Foreword by Dwight
In the last section we discussed politeness and how a martial artist should carry themselves and have a certain presence "the economy of force". Next, Nitobe focuses on Veracity and Truthfulness. As I read through this section, my mind wandered to the differences between martial artists and martial fighters. My general feeling is that martial sport fighters really represent the opposite concept of veracity. Some are willing to be "untruthful" to win, this stems from all the steroid use. At the highest level of fighting some are looking for something a little bit extra to give them an advantage. And the advantage can particularly lead to a bigger paycheck. In this case, I feel that the sports side gives some a bit of a short sighted approach to martial arts. This isn't always the case but there have been quite a bit of drug instances in the last few years.
Where as Truthfulness, feels like very much apart of a traditional martial art like Karate or Tai Chi. Being Sincere is an invaluable and noble trait to learn, whether you are a young person learning to be a productive part of society, or if you are person in a leadership position. The importance of truthfulness and sincerity cannot be downplayed.
(Corresponding podcast)
Veracity or Truthfulness
To the question, "Which is the more important, to tell the truth or to be polite?" the Japanese are said to give an answer diametrically opposite to what the American will say, but I forbear any comment until I come to speak of veracity or truthfulness, without which Politeness is a farce and a show. "Propriety carried
beyond right bounds," says Masamuné, "becomes a lie." An ancient poet
has outdone Polonius in the advice he gives: "To thyself be faithful: if
in thy heart thou strayest not from truth, without prayer of thine the
Gods will keep thee whole." The apotheosis of Sincerity to which Tsu-tsu
gives expression in the Doctrine of the Mean, attributes to it
transcendental powers, almost identifying them with the Divine.
"Sincerity is the end and the beginning of all things; without Sincerity
there would be nothing." He then dwells with eloquence on its
far-reaching and long enduring nature, its power to produce changes
without movement and by its mere presence to accomplish its purpose
without effort. From the Chinese ideogram for Sincerity, which is a
combination of "Word" and "Perfect," one is tempted to draw a parallel
between it and the Neo-Platonic doctrine of Logos—to such height
does the sage soar in his unwonted mystic flight.
Lying or equivocation were deemed equally cowardly. The bushi held that
his high social position demanded a loftier standard of veracity than
that of the tradesman and peasant. Bushi no ichi-gon—the word of a
samurai or in exact German equivalent ein Ritterwort—was sufficient
guaranty of the truthfulness of an assertion. His word carried such
weight with it that promises were generally made and fulfilled without a
written pledge, which would have been deemed quite beneath his dignity.
Many thrilling anecdotes were told of those who atoned by death for
ni-gon, a double tongue.
The regard for veracity was so high that, unlike the generality of
Christians who persistently violate the plain commands of the Teacher
not to swear, the best of samurai looked upon an oath as derogatory to
their honor. I am well aware that they did swear by different deities or
upon their swords; but never has swearing degenerated into wanton form
and irreverent interjection. To emphasize our words a practice of
literally sealing with blood was sometimes resorted to. For the
explanation of such a practice, I need only refer my readers to Goethe's
Faust.
A recent American writer is responsible for this statement, that if you
ask an ordinary Japanese which is better, to tell a falsehood or be
impolite, he will not hesitate to answer "to tell a falsehood!" Dr.
Peery is partly
right and partly wrong; right in that an ordinary
Japanese, even a samurai, may answer in the way ascribed to him, but
wrong in attributing too much weight to the term he translates
"falsehood." This word (in Japanese uso) is employed to denote
anything which is not a truth (makoto) or fact (honto). Lowell tells
us that Wordsworth could not distinguish between truth and fact, and an
ordinary Japanese is in this respect as good as Wordsworth. Ask a
Japanese, or even an American of any refinement, to tell you whether he
dislikes you or whether he is sick at his stomach, and he will not
hesitate long to tell falsehoods and answer, "I like you much," or, "I
am quite well, thank you." To sacrifice truth merely for the sake of
politeness was regarded as an "empty form" (kyo-rei) and "deception by
sweet words," and was never justified.
I own I am speaking now of the Bushido idea of veracity; but it may not
be amiss to devote a few words to our commercial integrity, of which I
have heard much complaint in foreign books and journals. A loose
business morality has indeed been the worst blot on our national
reputation; but before abusing it or hastily condemning the whole race
for it, let us calmly study it and we shall be rewarded with consolation
for the future.
Of all the great occupations of life, none was farther removed from the
profession of arms than commerce. The merchant was placed lowest in the
category of vocations,—the knight, the tiller of the soil, the
mechanic, the merchant. The samurai derived his income from land and
could even indulge, if he had a mind to, in amateur farming; but the
counter and abacus were abhorred. We knew the wisdom of this social
arrangement. Montesquieu has made it clear that the debarring of the
nobility from mercantile pursuits was an admirable social policy, in
that it prevented wealth from accumulating in the hands of the powerful.
