Rethinking the World in East Asia 1850s-1990s

It certainly wouldn’t be unreasonable to point out the similarities between K’ang Yu-wei’s ‘Ta t’ung Shu’ and the writings of Karl Marx. Both take the reality of their time and attempt to present a way forward that eliminates suffering, both push for a wholesale shift in the way society is organised, and both found themselves in opposition to their contemporaries. It seems as though, however, a work of social idealism can rarely exist in its own right without a comparison to Marx being drawn. This article attempts to navigate tricky waters and approach the comparison between these two monumental works of social philosophy and establish whether or not it is appropriate for such a comparison to be drawn.

It is clear that K’ang was aware of communist theory, he devotes a small passage to it in Ta t’ung Shu.[1] His sceptism is equally clear however, as he doubts how realistic its aims actually are. Whether or not K’ang was aware of actual Marxist theory is up for debate, after all his mentions of communism are sparing and only seem to analyse it in the frame of ‘what not to do’ rather than as a valid theoretical framework. Laurence Thompson would certainly argue that whilst K’ang had a cursory knowledge of what communism entailed, his knowledge of Marxist theory more widely was non-existent.[2] The question of Karl Marx’s awareness of Ta t’ung Shu certainly is not up for debate, he had died before the work was written, let alone translated into a language he would understand.

A brief discussion ought to be given to the differences between these two individuals as thinkers. Hierarchy was, to Marx, the root of suffering among humans; K’ang was a proponent of the emperor, albeit in a ceremonial sense not unlike the monarchs of the United Kingdom.[3] Hierarchy under K’ang’s One World philosophy was almost ritualistic and was greatly influenced by the maintenance of the emperor as a spiritual figure. There is no question that this would have been an unsurpassable point of contention for Marx, monarchy represents, in the Marxist perspective, all that they sought to dismantle.

I was struck by the difference in scale of these two works, and an analysis of scale brings with it the analysis of the philosophies themselves. It may be argued for example that, as a work of philosophy, Ta t’ung Shu represents a more comprehensive, all-encompassing work that seeks to analyse suffering as a phenomenon with multiple roots, not simply class. K’ang Yu-wei delves into human nature, and concurs with traditional Chinese thought, such as that expressed by Mencius, that man is innately compassionate, and bad deeds are a result of negative stimuli in one’s environment.[4] He specifically cites economic hardship as the root of such deeds as robbery, taking away responsibility from the individual and placing it in the environment in which the individual exists, effectively laying the groundwork for his One World postulation founded on economic equality. Marx, by contrast, made fewer sweeping statements on the nature of humanity, and instead cited the historical precedent of class segregation and class struggle. Where Marx’s utopia comes about following revolution and the abolition of wealth as material possession, K’ang Yu-wei’s ideal is a spiritual exercise wherein the efforts of man are put into the cultivation of a healthy environment and the promotion of things that bring pleasure.

Nevertheless, comparisons are drawn, and for many it would appear as though these two works of social theory produce the same end: a society free of suffering and devoid of class, where an individual works for the good of society and can subsequently expect all that they require in return. To me, however, such a comparison is largely unfounded and is based upon the mere fact that both offer a socialist utopic vision for the future of humanity. Das Kapital and the Communist Manifesto offer a materialist view of the development of human society up to the 18^th century and posit a future wherein class struggle necessitates a revolution. Ta t’ung Shu is a work not only of political theory and materialist philosophy, but moral and existential philosophy that borrows ideas from classical Chinese thought and will go on to lend ideas to Maoist communism. The works may be comparable in their end goals, but in their substance, there lacks a sustained thread of similar thought.

[1] Laurence Thompson, K’ang Yu Wei, Ta T’ung Shu and the One World philosophy of K’ang Yu-Wei, (London, 2005). p.51.

[2] Ibid. p.52.

[3] Federico Brusadelli, ‘A tale of two utopias: Kang Youwei’s communism, Mao Zedong’s classicism and the “Accommodating look” of the Marxist Li Zehou’, Asian Studies, 103:5, (2017). p.104.

[4] Thompson, K’ang Yu Wei, p.47.

The theory of kokutai 国体 was a pre-war Japanese concept that envisioned an imperial family with ‘unbroken lineage (bansei ikkei 万世一系)’ to rule Japan as the spiritual, ethical, and political centre of the nation. This ideology formed the core of the Japanese political system from the Meiji Restoration to World War II. It was Aizawa Seishisai 会沢正志斎, one of the leading scholars of the Later Mito Learning (kōki mitogaku 後期水戸学), who developed the concept of kokutai in New Theses (Shinron 新論). In Aizawa’s later years, Yoshida Shōin 吉田松陰 attempted to create his own theory of kokutai after discussing with Aizawa. While both the kokutai theories of the two scholars, whose philosophies greatly influenced the nationalist ideology of ‘revering the emperor and expelling the barbarian (sonnō jōi 尊皇攘夷)’, proposed a state system centred on the emperor, differences arose in response to the changes in domestic order after the arrival of the Black Ships commanded by American Commodore Matthew C. Perry.

