A little translation about everyone’s favorite Japanese novelist Yukio Mishima today. Here’s a capsule summary of Mishima’s attempted coup, from Counter Currents:
The General was bound and gagged. Close fighting ensued as officers several times entered the general’s office. Mishima and his small band each time forced the officers to retreat. Finally, they were herded out with broad strokes of Mishima’s sword against their buttocks. A thousand soldiers assembled on the parade ground. Two of Mishima’s men dropped leaflets from the balcony above, calling for a rebellion to “restore Nippon.”
Precisely at mid-day, Mishima appeared on the balcony to address the crowd. Shouting above the noise of helicopters he declared: “Japanese people today think of money, just money: Where is our national spirit today? The Self-Defense Forces must be the soul of Japan.”
The soldiers jeered. Mishima continued: “The nation has no spiritual foundation. That is why you don’t agree with me. You will just be American mercenaries. There you are in your tiny world. You do nothing for Japan.” His last words were: “I salute the Emperor. Long live the emperor!”
Professor Kure Tomofusa is a self-described “Confucian” and “feudalist” at Kyoto University. The following is a translation of Kure’s comments on Mishima’s coup, from his article “The End of the Age of ‘Devotion'”.
A summary of the first two sections: At this time in Japan, tiny Maoist and Stalinist groups were having street fights with each other and violently purging, sometimes murdering, their own members. You can read more about this at the Wikipedia articles on the United Red Army and Japan Red Army so I will not translate this part. Mishima’s actions were met with much harsher condemnation in the mainstream media than the leftist groups. Now, here’s the good part.
From Honesty to Ridicule
[…]
If you want to call it natural, it was natural. For a novelist— not a superior officer, but a novelist– to suddenly appear on the balcony and ask them to rise up, there could not have been any expectation that the Self-Defense Forces could have any clue what was going on. Being unreasonably interrupted in the middle of their break would have only added to their annoyance. Mishima Yukio called out boldly to all who would hear. It was a naturally meaningless act, since the officers did not have a “legal duty” to listen to what they were hearing. “Are you not warriors, men?” rebuked Mishima. The officers’ reply was derisive heckling. Were they warriors? No one expected them to be. The Self-Defense Forces are not warriors but bureaucrats appointed by the Self-Defense Law.
Mishima Yukio committed his savings to the Tatenokai, a militia standing at the front against communist conspiracies from China, North Korea, or the Soviets… Mishima was devoted in his actions. This was not the frivolous pastime of a novelist. But… the Self-Defense Forces work only from the obligation of the duties of their job, and are granted their authority only by the law. They are a government bureau. Literally speaking, they are a government bureau on the basis of being an administrative organ.
A group of bureaucrats just doing their job was being respected more than a devoted warrior, on the sole basis of their relation to the administrative organ. This signaled the dawn of a new kind of value. In other words, thus began the age of “practicality”.
I am not denying the value of practicality. Despite the force and the romance of devotion, the effectiveness of “practicality” can bring people happiness. An age that longs for a hero is an unhappy one. An age that respects philosophy, and critical thought, and high literature is also an unhappy one. After the 1970s, Japan sought to separate itself from that unhappy age. Not only heroes, but also philosophy, thought, and literature, in sum all our serious “devotion” got down on bended knees before “practicality” and prayed for an era of happiness. Ritual suicide? What nonsense! Ridicule it!
But the age could not be abandoned that easily. Even in an age of practicality, people long for devotedness. And as if to fulfill that longing, in 1995 a twisted, parodic “devotion” showed its hideous face: the Aum gas attacks. Some of the leftists talked about this with words like “frightening”, “gruesome”, “ghastly”. But, the truly gruesome, ghastly, frightening incident came with the passing of the age when Mishima could die for his devotion. That “devotion”, which we thought we had smothered under a veil of “practicality”, had hideously returned from the dead, like a zombie.
