6. In life, as in language, old ways die hard

By SHIN-ICHI TERASHIMA

People often lament that the ways of this world are contradictory (”yononaka wa mujun shiteiru”) because what people say (“tatemae”) and what they do (“honne”) are inconsistent. This has been an unresolved problem for Japanese. If tatemae were to be written in the future tense, like the Ten Commandments in the Bible, and honne were to be expressed in the present tense, such contradictions would be less apparent. But Japanese, who have no grammatical tenses with which to express their reality, have instead three kinds of images shaping their vision of the world: “yume” (dream), “utsutsu” (reality) and “maboroshi” (phantom). Yume refers to future occurrences, maboroshi to past ones and utsutsu to the present.

  Of these three words, utsutsu is the only reliable reference. Without other grammatical tenses, a sentence can only be constructed in the present, or real tense. Thus, reality is the only reliable reference (“makoto”) in real terms. Past and future occurrences cannot be accurately reflected in the real tense. Japanese are frequently asked whether they are telling the truth or lying (“uso?” “honto?”). Reality is our only truth, which others have to seek and not speculate upon, as is apparently required in Western philosophy.

In English, one can express one’s will by use of the future tense. Reality is the same to all people, but in the Western scheme of things opinions about it may differ. The Japanese language has no place for “will.” Every statement must be the same in terms of time frame. Traditionally, in daily life, either no opinion was necessary or voicing one’s opinion was impossible. No attention was paid to one’s own or anyone else’s opinions because such opinions were by definition private.

  In a world devoid of opinion, a dialectical process assuming a context of antagonism does not work as a means of discussion. In Japanese discussions, participants are too busy indulging in fact-finding and fault-finding (this might all be by way of small talk) to grasp the other speaker’s position. They think that such practices are in any case appropriate only to a scientific view of reality. This is one reason why there has been so little philosophical development in this country.

  In a superior-inferior society, order is always supplied by those who are perceived to be superior. Japanese has a grammatical hierarchy, which speakers become accustomed to using through social training. For this, both “joi-katatsu” (conveying the desire and  intensions of those who govern to those who are governed) and “messhi-hoko” (selfless service) are necessary conditions. Expressing one’s personal opinion is imposlite and likely to end in a clash with a superior holding different views. By contrast, mind reading (“sasshi”) and its implementation (“jikko”) is a much better way for an inferior to win a promotion or earn his boss’s favor. An individual who behaves this way is praiseworthy because he is a man of deeds, not words (“fugen jikko”).

  Japanese has no grammatical means of representing a person. There is no distinction between “mono,” meaning person and mono, meaning material. The two can only be differentiated when kanji, or Chinese characters, are used. There is no teaching concerning a God-human relationship, but people pray to gods for success or intervention assuming the superior-inferior relationship they have become accustomed to in the social order. Human education is replaced by hierarchical training, through which one becomes a true human (“maningen”). Thus it could be said that almost no one in this country believes in rule by law, which assumes absolute value. They prefer to judge according to a hierarchically organized sense of relativity. Japanese believe that when this true human relationship is lost, only then must they unwillingly use the law (the same reasoning dictates decisions about, say, when to switch to a better medicine). Otherwise, things can be left to work themselves out through the operation of the compelling concepts of “giri” (hierarchical considerations of duty) and “ninjo” (natural human feelings of self-interest).

  The major Japanese universities are national universities, controlled by the Ministry of Education. Although they cannot be independent from the ministry, self-government is insisted upon by university administrators. Not only during past periods of student rioting, but even today, the presence of police is resented on campuses because police have to work under the law. In a national school, administrators hire no lawyers and seem to have no problems. In reality, officials are waiting for “small talk” (administrative guidance) from the ministry and avoiding “dual talk” (or opinion) in the form of other, extraneous, laws.

  The essence of the Japanese spirit is that the intention of one’s superior carries more weight than the law. This is why the statements of officials being questioned may vary wildly from one occasion to the next and also why they feel no shame about such discrepancies. Official statements are never required of a dean, and therefore deans have no need for knowledge about whatever the current conflict is. There seems to be no room for thinking for oneself in such a school. No unique school character based on individualism is created. Although there are many universities around the country, they all appear in spirit just like the monotonous barracks of a military base. Such traits represent serious problems for Japanese academic life. Reform of higher education is obviously necessary.

  Although most Japanese believe that they are living ultramodern lives, from a spiritual point of view they are still abiding by feudal customs and assumptions. As long as we continue to think within the framework laid down by our language, we will not be able to recognize this situation.

The Japan Times, Saturday, February 6, 1999

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