Meiji Quotes

Negeri Matahari Terbit, negeri Kaisar Meiji itu berseru pada para perantaunya, menganjurkan: Belajar berdiri sendiri! Jangan hanya jual tenaga pada siapa pun! Ubah kedudukan kuli jadi pengusaha, biar kecil seperti apa pun; tak ada modal? berserikat, bentuk modal! belajar kerja sama! bertekun dalam pekerjaan!

1. A Cup of Tea Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), recieved a university professor who came to inqure about Zen. Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!" "Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your up?

The memory of having sat at someone’s feet will later make you want to trample him underfoot. I’m trying to fend off your admiration for me, you see, in order to save myself from your future contempt. I prefer to put up with my present state of loneliness rather than suffer more loneliness later. We who are born into this age of freedom and independence and the self must undergo this loneliness. It’s the price we pay for these times of ours.

But do you imagine there’s a certain type of person in the world who conforms to the idea of a ‘bad person'? You’ll never find someone who fits that mold neatly, you know. On the whole, all people are good, or at least they’re normal. The frightening thing is that they can suddenly turn bad when it comes to the crunch. That’s why you have to be careful.

13. A Buddha In Tokyo in th Meiji era there lived two prominent teachers of opposite characteristics. One, Unsho, an instructor in Shingon, kept Buddha's precepts scrupulously. He never drank intoxicants, nor did he eat after eleven o'clock in the morning. The other teacher, Tanzan, a professor of philosophy at the Imperial University, never observed the precepts. When he felt like eating he ate, and when he felt like sleeping in the daytime he slept. One da Unsho visited Tanzan, who was drinking wine at the time, not even a drop of which is supposed to touch the tongue of a Buddhist. "Hello, brother," Tanzan greeted him. "Won't you have a drink?" "I never drink!" exclaimed Unsho solemnly. "One who never drinks is not even human," said Tanzan. "Do you mean to call me inhuman just because I do not indulge in intoxicating liquids!" exclaimed Unsho in anger. "Then if I am not human, wht am I?" "A Buddha," answered Tanzan.

But once I could look back on it in a calmer frame of mind, it struck me that his motive was surely not so simple and straightforward. Had it resulted from a fatal collision between reality and ideals? Perhaps—but this was still not quite it. Eventually, I began to wonder whether it was not the same unbearable loneliness that I now felt that had brought K to his decision.

When I was a student, there wasn't a single thing we did that was unrelated to others. It was all for the Emperor, or parents, or the country, or society—everything was other-centered, which means that all educated men were hypocrites. When society changed, this hypocrisy ceased to work, and as a result, self-centeredness was gradually imported into thought and action, and egoism became enormously over-developed. Instead of the old hypocrites, now all we've got are out-and-out rogues. Do you see what I mean by that?

He considered China’s interference in Korea to be an intolerable attempt to prevent the spread of enlightenment, and the war itself not merely a struggle between two countries but a “battle for the sake of world culture.”49

The call for political freedom took place long ago. The call for freedom of speech is also a thing of the past. Freedom is not a word to be used exclusively for phenomena such as this which are so easily given outward manifestation. I believe that we young men of the new age have encountered the moment in time when we must call for that great freedom, the freedom of the mind.

That Seigo could go into geisha houses, accept luncheon invitations, drop in at the Club, see people off at Shimabashi, meet them at Yokohama, run out to Oiso to humor the elders—that he could put in his appearance at large gatherings from morning to evening without seeming either triumphant or dejected—this must be because he was thoroughly accustomed to this kind of life, thought Daisuke; it was probably like the jellyfish's floating in the sea and not finding it salty.

What do I want to be when I grow up? An attractive role would be that of the bunjin. He is the Japanese scholar who wrote and painted in the Chinese style, a literatus, something of a poetaster - a pose popular in the 18th century. I, however, would be a later version, someone out of the end of the Meiji, who would pen elegant prose and work up flower arrangements from dried grasses and then encourage spiders to make webs and render it all natural. For him, art is a moral force and he cannot imagine life without it. He is also the kind of casual artist who, after a day's work is done, descends into his pleasure park and dallies.

The independence of a nation springs from the independent spirit of its citizens

Anyone who sang the praises of undying love in this day and age belonged to the first rank of hypocrites in Daisuke's estimate.

Meiji Era

Hirota feels strongly drawn toward nature and the natural, is hyper-sensitive to the artificial—particularly that most cramped and constraining man-made creation, society—and does his best to avoid it.

