Rethinking the World in East Asia 1850s-1990s

Through his efforts to re-interpret the study of Confucius, Robert C. Neville has become one of the most important philosophers and theologians in recent memory. ‘Boston Confucianism’ is the slightly tongue-in-cheek moniker Neville uses for his branch of the Confucian discourse, first formulated in New England in the late 20th century.  It’s also the title of his seminal work on the subject, which advocates a more serious examination of Confucian teachings in a Western context. To Neville, Confucianism belongs not within academic cloisters, condemned to sinological scholarship, but in the schoolrooms and homes of modern America, where it can complement existing traditions to form a more inclusive global religion.

Neville’s attempts to bridge the divide between East and West are not unlike the efforts of early Christian missionaries in China, who used religion as a means to unite the two disparate cultures. In particular, I feel similarities can be drawn between Neville and Samuel W. Williams, a pioneering sinologist active during the middle 19th century. Born in Utica, New York in 1812, Williams arrived in China during a time of great philosophical debate and political upheaval. At the time, he was one of only two missionaries in the entire country. Williams’ sympathy toward locals distinguished him from many Western colleagues – he felt the opium trade was unjust and was poisoning Chinese civilization (a belief common among nascent Chinese political and faith traditions). Published in the wake of the First Opium War, The Middle Kingdom was Williams’ finest work and was considered the authoritative survey of Chinese civilization for many years. For most intellectuals in the West, The Middle Kingdom was their first introduction to the Confucian precepts Neville would later try to revive.

The Middle Kingdom describes the leading features of Confucianism as “subordination to superiors and kind upright dealing with our fellow-men”, which resembles the ‘humanness’ inherent in Neville’s concept of ren. Williams also clarifies that Confucianism is “destitute to all reference of an unseen power… (its followers) look only to this world for their sanctions”¹. In distinguishing Confucian thought from religious doctrine, Williams allows other scholars (including Neville) to bring it into the philosophical mainstream. Williams understood the centrality of Confucianism to Chinese life, and considered its eminent practicality to exceed the contributions of any Western philosopher.

Much like Neville, Williams had become something of a public intellectual. He was a prolific lecturer in the United States, and had mastered a good bit of the Chinese language (he would later become the first professor of Chinese at any American university). Williams even helped to author one of the earliest English-Chinese dictionaries. This background in linguistics drew him to primary sources, especially the ‘Four Books and Five Classics’ that form the core of Confucian thought. His admiration was boundless – Williams felt the Confucian texts exerted an “incomparable influence… which no book, besides the Bible, can claim.”² Neville shares this appreciation for classical scholarship, which forms a core element of any transported philosophical or religious culture. Beyond primary and secondary scriptures, Neville also highlights the ‘interpretive context’ behind Confucianism, which Williams (as a scholar of language and history) would have well understood.

Both scholars share a particular fascination with the concept of li, described by Neville as ‘ritual propriety’. Boston Confucianism calls for a revival of ritual propriety, or the “focus (of) ethical life on the development of social forms and styles that properly humanize people”.³ Neville echoed the Confucian understanding that people could not cooperate, nor be properly governed, without elaborate learned ways of behaving within a culture. Williams focused especially on the The Book of Rites (one of the five classics), which he knew to be critical for the healthy functioning of Chinese society. He wrote that “the religion of the state is founded upon it, and children are early instructed in all the details it contains… (the book is) singular in its object and scope among all the bequests of antiquity”.⁴

Williams had traveled to China to convince its people to accept Christ, but during his stay he would come to preach to a new audience: Americans. His work did invaluable service in extolling the “richness, the complexity, the flaws… the overall worthiness of Chinese civilization” to a nation largely ignorant of its finer points⁵. While recognizing the peculiarities of China’s civilization, Williams felt they masked a deeper similarity between China and then West – an “innate sameness of the peoples of the earth”⁶. Neville echoes the same sentiment when he writes that the first meaning of Boston Confucianism is “bringing the Confucian tradition into play with the other great civilized traditions in the creation of a world religion”⁷ . The higher purpose behind Boston Confucianism – the application of Confucian thought beyond an East Asian ethnic context – certainly exceeds Williams’ passive observation. Nonetheless, both men understood that Confucianism was the best bridge between the disparate cultures of East and West. Close study of the Confucian tradition deserves to be more than an academic curiosity – it has the potential to be the cornerstone in the construction of a more inclusive world.

 

1. Samuel Wells Williams, The Middle Kingdom (London: Wiley & Putnam, 1848), 530, https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=yale.39002008743776&view=1up&seq=638. [↩]
2. Ibid, 531. [↩]
3. Robert Neville, Boston Confucianism: Portable Tradition in the Late-Modern World (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000), 7. [↩]
4. Williams, The Middle Kingdom, 510. [↩]
5. John Rogers Haddad, The Romance of Chine: Excursions to China in US Culture, 1776 to 1876 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007, 263. [↩]
6. Ibid, 308. [↩]
7. Neville, Boston Confucianism 1. [↩]

Perhaps the most enduring legacy of Kotoku Shusui, as Robert Tierney stresses in his work Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kotoku Shusui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement, was his prominent leading role in the strife against Japanese imperialism at the start of the twentieth century. Kotoku’s actions sparked widespread interest in his personality as someone who openly resisted the absolutism of the Meiji state. Kotoku represented a radical journalist and socialist whose intellectual and political efforts in the anti-imperialist movement have left him to be widely regarded as a prolific forerunner to the modern pacifist movement in Japan.

