Zen Pathways: An Introduction to the Philosophy and Practice of Zen Buddhism (禅道の千路) by Bret W. Davis (review) Steve G. Lofts Bret W. Davis, Zen Pathways: An Introduction to the Philosophy and Practice of Zen Buddhism (禅道の千路) There is no shortage of books on Zen from almost every imaginable angle. And so, what makes Zen Pathways: An Introduction to the Philosophy and Practice of Zen Buddhism (禅道の千路) by Bret W. Davis unique enough to take up and read, and even re-read? And who should read it? The answers to these questions depend on who you are and what you are looking for. If you are simply curious about what Zen philosophy and practice is or is not, a student, a professor looking for a textbook on Zen Buddhism for your course, or a practitioner seeking to deepen your understanding of what it is that you are practicing, then you will almost certainly enjoy and profit greatly from this book. Davis brings to the page over thirty years of active engagement with Zen Buddhism as a practitioner, teacher of philosophy and Zen Buddhism, and scholar. Davis provides his reader with an accessible, comprehensive, and well-documented introduction to the teachings and practices of Zen Buddhism. What makes this introduction stand out and be particularly effective is that Davis provides us with a scholarly and philosophical account of Zen Buddhism that is animated by his personal experience as a long-term practitioner in Japan at the Rinzai Zen monastery of Shōkokuji and as a teacher and director of the Heart of Zen Meditation Group at Loyola University Maryland. However, as the Japanese subtitle of this work, 禅道の千路, makes clear, there are “a thousand paths of the way of Zen,” and Davis is careful to show us the paths he has traveled while leaving it to the reader to find their own paths along the way. In the course of the book’s twenty-four chapters, Davis provides his reader with a clear account and philosophical interpretation of [End Page 159] the core teachings of Buddhism (the four noble truths, impermanence, the no-self doctrine, co-origination and interconnection of the one and the many, nirvana and samsara, the great death, and so on), always relating his theoretical explanations to the concrete perspective of the practice of Zen Buddhism. His account of Zen Buddhism situates it in the historical tradition of Buddhism as it was transplanted from India to China, from China to Japan, and today from Japan to other places in the world. Davis connects these teachings to the practice of Zen, providing readers with a concrete and firsthand introduction to such Zen practices as zazen (seated meditation), kinhin (walking meditation), sanzen (interviews with a teacher), koān work, and samu (meditative work), and to the Zen practice of cultivating naturalness (jinen) in and through such art forms as karate and flower arrangement (ikebana), the Japanese aesthetics of “cut-continuance” and wabi-sabi, as well as Zen-inspired gardens, painting, and music. The book also explores a number of classical and contemporary philosophical issues from the standpoint of Zen Buddhism: the problem of the one and the many, the ethical relation to the other, the problem of evil, the nature of love, freedom and determinacy, what is God, our relation to nature, and so on. Finally, the presentation of the core teachings of Zen Buddhism and the discussion of philosophical issues is undertaken in and through an intercultural and interreligious dialogue in which the similarities and dissimilarities between different cultural and faith traditions are explored and used to help illustrate the unique standpoint of Zen Buddhism. One can mention here Chapter 12 titled “Dying to Live: Zen, Pure Land Buddhism, and Christianity.” This synoptic view of Zen Buddhism is presented in an elegant, personal style that is clear, concise, and expresses a genuine passion and spirit of openness. In copious endnotes, Davis has also provided the reader with a wealth of material for further study that has been judiciously selected from good English translations of readings in the classical works as well as contemporary scholarship. Finally, with an eye to the use of this text in a classroom or in study groups, Davis has...
Guest Editor’s Introduction Nakajima Takahiro 「東京学派」とは聞きなれない名称であろう。日本研究において「京都学派」は大変よく知られている。たとえ「京都学派」が、「無の論理は論理ではない」と述べた上で、戸坂潤が発明した批判的な概念であったとしても、現在ではそれは西田幾多郎や田辺元を中心とした一大哲学運動として世界的に認知されている。ところが、西田にしても田辺にしてももともとは東京帝国大学で学んだ学生であった。また、戦前においては、井上哲次郎から桑木厳翼へと続く東京帝国大学哲学科の流れは、当時の社会状況と相互に影響しあって、一定の意義を示していたのである。また、大森荘蔵、廣松渉、坂部恵といった戦後の東京大学の哲学者たちは、「京都学派」の問題系を乗り越えることを重視していた。 この特別号では、発見的概念として「東京学派」を用いて、戦前・戦後におけるその意義と広がりを探究することにした。それは東京大学もしくは東京帝国大学に限定されたものではなく、それ以外の東京圏の大学との相互交流も含まれるものである。「京都学派」に対しては、政治との距離をどう測るかがしばしば議論されてきたが、「東京学派」は政治により密着したものである。日本の近代の哲学の有している政治性そして倫理性を考えるのであれば、やはり「東京学派」の議論は避けて通る ことのできないものである。 無論、「学派」というほどのまとまりを「東京学派」が有しているわけではないことも確かである。西田幾多郎が「京都学派」で果たした中心性は、「東京学派」にはない。そこで、トマス・カスリスが示唆するように、「学派」の代わりに「サークル」や「スタイル」という言葉を使った方がより正確かもしれない。それでも、あえて「東京学派」と呼ぶのは、「京都学派」に比べて関心を持たれることの少ない、しかし当時は圧倒的な影響力を有し、戦後決定的に忘却されていった東京の哲学者たちに光をあて、近代日本の哲学の総体を明らかにしたいからである。 「東京学派」の研究は緒についたばかりである。今後、国際的な研究の高まりを期待しながら擱筆する。 