Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. Andō Shōeki and His Work Natural True Activity

Two hundred years ago there existed a man named Andō Shōeki who, taking as his fundamental rationale the fact that all phenomena come into being through relativity, rejected every doctrine and governance system bearing absolutism—whether religious or political—as unchallengeable singular truths. Through seeking to transform this present world governed by such laws—the Legal Society—into one guided by nature's way—the Natural Society—he established a national agrarian-based organization as an intermediate step toward that goal. By propagating this organization across all nations, he aimed to achieve nothing less than the complete restructuring of human society.

At a time when scholars could conceive of nothing beyond the three established doctrines, his thorough pursuit of such groundbreaking thought and attempt to realize these bold ambitions constituted not merely something sensational enough to shock contemporary sensibilities—it carried inherent potential to provoke truly significant consequences. Therefore through adopting an extremely cautious attitude and avoiding rash actions altogether, he remained largely beyond public notice—with this calculated restraint ultimately resulting in society's collective forgetting of this extraordinary figure's very existence.

The first appearance of Andō Shōeki’s name in documents was in Volume 2 of the *Newly Expanded Book Catalog* published in Hōreki 4 (1754), where his works *Confucius: A Life in Dispute* in two volumes and *Natural True Activity* in three volumes were listed—and this was likely also its final appearance.
In this catalog, he is listed as Andō Ryōchū, but this is not a different person.
As I have not yet seen these two books, I can vaguely imagine their contents, but I cannot know anything definite.
If they had indeed been published, one might expect that someone would have read them. Yet considering that even after the Tokugawa period and into the Meiji era, Andō’s name never rose to public attention, it seems his writings failed to elicit any significant response in their time and were ultimately forgotten.
If they had indeed met such a fate, we must conclude it was because readers of that era, dismayed by both the poor writing style and impenetrable prose, failed to pay sufficient attention to grasp the work’s exceptional ideas.

It was around the 32nd year of Meiji.

I obtained a manuscript titled *Natural True Activity*. This book was originally meant to comprise 100 volumes across 92 booklets, but the two volumes titled *Volumes on Life and Death* were missing. Of the 92 booklets, the first 23 were designated *Volume on Refuting Falsehoods*, the 24th booklet *Volume on Legal Society*, the 25th booklet *Treatise on True Dao Philosophy*, and from the 27th booklet onward, all were titled *Volume on Revealing Truth*. The Volumes on Life and Death are also included among these Volumes on Revealing Truth. Each volume was inscribed with “Authored by Kakuryūdō Ryōchū,” and at the end of the self-penned preface written in Hōreki 5 (1755), there was a seal that could be inferred to read “Tsuruma Ryōryū.” At that time, I had not yet thought to consult the Hōreki catalog, so presuming Tsuruma to be his true name, I attempted to find leads—though there was little hope of success. During this period, it seems the information may have leaked to left-leaning factions and been partially exploited for propaganda purposes. I thought it regrettable that the true name of a man with such profound insight remained unknown, and as a last resort, I peeled away each layer of discarded paper used for the manuscript’s stiffened covers to examine them. Fortunately, I discovered two or three fragments of letters among them, and from their contents inferred that his true name was Andō Shōeki.

The manuscript of *Natural True Activity* was acquired by Tokyo Imperial University in the spring of 1923 and was destroyed in the Great Earthquake of that same year. I never dreamed such a thing would happen, so neither I nor the two or three friends who borrowed it from me made any copies. As it became increasingly clear that it was gone, I regretted not having prepared duplicates, but it was too late for regrets. However, the following year, I was fortunately able to obtain another work authored by Andō Shōeki called *True Transmission of Unified Dao*. The book was not the original manuscript but appeared to have been copied by disciples; there were five volumes, but it was not a complete version. Though acquiring this book made me feel as though I had recovered some of the loss, this work seemed to be an abridged copy intended for disciples—while one could grasp its general outline, there were marked differences in both content and rhetoric, making it appear decidedly inferior as a work purportedly by the same author. In *Natural True Activity*, Andō took up his brush resolved to leave behind the fruits of a lifetime’s devoted thought for a century yet to come. Unrestrained by any hesitation, he achieved the most audacious prose imaginable. Though not naturally a writer, he would—now driven by compassion, now provoked by righteous fury—suddenly erupt into eloquence, dragging forth figures revered since antiquity as saints and heroes to make them targets of scathing rebuke. With blazing intensity and utterly irrefutable force, he wielded words that pierced to the core—in extreme instances adopting a resolute, life-risking stance to deliver his critiques.

Though one might imagine him as someone perpetually compelled to adopt a life-risking stance against his will, this Andō was in truth a man of pure pacifism. While advocating peace, he was entirely distinct in his approach from those who preach it yet readily resort to brute force. Among his oft-repeated declarations was this: "In my Way there is no conflict; I do not speak of war, I do not wage war." As I will explain later, this phrase and concept indeed arose from the very core of his philosophical system; they by no means originated from a cowardly heart. Moreover, that this concept transformed into the aforementioned phrase about leaving writings for a century later was a point most worthy of contemplation. I encountered this phrase in several places within *Natural True Activity*. While publishing an abridged version in three volumes on one hand, he stated that the complete 100-volume work would not be easily made public on the other. The reason Andō arrived at such a decision is not difficult to surmise. The fact that he had already discerned the distinction between what ought to be made public and what must remain undisclosed was said to be one reason. This being clearly linked to his pacifism was evident. Had that fervent complete manuscript been published as it was—and had it been read by the public while exerting even slight influence—the outcome would have been predictable: an immediate conflict between him and the rulers of the time would have arisen. This required no appeal to actual implementation; it was a matter evident merely upon contemplation. Yet Andō thoroughly detested conflict. It was his assertion to advocate the cessation of conflict. Therefore, he first devoted himself to publishing a circuitous abridged version to enlighten the public, and undoubtedly intended to present the complete text once he saw that the moment had matured. I believe it accurate to conclude that he did not resort to causing public disturbances in his haste for recognition, thereby foolishly discarding his core principles and doctrines.

When I earlier described it as “circuitous,” this was speculation based on evaluating the content of a book I had yet to see; whether this assessment proves accurate or not shall be revisited later. For now, I will examine where Andō’s doctrines and assertions lie within the complete text of *Natural True Activity*.

II. Andō Shōeki’s Intellectual Path

The reason Andō Shōeki came to conceive of social reform originated in his profound inquiry into why such an inexplicable society had formed—an inquiry he undertook after observing irrationalities being widely practiced in the world.
Had he been roused solely by indignation at society’s irrationalities, he would have remained merely a sentimentalist, inevitably relegated to the ranks of commonplace revolutionaries or their unthinking followers.
Yet he was both a man of passion and a man of intellect.
Therefore, he refrained from rashly initiating action until he believed he had exhaustively deliberated and fully ascertained the underlying causes.
Here, I shall trace the course of his intellectual journey and endeavor to delineate it in greater detail.

If one calmly observed the world, it became abundantly clear that there were a great many hypocrites who feigned virtue while pursuing self-interest, and those who acted unjustly and tyrannically—individuals whom one would fervently wish, if gods and buddhas existed, to have them swiftly intervene.
If by any chance those individuals were to rise to positions of authority and set such an example, one could not help but declare it would be utterly dreadful.
However, if one noticed that such situations had tended to recur since ancient times as the very nature of society, righteous individuals could not possibly remain silent.
From this perspective, Andō dragged forth the heroes and great figures who had appeared throughout history, striving to condemn through his writings Hideyoshi and Ieyasu as their foremost representatives.
It spanned as broad a range as that attempted by the author of the book *Atarashigusa*, yet maintained an unwavering seriousness without a trace of jest.
Had he taken up this category of issues as his primary focus, he would have become someone akin to Yamagata Daini or a Restoration activist—or perhaps, with a slight variation, a religious founder.
However, he had considered matters far more significant than those issues.
People had long regarded this matter as self-evident, passing through history without ever questioning it. Yet he perceived it as unacceptable, and in considering it the most significant issue under heaven, he demonstrated his original insight.

