Culture and Identity: Japanese Intellectuals during the Interwar Years
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Culture and Identity: Japanese Intellectuals during the Interwar Years
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Overview
Together with the editor, the contributors include Brett de Bary, Thomas W. Burkman, H. D. Harootunian, Germaine A. Hoston, Nozomu Kawamura, Stephen W. Kohl, William R. LaFleur, Hajimu Nakano, Donald Roden, Miriam Silverberg, Eugene Soviak, Jackie Stone, Shuji Takashina, and Makoto Ueda.
Originally published in 1990.
The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback and hardcover editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780691607115 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Princeton University Press |
| Publication date: | 07/14/2014 |
| Series: | Princeton Legacy Library , #1106 |
| Pages: | 322 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.90(w) x 9.90(h) x 0.70(d) |
About the Author
Date of Birth:
1894Date of Death:
1971Read an Excerpt
Culture and Identity
Japanese Intellectuals During the Interwar Years
By J. Thomas Rimer
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS
Copyright © 1990 Princeton University PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-691-05570-1
CHAPTER 1
Abe Jiro and The Diary of Santaro
STEPHEN W. KOHL
The passing of the Meiji emperor marked not only the end of an age; it was a watershed in the development of Japanese thoughts and attitudes about the world in which they lived. The Meiji period had begun with great determination and enthusiasm as Japan undertook to modernize and Westernize. Forty-five years later when the period ended, Japan had achieved many of its goals. The entire political structure of the nation had been reorganized, a new educational system was in place and functioning, a modern judicial system had been installed, and a modern military had been established. In its relations with other countries, Japan had achieved equal treaty status with the world's leading nations and had successfully triumphed in war against Imperial Russia.
And yet, as the Meiji period drew to a close there was a sense of uncertainty about what the recent past had meant and what the future held. Some of the leading intellectual figures, such as Natsume Soseki and Mori Ogai, were beginning to express misgivings about the ultimate success of the great Meiji experiment. The execution of Kotoku Shusui and other socialists in 1911 because of an alleged plot to assassinate the emperor raised questions about some of the new ideas that were being introduced from abroad. At the same time, the Ashio Mine Incident raised disturbing questions of social responsibility while the labor movement, the feminist movement, and the rice riots made it clear that whatever the success of modernization, social equality had not been achieved.
In this context Abe Jiro (1883–1959), a bright and promising schoolmaster's son from remote Akita Prefecture, came to Tokyo to attend the First Higher School and then Tokyo Imperial University, to get a new and thoroughly modern education and to become one of the intellectual elite of the new Japan. Yet despite the eagerness and assurance with which Abe and his classmates absorbed the great intellectual traditions of East and West, they could not help but be acutely conscious of how fragile their intellectual foundations were.
On the one hand, they were following in the giant footsteps of the pioneers of the Meiji period and often felt intimidated at the need to accomplish so much. On the other hand, they also knew that the earlier generation had lived in a much simpler world, one in which almost anything Western could be introduced into Japan with revolutionary implications. Abe and his generation could no longer merely introduce Western thoughts and concepts. They had to break new ground, and, at the same time, they had to seek some suitable synthesis between Eastern and Western ways of thinking. Natsume Soseki had already pointed out that it was no longer adequate merely to imitate the West; Japan had to find its own identity.
The history of philosophy in Japan in the Meiji period is largely one of a political or social philosophy. Fukuzawa Yukichi's utilitarianism had given way to a more complex concept of political and social equality, but essentially these systems of the period dealt with the outward rather than the inward aspects of human life.
By the end of the Meiji period the issue of the self in relation to society had been clearly defined if not resolved. The novelists Futabatei Shimei and Natsume Soseki had presented their readers with highly self-conscious heroes who found themselves in conflict with society. The new society had brought about a fresh self-awareness on the part of the individual, but the question remained of how to reconcile the needs of the individual with the demands of society. By 1907 the writers of the Naturalist movement had fallen back on the traditional concept of sincerity combined with the modern concept of confession, arguing that no matter how beastly one's behavior, redemption could be gained through a sincere recounting of one's motives and feelings. Beastly behavior, however, no matter how redeemable it may have been, was not sought or practiced by everyone. What was clearly needed was a new definition of the individual self and a road map showing how that self could find its way to a satisfactory relationship with society.
