This is a reasonable general introduction to the Kyoto School, but doesn't really go very deep. For that, Heisig is better and the old collection of essays by Taitetsu Unno. Or go straight to Religion and Nothingness -- it isn't that hard to read if you have any background in Western philosophy and a reasonable knowledge of Mahayana Buddhism. The issue with reading the Kyoto School is that their deep insights are surrounded by lots and lots of generalities on Western philosophy that are not that sophisticated (I leave aside the social and political material, which has problems of its own). You have to get on their "wavelength" and then it becomes a fascinating bridge (abyss) between thought realms.
Carter does a great job on a difficult topic. He explains some of the difficult concepts in Buddhism. In fact, of the authors I have read, he explains it the best. It is also written in an interesting style, not dry.
The book is divided into four chapters, each considers one japanese philosopher from the Kyoto School. These are Nishida Kitaro, Tanabe Hajime, Keiji Nishitani and Watsuji Tetsuro. This is great since their thought is so diverse, that one usually finds himself interested in a particular thinkers thoughts
There are very few entry level texts in this field. This is a scholarly and informed exception. Dr. Carter has also produced several other exemplary studies regarding contemporary Japanese Arts and Culture. Thank you, Dr. Carter.
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Michael
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March 6, 2023
090118: clear, concise, introduction to the work of philosophers known as 'Kyoto school', all Japanese thinkers who learned much 'western' philosophy in order to integrate, express, engage, with particular Japanese thought on 'the way', mostly zen, in which the purpose of thought is directed to individual transformation, enlightenment, in this world, in a way close to, influenced/ing religious practices...
central contention is that in western thought the central, motivating, value, is 'being' in all its forms (apparent, absolute, relative) and in eastern thought it is 'nothingness' in all its forms (relative, nihilist, absolute), and how zen and Buddhist thought quotes, works with, the evaluation of reality as 'empty' or 'emptiness' (interdependence of nature rather than essence) famous quote of 'form is emptiness and emptiness is form'... and this 'foundation' (abyss) is source of all that ‘is’...
Nishida, Tanabe, Nishitani, are the three main members of the ‘school’, with Wasuji added, influenced by Buddhist thought, either following it, translating, expanding and making philosophical interpretation of essential insights, in nsd or rejecting in tana, critiquing in nst moving from self-power to other-power, asserting absolute emptiness is awareness of human mind, skepticism that this is possible without power of 'faith', from mind and existential concepts to social/space in response to heidegger's focus on time, while this is introducing thoughts it is indicated there are many volumes yet to be translated to English...
i come to this intro with a lot of reading of phenomenonology and see a lot of merleau-ponty in the idea that it is not the varying intellect that need be engaged, empowered, enlightened, but the body, by some practices, intuition, acts- this notes also that if a philosophy does not lead to new and lasting existential change it is no more than 'intellectual gymnastics'... i come to this also having read on Buddhism and Zen, so it is very easy to follow these thoughts as philosophy rather than limited to 'western' concepts of religion, the only problem will be finding more translations of authors here noted, and as always any book that inspires reading another book is a five to me...
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Karl Hallbjörnsson
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August 28, 2017
A nice primer and introduction to the Kyoto School. I have some trifling problems with the text pertaining to how the author often erringly uses pseudo-hegelian terms such as synthesis to negatively contrast some of the Japanese thinkers covered in the book to Hegel. With a better grasp of hegelian immanent critique he wouldn't have fallen into the lazy trap of characterizing a hegelian mediation as a synthesis that negates its constituent moments without preserving them in its own process (see discussion of the term Ningen, Loc 2565-2572 in Kindle edition). Otherwise this is a fine work and I'd recommend it to anyone interested in the eastern philosophical tradition of (relative) modernity.
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Josh
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July 2, 2017
Nishida Kitarō
-- p. 25: Principle of unity. "Since both material and spiritual phenomena are identical from the point of view of pure experience, these two kinds of unifying functions must ultimately be of the same sort. [...] For example, our laws of logic and mathematics are at once the basic principles by which the phenomena of the universe come into being." It seems to me a strange sort of appeal: surely each of those three statements is (at the very least) contestable. Even taking pure experience to be foundational, the principle seems to me too dogmatic to escape the criticisms that the Kyoto school itself makes of Western philosophy.
