Action and Pain: Nichiren and the Bodhisattvas

In Japan during the 13th Century a new form of Buddhism began to emerge. Led by a single man, this new form of Buddhism would, at first, seem inconsequential, yet centuries later would appear to have great impact upon the world. This, of course, is Nichiren Buddhism. Founded by the monk Nichiren (1222-1282), this sect of Buddhism is dedicated to a text known as the Lotus Sutra, through which Nichiren and his followers believed enlightenment lay.1 The focus of this piece is not the concepts of the Lotus Sutra, but rather the forms of the Bodhisattva’s from which Nichiren took personal inspiration from and on whose ways he based his teachings and lifestyle around: the Bodhisattva of Superb Action and the Bodhisattva Ever-Abused, as well as how his successors and students model themselves after such examples.2

Nichiren was inspired by both of these figures. For the former, Nichiren was attracted to the man’s actions and stalwart pioneering of Buddhism and propagating the Perfect Truth.3 For the later, Nichiren was attracted to the suffering that the Bodhisattvas underwent due to his beliefs. Through this, Nichiren crafted his own beliefs in Buddhism – one must never waver in their faith and must suffer abuses of some nature – whether they be physical, spiritual, mental, emotional, or verbal – in order to truly understand the words of the Lotus Sutra and be able to properly spread the teachings of Buddha.3 In fact, Nichiren himself often believed himself to be reincarnations of the two Bodhisattva’s, and often tried to perceive his own suffering through them.3 This belief was due to Nichiren’s actions: he spoke out against the established sects of the time as well as being rather outspoken against the rulers of Japan who had become patrons of these “heretical” sects.4 These actions caused Nichiren to be arrested – where he was supposedly saved from execution by a bolt of lightning from the heavens – and eventually he was banished to an island in the Sea of Japan.5 But this did not deter Nichiren, who continued to write and convey his faith to his followers and students in hopes they would follow in the footsteps of the Bodhisattvas and his own.4  

As mentioned above Nichiren encouraged his students to imitate the Bodhisattvas’ ideals of perseverance and self-sacrifice, as he believed that every student should be ready to give their life for the cause.6 One of his students, Nichije (1250-?), helped Nichiren in writing down the elder man’s teachings, and even following him in his exile, thus living some form of suffering (abuse).6 Nichije also followed the ideals of the Bodhisattva of Superb Action by going on missions throughout Japan (Hokkaido) and eventually making his way to Siberia to spread the teachings of Nichiren.6

Another student of Nichiren’s teachings, Nisshin (1407-1488), operated out of Kyushu before making his way to Kyoto.6 While in Kyoto Nisshin spoke out against the shogun in his acts as a street-corner evangelist.6 He openly challenged the shogun to prosecute the other Buddhist sects and pledge his loyalty and faith to the Lotus Sutra.6 Because of this, Nisshin was thrown in jail and tortured by the shogun’s men in order to cease and desist.6 When he did not, a pot was jammed over his head so as to keep him from talking, thus giving him the name ”pot-wearer” (nabe-kaburi).6 As such, Nisshin lived his life by way of both Bodhisattvas – with his work in Kyushu and Kyoto being signs of Superb Action and his imprisonment, torture, and head accessory being a source of Ever-Abused.6  

The final notable follower of Nichiren and the Lotus Sutra was Nichio (1565-1630).7 Nichio was uncompromising as he led a sect of Nichiren Buddhism – called the Fuju-fuse.7 Nichio was so outspoken and uncompromising that when the Buddhist sects were called by Hideyoshi Toyotomi for a festival of celebration, Nichio refused to allow the Fuju-fuse to attend.7 Later, when the shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa unified Japan, Nichio again refused to send the Fuju-fuse for a celebration.7 Due to this, Tokugawa exiled Nichio and began to persecute the Fuju-fuse, though the group was able to survive to the 20th Century.7 In this way, Nichio was able to imitate the lifestyle of the Bodhisattvas of Ever-Abused. ((Ibid, p.295))

To reiterate, Nichiren and his followers believed that one of the best ways to achieve enlightenment and successfully spread the word of the Lotus Sutra was to follow in the paths of the Bodhisattvas of Ever-Abused and Superb Action. Nichiren and those who believed in the Lotus Sutra were able to follow these paths, as detailed above.  

  1. Bary, William Theodore De, Sources of Japanese Tradition: Vol. 1: From Earliest Times to 1600 (Columbia University Press, 2002), p.292 []
  2. Bary, Sources of Japanese Tradition, p.293 []
  3. Ibid, p.293 [] [] []
  4. Ibid, pp.293-294 [] []
  5. Ibid. p.294 []
  6. Ibid, pp.294-295 [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []
  7. Ibid, p.295 [] [] [] [] []

Fuxing fei fugu: Reviving the Past with Updates

During the early 1900s the revival of Chinese traditions was becoming a heated issue for the various political and insurgent groups. One of these traditions – which came under fire from the various groups – was Confucianism. The resurgence of Confucius beliefs was talked about and exploited by all participants of the political spectrum: conservatives, progressives, liberals, communists, and fascists alike all vied to have their personally views of Confucian principles heard – or more accurately they all warred to have their modified Confucian ideals implemented into society in a way that would benefit their goals for China. One of the most prevalent political leaders of the time was Sun Yat-Sen, a powerful and charismatic man who gained quite the following after his death, with his views being explored and exploited by many who had followed him1. The goal of this post is to explore the thoughts that Sun Yat-Sen held about Confucian ideals in modifying them to fit with a more modern society, as well as the views of others about Confucianism in China during the early 1900s2 

