2016年9月15日星期四

Bushidō (武士道): The Spirit of the Japanese Samurai

(This image is taken from: http://playersu.com/bushido-mma/)


Bushidō (武士道): The Spirit of the Japanese Samurai

Bushidō is an ethical system consisted of seven codes of conduct, including righteousness ( gi), courage ( yū), benevolence ( jin), courtesy ( rei), sincerity (/ makoto), honour (名誉 meiyo) and loyalty (忠義chūgi). These seven codes are commonly known as the virtues of a Japanese samurai. The tradition of Bushidō can be traced back to the Nara period (710-794), the time when the empire was in need of righteous and courageous warriors (i.e. samurais) who were absolutely loyal to the emperor and were not afraid of death while fighting in battles.

The first of the seven Bushidō codes is gi, which is usually translated as “righteousness” and “justice”, is “a deep sense of doing what is right given the situation at hand – based upon reason and judgment – and doing so with fervour.” [1] In this sense, once can see that gi is actually strongly related to the concept of fairness. Only when each person, regardless of their backgrounds, is being treated fairly according to not only law but also justice can the society truly be ordered and peaceful, and thus bringing prosperity and harmony to the empire.

The second of the seven Bushidō codes is , which can be translated as “courage”, “valour”, “fortitude”, “bravery”, and “fearlessness”. According to Nitobe Inazō (1862-1933), who had popularized the concept of Bushidō during the early Meiji period, is a spirit of daring and bearing. [2] The mind of a truly courageous person is always calm and at peace. As Nitobe noted,

“Tranquillity is courage in repose… A truly brave man is ever serene; he is never taken by surprise; nothing ruffles the equanimity of his spirit. In the heat of battle he remains cool; in the midst of catastrophes he keeps level his mind. Earthquakes do not shake him, he laughs at storms… in the menacing presence of danger or death, [he] retains His self-possession… for instance, [he] can compose a poem under impending peril or hum a strain in the face of death.” [3]
Besides his fearlessness of danger and death, a truly brave samurai was absolutely determined and brisk when it came to killing. Yet, paradoxically, Bushidō is a form of “fighting arts” that advocate peace and harmony. As a result, a virtuous man must bear with him both courage and the third of the seven Bushidō code – jin – in order to be a true samurai.

Jin, which can be translated as “benevolence”, “mercifulness”, “kind-heartedness”, and “philanthropy”, is considered as the highest of all the attributes of the human soul in Bushidō. Both Confucius (551BC-479BC) and Mencius (372BC-289BC) constantly emphasized that a ruler must consist in benevolence. (Note: Bushidō is strongly influenced by Confucianism.) It is because an empire can be prosperous and harmonious only when the ruler is tender and even mother-like, and treats his people with care, love, mercy, benevolence, understanding, and sincerity. In Bushidō, it is believed that a courageous man with no benevolence will gradually lead to nothing but terrible destruction. A courageous man with no benevolence is undoubtedly a great fighter but can never be regarded as a samurai. As an old say goes, “The bravest are the tenderest, the loving are the daring.” A courageous yet benevolent samurai is a perfect exemplification of the simultaneous yet harmonious presence of both masculinity and femininity, of both hardness and softness, of both callousness and sensitiveness, and of both toughness and tenderness.

The fourth of the seven Bushidō codes is rei, which can be translated as “courtesy” and “politeness”. It is not merely related to various social manners, Rei is also considered as a noble virtue that can manifest a person’s sympathetic regard for the feelings of others as well as one’s humbleness. A samurai who bears the virtue of rei knows what to do and what to say in various occasions and settings, and to people of different hierarchal ladders and social sectors. Also, a samurai’s rei is rendered profoundly through his clothing, actions, speech, and etiquettes in various social gatherings, rituals and ceremonies. Therefore, rei also reflects a person’s class, taste, literacy, educational background, cultivation, and refinement. As Nitobe noted,