The “Tokyo School” may be an unfamiliar term to readers. The Kyoto School is very well known in Japanese studies. Even if the Kyoto School is a critical concept invented by Tosaka Jun, who stated [End Page 2] that “the logic of nothingness is not logic,” it is now recognized worldwide as a major philosophical movement led by Nishida Kitarō and Tanabe Hajime. However, both Nishida and Tanabe were originally students at Tokyo Imperial University. In addition, before the war, the output of the Department of Philosophy at Tokyo Imperial University, from Inoue Tetsujirō to Kuwaki Gen’yoku, had a certain significance because it interacted with the social conditions of the time. In addition, postwar philosophers at the University of Tokyo, such as Ōmori Shōzō, Hiromatsu Wataru, and Sakabe Megumi emphasized overcoming the problematics of the Kyoto School. In this special issue, we use the Tokyo School as a heuristic concept to explore its significance and spread in the prewar and postwar periods. It is not limited to the University of Tokyo or Tokyo Imperial University but includes interactions with other universities in the Tokyo area. While the Kyoto School has often been discussed in terms of how to measure its distance from politics, the Tokyo School is more closely connected to politics. If we consider the political and ethical dimensions of modern Japanese philosophy, we cannot avoid discussing the Tokyo School. Of course, it is true that the Tokyo School is not as coherent as a “school.” The central role that Nishida fulfilled in the Kyoto School is perhaps lacking in the Tokyo School. Therefore, as Thomas P. Kasulis suggests, it might be more accurate to use the term “circle” or “style” instead of “school.” Nevertheless, I dare to call it the Tokyo School because I would like to shed light on the Tokyo philosophers who were less popular than those of the Kyoto School but whose influence was overwhelming at the time and who were definitively forgotten after the war, so as to clarify the totality of philosophy in modern Japan. Research on the Tokyo School has only just begun. I am writing this introductory note in anticipation of further international research on the Tokyo School. [End Page 3] Copyright © 2023 State University of New York Press
Ōmori Shōzō and Kotodama Theory: How Can We Overcome the Need for Bodily Encounters? Maki Sato Introduction Ōmori Shōzō is known for his theory of tachi-araware monism. Tachiaraware monism is his attempted counter-argument to the Cartesian dualism of the object–subject divide, or in his words, a divide between physical (butsuri, mono, science, object) and non-physical consciousness (ishiki, koto, perception, incident), perception (chikaku, 知覚) and conception (shikō, 思考). His concept of Kasane-egaki is also often cited as a core concept of his theory of time.1 The main aim of this paper is to first overview the works of Ōmori since there is only a limited amount of his translated work so far.2 Consecutively, the paper focuses on Ōmori’s theory of kotodama and its related arguments with an intention to expand his concept of Kowaburi into the ethics of online encounters during the pandemic. The world in 2020 was suddenly forced to face the pandemic caused by COVID-19. What COVID-19 alerted us to is tremendous, and there are countless problems that the invisible virus has revealed. Among those are the hidden problems of contemporary society, not limited to the discrimination among races, gender, and jobs (white-collars versus essential workers), the problem of zoonosis, and the related environmental problems (climate change and intrusion into wild nature) caused by over-exploitation of nature. In developed countries, most students and those serving as intellectual workers face their daily lives being overly occupied with online lectures and meetings. COVID-19 worked to normalize remote work, which further normalized and forced our everyday life to shift to cyberspace. [End Page 101] In introducing and overviewing Ōmori’s philosophy, this paper attempts to see the current situation through Ōmori’s philosophy to draw out some ethical implications related to non-physical online encounters and how we can perceive human interactions and relationships under such conditions. Under the constraints caused by COVID-19, humans’ limitless desires to interact with others are expanding more so to the sphere of cyberspace, leading to technological development, such as VR. In short, first, the paper overviews Ōmori’s philosophy. Second, through the overview of Ōmori’s philosophy, the paper seeks adaptable philosophy of his that may work as soft binding grounding ethics for cyberspace encounters where substantial bodily encounters are void. In doing so, the paper intends to draw out weak binding ethics implied in Ōmori’s philosophy that may work to empathetically engage with others in cyberspace where embodied encounters with others are dissolved. Ōmori Shōzō and His Philosophy: A Short Introduction and Overview In his short essay introducing the Japanese philosophy of the 1970s, Yasuo Kobayashi coined the term “Komaba quartet” by selecting four active eminent philosophers based on the Komaba campus at the University of Tokyo.3 Among them is Ōmori Shōzō (1921–97), aligning with Hiromatsu Wataru (1933–94), Sakabe Megumi (1936–2009), and Inoue Tadashi (1926–2014). Ōmori is the oldest of the Komaba quartet and received higher education before World War II. He served at the Naval Technology Institute Mitaka Laboratory during the war with his physics degree from the Tokyo Imperial University.4 After the war, he studied philosophy at the University of Tokyo with an interest in phenomenology, leading him to study at Harvard and Stanford in the United States. During his professorship at the University of Tokyo, he inspired countless students who are now leading the philosophy academy in Japan, such as Noe Keiichi (1949–) and Noya Shigeki (1954–). In the round-table discussion titled “Explanatory Round-Table on the Charm of Ōmori’s Philosophy,” four of his former students—Iida Takashi and Tanji Nobuharu, in addition to Noe and Noya—worked on selecting his works. It is impressive to read that all four [End Page 102] of them recall how exciting and inspiring it was to take his classes.5 Iida recalls that Ōmori’s classes were exceptional since philosophy courses were all about reading, with might and main, the texts written in a language other than Japanese at the University of Tokyo. However, Ōmori, with his postwar American education, welcomed discussion with the students and was keen on questioning...