Sun Yat-Sen’s interest in defending and adapting Confucianism first became apparent when he decided to speak and write in protest of the New Culture Movement3. Said movement was a group of students who attacked ethics and institutions associated with the then failing Chinese dynastic system while also promoting science and democracy as the basis for a new national culture3. This eventually led to a total repudiation of Confucianism, and other hegemonic traditions, with members, associates, and allies of the New Culture Movement declaring them to be ‘backward’ and ‘superstitious’, as well as against the ‘spirit of modernity’4. This is not the only group that spoke out against such traditions, the May Fourth Movement being another of the primary groups involved in anti-traditionalist movements3.  In response to this, Sun Yat-Sen – among others – began to speak out against the New Culture. Movement and other like it.  

In his 1924 lectures “Three Principles of the People” (Sanminzhuyi) Sun Yat-Sen vocally rebutted the anti-Confucians and expanded upon his views of Confucianism in the present5. In this, he states that Confucian ideals and Confucianism as a whole is compatible with many of the wonders of the technological age, a dream which Sun was extremely enthusiastic about5.  Much of Sun’s writing and speeches in these lectures involve the relation of Confucianism and the machine age5, with his going into detail as to how Confucianism solidifies the cultural nature that is integral to Chinese history5. He also explains how those who attack Confucianism – the New Culture Movement and even Sun’s Communist allies – were attempting to destroy the cultural cohesion that bound the Chinese people together5. Sun’s writing on the topic garnered much attention from his allies in the GMD, such as Dai Jitao, as well as young up-and-comers like Chen Lifu and He Zhonghan, all of whom jumped on the literary and political bandwagon of attacking their much hated Communist rivals through the values of Confucianism6. However, Sun never directly attacked the Communist, merely writing about their anti-Confucian ideals in a passive aggressive style, never outright attacking them through his writing, as such methods would destabilize the United Front6. 

However, Sun’s thoughts were not just on criticizing the anti-Confucian organizations, but also about developing and changing Confucianism to match the modern world. His personal viewpoint on the matter was how Confucianism would tie into and increase the national unity and pride of the Chinese7. During this time the Chinese people were divided, constantly pulled in multiple directions by various political parties, not to mention the actions of foreign nations, such as the Japanese invasions and their various religious expenditures. As such many prominent Chinese political groups encouraged citizens to adopt their manufactured concepts of national unity, which would be born from a sense of national culture and history7. For Sun Yat-Sen, Confucianism fit this bill perfectly. As such, he encouraged citizens to help in efforts to recover China’s “native morality”, which would help the people overthrow the yoke of imperialism and help to reestablish China as a dominate player on the world’s stage7. As presented by Sun, native morals were closely interlinked with Confucian ideals and precepts like filial piety7. Sun believed that such ideas should be reawakened and transmuted to the basis of national unity, with loyalty and unity for the state overriding the old beliefs of loyalty and unity for the emperor7. Thus, Sun Yat-Sen’s ideal of Confucianism was one that, for lack of a better word, was” updated” to suit the purpose of Chinese society as the time.  

In conclusion, Sun Yat-Sen’s ideals for the revival of Confucianism revolved around a core idea of national unity, one that ran contrary to the ideals of the many other groups of political activists during the early 1900s.  

  1. Clinton, Maggie, Revolutionary Nativism: Fascism and Culture in China, 1925-1937, 71  []
  2. Clinton, Revolutionary Nativism, p.72  []
  3. Ibid, p.67  [] [] []
  4. Ibid, p.68 []
  5. Ibid, p.72 [] [] [] [] []
  6. Ibid, p.72-73 [] []
  7. Ibid, p.73-74 [] [] [] [] []

Shimomura Torataro (下村 寅太郎) – The Course of Overcoming Modernity

Shimomura Torataro (1902-1995) was one of the representatives of the Kyoto School at the Overcoming Modernity summit. He submitted an article prior to the meeting on what he saw as the answer to overcoming modernity. He had as a second-generation representative of the Kyoto School studied under Nishida Kitaro and Tanabe Haijme.1 In his essay “The Course of Overcoming Modernity” the focus is on the soul or the spirit and how to interpret it in contrast to the new machines is key to understanding modernity.

“Modernity” grew out of Europe and it has since become an integral part of Japan as it has in Europe. Thus “Modernity is to overcome ourselves”2 . The Japanese can not overcome modernity by rejecting Europe. Only by negating themselves as can they negate modernity. The spirit is the key to the self, but modernity has changed it.

Shimomura sees modernity as the creator of the external machine civilization.3 Shimomura describes the renaissances as the opposite of the medieval period. The renaissance is not a destruction of a unity between spirit and nature, because there never was a true unity.  The development of the external nature has its roots in the ideas negated by force during the medieval period. It is merely a continuation of the same kinds of slavery to labour that man has been restricted to since the beginning of time.  Ultimately this slavery is rooted in the spirit. But machines have fundamentally changed the dynamic between spirit and the physical as its only advancing the external physical “civilization, not the internal spiritual “culture”. While the “old soul” has only been internal, the new “spirit” must be external. Modern science has redefined the understanding of the body as a machine and it requires a new spirit to be found with new interpretive methods that can aligned with this new physical reality. This must be done with a new theology.