The execution of Sakura’s righteous commoner Kinuchi Sōgo in the Shōhō era of old, the loss of domain by Hachiman’s tyrant Kanamori Yorikane in the Hōreki era—though these events never became as widely known as others—and all those so-called Peasant Uprisings heard of here and there: each was a conflict between rulers and ruled, truly bitter tales.
However, when investigating their causes, we find they all arose from peasants’ grievances over unbearable excessive taxation and extortion—for the fundamental reason lay in their livelihoods being plundered. This held such formidable power that it often resulted in the bizarre outcome of rulers being defeated by the ruled.
Yet if one merely viewed such incidents as isolated events, one could never discover any meaning beyond them being bitter occurrences.
However, Andō did not merely view these types of incidents as isolated events occurring in Japan; he transformed them into an issue of utmost gravity concerning the very significance of human existence.

Proverbs were a call from the core—declarations unbound by any constraint.
Among them existed the saying: “Rice is the parent of life.”
One might interject that humans do not live by bread alone.
Yet even such objectors had to concede—when evidence outweighed argument—that food remained life’s most vital sustenance beyond dispute; all else must be deemed secondary or tertiary.
This truth was known even by three-year-old children.
Indeed, it stood as something so fundamental to humanity that newborns grasped it instinctively.
Should any scoundrel forget this essential truth, they forfeited all right to lament losing life itself.
Confronted with this primal reality, Andō compellingly urged his fellow beings toward reflection and sought their collective awakening.

Andō declared: “Behold those peasants! They cultivate and eat directly through their own labor, thereby maintaining independent livelihoods—is this not precisely how that crucial fact manifests itself?”

“Those peasants practicing Direct Cultivation, exemplars of such living, ought by all reason to be most highly esteemed. Yet they remain constantly oppressed beneath others, suffering in poverty.”

“In contrast, those idlers who live by greedily devouring what others have cultivated—without tilling the soil themselves—cannot stand independently. They are truly pitiable creatures.”

“Yet despite this, such practitioners of non-cultivating gluttony persistently occupy positions above the peasants, indulging in carefree pleasures.”

“This constitutes an unfair and improper state of affairs—a thoroughly detestable condition of society.”

Thus Andō observed.

Yet when one notices this detestable condition persisting across every nation of the world, one cannot help growing indignant—what ultimate purpose do these so-called systems of education and governance truly serve?

Standing upon this vantage point, Andō Shōeki denounced Confucius—the sage representing those who govern states and pacify realms—and rebuked even Śākyamuni, the World-Honored One who symbolizes worldly salvation.

Had he raised this distinctive problem as his banner, he would have become a pioneer among Western ideologues.

Yet his penetrating insight did not permit him to halt here; it compelled him to ascend yet another step atop a hundred-foot pole, driving him to question: Why do systems of governance and doctrines that profess to govern the state and save the world uniformly prove so inept—unable to subdue even the villains of society, much less rectify the injustices that pervade all eras and regions?
He himself raised this ultimate problem and, in seeking its resolution, conducted broad and profound investigations—refusing to consult those bound by Legal Society—traversing the Age of Human Emperors, breaking through the Age of the Gods, and finally penetrating to the primitive age.
During this process, he made insightful observations regarding history, but we shall omit them here.
When he traced back to the primitive age, there he found the cradle of all things; and through the origins of those things growing within that cradle making their own unfeigned confession, he finally conceived a solution to the great problem he had posed.
From that point onward, progressing like a rushing river, he believed he had completely resolved this major problem.
What he discovered within the cradle was brute force.
At the same time, there was also intellectual power.
That brute force, then intellectual power, then monetary power—and all institutions and cultural artifacts constructed through these forces, such as class systems, division of labor, politics, law, religion, academia—had become the cause of everything he perceived as erroneous; this had become an undeniable fact for him.
When he realized this, he calmly resolved to abandon Legal Society.
He could no longer afford to denounce or engage with those who dwelled in and appreciated Legal Society.
Rather, he must abandon Legal Society itself.
Then let us first discard their teachings, discard their governance, discard even their written language—yes, let us cast away even good ideas themselves.
This was his declaration.
Thus, he was finally compelled to adopt nihilism in thought.

The twenty-odd volumes of *Haja no Maki* were composed through the impassioned inquiry as described above, critiquing with an eye of extreme skepticism all artificial institutions—thought, language, literature, politics, religion—and the eminent figures involved in these matters.
Having criticized and exhausted all criticism, finding nothing worth preserving, Andō finally resolved to abandon Legal Society itself. Yet even after discarding everything discardable, there remained something that defied all efforts of rejection.
What could this be?
He declared: "Nature."

Nature was the final fact.
It stood as the supreme specimen of what might be called “evidence over argument,” existing apart from human reasoning.
In its allowance, embrace, and establishment of all things—and further, in its refusal to question right and wrong, beauty and ugliness, good and evil—there lay an immeasurable greatness.
How people perceived this nature through their reasoning was what gave rise to scientists, philosophers, and religious figures.
Having resolved to abandon Legal Society’s ideology and embraced nihilism, Andō therefore endeavored to perceive nature directly as it was.
The manner in which he sought to listen to nature with an open mind—eschewing subjective speculation—closely resembled a scientist’s attitude.
Yet if we were to ask whether he was a scientist: while he certainly had such leanings, it would be incorrect to claim he possessed knowledge comparable in precision to modern scientists’.
To demand this of him in his time would have been unreasonable.
Nevertheless, he fortunately struck upon an indispensable perspective for fundamentally understanding nature.
That is to say, he grasped nature’s essential framework.
Though termed subjective, because this framework constituted an utterly fundamental principle, he immediately recognized it as nature’s inherent tendency—its function and intrinsic property.
Upon attaining this perspective, the tangled web of thoughts that had long tormented him vanished at once; thus he believed he had truly comprehended nature’s wondrous workings.
Then what was this?
It was called *Mutual Activity of Truth* (*gosei kasshin*).

To state *Mutual Activity of Truth* (*gosei kasshin*) in plain terms, it meant that all things came into being through their mutual opposition.
Andō asserted that the cosmic truth manifested through these four characters had gone unnoticed by anyone until then.
He further asserted that he had known that truth since birth.
I do not believe this was entirely the case.
First and foremost, when he said he “knew it from birth,” this meant he had not acquired it through hearing from others or reading books—it did not signify that he had comprehended it from infancy.
It was likely the result of grueling effort, having taken considerable time to reach that point.
However, whether the ultimate moment involved sudden enlightenment or profound realization was ultimately immaterial.
Next, the notion that no one else knew was simply Andō’s own perception—we might attribute this to his limited exposure to prior scholarship and leave it at that.
He constantly declared, "I am unlearned; I have no teacher; I know from birth," but this was likely because he considered it an honest confession.
However, truth and principles were the same as Andō’s food—they were not things that should be privately owned by any single individual.
By directly perceiving phenomena as they were, or by thoroughly pursuing logic, anyone could have attained it.
It was merely that due to differences in skill when transforming that essence into the form of knowledge and clothing it in words, it took on various appearances or might even have been perceived as something entirely different.
In Buddhism, the principle of relativity had already been utilized in various forms; at times, it had been abused to construct labyrinths of thought that confounded people—not only that, but they themselves remained bound within these mazes, unable to escape.
In philosophy, it had been acknowledged as the relativity of knowledge and had been incorporated into the foundational concepts of various philosophers.
Moreover, in recent times physicists had come to accurately grasp the relativity of motion as the fundamental form of all phenomena; applying their reasoning with thoroughness, they were now attempting leaps toward realms unimagined even in the dreams of philosophers and religious figures.

