The Elusive Adjective
Overcoming Methodological Nationalism in Japanese Studies

Aike P. Rots
University of OsloI.

Identifying the problem“Japan” is not a natural category. What counts as “Japan” today is the outcome of historical
processes of territorial conquest, state formation, and nation-building – of historicalcontingencies, in other words, not necessity. The islands that now constitute the territory of theJapanese nation-state were historically characterised by a profound cultural, linguistic, andgeographical diversity, but in modern times this diversity has been appropriated and subsumed
under the banner of a unified – or, rather, reified – national “Japanese culture”. Even thecultural traditions of the Ainu and the Ryukyu Islands, which are strikingly different from thoseof Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu, have been discursively incorporated into the Japanesenation-state. Twentieth-century scholarship has played an important part in this process:influential ethnologists such as Yanagita Kunio (1875-1962) placed these cultural traditions
into a social-evolutionist frame, redefining them as remnants of primordial, “original” Japaneseculture (Morris-Suzuki 1998). The legacy of this ethnological tradition is far-reaching. It
continues to affect “Japanese studies” today: as a rule, scholars of Japan still struggle to makesense of diversity that does not fit easily within the parameters of a reified, singular national
culture. Admittedly, most of them realise that Japan is home to some “ethnic minorities” and“migrant communities”, and they may acknowledge the existence of hybrid groups such as
nikkeijin and hāfu that blur the boundaries of the nation. However, this awareness has not givenrise to widespread critical scrutiny of the underlying category formation. In other words, weknow that what does or does not count as “Japanese” is subject to change, but we hardly
question the validity of the category itself. In Japanese studies, “Japan” is a given.
Institutionally speaking, Japanese studies is a well-established academic discipline,with its own journals and international associations, and study programs at major universities
worldwide. Unlike most other academic disciplines, however, it is defined neither by ascientific method nor a body of theory, but only by its subject matter: things Japanese. Haiku
poetry, Shingon cosmology, LDP ideology, and Studio Ghibli imagery have nothing incommon, cannot be interpreted through the same theoretical lens, and are approached by meansof different methodological toolkits. Yet they are all studied at Japanese studies departments,1which persist not because of the innovative character or societal relevance of their research but,
more prosaically, because of comparatively high student numbers and a stable supply ofJapanese funding. In the current neo-liberal university system, study programs that areeconomically viable are sustained, regardless of the quality and relevance of the research.
Consequently, Japanese studies continues to exist as a bounded academic field, but it ischaracterised by a high degree of self-containment and isolation, and little productive
interaction with other disciplines.
This is not new. As Miyoshi Masao and Harry Harootunian pointed out already in 2002,
few Japanese studies scholars have a serious impact on the disciplines (sociology, literature,philosophy, etc.) that they supposedly represent (Harootunian & Miyoshi 2002). Unfortunately,
little has changed since they wrote their critique. Of course, as before, excellent research has
been conducted by Japanese studies scholars on things Japanese, and our knowledge of specifichistorical or cultural phenomena has improved accordingly. Generally speaking, however, theimpact of these studies outside the field of Japanese studies has been limited. One of the reasonsfor this is the fact that “Japan” continues to be taken for granted in most scholarship within thefield. We use the adjective “Japanese” continuously, for instance to refer to a particular canonof fictional texts (“Japanese literature”), an essentialised set of ritual and doctrinal traditions(“Japanese religion”), or a loosely defined body of moral and metaphysical texts (“Japanesephilosophy”). But while we may ask what we mean by “literature”, “religion”, or “philosophy”,