Thus, the spiritual imbalance in modernity as Shimomura sees it is not rooted in a corruption of past beliefs, but a changing in the fundamental way we view the body. As the world has changed because of science so must our theological understanding of it. The new understanding of the self in comparison with our contemporary world is the only way to truly overcome modernity as modernity itself is the understanding of our spirit.

Biblography:

Richard Calichman, Overcoming Modernity, Columbia University Press, (New York, 2008)

 

  1. Calichman, Overcoming Moderntity, p. 212 []
  2. Calichman, Overcoming Modernity, p.111 []
  3. Calichman, Overcoming Modernity, p.111 []

The Totalitarian Potential of Jiang‘s Confucian Constitutionalism

In “A Confucian Constitutional Order”, Jiang Qing rejects the state and governmental model of liberal Western democracies in favour of a Confucian system that he thinks is better suited for the Chinese case. The ground for this argument seems to be Jiang’s perception of Western systems as essentially unstable mob-rules – a claim he justifies by asserting that “democratic legitimacy is based on the sovereignty of the people. This is said to be unique, supreme, absolute, exclusive and alienable.”1 A Confucian Constitutional Order, on the contrary, could be more beneficial to China, as it would be based on three legitimacies, represented in three parliamentary chambers: That of heaven (a “transcendent ruling will and a sacred sense of natural morality”), of earth (“history and culture”) and of the human (“the will of the people”).2

While we could argue that Jiang’s argument is constructed upon a false understanding of what liberal democracies actually are,3 it might also be worth to just take a closer look at the system he proposes and consider its political implications, which, despite being downplayed by Jiang himself, seem to have a highly authoritarian, if not totalitarian, potential:

From reading chapter 3, “A Confucian Constitutionalist State,” it becomes clear that Jiang has one primary concern, a premise upon which his political system is designed, and that is restoring a Confucian understanding of the State as being “formed naturally and reasonably over a long period of history owing to the cooperation of heaven, earth, and the human element.”4 Its character, therefore, is “sacred, mysterious, whole, awe-inspiring, and enduring.”5 The governmental system which best accommodates this understanding, according to Jiang, is republicanism under a symbolic monarch, the monarch being a direct heir of Confucius who will embody the nature of the state and have a largely representative and symbolic role.6
If the monarch’s power is only symbolic, however, then we would expect that in a system labeled “republican” a significant part of the power would lie with the people, or at least representatives of the people. This, however, is not the case either in Jiang’s model: He relies on a three-dimensional legitimation system based on heaven, earth and the human (as outlined above), and while the will of the people is therefore indeed politically represented in one of the three proposed chambers of parliament, it can hardly be said to bear much political significance: The will of the heaven, in the House of Ru, is prioritized by having veto rights over the suggestions of the House of the People7. Jiang deems this important, since he describes the will of the people as being characterized by “extreme secularization, contractualism, utilitarianism, selfishness, commercialism, capitalization, vulgarization, hedonism, mediocritization, this-worldliness, lack of ecology, lack of history, and lack of morality”8 – in short, he does not trust the competency of the people enough to delegate them any real political power. This is further emphasized in Jiang’s statement that his Confucian constitutional order “can ensure that the ruler’s authority and the people’s obedience are seen, respectively, as right and duty.”9

But if neither the people, nor the symbolic monarch, maintain real political power in Jiang’s system, then who does?

The answer becomes clear when we look at the Confucian constitutional order in its entirety and recognize another significant institution, the role of which is consistently downplayed by Jiang as being merely “supervisory”10the Academy:

This diagram, designed purely based on the description of Jiang’s system provided by Bell in the introduction of the book, shows that the Academy receives an overwhelmingly large share of power.

The Academy would be composed of scholar-officials, a (presumably meritocratic) elite with the power to control the tricameral legislative – by training and supervising its members and even, in the case of “dereliction of duty”, by being able to “recall all top leaders of state institutions.”11 Especially interesting is the fact that their control of one of the chambers, the House of Ru, even surpasses that of the other two, since its members are directly nominated by the Academy.  The House of Ru, in turn, as mentioned above, has a disproportionate amount of power compared to the other two parliamentary chambers, mainly thanks to its veto-rights.

One of the Academy’s most impressive powers that seems to be overlooked by both Jiang and Bell is linked to the Historical Records Office, “that would record the words and deeds of the highest decision makers so that they would be answerable.”12 In other words, there would be no immunity for the members of parliament, something that is usually considered a central right in any republican system, and they could be held responsible for opposing the transcendent will of the heaven / the Academy.

Lastly, I would like to highlight the Academy’s power to issue final verdicts. This essentially turns the institution into a constitutional court of justice. In combination with its control over the other institutions and the fact that Jiang’s model lacks any real executive power (the king would certainly be an executive organ, yet his real power is only symbolic), I believe we can conclude that the Academy would essentially constitute a government of judges, ruling based on a religious or heavenly law set out by Confucianism.

If Jiang’s Confucian constitutional order were to be implemented in reality, the result would thus certainly be a theocratic system where all power is merged in the hands of the Academy. The fact that it is based on an all-encompassing ideology (Confucianism), makes no real provisions for the rule of law or the separation of powers and, on top of that, requires popular participation in support of the “heavenly will” of the Academy, even gives it, in my opinion, a certain totalitarian potential.