-- p. 26: Hierarchical structuring of reality. "It is not that experience exists because there is an individual, but that an individual exists because there is experience [pure experience is prior to the distinctions of things and self, so the experience had by a self is carved out of the unity which is pure experience]. [..] The individual's experience is simply a small, distinctive sphere of limited experience within true experience." This question applies equally to Plotinus (and is one of clarification/confusion): are mice closer to God than I am? How does complexification interact with the normative structuring of reality?
-- p. 36: The qualities of God. "Pure experience, before it is carved up by the intellect, has no distinctions. But God has qualities, and is therefore more than just pure experience. Nothing, as a mere pointer or placeholder, is precisely without qualities because it is prior to all qualities and distinctions." What are God's qualities? Leah's point is valid: that some conceptualizations would swap God and nothingness in that statement, such that God is prior to nothingness and lacks any and all characterization. Further contrast with Kołakowski's Metaphysical Horror.
-- p. 45: The Self-identity of contradiction. "This is Nishida's dialectical logic of soku hi: the simultaneous acceptance of both is and is not as pertaining to the same thing. In symbolic representation, A is A; A is not A; therefore A is A. I see the mountains; I see that they are not mountains; therefore, I see the mountains anew. [...] The enlightened seer sees both aspects at once, a kind of stereoscopic vision." This is nice: I like this. And it provides a tangible framing of the ten ox-herding pictures.
-- p. 49: The nature of good and evil. "So movements toward the deeper layers of self, culminating in the realization of a bottomless self-contradictory identity as the place where absolute nothingness arises and becomes uniquely conscious of itself, is contrasted with movement away from our essential nature, which is increasingly evil (estranged) as its deeper nature becomes hidden. Delusion, the traditional cause of evil in Buddhist thought, occurs when we mistake the separate objective self for the real or deeper self." Why is differentiation--and ultimately reflection--evil? As with the principle of self-contradiction, it is (presented as) formal and too dogmatic for my taste. Obvious contrasts are with Plotinus and Nietzsche.
Tanabe Hajime
-- p. 71: Other-power. "Other-power bridges, or mediates, the opposition between self and other. The transformed self is able to express Other-power because of the mediation/intervention/facilitation of Other-power, rendering him/her a 'self that loses itself.'" Is this an instance of internalization of some `absolute reality`? But what exactly is other-power? And what of dependent origination? See also p. 74 for a partial unpacking. Speaking generally, it seems like Tanabe plays fast loose with his terminology.
-- p. 73: Metanoetics. "Proof of the existence of such power is the transformation of the self which must be given to us from outside of ourselves, since the transformation of self is not the work of self-power but of Other-power." Whence does that transformation arise? How did Buddha become Buddha? Is it a bootstrapping (realization of fundamental Oneness within ourselves) or is it really faith, as Tanabe would have it?
-- p. 82: Action and faith. "Instead, the absolute it to be known only through actions based on the faith that, through Other-power, one's actions will be mediated such that love results in the witnessing (that is, demonstrating one's transformation through one's loving actions) embodying one's faith. Such a transformation in and through one's actions is the only way that absolute nothingness is known. Only the absolute disruption of self allows proper action and guided reason to emerge, the result of allowing Other-power to be one's guide." Deserves a re-read or two. "What results from the activity of nothingness working through us is the 'action of no-action.' It is action 'performed by a subject [a self] that has been annihilated.' Through 'the conversion of death-and-resurrection, we come to realize that our true self is the self of nothingness whose being consists in acting as the mediator of nothingness.' Nothingness becomes actual only through a death-and-resurrection repeatedly realized as the 'core' of relative beings 'by means of a circular movement between the absolute and the relative.'" Stated very well, if not eloquently.
For all Tanabe's efforts (and talk) of making his philosophy applicable to the everyday world, I do not understand what to make of self-power and Other-power in a tangible sense.
Nishitani Keiji
-- p. 106: Oscillation. "Ueda Shizuteru suggests that figures eight and nine [of the ox-herding pictures] should not be taken in succession, but rather as co-related. They should be viewed as 'oscillating back and forth.' The two should be taken together, 'like two sides of a single sheet of paper, a paper without thickness.' Each stage infilitrates the other so that eight implies nine, and nine implies eight. The enlightened man or woman sees both at once, stereoscopically. Everything perceived exists in its suchness on the field of Śūnyatā, as Nishitani understands this." Yes, I like this! Obvious parallels with contemplation+meditation; compression+particularization; digital+analog(?); etc. Also transparency/opacity shifting.