Tokyo School of Philosophy? A Preliminary Reflection Thomas P. Kasulis Introduction Philosophical circles worldwide have recognized the so-called Kyoto School for decades. Can we also speak of a modern Tokyo School and, if so, of its distinguishing nature? That question drives most articles in this journal’s special issue. Before beginning my inquiry, however, I have two preliminary questions. First, why is it important to ask whether there is, was, or even ever will be something legitimately considered a Tokyo School? Second, how do the Japanese think in terms of schools, and what words might specifically designate a school of philosophy? I will try to answer these questions, not in an abstract or general way, but one that uses the Japanese cultural context for its point of departure. Japanese Regionalism and Japanese Philosophy Let us start with the first issue: why ask whether there is a Tokyo School? One possibility, of course, is regional bragging rights between Kansai and Kantō as we find in, for example, sumō rivalries. That may seem like a joke, but we need to go back only a couple of centuries for concrete evidence of just such a competitive spirit. Examine this broadside published in Japan during the height of the Edo period.1 [End Page 5] Click for larger view View full resolution Figure 2.1. Gakusha kakuryoku shōbu tsuki hyōban (学者角力勝負附評判) (Standings Assigned to a Sumō Match of Scholars). As a sumō program, this banzuke divides the philosophical competitors between those from East Japan (Edo, today’s Tokyo) and West Japan (Kyoto-Osaka).2 Along the top are the typical sumō hierarchies of ranks (ōzeki, sekiwake, komusubi, etc.),3 but here they correspond not to wrestlers but philosophers. In this version, for example, Kumazawa Banzan 熊沢蕃山 is the ōzeki and Ogyū Sorai 荻生徂徠 the sekiwake of the East, while the equivalents in the West are Arai Hakuseki 新井白石 and Itō Jinsai 伊藤仁斎. Such artifacts confirm a long history of East–West philosophical rivalries within Japan, but that hardly justifies our quest for a Tokyo School. Still, let us not too quickly dismiss the banzuke as simply an idiosyncratic curiosity; it has something more to teach us. If nothing else, it shows that at least in the Edo period, some intellectuals assumed a correlation between geographical location and philosophical perspective. That brings to light two common [End Page 6] present-day misconceptions, one about Japanese culture and one about philosophy. The first misconception is that Japanese culture is monolithic, or if it is not, that the Japanese like to think of their identity in that way. That mistaken view overlooks a potent force shaping Japanese identity: regionalism. The Japanese delight in celebrating the distinctive foods, crafts, scenery, dialects, festivals, and social customs of the different locales within the country. Even today, weeklong regional themes play out on morning TV shows as they broadcast on site from different locales throughout Japan. Undoubtedly a marketing ploy to encourage tourism, the shows also reinforce the Japanese sense of regional differences within their country. Grocery or department stores join in with weeklong “matsuri” campaigns dedicated to particular Japanese regions, highlighting sales of specialties in foods and crafts. If you go on a trip within Japan, your family and coworkers expect you to bring back omiyage as gifts—souvenirs or edibles distinctive to the place you visited. As a convenience for the harried traveler, train stations sell the omiyage associated with the specific locale. The recognition of regional differences within a single national identity traces back at least to the Nara period when the newly established central government began regularly compiling Fudoki 風土記 for each of the provinces. Those almanacs or gazetteers included details about the local demography, climate, agriculture, topography, dialects, local customs, festivals, folklore, and so forth. The East vs. West, Kantō vs. Kansai, or Tokyo (Edo) vs. Kyoto-Osaka contrast that interests us here became most prominent in the Edo period as Tokyo vied with Kyoto for prominence as the cultural center of Japan.4 Centuries before anyone identified a “Kyoto School” of philosophy, the banzuke suggests that at least some intellectuals assumed that philosophizing in Kyoto-Osaka differed in some respects from philosophizing in Edo. This does not imply...
Kiyozawa Manshi’s Two Theories of Evolution and Their Western Inspiration Dennis PROOI Introduction If one solely were to confine the scope of one’s inquiry into the defining trait of a “Tokyo School of Philosophy” to the years immediately following the founding of Tokyo University in 1877, it would be hard to escape the conclusion that philosophy there at the time was determined almost entirely by the dominant intellectual wind blowing through its lecture halls, namely that of evolutionary theory. Katō Hiroyuki (1836–1916), president of the university from 1890 to 1893, was one of its staunchest advocates, doing much to foster the spread of ideas that would today be typified as “Social-Darwinian.”1 Inoue Enryō (1858–1919), undoubtedly the Meiji period’s most successful public philosopher, came to embrace many Spencerian ideas on evolution under the influence of Toyama Masakazu (1848–1900), a devout Spencerian, during his time as a student there (from 1881 to 1885).2 Ernest F. Fenollosa (1853–1908), an American philosopher who exerted great influence over the university’s young philosophical minds, was working on a synthesis of the Spencerian and Hegelian philosophical systems.3 He had been brought to Tokyo University by the Darwinian zoologist Edward S. Morse (1838–1925), who was himself instrumental in the spread of evolutionary ideas. This quick survey of Tokyo notables serves not only to establish the dominance of evolutionary theory, but also to show how in the context of late nineteenth-century Japan, “evolutionary theory” (shinkaron 進化論) is best understood as an umbrella term that could refer to a wide array of ideas—including, but certainly not limited to, Darwinian, Social-Darwinian, Spencerian, and Hegelian ones, or a mix of these—on the nature of (individual and social) change, development, and progress. Although the impact of 1859’s The Origin of Species made Darwin a figure impossible to ignore, by no means was evolutionary theory [End Page 77] equated with his theory of natural selection. For their ideas of evolution, many looked to Herbert Spencer (1820–1903), regarded by the Victorian English as the philosopher of evolution and whose system of synthetic philosophy presented positivist-leaning Meiji-era Japanese intellectuals with a definitive model of philosophical achievement. Spencer prided himself in having been the first to formulate the principle of evolution, remarking in the revised version of Social Statics (1892) that he had arrived at the general idea as early as 1850, many years before The Origin of Species had appeared in print.4 From Spencer’s point of view, Darwin had done no more than confirm a posteriori for biological organisms what was in fact an a priori law of evolution, established by Spencer in First Principles (1867) both inductively and deductively as the universal tendency of phenomena to pass from “an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity to a definite, coherent heterogeneity,” a process accompanied by “an integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion.”5 Spencer’s nod to the materialist tradition by formulating his conception of evolution in terms of matter in motion in his own self-understanding placed him in the camp of English philosophy, which did not let itself be deluded by the wrong use of language and spurned the invocation of what from its perspective was superfluous metaphysics. The opposing camp of German philosophy—following William Hamilton (1788–1856), derided by Spencer as “absolute theorisers”—made abundant use of such metaphysics to defend a teleological understanding of evolution—the kind of understanding Darwin (with his emphasis on the non-teleological character of natural selection) and Spencer (with his focus on matter in motion) attempted to render obsolete.6 Under the influence of Fenollosa, many students of philosophy at Tokyo University became attracted to the alternative German teleological model of evolution, the history of which via the German Romantics goes back to Leibniz’s attempt to reintroduce into physics the idea of final causes after these in that domain had been eliminated by Descartes.7 Descartes, to begin with, was the one to revolutionize natural philosophy by reducing the physical world to one of matter in motion ruled by efficient causation, imagining, much like Spencer two centuries later, that such a minimalist view of...