It was Daisuke's conviction that all morality traced its origins to social realities. He believed there could be no greater confusion of cause and effect than to attempt to conform social reality to a rigidly predetermined notion of morality. Accordingly, he found the ethical education conducted by lecture in Japanese schools utterly meaningless. In the schools, students were either instructed in the old morality or crammed with a morality suited to the average European. For an unfortunate people beset by the fierce appetites of life, this amounted to nothing more than vain, empty talk. When the recipients of this education saw society before their eyes, they would recall those lectures and burst out laughing. Or else they would feel that they had been made fools of. In Daisuke's case it was not just school; he had received the most rigorous and least functional education from his father. Thanks to this, he had at one time experienced acute anguish stemming from contradictions. Daisuke even felt bitter over it.

Yōshoku is the Japanese take on Western foods; much of it was created during the Meiji period (1868-1912), when, after centuries of isolation, Japan began importing goods and ideas from the outside world, including food. Yōshoku dishes such as hambaagu (salisbury steak in brown sauce), curry rice, potato croquettes, and "spaghetti naporitan" are now much-loved comfort food. They're also so unlike the dishes that inspired them that they tend to be really hard for Westerners to appreciate.

The cause of this transformation, effected by the Meiji Restoration from 1868 onward, was the determination of influential members of the Japanese elite to avoid being dominated and colonized by the West, as seemed to be happening elsewhere in Asia, even if the reform measures to be taken involved the scrapping of the feudal order and the bitter opposition of the samurai clans.39 Japan had to be modernized not because individual entrepreneurs wished it, but because the “state” needed it. After

When I was at the University I knew a law student named Yamada Uruu. Later he worked for the Osaka Municipal Office; he’s been dead for years. This man’s father was an old-time lawyer, or “advocate,” who in early Meiji defended the notorious murderess Takahashi Oden. It seems he often talked to his son about Oden’s beauty. Apparently he would corner him and go on and on about her, as if deeply moved. “You might call her alluring, or bewitching,” he would say. “I’ve never known such a fascinating woman, she’s a real vampire. When I saw her I thought I wouldn’t mind dying at the hands of a woman like that!” Since I have no particular reason to keep on living, sometimes I think I would be happier if a woman like Oden turned up to kill me. Rather than endure the pain of these half-dead arms and legs of mine, maybe I could get it over and at the same time see how it feels to be brutally murdered.

...He said defensively, "But from now on, Japan is sure to develop." "Japan's headed for a fall," the man said coolly. Say a thing like that in Kumamoto and you'd get a punch in the nose, or be called a traitor. The atmosphere Sanshiro grew up in left no room in his head for such an idea. Just because he was young, was the man having some fun at his expense? The man kept on grinning. Yet his way of talking was perfectly composed. Not knowing what to think, Sanshiro held his tongue. His companion went on, "Tokyo is bigger than Kumamoto. Japan is bigger than Tokyo. And what's bigger than Japan is..." He paused and looked at Sanshiro, who was listening intently. "...the inside of your head. That's bigger than Japan. Don't let yourself get bogged down. You may believe your way of thinking is for the good of the nation, but you could actually be bringing it down." When he heard this, Sanshiro felt he had indeed left Kumamoto. And he realized, too, what a small person his Kumamoto self had been.

The Ainu have not intentionally forgotten their culture and their language. It is the modern Japanese state that, from the Meiji era on, usurped our land, destroyed our culture, and deprived us of our language under the euphemism of assimilation. In the space of a mere 100 years, they nearly decimated the Ainu culture and language that had taken tens of thousands of years to come into being on this earth.

Daisuke was of course equipped with conversation that, even if they went further, would allow him to retreat as if nothing had happened. He had always wondered at the conversations recorded in Western novels, for to him they were too bald, too self indulgent, and moreover, too unsubtly rich. However they read in the original, he thought they reflected a taste that could not be translated into Japanese. Therefore, he had not the slightest intention of using imported phrases to develop his relationship with Michiyo. Between the two of them at least, ordinary words sufficed perfectly well. But the danger was of slipping from point A to point B without realizing it. Daisuke managed to stand his ground only by a hair's breadth. When he left, Michiyo saw him to the entranceway and said, "Do come again, please? It's so lonely.

Why is our era one of decadence? Why does the world despise vigor and youth and worthy ambitions and single-mindedness?…How long must this age of effete and the contemptible endure? Or is the worst still to come? Men think only of money and women. Men have forgotten everything that should be becoming to a man. that great shining age of gods and heroes passed away with the Meiji Emperor. Will we ever see its like again?

Honda did not necessarily cling to the historical school of law, which was influenced by nineteenth-century romanticism, nor to the ethnic school. The Japan of the Meiji era, indeed, needed a nationalistic type of law, one that had its roots in the philosophy of the historical school. But Honda's concerns were quite different. He had first been intent on isolating the essential principle behind all law, a principle which he felt must exist.

the Meiji leaders faced a dilemma. How could they unite, emotionally and spiritually, thirty-four million people who had no sense of belonging to a ‘nation’? During the Edo period, from 1603 to 1868, everyone belonged to his own domain and was beholden to one of the 270 or so daimyō. No one called himself or herself ‘Japanese’. But now, in case of an emergency, the government would need to convince millions of ordinary people to take up arms.