-- p. 111-2: Meaninglessness. Nishitani sees Śūnyatā as the 'ground' for resolving the meaning crisis, methinks. "Nishitani offered a way out of this nihilism of the field of consciousness, which leaves us forever trapped within our own subjective consciousness. He does this by substituting 'the field of Śūnyatā' for the field of consciousness." Huh? "The Great Doubt brings us to our emotional and intellectual knees, for nothing that we know will dispel our awareness of meaninglessness." I am not sure whether I agree with this. "Śūnyatā is an emptiness that even empties itself, a nihilism which empties nihilism. In doing so, nihilism itself is transcended, and self and the world reappear in their suchness, in their true depths." Yes--but are metanoetic transformations necessarily emotionally-crushing? What exactly does it mean to 'bring us to our emotional knees'?
Watsuji Tetsuro
Quite unimpressed with Watsuji -- but that's likely a product of my own interests. Academics interested in understanding society in its multifaceted and dynamical nature should read this! In particular, I feel strong connections with the relational political ecology approach applied to power dynamics, vulnerability, state positionality and loyalty, financialization, etc.
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John
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This is a clear, simple and well written introduction to the Kyoto School of philosophy.
The author, Robert E. Carter, focuses his attention on four key figures: Nishida Kitaro, Tanabe Hajime, Nishitani Keji, and Watsuji Tetsuro. The common element linking these thinkers together, he argues, is their concern with the Buddhist idea of "nothingness" and its relation to insights from Western existentialist philosophy.
In the Kyoto School we find a fascinating and exciting hybrid of Eastern and Western themes, all converging on the claim that human existence, morality, knowledge and interaction find their ultimate source in an "absolute nothingness" preceding all distinctions.
Journal of Buddhist Ethics ISSN 1076-9005
http://blogs.dickinson.edu/buddhistethics
Volume 21, 2014
The Kyoto School: An Introduction
Reviewed by Ilana Maymind
Ohio State University Maymind.3@osu.edu
Copyright Notice: Digital copies of this work may be made and distributed provided no change is made and no alteration is made to the content. Reproduction in any other format, with the exception of a single copy for private study, requires the written permission of the author. All enquiries to:
cozort@dickinson.edu
A Review of The Kyoto School: An
Introduction
Ilana Maymind
The Kyoto School: An Introduction. By Robert E. Carter. Albany: SUNY, 2013, ISBN: 9781438445427 (paperback), $24.95.
In this book, Robert Carter, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at Trent University in Canada, introduces the works of four major Japanese philosophers: Nishida Kitarō, Tanabe Hajime, Nishitani Keiji, and Watsuji Tetsurō. His aim is to make the present selection accessible even to those who possess either minimal or no knowledge of the Kyoto School’s thinkers. For the former, Carter provides many citations with references for future research. For the latter, Carter includes a glossary of terms (173-181) to help the novice to navigate the text with greater ease. Carter’s expertise in the synthesis of Eastern and Western ideas enhances the accessibility of this text for any Western reader. In addition, his role as a director of the Interdisciplinary program at the Trent University clearly shows his attuned sensitivity to such cultural idiosyncrasies.
To better situate his discussion, Carter begins by providing a brief historical overview and notes that Japan after the Meiji Restoration (1868-1912) was transformed from an isolated society into an advanced society accompanied by intellectual development. The Kyoto School highlights this intellectual advancement. The four thinkers discussed in this book adopted an approach that built a foundation for the ability to adopt, integrate, but also expand and transform certain Western thoughts into uniquely Japanese system of thought.
To address the uniqueness of the Kyoto School philosophy, Carter recalls James Heisig’s insight that the Kyoto School philosophy is in fact a tradition of the interpretations of Nishida’s works. This tradition sets itself apart from the Western tradition by avoiding any dichotomy between religion and philosophy. The absence of this dichotomy alerts the Western reader to the Western nature of the term “religion” itself. Carter points out that the so-called “religions” of the East were placed into a predefined category according to imposed Western conceptions. Religion is defined without a typical recourse to “belief” but rather in terms of “consciousness transformation” which is perplexing for the Western reader. Carter stipulates his own definition of philosophy and how it fits into the Japanese delineation by stating: “philosophy is, at the very least, thinking that both is rigorous and consistent, leading to clarity. If such thinking leads to self-transformation, then it is in line with what the Japanese believe philosophy ought to be” (6). Borrowing from Carter’s definition of philosophy, his exposition of the thought of the four philosophers discussed in this selection is “rigorous and consistent, leading to clarity.”