Tierney seeks to examine Kotoku’s impact on the movement by dissecting the work which his own piece is named after, Imperialism: Monster of the Twentieth Century (1901). What is most interesting about Kotoku’s work is that it preceded both Hobson’s study on Imperialism and Lenin’s 1916 work, Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism. Tierney wants to emphasise the importance of Kotoku Shusui and his 1901 publication given that these later approaches do not fit well with the case of Japan’s early imperialism (p.57). Such theories of economic causation, from Tierney’s perspective, do not seem as relevant to the Japanese case given that Japan at the time was still borrowing significant funds from England and the United States in order to finance the nation’s own industrialisation. Tierney takes a unique stance in his work, focussing more on the intellectual contribution of Kotoku to the anti-imperialist movement instead of other anarchist efforts.

Tierney dissects the preface of Kotoku’s Imperialism and locates the Japanese journalist’s definitive observation on the state of Japanese imperialism. Tierney extracts the quote, “Ever since the great victory in the Sino-Japanese War, Japanese from all walks of life burn with fever to join the race, like a horse suddenly freed from his yoke” (p.38). Critics of Kotoku’s work have noted his overbearing emphasis on ideals such as patriotism and militarism, forces that may only be described as mere symptoms of imperialism. This idea does come across somewhat when looking at the above quotation. Most Marxist historians have tended to reject Kotoku’s argument based on his explicit omission of the economic causes behind Japanese imperialism. Okochi Kazuo has pointed out on reflection that Kotoku’s failure to identify imperialism as the most recent stage of capitalism reflects merely the “limitations of the time in which he lived” (p.8).

Additionally, Tierney emphasises the role of Kotoku in the anti-imperialist movement by pulling up his work for the Heimin newspaper, and its own significance. Kotoku founded this socialist paper in 1903, and played a key role in pushing it to become one of Tokyo’s leading publications advocating the growth of socialist ideas just a year after it was founded. The Heimin newspaper certainly stood out as a representative banner for the anti-war movement in Japan in Tierney’s eyes. What is also striking about the significance of the newspaper is the ability it granted Kotoku to establish direct links with Chinese and other Asian revolutionaries that were stationed in and around Tokyo; the most notable of these being Sun Yat-Sen. If there was one idea that Heimin newspaper served to reiterate, it was that such a “bulletin board for sharing ideas” offered a clear illustration of how journalism could be utilised as a means of fostering communities of insurrection (p.109).

One of the primary case studies that Tierney uses in order to examine Kotoku’s condemnation of Japanese imperialism is the Boxer Rebellion of 1900. The Boxer Rebellion was arguably the catalyst that explains Kotoku’s adoption of such an anti-imperialist stance, one that differed greatly from his earlier anti-Western nationalist perspective (p.86). This conflict represented a truly imperialist war in from Kotoku’s point of view. Japan’s attack on its semi-colonised neighbour China, a nation that was equated with lawlessness given the uprising, was seen therefore as a means of upholding civilisation through the use of a heavy contingent of troops (pp.86-7). As Tierney evaluates, Kotoku shunned this European style of procedure, one that seemed only to be motivated by military expansion and profit. Japan would go on after the rebellion to enter into an agreement with Great Britain in which both sides recognised mutual interests in China and provide for joint support in the event of Russian aggression. This western style of diplomacy that Japan had entered into only seemed to validate the militarist arguments put forward in Kotoku’s Imperialism.

The key question that Tierney summarises his work with is whether Kotoku’s Imperialism is still relevant, and if so, to what extent? The term relevant may be better replaced with applicable here, as Tierney himself even highlights earlier on in his piece that Kotoku’s own intellectual efforts in the anti-imperialist movement have tended to be replaced in terms of historical memory by later anti-imperial movements (p.12). Hence, in terms of modern applicability, we arrive at numerous instances whereby we can recognise patterns between modern politics and the views of Kotoku Shusui. Tierney’s primary example of this is President Reagan’s use of the term “evil empire” as a means of solely insulting the Soviet Union in  the 1980s (p.211). American politicians and journalists nowadays no longer hesitate in defining the United States as an empire, and indeed one that extols its “benevolent hegemony” (p.212). This summary point relates to a large extent back to the definitions that their East Asian counterparts offered  much in the same way as Kotoku at the start of the twentieth century.

