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electronic journal of contemporary japanese
studies
Discussion Paper 3 in 2004
First published in ejcjs on
10 May 2004
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Dichotomies,
Contested Terms and Contemporary Issues in the Study of Religion
by
Ian Reader
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This article has been written to
try to move forward the debate on religious terminology between Tim
Fitzgerald, Michael Shackleton, and myself that has been published in both
the JAWS Newsletter and the electronic journal of contemporary japanese studies.
Below you can click through to the articles published in ejcjs.
The papers are listed below in order, with the most recent at
the top.
Fitzgerald, T (2004) The
Religion-Secular Dichotomy: A Response to Responses,
electronic journal of contemporary japanese studies, Discussion Paper
2 in 2004, First Posted on 6 April 2004.
Reader, Ian (2004)
Ideology, Academic Inventions and
Mystical Anthropology: Responding to Fitzgerald's Errors and Misguided
Polemics, electronic journal of contemporary japanese
studies, Discussion Paper 1 in 2004, First Posted on 3 March 2004.
Fitzgerald, T. (2003)
'Religion' and 'the Secular' in Japan: Problems in history, social
anthropology, and religion, electronic journal of contemporary japanese
studies, Discussion Paper 3 in 2003, First Posted on 10 July 2003.
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Introductory Remarks
In his
reply
Timothy Fitzgerald complains that I have personalised issues, yet his
complaint seems rather odd given the tenor of his original article and,
indeed, his response. The original article contained so much in the way of
unsubstantiated allegations and misquotations that it required a blunt
response that drew attention to such errors and asked pertinent questions
about them and their intention. I am sorry if my demand for accuracy and for
substantiation of points used to construct an argument is deemed by
Fitzgerald to constitute a personal attack and an obfuscation of the issues.
I also think it is a pity that he evades the issues raised in this way and
makes no attempt to acknowledge the serious academic flaws and mistakes in
his article. This is an extremely important point given that his response to
the criticisms both Michael Shackleton and I made about the lack of
fieldwork data in his work is that, rather than being based in ethnographic
fieldwork, his research ‘takes other people’s ethnography as its data’ – an
argument used in similar terms by Russell McCutcheon (1997: 7), another
scholar who has critiqued the concept of ‘religion’ and who has been
similarly criticised for lack of fieldwork. Yet, it is precisely because
Fitzgerald wants to use other people’s work as his data, that he has to
ensure that he cites such material correctly and it is only natural that any
response to him would focus on how badly he has failed here – a failure that
calls into question the entire basis of his project. If fieldworkers get
their data wrong, or have misinterpreted or misrepresented it, what trust
can one have in their findings? Rather than carp about the tenor of my
response, Fitzgerald needs to reflect on the serious academic issues of
accuracy that were raised in it.
I recognise that he is right in his argument that scholars construct the
object of their own research: we, after all, examine the things that
interest us and naturally want them to be important areas of study (no-one
ever thinks that they are writing a ‘minor book’ or studying an
‘insignificant topic!). However, when criticising others for their apparent
construction of an ‘industry’, he needs to reflect that he is doing much the
same thing. Those who make their careers out of criticising usages of terms
such as ‘religion’ and who argue that the construction of this term is
associated with and facilitates the ‘ideological conditions for global
capitalism’, are every bit as much – and often with ideological fervour –
constructing a particular field of study and discourse. This is a point that
requires some reflection on Fitzgerald’s part.
I certainly would have had little problem with criticisms if Fitzgerald
had focused on an evident flaw in my earlier work (and notably in
Religion in Contemporary Japan), that I had over-emphasised and perhaps
idealised aspects of the religious scene in Japan by overlooking some of its
disjunctive elements, such as conflict and sectarianism, that I have paid
more attention to recently. Yet I did have problems with his seeming
misunderstandings of what people such as Winston Davis and I have written,
in which Fitzgerald claims we have constructed an idealised view of religion
in Japan that fits into a nineteenth century-based belief-centred assumption
about what ‘religion’ is. By contrast, much of what both Davis and I write
about examines popular practices that were rarely seen as ‘core’ issues for
the study of religion in Japan (or elsewhere) in earlier times and that were
not readily included in the ‘belief’ centred notions of ‘religion’ that
Fitzgerald argues were constructed at Meiji. Indeed, much of what I have
written about (amulets, pilgrimages, prayers for benefits) relates to issues
that were written off during Meiji modernisation, as being ‘superstition’
and needing to be suppressed and detached from ‘modern’ conceptualisations
of ‘religion’. My argument for using the term ‘religion’ and focusing, in
this context, on aspects such as the above, was to get away from, not
reaffirm, such nineteenth century focuses.
