The Burakumin:
The Complicity of Japanese Buddhism in Oppression and an
Opportunity for Liberation In James Clavell’s celebrated novel Shogun, the following description appears: “Jan Roper interrupted, ‘Wait a minute, Vinck! What’s wrong, Pilot? What about eters?’ ‘It is just that the Japanese think of them as different. They’re the executioners, and work the hides and handle corpses.’”(1) Elsewhere in the book, the term eta [eters] appears, yet an explanation of these people is never provided. The eta or now more appropriately called burakumin—literally, “village people”—is an oppressed class within Japan. As noted by DeVos(2), the burakumin is Japan’s “invisible race.” Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney states that the burakumin are “invisible” due to the fact that there are no physical characteristics that distinguish them from other Japanese.(3) However, there have been and continue to exist arguments that the burakumin are racially distinct from the majority of the Japanese people.(4) The burakumin have also been referred to as the eta-hinin, a term that is still in use today. The word eta can be translated as “much or very polluted/unclean,”(5) and the word hinin simply means “nonperson.” Thus, this group within Japan has been determined to have no identity by the majority Japanese, no genuine personhood (one of the derogatory terms used against the burakumin is yotsu, which refers to a four-legged animal), and therefore, not surprisingly, oppression and mistreatment have historically been their lot. Despite a general betterment of their situation in the last three decades—primarily due to legislation(6)—the burakumin continue to be considered disparagingly in the Japanese public consciousness and subjected to discrimination.(7) This paper will briefly examine three dimensions of the burakumin situation: first, the current state of the burakumin; second, the historical genesis of their oppression; and third, the primary focus of my discussion, which will seek to answer the question, “How have Japanese religions contributed to the oppression of the burakumin in Japan?” And consequently, “How can Japanese religions contribute to the greater liberation of the burakumin of Japan?” This section will include selected narrative accounts obtained from interviews of religious reformers working in Japan today. The paper will conclude with a section offering initial thoughts on additional roles that Japanese religion may play in contributing to buraku liberation. The Current State of the Burakumin Ohnuki-Tierney states that the burakumin are said to number approximately three million people (in a Japanese population of about 126 million). There is, however, much dispute surrounding the number of burakumin in Japan. Jean-Francois Sabouret writes in his book, L’autre Japon, les burakumin(8), “According to official estimates, the burakumin population (in 1978) was 1,841,958, distributed in 4,374 ghettos, and disseminated in 1,041 towns and villages in thirty-four prefectures.”(9) However, Sabouret cites the BKD (League for Liberation of Buraku) [Jp. Buraku Kaiho Domei] as arguing that the government figures are inaccurate:
Interestingly, Sabouret states that the BKD advances the three million people number based on a projection dating back to the Meiji Period (1867–1912), that because 3 percent of the population was made of burakumin, and because the population was approximately thirty million, then as the population of Japan has quadrupled, so then too has the burakumin population increased four times to its approximate three million number.
The Buraku Liberation News (March 1998) stated that, according to a survey conducted by the Japanese government, “there are 4,442 communities with 298,385 households and a population of 892,751 throughout the country where Dōwa projects have been implemented.”(12) This number, though, does not take into account other communities not covered by the Dōwa legislation and the numbers of buraku people who live in non-buraku areas. Shigeyuki Kumisaka, the Director of the IMADR (International Movement against All Forms of Discrimination and Racism), goes on to support the 6,000 community number in the same article cited above.
A prominent theory that is forwarded to account for buraku discrimination is precisely that they historically did those tasks (butchering, leather-work, and so forth) that no one else wanted to do and, as a result, were classified as lower class, and so began a tradition of societal discrimination.(15) In regard to marriage, the burakumin have historically been endogamous(16), bias being perpetuated primarily by the non-burakumin and certainly in part by the burakumin themselves. As Ian Neary comments, “Many burakumin themselves accepted this [prejudice and discrimination], regarded themselves as different and their separate and unequal treatment as justified.”(17) The genesis of this “separate and unequal treatment” has both a political and religious aspect. The Genesis of the Discrimination Toward the Burakumin(18) Japan, from its earliest history, had groups of people that were discriminated against socially. The discriminated group that seemingly evolved over time into the burakumin, however, has differed in membership such that it can be reasonably claimed that buraku discrimination, as such, did not exist before the Tokugawa period. Kitaguchi agrees with this assumption and makes the point that modern-day burakumin may not be traced back to the Edo (Tokugawa) period.
