ejcjs - The Fascist Next Door? Nishitani Keiji and the Chuokoron Discussions in Perspective

ejcjs - The Fascist Next Door? Nishitani Keiji and the Chuokoron Discussions in Perspective

The Fascist Next Door?

Nishitani Keiji and the Chūōkōron Discussions in Perspective

by

Xiaofei Tu

PhD Candidate

Department of Religion

Syracuse University

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About the Author

Something logically plausible may be psychologically uncongenial. Something theoretically defensible may be historically indefensible.

Joseph R. Levenson

 

Introduction

In this paper I address the alleged nationalistic, even fascistic, tendencies in the thought of the Kyoto School philosophers, focusing on Nishitani's views expressed in the now notorious Chūōkōron discussions. This topic has generated some hot debate in the scholarly circles both in Japan and in the West, with much vehemence and rhetoric from both the defenders and detractors of the Kyoto School. In this paper, I intend not to reiterate the accusations and defenses on the two sides; rather, I hope to move the debate to a new direction with a two-fold effort. First, I place Nishitani back in the historical, cultural and political ethos of his time by drawing comparison to Yan Fu, a Chinese thinker who was active shortly after the Opium War. Attempting a sympathetic understanding from the perspective of a Chinese, I believe I am able to shed new light on Nishitani's wartime remarks and his thinking behind them. Geographically, historically, and culturally, Japan is a close neighbor to China, hence the title of this essay. Second, I proceed to question some presumptions of the critics of Nishitani.

The Chūōkōron Discussions

From November 1941 to November 1942 the widely respected journal in Japan Chūōkōron held a series of three round table discussions with four young scholars from Kyoto Imperial University: Nishitani Keiji, Kosaka Masaaki, Suzuki Shigetaka, and Koyama Iwao, and published the transcripts. The topics of this series of discussions were 'The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan,' 'The Ethics and Historicity of the East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere,' and finally 'The Philosophy of All-Out War.' Clearly, these purportedly scholarly discussions were inspired by current events, i.e., the eventually mischievous war effort of Japan against China and the Allied Forces. After the war an aura of infamy came to surround this event and the discussants involved, which were denounced as symbols of the intelligentsia's cooperation with the wartime Japanese regime. The critics saw the act of the aforementioned scholars as a thinly disguised attempt to glorify the war, and to provide the philosophical underpinnings for Japanese fascism. In their contribution to The Cambridge History of Japan, Tetsuo Najita and H. D. Harootunian have the following to say about Nishitani and his discussion partners:

[The] group's central purpose was to construct what they called a "philosophy of world history" that could both account for Japan's current position and disclose the course of future action. But a closer examination of this "philosophy of world history" reveals a thinly disguised justification, written in the language of Hegelian metaphysics, for Japanese aggression and continuing imperialism. In prewar Japan, no group helped defend the state more consistently and enthusiastically than did the philosophers of the Kyoto faction, and none came closer than they did to defining the philosophic contours of Japanese fascism.1

Similar sentiments and opinions are found in the works of other prominent scholars such as Bernard Faure.2 Such sweeping generalizations and accusations seem to be unfounded when we look at the relevant historical and intra-textual evidence. In the wartime Japanese political climate, many Japanese intellectuals found themselves divided into either the camp of the ultra rightwing nationalists or the ranks of the Marxists and anarchists. The Kyoto School philosophers were viewed by their contemporaries as the 'middle-of-the-roaders'.3 And by virtue of their philosophical and political positions, they were assaulted by their enemies on the two opposite ends of the political/ideological spectrum. After the war, Nishitani remarked, 'During the war we were struck on the cheek from the right; after the war we were struck on the cheek from the left.' Indeed, at the time of their original publication, the Chūōkōron discussions were extremely popular with young intellectuals facing military service precisely because of their free thinking outlook and refusal to conform to the state ideology. The intellectual independence and moral courage in these discussions spurred anger among the extreme right demagogues, who charged, rightly we have to say, that these were 'disinterested analysis of bystanders,' both 'seditious' and anti-war. Well known is the comment of a Japanese military officer that the Kyoto School philosophers should, together with American and British war prisoners, be rounded up and bayoneted.4

Moreover, according to the report of Horio Tsutomu, there was another layer of political intrigue in the background of the event. The Kyoto School philosophers were contacted by the Japanese Navy, the moderate force in the war machine, at a crucial point of time, – six months before the outbreak of the hostilities between the United Sates and Japan – in a desperate attempt at enlisting public opinion to check the belligerent Land Army in the midst of the nation's militaristic craze. Indeed, the original topic for the first discussion was supposed to be 'how to avoid war (with the United Sates).' However, under the governmental censorship routine to that time, any hint of criticism of the Land Army was expunged and the impression left was a total support of the war effort.5 Given the emerging evidence and full insights we have gained in hindsight, the simplistic verdict that the Kyoto School was nothing more than a handmaid to the ultra-militant forces becomes even more indefensible.

On the other hand, we have to recognize that certain content in these discussions is nonetheless incompatible with the political sensibilities of the majority of today's readers. The omnipresent government censors (along with self-censorship of the publisher under political pressure) undoubtedly distorted the ways the discussants had wanted to present their ideas, but this fact alone does not seem able to explain the whole problem away. The argument that the discussants only interpreted the public opinions at the time rather than expressing their own thought is flimsy too. By and large, some of Nishitani's most 'problematic' remarks have not been sufficiently treated in counter critiques of Nishitani's critics.6 In the following I will focus on a portion of Nishitani's contribution to the discussions which has been under scrutiny, and which, according to his critics, are supposed to reveal his nationalistic and pro-war attitudes.

First, there are revelations from Nishitani's belief in the superiority of the East Asian and in particular Japanese culture. For example, he argues that even the ancient Japanese culture was 'advanced' and blithely asserts; 'It is true that those who really study the culture of East Asia admit that the only cultures that can rival those of Europe are the East Asian cultures.'7 Next, Nishitani glorifies Japan's medieval cultural achievements and nostalgically laments modern Japan's urbanization and reliance on technology, following the suit of the West. While some over-sensitive critics may see these 'anti-modern' and 'culturally nostalgic' tendencies to be fascist-prone, these remarks are probably not the most damaging in the eyes of the average reader. But then, we encounter real tests on our tolerance of haughty nationalistic tones.

Nishtani's discussion of 'world history' begins with neighboring Asian countries. Speaking about the relation between Japan and China, Nishitani says:

The most basic issue is the 'China consciousness' of the Chinese, the consciousness of always being the center of East Asia, and of Japan as having been educated through the grace of Chinese culture. In such a situation, the main thing is somehow to make them see and to realize that Japan is now the leader in the construction of the Greater East Asia of today, and must be the leader as a matter of historical necessity.8

These comments in part reflect the long standing Japanese resentment toward the outside attitude that regards Japan as a second fiddle player to the former political and cultural giant China, and as a nation that is good at copying but short of creativity and originality.9 However, if the above opinion could be excusable for this reason, many people would find it hard to come to the defense of Nishitani when he adopts an even more patronizing tone regarding the Filipinos.10 More disturbing to the contemporary political sensitivity, Nishitani invokes the idea that the Japanese play the role of a Herrenvolk (master race), because of their possession of 'moral energy.'11

For most readers, these utterances of Nishitani's have crossed certain boundaries. Even a balanced scholar like James Heisig makes the judgment that these comments 'are unreflected bias pure and simple.'12 Quoting Ienaga Saburo, Jan van Bragt calls the same comments the 'tall talk of drunkards.'13

Nishitani continues to justify the war with China by saying:

The treatment of China up until now, seen from the outside has taken a form that can be mistaken to some degree for imperialism … There was a kind of opacity. But in some sense that was unavoidable given the extraordinary world situation and the stage of historical development. But conduct that was interpreted from the outside as imperialistic, when viewed from the present and its continuity with the present, has another, deeper significance.14

Conceding the ostensible blood-shedding and human sufferings of both nations, Nishitani nevertheless insists that the war with China is an inevitable 'historical necessity,' because he sees it as part of the role that Japan has to play in leading East Asia against Western imperialism. He actually thinks Japan's military action has been protecting China from being partitioned by the covetous Western powers. Not surprisingly, Nishitani blames Britain and the United States for their colonialist adventures: 'There is no denying that along with the banner of democracy, America parades a standpoint of ‘freedom' and the pursuit of self-interest.'15 Whether or not there may be a touch of truth in this exposé of the West's ulterior intentions, Nishitani's criticism of Western colonialism seems too conveniently in concert with the Japanese government's propaganda against its war enemies.

Now I discuss two touchy questions arising from Nishitani's remarks: First, what is Nishitani's attitude to race? Second, what is his attitude to war? These questions have to be answered based on an understanding of the Nishitanian jargons 'moral energy' and 'world history.'

Innocence by Association?

As the Japanese themselves are a 'colored people,' it is small wonder that the members of the Chūōkōron discussions unanimously refuse the racist theory of Aryan supremacy. For Nishitani, the purity of blood is not the first concern for a nation, rather, the mixing of blood could be 'a good thing.'16 The criteria in judging the worthiness of a nation are its creativity and 'moral energy.' The Pacific war is justified as part of the effort of Japan, as a nation of moral energy, to take the leadership role and forming a united front of the East Asian countries against the invading West.

