Part 23

The discussions of the previous chapter as to the nature of Japanese education and its tendency to develop the lower at the expense of the higher mental faculties, have prepared us not to expect any particularly brilliant history of Japanese philosophy. Such is indeed the case. Primitive Japanese cosmology does not differ in any important respect from the primitive cosmology of other races. The number of those in Old Japan who took a living interest in distinctly metaphysical problems is indisputably small. While we admit them to have manifested some independence and even originality, as Professor Inouye urges, yet it can hardly be maintained that they struck out any conspicuously original philosophical systems. There is no distinctively Japanese philosophy.

These facts, however, should not blind us to the distinction between latent ability in philosophical thought and the manifestation of that ability. The old social order, with its defective education, its habit of servile intellectual dependence on ancestors, and its social and legal condemnation of independent originality, particularly in the realm of thought, was a mighty incubus on speculative philosophy. Furthermore, crude science and distorted history could not provide the requisite material from which to construct a philosophical interpretation of the universe that would appeal to the modern Occidental.

In spite, however, of social and educational hindrances, the Japanese have given ample evidence of interest in metaphysical problems and of more or less ability in their solution. Religious constructions of the future life, conceptions as to the relations of gods and men and the universe, are in fact results of the metaphysical operations of the mind. Primitive Japan was not without these. As she developed in civilization and came in contact with Chinese and Hindu metaphysical thought, she acquired their characteristic systems. Buddhist first, and later Confucian, metaphysics dominated the thought of her educated men. In view of the highly metaphysical character of Buddhist doctrines and the interest they have produced at least among the better trained priests, the assertion that the Japanese have no ability in metaphysics cannot be maintained.

At one period in the history of Buddhism in Japan, prolonged public discussions were all the fashion. Priests traveled from temple to temple to engage in public debate. The ablest debater was the abbot, and he had to be ready to face any opponent who might appear. If a stranger won, the abbot yielded his place and his living to the victor. Many an interesting story is told of those times, and of the crowds that would gather to hear the debates. But our point is that this incident in the national life shows the appreciation of the people for philosophical questions. And although that particular fashion has long since passed away, the national interest in discussions and arguments still exists. No monks of the West ever enjoyed hair-splitting arguments more than do many of the Japanese. They are as adept at mental refinements and logical juggling as any people of the West, though possibly the Hindus excel them.

If it be said that Confucianism was not only non-metaphysical, but uniquely practical, and for this reason found wide acceptance in Japan, the reply must be first that, professing to be non-metaphysical, it nevertheless had a real metaphysical system of thought in the background to which it ever appealed for authority, a system, be it noted, more in accord with modern science and philosophy than Buddhist metaphysics; and secondly, although Confucianism became the bulwark of the state and the accepted faith of the samurai, it was limited to them. The vast majority of the nation clung to their primitive Buddhistic cosmology. That Confucianism rested on a clearly implied and more or less clearly expressed metaphysical foundation may be seen in the quotations from the writings of Muro Kyuso which are given in chapter xxiv. We should note that the revolt of the educated classes of Japan from Buddhism three hundred years ago, and their general adoption of Confucian doctrine, was partly in the interests of religion and partly in the interests of metaphysics. In both respects the progressive part of the nation had become dissatisfied with Buddhism. The revolt proves not lack of religious or metaphysical interest and insight, but rather the reverse.

Not a little of the teaching of Shushi (1130-1200 A.D.) and of Oyomei (1472-1528 A.D.), Chinese philosophical expounders of Confucianism, is metaphysical. The doctrine of the former was widely studied and was the orthodox doctrine in Japan for more than two centuries, all other doctrine and philosophy being forbidden by the state. It is true that the central interest in this philosophical instruction was the ethical. It was felt that the entire ethical system rested on the acceptance of a particular metaphysical system. But so far from detracting from our argument this statement rather adds. For in what land has not the prime interest in metaphysics been ethical? A study of the history of philosophy shows clearly that philosophy and metaphysics arose out of religious and ethical problems, and have ever maintained their hold on thinking men, because of their mutually vital relations. In Japan it has not been otherwise. If anyone doubts this he should read the Japanese philosophers--in the original, if possible; if not, then in such translations and extracts as Dr. Knox has given us in his "A Japanese Philosopher," and Mr. Aston in his "Japanese Literature." The ethical interest is primary, and the metaphysical interest is secondary, to be sure, but not to be denied.