Notwithstanding the difficulty in tracing buraku lineage, a closer examination of the historical pattern of discrimination against the oppressed group in Japan that foreshadows the buraku is instructive toward elucidating the current, justificatory claims for discrimination in that the source of current discrimination stems from traditional practices and stereotypes. Interestingly, in ancient Japan, lower-class groups may have had some privileges. Jinsaburo Oe, in Fukaisareta Fukashokumin Kannen (The Juxtaposition of the Untouchables Idea) (20) asserts that
Further, these people were additionally respected for their involvement in the arts, notably as dancers and Noh musicians. Ohnuki-Tierney describes the case for substantial contributions by these people in kabuki, noh, and kyogen.
At this time in Japanese history, there did, however, exist discrimination toward certain occupations such as “leather workers, grave keepers, people who cleaned, and horse handlers.”(23) This occupational discrimination certainly has survived to the modern period.(24) With the coming of Buddhism to Japan in the middle of the sixth century C.E. came an opprobrium against eating meat, which was extrapolated to concerns about the impurity in handling meat. As in India, this injunction came to be associated with handling dead humans as well. Consequently, anyone who engaged in related activities was, by definition, impure and to be avoided.(25) This emphasis on purity and impurity had a long history in Japan associated with Shinto, yet the Buddhist doctrines invigorated and dogmatized this proclivity within Japanese society.
This gap between the pure and impure was exacerbated during the Heian Period (794–1185), where the lowest in society were termed senmin (as opposed to the ryomin [the good]). These senmin, during the tumultuous Sengoku jidai (“warring period” of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries) came to populate the leather workers that assisted the daimyos (warlords) in supplying them with leather “armor” and other battle equipment. The senmin for their contribution were generally provided with some tax relief and poor land, and were expected to be the first line of defense in case of attack by other daimyos or any peasant revolt. It was during the Tokugawa Period (1603–1867) that specific discriminatory policies arose toward the burakumin, and it is here that it is generally argued that the burakumin became established as a discriminated-against group. As Shigeyuki Kumisaku describes this period:
There were other occupations in which the buraku people became proficient during this period, including shoemaking, making bamboo articles, and constructing ceremonial drums (taiko).(28) Atsutane Hirata (1776–1842), the Shinto reformer, in his writing Shinteki Nishuron, argued that the inherent baseness or impurity of the burakumin necessitated their separateness.(29) The burakumin, who once served important functions in Shinto shrines, were now barred from shrine visitations (1774). Specifically between 1715 and 1730, a reform entitled the Kyoko Kaikaku went into effect and began to separate the burakumin from other members of Japanese society deliberately.
This discriminatory marking of the oppressed classes soon spread to the rest of Japan. This marking was particularly affected through the use of registries.
