Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. What is History?

Many of the world’s culturally advanced peoples, when their culture developed to a certain degree and writing came into use, created what we now commonly recognize as historical records in some form and transmitted them to posterity.
Setting aside such matters as the origins of these records—particularly their preceding stages as oral traditions, their ethnic particularities, or the extent to which they convey factual truth—I wish at present to recall simply this: that they primarily documented human deeds and actions, and consequently their descriptions largely assumed a form of temporal progression; in other words, that they possessed a somewhat annalistic nature.
Even when natural phenomena are recorded, it is because people act in response to them and because those phenomena exert some influence on human actions; even if there are instances where general social conditions rather than individual actions are discussed, this is fundamentally because people create those conditions and act under them.
The fact that ancient historical records are of this nature shows what matters people valued in their ethnic life, what knowledge they sought to acquire, and what legacies they aimed to transmit to posterity—this pertains to the very essence of history.
Of course, for contemporary historical study, such records merely serve as source materials in some sense; however, the essential nature of historiography still resides in that same foundation.
Every phenomenon in history, without exception, occurs because of human deeds and actions.

History is shaped by human actions.
Needless to say, outwardly manifested actions—and even mental activities, being movements of the human mind—can be encompassed within the term "action" in its broad sense.
However, people are concretely individuals.
Even when we speak of ethnic movements or societal movements, those who actually act, think, and desire are ultimately individuals.
While there exist various elements common to all members of a people—such as their lifestyle, customs, habits, morals, religious beliefs, or general temperament—it is ultimately individuals who actually experience joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure.
There exist social organizations, political systems, and economic structures that maintain various relationships with individuals, but those who actually act are none other than individuals.
Even if there exist social movements and shifts in public sentiment involving various group activities being conducted or unconsciously carried out, in reality there are only individuals’ actions.
A group is not merely an aggregation of individuals but performs distinctive functions as a collective entity, and the movement of society is not simply an accumulation of individuals’ actions but is considered to arise from social functions that differ in nature from those individual acts.
However, this function manifests through complex relationships—mutually, variously, and multiply interconnected among numerous individuals—within the ceaselessly occurring multitude of matters and through intermingled workings of action and reaction in diverse forms.
In short, it arises from the mental activities and actions of many individuals.
The formation of customs and habits also occurs in the same manner.
Even systems and organizations constrain individuals through their influence, but what shapes and sustains them remains the aforementioned workings between individuals.
All historical phenomena are human actions; indeed, they are in reality the actions of individuals—this should be evident from even this much consideration.
When I said "in reality," this carries the same significance as saying "concretely."
The functioning as a society or group, the general temperament of a people, or customs and habits—such things are abstract concepts when discussed in terms of human actions.

However, the fact that people act and do things constitutes the functioning of human life.
People live through their actions.
Therefore, we must consider what human life truly is.
Regarding this, the first point to recognize is that life progresses temporally—in other words, that it possesses a process.
Things people do involve a process, no matter how small.
Even if occurring within a brief span, there exists no word or deed devoid of temporal progression.
The second point is that when people act to do something, they alter the present state.
Even a single word or deed not only imparts some degree of change—when comparing before its utterance or execution to after—upon those who hear it, those addressed by it, or matters involved with it, but through this also generates transformation within oneself.
Even mental movements unaccompanied by external words or deeds produce psychological changes between their inception and aftermath.
Yet simultaneously, the self persists as itself.
Today’s self differs from yesterday’s self while remaining yesterday’s self.
Precisely through this duality does change emerge.

Third, life is in constant motion and never rests for a single moment.
This is because people are always saying something, doing something, and exercising their minds to some degree, which is why life is in constant flux.
This motion manifests in diverse ways—at times large and vigorous, at others small and feeble; it may appear to erupt abruptly in intense bursts or shift imperceptibly through gradual drifts. Even these gradual, minor motions may, through their own propulsive force or external stimuli, develop into significant movements.
And no matter what form this motion takes, because each movement successively inherits what precedes it and gives rise to what follows, the motion of life continues without interruption.
Therefore, it is impossible to impose divisions within it.
Life maintains its coherence as a single continuous existence.
In this sense, today’s self is not only yesterday’s self but also the self from the distant past and the self extending into the distant future.
Therefore, as the fourth point, the following can be considered.
This means that any single word or deed, whether through the aforementioned changes in life or through other pathways, will inevitably exert its influence on subsequent life.
Its influence may manifest long after the passage of time or operate without being clearly perceived, but there is none that does not exert it.
Though there may be differences in the magnitude or intensity of its influence, things once done do not simply vanish into nothingness.
Fifthly, because life in constant motion assumes a distinct form and exerts a unique influence at each moment, it never exists in the same state twice.
When uttering even a single word, the mood of the moment—that is, the physiological and psychological state—sudden recollections, the interlocutor’s character and attitude, the conversational flow, surrounding circumstances, and various other conditions interact to determine both what is said and how it is said. However, since each of these conditions is itself formed through interactions with numerous other conditions, it is impossible for such a multitude of factors to align identically twice; consequently, the same utterance can never be repeated.