  1. Qing, Jiang. A Confucian Constitutional Order: How China’s Ancient Past Can Shape Its Political Future. Edited by Daniel A. Bell and Ruiping Fan. Translated by Edmund Ryden. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 2012, p. 29. []
  2. Bell, Daniel. China’s New Confucianism: Politics and Everyday Life in a Changing Society. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 2008, p. 6. []
  3. After all, the addition “liberal” to the term “democracy” does not simply refer to the rights that are guaranteed to citizens of a liberal democracy, but more importantly to the fact that the political system was constructed on the principles of liberalism, which emphasizes the importance of a constitution that sets out the separation of powers, thus working precisely against the concepts of mob-rule and an excess of democracy []
  4. Qing 2012, p. 71. []
  5. Ibid., p. 71. []
  6. Cf. Ibid., p. 71, 74-75. []
  7. Cf. Bell 2008, p. 7. []
  8. Qing 2012, p. 33. []
  9. Ibid., p. 28. []
  10. Cf. Bell 2008, p. 8. []
  11. Bell 2008, p. 8. []
  12. Ibid., p. 8. []

Imperial Japan: Mastering the Art of Soft Power

There is often a common misconception that nationalism and internationalism are juxtaposed, two separate entities that have no compatibility.[1] This premise is questionable. As Tomako outlines internationalism is de facto predicated on nationalism, it uses the nation-state as a framework for all internationalist theory.[2] From our readings this week came the most profound example of this connectivity between nationalism and internationalism, which was found in imperial Japan. My assumptions of Japanese imperialism the readings would have most likely led me to  perceive that Imperial Japan was isolationist and self-sustaining, as evidenced from her self-removal from the League of Nations in 1933.[3] Japan in this period could almost have been described as a ‘neo-Sakoku’.[4]
Yet, these assumptions were proven to be misconstrued; Japan was indeed internationalist while simultaneously maintaining her ultra-nationalism. It was all possible because of Japanese understanding of internationalism, or, more specifically, the government’s understanding. The government viewed internationalism through a nationalistic lens; simply put, it could use internationalism as a tool to further Japan’s nationalist agenda in contrast to using internationalism as a means of international co-operation. That is not to say that new liberal internationalism did not exist, as some of the finest examples can be witnessed when analysing Japanese diplomats such as Nitobe Inazo, as Abel outlines.[5]

With all of this said, the premise of this blog will show how an individual concept acted as a perfect lynchpin between culturally-diplomatic internationalist Japan and the political policies of an ultranationalist Japan. The concept was simple and yet had such a prominent role in 20th century imperialist Japan: “the Occident did not understand the Orient”.[6] Surprisingly, this notion was commonplace across the Japanese political spectrum. In Inazo’s book “Bushido”, he criticises the Western scholarship of Dr. George Miller and looks to ‘re-educate’ his Western audiences on Japanese culture.[7] Although, Inazo’s aims are not interlinked to any Japanese political action, it is nonetheless a cog in the mechanism of instilling this idea of Eastern (re)education.

This concept had more political than cultural overtones in the 1930s, as political leaders looked to use this idea that Japan’s actions have been simply misinterpreted in order to justify their actions to the international community. Not only was this used as a defence against Western criticism, but it was used against Eastern states too, as Japan look to assert itself as the embodiment of the East. Yotoku Matsuoka, a Japanese diplomat, declared in his speech to the League of Nations: “I am afraid that advantage is taken by the Chinese representive of Western unfamiliarity with Eastern psychology”.[8] This remark, along with many others, acted as a reminder for the West to not intervene in Eastern affairs until a sense of understanding has been gained.

But who was to arbitrate whether an understanding had been reached? And furthermore, who would educate the West on eastern affairs? Japan. This was in itself a self-fulfilling perpetual circle; the West criticised Japan. Japan proclaimed Western ignorance. Japan educated the West through ‘soft power’ or the ‘correct’ perspective, the Japanese perspective, and so forth. This was primarily one of the reasons for the change of directive of the KBS (Kokusia Bunka SkinKikai), as it looked to support Japanese military expansionism through promoting international public relations.[9] To an extent, between 1934 and 1937, it was astonishingly successful as the KBS managed to cement in American public opinion that Japanese contemporary politics was completely divided in two camps: ‘moderates’ and ‘militarists’.[10] This in turn created an artificial sympathy of Japanese politics and implanted the idea that change was imminent.
Overall, it can be illustrated from key Japanese institutions and political policies how original Japanese ideas surrounding Japanese cultural exportation came to manifest in wider Japanese foreign policy as a tool to placate the West and justify Japanese imperial expansionism.