only rarely do we question the adjective “Japanese”, which is as elusive as it is ubiquitous.
However, the category “Japan” is as much a historical construct as the categories“literature”, “religion”, or “philosophy”, and as much subject to contestation and negotiation –probably even more so, as it is so inherently political. Arguably, therefore, if there is one thing
Japanese studies should investigate, it is the historical formation and present-day renegotiationof this category. Some scholars have indeed done so: Amino Yoshihiko (1928-2004) and Tessa
Morris-Suzuki, for instance, have challenged paradigmatic understandings of Japan as atranshistorical entity, and shown how modern understandings of the nation and its culture havebeen shaped historically (Amino 1991; Morris-Suzuki 1998). However, their interventions
have not brought about the paradigm shift that was needed: within Japanese studies, theadjective “Japanese” continues to be used mostly non-reflexively, as if it we all know what ismeant by it. The field is still characterised by widespread methodological nationalism, which I
define as approaches that take the nation-state as their main unit of analysis, tacitly assume
the self-evidence of naturalised adjectives such as “Japanese” or “Chinese”, and overlook thehistorical and contemporary significance of transnational or regional connections.
2The following two examples illustrate the problem. First, in most undergraduate
programs in Japanese studies, the rather foundational epistemological questions “what is our
topic of inquiry, and how do we study it” receive little attention, if any. This is a world apartfrom other study programs in the humanities that are defined by their subject matter. During
my BA courses in religious studies (2002-2007), the question “what is religion” was discussed
ad nauseum. By contrast, in my courses Japanese studies those same years, it never occurred
to us to question what was meant by “Japan”. The subject matter was taken for granted byprofessors and students alike. This was hardly different at other universities where I havestudied and worked, and I have got the impression that it is common for Japanese studies
programs worldwide. The questions “what do we mean by ‘Japan’” and “what constitutes‘Japanese culture’” are absent from most study curriculums.
The second example constitutes one of the main venues for academic exchange inJapanese studies worldwide, the triannual conferences of the European Association forJapanese Studies (EAJS). A cursory overview of the programs of the last EAJS conferences
reveals that there are some significant blind spots in the field. First, there is strikingly little
attention to minority cultures. Although there has been a handful of panels on Ainu or
Okinawan topics (including one convened by myself in Lisbon 2017), they are few and far
between. Generally speaking, Japanese studies continues to be dominated by Kantō- andKansai-centric perspectives, while “peripheral” areas are left to ethnologists andanthropologists, thus perpetuating power inequalities between centre and periphery (especially
Hokkaido and the Ryukyu Islands).
Second, at the EAJS conferences, transnational comparative perspectives are virtuallyabsent. This is a great loss, considering the fact that such perspectives are essential forovercoming methodological nationalism as they will help us realise that things happening inJapan are always also shaped by developments elsewhere, and that Japanese cultural practices
are by no means as “unique” as we often imagine them to be. Third, whereas some presenters
integrate theoretical perspectives from other disciplines, few of the papers are theoretically or
methodologically oriented. That is, at EAJS and other area studies conferences, there is atendency to shy away from theoretical discussions, let alone offer suggestions for new
methodological approaches – as if we should limit ourselves to discussing concrete historicaland social phenomena and are not in a position to make significant theoretical or
methodological interventions. This is a missed opportunity, because Japan provides ample
material that could help us rethink established Eurocentric theories in a number of academic
disciplines. And finally, as expected, remarkably few papers at EAJS conferences address3