Sixth, what propels life forward is, generally speaking, the workings of the mind.
Here, by "workings of the mind," we mean not merely intellect but include volition, emotions, and what might collectively be termed the "mood of life"—it is considered that what actually propels human life forward consists principally of these latter forces.
However, these various workings of the mind are not always necessarily in harmony; discrepancies may arise between them, and at times conflicts may occur.
Even thought may contain many heterogeneous elements—composed of mutually incompatible ways of thinking—within itself.
Therefore, the manner in which these mental workings propel life forward is not a simple one.
Seventhly, human life is a single existence, yet it encompasses multiple dimensions.
These include matters related to clothing, food, and shelter; those pertaining to occupation or duties; those concerning entertainment; and the various roles one assumes as a member of a family, a member of society, or in other relational capacities—though enumerating them all would reveal even more aspects—human life encompasses these multiple dimensions, which interact with one another to form a unified existence.
However, among these exist elements of differing natures, those of disparate origins, and mutually incompatible elements, between which conflicts not infrequently arise.
For this reason, there can even be a breakdown of life.
People live this kind of life.
In other words, the multifaceted aspects of life are none other than a single life—and it is precisely for this reason that breakdowns in living sometimes occur.

Eighthly, since people do not live in isolation, their every word and deed involves interactions with others and with society as a collective group—in short, life is social in nature—but there is little need to elaborate further on this.
It goes without saying that interactions with other individuals are mutual, but we must not forget that in relation to society as well, human life involves both receiving society’s functions and acting upon society.
As mentioned above, society is fundamentally something formed through the interactions of many people.
Ninthly, human life is historical in nature, and people live within the long history of their ethnic group or nation.
The fact that human thought contains many heterogeneous elements and that there exist aspects of life difficult to harmonize can often be attributed to the coexistence of phenomena arising from various stages of ethnic and national histories.

Finally, as the tenth point, I will briefly state people’s attitude in living.
Life is one’s own life.
However, it is conducted within an environment created through the interaction of various material, spiritual, social, and natural forces and factors.
People, while receiving the workings of this environment, respond to them and strive to adapt them to their own lives.
Herein lies the power of people as the subject of life, and herein resides the very meaning of life itself.
People are not only in a passive position relative to their environment but also engage in active workings.
However, the power of the environment is strong.
Moreover, this environment often lacks harmony among its constituent elements and is itself subject to constant change.
Consequently, the influences received from the environment of human life also tend to be chaotic.
Thus, people tend to be overwhelmed by their environment or have their lives disrupted by it.
Only those who possess a resolute spirit and a firm philosophy of life can actively engage with their environment, demonstrate human power as the subject of life, and make life into true life.
In such people, the fact that life is human life and one’s own life is most clearly understood.

The above considerations concern individual life; however, if one can speak of group life—such as ethnic life or national life—as having a kind of metaphorical significance, then the same could be considered for such forms of life. As stated above, human actions are all concretely individual actions; however, when the actions of many individuals interact with one another—if this gives rise to the functioning of a single group—we may call this the life of the group itself. And thus that life can be thought of by analogy to an individual’s existence. However, the mental workings that drive group life prove far more complex than those in individual cases; the functioning of life itself manifests through more multifaceted dimensions, and particularly since the subject of life takes form through many individuals—unlike individual existence—its manner of operation differs from that of individuals while retaining identical fundamental nature. In other respects, what has been stated above regarding individual life mostly applies to group life as well. In this sense too, group life constitutes a concrete entity.

Having reached this point, we redirect our inquiry back to history.
History manifests as the form of life; however, in ordinary circumstances, this does not signify individual existence but rather indicates group life—specifically ethnic or national life.
Now, since life progresses temporally while perpetually transforming the living self, this very progression constitutes history itself.
Yet it enters human understanding as history solely when one positions themselves at a particular juncture within this progression and gazes backward upon the course traversed thus far.
As life advances unceasingly, establishing this vantage point within its ongoing present moment causes life's procession from the past to crystallize as history.
This represents history in its conventional sense; however, if history fundamentally constitutes life's progression, then the process advancing beyond the present instant—that is, future existence—must equally qualify as history. Thus through semantic reorientation, we might declare that humanity ceaselessly creates history.
Alternatively, were one to assume successive present positions within future life's advancement and retrospectively examine each accumulated progression, what we presently deem future existence would instead appear as past life—there revealing history in its ordinary signification.
Since this temporal vantage shifts perpetually forward, historical process gradually elongates toward what lies ahead.
Yet from our current standpoint, we cannot apprehend what form this future-forged history will assume.
Hence we might say that turning backward reveals known history while facing forward discloses only this ceaseless moment-by-moment creation of unknowable history.
This perpetual act—of fashioning unknowable history instant by instant while simultaneously transmuting unknown into known—this constitutes life itself.