Now having briefly used physics as an example—though it bore no direct relation to *Mutual Activity of Truth*—it might later prove citable far ahead; moreover because it conveniently illustrated how thoroughly pursuing ideas and enabling their realization could sometimes entail dangers—this digression ventured down its path despite being tangential.
When considering physics itself—no knowledge more precise could then exist; even spiritual sciences would likely face eventual subordination before it—and salvation’s actualization itself might first emerge through this discipline—yet ordinary minds found its concepts too abstruse for widespread adoption.
Yet compared with military or religious domains—the scholars sacrificed while refining this knowledge seemed negligible—hardly worth mention—but its practical applications achieved astonishing effects: steamships plied waters; trains traversed rails; streetcars glided; automobiles rolled; even airplanes soared—bringing human society unprecedented convenience.
Simultaneously they injured people—crushed them under wheels—sent them plummeting earthward—rendering affairs perilous indeed.
While these remained tools of civilization—one could not help deeming them supremely dangerous.
Moreover when such societies formed—the spiritual realm’s work appeared somewhat diminished.
Thus ethics and morality daily seemed headed toward decline.
Herein material civilization proved futile.
At such junctures—calls for spiritual culture and civilization arising from one quarter became inevitable.
Given these factual developments—their emergence held no mystery.
And since thoroughly pursuing physical—that is materialistic—thought demonstrably entailed dangers—if one deemed this aspect flawed—such criticism had indeed to be acknowledged.

Now having brought the problem this far, I felt obligated as my duty to attempt its resolution.
Therefore supposing I conceded a hundred steps to spiritualists, I resolved to cease operating all steamships, trains, streetcars, automobiles, and airplanes that they deemed dangerous.
And proposed as a compromise condition that we merely lecture on physics theories while having them listen.
And the reason was as follows.
Physics constituted precise knowledge.
It was pure and true knowledge—nothing more than natural principles transferred faithfully into language.
Had this not been so, how could they have created such convenient machines and enhanced human happiness?
For those not desiring happiness this mattered little—but for anyone truly hoping for humanity’s development through coexistence and mutual prosperity—I wanted them to place trust in physics.
Were one to discard it upon seeing accompanying dangers—they would immediately forfeit precise knowledge.
Were one denied possession of precise knowledge while relying solely on spiritual sciences preaching unrealized ideals—minds might become unhinged—confusion would emerge—and we might even witness thoughts becoming Sinicized or Indianized.
This represented an exceedingly troublesome matter.
If one carefully considered these aspects—would it not prove better for each person to study this physics?
If one deemed it unavoidably dangerous—there remained nothing to be done—switching then to spiritual sciences would present no issues.
However—should persuading others be deemed improper—I resolved to cease that—simply wishing our comrades alone might be permitted to study physics—such was my position.

If negotiations were conducted in the manner outlined above, would a compromise not generally be reached, one might think? No—rather, if one were to publish only the theories of physics and refrain from realizing any convenient mechanical inventions that might be devised, it would be evident from the outset that there would be no cause for concern.

This was where matters stood.
In cases where conflicts of ideas arose or when attempting to avoid confrontation, one would naturally consider what attitude we should adopt to resolve matters without inconveniencing others.
However, Andō Shōeki—motivated by his desire to avoid conflict with Chan—appeared from the very outset to have adopted an attitude unconcerned with potential complications.
That explanation will follow in the next section.

By perceiving the relativity of all things as the Mutual Activity of Truth, Andō Shōeki believed he had uncovered secrets unknown to previous generations and acquired supreme principles.
Confucius and Buddha spread their political and religious teachings without discerning this principle, and he denounced this as an unconscionable reckless act, directly asserting their invalidity.
In contrast, he declared that his own teachings, originating from the wondrous path of nature and untainted by the slightest delusion—being pure, true, and wholly worthy of trust—would undoubtedly come to prevail in the world hereafter.
He excerpted and included this declaratory assertion with simple clarity in the preface and postscript of *Natural True Activity*, and ultimately proclaimed himself to be both sage and savior.

III. Andō Shōeki’s Character

Was Andō Shōeki not a madman? He showed no regard for what the world values, and his arrogance in proclaiming himself both sage and savior could scarcely be deemed an act of sanity. What stands most astonishing among his deeds was his confrontation with Tokugawa Ieyasu—that very Ieyasu who was then revered as a divine lord. Upon perceiving the baseness of their designs, he would transform into an incarnation of vituperation—his severity growing boundless, his rebukes reaching their zenith—leaving readers trembling and palms sweating uncontrollably. Yet in the records of this episode, through some compassionate soul’s intervention, four or five layers of pasted paper meticulously concealed Tokugawa Ieyasu’s name. Confronted with such scenes, he appeared like a dog howling at dawn—giving rise to suspicions that his hubris had indeed driven him to madness. Yet these instances proved mere manifestations of righteous fury burning within him. Having confirmed his simultaneous gentleness, reasonableness, wealth of common sense, and even capacity for humor, I at last came to believe Andō was no madman. I now intend to present that evidence.

First and foremost, the fact that he refrained from publishing that vehement *Natural True Activity* spoke most eloquently as evidence of his possession of common sense.
I believed there was no need to reiterate this matter, as I had discussed it extensively elsewhere, but there remained an associated problem that had been left unaddressed.
This referred to the claim that the content of *Natural True Activity* listed in the Hōreki Bibliography was likely oblique in nature.
The term “oblique” did not denote the content’s inherent qualities but rather its practical effect—meaning that he had confined himself to discussing physical theories as previously mentioned, primarily explicating the principle of Mutual Activity of Truth without venturing into concrete arguments that might agitate public sentiment.
That is to say, he likely adopted an attitude from the outset that showed no concern about problematic issues arising.
If this speculation proved correct, then it went without saying that the evidence of his possession of common sense stood further corroborated.

Alongside his common sense, one cannot help but recall his patriotism.
The conjecture that this too may have been a contributing factor in supplementing common sense to withhold publication of the complete work—though not entirely accurate—is likely not far from the truth, I believe.

I used the term “National Agrarian-Based Organization” at the very outset—this nation—
His passionate will to establish our nation manifested everywhere to a truly heartrending degree.
He believed neither in gods nor Buddhas nor sages, speaking with utter disregard for others’ presence—yet the moment he perceived any matter touching our nation’s interests, he would spring up to invoke our divine nation and demand: “What do you intend to do with this divine nation?”
Thus Prince Shōtoku received a most unflattering epithet for his alleged belief in foreign Buddhas and reverence for Confucianism, while figures like Saichō and Kūkai—who had deliberately journeyed to Tang China only to taste Buddhism’s dregs—were dismissed as mere parrots.
All these individuals stood condemned for failing to recognize our divine nation’s nobility while becoming recklessly intoxicated with foreign ideologies and cultural artifacts.
There existed a profound urgency in compelling superficial souls—those who forgot themselves to blindly follow others—to reflect.
Such extreme patriotism constituted the pure essence flowing from his ideology’s very roots—by no means grounded in mere emotion.
Not the slightest trace of flattery or thoughtless conformity mingled within it.
That this state proved attainable only through thorough self-awareness like his was something those who shared his enlightenment in Mutual Activity of Truth found themselves compelled to acknowledge.