In Chapter one, Carter addresses the thoughts of Nishida Kitarō. To unpack Japanese thought and make it accessible to the Western world, Nishida discusses it in Western terms. The Kyoto school was born out of this initiative. To understand Nishida’s thought requires elucidation of his central concepts that, in some cases, relate to Western influences. William James’ concept of “pure experience” is one of these influences. Carter demonstrates that Nishida extrapolates James’s concept of pure experience by arguing that it is available to anyone engaged in a culture of “the meditative art” (20). The influence of Henri Bergson’s
“immediate experience” is exemplified in Nishida’s articulations of intuition. Nishida is drawn to Bergson’s insistence that intuition is more valuable than thinking, which has the tendency to fragmentize and deemphasize one’s whole experience. Nishida does not refute the intellectual experience but transforms it into a unified experience enhanced by one’s intuition that he terms “‘intellectual intuition’ or direct seeing” (28). Yet, Carter warns not to surmise that, for Nishida, pure experience means abandoning intellect. He explains that for Nishida, pure experience is always a unity and its unifying power leads him to adopt the “metaphysics of becoming,” according to which “the macrocosm is reflected in the microcosm; and the reverse also holds” (25).
For Nishida, reality and God are within us. God in Nishida’s definition is the “greatest and final unifier of our consciousness; our consciousness is one part of God’s consciousness and its unity comes from God’s unity” (30-31). The unifying principle that reflects on the process of oneness and is predicated upon emptying oneself of egotistical thinking leads to a deeper knowledge of self and consequently to unity with the universe, or with what Nishida often terms as “God.” This God is absolute, immanent, omnipresent, and “absolute nothingness.” In effect, pure experience is interchangeable with God or absolute nothingness. Humans, however, are also a part of absolute nothingness.
Despite Nishida’s articulation of the merging of self and the other, Nishida does not repudiate one’s individuality and maintains, “the greatest human beings are those who display the greatest individuality” (51). Individuality means one’s ability to be self-actualizing. Nishida argues, “a society that ignores the individual is anything but a healthy one” (51).
In line with the Buddhist tradition, by and large, Nishida views the mind and the body as interconnected and considers any material objects as non-existent apart from pure experience. In order to break the artificial separation between the self and the things themselves, one is to immerse oneself in these things and negate the self. Carter demonstrates this immersion by referring to the haiku of the frog and the water as oneness of the thing one sees. Nishida understands this oneness in terms of love. This is further exemplified in Nishida’s theory of place—basho— seeing the form without the form—which underlines not only his interest in intersecting Eastern and Western thought but also, his implicit articulation of the Zen concept of reality.
The concept of nothingness informs Nishida’s view of death, which clearly contrasts to a general Western view of death. Nishida recognizes life’s impermanence: “we live [our life] by dying” and “die by living” (44). This simultaneous process of our death/life reflects on our impermanence, flexibility, and creativity but also on our selfcontradictory identity. Carter elaborates: “How we choose to die by living makes all the difference, of course. We can fritter it away, enjoy it, fear it, resent it, or be creatively who we really are in using it up. As sons and daughters of the One, we, too, are creators” (44). [Italics mine.]
Nishida employs the self-contradictory dialectics of soku hi— “something other than itself and yet remains itself” (44). This dialectical logic allows for the simultaneous acceptance of contradictory principles. Carter illustrates: “I see the mountains; I see that they are not mountains; therefore, I see the mountains anew” (45). He clarifies one of the pivotal elements of Nishida’s pantheistic thought: “The mountains are not just particular mountains; for they are also one with the One: the formless whole is what formed particulars rest within” (45).
Nishida’s rejection of any dichotomies is organic to his dismissal of the supremacy of “either/or” logic. Human existence is full of contradictions and Nishida embraces these as “a unity-in-contradiction, an identity of opposites” (46). The unity-in-contradiction equally applies to human consciousness. The rejection of this duality informs Nishida’s principle of unity as being self-contradictory as well. The idea of a selfcontradictory existence represents a vital, multidimensional world. Nishida rejects the dichotomy between good and evil. God, similarly to the individual, who is characterized by self-contradictory qualities, also self-negates his oneness by “self-manifesting the many in existence” (52). The self-negating nature accounts for the existence of both good and evil.