Now, if history is the process of human life, then it must inherently be concrete in essence.
To know history means to reproduce within consciousness the concrete process of life in its unaltered concreteness.
Yet history thus apprehended cannot fulfill its function as history unless given written form.
Therefore one must write it down—and this writing must consist of narrating known history as it stands, that is to say, recounting the concrete life process in its concrete reality.
To write history requires adopting the vantage that views ceaselessly unfolding history as something already formed, then reproducing and narrating this formative process in its concrete progression.
Of course, conceptualizing phenomena like a period’s cultural condition, a society’s organizational structure, or prevailing customs and social climate remains necessary as one method for comprehending and chronicling the concrete life process; however, history’s essential nature does not reside there.
That the historical records created since antiquity by numerous peoples—as initially noted—relate to history’s essence becomes clear through this understanding, for documents recording human actions and those bearing annalistic qualities inherently align with history’s mission to apprehend and narrate life’s process in its unmediated form.
This knowing and narrating of history has emerged from humanity’s intrinsic demands across all eras and civilizations.

However, can history truly be known and written in this manner?
As I previously stated, while we speak of past life processes as "known history," this "known" quality refers to history's essential nature—not that all history is fully comprehended or even comprehensible.
Such historical understanding relies on materials serving diverse forms and purposes, yet these materials constitute but a minuscule fraction of the totality we seek to know. Moreover, even this limited corpus tends to contain errors, biases, and sundry flaws—necessitating specialized preparation in handling historical sources.
From this emerges what we might term historical methodology, through which the academic discipline of history constitutes itself. Yet regardless of methods employed, what remains unknown persists unknown—herein lies historical study's inherent limitation.
For now, I shall refrain from pursuing this matter further.

Since historical phenomena are people's lives and people's actions, to know history one must above all know "people"—and to know "people," those who seek to know must themselves be "persons" capable of such understanding. Furthermore, I wish to state these two points: that knowing consists of perceiving as concrete images both life and its process—the living life of living people, that very process which ceaselessly creates history toward the future.
What I meant by stating above that we reproduce past life in consciousness is precisely this.
Through this act, one can narrate history.
Yet this can only be achieved by those possessing sharp insight into and deep sympathy for "people," who are endowed with rich imagination for creating concrete images—in short, those bearing poetic qualities.
To research history constitutes academic study—it may even be called science—but to know and write history must be the work of a poet.
Since history contains unknowable aspects, even poets cannot transcend these limits; yet within these very boundaries lies history's special significance—a meaning transcending mere academic study in the ordinary sense.

However, I must state here that there remained an important task in studying history as an academic discipline.
The process of life was complex and rich in vicissitudes; many elements intertwined, entangled, frictionally collided, and conflicted within intricately interwoven relationships. Each individual force grew stronger or weaker, appeared or disappeared; what had existed before ceased as new things emerged. Moreover, their interactive states ceaselessly changed. Therefore, to reproduce this as a unified life process within consciousness proved profoundly difficult.
To achieve this, one had to meticulously unravel each intertwined strand one by one—investigating their individual natures, tracing their origins and trajectories to clarify how they connected from start to end—while observing their modes of entanglement and transformation throughout. Then one needed to consider how these elements interacted and moved to form life as a whole: how they gave rise to specific events within life, how those events in turn precipitated new ones, and through what process life had thereby advanced.
It became the essential task for knowing history to clarify the path through which life had transformed in this manner.
This corresponded to what was commonly said to involve considering causal relationships, but I found this expression inappropriate.
Now, only after engaging in such work could one finally envision the correct image of life’s process in concrete form.
Moreover, there arose cases where things unknown due to lack of historical materials could be inferred through this, and it was not impossible that the limits of history might be somewhat expanded.
However, this could not be achieved merely by applying general methodologies; it only became possible through engagement with concrete, real-life experiences. For this, observation and reflection had to be meticulous and precise, and particularly, it demanded a philosophical aptitude capable of discerning a unifying spirit across diverse phenomena.
Yet this work existed solely to clarify the truth of concrete life; it was not about constructing abstract concepts or theories.
As stated above, grasping something conceptually remained necessary for thought, but this existed solely as one method for understanding the concrete process of life.
Even when speaking of knowing the path of life’s process, it ultimately pertained to unique, never-recurring, concrete life—real historical phenomena.

What I have written above includes matters I have occasionally addressed before and has taken on an overall lecture-like tone, which makes me feel this seems ill-suited for discussion here; however, since these considerations form the basis and premise for what I intend to discuss next, I have resolved to write them nonetheless.
I hope for the readers' indulgence.

II. A Recent Trend in Historical Research

I contend that history is the process of life, and that knowing history essentially consists of reproducing this concrete life process in its unaltered form within consciousness; however, in what is currently called historical research in Japan—particularly research on Japanese history—there exists a radically different approach that appears to be flourishing among certain individuals who take particular pleasure in expounding upon history.
This approach was learned from Europe; yet while diverse tendencies coexist there, in Japan—as seen across all matters—whenever a new trend is introduced, it becomes deemed an absolute necessity, with only that single method prevailing as the sole orthodoxy.
Of course, it seems historical materialism exists in the background as a trend of similar nature; however, without dwelling on that now, I shall now briefly examine what significance this tendency in historical research might hold.

