Chinese Lunar New Year (chunjie, 春节) is one of the most important festivals in the Chinese calendar that starts on the new moon in the lunar cycle – between the 21st of January and the 20thof February each year. In 2019, the lunar new year starts on the 5thof February, and it marks the beginning of the Year of the Pig.
The pig, which is named after the five elements- Metal, Water, Wood, Fire and Earth- is the last of the twelve zodiac animals and symbolises kindness and generosity. According to zodiac legend, the Jade Emperor threw a big party and decided that the order of the animals would be defined by their arrival to his party. The pig was late because it overslept, and so it became the last of all the animals in the zodiac.
The history of Lunar New Year started when ancient Chinese agrarian society counted the cycles of seasons from their planting experience, and the yearly celebration emerged with the creation of the calendar during the Shang Dynasty. The worshiping activities from this period form the current way the festival is celebrated, which include gifting food, clothes and harvest to the ancestors for blessings and peace at the end of each year. Other traditions are hanging red signs with the Chinese character fu, 福(“happiness”) on front doors along with red lanterns.
The Lunar New Year is one of the world’s most celebrated festivals taking place in countries such as Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and Cambodia. The New Year celebrations also results in the largest annual mass human migration in the world. As per the official estimate, the number of trips during chunyunin 2019 is expected to be 0.6 percent higher than 2018, with almost three billion trips to be made between January 21stand March 1st. According to Xinhua News Agency, to account for this mass travel period, China launched 10 new railways at the end of 2018 along with facial recognition software and ticket-less travel systems “to ease congestion and improve passenger movement at train stations.” (Gupta, 2019).
To all readers of the Confucian Weekly Bulletin, we wish you New Year happiness! (Xinnian kuaile, 新年快乐) for 2019.
The Japanese are an often misunderstood people. Arising from a land of paddy fields and feudal landlords about one hundred and fifty years ago, the Asia-Pacific has since come to experience Japan as an imperial aggressor in the Second World War and later an ‘economic miracle’ rising from the rubble of defeat. The cultural component of this miracle has been associated with Japan’s Confucian values of a strong work ethic and obedience to the government (Little & Reed, 1989), but other factors in Japan’s cultural history are – as we will see – also of interest. Japan became the world’s second largest economy until overtaken by China in 2010, and remains strong as the world’s third largest.
In the West, the idea of Japan has often been simplified and eroticised, with patronising and exotic nineteenth-century images of doll-like geishas, farmers with rice hats, and fearless samurai soldiers (Henshall, 2004). After the war, the images still remain strange, fantastical, and even repulsive– from sex robots and whale-culling to the widespread experience of loneliness resulting in rent-a-friend business across Japan.
Among Asian societies, in addition to the wartime atrocities of rape and mass murder, there is an acceptance that Japan has created a reputation for quality mass-produced goods in the global market. In many ways though, Japan is still a ‘fragile power’ as the country remains vulnerable to fluctuations in foreign policies and unpredictable natural disasters. Japan also imports 80 per cent of its energy and is dependent on value added exports for its wealth. This reality has moved the country into imperialism, war, and global trade at various times over the last century. It also calls into question who exactly are the Japanese: Are they peace-loving or war-like? Isolationist or expansionist? Open to other cultures or fearful to engage with others? To understand such a complex picture of Japanese society, it is important to examine the history, myths, and culture of Japan beyond the feudal nineteenth century where most history textbooks begin. This article will briefly examine the pre-Confucian, pre-Buddhist history and mythology to highlight how Japan’s fundamental characteristics have changed and developed over time.
