Rethinking the World in East Asia 1850s-1990s

Jin Tianhe, author of The Women’s Bell, is mostly remembered for being not only a revolutionary nationalist in late Qing China, but also one of the primary advocates for gender equality in that period. Presumably his tendency to approach the issue from a Western perspective led other feminists of his time to favourably call him “truly China’s Rousseau”¹ or “our women’s Rousseau.”²
However, this comparison may seem rather bizarre, if not sarcastic, to readers who are familiar with some of Rousseau’s writing beyond the famous Social Contract, as the Swiss 18^th-century philosopher was anything but progressive when it comes to the propagation of women’s rights. In fact, Rousseau’s views become especially obvious when looking at Emile, or On Education. Here, he claims that women were “made specially to please men” and are supposed to be “passive and week.”³ The nature of women therefore, according to him, requires a special type of education:

Thus all women’s education must be relative to men. To please them, to be useful to them, to be loved and honoured by them, to bring them up young, to care for them as adults, to counsel them, to console them, to make their lives pleasant and sweet: these are the duties of women in all times, and what they must be taught from their childhood.⁴

Were then Chinese feminists comparing Jin Tianhe to Rousseau simply not aware of this rather conservative position? Not according to Wenxuan Peng, who claims that Emile, or On Education was rather popular among Chinese intellectuals in the late Qing period and even inspired a new trend of using novels for education.⁵

Els van Dongen and Yuan Chang present a solution to this paradox: They argue that Rousseau and his work in late Qing China became symbolic for a wider trend of selectively using elements of Western (political) philosophy in support of already existing theories with Chinese origin. For this purpose, two elements of Rousseau’s thought were particularly interesting: First, his advocacy for a utopian revolution, and second his proclamation that all men are equal. Especially the latter was also appropriated by anarchists like Liu Shipei when arguing for gender equality.⁶  We can therefore see that China’s Rousseau was a very versatile figure as, rather than there being only one canonical interpretation of his philosophy, his theories were adapted to multiple different and individual causes.

Thus, when the comparison is drawn between Jin Tianhe and Rousseau, we can assume that the feminism of the former was thought to be largely based on the latter’s call for equality of all men, broadened in Chinese interpretation to equality of all humans.

Nevertheless, scholars like Lydia Liu, co-author of The Birth of Chinese Feminism: Essential Texts in Transnational Theory, think that at the same time “the linkage between Jin and Rousseau sarcastically pointed at the misogynous, androcentric nature of nationalist feminism”⁷ promoted by Jin Tianhe, among others. This nationalist feminism was already severely criticized in late Qing China by women like He-Yin Zhen who stated that, rather than having the women’s benefit in mind, the feminism of nationalist-progressive Chinese men was mostly born out of their own desire to imitate Western nations and receive international appreciation for their efforts.⁸

Lastly, He-Yin Zhen also argued that the realization of nationalist feminism would only lead to a new systematic way in which men would claim women as property.⁹ Surprisingly, this resonates with yet another aspect of Rousseau’s opinion on women and their education. In a passage already attacked by Mary Wollstonecraft in A Vindication of the Rights of Women, Rousseau makes the following statement: “Educate women like men, […] and the more they resemble our sex the less power will they have over us.”¹⁰
Based on this quote alone, the comparison between Jin Tianhe’s nationalist feminism and Jean-Jacques Rousseau maybe no longer seems so far-fetched at all.

