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

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

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

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

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

 

Bibliography 

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[8] Ibid., p.172

[9] Ibid., pp.172-173

[10] Ibid., p.173

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

[12] Ibid., p.152.

How did new teachings affect Daoism and Shinto?

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bibliography

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[5] Ibid., p.1

[6] Ibid., p.2

[7] Ibid., pp.62-71

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[7] Ibid, P.1867

[8] Ibid, p.1878, p1882.

[9] Ibid, p.1884.

‘Bushido’ anarchists: The irony of rebellious martyrdom in Imperial Japan

Post-Meiji restoration Japan is known for being a highly nationalistic society with limited freedom of expression and little room for other ideologies than the nationalistic ideology promoted by the state. In Mikiso Hane’s Reflections on the Way to the Gallows we meet, among others, Kanno Sugako (1881-1911) and Kaneko Fumiko (1903-1926) – two women who lived in this time of nationalism and who ungrudgingly gave their lives for their beliefs and rebellions against the Japanese state and society. What struck me the most when reading the stories Kanno and Kaneko is their unyielding faith in their ideological cause right up to their deaths and, their honesty and transparent witness statements, and their bravery. Ironically enough, the way in which Kanno and Kaneko met their deaths can be argued to be exemplary of the values propagandised by the Japanese government at the time. Indeed, as Kanno was executed and Kaneko committed suicide in prison they displayed similar characteristics to the modern ‘Bushido’ values1 which had been integrated into Japanese society in this period as they fostered a ‘Japanese spirit’.2

 

The perhaps most famous anarchist in this period was Kotoku Sushui, who’s idea of anarchism was rooted in various critiques of imperialism, nationalism and militarism – he also had a complicated personal relationship with Kanno Sugako. Kanno’s and Kaneko’s anarchist beliefs were more personally motivated and more shaped by their individual animosity towards the authorities and hierarchies of the Japanese society they lived in, unlike Kotoku who was arguably more ‘intellectually’ motivated. Kanno exemplifies her opposition towards the existing society by writing, during her time as substitute editor of the newspaper Muro Shimpo, that ‘[w]omen in Japan are in a state of slavery. Japan has become an advanced, civilized nation, but we women are still denied our freedom by an iron fence’.3 Her critique is clearly a personal, and radical feminist one, attacking Japan’s modernity for not being thoroughly modern – particularly when it comes to its treatment of women. This feminist anarchism is particularly personal to Kanno since the social pressures and expectations put on women in this Japanese society instilled her with shame and guilt as she was raped at age 15. Kaneko’s beliefs were, likewise, shaped by her difficult upbringing where she was the subject of abuse and neglect from both her parents and grandmother. This led her to reject the contemporary ideals of the family hierarchy and filial piety – which was also supposed to permeate Japanese society as a whole. During her interrogation she explicitly draws the connection between what she sees as the unjust morality expected from the weaker part, both in society and in the family when she says:

From the standpoint of the weak, morality means an agreement that calls for one’s submission to the strong. This moral principle is common through all ages and all societies. The primary aim of those in power is to preserve this moral principle as long as possible. The relationship between parents and children is also based on this principle. It is only coated over with the attractive-sounding term ‘filial piety.’4

 

For their spreading of radical ideas and their alleged participation in conspiracies to assassinate the emperor, they were both tried and sentenced to death. It is not entirely clear whether these conspiracies were real or not, but they nevertheless both unrepentantly admitted to their involvement. Kanno, in her final statement, articulated that she had no regrets, she likened herself to a martyr giving her life to a higher cause, that she would ‘die without whimpering. This is my destiny’.5 Kaneko also admitted to the accusations levelled at her. In her interrogation she states that, because of her own experiences with ‘oppression by all sources of authority – I decided to deny the rights of all authority’ and ‘[f]or this reason I planned to eventually throw a bomb and accept the termination of my life’.6

Kanno was executed along with 11 other conspirators in 1911. Kaneko was, together with her ‘co-conspirator’ Pak Yeol, initially sentenced to death. However, the emperor pardoned them and they were offered life sentences in prison instead. Pak Yeol accepted the offer but Kaneko tore the pardon to shreds and committed suicide instead. Both of these faithful sacrifices to the cause of anarchism and defiance to Japanese society are, tragically and ironically, very similar to the warrior ethos promulgated by the very same society they were rebelling against.