Japanese Anthropology: A Mixture of Influences
According to archaeological accounts, there is evidence that humans existed around modern-day Japan at least 30,000 years ago, but it is unclear who these people were and how they survived (DeFelice, 2010). For Sergey Lapteff (2006), a specialist in the history of cultural exchange, there can be no doubt that the Japanese Palaeolithic period (kyūsekki jidai, 旧石器時代) derived from the larger Asian continent. It is known that around 10,000 years ago, there were gradual changes from the Palaeolithic to the “Jomon” cultural period (Jōmon, 縄文,translated as “rope pattern”), where the last clearly Palaeolithic phases are distinguished by the use of knife-shaped stone tools and stone points, while the first Jomon cultural phases started using punctuate-marked and nail-impressed pottery (Keally, 2009). Although migration from the larger continent never stopped during this period according to Hanihara Kazurō’s 1927 anthropological studies, the Japanese archipelago was already separated from the continent by the sea during the Jomon cultural period. This geographic factor would have had a significant influence on Jomon culture and as Lapteff (2006) notes, many of the pottery found in the sites that are believed to have belonged to the Jomon show features and distinct markings that have not been found anywhere else in north and south-east Asia.
However, in terms of Japanese ethnicity, there is no biological validity to the idea that the Japanese consist of one Jomon-type ethnicity since by the fourth century BCE, a new cultural period emerged (弥生時代, Yayoi jidai) when the Yayoi people, who are named after the neighbourhood in Tokyo where their homes were first found, began to grow rice and use metals like copper, which the earlier inhabitants did not use (Roberts, 2010). According to researchers like Curtis Andressen (2010) and Jim DeFelice (2010), the introduction of new technologies made of iron and bronze as well as artefacts such as mirrors, weapons, and coins suggest that the Yayoi would have come from China and Korea, or at least traded and interacted with people who did. While the exact nature of this migration pattern is still being investigated, Lapteff (2006) points out that during this period the highly developed and organised cultures of the Hemudu河姆渡and Liangzhu 良渚, located in the Yangtze River Delta of China, already had an established rice farming society and the same storage pits that they used were spreading into what is now the Korea peninsula, the Japanese archipelago, and southwards into Indochina.
The presence of wet rice agriculture in uncultivated areas of Japan had a significant impact on Japanese society. For one, rice provided the locals with a high level of food production, which led to an increase in population and expansion of the Yayoi to eastern parts of Japan. Although the Yayoi had no written records, the presence of agriculture would have resulted in high levels of cooperation to build large rice paddies and irrigation systems. This would have influenced Japan’s communal culture and possibly led to specialisation in labour and social stratification with the introduction of social classes and land ownership (Kanaseki & Sahara, 1976). Some of the earliest descriptions of Japan appear in Chinese historical records called “The History of the Kingdom of Wei”, produced around 300 CE, with an extended account of Japanese society (called “Wa” peoples) in a section that chronicles the various “barbarian” peoples on China’s borders. What is known from these accounts is that Japanese society experienced years of warfare under a shaman queen named Pimiko (or Himiko, 卑弥呼, 170–248 CE) over the Yamato people in today’s Nara prefecture. The presence of large burial mounds (called kofun, 古墳) from the extended battles during this period were a key sign that the Yamato clan was gaining power and influence over western and central Japan (Henshall, 2004).
Between the Yayoi peoples and the emergence of the Yamato clan, Japanese society had established a dependency on rice and fish, which forms the basic diet of Japan even today. While there are clear links between Chinese continental cultures and Japan, not all elements of the continental culture were adopted. For instance, Kanaseki and Sahara (1976) state that while there was an extension of the Jomon pottery techniques by the Yayoi, continental developments such as animal domestication, walled cities, and writing was not introduced right away or at all. A key factor to explain this phenomenon could be the different geographic realities of the Yayoi peoples compared to continental cultures. For example, the Yayoi people settled in areas along the coast, where villages were built on hilltops and mountainsides more than 100 metres above sea level. This would make building walled city structures and domestic farms difficult to maintain. Survival priorities during this time would have also limited the creation of a writing system since food production techniques were still being developed.