Race, Buddhism, and the Formation of Oriental (Tōyō) Philosophy in Meiji Japan Yijiang Zhong Introduction: Why Race for Philosophy? This paper examines the discursive efforts by Inoue Tetsujirō井上哲次郎, the foremost figure in the establishment of philosophical study in Meiji Japan, to de-Westernize Buddhism for the purpose of redefining the Orient (Tōyō 東洋) and constructing Oriental philosophy in contribution to nation-state building in Japan1. Born in 1855 to a doctor’s family in Kyushu, Inoue studied Confucian classics as well as English and Western thought at a young age before being selected to study at the newly established Tokyo University (Tokyo daigaku 東京大学), which was renamed Imperial University (Teikoku daigaku 帝国大学) in 1886 and then Tokyo Imperial University (Tokyo teikoku daigaku 東京帝国大学) in 1897. Upon graduation, Inoue taught philosophy at the university and co-published the first dictionary of philosophy, Tetsugaku jii (字彙) in 1881. In 1884, Inoue was sent to study philosophy in Europe, and upon returning to Japan in 1890, he became a professor of philosophy at (Tokyo) Imperial University, a position he held until retirement in 1923. Regarded as “the representative philosopher of the Meiji period,”2 Inoue played a major role in adopting and reconfiguring both Western and indigenous discourses and categories in the formulation of Oriental philosophy (Tōyō tetsugaku 東洋哲学), and shaped this new form of philosophical knowledge in the service of a “national morality” (kokumin dōtoku 国民道徳), i.e., the ideological foundation of modern Japanese nation-state building. Key to Inoue’s philosophical thought was the eclectic idea of “phenomenon as essence” (genshō soku jitsuzai ron), or the unity of appearance and substance, which Inoue developed by integrating the Kantian distinction of noumena (thing-in-itself) [End Page 53] and phenomenon, and the Buddhist distinction of discrimination (sabetsu) and equality (byōdō).3 In October 1890, Inoue Tetsujirō returned to Japan after six years of study in Germany and took up a professorship of philosophy in the Department of Literature of Tokyo Imperial University, where he lectured from 1891 to 1898 on Indian philosophy and history of Buddhism under the title of “Comparative Religion and Oriental Philosophy.”4 On June 30, 1897, he published a small (123-page) book entitled On the Race of Shakyamuni (Shaka shuzoku ron 釋迦種族論), which included a lecture “What Race was Buddha Shakyamuni?” (Shaka ha ikanaru shuzoku nanoka 釋迦は如何なる種族なのか) given at the Tokyo Academy (Gakushi kaiin 学士会院) on July 7, 1895, and a much longer essay defending his theory of the Buddha’s race developed from the lecture as an attack on Naka Michiyo 那珂通世, who was a professor at Tokyo Higher Normal School engaged in a public debate with Inoue on the issue. In 1902, Inoue went on to publish a biography of the Buddha, Shakyamuni-den 釈迦牟尼伝, demonstrating his persistent interest in the life and identity of the founder of Buddhism. Curiously, while the title “What Race Was the Buddha” appeared in the table of contents of the biography, the essay itself was not included in the book. Then in April 1911, a new version of the biography was published after Inoue and his student Hori Kentoku 堀謙徳 expanded the content and appended seven annotations and bibliographical essays, including one on the racial identity of the Buddha. The revised biography has 465 pages, greatly expanding the 1902 version of 286 pages. This time, not only was the essay “What Race Was the Buddha” not included, but its title did not appear in the table of contents either. Why did Inoue need to talk about race and determine the racial identity of the Buddha when he was lecturing on Oriental philosophy, religion, and national morality? What do the emergence and disappearance of the issue of the Buddha’s racial origin in Inoue’s lectures and publications mean? How did these changes speak of Buddhism, Oriental philosophy, and Japanese philosophy Inoue was constructing? So far, scholars have not raised the question of race, although a growing amount of literature on Inoue from the perspectives of philosophy, intellectual history, and political ideology is surfacing.5 The only study that touched upon Inoue’s essay on the racial identity of the Buddha is Isomae Junichi 磯前順一’s Kindai Nihon no shūkyō gensetsu to sono keifu 近代日本の宗教言説とその系譜 [End Page 54...
Toward a Dialectics of Emptiness: Overcoming Nihilism and Combatting Mechanization in Nishitani Keiji’s Postwar Thought Griffin Werner In his postwar writings on nihilism in modernity, Nishitani Keiji (1900–90) does not explicitly articulate the structure of the relationship between the mechanization of the world and nihilism. Instead, he discusses mechanization with respect to his critique of modern worldviews such as atheism, scientism, and liberalism and how they have contributed to the advent of nihilism and the loss of human autonomy in modern Europe and Japan.1 According to Nishitani, before the advent of scientism and the subsequent progression of unfettered technological development, pre-Western-Enlightenment and pre-Meiji-period worldviews consisted of a fundamental embodied connection between a people or culture and their spiritual traditions. In Europe’s case, due to the death of God and the subsequent shift from a Christian worldview to an atheistic and scientistic one, a historical period of nihilism began. Modern mechanistic worldviews like Descartes’s, Nishitani argues, present the world as consisting of dead matter that is fundamentally separated from the indubitable ego. No longer is the world considered to be “alive” in the sense of there being a fundamental connection between human life and the living, breathing world around it. Rather, from the perspective of the ego, the modern world is simply a cold and lifeless world of dead machines. As discussed in Religion and Nothingness, the development of structurally Cartesian worldviews led to or caused the advent of nihilism in Europe. Consequently, European culture lost its cultural ground in Christianity and individuals lost their foundational meaning which supported their understanding of themselves in relation [End Page 129] to others, the world, and a transcendent God. As Japan began to modernize, or, arguably, “Westernize,” it inherited a Cartesian-like worldview and, over time, subsequently lost touch with its traditional philosophical and religious ground as well. As a result, the modern period of nihilism began in both Europe and Japan as both peoples lost touch with the traditional meaning that supported them. While this description between mechanization and nihilism implies a causal relationship, I argue that the relationship between nihilism and the mechanization of the world can be more accurately articulated in terms of a dialectical relationship. In the modern context, not only does the mechanization of the world lead to or exacerbate a culture’s plunge into nihilism or an individual’s confrontation with the abyss of nihility, but nihilism also reinforces and exacerbates the mechanization of the world. As partners in this dialectical oscillation, each reinforces the other as one (culture or person) continuously spirals deeper and deeper into meaninglessness, ultimately to the culminating point that Nishitani calls the “mechanization of man.”2 Just as Nishitani argues that the problem of nihilism can only be solved by way of radicalizing nihilism to the “field of emptiness,” the structural oscillation between nihilism and mechanization will continue at the levels of the individual and the culture unless nihilism and mechanization are overcome. However, rather than only overcoming nihilism to reach emptiness in the individual, and that leading to social and political change, I argue that overcoming the dialectical tension between nihilism and mechanization will require a “dialectics of emptiness.” Such a dialectic will combat nihilism and mechanization with a mutually reinforcing tension between personal transformation, which overcomes nihilism by way of stepping back to the field of emptiness, and socio-political transformation by way of a politics of emptiness. Solving the problem of nihilism in modernity—insofar as it is always already in relation to mechanization—will require more than individual existential confrontation and transformation. Through one’s individual overcoming of nihilism, one must also aim to “empty” those institutions which contribute to the mechanization of the world. While Nishitani highlights the individual’s religious quest as the impetus for the social and political change necessary to overcome the problem of nihilism at the cultural level, an analysis of how that might be done and what [End Page 130] may be politically necessary in order to do so is missing from his thought. As such, my aim in this article is twofold: I attempt to shed light on the structure of nihilism and...