1. Ono, Kazuko and Fogel, Joshua A. Chinese Women in a Century of Revolution, 1850-1950. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989, p. 59. [↩]
2. Ibid., p. 58. [↩]
3. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. Emile, or On Education. New York: Basic Books, 1979, p. 358. [↩]
4. Translated from             Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. Émile, ou de l’Éducation. https://gallica.bnf.fr/essentiels/anthologie/education-femmes. [↩]
5. Cf. Penx, Wenxuan. Rousseau and His Chinese ‘Apprentices’: Interpretation, Adaption and Internalisation of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Thoughts in Late Qing China in the Realm of Literature and Social Concepts through Intellectual Elites, 2017. https://openaccess.leidenuniv.nl/handle/1887/52052. [↩]
6. Cf. Van Dongen, Els and Chang, Yuan. “After Revolution: Reading Rousseau in 1990s China.” Contemporary Chinese Thought 48, no.1 (2017): 1-13. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10971467.2017.1383805. [↩]
7. Liu quoted in Neubauer, Daene E. and Kaur, Surinderpal. Gender and the Changing Face of Higher Education in Asia Pacific. Berlin: Springer, 2019, p. 92. https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=npaDDwAAQBAJ&pg=PA92&lpg=PA92&dq=jin+tianhe+china%27s+rousseau&source=bl&ots=Qs-kash_3z&sig=ACfU3U11oA6Lp5kiwSabip6BUIE8Hp8wpA&hl=de&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwizprqGyqPlAhVxTxUIHX65D7gQ6AEwBHoECAgQAQ#v=onepage&q=jin%20tianhe%20china’s%20rousseau&f=false. [↩]
8. Cf. Liu, Lydia et al. The Birth of Chinese Feminism : Essential Texts in Transnational Theory. New York: Columbia University Press, 2013, p. 2. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/st-andrews/reader.action?docID=1103412&ppg=150. [↩]
9. Cf. ibid. p. 2 [↩]
10. Rousseau, quoted in Wollstonecraft, quoted in Darling, John and Van De Pijpekamp, Maaike. “Rousseau on the Education, Domination and Violation of Women.” British Journal of Educational Studies 42, no. 2 (1994), 115-132. https://www.jstor.org/stable/3122332?seq=8#metadata_info_tab_contents. [↩]

During a period of national crisis within China Anarchism evolved into a strong force within radical intellectual discourse. It succeeded in making a lasting impact on Chinese thinking by forming a new consciousness of society and awareness of the self. A key aspect of Anarchism was its introduction of novel themes, as Chang Hao wrote that it encouraged people to “re-examine the institutional foundation of the Chinese socio-political order”.¹ Socialism was another radical political movement at the beginning of the Twentieth Century in China that propagated a belief in building a revolution through the use of the elected office as an implement for social change. Therefore despite similarities in their desire for the transformation of society we can detect variation between these two radical movements.

By analysing chapter’s 2 (“Nationalism, Utopianism and Revolutionary Politics”) and 4 (“Anarchists against Socialists in Early Republican China”), I have identified differences in these movements approaches. A large part of these differences can be attributed to their attitude towards revolution and consequently how the transformation of society should be approached. This is the aspect the following article with chiefly concentrate on.

1. Interpretation of ‘revolution’

Whilst both movements wanted to alter society there was a discrepency between their visions for achieving social change through revolution. Therefore an underlying reason for their differences was their vision of how the revolution should occur and thus their concept of political space.

The Anarchists wanted to “transform society at its very base”, and did not believe in replacing one government with another.²  For instance, they “believed revolution could not be imposed… through inherently authoritarian institutions”.³ This reveals that for the Anarchists the revolution meant a total abolishment of all existing institutions, not the use of them as a method for gaining control. This explains the friction and conflicting interests between the Anarchists and Socialists as this use of the elected office as a tool deviated from the spontaneous revolution that the Anarchists envisaged. As shown by their awareness of “the rift between political structures and society”.⁴ This difference is highlighted by how the Communist Party of China (CPC) regarded social revolution as the “basis of a new world of politics but not a substitute for it”, making clear the two movements varied outlooks.⁵

2. Organisation

On another note, the newly formed CPC began to take influence from the Anarchist movement after its formation in 1921, predominantly due to its superior organisation and the use of institutions to aid cross-regional synchronisation.⁶  The early Socialists had also succeeded in creating a distinct policy and identity, resulting in less inconsistency within the Socialist movement and therefore increased support. In comparison the Anarchists had the disadvantage of the diffusion of their concepts and ideas to the point where is was difficult to “define the contours of anarchism as a movement”.⁷  This lack of a clear-cut identity meant that it was unable to distinguish itself against other schools of thought, leading to its loss of support to the CPC who showed organisational skills that the Anarchists lacked.