The idea of moral energy comes from Leopold Von Ranke, referring to not individual morality or purity of blood, but power concentrated in the people culturally and politically. It is a concept which, for today's readers, is almost endlessly elusive even woefully mysterious. How is one supposed to identify it in a nation or culture and why is it important? The answer may come from an unexpected direction. Here I would like to take a detour to look briefly at the life and thought of a Chinese thinker, Yan Fu.

Yan Fu was a Chinese thinker and translator who lived at the turn of the 19th century. According to his biographer Benjamin I. Schwartz, Yan was the first Chinese to systematically study Western thought. Vividly feeling the military, social, cultural, and psychological impacts that the encounter with the West had on China, Yan was obsessed with a single question: what was the root cause of the Western might and China's weakness? Through a thorough study of 18th and 19th century European thought, he came to the conclusion that there were two sides of the secret of European success that were necessary to bring China out of its backwardness. One was the manifestation of energy, the other is the public spirit which discipline energy to collective ends. Western individualism for him is only a tool to facilitate the gigantic cultural drive leading to collective strength. At first blush, this seems to be a simplistic generalization, or even a gross misunderstanding. However, at least some Western scholars have been intrigued by Yan's interpretation. Louis Hartz remarks,

It is the genius of the foreign critic to bring to the surface aspects of thought implicit in the life of the nation he studies but explicit for him because of the contrast supplied by his own culture. It is a shock of self discovery which makes Halevy interesting to the English, Tocqueville to the Americans. Yan Fu, from the angle of a culture which has not yet experienced modernity, seizes in their work on a theme of collective energy which apart from anything they said about 'individualism' and 'laissez faire,' reflected the movement of Europe into the modern world.17

It seems not too far-fetched to view Nishitani's concept of moral energy as a similar attempt to seek the secret of nations' success in their cultures. The difference is, with Japan's expedient modernization and rise to power in the world arena at that time, Nishitani believed that he could make a claim for the presence of such a cultural spirit in the Japanese people while Yan had to call for the discovery of it in his fellow Chinese.18

In light of the above comparison, I wish to argue that Nishitani's seemingly excessive and self -congratulatory cultural pride belongs to the attempt of Japanese intellectuals to come to terms with its own modern history and all its contradictions, and is, in a sense, a psychological compensation for an unconscious underdog self-identity. Nishitani bitterly complains about the non- reciprocal relation between Japan/Asia and Europe in which the former has no significance for the latter while the latter's impact on the former is formidable. However, for him, things had begun to turn around with an emerging new consciousness of 'world history:' a gigantic Hegelian historical progress with unmistakable necessity. This 'world history' begins in the twentieth century, ushering in the collapse of the colonial systems, and at least the formal, if not real, equality among nations.19 Closely related is Nishitani's theory of 'moral energy' which opens the possibility of viewing peoples on the basis of their cultural merits instead of external, physical characteristics. For Nishitani, the awakening of the 'colored races' should be an awakening to their own cultures. In reality, other Asian countries might not live up to this 'historical task,' and Japan must assume a leadership role as a 'historical necessity.' Theoretically however, Japan claims to be exemplary not because other Asian countries are different and lower, but because it identifies a common plane of victimization and a common destiny, so that the Japanese path should meet the needs of others. A point worth making is that Nishitani sees the nation as an organic entity with a soul-like culture or national spirit, not as the Weberian Herrschaftsverband: a dominating organization that claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory.20 Nishitani's romanticizing of nation, obsolete as it might well be, is not to be mistaken for the statist worship for the nation as the cold power machine.

Neither are Nishitani's seemingly war-happy remarks about the impossibility of perpetual peace21 as hideous as they appear. After all, 'enrich the country, strengthen the military,' was the universal rallying cry of the Asian countries at his time (it was Yan Fu's slogan too). Philosophically, Nishitani adopts a brutally realistic view of humans and the world, which arguably comes from a mixture of Zen and the Hegelian philosophy of history. According to this view, it might be said that ontological defections are embedded in the structure of human existence. Violence and sufferings are an innate part of human life, and the progress of 'world history' also has to be in the company of vices. The ethical implications of such a worldview is certainly open to discussion. However, the alternative view that all human suffering can once and for all be remedied by certain social and political arrangements seems not to be corroborated by historical evidence. The moral high road claimed by such political ideologies often proves to be self-righteousness and self-deception.

Alfred Whitehead put it well: A traveler, who has lost his way, should not ask, 'Where am I?' What he really wants to know is; where are the other places? In all the political and social unrest ensuing from opening the door to the West, Japan was the lost traveler; hence the need for defining the world in order to redefine itself. Indeed, the very openness to Western ideas requires the counterbalance of its own heritage. All this 'tall talk' about world history and the aggressiveness in Nishitani's esteem of Japanese culture is a search for cultural self-identity in a time of discontinuity and confusion.

Conclusion

Nishitani claims that Western democracy is profoundly self-contradictory, and that it is a disguise for the West to expand its self-interests in the world. Time and again, we have seen such charges reissued from radically different political quarters and they are well received or at least tolerated in our public discourses (for example, some anti-war views of the current Iraqi situation). What makes us uncomfortable is the fact that Nishitani formulates this criticism in terms of a conflict between the West and the 'colored races.' On a different note, due to our sensitivities to cultural diversity, we want to reject out of hand Nishitani's pejorative comments about the Chinese and the Filipinos. However, for myself as Chinese, it seems hard to deny that in the past fifty years, Japan has, so far, been more productive than China, certainly economically and perhaps culturally also. Are Nishitani's remarks dishonorable or prophetic?

The problem lies less with Nishitani than with the drastic changes in the norms of our political and moral discussions. Nowadays people criticize US foreign policies in terms of 'the politicians' submission to corporate interests' and 'America's economic and ideological hegemony;' while the less than satisfactory situation in China is said to have its causes in the shortcomings of the political system and economical policies. In either case, any talk that hints at 'race' and ethnically specific 'culture,' – conflicts between races and religions, culturally facilitated economic growth, etc. – becomes suspect and unpopular. That is why we find that Nishitani offends our taste. However, the problem is of course Nishitani could not have predicted this cultural climate change and accommodated himself to our contemporary sensitivities.

To place the debate in a broad perspective, we notice that the Kyoto School emphasizes the central place of religious experience in its philosophy, the basic principles of Zen and Pure Land Buddhism are spiritualized and put in Western religious-philosophical terminology, while the institutional and practicing sides of Buddhism are downplayed. For their critics, this is an 'ahistorical' reading of East Asian Buddhism, a religion that has its roots in ancient feudalism.22 The presumptions of the critics include a positivistic functionalism and a Marxist ideological analysis, which exclusively see religion as weapons used by different social groups in order to legitimize or contest the distribution of social, economic, and political privileges. It is in this context that the Kyoto philosophers' political past is scrutinized. What is questionable is that there has emerged a pattern in the works of these critics that promulgate a dichotomy between agricultural/industrial, tradition/modernity, religion/reason, nostalgic/forward looking, Fascism/democracy, and a homology among the former and latter groups of values. It seems to me that these critics are mirroring the characteristics of their target. Are these Marxism influenced authors not guilty of an ahistorical reading of Marxism? That is, a historical, European originated political movement with a tainted track record has been presented as a purely idealistic indignation against social injustice, and a universally valid spirit of critique. The result is that the decontextualized Marxism of Western academics is hardly recognizable by any ‘practicing' Marxist around the world, just as the lofty Buddhism of the Kyoto School may not resonate with many Buddhists.

In the last analysis, I wish to argue that what we have had in the debate around the Chūōkōron incident is a clash of categories, while what matter are those people, thoughts, and events that remain uncategorized. To quote Russell McCutcheon's words in another context, and to turn them around; the detailed investigations into the chronology of Nishitani's publications and actions, the frenzied interpretative disputes over the key sentences in Nishitani's war-time writings about Imperial Japan, cannot obscure the fact that ultimately our answer to this question will be less a matter of fact than a matter of narrative, of the kind of story we choose to tell. To have begun to ask questions such as these is in a sense to have answered them already. It is in the assignment of context that one assigns meaning. To ascribe personal innocence or culpabilities presupposes some sort of objective, trans-historical ethical standard that they did or did not live up to. Ironically, such critics of Nishitani themselves border on being totalitarian by forcing a single vision on us and not allowing alternatives.

Notes

1. Tetsuo Najita and H. D. Harootunian, 'Japanese Revolt against the West: Political and Cultural Criticism in the Twentieth Century,' in Peter Duus, ed., The Cambridge History of Japan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 6: 711-774: 741-742.

2. See, for example, Bernard Faure, Chan Insights and Oversights.

3. Minamoto Ryoen. 'The Symposium on "Overcoming Modernity,"' in James W. Heisig and John C. Marajdo, ed., The Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism: 204.

4. Horio Tsutomu. 'The Chuokoron discussions, Their Background and Meaning,' in ibid.: 289-291.

5. Ibid.

6. Graham Parkes. 'The Putative Fascism of the Kyoto School and the Political Correctness of the Modern Academy,' in Philosophy East & West, July 1997, 47 (3): 305.

7. Nishitani, Keiji, The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan. Trans. by James W. Heisig: 7.

8. Ibid.: 26

9. Nishitani is by no means the only Japanese to express such a sentiment. Another well received spokesperson of East culture, Kakuzo Okakura, has the following observation of China: 'The long woes of his country have robbed him of the zest for the meaning of life. He has become modern, that is to say, old and disenchanted. He has lost that sublime faith in illusions which constitutes the eternal youth and vigour of the poets and ancients. He is an eclectic and politely accepts the traditions of the universe. He toys with Nature, but does not condescend to conquer or worship her.' The Book of Tea (New York: Dover Publications, 1964): 16.