[1] Tomaoko Akami, ‘Internationalizing the pacific: The United States, Japan and the Institute of Pacific Relations in war and peace, 1919-1945’ , Routledge: 2002, pp. 8-10
[2] Ibid p.8
[3] Jessamyn Abel, ‘The International Minimum: creativity and contradiction in Japan’s global engagement,1933-1964’, University of Hawai’I press: 2015, p.16
[4] Sakoku, referring to Japan’s ‘closed country’ period from around 1630s to 1850s
[5] Jessamyn Abel, ‘The International Minimum: creativity and contradiction in Japan’s global engagement,1933-1964’, University of Hawai’I press: 2015, p.5
[6] Though I am familiar with Edward Said’s Orientalism, I have used such an expression because it is reminiscent of Japan’s contemporary foreign policy. The east was heavily stereotyped and yet Japan not only played up to those stereotypes but used it as a mechanism to attract and divert western attention.
[7] Nitobe Inazo ‘Bushido, the soul of Japan’, Kodansha: 2012, p. 34
[8] Yotoku Matsuoka Speech to the League of Nations, Geneva, 6th December 1932
<Https://archive.org/stream/Japanscaseinsino00leag/Japanscaseinsino00leag_djvu.txt>
[9] Jessamyn Abel, ‘The International Minimum: creativity and contradiction in Japan’s global engagement,1933-1964’, University of Hawai’I press: 2015, p.84
[10] John Gripentrog ‘Power and Culture: Japan’s Cultural Diplomacy in the United States, 1934-1940’ Pacific Historical review: 84, 2015, p.482

Esperanto: Constructions of transnational engagement

Esperanto was a language created to be an international and shared-medium that facilitated cross-cultural communication. It therefore ridded people of language-problems that were deemed to prevent ideas being easily understood and transmitted between different cultures.1 Having never encountered Esperanto prior to reading “A Language for Asia? Transnational Encounters in the Japanese Esperanto Movement, 1906-1928” by Ian Rapley, I found the reasons for its spread in Japan fascinating. From the readings I identified that a mix of pragmatism and optimism led to the popularity of Esperanto as it was practical as an international language to learn, whilst also being associated with notions of fairness and equality because  it was upheld that anyone could learn and speak Esperanto.2 Further to this, I will analyse why the Esperanto movement grew in Japan and what the key foundations that enabled the growth of the movement where.

Esperanto within Japan relied heavily on the Japana Esperantista Asocio (JEA) which allowed them to gather together students and speakers, whilst providing sets of texts to support them and the learning of the language.3  I believe from the readings that the philosophy of the language was an incredibly motivational factor, because it surged the popularity of the movement as it was seen to place language “at the heart of transnational engagement”4 I found this an interesting concept, that links with the idea of Wordism which later on promised the emancipation from the nation state, racial and ethical barriers.5 Because Esperanto as a movement shined light onto the intellectual underpinnings of internationalism and consequently how Japan began to link itself with the world.6

But how far can Esperanto be seen as an example of the desire for emancipation within Japan. I would argue that they can be closely linked, because the Esperanto movement was centred around an ideal of free and transnational associations across the world.7. The key aim of Esperanto was to make it so any learner can make direct use of his knowledge with people from any nationality, which opens up intellectual discussion and makes it easier to interact with other nationalities. Alongside this it was studied “by elites and nonelites alike in noninstitutional spaces” outside of state guidance.6. This reveals that the movement strived for uninhibited and transnational connections across persons of any nationality who could converse without barriers of language or ideology. As efforts to create a planned international language are a blatant example of prevailing work to create a global identity.

 

  1. Ian Rapley, A Language for Asia? Transnational Encounters in the Japanese Esperanto Movement, 1906-1928, (2016), p.75 []
  2. Ian Rapley, A Language for Asia? Transnational Encounters in the Japanese Esperanto Movement, 1906-1928, (2016), p.167 []
  3. Ian Rapley, A Language for Asia? Transnational Encounters in the Japanese Esperanto Movement, 1906-1928, (2016), p.176 []
  4. Ibid., p.168 []
  5. Sho Konishi, “Translingual World Order: Language without Culture in post-Russo-Japanese war Japan”, Journal of Asian Studies 72 (2013), p.93 []
  6. Ibid., p.92 [] []
  7. Ibid., p.93 []

Returning to the Past and Modernity in the Ideas of Wang Hui and Nishitani Keiji

Although Wang Hui (b. 1959) and Nishitani Keiji (1900-1990) wrote in different locations and schools of thought, similarities can be found in the ways they saw the world around them. They saw their surroundings in a state of decay, and wished to return to traditional ideas in order to solve their contemporary problems, with modernity playing a key antagonist role in both their ideas.

In The End of the Revolution: China and the Limits of Modernity, Wang saw a significant problem in the form of ‘depoliticization’, which he believed has acquired ‘worldwide predominance’ in today’s world.1 The main example he cited is the effect depoliticization has had on democracy. He argued that political parties were becoming less and less representative of their ideas and values under market conditions. These parties have become mere mechanisms of power, and now ‘the representative system of democracy exists now in name only’.2  Wang looked to Chinese history to find a solution to depoliticization. He argued that while the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has expressed regret over the Cultural Revolution, ‘it does not repudiate either the Chinese Revolution, socialist values, or Mao Zedong thought’.3  The effect of this, Wang continued, was that ‘the socialist tradition’ continued in China’s current government, and ‘functioned […] as an internal restraint on state reforms’ as well as allowing ‘workers, peasants, and other social collectivities some legitimate means to contest or negotiate the state’s corrupt or inegalitarian marketization procedures’.4

Wang saw this ‘socialist tradition’ as a way to counter depoliticization, because it provided ‘an opening for the development of a future politics […] to break the hold of a depoliticized political ideology after the end of the revolutionary era’. 4 In this way, Wang hoped to use China’s history and tradition of socialism to achieve a democracy that could translate well under China’s contemporary conditions.