“Japan” as such. We all discuss things Japanese, but most of us shy away from adopting ameta-perspective and discussing the formation and definition of the epistemic category thatbinds us together as an inherently multidisciplinary discipline: our main subject of inquiry,
Japan. This is notably different from religious studies conferences, for instance, where
epistemological considerations concerning the conceptual history and multiple uses of thecategory “religion” constitute a popular topic of debate.

II.

Zooming in: methodological nationalism in the study of “Japanese religion”

A closer look at one particular subdiscipline, the study of “Japanese religion”, will shed somemore light on the problem. In the past fifteen years, scholars within this subdiscipline havemade significant progress in re-historicising the category “religion” (shūkyō) and investigating
its genealogy. This body of research was spearheaded by a polemic review article written by
Timothy Fitzgerald (2003), who accused scholars of “Japanese religion” of non-reflexively
projecting the Western category “religion” onto Japanese practices and beliefs, thus
constructing their own topic of inquiry. Fitzgerald’s article caused quite a stir, but his criticism
of non-reflexive uses of the master category “religion” was arguably justified. Not
coincidentally, in subsequent years, a large body of scholarship on the Japanese category
shūkyō emerged, largely expanding our understanding of its historical formation and politicalsignificance (e.g., Hoshino 2012; Josephson 2012; Maxey 2014).
What is puzzling about Fitzgerald’s critique is not so much his argument that “religion”
is a historical construct that ought to be treated with caution, but his failure to see that theadjective “Japanese” is likewise the outcome of scholarly reification, and equally problematic.
In his later work, Fitzgerald suggests avoiding the category “religion” altogether. Surprisingly,
however, he follows those he criticises in presenting “Japan” as a single, bounded entity,
characterised by a unitary system of ritual and discursive practices that sets it apart from othersuch entities. Thus, his “critical anthropology of Japanese religion” criticises “religion”(Fitzgerald 2011), but is oblivious to the problems inherent in the adjective “Japanese”, which
is treated not only as a natural given but also as the defining variable of a reified tradition. Thisis symptomatic for the field as a whole: while the second part of the compound term “Japanesereligion” has been subject to considerable scrutiny in recent years, the first part has remainedlargely unchallenged – as if we all know what is meant by it.
The compound term “Japanese religion” (Nihon shūkyō) is used widely in English- andJapanese-language academic discourse. It is a scholarly abstraction, created and reified byscholars, who use it to refer to a singular, bounded cultural system (cf. Geertz 1966). It is a4

body of beliefs, symbols, rituals, and institutional constellations which are characterised byunity in diversity, and which all have certain features in common that distinguish them fromother religious traditions – especially “Western” or “Abrahamic” religions, with which“Japanese religion” is often juxtaposed and contrasted. This use of the term goes back to theearly-twentieth-century work of Anesaki Masaharu (1873-1949), the founding father of theacademic discipline religious studies (shūkyōgaku) in Japan (Isomae 2005), and continues tobe prevalent today. Crucially, in most academic texts, “Japanese religion” does not equal
Shinto, Buddhism, or any other worship tradition; it encompasses and transcends them. For
instance, influential post-war theorists such as Umehara Takeshi and Yamaori Tetsuo havepostulated that the essence of “Japanese religion” lies in a pre-rational, communitarian,spiritual appreciation of divine nature, traces of which can still be found in various Shinto andBuddhist rituals and beliefs (Umehara 1995; Yamaori 1996; cf. Rots 2017).
The notion of “Japanese religion” as a singular tradition that transcends denominational
distinctions and other historical particularities, and is characterised by harmony andcomplementarity, is also widespread in Anglophone scholarship (e.g., Kitagawa 1987; Earhart
1998). A well-known example is the work by Ian Reader and George Tanabe, Practically
Religious (1998), which defines “the pursuit of this-worldly practical benefits” (genze riyaku)
as “the common religion of Japan”. Unlike the Japanese scholars mentioned above, Reader andTanabe do not adhere to normative understandings of what constitutes “real” Japanesereligiosity. However, their work is similar in the sense that it postulates the existence of asingular “religious system” defined by some core features. This system may have various
shapes, but it is unified by a commonly shared focus on this-worldly benefits, the authors argue.
In effect, they have highlighted one aspect of ritual behaviour, turned this into the centralcomponent of “Japanese religion”, and then reconstructed this “Japanese religion” as a singularsystem with a common denominator.
In recent years, it has become less common in scholarly literature to make generalised
statements about “Japanese religion” as a whole, and most monographs in the field now zoom
in on the histories of individual temples, shrines, or devotional movements. However, thecategories “Japan” and “Japanese” continue to be used widely, usually escaping criticalexamination. In my opinion, scholars of “Japanese religion” should not only study the historicalformation and competing definitions of “religion”, as they have done in the last decade. It isequally important that we ask ourselves how certain practices and worldviews have come to beclassified as Japanese religion, while others are excluded. Even more fundamentally, we may