This use of registries is critically important if we are to understand the history of oppression against the burakumin. If one was a handler of meat or dead bodies, or engaged in other polluting activity, then one would be ritually impure for a time. After a period of time, the impurity would or could, through certain ritual activity, be expunged and no longer relevant. Yet, with the use of the registries, the incidence of pollution within certain occupations became stigmatized and permanent in that not only was an individual deemed as inherently impure, but so too his or her family name. The beginning half of the nineteenth century brought about yet another extension of separateness. Included in the Tempo Reforms (1830–1844), in an obvious movement to draw more acutely the differences between commoners and the burakumin, was a restriction on burakumin entering the homes of peasants. In addition, a further stratification was forwarded that somehow divided what had previously been conceived as one group into two: the eta and the hinin. This confusion of ranking, exacerbated by differing, regional stratifications, only perpetuated the cycle of government-sanctioned discrimination, which perhaps was its intent, that is, to provide for competing groups to be influenced against one another by the Tokugawa as needed. It was not that all discriminated-against groups and individuals followed these rules, and certainly many were successful in working around them; however, there was a systematic effort to institutionalize discrimination politically by enacting policy. The Meiji Period ostensibly should have brought a better situation for the burakumin as Japan ended its period of relative isolation from the international community. In 1871, with the Meiji Emancipation Edict (Ordinance No. 61), the Japanese government did take steps to discontinue the lowest social ranks and removed their official status by renaming the eta as shin heimin (new common people); however, no real financial or educational support was provided to make this emancipation a reality, and similarly, no change had been effected in the Shinto-Buddhist views of the now “new common people.” Furthermore, the period ensconced a new hierarchy with the Emperor at its head that continued to promote separateness.(32)
It wasn’t until the twentieth century that a buraku liberation movement began in earnest, influenced by other international liberation movements such as the Hyonpyonsha movement in Korea, the Russian revolution, and the Rice Riots (Kome-Sodo). The National Levelers Association (Zenkoku Suiheisha) was founded in March 1922. Some social advances were initially obtained, but the Second World War suppressed the movement. In 1946, the movement re-instituted itself as the National Committee for Buraku Liberation.(34) The war devastated all of Japan, and the burakumin, already in dire conditions prior to the war, experienced an intensification of penury and disease. Through sustained political activism, the burakumin, in conjunction with concerned others, have caused legislation to be passed since the war that has dramatically bettered conditions for themselves. These improvements have come primarily in such issues as better housing and education. Inexpensive housing has increased dramatically in Dōwa areas, and where a quarter-century ago, only 30 percent of burakumin students matriculated to high school, currently over 80 percent do.(35) There have been both corporations and religious bodies involved in the struggle for greater opportunities for the burakumin. This is not to say that the problems do not persist for the burakumin as they continue to suffer from, in comparison to the majority Japanese, higher illness rates, higher unemployment, lower wages for the same jobs, illegal lists that corporations buy and use to avoid hiring buraku people, discrimination in marriage, and myriad abusive and discriminatory attacks on their person and position. The Religiosity of the Burakumin John Donoghue, in his study of the burakumin entitled Pariah Persistence in Changing Japan(36), includes a section that describes the religious views of the inhabitants of a Buraku section of the city of Toyoda in Northern Japan. Within Shin-machi (New City), the name of the buraku section in which he was working, Donoghue noted that,
No student of Japanese religions would find this particularly significant, as this is a normal occurrence among the greater Japanese population as well; however, when one examines the role of Japanese Buddhism in casting the burakumin down, it is surprising that they tended not to blame Buddhism. Rather, as Donoghue further observed, “They [the burakumin] were convinced that religion was wholly unrelated to their lowly position in society.”(38) Donoghue goes on that say that most burakumin in the community follow Pure Land Buddhism (Jodo-shu) and that this sect had, in the past, supported burakumin rights.(39) The members of the community seemed, in Donoghue’s estimation, to practice religion much like their fellow citizens in regard to attending matsuri (festival).(40) There were some differences in their religious views; for example, the burakumin in Shin-machi did tend to be less “superstitious” than the majority Japanese population.(41) Additionally, the community did exact monies on a voluntary basis—the amount determined at town meetings and adjusted by income level—for supporting the upkeep of the local shrine and cemetery(42), which is a somewhat unusual practice in Japan. One critical difference, though, between the majority Japanese observation of matsuri and the burakumin observance was the foci of their orations:
From Donoghue’s account, despite some notable differences, it seems that the burakumin do not differ greatly from their countrymen in their understanding or practice of religion. In an issue of the Buraku Liberation News, an English-language bimonthly publication of the Buraku Liberation and Human Rights Research Institute(44), the question of Buddhism and discrimination was taken up in the section entitled “Buraku Problem Q & A.” The question was, “Is Buddhism free from Buraku discrimination?” What follows is part of the response to the question:
Such discriminatory practice is an indication that Buddhism has historically contributed to burakumin oppression. Since the Japanese people inescapably employ Buddhist death rituals, it is not surprising that it is here that Buddhism can make its own contribution to burakumin discrimination. Buddhist temples that were located in buraku communities “were called ‘impure temples’ [eta-dera] and were not allowed to communicate with temples in non-Buraku areas.”(46) Further, since the Dalits were told from the Hindu perspective, the burakumin were taught that it was their karma that placed them in this unsavory life and that forbearance was necessary if the next life was to be favorable.(47) In a recent treatment of Japanese Buddhism and the burakumin, William Bodiford examined the role of Zen Buddhism and its efforts to reform its tradition of discrimination (sabetsu) against the Buraku people.(48) Bodiford outlines the recent developments of Soto Zen, from its reaction to the Machida controversy to the establishment of a Central Division for the Protection and Promotion of Human Rights (Jinken Yogo Suishin Honbu). This concern by the Soto-shu manifests in several dimensions. In the past, the sect, following the pattern mentioned previously, has created problems for buraku (and other marginalized groups in Japan) by utilizing the temple registration (tera-uke) system to provide the Tokugawa government with information that was used for further discrimination; the use of necrologies (kakocho) as a device of discrimination of marginalized groups, including use of discriminatory names in the register and alternate registers that would be “off the books”; the use of kaimyo; and discriminatory rituals—particularly death rituals—that were prescribed for Soto priests to use with the burakumin.(49) Another area of Japanese Buddhism that has generated discussion has been the presence of discriminatory passages in Buddhist texts, including sūtras. One critical issue here surrounds the Japanese term issendai (Skt. icchantika) and its implications for the doctrine of Buddha-nature (Bussho). According to Buswell, the meaning of icchantika is multivocal.
Buswell further notes that the term is not in the Pāli Nikāyas or the Chinese AAgamas, yet we do find it in the Mahāyāna texts along with its synonym, samucchinnakuśalamūla.(51) In the Mahāyāna text, Yang-chūeh-mo-lo ching (Aṅgulimālā-sūtra), Buswell finds icchantikas represented as “perverse determined,” said to “be the most vile of beings, and to engage in all the ten evil types of conduct in the same way that the bodhisattvas perfect all the ten pāramitās.”(52) The Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra (Nehangyo) is additionally cited in its use of the icchantika (Jp. issendai) doctrine.(53) Ishikawa Rekizen in an article entitled, “Karma, Candala, and Buddhist Scriptures”(54) looks at the Nehangyo as providing support for discriminatory practices. Ishikawa asserts that in the literary works (chojutsu) of every Japanese sect founder, one can find the use of the term candala (sendara in Japanese (55)), including work by such luminaries as Kukai and Dogen. However, he singles out the Nehangyo as a “representative” Mahāyāna sūtra and posits that this sūtra provides a theoretical foundation for other sūtras that develop the idea of the candala (which he associates with the idea of the icchantika). Ishikawa argues that this icchantika/issendai concept (that some sentient creatures are unable to realize the Buddha-nature) contravenes the Buddhist notion of issai-shujo shitsu aru bussho, that is, that all sentient creatures have Buddha-nature.(56) What perhaps is most confusing in surveying the Nehangyo is that it is difficult, despite the number of passages in which the issendai concept is invoked, to gain much clarity on what exactly is being asserted regarding the salvific possibility of this group. Further, exactly who should be included in this category of the “unsavable” is a question. In regard to the issue of the text being used to justify discrimination, these ambiguities alone should be enough to forestall exegetical free play by those interested in using this sūtra to support discrimination. The citation of a few passages from the Nehangyo may prove insightful toward demonstrating these difficulties. In chapter sixteen, “On Bodhisattva,” the text states,
Other passages in the Nehangyo present a similar message:
Yet, some additional passages seem to argue that why icchantikas remain beyond saving is not due to birth or class, but rather from their attitude toward the Dharma—an attitude that can be rectified.
