments made by the eminent scholar of Zen Buddhism Ichikawa Hakugen. Hakugen identified twelve Buddhist precepts that were receptive to imperialist interpretation, and thus, in turn, became the cornerstone of Buddhism’s collaboration with the militarist regime[7]. For example, the ideal imperial subject was conceived as being someone who sacrificed their individuality in order to become a servant to the state, intent on actualizing Japan’s modernizing and imperial mission[8]. This concept was supported by the Buddhist ideas of selflessness, but also the middle way doctrine[9].  For example, the middle way doctrine entailed the search for constant compromise, thereby avoiding confrontation, meaning that the imperial subject ideally accepted the prevailing social order in order to avoid conflict with others[10]. Moreover, the concept of karma, with its concomitant idea of retribution, justified inequalities in the social order, as good or bad fortune in this life was explained in terms of one’s conduct in a previous life[11]. Hence, the predicament of colonized subjects may merely be due to their bad conduct in previous lives, thus justifying their occupation. There were, of course, many other examples of Buddhist precepts that fostered imperialism. However, the crux of Hakugen’s argument is that this connection is deep rooted within the history of Buddhism, and thus the existence of a Buddhist-imperialist nexus in the early twentieth century is undeniable.

Hence, Japan’s pursuit of hegemony was not simply conceptualized in political terms, as Buddhism provided fertile ground upon which religious and moral justifications for empire could be made. Therefore, given that Japan’s imperial conquests are still a sore point in East Asia, particularly in China where anti-Japanese sentiments are rife, it seems surprising that the majority of Buddhist sects have failed to acknowledge their role in facilitating Japan’s military endeavours of the early twentieth century[12].  Yet, their role is evident, and should be uncovered if we are to truly understand this period of history.

[1] Aaron Moore, Writing War: Soldiers Record the Japanese Empire, (Cambridge, 2013), p.9.

[2] Rana Mitter, China’s War with Japan 1937-1945: The Struggle for Survival, (London, 2013), p.5.

[3] Ibid., pp.24-26. Jeremy Yellen, The Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere: When Total Empire met Total War, (Ithaca, 2019), p.3.

[4] Brian Victoria, Zen at War, (Oxford, 2006), p.58

[5] Christopher Ives, The Mobilization of Doctrine: Buddhist Contributions to Imperial Ideology in Modern Japan, Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, 26:1, (1999), p.101.

[6] Ibid., pp.89-90.

[7] Brian Victoria, Zen at War, (Oxford, 2006), p.171

[8] Ibid., p.172

[9] Ibid., pp.172-173

[10] Ibid., p.173

[11] Ibid., pp.171-172.

[12] Ibid., p.152.

How did new teachings affect Daoism and Shinto?

This post will explore the religious foundations of China and Japan and how their indigenous religions were changed due to the introduction of other teachings. I have chosen to focus on these two countries as they both follow the same pattern of changing religious ethos to suit their needs. China and Japan are two very unique countries, as they were both heavily influenced by Buddhism, which was relied on by governments as a form of social, political, and religious control. As a result, the previous teaching, such as Shinto and Daoism, was compromised.