As the second piece of evidence demonstrating his capacity for humor, I cite the entire Legal Society Volume.
In the initial volumes of *Haja no Maki* (Volume on Destroying Falsehoods), Andō focused entirely on expounding the inadequacy of letters, language, and thought; from there he progressed to examining concrete institutions—religions, academic systems, and political structures—maintaining what appeared to be complete sincerity up through Volume 23’s conclusion with his critique of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Though at times reaching frenzied extremes of uncontrolled vehemence, this ultimately remained an extension of that sincerity.
Yet upon concluding Volume 23 and entering Volume 24: Legal Society Volume, he abruptly abandoned formal constraints and erupted in laughter.
Appalled by Legal Society’s irrationality, contradictions, and absurdity—deeming it unworthy of his personal critique—he henceforth summoned every manner of creature: birds, beasts, insects, fish, shellfish, indeed all living things, compelling them to criticize Legal Society in his stead.
With a revolutionary herald-rooster at the vanguard, these creatures intermingled and crisscrossed while debating—exhaustively depicting each animal’s form while penetrating their essential natures—then directly transferring these traits to worldly humans as objects of mockery and derision. The relentless interplay of startling concepts and ingenious phrasing repeatedly left readers doubled over in laughter and shouting with delight.
This composure and humor could never be mistaken for a madman’s work.
Moreover, based on the precise zoological knowledge displayed throughout this volume, I deduced that Andō must have been a physician thoroughly versed in materia medica.

Finally, I presented evidence that he was likely a gentle and mild-mannered person.
The fact that he did not favor conflict might be perceived as stemming from his intellectual contemplations; here, by demonstrating that all individuals he admired were gentle people, we may thereby establish that he likely possessed such inclinations emotionally as well.
I do not recall which volume it was, but since the Savior himself declared he would select the historical figures he deemed most complete, I watched with solemn attention—whereupon he proceeded to designate two individuals in total: one ideal complete person and another deemed half-competent.
Now then, who was this designated complete person?
He said: Zeng Shen.
And the half-competent person?
He said: Tao Yuanming.

By observing this method of selecting individuals, one could clearly discern Andō's innermost convictions.
There should no longer remain any need to doubt him.
Even were he still considered a madman, one would have to concede that a madman of this degree could be safely engaged with.
Thus rather than persisting in viewing him as a madman, it would be most fitting to regard him as an unconventional yet approachable human being.

The above had traced my recollections of reading Natural True Activity, principally demonstrating the path through which Andō's convictions and resolve emerged, while concurrently presenting evidence that he was not a figure warranting apprehension.
Even considering these aspects alone, one might declare him no ordinary man.
Were one able to know the particulars of his character and deeds, there might perhaps exist matters capable of arousing still greater interest.
However, as I lacked opportunity to investigate these matters, I consequently regret possessing little of substance to relate.
Here I shall simply enumerate the miscellaneous details I have ascertained in book-like fashion, offering them for my readers' reference.
Should this compilation serve as a foothold for those who feel intrigued and, possessing leisure, desire to conduct their own inquiries, I would account it most fortunate.

Andō Shōeki took the name Kakuryūdō Ryōchū and was a person of Kubota in Dewa Province—that is, present-day Akita City.

Among his distinguished disciples was Kamiyama Sen’an, a physician of the Nanbu Hachinohe domain. His descendants still exist in Hachinohe Town today, but a fire destroyed all records, leaving nothing passed down. Among other disciples were Shimamori Ihee, Kitada Chūnosuke, and Nakamura Uosuke—all residents of Hachinohe. Takahashi Yamatonokami was from Nanbu, and others such as Seki Tateru, Ueda Yūsen, Fukuda Rokurō, Nakai Isenokami, Sawamoto Tokubee, Nakamura Chūhei, and Murai Hikobee are also believed to have been from Nanbu. Akashi Ryūei of Kyoto’s Sanjō Yanagibabagami, Ariki Seikō of Tomikoji, Shizu Teichū of Osaka’s Nishi Yokobori, Mori Eikaku of Dōshōmachi, Murai Nakae of Edo’s Honchō Nichōme, Watanabe Tankō of Ōshū’s Sukagawa, and Katsuragi Ken’ei of Ezo’s Matsumae were also disciples. The disciples Kōko, Sadayuki, Michiemon, and others had unascertained surnames.

Judging from the text of a letter sent to Andō by a man named Terui Chikusen, it appeared this individual had likely been his senior.

The person who preserved and transmitted the manuscript of *Natural True Activity* was Hashimoto Ritsuzō of Kita-Senju Town.

Hereafter I proceeded to examine the important parts of Andō’s theories in slightly greater detail.

IV. The Correct View of Nature

When reading Natural True Activity or True Transmission of Unified Dao, the first thing one noticed was the repeated use of the character for "nature."
Should one call it marching in procession or forming a warp and weft? It appeared everywhere.
In all books past and present, East and West, there were assuredly none that used the term "nature" as frequently as this.
Even considering this alone, one could not help but recognize how profoundly significant the concept of nature was to Andō.
It went without saying that nature was important not only to Andō but to everyone.
While it was truly important, its very importance became a curse—such that ordinary people often tended to forget its significance.
For example, there might well have been cases where people forgot the preciousness of parents and siblings, water, air, earth, the sun—indeed, of nature itself.
There were those who claimed to understand such matters well.
As a matter of fact, even barbarians knew this.
However, as culture developed, people came to forget; they began to value only clothes and money, then even ideas, revering and envying those who possessed such things in abundance. The result became dismissing filial piety toward parents as outdated custom and regarding farmers who supplied rice as lowly.
What in the world was this?
It was because they had forgotten nature.

For people prone to forget precious nature, efforts to make them ascertain its true form did not directly aid in obtaining bread or status—hence being impossible—so this had to be entrusted to those we might call true scholars, saints, or saviors.

Then, how did these saintly people perceive the true form of nature?
They said: Heaven; the Great Ultimate; the Non-Ultimate.
They said: True Thusness and Transience.
They said: Substance.
They said: God.
There were still many more.
They likely considered each of these thoroughly, but many seemed to have overthought matters, resulting in convoluted explanations.
Particularly, the concept of God—when it remained immanent—was tolerable enough, but when posited as a transcendent creator of nature, it became aristocratic, irrational, inhumane, or even outright deceptive; one could not help but be astonished.
This became clear when one examined the Christian God or Amitabha Tathagata, who possessed even greater capabilities.

Of course, from the perspective of those who expound [these teachings], they might be taken as expedient means, while from the perspective of listeners, even a sardine's head could be regarded as an object of faith—and as long as this mutual alignment remained confined to the realm of faith, there was no particular problem. However, were one to actually circulate these dishonored promissory notes—endorsed by such faith and promising "God's kingdom" or "Buddha's pure land"—history makes clear this risked sparking absurd catastrophes, and given how many smaller-scale incidents had occurred in our country in recent years, one could only nod in agreement.

If religious figures and philosophers attempting to grasp nature's true form had failed to succeed, then let us consider one of Andō's ideas.

Since Andō was grounded in the nihilism of thought, he did not indulge in intellectual play but directly accepted nature as nature itself.

This might seem exceedingly straightforward, but reaching that point required courage and a manipulation of thought through thought—a process one had to recognize as far from ordinary.