Yan frequently espouses the peaceful benefits of a cosmopolitanist international world order in his essay “How to Prevent Warfare and Establish the Foundation of World Unity.” He defines cosmopolitanism as “one world in which the interest of mankind is coherent and homogeneous.” (8) It is a political theory that promotes the formation of peaceful relations between states, be it based on economic, political or social grounds. In understanding cosmopolitanism within the context of international relations, the democratic peace theory provides an interesting complement to cosmopolitanism theories of cooperation and peace. The democratic peace theory is a tenet of liberal political theory that posits that democracy are highly unlikely to go to war with each other due to their shared values and the domestic consequences for war within a liberal society.

At the center of both the democratic peace theory and Yan’s cosmopolitanism is the idea of shared values preventing conflict between two or more nation-states. Yan, throughout his work, emphasises the need for shared values and interests that promote the betterment of mankind. Many of his beliefs as such are also reflected in the liberal political theory that the democratic peace theory stems from. By creating an international society that is reliant on cooperation and shared values and interests, the need for conflict should, as per both Yan and liberal IR scholars, be non-existent.

However, where this two political theories diverge is on the nature of who should dictate the creation of such shared values. While both are based in the creation and maintenance of democracy, Yan supports the creation of a ruling overseer that will create meritocratic democracy, rather than one based upon popular elections. Liberal political theory, while it does support the creation of international organizations, such as the United Nations, also heavily supports state’s rights to sovereignty and ability to shape their political future. There is an emphasis on the success of liberal democracy in maintaining more successful, peaceful states, but there is no hierarchy within the international order, unlike Yan’s theory. Whereas Yan’s political theories towards peacebuilding are built upon the creation of a tiered international system with the creation of shared values, the democratic peace theory, and by extension, liberalism, rely on the existing shared democratic values as a means of preventing conflict.      

Owen, John M. (Autumn 1994). “Give Democratic Peace a Chance? How Liberalism Produces Democratic Peace”. International Security. 19 (2): 87–125.

Yan Xisan, How To Prevent Warfare and Establish the Foundation of World Peace, pamphlet, pp 1-41.

In Zen at War Brian Victoria attacks the post-war revisionist version of the role of Religion in modern Japan by examining the relationship between Zen and War in the modern period, with particular reference to Zen’s endorsement of Japanese warfare and the Japanese Imperial project. Although at times problematic, its role in exposing the intellectual dishonesty of Japanese Buddhists and their collusion with the Japanese War effort is significant, as Victoria remarks ‘the book you are about to read is simply not a book about religious history but also one that has made history’[1]. However, there are a number of issues within Victoria’s work that could lead to a misunderstanding of the extent to which Zen was responsible for Japanese atrocities during the war. As Victoria overtly focuses on the Buddhist religious justifications for the Japanese imperial vision he runs the risk of inducing readers into believing that the explanations for the political atrocities of the Japanese can be found purely within their religious doctrines. He also risks inducing readers into believing that only Buddhism should be held responsible for its involvement in the Japanese war effort. Although Victoria mentions shinto and confucianism within his works he does not explore this fully.

In reality state Shinto, played an equally damning role in the Japanese war effort and imperial project through its prominence within the Kominka movement, repressing traditional religions within Taiwan and Korea by replacing shrines and temples[2]. The Kominka movement and Shinto thus permeated colonies through the importance of youth groups in which youths were expected to perform the Misogi[3]. The State Shinto saw the religion utilised as ‘a major force for mobilizing imperial loyalties on behalf of nation building’[4]. Although State Shinto was technically ended with the end of World war II its importance in the Imperial project of Japan should not be understated.

Victoria’s interpretative strategy thus runs the risk that readers will ignore the normality of Imperialist violence within the development of the Japanese Modern state irrespective of the involvement of Buddhism and the involvement of other religions including Shinto. Although Victoria’s work could largely be considered a polemical attack on Buddhist denial rather than one with a work with historical intentions; there is still a possibility that readers will not consider the broader participation of religions in the imperial project alongside Buddhism.

[1] Brian Victoria, Zen at War, (2^nd Edition) (Oxford, 2006), pxi.

[2] Jo-Ying Chu, ‘Japan’s colonial policies – from national assimilation to the Kominka Movement: a comparative study of primary education in Taiwan and Korea (1937–1945)’ in International Jounral of Historical Education, Vol, 53, 2017, 4.

[3] Sayaka, Chatani, ‘Between “Rural Youth” and Empire: Social and Emotional Dynamics of Youth Mobilization in the Countryside of Colonial Taiwan under Japan’s Total War’ in The American Historical Review, Volume 122, Issue 2, 1 April 2017, p381.

[4] Wilbur M. Fridell, “A Fresh Look at State Shintō”, Journal of the American Academy of Religion 44.3 (1976), p548.