China, has a long and diverse history that had three main religions and schools of thought influencing its history greatly, these were; Buddhism, Confucianism, and Daoism. To understand China’s religious landscape, the teachings cannot be isolated as there is a significant overlap. According to Thomas David DuBois in his Book Religion and the modern making of East Asia “three teachings,” as they are called, are inseparable parts of a single system of beliefs, morals, and rituals that pervades Chinese life.[1]” This is true because when looking at Chinese history from an intellectual view, there have been times when one teaching was heavily favored over the others. However, there were still significant themes of the remaining two present. Japan, on the other hand, had a very distinct national religion called Shinto, Shinto was the basis of Japanese everyday life and revolved around Kami. Kami is the worshipping of deities that witnessed the birth of Japan. Shinto has a long and complex history in Japan due to the influence of Buddhism and the loss of the Emperor’s role as political head to merely a symbolic figurehead during Sakoku and the shogunate’s preference of Buddhism. While both countries are mostly different from each other, they share similarities and differences. China was the central influence in East Asia due to its dynasties and geographical location. Also, China was situated near trade routes such as the silk roads. As a result, there was an intermingling of different teachings that bled into Chinese life. This allowed Chinese traditions and religions to be changed. While on the other hand Japan is an archipelago and most of its outside influence was passed mainly through Korea. The intermingling of Japan’s original Shinto religion with other teachings is more prominent than that of China. It is interesting to note that when Japan rose as China’s successor of being the dominant power in East Asia, instead of making use of other teachings, they fell back to their natural Shinto religion and nationalized it. Just by looking at an overview of both countries’ religious landscape, it is clear China had a complex landscape due to its geographical location and the variety of teachings available. In Contrast, Japan had a more mainstream landscape where the influence of other teachings was more gradual and distinct from their traditional religion; therefore, the religious landscape of Japan is less complex than that of China.

Shinto and Daoism were unique to Japan and China, respectively; it is these two religions that suffered the most when Confucianism and Buddhism made an appearance and altered the landscape of the two countries. Daoism was the basis of the Chinese way of life and contributed to it significantly. However, the spread of Buddhism affected the Daoist foothold in China greatly; this is due to their similar shared values. According to Tang Yijie, Hegel in his Lectures on the History of Philosophy, states “at the same time, Daoism is indigenous to China; it owes much of its development to the spread of Buddhism[2].” Here Hegel is arguing that while Daoism is indigenous to China, its foundation and growth is due to Buddhism. This is where overlapping becomes prominent, and it then becomes difficult to ascertain the differences between the two in a broad conceptual way. While there are various branches of Buddhism, that separate the two, intermingling has already occurred which means that the religious landscape is no longer able to distinguish Daoist values and Buddhist values there is now a hybrid form of the two. When comparing this to Japan, Shinto is the equivalent to Daoism as it is the basis of the Japanese way of life. However, the intermingling of other teachings such as Buddhism and Confucianism, are more easily detected and separated. This was made clear when Emperor Meiji chooses to promote a more traditional Shinto and separate it from Confucianism and Buddhism. However, during the isolation of Japan, Buddhism was heavily used by the Shogunate, in DuBois Chapter about Japan in the sixteenth century he states “Buddhism was integral to the state itself. Like Confucian morality in China, Buddhism became an important foundation of the evolving imperial institution. Other ideas, such as divine ancestry and ritual purity, were not forgotten, but integrated into a cosmology of kingship that placed Buddhism on an equal level,[3].” This once again shows how an indigenous religion is disposed of in favor of a new religion; DuBois’s mention that Shinto values were not entirely forgotten is the point that draws attention. Unlike Daoism in China, Shinto still managed to retain a degree of influence within the Japanese political and religious system. It clear that religion in Japan and China very much evolved and changed with the introduction of new teachings. The similarities that can be drawn between Daoism and Shinto are that they were very much put aside in favor of new teachings and their importance was severely decreased. On the other hand, the differences are far more prominent, unlike Daoism, Shinto managed to retain some degree of influence during the period of isolation and was brought back during the Meiji era. In contrast, Daoism’s impact was strongly affected by its close link to Buddhism, which meant it never reached the same resurgence that Shinto did.

In Conclusion, it is essential to note that the original religions of Japan and China that supported their mythic background was severely affected by the new teachings. However, it is Shinto’s individuality and dissimilarity to Buddhism and Confucianism that allowed it to remain unchanged and reappear very much intact during the Meiji era.

 

 

[1] Thomas David DuBois, The Making of Modern East Asia, (Cambridge University: 2012), p. 15.

[2] Tang Yijie, I-chieh T’ang, Confucianism, Buddhism, Daoism, Christianity, and Chinese Culture, (Peking, 1991), p.77.