Source: 呉智英 「『本気』の時代の終焉」 in 「三島由紀夫が死んだ日」(2005) excerpted in 『健全なる精神』 2012
Posted: March 13th, 2013 | Japan
呉智英 『現代人の論語』
Confucius for the Modern Man by Professor Tomofusa Kure (2006)
Professor Kure of Kyoto University opens this book by complaining that nobody really reads Confucius, pointing out obvious errors that anyone could discover in the standard Japanese translations of him. He picked out his favorite verses, some of which he thinks are overlooked or make scholars uncomfortable. I noticed when trying to find English translations of the verses cited that his verses are missing from some translations. 19th century translations also have many errors, which is weird because there are plenty of centuries-old commentaries on these texts. I hunted down various online translations and the reader may guess what makes these specific chapters so interesting. I am working on securing permission for Kure-sensei’s commentaries.
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Posted: March 9th, 2013 | Confucius
A thought, after reading a description of Schuon’s “Maryamiyya”.
There are two forms of “traditionalism” in the sense of Guénonian anti-modernism; the metaphysical reactionaries, who consider Guénon and Evola as two representatives of a large class of those with some understanding (a class that might include anyone from A. Dugin to C.S. Lewis), and the religious perennialists, who consider Guénon and Schuon as modern-day prophets. The religious perennialists frown upon Evola as a dangerous and overly political deviant. Certainly Evola dared his readers to “revolt” against modernity, while Schuon busied himself building a “refuge” from modernity. But as a point of fact, Schuon’s teachings were more deviant and dangerous in his own lifetime than Evola’s. It may at least be said of Evola that he never rubbed his naked body against female devotees. If Evola has a political influence in the future, it is only because more people find his work relevant.
Update: Rather than making a new post, I will update this post with a heartwarming account of Guénon’s strict orthodoxy and the loving devotion of his wife.
In July 1949, the beginning of Ramadan, I was invited to break the fast. I found him lying on the couch, and he explained that fasting tired him to the point that he could not work at night, the day being set aside for prayer and rest. As soon as she heard the cannon announcing the sunset, Hajja Fatima brought us a cup of Turkish coffee, which was drunk at the same time we lit a cigarette. After which, Sheikh Abdel [Guénon] conducted the prayer of Maghreb, and I followed the movements behind him. After an excellent Egyptian meal and a peaceful vigil, I took my leave of the Sheikh and his family.
Source: Jean-Louis Michon, Cheikh Abdel Wahid Yahia
Posted: March 5th, 2013 | Tradition
Source: survey by JTB travel agency
A survey of 3,600 Japanese adults shows that 52% visited a shrine or temple in the past year. (Of those who didn’t, most simply didn’t have a reason to go; only 8% of all respondents specifically said they were totally uninterested in religious places.) The reasons shrinegoers and templegoers gave for visiting were as follows:
22% There were things I wanted to see in the surrounding area
21% There’s something special about that place
18% I visit that place regularly
11% No reason in particular
8% I felt like I wanted to pray
5% A relative or friend asked me to go
4% I was taken there on a tour
4% I saw it on TV or in a magazine
4% I was attending a special event or service there
3% Other
If these reasons seem a bit unflattering, the positive reactions from visiting should be more encouraging:
40% I felt soothed / my heart was calmed
19% The buildings were very pretty
13% I felt like I should go more often
10% My ki/energy was renewed
10% The souvenirs were good
4% I gained something from visiting
2% I enjoyed talking with local people
2% Other
Furthermore 56% go to temples and shrines together with their families, while only 15% go alone. A supermajority are praying for the health and safety of family members.
JTB found that about 18% of Japanese people would like to visit either Ise or Izumo this year if they can find the time. Other popular choices include Itsukushima, Meiji Jingū, Kiyomizu-dera, Tsurugaoka Hachiman-gū, Atsuda Jingū, Kumano Sanzan, Fushimi Inari, Nikkō, Takachiho, and Kirishima-Jingū. A mixture of tourism-related, history-related, cultural heritage-related, and “power spot” reasons were given for these choices.
Posted: March 4th, 2013 | Shinto
Over at Gornahoor, I’ve made a rough translation of a short essay by Okawa Shumei, which you may find here: The Political Philosophy of Confucianism
Okawa never read René Guénon and had no connections to him, but as with my earlier Gornahoor posts, things will make a lot more sense if you have read Guénon.