The separation of power and riches kept the distribution of the latter
more nearly equable. Professor Dill, the author of "Roman Society in the
Last Century of the Western Empire," has brought afresh to our mind that
one cause of the decadence of the Roman Empire, was the permission given
to the nobility to engage in trade, and the consequent monopoly of
wealth and power by a minority of the senatorial families.
Commerce, therefore, in feudal Japan did not reach that degree of
development which it would have attained under freer conditions. The
obloquy attached to the calling naturally brought within its pale such
as cared little for social repute. "Call one a thief and he will steal:"
put a stigma on a calling and its followers adjust their morals to it,
for it is natural that "the normal conscience," as Hugh Black says,
"rises to the demands made on it, and easily falls to the limit of the
standard expected from it." It is unnecessary to add that no business,
commercial or otherwise, can be transacted without a code of morals. Our
merchants of the feudal period had one among themselves, without which
they could never have developed, as they did, such fundamental
mercantile institutions as the guild, the bank, the bourse, insurance,
checks, bills of exchange, etc.; but in their relations with people
outside their vocation, the tradesmen lived too true to the reputation
of their order.
This being the case, when the country was opened to foreign trade, only
the most adventurous and unscrupulous rushed to the ports, while the
respectable business houses declined for some time the repeated requests
of the authorities to establish branch houses. Was Bushido powerless to
stay the current of commercial dishonor? Let us see.
Those who are well acquainted with our history will remember that only a
few years after our treaty ports were opened to foreign trade,
feudalism was abolished, and when with it the samurai's fiefs were taken
and bonds issued to them in compensation, they were given liberty to
invest them in mercantile transactions. Now you may ask, "Why could they
not bring their much boasted veracity into their new business relations
and so reform the old abuses?" Those who had eyes to see could not weep
enough, those who had hearts to feel could not sympathize enough, with
the fate of many a noble and honest samurai who signally and irrevocably
failed in his new and unfamiliar field of trade and industry, through
sheer lack of shrewdness in coping with his artful plebeian rival. When
we know that eighty percent of the business houses fail in so
industrial a country as America, is it any wonder that scarcely one
among a hundred samurai who went into trade could succeed in his new
vocation? It will be long before it will be recognized how many fortunes
were wrecked in the attempt to apply Bushido ethics to business methods;
but it was soon patent to every observing mind that the ways of wealth
were not the ways of honor. In what respects, then, were they different?
Of the three incentives to Veracity that Lecky enumerates, viz: the
industrial, the political, and the philosophical, the first was
altogether lacking in Bushido. As to the second, it could develop little
in a political community under a feudal system. It is in its
philosophical, and as Lecky says, in its highest aspect, that Honesty
attained elevated rank in our catalogue of virtues. With all my sincere
regard for the high commercial integrity of the Anglo-Saxon race, when I
ask for the ultimate ground, I am told that "Honesty is the best
policy," that it pays to be honest. Is not this virtue, then, its own
reward? If it is followed because it brings in more cash than falsehood,
I am afraid Bushido would rather indulge in lies!
If Bushido rejects a doctrine of quid pro quo rewards, the shrewder
tradesman will readily accept it. Lecky has very truly remarked that
Veracity owes its growth largely to commerce and manufacture; as
Nietzsche puts it, "Honesty is the youngest of virtues"—in other
words, it is the foster-child of industry, of modern industry. Without
this mother, Veracity was like a blue-blood orphan whom only the most
cultivated mind could adopt and nourish. Such minds were general among
the samurai, but, for want of a more democratic and utilitarian
foster-mother, the tender child failed to thrive. Industries advancing,
Veracity will prove an easy, nay, a profitable, virtue to practice.
Just
think, as late as November 1880, Bismarck sent a circular to the
professional consuls of the German Empire, warning them of "a lamentable
lack of reliability with regard to German shipments inter alia,
apparent both as to quality and quantity;" now-a-days we hear
comparatively little of German carelessness and dishonesty in trade. In
twenty years her merchants learned that in the end honesty pays. Already
our merchants are finding that out. For the rest I recommend the reader
to two recent writers for well-weighed judgment on this
point. It is
interesting to remark in this connection that integrity and honor were
the surest guaranties which even a merchant debtor could present in the
form of promissory notes. It was quite a usual thing to insert such
clauses as these: "In default of the repayment of the sum lent to me, I
shall say nothing against being ridiculed in public;" or, "In case I
fail to pay you back, you may call me a fool," and the like.
Often have I wondered whether the Veracity of Bushido had any motive
higher than courage. In the absence of any positive commandment against
bearing false witness, lying was not condemned as sin, but simply
denounced as weakness, and, as such, highly dishonorable.
References:
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12096/12096-h/12096-h.htm