Then again, scholastic disputes are often about claims of misreading, a
point emphasised by Fitzgerald when he complains that I have misunderstood
his argument, obfuscated the theoretical issues, and shown an apparent lack
of interest in a critical argument about ‘religion’, although he does not
show how or why. Such claims are, of course, an easy way of evading the
problems I (and Michael Shackleton) have raised, but they are scarcely a
sound academic response. I leave it to readers to judge whether I have
misunderstood or avoided Fitzgerald’s arguments – or whether I found them
less than convincing or useful as an academic tool, because of their evident
flaws and because they are so locked into a particular ideological stance
that they offer little room for serious discussion. My response certainly
engaged with the seeming division between ‘practice’ and ‘belief’, and
emphasised that in my view ‘religion’ was useful as a concept because,
unlike ‘ritual’, it offered scope for discussions about both practice and
belief. Equally, I raised a number of problems with the term ‘ritual’ that
have not been addressed in his response.
Fitzgerald’s suggestion that I appear to lack interest in debates about
religion is a misconception: what he is effectively saying is that I have
different interests from him in this context. While he is interested in
discussing how a particular interpretation of ‘religion’ has developed, and
while he has built a career around critiquing a particular ideological
conceptualisation and, as he terms it, reification of ‘religion’ that has
roots in the nineteenth century, I am more interested in how the term has
developed in contemporary usage and moved away from (as I have put it) this
nineteenth century straitjacket. I have been especially interested in
Japanese academic thinking on such issues because it seems to me to be a
fertile area for discussion and because it provides perhaps the most
striking example, outside of the Western world, of the formation of an
academic discipline centred around the study of religion. As a result, I
have published numerous reviews and review articles focused on Japanese
scholarship and shūkyōgaku (including a review article on the subject
in press), participated in various panels on the subject (see, e.g. Isomae
2003: 17-18) and written, for example, about the relationship between
shūkyō and bunka, and between concepts such as shūkyō and
shinkō in Japan (Reader 1991, 2000)1.
My current theoretical interests in interpretations and conceptualisations
of ‘religion’ and shūkyō are also more focused on contemporary issues
and debates, particularly in Japan, especially in the context of how they
relate to issues of civil rights and attempts to define (or re-categorise)
certain types of movement either as ‘religions’ or not as the case may be –
a point that is of some major concern in the post-Aum era in Japan2.
If I may be criticised for being more interested in these contemporary
issues than in the formation of the field in the past, then so be it, but
equally, of course, in the same light Fitzgerald might be criticised for
seemingly not being aware or interested in how the field is developing in
areas such as Japan in which he has a declared interest, and especially in a
context in which civil rights issues (see footnote 2) may be at stake.
I find other of Fitzgerald’s responses to be problematic, notably his
complaint that I have, in his view, used ‘Japanology’ to reply to him.
Indeed I used a number of Japanese materials and examples, but then his
article focused on and examined Japan. If one is to make claims about the
use or otherwise of Japanese terms (e.g. riyaku, shūkyō) then
it is important to ensure that such claims are factually grounded, and it is
simply disingenuous to dismiss a serious request for academic accuracy as
some form of flight into the obscurantism of Japanology.
Equally problematic is Fitzgerald’s claim that I have not read his work
and rely instead on Shimada’s assessment of it. Here again Fitzgerald relies
on unsubstantiated assumption rather than clear evidence. If he had done the
latter he might have noted, as readers of my initial response can readily
verify, that I based my response both on his article and his book (which
also contains the gist of other articles that he cites, including his review
article) and that I cite from the latter in a number of places, identify
problems with it, and show how and where the article reiterates parts of the
book. It would have been hard to have displayed such an awareness of the
book’s contents without having read it. Space prevented an extended excursus
into the problems I found with the book, especially since my rejoinder was
to his article. Hence it seemed a reasonable technique to me, to summarise
problems with his book by citing Shimada’s critical review, which made many
of the points I made in my article. Doing this also indicated that my
criticisms of his book should not be seen as the aggrieved response from
someone who had been attacked, but as a reflection of feelings that had been
felt by other scholars such as Shimada.
Shūkyō , Religion, and Historical Problems
Having commented on some of Fitzgerald’s complaints, I will now turn to
some of the more substantive issues that are raised by the use of the term
shūkyō and also by the issues raised in some of the historical work
he mentions, such as Kuroda Toshio’s and Isomae Jun’ichi’s work. Here again,
I think the crux of our dispute relates not so much to theory as to matters
of historical focus. This difference of views may be because of our
different backgrounds and academic training, his in anthropology and mine
initially in history. In my view, historical processes are rarely only about
disjuncture, whereas it appears that for Fitzgerald they are primarily about
disjunctions. The arrival of Westerners into Japan was clearly a historical
watershed, one Fitzgerald sees as an event through which everything changed
in intellectual and political terms, and in which the hitherto unknown
category the ’modern’ appeared, along with such notions as ‘the modern
category of religion’. He thus sees Tokugawa and Meiji as occupying
‘profoundly different worlds’. Conversely, I do not see these as quite so
dramatically different, nor do I view the changes of the mid-nineteenth
century as a wholly disjunctive event, but one that, besides changing much
and bringing many innovations, also served as a catalyst to processes such
as modernisation, that were already emerging in Tokugawa Japan and that also
built upon Japanese understandings of Western knowledge and thought that
were present prior to the 1850s3.