 

Pan-Asianism is most frequently defined as a politiocultural movement to unite the countries of Asia in opposition of western influences. Author Eri Hotta outlines three strands of pan-Asianism in Japan in the 1930s: firstly, it emphasized Asian commonalities in the philosophical context of Asian civilization, particularly in China and India, secondly, they sought to create alliances, more narrowly focused to East Asian, and finally, it established Japan as the “Asian alliance leader” in a fight to save the rest of Asia from the West. While these tenants are not significant deviations from other pan-nationalist movements, pan-Asianism is unique in two ways: the conception of Asia as a geographical and cultural entity and the desire to rid Asia of Western imperialism. Pan-Asianist’s definition of Asia is generally limited to South and East Asia, primarily China, Japan, Korea and India. Japan was amongst the first of the Asian nations to engage with pan-Asianism, which to some extent is resultative of their early interaction with the Western powers. Unlike other Asian countries, Japan was never colonized or under imperial rule by a western country but rather was able to establish diplomatic and economic ties with the United States and Western Europe. This allowed Japan to leverage a position amongst the negotiators at the end of the First World War, and also marked Japan as the most powerful, independent Asian country in the inter-war period.

In contrast to the rise of Japanese pan-Asianism’s rise in the 1930s, pan-Germanism had existed long before the World Wars. It arose in the mid-nineteenth century as the question of German unification shaped central Europe’s geopolitical climate. In essence, pan-Germanism sought to unite all Germanic and German-speaking populations; this included large areas in central Europe, including parts of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where there were large ethnic German populations. Unlike pan-Asianism, which is based upon a rejection of imperialism and is largely geographical, pan-Germanism is largely ethnolinguistically based. It was through a pan-Germanist, nationalist policy that the German Empire was formed from the German States in the second half of the nineteenth century, despite many non-ethnic Germans being included in the population of the German Empire.

Both of these pan-nationalist movements underwent a radicalization in the inter-war period. In Japan, pan-Asianism became synonymous with a desire for the creation of a Japanese empire in Asia. In Germany and Central Europe, pan-Germanism became closely connected to the ethno-nationalist beliefs of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party.  In both states, a sense of ethnic or cultural superiority was felt and both states felt as if they should have greater status or power within the international community. During the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, the Japanese delegation strongly opposed the creation of the League of Nations as they believed that it was merely a continuation of the status quo, in that it promoted Western Europe and the United States above all else. The Japanese delegation, and by extension, Japan as a whole, felt as if Japan was not given the proper respect that it’s position in the international community afforded it. This mentality contributed significantly to the rise of pan-Asianism in the Japanese context of resisting Western imperialism and creating a Japanese empire.  

Pan-Germanism underwent a similar revival in a similar time period. Just as pan-Asianism resurged in Japan as a means to gain power in the region, pan-Germanism provided a reason for German expansion in Europe. The reclamation of ethnic German territories and population formed the backbone of German expansion in Austria and other German-speaking regions. In a similar manner, pan-Asianism was used to justify the Japanese invasion into China in 1937. 1937 proves to be a useful comparison for these two strands of pan-nationalism as in 1937 Japan invaded China in the name of pan-Asian values and in the same year, Nazi Germany began to seriously pursue unification with Austria, resulting in the Anschluss in 1938. Unlike the invasion of China in 1937, the Anschluss was not a direct military conflict, but rather was the result of a popular referendum. To a significant portion of the Austrian population, the Anschluss was the culmination of a long-standing desire to create one German state.

Pan-Germanism, unlike pan-Asianism, had a more universal element to it as it centered on the German language where pan-Asianism was based around a vague sense of geographical location and some degree of shared culture, but not language. However, both of these movements morphed into the basis for empire building in Europe and Asia.  

Works Cited.

Hotta, Eri, Pan-Asianism and Japan’s War 1931-1945. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007.

Redlich, Joseph, “German Austria and Nazi Germany”, Foreign Affairs 15, no. 1 (1936), pp. 180-181.

“The Situation of Germany” The New York Times. 1 July 1866.

Ch’iu Chin is widely acknowledged as one of China’s first feminist figures and has been recognised universally for her significant contributions to the reform movement and her heroic inspiration behind the 1911 Revolution.¹ Her character, however, is much more convoluted than would appear at first glance. Ch’iu efforts in the lead up to the revolution granted her great prestige as a heroine of the movement, nevertheless, we need to address how much of an exceptional individual she was, and whether or not her case spoke for the majority of those who sought reform during the early twentieth century in China.

Mary Rankin’s piece on Ch’iu Chin, entitled “The emergence of women at the end of the Ch’ing: The case of Ch’iu Chin”, focuses predominantly on the ways in which Ch’iu set about challenging the traditionally ingrained roles of women in society¹. Ch’iu advocated education to other women at the time, imploring them to learn and seek other professions outside the home. This provoked the a growth in mentions of “woman scholars” (nü-shih) across various newspapers at the time (p.45). The association of education with the reform movement was very significant. It was becoming more and more clear that girls’ education was being conceived as a modern education in an environment of expanding opportunities.

Rankin emphasises how the writings of Ch’iu represented an intense rejection of the established imperialist order in China (p.57). Ch’iu’s writings tended to unite the key themes of revolution, nationalism, and feminism in which she offers “passionate harangues on the evils of women’s life” that are set against “alarmed descriptions of foreign encroachment and government corruption” (p.58). Ch’iu grew up with a strong nationalist concern for the future of her nation. This perspective heightened further as she came into contact with other prominent revolutionaries like Sun Yat-Sen. One of the key messages that Rankin seeks to promote in this work is how Ch’iu recognised that social equality was not likely to be achieved without major reform and structural change to the nation. The eventual liberation of women would therefore result from revolution, to which Ch’iu devoted her greatest efforts.

