As for Zen, Sugimoto said:
If you wish to penetrate the true meaning of “Great Duty,” the first thing you should do is to embrace the teachings of Zen and discard self-attachment.9
As to why self-attachment should be discarded, Sugimoto explained:
War is moral training for not only the individual but for the entire world. It consists of the extinction of self-seeking and the destruction of self-preservation. It is only those without self-attachment who are able to revere the emperor absolutely.10
Sugimoto also found inspiration for his beliefs in the teachings of some of Zen’s greatest masters. For example, he wrote about Dgen, the thirteenth-century founder of the st Zen sect in Japan, as follows:
Zen Master Dgen said, “To study the Buddha Dharma is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self.” To forget the self means to discard both body and mind. To discard beyond discarding, to discard until there is nothing left to discard. … This is called reaching the Great Way in which there is no doubt. This is the Great Law of the universe. In this way the great spirit of the highest righteousness and the purest of the pure manifests itself in the individual. This is the unity of the Sovereign and his subjects, the origin of faith in the emperor.11
Sugimoto was equally ready to enlist one of the greatest Chinese Chan (Zen) masters in his cause. About Nan-ch’üan P’u-yüan (748–834), he wrote:
An ancient master [Nan-ch’üan] said, “One’s ordinary mind is the Way.” … In the spring there are hundreds of flowers, and in the fall, the moon. In the summer there are cool breezes, and in the winter, snow. Laying down one’s life in order to destroy the rebels is one’s ordinary mind. If one does not fall victim to an idle mind, this is truly the practice of Great Duty. It is this that must be called the essence of faith in the emperor.12
Sugimoto subsequently went on to add that “sacrificing oneself for the emperor is one’s ordinary mind.” Further, those who possess this mind are “true Imperial subjects.”13
Sugimoto devoted an entire chapter (chapter 20) to the question of “life and death.” In the best Zen fashion, he noted, “Life and death are identical.” As to how one comes to this realization, he stated, “It is achieved by abandoning both body and mind, by extinguishing the self.”14 While the preceding appears to be orthodox Zen teaching, Sugimoto added:
Warriors who sacrifice their lives for the emperor will not die, but live forever. Truly, they should be called gods and Buddhas for whom there is no life or death. … Where there is absolute loyalty there is no life or death. Where there is life and death there is no absolute loyalty. When a person talks of his view of life and death, that person has not yet become pure in heart. He has not yet abandoned body and mind. In pure loyalty there is no life or death. Simply live in pure loyalty!15
FIGURE 5.1 Zen-trained Lt. Col. Sugimoto Gor, a “god of war.” Photo provided by Brian D. Victoria.
While it might be argued that Sugimoto’s understanding of Buddhism and Zen was no more than one ultranationalist’s willful distortion of these traditions, the same cannot be as easily said of Yamazaki Ekij, chief abbot of the Buttsji branch of the Rinzai Zen sect and head of the entire sect at war’s end (1945–1946). In one sense, it is hardly surprising to find Yamazaki lending his support to Sugimoto inasmuch as the latter had long been his lay disciple. Concretely, Yamazaki’s support took the form of a 104-page eulogy attached to the end of Sugimoto’s book. It began as follows:
I once said at a lecture I gave, “The faith of the Japanese people is a faith that should be centered on His Imperial Majesty, the emperor.” At that time Sugimoto said that he was in complete agreement with me. He then went on to add, “I had felt exactly as you do, but I had been unable to find the right words to express it. Present-day religionists raise a fuss about the need for faith, but their faith is mistaken. Buddhists say that one should have faith in the Buddha, or Mahvairocana, or Buddha Amita, but such faith is one that has been captured by religion. Japanese Buddhism must be centered on the emperor; for were it not, it would have no place in Japan, it would not be living Buddhism. Even Buddhism must conform to the national structure of Japan. The same holds true for kyamuni’s teachings.”