  1. Christopher Ives, Imperial-Way Xen: Ichikawa Hakugen’s Critique and Lingering Questions for Buddhist Ethics (Honolulu, 2009), p. 32 [↩]
  2. Ibid., p. 13 [↩]
  3. Mikiso Hane, Reflections on the Way to the Gallows: Rebel Women in Prewar Japan (Berkeley, 1988), p. 53 [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 119 [↩]
  5. Ibid., pp. 56-57 [↩]
  6. Ibid., p. 122 [↩]

Abandoning Family for the Cause – A Look at Kanno Sugako and Kaneko Fumiko

Though historian Arif Dirlik recognized anarchism as a body of widely varying ideas, he argues that all anarchist thought contains a ‘repudiation of authority, especially of the state and the family’.1 By this definition, anarchists must reject connection to their own families for the cause of total social revolution. While many would find this task difficult, looking at the lives of two anarchist thinkers, Kanno Sugako and Kaneko Fumiko, one can see why they may have been driven towards anarchist thought; at the least, one can see how the spurning of family could be so easily accepted by these revolutionaries. I’d like to make it clear that I’m not suggesting an individual must have had a difficult homelife in order to become an anarchist, but I would like to draw attention to its role in the lives of these particular anarchist women.

Both Kanno and Kaneko faced a great deal of hardship in their youth, which contributed to the shaping of their worldviews as teenagers and adults. In the case of Kanno Sugako, she lost her mother at ten, which soon left her at the mercy of a cruel stepmother.2 By the time she was fifteen, Kanno was the victim of rape by a miner who worked for her father. This experience, possibly encouraged by her stepmother, left Kanno with a deep-seated sense of shame, which she coped with by reading Sakai Toshihiko’s essay, ‘in which he counseled rape victims not to be burdened with guilt’.3 The comfort she found through Sakai’s work led her to read his other essays on socialism, therefore exposing her to the ideology for the first time. If it had not been for the cruelty of her stepmother and her sexual assault, Kanno may not have read any of Sakai’s works and may have been less likely to join in the movement as a young adult. What’s more, if she had grown up in a loving family environment, she would have been less likely to agree with the devaluation of family that is essential to anarchist thought. Instead, Kanno proudly claimed that ‘even among anarchists I was among the more radical thinkers’.4 That she found comfort in socialist/anarchist thought rather than in her familial network can only be taken as guiding her towards a more radical way of organizing society. However, how much of Kanno’s radicalism could be attributed to her personal background cannot be determined by this short of an examination.

As for the life of Kaneko Fumiko, she suffered through multiple years of poverty in her early childhood due to her father’s alcoholism before being put under the care of her grandmother.5 While living with her grandmother as Japanese colonists in Korea, Kaneko’s extended family treated her as little more than a maid and often physically abused her. This treatment compounded with her anger over ‘the arrogant manner in which the Japanese occupiers treated the native Koreans’.6 Like Kanno, Kaneko ‘s childhood experiences certainly primed her to accept the anarchist rejection of family’s authority in society. It is no wonder that she questioned why one should remain loyal to a person simply because they are a relative, when hers had always treated her so heartlessly. Instead, she would seek to revolutionize society to equally respect all people. This view in turn connects to her refusal to recognize the authority of the state. After viewing firsthand the abuses enacted on the Koreans, it is understandable that Kaneko would desire a nonhierarchical society based on mutual respect.

Anarchism’s tenet of individual abandonment of family as a central authority, according to Dirlik’s definition, doubtlessly drew in the loyalties of Kanno Sugako and Kaneko Fumiko. As two women who had received years long abuse at the hands of their biological families, it should be no surprise that they were drawn to a social framework that decentralized the family. While all anarchists may not have had comparable experiences, it remains intriguing that both of these Japanese anarchists did share this background. With more comparison of anarchist thinkers’ personal lives, we could learn more about why they were drawn to this seemingly impracticable social ideology. As for now, this observation is interesting but simply coincidence.

  1. Arif Dirlik, Anarchism in the Chinese Revolution (Berkeley, 1991), p. 12. [↩]
  2. For all biographical information found here see Mikiso Hane, Reflections on the Way to the Gallows: Rebel Women in Prewar Japan (Berkeley, 1988), pp. 51-2. [↩]
  3. Hane, Reflections, p. 51 [↩]
  4. Ibid., p. 56. [↩]
  5. For all her biographical information see: Ibid., 75-79 [↩]
  6. Ibid., p. 78 [↩]