 

1. Arif, Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution, (London, 1991), p.53 [↩]
2. Ibid., p.118 [↩]
3. Ibid., p.86 [↩]
4. Viren, Murthy, “Reviewed Work: Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution”, Philosophy East and West 46 (Hawai, 1996), p.123 [↩]
5. Arif, Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution, (London, 1991), p.147 [↩]
6. Ibid., p.147 [↩]
7. Ibid., p.12 [↩]

Imperialism: Monster of the Twentieth Century by Kotoku Shusui was undoubtfully one the most innovative and radical publications of its time. This is partly, as Robert Tierney stresses, due to Shusui’s dedication to his beliefs; even in an extremely hostile and oppressive society, he became the forerunner for the Japanese anti-imperialist movement.[1] Unlike his contemporaries, Shusui was the first to acknowledge and condemn Japanese imperialism, as anti-Imperialists had, prior to Shusui, solely fixated their criticisms towards European imperialism.[2] Shuisui’s work specifically focuses upon two characteristics of imperialism, patriotism and militarism, both for which he has often received unwarranted criticism.[3] I, for one, feel that such criticisms that have been levied are outdated and would like to demonstrate this in conjunction with revisionist scholarship. Before this, however, it is best to first analyse Shuisui’s work to understand the roots of said criticisms.

Patriotism

Patriotism is a key theme within Shusui’s text, as he looks to outline the contradictory nature of such an ideology in an imperial context. Foremost, he emphasises the shallowness of patriots, whose love for their country is plainly fuelled out of hatred towards other nation-states. It is this ‘otherness’ complex that Shusui is quick to denounce: “for the sake of those whom one loves, one should attack those one hates. This in a nutshell is the logic of patriotism”.[4] When reflecting internally on Japan, Shusui clearly blames the Japanese elite for spreading patriotic fever as an instrument of war. Surprisingly, however, the Emperor appears to be pardoned, for “he prefers peace to war and values freedom over oppression”.[5] This baffling paradox will be discussed later in reference to secondary scholarship.

Militarism

In “Militarism,” Shusui questions the intellect of modern military tacticians, comparing their armaments to toys, while simultaneously belittling their rhetoric.[6] One of the main criticisms Shusui highlights is the contrived argument that war leads to the progression of humanity. Rather skilfully, Shusui points to a plethora of examples that would denote otherwise; furthermore, he goes on to illustrate the archaisms of warfare and how war is an impediment to global society.

Criticisms

The most vocal critiques of Shusui’s Imperialism can be found amongst Marxist historians, such as Itoya Toshio, who stipulate that Shusui fails to capture the importance of capitalism within the imperialist ideology.[7] Itoya Toshio, in turn, is most likely to have been influenced by a Leninist interpretation of imperialism which underlines imperialism as the “highest form” of capitalism itself.[8]

Additionally, criticism can also be seen from a postcolonial perspective in light that the focality of Shusui’s work is based on the detriment of imperialism on the transgressors and not the indigenous. Only fleetingly are the consequences of imperialism for the indigenous populations mentioned, found at the end of “Militarism”, and they can scarcely be understood as more than an afterthought.

Finally, others, like Max Ward, highlight the emperor paradox and state that the acclaimed “symbolic transcendence” of the emperor implied he could be, and indeed was, used by the proponents of imperialism to galvanise the Japanese populace into supporting war.[9]

Revisionism

Post Marxists would question the degree of impetus placed upon capitalism in a Leninist interpretation of imperialism; a state can be imperialist or have imperialist intentions without economic motivations. One should not view history through teleological lens.

Not much can be said as a retort to the post-colonialist, their criticisms are fair and measured. The emperor paradox, on the other hand, should be redressed in its entirety, a reinterpretation best captivated by John Hennessey. Perhaps instead of viewing Kotoku’s work as a singular publication, it needs to be understood within its surrounding context, namely, that “Imperialism” was, or would have been, censored due to any negative connotations directed against the emperor.[10] Socialism and anarchism were barely tolerated in Japanese society and anything remotely controversial towards the Emperor would have severely diminished Shusui’s reputation. Perhaps Hennessey’s justification also explains the events of 1910, when Shusui was arrested for high treason; otherwise, this abrupt transition in developing a hatred for the emperor would seem rather inconsistent.