Posted: February 28th, 2013 | Kokoro, Tradition
I thought I’d squeeze in another translation before work. This one’s by KURE Tomofusa, in his A Decoction of Language (言葉の煎じ薬, 2010). Kure needs no introduction.
In September 2006, the new Abe cabinet took office. Leftists and revolutionaries denounced him as a hawk and a nationalist, but how did he do really? Starting by confronting the issue of North Korean kidnappings of Japanese, he said things that naturally needed to be said all over Asia. He did, however, use an inordinate amount of loanwords in his inaugural speech; I didn’t think that very patriotic of him.
The one that made me uncomfortable above all was the phrase Country Identity [in English]. In the first place, it’s an oddly invented loan word, and furthermore isn’t the use of a loanword here an affront to Japan’s own “Country Identity”?
I had trouble getting used to the phrase “Country Identity” from the very beginning. It seems like he really just wanted to say “patriotism”, but that would invite a rain of punishment from the leftists and revolutionaries, so he used this ever-so-slightly different “Country Identity” instead.
There are three different words to refer to a country in English. The first is “country”, broadly 国. Its meaning is essentially derived from a place on the earth, and it also means the countryside, with some rural flavor.
The second is nation, which implies 国民, a conglomerate of people.
The third is state, the political 国家.
The Abe cabinet seemed to choose the term “Country” to demonstrate that they were not nationalists but wanted to emphasize Japan’s cultural and historical strong points. But using English to do that is an elementary contradiction.
“Identity“, on the other hand, seems like a more necessary borrowing here, because there is no appropriate translation for this word in native Japanese. The root word is form, idem, which in the original Latin meant “sameness”. When we translate its biological and chemical meanings, we have words like “confirmation” and “speciation”. “Identification” of a person or thing is translated into terms like “self-confirmation”, or “self-sameness”, or “self-verification”, or “independent being”, or even “individuality”. None of these words, though, are quite appropriate. Those all simply state that a thing is itself, but we are looking for a term that more approximates “Japanesey” (日本らしさ).
This loanword began being used in the 1980s. In English, of course, it’s been around a lot longer, but when I looked at English-Japanese dictionaries written before the 1980s, along with “the thing in itself”, I saw the term 正体,true form! It was so spot on the mark that I laughed.
The true form of the big Cyclops was a trickster raccoon.
If we translate this “true form” back into English, it would be “identity“!
The foreigner, whose true form could not be established, slipped through airport security.
Here, too, it wouldn’t be strange to use “identity” for true form正体.
It is quite meaningful that the usual Korean translation for “identity” is 正体性 (true-form-ness). I think this is a very powerful word.
You won’t find the term true form in Chinese dictionaries; it was invented in Japan. If you see any Koreans using it, I’m afraid that is a loanword from the colonial period.
But at the same time, I think this term reflects the “form vs. function” thought of the Shushi (Cheng-Zhu 朱子) school. The Shushi school was a branch of Confucianism that was exceedingly systematic and was exceedingly influential in China and Korea as well as Japan. In Korea it grew out of a political system and had an influence on customs and culture as well.
“Form vs. function” thought distinguishes the essence of something from the purposes it is put to. The modern Japanese grammatical terms for uninflected words [“essential words” 体言] and inflected words [“functional words” 用言] are derived from this way of thinking. When we append true 正 to form 体 like in the Korean “true-form-ness”, we get a translation for identity that, much more than “self-confirmation” or “self-samedness”, may be meaningfully applied to culture and history.
Posted: February 20th, 2013 | Kokoro
Shūmei Ōkawa is a Japanese religionist, Islam scholar, and class-A war criminal. On the first day of the Tokyo Trials, upon entering the courtroom he yelled nonsense in German, ran around the room, and whacked Prime Minister Tojo on the head, and was shortly found to be insane. While in the mental hospital, he made the first Japanese translation of the Qu’ran. Upon being released, he wrote a religiously oriented memoir, from which I translate two-thirds of this chapter.