My observations – and these, too, I would suggest, are evident in Michael
Pye’s work that I cited in my initial response – is that, while Meiji period
discussions and political considerations related to the opening of Japan and
its development as a modern nation-state, incorporated some new or hitherto
unexplored notions into the conceptualisation of ‘religion’ (e.g. the notion
of private individual spiritual autonomy that had barely been linked with
shūkyō beforehand (see Shimazono 2004: 200), they also built on existing
elements that were useful to this process. This does not mean that ‘the
modern category of religion’ (and I would question whether there is such a
singular thing) existed as a wholesale entity in pre-Meiji Japan, but that
there were existent intellectual formulations that facilitated both the ways
in which the term ‘religion’ was translated into Japanese, and the ways in
which an emerging conceptualisation of shūkyō, in the Meiji era and
beyond, developed. Pye has drawn attention to Tominaga’s influence in this
context, and others such as Shimazono Susumu (2004) have also pointed to
Tominaga’s influence in the growing use of Bukkyō (a term implying
teaching and doctrine) as a normative term for Buddhism (along with or
displacing butsudō and buppō, both of which imply a focus more
on practice) in the Tokugawa period and, indeed, to the use of the suffix –kyō
as a referent that pointed to a concept of religion4.
As Shimazono points out, the tradition of recognising and categorising a
number of different traditions in Japan – namely Confucianism, Shinto and
Buddhism – had a long history evident, for example, in Kūkai’s 797 tract
Sankyō Shigi with its references to the ‘three teachings’ sankyō
(2004:194), a term used also by Tominaga. The use of the suffix –kyō
in such contexts points to an understanding of conceptualised traditions
which it was possible – as Tominaga’s work shows – to study and on which to
make critically evaluative comments5.
This notion of ‘three teachings’ also rests on notions of exclusion as well:
one should not assume that all ‘pre-modern’ societies lacked notions of
distinction, categorisation or, indeed, of exclusion.
While Fitzgerald cites Kuroda Toshio’s work, which was vital in producing
a rethink of old notions about the relationship of Buddhism and Shinto, to
provide historical support for his claims, he is doubtless aware that
Kuroda’s stance is itself coming under some challenge now. The work of Mark
Teeuwen, along with John Breen and Bernhard Scheid (Breen and Teeuwen 2000,
Teeuwen and Scheid 2002) has taken us beyond Kuroda’s work towards a more
nuanced understanding of Shinto both before and after Meiji. While Kuroda, a
historian who has been described by Teeuwen and Scheid (2002: 198) as having
little interest in Shinto, presented a rather disjunctive analysis of Shinto
as a tradition constructed in the modern, i.e. Meiji, era, Teeuwen and
Scheid have shown that Shinto is a term relating to attempts to impose a
‘unifying framework upon disparate kami cults, or at creating a distinct
religious tradition by transforming local kami cults into something bigger’
(Ibid.: 199). They show that the term Shinto ‘had gained wide acceptance as a
designation for an autonomous religious tradition’ before the Edo period –
used, for example by priests involved in the creation of Yoshida Shinto in
the late fifteenth century, who used the term as a ‘self-designation for
their own religious system’ (Ibid.: 202). The history of ‘Shinto’ - transformed
(again) at Meiji but not ‘invented’ then – in their version, is a series of
attempts at ‘controlling kami worship by theological and discursive means’
in ways that were ‘always in pursuit of a unifying conception.’ (Ibid.: 202-3).
Their argument, then, is that one should not see Shinto as ‘just’ a modern
invention, but that the modern, i.e. Meiji and beyond, emergence of a
discourse on Shinto represented a further stage, given weight by political
considerations, in a continuing process that has long centred on the attempt
to formulate a distinct tradition that can be set apart from (for example)
Buddhism.
Much other research on pre-Meiji Japan also suggests that the notion of
disjunctive watersheds and the formation of profoundly different worlds,
overstates matters. I was struck, for example, by Helen Hardacre’s recent
study of religion and society in pre-Meiji Japan, which is based on shrine
and temple documents and records, and in which she comments on how many of
the issues and themes scholars tend to see as characterising modern Japanese
religions, were forged in the Edo period (Hardacre 2002: xv-xvi). Even
issues such as the apparent development of rationalist attacks on
‘superstition’ that characterise the Meiji era, may not be simply the
product of a modernity that entered Japan after 1853: while authorities and
the newly-formed mass media of the earlier Meiji era, for example, railed
against pilgrims as the products of irrational superstition, such views were
not all that new. Laws and decrees promulgated by various fiefdoms in
Shikoku to control and regulate pilgrims in the Edo era had similar
connotations. Tokugawa Japan, in other words, also manifested notions of
concern and prohibition relating to activities that offended against
rational sensibilities. Rationalism and attacks on ‘superstition’ were not
necessarily just products of the modern, post-Meiji Restoration, period or
of the incursion of Western cultural forces.