This passage seems clear: the icchantika not only can possess Buddha Nature, but he or she can also “attain” it. Therefore, to argue that the icchantika precept can be consistently advanced from the Nehangyo to support discriminatory Buddhist attitudes or practices seems ill-founded. Buswell also asseverates the same conclusion in his reading of the Nehangyo:
It seems important that the relevant Buddhist sūtras that have been used selectively to provide “doctrinal cover” should be more fully explored and, if discriminatory, rebutted on the basis of the clearer, unambiguous Buddhist ethic that is informed by the precepts and the Eightfold Path (śīla). That is, the Great Compassion (Mahākaruṇā) that Buddhism espouses as its resolution should be more referenced in articulating the content of the appropriate Buddhist ethical view toward marginalized groups. There are notable efforts for reform and assistance of the buraku problem from the Japanese religious community today, and it is critically important to allow the voices of people active in the buraku liberation movement to be heard. Two groups that are currently involved in the human rights concerns of the buraku are the Japanese religious sects of Tenrikyo and Shin Buddhism. The reason for the selection of these two particular groups for discussion is threefold. First, Tenrikyo is a “new” religious tradition that has reached out to the burakumin. Its efforts in support of this oppressed group may presage a positive direction for Japanese religiosity. Second, the Shin tradition is an ancient one in Japan and has been involved in the burakumin issue from its first coming to the Japanese shores. Shin-shu is additionally interesting in that it has been historically most egregious in discriminating against the buraku people and yet currently, in certain ways, is at the forefront of Japanese religious groups promoting greater buraku liberation. The third reason is that, for the purposes of interviewing, two of the more articulate, active members of the Dōshuren (Osaka Conference for the Dōwa Issue) are local leaders in these sects. What follows then are narrative accounts of recent interviews with representative from these sects concerned with the burakumondai (buraku problem). Efforts Toward Religious Reform in Japan Today Tenrikyo Tenrikyo is generally regarded as a “new religion” in Japan, although it traces its founding to the nineteenth century. This movement argues that all human persons have a common parent, God the Parent (Oyasama). Due to our self-centered nature, however, humans fail to realize their true kinship with others. Through individual effort as well as the workings of God the Parent, human beings can achieve salvation. By focusing on selfless action (hinokishi) and the healing power of faith, they can save themselves by acting to save others. Tenrikyo has spread outside of Japan and has a significant presence in the American religious scene. In May 1998, the author had the opportunity to visit and speak with Takashi Ikenishi, the leader of the Niwadani temple of Tenrikyo in Sakai City, Osaka. Mr. Ikenishi, besides being a Tenrikyo official for many years, had also previously been in a position of leadership in the Osaka Conference for the Dōwa issue (Dōshuren). In response to a question regarding the Tenrikyo position on discrimination, Ikenishi replied that “All people on the earth are brothers and sisters. As siblings, we are all the same regardless of social status. We are all children of Oyasama.” Mr. Ikenishi went on to argue that though Buddhism also has this view of equality, in the past, Buddhism has discriminated against the buraku people through such devices as discriminatory kaimyo and improper use of ancestor registries. He continued that one of the reasons that buraku people are attracted to “newer” religions in Japan is that they do not have the history of such practices. As to the Buddhist idea of karma and its use to support discrimination, that is, that unequal treatment of certain people is appropriate due to karmic impurities, Ikenishi stated that as Tenrikyo does not have kaimyo, it does not also accept the idea of karma. Instead the religion has the concept of innen, which means that all souls go back to the present. As new clothes are put on, a new life is begun with no effect on the next life. One strives in Tenrikyo, according to Ikenishi, to be a better person by taking personal responsibility for one’s improvement. It is not other people, but oneself that one needs to improve. Consequently, Tenrikyo does not adhere to the concept of akin (inherently bad people); rather, everyone is on the same line. In reply to the question about burakumin in his church, Mr. Ikenishi replied that no unequal treatment happens in their worship. All members, consistent with their theology, are treated equally. A persistent problem, Ikenishi noted, was the idea of kiyome or kegare (pollution). Toward initiating change in the idea of pollution, he has argued in several fora against the continuation of using salt as an agent of purification after funerals. If death were seen as nonpolluting of others, then some of the medieval stigmata against those who dealt with dead bodies, both human and animal, would be removed. There is resistance to removing salt from such usage, particularly from Shinto sources who historically have emphasized salt in this way; however, Ikenishi feels very strongly that this would be a positive step.