[1] Robert. T. Tierney, ‘Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kotoku Shusui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement’, University of California Press: 2015, p.2
[2] Ibid., p.3
[3] Ibid., p.8
[4] Ibid., p.149
[5] Ibid., p.157
[6] Ibid., pp.163-165
[7] Itoya Toshio, ‘Kōtoku Shūsui: Hito to shisō (Kōtoku Shūsui: The man and his thought)’, Tokyo Century Books: 1973, p.116
[8] Robert. T. Tierney, ‘Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kotoku Shusui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement’, University of California Press: 2015, p.2
[9] Max Ward, ‘Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kotoku Shusui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement review)’, The Journal of Japanese studies, 45,(2019), p.409
[10] John Hennessey, ‘Monster of the Twentieth Century: Kotoku Shusui and Japan’s First Anti-Imperialist Movement review)’, itinerario, 40, (2016), p. 157

Liu Shifu was a revolutionary and anarchist who rose to prominence during a time of great political upheaval in China. The combined failures of the First Sino-Japanese War (1895) and Boxer Rebellion (1900) had sent shock waves through Chinese society, exposing vulnerabilities in the old Confucian-Imperial order. During his lifetime, Shifu would become the central figure in Guangzhou Anarchism, defining an ideology which would have far-reaching impacts within his native China.

In Japan (where Shifu had been exposed to much of his revolutionary thinking), Deguchi Onisaburō was hard at work elevating the Oomoto faith to national renown. He, too, had become disillusioned with the march of history in his native country. Industrialization had alienated many in Japan, and while the nation was undoubtedly at the height of its power, some felt a degree of social cohesion had been sacrificed.

Both the revolutionary Shifu and the religious Onisaburō felt that communal living was the path to civilizational progress and world peace. Both were raised in times of political turmoil and social alienation, which informed and focused their ideologies into practical manuals for the salvation of humankind. In researching the readings from Week 4 (Shifu) and Week 8 (Oomoto & Onisaburō), I will draw parallels as well as distinctions between their separate proposals for communal living.

Shifu was heavily influenced by the work of “National Essence” writers, who glorified early China as a pristine anarchist society. They taught that Confucians had failed China by tolerating the Manchu (Qing) invaders, sacrificing morality for power and self-enrichment. Buddhism was also a major source of inspiration, as it preached equality between the sexes and various ethnic groups. Nonetheless, Shifu disavowed organized religion, politics, and capitalism in favor of ‘humanity’ (renge), which he felt had been deprived by exploitative forces. Communal living, collective ownership of property, and total adherence to a twelve-point lifestyle pledge were the keys to China’s salvation. Several Guangzhou-based organizations, such as the Conscience Society and Cock-Crow Society, actively sought to bring about these changes through printing anarchist material and establishing utopian communes .

Shifu’s conception of communal life centered around social equality and collectivized  property, housing, education, and childcare. He hoped to emulate the intensive enterprises described by Kropotkin in his Fields, Factories, and Workshops – that is to say, efficient, limited projects capable of combining agriculture and industry¹ . To preserve cleanliness, meals would be served Western-style (in individual portions, contrary to the typical Chinese use of common serving bowls). Knives and forks would be used, as well as a tablecloth and napkins² .  The twelve-point pledge of the Conscience Society forbade the consumption of meat, liquor, or tobacco, which were all known to be harmful to health. Shifu wrote that “those who would improve society must treat their own bodies in accordance with these scientific findings… their behavior is also part of the moral example they must provide”³ . All of these prescriptive regulations would improve one’s renge, thereby assisting the progress of society and mankind as a whole.

By 1913, Shifu and his followers in the Cock-Crow Society had selected an ideal spot for their commune at Red Lichee Bay, on the eastern shore of the Pearl River Delta. Unfortunately, political revolution intervened and Shifu’s utopian project was never fully realized. Had they succeeded in their mission, their anarchism may have “developed a  rural orientation and eventually fostered a peasant-based revolution.”⁴

Deguchi Onisaburō shared Shifu’s romanticization of the ‘ancient way’, which he felt could be replicated through a communal, agricultural lifestyle dominated by hard work and worship. His philosophy was influenced by 19th-century Nativism (kokugaku), which rejected Chinese formalism and rationality in favor of Japanese emotion, beauty, and poetry. Much like European Socialism and Communism, Onisaburō’s Kōdō program advocated revolutionary action to rid society of evil and inequality. The program nonetheless remained true to its Nativist roots, preaching that Japan was uniquely endowed with a special place in the world (from where it could leading a sort of world-family in governance and peace).

