The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan (1975)

This work in an English language masterwork on the the Japan's concept of national heroism as embodied by historical/mythological figures. Morris is an authority and one of the pinnacles of the field of Japanese studies so that completeness and readability of this work should come as no surprise. What makes it transcend from very good to great is Morris' ability to understand both within and without of the Japanese mindset and emotional psyche when analyzing this history. It is not a pure observational study nor is it blind to alternative perceptions outside of the Japanese persona. A perfect blend of emotion, history, critique, and hypothesis.

A great work! A little text bookish but you do learn so much about the Japanese culture as you do the samurai culture and martial spirit. Well done! ( )

It's wonderful to see such an excellent book in print again. Morris' understanding of the Japanese psyche, and more importantly, his empathy for it, comes through clearly in The Nobility of Failure. It serves as an excellent overview of the Japanese hero and his place in the national psyche, and would be suited both as an entertaining series of biographies spanning almost the entirety of Japan's history as a nation, or as a scholarly text for students of history, sociology, and so on.

Morris has an easy, conversationalist style as he brings to life nine famous heroes of Japan, and enforces almost all of his claims with copious amounts of annotation. In some chapters there are more than one hundred footnotes. This is important, as all but maybe the very first individual covered in the book were real men who later passed on to myth, and Morris tries to (successfully, I think) make sure that the reader is aware of what is known, what is speculation, and what was later changed to fit the popular desire for a heroic figure. As he says, what falshoods are told are almost more important than the truth when one is trying to determine what a nation is looking for in its heroes. As entertaining as each of the biographies may be, it is clear by the end of the book, where the final chapter is dedicated to the psychology of the Kamikaze fighter, that there is a shadow thesis throughout, and a clear desire to make Japan understood to a Western audience.

Of particular interest to me was the fact that Morris was personally friendly with Yokio Mishima, a man who attempted to embody the spirit of the Japanese hero so completely that he died for it. Morris' empathy, not just for his friend but for the culture that created him, comes through in his treatment of each little biography, and while he admits to not agreeing with parts of the philosophy that each warrior may have lived by, it seems as if he understands it, and in turn he makes them understandable to the reader.

The first edition of this text was published in the 70s, and I'd like to think that Japan is considered less "inscrutable" by now, but none the less, I think this is an excellent introduction to a certain ingredient in Japanese culture, and one that is a pleasure to read as well. ( )

Ivan Morris has developed ten exemplary portraits of Japan's noble failures from Prince Yamato Takeru, perhaps more a composite of warrior heroes from the start of Japanese civilization, to the Kamikaze pilots of World War II.

Yamato Takeru may be seen as a folk hero comparable to Lancelot of Arthurian legend. His early victories resulted in his receiving the special Kusanagi 'grass mower' sword from the Emperor's sister. Having subdued the Emperor's enemies east and west, Takeru, on his way across Tokyo Bay, raised the ire of the God of the Straits who stirred the waves sending his boat adrift. After many more trials, Takeru decided it was time to return home to report to the Emperor, but his inability to muster the strength to do so, resulted in failure. Before his death Takeru crafted a poem to a lonely 'brother' pine tree. The aura surrounding this Ur-hero in Japanese tradition, by not requiring his safe return home, is, according to Morris, a departure from the norm and the basis for all Japanese tragic, failed heroes to follow.

Yoruzu, 6th-century warrior hero, was crippled by an arrow and unable to escape his enemies. He stabbed himself in the throat, propelled by the momentum of his own bravery, in pursuit of honor, and became an exemplar of makoto or 'sincerity', the cardinal quality of the Japanese hero.

Arima no Miko, 7th-century prince, who though quiet and pessimistic at court, was accused by political opponents of treason even though innocent of political intrigue. His demise symbolized by the scattering of cherry blossoms, a quintessential image that permeates Japanese literature.

Sugawara no Michizane, 9th-century poet, calligrapher and master of Chinese, the official language of scholarship in Japan then, died in exile in his sleep unlike so many other failed heroes who died violently by their own hands. He is venerated today, enshrined as a Shinto deity.