Early Mythology and Moral Attitudes
The origins of the Japanese writing system can be traced back to Chinese continental culture which codified largely pictographic glyphs into a unified writing style. These were further transformed over many centuries, and by the time the writing system was introduced to Japan by Buddhist monks from Korea, Japanese scholars started experimenting and adapting the kanji(漢字) into their own language (Heisig, 1977). It was during the period of the Yamato rulers that a dominant Japanese culture was being established and with the emergence of the writing system came various written mythologies and creation stories. Mythology plays an important role in constructing civilisations and cultural movements and from a historical-ethnographic perspective, allows groups to face problems and adapt to changing situations marked by temporality and human fragility against the natural elements (Morales, 2013). In other words, myths allow humans, both individually and as a collective, to transition“from chaos to cosmos” (Duch, 2002, p. 37). As the Yamato rulers gradually extended their rule over the archipelago through warfare and diplomacy, they justified their control by associating their clan with a story about the beginning of the world, linking the ruling family to creator gods. Eventually, such stories became central to the Shinto (Shintō, 神道, translated as ‘the way of the gods’), a belief system that involves worshipping kami, which can be understood as sacred spirits that take the form of things important to life, such as wind, rain, mountains, trees, and fertility (Hammer, 2018). Once writing was introduced to Japan, the Yamato oral traditions were recorded in the Kojiki (古事記, “Records of Ancient Matters”) and the Nihon Shoki(日本書紀, “Chronicles of Japan”), compiled in the eighth century.
One of the myths describes the beginning of the universe as a ‘chaotic mass like an egg’, where there was no division between heaven and earth. Once the purer part separated into heaven and the heavier, impure part of the mass became earth, a number of deities came into existence and they stood on the floating bridge of heaven, thrusting a jewelled spear (a phallic symbol) down into the ocean. As they raised the spear, some water dripped from it and two of the deities, Izanagi (‘He Who Invites’) and Izanami (‘She Who Invites’), turned this liquid into land. The two deities descended and began to populate earth. Numerous divine offspring were produced, not only by vaginal birth but from other bodily parts and even from bodily waste. The God of Fire is one deity born vaginally, and Izanami was burned to death during his birth. Distraught, Izanagi travelled to Yomi (the Land of the Dead), to try to bring Izanami back to the Land of the Living. However, Izanami became ashamed and angered when he saw her maggot-riddled body, and she chased him out of Yomi. As Izanagi bathed himself in a river to wash away the stench of death, deities emerged from his body parts, including the Sun Goddess Amaterasu (‘Light of Heaven’) and the Sea God Susano-o (‘Wild Male’). Izanagi sends Amaterasu to Takamagahara to rule over the heavens, while Susano-o is given the sea to rule. Susano-o, however, disobeys Izanagi, and ends up being banished. Before heading into exile, Susano-o visits Amaterasu in Takamagahara and at his suggestion they produce a number of children. Susano-o then torments Amaterasu by destroying her rice-paddies and smearing excrement on the walls of her palace. Amaterasu retreats into a cave, plunging the universe into darkness. The other deities try to lure her back out with a mirror and jewels. One goddess begins performing a lewd dance, exposing herself and making all the other deities laugh. Intrigued by the laughter, Amaterasu comes out from the cave and the other deities seize her and block the entrance to the cave with a boulder. In another tale, Susano-o finds a sword, which he later presents to his sister Amaterasu as a token of remorse. The sword, mirror, and jewels still form the imperial regalia of Japan in modern times. Susano-o’s son, Okuninushi, is credited with calming the wild land. A hero, he becomes the victim of numerous treacherous acts by his jealous father. Susano-o murders Okuninushi several times, but he is restored to life each time. Okuninushi’s sons eventually agree to let Amaterasu’s descendants rule the land. Her great-great grandson, Jimmu, becomes the first ruler of Japan.” (see Henshall, 2004, chapter 1).
The specific nature of this mythology provides an interesting commentary on life in ancient Japan, a world which was characterised by violence and death, where it was not uncommon for parents to kill or abandon their children.While cruelty and violence are seen in myths and early histories throughout various culture, what is distinctive about Japanese myths is the lack of moral judgement or education. For example, Susano-o, who plays the role of the deceiving, power-hungry trickster, is simply exiled by his father rather than condemned as evil. In that case, behaviour is accepted or rejected depending on the situation, not according to a set of universal principles that should guide all human interaction. For commentators like Yamamoto (1990), such an approach to morality is still present in contemporary Japan where there is extreme context dependency of judging moral actions. This context dependency is believed to be “governed by a morality based on mutual trust…[existing] in its most secure form, among intimates, among those who share a familiarity with one another’s concerns” (p. 451).