In the opening volume of *True Transmission of Unified Dao*, under the title "On Sages Losing the True Way of Nature," there appeared a passage that first articulated his view of nature.
―Nature has neither beginning nor end.
It senses itself without awaiting others; it does not arrive through its own deduction.
Constantly sensing itself with a slight advance, the vital force flows to generate warmth.
When greatly advancing, there exists the vital force of fervent flourishing.
When slightly retreating, there exists the vital force of cool-dry bountiful harvest.
When greatly retreating, there exists the vital force of cold-freeze withering-storing.
The principle of small and large advances and retreats coming to rest neither advances nor retreats.
Regarding small and large advances and retreats, [they] do not separate arbitrarily.
[They] neither alter small and large advances and retreats nor arbitrarily intermix them.
This is the constant vital force flow of the Five Phases acting naturally.
―As this passage made clear, Andō Shōeki regarded nature as nature itself―the sun and moon taking their positions, the four seasons proceeding, all things being born and growing―natural phenomena exactly as they were. He asserted that these phenomena arose solely through nature’s own workings alone, never requiring the intervention of deities such as gods or Buddhas.
Thereupon, he proceeded further and began to dismantle the sages’ theories that distorted nature.

However, Fuxi established the Taiji diagram, posited all principles within its emptiness, and took empty theories as ultimate truths—a grave error.
The circular symbol represented accumulated vital force at its fullest manifestation. Using this, they established a distinction between heaven and earth as separate entities—designating the active yang principle as celestial body and passive yin principle as earthly body—thereby bifurcating heaven and earth while assigning positions of superiority and inferiority.
"This stems from their root desire to place themselves above the masses," he asserted, "using arbitrary laws to lead those below astray."
From this arose contention over selfish desires between those above and below, becoming the foundational source of an age of chaos.
Even in our present era, this has not ceased.
"How inept!" he lamented. "To abandon nature!"
Nature—without beginning or end—manifests through the dynamic vitality of Five Phases unified in truth and responsive to divine influence; exhausting cyclical movements of advance, retreat, penetration and reversal, it generates heaven, earth, and all beings.
"Therefore heaven and earth consist of nature's advance and retreat—without origin or conclusion, without high or low, without nobility or baseness—indivisible with advance and retreat as one."
"Thus heaven and earth cannot be said to hold precedence."
"It is simply nature."
"Yet to benefit themselves," he continued, "they lost and stole this natural order—attaching precedence to heaven and earth by establishing what came first as Great Ultimate and what followed as heaven/earth duality."
This marked the genesis of loss and became wellspring of great disorder.—To attribute this theory to Fuxi exemplified what we might call Andō's scholarly limitations, with such errors being abundantly evident elsewhere.
Nevertheless, as critique exposing how sages arbitrarily impose preferred interpretations upon natural phenomena to construct self-serving value systems, this remained fundamentally valid.

Although I attempted to quote Andō's writings in the above preface, they proved clumsy in style—containing omissions, errors, and phonetic substitutions—alongside his idiosyncratic terminology, making them quite difficult to comprehend.
For example, *izen* referred to past matters and *tenden* to heaven and earth; faced with such neologisms, even I struggled to grasp them for some time.
When it came to descriptions of his fundamental thoughts, they proved exceedingly difficult to grasp due to their very nature; it was only through observing their practical application that I gradually came to discern their meaningful aspects.

Among the operations of nature that were observed existed the concept of Advance-Withdrawal alongside Mutual Activity of Truth.
This replaced the law of causality—its manifestation through three forms of penetration, horizontal movement, and reversal could also be seen in previously cited passages.
This differed fundamentally from near-self-evident principles like "good cause-good effect and evil cause-evil effect," making it profoundly difficult to grasp.
Not only did it intertwine with his Five Phases theory to achieve extreme complexity, but it also resisted any popularized explanation.
Therefore analyzing this concept critically proved no simple task.
However since the notion of rescue-life had fortunately become irrelevant here I resolved to omit it accordingly.

While Mutual Activity of Truth was simpler compared to Advance-Withdrawal, since Andō’s description remained extremely insufficient, I resolved to supplement it based on his ideas.

V. Mutual Activity of Truth

The father of modern philosophy, Descartes, declared, "I think, therefore I am."
This phrase has become widely recognized.
Its meaning lies in the notion that while one may doubt all things, one cannot doubt one's own existence while engaged in doubting; since it is through one's mind that awareness of existence arises, this mind constitutes the ultimate certain existence—it being through this mind that one first comprehends one's own being.
Superficially, this appears reasonable.
He consequently established this as his philosophical starting point.
While evaluating his entire philosophy lies beyond our current scope, uncritical acceptance of this phrase risks inducing intellectual paralysis. Moreover, even one as meticulous as Descartes—so intently focused on his objectives—likely lacked opportunity to consider the psychological preconditions enabling such a statement's validity. We shall therefore scrutinize it.

The capacity for such abstract thought could not be expected of infants aged one or two; it necessarily belonged to someone possessing a sufficiently mature mind. Such a person must have known the distinction between self and other and recognized their relative nature. So I ask: Could this "I" who declares "I think" possibly remain unaware of others? How could one assert the existence of an "I" without knowing there are others? Had all others been negated, through relativity I too should have simultaneously ceased to exist. In other words, there could be no logical basis for a self existing without relation to others. Therefore, when treating this as a factual matter, the moment one says "I," one cannot help but acknowledge that others already exist. This was self-evident. Even when considered as a purely theoretical problem, the thinking "I" and existing "I" had to maintain a distinction between observer and observed—thus this ultimately became the mutual opposition between self and other. Considering this both factually and theoretically, one could not claim that only the mind truly existed and all things arose from it; rather, perceiving that where there was mind—that is, self—there simultaneously existed matter—that is, other—likely constituted the true state of affairs. Having thought this far, one could not help but wonder whether Descartes' concept of the relative self had surfaced merely as an expression of an isolated self when he conceived that phrase. Had this not been so, he would not have made such an idealistically misleading statement. However, what I now wished to clarify was not to critique how much support he lent to idealism, but rather to point out that beneath that phrase lay—both factually and theoretically—the concept of self-other relativity.

I had already stated as a factual matter that where there was self, there must be other, but when considering at what age awareness of the relationship between self and other began—though the timing varied from person to person—it appeared to emerge from a fairly early stage of childhood. That is to say, once one became capable of calling and listening, sending and taking, the distinction between self and other had already been established. In those perceived as others around this time, there were parents, dogs, cats, chickens, and horses. However, parents were the earliest to be recognized. And later, they came to understand that among all others, the most important ones were the parents. This was because one knew that they were born from parents. Now, this knowing. I had just stated that I knew I was born from my parents, but if, conversely, one were to know that parents were born from oneself, what would happen? Knowing that parents were born from oneself did not conflict with the law of identity but did conflict with the current law of causality. It was an act that could not be accomplished unless by one endowed with a distinct law of causality. Andō, like ordinary people, took himself to be someone born from parents. He took this as a fact. This fact had to be acknowledged by all as the most significant among humanity’s foundational experiences. And since applying this to reality and placing great importance on it ultimately became the teaching of filial piety, all people of common sense regarded filial piety as the foundation of all virtues. This applied to Confucius and to Shōeki as well. The reason Andō Shōeki declared Zeng Shen to be the foremost among humans had other significant grounds, but it went without saying that he also placed great emphasis on this filial piety. If one came to understand that filial piety was grounded in fact, then one could also realize that Andō’s patriotism ultimately amounted to nothing more than an expansion of the concept of self—itself rooted in fact. Therefore, if there existed someone wishing to advocate non-self or similar doctrines in society, that person should first consider that even preaching non-self required food, and reflect upon who exactly consumed that food. They would soon discover that notions like non-self were nothing more than textual fantasies. Fantasies of this kind were exceedingly numerous.

When it comes to matters described with adjectives such as faith-based, idealistic, spiritual, mystical, poetic, or artistic, anyone would recognize that fantasies are all too prone to run rampant.
However, when such yearning for fantasies arises, it leads to the neglect of facts, resulting in all manner of complications; thus, caution is necessary.

