動画『スサノオ』と陽明学Susanoo and Xu Fu

This article explains the conceptual background behind the video announced at the beginning. This video, Susanoo, is inspired by the legendary figure Susanoo (須佐之男命) from Japan’s Kojiki, and was made on the basis of my research so far. Susanoo is among the most significant deities in Japanese mythology, leaving behind diverse folklore across various regions of Japan.

Since around March, I have earnestly pursued video creation in this age of AI, continually pondering how best to express my ideas with each technological update. More precisely, my top priority is exploring how thoroughly current technology can portray Japan. For this reason, I adopted the significantly upgraded Google Veo3 this time, comparing its performance with Runway Gen4 throughout the creative process.

Remarkably, it took less than two days from conception to completion. I began production on Friday evening, completed it by Saturday night, and announced it midday Sunday. Given the AI era’s ability for anyone to produce and present reasonably high-quality videos swiftly, I believe the key to thriving lies in profoundly understanding one’s individuality. In other words, beyond the globally discussed concern that AI replaces jobs, the reality I observe is that people skilled in leveraging AI are replacing those who cannot. At the core of this polarization is one fundamental element—ideas.

Before looking at larger collectives such as humanity, nations, or society, it is crucial to first deeply understand oneself. I nurture that deep spirituality, the “inside,” while taking in the social change and technological advances happening on the “outside” as the situation requires, and I express all of it without separating the two, in non-separation (非分離). While this fundamentally shapes my perspective, readers might find it surprising that my point of reference here is actually derived from Chinese Confucian thought.

In particular, Japanese history has heavily emphasized a book called the Great Learning, one chapter of the Book of Rites. Said to have been edited by Dai Sheng, a Confucian scholar of the Former Han dynasty, the Book of Rites consists of 49 chapters. Together with the Rites of Zhou and the Etiquette and Ceremonial, it is known as the Three Rites, long treasured as one of the three great canons on li (礼), ritual propriety, an important Confucian concept. Later, a significant Neo-Confucian movement arose during the Northern Song dynasty (960–1127), eventually shifting focus toward the Southern Song dynasty (1127–1279), from which emerged a profoundly influential figure for Japan—Zhu Xi (1130–1200).

It is important to note that within China, Zhu Xi’s teachings were not considered independently; rather, they were collectively known as Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism (程朱学), named after Zhu Xi and the Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi (1033–1107) of the Northern Song, who had influenced Zhu Xi profoundly. However, upon arriving in Japan, this original context disappeared, and Zhu Xi’s doctrines alone were institutionalized into what became known as Zhu Xi Confucianism (朱子学). Thus, Japan was more strongly influenced by Southern Song thought rather than Northern Song doctrines.

Southern Song influence on Japan extends beyond Confucianism. For example, Japanese ink painting significantly derive from Southern Song painting styles. Additionally, Zen Buddhism and its related tea-drinking culture—precursor to the tea ceremony—also trace their origins to the Southern Song era. Zhu Xi notably advocated extracting and emphasizing the Great Learning from the broader Book of Rites, stressing above all the principle of xiushen qijia zhiguo pingtianxia (修身斉家治国平天下): cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, bring peace to the world.

Significant controversies surrounding this concept date back to Zhu Xi’s era within China itself. Notably, a unique figure emerged who discerned the ideological biases embedded within Zhu Xi’s arbitrary interpretations of the Great Learning. Adopting a reactionary stance, he offered a new interpretation of Confucianism, becoming profoundly influential in Japan as a counterforce to Zhu Xi Confucianism, which dominated learning in the Edo period by a wide margin. This individual was Wang Yangming (1472–1529).

In the Ming dynasty (1368–1644), Wang Yangming emerged as a scholar, statesman, military commander, and calligrapher who fiercely opposed the earlier Cheng-Zhu school. Independently revisiting Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the Great Learning, Wang established a completely new perspective. Without delving deeply here, to put it simply, Wang Yangming demanded an interpretation of Confucianism rooted in non-separation thinking, requiring a profound understanding of Confucius, in contrast to Zhu Xi’s perspective of separation. The symbolic difference between their philosophies is most clearly seen in Zhu Xi’s concept of “knowledge first, action after” (先知行後) versus Wang Yangming’s “unity of knowledge and action” (知行合一). While this subject requires considerable insight, for clarity I summarize their positions as follows: “Zhu Xi = knowledge preceding action = separation-oriented thinking,” whereas “Wang Yangming = unity of knowledge and action = non-separation-oriented thinking.” Henceforth, I refer to the former as Zhu Xi Confucianism and the latter as Yangming Confucianism. These two schools have deeply influenced Japan as well as China, and thus understanding both is crucial for insight into Japanese thought.

Indeed, when Ieyasu Tokugawa (1543–1616) appointed the young Razan Hayashi (1583–1657) to establish Zhu Xi Confucianism as the philosophical foundation for the newly formed shogunate, the robust Tokugawa regime was supported by Zhu Xi thought. However, as academic freedom was relatively broad during the Edo period, Yangming Confucianism quietly began influencing certain groups upon its arrival in Japan. Notably, Seika Fujiwara (1561–1619), the teacher of Razan Hayashi who was originally requested by Ieyasu himself to spearhead the new ideological framework, had already been profoundly influenced by Yangming thought. Seika, citing old age, declined Ieyasu’s request and instead recommended his most capable disciple, Razan, to fulfill the role. Nevertheless, Yangming Confucianism steadily developed as an alternative lineage within Japanese intellectual history.