Of course, a response to the above would doubtless be that Fitzgerald is
speaking of intellectual conceptualisations and idealisations of ‘religion’
as a category, while the examples I have cited, are primarily about
practice. Yet one has, I would argue, to incorporate notions of practice
into any assessment of change in the pre- and post-Meiji Restoration
periods. Moreover, I would suggest that the above points seriously question
Fitzgerald’s conceptualisation of profoundly different worlds, upon which
his arguments about the construction of ‘religion’ and his views of the
modern, are based. Neither ‘Shinto’ nor ‘Buddhism/bukkyō were modern
inventions or products of the Meiji period: rather, that period produced
further levels of conceptualisation that built on notions in existence from
earlier eras. So, too, was the case with shūkyō/religion.
My problem with Fitzgerald’s work here remains as before: that it is
based too much in a monolithic perspective that is founded in a particular
ideological position that has been adopted without great recourse to
historical matters and is founded more in assumption than anything else.
Fitzgerald speaks of ‘the modern category of religion’ as if there were a
singular definition and category of the term that constitutes the modern,
yet this is a highly dubious assumption, both now and in the nineteenth
century. Fitzgerald appears not to recognise that there have been
developments in the field both in the west and Japan to mean that any notion
of a singular notion of ‘the’ category is itself a matter of contention. In
the nineteenth century, too, it is questionable whether such a singular
category could be operative, especially if associated, as he argues, with
the baggage (e.g. notions such as the separation of church and state) that
he assigns to it. ‘Religion’ simply did not, in the nineteenth century,
uniformly mean or imply separation of church and state, as is shown by the
use of the term in European countries (e.g., England and Denmark) where one
found national churches and no constitutional separation of religion and
state.
As to the ‘separation from the secular’, as I have noted in my earlier
response, there were clear understandings in pre-Meiji Japan about places
and situations where the places of this world (i.e. the ‘secular’) and those
associated with sacred traditions (the ‘religious’) could be demarcated. I
would argue that since one of the demarcations of who could and who could
not enter into such places, related to their categorisation as ‘religious’
(a term, as I noted previously, has long referred to those who have taken
ordinations in monastic orders), one could use the term ‘religious’ in this
context just as one might use the ‘sacred’. It seems that Fitzgerald is
seeking to distinguish between the religious and the secular on one hand,
and the sacred and profane on the other, which is a fair enough attempt to
create modes of classification, but it is a distinction that (with his
frequent shifts between terms, ranging from the secular to the
‘non-religious’) was not clear in the original article.
It will be critical to his project to examine the notion of the ‘secular’
and the extent to which this term and concept had roots and meanings prior
to the modern period. This would certainly involve some excursus, in Japan,
into Buddhist texts and polemics (since this is a tradition that has
consistently used a language of differentiation between the realms of the
sangha, and the world of ordinary people) but it would also involve some
interesting studies of several branches of thought and analysis within
Japanese studies of religion. The sacred-profane issue has, of course, been
closely associated with many earlier theoretical studies of ‘religion’ (shūkyō)
in Japan, notably in the work of Hori Ichirō (of course profoundly
influenced by Eliade) and various scholars who identify themselves with
shūkyō minzokugaku such as Miyake Hitoshi, much of whose earlier work
associated the ‘structure of Japanese religion’ (Nihon shūkyō no kōzō)
with notions of the sacred and profane (e.g. Miyake 1974: this notion is
also present albeit not in such distinct terms, in Miyake’s later
theoretical discussions, notably Miyake 1989). My sense is that the notion
of the sacred-profane offers little more in conceptual terms than do the
terms religion and shūkyō, but I look forward to Fitzgerald’s explorations
on the subject, since they offer the potential for advancing the field in
many ways.
In arguing his point about the term shūkyō (which I think remains
critical in this debate) Fitzgerald cites a lecture by Isomae Jun’ichi – a
lecture that, incidentally, restates the argument made in the first part of
Isomae’s generally admirable study of the formation of the academic study of
religion in Japan (Isomae 2003). Yet, while Isomae’s work is exceptionally
strong in its historical focus on academic studies after Meiji, and
especially in the last decade or so of the nineteenth century through to the
ideological premises upon which reformulations of religious policy in the
early Shōwa were based, it is less so on what preceded the Meiji
Restoration. Thus, Isomae offers little or no discussion of the uses of the
terms under discussion, and notably shūkyō, prior to Meiji. Isomae,
too, similarly to Fitzgerald, appears to not pay much attention to
subsequent and especially post-war developments of shūkyōgaku – or to
recognise that such developments have occurred and that the modern (i.e.,
late 20th/early 21st century) field is not coterminous with the late
19th/early 20th century one6.