10. The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan: 27.

11. Ibid. 36.

12. James W. Heisig. Philosophers of Nothingness: 206.

13. Jan van Bragt. 'Kyoto Philosophy, Intrinsically Nationalistic?' in Rude Awakenings, 239.

14. The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan: 23.

15. The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan. 45.

16. Ibid. 21.

17. Benjamin I. Schwartz. In Search of Wealth and Power: xi.

18. Another analogy between Yan Fu and Nishitani: Yan Fu expressly favored Taoism against the Confucian absolutization of a determined social and political order. Yan Fu's philosophical Taoism points to an ineffable inconceivable ultimate ground of reality which transcends and relativizes all determinate orders and structures of reality. Nishitani's attraction to Buddhism stemmed from similar aversion to the state sponsored Shintoism. In comparison to Yan's reappropriation of Taoism, we recall the elevated position that the Buddhist notion 'emptiness' enjoyed in Nishitani's philosophical system.

19. The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan: 6.

20. Fred R. Dallmayr. G. W. F. Hegel: Modernity and Politics: 206.

21. The World-Historical Standpoint and Japan: 38.

22. See e.g. Robert Sharf. 'Zen and the Art of Deconstruction.' History of Religions. (Feb 94, Vol. 33 Issue 3,1994.) In current academic and public vocabulary, being 'ahistorical' is a scholarly error and also carries ethical implications. The alleged anti-semitism in Mel Gibson's film The Passion of the Christ is said to be the result of Gibson's 'ahistorical' reading of the Bible. The extreme Islam Militarism is reported as rooted in an 'ahistorical' understanding of Islam teachings and history.

References

Dallmayr, Fred R.. G. W. F. Hegel: Modernity and Politics. London: Sage. 1993.

Duus, Peter, ed.. The Cambridge History of Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Faure, Bernard. Chan Insights and Oversights : an Epistemological Critique of the Chan Tradition. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1993.

Heisig, James. Philosophers of Nothingness: An Essay on the Kyoto School. University of Hawaii Press, 2001.

Heisig, James and John Maraldo, eds. Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism. Hawaii: University of Hawaii Press, 1994.

Minamoto, Ryoen. 'The Symposium on "Overcoming Modernity",' in James W. Heisig and John C. Marajdo, ed., The Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism.

Najita, Tetsuo and H. D. Harootunian, 'Japanese Revolt against the West: Political and Cultural Criticism in the Twentieth Century,' in Peter Duus, ed., The Cambridge History of Japan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993) 6: 711-774.

Nishitani, Keiji.  Interventions in the Chuokoron discussion of The World Historical Standpoint and Japan (Trans. J.W. Heisig). Chūōkōron, 25 March 1943, Accessed: 21 July 2006.

Okakura, Kakuzo. The Book of Tea. New York: Dover Publications, 1964.

Parkes, Graham. 'The Putative Fascism of the Kyoto School,' Philosophy East and West, Vol. 47 No. 3, 1997.

Sharf, Robert. 'Zen and the Art of Deconstruction,' History of Religions. Feb94, Vol. 33 Issue 3,1994.

Schwartz, Benjamin I. In Search of Wealth and Power.  Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1964.

van Bragt, Jan. 'Kyoto Philosophy, Intrinsically Nationalistic?' in James W. Heisig and John C. Marajdo, ed., The Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism.

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About the author

Xiaofei Tu is a PhD candidate in the Department of Religion at Syracuse University. He is currently a visiting instructor at Hendrix College in Arkansas, USA. His main field of research interest is in 20th century East Asian religions and philosophy.

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ejcjs - The war that cannot be learned from textbooks or the national identity discourse that can be perceived in media?

ejcjs - The war that cannot be learned from textbooks or the national identity discourse that can be perceived in media?

The war that cannot be learned from textbooks or the national identity discourse that can be perceived in media?

An analysis of Japanese mainstream media narratives on the Asia-Pacific War

Yunuen Ysela Mandujano-Salazar, Department of Pacific Studies, University of Guadalajara [About | Email]

Volume 16, Issue 1 (Article 2 in 2016). First published in ejcjs on 30 April 2016.

 

Abstract

This article explores one of the many television shows broadcast in Japan on occasion of the 70th anniversary of the end of the Asia-Pacific War: The War that Cannot Be Learned from Textbooks. The objective is to extract a sample of the current narratives found in mainstream media related to the topic of Japanese involvement in that war and show that they are aligned with the discourse found in Japan’s officially approved history textbooks, becoming another form of history education. Relying on an interpretative textual analysis of the show, it is argued that there is a tendency in Japanese media to exalt the heroism and sacrifice of Japanese soldiers, their human side, their patriotism, and the elements of a traditional national identity found in their lives, exonerating them from the crimes perpetrated by the Japanese Army on other Asian nations, which are not even mentioned, echoing the formal education discourse.

Keywords: Asia-Pacific War, Japanese history textbooks, media narratives, national identity.

Preface

In the last couple of decades, much has been written about Japanese history textbooks and their depictions—or lack of them—of controversial actions that the Japanese government and army executed during 20th century wartime, particularly in terms of Japan’s colonial rule over other Asian nations and the Asia-Pacific War. However, even if formal history education in Japan has been the focus of continuous debate, informal education through media has the potential, as Hashimoto Akiko (2015) has argued, “deeply [to] influence the hearts and minds of the next generation” (para 2). Notwithstanding this, the scholarly analysis of this powerful form of history education in Japan is scarce and has been mostly focused on the categories of manga and anime (see Hashimoto, 2015; Nakazawa & Minear, 2010; Tanaka, 2010). On the other hand, non-animated Japanese television productions involving war themes, while abundant and perhaps more influential among broader sectors of the Japanese society, have been largely neglected by academia. This article aims to begin filling this gap by performing a textual analysis on one of those television shows. By extracting a sample of the narratives found in mainstream media related to the topic of Japanese military actions during the first half of the 20th century, I intend to demonstrate that such narratives are aligned with the discourse found in Japan’s officially approved history textbooks, becoming a medium of history education that supports conservative ideas about the war.

The show selected for analysis is Sakurai Shō & Ikegami Akira: The War that Cannot Be Learned from Textbooks,1 which was broadcast on August 4, 2015 by Nippon Television Network (NTV)—one of the leading private broadcasting corporations in Japan and one that leans towards the conservative side. This was one of many Japanese media productions dedicated to commemorating the 70th anniversary of the atomic bombings and the end of the Asia-Pacific War. I selected this as a relevant sample because the title explicitly expresses its purpose of providing viewers with new knowledge on the war, knowledge allegedly not learned in compulsory education, but it also unequivocally relies on two influential media personalities to attract certain sectors of audience and give a touch of honesty to the facts it is supposed to unveil. Notwithstanding its claim, the analysis of the diverse narratives found in the show and the intertextuality with those represented by the two leading personalities suggests that “the war that can be learned from television” is not so different to that learned from textbooks. Although the “facts” presented in the show may not be found in most officially approved history textbooks, the values and discourses behind them turn out to be the same in both. It also demonstrates how the use of mainstream media personalities can efficiently support an official discourse by not appearing obviously politicised and, thus, reaching greater audiences.

I will begin by presenting the context of the current controversy related to the Japanese history textbooks and the dominant narratives about the wartime found in these. Then, the results of the interpretative textual analysis on the previously mentioned show will be presented, focusing on the story line and the narrative tone, as well as on the discursive role of the media personalities involved in it, identifying the dominant narratives endorsed by media about Japanese history and the national identity.

The war that can be learned from the controversial Japanese history textbooks2

After militarism took Japan to a painful state of devastation during the first half of the 20th century, not only the infrastructure and economy, but also the national identity had to be rebuilt. As Article 9 of the Constitution of 1947 established Japan’s perpetual renunciation of war and maintenance of military forces,3 pacifism became a key element of the national identity that was going to support the reconstruction of the country and the national community. However, as the years have passed, domestic and foreign circumstances have caused Japan to find itself in the controversy of whether the nation is acting according to the pacifist spirit that has been assumed as an intrinsic feature of Japanese identity, or if there is a lingering belligerency in it.

In this regard, the growing trend of neo-nationalism seen among power spheres has been at the centre of the controversy because of provocative campaigns related to security policy, international affairs and internal politics. One of the most relevant symbolic actions that have identified this trend—and caused constant diplomatic difficulties—is related to the treatment of Japanese history in education and in official statements. China and South Korea have been very vocal regarding two issues: the reluctance of the Japanese government leaders to express “sincere” apologies for the crimes executed by the army during the Asia-Pacific War and the approval of history textbooks that apparently lessen Japan’s aggressive actions during the wars of the first half of the 20th century.

After the end of the Asia-Pacific War, the Japanese government established that all textbooks to be used in schools had to be approved by the Ministry of Education4—hereafter MOE—through a screening system;5 however, the Ministry itself would not write them. In this context, the debates about the history textbooks began in the 1950s as an internal conflict between progressive and conservative forces: left-wing politicians, intellectuals and scholars wanting to teach young generations about the darkest side of the wars fought by Japan, and their right-wing counterparts arguing about the need to inculcate in them the love for their nation, which could not be achieved by “talking bad” of Japan (Hamada, 2002; Nozaki, 2008). For years, struggles continued with conservative forces leading the battle and supporting the MOE in its censure of crude, extensive or critical accounts about the role of Japan in the Asia-Pacific War (Nozaki & Selden, 2009).