A Cup of Tea Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!" "Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?

No importa tanto la diferenciación entre el progreso representado por el ahorro de energía (que simplifica la vida cotidiana) o por la expansión de energía (que potencia nuestras aspiraciones o "aficiones" naturales), sino el acento puesto en la excesiva velocidad con que estas transformaciones han afectado al Japón, como consecuencia de la procedencia externa de los estímulos que, al no ser fruto de una secuencia generado intrínsecamente, ha obligado a una apresurada (y por ello superficial) asimilación de los cambios (muchos en muy poco tiempo), lo cual ha llegado a provocar una auténtica "angustia existencial.

Life is a tiring business indeed. Soy sauce runs out. Milk runs out. Dishwashing detergent runs out. Lancôme lipsticks—I thought I had stockpiled several years' worth—run out. Dust underneath the dining table becomes dust balls. Newspapers and magazines pile up, and so does laundry. E-mail and junk mail keep coming. When occasion demands, I make myself presentable and I present myself. I listen to my sister's same old complaints on the phone. I withdraw money for my elderly mother, whose tongue works fine but whose body is a mess. I contact her caseworker. And now I have reached a stage in life when my own health is prone to betray me.

During the Meiji era, the Japanese Zen master, Nan-in had a visitor from a respected university – a professor who wanted to learn about Zen. Nan-in served the professor a pot of tea, but when the cupwas full, he continued pouring until the cup was overflowing. The startled professor watched in amazement until he could no longer restrain himself from intervening, “The cup is full and no more will go in. You’re making a mess!” “Like this cup,” Nan-insaid, “You are full of your own opinions, artificial concepts and negative speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?” Like the learned professor who wanted to understand spirituality, you too must empty your cup and have an open mind and heart.

People called Mother a beauty, when she was young. I remember her very well in those days—until I was fourteen or fifteen she was as beautiful as ever. When I compare that memory of her with Satsuko, the contrast is really striking. Satsuko is also called a beauty. That was the main reason why Jokichi married her. But between these two beauties, between the 1890’s and now, what a change has taken place in the physical appearance of the Japanese woman! For example, Mother’s feet were beautiful too, but Satsuko’s have an altogether different kind of beauty. They hardly seem to belong to a woman of the same race. Mother had dainty feet, small enough to nestle in the palm of my hand, and as she tripped along in her straw sandals she took extremely short, mincing steps with her toes turned in. (I am reminded that in my dream Mother’s feet were bare except for her sandals, even though she was dressed to go visiting. Perhaps she was deliberately showing off her feet to me.) All Meiji women had that pigeon-like walk, not just beauties. As for Satsuko’s feet, they are elegantly long and slender; she boasts that ordinary Japanese shoes are too wide for her. On the contrary, my mother’s feet were fairly broad, rather like those of the Bodhisattva of Mercy in the Sangatstudo in Nara. Also, the women of their day were short in stature. Women under five feet were not uncommon. Having been born in the Meiji era, I am only about five feet two myself, but Satsuko is an inch and a half taller.

Las conclusiones más significativas se refieren a la necesidad de que cada individuo se forme por sí mismo su propia opinión de la realidad sin aceptar acríticamente la autoridad de los maestros occidentales, el deber moral de usar los propios dones o bienes (inteligencia, poder, dinero) teniendo siempre presente una proyección social, la obligación de respetar la libertad de los demás al tiempo que se defiende la propia o la posibilidad de cohonestar la (prioritaria) autoexigencia personal con otros valores respetables como el servicio a la nación. Al final, el discurso se transforma, a partir de una advertencia a los jóvenes japoneses de 1914, en un alegato a favor de la independencia personal, de la libertad y de la tolerancia, es decir, en una afirmación de valores humanistas de significado universal.

And yet, as you all know, joining humanity is never a simple matter. By beginning to live the same temporality as Westerners, the Japanese now had to live two temporalities simultaneously. On the one hand, there was Time with a capital "T," which flows in the West. On the other hand, there was time with a small "t," which flows in Japan. Moreover, from that point on, the latter could exist only in relation to the former. It could no longer exist independently, yet it could not be the same as the other, either. If I, as a Japanese, find this new historical situation a bit tragic, it's not because Japanese people now had a live in two temporalities. It's rather because as a result of having to do so, they had no choice but to enter the asymmetrical relationship that had marked and continues to mark the modern world—the asymmetrical relationship between the West and the non-West, which is tantamount, however abstractly, to the asymmetrical relationship between what is universal and all the rest that is merely particular.