In April 1914, at the age of thirty-two, Abe Jiro published the first part of Santaro no nikki (The diary of Santaro), a collection of philosophical essays dealing with the discovery of the self. The work provided the needed philosophical guidebook. Where earlier philosophers had been more concerned with establishing systems that defined the self in terms of new systems of social rights and obligations, Abe opened up the whole world of the introspective self as a ground for philosophical inquiry. The hero of Abe's inquiry is not the modern man of will and ambition who organizes society according to his own ideas, but rather a Werthersque figure who must first come to terms with the self before attempting to reconcile himself with society. In outlining his larger purposes in composing these philosophical essays, Abe expressed the need for an alternative to the Naturalist thinkers whom he opposed, saying, "They write about a self they do not know." He also rejected as trivial Nagai Kafu's so-called hedonism. He reviewed Soseki's novel Sorekara (And then) and pointed out that while it was critical of Japan's modern culture, the hero, Daisuke, lacked the will to do anything to improve the situation. Abe also criticized Futabatei Shimei, saying that although that celebrated novelist may have written in a realistic mode, "his realism is nothing more than the product of a philosophy of the sort we see in many idealists who agonize over the ideal of the individual self." Consequently, in reviewing the current intellectual situation in Japan, Abe found himself philosophically very close to the position held by the well-known idealistic writers associated with the Shirakaba (White birch) magazine. The chief point that separates Abe Jiro from the best of those writers, men like Mushanokoji Saneatsu and Arishima Takeo, is the fact that Abe lacked what might be called a social consciousness. When Mushanokoji spoke of asserting the self, he was calling for the improvement of both the self and society at large. Abe's concern for the self is so inward-looking that his vision rarely goes beyond the identification and edification of the individual self.
Through the Taisho and prewar years of the Showa periods, The Diary of Santaro proved to be an immensely popular work read avidly by young intellectuals, providing them with a new realm for philosophical speculation. Tayama Katai's literary journal Bunsho sekai praised Abe's work, saying, "Santaro no nikki is like a spring dawn bringing a unified melody to our impoverished philosophical world. The fact is that our conventional rhetoric has always merely trifled with abstractions, but Abe, as a serious philosopher, in considering the nature of the self for the first time, has discerned some shadows of what it really is." Similarly, Araragi, a leading poetry journal, hailed the work for its power of expression and its emphasis on the inner life which "provides the basis of true philosophy." What these early readers admired was not only the power of Abe's writing, but also the sincerity of his approach. Again, an article on Abe's philosophy in Bunsho sekai exclaimed, "in our present philosophical world where triviality is carried to extremes, Abe's philosophy shows a remarkable sincerity and steadiness. With his unfailingly solemn attitude he looks unflinchingly upon cosmic life, and he throws his own life into the spotlight, revealing its essential significance." Finally, a measure of the popularity of Abe's work can be gauged by the fact that between 1914 and 1943, when extensive publication was interrupted by the war, the Iwanami Publishing Company brought out thirty editions of The Diary of Santaro.
In later years Abe added a second and a third part, and he also made deletions and revisions in the original. Subsequent editors have taken it upon themselves to publish the work in many different forms. Even today, twenty-five years after Abe's death, this collection of essays continues to exist as a work in progress, as editors reissue it in a variety of formats. The first twenty essays represent the heart of the collection, which comprises the original Santaro as published in 1914.