Sugimoto continued:
The Buddhist statues that are enshrined in temples should, properly speaking, have the emperor reverently enshrined in the center and such figures as Buddha Amita or Mahvairocana at his sides. It is only the various branches of the Zen sect in Japan who have His Majesty enshrined in the center. … All of Japanese Buddhism should have His Majesty, the emperor, as their central object of worship.16
Yamazaki then proceeded to compare Sugimoto’s feelings of reverence for the emperor with his own. About himself, he stated:
For Japanese there is no such thing as sacrifice. Sacrifice means to totally annihilate one’s body on behalf of the Imperial state. The Japanese people, however, have been one with the emperor from the beginning. In this place of absoluteness there is no sacrifice. In Japan, the relationship between His Majesty and the people is not relative but absolute.17
FIGURE 5.2 A 1937 cartoon of a farmer pouring a bucket of nourishment entitled “religious spirit” on a tree entitled “Great Empire of Japan.” A symbol representing the Japanese emperor can be seen shining in the upper part of the tree. Photo provided by Brian D. Victoria.
In comparing Sugimoto’s and Yamazaki’s attitudes toward the emperor, it can be said that they are absolutely identical in their absoluteness. It is hardly surprising to learn that Sugimoto, already a seasoned Zen practitioner when he first met Yamazaki, went on to train an additional nine years under the latter’s guidance. With evident satisfaction in the level of realization of his lay disciple, Yamazaki quoted Sugimoto as once having said:
The national structure of Japan and Buddhism are identical with each other. In Buddhism, especially the Zen sect, there is repeated reference to the identity of body and mind. In order to realize this identity of the two it is necessary to undergo training with all one’s might and regardless of the sacrifice.
Furthermore, the essence of the unity of body and mind is to be found in egolessness. Japan is a country where the Sovereign and the people are identical. When Imperial subjects meld themselves into one with the August Mind [of the emperor], their original countenance shines forth. The essence of the unity of the sovereign and the people is egolessness. Egolessness and self-extinction are most definitely not separate states. On the contrary, one comes to realize that they are identical with one other.18
The “egolessness” of which Sugimoto spoke is the well-known Japanese Zen term muga (lit. no-self). In his book Zen and Japanese Culture, D. T. Suzuki identified muga as being identical with not only mus (no-reflection) and munen (no-thought), but also mushin (no-mind).19 About these latter terms, Suzuki had this to say:
Mushin [wu-hsin] or munen [wu-nien] is one of the most important ideas in Zen. It corresponds to the state of innocence enjoyed by the first inhabitants of the Garden of Eden, or even to the mind of God when he was about to utter his fiat, “Let there be light.” En (Huineng), the sixth patriarch of Zen, emphasizes munen (or mushin) as the most essential element in the study of Zen. When it is attained, a man becomes a Zen-man, and … also a perfect swordsman.20
Was Sugimoto, then, the “Zen-man” of whom Suzuki wrote? It is clear that Yamazaki believed he was. This master wrote:
As far as the power of his practice of the Way is concerned, I believe he [Sugimoto] reached the point where there was no difference between him and the chief abbot of this or that branch [of Zen]. I think that when a person esteems practice, respects the Way, and thoroughly penetrates the self as he did, he could have become the teacher of other Zen practitioners. That is how accomplished he was. In my opinion his practice was complete.21
Further, as the following quote makes clear, Sugimoto was, for Yamazaki, the modern equivalent of Bodhidharma, the traditional, perhaps legendary, fifth-century founder of the Zen sect
in China: “Altogether Sugimoto practiced Zen for nearly twenty years. Bodhidharma practiced [meditation] facing the wall for nine years. Sugimoto’s penetrating zazen [seated meditation] was as excellent as that.”22
With all of his Zen training, what kind of soldier did Sugimoto actually become? Was he the “perfect swordsman” to whom Suzuki referred? About Sugimoto’s military prowess on the battlefield, Yamazaki wrote:
I don’t know what degree [of attainment] he had in Kend [Way of the Sword], but it appears he was quite accomplished. … When he went to the battlefield it appears that he used the sword with consummate skill. … I believe he demonstrated the action that derives from the unity of Zen and the sword.23