You will tell me that there always exists a chasm between the world depicted in novels and films and the world that people actually live in. It is the chasm between the world mediated by art and the world unmediated by art, formless and drab. You are absolutely right. The gap that my mother felt was not necessarily any deeper than the gap felt by a European girl who loved books and films. Yet there is one critical difference. For in my mother's case, the chasm between the world of art and real life also symbolized something more: the asymmetrical relationship I mentioned earlier—the asymmetrical relationship between those who live only in a universal temporality and those who live in both a universal and a particular one. To make this discussion a little more concrete, let me introduce a character named Francoise. Francoise is a young Parisienne living before World War II. Like my mother, she loves reading books and watching films. Also like my mother, she lives in a small apartment with her mother, who is old, shabby looking, and illiterate. One day Francoise, full of artistic aspirations, writes an autobiographical novel. It is the tale of her life torn between the world of art and the world of reality. (Not an original tale, I must say.) The novel is well received in France. Several hundred Japanese living in Japan read this novel in French, and one of them decides to translate it into Japanese. My mother reads the novel. She identifies with the heroine and says to herself, "This girl is just like me!" Moved, my mother, also full of artistic aspirations, writes her own autobiography. That novel is well received in Japan but is not translated into French—or any other European language, for that matter. The number of Europeans who read Japanese is just too small. Therefore, only Japanese readers can share the plight of my mother's life. For other readers in the world, it's as if her novel never existed. It's as if she herself never existed. Even if my mother had written her novel first, Francoise would never have read it and been moved by it.

To understand how seriously the people of Noto take the concept of waste, consider the fugu dilemma. Japanese blowfish, best known for its high toxicity, has been a staple of Noto cuisine for hundreds of years. During the late Meiji and early Edo periods, local cooks in Noto began to address a growing concern with fugu fabrication; namely, how to make use of the fish's deadly ovaries. Pregnant with enough poison to kill up to twenty people, the ovaries- like the toxic liver- had always been disposed of, but the cooks of Noto finally had enough of the waste and set out to crack the code of the toxic reproductive organs. Thus ensued a long, perilous period of experimentation. Locals rubbed ovaries in salt, then in nukamiso, a paste made from rice bran, and left them to ferment. Taste-testing the not-quite-detoxified fugu ovary was a lethal but necessary part of the process, and many years and many lives later, they arrived at a recipe that transformed the ovaries from a deadly disposable into an intensely flavored staple. Today pickled fugu ovaries remain one of Noto's most treasured delicacies.

Do countries require a crisis to motivate them to act, or do nations ever act in anticipation of problems? The crises discussed in this book illustrate both types of responses to this frequently asked question. Meiji Japan avoided dealing with the growing danger from the West, until forced into responding to Perry’s visit. From the Meiji Restoration of 1868 onwards, however, Japan did not require any further external shocks to motivate it to embark on its crash program of change: Japan instead changed in anticipation of the risk of further pressure from the West. Similarly, Finland ignored Soviet concerns until it was forced to pay attention by the Soviet attack of 1939. But from 1944 onwards, the Finns did not require any further Soviet attacks to galvanize them: instead, their foreign policy aimed at constantly anticipating and forestalling Soviet pressure. In Chile, Allende’s policies were in response to Chile’s chronic polarization, and not in response to a sudden crisis, so Allende was anticipating future problems as well as addressing current ones. In contrast, the Chilean military launched their coup in response to what

Shina is the Japanese appellation for China most commonly used during the first half of the twentieth century. After World War II the name for China reverted to chugoku (Middle Kingdom), a common name from before the Meiji Restoration (1868).4

In early Meiji one yen was worth a little more than one American dollars;

Until the Meiji era, the highest-quality sushi shops preferred blue marlin, and tuna was - along with oily mackerel, saury, gizzard shard, and sardines - seen as lower-grade fish. When tuna was fish used for sushi in the nineteenth century, it was usually marinated in soy.

For Japanese people before 1868, Europeans were little more than curious beasts, strange and incomprehensible. Then, after the Meiji Restoration, everything changed. Along with European science and technology, European art flooded into Japan, all forms of it representing themselves as the universal—and most advanced—model. The same was true of novels. The Japanese, with characteristic diligence, began to read masterpieces of European literature, first in the original and then in translation. And such is the power of literature that through the act of reading, little by little the Japanese came to live the lives of Europeans as if they were their own. They began to live the ambitions of Julien Sorel, the happiness of Jane Eyre, the sufferings of young Werther, and the despair of Anna Karenina as if they were their own. They thus began living a new temporality—that which flows in the West, dictated by the Gregorian calendar, marked by major historical events in the West. And by so doing, they eventually joined what the Europeans called "humanity.