This work is constructed in an unusual manner, consisting of a series of essays, some several pages in length, others no more than a few lines long, ranging over a wide variety of topics. There are selections from a philosophical journal, imaginary dialogues, fictional vignettes, and translations from European works, in addition to more conventional philosophical writing. The use of such a varied and loosely constructed form is intentional. In a series of companion essays entitled Jinsei to bungei (Life and art), appended to some versions of the diary, Abe explains his choice of format. "To be suitable for depicting one's inner life, drama, poetry, fiction, and essay must all be more internalized. They must be more honest, more simple, more direct, and more blunt." Apparently one of Abe's intentions in this work was to find or create a new form of writing that would be a more suitable vehicle for describing his inner life.
Abe arranged his essays in the form of a philosophical journal following the spiritual odyssey of the persona he created, Aota Sangoro, as he attempts to come to terms with his own life. Like the form he chose, the author's narrative stance is also atypical. While the work is written in the first person, as one would expect of a diary, it is not always clear who that first person is. In his introduction to an edition published in 1918, Abe explicitly states that the work is to be regarded as Santaro's diary, not as Abe Jiro's diary, yet most of the episodes make no specific reference to Santaro. Since most of them were originally published in newspapers as short, independent essays under Abe's name, they can be considered his own reflections. To cloud the issue still further, Santaro mentions in chapter 12 that his original name was Segawa Kikunojo. Thus, Santaro, who is really Kikunojo, speaks for Abe, while in chapters 12 and 13 Santaro introduces Aota Santaro, who speaks for Santaro, who is speaking in turn for Abe. Yet despite the narrative distance, in his original introduction, Abe says that this work represents "the most direct account of my own inner life." He also admits that some of the episodes are composed of pages taken directly from his own diary.
The first conclusion that can be reached regarding both form and content is that the work is constructed in the loose, episodic manner used by Nietzsche in many of his works, especially in his Genealogy of Morals, and that in terms of content, although the collection surely represents Abe's own philosophical odyssey, he is able, by attributing the thoughts to a fictional Santaro, to maintain maximum flexibility in shaping and modulating his thought. This format allows Abe to examine his inner life and to create a new philosophical self, but to keep that new creation at arm's length. There is some uncertainty here; it is as though the author wants to create a new self but also wants to be able to disclaim it at any moment if this method should lead to the consciousness of a self he does not wish to accept. The reader has the feeling that Abe wants to explore the inner life of the self as completely as possible in a fictional sense. He wishes to be certain of where all this self-examination is going to lead before he commits himself to the new identity he has created.
In the introduction to The Diary of Santaro Abe writes, "This work represents my meditations concerning my own conflicts and weaknesses.... Yet at the same time it is a cry from one who lives in darkness and who is seeking light. It is also a record of how I moved gradually from darkness toward the light." In the same introduction he also writes, "This is an account of the opening of my small soul from the time when I had lost my naive faith in both human life and I myself and was in confusion, up to the present time when I have, to some small degree, regained my faith."
By arranging these various essays, written over a period of six years, into a single work attributed to Aota Santaro, Abe is able to present a guidebook for the young intellectuals of his age, to show them how they might successfully come to terms with the philosophical problems that concerned them. Abe's conclusions, as with most significant philosophical conclusions, are rather banal when stripped to their bare essence. He says, for example, that to create the true inner life of the soul, we must be humble, sincere, and deeply introspective. But in The Diary of Santaro he stresses that the conclusions are not so important; for him it is the process that counts, the journey of the spirit as it deals with the many problems it encounters.
As a voracious reader of Western philosophy Abe was first stimulated, then finally overwhelmed, by the many ideas to which he was exposed. In a sense The Diary of Santaro represents his way of sifting through all that he had read, then digesting it, in a way that may finally be very Japanese. It has already been suggested that Abe's literary format resembles that of Nietzsche. Certainly much of Abe's later reputation was based on his translations and interpretations of Nietzsche's writing, but at this early stage of his career he was reading Hegel. Abe's style of presentation probably reflects the influence of Hegel in the sense that he tries to advance his argument by setting up two opposing ideas in order to resolve or synthesize them.
