JAPANESE MORALITY
Japanese morality has been much written about by men of the West, and many dogmatic judgments have been pronounced upon it. At one extreme, we have been told that "they are the most immoral people on the face of the earth"; at the other, we are told that in morality "they have nothing to learn from the people of Christendom." There is about as much—or rather as little—truth in the one statement as in the other. The fact is that it is necessary to have an experimental acquaintance with Japan before one can really understand or appreciate the moral condition of her people. The moral ideas and teachings to which they have been accustomed from childhood are so different from our own that they could not be expected to approximate to our standards. Judged by the ideas of the West, they are lacking in morality; but from their own standpoint they are a moral people. While we cannot accept theirs as the true standard, it is but fair that, in judging them, we keep this in view.
Before the introduction of Chinese ethics there was no such thing as a moral code. The original native religion, Shinto, taught no doctrines of morality, as we understand them. According to it, to obey implicitly the mikado was the whole duty of man. As for the rest, if a Japanese obeyed the natural impulses of his own heart he would be sure to do right. Modern Shinto writers, in all seriousness, account for this absence of a moral code by stating that originally Japanese nature was pure, clean, and sinless, possessing no tendency to evil or wrong. Barbarians, like the Chinese and Americans, being by nature immoral, were forced to invent a moral code to control their actions; but in Japan this was not necessary, as every Japanese acted aright if he only consulted his own heart. They explain the need for the present moral laws—a need which they acknowledge—by the fact of association with outside nations. Immorality and dissoluteness were introduced by the Chinese and Western peoples, to counteract the evil influence of which they now have the shameful spectacle of a moral law even among the children of the "heaven-descended mikado." So much for the teaching of Shinto in regard to morality. It would be exasperating were it not ludicrous.
Confucius is the master of Japanese morality. His teachings were introduced into Japan early in the Christian era, but they became predominant only in the time of Iyeyasu, in the seventeenth century. This great statesman, warrior, and patron of learning caused the Chinese classics to be printed in Japan for the first time; and from that day to this the morality of Japan has been dominated by Confucian ideas.
In order to understand Japanese morality, it is necessary for us to shift our moral base and try to look at the subject through Japanese eyes. The average native of the West thinks of "morality" as something belonging to the individual. Even in religion his first thought is to save his own soul. The value of the soul, its immortality, its immediate relation to the infinite and eternal Father—these have been emphasized ever since the first establishment of the church. In consequence, there is a duty which man owes to himself. He may not disregard it even at the command of father or king. Within the soul is the holiest of all, for there is heard in conscience the voice of God himself. No external authority may be supreme, and at no external voice may one violate his own convictions of truth.
This thought exalts the individual, and, therefore, sins which degrade our own personality become most repulsive. Thus, among high-minded men truth is almost first among the virtues, and an accusation of falsehood the most hateful of insults. For truth seems peculiarly personal and spiritual, as if belonging to the very sanctuary of one's nature. And in like manner, among women, in popular esteem chastity is of the essence of morality, as its violation seems to contaminate and debase her holiest self.
Now the Confucian ethics rest upon a quite different principle, and in this are at one with the ancient teaching of the Greeks and Romans. The supreme duty is not to the self, but to the organization of which one is but a part—that is, to the family or to the state. The great Chinese moralists were statesmen, and their chief concern was, not the salvation of the individual, but the peace and prosperity of the state. In their view, the family was the unit, and the state a greater family. So the conflict of duties, in their questions of casuistry, is never between individual and social duties, but between duties owed to family and to state. Loyalty to the state and obedience to parents must be supreme; but China and Japan differ as to the value of these two.
According to original Confucianism, the first duty of men is obedience to parents; the second, loyalty to rulers; but in Japan the order of these duties has been changed, the second being given first place.
The people have learned well this teaching of Confucius. Japan was prepared soil for its sowing. The native religion taught that the emperor was a direct descendant of heaven, who ruled by divine right; the provincial lords were his ministers, and hence loyalty was a plain duty. The Confucian teaching only strengthened, deepened, and gave form and outline to a sentiment already existing. This principle of loyalty thus became the foundation stone of Japanese ethics, and one's duty to one's lord paramount to all other duties.
In the olden times the people did not look beyond their own feudal lords and clans to the emperor and the nation. They were to be faithful unto death to these, but no further. Now that loyalty once shown to the local princes and clans finds its apotheosis in the emperor and the empire.
A man's duty to his friends, to his wife and children, and even to his parents, is counted as nothing in comparison with his duty to rulers and country. There are many instances in Japanese history of men who, having slain their own parents, children, wives, for the sake of their prince, were praised. At the time of the recent tidal wave in northern Japan, when the waters were rushing furiously into one home, a husband and father turned a deaf ear to the cries of his drowning wife and children, permitting them to perish that he might save the emperor's picture; and he was applauded for the act. A fire recently demolished the beautiful new buildings of the middle school in Saga. The library, laboratories, and scientific apparatus were mostly destroyed, and many of the students lost their clothing and books. The loss in buildings alone was some $20,000. Yet the thing the loss of which they lamented most deeply was a photograph of the emperor which could easily be replaced for a few yen.