“… by constant exercise in correct manners, one brings all the parts and faculties of his body into perfect order and into such harmony with itself and its environment as to express the mastery of spirit over the flesh. What a new and deep significance the French word biensèance [etymologically: “well-seatedness”] comes thus to contain!” [4]

The fifth of the seven codes is makoto, which can be translated as “sincerity”, “veracity”, and “truthfulness”. After all, a polite person without sincerity can only be considered as a “skilful actor” but not a sincere gentleman. As Nitobe pointed out, “To sacrifice truth merely for the sake of politeness was regarded as an ‘empty form’ (kyo-rei) and ‘deception by sweet words,’ and was never justified.” [5] Indeed, only when a person obtains both the virtues of rei and makoto can he truly be called a cultured samurai with sophistication and refinement. In addition, in both Bushidō and Confucianism, it is believed that an empire can only be prosperous and harmonious when the ruler is truthful, honest and sincere to his people. In this way, his people can truly live a secured life without worrying whether or not their ruler is telling lies and hiding serious facts. “Trust” is the keyword for the virtue of makoto.

The sixth Bushidō code of conduct is meiyo, which is always translated as “honour”. Meiyo consists of two kanji – mei, which means “name”, and yo, which means “countenance” and “reputation”. According to Nitobe, the sense of meiyo implies a self-consciousness of personal dignity and worth, and it “could not fail to characterize the samurai, born and bred to value the duties and privileges of their profession.” [6] A samurai always wore two swords with him – the daitō (大刀, long sword) and the shōtō (小刀, short sword). While the daitō is used for dealing with an enemy or a sudden threat, the shōtō is strongly associated with the virtues of courage and honour. A samurai used his shōtō to committee seppuku (切腹, also known as hara-kiri 腹切り, a ritual of voluntary self-disembowelment) as a form of self-punishment when he had committed serious offense or he had brought shame to himself. Seppuku was also performed when a samurai was about to lose in a battle. The performance of seppuku thus allowed him to die with honour rather than fall into the hands of his enemy. As Tanaka Fumon has pointed out, “By wearing the daitō and shōtō… a warrior not only demonstrated his resolution but also accepted responsibility for his actions and pledged to live his life in honour.” [7]

Indeed, seppuku is inseparable from Bushidō. Yet, seppuku should not be considered as suicide. Instead, it is in fact a serious ritual that was highly respected by both samurais and commoners of the time. It is because the performance of seppuku revealed the samurai’s courage and dutifulness of taking personal responsibility for a grave error which he had made. In some cases, a samurai would also commit seppuku if his lord asked him to do so, demonstrating not only his great courage to confront his destiny and his strong dutifulness to follow commands, but also his resolute loyalty – which is one of the seven Bushidō codes – to his lord.

The final Bushidō code is chūgi, which is generally translated as “loyalty”. Chūgi consists of two kanjichū, which means “loyalty” and “faithfulness”, and gi, which has already been discussed earlier, means “righteousness” and “justice”. In Bushidō, a samurai’s loyalty to his lord assumes paramount importance. The ruler thus provides resources and protection for samurais in return, building a parent-child bounding with care, respect, and love. This kind of father-and-son relationship between the higher and lower layers of the social ladder is still prominent in today’s Japanese companies such as Panasonic, Sony and Toyota. On the other hand, from a Confucian perspective, it is believed that only a stable social hierarchy, in which everyone is loyal and knows very well their own social positions, duties and responsibilities, can truly bring harmony, growth and prosperity to the empire.

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References:
[1] Nick Horton, “The 7 Virtues of Bushidō: Righteousness,” The Iron Samurai, accessed on September 10, 2016, http://www.theironsamurai.com/the-7-virtues-of-bushido-righteousness/.
[2] Nitobe Inazō, Bushidō: The Soul of Japan (13th Edition) (Tokyo: Teibi Publishing Company, 1908), 25.
[3] Ibid, 29.
[4] Ibid, 49-50.
[5] Ibid, 59.
[6] Ibid, 65-6.
[7] Tanaka Fumon, Samurai Fighting Arts: The Spirit and the Practice (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2003), 45.