In fact, I myself have been deeply influenced by Yangming Confucianism. I intend to gradually explore this topic through Shitsurae in the future. Historically in Japan, whenever a major societal shift occurs, individuals inspired by Yangming thought have dynamically emerged in opposition to the regime’s Zhu Xi-based ideological foundation. Although Zhu Xi and Yangming Confucianism differ fundamentally, this naturally leads to differing interpretations of the principle of xiushen qijia zhiguo pingtianxia. To briefly summarize, Zhu Xi Confucianism presupposes a logic of separation between “subject and object,” suggesting self-cultivation through objective principles. Yangming Confucianism, conversely, rejects this central logic of separation, emphasizing instead the importance of adhering to one’s innate internal truth already existing within one’s own heart (zhi liangzhi, 致良知).

From this perspective, it becomes clear that current global trends and social transformations face fundamental problems. Yangming Confucianism holds that sustainable futures cannot be achieved merely by prioritizing changes in the nation or society; instead, transformation must first begin with deeply understanding oneself. As I place great importance on this perspective, rather than blindly following fashionable movements or reforms, I consistently pay close attention to the thought processes of individuals who stand at the forefront of change.

In line with these principles, my engagement in AI-driven video production underscores a crucial point: without one’s own ideas, the effective use of AI is fundamentally impossible. Conversely, the strong contemporary resistance toward AI reflects the core issue that many people neglect self-reflection, refuse self-understanding, and consequently lack original ideas. Hence, the ideas these people discuss and those I advocate here may share the same terminology but are fundamentally different. More accurately, particularly since the era of social media, constant interference impedes and obstructs self-understanding, occurring continuously and omnidirectionally 24 hours a day. Due to this overwhelming information saturation, individuals have lost opportunities for self-reflection. Yet, human beings inherently possess all answers within themselves—not in external entities such as the state, society, the world, or others. To hear this “inner voice,” one must engage daily in disciplined practice. However, the overwhelming proliferation of social media has fragmented sustained attention spans down to mere seconds, preventing access to this internal voice. Consequently, deprived of opportunities for introspection, people inevitably assume that answers must lie externally, obstructing the ability to live authentic lives. This creates a divided realm, pulling many individuals apart and ultimately resulting in identity crises.

If you were born before the 1990s, you could grow up without encountering today’s flood of information during your youth, thus acquiring relatively more opportunities for introspection. However, if you were born around the year 2000 or later, you were deprived of these opportunities from an early age, making you more susceptible to multifaceted issues, including identity crises. This also explains why, over the past decade, there has been a revival of analog media such as vinyl records, film cameras, and printed books as a reaction against an excessively digitalized world. In my own case, the iPhone was introduced in Japan when I was 18 years old, and platforms such as Instagram gained popularity thereafter, so their impact on my teenage years was minimal. From another perspective, while my generation constitutes a minority in Japan, it represents the peak millennial cohort—the largest demographic—in the United States. In a sense, we are the last generation to have lived just before the era of information overload, and since we also understand digital natives to some extent, I feel this generation holds significant responsibility.

Bearing this in mind, I am continuously exploring ways to express myself in the age of AI, utilizing the unique sensibility of my generation to provide opportunities for introspection through my work. This intention forms the very core of the concept of Shitsurae. At the same time, considering the 2030s—a period when visual communication will become even more fundamental—I consistently ponder how best to communicate Japan’s diverse history, culture, and philosophy through AI-enhanced video production.

The video released this time is primarily based on the mythological tale of Susanoo known as Yamata no Orochi, from the Kojiki. At the same time, it mixes in, with my own ideas and on the basis of my research so far, the legend of Xu Fu recorded in the ancient Chinese Shiji. According to this legend, Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China, issued a decree ordering his subject Xu Fu to search for an elixir of immortality, and Xu Fu led 3,000 people to Japan. Although the Shiji refers to their destination simply as “the east,” it is widely recognized as Japan, with tangible historical traces still present across the country today. In particular, during my research last month in Iwami (western Shimane Prefecture), Izumo, and Shingu City in the Kumano region of Wakayama Prefecture, I encountered numerous sites associated not only with Susanoo but also with Xu Fu. Interestingly, some ancient traditions even suggest Xu Fu and Susanoo were the same figure. A striking example can be found in the motifs of Iwami Kagura, a traditional form of sacred Shinto performance that I covered in my recent research article. When observing the attire worn by the figure of Susanoo in these performances, I was astonished by its unmistakably ancient Chinese characteristics.

Consequently, Susanoo’s portrayal in this newly released video draws directly from Iwami Kagura. Furthermore, approximately 50% of the landscape scenes included were created by transforming photographs I personally captured during my research travels into AI-generated video. All these scenes depict places deeply connected to the legends of Susanoo and Xu Fu. Additionally, recent significant upgrades to AI-generated music have now enabled authentic expression of Japanese spiritual songs, previously challenging to achieve, thus enhancing the precision and depth of the overall presentation.

Here I have outlined only the main motifs, but I would be truly delighted if you could watch the video and grasp the underlying contemporary message woven throughout it.