The use of these myths for political purposes shows up periodically in Japanese history, especially during the Meiji period in the nineteenth century. In the last century before the Pacific War, it was used to bind the Japanese together by appealing to ultranationalism. The current emperor, Akihito, is said to be the 125th direct descendant of Amaterasu (Jordan, 1996), and the worship of the sun by ultranationalists comes from associating the name ‘Japan’ with the corrupted forms of the Chinese word Jih-pen, which means ‘the place where the sun comes from’ or ‘the Land of the Rising Sun’. Such associations are linked with myths that explain the divine origins of the islands, and the geographic separation of the archipelago from the continent has led to the self-perception that the Japanese are very different from other nationalities, an attitude that still partly endures today, although younger people are increasingly much more internationalised.
The revival of Confucianism, spread of education, emergence of nationalism, and promotion of conformism and obedience, are all important factors in the formation of modern Japan. However, it is clear that from early times, Japan has always had unique cultural developments, often because of its diverse population origins and the racial mixture of its indigenous populations. The process of adapting outsider cultural elements is also what led to the development and success of today’s Japan, with the adoption of technologies such as agricultural techniques to writing systems. From its early stages, Japan was strongly influenced by China as were other countries in the regions further south, and while the idea of ‘Asia’ and ‘Asian cultures’ was later developed by outside influences like Jesuit missionaries during the sixteenth century, Japan interacted with the continent for most of its trade, communication, and cultural contact, meaning that many Asian cultures and societies developed similar basic characteristics. It was this cultural similarity that led a number of intellectuals and politicians to argue for “Asian” solidarity– a theme that is still prominent, particularly in China’s “common destiny” slogans.
Japan’s isolated and rugged geographic reality had a direct influence on the current social values of mutual respect and cooperation, especially since survival is relatively difficult in places with few natural resources and frequent natural disasters. The avoidance of social conflict is matched with the historical struggle of power between clans, and while Japan is a democracy today, the centralised hierarchical ruling is still a factor in Japanese political culture and decision-making. As American anthropologist Ruth Benedict noted, the dichotomy between the chrysanthemum and the sword and the ‘soft’ and ‘hard’ aspects of Japanese culture are part of the nation’s historical development, and without these mutually complementary sides of its culture, Japanese society would have not been able to survive to this day.
By Cindy Minarova-Banjac
The Nordic Association for China Studies will hold their 14th Biennial Conference on the 13-14th of June 2019, at the University of Bergen. The Conference theme is When China Faces the World: Engagement or Disengagement?
The Nordic Association for China Studies (NACS, 北歐中華研究會) was established in 1991. NACS is an academic network for Nordic scholars, teachers and students specialising in Chinese Studies with a focus on humanities and social sciences. The Conference will be held in Bergen, the scenic ‘Norwegian Capital of Fjords’ (see https://www.uib.no/fremmedsprak/118656/nordic-association-china-studies-conference-2019 and https://nacsorg.wordpress.com/).
Although mass tourism is one of the most lucrative industries in the world due to the growing competition between destinations, and the major source of foreign exchange earnings that tourism gives to countries, increasingly critics have pointed to tourism’s negative social, economic, cultural, and environmental impacts. For example, by overusing scarce water and land resources and failing to regulate rapid population growth in already congested areas, locals in Venice and Barcelona have held anti-tourist protests in the past years calling for a cap on tourist numbers (Kettle, The Guardian, 2017). This has led to a call for alternative forms of tourism such as ‘cultural tourism’. As Scott (1997) noted, the reason for this shift from mass to cultural tourism is that capitalism has moved into a phase “in which the cultural forms and meanings of its outputs become critical if not dominating elements of productive strategy” (p. 323). In other words, the commodification of culture’s material and symbolic resources provides a highly mobile and arguably infinite form of capital supply.