Ch’iu’s personality is one that certainly requires discussion. In her youth she was heavily exposed the a way of life that saw her study, ride horses, and even wield swords which clearly puts her in her own unique category, and not the most stereotypical representative of the reform movement. Furthermore, Ch’iu even came into contact with explosives and weaponry during her time fighting for the revolution. This contributed greatly to her own heroic fighter status and perhaps gave  her recognition in other East Asian nations like Japan who offered her integration into a new society. Nonetheless, the peculiarities surrounding Ch’iu’s character only seem to accentuate the uniqueness of her example. This is not necessarily something that Rankin alludes to either. Ch’iu’s involvement in the reform movement highlights somewhat a trend of greater social inclusion for women in Rankin’s eyes, yet she does not address just how much of an enigma Ch’iu may represent given her wealthy upbringing and repeated exposure in her youth to radical ideas.

Overall, we cannot escape the fact that Ch’iu Jin will be remembered in China for her inspired efforts in the fight for women’s rights in China. As a result of her martyrdom in 1907, she was endowed with such heroic qualities as bravery, uncompromising morality, and devotion to duty (p.62). By the time of the 1911 revolution, many women’s armies sought to romanticise and evoke her spirit in the conflict. Although the aspirations and achievements of Ch’iu were extraordinary, her career tends to illustrate the problems faced by her contemporaries and too the motives that inspired them (p.40). For Ch’iu, her own unique heroic status became a way to justify her own radical actions to herself, for others to follow the example of. This luxury was not something than other members of the reform movement in China had at their disposal

Jen Kucharski, “Qiu Jin: An exemplar of Chinese feminism, revolution and nationalism at the end of the Qing dynasty“, p.92

1. Mary Backus Rankin. “The Emergence of Women at the End of the Ch’ing: The Case of Ch’iu Chin,” in Roxane Witke Women in Chinese Society (1975) [↩]

Edmund Fung’s exploration of the politics of conservatism within Republican China certainly raises an interesting set of arguments surrounding the links that existed between nationalism and modernity during the period. In his work, The Intellectual Foundations of Chinese Modernity: Cultural and Political Thought in the Republican Era, Fung makes a clear point of stressing the way in which conservatism itself was committed to the cause of modernity, but also that advocates were wary that a continuity of national spirit ad prestige should be upheld at the same time. The cultural and political nexus in Chinese conservatism in the context of a landscape of modernity is one that Fung himself describes as hard to get to grips with, but appears generally assured of his argument that Chinese conservatives, in their pursuit of modernity and economic reform, were acting explicitly in the interests of the nation, but not necessarily those of the state (p.98).

This distinction between nation and state is one that Fung looks to reinforce through analysis of several non-Marxist historians in order to reinforce his secondary argument that Marxist theology was no where near as ubiquitous as previously envisaged during the period. Fung first consults the works of John Hutchinson in order to help define his potentially confusing term ‘politico-cultural nationalism’ that encompassed Chinese conservative motives during the Nanjing decade. Fung deduces that cultural conservatives during the period sought a “moral regeneration” of the nation itself and looked to make use of heritage to promote social, political and economic reforms (p.102). It must be clarified however that these Chinese conservatives were in favour of the state and the regime.

Cultural identity and heritage is two of the most crucial themes raised within Fung’s work. Fung examines how the Chinese nation needed to steer itself away from the cultural state of decay that it had devolved into. To achieve this, China was forced to save itself by its own efforts and not be so preoccupied with external influences that may save them. On this point, he brings in the ideas of Liang Shuming, notable of course for his explicit change of opinion with regard to the West and how China should no longer be required to emulate European or American democracy (p.107). Liang proposed a program of rural reconstruction for the Chinese nation to continue on its path towards modernity and cultural rejuvenation.¹

This would in turn allow democracy to flourish. The main takeaway from Fung’s interpretation of Liang is that he was not entirely anti-Western; he did recognise several promising features of western society such as individual rights and moderate socialism, but ultimately, for China to reestablish itself economically and culturally, the nation should not seek inspiration from abroad.

At the crux of Chinese conservatism during the period were concerns about imperialism, the future of the Chinese nation itself, and the threat of foreign invasion (p.126). A strong consensus for democratic reconstruction existed within the movement in order to stabilise the political realm of the Chinese nation, but also to promote scientific and technological skills in an increasingly modern age. This would help simultaneously to promote a sense of moral self-realisation among the people of their place in the modern world.²

The concept of the nation-state formed a central pillar of modernity within China at the time, and this certainly the basis in Fung’s eyes for mutual interest existing between conservatism and nationalism (p.126). This idea of constructing a nation-state was especially prevalent when connected with the idea of reviving China politically and economically.