When examining recent historical papers and similar works, the first thing one notices is how many take as their subject matters such as the political forms of a given era, its social organization—particularly its economic structure—or the composition of cities, villages, and families; land systems; commercial customs; industrial conditions; or other analogous elements—in short, what might be termed the social conditions of a particular era or sphere (though this phrasing seems somewhat inadequate, I shall use it for now), or their general characteristics.

Next, they appear to adopt an attitude that either anticipates some general law governing social phenomena or assumes such a law, then uses it to judge historical events—or that posits the discovery of such laws as the very purpose of historical research. This would amount to viewing historiography as a so-called social science.

Since there exists a close relationship between these two matters, should one adopt this second mode of thinking, the subject under examination will naturally assume characteristics akin to those of the first.

While it can be considered that these two approaches share common ideological foundations at their roots, I shall defer discussion of these matters for later and first examine what value each of these two holds for historical study.

The reason historical research seeks its subject matter in the aforementioned matters can be inferred to lie in the foundational belief that all human life is determined by social conditions and their general characteristics.
Indeed, this constitutes one aspect of human life's reality.
However, it forms another aspect of life's reality that people create social conditions through their actions.
In actuality, life constitutes a unified whole wherein acting under social constraints itself generates new social conditions; yet in thought, we may temporarily separate these two aspects for examination.
Were one to focus on the aspect where people perpetually create social conditions, historical research should naturally prioritize human actions as its principal subject; yet instead treating social conditions as paramount suggests this stems from the aforementioned mode of thinking.
However, not only does such thinking grasp merely one facet of life—and consequently of history—but since life's essence resides in people ceaselessly renewing existence through action—which simultaneously transforms social conditions—we must declare this approach betrays both life's and history's essential nature.
Through such thinking, social conditioning of human lives appears equated with natural world mechanisms.
Social conditions seem perceived as mechanically manipulating people.
Moreover, this perspective fosters an impression of social conditions existing as fixed entities opposed to human life—a notion contradicting societal and vital realities.
Even were one to comprehend a particular era's social conditions, these would not manifest history's ceaseless progression but rather present—so to speak—a static cross-section of that process.
Consequently, such conditional shifts tend to suggest abrupt sectional transformations.
Since social conditions inherently constitute abstract concepts, they naturally assume this form.
Therefore, contemplating such constructs cannot equate to knowing history—which must remain concrete life-process.

Another matter that must be considered is how to ascertain such social conditions—or to put it another way, how to construct such concepts. As for sources concerning past eras, there is no choice but to rely on so-called historical materials; however, most such materials document the actions of certain individuals or specific events, with few serving as direct sources for such matters. And when attempting to consider social conditions through historical materials of such nature, one must adopt one of these methods: either inquire under what social conditions those actions or events could have arisen, or investigate what social conditions could have been formed through those events or actions. However, under the aforementioned currently prevalent mode of thinking, this former approach would naturally be adopted. However, in such cases, the same shortcomings as stated above would inherently exist within that method. Even if one were to adopt the latter approach, various difficulties would arise—and those difficulties would be equally present in the former approach as well.

One of these difficulties lies in the fact that historical materials are exceedingly scarce for considering any matter, and relying solely on them often renders comprehension unattainable.
Admittedly, this holds true even when attempting to concretely imagine specific events or individual actions, but it becomes all the more pronounced when considering something like social conditions.
This is not only because the factors constituting them are exceedingly complex, but also because they all maintain intricate interrelations with other elements, and because even identical elements exhibit numerous variations under diverse circumstances.
For example, even if one attempts to consider the land system of a particular era, the political and economic circumstances that formed it are complex; moreover, it is influenced by that era’s family structures, moral views, religious thoughts, and various other cultural phenomena. Furthermore, due to differences in geographical location, climate, past history, and the landowners and cultivators of the time, it is not uniform—thus, attempting to infer its general state through the few surviving documents today will likely involve various forced interpretations.
One such forced interpretation involves first establishing a general assumption based on scant historical materials, then processing those materials grounded in said assumption, thereby considering that the assumption’s validity has conversely been proven through this very handling.
That such a method is unreasonable goes without saying.
The other method involves supplementing it with some knowledge beyond historical materials. While this may be acceptable when such knowledge is both accurate and appropriate to the matter at hand, should any preconceived notions, biases, or particular scholarly doctrines intervene—thereby activating knowledge that is neither accurate nor appropriate—then numerous errors will likely arise from this approach.
All of this should be common knowledge, and one would expect proper precautions to be taken; yet in practice, there remains a tendency to commit such forced interpretations and fall into these errors.
This is because it is fundamentally difficult work.

The next difficulty lies in the fact that whichever of the two aforementioned methods one adopts, one must presuppose that there exists a necessary relationship between a given social condition and the human actions or events occurring under that condition—and that beyond this relationship, there is nothing driving human actions or events or forming social conditions—yet this proves difficult.
When people take certain actions or when some event occurs, this results from a complex interplay of many circumstances—not solely due to the social conditions of that time—and these circumstances often contain elements of contingency. Moreover, the formation of any social condition involves numerous factors; it is not shaped exclusively by events occurring at that moment or immediately prior. Generally speaking, a long history extending from antiquity exerts significant influence in this regard. Furthermore, human actions not only produce effects that form social conditions but also drive all other aspects of life.

