In 1867, a young and talented French army officer by the name of Jules Brunet arrives in Japan as part of a military mission to modernize the Shogun’s army. This mission, however, is during the midst of a civil war and Brunet is allied with the losing side. The modern, well-armed troops of the Imperial Court sweeps Japan from the south and forces the Shogunate further and further north of the country. The French mission was doomed and was forced to leave the country. Brunet, however, decided to stay. He resigned from the French army and became a leading figure in an inspiring final stand from the Shogun’s last remaining stronghold in Hokkaido.
While they were unable to overcome the superior weaponry of the Imperial Court’s army, their struggle was ultimately honored. Many leaders of the defeated Shogunate took positions in the same government they had fought against and Brunet himself was awarded medals by this government.
The story poses a fascinating question: Why did Brunet decide to fight for the losing side of a battle for the soul of a country to which he seemingly has no association? What was this sentiment, so powerful that enemies honored him for it?
It may remain forever obscure for an outsider to the situation. As for people like us, foreigners living in Japan, surely we’ve been struck by the same awe that struck Brunet 147 years ago, surely we’ve been bathed in the same magic and surely we can share some of his sentiment. This is, after all, a country unlike any other.
I arrived in Japan at night. When I woke up the next morning, I looked out of window and the magic of Japan was made immediately apparent to me in the form of its mountains. On the nearest mountain range, I could see the trees that covered the slope but the ranges behind it became ocean-blue silhouettes, each one a slightly lighter shade of blue than the one before it, stretching all the way to the horizon, until the very furthest range which was only one shade darker than the sky itself.
I had never known such beauty to exist outside the realm of art and, despite being a physicist, I could not resist the spiritual appeal of this sight. At the foot of the mountains, I saw houses clobbered up along the slopes, as if to revere the mountains, and at that moment I understood how they felt as if a mystical land exists beyond them, a land of spirits and demons.
In the winter vacations, I spent 18 days travelling between Fukuoka to Tokyo and back by local trains, on which I spent about 60 hours. On the way, I saw the soft hills of Chikushino transform into the sharp peaks of the Japan Alps. Beyond these beautiful, ghostly mountains, the mystical land was ever-present, and the spirits called me to the adventure that lay beyond their peaks.
Can you see such things and deny that Japan has a unique magic?
The scenery is but one manifestation of this magic. It cannot be purely described by the old or the new, the city or the countryside, the technology or the people, but it is a spirit that pervades all of these. It is the Spirit of Japan, and it manifests itself to you in a unique way.
It is therefore tempting, isn’t it, for us to identify the motivation of Brunet as an expression of his enchantment with this spirit. This feeling is hard to describe but perhaps this is what we all have in common with each other and the foreigners who came before us.
We’ve inherited a rich tradition from predecessors such as Brunet. Such people can sense the spirit of this country, they learn about their own spirits, and become able to fully exert themselves in pursuit of whatever they desire. These people in turn enrich Japan with their stories of heroism and sacrifice.
Many a foreigner considers this spirit inaccessible to them, they will complain about a unique and alien culture from which they are made to feel isolated, and will rarely attempt to socialize outside of the safety of international circles.
I would refer them to our gaikokujin heroes, whose lives exemplify that the uniqueness of Japan has resulted in a special place for foreigners in determining its destiny. After all, Japan has always turned to foreigners to inspire its progress.
I advocate an unreserved, wholehearted pursuit of immersion as the means to shape your destiny in Japan. Don’t deny yourself the enchantment that many foreigners have felt before you, and don’t deny Japan your drive to shape its future.
by Ali Khan, Manchester (UK), Student
Originally published in Fukuoka Now Magazine (fn182, Feb. 2014)
