Thursday, March 14, 2013

Conferencing Time Part II

And here's the second paper--again, just copying and pasting at the moment, so ignore any formatting issues. Enjoy, leave feedback, and I'm sure you'll be able to see the differences and some inconsistencies from the last one to this one. One day I'll edit them and stitch them together. Or I'll can them and start all over...


Shifting Viewpoints of History Through Political Theory:
Applying Constructivist Concepts to Describe Daimyo State Behavior

Conferencing Time!

Hello everyone--it's been a pretty busy few weeks at work, and I'm now at Day 1 of the Society for Military History conference. Preparing two papers for that (a paper for the Chinese Military History society today, and then one on Saturday in the regular SMH sessions) has taken up a lot of my time as well. My apologies, and I promise to get back to my dissection of Mr. Perrin sometime next week, along with conference reports of all the military history madness here in New Orleans. Last night I had the pleasure of dining with Dr. Peter Lorge of Vanderbilt, and Dr. Elisabeth Kaske of Carnegie Mellon, who is on my panel for this morning. Here's how it looks:

8:45-10:15   Panel One: Demythologizing Asian Warfare

Andrew R. Wilson (U.S. Naval War College),
"The Three Myths of the Sanbao Eunuch: Re-conceptualizing the Voyages
of Zheng He"

Nathan H. Ledbetter (U.S. Army),
"Reifying the Barricades: Historiography Issues in the Study of the
Battle of Nagashino (1575)"

Elisabeth Kaske (Carnegie Mellon University),
"Is there a Counter-history of the Hunan Army?"

It was a quite educational and enjoyable time. Probably the first time I've had dinner with someone I cite in my papers!

Anyways, to tide you over I'm going to put up a couple of papers I did for classes at UH. The first I did for Dr. Lonny Carlile in his Asian Security Cultures class. He was kind enough to let me take a crack at applying IR theory (specifically, neo-realism and liberalism) to the Sengoku Period. The result was fun to do, and let me use a lot of the extra material I'd come up with for the Nagashino papers, but just couldn't work in. The second paper I did for Dr. Patrice Flowers in her Japanese Politics course--again, my professors were so accommodating to let me tackle Sengoku period work from a modern perspective. For that paper, I continued my thoughts from the first paper, extending to a look at domestic pressures and constructivism. I'm just throwing these up here for now, so if the formatting is off when I cut and paste, well...sorry.


So with that, here's Paper #1: Enjoy!




Domain as State:
The Sengoku Daimyo Seen Through International Relations Theory

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Giving Up the Myths, Part II

Moving into the actual book, we continue our look at Noel Perrin's "Giving up the Gun". My first impressions are here. For the background, etc., read that first and then return here.

So, to review what we learned from the cover, foreword, and so forth:

1. Perrin is self-admittedly not an expert on Japan or Japanese history, and borders on orientalizing in his incorrect descriptions of aspects of CURRENT Japanese culture, much less anything historical. I'm afraid of what we will find going forward.

2. Perrin's focus isn't on the facts of Japanese history at all; he clearly approaches the subject from an anti-nuclear weapons perspective, and is looking for an analogy to justify his stance. That he cherrypicks facts to support his view shouldn't be surprising to anyone who reads the Foreword alone.


Anyways, moving on...

Chapter One

Perrin begins (p. 1) with a description of a US surveying mission commander's comments on his visit to the island of Tanegashima in 1855, shortly after Perry's celebrated (depending on your view) "opening" of Japan the previous year. We'll ignore the whole "opening" misconception and stick to the specific subject here.

Perrin quotes this passage from Commander John Rodgers:

"These people seemed scarcely to know the use of firearms," he noted in his report to the Secretary of the Navy. "One of [my] officers caught the Japanese word for gun with which a very learned man was displaying his knowledge to his companions. It strikes an American, who from his childhood has seen children shoot, that ignorance of arms is an anomaly indicative of primitive innocence and Arcadian simplicity. We were unwilling to disturb it."
He then proceeds to tell us how CDR Rodgers was "almost as Arcadianly simple as the Tanegashimans themselves," by proclaiming that this was an "acquired innocence, not a primitive one." He's right in pointing out the irony that the islanders Rodgers  observed were the descendants of those present when the Portuguese landed in the same place in 1543, bringing the first Western-style firearms mentioned in textual sources. He spends considerable energy telling us how Rodgers could not have known much about Japan at all from contemporary Western sources, citing examples of vague and misleading encyclopedia entries available at the time. Perrin's point in all this is to show that Rodgers could not have known that the Japanese at one time used guns on a prodigious scale, only to turn "back to swords and spears." (p.5)

Perrin, in his lack of knowledge and experience (he's not even a historian, after all) falls into the same trap with Rodgers' words that he points out. Yes, of course Rodgers did not know much about Japan--so why should Perrin take Rodgers' description as evidence that there was any "acquired innocence"? The officer mentioned caught the word for gun (presumably teppô) in the conversation between the two Japanese; based on that one word, are we to assume that this was one learned person explaining the entire concept of what a gun was to his counterpart? Could it not have just as easily been one person describing to another that these weapons carried by the American foreigners were teppo, just like those that they were familiar with, but much more advanced?