Now, let us return to our previous discussion.
The fact that Andō accepted his birth from his parents as a fact meant he thereby acknowledged the self-other relative relationship established between himself and his parents as factual.
However, such facts of self-other relativity were objectively found everywhere.
Parent and child were an example of this.
A married couple was an example of this.
Siblings were an example of this.
Lord and retainer were an example of this.
And since all of them had established self-other relationships, if either one of the two was lost, the other would completely lose its meaning.
In this sense, the fact of self-other relativity was by no means limited to the Five Relationships; all things in nature—whether tangible or intangible—entirely engaged in such opposition.
That is, it became evident that all things—such as pleasure and pain, harmony and conflict, good and evil, right and wrong, belief and doubt, emptiness and existence, cause and effect—could not be conceived in isolation; they necessarily required an opposing counterpart to come into being.
If there existed something for which relativity was not evident, those versed in logic would immediately realize that adopting the method of dichotomizing it into self and other would cause the fact of relativity to manifest.
However, Andō did not carry this into the realm of knowledge; he took everything as fact.
That is, he viewed all natural things as relative and considered that they could not come into existence without possessing relativity.
He expressed this relativity with the two characters for “Mutuality” (*gosei*), represented the state of establishment with the two characters for “Active Truth” (*kasshin*), and thus declared that natural things were Mutual Activity of Truth (*gosei kasshin*).
Moreover, in the sense that this constituted a natural action, it was also termed *Natural True Activity*.

Since relativity is established in actuality, it is by no means accidental; thus, the notion that the two polar entities constituting its extremes are originally neither separate nor identical naturally arises.

After discussing this concept in his analysis of the wisdom found in the *True Transmission of Unified Dao*, he stated: “The True Way is natural advance-withdrawal and constitutes the One True Way.”
That is: heaven and earth as one body; sun and moon as one deity; five grains as one grain; man and woman as one person; female and male as one animal; male and female as one pair; good and evil as one entity; wrong and right as one matter; yes and no as one principle; surface and depth as one aspect; life and death as one path; pleasure and pain as one mind; joy and anger as one emotion—all these clear dualities were none other than the advance-withdrawal of the One True Activity.
This advance-withdrawal was the One True Activity.
Andō repeated this kind of meaning throughout his work.

In *Natural True Activity*, the relativity of things was treated as a self-evident principle, with almost no explanation provided.
Those that causally opposed each other vertically; those that coexisted horizontally, opposed each other, or were mutually exclusive; those generated through dichotomous methods—all without exception or discrimination were collectively termed Mutual Activity of Truth.
Furthermore, even mechanisms such as those that were neither separate nor identical received no explanation beyond being termed Natural True Activity.
It was indeed a rough-hewn way of thinking.
However, though both were termed “relativity,” Mutual Activity of Truth possessed distinctive features.
In its unwavering adherence to things—taking them precisely as they were—there lay something remarkably powerful in its simplicity.
This was because viewing them in accordance with things naturally prevented perspectives that created absolutes existing apart from things.
As that philosophy considered this through knowledge alone, there remained a constant danger of detachment from things, making the induction of absolutes from relatives an inevitable tendency.
When it came to Buddhism itself, this manipulation of thought grew more willful—swinging relativity through multiple layers until finally plunging into delusion.
Considering this, Andō’s way of thinking—precisely through its simplicity—managed to avoid falling into delusion, which proved truly fortunate for him.

Mutual Activity of Truth was the pinnacle of thought Andō had reached.
It constituted his ultimate standpoint.
Whether destroying Legal Society or creating Natural Society, the emergence and dissolution of all things entirely depended on this Mutual Activity of Truth.
This was because it represented nothing less than nature's great law.
Andō wielded this as an immediate sword of salvation, enabling it to manifest its wondrous function of freely governing life and death when transforming Legal Society into Natural Society.

VI. View of Salvation

All things without exception were Mutual Activity of Truth.
Value was no exception to this.
Since it was mutuality, there was no reason to prioritize either side in nature.
Both sides had to mutually support each other.
If one was partial and imbalanced and could not uphold the reality of Mutuality, then it would no longer permit establishment.
Good and evil, beauty and ugliness, right and wrong, straight and crooked—all being aspects of Mutuality—could not permit partiality or imbalance.
As a result, not only were all teachings—whether ancient or modern, Eastern or Western—dismissed as meaningless and indiscriminately discarded in one bundle, but they were even attacked as evil laws designed to lead people into sin.
In the volume rectifying Buddhist errors in the *True Transmission of Unified Dao*, it stated: “If you eliminate evil, there will be no good either.”
“If you remove good, there will be no evil either.”
“The left hand is good; the right hand is evil. If you cut off the right hand, then the left hand alone will struggle to fulfill its function. The large intestine contains feces and is evil; the chest houses a god and is good.”
“Could one remove the large intestine and have only the chest remain?”
“Night is dark and evil; day is bright and good.”
“Could one eliminate night and have only day remain?”
“Therefore, things are good and evil yet one entity; matters are good and evil yet one matter; heaven and earth are one body; sun and moon are one deity; man and woman are one person.”
“Because they do not understand nature’s wonders—declaring ‘encourage good and punish evil’ or ‘practice all good and avoid all evil’—this constitutes my grave error.”
“‘All sages and Buddha have committed a grave error by leading the world astray and plunging it into a pit of sin.’ He thus argued.”
Since this reasoning method was inherently applicable to laws as well, all political laws were thereby declared invalid.
Thus, all teachings and laws of Legal Society were entrusted to the trampling of Mutual Activity of Truth, and the authority of law and dignity of morality ultimately came to be deemed as having not even three-copper-coin value.

If one were to completely remove traditional political and religious systems from society, ordinary people would likely think that what remained would become a realm of carnage; however, this view could not necessarily be accepted theoretically.
Particularly since Andō had sought to replace political and religious systems with the natural way and substitute Legal Society with a superior social organization, he saw nothing wrong in kicking aside those systems—it was only natural.
In this context, there was truly something astonishing about his deep conviction and vigorous spirit.
However, one could not deny that this might be seen as a reckless act born of self-conceit.
For this reason, he took nature only as Mutuality and did not know to take it as causality.
He was not entirely unaware, but his perspective lacked thoroughness; this had to be called a grave one-sidedness.
If one viewed nature cross-sectionally and statically, there was logic in what he said; but if one viewed it longitudinally and dynamically, all things manifested in the form of causality, each bearing necessity and becoming entirely free from error.
And one must not forget that the significance of history arises precisely from this perspective.
I will now cease delving further into this matter, but I must point out that Andō had overlooked something of grave importance.

Therefore, let us examine what emergency measures Andō applied to a society that had lost the pillars of its religious and political systems and stood on the verge of crumbling like earth and shattering like tiles.

Andō promptly brandished Mutual Activity of Truth once more.
With the sharp sword that had slaughtered Legal Society, he now attempted to revive it.
He declared: "Those who contend will inevitably fall."
"What benefit would there be in falling?"
"Therefore, in my path there is no conflict."
"I do not speak of war."
"I do not wage war."
Indeed, since things were of Mutuality and had to mutually support each other, they should not contend.
If they contended, it would inevitably result in one side perishing, both sides perishing together, or the conflict continuing endlessly.
Setting aside mutual destruction as not worth considering, if only one side perished and the other remained, this situation became meaningless from the perspective of Mutuality.
If they were going to quarrel endlessly anyway, it would have been better to quickly reconcile and uphold the reality of Mutuality, for this aligned with the Way and brought happiness.
I had previously stated that Andō’s pacifism derived from what formed the central axis of his thought; that was precisely the perspective I had referred to.
There were aspects of this perspective that required thorough scrutiny, but I set them aside for now.
Rather, I wanted to recommend this perspective to those who advocated world peace policies or non-war doctrines, and especially to those who sought to contend through concrete ideological assertions.
This might have been neither a digression nor an apt example, but since it had some relation to Andō’s arguments, there was something I wished to discuss.
I had previously stated that the kingdom of God was a bounced check.
That reminded me—I believed this remained fresh in your memory, dear readers.
Some years earlier, when a young, up-and-coming scholar at a university had introduced the discourse of left-leaning Western thinkers, students had resonated with it, causing an uproar and clashing with the parties involved.
The students’ argument had been that since even the kingdom of God resembled an anarchic state, there was nothing wrong with embracing anarchism.