Carter explains that Nishida avoids any moralizing: “Nishida’s God embraces evil, Satan, and immortality as a part of His/Her/Its very nature as creator of all that is. As human beings, we, too, represent this same inclusion: hence, our hearts are essentially this battlefield between God and Satan” (53). Notwithstanding this, the inclusion of opposites does not negate a move toward goodness. Goodness, as the direction of spirituality, is “an abandonment of the self as separate,” and hence, “spirituality is centripetal” (49). The existence of evil carries some positive functions since, as the force of opposite, it is energy that accelerates this progress.
Pure experience is reminiscent of a poetic encounter, and Carter concludes his elucidation of Nishida’s thought by stating, “Philosophy is now joined with poetry.” Carter offers his own beautifully composed rendition which is also a warning: “Subsequently, one’s world has changed dramatically, and even to watch the evening news on television makes one gasp in disbelief: can they not see what wonders they are wasting, what they are doing to themselves, others, and the world? Can they not catch even a glimpse of what they are missing out on?” (58).
In Chapter two, Carter focuses on Hajime Tanabe. This is the weakest chapter in the collection, as it lacks some of the nuances of Shinran’s thought, which greatly influenced Tanabe. This weakness is, however, remedied by a beautifully composed introduction by Thomas Kasulis (see pp. xiv-xvi). As in his discussion of Nishida, Carter similarly contextualizes Tanabe’s thought by providing some biographical information. Carter points out that Tanabe’s philosophy developed in two distinct ways: as the philosophy of science, exemplified in his interest in Neo-Kantianism and phenomenology with its reliance on reason; and as his later turn to the “philosophy of repentance.” Tanabe’s philosophy of repentance, articulated through a rejection of reliance on reason and an endorsement of faith, was his response to human sin of arrogance. It exemplifies how he changed the views toward Japanese expansionism and nationalism that he held during World War II.
In addition to Western influences, Tanabe’s thought was greatly affected by Nishida, with whom he had close intellectual connection. Yet Tanabe’s views continued to diverge from those of Nishida. In 1930,
Tanabe published a critique of Nishida’s theory of place, basho, entitled “Logic of Species,” which was followed by his 1943 critique of the individual, “The Logic of Social Existence.” Carter maintains that Tanabe’s “Logic of Social Existence” was the strongest testimony to his nationalism. In this essay, Tanabe portrayed the nation as “a manifestation of God” and privileged the nation over human lives by implicitly endorsing the idea of human sacrifice for the sake of the nation. After the surrender of Japan in 1945, Tanabe, who was already retired at that point, was seen as a “‘racist,’ a ‘Nazi’, and a ‘Fascist’” (66). The reconsideration of his views came shortly thereafter, and in 1946 he published his famous Philosophy as Metanoetics, which was followed by a 1947 revision of his “Logic of Species.” In his Philosophy as Metanoetics, Tanabe reflects on his own moral insufficiency, demonstrated by his acceptance of Japanese expansionism and nationalism. This move produced his metanoesis (confession) as an attempt to go beyond reason to articulate the emotion of repentance as a nexus of his philosophy as “a philosophy that is not a philosophy” (67).
Carter avers that Tanabe’s Philosophy as Metanoetics became his meditation on the founder of True Pure Land, Shinran’s (1173-1263), concept of Other-power coupled with Tanabe’s own sense of repentance for wrongs done (zange). Carter argues that Tanabe’s introduction of Other-power into the Kyoto School philosophy brought “diversity, notwithstanding the many obvious similarities” (68). An example of the diversity of views between Nishida and Tanabe is evident in their positions on nothingness. For Tanabe, it is Other-power that represents “nothingness-qua-love” (68).
Carter demonstrates that Tanabe’s “metanoetics” (zangendo) transforms his understanding of philosophy and its methods. While Tanabe grounds his philosophy in Shinran’s Pure Land Buddhism, he offers certain modifications affected perhaps by the influence of Pascal and Kierkegaard. In Tanabe’s articulation, this mediating Other-power ensures human rebirth by eradicating human sinfulness and evilness. Tanabe uses the term “mediation” in a variety of meanings, yet the everpresent meaning for this term relates to repentance that summons Other-power and allows a transformed being to “mediate between him/herself and other human beings” (70).