During the textbook screening of 1981-1982, the MOE censored the depiction of war crimes. Not long after, South Korean and Chinese media began to report that Japan’s government—through the MOE—was trying to water down the actions of the Japanese Army in those countries, particularly on scandalous topics such as the recruitment of “comfort women” and the Nanjin Massacre; this turned the issue into an international controversy that promoted nationalistic positions in the three countries (Yi, 2009). In order to avoid major diplomatic conflicts, the MOE announced that textbooks needed to take into consideration international cooperation, implying they should not offend Asian neighbours; in the same sense, the euphemisms used until then in relation to Japanese militarily-aggressive actions were mostly dropped, allowing for somehow critical history textbooks to emerge for a brief period (Nozaki & Selden, 2009).

This development caused the reaction of Japanese neo-nationalists. In the 1990s, members of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP)—the leading conservative party in Japan—and right-wing intellectuals and scholars began pressuring for a review of the descriptions of the Asia-Pacific War events in history textbooks. In January of 1997, a conservative intellectual and political initiative called the Japan Society for History Textbook Reform (Atarashii rekishi kyōkasho wo tsukuru kai)—hereafter the Society—was founded, having as its main aim to change the “bad image” that history textbooks were arguably teaching children about their country and, instead, promoting books that helped them love their nation (Atarashii Rekishi Kyōkasho wo Tsukuru Kai, 2011). Around the same time, inside the National Diet, the Group of Young Diet Members Concerned with Japan’s Future and History Education (Nihon no zento to rekishi kyōiku wo kangaeru wakate giin no kai) was formed, having today’s Prime Minister, Abe Shinzō, as Secretary General (Nozaki & Selden, 2009). As the name clearly expresses, this group was also interested in modifying the way Japanese history was being taught.

The pressure from these groups for the revision of existing textbooks and their rejection of foreign intrusion in a domestic matter resulted in the “self-censorship” of most publishers for the 2000-2001 screening; the most controversial issues were removed or the space dedicated to them was greatly reduced. At the same time, the New History Textbook (Atarashii Rekishi Kyōkasho), published by the Society, was approved. This book, although adopted only by a minor portion of middle schools, caused a renewed uproar among Asian media and leaders. Since then, frequent—sometimes sensationalist—reports in Asian and Western media have propagated the idea that Japanese history textbooks are highly nationalistic. Nevertheless, the analysis performed by diverse scholars of the narratives found in the approved books demonstrates that, in general, these are actually less ethnocentric and less nationalist than other Asian or Western history textbooks are, although they certainly evade details or moral judgement on controversial topics (Foster & Nicholls, 2005; Hamada, 2002; 2003; Sneider, 2013).

Officially sanctioned Japanese history textbooks of the 2000s onwards are, in a historiographic sense, “dry chronolog[ies] of events without much interpretive or analytical narrative” (Sneider, 2013, p. 39) that, nonetheless, “do offer a clear, if somewhat implicit, message: the wars in Asia were a product of Japan’s imperial expansion, orchestrated by the Japanese military in an attempt to resolve Japan’s post World War I economic crisis” (p. 40). There are references to the massacre of Chinese civilians and the forced labour of Asian people of occupied territories, although the topics of the “comfort women” and the colonial rule over Korea are avoided in most of the books (Sneider, 2013).

In general, the narratives found in them draw an image of Japan being pushed into war in order to avoid falling into the hands of Western powers; they also tend to focus on the misery and pain of “the people”—Japanese and non-Japanese Asian civilians—who were victims of a war led by the Japanese military officials, who are pointed out as responsible for all of that suffering (Foster & Nicholls, 2005; Hamada, 2003). Notwithstanding this, the books are ambiguous about blaming the immorality or unethical nature of such leaders; instead, they highlight the desperation of the situation of Japan; reckless actions—such as the “kamikaze” attacks—are portrayed as a result of despairing circumstances. This characteristic found in the narratives of all approved books is what Hamada (2003) describes as the “nobility of failure,” which stresses the heroism found in the defeat of Japan and the virtues of “selfless sacifice and sincerity of the individual or the group against all difficulties” (p. 143).

The war that can be learned from television

The narrative focused on the “nobility of failure” related to Japan’s involvement and outcome in the Asia-Pacific War has been supported through the years not only by the history textbooks, but also by media—particularly television—which have predominantly produced content related to the battles fought against the United States that led to Japan’s final defeat. Every year, around the anniversaries of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the end of the war, public and private broadcasters produce special programming focusing on the personal stories of Japanese people who experienced such battles, exalting the agony in their circumstances, aiming to awaken empathy and boost patriotism among audience.

In 2015, the year that marked the 70th anniversary of the surrender of Japan, this kind of content multiplied. For instance, the public broadcaster Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai (NHK) produced a project called The 70th Year of War and Peace,6 which involved the broadcasting of diverse documentaries throughout the year about various aspects of the war and its aftermath. Private companies did their part too. Nippon Television Network (NTV), through its division Nippon News Network, produced fourteen thirty-minute episodes of a series called 70 Years After the War,7 which broadcast between January and December and focused on Japanese survivors of the war or events related to Japanese civilians’ experiences during it. Tokyo Broadcasting System Television (TBS) and Fuji Television Network (Fuji TV) broadcast four-hour long documentaries (70 Years After the War, Thousand Testimonies Special; My town was also a battlefield, the family stories I want to tell now (TBS);8 and Please, teach us about the war. There are people who we must meet now, there are voices that we must hear today (Fuji TV)9) during primetime on the exact anniversary of the surrender of Japan; in these, they relied on celebrities to talk with survivors and serve as narrators. All these programs had in common the manifest solemnity of their topics, the emotive tone of the narrative developed through the individual life-stories of survivors, and their aim at an adult audience.

Among the numerous television productions of 2015 dealing with reminiscences of the war, Sakurai Shō & Ikegami Akira10 The War that Cannot Be Learned from Textbooks (NTV) is worth of attention for the slightly different approach of its narrative, which targeted a much broader audience. Broadcast on August 4th during the primetime slot of 9 to 11 PM, this show had an average rating of 13.1 points, the highest in the category of educational, religious and documentary programs during the week of August 3 to August 9, and the only specifically war-focused content getting more than a 10 percent viewership during the year (Video Research Ltd, 2015).11

From the title, NTV intended to indicate that two men, Shō Sakurai and Akira Ikegami, were to teach or unveil to the audience a side of the war that was not taught in compulsory education through the officially-sanctioned textbooks; and, by putting at the very beginning the name of Sakurai, the producer was openly targeting the young and young-adult sectors of the audience, those who had not experienced war, who had learned about it by formal education, and who had been constantly accused of a weakened national identity by conservative sectors of the society. Sakurai, thirty-three years old at that moment, is one of the five members of Arashi, an all-male idol group that has been dubbed the “national idol” since the end of 2008. In 2010, the group was designated by the Japan Tourism Agency as Ambassador for Tourism Promotion. Since then, Sakurai has been a crucial public figure for the dissemination of a patriotic discourse endorsed by the power elites (Mandujano, 2013; 2014a). Sakurai holds a high level of media power in Japan, which is closely related to his media image: he endorses an ideal model of Japanese young-adult manhood that possesses the stoic and traditional national values of the hardworking, group-oriented and self-sacrificing salaryman in an attractiveand slightly cosmopolitan disguise (Mandujano, 2014a). As a graduate of Economics at Keiō University, one of the most prestigious private educational institutions in the country, Sakurai is portrayed in media as a well-raised, intellectual, talented and multi-faceted social leader and ambassadorof his generation, who is always trying to enhance his understanding of his cultural heritage.12 On the other hand, Akira Ikegami, then 65 years old, is a well-known and respected journalist, writer and university professor who has a significant resonance among middle-aged and senior citizens. Also a graduate from Keiō’s Economics program, Ikegami worked as social analyst and newscaster for more than three decades at the NHK, becoming a freelancer in 2005. From that point onwards, he has continued to appear in numerous television programs and to write newspaper columns and books related to Japanese contemporary society and politics. He is particularly linked to content intended to educate either children or adults, on social, cultural and political topics. Thus, the presence of these two public names in the title of the show implied that the ideas that were to be exposed were reliable because they were endorsed by these intellectual, trustworthy and popular personalities.

The program was a hybrid between documentary, educational, and variety show, gradually changing the mood—from comical to serious—and the tone of the narrative—from instructive to emotional—undoubtedly aiming to grasp, from the very beginning, the attention of young people while developing the discursive line typical of war-related contents. In order to do this, the images move constantly from a studio where Sakurai, Ikegami—the hosts—and four celebrity guests interacted, to recorded street surveys with young Japanese people, to footage of the war, to documentary reports and interviews made by Sakurai and Ikegami. In the studio, Sakurai and Ikegami—dressed in dark and formal suits—were standing one at each side of a big screen that presented images or videos to discuss with the guests, who were seated at the right side of Sakurai; the vocal expressions of an unseen in-studio audience reinforced the changes of mood in the narrative.