Reply to Laÿna Droz’s Review of Watsuji on Nature: Japanese Philosophy in the Wake of Heidegger David W. Johnson I would like to begin by thanking the Journal of Japanese Philosophy for making space in these pages for a review of my monograph Watsuji on Nature: Japanese Philosophy in the Wake of Heidegger. Although book reviews do not usually receive a reply from the author—much less one as lengthy as the article that follows—one seemed necessary in this instance because my ideas, unfortunately, have been seriously mis-represented here. Moreover, the number and kinds of misreadings, mistakes, misunderstandings, and omissions are so extensive that even a brief attempt to address the main points at issue is no small task. But the primary problem is that the reviewer contends that I say the opposite of what I actually maintain with regard to some of the central claims of the book. These mistaken assertions are primarily the consequence of a failure to understand crucial philosophical concepts (especially metaphysical nondualism, being-in-the-world, intentionality, and disclosure). But they also stem from a series of errors ranging from the exclusion of some of the fundamental ideas and arguments of the book to the misreading of pivotal claims and the mistranslation of the Japanese-language primary sources. I begin with a single but telling example that is characteristic of the way the reviewer repeatedly portrays me as saying the opposite of what I actually say. Droz states that “For Johnson, while human beings taken collectively as a whole have the capacity to transcend the fūdo, individual human beings apparently do not” (Droz, 133). But what I actually say is that Watsuji “has not shown that this same capacity belongs to the individual human being” (Johnson, 191). I then give a series of examples of individual transcendence: “the forms of transcendence that are evident in, for example, the complex identities of immigrants, of those who have lived in multiple countries, of those who live in multiple milieus at the same time [. . .] of those who develop a very different character from their compatriots even as they live together in the same place” (Johnson, 191). [End Page 167] I go on to point out that “we also need a subtler account, on a much smaller scale, of the ways the self is both constituted by and is also able to transcend its fūdo. In what follows we will give an indication of some of the issues involved” (Johnson, 191). I then proceed to give such an overview, concluding with the point that “the strong identification with one aspect of one’s milieu rather than another shows that the self is much more than the simple expression of its fūdo. This form of transcendence, I suggest, can be studied with profit as an instance of what Watsuji calls the individual dimension of human beings” (Johnson, 192). Misrepresentations of this sort abound. The most serious instance of this kind concerns one of the central theses of this study. At the beginning of her review, the author purports to recount two criteria that I propose “to clarify what the philosophical concept of fūdo entails” (Droz, 129). But in fact, I list four criteria under two distinct categories. First, in order to determine the scope and boundaries of a fūdo, I propose the following two criteria: 1. certain regions as articulated wholes found in nature itself, which is what Watsuji attempts to articulate with his taxonomy of basic types of fūdo (Johnson, 34). 2. a relational whole of disclosure, self-interpretation, and natural locale (Johnson, 34). But the reviewer takes note of (1) and passes over (2) in silence—this omission is significant and, as we will see shortly, it leads her into later difficulties. Droz instead moves directly to a second topic, namely, what I intend by the term nature, which is a concept found in both of these criteria. Here I follow Mill in thinking that we need some way to distinguish between nature and nonnature if nature is not simply to be equated with everything. I therefore propose two criteria that we might use to distinguish nature from...