Conservatives within Republican China certainly stood in a complex position with regard to the nation-state and the pre-existing regime. In which direction China should proceed given its current ongoing cultural and economic crisis was a hot topic of debate. As discussed, some held reservations about the western liberal style and preferred the idea of a more imposing type of leadership. Reform was indeed in the best interests of conservatives, and as Fung neatly summarises in his work, Conservatism in China “represented a morally innovative path to modernity” (p.127).

1. Chun-Ying Cheng and Nicholas Bunnin (eds.) Contemporary Chinese Philosophy, (Oxford, 2002), p.160 [↩]
2. William Theodore de Bary and Richard Lufrano (ed.), Sources of Chinese Tradition: From 1600 to the Twentieth Century, vol. 2, 2nd. edn., (New York, 2000), p.554 [↩]

In his article “China and the Esperanto Movement”, Gerald Chan raised the issue of language barriers within the United Nations; the Chinese solution to the language issue is to use Esperanto. Chinese Mandarin has long been one of the six official languages of the United Nations, which also include Arabic, English, French, Russian and Spanish. Chinese was established as an official language in 1946 during the beginning of the United Nations, as the Chinese state, then controlled by the Kuomintang (Nationalist) Party.

While the inclusion of six official languages may appear on the surface to create linguistic inclusivity, not all the official languages are used equally. English and French are used by the United Nations Secretariat and are used in day-to-day professional exchanges. Chinese is perhaps the least used of the six languages as while it has the largest population of speakers, it is primarily limited to China and Taiwan, which does not hold a seat. The lack of Mandarin used in the United Nations and more globally has at times been viewed by the Chinese as a weakness and is not on par with China’s international status. In other transnational organizations, Chinese delegations have experienced issues due to translation and language issues. However, Chinese is not an easily accessible language – it is challenging for non-native speakers to learn both to speak and to read and is not frequently taught outside of China. As such, a movement has risen within China for Esperanto to be made the official language of the United Nations.

This movement is arguably motivated in two ways, and both provide great benefit to China’s international status. Firstly, making Esperanto the official language of the United Nations would move the language primacy away from Europe and more importantly, the United States. Secondly, promoting Esperanto is in the interest of other developing countries who struggle for influence in the United Nations, and would thus further establish China as a leader for developing countries.

Renowned political scientist Joseph Nye has constructed the concept of “soft power”, which he defined as “A country may obtain the outcomes it wants in world politics because other countries – admiring its values, emulating its example, aspiring to its level of prosperity and openness – want to follow it.” Soft power has long been favored by the Chinese government in lieu of hard military power, which has been limited since the end of the Cold War to minor flare-ups in the South China Sea. It can be evidenced in China’s significant economic support in the Middle East and Africa primarily, where large sums of Chinese money have been invested in developing countries as a means of diplomacy. If Nye’s theory of soft power is applied to Chinese support of Esperanto, there is a clear benefit for the Chinese as many developing countries suffer from “language hegemony and discrimination” in the United Nations. China’s mere support of adopting Esperanto certainly indicates China’s further commitment to bringing developing countries further into the United Nations. As such, China’s desire to adopt Esperanto as the official language raises questions about if it is out of a genuine belief in Esperanto as a uniting language or rather another way in which China can gain support for its position in the international community and build closer ties.      

Chan, Gerald. “China and the Esperanto Movement.” The Australian Journal of Chinese Affairs, no. 15 (1986): 1–18.

Nye, Joseph, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York: Public Affairs, 2004).

The United Nations, Official Languages, <https://www.un.org/en/sections/about-un/official-languages/>.

The United Nations, Multilingualism, <https://www.un.org/sg/en/multilingualism/index.shtml>.  

“Though war destroys civilizations it is, at the same time, the mother of new civilizations” [Ishiwara Kanji, Sensoshi taikan, pp.51-2]

By 1933, with Japan in the wake of the Manchuria Crisis, there was no doubt that by this stage the nation was committed to a course of total expansion on the mainland and abroad. In the eyes of Japan’s military and naval commanders, progression in this fashion would see Japan inevitably clash with its surrounding nations, most notably the Soviet Union, as it fought to establish itself. While the Soviet Union seemed to constitute the most immediate barrier to Japan’s aims of territorial expansion in the eyes of the majority of the Japanese General Staff, Ishiwara Kanji begged to differ. Ishiwara believed Japan’s Final War would see the nation lock horns with the united States.

Within Mark Peattie’s Ishiwara Kanji and Japan’s confrontation with the West, Peattie offers a highly detailed biographical insight into the time spent by Ishiwara in the General Staff during the 1930s. With reference to this period, Peattie examines specifically Japan’s plan of implementing a National Defence program that, once implemented, would see Japan emerge as the “leader of East Asia” (p.202). Peattie’s threefold approach to the program is centred around assessing the military influence on the policy, the morality of Japan’s pan-Asian campaigns, and the rationality behind Japan’s foreign and domestic projects.