(62) The author accompanied Mr. Ikenishi to the apartment of a member of his congregation. It was a matsuri day for the family, and accordingly, he visited the home to participate in certain rituals. This family had an apartment in a Dōwa area and had become Tenrikyo members following several family problems, most notably a son who had developed mental problems. The mother, in particular, was an ardent follower of Tenrikyo and had presented her conversion story and beliefs in schools and other meetings. Mr. Ikenishi, the parents, and (intermittently) the son performed a ritual dance (teodori) before the Tenrikyo altar, chanting and utilizing accompanying mudras (hand positions) and turnings of the body. Ikenishi additionally, at the conclusion of this ritual, laid hands on the boy and lightly pounded his shoulders while speaking very softly to him. It seemed clear that Tenrikyo, through the good offices of Mr. Ikenishi, had a profound impact on this burakumin family. Shin Buddhism (63) Shin Buddhism is the largest Buddhist sect in Japan and, correspondingly, the one that most burakumin have belonged to historically. Shin Buddhism, shaped in Japan by Honen (1133–1212) and Shinpan (1173–1262), is a devotional Buddhist sect with prayers, rituals, and chanting offered by the penitent toward deliverance into the Pure Land upon death. The attitudes and actions of Japanese Shin Buddhism are thereby important in gauging the overall Japanese religious community’s view on the burakumondai. Mr. Uemoto is of the Shinshu Ohtani sect in Osaka City. His temple is a post-war structure placed in the heart of the business district in downtown Osaka. Uemoto had started teaching Buddhism at age nineteen at the sect headquarters. At that time, he discovered that he too had discriminatory thinking. He met an old woman of the buraku who told him that she had been discriminated against and never had been supported by Buddhist priests or monks. At this encounter, Uemoto didn’t quite understand her position, but also realized that he couldn’t deny her charge. Although he was a young priest who initially couldn’t believe priests would have discriminatory practices, in time he came to learn that priests had such practices. At age thirty-three, he became director of human rights for the temple and committed himself to being honest and talking to people about this issue. Uemoto feels very strongly about sharing his real self with the people whom he talks to and, when asked to speak, depends about 80 percent on his prepared remarks and 20 percent on his heart. Initially, he feared being misunderstood or criticized, but he has opted for the open approach. In the past, Shin Buddhism had been one of the major offenders of burakumin human rights and had compounded its discriminatory policies and actions with more recent discriminatory public remarks. According to Mr. Uemoto, the structure of discrimination had still not changed sufficiently. When asked what sort of action the Shin sect was taking to change this structure, he replied that education of members was a central concern. Twice a month the temple sponsored a workshop to educate members, and four times a year there were public fora to educate the larger public. The temple is well-placed, Uemoto noted, to reach the public due to its central location, and everyone is invited to attend these informational meetings. There are approximately 650 temples in the Osaka kyoku and 200–300 households in his temple, so many people can be reached through this educational effort. In regard to questions on Buddhism and its discriminatory practices, Uemoto stated that not only Buddhism should be focused on, but all Japanese religious bodies. In Osaka prefecture, 6,200 religious organizations are registered as official. To try to unite these disparate groups in order to fight discrimination, fifteen years ago the Dōshuren was established. The Dōshuren, he explained, is an organization representing 680 of these groups and is dedicated to concerted dialogue and action to fight discrimination. This group was established in part due to the impetus of the initial Machida remarks. Certainly though, Buddhism has been involved in discrimination, noted Uemoto. Kaimyo was a problem, and its extent is still being discovered. As to the doctrine of karma, Uemoto believes that this doctrine has been misused by people. It has been used to gain believers and extend teachings by some priests, but that is not its actual meaning. Some Buddhist priests became arrogant and distorted the idea of karma for the sake of reputation and appearance. Such arrogance, though often unintended, can easily beset anyone, he argued, so we must learn from the Buraku Liberation Movement and be able to say, “Yes, I