Another point is that human actions or events recorded in historical materials remain constantly in motion and perpetually changing—moreover constituting a complex interplay of psychologies and actions from numerous individuals each marked by personal differences—yet attempting to construct from this a general concept of social conditions as something static proves fundamentally untenable.
This concerns the very essence of what we term history.
To know something as history means grasping the process through which people forming a society—driven by particular psychologies—undertake specific actions and initiate events; how these elements interact to move society as a whole; and how that movement in turn acts upon the people to transform collective societal life.
The formation of concepts like social conditions serves to organize thought for comprehending this process—meaningful in that limited capacity—yet constructing them constitutes arduous labor whose utility remains inherently bounded.
Should one nevertheless pursue this course and inversely seek to prescribe actual societal movements through such constructs, it would only obstruct genuine historical understanding.

The above constituted an observation derived from examining what historical materials could be utilized when considering the social conditions in certain aspects of a past era.
Of course, historical materials were not limited to those documenting human actions or events; they also included categories such as laws and ordinances, registers of individuals belonging to certain groups, documents recording agreements or regulations, and descriptions of customs. However, even these materials did not serve the purpose of considering social conditions unless one understood how what was recorded in them functioned in actual life. To understand this, one still had to rely on historical materials of the nature previously discussed.

Now, concerning social conditions—since it was considered necessary not only to know them as states but also to clarify their general properties—the method employed appeared to treat the analysis of these conditions as its principal task. To speak of analysis would involve decomposing that state into various elements; yet this would also necessitate observing how those numerous elements became synthesized to form said state. Both the term “analysis” and its methodology had likely been borrowed from the natural sciences, though social phenomena differed fundamentally from those of the natural world. Though we spoke of “elements,” these elements were neither fixed nor static—they moved and changed perpetually. Nor did they exist independently; rather, within the elements themselves already lay interactions with other elements. Consequently, their modes of interaction underwent constant transformation. Even when termed “elements,” they remained particular manifestations of human life—composed of psychological movements and actions—where free will operated and elusive life moods exerted potent influence, rendering their trajectories of motion and change inherently indeterminate; moreover, while human life transcended individual existence by nature’s decree, even within individuals themselves complex psychologies remained perpetually at work. Thus emerged the question: how far could such analysis extend? Furthermore—unlike in natural sciences—human and social matters resisted experimental verification, making validation of analytical validity profoundly challenging. Or rather, within methodology itself often appeared not that elements became discerned through analysis, but conversely that what elements existed—however vaguely—had been anticipated prior to analysis itself. This consequently risked intervention by preconceived notions. Nor did synthesizing elements obtained through analysis necessarily reveal the original social conditions’ nature—for life’s meaning inherently resided in its indivisibility as a unified existence. In essence, attempting to elucidate social conditions’ nature through such methods likely contained numerous forced aspects.

Having reached this point, the problem naturally shifts to the mode of thinking that views historical study as a social science.
The term "social sciences" has recently come to be frequently used in our country as well, though its applications vary and its significance remains profoundly ambiguous.
However, even considering its name alone, one might presume it denotes something seeking general laws about social phenomena.
If this holds true—though fundamentally different in nature from historical study—it could be inferred that certain circles perceive them as identical entities, regard historical study as a subset of social sciences, or consider historical study constituted through applying general laws derived from social sciences.
History constitutes the concrete process of life; consequently, its study involves knowing the concrete actions of concrete individuals, ethnic groups, or nations; the concrete events arising from those actions; and their concrete movements—all bearing individuality.
This stems from all concrete things inherently possessing individuality.
Needless to say, individuals, nations, and ethnic groups exhibit individuality; moreover, their actions and processes all manifest this individuality.
The very essence of individuality lies in the fact that identical occurrences never repeat and identical processes never recur.
Therefore, it fundamentally differs from science in the sense of pursuing general laws.
If this is so, could there exist any meaningful relationship between historical study and the so-called social sciences?

If one were to consider that any laws could exist in historical study, they would pertain to the historical process itself.
The method for seeking them would likely involve nothing beyond induction from numerous similar cases.
Regarding this approach, two considerations emerge: first, extracting what proves common across many instances while discarding divergent elements.
Yet all historical processes constitute unique phenomena imbued with individuality—indeed, their very significance resides in this uniqueness—rendering the pursuit of analogous processes fundamentally untenable.
Even through forceful extraction of such parallels, their scarcity would preclude any meaningful inductive derivation of laws.
While repetition might theoretically permit such operations in other domains, recurrence itself stands alien to historical process—a phenomenon native solely to the natural world.
The alternative approach would involve isolating elements bearing necessary relationships within processes while rejecting accidental occurrences.
However, determinations of necessity versus contingency vary case by case; fundamentally, any categorical opposition between these concepts proves inherently flawed.
(As I have examined this matter exhaustively elsewhere, I shall omit further discussion here.) Thus any distinction must ultimately reduce to aligning phenomena with preestablished laws—a differentiation only possible post facto through law formulation itself.
Indeed, theories advocating historical necessity—such as those constructed through Historical Materialism—appear fundamentally premised on such presupposed legal frameworks.