The Influence of Chinese Sources on the Formation of Philosophy in the Tokyo School: Focusing on Kuwaki Gen’yoku Nakajima Takahiro The Background of Kuwaki Gen’yoku After the first generation of Inoue Tetsujirō (1856–1944) and his colleagues at Tokyo Imperial University, the second generation was represented by Kuwaki Gen’yoku (1874–1946). Kuwaki was a generation educated in the midst of the establishment of philosophy as an academic discipline, and he was a little younger than Nishida Kitarō (1870–1945). When Raphael von Koebel (1848–1923) retired in 1914, Kuwaki moved from Kyoto Imperial University to become a professor at Tokyo Imperial University to succeed him. In the same year, Nishida Kitarō became a professor of philosophy from a professor of religious studies at Kyoto Imperial University, where Kuwaki had been a professor of philosophy. This is the reason why two of them were called “The Kuwaki of the East and the Nishida of the West.” Today, however, Kuwaki can hardly be compared to Nishida’s reputation. The fact that his complete works were aborted after the first volume was published speaks for itself, despite the fact that he had published many works. Nevertheless, as the fact that he continued to teach for more than twenty years until 1935 (Nishida retired in 1928) shows, his influence was no small one, and he was even named one of the most popular philosophers of his time. Kuwaki is said to have been strongly influenced by the neo-Kantian school. This was behind the liberalism, idealism, and culturalism that colored the Taishō Democracy. Kuwaki was also a member of the Reimei-kai, which was also a symbol of Taishō Democracy, and he believed that we should move toward culturalism rather than [End Page 31] militarism. As far as this is concerned, Kuwaki is somewhat separated from the nationalism and statism of Inoue Tetsujirō. However, it was during his time as an exchange student between 1907 and 1909 that Kuwaki entered the neo-Kantian school, and he accepted it as the modern ideology of his time. Previous studies on Kuwaki Gen’yoku have concentrated on aspects such as his neo-Kantian philosophy and culturalism, and few have touched on his research on Chinese and Japanese philosophy. This paper will focus on Kuwaki’s discussions of Chinese and Japanese philosophy and will then attempt to clarify his framework of Western philosophy as well. Kuwaki and Chinese Philosophy With this background of German philosophy, it may seem that there is little relationship between Kuwaki and Chinese philosophy. However, considering the contents of Journal of Philosophy (Tetsugaku Zasshi) and the situation surrounding the philosophy of the University of Tokyo at that time, it was an urgent issue not only how to incorporate European philosophy, especially German philosophy, but also how to philosophically discuss the thoughts of China and Japan. Kuwaki has not discussed much about Chinese philosophy, but I would like to take up two important papers. One is “Xunzi’s Logic Theory” (“Junshi no ronri-setsu”), the first appearance of which was in Waseda Gakuhō in 1898, and later in Outline of Philosophy (Tetsugaku gairon) published by Tokyo Senmon Gakkō Shuppanbu in 1900 and Essay of History of Philosophy (Tetsugakushi sakki) published by Oyama Shoten in 1943. The other is “Overview of the Development of Ancient Chinese Logical Thought” (“Shina kodai ronri shisō hattatsu no gaisetsu”), the first appearance of which was in Journal of Philosophy (Tetsugaku Zasshi) in 1900, and later in Outline of Philosophy (Tetsugaku gairon) published by Tokyo Senmon Gakkō Shuppanbu in 1900 and Essay of History of Philosophy (Tetsugakushi sakki) published by Oyama Shoten in 1943. “Xunzi’s Logic Theory” (“Junshi no ronri-setsu”) deals with the rectification of names in the Xunzi. Kuwaki struggled to use “Logic Theory” instead of “Logic” and argued that there was a theory [End Page 32] that was similar to Aristotle and his successors on logic, although it is difficult to define it as logic itself. Kuwaki overlapped the Xunzi with Greek philosophy and said that “logic theory in the Xunzi was between Socrates and Aristotle” (Kuwaki 1943a, 321). He analyzed the rectification of names; for example, regarding “real name,” he interpreted it as...
Guest Editor’s Concluding Remarks Maki SATO 本特別号は戦前・戦後の東京、特に東京帝国大学、東京大学を活躍の場に据えた哲学者たちの智の営みに光をあて特集した初の試みである。「東京学派」との掛け声に対して、いったいどれくらいの論文が集まるのだろうか、蓋を開けてみるまでは全く分からなかった。特別号編者の一人としては、東京という場で行われた様々な哲学者たちによる知的営みのうち、いつの時代の、どの哲学者が研究対 象となっているのかを知ることは大変興味深かった。 巻頭論文としては、『日本哲学小史(Engaging Japanese Philosophy: A Short History)』を上梓されたオハイオ州立大学名誉教授のトマス・カスリス先生に、2019年1月下旬に東京大学東洋文化研究所にて行われた国際ワークショップ「日本哲学と東京大学の哲学」、また同年11月下旬に東京大学本郷キャンパスにおいて開催された集中講義でお話しいただいた内容に基づき、基調論文を執筆いただいた。快くお引き受け下さったことに、ここに心から感謝の意 を示したい。 今回、収録した論文が取り上げていたのは、井上哲次郎(1856~1944)、清沢満之(1863~1903)、桑木厳翼(1874~1946)、大森荘蔵(1921~1997)である。西周(1829~1897)がphilosophyを「希哲学」と翻訳してから、新たな学問として日本に哲学が根付き、西洋哲学の解釈から日本独自の哲学へと花開き始めた頃の哲学者が主に取り上げられている。東京の哲学者たちの知的営みの多くは「京都学派」と比較すると忘却され、埋もれてしまった概念が他にも多々あるだろう。しかしながら、東京という場所において、彼ら哲学者たちが掴もうとしていた新たな概念は、常に確実に日本の中枢、政治や経済のダイナミックな動向への応答としてあったものである。今後、日本哲学を通して私たち人類の行く先を見据える上でも、東京という場所において活躍した過去の哲学者たちが、言葉や概念で掴もうとしていたものを、本特集号が、再度、取り上げて見直す一機会にな れば幸いである。 [End Page 125] This special issue is the first attempt to highlight the intellectual activities of philosophers who were active in prewar and post-war Tokyo, particularly at the Tokyo Imperial University and the University of Tokyo. I had no idea how many papers we would receive under the special issue “Tokyo School” until we closed our call for papers. As one of the editors of the special issue, it was exciting to know, among the intellectual activities conducted by various philosophers based in Tokyo, which philosophers were the subjects of contemporary research from which period. It is fascinating to see and to read how the philosophical thinking of the past may resonate and still keep on inspiring us to face humanity’s issues of the twenty-first century. For the opening article, we invited Professor Emeritus Thomas P. Kasulis of Ohio State University, who published Engaging Japanese Philosophy: A Short History back in 2018, to write a keynote paper. He kindly sent us an article based on his presentations at the international workshop “Japanese Philosophy and the Philosophy of the University of Tokyo” held in late January 2019 at the University of Tokyo’s Institute for Advanced Studies on Asia and during an intensive lecture held in late November 2019 at the Hongo Campus. I would like to express our sincere gratitude to him for contributing to this special issue. The papers included in this volume cover Inoue Tetsujiro (1856–1944), Kiyosawa Manshi (1863–1903), Kuwaki Genyoku (1874–1946), and Omori Shozo (1921–97). The focus of this volume is on philosophers from the period when philosophy took root in Japan as a new discipline after Nishi Amane (1829–97) translated the word “philosophy” as tetsugaku. The late nineteenth to the early twentieth century was a transition period when philosophical thoughts began to blossom from an interpretation of Western philosophy into a unique style of Japanese philosophy, which I see as an attempt at amalgamation to close the gap between West and East. Compared to the well-studied Kyoto School centered around Nishida, from the Tokyo School there are probably many other concepts that have been forgotten and buried. The new concepts that philosophers of Tokyo were trying to grasp were always a response to the significant trends of the time, including responses to the dynamism of Japan’s political and economic situation, Tokyo being the capital of Japan. We hope that this special issue will provide [End Page 126] an opportunity to take a fresh look at and discover what the philosophers active in Tokyo were trying to grasp through words and concepts that still engage well with universal questions that remain relevant to the humanity of the current time. [End Page 127] Copyright © 2023 State University of New York Press
"Atsumori " is a Noh play composed by master playwright Zeami sometime before 1423, featuring characters from the Tales of the Heike. Although popular to this day, the philosophical significance of the play remains underdeveloped and underappreciated. Prima facie, it features a ghost who is liberated thanks to the sincere prayer of the priest who killed him. Simplistic reading would yield simplistic understanding of the characters and their dynamism, and would fail to appreciate, for instance, the agency of the ghost or the liberation of the priest. Accordingly, some regard the play as falling short of the highest aesthetic value, insofar as its protagonist fails to attain liberation through his own effort. Some even contend that the ulterior purpose of the play is to portray ghosts as powerless and desperate so that vanquishers need not fear vengeful ghosts. While it is possible that Zeami indeed held such ulterior intention and regarded it as second rank for the protagonist's lack of agency, I shall present a different reading that would yield a richer appreciation of the characters and their dynamism. I do so by regarding the "friendship of dharma " that occurs at the culmination of the play as "existential communion " as presented in Tanabe Hajime's later philosophy. That is, the play need not be read as a story about a living priest saving a dead warrior-it can be read as about two lost souls saving each other, through mutual acceptance, mutual sacrifice, and collaborative mediation of the Absolute.