The problem Nishitani saw in his world was not the lack of politics, as he illustrated in his essay ‘My Views on “Overcoming Modernity,” but the lack of a worldview. He believed that Japan stood in a spiritual vacuum, and required a worldview that would put Japan on its correct path. Nishitani began this discussion with an examination of a standpoint that he called ‘the religiosity of spiritual nothingness’.5 First, by ‘religiosity,’ he meant an idea that could transcend science in order to be authentic. Anything that transcended science was inherently subjective, and once ‘the standpoint of true subjectivity appear[ed] within us [..] [it] represent[ed] the one thing that cannot […] be objectified’.6  This leads us to the third part of the equation: ‘nothingness’. In using this word, Nishitani did not wish to indicate this standpoint was nothing but that it ‘signifie[d] that which cannot be objectively apprehended as “being”’.7  Overall, this ‘religiosity of spiritual nothingness’ was something that Nishitani believed Japanese people had within them, and was ‘the deepest aspect of Japanese spirit’, and rooted in Japan’s history and ‘particular circumstances’.8

Nishitani related this religiosity back to his fear of the Japanese lack of worldview. He believed that once this religiosity could permeate the people’s sense of ethics, it would form a kind of moral energy that would be the backbone of the Japanese nation and consequently, a new worldview. This is what Nishitani meant when he asserted that ‘[t]here is something at the deepest roots of Japan’s traditional spirit that can provide a course of resolution to these present world problems’.4 Once this worldview is formed, Japan would be well on its way towards ‘its mission’ of ‘founding a new world order and constructing Greater East Asia’.4

Evidently, both Wang and Nishitani looked to tradition and the past in order to find a solution to the world’s current problems. While Nishitani looked inwards, Wang posited a problem and a solution external to the self. However, both Nishitani and Wang were clear on painting modernity as an antagonist. Wang believed that modernity, and its associated Western trends of neoliberalism and globalization, were the reason why depoliticization occurred. Nishitani also drew parallels between what is thought of as modernity and the West, writing: ‘In general, what is called ‘modern’ means European’.9 He criticized this modernity as being ‘divided’ and its religiosity as not transcendent enough – too ‘secularized’ – to form an authentic worldview.10 Nishitani saw Western modernity as the reason why the West’s worldview had become fragmented. Overall, both Wang and Nishitani viewed modernity as a significant factor as to why these problems existed and persisted, choosing to look towards the past in order to better face their future.

 

  1. Hui Wang,  The End of the Revolution: China and the Limits of Modernity (London, 2011), p. 13. []
  2. Ibid, xxx []
  3. Ibid, 18. []
  4. Ibid. [] [] [] []
  5. Keiji Nishitani, ‘‘My Views on “Overcoming Modernity”’, in Overcoming Modernity: Cultural Identity in Wartime Japan (New York, 2008), p. 59. []
  6. Ibid, 54-55. []
  7. Ibid, 55. []
  8. Ibid, 59. []
  9. Ibid, 51. []
  10. Ibid, 54. []

The Controversy Surrounding the Yasukuni Shrine – Contesting Historical Memory

Yasukuni Shrine is a Japanese Shinto Shrine created for the war dead who served the Emperor of Japan during wars from 1867 until 1951. It was built in 1869 under the orders of Emperor Meiji. According to Shinto belief it houses the actual souls of the dead as Kami which are spirits or ‘holy powers’ that are venerated within the religion of Shinto.1 Furthermore within Shinto there is a belief that the process of enshrinement is permanent and therefore irreversible as a soul cannot be removed from the shine once placed there.2 are various controversies surrounding the Yasukuni Shrine, that I wanted to analyse to understand further the tradition of Shinto and how in this case it has been brought into debates concerning Japanese historical memory.  I will analyse some of the key issues with the Yasunkuni Shrine, and why internationally there has been such a widespread reaction as shown by the vast amount of discourse on the shrine alone.

One of the most notable controversies is the issue of some of the war dead that have been enshrines at the Yasukuni Shrine, as some of these individuals have since been found guilty of war criminals by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East.3  This has resulted in the shrine being viewed as nationalist, explaining the outrage when the shrine is visited by politicians.  The controversial nature of the shrine is complex, as it has become an internationally recognised subject.  For instance, China and South Korea who suffered war crimes under the Japanese have called the Yasukuni Shrine a demonstration of historical negationism and an unremorseful approach to their crimes during World War Two.4 The shrine was merely a domestic concern until the 1970’s when it “increasingly took on an international dimension” as issues such as citizens of South Korea and Taiwan objecting to the post-war enshrinement of their family members have arisen.5 In contrast many supporters of the Shrine have voiced that it is a Japanese affair and that the government and even Japanese citizens have a  patriotic duty that should not be ignored to participate in the care of the military war dead.6

Criticisms of the shrine have highlights two key issues: firstly, the enshrinement of spirits of executed war criminals; and secondly the biased and patriotic narrative of the Second World War that is presented within the Yūshūkan war museum at the site of the Yasukuni Shrine.7) There is an interesting debate to be had here, about entitlement and whether it is “the right of any nation to commemorate and write its past as it sees fit”.8 As nations other than Japan have forged similar tradional narratives in order to commemorate those who died in the war. These narratives have been rendered into public memory and ensure they are not forgotten as regularly they are the entity of a national consensus that symbolises specific national virtues.9 But the issue with the Yakusuni narrative is that it is widely contested within Japan and internationally by historians who criticize the propagandist elements of the exhibitions in the Yūshūkan war museum. Ian Buruma shared this view by asserting during the 1990’s that the exhibitions were “straight out wartime propaganda” by removing from public memory suggestions of suffering and upholding a distinctly nationalistic view.10