To assert that a law exists would mean positing a fixed relationship between a particular matter in a given state and another matter in another state arising therefrom; however, since historical phenomena possess distinct characteristics in each instance, considering this necessitates beginning by seeking some typology from them. However, typologies remain abstract concepts rather than concrete historical events—thus whatever laws might be established through them bear no relation to historical study. This follows because the concrete processes of history cannot be governed by such abstract laws. When contemplating the existence of such laws, one might recall those established in psychology, sociology, economics, and similar disciplines; yet even if acknowledged as valid within their respective academic domains, since actual social phenomena and historical circumstances arise from the complex interplay of all human life's activities and the cumulative outcomes of prolonged histories across multiple dimensions, it proves untenable to assert that laws formulated within individual disciplines directly govern society as an undivided whole. If the aforementioned fixed relationship merely signifies that causal connections exist between events occurring within the historical process, this too fails to explain the concrete process. Moreover, causal relationships do not constitute the process itself; they merely involve extracting specific events from within the historical process and applying this conceptual framework to their interrelation. In actual processes, numerous phenomena elude such frameworks, and the process as a whole resists decomposition into cause and effect. While applying phenomena to causal concepts serves as one method for organizing thought, it nevertheless remains incapable of conjuring the concrete process itself.

In short, the social sciences are not only distinct from historical study but also of no use to it. Of course, here we are not discussing the social sciences themselves, nor are we attempting to deny their validity. I have merely considered whether they have any relation to historical study and sought only to state that historical study gains nothing from them. On the contrary, it can be considered that there are aspects where the social sciences must instead be supplied with materials from history. For if the social sciences deal with social phenomena, there is no social phenomenon that is not a historical event. However, the existence of perspectives that regard historical study as such a social science or one of its aspects can be attributed to three factors: firstly, adherence to a certain trend within European academia; secondly, alignment with the prevalence of Historical Materialism; and thirdly, the circumstance that the scholarly attitude toward historical research deviated onto a misguided path. It can be observed that interpreting "study" as synonymous with "science," coupled with the tendency to associate science primarily with the natural sciences, inclined people to turn their attention toward the social sciences—which were presumably formed under the influence derived from those natural sciences. Or perhaps they were captivated by the allure of the term "science" itself. To understand history, academic research must be conducted within certain limits; it is in this sense that the designation “historical study” becomes applicable, and this is why methodology is discussed concerning this discipline. However, within such methodologies—particularly those pertaining to the handling of historical materials—there exists a tendency to forget that history is human life, thereby risking devolution into mechanical methods. Could it be said that those accustomed to historical studies imbued with such tendencies naturally shift their focus to the social sciences? Now, when this occurs, the so-called subject of research naturally becomes social conditions and their general properties. In abstracting the concrete—thereby simplifying the complex—in looking at society rather than people, in viewing society as static rather than dynamic: herein lies the reason why addressing such themes appears “scientific.” However, the study of history—which must comprehend “human” life—possesses a quality of being academic while transcending academia. Yet is it not that these contemporary tendencies are losing sight of that very “human”?

How had things come to this?
That became the next problem.

**III. Modern Civilization’s Defects and Their Correction**

Is not the method of handling history as discussed in the previous section connected to the general tendencies of modern civilization that developed in Europe?

According to common-sense views, Europe's modern civilization began with the Renaissance, and the effect of that Renaissance is said to lie in having established the authority of "humanity."
This contains various meanings, but putting that aside for now, when viewing humanity as a whole—with its multifaceted activities and life’s numerous elements—modern civilization too comes to possess diverse functions and complex components.
At the same time, as this development of civilization has expanded humanity’s activities into diverse fields and rendered their substance increasingly complex, the formation and advancement of the natural sciences also stand as one manifestation thereof.
However, this development compelled people to regard humanity itself as a natural entity on one hand—fostering within academia a tendency to approach humanity from a mechanistic standpoint through natural science methods—while on the other hand leading to machines being invented as substitutes for human labor, whose advancement across various domains gave rise to what is termed mechanical civilization.
To put it bluntly, this mechanical civilization has created a situation where machines drive people rather than work for them—where machines use people rather than being used by them.
Even short of this extreme, human life becomes constrained by machines and loses its freedom, while attempts to adapt life to mechanical movements have generated a tendency for life itself to become mechanized.
Consequently, modern people’s psychology—particularly urbanites and those heavily reliant on machinery—loses its naturalness and humanity, coming to exhibit a kind of aberrant functioning.
Of course, this represents one aspect of reality—it remains evident that machinery’s development has provided great conveniences and enhanced happiness through another aspect—but precisely because mechanical power has grown too potent and vast, people find themselves overwhelmed by it.
In the intellectual world’s tendency to treat humanity from mechanistic viewpoints exists a correspondence with this phenomenon.
One aspect of humanity’s activity established by the Renaissance manifested as scientific development; by inducing mechanical civilization, this very humanity thereby lost its authority and holistic functionality, coming to abandon the Renaissance spirit itself.
That moral, social, and political disturbances bearing modern characteristics frequently arise directly or indirectly from this goes without saying.