Confucian state doctrines have shaped Asian cultures for millennia as prescriptive codes of conduct with an emphasis on hierarchy and obligation. Yet a premise at the core of li ((sic))- understood as propriety, ritual, or generally a cultural grammar-is authenticity, and authentic respect cannot be commanded. What if the li were to be elegant instead? Hans-Georg Gadamer analyzed play as a fusion of horizons that are absorbed into the same event, co-constituting subject and object in an aesthetic experience, and dissolving their dichotomy. We consider examples from Japanese aesthetics in this framework to give depth to key Confucian concepts: the values that enable a relationality that is not in conflict with autonomy; the points of reference for self--improvement through culture; a social organization that enacts reciprocity; and the essential posture this requires. The radical simplicity of the philosophy of tea, chanoyu, and the aesthetic refinement of the Katsura Rikyu palace illuminate the principle of emotional resonance in encounters, which underlies the fusion of cognitive, ethical, and aesthetic horizons. This view reveals how the relational premise of the Confucian philosophical system entails an ontological commitment to mutuality. This is indeed ethics, but neither particularism nor generalism; in its aesthetic dimension it is the mode of perception of a self fulfilled in play.
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Abstract:Confucian state doctrines have shaped Asian cultures for millennia as prescriptive codes of conduct with an emphasis on hierarchy and obligation. Yet a premise at the core of lǐ (禮)—understood as propriety, ritual, or generally a cultural grammar—is authenticity, and authentic respect cannot be commanded. What if the lǐ were to be elegant instead? Hans-Georg Gadamer analyzed play as a fusion of horizons that are absorbed into the same event, co-constituting subject and object in an aesthetic experience, and dissolving their dichotomy. We consider examples from Japanese aesthetics in this framework to give depth to key Confucian concepts: the values that enable a relationality that is not in conflict with autonomy; the points of reference for self-improvement through culture; a social organization that enacts reciprocity; and the essential posture this requires. The radical simplicity of the philosophy of tea, chanoyu, and the aesthetic refinement of the Katsura Rikyū palace illuminate the principle of emotional resonance in encounters, which underlies the fusion of cognitive, ethical, and aesthetic horizons. This view reveals how the relational premise of the Confucian philosophical system entails an ontological commitment to mutuality. This is indeed ethics, but neither particularism nor generalism; in its aesthetic dimension it is the mode of perception of a self fulfilled in play.
Abstract:This essay argues for the importance of Nishitani Keiji’s thought as a critical resource to confront what the unfolding ecological crisis reveals about who and what we are. The first part considers the importance of “nature” for Nishitani that accords with insights that both resonate with his Zen practice and heritage, and which open up tacit dimensions of the Jōdo Shin (True Pure Land) tradition. The second section turns to Nishitani’s highly original Zen “existentialization” of science in general, and by extension, contemporary climate science in particular, in order to highlight Nishitani’s Great Death as a response to the unfolding ecological catastrophe. In treating climate science as a kōan, we not only come to see who we are, but also come undone and awaken to a new relation to the Great Earth.
In this contribution, I seek to highlight two different understandings of the self that can be found in Nishida Kitaro's An Inquiry into the Good and show how they relate to one another to form a novel view of selfhood. As several scholars are already aware, Nishida appears inconsistent about how he describes terms relating to our "true" self in his early work, discussing it both as a particular state of consciousness in which unity between subject and object has been achieved and the fundamental activity that generates meaning in otherwise mute experience. While most interpreters have tended to limit themselves to mentioning only one outlook on the self or the other (or otherwise to taking the apparent inconsistency in Nishida's earliest thought as a sign that he had yet to reach philosophical maturity), I believe this is a mistake. Indeed, as I shall argue in this contribution, Nishida's early philosophy can only be read fruitfully if these two seemingly different interpretations of the "true self" are reconciled with one another.