On the one hand, this model can be considered to be attractive to some local communities. Van der duim, Peters, and Akama’s (2005) study on cultural tourism in African communities reveals that host communities cannot always be seen as victims to predetermined global development processes of mass tourism. Through the initiation of various cultural tourism activities, groups like the Maasai people in Kenya and Tanzania have acted as agents with power to influence tourism projects that have become a key source of livelihood for their communities. These observations reveal that the power dynamics of cultural tourism are not a one-way flow as they often are with mass tourism, and shared power dynamic is reflected by the negotiations that often take place between tour guides and local representatives, as well as between tourists and locals when it comes to buying souvenirs or hosting tourist families.
For governments too, the cultural tourism model is an attractive alternative to the negative reputation and impact of mass tourism since cultural tourism can easily be tied to the idea of a national ‘brand’. In India, cultural tourism was the main push behind the rise of the tourism sector, with the promotion of India as a land of ancient history and culture in the 2002 Incredible India!campaign. Since launching the campaign, India improved its travel and tourism competitiveness by increasing its position from 65thof 40thin The Travel & Tourism Competitiveness Report 2017 (World Economic Forum, 2017, p. 4). However, as Reena Gupta (2018) noted in her analysis of the Incredible India!campaign, the use of cultural tourism as national branding has become more of a reflection of an imagined identity rather than reality itself. In some of the most recent Incredible India!advertisements, Indians are not fully present on screen as when they are shown, they mostly represent unknown characters whose purpose is to welcome and dance for the western woman at the centre of the tourist story. Therefore, even in the cultural tourist setting where a place’s history, landscape, and people should take centre stage, ethnicity and culture is presented as the “seasoning that can liven up the dull dish that is mainstream white culture” (hooks, 1992, p. 424). In other words, the cultures that are being shown and projected are not neutral: they are related to how governments and the global tourist market construct and understand a place, and the packaging of this is aimed towards a particular western (but increasingly, growing middle class, eastern) market.
This raises the question about who owns and is able to access culture. In his analysis on cultural politics and tourism, Jim Butcher (2005) states that museums, galleries, and heritage sites are often “regulated through state culture policy, policy that is very much the product of a wider contested cultural politics” (p. 21). This contestation plays out between marginalised and dominant groups in society, and it is usually the case where the dominated group either directly or indirectly fights against or accepts the dominant group’s historical narrative as the natural state of the world. For instance, in Western Europe, the history of state socialism has been externalised to the current neo-liberal socio-economic model, where most museums in former Soviet countries have been revamped to the extent that the nuances (and sometimes positive experiences) of life under communism are rarely shown (Molden, 2016, p. 126). Although pro-communist, pro-Soviet groups still exist throughout Europe, especially in Eastern European countries, it is rare that the positive experiences of Soviet times will be shared in official cultural tourism sites.
In that case, there is always a connection between cultural experience and the structural context of power relations, especially between those who want to maintain or change the dominant cultural framework and those that just passively live in it. The dominant group establishes this reality through the creation of a distinct language and symbolic imagery that legitimizes the mainstream cultural framework which cultural tourism programs operate in. With India, the fantasy created by the ministry of tourism and culture is that Westerners and upper-class Indians, particularly the diaspora, can consume Indian things without needing to deal with the agency and potential resistance from working-class Indian people, who are increasingly being overworked (Gill, 2018). This represents a form of “internal orientalism” since Indians themselves depict their country as “a place of romance, exotic beings, haunting memories and landscapes, remarkable experiences” (Said, 1970, p. 9) within the framework of tourist capitalism.
In China, a similar phenomenon is occurring. The celebration and promotion of China’s “Confucian renaissance” is marked by the emergence of the upscale Confucian-themed Nishan Akademia hotel in Qufu, the birthplace of Confucius. Opened in 2016, guests can dress up in traditional Hanfu clothing from the Han dynasty, similar to those featured in Chinese television dramas. Once robed, activities offered to the guests include practicing calligraphy, playing traditional games including touhou, and visiting the Confucius museum. Accommodation at Nishan Akademia includes 47 stand-alone houses, some of which cost more than 10,000 yuan (US$1,440) a night (Yau, SCMP, 2018). These representations, marketed at wealthy Chinese and Western audiences, show a very uncritical, uncontroversial side of Confucianism that fits properly into the (national) master narrative of China’s history and culture.