A characteristic story, showing the devotion with which the old samurai carried out this principle of loyalty, is the tale of the forty-seven ronins. It is rather long to insert here, but as it illustrates so well the power of this principle, I will relate it.
In the year 1701 the lord of Ako, Asano by name, visited Yedo to pay his respects to the shogun. While there the shogun appointed him to receive and entertain an envoy from the mikado. Now, the reception of an envoy from the imperial court was one of the greatest state ceremonies of the day, and as Asano knew little of ceremonies and etiquette, he asked the advice of another nobleman, named Kira, who was expert in such matters. This man, who seems to have been of a very mean disposition, grudgingly gave the information desired, and then asked a fee for the same. Asano refused to give the fee, and Kira, becoming angry, twitted and jeered at him, calling him a country lout, unworthy the name of daimio. Asano endured the insults patiently until Kira peremptorily ordered him to stoop down and fasten his foot-gear for him,—a most menial service,—when he drew his sword and gave the offender a deep cut across the face. This quarrel took place in the precincts of the palace, and instantly the whole court was in an uproar. To degrade the sacred place was an insult punishable with death and the confiscation of all property; and Asano was condemned to take his own life by hara-kiri that same evening, his estates were confiscated, his family declared extinct, and his clan disbanded. Henceforth his retainers became ronins ("wandering men"), with no country and no lord. According to the ethics of their country, it was their bounden duty to avenge the death of their lord, and we shall see how relentlessly they followed their purpose until it was accomplished.
The senior retainer of the dead Asano, Oishu Kuranosuke, together with forty-six others of his most trusty fellow-lieges, took counsel as to how they might avenge their lord. They all were willing to lay down their lives in the attempt, but even then the task was difficult, because of the vigilance of the government. For such vengeance was rigidly prohibited by law, although as rigidly required by custom. Notwithstanding the fact that all who slew an enemy for vengeance were punished by death, not to take such vengeance never entered the mind of any chivalrous Japanese. After much planning the forty-seven ronins decided that to avoid the suspicions of the government it would be necessary for them to separate and for the time conceal their purpose. So they separated, settling in different cities, and taking up various occupations. Many of them became carpenters, smiths, and merchants, and in these capacities gained access to Kira's house and learned all about its interior arrangements. The leader of this faithful band, Oishu, went to Kyoto and plunged into a life of drunkenness and debauchery. He even put away his wife and children, and led the most dissolute life possible, simply to throw off the suspicions of the authorities. All of the ronins were closely watched by spies, who secretly reported their conduct to Kira. But by these devices they finally lulled all suspicion, and the vigilance ceased. Then the day long waited for had come. Suddenly, on the night of January 30, 1703, two years after the death of their lord, in the midst of a violent snowstorm, these forty-seven faithful men attacked Kira's castle, forced the gate, and slew all the retainers. Kira, who was a coward at heart, concealed himself in an outhouse. The ronins found him there, drew him forth, and requested him to kill himself by hara-kiri, as was the privilege of a man of his rank. But he refused out of fear, and the retainers of Asano were forced to kill him as they would have killed a common coolie. Thus did they accomplish their purpose and fulfil the high duty of loyalty to their dead lord, after two years of waiting, most careful planning, and ceaseless vigilance.
By the time their purpose was accomplished day had dawned, and, in plain view of the whole city, this brave band marched in order to the temple of Sengakuji, where Asano was buried. The citizens showed them every honor on the way. A wealthy nobleman, as a reward for their loyal deed, sent them out costly refreshments. When they arrived at the temple the head abbot received them in person and showed them every honor. Finding the grave of their dead lord, they laid thereon the head of the enemy by whom he had been so deeply wronged, and then felt that their duty was done. They were all sentenced to commit hara-kiri, which they did willingly. Afterward they were buried together in the same temple grounds with their lord, where their graves can be seen to this day.
These men simply obeyed the ethical code of their time and country, and as a reward for their loyalty they have received the enthusiastic praise of their countrymen for two centuries. No other story is so popular to-day, or so stirs the hearts of the people, as this. While we, believing that vengeance belongs to the Lord, cannot indorse this deed, we must admire the loyalty and faithfulness of those ronins, and the perseverance with which they adhered to their purpose. In this true story we see clearly the power of this first principle of Japanese morality—loyalty.
The sister principle of loyalty in Confucian ethics is obedience to parents. Unquestioning, absolute, implicit obedience is required of all children. Formerly the child was considered the property of the parents, and could be disposed of at will, even to the taking of its life. To-day the father may sell his daughter to a life of shame, or "lend" her to a private individual for immoral purposes; and, however much she may dislike such a life, obedience to parents requires that she acquiesce in his will, which she does uncomplainingly.