Neither Isomae nor Fitzgerald have examined pre-Meiji uses of shūkyō
or of conceptualisations associated with it, to any degree. What Fitzgerald
does is claim that the term was ‘relatively obscure term’, as ‘occurring in
a few obscure texts’ and as kanji that have ‘been found together’ (as if
their joining was some lexicological accident). But what evidence is there
to substantiate these claims of obscurity? Usages in such sources as the
Buddhist canon and in Zen and Tendai texts, widely known within those
traditions, might be ‘obscure’ if one is not cognisant of textual traditions
and the debates that occurred within Buddhism and between Buddhist sects and
factions throughout pre-Meiji Japan, or if one is unaware of Japanese
intellectual discussions and understandings of the Buddhist tradition, but
this does not mean that they are ‘obscure’ or that their usage is
accidental. The uses of the term as a referent for Buddhism – and the
discussion by Shimazono (above) showing that shūkyō and Bukkyō
were significant prior to Meiji – present a rather different picture, and
make one wonder whether the label of ‘obscurity’ has been assigned to
shūkyō by Fitzgerald less on academic grounds than ideological ones that
manifest his need to think of shūkyō as an ‘obscure’ term prior to
Meiji, because otherwise his case unravels.
Moving beyond Isomae’s work one could cite the more recent, and more
nuanced, analysis of Shimazono (2004), cited earlier, in which Shimazono
shows that shūkyō was not an invented or newly constructed term in
Meiji, that it was used quite early on (from 1871) in government documents
as a translation for ‘religion’ and that the intellectual environment of the
period was such that the use of this word was ‘easily chosen’ (erabareyasui)
as a referent for ‘religion’. Shimazono’s discussion (2004: 190-191) of the
historical derivations and intellectual milieu, associated with organised
traditions (e.g. Bukkyō/ Buddhism), within which the term had
resonance, indicates that the conjunction of the two ideograms hardly
represented some form of accidental linkage or emergence from obscurity.
There appears to be, here, further evidence of the points Pye and I have
made – that one should not see the concept of ‘religion’ as indicated by the
term shūkyō, as something wholly new and disjunctive in the
mid-nineteenth century. In such terms, I suggest that the transition between
the pre-modern and the ‘modern’ is not quite as dramatic as is implied by
Fitzgerald and that there were enough tools in the pre-Meiji Japanese
intellectual armoury to be aware of the distinctions contained in the
terminology that came to the fore in public life at Meiji.
Categories and Important Questions of Definition
Although, in the above, I have emphasised various criticisms of
Fitzgerald’s perspectives and arguments, this does not mean that I do not
recognise that there are some substantive questions raised in the work that
he, Isomae and others have done. Fitzgerald is certainly right in alerting
us to making us think about whether our categories are specifically modern
in nature and based in ideological constructs (a point I would agree with to
a degree in earlier times but which I think is far less so in the
contemporary era). I have become acutely conscious of how, in some quarters,
focusing on ideological constructs can lead to unhelpful idealisations and
mystifications of the issues – a point that is evident in some of the
discussions about violence in religious contexts that have emerged in recent
times. This issue, of course, is one of the more pertinent issues of the
day, an area I have been much involved in since the mid-1990s, but which has
become especially high profile post-September 11th 2001. Amidst the many
useful discussions of the topic one can also see numerous examples of the
ideologically fixed reification of issues of which Fitzgerald complains –
reifications and idealisations that, indeed, produce or affirm an
essentialised category (‘religion’) which is implicitly rich in value
judgements about what ‘religion’ ‘is’. For example, Charles Kimball’s book
When Religion Becomes Evil (2002) provides us with a check-list of
the warning signs of what might occur in this production of evil – signs
that are clearly constructed with a mind to what ‘authentic’ religion looks
like (quite a lot like an idealised ‘Sound of Music’ version of Christianity)
and that ‘show’ that new and alternative movements clearly tend towards the
inauthentic and dangerous. In such contexts, there is clear evidence of the
reification of ‘religion’ founded in a particular and fixed model. It is
perhaps ironic that, while I have been trying to argue against such
idealisations on the one hand, I find myself accused, on the other, of being
part of the same ideological process.
Fitzgerald, too, is right to admonish us to be careful about how far we
stretch the term, and about how one can end up using the term as an
arbitrary marker that means whatever anyone wants it to at any moment: the
conjunction of the terms ‘religion’ and football’ serves as a good example
here of how readily one can overdo the scope and use of the former term. Yet
I would add a caution here, in the context of Fitzgerald’s continuing focus
on practice and his critique of religion as a belief-centred category. The
problem in this context is such associations (e.g. football and religion)
are facilitated through a focus on practice and in interpretations of
religion that centre on practice and ritual, rather than on those that
incorporate issues of faith, belief, doctrine and ethics. While one can
‘analyse’ a football match (the clothes, symbols, moments of agony and
ecstasy) as a performative ritual replete with symbolic meanings, one would
struggle to extend the analogy if one had to take account of doctrines,
beliefs, notions of spiritual beings and so on. In other words, going down
the path of focusing solely on practice, or using concepts such as ritual,
does not allow much scope for making degrees of differentiation between,
say, football and Buddhism.