5ask the question why we need the category “Japanese religion” at all – which, after all, is not
an empirical reality but a scholarly abstraction.
The problems of the category are manifold. First of all, a singular-system approach suchas this does not do justice to internal diversity, conflict, and change. If one posits the existenceof a singular religious system, it is easy to overlook practices that do not fit within theframework, and downplay the impact of historical transformations. Second, such approaches
not only group together a variety of disparate practices under the rubric of the nation-state –which, in the case of pre-modern practices, is arguably anachronistic – but also deny the factthat some practices are profoundly different from the purported mainstream, while theirpractitioners are just as Japanese as others. One obvious example is Sōka Gakkai, which is
deeply integrated into the fabric of modern Japanese politics and economy but does not adhere
to some of the basic features of “Japanese religion” often identified by scholars. Other
examples include Christianity, which has had a profound impact upon Japanese society despite
having an ambivalent relationship to normative notions of “Japaneseness” (Rots 2012); andIslam, which likewise has a significant presence in contemporary Japan. Placing a singularessentialised “Japanese religion” in binary opposition to “Western” or “Abrahamic” traditions
is common in scholarly and popular discourse, but denies the lived realities of many people.
Third, like Japanese studies in general, the subdiscipline “Japanese religion” has aserious problem with Ainu and Ryukyuan traditions, which do not fit easily within “Japanesereligion” as a reified, singular system. As mentioned, during the imperial period Ainu and
Ryukyuan practices were incorporated into the national framework by means of ethnologicalscholarship describing them as the “primitive” remnants of prehistoric Japanese religion. Thesenotions continue to be advocated by some senior scholars (including Umehara Takeshi) andaffect popular understandings of sacred sites and rituals even today (Rots 2019). In academia,
such social-evolutionist models are now generally considered outdated, and most scholars
acknowledge the fact these traditions are and were profoundly different from those of mainland
Japan. As a result, however, scholars of religion typically shy away from studying them, as
they do not fit within the “Japanese religion” framework. This is a pity, because we are missingout on some potentially relevant comparative perspectives.
This brings me to the fourth point: by reifying certain practices and beliefs as“Japanese”, and juxtaposing “Japanese religion” with an essentialised “Western religion”, weare overlooking the multiple similarities that exist between ritual practices in the Japanesearchipelago and elsewhere in Asia. A single visit to Ciyou Temple in Taipei, Phủ Tây Hồ in
Hanoi, or Erawan Shrine in Bangkok is enough to realise that a focus on genze riyaku is not6

“the common religion of Japan”, as Reader and Tanabe suggested (1998), but constitutes a corefeature of ritual worship throughout East and Southeast Asia. More examples of regional
similarities could be given. My point is simply that, for most ritual practices taking placesomewhere in Japan, the nation-state is not a relevant variable.

III.