To those who share it, the fundamental appeal of faith derives from the community it creates. If that were religion’s only purpose, churches might not be so ubiquitous. But civilization gave faith another purpose: legitimization of power. For this, churches are indispensable. From pharaonic Egypt to medieval Europe and from Meiji Japan to contemporary Iran, rulers have derived their authority from the divine.

the Taiwan Nichi Nichi Shimpō, Taiwan’s first daily newspaper, dated 27 September in the thirty-eighth year of the Meiji era.

the period from the Meiji Restoration of 1868 to the creation in 1900 of a branch of government solely dedicated to shrine administration. In 1868, Shinto finally achieved independence from Buddhism through a government-mandated separation of shrines from temples, and the Jingikan was briefly reinstated. It was downgraded and then abolished, however, as provisions were made for the emperor to begin performing rites based on ancient jingi in the new palace in the capital Tokyo.

Historical influences contributing to the protean self can be traced back to the Enlightenment and even the Renaissance in the West, and to at least the Meiji Restoration of the nineteenth century in Japan. These influences include the dislocations of rapid historical change, the mass media revolution, and the threat of human extinction. All have undergone an extraordinary acceleration during the last half of the twentieth century, causing a radical breakdown of prior communities and sources of authority. At the same time, ways of reconstituting the self in the midst of radical uncertainty have also evolved. So much so that the protean self in our time has become a modus vivendi, a “mode of living.” This is especially true in our own country. The same historical forces can, however, produce an apparently opposite reaction: the closing off of the person and the constriction of self-process. It can take the form of widespread psychic numbing—diminished capacity or inclination to feel—and a general sense of stasis and meaninglessness. Or it can lead to an expression of totalism, of demand for absolute dogma and a monolithic self. A prominent form of totalism in our day is fundamentalism. Broadly understood, fundamentalism includes a literalized doctrine, religious or political, enclosed upon itself by the immutable words of the holy books. The doctrine is rendered both sacred in the name of a past of perfect harmony that never was, and central to a quest for collective revitalization. But the totalistic or fundamentalist response is a reaction to proteanism and to the fear of chaos. While proteanism is able to function in a world of uncertainty and ambiguity, fundamentalism wants to wipe out that world in favor of a claim to definitive truth and unalterable moral certainty.

13. Un Buda En Tokyo, en la era Meiji, vivían dos destacados maestros de características opuestas. Uno de ellos, Unsho, instructor de la secta Shingon, observaba escrupulosamente los preceptos budistas. Jamás tomaba bebidas embriagadoras ni comía después de las once de la mañana. El otro maestro, Tanzan, profesor de filosofía en la Universidad Imperial, jamás observaba los preceptos. Cuando le apetecía comer, comía, y cuando tenía ganas de echarse a dormir en pleno día, lo hacía. Un día Unsho visitó a Tanzan, quien estaba bebiendo vino, del cual se supone que ni una sola gota debe entrar en contacto con la lengua de un budista. –Hola, hermano –le saludó Tanzan–. ¿Quieres tomar un vaso? –¡Jamás bebo! –exclamó Unsho solemnemente. –Quien no bebe ni siquiera es humano –replicó Tanzan. –¿Es posible que me llames inhumano sólo porque no tomo líquidos embriagadores? –dijo Unsho, encolerizado–. Entonces, si no soy humano, ¿qué es lo que soy? –Un Buda –respondió Tanzan.

Japan, a country that had done its best to have no contact with strangers and to seal out the rest of the world. Its economy and politics were dominated by feudal agriculture and a Confucian hierarchical social structure, and they were steadily declining. Merchants were the lowest social class, and trading with foreigners was actually forbidden except for limited contact with China and the Dutch. But then Japan had an unexpected encounter with a stranger—Commodore Matthew Perry—who burst in on July 8, 1853, demanding that Japan’s ports be open to America for trade and insisting on better treatment for shipwrecked sailors. His demands were rebuffed, but Perry came back a year later with a bigger fleet and more firepower. He explained to the Japanese the virtues of trading with other countries, and eventually they signed the Treaty of Kanagawa on March 31, 1854, opening the Japanese market to foreign trade and ending two hundred years of near isolation. The encounter shocked the Japanese political elites, forcing them to realize just how far behind the United States and other Western nations Japan had fallen in military technology. This realization set in motion an internal revolution that toppled the Tokugawa Shogunate, which had ruled Tokyo in the name of the emperor since 1603, and brought Emperor Meiji, and a coalition of reformers, in his place. They chose adaptation by learning from those who had defeated them. They launched a political, economic, and social transformation of Japan, based on the notion that if they wanted to be as strong as the West they had to break from their current cultural norms and make a wholesale adoption of Western science, technology, engineering, education, art, literature, and even clothing and architecture. It turned out to be more difficult than they thought, but the net result was that by the late nineteenth century Japan had built itself into a major industrial power with the heft to not only reverse the unequal economic treaties imposed on it by Western powers but actually defeat one of those powers—Russia—in a war in 1905. The Meiji Restoration made Japan not only more resilient but also more powerful.