At the center of Onisaburō’s ideology was a return to the land. Agrarianism (nōhonshugi) celebrated the economic and social merits of rural life, and was especially strong in Japan from the 1900s to the 1930s⁵ . Onisaburō himself described how farmers of his youth “gathered firewood from the mountains, brewed homemade soy sauce, and recycled straw into useful craft items for sale”⁶ . In their attachment to rural living, popular religions like Oomoto tended to valorize human endeavor, rice production, and daily morality over established religious or state authority⁷ .

Onisaburō was generally suspicious of Western influence, which he felt had inspired Japanese farmers to prioritize profit and maximize their yields (often at the expense of tradition). Yet he was no enemy of innovation. His call for a rural, communal lifestyle may have emphasized thrift and hard work, but Onisaburoō also supported the development of new crop strains, increased access to modern transportation, specilized education, and media reforms⁸ . His goal continued to be revolutionary economic and social leveling.

Onisaburō’s rural communalism shared a number of features with the anarchist projects of Liu Shifu. Both were staunchly anti-authoritarian, preferring self-reliance and local autonomy over established hierarchies of power. They shared a concern for social welfare and equality among subjects, which inclined them toward collectivism and trans-national projects like Esperanto.

Onisaburō, who taught that “humans were charged with the divine task of stewardship over nature”, certainly elevated spirituality to a more central role than did Shifu⁹ . His assertion of a traditional agricultural lifestyle, grounded in spirituality, was perhaps more conservative than Shifu’s anarchist internationalism, but this did not make him anti-progressive. Onisaburō’s Japan was in many ways a contrasting model to Shifu’s China: a modern state which had recently joined the ranks of the world powers. Nostalgic agrarianism seemed an appropriate response to the alienating effects of industry and global capital. China’s humiliating treatment by the West demanded a more revolutionary re-awakening, and Shifu did not shy from emulating Western science or praising radical European thinkers. In their respective countries, Shifu and Onisaburō would be remembered as visionaries who spoke truth to power and stood up for the disaffected in society. Their assertion of communalism, though its origins were ancient, represented a radical break from an oppressive social order, and continues to inspire their countrymen today.

 

Bibliography

Krebs, Edward S. Shifu, Soul of Chinese Anarchism. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998.

Stalker, Nancy K. Prophet Motive: Deguchi Onisaburō, Oomoto, and the Rise of New Religions in Imperial Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2008.

 

1. Edward S. Krebs, Shifu, Soul of Chinese Anarchism (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 117. [↩]
2. Ibid, 114. [↩]
3. Ibid, 103. [↩]
4. Ibid, 117. [↩]
5. Nancy K. Stalker, Prophet Motive: Deguchi Onisaburō, Oomoto, and the Rise of New Religions in Imperial Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2008), 65. [↩]
6. Ibid, 66-67. [↩]
7. Ibid, 65. [↩]
8. Ibid, 66. [↩]
9. Ibid, 67. [↩]

Culturally, both the Choson period in Korea (1392-1910) and the Tokugawa period in Japan (1603-1868) were heavily influenced by the Neo-Confucianist tradition and its social norms that consequently demanded a very specific, hierarchical structure of society. Within this structure, women were understood to assume a subordinate position to men and fulfill their roles within the family as daughters, wives and mothers. However, despite the ideological foundations of the social systems being based on the same canon of Neo-Confucian morality, we can detect differences in women’s positions and roles when comparing the societies of Choson Korea and Tokugawa Japan.
By analysing chapters 6 (“Propagating Female Virtues in Choson Korea”, by Martina Deuchler) and 8 (“Norms and Texts for Women’s Education in Tokugawa Japan”, by Martha C. Tocco) of the book “Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea and Japan”, I have identified several differences, exterior to potential dissenting interpretations of Neo-Confucianism in Korea and Japan, that could explain why women’s roles were not more similar in the two countries. While a difference in the rigidity of societal stratums as well as a difference in economic prosperity are certainly major explanatory angles for this question, a large part also seems to come down to dissenting interpretations of what constitutes “women’s nature”. This is the aspect the following article will focus on.