Ishiwara’s prominence in the Manchuria campaign contributed significantly to the inflation of his prestige in the immediate aftermath. One of the key questions that Peattie therefore looks to offer in his work is whether or not Ishiwara developed such influence in the General Staff due to the power behind his own ideas for the future of Japan, or instead if his success in Manchuria was merely the reason he gained fame? Peattie does consider that by 1933, Ishiwara’s plans for a National Defence State, coupled with the growth of an ideological Russo-phobia and Japanese spiritual faith in its military capabilities, a climate was in place that would form the “basic cleavage in the Imperial Army as to how to prepare the nation for war” (p.188). With regard to this point, Peattie emphasises how the combination of a militant Buddhism with prevailing European, and also Western, fears helped to produce Ishiwara’s concept of an inevitable ‘Final War’.

Most recent historiography from Clinton Godart has sought to refine Japanese motivations for a Final War with the West. Godart’s 2015 article, “Nichirenism, Utopianism, and Modernity: Rethinking Ishiwara Kanji’s East Asia League Movement”, focuses more on the Nichiren Buddhist aspects of Japanese militarisation during the 1930s and how these would ultimately  be put into practice to facilitate the realisation a specific Buddhist utopian vision for the future (pp.237-8). These “fascist Nichirenist” tendencies contrast somewhat with the vision previously put forward by Peattie who instead looks to centralise his focus more on Japan’s preparation for the Final War through pan-Asian ideals, specifically the unification of East Asia under Japanese oversight. Ishiwara’s proposition of an East Asian League would see China and Manchukuo come together with Japan, along with its colonies Korea and Taiwan, to form a self-sufficient bloc capable of confronting the “Soviet Union on the Asian continent and the Anglo-American nations at sea” (p.195).

By the mid-to-late 1930s, Japan and the United States were certainly “racing to complete their respective civilizations”, and as Peattie exemplifies, “their progress along rapidly converging paths would inevitably terminate in violent collision” (p.57). What can be taken from Peattie’s argument is that this future conflict of major proportions between these two powerhouses would result in one final synthesis of human culture and ideals. Victory for Japan would leave the nation free to guide and unify the world for generations to come. However, before Japan could count herself fully prepared for this final showdown with the United States, she would need to establish her goal of formulating the East Asian League, and ensuring this was in place and ready before the Final War came.

Of course, what systematically shuts down Ishiwara’s ambitions of this ever coming into fruition was the outbreak of conflict between Japan and China in 1937. What can clearly be established from Peattie’s work is how Ishiwara’s failure to curb enthusiasm for a short, decisive conflict with China in 1937 essentially caused his plans for an East Asian League to disintegrate. Perhaps one of the key takeaways from Japan’s confrontation with the West is the ambivalent nature of pan-Asian ideals in Japan during the 1930s. Ishiwara’s visions of a unified Asia seemed somewhat contradictory given the narrative that surrounded his involvement in Manchuria. The surfacing of conflict and an anti-Japanese front in the 1937 Sino-Japanese War was arguably the result of decades of foreign interference and humiliation for China.

‘Today, 40 years after the end of World War II, the Japanese are on the move again in one of history’s most brilliant commercial offensives, as they go about dismantling American industry. Whether they are still only smart, or have finally learned to be wiser than we, will be tested in the next 10 years. Only then will we know who finally won the war….’[1]—Thomas H. White, “The Danger From Japan”.

The 1980s marked the climax of a Japanese Economic Boom. The stunning success of what came to be known as ‘Samurai Capitalism’ caused many in the west to fear that Japan was ‘calling western modernity Into question and claiming the franchise on the future’[2]. More than simply an economic fear, the ‘Japan Panic’ caused a rise in the phenomenon known as ‘Techno-Orientalism’ that continues to be seen in western portrayals of Japan to this day. The culmination of these portrayals, were most prominently seen in the cyberpunk and dystopian productions in the west such as Blade Runner. Interestingly Japan has in some instances adapted and remoulded these genres and produced Japanese cyberpunk, with which parallels can be drawn to Japanese adaptations of Utopian literature in the Meiji period.  Although Japan’s economic prominence has faded in recent years, ceding its prominence to the ‘Four Tigers’ of South-East-Asia, ideas of Techno-Orientalism remain prominent in our culture today[3].

Techno-orientalism is a term coined by David Morely and Kevin Robins in their contribution to the editorial Spaces of Identity: Global Media, Electronic Landscapes, and Cultural Boundaries (London & NY: Routledge, 1995). In their chapter, ‘Techno-Orientalism: Japan Panic’, Morely and Robins demonstrate the recent development of contrarian stereotypes surrounding Japan; its premodern culture of Samurai and Geisha and its contemporary position as a forerunner in technological advancement[4]. These contrarian stereotypes arose from fundamental issues with perceptions of modernity and orientalism, particularly in the States. Previous stereotypes around the oriental nature of Japan had ceased to apply, and older xenophobic and racial tropes could no longer be used to attach the ‘techno-capitalist savvy’ Japanese[5]. As a result of this, Morely and Robins argued that Westerners produced ‘techno-orientalism’ that sought to critique the oriental whilst acknowledging the modern.