The preferred worlds to simulate were either sci-fi or Edo-period Japan, as if the two breaks of the Meiji restoration (1868) and the occupation (1945) had not happened. Azuma links simulation to the practice of détournement or the fan-based making of derivative works, which “official” products then borrow from in turn: “the products of otaku culture are born into a chain of infinite imitations and piracy” (O26). Simulacra thus float free from both the notion of an historical time and from the authoring of original works.

If you get beautiful, bright and scratch less jewel, Without constant polishing and cleaning, It will lose its brightness by a little dust. So human heart also, Beautiful heart cannot be kept without constant polishing.

Before the modern period, Mahayana was a socially and politically conservative force. In Japan during the Meiji period that led to World War II, for example, Mahayana Buddhism blended into Japanese neo-Confucianism and Shintoism in support of state imperialism, colonialism, and aggression against other Asian nations, as well as aggression against the West. Nor did it prove itself to be the champion of the poor and oppressed in the feudal societies of China and Japan. The ethical failure of the goal of compassion in the Bodhisattva ideal was largely due to an almost totally spiritualized interpretation of the meaning of compassion. That is, the way one showed compassion was to provide spiritual help and guidance that would lead others to enlightenment rather than through actions that sought to correct social injustice. This failure was not unique to Buddhism. It can be found in the premodern ethics and spirituality of other religions as well.

In Japan during the Meiji period that led to World War II, for example, Mahayana Buddhism blended into Japanese neo-Confucianism and Shintoism in support of state imperialism, colonialism, and aggression against other Asian nations, as well as aggression against the West. Nor did it prove itself to be the champion of the poor and oppressed in the feudal societies of China and Japan. The ethical failure of the goal of compassion in the Bodhisattva ideal was largely due to an almost totally spiritualized interpretation of the meaning of compassion. That is, the way one showed compassion was to provide spiritual help and guidance that would lead others to enlightenment rather than through actions that sought to correct social injustice. This failure was not unique to Buddhism. It can be found in the premodern ethics and spirituality of other religions as well.

As with France, an important consequence of the British Industrial Revolution for China and Japan was military vulnerability. China was humbled by British sea power during the First Opium War, between 1839 and 1842, and the same threat became all too real for the Japanese as U.S. warships, led by Commodore Matthew Perry, pulled into Edo Bay in 1853. The reality that economic backwardness created military backwardness was part of the impetus behind Shimazu Nariakira’s plan to overthrow the shogunate and put in motion the changes that eventually led to the Meiji Restoration. The leaders of the Satsuma domain realized that economic growth—perhaps even Japanese survival—could be achieved only by institutional reforms, but the shogun opposed this because his power was tied to the existing set of institutions. To exact reforms, the shogun had to be overthrown, and he was. The situation was similar in China, but the different initial political institutions made it much harder to overthrow the emperor, something that happened only in 1911. Instead of reforming institutions, the Chinese tried to match the British militarily by importing modern weapons. The Japanese built their own armaments industry. As a consequence of these initial differences, each country responded differently to the challenges of the nineteenth century, and Japan and China diverged dramatically in the face of the critical juncture created by the Industrial Revolution. While Japanese institutions were being transformed and the economy was embarking on a path of rapid growth, in China forces pushing for institutional change were not strong enough, and extractive institutions persisted largely unabated until they would take a turn for the worse with Mao’s communist revolution in 1949. R

BOTSWANA, CHINA, and the U.S. South, just like the Glorious Revolution in England, the French Revolution, and the Meiji Restoration in Japan, are vivid illustrations that history is not destiny. Despite the vicious circle, extractive institutions can be replaced by inclusive ones. But it is neither automatic nor easy. A confluence of factors, in particular a critical juncture coupled with a broad coalition of those pushing for reform or other propitious existing institutions, is often necessary for a nation to make strides toward more inclusive institutions. In addition some luck is key, because history always unfolds in a contingent way.

Mikao Usui decided to add the Reiki Ideals to Reiki's practice during meditation many years after creating Reiki. The Ideals came in part from the Japanese Meiji Emperor's five principles revered by Mikao Usui. The Ideals , to improve Usui Reiki's moral harmony. Its purpose is to help people realize that it is a necessary part of the Reiki healing process to restore the soul by actively choosing to change oneself. In order to have lasting results for the Reiki healing powers, the client must take responsibility for her or his recovery and take an active part in it. Consequently, Reiki's Usui system is more than using Reiki energy. It must also include an active commitment to self-improvement to make it a complete system. The ideals are both guidelines for a gracious life and practicable virtues for their inherent value.