Beyond Shandong province, China’s cultural tourism is also marketed around the commodification of various “exotic” minority (minzu) cultures. The term minzu, roughly translated as minority or ethnic group, is a political classification that includes the Han Chinese majority and the 55 officially recognised ethnic minority groups throughout China. While all these groups are defined by a common language, territory, and economy, belonging to the greater category of zhonghua minzu (pan-Chinese national identity), non-Han ethnic minorities are both the object of exoticism and fear, which makes them suitable marketable products for cultural tourism. Swain (1990) writes that most of China’s minority groups live in regions that have important natural resources and are on strategic international borders, and that domestic tourists are encouraged to visit these areas for the scenery and to observe the ‘curious’ indigenous people. A China Reconstructs(May 1988) article describes the difference in park accommodations in Tibet between the three state guest houses and the small inns run by Tibetan families, where the inns facilities are described as “limited, but the experience is unique”. Indigenous groups in these areas often become a generic category, marked only by their distinct traditional clothes. In Hainan island, where the centre is being developed for cultural tourism, hotels, minority restaurants, and tours into Wuzhi mountain minority villages feature minority women as hostesses for guests, which is part of the larger “primitive” package that tourists are promised. In the article, “Hawaii of the Other” (Bier, 1998), a researcher is quoted as saying that development in Hainan Island is for show. Away from the tourist sites, “the central government is not providing money to improve standards of living”. A similar finding was also noted by associate professor Trine Brox (2017), who conducted a mixed qualitative and quantitative study on the biggest minzumarket in Chengdu and found that although sold as Tibetan cultural products, many of the shops sold goods not made in Tibet or by Tibetans and most of the shops were not run by Tibetans themselves.
There is also a sexual and gendered factor in China’s cultural tourism. In many mass media images, indigenous girls and women appear next to or communing with animals, picking fruits, and standing near waterfalls and streams. Their carefree nature is depicted by them laughing and they are dressed in decorative costumes that help identify them with their nationality. While the elaborateness of their clothing is associated with adulthood, these women are often featured with physical features of a child, linking nativity to innocence and naivety. The effect is that these women are infantilized and made to be the object of fascination. In the article Gender and Internal Orientalism in China, Schein (1997) highlights that these imaginings made minority women a powerful attraction. Also associated with repulsion and fear along with desire, it was not uncommon to be told by a Chinese urbanite that women “there” do not cover their breasts, or that young indigenous people engage in “socially sanctioned orgies” (p. 77). The idea is that the eroticised ‘other’ is placed into the social imaginary as being both dangerous and alluring, especially for upper-class city people.
Although there can be a difference between mass tourism from other, most focused forms of tourism such as cultural tourism – which can promote economic development for indigenous groups if these groups are in charge of the decision-making and owning the processes of promoting cultural continuity (Swain, 1990) – in China, the unequal power dynamics between ethnic groups, the central government, and tourist capitalism creates a rather complex picture. It is the state which defines who and what constitutes an ethnic group and the tourist market that defines who is or will be an upcoming cultural commodity. While there are definite economic benefits in promoting cultural tourism, including stimulating the national economy and attracting foreign capital, it is questionable whether these profits flow back into the ethnic communities whose cultural products are being marketed, and whether the cultural picture that is being packaged for tourists is authentic or part of the imagined cultural tourism experience.
By Cindy Minarova-Banjac
Part 13 (concluding video) of the 2018 interview with Dr. Alan Chan at Bond University, Australia. Trust and being trustworthy plays a central role in Confucian ethics. In the Analects, for example, Confucius frequently uses the term xin 信 to discuss the importance of trust in various social and political contexts in ancient China. In this final section of the interview, trust in Western and Eastern perspectives is discussed.