Returning to the free spirit of the Japanese, I noted in the past that the word we use today to indicate the European words for “religion” (宗教) is merely a modern translation of that European concept. In the East, not only the Japanese, but also the Chinese and the Indians had no corresponding word for this concept. Religion is derived from the Latin religio, and there are several theories on the origin of religio, but I consider as with Cicero that it must have come from relegere, “to do a thing scrupulously”. As Cicero proceeds to say, “All matters concerning the gods are said to be practiced religiously,” and therefore, the Romans gave the term religio to those ceremonies honoring the gods. Furthermore, not only the Romans but other nations also thought that the existence of “religion” was derived from these ceremonies. In comparison, in the Chinese Book of History there are three words, 類[resemblance], 禋 [sacrifice], and 望 [hope] which refer to ceremonies for the gods, but there is no generalization for the three, and only in the Book of Rites to we start to see such general words 礼祠 [revere-enshrine] and 祭法[honor-law] which could correspond to religio. In Japanese, the terms matsurigoto [lit. “matters of state”] or kamiwaza [“matters of kami”] express the same idea. In India, the word Rita refers to the successful completion of a ceremony. So, there are words in the East which correspond to the Latin religio, but these are not terms which match the word religion used in the present day. Thus, when the Dutch came to our country as the first emissaries of Western civilization, at that time, the first translators invented new terms like 祭祀 [shrine-revere] or 宗祀 [sect-revere] to correspond to the European word religion.
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Posted: February 19th, 2013 | Kokoro
Founder
Of whom nothing more need be said.
René Guénon: Metaphysician. In print with Sophia Perennis.
Gruppo di Ur
An Italian secret society which hit on the same truths as Guénon.
Julius Evola: Roman/pan-Aryan metaphysician. In print with Inner Traditions, Arktos, and private publishers.
Guido De Giorgio: Metaphysician. Being translated at Gornahoor.
Arturo Reghini: Italian esotericist. Currently being studied as a Ph.D. thesis.
Independents
Those who lived around the 1910s-1940s, who had never read Guénon despite holding similar views.
Charles Maurras: French political theorist. Being translated at Gornahoor.
Valentin Tomberg: Hermeticist, Catholic, and ex-Anthrosophist; anonymously published Meditations on the Tarot has a mainstream publisher.
Shūmei Ōkawa: Japanese religious scholar; associate of Sri Aurobindo; class-A war criminal. Translated for the first time on this blog.
Studies in Comparative Religion
A journal published 1963-1987 which codified Guénon’s work as (religious) perennialism and brought it to wider notice among mainstream intellectuals. Their work is carried on by the excellent press World Wisdom which, although it is not academic, is deeply respected by religious scholars of the right persuasion.
Ananda Coomaraswamy: Religionist. in print with World Wisdom, and out of print partially.
Frithjof Schuon: Religionist. In print with World Wisdom.
William Stoddart: Scottish religionist, leaning Sufi. In print with World Wisdom.
Marco Pallis: Greek-British mountaineer who worked with the Tibetan community. In print with World Wisdom.
Jean Hani: French esotericist. Published by Sophia Perennis. Died in 2012 at the age of about 98.
Martin Lings: English Sufi. In print with Islamic publishers.
Titus Burckhardt: English Sufi. In print with Fons Vitae, another perennialist press.
Michel Vâlsan: French Sufi. Out of print.
Jean-Louis Michon: French Sufi. Still living (age 80).
(Temenos Academy founders are not included here because they would make the list too long.)
Academic perennialism
Those who read the perennialists and, without adopting any particular doctrine, took a sympathetic look at various religions. I regard these people as heroes of the very troubled field of comparative religion.
Huston Smith: American religionist. Still living (age 93).
Seyyed Hossein Nasr: Persian religionist. Still living (age 79).
Mircea Eliade: Romanian mythologist. In print with major publishers.
The generation after Studies
People born too late to contribute to Studies, or who became aware of it after the fact.
Algis Uždavinys: Lithuanian Pythagorean; died 2010. In print with World Wisdom and the The Matheson Trust.
James Cutsinger: Eastern Christian and translator of Schuon (age 60). Published by The Matheson Trust.