However, the issues surrounding the shrine cannot be simplified to whether the shrine should exist or not, as the controversies encompass complex matters on an international scale that stretch beyond the shrine itself.11  These issues are chiefly focused on public memory and how to judge the correct process of commemoration for the war dead. The politics of representation therefore is present within this issue, as the Yasukuni Shrine has resulted in a “cult of the war dead” and questions of whether countries should be free to honour their war dead as they see fit without condemnation.12

Consequently, as it is such a multifaceted and widely debated topic my analysis of the controversy of the Yasukuni Shrine has not touched on all of the issues that are presented by this example of the battle between historical memories. Commemorative politics continues to be debated with regards to the shrine and its depiction of World War Two within its war museum, especially as the relationship between social memory and the values that mould its purpose are continually realigning.13 It is interesting to consider why the Yasukuni Shrine has inspired such widespread international attention, and the Yasukuni Shrine is a useful example that reveals a lot about Japanese historical memory and the tensions associated with its approach to the past.

 

 

  1. Tamura, Yoshiro, Japanese Buddhism: A Cultural History, (2000,Tokyo) p.40 []
  2. Mark Mullins, “How Yasukuni Shrine Survived the Occupation: A Critical Examination of Popular Claims”, Monumenta Nipponica 65 (2010), p. 92 []
  3. Ibid., p.92 []
  4. Ibid., p.94 []
  5. Ibid., p. 90 []
  6. Ibid., p.90 []
  7. Shaun O’Dwyer, “The Yasukuni Shrine and the Competing Patriotic Pasts of East Asia”, History and Memory 22 (2010), p.147 []
  8. Shaun O’Dwyer, “The Yasukuni Shrine and the Competing Patriotic Pasts of East Asia”, History and Memory 22 (2010), p.147 []
  9. Ibid., p.148 []
  10. Ian Buruma, The Wages of Guilt, (London, 1994), p.223 []
  11. John Nelson, “Social Memory as Ritual Practice: Commemorating Spirits of the Military Dead at Yasukuni Shinto Shrine”, The Journal of Asian Studies 62 (2003), p.447 []
  12. Ibid., p.445 []
  13. Ibid., p.464 []

Killer Words: Language in the Taiping Movement

The Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864) was a bloody period of conflict in Chinese history, with one man – Hong Xiuquan – at the center of this conflict. Hong Xiuquan was the leader of the Taipings and the one who lead his followers to combat the Emperor and his forces, eventually dying for all his efforts. Yet, the impact of the Taiping’s remains, not in any material force but in the written words of the Taipings culture. What I hope to imprint upon readers is the magnitude of the written works of the Taipings and how they conflicted with Chinese Imperial thought during the mid-1800s.  

However, before the focus can be put on the Taipings, one must first focus on the first Chinese printed bibles and Christian based manuscripts. These were the translations provided by Reverend Karl Gutzlaff, as well as the writings of China’s first evangelists, Liang Afa1. The problem that arose because of these translations and writings is because of the various wording and translations done, which had a greater impact on the culture of China as a whole.  

Afa’s works were mostly influential in that they brought the first teachings of Christianity to a large amount of people in China. His work – Good Words to Admonish the Age – was the very work that introduced Hong Xiuquan to the ideas of Christianity2. Said book was a loose collection of Bible passages – jumping from the beginning in Genesis to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount – while composed in a way to emphasize the Protestant views of individual salvation, instead of salvation of a people or nation3. That being said, Good Words does not delve into the realms of politics, society, culture, and the role that religion plays in them, and as such suffered amongst the Chinese for this3. 

Reverend Gutzlaff’s Bible translation held two influential markings for Chinese culture: One was its narrative structure; and the other was the meaning behind the characters4. When Gutzlaff translated the Bible into Chinese, he did so in way that told a story. A story of a deity who punished or destroyed evil nations, while rewarding his chosen nations – the good nations5. This was also balanced by said deity being a patron of art, music, food, marriage, and wellbeing – all aspects critical to Chinese culture4. Gutzlaff’s Bible also provided some historical basis, with events happening to specific people of a specific group and nationality4. In short, Gutzlaff’s Bible allowed for a historical narrative while also imparting the importance of culture, religion, society, and politics to a people who lacked this from Afa’s works5, all of which gave Hong Xiuquan much of the basis for the Taiping religion5This is not the full extent of their works though. 

Reverend Gutzltaff’s translations inspired many other translations, all of which contributed to the rise of the Taiping religion and uprising4. The main show of “blasphemy” – as seen by the Chinese imperial forces – was for the name of God that the Taiping’s used: Shangdi or Sovereign on High6. This name is usually reserved for the Emperor and first appeared in Afa’s Good Works, though the debate in what to call God went on for some time7. Nonetheless, applying the characters of the name Shangdi was controversy in Chinese culture, as the Emperor was a holy figure with the mandate from heaven6 and a key aspect of the Chinese Imperial Culture. As such, it was blasphemous to consider anyone – or anything – as equal to or greater than the Emperor. Hong Xiuquan took this a step further, applying the name of Huang Shangdi (Supreme Sovereign on High) to god, yet another character from the imperial title6. This was a direct attack on the Chinese imperial family as well as the culture and society that it promoted – which was a key goal of the Taiping movement8. 