Had the students realized that the kingdom of God—which served as their rationale—was a bounced check, they likely would not have risen up; and had they viewed all things through Mutual Activity of Truth, such disruptive acts would never have occurred in the first place. Someone like Andō saw brandishing anarchism and nihilism to pick fights as child’s play, believing adults need not imitate children by suffering the bitter experience of retaliation after striking others. This becomes clear through mere contemplation without practical demonstration. Therefore, he set a hundred years as his timeframe. Moreover, while always keeping the sword of Mutual Activity of Truth close at hand, he merely caressed it and never cut anyone down. Is there not something admirable in how samurai compassion is subtly evoked here? I wish both allies and adversaries to emulate this example.

That disruptions in male-female relations form the origin of conflict was widely known.
This being an important matter required special handling.
Andō had stated that sexual pleasure stood supreme—so absolute that not even Buddhist prayers could arise—and acknowledged ethical paradoxes defying explanation even when inverted, expressing profound sympathy; yet to regard him as a Tachikawa-school derivative or pioneer of modern anarchism would constitute utter desecration.
Thus while some might feel disappointed to learn he rigorously advocated monogamy, I found it necessary to clarify.
Suppose there exist m men and n women here—since each individual could potentially pair with any other, imagining permutations of these m+n entities becomes straightforward without experimentation; indeed configurations like one man with multiple women or multiple men with one woman readily emerge.
Yet the most stable equilibrium resided in dyadic unions.
The durability of such pairings necessarily stemmed from their conflict-minimizing nature.
It was precisely upon this rationale of reducing strife that he based his advocacy for monogamy.
Should any revert to polygamous systems—be they royalty or commoners—Andō permitted none exemption from his scathing rebukes; his pronouncements included declarations like “one husband taking multiple wives constitutes wild-horse behavior.”
Had he encountered polyandry, he likely would have derided it as inferior even to insect conduct.

As a corollary to the aforementioned theorem, celibacy became impermissible.
Since men and women had to form pairs of one man and one woman in accordance with the principle of Mutual Activity of Truth, celibacy rendered one incomplete.
It was only when united as one man and one woman that one first became a complete member of society.
It was in this sense that men and women were defined as constituting a complete human being.

Andō, wielding the sharp sword of Mutual Activity of Truth, slashed through social phenomena, exposed their contradictions and irrationalities, reduced Legal Society to utter ruin, and asserted that the grave causes behind the emergence of such an untenable Legal Society lay with the sages and religious leaders who served as ideological guides.
They, unaware that they neither comprehended nature nor attained true wisdom, distorted nature through their deluded and arrogant partial knowledge, and by establishing various value systems through lectures, writings, arts, violence, and every other means, sought to realize their erroneous ideals. As a result, people all came to desire what was lofty, noble, profitable, and pleasurable; in pursuing these things, they ultimately created evils.
If people, having had their desires inflamed, came to commit evils, then those who inflamed them must be seen as having committed still deeper evils.
By adopting this perspective, Andō compared saintly people to excrement and called those who listened to their words bluebottle flies.
Moreover, in another passage, he stated that even if he were called excrement, he did not take offense; rather, he felt ashamed to be called a saint.
The reason was that even excrement was more beneficial than saints.

This perspective was exceedingly harsh. Andō likely did not spare those who wielded arrogant partial knowledge.
If he perceived those acting with goodwill out of ignorance, he likely could not spare them either.
However, if there were those who, precisely because they knew better, inflamed human desires for their own benefit, then this was something that could not be pardoned.
When one came to frequently find such individuals even among those who upheld the sages, one could not help but grieve for Legal Society.
If such inconveniences—stemming from livelihoods or businesses meant for sustenance, compounded by various secret relationships existing therein—compelled rulers to turn a blind eye, then Legal Society, in its cultural advancement, came to resemble nothing so much as a showcase of deception: on one hand promoting luxury and indulgence, on the other inciting resentment and despair. Even as it corrupted public morals, one could not help but conclude that it ultimately reached a state beyond remedy.
One could not help but acknowledge that this tendency undeniably existed.
If one removes the colored lenses, [the truth] becomes clearly visible before one's eyes, leaving no room for concealment or defense.
This was indeed a flaw and sickness of Legal Society.
That because of this, those who committed crimes never ceased was also an evident fact.
And that the fundamental remedy for these defects and evils could not be found in legal codes, nor could it be found in religious doctrines—this too was an all too evident fact as evidenced by past and present.
Such evident facts, precisely because they were facts, could also be viewed as something that could not be altered in any way.
This was a highly penetrating perspective.
However, Legal Society’s perspective could not be thorough to this extent.
They could do nothing but strive to paper over [the flaws] with unchanging religious doctrines.
Was it then that its fundamental remedy ultimately possessed a nature with no prospect of being established?
This had to indeed be a problem that those who truly cared for the world must never forget, day or night.
However, merely raising such problems was not an easy task.
Moreover, when it came to formulating concrete plans, it had to be said that this became all the more exceedingly difficult.
Andō, who sought to abandon Legal Society and turn toward Natural Society, was compelled by duty to present a concrete plan addressing this problem.
Of course, since it was a new attempt that even sages had not conceived, there might be some aspects that could surprise.

In exchange, he set a hundred-year period and absolutely did not resort to underhanded political tactics like launching coups d'état.
He proceeded entirely through consultation.
Moreover, since Andō was inarticulate, I articulated the meaning of what he conceived.

The samurai were the supreme product created by the feudal system.
They became renowned symbols of Japan, alongside the cherry blossoms cultivated throughout the land.
It went without saying that the reason for the samurai’s esteem lay in bushido.
How was this bushido formed?
There was a proverb that said, “When people have enough to eat and wear, they learn courtesy.”
They all received stipends and had obtained a guarantee of livelihood for generations to come.
The obligation and benevolent attitude of those who bestowed this, fused with the responsibility and reverential respect of those who received it, formed a subtle force that refined their will and dignified their actions—this result was none other than that bushido.
At its foundation, it was none other than a spirit of mutual affection and co-prosperity between superiors and inferiors.
If such an excellent system existed, what would happen if all four classes were to become samurai?
In that case, starting tomorrow there would be trouble with food supplies, which was problematic.
Ah, that was precisely the point.
If they realized that food was more important than anything, the samurai would return to farming while remaining samurai.
And from among them, they would establish those who engaged in commerce and industry as needed.
However, they would not permit a single person to be an idle non-worker.
All would work to eat.
Since those who were samurai had obtained a guarantee of livelihood for generations to come, their devotion to patriotic service could not but be profound.
Therefore, they would submit their income to the government, and in exchange, make it a condition that they received the provisions necessary for their livelihood.

As for the government, it went without saying that they had to comprehend their intent, devise the fairest distribution method, and take care to prevent the emergence of elements that could lead to evils such as sudden wealth and luxury. They would utilize the surplus from annual budgets to organize public facilities, devote efforts to promoting the happiness of the entire nation, and thereby achieve the reality of coexistence and co-prosperity. Now, what about that government? This had to be determined by the will of the Yamato people. The new Japan thus brought into being would manifest an essence surpassing even Bushido, cause its glory to shine throughout all nations, and lead all humanity to emulate our Japan.