have discriminatory feelings.” Uemoto has found that if he speaks, writes, and teaches at a level that people can easily understand, then people will come to believe without having been deluded through complicated language or misrepresentation of Buddhist ideas. Even the seemingly insignificant use of furigana with kanji on letters or signs is important in order to reach all people. Shinshu’s model for this, Uemoto believes, should be Shinran, the sect’s founder. Shinran too talked in plain language to small groups of people rather than to large groups. We need to return, Uemoto averred, to such a procedure of imparting simple teachings to ensure better understanding. As secretary of Dōshuren, Uemoto worked to make these changes as well as to open the meetings to the public. Since the meetings have become public, Uemoto believes that the meetings have become more dynamic and the exchange has been more cooperative. Also, the dialogue has extended beyond the religious representatives to include people from various corporations. Although representing their respective groups, Uemoto suggested that people need to look at the burakumondai (buraku problem) from the viewpoint of an individual who can personally connect with the pain of discrimination and then stand, as a representative, within the larger dialogue. Including corporations in the dialogue has truly been beneficial, since corporations are where discriminatory practices have manifested themselves. Such exchanges have helped the Dōshuren become more visible to the outside community and cast the organization open to scrutiny and criticism. Dōshuren, he stated, is not an organization of elites, but one of the people. Because Shinran had been mentioned, the author asked Uemoto how perhaps having a strong religious faith might help one bear and fight discrimination. In response to this question, he suggested that it is easy to discriminate and that people always want to target the weak. Religion, though, helps us to see what one really is. It is important, he posited, to understand that in trying to understand oneself, it is necessary to not engage in discrimination. Faith will support us and will prove a great help. Religion has much to do, Uemoto agreed, with the buraku problem. It is very important, he added, as Shinran advocated, to continue educating people. Buddhism has changed a lot from an academic, and therefore, elite tradition. He believes that it is time to come back to the people and create an education movement that will address the buraku issue. Some people are already campaigning and involved in such a movement. Uemoto discussed what he saw as the future of the fight against buraku discrimination. He stated that the twenty-first century will be the century of human rights. In future, we should look beyond our particular interests; human rights means being more transparent, learning from one another. All liberation movements are united around the goal of living harmoniously, he noted. In addition, it was important to work with the Buraku Liberation League to address the present discrimination. Initial Thoughts Toward a Religious Basis for Greater Liberation of the Burakumin It is evident that the liberation of the burakumin has made great strides, yet what seems to be lacking is a coherent philosophy of liberation that can inform and sustain the burakumin liberation movement. There is merit though in considering Alastair McLauchlan’s practical suggestion that
While a strong case can be made for Christian liberation theology (65)—and perhaps in particular African-American liberatory movements—to provide considerable material for Asian emancipatory movements to study, the operant model of political liberation for the burakumin may be the model of civil rights activism as employed by African-Americans in the United States.(66) This movement for human rights was begun and nourished in the Black churches of the United States and benefited greatly from a spiritual basis for its liberatory actions, though the liberatory actions as such were largely secular. This is a model that certainly resonates with portions of the Dalit community in South India, and—with adaptations appropriate for a Japanese societal context—perhaps it is one that the burakumin of Japan should explore more thoroughly.(67) A further source for potential guidance, particularly in the area of integration education in Japan (Jp. Dōwa kyoiku), may be critical pedagogy.(68) (According to the Buraku Kaiho Shimbun, [July 1997] only 1% of Dōwa finances are used for educational purposes.) The critical pedagogic emphases on the ontological treatment of the limited nature of all personal, dialogical relationships have direct relevance to the problem of oppression. A continuing development of improved emancipatory educational models for use in Dōwa kyoiku—instituted and operated in the entire country of Japan, not just certain areas—that includes a discussion of the Japanese religious perspective on the burakumin and how that perspective is undergoing revision would also be an important step. It may, in addition, help in making a place and case for Japanese religions as part of the long-term solution to the burakumondai. From the Japanese Buddhist perspective, as Engaged Buddhism may suggest, the deployment of a more faithful reading of the sūtras and an expanded use of upaya (skillful means) in education and communication regarding buraku discrimination is essential. It is demonstrably true that, as has been asserted by the Buraku Liberation and Human Rights Institute, “liberation begins and ends in education.”