Most of the information was delivered by the hosts, but the presence of the four guests symbolised, through their media identities, different audiences: Hamada Tatsumi, a teenage actor and middle school student, represented those young Japanese currently learning about the war through the official textbooks; Higa Manami, a twenty-nine year-old Okinawan actress, whose grandfather experienced the Okinawa battle, represented those who have also learned from survivors’ experiences; Shelly, a thirty-one year-old television personality, whose father is an American Navy retiree and who attended elementary school at one of the American military bases in Japan, represented those Japanese-Americans who have two different views of history; and, Watanabe Yuta, a twenty-six year-old actor who played the role of a “kamikaze” soldier in some theatrical performances, represented someone who has tried to feel what people felt during the war.

The show began with a recorded survey: staff from the broadcaster had gone to the streets of Tokyo and had asked two hundred people, aged ten to thirty-nine, diverse questions derived from the content of 6th grade history textbooks approved by the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sport, Science and Technology (usually referred by the acronym MEXT). While the screen showed the question written over the image of a textbook, a voice was heard asking: “What is commemorated on August 15?” The take went to young people giving their—amusingly erroneous—answers: “The day of the mountains,” said a young man confidently; “The day that dares began or something,” said another one; “The day to eat eel?” asked a young woman. The image went back to the book with the written answer, as the voice of the narrator was heard saying: “It is ‘the day of the end of the war.’” The rate of correct answers in town was only fifty-four percent. One more question. “The allies of Japan in the Pacific War were Germany and which other country?” Again, the take went to the streets and to young Japanese people: “America,” said a woman; “Russia,” answered another one; “England,” said a young man very confidently, praised by his friend for apparently knowing the answer, only to be told by a voice behind the camera that the correct one was Italy. The screen showed that only fifty percent of those surveyed gave the right answer.

Then, the narrator emphasised that numerous young people don’t know about the war, even though they have definitely studied about it at school; so, for all of them, ‘the truth about the war’ would be unveiled by Sakurai and Ikegami. The image of the hosts in the studio now appeared on the screen. Sakurai presented the show and he and Ikegami commented, in an amused tone, on the lack of knowledge that a surprising percentage of Japanese people had on the war. By this brief segment, presented in a humorous tone, the show directed the focus to the need to teach young generations about it, as well as the importance for young people to learn about it.

After this, the tone changed to an educational and increasingly emotive one, as Sakurai and Ikegami discussed four topics by contrasting the information contained in the approved textbooks with many other ‘facts’ that have been avoided by them. The narrative was built by the comments and questions of the hosts—who were depicted as having the truth and gave their moral judgement on the information and its official treatment—the interviews and reports they conducted with Japanese and foreign survivors or specialists, and the comments and reactions of the guests, who were addressed by the hosts in order to indicate the viewers the sentiments they were expected to have.

The first topic addressed was related to the Special Attack Forces (hereafter SAF)—commonly known in Western countries as “kamikaze.” It was highlighted that the editors of the history textbooks sanctioned by the MEXT generally neglected writing about these military forces, as it was difficult to explain the “special attack” without showing one of two types of moral judgement: if it was written that it implied an honourable death, it would be seen as a beautification of suicide; whereas if it was written that it was a suicidal attack, it would deny that it was an action performed for the sake of the nation. The hosts and guests expressed a slight disapproval of the editors for avoiding talking about the issue only to evade ideological and political conflicts. Then, the ‘truth’ about the SAF was presented through three narrative focuses.

First, in an instructive tone, by presenting the results of research done in various historic archives, the diversity of weapons and strategies used as part of the plans for special attacks, many of which never where actually used, either because the materials were expensive or because the prototypes resulted in failures, were shown. A model of one of these fiasco weapons was taken to the studio to show the absurd, crude, and desperate measures that were conceived by the Japanese military leaders—not naming names—only during the second half of the Pacific War, when material and human resources were lacking. This was a bomb that was attached at one end of a three-metre pole, which was supposed to be used by soldiers who would be under water when American vessels came close to the beach; in order to be able to remain submerged, the soldiers were supposed to use cement sandals weighing six kilos and take a strong poison soon before they exploded the bomb; however, during the trials, at least ten soldiers died, having accidentally released the poison kept in their special uniforms. As the guests in the studio took the sandals and the pole in their hands, they expressed horror at such a strategy, and sorrow for the soldiers who died in such absurd circumstances. Ikegami indicated that the army officials were well aware of the very slight chances of success of these kinds of suicidal strategies. Nevertheless, in the narrative there was no condemnation to the officials, but a focus on their reasoning behind such apparently cruel decisions: if the Japanese army did not persist until its last resource in trying to win the war, the lives of all those already dead soldiers and the sacrifices experienced by Japanese civilians would be wasted.

Second, by showing pictures of the young soldiers, letters they sent to their mothers, and interviews with survivors, the narrative became more emotional, emphasising the soldiers’ human side. It was made clear that those involved in the SAF were not volunteers, that they were reluctant to participate, and that they did not want to die. Nonetheless, the assignment to the SAF was received from above—it was not said explicitly from whom—and they had the moral obligation to obey because that was the national mood at that moment: everyone was suffering and they could not waste the already lost lives.

Finally, by presenting the surviving wife of one of the fallen soldiers, there was a highly emotive note on the virtues of those who gave their life for their nation, even if the result was a defeat. Through the account of the SAF, the development of the narrative exalted the “nobility of failure” that Hamada (2003) identified in the accounts of official textbooks. It also appealedto elements of the officially endorsed national identity discourse: the respect for authority, the avoidance of conflict within the group, the sacrifice of the self for the group and the nation, and the unceasing effort towards a goal even if the defeat seems the unavoidable result (Mandujano, 2014a).

Another subject addressed in the show was the social mood and the daily lives of Japanese civilians during the war. It was exposed that current history textbooks merely talk about how civilians were called by official and economic elites to make sacrifices in order to cooperate with the national cause. Focusing on the role of media during that epoch, it was explored how children and women were involved in the war: through advertising, popular songs, cartoons and women’s magazines, they were called to give up their savings to create bullets, to work in the military factories or for military laboratories, and to avoid luxuries and sacrifice their food. The food crisis was emphasised in a slightly amusing way by having the guests taste one of the dishes recommended in newspapers during the war—a mix of wild flowers’ leaves, heads and bones of fish, and eggshells—and focus on their reactions to the unpleasant flavour.

In the development of this topic, although in a general educational tone, there was still a strong condemnation through the use of music—a cultural form related to Sakurai’s professional activities—to indoctrinate civil society on the ideology of war. This was the only moment in the show when the names of past military leaders were openly signaled and criticised for having said that music was a war product that could be used to enhance the spirit and engrave the desired official messages in people’s minds without them realising it. Related to this, another element that was particularly stressed was the fact that media employees were forced to cooperate with the war propaganda, by hiding information or lying to people about the losses that the Japanese army was experiencing and the horrific and fruitless deaths of Japanese soldiers, in order to keep civilians’ national consciousness focused on their selfless cooperation. Yet, once again, there is no specific person pointed to as responsible for such developments.

One more theme discussed was the origin of the war. The educational tone was set when the hosts said that the Japanese history textbooks indicated the taking of the Malay Peninsula and the attack on Pearl Harbour as the events that initiated the Pacific War. Then, they said that the main objective of the Japanese army during that crusade had been the control over the Malay Peninsula and its oil refinery—because at that moment Japan was already suffering from a lack of resources—and that the attack on Pearl Harbour was almost two hours later and was a measure aimed merely to distract the United States and avoid their interference—implying that Japan had no intention to get into a war with the American power, but only to protect its interests in Asia. Still, the narrative of the show, as well as that of most textbooks, was clearly considering as “the war” only that fought against the United States, avoiding to specifically mention or explain the previous military involvements of Japan in Asia.

After presenting the ‘truth’ behind the beginning of the war against the United States, the tone quickly turned solemn and emotional. The screen showed interviews with Japanese and Malay survivors—who were taken to work at the refinery—as well as a report on a place in Papua New Guinea called “the cemetery of pilots”—where many young Japanese pilots died as result of reckless war strategies. The narrative emphasised the already deteriorated stance of Japan, its need of resources and the desperation felt by the army officials and soldiers for making something out of the deaths that had already occurred. It also stressed the humanity and patriotism of the soldiers who died away from home and did not even have the chance to have their bodies taken back to Japan. In covering this topic, the narrative laid emphasis on the superiority of the American army’s material resources and the awareness that the leaders of the Japanese army had of this fact, but also on how they perceived the importance of keeping such information concealed in order to preserve the morale of the soldiers and civilians. In this sense, the general discourse follows that of Japanese history textbooks, which also point at the American material superiority as the reason behind Japan’s defeat (Foster & Nicholls, 2005).

The last theme addressed in the show was related to the creation of the atomic bombs—surprisingly, not on the atomic bombings over Japan themselves. The show stressed the fact that Japan was doing research on the development of an atomic bomb long before the bombings on Nagasaki and Hiroshima occurred. In an educational tone, the narrative pointed out names of the Japanese scientists involved in the research, but the language used implied that they were commanded to do it, although it did not specify by whom. It also noted that the research on nuclear power began for fear of the United States taking the lead in the development of the bomb. By interviewing a man employed by the army to obtain the material to produce uranium, it was revealed that the Japanese army had the intention to use an atomic bomb on an American city. However, it was stressed that in this issue too, the United States had a material advantage over Japan. Japanese scientists could not get enough resources to develop the uranium and, in June of 1945, two months after the American army bombarded their laboratory, leading Japanese scientists dropped the project.

Through a brief report done by Ikegami on the site in New Mexico where the United States tested the bomb before dropping it on Japan, he presented also the current developments that the American government is doing on nuclear weapons. In this regard, the narrative—through the words and expressions of the hosts and guests—vaguely questioned the intentions of the United States behind continuing those experiments, when its official stance is against using nuclear weapons.