Next, it should be noted that this mechanical civilization, combined with various other political and social circumstances, has rendered human life collective or mass in nature, thereby suppressing or disregarding individual authority and action.
Human life is inherently social and, in that sense, collective; however, in modern civilization's world, these groups have acquired distinct characteristics, forms, and scales, rendering their power extraordinarily formidable.
Not only that, but even activities as mere crowds have intensified, constantly oppressing people.
Regarding this as well, one must consider that there are many cases where people are moved by groups rather than engaging in collective action themselves, and where they are dragged along by crowds rather than joining their movements as participants.
Of course, while there exist individuals commanding collective actions and leaders guiding crowd movements at times, it remains the power of groups or crowds that exerts pressure on people.
Needless to say when belonging to organized groups, but even when transported en masse like cargo by trains and trams—upon being disgorged from those vehicles—one's existence as an individual nearly vanishes; ideologically, how many lose independent thought after being swept into journalism's clamor perpetually chasing trends—these are phenomena all routinely experience and observe.

From the frequent instances where people are treated as collectives and not recognized as individuals arises both the notion that people are dominated by collectives and ruled by multitudes, and the idea that individuals become subordinate to society and moved by societal forces.
Thus morally too, individuals cease taking responsibility for their own lives, neglect their obligations as societal constituents viewing society as oppositional rather than integral to themselves, ultimately shifting life’s burdens onto society’s shoulders.
To claim that human hardship or criminality stems not from personal fault but societal failure—and therefore that securing livelihoods constitutes societal duty—represents an acknowledgeable perspective grounded in social realities.
Yet from another angle rooted in individual realities, both hardship and transgression must remain personal responsibilities while life management stands as self-imposed duty.
In modern society—where individual existence often proves unsustainable through solitary effort—society must indeed exercise its supportive function where necessary; yet individuals equally require resolve to sustain themselves through personal endeavor.
Here resides humanity’s inherent authority, its attendant responsibilities, and morality’s foundational bedrock.
While acknowledging structural societal flaws remains essential, no social framework can ever safely sustain those who shirk self-responsibility.
Such thinking patterns originate precisely from these circumstances—from collective treatment suppressing individual authority and agency.
This tendency finds reinforcement through natural scientific perspectives viewing life as environmentally determined and through mechanical civilization’s near-total dominance eroding human efficacy.
Considering this trajectory reveals both Renaissance-established modernity’s erosion of human authority and how this decline was paradoxically induced by modernity’s own operational aspects.

Now, this defect of modern civilization was directly manifested in one tendency of historical study discussed in the previous section.
Is it not that those who adhere to this tendency fail to recognize this defect of modern civilization as a defect, but instead regard it as civilization’s rightful form?
Not only them, but among today’s Japanese so-called intellectuals there exists a tendency to place absolute value on what is deemed “modern” and to deem all things in Japanese affairs that remain un-“modernized” as worthless and fit for discard.
Of course, modern European civilization has many aspects: among them are numerous beautiful things gradually created through long human effort—elements that have deepened and elevated human life—and the achievements of the natural sciences are no exception; however, these aspects and those with defects do not exist separately but rather intermingle and interact to form a single modern civilization. Therefore, regarding modern civilization in its entirety as supreme could not be considered a correct perspective.
Moreover, those things praised as modernization often seemed to have aspects possessing the aforementioned defects in their social conditions or lifestyles.
To this, one might argue that precisely because we acknowledge modern social structures’ defects, we must demand their transformation—for instance, even if there were ideas to construct a socialist society in opposition to so-called capitalist society, the very conception of that socialist society in fact possessed those very defects to a high degree.
Or rather, it might even further amplify those defects.
Precisely because socialism remained unrealized—a realm beyond—the desire to realize it took the form of a beautiful illusion in the eyes of socialists; but once it were realized and became part of this shore, the harms arising from it would likely be dreadful.
It was because it disregarded humanity.
Therefore, it too—in being an admirer of modern civilization—was no different from non-socialists.
This discussion might have slightly digressed, but in essence, such a way of thinking regarded modern civilization as if it were history’s ultimate endpoint.

However, today becomes yesterday by tomorrow.
In a hundred years, this year will become the past of a hundred years; in a thousand years, it will become the past of a thousand years.
There is nothing as meaningless as regarding today as the final day and this year as the final year.
The modernity of today will not remain modern forever; as time passes, it will become the medieval and then the ancient.
That is not merely the passage of time, but a transformation of life and a metamorphosis of civilization.
Those who lived five hundred years ago likely took pride in their lives, but we today look back and point out their flaws.
Similarly, those born five hundred years from now will look back on today’s civilization and be astonished by the severity of its flaws, and will marvel that those who lived in the present age took pride in calling it "modern."
“modern”
Those who revel in what is called “modern” without perceiving its defects are those unaware that history ceaselessly advances.
As for so-called ordinary intellectuals, we shall set them aside for now.
Those who readily speak of history yet place absolute value on modern civilization must do so because they do not know what History truly is.
History ceaselessly changes life toward the future, renewing it.
To effect change is to correct defects in the present state—and this constitutes the “humanity” inherent to life.