Occidental philosophy has found many earnest and capable Japanese students. The Imperial University has a strong corps of philosophical instructors. Occidental metaphysical thought, both materialistic and idealistic, has found many congenial minds. Indeed, it is not rash to say that in the thought of New Japan the distinguishing Oriental metaphysical conceptions of the universe have been entirely displaced by those of the West. Christians, in particular, have entirely abandoned the old polytheistic, pantheistic, and fatalistic metaphysics and have adopted thoroughgoing monotheism.

Ability to understand and sufficient interest to study through philosophical and metaphysical systems of foreign lands indicate a mental development of no slight order, whatever may be the ability, or lack of it, in making original contributions to the subject. That educated Japanese have shown real ability in the former sense can hardly be doubted by those who have read the writings of such men as Goro Takahashi, ex-president Hiroyuki Kato, Prof. Yujiro Motora, Prof. Rikizo Nakashima, or Dr. Tetsujiro Inouye. The philosophical brightness of many of Japan's foreign as well as home-trained scholars argues well for the philosophical ability of the nation.

A recent conversation with a young Japanese gives point to what has just been said. The young man suddenly appeared at my study door, and, with unusually brief salutations, said that he wished me to talk to him about religion. In answer to questions he explained that he had been one of my pupils ten years ago in the Kumamoto Boys' School; that he had been baptized as a Christian at that time, but had become cold and filled with doubts; that he had been studying ever since, having at one time given considerable attention to the Zen sect of Buddhism; but that he had found no satisfaction there. He accordingly wished to study Christianity more carefully. For three hours we talked, he asking questions about the Christian conception of God, of the universe, of man, of sin, of evolution, of Christ, of salvation, of the object of life, of God's purpose in creation, of the origin and nature of the Bible. Toward the latter part of our conversation, referring to one idea expressed, he said, "That is about what Hegel held, is it not?" As he spoke he opened his knapsack, which I then saw to be full of books, and drew out an English translation of Hegel's "Philosophy of History"; he had evidently read it carefully, making his notes in Japanese on the margin. I asked him if he had read it through. "Yes," he replied, "three times." He also incidentally informed me that he had thought of entering our mission theological training class during the previous winter, but that he was then in the midst of the study of the philosophy of Kant, and had accordingly decided to defer entering until the autumn. How thoroughly he had mastered these, the most profound and abstruse metaphysicians that the West can boast, I cannot state. But this at least is clear; his interest in them was real and lasting. And in his conversation he showed keen appreciation of philosophical problems. It is to be noted also that he was a self-taught philosopher--for he had attended no school since he studied elementary English, ten years before, while a lad of less than twenty.

As a sample of the kind of men I not infrequently meet, let me cite the case of a young business man who once called on me in the hotel at Imabari, popularly called "the little philosopher." He wished to talk about the problem of the future life and to ask my personal belief in the matter. He said that he believed in God and in Jesus as His unique son and revealer, but that he found great difficulty in believing in the continued life of the soul after death. His difficulty arose from the problems of the nature of future thinking; shall we continue to think in terms of sense perception, such as time, space, form, color, pleasure, and pain? If not, how can we think at all? And can we then remember our present life? If we do, then the future life will not be essentially different from this, i.e., we must still have physical senses, and continue to live in an essentially physical world. Here was a set of objections to the doctrine of the future life that I have never heard as much as mentioned by any Occidental youth. Though without doubt not original with him, yet he must have had in some degree both philosophical ability and interest in order to appreciate their force and to seek their solution.

In conversation not long since with a Buddhist priest of the Tendai sect, after responding to his request for a criticism of Buddhism, I asked him for a similarly frank criticism of Christianity. To my surprise, he said that while Christianity was far ahead of Buddhism in its practical parts and in its power to mold character, it was deficient in philosophical insight and interest. This led to a prolonged conversation on Buddhistic philosophy, in which he explained the doctrines of the "Ku-ge-chu," and the "Usa and Musa." Without attempting to explain them here, I may say that the first is amazingly like Hegel's "absolute nothing," with its thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, and the second a psychological distinction between volitional and spontaneous emotions.

In discussing Japanese philosophical ability, a point often forgotten is the rarity of philosophical ability or even interest in the West. But a small proportion of college students have the slightest interest in philosophical or metaphysical problems. The majority do not understand what the distinctive metaphysical problems are. In my experience it is easier to enter into a conversation with an educated man in Japan on a philosophical question than with an American. If interest in philosophical and metaphysical questions in the West is rare, original ability in their investigation is still rarer.