This is a problem I encountered in the early 1990s, when I started to go
down the route of focusing on behaviour and practice to the exclusion of all
else. Just after writing Religion in Contemporary Japan I started to
examine various actions and acts of etiquette, such as bowing, taking off
one’s shoes before entering the house, and other rituals of everyday life as
markers of ‘religiosity’ (a term that I used then and find awkward and
problematic now) in Japan (see, e.g. Reader 1991, 1996)7.
Yet, as I was going down this route (effectively a ‘practice and ritual is
all’ route) I came to realise that that it was leading me (and, I would
argue, others who have discussed and developed notions such as ‘implicit
religion’8) to attribute too much to
the notion of ‘religion’, effectively ending up by saying everything was
religious – a position that I now find no more useful than the reverse, of
total denial of the notion of the religious. Critiques of the notion of
‘religion’ and the often slack methodological perspectives found in the
field, have been useful in making people such as myself to be careful about
the extent to which we were expanding the scope of the term ‘religion’ until
it became as intellectually problematic as the idealised reifications that I
have criticised in work such as that of Kimball.
Yet if Fitzgerald has viable points to make in these areas, I remain
concerned that he remains too hooked on a specific, fixed interpretation of
‘religion’ that was prevalent in nineteenth century contexts (but that was
never quite the single reified unitary category that he proclaims it to be,
and that was not purely a modern western imposition on Japan) and too little
attuned to the modern (by which I mean, contemporary) transformations of the
terminology. I think that he is arguing for too narrow a remit and
ultimately too parochial a context for ‘religion’ – one that seeks to bind
it back into its nineteenth century straitjacket rather than liberating it
and enabling it to embrace practice and belief. By emphasising the notion of
a singular modern concept of religion, he is artificially creating a
monolithic meaning for the term – one that I do not think can be proven to
have existed as a universally accepted term or category. While there may be
advantages in adopting this approach (it might spare us more books trying to
categorise via a series of reified entities and a variety of numerical
dimensions), it has many disadvantages too – notably that it neglects the
point that words and ideas change.
I think we should recognise that the term has changed in nuance and has
broader meanings than it did then, and that as scholars working in the (post)modern
age we should recognise those meanings while being cautious about extending
them so far that the term loses all intellectual coherence. One should
accept that, even if there was a monolithic nineteenth century construction
of ‘religion’ as a generic term of discourse, and even if this term was
imported lock, stock and barrel as a wholly new concept into Japan (points I
have disputed above), this does not mean that nowadays the terms and
meanings remain the same, nor that contemporary usage is necessarily founded
in an ideological discourse of colonialism. Contemporary scholarship in
Japan has liberated the term shukyō from earlier belief-centric
limitations and such developments have been a positive contribution to the
field that have enabled us to push further our understandings and conceptual
frameworks. Searching for alternatives or other terms on the grounds that
‘religion’ and shūkyō had particular meanings once, seems to be
highly problematic, especially given the inherent terminological debates
that will centre around any other term, whether ritual or whatever: it does
not seem as helpful to me to argue about and try to keep ‘religion’ locked
into a past meaning, as it is to continue to question and test the
parameters of the term through modern usage.
One final point I would like to make is that, in this fog of argument,
both Fitzgerald and I are, in different ways, expressing our uneasiness over
terminologies. My argument is that, in this muddle of terms, we still need
to use words of reference. They may not be precise, and many may be
associated with various forms of historical baggage. Yet one has to both
note that terms do change and develop (as ‘religion’ did from the 17th
century to the 19th, in one context, and as it has in subsequent eras too)
and that one continues to need to use some terms of reference. When I am
writing about pilgrims who tell me of their faith in Kōbō Daishi, about the
miracles that have happened to them, and about how they have done a
particular pilgrimage several hundred times, I find terms such as
‘religious’ to be as useful a term as I have in my vocabulary, to refer to
what they are doing. Sacred, profane and ritual somehow do not quite get it9.
While terms such as religion and religious (and indeed Religious Studies,
with its ability to allow space for anthropologists, sociologists,
historians and many others) have their problems, this is not reason for
jettisoning them or getting caught in the trap of thinking that they only
mean what they meant a century ago or are associated solely with specific
ideological positions or political systems. Through continually examining
them and developing them within contemporary contexts there is scope for
advancement.