Interestingly, absolutely no reference was made to the Japanese bomb victims; although three images were shown when presenting the testing site—one of a destroyed Nagasaki and two of Japanese children hurt. On the contrary, the main point of the section appeared to be to demonstrate that Japan was a victim, also in this regard, of its lack of material resources: if Japan had been able to produce uranium and develop the bomb earlier, the Imperial army would have dropped it over the United States. Yet, no major censure is perceived on this possibility; the criticism and the emotive tone were directed to the fact that teenage Japanese boys were used by the army to obtain the rocks to produce uranium, involving them in dangerous and hard activities.

The final scenes of the program showed a slightly dark studio, where only Sakurai and Ikegami were standing in front of the camera. As his conclusion, Sakurai emphasised, in a solemn tone, the words of one of the surviving soldiers of the SAF who was in the interviews presented during the program: “I cannot be the only one to say that I do not want to die; I cannot be the only one to say that I do not want to fight, because everyone is making this war, because that is what a war is.” On the other hand, Ikegami seriously stressed his surprise at the high percentage of young Japanese people who do not even know that Japan’s enemy was the United States. Sakurai expressed the obligation to inform people effectively and accurately—implicitly referring to the whole media’s duty towards the public.

That was it. No references to controversial topics absent in textbooks: no mention of the colonial rule over Korea, the comfort women or the Nanjing massacre; no references to the Japanese soldiers’ actions on occupied territories nor to the distresses of Asian nations caused by the war. The narratives in the show exonerated the soldiers of all guilt for the actions of the war. The accusing finger was pointed to the sky, vaguely to army leaders, but mostly to some unnamed figure who, from above, took the Japanese people along a path of suffering and defeat, but who was not a villain, because he was also a victim of the circumstances. The need to maintain Japan’s sovereignty was indirectly referred to as the reason behind the involvement in a war with the United States—because the focus of the show was on this enemy that meant Japan’s defeat—but the motive specifically mentioned was the difficult economic situation that Japan was experiencing. However, there is no association of this circumstance to previous wars and military actions executed by the Japanese army in Asia. The narrative follows the same tone as textbooks in this matter as well: there were unavoidable situations that pushed Japanese leaders—whoever they were—into unwise actions in their attempt to rescue a victory for the nation. Thus, more than something new about the war, what could be learned—or reinforced—from this television show were Japanese identity elements—stoicism, endurance, respect for authority, group orientation and sacrifice for the nation—through the lives of the soldiers, the women and children, who lived and died in those painful conditions or who survived and were able to rebuild Japan from the ashes.

In the place of a conclusion

In December 2012, Shinzō Abe—member of the LDP and once Secretary General of the Group of Young Diet Members Concerned with Japan’s Future and History Education mentioned before—took seat as Prime Minister of Japan. This was Abe’s second term, as he had been in office between 2006 and 2007. In 2006, just before he was elected Prime Minister for the first time, his book, Towards a Beautiful Country: For a Confident and Proud Japan,13 was published. In it, Abe defined himself as a conservative with an open mind; he also shared his thoughts on how Japanese society should be, making manifest his alignment with a traditional vision of national identity (Abe, 2006). For him and most conservatives, a key factor that was restraining the advance of the nation was Article 9 of the constitution, in which Japan renounced its right to have armed forces and engage in war. Abe’s slogan for his 2012 campaign was ‘Restore Japan’, referring to the infrastructural, economic, social and emotional restoration needed after the disasters of March 11, 2011, but also to his ideas of reinstating Japan’s international position in economic and military spheres (Abe, 2012).

On July 1, 2014, news inside and outside Japan informed that the Japanese Cabinet had approved a new interpretation of the constitution; by this, the government would be allowed to participate in military joint actions aimed to defend Japan or its allies.14 This was seen by many as a symbolic turn of the nation’s pacifist stance, which has been an essential feature of the post-war Japanese national identity. Demonstrations surged and continued for months in Japan, China and South Korea against this approval. In Japan, protesters accused Abe of fascism and expressed their fears of Japan once again being involved in wars, even though Abe maintained in his official discourse that Japan would continue to be a pacifist nation (Prime Minister of Japan and His Cabinet, 2014).

On August 15, 2015, just in the middle of heated debates regarding the new security bill proposal already in the Diet’s hands, Abe delivered his official speech on the 70th anniversary of the end of the war. There was much expectation for Abe’s words. Asian neighbours were asking for him to express ‘sincere apologies’ for Japan’s actions; Western scholars were calling for him specifically to address colonial rule, aggression, and the comfort women issues; left-wing Japanese were also demanding him to ease some of the international tension by expressing regrets and dropping the bill proposal (Kingston, 2015; Morris-Suzuki, 2015; Sieg, 2015). He did reiterate his grief and condolences for the many people who perished and suffered because of the war; he did restate Japan’s future stance as a pacifist nation; he did maintain that Japanese people would have to continue facing history; but, he also claimed that the younger generations should not be predestined to continue apologising for the past (Prime Minister of Japan and His Cabinet, 2015).

Just a few weeks after the commemorations on the anniversary of the end of the war, Abe participated in the Sixth Trilateral Summit with the Republic of Korea’s President Park Geun-hye and China’s Premier Li Keqiang. In that event, they released a joint declaration agreeing to address the history-related issues in order to improve their relations (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, 2015).

Perhaps the most problematic of such had been the dispute on the comfort women—largely absent in Japanese history textbooks and, as it has been shown here, also missing in the media’s war accounts. On December 28, 2015, following the spirit of the declaration, Japan and the Republic of Korea, by means of their Foreign Ministers, released a joint statement announcing that both governments had finally reached an agreement on the issue of the comfort women: Abe had expressed his “most sincere apologies and remorse” to all the affected women and the Japanese government had accepted that the Japanese military authorities had been involved in the issue, so it would pay for those women’s psychological attention; on its part, the South Korean government would refrain from accusing or criticising Japan again on the issue, particularly in international settings (WSJ Staff, 2015). This was definitely a win for Abe and Japanese conservatives, as in the statement there is no mention to the treatment of the issue in history textbooks.

Hence, it can be expected that younger Japanese generations will continue to learn a rather limited version of the Asia-Pacific War. The war that they can learn from media is, essentially, the same that they learn from textbooks. The meta-message found in the show analysed here is clearly aligned with the official position. The coverage of Japanese war history in non-fiction, mainstream media seems to aim at the promotion of a national sentiment, by boosting nationals’ empathy with those older Japanese generations’ pain and sacrifices, while overlooking the feelings of remorse or empathy towards the suffering of other Asian nations. More than a critical evaluation of what circumstances led Japan to those armed conflicts and final defeat, by following the narrative lines of the nobility of failure and the rebirth of the nation, the media discourse is focused on the reinforcement of national identity elements that are more relevant and suitable than pacifism for the current aims of the government. Finally, it is evident that Japanese media, by using popular personalities—such as Sakurai and Ikegami—are trying to reach segments of the Japanese population that are not typically involved in formal politics—youth and women—and promote among them the national values and spirit.

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Yi, I., 2009. History in Action: the Japanese Textbook Controversy in Northeast Asia. Japan Studies Association Journal, Volume 7, pp. 79-96.

Yoshida, R. & Mie, A., 2014. Critics: What defines the conditions for military force?. [Online] Available at: http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2014/07/01/national/politics-diplomacy/critics-restraints-overly-ambiguous

Notes

[1]「 櫻井翔＆池上彰 教科書で学べない戦争」

[2] For extended analysis focused on the development of the diverse controversies related to Japanese history textbooks, see Hamada (2002), Koide (2014), Margolin (2014), Nozaki (2008), Nozaki & Selden (2009), Shibata (2015), Yi (2009).

[3] The English version of the Chapter II, Article 9 reads:

Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.

In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized. (Prime Minister of Japan and His Cabinet, 1946)

[4] In 2001, the Ministry of Education merged with the Science and Technology Agency to form the current Ministry of Education, Culture, Sport, Science and Technology (usually referred by the acronym MEXT).

[5] For more on the screening system, see Hamada (2002).

[6] 「70年目の戦争と平和」For more information, see http://www.nhk.or.jp/special/70years/

[7] 「シリーズ戦後70年」See http://www.ntv.co.jp/document/

[8] 「戦後70年 千の証言。私の街も戦場だった今伝えたい家族の物語」This documentary was presented in two episodes, the first was broadcast on March 9th and the second on August 15th. For more information, see http://www.tbs.co.jp/sengo70/

[9] 「私たちに戦争を教えてください。いま、会っておかなければいけない人がいる。今日、聞いておかなければいけない声がある」For more information, see the webpage http://www.fujitv.co.jp/sensou_oshiete/

[10] The order of the names in the title of the show reflects the Japanese practice of putting the family name before the given name. However, in this article, when I mention Japanese people, I use first the given name in order to avoid confusions in the references list.

[11] In the Kantō area, usually refereed as sample for the national audience trends.

[12] He has been the leading reporter in many cultural and historical media specials that have had as aim to recover pieces of Japanese history or to show the current doings of Japanese people.

[13] 「美しい国へ。自信と誇りの持てる日本へ」An English version was published in 2007, entitled Towards a beautiful country: My visions for Japan.

[14] See, for example: Sieg & Takenaka (2014), Yoshida & Mie (2014).