Of course the Japanese here had never seen the type of modern guns carried by the American Navy personnel. That is in no way an indication that they had no conception of what guns were. Rodgers, as Perrin points out the lack of knowledge available to him, can be excused for this; Perrin, however, cannot.

Perrin next moves into a description of Japan's first supposed encounter with guns. This is the story of the three (two?) Portuguese traders who show up and show Lord Tanegashima Tokitaka, the daimyo of the island, their magical new weapon. I won't criticize too deeply on the details here; Perrin gives us a commonly accepted version of the story, and just because specialists debate different interpretations and versions in the primary textual sources like the Teppô-ki, the Tanegashima Kafu, and the Peregriniçam doesn't mean Perrin should be expected to wade through these. As we have noted, he couldn't if he wanted to. Most importantly, this is backstory, and not crucial to his argument other than establishing how Japanese received the art of shooting and gunsmithing.

Next Perrin notes (p. 8) the spread of firearms, to the extent that Oda Nobunaga could place an order for 500 of them in 1549. "By 1560, the use of firearms in large battles had begun (a general in full armor died of a bullet wound that year), and fifteen years after that they were the decisive weapon in one of the great battles of Japanese history." (pp. 8-9). I'll ignore the reference to Nagashino for now; as with the Tanegashima story, Perrin can't be held accountable that most of the literature in English on Nagashino is wrong. What bothers me is the first part of the statement--guns were used in Japanese warfare way earlier than 1560, and saying that their use "begun" based on the fact that a general was killed by a bullet in that year ignores quite a lot of other poor souls dispatched by guns prior to that point. The Shimazu were using guns in battles in the 1540's (not surprising, since they were the overlords of the Tanegashima where guns "arrived"), and guns of some type and origin were used in 1548 at the Battle of Uedahara. Perhaps a more charitable reviewer would write it off to poor phrasing, but poor phrasing like that leads to inaccuracies being perpetuated.
All this represents what would now be called a technological breakthrough. As present-day Japanese writers like to point out, the Arabs, the Indians, and the Chinese all gave firearms a try well ahead of the Japanese, but only the Japanese mastered the manufacturing process on a large scale, and really made the weapon their own. (p. 9)
 Since Perrin doesn't provide a citation for this, I don't know who these "Japanese writers" are. But it's hardly surprising that writers of one nationality would try to point out they were "more advanced" than those of other nationalities. Apparently these writers are unaware of Maharatha Confederacy cannon foundries in India, Arab gunsmithing, and the fact that the Chinese are where gunpowder weapons originated in the first place. Sadly, it seems Perrin is unaware of these things as well.

Perrin next leads into a description of Japan at the time of the introduction of guns with a passage from St. Francis Xavier noting the preoccupation with military matters common amongst the Japanese. Hardly surprising that in a time of chaotic warfare with little centralized authority, the members of a society took a keen interest in weapons and warfare.  On p. 10, Perrin notes the high-level of technological sophistication by the Japanese and the abundant copper and steel shipped all over the globe "just as Japanese electronic equipment is now." Summary of the next few pages is that Japan produced significant raw materials, and also excelled in refined goods such as paper; the larger point is that this is no primitive society here. Perrin is certainly right in that regard. On p. 13, he tells us that Japan was the premier exporter of weapons in the "Far East," and explains how wonderful Japanese swords were, using period European witnesses that attest to their superiority to their own blades. Next Perrin quotes population statistics to tell us that Japan was a healthily booming country, tells us of the Buddhist "universities" and high interest in artistic matters which show Japan was an educated to a higher standard than their European counterparts. None of this is at all eyebrow raising to anyone familiar with Japanese history, but apparently Perrin felt it necessary to establish that Japan was not like many other countries that Europeans encountered during this period. One point of annoyance is the footnote on p. 17:

Certainly this [that Japan had higher rates of literacy than European countries] was how it struck the Japanese. They could hardly believe how widespread illiteracy was among their visitors. In fact they found our ancestors fairly simple in most respects. The earliest Japanese account of the three original Portuguese adventurers is typical. The Japanese chronicler wrote in a superior way, "They eat with their fingers instead of with chopsticks such as we use. They show their feelings without any self-control. They cannot understand the meaning of written characters...."
First of all, "our" ancestors? Is everyone reading this book a descendant of Portuguese traders? If so, I guess I was not the intended audience, as that is not my own heritage. But more important is the conclusion he draws from the statement "they cannot understand the meaning of written characters..." How is it surprising that a Portuguese trader did not understand Japanese or Chinese written text? The Japanese author here of course describes this as a negative trait, since anyone educated in Japan at the time would be able to read characters. That does not, however, mean that the Portuguese could not read at all; what basis would a Japanese observer have to understand that? While it is well documented that Japan had a high rate of literacy, and most European countries of the time did not have nearly the breadth of literacy, it troubles me that Perrin would draw such sweeping conclusions from this statement, or rather use this statement in support of those conclusions. Were I to write something like this, my favorite professor at UH would have written in the margin "well, no #%@$!" It's blindingly obvious that the Portuguese wouldn't have been able to read Chinese characters.