[3] Dubois, The Making of Modern East Asia ,p 58,

Succession and development of East Asian intellectual traditions: Kōtoku Shūsui’s Monster of the Twentieth Century

From the viewpoint of people after World War II, it is easy to disapprove of imperialism that swept the world in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. However, at a time when this idea was considered standard, a Japanese socialist Kōtoku Shūsui developed a logical criticism of the problem in his first work, Monster of the Twentieth Century: Imperialism(Nijusseiki No Kaibutsu Teikokushugi 廿世紀之怪物帝国主義). In this book, Shūsui describes the Chinese, Japanese,and European history and the trend in Japan and Europe at the time and argues that imperialism is an ideology woven with patriotism and militarism.

One of the most notable features of Monster of the Twentieth Century: Imperialism is its foresight. Prior to the British economist John A. Hobson’s Imperialism: A Study (1902) and Vladimir Lenin’s Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (1917), Shūsui identified the complex structure of imperialism and raised the alarm. However, this work by Shūsui presently tends to be appreciated for its lack of economic analysis and its strong moral and ethical aspects through comparison with Hobson’s and Lenin’s analysis of economic factors of imperialist behaviour[1]. However, this work can also be regarded as an intellectual attempt to integrate literature and social science. This is well illustrated by the fact that Shūsui refers to the Chinese classics such as Mengzi and Shiji, as well as multiple Japanese literary works as the basis of his logic. For example, Shūsui cites Mengzi: Gong Sun Chou I. Accepting Mengzi’s teaching on the innate benevolence of all people, that anyone who sees an infant about to fall into a well will run to save him, he argued that patriotism is highly egoistic and is distinguished from the innate, pure benevolence. He also attempts to construct a more comprehensive argument fusing the West and the East by combining those works with the European counterparts.

What provides a distinctive philosophical depth to Shūsui’s Monster of the Twentieth Century is that he unravels the unique characteristics of Japanese imperialism while grounding it in the historical events and ideas of Japan and China. Shūsui’s approach to developing the logic can be traced to his teacher, Nakae Chōmin 中江兆民. Chōmin, about whom Shūsui wrote a biography called Chōmin Sensei 兆民先生, had re-evaluated the Confucian tradition in the face of concepts such as ‘civil rights (minken 民権)’ and ‘equality and freedom (byōdō jiyū 平等自由)’. In Ichinen Yūhan, he regards civil rights as the principle (shiri 至理) and equality and freedom as the righteousness (taigi 大義) and argues that these ideas are not idiosyncratic to the West, as they have existed in the Confucian tradition of East Asia since they were detected by Mencius and Liu Zongyuan[2]. Accordingly, he seeks ways to develop the idea of democracy (minpon shugi 民本主義) as well as freedom and equality based on the Confucian tradition. In Mengzi: King Hui of Liang II, ‘the theory of the expulsions of disqualified monarchs by King Tang and King Wu (tōbu hōbatsu ron 湯武放伐論)’ is developed, which discusses whether subjects and people ought to remain submissive even when the monarch is a tyrant in accord with Confucianism, which emphasizes the importance of the relationship between sovereign and subject as one of the five relationships. Chōmin sheds light on the potential for ultimate democracy, which has been inherent in this Confucian philosophy.

Whereas Chōmin reexamines the Confucian tradition of East Asia for its possibility of modernity, Shūsui revisits that tradition and criticises Japanese imperialism for deviating from it, assuming that prosperity and happiness, which are national honours, lie in a high degree of morality and nobility of ideals. In other words, while following Chōmin’s methodology of using the Confucian tradition as the basis for the realization of his ideals, Shūsui used it to criticize the actual situation in Japan.

Although Shūsui criticises the spread of imperialism as a global phenomenon, the significance of Monster of the Twentieth Century is that it highlights the peculiarity of Japanese imperialism on an East Asian intellectual basis and develops an analysis that focuses on its ideological aspects. His progressive argument, which is underpinned by his literary flair, has a continuity with the lengthy intellectual history of East Asia, as a result of overlooking imperialism from an ideological point of view and succeeding his teacher’s method of rethinking Confucianism, and hence gained profundity.