In the introduction to Santaro, a piece called "Dampen" (Fragments), Abe outlines his problem by saying that for him it is not merely a question of knowing the new or modem approaches to philosophy; rather, he is assaulted by so many possible modes of thought and behavior that his inner world has become fragmented and chaotic. Consequently, he has made up his mind to find out first of all what he is, and then what he could be or should be. In establishing this basis for introspection he uses Hegel's terms an sich (being-in-itself) and für sich (being-for-itself) to distinguish between what he is and to what he aspires. The conflict between these two states of being causes him great sorrow and anguish. He is weary of being a man and an adult and wishes to be a woman, a child, anything but himself as he now is. In a style appropriate to this intellectual confusion, his introduction is filled with images from Greek mythology and quotations from the New Testament, and the text is littered with English and German words. Surely much of the appeal of Abe's work to several generations of young intellectual readers lies in this eclectic scattering of terms, references, and allusions with which they would have been proudly familiar.
In the first several chapters Santaro is so alienated from himself that he creates a fictional character, Hermanov, to speak for him. Hermanov establishes an epistemological dialectic that identifies two sorts of knowledge—a pure, inner knowledge of the soul, and a more calculating, worldly knowledge. He also locates one source of anguish in the fact that an individual can say and think things he can never hope to accomplish. In the outer mode of being, this impossible dream is mere ambition, while in the inner world it represents aspiration. In Abe's case, the aspiration is for a life of truth. Santaro chooses to devote himself to the pursuit of this inner sort of knowledge, and to become an aspirant for the life of truth.
At this point everything is happening inside Santaro's head. There is no trace of communication with other people, nor any suggestion of the environment in which he is living. The imagery is all of twilight and shadows, with much use of the word tasogare (dusk). He notes that he prefers obscurity not only because it helps him hide his defects, but because it gives his imagination sufficient latitude to create its own environment. This environment is important for Santaro, since everything in his present life is false, and he must turn to abstraction and imagination to define his new life. He also maintains that abstraction reveals the essence of things. He uses here the Japanese term for essence, honshitsu, as well as the German word Wessen.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Culture and Identity by J. Thomas Rimer. Copyright © 1990 Princeton University Press. Excerpted by permission of PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS.
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Table of Contents
- FrontMatter, pg. i
- Contents, pg. v
- Preface, pg. vii
- Introduction, pg. 3
- 1. Abe Jirō and The Diary of Santarō, pg. 7
- 2. Kurata Hyakuzō and The Origins of Love and Understanding, pg. 22
- 3. Taishō Culture and the Problem of Gender Ambivalence, pg. 37
- Introduction, pg. 59
- 4. Sociology and Socialism in the Interwar Period, pg. 61
- 5. Tsuchida Kyōson and the Sociology of the Masses, pg. 83
- 6. Disciplinizing Native Knowledge and Producing Place: Yanagita Kunio, Origuchi Shinobu, Takata Yasuma, pg. 99
- Introduction, pg. 131
- 7. Marxism Addresses the Modern: Nakano Shigeharu’s Reproduction of Taishō Culture, pg. 133
- 8. “Credo Quia Absurdum”: Tenkō and the Prisonhouse of Language, pg. 154
- 9. Ikkoku Shakai-shugi: Sano Manabu and the Limits of Marxism as Cultural Criticism, pg. 168
- Introduction, pg. 189
- 10. Nitobe Inazō: From World Order to Regional Order, pg. 191
- 11. A Vast and Grave Task: Interwar Buddhist Studies as an Expression of Japan's Envisioned Global Role, pg. 217
- 12. A Turning in Taishō: Asia and Europe in the Early Writings of Watsuji Tetsurō, pg. 234
- Introduction, pg. 259
- 13. Kuki Shuzō and The Structure of lki, pg. 261
- 14. Natsume Sōseki and the Development of Modern Japanese Art, pg. 273
- 15. Yūgen and Erhabene: Ōnishi Yoshinori’s Attempt to Synthesize Japanese and Western Aesthetics, pg. 282
- Contributors, pg. 301
- Index, pg. 303