Charles Upton: American, editor-in-chief of Sophia Perennis (age 65). His wife was an initiate with Schuon.
Wolfgang Smith: American Catholic mathematician (age 83). In print with the Foundation for Traditional Studies.
Neo-pagans
I argue that neo-pagan traditionalism misreads Evola. Even if they agree with his Traditional assertion that truth comes from principles and not from people, and that the latter should serve the former and not vice-versa, in practice they simply build ethno-fascist networks, and dumb his anti-Christianity down into racial neo-paganism. Actually in Sintesi di Dottrina della Razza Evola says that true Traditional nobility had no need to appeal to myths, and that racial gods are the pitryana, the lowly “way of the South”, while Tradition is the devayana, the “divine way of the North”. Pitryana is not the way to spiritual liberation. Nevertheless many Traditionalists come to Evola via these politicos so you may see their names around.
Alain de Benoist: French neopagan. In print with Arktos etc.
Koenraad Logghe: Flemish neopagan.
Nikolaos Michaloliakos: Greek neopagan, founder of Golden Dawn.
Various Internet wingnuts who may or may not be worth reading.
Notable post-Perennialists
Religionists influenced by Perennialism who nevertheless moved on and became influential in their own traditions.
Jean Borella: French Catholic. Over 80 years old if still alive.
Seraphim Rose: Russian Orthodox hieromonk. In print with Orthodox presses.
Henri Stéphane: Christian esotericist.
Notable modern esotericists
Joscelyn Godwin: American esotericist and musicologist; translator of Evola. In his 60s.
Yoshiro Tanaka: Japanese esotericist and translator of Guénon; died 2012.
John Michael Greer: American esotericist, neo-pagan, and peak oilist.
Observation: The average lifespan of Traditionalists seems to be over 80 years.
Posted: February 19th, 2013 | Tradition
“Pour vivre pleinement, il faut faire quatre choses : planter un arbre, écrire un poème, faire l’amour avec quelqu’un de son sexe et tuer quelqu’un.” Cette ligne est parlé par le personnage principal dans le film de Claude Chabrol, La demoiselle d’honneur (2004).
Quand j’ai vu ce trailer, j’avais 14 ans. Je suis profondément préoccupé par cette phrase. Les gens y croyez vraiment? Même si une ligne dans un film, il était encore très inquiétant pour moi.
Il y avait beaucoup de choses que je ne connaissais pas alors que je sais maintenant. C’est la même idée utilisée par Camus dans L’Étranger (1942). Simone de Beauvoir a également examiné assassiner comme une nécessité pour la liberté dans L’Invitée (1943), et elle-même ne comprenait pas pourquoi.
Mais je savais, à l’époque, que c’était une erreur.
Posted: February 13th, 2013 | Book Reviews
Chibi Maruko-chan is a Japanese children’s TV show full of pathos. For example, here’s the episode I’m watching now, starring Momoko Sakura (“Maruko”) and her best friend Tomo-chan:
Tomo-chan: (to herself) If Momoko becomes a movie star, she won’t be friends with me anymore!
Momoko: Tomo-chan, what’s wrong?
Tomo-chan: Oh, nothing! Good luck with your audition!
This show is targeted at 3 to 8 year olds.
Here are some Sayings of Maruko:
Maruko: “I always forget what I have to do for other people, but I never forget what other people have to do for me.”
Hiroshi: “To live is to forget. If we humans remembered everything, we’d be so sad that we couldn’t go on living. That’s why God lets us forget.”
Noguchi-san: “Heh heh heh. People who laugh quietly to themselves are so much deeper than cheerful people, cause we don’t let our feelings out. Even if you think it’s a defect of mine, it’s really my strong point… heh heh heh…”
Maruko: “If only we had a Cold Bank. On days when you don’t want to catch cold, put it in the bank, and take it out when you really need it.”
Maruko: “Who needs Christmas cards? People who would get angry if you don’t send them cards aren’t good friends anyway.”
Fujiki: “I may be a coward, but I never lie to myself!”
Posted: February 3rd, 2013 | Japan