Yamazaki also recorded the following conversation the two men had shortly before Sugimoto went off to fight in China for the first time in 1931:
Sugimoto asked, “Master, what kind of understanding should I have in going over there?” I answered, “You are strong, and your unit is strong. Thus I think you will not fear a strong enemy. However, in the event you face a [numerically] small enemy, you must not despise them. You should recite the Prajñparamit Hdaya [Heart] stra every day. This will insure good fortune on the battlefield for the Imperial military.”24
Yamazaki added that, when Sugimoto eventually returned safely from China, he reported, “I died once while I was in Tianjin.” About this, Yamazaki commented, “Through the awareness Sugimoto achieved in becoming one with death, there was, I think, nothing he couldn’t achieve.”25
Finally, there is the question of Sugimoto’s death on the battlefield in 1937. Based on reports he received, Yamazaki described how Sugimoto had been leading his troops into battle when an enemy hand grenade landed behind him and exploded:
A grenade fragment hit him in the left shoulder. He seemed to have fallen down but then got up again. Although he was standing, one could not hear his commands. He was no longer able to issue commands with that husky voice of his. … Yet he was still standing, holding his sword in one hand as a prop. Both legs were slightly bent, and he was facing in an easterly direction [toward the imperial palace]. It appeared that he had saluted though his hand was now lowered to about the level of his mouth. The blood flowing from his mouth covered his watch.26
In Yamazaki’s mind, at least, this was his lay disciple’s finest moment—the moment when he most clearly displayed the power that is to be gained by those who practice Zen. That is to say, Sugimoto had died standing up. As the master explained:
In the past it was considered to be the true appearance of a Zen priest to pass away while doing zazen. Those who were completely and thoroughly enlightened, however, … could die calmly in a standing position. … The reason this was possible was due to samdhi power [ jriki].27
The technical term samdhi refers to the concentrated state of mind, i.e., the mental one-pointedness, that is achieved through the practice of zazen. It was about this meditation-derived power that D. T. Suzuki and other Zen leaders had written so often. Together with Yamazaki, they were all in agreement that Zen was the fountainhead of this power, a power that was available to Japanese warriors both past and present. Sugimoto’s life and, most especially, his death were living proof of its effectiveness in battle.
At last, Yamazaki was ready to complete his eulogy of Sugimoto. He did so as follows:
To the last second Sugimoto was a man whose speech and actions were at one with each other. When he saluted and faced the east, there is no doubt that he also shouted, “May His Majesty, the emperor, live for 10,000 years!” [Tenn-heika Banzai]. It is for this reason that his was the radiant ending of an Imperial soldier. Not only that, but his excellent appearance should be a model for future generations of someone who lived in Zen. …
Although it can be said that his life of thirty-eight years was all too short, for someone who has truly obtained samdhi power, there is no question of a long or short period. The great, true appearance of Sugimoto Gor was of someone who had united with emptiness, embodying total loyalty [to the emperor] and service to the state. I am convinced he is one of those who should he be reborn seven times over, would reverently work to destroy the enemies of the emperor. (Written on the 11th of February of the 2,598th year of the imperial reign) [i.e., 1938]28
Although the preceding words mark the end of Sugimoto’s book Taigi, these words by no means mark the end of the influence that his writings (and those of his Zen master) were to have on the Japanese people, especially its youth. As Yamazaki hoped, Sugimoto was celebrated in both the Rinzai and st sects as the model of a military figure thoroughly imbued with the Zen spirit. That is to say, he had become a “military god” (gunshin).
But was this (Zen) Buddhism?
Where Did the Zen School “Go Wrong”?
The siren call of soldier-Zen, like its predecessor “samurai-Zen,” was the promise it offered of self-transcendence. This was the goal that Sugimoto had in mind when he identified Zen as “the true spirit of the Imperial military,” for his practice of Zen had enabled him, or so he believed, to rid himself of, i.e., transcend, his own ego.