In order for Japan to become an equal member of the international community, the western perception of time had to be accepted. The western calendar was adopted with much complaint in 1872, with the decision that the third day of the succeeding twelfth month would become the first day of 1873. The decree added: On this day a ceremony…will be held, and the Emperor will inform the sun goddess and the imperial ancestors of the change…. The day will be divided into 24 hours instead of twelve two-hour periods, as hitherto.

It can be said without too much oversimplification that there are no 'underdeveloped countries'. There are only 'undermanaged' ones. Japan a hundred years ago was an underdeveloped country by every material measurement. But it very quickly produced management of great competence, indeed, of excellence. Within twenty-five years Meiji Japan had become a developed country, and, indeed, in some aspects, such as literacy, the most highly developed of all countries. We realize today that it is Meiji Japan, rather than eighteenth-century England - or even ninetheenth-century Germany - which has to be the model of development for the underdeveloped world. This means that management is the prime mover and that development is a consequence. (p. 45)

With each retelling, Saigo’s composure grew greater, his soliloquy to Beppu longer, and the poignancy of the moment more intense. Because Saigo had come to represent samurai valor, his death had to represent samurai tradition. Physiology notwithstanding, tradition demanded that Saigo sit on a shattered hip and serenely ask Beppu to help him die. Saigo had become a legend, and the Japanese media decided to print the legend, not the man.

the last dynasty of China, the Qing dynasty, ended when the Meiji era faded into the sands of time.

The Meiji period, which lasted from 1868 to 1912, was a turning point in Japan.

After Komei’s death, Prince Mutsuhito was renamed Emperor Meiji, and Edo was renamed “Tokyo.

Meiji Restoration” refers to the fact that the emperor was “restored” to a supreme position

In 1890, Emperor Meiji passed the “Imperial Rescript on Education,

The Meiji Constitution

In September 1875, the Meiji administration sent over the Un’yo, a gunboat, to Korea.

during the Meiji period helped the company expand into banking, coal, warehousing, and financial investment.

With the heralding of the Meiji period, education was made compulsory,

With the aid of advisors, the Meiji administration set up schools in Buddhist temples,

From a Western standpoint, one could have expected that the apocryphal nature of the works attributed to the "founders" Bodhidharma and Huineng, let alone the quasi-mythical nature of such figures, would considerably weaken a tradition that drew its legitimacy from them. Such was not the case, in part because the impact of historical demythification was attenuated by the shift that had already taken place, during the Tokugawa and Meiji periods, from a "hieratical" tradition relying on the ritual transmission of the Dharma and of its regalia (patriarchal robe, text, relics, portrait, transmission verses), to a more philosophically minded tradition, one therefore more detached from its human or material carriers.

after the Meiji Period, which lasted from 1869 to 1912, these persecuted artists led lives of bare subsistence in slums and narrow alleys. Struggling to elude the vigilant eyes of the government, which had outlawed tattooing, they kept their skills alive by creating works of art that could never be shown in public. The names that spring to mind are Horiuno I and II, followed by Horikane, Horikin, Horigoro, Horiyasu, and a couple of others. “Of course, no list of post-Meiji tattoo artists would be complete without the renowned Honcho the First. As you may know, he created a nationwide scandal in Japan in 1900 by committing ‘love suicide’ with a woman who was not his wife. Horicho had already left his mark on posterity, not just in Japan but overseas as well, by tattooing highly publicized dragons on the forearms of the English Duke of York, who became King George V, and the czarevitch of Russia, later Czar Nicholas II. At the time, Horicho’s was the only legal tattoo parlor left open in Yokohama. It was there—attracted, no doubt, by a sign that read ‘For Foreigners Only’—that both George and Nicholas got their dragons.

The fact that the state-socialist countries were backward countries desperate to catch up partly explains why it is that, instead of executing the legacy of Marx, i.e. of constructing an egalitarian, non-market society with a truly human organisation of the labour process and an end to the division of labour and the exploitation of man by man, they were actually mainly concerned with executing the legacy of Peter the Great, the Meiji Restoration and Feng Guifen.

In Japan, only males may inherit the throne. It goes against my grain. I’ve had heated discussions with Mr. Fuchigami about this. Japan had female empresses up until the eighteenth century. Then in the nineteenth century, the Meiji Constitution blocked female heirs.