Although it is not possible to say with certainty that Cyberpunk was a direct reaction to the 1980s economic growth of Japan, the Techno-Orientalism of the west was certainly reflected in the cyberpunk genre amongst others[6]. Blade Runner was arguably the forerunner in this endeavour, with its influential image of dystopian Los Angeles resembling Tokyo[7]. The 1982 film arguably marked the first of a number of ‘Japonised’ novels and films, including William Gibson’s Neuromancer (1984). The work begins in the outskirts of Tokyo, and although the novel swiftly leaves Japanese technology and iconography predominates[8]. To Morley and Robins this was a reflection of the fears of Japanese dominance amongst the west in the 1980s[9]. Although, critique of Gibson has somewhat mellowed over time, his work still reflects the ideas of ‘Techno-Orientalism’ despite the author’s professed ‘Japanophilia’[10].

Interestingly, these ideas and the genre of Cyberpunk has been somewhat appropriated by the Japanese. Cyberpunk’s ‘cartoonish’ nature appealed to the Japanese Science fiction manga and anime genres[11]. Furthermore, the Japanese have expanded and arguably adapted many aspects of cyberpunk to suit their own narratives. This can clearly be seen in Shirow Masamune’s Ghost in the Shell (1991), in which the strong Japanese cyber-heroine is supported by a cast of weaker male figures[12]. The substitution of the traditional Male hero of American Cyberpunk with a Japanese Herione arguably reflects Japanese adaptation of the Cyberpunk genre for its own messages such as the ‘subjectivity of Japaneseness’[13].  As such, although Techno-Orientalist Western works may have been influenced by Xenophobic ideas of the West, as a genre cyber-punk was both assimilated and adapted by the Japanese. As previously mentioned similar trends have also been seen in Utopian Works. Although Western models were originally imported to Japan during the Meiji period and Japanese Utopian literature was moulded on these Western models, Japanese writers were profoundly affected by their own social situations, as demonstrated by Akutagawa’s Kappa, a utopian vision and social critique of Japan that reflects the insecurities felt as a result of the decline of Taisho democracy and rise of Japanese imperialism[14].

Finally, it is interesting to note that for the most part these ideas of ‘Techno-Orientalism’ have pervaded popular culture to a far greater extent than the ideas that caused their inception. Although this cannot be explored fully, examination of recent films reveals that many of the aspects of this view are still prominent, despite Japan’s fall from economic prominence. A highly notable recent example could be Hollywood’s The Wolverine (2013) in which the American superhero travels to Japan, and as a result of the actions of a technologically advanced Ziabatsu is stripped of his mortality and forced to fight Samurai and Ninjas[15]. The final encounter between the wolverine and a suit of robotic samurai armour, perfectly demonstrates the contrarian stereotypes of Japanese technology and premodern culture[16]. Seen in such a light the controversial decision to cast Scarlett Johansson in the reboot of Ghost in the Shell (2017) has a broader-implications.

Arguably the re-envisioning of the popular Manga, could be seen to reflect more than simply ‘whitewashing’ of a film, as with its new cast the film reflects many of the older tropes of Techno-Orientalism, albeit with less damning motivations[17].

[1] Charles Paulk, ‘Post National Cool: William Gibson’s Japan’, Science Fiction Studies, Vol. 38, No. 3 (November 2011), p479.

[2] Ibid, P480.

[3] David Morley, Kevin Robins, ‘Techno-Orientalism: Japan Panic’ in David Morley & Kevin Robins, Spaces in Identity: Global Media, Electronic Landscapes and Cultural Boundaries (London, 1995), p173.

[4] Kumiko, Sato, ‘How Information Technology Has (Not) Changed Feminism and Japanism: Cyberpunk in the Japanese Context’ Comparative Literature Studies, Volume 41, Number 3 2003, p354.

[5] Paulk, ‘Post National Cool: William Gibson’s Japan’, p480.

[6] Kumiko, ‘How Information Technology Has (Not) Changed Feminism’, p340.

[7] Christopher Bolton, Istvan Csicsery-Ronan Jr. and Takayuki Tatsumi, Robot Ghosts and Wired Dreams, (Minneapolis, 2007), pix.

[8] Paulk, ‘Post National Cool: William Gibson’s Japan’, p481.

[9] Morley & Robins, ‘Techno-Orientalism: Japan Panic’, p169.

[10] Charles Paulk, ‘Post National Cool’, p479.

[11] Bolton, Csicsery-Ronan Jr. & Tatsumi, Robot Ghosts, pix.

[12] Kumiko, Sato, ‘How Information Technology Has (Not) Changed Feminism’, p347.

[13] Ibid, p352.

[14] Yoriko, Moichi, ‘Japanese Utopian Literature from the 1870s to the Present and the Influence of Western Utopianism’, Utopian Studies, Vol. 10, No. 2 (1999), p92.

[15] The Wolverine, James Mangold, 2013

[16] The Wolverine, James Mangold, 2013

[17] Anne-Maries Tomchak, ‘Is Scareltt Johansson casting Hollywood ‘Whitewashing’?’, 19^th April, 2016, < https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/blogs-trending-36083113> [21^st April4 2019]