Like it or not, ‘religion’, like shūkyō is going to be around for
a while yet, and in order to deal with the situation one can use a variety
of approaches. One can argue against the terms (as does Fitzgerald) and
suggest alternative terminologies, although this merely, I think, leads to
other sets of problems of a similar sort, as I noted in my earlier comments
on ‘ritual’. Another way is to keep probing away at the term and its
parameters, and focus on using empirical investigation as a means of
building analytic frameworks. I would see the latter as more likely to get
us out of the intellectual cul-de-sac that I feel the critiques of
‘religion’ are leading us into. Doubtless Fitzgerald would argue otherwise.
I hope, at least, that in so doing, he will be alert to the important
historical and terminological matters in Japan that I have flagged up, since
they are highly relevant to the task he has set himself.
Notes
1. I should note also that the notion that shūkyō
is basically associated with ‘belief’ is highly problematic when one talks
to ordinary people. As Ama (1996) has noted, Japanese people tend to
associate shūkyō with formalised traditions, founders and
organisations, while, as I have discussed in Reader 2000, shūkyō
for many people conveys the sense of formalised structures and organisations
that have nothing or very little to do with faith or belief.
2. See Reader 2001 for a very brief
introduction to this issue, which is part of my current research. Since the
Aum Affair of 1995, a number of interest and pressure groups, from lawyers
and politicians, to various ‘anti-cult’ organisations, have sought to
redefine or reinterpret the notion of what a ‘religion’ (shūkyō)
is in Japan, in ways that will exclude and stigmatise certain types of
small-scale groups, particularly those coming from outside Japan, and that
could have profound civil rights issues. There are some parallels with the
pre-war period in this context, especially since there appears also to be an
underlying nationalist agenda to such moves, and this constitutes, in my
view, one of the most critical and important issues in the study of religion
in Japan today – far more so than discussions about the formation of the
field a century or more back.
3. There are numerous pointers to the
existence of a modernising process that pre-dated 1853, and that shows that
some of the underlying conditions of modernity already existed pre-Meiji.
One can point to the formation of intellectual culture and thought, the
emergence of a monetary nation-wide economic system and a banking system
that enabled the movement of capital around the country and facilitated
travel, the beginnings of a revolution in farming techniques and the
emergence of inventions that mechanised aspects of production, the emergence
of small-scale industrial style production, and the development of a
relatively widespread education system based in Buddhist temples that gave
Japan the highest literacy levels in the world pre-Meiji, and so on. One
could also note the emergence of new religions- often seen as a pointer to
the emergence of modernity, against which new religions are often
interpreted as reactions – at the turn of the nineteenth century as another
example of such developments that pre-date Meiji. One should also note that
the notion that the Japanese were unaware of Western intellectual
developments prior to the 1850s, is highly suspect. Besides the engagement
between cultures in the 16th and 17th centuries, there was, during the
Tokugawa period, a concerted attempt by the Japanese to study Western
thought and knowledge through the area of studies know as rangaku –
Dutch learning – and which introduced numerous Western concepts and ideas
into Japan.
4. It would require a far longer discussion
than space allows to deal with Fitzgerald’s suggestions that terms such as
‘Buddhism’ were themselves constructions that emerged from this same
nineteenth century encounter with the West. Suffice it to note here that the
term Bukkyō had served as a unifying concept in Buddhist circles for
a long time, used, for example, in the Shōbōgenzō the 13th century
magnum opus of Dōgen Kigen, founder of Sōtō Zen in Japan, with its famous
quotation about the relationship of learning about the self and learning
about Buddhism (bukkyō wo narau to iu no ha). While Buddhism in Japan
might only have been described as a ‘religion’ after the English language
entered the country (bringing with it many new words, the non-existence of
which beforehand did not mean that the objects did not exist) this does not
mean that there was no conceptualisation of Buddhism as an entity
beforehand. As I indicated in my earlier response, Buddhism was, pre-Meiji,
referred to shūkyō (indeed, Buddhist texts used the term as a form of
self-referencing) while sectarian traditions of Buddhism were also referred
to as shūkyō. This, at the very least, indicates that the application
of the term shūkyō to contexts of doctrine and reified tradition was
not purely a post-Meiji phenomenon.
5. Nor should one assume that the study and
critical analysis and intellectual evaluations of other traditions, was only
a modern notion associated with the West. There has been a long tradition in
Buddhism of doing such things, famously, for example at the Buddhist
‘university’ of Nalanada in northern India during the period (c.4th-8th
centuries CE) when Buddhism flourished there.
6. I develop these issues at length in a
review article in press for the Social Science Japan Journal (to be
published in April 2005) in which I discuss, alongside the many strengths of Isomae’s work, the various problems associated with his lack of discussion
of pre-Meiji issues and his problematic comments on post-war shūkyōgaku,
particularly in the context of the Aum Affair.