These developments led to the eventual fall of the Qing Dynasty, the resignation of the Japanese government, and the continued control of India by the British. Especially in Japan and China, it also led to the realization that they needed to modernize, which prompted the Meiji Restoration (in Japan) and the Self-Strengthening Movement (in China). This move was very successful in Japan and not successful in China, which continued to suffer in what the Chinese call the Century of Humiliation. Second Industrial Revolution (1850s–early 1900s) Beginning in the mid-1800s, a second big wave of innovation took place, centered at first around steam-powered locomotion (e.g., railroads) and then electricity, telephones, interchangeable manufacturing parts, and other innovations at the turn of the 20th century. Whereas the First Industrial Revolution was centered on the UK, the Second Industrial Revolution primarily benefited the United States. As is typical, this period produced both great wealth and great wealth gaps and excesses in the capital markets, leading to an era known as the Gilded Age in the US. Invention of Communism (1848) The invention and development of communism in the mid-1800s came as a reaction against both capitalism and the wealth gaps it created and the benefits of the Industrial Revolutions going more to the owners of the new technologies than to the workers.

Looking at the reforms, technological advances and modernization efforts made by the Ottoman elite between 1826 and the beginning of World War I, one could really wonder why such a thirst for change failed to save the Ottomans when similar measures taken by other nations, such as Japan during the Meiji era, did in fact result in the rise of a global power in the 20th century. During

The self-help philosophy fitted perfectly with the sentiments of Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835-1901), one of Meiji Japan's most influential educators and advocates of westernisation. In his work Gakumon no Susume (An encouragement of learning) of 1872, he wrote : There are no innate status distinctions between the noble and the base, the rich and the poor. It is only the person who has studied diligently, so that he has a mastery over things and events, who becomes noble and rich, while his opposite becomes base and poor.

Meiji Japan's two best-known entrepreneurs, Iwasaki Yatar (1835-85), the founder of Mitsubishi... came from this type of peasant-samurai background.

At a national level this particularly so when those others seem to have something stronger or better than Japan does. It adopted, adapted and frequently improved, making the strengths of a potential competitor or foe intro own strengths. This is not just a case of "know your enemy": it is a case of knowing what makes thy enemy a threat and then using his own strengths against him. More than a 1000 years ago Japan learned much from China, to the point where it was no longer a vassal nation but considered itself a superior one. It repeated the process some extent in the Tokugawa period, learning the use of firearms from the west. In the Meiji period iit furiously studied western imperial powers till it became one itself. After the war it learned much from America - admittedly with little choice to start with - but went beyond its compulsory lessons to the point where it reversed roles and became widely recognized as the master.

I can tell right away by looking at you what you want to eat," he says. "I can tell how many brothers and sisters you have." After divining my favorite color (blue) and my astrological sign (Aquarius), Nakamura pulls out an ivory stalk of takenoko, fresh young bamboo ubiquitous in Japan during the spring. "This came in this morning from Kagumi. It's so sweet that you can eat it raw." He peels off the outer layer, cuts a thin slice, and passes it across the counter. First, he scores an inch-thick bamboo steak with a ferocious santoku blade. Then he sears it in a dry sauté pan until the flesh softens and the natural sugars form a dark crust on the surface. While the bamboo cooks, he places two sacks of shirako, cod milt, under the broiler. ("Milt," by the way, is a euphemism for sperm. Cod sperm is everywhere in Japan in the winter and early spring, and despite the challenges its name might create for some, it's one of the most delicious things you can eat.) Nakamura brings it all together on a Meiji-era ceramic plate: caramelized bamboo brushed with soy, broiled cod milt topped with miso made from foraged mountain vegetables, and, for good measure, two lightly boiled fava beans. An edible postcard of spring. I take a bite, drop my chopsticks, and look up to find Nakamura staring right at me. "See, I told you I know what you want to eat." The rest of the dinner unfolds in a similar fashion: a little counter banter, a little product display, then back to transform my tastes and his ingredients into a cohesive unit. The hits keep coming: a staggering plate of sashimi filled with charbroiled tuna, surgically scored squid, thick circles of scallop, and tiny white shrimp blanketed in sea urchin: a lesson in the power of perfect product. A sparkling crab dashi topped with yuzu flowers: a meditation on the power of restraint. Warm mochi infused with cherry blossoms and topped with a crispy plank of broiled eel: a seasonal invention so delicious it defies explanation.

Symptoms of kitsune-tsuki varied. There are descriptions of “afflicted persons who ate gravel, ashes, hair, or combs, wandered the mountains and fields making piles of stones, jumped into rivers or ran into the mountains, etc.”29 In 1894, Lafcadio Hearn wrote, “Strange is the madness of those into whom demon foxes enter. Sometimes they run naked shouting through the streets. Sometimes they lie down and froth at the mouth, and yelp as a fox yelps.”30 Kitsune-tsuki (and other forms of possession) persisted throughout Hearn’s time, and similar phenomena are still occasionally identified today. But during the Meiji period, modern Western medicine was called on to redefine fox possession as a form of mental illness treatable by psychiatrists.