2016年8月13日星期六

Shodō (書道): The Japanese Art of Calligraphy

『玉泉帖』(巻頭部分、三の丸尚蔵館蔵)小野道風書

Shodō (書道) is a traditional Japanese art of calligraphy written with brush, ink, and a kind of paper called “rice paper” specially designed for revealing the beauty of the ink and the spontaneity of the calligrapher’s movements. What makes shodō significant is the fact that the aesthetic and expressive qualities are actually independent of the verbal meaning of the written words (which include kanji, hiragana, and katakana). It is the brushstrokes of the calligrapher that truly matter. Thus, people from all around the world with different native languages and cultural backgrounds can certainly appreciate the beauty and understand the aesthetics of shodō without any perquisite knowledge of the Japanese language. It is important to note that shodō calligraphers pay attention on the process rather than on the result. While viewing a piece of shodō work, the viewer is able to trace the movements of the calligrapher by following the stroke order, capturing the emotions and sentiments of the calligrapher when he was executing the work. As a result, the viewer becomes connected spiritually with the calligrapher, despite the fact that the calligrapher may be a person born in the sixth century, on a metaphysical level, blurring the boundaries between the past and the present, and deconstructing the common cognition of the ideas of space and time. In this sense, one can say that the art of shodō stresses continuity but not completion, providing the contemporary people with a platform to engage in a dialogue with the long-gone past.

Indeed, Japanese shodō is not merely a form of art, but a way of life consisted of its own set of philosophical thoughts and spiritual practices. Besides building a bridge that links up the past and the present, shodō also manifests the consciousness of the calligrapher. In a refined work done with great mastery, the viewer can actually sense the ki (気) – or the circulation of the cosmos’ force – and the reunion between nature and human (thus, in this case, the calligrapher himself) through the recorded brushstrokes. As William Reed has noted, the brush “accurately mirrors [the calligrapher’s] mental and physical attitude. Rigid thinking produces rigid brush strokes… When mind and body are unified, the eyes are calm and clear, the muscles quick and responsive. This quality is transmitted to the brush, and becomes visible in the brush strokes.” [1] Therefore, the brushstrokes recorded on the rice paper reveals not only the mastery but also the personality and spiritual refinement of the calligrapher. As Robert Gunn has suggested, a piece of shodō work is “not only a fingerprint”; instead, it is “a snapshot expression of the mind at that moment, reflecting the degree of focus or distraction, the presence of sadness or joy, the strength or weakness at hand, the intensity of ki” of the calligrapher. [2] Every single movement as well as the control of force are evident in the brushworks. In this sense, a piece of shodō work is not a “completed work” done a long time ago that is static and silent, but a “continuous process” that is alive and vivid. The ki is still living in the work, or in other words, the circulation of the cosmos’ force is still circulating and present in each brush stroke. The work itself is alive.

To conclude, one may have realised that the viewing of a piece of shodō work is, indeed, not merely about looking at some ink splashed on a piece of paper. Instead, it is, on a spiritual level, a timeless conversation between the viewer and the calligrapher in which the viewer is able to follow the vivid movements of the calligrapher and thus free himself from the mundane matters, joining the calligrapher in his action and re-experiencing what the calligrapher experienced during the execution – the numinous and metaphysical re-union with the universe.

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Reference:
[1] William Reed, Shodo: The Art of Coordinating Mind, Body and Brush (New York: Japan Publications, 1989), 24.
[2] Robert W. Gunn, “Intimacy, Psyche, and Spirit in the Experience of Chinese and Japanese Calligraphy,” Journal of Religion and Health Vol. 40 No. 1 (2001): 157.