Minamoto no Yoshitsune, 12th-century military hero along with his brother Minamoto no Yoritomo, is the epitome of the tragic hero who suffered a tragic fall from power at the height of his career. Despite Yoritomo's fame as administrator and government reformer, it was Yoshitsune who became Japan's quintessential hero.

Kusunoki Masashige, failed 'hero' of the Battle of Minato River in 1333, near present-day Kobe, when surrounded by the forces of Ashikaga Takauji, when asked by his fellow loyalist commander what his last wish was before committing ritual suicide, replied: “I should like to be reborn seven times into this world of men so that I might destroy the enemies of the Court.” Scholars today see Masashige as a 14th-century Marshal Petain, defender of Verdun. Morris tells us that for kamikaze pilots Masashige was their most revered hero (p. 103).

Amakusa Shiro, the Japanese Messiah, is said to have been able like St. Francis, to call down flying birds that would alight on his hands. Christianity came to Japan in the middle of the 16th century, and had initial success, but by 1640 the Tokugawa rulers had eliminated its influence. Shiro, lead a rebellion against the Tokugawa that had its apotheosis in 1637 at the Battle of Shimibara across the bay from Nagasaki. Shiro, unlike other noble failures who obligingly committed suicide following defeat in battle, did not do so because of his Christian faith. His flag which survived the holocaust at Shimibara displays on a white background, two black angelic figures on each side of a chalice above which is a white host adorned with a black cross. The failure of Christianity in Japan remains an anomaly considering that both Buddhism and Confucianism have co-existed alongside Shintoism throughout Japanese history.

Oshio Heihachiro, Confucian scholar and Osaka police official, in 1837, exactly 200 years after the disaster at Shimbara, led an uprising to protest conditions of Osaka's starving populace. The protest was a fiasco and the Tokugawa regime ended violently the resistance and lives of Oshio's rebels. A few hours after the uprising began, with no ensuing support from surrounding villages, Oshio sat on a stool munching a rice ball while gazing at the burning Osaka harbor. Ivan Morris tell us, “like the other heroes Oshio has experienced a total peripetia and it is at these key moments that one most keenly realizes the contrast between the preceding success and the catastrophe that is the ensue. Much of the appeal of the hoganbiiki [sympathy with the loser]type of hero derives from this contrast: it is because he has such a great distance to fall that the hero's failure stirs the emotions.” (p. 137)

Saigo Takamori, the apotheosis of samurai warrior, was for Ivan Morris the last true hero of Japan. Morris who died shortly after his Nobility of Failure was first published in 1975, would have been pleased that Saigo served as the basis for the film, The Last Samurai.

Kamikaze fighters, mostly pilots of the Oka, a modified air-to-surface, rocket-guided glider torpedo, began their suicide missions mostly against the U.S. Seventh Fleet in October 1944 at Leyte Gulf, intensified attacks during the battle for Okinawa, and ended such missions in August 1945. Why did Japan pursue this tactic late in a war that its leadership knew was strategically lost at Midway three years earlier. Morris believes Japan's leaders convinced themselves that their enemy would be daunted by the spiritual strength of kamikaze, that this trump card might counter the enemy materiel superiority. This had become an article of faith among the Japanese leadership and their volunteer kamikaze suicide warriors. The first four attack units were designated Shikishima (an ancient poetic name for Japan), Yamato (another traditional name for the country), Asahi (rising sun), and Yamazakura (wild cherry blossoms) – all four words providing the framework for an 18th-century poem :

What is the spirit of Yamato's ancient land?
It is like the wild cherry blossoms,
Radiant in the rising sun.

Ivan Morris dedicated his Nobility of Failure to his friend Yukio Mishima, novelist and playwright, who committed ritual suicide at a Japanese military headquarters in November 1970. ( )

i will admit that this is a subject i don't know much about - i have a vague interest in the wider culture (mainly, oddly, through the ghost stories of lafcadio hearn) but this is the first book i'd read on japanese history, let alone this subject. and what a way to start reading on the subject! i find it fascinating that a culture could be so fascinated by "the losers" of history and as such this book goes some way to explain that part of the national psyche. on one level you'd think that this would be a book about tragedy, but it's so much more than simply that. and as such, it's a great book that goes to addressing what seems to western eyes merely a national quirk. instead it's integral to their national character. fascinating... ( )