Bibliography

Dirlik, Arif, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution (California, 1991).

Nakae, Chōmin 中江兆民, Sansuijin Keirin Mondō 三酔人経綸問答, trans. and ed. Kuwahara, Takeo 桑原武夫, Shimada, Kenji 島田虔次 (Tokyo, 1983).

Nakae, Chōmin 中江兆民, Ichinen Yūhan, Zoku Ichinen Yūhan 一年有半・続一年有半, trans. and ed. Ida, Shinya 井田進也 (Tokyo, 1995).

Tierney, Robert T., Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kōtoku Shūsui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement(California, 2015).

[1] Robert T. Tierney, Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kōtoku Shūsui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement (California, 2015), p. 7

[2] Chōmin Nakae, Ichinen Yūhan, Zoku Ichinen Yūhan, trans. and ed. Shinya Ida (Tokyo, 1995), p. 56.

Modernising China: Why Discourses Surrounding Love and Sex were Central to Republican China’s National Rejuvenation.

In Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China Prasenjit Duara maintains that the nation is often conceived as the primordial subject of history: the foundation upon which a multiplicity of social, political and economic phenomena may be analysed[1]. As such, historiography surrounding nationalism has often taken a ‘top-down’ approach, suggesting that the reification of nationalist sentiments is instantiated by governing bodies or international events[2]. Hence historians such as Lloyd Eastman, Maggie Clinton, Frederick Wakeman Jr., and William Kirby have analysed China’s quest for modernity as a response to the dynamic rise of fascist states in Europe, as Germany and Italy’s rapid national rejuvenation provided a model for nationalists in China who coveted national development[3].

However, these analyses provide an impoverished account of China’s ineluctable path to modernity. Most notably, they overlook how apparently superfluous cultural phenomena such as love, and sex could contribute to China’s national development. Frank Dikötter’s Sex, Culture and Modernity in China provides a necessary response to such historiography by demonstrating how ideas related to sex and sexual desire contributed significantly to China’s modernising discourse[4].

Dikötter argues that in Republican China interest in the subject of sex grew exponentially, as evidenced by the proliferation of new periodicals such as The sex periodical, The sexual desire weekly, The sex journal bi-weekly and ‘The sex journal’[5]. This interest was grounded in the belief that the control of sexual desire was somehow integral to the restoration of a strong China, for if ‘evil’ sexual habits could be eliminated, then Chinese citizens could sacrifice their attention to the development of the nation[6]. For example, great interest was placed upon reproductive health and the procreative behaviour of couples, as medical scientists sought to understand the optimum conditions with which healthy offspring could be produced, as such offspring could then be successfully integrated into China’s fledgling industrial workforce[7].

Contra Eastman, Clinton, and others, one cannot fail to see that discourses around sex and China’s national well-being were inextricably linked. Chinese nation-building was not simply a process of emulating Europe, rather, it embodied certain indigenous cultural transformations such as more open discourses surrounding sex and changing attitudes towards love. Haiyan Lee develops this argument in Revolution of the Heart: A Genealogy of Love in China, 1900-1950 in which she demonstrates the significance of love in the discourses surrounding national development. The May Fourth Movement (a political and cultural movement emanating from Beijing in 1919) is one such example, where love and its free expression became symbolic of equality and autonomy from foreign interference[8].

Therefore, an intellectual history of the discourses surrounding China’s national development in the Republican period cannot and should not overlook these cultural factors. The history of Republican China should not be a history of competing political ideologies, viewing Chinese nationalism as a tabula rasa upon which a European creed could be imprinted. The Chinese path to modernity is more complex than this, and, in like manner to Dikötter and Lee, explanations which reflect these complex cultural and social dynamics are imperative.