Conclusion: three suggestions

How can we continue to study and analyse cultural practices and texts without using the nationstate as our main explanatory variable? How can Japanese studies become more self-reflexive,
acquire a wider academic relevance, and overcome the pitfalls of methodological nationalism?
Or, in popular terms: how do we get out of our bubble? If we want Japanese studies to(re)acquire relevance beyond the discipline itself, and make theoretical and methodologicalcontributions to the humanities and social sciences as a whole (which I think we can,potentially), something has to happen. We need to overcome our methodological nationalism
and rethink the meaning of “Japanese studies”. I will conclude my essay by making threesuggestions for future research directions.
First, as mentioned, instead of taking Japan for granted as an a priori category, Japanesestudies should study processes of “Japan-making” – not unlike the ways in which scholars of
religion have started investigating processes of “religion-making” (Dressler & Mandair 2011).
Clearly, disposing of “Japan” as an analytical category altogether is no option. Japan is a reality:
it exists as a modern nation, as a state with corresponding physical territories, and not least as
an ideal that carries meaning for large numbers of people. That does not mean, however, that
it is fixed. What counts as “Japanese” is a function of discourse, not a necessity, and it is ourtask as scholars of Japan to investigate the processes by which certain things come to beclassified as Japanese, or by which they are excluded from that category. We have to examine
those processes instead of being complicit in them. That means that we should take Japan
seriously as an emic category that may or may not carry meaning to the people we study, andinvestigate processes of classification and identification on the ground. But it also means that
we can no longer take “Japan” for granted as a natural given, and should stop imposing
scholarly abstractions such as “Japanese religion” (and “Japanese art”, “Japanese philosophy”,
etc.) upon a variety of disparate cultural expressions and texts.
Second, we should start taking diversity much more seriously – not in a unity-indiversity kind of way, subsuming local differences under the banner of a reified national culture,but by realising that there may not always be a common denominator. The islands that today
constitute Japan have historically been home to a wide variety of practices and worldviews,
7some of which have very little in common. Moreover, cultural traditions do not necessarily
respect modern-day national boundaries. In pre-modern times, ritual practices in Kyushu may
have been more similar to those of the Ryukyu Islands or the Korean peninsula than those of
the Tōhoku or Kantō regions (Smits 2018). Today, too, local traditions do not necessarily
correspond to normative scholarly accounts of “national” religion. The question then becomes:
how do local actors relate to such notions, and how do traditions change in response? This
interaction (and, possibly, friction) between local, national, and transnational actors and ideason the ground is arguably what is most fascinating, and offers the most promising material fortheoretical reflection (cf. Tsing 2005). Yet in order to be able to analyse such interactions, it isessential that we leave behind preconceived notions of the Japaneseness of things, and instead
ask ourselves how Japaneseness is produced, negotiated, or subverted.
Third, I advocate a radical comparative approach that seeks to move beyond the nationstate as an analytical category altogether, focusing on practices and localities, in different partsof Asia (cf. Van der Veer 2016). In order to be able to engage in comparative transregional
research, I argue, we should abolish the notion of the nation-state as a foundational, etic unitof analysis, and instead approach it as an emic category that may or may not carry meaning to
the actors involved. In other words, I do not argue for the kind of essentialist, generalising
Japan-West “comparison” that is so common in scholarship on and from Japan (not least in the“Japanese religion” field). Nor do I suggest that we juxtapose “Japanese” and “Chinese” or“Korean” ritual practices, as if these practices are somehow representative of their respective
nation-states. Rather, I think we should move towards intra-Asian comparative studies that
focus on particular places and practices, and examine the various local, intra-regional, national,
and transnational forces by which these are shaped. This is what I am doing in my new ERCfunded research project, Whales of Power: Aquatic Mammals, Devotional Practices, andEnvironmental Change in Maritime East Asia, which compares human-whale-nature relations
as expressed in ritual practices throughout the region. I myself will be conducting fieldwork incoastal villages in Vietnam and Japan, but I will not frame their ritual traditions as primarily“Vietnamese” or “Japanese”. Rather, I am interested in the different ways in which local actors
shape their collective identities in relation to natural environments, gods and spirits, and thenation-state.
In sum, if we want Japanese studies to be relevant, we have to move beyond “Japan”
as our main unit of analysis, and stop using the adjective “Japanese” as if it were a natural
given. However, we cannot simply focus on our particular case studies and ignore the nationstate completely either. Japan is real, even though it is not a fixed entity, and as scholars of
8

Japan we have to engage with our discipline’s master category – not by reifying it, but by
studying its formation, and by investigating the processes (past and present) by which certain
phenomena are included in or excluded from this category. Furthermore, a transnational, intraAsian comparative perspective will help us realise that many of the cultural expressions often
identified with Japan can be found elsewhere as well, and will shed new light on thoseexpressions. It is time to get out of our “Japan” bubble, and make some serious attempts tobuild bridges to other disciplines – beginning in Asia.

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