How then should we correct modern civilization's defects? It lies in restoring humanity poised on the brink of disappearance—establishing its authority, clarifying its responsibilities, and invigorating its activities in full measure. Humanity must become master of machines; humanity must make groups function; humanity must maintain itself without being swept away by mass currents.

America represents both mechanical civilization's apex and vigorous collective action executed in uniquely American fashion—yet there persists traditional liberal-individualist thought alongside Christianity (though not entirely harmonious with it), which appears to compensate for these defects to some degree.

But our nation—having entered modern civilization's sphere to reap its benefits while inheriting its flaws—lacks both traditions entirely.
Thus Japan requires distinct methods for defect correction.
These lie partly within daily life itself and partly through intellectual force.

Regarding daily life: though Japan entered modern civilization's domain, we must recognize that not all aspects of Japanese life have modernized.
Within this unmodernized dimension—simple yet burdened with native flaws—persists humanity's preservation at modernity's vanishing point.
Recent wars grievously wounded this preservation; postwar imprudent measures and thoughtless discourse sought its destruction through other means—yet it remains not wholly eradicated.
(The recent war manifested not Japanese disposition but rather injured it.) Thus by healing these wounds and rebuilding what neared destruction may we open one path toward correcting modern civilization's defects.

The Japanese people—having stood outside European civilization until recently without participating in its formation—must recognize their unique position enabling free external critique unavailable to Europeans constrained within that civilizational sphere.

However, here I lack the leisure to consider this matter in detail; I shall therefore reserve it for another occasion. I must remark that there exists likely no parallel worldwide to certain Japanese intellectuals and commentators of today who—bereft of pride as their own people—look down upon their compatriots and nurture a sense of superiority in seeking to destroy their people’s traditional way of life. (This attitude and sentiment spring from the same roots as wartime propaganda that elevated Japan to an unparalleled nation—propaganda they themselves came to believe in and take pride in through its repetition—and in one sense constitute a reaction operating upon the same plane.) I should further note that such intellectuals and commentators—whose discourse originates from knowledge veiling their perception, knowledge gleaned from European and American texts, and who remain divorced from their people’s actual lives and lived sensibilities—nonetheless delude themselves into believing their self-generated ideas represent the people’s thought.

Next, intellectual work to compensate for modern civilization’s defects—particularly academic work—must be considered.
That is to say, all academic study—particularly scholarship concerning people and society—must commence from the self-awareness of "humanity."
In historical study, since the discipline’s starting point lies in awakening one’s self-awareness as humanity through one’s actual lived experience—and from within it—this will clarify both that humanity creates history and that creating history signifies imparting change to present life to unfold new life into the future.
And thus, through this very process, we shall recover “humanity”—which stands on the brink of being lost to mechanical civilization and collective existence—thereby obtaining the ideological foundation to progressively correct modern civilization’s defects.
And thus it also conversely comes to mean that knowing humanity is first achieved through understanding history.
The study of history illuminates one’s present self and its livelihood through understanding how humanity has shaped history toward the future—and through knowing that self and livelihood, it reveals humanity itself—for this is its purpose.
The fact that histories recording humanity’s actions have been created since ancient times, too, has its profound roots here.
It was precisely because it had been recognized—albeit through a naive mode of thought—that humanity acts and that through action they shape both self and society that such works came to be written.

Historians must reclaim “humanity”—now on the brink of being lost—within historical study. While the subject of history is typically ethnic groups or nations, it should go without saying that this subject is “humanity” in the sense I have described here. To reclaim such “humanity,” it becomes necessary to envision the multifaceted processes of life as a single living process and narrate it as such. Such narration can never be accomplished through partial observation or attempts to handle matters solely via rationalist approaches. When applying fixed scholarly doctrines, this becomes all the more impossible. For narrating history cannot be achieved unless one envisions humanity as “humanity”—as living beings ceaselessly in motion without respite; as beings whose every word and deed contain profoundly complex factors and multifaceted workings; as beings often driven by life’s moods and sentiments they scarcely consciously recognize—while concretely imagining their inner states and actions. Constructing concepts like social conditions or their general properties may serve within historical study as one method aiding the formation of such concrete images, yet this does not constitute historical study itself.

However, for historians to accomplish such a task, historians themselves must be "humanity." If overwhelmed by mechanical civilization and consequently treating human life mechanistically—swayed by the force of crowds and swept along by societal trends—they lose both self and “humanity,” rendering history incomprehensible and unnarratable. To restore “humanity” in historical study, historians must first recover “humanity” within themselves. This constitutes the foundation of what I intend to assert.