(69) It seems evident that any political or economic solutions to the problem of oppression—whether in the Indian context of the Dalits or the Japanese context of the burakumin—that neglect of the spiritual nexus of the problem will not be sufficient. Through an increase in the development of close, spiritualized communities among the burakumin that would hopefully allow the creation and fruition of personal spirituality that would support the claim for genuine individuality and self-esteem as the believer sought his or her personal salvation while, at the same time, sanctioning the communal, continuing demand for social justice, the burakumin may be aided by Japanese religiosity in their search for increased freedom from discrimination. It is here that Buddhism may be most pertinent, as this is precisely what Engaged Buddhism argues for: a Buddhism that concomitantly supports the Buddha and dharma, and visions the sangha in such a fashion that legitimately expands its efforts in placing a premium on the physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being of all human persons. While one may concur with Sulak Sivaraksa’s call upon Japan to “recall her rich spiritual tradition,”(70) and so meliorate the negative effects of her rampant materialism, it seems at best naive to expect this to occur (although perhaps with the 1990s downturn in the Japanese economy, there may be an opportunity for such a recollection). The popularity of newer religions notwithstanding, the question of whether the Engaged Buddhist premise cited above can garner the support (and so the power) to substantially effect pervasive, attitudinal change in Japan is a critical one to raise. What the buraku liberation movement additionally lacks is a religiously-inspired person who would eventually come to symbolize the movement, such as Aung San Sū Kyi (Myanmar), B. R. Amdedkar (India), Sivaraksa (Thailand), or Thich Nhat Hahn (Vietnam). There are such inspired individuals working for buraku liberation in Japan, but one has not as yet stepped forth into prominence. The larger, related issue of linking human rights and religiosity may be argued more persuasively if, as Sivaraksa contends, Japan better realizes its responsibility as a world power and understands that as a “civil society” it cannot evade the question of the civil rights of its citizenry. The problem, though, as noted by B. J. McVeigh in a recent book, is that Japan’s version of civil society is “premised on a moral authority that is top down and state ordained rather than bottom up and popularly advocated.” (71) This problem, if validly drawn, creates a structure that makes it difficult for a popularist, liberational movement such as the buraku effort to gain widespread support; this same dilemma may also be an issue for other Asian liberation movements because one could arguably posit the same claim of “top-down direction of moral authority” for most Asian countries. In a very real sense, from a Buddhist perspective, until we can uproot this discriminating consciousness—as in a Buddhist Awakening—then genuine relating, genuine dialogue is impossible. Thus, in terms of the debate within Critical Buddhism as to whether Original Awakening (hongaku) or the idea of icchantika is the operative nexus of Japanese Buddhism, it seems evident that, in practice, the classism of Japanese society and religion has historically, and to date, extolled the latter position. It is crucial to recall, however, that at the core of Buddhist philosophy stands a nonobstructionist, nonobjectifiable, and thus nondiscriminatory resolution that cannot—neither ontically nor axiologically—support such oppressive classism any more than it can rightly support sexism, racism, or ageism. As is stated in the Nehangyo itself, “Also, emancipation is ‘not being oppressed’.”(72) We certainly need to be cautiously optimistic about the opportunities for greater successes in the individual and communal lives of the burakumin. It is critical that their plight is better known and supported throughout the world, as too the plight of the other oppressed peoples in Asia. It is time to, as the buraku liberation effort puts it, “wake the sleeping child” and not to presume that the burakumin oppression, or any oppressive regime, will solve itself as humankind socially evolves. My hope in conducting this research and presenting it is that more scholars and activists will become interested in studying and teaching others about the burakumin, hence aiding the Japanese people in “waking the sleeping child.”
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