About the Author

Yunuen Ysela Mandujano-Salazar is Doctor in Social Sciences and holds a Master in Studies of Asia and Africa Specialty Japan. She has focused on the study of Japanese contemporary media discourses and nationalism, particularly through mainstream cultural phenomena. She has written articles for specialised journals and chapters of books focused on Japanese culture and Social Sciences. An alumna of the Japan Foundation Japanese Course for Specialists in Academic and Cultural Fields, she is currently a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Guadalajara (Mexico) conducting research on the Japanese media dominant discourses on the nation during the government of Abe Shinzō.

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Ordinary Religion, Extraordinary Anthropology The Contributions of Peter Knecht

a1602.pdf

Ordinary Religion, Extraordinary Anthropology The Contributions of Peter Knecht

Asian Folklore Studies, Volume 66, 2007: 201–212

===

For many years, Peter Knecht diligently worked in Nagoya, Japan, as a

professor of anthropology for Nanzan University, as the editor of Asian

Folklore Studies, and as a researcher for the Nanzan Anthropological

Institute, where he served as director from 1996 to 2004. His effort and dedication as a professor led to more than a few of his students becoming professional

anthropologists, and his editorial work brought to the world numerous groundbreaking studies.

Because of his background, Knecht is often seen as a successor of Wilhelm

Schmidt, who was the first to propose the establishment of the Nanzan

Anthropological Institute and who belonged to the Society of the Divine Word

(svd), with which Knecht is also affiliated. In fact, many students who have

studied anthropological theories will know Knecht’s name from his articles on

cultural diffusionism for introductory books on anthropological theory (e.g.,

Knecht 1984, 1985a, 2006b). However, Knecht is not a cultural diffusionist but

an anthropologist who is always keen on new anthropological theories. Through

such theoretical interests, his own scholarship has made significant contributions to anthropology and is worthy of an in-depth examination.

In this short survey, however, I will only be able to briefly introduce some

of his many publications over a thirty-five-year period. The survey is intended

to introduce the wide range of his work on topics such as society and religion in

Hanayama Village, Ise pilgrimage, Christianity and the Church, new religions in

Japan, and shamanism in northeastern Japan and China. Some of his research,

such as discussions on the ambivalent power of women in religion (Knecht

1975b) and of goddesses in myths (1975a), and some of his recent research, such

as that on insects in Japanese culture (Knecht et al., 2000, 2001), and on an

examination of the concept gaijin seen from the perspective of an anthropologist (2006a), can only be mentioned in the bibliography. It is important to note

that this survey is not meant to commemorate his entire career. Indeed, such

a survey would be premature as he continues to vigorously engage in research

and writing projects

===

Chie Saito

Suzuka International University

For many years, Peter Knecht diligently worked in Nagoya, Japan, as a

professor of anthropology for Nanzan University, as the editor of Asian

Folklore Studies, and as a researcher for the Nanzan Anthropological

Institute, where he served as director from 1996 to 2004. His effort and dedication as a professor led to more than a few of his students becoming professional

anthropologists, and his editorial work brought to the world numerous groundbreaking studies.

Because of his background, Knecht is often seen as a successor of Wilhelm

Schmidt, who was the first to propose the establishment of the Nanzan

Anthropological Institute and who belonged to the Society of the Divine Word

(svd), with which Knecht is also affiliated. In fact, many students who have

studied anthropological theories will know Knecht’s name from his articles on

cultural diffusionism for introductory books on anthropological theory (e.g.,

Knecht 1984, 1985a, 2006b). However, Knecht is not a cultural diffusionist but

an anthropologist who is always keen on new anthropological theories. Through

such theoretical interests, his own scholarship has made significant contributions to anthropology and is worthy of an in-depth examination.

In this short survey, however, I will only be able to briefly introduce some

of his many publications over a thirty-five-year period. The survey is intended

to introduce the wide range of his work on topics such as society and religion in

Hanayama Village, Ise pilgrimage, Christianity and the Church, new religions in

Japan, and shamanism in northeastern Japan and China. Some of his research,

such as discussions on the ambivalent power of women in religion (Knecht

1975b) and of goddesses in myths (1975a), and some of his recent research, such

as that on insects in Japanese culture (Knecht et al., 2000, 2001), and on an

examination of the concept gaijin seen from the perspective of an anthropologist (2006a), can only be mentioned in the bibliography. It is important to note

that this survey is not meant to commemorate his entire career. Indeed, such

a survey would be premature as he continues to vigorously engage in research

and writing projects.

[ 202 ]

contributions of peter knecht 203

HANAYAMA VILLAGE

Rather than engage in lofty theoretical debates, Knecht has tended to focus

his work on concrete data related to Japan, particularly religion. He has had, for

example, a long-term interest in festivals (matsuri) spanning from an early article on the Tenjin Festival in changing Japanese society (1971) to a recent article

on the Hanamatsuri Festival, which is legally protected as an Intangible Cultural

Property (2006d). Evidence of Knecht’s commitment to understanding Japan

in specific detail is his studies of Hanayama Village, in the mountains of Miyagi

prefecture. Knecht began his fieldwork in Hanayama in 1972 when he was a

graduate student at the University of Tokyo. Like other villages as well as towns

in Japan, Hanayama experienced rapid sociocultural change in the high-growth

era, often called the Japanese postwar economic miracle. According to Knecht

(2003a), over a thirty-year period the village changed rapidly as machines, such

as tractors and telephones, became part of village life. The older customs, including rituals, were simplified and some disappeared (1989). His articles record and

examine such change. When older types of houses with thatched roofs came

to be replaced by new house designs, the organization of thatchers came to an

end. The last master thatcher showed Knecht a scroll containing esoteric knowledge of thatching rituals and mythology, which Knecht then wrote about in his

“Mythology and the Thatching of Roofs” (1993a).

While older organizations disappeared, new organizations, such as a nenbutsu (recitation of homage to Amida Buddha) confraternity, appeared in

Hanayama Village. Discussing population change in a hamlet of the village over

a fifty-year period, Knecht (1987) analyzes the relationship between the hamlet

formation/reformation and the establishment of a nenbutsu confraternity. He

claims that the nenbutsu confraternity was established as a result of villagers’

experiences of population change; it supports villagers who are no longer able

to depend on receiving help from many relatives living nearby at the time of a

family member’s death. The confraternity is not necessarily a religious organization but a mutual assistance one for funerals that functions to unite the hamlet,

which is based on regional relationships (1987).

In another article, in addition to describing how a nenbutsu confraternity functions at a funeral, Knecht (1992) argues that death gradually comes

to have a public meaning in a funeral. He also points out how funerary ritual

spaces move from the most formal room with tatami mats and tokonoma at

the deceased’s home to a graveyard, and how the bereaved family members get

over their relative’s death as the spaces move. He states that during a funeral,

the deceased symbolizes his or her household (ie) and the living successor of

the household is finally shown publicly. The funeral symbolizes the continuity of both the deceased and the living. He concludes that, although Shinto is

204 chie saito

commonly perceived as related to life while Buddhism is associated with death

in Japan, the Buddhist funeral symbolizes the continuity of life and death.

ISE PILGRIMAGE

Pilgrimage is also a theme Knecht has been interested in during his studies of

Japan. On the basis of his deep understanding of pilgrimage in Christianity, he

has examined pilgrimages to Ise. Through an analysis of Christian pilgrimage,

Knecht (1986a) argues that pilgrimage is a type of salvation on earth: in order

to realize this salvation, a pilgrimage’s sacred destination must be located far

from the pilgrims’ daily world. The pilgrims take time to reach the sanctuary

remote from the pilgrims’ everyday living space by walking, and in doing so

engage in a form of prayer for salvation.

While studying the Ise pilgrimage, Knecht took the important step of analyzing in detail the mandala associated with it. This led to a new finding, namely

that the Ise pilgrimage mandala enables people to have a quasi-experience of

the pilgrimage (2000; 2006c). Mandalas are often seen as geometrical patterns

with arrangements of buddhas and gods that represent a Buddhist worldview.

In contrast, the Ise pilgrimage mandala is a guide for pilgrims depicting natural

environments, special buildings, and people performing religious activities in

the sanctuary. Through the mandala, people learn where they should go and

what they have to do, including how to pray, in the sanctuary. Through a processual analysis, Knecht concludes that even if people cannot visit the sanctuary,

they can have a quasi-experience of the pilgrimage through learning the mandala, which brings them merit just as the real experience of the pilgrimage does

(2000; 2006c).

The Ise pilgrimage mandala includes Mt. Asama, where the Buddhist

temple Kongō Shōji is located. Although the priests of Ise Shrine claim that Mt.

Asama is excluded from the sanctuary, it is often said by pilgrims that a complete Ise pilgrimage must include a visit to Mt. Asama. Knecht’s article, “Ise

sankei mandara and the Image of the Pure Land” (2006c), grapples with this

contradiction. He argues that the mandala represents people’s syncretic beliefs, a

mix of Buddhism and Shinto that suggests the Great God Amaterasu resides on

Mt. Asama. The mandala, which depicts Mt. Fuji at the top, also satisfies people’s

longing to visit the Pure Land. In fact, from the top of Mt. Asama people sometimes actually can view Mt. Fuji, an important sanctuary of another pilgrimage.