That was simply the start of Hong Xiuquan’s blasphemy. In the Taiping work The Principles of the Heavenly Nature Chinese culture and history is also made an example of – with Taoism in the Ch’in Dynasty (c. 221-206) and Buddhism in the Han Dynasty (c. 206-220) being made into examples of times when “demons infiltrated the hearts of man”9. The implications here is that the evils of non-Christian – more specifically non-Protestant – based religions have been infecting China for centuries, and now is the time to fight back. With words like this, and more, the Taipings were able to gather a large amount of traction in their rebellion against the Imperial Forces.  

In conclusion, the words of the Taipings – such as the chosen names of God – had numerous cultural and societal problems, all of which contributed to the Taiping Rebellion.  

 

 

  1. Reilly, Thomas H., The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom: Rebellion and the Blasphemy of Empire (University of Washington Press,2014) p.78   []
  2. Reilly, Thomas H., Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, p.64 []
  3. Ibid, p.64 [] []
  4. Ibid, p.79 [] [] [] []
  5. Ibid, pp.78-79 [] [] []
  6. Ibid, p.92 [] [] []
  7. Ibid, pp.80-91 []
  8. Ibid, p.93 []
  9. de Barry, Theodore, Chan, Wing-tsit, Tan, Chester, Sources of Chinese Tradition Vol. II (New York and London, 1960), p.36  []

The establishment of State Shinto – The link of nationalism and religion

In the chapter ‘Defining Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy’ in the book Moulding the Japanese Minds: The State in Everyday Life by Sheldon Garon I recognised certain themes alongside the rise of State Shinto and the religious control that accompanied this movement. There were references to absolutism and the adoption of religious tradition for new ideological uses. I wanted to analyse whether State Shinto was a political religion that drew on religious tradition in order to uphold the concept of the Emperor as sanctified. State Shinto can be described as the ideological use by Imperial Japan of the traditions of Shinto in order to emphasise the central role of the Emperor in both religious and political affairs.1 This ideology was forged during the Meji Era from 1868 to 1912 after governments created a brand-new orthodoxy that centred on the Emperor as sacrosanct who should be worshiped as a revered figure and leader.2 This bound together ritual and also government bureaucracy. Therefore, it can be identified that State Shinto became an absolute doctrine, as it blended together patriotism and values of social harmony. I am going to analyse how State Shinto led to reduced religious freedom but also a widespread adoption of religious practices as political instruments.3

“In a nation like Japan, where the Emperor system was the source of all values, any true religion inevitably came into conflict with the emperor system”4

It can be argued firstly that State Shinto became a political ideology and was successful by establishing Shinto practice as a patriotic honourable tradition. Through the analysis of different historical discourse one can recognise how State Shinto utilised pre-existing traditions of shrine worship, whilst endorsing the cult of the emperor. This is illustrated by how the Meji Constitution of 1889 positioned “sovereignty in the hands of a mythic imperial house”.4 This effort to create a religion centred around the emperor did succeed, as Sheldon Garen writes in his book that a new doctrinal absolutism was formed, for instance the use of shrines as political instruments is highlighted as enabling propagation of the system of rites and rituals.5 These methods can be identified as quasi-religious, because in order to mobilise popular support the state used traditional religious formats to inspire devotion.

There was also a movement to restrict religious practice in order to bring different sects and religions under the control of the Emperor. This took place during a religious revival after World War One when new religions sprung up outside of the main thirteen established Shinto sects.6 These sects “resembled the charismatic mass sects fo the Mid-Nineteenth Century”, and therefore greatly concerned the officials of the Imperial State because they worshiped deities that had not been officially endorsed and were free from bureaucratic control. This is demonstrated by the strong reaction against the rise of these new sects of Shinto, as they were regarded as ‘evil cults’ that needed to be eradicated. For example, the Governments Religions Bill in 1927 was created to as  an intrusive attempt to gain more control over religious teachings and conduct by offering tax exemptions and some protections in exchange for state intervention.7

Consequently, it can be argued that there is a link between Shinto and the concept of a political religion, as alongside the emphasis of the Emperor at the centre of Shinto religion it became the official doctrine that since the Japanese were descended from the Gods, they were superior to all other existing races. As the Emperor was given a newfound political status, political, military, social and religious institutions positioned themselves around the Emperor, who became a revered icon and a symbol of the spirit of Japan. State Shinto therefore became similar to that of a national cult whereby the Japanese government mobilised Shinto thought and practice as a pillar of “national integration”.8

  1. Earhart Byron, Religion in the Japanese Experience: Sources and Interpretations, (California, 1974), p.50 []
  2. Sheldon, Garon, Moulding the Japanese Minds: The State in Everyday Life, (Princeton, 1997), p.61 []
  3. Sheldon, Garon, Moulding the Japanese Minds: The State in Everyday Life, (Princeton, 1997), p.67 []
  4. Ibid., p.61 [] []
  5. Ibid., p.65 []
  6. Ibid., p273 []
  7. Ibid., p.283 []
  8. Susumu Shimazono, “State Shinto and the Religious Structure of Modern Japan”, Journal of the American Academy of Religion 73, (2005), pp.1078 []