[1] Prasenjit Duara, Rescuing History from the Nation: Questioning Narratives of Modern China, (Chicago, 1995), pp. 27-29

[2] Jing Tsu, Failure, Nationalism, and Literature: The Making of Modern Chinese Identity, 1895-1937, (Stanford, 2005), p.1

[3] Lloyd Eastman, Fascism in Kuomintang China: The Blue Shirts, The China Quarterly, 49: 1 (1972), pp.1-31. Maggie Clinton, Revolutionary Nativism: Fascism and Culture in China, 1925-1937, (Durham, 2017). Frederick Wakeman Jr., A Revisionist View of the Nanjing Decade: Confucian Fascism, The China Quarterly, 150: special issue: Reappraising Republican China (June, 1997), pp.395-432. William Kirby, Germany and Republican China, (Stanford, 1984)

[4] Frank Dikötter, Sex, Culture and Modernity in China, (London, 1995), p.2

[5] Ibid., p.1

[6] Ibid., p.2

[7] Ibid., pp.62-71

[8] Haiyan Lee, Revolution of the Heart: A Genealogy of Love in China 1900-1950, (Stanford, 2007), p.5

The Tonghak and the Chinese Communist Party: Parallels in Tactics and Historiography

A comparison can be drawn between the evolution of the Tonghak movement from 1894 to 1910 in Korea and developments in the family reform debate in China from 1915 to 1953, particularly in reference to the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) role in this debate. Although these two historical developments might appear unrelated, in both of the periods examined a radical reformulation of important precedents takes place. The Tonghak religion “presented itself as incarcerating the best of Korean and Eastern tradition in a new and accessible way to regenerate both individuals and society.”1 In China, the CCP propagated a new version of the xiao jiating ideal which has been introduced decades earlier by New Culture intellectuals. While the specific policies of the Tonghak and the CCP differed, both groups sought societal regeneration, largely in the form of modernization, as their final goal. Key to both Tonghaks and the CCP was the importance of individual change and societal change. What differentiated the CCP, however, is their linking of these two factors in a casual relationship. 

In both cases, the strategy employed to achieve this goal was ideological manipulation according to what the historical moment made available to that group. In the Tonghak’s case, an ideological repositioning took place under the leadership of the third patriarch, Son Pyong-hui, in which the group abandoned it’s former anti-foreign stance in favor of Japanese intervention in Korea. Carl Young points out that the activities of the Chinbohoe, an offspring of the Tonghak which merged with the Ilchinhoe in 1905, “saw the war between Russia and Japan as an opportunity to advance their agenda by using Japanese support to overthrow the conservative government surrounding Emperor Kojong and take over government”2 The anti-foreign sentiment of the Tonghak gives way to a policy of supporting Japanese rule due to a desire to realize its goal of preserving Korean sovereignty. Just like the Tonghak reformulate their policy in order to best position themselves for success, the xiao jiating ideal is adapted by the CCP to serve their political and social goals. While the Tonghak engaged in ideological repositioning, the CCP re-imagined the ideological underpinnings of an existing ideal in order to subsume the activities of individuals under the interest of the state: “the state became the beginning and the end, the mode of social organization, and the object of all energies and loyalties.”3 This allowed the CCP to exert control in every aspect of its citizen’s lives under the guise of family reform. The ideological manipulation pursued by the Tonghaks and the CCP allowed both groups to formulate policies which were most beneficial to them at the time.  

In addition to similar ideological tactics employed by the Tonghak and the CCP, what this discussion reveals is a tendency to disregard specific historical trends in order to preserve an all-encompassing narrative. In his work on the split in the Tonghak religion, Young observes, “the fact that there were some elements of Tonghak that actively cooperated with the Japanese is disturbing and is often not discussed because it does not fit with the simple structure of history that has often been framed by Korean political ideologies.”4 In relation to Chinese visions of family and state in the early 20th century, Susan Glosser points out that there has been a lack of scholarship which connects the New Cultural intellectual’s linking of the individual and the state in their propagation of the xiao jiating ideal in the early twentieth century, with the CCPs subsequent policy. Glosser argues that this provides the basis for CCP policy, “although the CCP was most effective in lengthening the reach of the state, the invasive potential of the state was not peculiar to the CCP.”5 Despite similarities discussed above, the Tonghak and the CCP are very different organizations which existed in distinct contexts. However, a close analysis reveals a connection between the ideological distortions pursued by each group and the treatment of these in historical writing on the topic. 