Reviewed by: Japanese Philosophy in the Making 1: Crossing Paths with Nishida by John Maraldo John Krummel John Maraldo, Japanese Philosophy in the Making 1: Crossing Paths with Nishida Nagoya: Chisokudō, 2017 The present volume by John Maraldo is a collection of his essays, mostly on Nishida. It constitutes the first volume of a two-part collection on Japanese philosophy, this one focusing on Nishida while the second volume includes works on other Japanese philosophers surrounding Nishida. I have long considered Maraldo to be the foremost scholar in English language works in this field, who has consistently produced thought-provoking and well-grounded work, based on his extensive erudition regarding both Japanese and Western traditions. For the last decade and a half, while reading through his fine articles on Japanese philosophy, I was hoping that eventually a book of his own on this topic would be published. Such a book has finally appeared. It is a book that would certainly benefit Anglophone students and scholars of Nishida and Japanese philosophy worldwide. The essays collected here have been previously published in journals or other volumes, or otherwise presented in conferences. But they have been “lightly revised” (1) for the present volume. The volume could have used additional copyediting to clean up some typos. Nevertheless, I would recommend this book to anyone studying or working on Nishida. The volume begins with the prologue’s caveat that “identities we call Japan, Europe, and philosophy are as shifting as they are settled . . .” (1). A recurring question, therefore, is how philosophy is defined, how it has traversed through time and place, how Nishida’s thought conveys philosophy, and how we can continue this process of translating philosophy (1). Maraldo’s commentary throughout this volume thus proves to be more than just intellectual history but is itself philosophical as he thinks along with the thinkers he discusses, and invites the reader to do likewise. In this he seeks to bring Nishida’s work into philosophical dialogue with the rest of the world, asking “how does the work of Nishida . . . contribute to the momentum of philosophy?” (1). Maraldo also inquires what the term “Japanese philosophy” (日本哲学) may mean and provides four possibilities [End Page 135] that were given previously in Japanese Philosophy: A Sourcebook that he edited with James Heisig and Thomas Kasulis some years ago,1 while in addition providing possible objections to them (6–8). He tells us that he has come to understand Japanese philosophy as an “ongoing, creative endeavor,” as “philosophy in the making”—a phrase that describes for him all philosophical investigation as a “work in progress, subject to reappraisal and reformation, to rethinking” (10). This seems a reasonable—realistic and viable—approach to understanding philosophy, including Japanese philosophy. Moreover, this process of philosophy, as it crosses cultural and historical borders, inevitably involves translation, the “transmission and transmutation through time and through multiple languages” (11). Even within the West, the origin of philosophy cannot be reduced to its Greek origin when, as Maraldo points out, the ancient Greeks themselves drew from wellsprings of “non-Western” thought (17) and the question of a single origin thus proves to involve “crossroads and contingencies” (17). Philosophy as such “occurs via the trans-lation of texts, spoken and written” (11), which not only means the transference of texts through languages but also “the transformation of textually embedded problems, methods and terminologies both across and within natural languages,” “an inter-lingual and an intra-lingual transmission” entailing “the formation of textual traditions” (12). It not only transmits texts but transforms the language, which in turn transforms cultures and traditions (12). Maraldo views Nishida as such a “consummate trans-lator” of philosophy, who reworked both Asian and European sources into his own language while refining his positions throughout his life (13). But even while refusing to confine philosophy to its Greek origins, Maraldo refuses to exoticize Nishida’s works as yet another product of the Orient. Instead, he treats Nishida’s work as worthy of the philosophical attention of the rest of the world. That is to say that he treats Nishida foremost as a philosopher in the global setting, an equal partner in dialogue with philosophers of the...
Reviewed by: Japanese Philosophy in the Making 2: Borderline Interrogations by John Maraldo Leah Kalmanson John Maraldo, Japanese Philosophy in the Making 2: Borderline Interrogations Nagoya: Chisokudō, 2019. Japanese Philosophy in the Making 2: Borderline Interrogations is the second in a series of three volumes featuring selections from John Maraldo’s work in Japanese philosophy over the years. The format might best be described as a hybrid text somewhere between an edited collection and a single-authored book. All of the essays in Borderline Interrogations are updated versions of Maraldo’s own previously published works or records of unpublished talks. They are grouped thematically into five sections, with each section prefaced by a brief introduction to provide readers with context as well help them draw connections across the entire work. However, compared to the first volume, which was more or less unified via its focus on Nishida, this second volume offers a more disparate array of topics. This could be seen as a strength or a weakness, depending on whether readers approach the text expecting something more like a book or more like an edited collection. Hence, openness toward the hybrid format at the outset can help readers navigate the text and better appreciate its unique approach to philosophizing. In his introduction, Maraldo addresses questions of cultural borders and bridges, including issues of identity, translation, and disciplinarity. He selects the word “intercultural”—as opposed to multicultural, cross-cultural, or comparative—to describe the kind of philosophy developing in Japan during and after the initial impact of Nishida on the formation of the academic discipline at institutional centers in both Kyōto and Tōkyō. With this word choice, he invites readers to reflect on various Japanese philosophers’ engagements with German- and English-language texts. Familiarity with another language (whether this amounts to full fluency or basic academic competency) enables a style of philosophical conversation that Maraldo compares to a Gadamerian process of hermeneutic play. Crucially, the twists and turns of translation, or thinking across and between several languages at once, takes the lead in directing philosophical thinking, rather than the other way around. As Maraldo says, “What is [End Page 143] decisive is the moment of release from trying self-consciously to control all movement back and forth” (10). This interplay of multiple languages is a definitive feature of the intercultural philosophy that Maraldo associates with twentieth-century and contemporary Japan. He goes on to describe this kind of philosophizing via Ueda Shizuteru’s writings on the Japanese poem form of renku or “linked verse.” Such poetic practices are open-ended, allowing multiple participants to make creative connections arising from the ever-evolving context of the poem itself. The composition, in some senses, “lives” at this border between the verse just written and the verse yet to be added, being the sole property of neither verse’s author. So too, Maraldo suggests, does intercultural philosophy live at the border between various languages and intellectual traditions. Readers might appreciate thinking of the hybrid form of his collection itself on the renku model—various narrative and thematic threads do run through the book, but the work as a whole remains open-ended, marking a record of Maraldo’s own intercultural philosophizing over the many years of his career. It ends, but does not conclude, with a “cliffhanger” of sorts best appreciated with the conversational intercultural model in mind. Maraldo’s short introductions that precede each of the five sections of the book give ample context regarding the projects for which various works were written, Maraldo’s own interests at the time of writing, how his thinking has or has not changed over time, and so forth; but they do not go as far as they might in guiding readers to see the book’s larger themes. Hence this review will focus on bringing some of these themes into sharper focus. The opening section includes four essays on Watsuji Tetsurō’s ethical philosophy, the first of which is largely introductory, establishing the main concepts of personhood, community, and “betweenness” (aidagara 間柄) through a hermeneutic lens informed by Watsuji’s reading of Heidegger. The third and fourth essays are critical and constructive, respectively—the former...