On the surface, such transcendence appeared to be Buddhist in nature because it called on the warrior or soldier to transcend attachment to his personal well-being. Having accomplished this, he was next called upon to sacrifice himself for the well-being of the ruler(s) of his fiefdom (in premodern Japan) or of the nation-state (in modern Japan). Is this not the stuff of which “heroes” are made in any culture? Is this not fundamentally the same value system that underlies the West Point Military Academy’s creed of “Duty, Honor, Country”?
In the Buddhadharma, however, inherent compassion is not limited to one’s own group or nation, no matter how small or large that may be. In the Buddhadharma, there is ultimately only one group—the group of all beings up to and including the very cosmos itself. To purposely inflict pain and suffering, let alone death, on one segment of beings under the guise of benefiting another part, however defined, can never be part of a Buddhism rooted in the teachings of its founder. In explaining the four practices of a bodhisattva, Dgen wrote:
The foolish believe that their own interests will suffer if they put the benefit of others first. They are wrong, however. Benevolence is all-encompassing, equally benefiting oneself and others. … With the passage of time both self and others become one.29
A bodhisattva in the Mahyna tradition knows full well the difficulties of practicing, or implementing, the Buddha way even in the best of worlds. Furthermore, a bodhisattva is deeply aware (or ought to be aware) that a nation represents nothing more (or less) than the collective ego of its citizens. The engaged Buddhist scholar David Loy coined the word “wego” to refer to this latter entity, noting that “nationalism is a powerful institutional version of such a group wego-self.”30 Taking advantage of wego, a nation’s leaders constantly seek to utilize the patriotic and altruistic feelings of its citizens in the pursuit of policies of aggrandizement that they claim to be “in the national interest.”
In a world that is today dominated by nations, corporations, and individuals, each looking out for number one, it can be argued that “put[ting] the benefit of others first” is anachronistic at best, if not impossible or even downright suicidal. Nevertheless, a bodhisattva vows to do so. Foolishness? Perhaps. But foolish or not, this does not alter the fact that this is the teaching of the Buddhadharma, at least according to the Mahyna school.
Should there be Zen adherents like Sugimoto, Yamazaki, and their like who are unwilling or unable to adhere to this foolishness, they have every right to start a religion of their own, with all the war-affirming doctrines and practices they care to have. But at the very least, intellectual honesty and personal integrity should demand that they acknowledge that such a faith would have nothing to do with Buddhism—that such a faith would, in fact, be a clear denial of its core teachings.
The Non-Self in Action
Sugimoto was not content with using his practice of Zen merely to rid himself
of his ego. As a corollary, he further strived to embrace the state of egolessness (J. muga). As the reader will recall, Sugimoto asserted, “The essence of the unity of the sovereign and the people is egolessness. Egolessness and self-extinction are most definitely not separate states. On the contrary, one comes to realize that they are identical with one other.” Here the question must be asked, is muga (at least as understood in the Zen school) Buddhist? At first glance, the answer appears self-evident, for wasn’t the doctrine of antman one of Buddha kyamuni’s core teachings? While this is undeniable, the question must still be asked whether muga or even the typical English translations, “no-self” or “non-self,” are accurate translations of the Sanskrit term.
Controversially to be sure, I suggest that these translations are fundamentally flawed, for tman does not simply mean “self” but an eternal, unchanging self or soul. Buddha kyamuni sought to deny the belief that the self was eternal, not that you and I, as temporary psychophysical personalities, don’t exist in the conventional sense. As the well-known Buddhist scholar-priest Walpola Rahula noted:
According to the Buddha’s teaching, it is as wrong to hold the opinion “I have no self” (which is the annihilationist theory) as to hold the opinion “I have a self.” Why? What we call “I,” or “being” is only a combination of physical and mental aggregates, which are working together interdependently in a flux of momentary change within the law of cause and effect. … there is nothing permanent, everlasting, unchanging and eternal in the whole of existence.31
Buddhist Warfare Page 13