Firstly, Aizawa and Yoshida disagree on the perception of kokutai and other countries. According to Aizawa, kokutaiconsists of the principle of loyalty and filial piety (chūkō no genri 忠孝の原理) through ancestral rituals.[1] This means that the subjects are loyal to the emperor as he shows filial piety to the preceding emperors and ancestral gods through rituals, and at the same time, the history of the ancestors’ loyalty to the preceding emperors confirms the present meaning of filial piety. Furthermore, Aizawa regards Japan as a divine country (shinshū 神国) and assumed the rule of all nations by the emperor was eternal and unchanging. While praising Japan as a divine country, he also called it the ‘Land of the Center (chūgoku 中国)’,[2] based on the idea of ‘Little China (shōchūka 小中華)’ and regards the ‘barbarians of the West (seikō no ban’i 西荒の蛮夷)’ who were advancing into the world as a particular threat to kokutai.[3]

On the other hand, Yoshida initially recognises that kokutai is the emperor military subjugation of others and argues that it was the duty of the shogun to assist the emperor to govern by defeating foreign enemies. In addition, based on the national consciousness, he criticises the situation that shoguns and feudal lords were only defending their strongholds and argued that the people should cooperate to protect the nation. However, when Japan was overwhelmed by the dominant military power of the United States, which made it difficult for Japan to maintain its isolationist system, Yoshida shifted his theory of kokutai. He acknowledges that each country has an individual kokutai (national polity) and advocates that superior ‘righteousness of imperial ruler and ruled (皇朝君臣の義)’ to all nations was Japanese unique fundamental principle, kokutai.[4]

Secondly, the difference between the two theories of kokutai can also be traced in their attitudes toward the shogunate. Aizawa’s theory of kokutai was an ideology built on the premise of the Tokugawa feudal system in order for the regime to reorganise its order in response to internal and external crises. In contrast, Yoshida sees the emperor as the permanent sovereign and prioritises the role of all people in Japan as imperial subjects. He argues that people are to devote themselves to the emperor while also serving their feudal lord, and their loyalty to the feudal lord means to promote him to be faithful to the emperor.[5]

The difference between the two theories of statehood can be attributed to the threat of foreign powers, which became increasingly realistic at the end of the Edo period. Aizawa formulates kokutai theory based on the ‘theory of social hierarchy (taigi meibum ron 大義名分論)’, which derives from Neo-Confucianism, with the assumption of governance by the shogunate. However, Yoshida’s theory of kokutai, which he advocated after witnessing the powerful military power of the United States and experiencing a shake in the legitimacy of the shogunate, contained a stronger element of ‘theory of delegation of power (taisei inin ron 大政委任論)’ of National Learning (kokugaku 国学), which assumes that the authority of the shogunate originates from itself but is merely delegated by the emperor. Thus, in comparison to Aizawa, his vision of the national body proved to be an advantageous theory for building a political system with the emperor at the centre, as it undermined the legitimacy of the shogunate’s rule of Japan.

In conclusion, while both the national state proposed by Aizawa and Yoshida are built on the premise of loyalty to the emperor and share some elements of Neo-Confucianist ‘theory of social hierarchy’, they differ in their interpretation of kokutai and other countries, as well as in their attitudes towards the Tokugawa regime. The worsening of Tokugawa Japan’s domestic and foreign situation and the destabilisation of the political order resulted in the transition in the theory of kokutai from Aizawa to Yoshida.

Bibliography

Anderson, Emily (ed.), Belief and Practice in Imperial Japan and Colonial Korea (London, 2017).

Yoshida, Toshizumi 吉田俊純, Mitogaku No Kenkyū: Meiji-ishin-shi No Saikentō 水戸学の研究—明治維新史の再検討 (Tokyo, 2016).

Yamaguchi-ken Kyōikukai 山口県教育会 (ed.), Yoshida Shōin Zenshū Dai 2 Kan 吉田松陰全集第2巻 (Tokyo, 1934).

Yamaguchi-ken Kyōikukai 山口県教育会 (ed.), Yoshida Shōin Zenshū Dai 3 Kan 吉田松陰全集第3巻 (Tokyo, 1939).

Imai, Usaburo 今井宇三郎, Seya, Yoshihiko 瀬谷義彦, Bitō, Masahide 尾藤正英 (eds.), Nihon Shisō Shi Taikei 53: Mitogaku 日本思想史体系53 水戸学 (Tokyo, 1973).

Yoshida, Tsunekichi 吉田常吉 et al. (eds.), Nihon Shisō Shi Taikei 54: Yoshida Shōin 日本思想史体系54 吉田松陰(Tokyo, 1978).

[1] Usaburo Imai, Yoshihiko Seya and Masahide Bitō (eds.), Nihon Shisō Shi Taikei 53: Mitogaku (Tokyo, 1973), pp. 51–53.

[2] Ibid., p. 65.

[3] Ibid., p. 50.

[4] Yamaguchi-ken Kyōikukai (ed.), Yoshida Shōin Zenshū Dai 2 Kan (Tokyo, 1934), p.479–480.

[5] Yamaguchi-ken Kyōikukai (ed.), Yoshida Shōin Zenshū Dai 2 Kan (Tokyo, 1939), p. 566.

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.

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.

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,