Besides these discussions about the mandala, through an analysis of the

historical data of the Ise pilgrimage Knecht (2006f) shows that, inside the Ise

sanctuary, space becomes more sacred the closer it is to the center. Even the two

main shrines at the center, the Inner Shrine and the Outer Shrine, have a hierarchical relationship with each other that reflects this.

contributions of peter knecht 205

ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDIES OF CHRISTIANITY

Parallel with the above-mentioned analyses of so-called traditional religion

and folk religion in Japan, Knecht discusses the religious practices of Japanese

Christians and then explains how the Church has dealt with Japanese concepts

of death, particularly as they relate to ancestor worship. While his background

as a Catholic priest no doubt gave him insight into these issues, it was primarily

his training as an anthropologist that guided his studies.

For many years, anthropology, which developed in the West, had not

regarded Christianity and the Church as objects of study. Consequently, there

were few anthropological studies on Christianity published before the 1970s

(Schneider and Lindenbaum 1987a, 1). It was only in the 1980s, when postmodernist theories attracted the attention of scholars in the social sciences, that

a sizable number of anthropologists started to study the Church as an agent of

sociocultural change. In this context, Knecht’s articles on ancestor worship and

the Church’s reaction to it are noteworthy.

In 1988, the year after American Ethnologist published a special issue on

Christian evangelism (Schneider and Lindenbaum 1987b), the SVD, which is

closely allied with well-known anthropological institutes, published the book

Anthropology and Mission (Piepke 1988). Knecht (1988) contributed a chapter in which he shows, on the basis of an analysis of the relationship between

anthropology and the SVD, that anthropology had not necessarily cooperated

with evangelism.

Knecht (1985b, 1986b) also examines the issue of Japanese ancestor worship as it relates to the Catholic Church. He claims that, although ancestor worship is closely connected with ie organizations, it is by no means limited to them.

The worship of ancestors, he points out, is based on an idea that there is a reciprocal relationship between the living and the deceased (the living worship their

ancestors and in turn the ancestors protect them), which is deeply rooted among

the Japanese. Thus, even if the kinship organization changes (or ie declines),

it will not result in the decline of ancestor worship (Knecht 1985b, 1986b).

Additionally, in his article “Can a Christian die as a Japanese?” (1994), Knecht

shows the result of his research on the attitudes of Japanese Christians towards

death and the deceased in three parishes of different scales, each of which has a

different ratio of Christian families and single believers. He states that in a parish

where Christians are cut off from other Christians, non-Christian ideas are more

influential.

Recently Knecht participated in a project titled “Christianity and Civilization,” led by Yoshio Sugimoto, a former fellow at the Nanzan Anthropological Institute and currently a professor at the National Museum of Ethnology.

The project examined how Christianity brought European cultures and a sense

206 chie saito

of modernity into non-Christian societies. Knecht’s contribution (2006e)

examines the discussions of both Protestant and Catholic missionaries with

the Japanese government in the transitional era between the Tokugawa period

and the Meiji Era. For the Catholics, an important issue was how to incorporate the Christianity among hidden Christians isolated in Nagasaki for several

generations into the Christianity that missionaries advocated. The Protestant

missionaries attempted to bring European civilizations, including its forms of

Christianity, into Japan through education. The Japanese government manipulated its own concept of the freedom of religion to restrict missionary activities, while it simultaneously reevaluated religion as a means of unifying the

state. Knecht discusses strategic negotiations between the missionaries and the

Japanese government, as well as between missionaries and Japanese, including

Christians and non-Christians.

NEW RELIGION

For Japanese, Christianity is a new but at the same time an old religion in so far

as it entered Japan more than four hundred years ago; and, in spite of the ban on

it during the Tokugawa Period (1600–1867), hidden Christians had continued

their worship practices. Some of the new religions in Japan have adopted elements of Christianity as well as those of more traditional Japanese religions. The

journal Academia published a volume edited by Knecht (1993e) in which five

authors discuss Mahikari from a variety of perspectives. Mahikari is a new religion that is said to attract especially those engaged in occupations that emphasize rational thought, such as those closely connected with science (1993b). In

the volume, as well as in another article (1995), Knecht (1993c) interprets major

symbols in Mahikari doctrine that are adopted from a variety of religions and

cultures. He claims that symbols help explain the doctrines: they are a model

of and for the new world that Mahikari believers aim to realize in the future. In

another article, Knecht (2001) discusses Mahikari’s Japanese identity. In it, he

considers the historical context in which Mahikari was established and developed and points out how central doctrines were influenced by older Japanese

religions such as Shinto.

SHAMANISM

The topic that has been most prominent among Knecht’s lifelong research interests may be shamanism. His extensive knowledge of both shamanism and studies of it is exhibited in his introductory chapter to Shamans in Asia (Knecht

2003b). This chapter examines a variety of earlier studies from different perspectives and indicates problems in studies on shamanism, such as the relationship between analytical and folk concepts of a shaman.

contributions of peter knecht 207

On the basis of his knowledge of folk religion in Asia, Knecht has explored

shamanism in northeastern Japan, including Hanayama Village, and northeastern China. With regard to shamanism in Japan, Knecht discusses the rich symbolism of kuchiyose, which is a ritual for summoning spirits of the dead. In a

kuchiyose ritual, a female medium or shaman called itako or ogamisama plays an

important role by becoming possessed by the deceased and speaking for them

(1990, 1993d, 1997, 2004a). For these itako, mountains are particularly important.

Mountains, which are seen as inhabited by spiritual entities and are representations of either paradise or hell in Japan, are for itako a source of spiritual power

where they establish and reconfirm their relationships with their guiding spirits

(Knecht 2002). In a kuchiyose ritual, the mountain symbol is associated with

the story of Mokuren in the Urabon Sutra. The symbolic mountain here represents a source of spiritual potency and the place where Mokuren collected what

the Buddha told him he needed to save his mother in hell. According to Knecht

(1993d), the kuchiyose rituals he observed were based on this story of Mokuren.

Although it is usually interpreted as a story of a good child or offspring in a filial

relationship, for itako/shaman groups, the Mokuren story is a kind of ancestral tale: itakos interpret the story as a teaching method for contacting the dead.

Similarly, Knecht (1997) discusses the creativity of individual itakos at kuchiyose rituals. While itakos become independent practitioners by being trained by

an instructor on how to perform rituals, they can also create unique modes of

expression within the ritual.

Knecht observed a kuchiyose ritual in Hanayama Village at a time when the

ritual had already become rare there. In Hanayama, as in other regions of Japan,

Peter Knecht with a shaman before

an altar, Hailar, Mongolia, 2002.

208 chie saito

ie-organizations have changed and declined. Through interpretations of the rich

symbolism of the ritual, Knecht claims that the ritual represents continuity of

patrilineal relationships among kin and between the living and the deceased in

one ie household (1990, 2004a).

In addition to research on shamanism in Japan, Knecht conducted research

with a project team on shamanism in northeastern China, funded by the

Japanese Society for the Promotion of Science. Although China is a new field for

Knecht, his study of shamanism in Siberia among the Evenki, who had traded

with both Russians and Chinese (Knecht 2005a), helped him with this research.

In the project, Knecht pays close attention to China’s political history, the Great

Proletariat Cultural Revolution and thereafter, in which shamans were persecuted as those who spread superstitions (2004b, 2005b). It is said that during politically difficult times, no shaman was active in China; however, recently some

have returned to practicing shamanism, albeit without the instruments used and

clothing worn in shamanic rituals (2004b). New shamans also have appeared

despite restrictions and the absence of senior shamans to instruct them (2005b).

With regard to these new shamans, the report and article Knecht published in

2004 include many interesting points. For instance, through his research on

individual life-histories of shamans and stories about their experiences, Knecht

finds two types of shamans: one is a shaman who experienced shamanic illness

or a shamanistic initiatory crisis in the process of becoming a shaman; the other

is a shaman who did not experience such a crisis but was instead elected by his

clan. In spite of these completely different types, what both types of shamans do

in rituals is similar to each other (Knecht 2004c). Knecht claims that whether

a shaman is recognized as powerful and authentic depends on how much confidence believers have in him or her. In addition, Knecht reports that, because of

the discontinuity of shamanistic traditions due to the Great Proletarian Cultural

Revolution, some shamans started reading books about shamanism and attending academic meetings on it in order to learn about its history and how it has

existed in other regions. This might eventually result in producing an “international” type of shamanism (Knecht 2004b).

Knecht (2005b) also describes a process whereby an individual became a

shaman: his shamanic initiatory crisis lasted for around thirty years, and during that time a variety of people helped him in many different ways. Thus, he

concludes that a society in which shamans lived can hand on knowledge about

shamanism in fragments, and this can result in the revival of shamanism.

By seizing the best research opportunity in China, Knecht provides new

findings on shamanism. When he and his project team started conducting

research in China in 2000, shamanism was in a period of revival. It was also a

time when significant changes were occurring in Chinese culture and society

and when it was still not easy for anthropologists to conduct fieldwork there.

contributions of peter knecht 209

Thus, by focusing on individual shamans and collecting their life-histories during this time, Knecht has made an important contribution to anthropological

studies of China.

In summary, it can be said that the strength of his studies, as illustrated

above, lies in detailed descriptions and analyses of cultural dynamics on the

basis of acute observations. His tenacious research and sharp anthropological

sense have led to important new findings and enabled him to make significant

contributions to anthropological studies on sociocultural change. We anticipate

that his further research and publications will continue to exhibit such anthropological acumen and sensitivity.

Editors’ note: The front photograph shows Professor Knecht in Hailar, Mongolia, with the

leaders of two local families (summer 2003). 

===