  1. Carl Young, ‘Eastern Learning Divided: The Split in the Tonghak’, in Emily Anderson (ed.), Belief and Practice in Imperial Japan and Colonial Korea (Springer, 2016), p. 80. [↩]
  2. Young, ‘Eastern Learning Divided’, p. 83. [↩]
  3. Susan Glosser, Chinese Visions of Family and State, 1915-1953 (University of California Press, 2003), p. 186 [↩]
  4. Young, ‘Eastern Learning Divided’, p. 80. [↩]
  5. Glosser, Chinese Visions of Family and State, p. 200. [↩]

Nannü and Modern Gender: How He-Yin Zhen’s Concept Anticipated Current Understandings of Gender

In The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts of Transnational Theory, Lydia Liu, Rebecca Karl, and Dorothy Ko claim that He-Yin Zhen’s conceptualization of nannü ‘signifies not only gendered social relations between man and woman but also, more broadly, the relationship of the past to the present, of China to the world, of politics to justice, of law and ritual to gendered forms of knowledge, interaction, and social organization’.1 The concept of nannü, He-Yin argued, worked within patriarchal discourse as a means of legitimizing men’s oppression of women. This incredibly broad definition leaves room for multiple discussions to develop around nannü. Though the authors try to move the conversation away from its traditional male-female translation, this idea has some interesting similarities to modern evolving understandings of gender. In particular, the breaking of the binary view that has long held in the West and the growing acceptance of gender as a societal category.

He-Yin Zhen saw the world ‘as an always-already gendered time-space of social activity, production, and life’; her views align well with conceptions gender and its effects on society that have been pushed into the mainstream by the LGBTQ+ community. Rather than an intrinsic quality or set of qualities, gender has come to be understood as a means of categorizing people, sometimes incorrectly. Using the framework of nannü helps create room for this more complex formulation of gender because it inherently recognizes that society enforces the gender construct constantly. For He-Yin, the effects of nannü were present in every experience that a person has because it formed ‘the foundation of all patriarchal abstractions and markings of distinction’.2 Any trans individual who has ever felt the pressure to ‘pass’ as their preferred gender identity or person who has felt they were ‘not masculine/feminine enough’ can recognize the truth in this statement immediately. These feelings, among many other reasons, have led the LGBTQ+ community and their allies, especially among feminists, to raise awareness about the negative effects of gender norms. Nannü offers another way to explain these effects to people. It could be especially impactful for presenting how gender norms and distinction effect society beyond simply feeling comfortable in public spaces, which those who take for granted see sometimes see as frivolous. With this concept, the effects on the economy and politics could be expressed better.

In particular, He-Yin’s argument that ‘gendered’ identities separated people into socioeconomic groups in a similar way to class could aid current discussion surrounding gender relations. Anyone who is cognizant of the effect of perceived gender on all aspects of daily life would likely agree with Zhen’s worldview. This sentiment is clearly evidenced by the continued frustrations over the gender-wage gap. For modern feminists, He-Yin’s assertion that gender may function as an economic distinction is a statement of the obvious. Even if she was not directly concerned about a wage gap between men and women, her concept of nannü anticipated this issue, as well as the modern global shift towards viewing gender as a complex set of societal and cultural expectations.

  1. Lydia Liu, Rebecca Karl, and Dorothy Ko, The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts of Transnational Theory (New York, 2013), p. 10 [↩]
  2. Liu, Karl, and Ko, The Birth of Chinese Feminism, p. 11 [↩]

Anarchism as Modernity: The Arishima Cooperative’s Contribution to a Global Narrative.

On Arishima Takeo’s liberation of his tenant farmers in 1922 and declaration of cooperative ownership, he created a space for the proliferation of anarchist thought in a completely new and undefined sphere.[1] Consequently, the Arishima cooperative farm in Hokkaido can be used to redefine traditional notions of anarchism as ‘anti-modern’ and trace the movement of Japanese anarchism into a global sphere.