Tanabe counters Nishida’s view of human goodness by insisting that humans are intrinsically evil, and borrows Christian language by averring the existence of “original sin” stemming from human arrogance. Given human sinfulness and evilness, any recourse to philosophy or rational thinking becomes inadequate unless it is coupled with repentance. To move beyond finite and evil human nature requires renouncing one’s sins and invoking the name of the Buddha Amida (nembutsu) for help. While this approach clearly exemplifies Shinran’s influence on Tanabe’s thought, he goes beyond it by insisting on ongoing repentance. Carter explains that for Tanabe, the process of repentance that leads to the resurrection of one as an egoless being is not “a onetime act, for we must practice death [to the old self] and resurrection [rebirth as a new, true self] over and over again” (80).
Contrary to Nishida, Tanabe views enlightenment as something beyond the individual as “a transformative power in the world and history” (73). Tanabe considers absolute nothingness as a metaphor for a “net” which exemplifies interrelatedness. By being composed of tightly connected knots, the strength of each knot enhances the strength of the whole net. Likewise, human interconnectedness infuses each individual with more power. Enlightenment for Tanabe is a dynamic process always connected to a mediating power of repentance. Carter explicates that since “the absolute exists only as and through acts of mediation,” this absolute/Other-power/nothingness is “a process, an action of transformation” (74).
Tanabe’s principle of absolute mediation has other implications as well. It challenges the category of the “particular” individual who is no longer seen as “simply human in some abstract general sense” (75). Carter discusses that Tanabe’s best articulation of this principle in his revised “Logic of Species” which is a testimony to the large overhaul of his earlier thoughts of nationalism. Similarly to Nishida, Tanabe was attracted to Henri Bergson’s philosophy, but unlike Nishida he found his inspiration in Bergson’s view of ethics as well as in his articulation of “open” and “closed” (exemplified by its “clan” mentality) societies. In his 1946 essay, Tanabe reconsidered his own position and critiqued Japan’s actions as that of a “closed” society that overlooked “the greater world that lay beyond” (77).
By and large, Tanabe considered philosophy qua ethics, “morality-in-action” which required a reflexive critical assessment of Japan’s image and actions of the “closed” society. The conversion to a more “open” society was a prerequisite for a transformation to “open universality insofar as the individual is now freed to use reason to decide what ought to be done ethically” (79). For humans to be fully ethical, they need to entrust themselves to Other-power by recognizing their own relativity and the hubris of seeing themselves as “the absolute.” The practice of metanoetics alters the relationship between self and another,
and one’s relative self becomes “transformed into ‘being-asnothingness’” (80). The significance of this transformation is in the interaction of relative beings, similarly embraced and guided by Otherpower. In Tanabe’s view, ethical society is the society of repented and resurrected humans embraced by Other-power of absolute nothingness. An ethical being is driven by a caring compassion for the entire cosmos emanated from the embrace of Other-power.
In Chapter three, Carter focuses on Nishitani Keiji and discusses
Nishitani's struggle with “existential predicament” according to which human “existence is without foundation and [human] laws, institutions, and religions are feeble attempts to paper over the growing abyss of meaningless and hopelessness” (92). The overriding focus for Nishitani becomes the question of intellectual and political integrity and how to deal with these conditions without “commit[ting] either intellectual or physical suicide” (92). Similarly to Nishida, Nishitani was attracted to Zen, though his interest was slightly interrupted by his serious engagement with existential philosophy. It resurfaced in 1936 in Nishitani’s attempt to balance reason and “letting go of reason” (93).
Carter points out that contrary to most Western philosophers for whom mysticism does not fall into the purview of philosophy, Nishitani was deeply interested in mysticism and in 1932, together with his student and later colleague Ueda, published a book on the history of mysticism. In this book, Ueda and Nishitani grappled with the thought of the Thirteenth century German mystic, Meister Eckhart (as did Heidegger, with whom Nishitani and Ueda studied).