Needless to say，the above proposal was presented with the aim of preventing evils before they occur.
Andō，being a man who disliked war，attempted to drag the samurai down into the agricultural order; however，I merely differed in having advocated that the samurai awaken and voluntarily return to farming—the national agrarian-based organization that emerged would，regardless of its origin，converge asymptotically toward the same point.
Therefore，what I stated was not a distortion of Andō’s theories but a presentation of his spirit in a more digestible form.
If the plan I presented failed to gain approval，then Andō’s proposal would become all the more unacceptable.

Those who do not know what nature truly is cannot escape the shackles of benevolence and righteousness; lacking both the clarity to avoid deceitful pitfalls and the strength to resist, they end up committing sins in torrents.
The ideology conceived by those unable to endure witnessing this—who resolved it must neither be disclosed nor enforced but instead followed—is none other than agrarian-based communism.
This idea was only briefly written about in *Shindō Tetsuron* [Natural True Activity], with no detailed explanation provided anywhere else.
Therefore, I too will limit myself to outlining the general points.
Long ago in Chu, Xu Xing’s theory of ruler and people cultivating together seems to have been something quite close to communism.
Now again in Soviet Russia, they are endeavoring to achieve worker-peasant communism on a grand scale, but whether it will succeed or fail remains to be seen.
As for scholars’ debates, they should be seen as tumultuous and yet to reach any conclusion.
Amidst this, while Andō’s proposal may give a rather meager impression in terms of its quantity, in terms of its quality, it must be said to possess a most superior merit.
For this is because Western ideologies are grounded solely in economic issues, viewing those who stand in opposition as enemies and making it their inherent nature to immediately start quarrels, whereas Andō’s propositions are grounded in the fundamental principles of things, possessing the characteristic of comprehending all matters and never engaging in conflict.
Since we discover the purity or impurity of motives in this difference of foundational principles, we must not conflate jade with stone.

Having observed Agrarian-Based Communism as the path to saving society, what remained was solely to discern what Natural Society truly constituted.
Yet though one would expect Andō to have attempted such an explanation in the *Manifesting Truth* volume, no such account could be found anywhere within it.
The notion that the *Volume on Life and Death*—which I had been unable to examine—asserted the existence of hell and paradise struck me as being as nonsensical as imagining children giving birth to parents; however, seeing how all other sections overflowed with his distinctive explanations of natural phenomena led me to infer where his true focus must have lain.
That is to say: naturalness commenced with establishing an Agrarian-Based Organization—preparatorily instituted to minimize evil's occurrence—progressed through acquiring precise knowledge of natural phenomena, and ultimately settled where it properly settled through gradual improvements informed by that knowledge.
Since even Andō could have possessed no concrete plan for this reality, he likely chose to withhold writing about it.

I had speculated that Andō was likely a physician, but he possessed considerable knowledge beyond medicine as well. The over sixty volumes of the *Manifesting Truth volumes* demonstrated his scholarly erudition—spanning all areas—and could not be said to lack in quantity. However, regrettably, there were very few points worth retaining. At times he astutely exposed historical fabrications or speculated on morphological similarities between animals and their food sources, offering startling theories sufficient to astonish readers; yet one cannot help but deeply regret how he persistently reverted to Five Phases theory throughout. This flaw should be attributed to a lack of scientific knowledge and was likely unavoidable in his time. Having thus ceased engaging with further eccentric theories and invectives—and now that I had finished explicating his most emphasized soteriological view—I resolved to attempt a brief critique of it.

First glancing at his soteriological view: Legal Society was a world of institutional artifacts that personally fostered human desires.
Natural Society was a world of institutional artifacts that communally satisfied human desires.
Communism served as a laxative for individual desire-sickness.
Science acted as the common remedy for both individual and collective desire-sickness.
And since food stood as an indispensable necessity, people strove to enrich sustenance by grounding themselves in agriculture—thus it came to be.
Considering his emphasis on returning to farming and ensuring food sufficiency, one could say his salvation of the world amounted to salvation of life.

That absolutist notions of supremacy and immutability were largely mistaken had long been recognized in European intellectual circles.
Therefore, eclectic theories such as Enzen philosophy—convenient for mediating radical ideologies—had also emerged.
Since the World War, many actual examples had been presented, and ordinary people often came to know them; thus when those without deep consideration engaged in thoughtless conformity, there arose a grave danger.
The twentieth century had indeed become a time of no small difficulty.

At this juncture, there may be those who think that invoking salvation-like concepts preached by Buddha and Christ over two thousand years ago is an anachronism. Not necessarily so. The term "saving the world" may be clichéd, but in truth, it is the reformation of today. In any case, it sounds like a beneficial thing. The salvation preached by Buddha and Christ resided in the realms of heart and spirit, but Andō extended this to the physical body, claiming to save everything from top to bottom—a fascinating approach. Confucianism also holds roughly the same view, but it is not as fundamental as Andō’s. It is evident that any nation requires world-saving measures, and this is something that must inevitably be done for its citizens. Therefore, even if today’s politics in the world attempted emergency world-saving measures by borrowing the power of religion and such, should they by any chance fail to go well, those seeking salvation must inevitably develop grievances with desperate intensity. If a severe gap arose between those who seek and those who give, the pent-up grievances might be unleashed with fatal consequences. This is something that must be most deeply feared. Andō did not formulate his theories anticipating the present day, but he sought to construct a society where such conflicts would not arise. While the primary purpose of his agrarian-based organization lies in preventing evils, perceptive readers will surely not overlook that the confrontation between those who give and those who receive will simultaneously vanish as a result of its establishment. In other words, it was a safety measure that had been devised to prevent grievances from accumulating. Even if this plan had never existed from the start, maintaining his compromising attitude and absolutely refusing to engage in conflict would still have to be said to render his existence profoundly significant. For if those who give and those who receive were to learn this compromising attitude, detestable conflicts such as uprisings would cease to occur; thus, even with this alone, his purpose may be seen as partially achieved. Truly, this universal spirit of compromise, mutually complementing his soaring ambition, is sufficient to enable him to achieve greatness. As for his salvation plan itself, while it can be said to be remarkably thorough, it possesses significant defects in its fundamental ideology, and there are numerous points requiring debate. Since criticizing each point one by one would be significant, I have merely pointed this out and left it at that. I believe that society has not yet progressed to the point where a truly accurate salvation plan can be realized. It cannot be hoped for until the time comes when a salvation plan grounded in the perspective of physics—as I cited much earlier—is proposed.

However, since one cannot remain silent forever, having to devise stopgap salvation plans or reform measures became unavoidable.
All these sages came to act based on this idea.
Andō Shōeki was also one of them.
And so, those who rose up and those who followed all preached peace of mind, preached self-cultivation, preached soul salvation—claiming that the irrefutable evidence of their teachings would be made clear at the gates of hell—but Andō alone did not preach this doctrine in the slightest.
He solely called for food sufficiency and life preservation.
He solely advocated returning to farming.
He solely esteemed Direct Cultivation.
Of course, he stated that the evidence existed in the present world.
Here, where there was no distinction between those who gave and those who sought—where people with calm hearts and open minds reflected on themselves and observed others—if all attained the realization that food sufficiency must be made the foremost principle, one cannot help but acknowledge that Andō’s Direct Cultivation theory had indeed been contemplated with sincerity and wholeheartedness through irrefutable power and inescapable benevolence.
All living beings ought to engage in profound soul-searching.