20th Century anarchism was characterised by a total rejection of state in favour of social revolution.[2] Revolutionary discourse focused on a cultural transformation with emphasis on the individual. In historiography, therefore, it has been misunderstood as introspective and anti-modern due to anarchist’s intellectual isolation from the recognised structure of the state.[3] Furthermore, the proliferation of isolated Japanese anarchist communities has resulted in depictions of these groups as remote spheres with little connection to the globalised world or political trends.[4]  These ideas were reversed by Sho Konishi, who traces the expansion of anarchism to the ‘opening’ of Japan in the 1950s (Kaikoku) where the cultural and intellectual spheres of Russia and Japan merged.[5] He believed that anarchism adopted a transnational and global character which propelled it into modernity.

This is exemplified in the development of the Arishima cooperative farm and its creation of a new space and time. This did not isolate the community but distinguished them from their origins as tenant farmers and consequently propelled them into the sphere of modernity with a new identity. The Cooperative Living Handbook contained a history of the farm and was used to affirm membership in the cooperative.[6] As such, it became a physical demonstration of the connection with a shared heritage that had been constructed around the new freedom of the cooperative. The book served to create a new timeline of history as a reconstruction of the past that legitimised their liberation and placed them firmly in a trajectory of modernisation.

Additionally, the division of space was significant in the construction of a new space and time. Monuments and objects commemorating original members of the cooperative were placed in the centre of the community and used to mark out meeting forums.[7] These were viewed as symbolic objects which affirmed the overturning of the old ideological order in favour of liberation. They reflected the desire for a similar process in the wider political structures of Japan. The physical demarcation of space with such objects suggests that tenants sought to separate their new freedom as a new sphere of possibility which had no relation to the community’s past constraints as tenant farmers. It further implies that for the Arishima farmers, time renewed and began again upon their liberation. As such, this demonstrates that, far from internalised, the cooperative saw itself at the forefront of progress, looking forward into a devolved era of change.

Moreover, the Arishima cooperative did succeed in integrating itself into a wider global narrative. The farm held festivals, including the Autumn Harvest Festival and children’s Olympic festivals, which were open to outsiders and became known throughout the region.[8] Not only did the cooperative look forwards, but it aimed to do so in conjunction with surrounding communities. The proliferation of anarchist thought across the region is exemplified in the adoption of Anarchism by the Hokkaido-wide industrial cooperative in 1926.[9] Additionally, the Agricultural Industrial Cooperative Association published its journal ‘Kyoei’, which sought to promote ‘world thinking’ amongst agricultural labourers. Within this, we can see the Arishima anarchist thought centred within global anarchist thought as the communities sought to educate and connect with the wider world as their practices of mutual aid ‘sogo fujo’ united with wider global narratives of mass liberation.

The Arishima anarchist cooperative can therefore be used to trace the evolution of anarchist thought from a local sphere to global narrative. The vision of the farmers at the forefront of progress allowed for the creation of a new space and time through physical means. This allows for a revision of Japanese anarchism as modern and international. Throughout its evolution, the Arishima Cooperative remained engaged with the intellectual spheres around them as they forged their community to become a vehicle of progress which symbolised a new modernity.

[1] Sho Konishi, “Ordinary Farmers Living Anarchist Time: Arishima Cooperative Farm in Hokkaido, 1922–1935.” Modern Asian Studies, vol. 47, no. 6, (2013), p.1845.

[2] Arif Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution, (London 1991), p.29.

[3] Sho Konishi, “Ordinary Farmers”, p.1848.

[4] James Scott in Sho Konishi, “Ordinary Farmers”, P.1848

[5] Sho Konishi, Anarchist Modernity: Cooperatism and Japanese-Russian Intellectual Relations in Modern Japan, (Massachusetts 2013), p.2.

[6] Sho Konishi, “Ordinary Farmers”, P.1858.

[7] Ibid, P.1867

[8] Ibid, p.1878, p1882.

[9] Ibid, p.1884.