As we already noted, the war brought confusion and challenged the intellectual integrity of many thinkers in Japan. In light of Chapter 2, in which Carter discussed Tanabe’s silence during the war, it is somewhat puzzling that Carter states here without much reflection that, “both Nishida and Tanabe encouraged Nishitani to speak out against the irrational ideology of the time, which appeared to be leading Japan to war, but he was unable to do so, unable to be decisive enough to act on their urges” (93). The writing of this chapter appears slightly uneven and does not cohere well with the chapter before. Somewhat obliquely, Carter states that Nishitani “received a severe blow in December 1946, after the defeat of Japan, when the occupation authorities deemed him unsuitable for teaching” (94). And matter-of-factly adds: “the charge against [Nishitani] was that he had supported the wartime government” (94) and after the war, rather than revising his views, found the refuge in
Zen and in his wife (94). Being expelled from teaching has not resulted in Nishitani abandoning his intellectual work. In fact, the period that Carter calls Nishitani’s “academic exile,” was rather bountiful, and he wrote A Study of Aristotle, God and Absolute Nothingness, and The Self-Overcoming of Nihilism.
Nishitani’s engagement with Western philosophy was his attempt to rethink its impact through recourse to Zen but in light of Western existential thought. Nishitani’s interest in Zen, supplemented by his exposure to European nihilism and particularly to Nietzsche’s idea of the “death of God,” impacted much of his thought. In Nishitani’s view, the “death of God” led to the overall collapse of European metaphysics and hence an overall loss of a spiritual center. On the other hand, this loss accelerated the appreciation of self-agency and promoted the understanding that one’s own choices cannot be always corroborated by any assurances of a favorable outcome. Charting one’s destination required honesty and courage predicated upon a “will to power.” Carter explains that for Nishitani this “will to power” means creating one’s own values as being divorced from “fanciful threats of eternal damnation and divine punishment” (96). Western ideas of divine punishment and eternal damnation, which crept into Japanese thought and bred nihilism, can only be defeated “through nihilism” (96).
Carter notes that Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra became
Nishitani's spiritual guide in terms of his articulation of nihilism. In his Self-Overcoming of Nihilism, Nishitani equates Nietzsche’s pronouncement of the “death of God” with the death of Christianity and further with the death of Christian values and the meaninglessness of human existence. In Nishitani’s elaboration, the death of God was replaced with the “love of self and the world just as they are” (97). This replacement released humans from a perception of sinfulness and transformed them into “proud, powerful, erotic beings who loved life and were capable of creating meaning and values for themselves” (97).
Carter notes that the notion of “nothingness” is often misinterpreted by the West as “the negation of some being of some kind” (109). Perhaps turning to the elucidation of this concept earlier in the book would have helped the reader to understand better the complexity of the Kyoto School thought. Carter explains that for the thinkers of the Kyoto School “nothingness” meant, “that which was originary, ultimate, or absolute” (109). He warns the reader not to conflate the meaning of this concept into one. Carter provides a short comparative elucidation of the notion of nothingness as understood by the philosophers discussed in his book. This quick foray aims to ensure a more nuanced understanding; however, it might have served this purpose better in the introduction chapter.
In this chapter, Carter turns to a brief comparison among Nishida, Tanabe, and Nishitani to stress the difference in their understanding of nothingness. Carter avers that Nishitani’s main aim differs from that of Nishida and Tanabe. Nishitani’s philosophy of overcoming nihilism is through nihilism. To overcome meaninglessness requires “substituting ‘the field of Śūnyatā’ for the field of consciousness” (111). This substitution cannot be attained without the recognition of impermanence and of a lack of the essence. This recognition is attained through recourse to the “Great Doubt of Zen,” which brings one to an entry point into śūnyatā or a world of “suchness.” The ordinary consciousness that depends upon representation is replaced by an unmediated knowledge that allows seeing reality “directly in its suchness” (113).
Carter opines that Nishitani’s ethics is informed by his view that one’s encounter with the other is “becoming ‘the other’” which leads to genuine compassion as “non-differentiated.” The non-differentiation results in loving the other and oneself and means that one actually experiences the being of the other. And yet, for Nishitani, while the differences between the self and the other vanish, the individuality of the one and the other remains. Carter explains, “The maintaining of individuality is possible in that each has become the other with nothing sacrificed, and yet, because each is in the other’s home-ground, they share the same home-ground” (122). Śūnyatā, therefore, is interlaced with basho. Carter posits that the impact of seeing ethics in terms of śūnyatā is enormous.
Carter concludes his chapter on Nishitani by stating the “the enlightened person acts compassionately by being a self that is not a self” (124).