7. Indeed, in the ensuing discussion on the
first mentioned of these two papers (both delivered within a short time of
each other, though the latter was not published until some years later), one
Japanese scholar present complained that I was making everything into
religion, and that I even had effectively turned pachinko into a ‘religious’
practice, using the term pachinko shinkō as a jocular term for
what I was saying.
8. This term, of course, is especially
associated with the work of Edward Bailey and it should not, of course,
escape attention that Bailey and I share common academic roots, sharing the
same supervisor, Fred Welbourn, whose anthropological studies based in
Africa influenced us both. I did my postgraduate studies with Welbourn after
I had lived in West Africa for over a year, studied sociological and
anthropological approaches to the study of religion with him, and wrote a
dissertation on African death rituals. Bailey completed a PhD with Welbourn
on everyday religiosity. Both of us owe a debt to his thinking, our paths
crossed particularly because we had both worked with Welbourn, and his
influences can be perceived in both our work.
9. Indeed, one of the themes of my book in
press on Shikoku focuses on how notions of distinction (e.g. home and away,
sacred and profane) collapse in the context of pilgrimage practice,
especially when (as is often the case in Shikoku) pilgrims spend much of
their lives either on the road or associated with pilgrimage devotion and
practice. The book thus indicates the various problems with many normative
categories (e.g. sacred-profane) that have been widely used in studies of
pilgrimage.
References
Ama Toshimaro 1996 Nihonjin wa naze mushūkyō na no ka
(Tokyo: Chikuma Shinsho)
Breen, John & Teeuwen, Mark (eds.) (2000) Shinto in History:
Ways of the Kami, (Richmond, UK: Curzon Press)
Hardacre, Helen 2002 Religion and Society in Nineteenth-century
Japan: A Study of the Southern Kantō Region, Using Late Edo and Early Meiji
Gazeteers (Ann Arbor, USA: Center for Japanese Studies, University of
Michigan)
Isomae Jun’ichi 2003 Kindai nihon no shūkyō gensetsu to sono keifu:
shūkyō. kokka. Shintō (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten)
Kimball, Charles 2002 When Religion Becomes Evil (San
Francisco: Harper San Francisco)
McCutcheon, Russell T. 1997 Manufacturing Religion: The
Discourse on Sui Generis Religion and the Politics of Nostalgia (New
York and Oxford: Oxford University Press)
Miyake Hitoshi 1974 Nihon shūkyō no kōzō (Tokyo: Keiō
Tsūshin)
Miyake Hitoshi 1989 Shūkyō minzokugaku (Tokyo: Tokyo
Daigaku Shuppan)
Reader, Ian 1991 Shūkyō ni okeru Nihon bunka no ichi. In Kokusai
Nihon Bunka Kenkyū Senta (ed.) Sekai no naka no Nihon Vol.3 (Kyoto:
Kokusai Nihon Bunka Kenkyu Senta) pp. 117-135
Reader, Ian 1996 Des Pieds à la tête: étiquette et religion
implicite au Japon. Religiologiques 14, pp. 75-99
Reader, Ian 2000 Are wa shūkyō kore ga shinkō: genze riyaku to
nihon no shūkyō. In Miyata Noboru and Shintani Takanori (eds) Ōraikō:
Nihonjin no sei ryō shi (Tokyo: Shogakkan) April 2000 pp. 321-330
Reader, Ian 2001 Consensus shattered: Japanese paradigm shifts and
moral panic in the post-Aum era Nova Religio 4/2, pp. 225-234
Shimazono Susumu 2004 Kindai Nihon no okeru ‘shūkyō’ gainen no
juyō. In Shimazono Susumu and Tsuruoka Yoshio (eds.) Shūkyō saikō
(Tokyo: Perikansha) pp. 189-206
Teeuwen , Mark and Scheid, Bernhard 2002 Tracing Shinto in the
History of Kami Worship: Editors’ Introduction. Japanese Journal of
Religious Studies 29:3-4, pp. 195-207
About the author
Ian Reader is Professor in Religious Studies at
Lancaster University. His first degree
was in History at the University of Reading,
followed by several years of travelling in Asia, Africa and North and
Central America, before doing an MA on religion in Africa at
Bristol University, and a PhD at
Leeds University on the Sōtō Zen
Buddhist organisation in Japan. He taught for five years at Japanese
universities before working at the Scottish Centre for Japanese Studies at
the University of Stirling in
Scotland and at the Nordic Institute of Asian
Studies in Copenhagen Denmark. He has also been Visiting Professor at
the University of Hawaii. His books include Religious Violence in
Contemporary Japan: the Case of Aum Shinrikyō (Richmond UK and Honolulu,
USA: Curzon and the University of Hawaii Press), while his new book
Making Pilgrimages: Meaning and Practice in Shikoku will be published by
the University of Hawaii Press in February 2005. His wife Dorothy
is a professional translator of Danish, Swedish, Norwegian and Japanese, and
they have two children, Rosie and Philip.
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Copyright: Ian Reader
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