1. Diverging interpretations of “women’s moral nature”

While moral education for women (or “indoctrination”¹, as Deuchler calls it in the Korean case) was valued in both Neo-Confucian Korea and Japan, the underlying reason for this, based on each culture’s understanding of what constitutes “women’s moral nature”, varied greatly.

In Korea, women acting according to Confucianist principles were considered essential “for setting the domestic realm in order”². Yet, at the same time, women were thought to possess “inferior natural qualities”³ in comparison to men, which made their moral education all the more important, as they were basically expected to overcome their biological predispositions in order to contribute and not pose a danger to the Korean Confucianist society. Men, on the other hand, would “naturally distinguish between right and wrong [and] are able to keep themselves [on the right track]”.⁴ Teaching especially women about Confucian norms would hence have to be a central concern, according to Korean Choson society.

In Japan, on the other hand, Tocco claims that the education of Confucianist norms was regarded to be essential for both women and men. While moral guides outlining a woman’s subordinate role in society existed and were highly popular, similar to Korea⁵, “exhortational tomes”⁶ were just as important for the education of male members of society. This implies that the moral nature of women and men was not seen as inherently different in Tokugawa society. Furthermore, Tocco argues that moral guides for women gradually moved away from their original purpose of educating women about their societal role and status towards being used as textbooks for learning how to read and write.⁷ In this sense, their purpose would have been more emancipatory than oppressive.

2. A difference in understanding the links between women’s biological roles and the roles they could assume in society

Women in Korea were effectively banned from public life and confined to the inner chambers. Their social roles were limited to their positions as daughters, wives and mothers within the family⁸, and a great focus was placed on elite primary wives’ capability to produce the male heir of the family’s wealth and social status⁹. Therefore, especially elite women’s social role and biological role, based on natural predispositions, got conflated. Within their nurturing capacity of mothers, Korean women also took on the role of educators of their children, at least when it came to basic knowledge and morality. For this purpose, a fundamental education was essential. Still, “excessive learning was deemed dangerous”¹⁰ for women, as it was seen as potentially disruptive for the family peace and potentially the wider social order.

In Tokugawa Japan women were also responsible for the education of their young children. However, several differences are crucial: For one, texts from the early 1700s show that this education was seen as part of a parenting task that ultimately relied on the involvement of both mother and father.¹¹ On another note, the Japanese elite family structure, relying on concubines and wet-nursing rather than on a strict hierarchical separation between primary and secondary wives as in Korea, led to the fact that the responsibility to take care of any children was shared between all the women in the family. According to Tocco, it was thus uncommon to assume that “the physiology of childbearing was the origin of the qualities of nurturance required by child rearing”¹². Rather, parenting was considered a skill that can be taught. This professionalization of women’s role as educators also led to them becoming schoolteachers and hence members of the public sphere, which is a level of emancipation that was not reached within the strict confinements of women bound to the domestic realm in Choson Korea.

1. Martina Deuchler, ‘Propagating Female Virtues in Choson Korea’ in Dorothy Ko et al. (ed.), Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea and Japan (Berkeley, 2003), p. 144. [↩]
2. Quoted in Deuchler, ‘Female Virtues in Choson Korea’, p. 146. [↩]
3. Ibid., p. 147. [↩]
4. Sohye quoted in ibid., p. 147 [↩]
5. Cf. Martha C. Tocco, ‘Norms and Texts for Women’s Education in Tokugawa Japan’ in Dorothy Ko et al. (ed.), Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea and Japan (Berkeley, 2003), pp. 199-200. [↩]
6. Ibid., pp. 200-201. [↩]
7. Cf. Ibid., p. 200. [↩]
8. Cf. Deuchler, ‘Female Virtues in Choson Korea’, pp. 142-143. [↩]
9. Cf. Ibid., p. 145. [↩]
10. Ibid., p. 150. [↩]
11. Cf. Tocco, ‘Women’s Education in Tokugawa Japan’, p. 196. [↩]
12. Ibid., p. 197. [↩]

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. [↩]