Chapter four is devoted to Watsuji Tetsurō who seems to be portrayed with a slightly romanticized sentiment. Perhaps the most striking distinction between him and the other three philosophers discussed in this book is Watsuji’s focus on ethics and culture. Carter maintains that Watsuji’s Climate and Culture and Ethics (Ringrigaku) provides an accurate account of his thought. In Carter’s eyes, Watsuji was a “philosopherpoet” whose visions were “truly brilliant and always thoughtful” (129). Carter writes that Watsuji’s climate (fūdo) includes more than weather patterns but also anthropological and psychological aspects of human customs and human behavior. In Watsuji’s articulation, climate (fūdo) addresses human experiences that are never applicable to an isolated, atomized individual but represent a shared experience. This claim of a shared experience exemplifies human experiences as being social but also historical.
Carter notes that Watsuji was not interested in normatively assessing human behavior (the “ought”) but rather in human thoughts and actions (the “how” and “why”). Ringrigaku: Ethics in Japan is Watsuji’s critique of what he holds to be “the modern ‘misconception’ that ethics is a ‘problem of individualistic consciousness only’” (133). Carter reminds the reader that the Japanese word for ethics—"rinri"—directly reflects this social interconnectedness. The Japanese term for human beings, in turn, is “ningen” which is composed of “nin”—“person”—and “gen”— space. The implications of this amalgamation are multiple and alert to the fact that the human being is not only the solitary individual but also a social being situated in space and time. Given this betweenness, Watsuji’s approach is reminiscent of Nishida’s identity of selfcontradiction. The ongoing tension between individuality and group membership, as a “negation of negation,” comes into play and brings forth the third aspect of ningen.
This third aspect of ningen relates directly to ethics: “one becomes a truly ethical being by abandoning individual independence from others, or from groups: one abandons one’s own self” (137). Watsuji’s inspiration stems from Dōgen’s “selfless morality” which leads to an “intimacy of oneness.” This “intimacy of oneness” is the best illustration of Watsuji’s conception of the betweenness; nothingness for him is betweenness that results from merging self and other. Carter notes here an analogy to Nishida’s both/and logic.
As already mentioned, a checkered approach to nationalism characterized the lived of Nishitani and Tanabe. Watsuji was not completely apart from the same ambivalent stance. Carter, somewhat reluctantly, admits that Watsuji’s emphasis on the state and on the social over the individual branded him as a “right-wing totalitarian” (152). Carter appears to slightly romanticize both Japan and Watsuji when he argues that “the thrust of [Watsuji’s] work on ethics lies with ningen, which encompasses both the individual and the social, on nothingness as the betweenness between us, and the positive attitudes which the Japanese bring to, or find in, their remarkably fruitful encounters in the betweenness” (152).
In the concluding chapter of this book Carter challenges the reader not to form generalized opinions that overlook the subtlety of these thinkers’ thought. Carter admits that to write an introduction to any complex thought is challenging. The introduction to such thought inevitably leads to a simplified account. Dealing with such complex philosophers as the Kyoto School thinkers who also had to contend with the place of Japan in the larger society, especially after the end of its selfimposed isolation, adds an additional challenge. Throughout the book it becomes apparent that the Kyoto School thinkers were undoubtedly influenced by the Western philosophy and particularly by the thought of such German philosophers as Heidegger and Nietzsche. However, Carter reminds the reader that the thought of the Kyoto School philosophers remained fully embedded in the authentically Japanese thought which was often aided by their affinity for Zen (or in case of Tanabe, for True Pure Land) and also by certain elements of Confucianism (particularly for Watsuji), and perhaps to a lesser degree by Daoism and indigenous Shinto. Making this factor more transparent from the onset of the book would have aided the reader’s comprehension of some of the specifics. In the vein of avoiding any simplified generalizations, Carter concludes the book on a hopeful note that calls to continue a “healthy and continuing dialogue between the various ‘Easts’ and the various ‘Wests’” (172). Overall, Carter skillfully introduce the reader to the complexity of the thought of the Kyoto School thinkers while challenging the reader to continue his or her search by taking advantage of the multiple sources included in the Selected Bibliography. One leaves this book with a sense of a deeper appreciation of the distinctiveness of the Kyoto School thinkers and their struggle to elucidate what Nishida terms as “unspeakable.”