On p. 18-19, Perrin gives an anecdote of poetry saving the life of a feudal lord condemned to death. Who this Lord Tameakira was is not made clear. The footnote cites George Sansom's "Japan and the Western World". Knowing Sansom, it likely came from one of the gunkimono, the so-called "war tales" which describe warfare of the Medieval period much like the Song of Roland, for example, in Europe. While Sansom and some of the older generations of historians based much of their history on these texts, most historians writing now view them with a skeptical eye as romantic idealism rather than factual accounts of events. Early historians like Sadler and Sansom accepting the gunkimono as factual bases for their work is unfortunately how a lot of the idealized orientalist/nihonjinron mythology of Japan as "unique" came to be. Is Perrin at fault for using it? No, like other points I can't fault him; however, it points to his own interest in romanticizing Japanese history to fit his agenda. I don't have that particular Sansom book, so if anyone can provide me the reference it would be appreciated.


We will stop there for now, and get into Chapter Two in a few days.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Giving Up the Myths, Part I

Something came up on the way to Tanegashima.

Today I will start reviewing a book on Japan's use of firearms. However, it won't be Lidin's book on the introduction of guns by Europeans in 1543. I will get to that, but I've decided to do this first, as the book in question is somewhat of a precursor to Lidin's work--one that sadly, some people think actually has academic validity.

The subject of Noel Perrin's Giving Up The Gun: Japan's Reversion to the Sword, 1543-1879 came up over on the Samurai Archives discussion board, and there was one particular discussant who was unsatisfied with every criticism thrown at the book. When told why it was not a book to recommend, he asked if those saying so had read it; when told yes, he asked for us to show him what was wrong with it. When two academic reviews by respected Japan-focused historians (Conrad Totman in the Journal of Asian Studies, May 1980, and David Waterhouse in Monumenta Nipponica, Winter 1979) were posted in their entirety, the defender countered by saying "does having a PhD make them special?" (The answer, obviously, is no, as Perrin also had a PhD and taught--English literature--at Dartmouth. What makes Totman and Waterhouse "special" is that they are experts in the field of Japanese history. Which apparently was enough for Perrin himself to use Waterhouse as one of his sources...) Since no one was going line by line through Perrin's book, it was not good enough for this individual to accept it as valid criticism.

And so, I volunteered to do so. Not because the opinion of this one person matters much in the grand scheme of things--OMG SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET IS WRONG! No, it's because, quite honestly, I hate what this book by Perrin has done, which is to provide a "source" for people who want to believe romantic, yet silly, notions of Japanese samurai turning their noses up at guns. It would be easy to ignore it, as most of the Japanese history community has done. In Japan, for instance, the Japanese edition of the book was published with a disclaimer in it, stating that the book was "not based on historical events." The book is an anti-nuclear weapons manifesto, masquerading as a history book. The author himself admits he isn't an expert on Japanese history, and can't even read Japanese. And yet, somehow, people not only read this, but I've seen academic presentations where allegedly intelligent individuals are citing his book as a source in their research. This should not be, yet it is.


Tuesday, January 29, 2013

No, I haven't forgotten...

First of all, greetings to all of my new guests. Somehow I got linked from the amusing website "Badass of the Week" and their article on Kôsa Kennyô. All of a sudden my traffic feed seemed to quadruple. The article linked to my post on the Ikkô Ikki as a form of fortified compound insurgency in their struggle against Oda Nobunaga. I'm not sure if the readers of "Badass" were exactly looking for that sort of article, but who am I to complain? The Kôsa Kennyô article is pretty well done when viewed as a humorous endeavor. As I told friends elsewhere, I laughed my nembutsu off.


I haven't forgotten my promise to review Olof G. Lidin's Tanegashima book. Unfortunately it seems that every time I think I'm going to do something, work and/or life say "ha ha, free time? I think not..." I will get to it soon, I hope, but for the time being I'm going to stop promising anything on a timeline. My presentation for the Chinese Military History Society mini-conference hasn't quite been as easy to put together as I thought. (Gee, a paper written 2 years ago needs to be updated and revised to incorporate subsequent research and concepts? Who knew?) Of course, part of that is me playing around with video elements in the presentation because I'm a nerd, but in addition to crazy work circumstances, my "free" time has been put into that. I promise I'll link the presentations (if I can) after the conferences in March.

Other thoughts:

In the realm of "nothing is ever actually new." Skulking in Holes and Corners examines an early quote he came across that wounding the enemy is better for rendering them ineffective than killing them. I thought it was interesting, and it made me wonder if this was ever a thought in Japanese premodern warfare. Prior to the Sengoku, probably not, as you wanted to take a head as proof you'd killed the enemy, and it's kind of hard for a head-removal to be merely a "fleshwound." Still, as the Sengoku progressed and armies got larger, I wonder if the medical system grew and taxed the resources of commanders. Coming from a modern, American perspective, it's hard to even imagine not doing everything possible to give medical aid to wounded soldiers in order to save their lives, but this is a reminder that perhaps people in different cultures and different times saw things differently. For much of history human life has been pretty cheap, after all.

More soon...I hope. As I said, no promises.