We conclude, then, that in regard to philosophical ability the Japanese have no marked racial characteristic differentiating them from other races. Although they have not developed a distinctive national philosophy, this is not due to inherent philosophical incompetence. Nor, on the other hand, is the relatively wide interest now manifest in philosophical problems attributable to the inherent philosophical ability of the race. So far as Japan is either behind or in advance of other races, in this respect, it is due to her social order and social inheritance, and particularly to the nature, methods, and aims of the educational system, but not to her intrinsic psychic inheritance.

XXI

IMAGINATION

In no respect, perhaps, have the Japanese been more sweepingly criticised by foreigners than in regard to their powers of imagination and idealism. Unqualified generalizations not only assert the entire lack of these powers, but they consider this lack to be the distinguishing inherent mental characteristic of the race. The Japanese are called "prosaic," "matter-of-fact," "practical," "unimaginative."

Mr. Walter Dening, describing Japanese mental characteristics, says:

"Neither their past history nor their prevailing tastes show any tendency to idealism. They are lovers of the practical and the real; neither the fancies of Goethe nor the reveries of Hegel are to their liking. Our poetry and our philosophy and the mind that appreciates them are alike the results of a network of subtle influences to which the Japanese are comparative strangers. It is maintained by some, and we think justly, that the lack of idealism in the Japanese mind renders the life of even the most cultivated a mechanical, humdrum affair when compared with that of Westerners. The Japanese cannot understand why our controversialists should wax so fervent over psychological, ethical, religious, and philosophical questions, failing to perceive that this fervency is the result of the intense interest taken in such subjects. The charms that the cultured Western mind finds in the world of fancy and romance, in questions themselves, irrespective of their practical bearings, is for the most part unintelligible to the Japanese."

Mr. Percival Lowell expends an entire chapter in his "Soul of the Far East," in showing how important imagination is as a factor in art, religion, science, and civilization generally, and how strikingly deficient Japanese are in this faculty. "The Far Orientals," he argues, "ought to be a particularly unimaginative set of people. Such is precisely what they are. Their lack of imagination is a well-recognized fact."

Mr. Aston, characterizing Japanese literature, says:

"A feature which strikingly distinguishes the Japanese poetic muse from that of Western nations is a certain lack of imaginative power. The Japanese are slow to endow inanimate objects with life. Shelley's 'Cloud,' for example, contains enough matter of this kind for many volumes of Japanese verse. Such lines as:

'From my wings are shaken The dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest On their mother's breast As she dances about the sun,'

would appear to them ridiculously overcharged with metaphor, if not absolutely unintelligible."

On the other hand, some writers have called attention to the contrary element of Japanese mental nature. Prof. Ladd, for instance, maintains that the characteristic mental trait of the Japanese is their sentimentality. He has shown how their lives are permeated with and regulated by sentiment. Ancestral worship, patriotism, Imperial apotheosis, friendship, are fashioned by idealizing sentiment. In our chapters on the emotional elements of Japanese character we have considered how widespread and powerful these ideals and sentiments have been and still are.

Writers who compare the Chinese with the Japanese remark the practical business nature of the former and the impractical, visionary nature of the latter.

For a proper estimate of our problem we should clearly distinguish between the various forms of imagination. It reveals itself not merely in art and literature, in fantastic conception, in personification and metaphor, but in every important department of human life. It is the tap-root of progress, as Mr. Lowell well points out. It pictures an ideal life in advance of the actual, which ideal becomes the object of effort. The forms of imagination may, therefore, be classified according to the sphere of life in which it appears. In addition to the poetic fancy and the idealism of art and literature generally, we must distinguish the work of imagination in the æsthetic, in the moral, in the religious, in the scientific, and in the political life. The manifestation of the imaginative faculty in art and in literature is only one part of the æsthetic imagination.

In studying Japanese æsthetic characteristics, we noted how unbalanced was the development of their æsthetic sense. This proposition of unbalanced development applies with equal force to the imaginative faculty as a whole. Conspicuously lacking in certain directions, it is as conspicuously prominent in others. Rules of etiquette are the products of the æsthetic imagination, and in what land has etiquette been more developed than in feudal Japan? Japanese imagination has been particularly active in the political world. The passionate loyalty of retainers to their lord, of samurai to their daimyo, of all to their "kuni," or clan, in ancient times, and now, of the people to their Emperor, are the results of a vivid political idealizing imagination. Imperial apotheosis is a combination of the political and religious imagination. And in what land has the apotheosizing imagination been more active than in Japan? Ambition and self-conceit are likewise dependent on an active imaginative faculty.

There can be no doubt the writers quoted above have drawn attention to some salient features of Japanese art. In the literature of the past, the people have not manifested that high literary imagination that we discover in the best literature of many other nations.