This principle of obedience is the foundation stone of Japanese family life. The relation between parents and children is stronger than that between man and wife, and is given a prior place. An only son cannot be forced to leave his mother and become a soldier, but a husband may be forced to leave his wife. Within the family circle, the son's duty to his aged parents always precedes his duty to his wife. Every Japanese feels deeply this obligation to his parents, and properly to support and nourish them in old age he holds to be a sacred duty. Americans could learn much that would be profitable from the reverence and respect shown for parents and teachers by the Japanese.
In Japan, however, this principle is carried too far. It continues after death as binding as before, and divine honors are paid to dead ancestors. Periodical visits are made to their tombs, religious candles are kept burning in their honor, and prayers are said to them. Among the more enlightened to-day there is perhaps nothing in these ceremonies but reverence and respect; yet by the masses of the people ancestors are worshiped.
There are two moral maxims that show well the relative importance in which parents, relatives, and wives are held. They are the following: "Thy father and thy mother are like heaven and earth; thy teacher and thy lord are like the sun and the moon." "Other kinsfolk may be likened to the rushes; husbands and wives are but as useless stones."
It is apparent that virtues have differing values in the Confucian and Christian systems. We can appreciate their point of view best, perhaps, as we remember the ethics of an army. Here obedience, loyalty, self-devotion, courage, are supreme. Much is forgiven if these are manifested. The organization is everything, and the individual nothing, save as he is a fraction of the great machine. Carry that idea into the social community, and think of it as an army, with all, women as well as men, of value only as parts of the greater whole, and we shall understand why and how the Japanese may esteem men and women righteous whom we judge debased and even criminal. So would the Japanese judge them, were the motive mere passion or selfish desire, but not when the controlling power is loyalty or obedience. Thus the forty-seven ronin were pre-eminently "righteous" when they debauched themselves with every swinish vice.
Of course this view of morality puts great temptation in the way of parents and rulers. Having supreme power, they may use it to the degradation of those whom they control. Confucius, it is true, taught parents and rulers that they too owed duties to the state, and that use of their Heaven-given powers for selfish ends was treason against the supreme law; but, beyond doubt, the duty of submission, of loyalty and unquestioning obedience, was so exaggerated that evils many and great resulted. At the same time a sympathetic view leads one to wonder the rather that the ethical results are so wholesome.
Turning from this general view, one finds in particulars much the same conditions as in other lands. For example, immense quantities of alcoholic stimulants are consumed annually. There is a native liquor called "sake," made from rice, that is very popular and, in some of its forms, very intoxicating. Its manufacture and sale is one of the most lucrative businesses in the empire. Foreign whiskies, wines, and beers are sold in large quantities, but they are so costly as to be beyond the reach of all but the wealthy. Outside of the small circle of Christians, there are few people who do not drink. The total abstainer is a rarity. But, while nearly every one drinks, in general the Japanese do not drink to such excess as other nations. One seldom sees such beastly drunkenness as is often seen in the West. Drinking is taken as a matter of course, and society does not condemn it. The usual way in which Japanese men pass a dull day is in feasting and drinking. The use of alcoholic stimulants is much more common here than at home.
In business and commercial morality there is much to be desired. The merchants do not sell according to the worth of an article, but according to what they can make the purchaser pay. They are great bargainers. Recently I wanted to buy two large wall-pictures. The dealer asked me $21 for them, but finally sold them for $5. It is a very common thing to buy articles for less than half the price first asked. In matters of veracity and in the fulfilment of contracts Japanese merchants are not generally to be trusted. The average man is famous for lying, and the merchants and tradesmen seem to have acquired an extra share of this general characteristic. A Japanese trader will do all in his power to avoid the fulfilment of a contract if it entails a loss. This lack of commercial honor is recognized by the foreign firms doing business here, and it has hindered not a little the growth and development of trade.
The moral sense of the people in regard to taking one's own life is very different from that of Christendom. From ancient times, suicide has been thought to be a praiseworthy act, and has been extensively practised. Formerly it was encouraged, and sometimes required, by the government; but now it has no official sanction whatever. Still, the custom exists, and some authorities place the annual number of suicides as high as 10,000. The people laugh at our Western idea that it is wrong to take one's own life. On the contrary, they hold that when misfortunes and calamities make this life unattractive it is the part of wisdom to end it. Even the feelings of young Japanese, who have been educated somewhat into our own way of thinking, do not seem to have changed on this point; they still adhere to the old Roman view that self-destruction is permissible and often meritorious. The Western fiction that all suicides are the result of some form of insanity is not countenanced here. The various causes leading to self-destruction are coolly and carefully tabulated, and very few are attributed to insanity. Contrariwise, long and careful study of the subject has shown that self-destruction is gone about with as much coolness, precision, and judgment as any act of daily life.
The above are in brief the leading moral ideas and principles that govern the Japanese people. For their loyalty and obedience we have only admiration. But both of these principles are given an undue importance and are carried to extremes. The chief defect of Japanese morality is the minor place it gives to the individual. The moral need of the nation is a Christian morality—not just the morality of the West, but a morality founded on the ethical principles inculcated in the Bible. This would exalt truth and chastity, would soften and temper the great duties of loyalty and obedience, and would make of Japan an honest, temperate nation.