不易流行Fueki Ryuko: Abyss of Basho's Philosophy

Just yesterday, I was reflecting on the concept of haikai (俳諧), and rather than creating an explanatory video about haiku, I was working on a visual piece exploring the source from which haiku itself emerges. In that process, I used one of Basho’s famous haiku as a motif, discovering that his philosophical idea of fueki ryuko (不易流行) in haikai seemed highly relevant to modern thought, which led me to experiment with ways of integrating his philosophy into contemporary expressions.

Basho (松尾芭蕉, 1644–1694), a renowned haikai poet from the early Edo period, positioned the principle of fueki ryuko at the heart of his poetic art, significantly advancing haikai as a sophisticated form of artistic expression. This concept uniquely combines two seemingly opposite elements: fueki (不易), meaning the unchanging, and ryuko (流行), meaning the changing, or what is in fashion. Especially in modern times, many perceive these two elements as inherently contradictory, yet Kitaro Nishida’s philosophical notion of absolute contradictory self-identity (絶対矛盾的自己同一) aptly captures this dynamic. While these two concepts appear to contradict each other, the very mind perceiving this contradiction operates from a standpoint of separation, neglecting the profound truth of beauty underlying their union. It seems to me that this tendency toward separation has been increasingly prevalent worldwide today.

Basho grasped this principle deeply while traveling throughout Japan during the Genroku period (1688–1704), and elevated it into a unique philosophy during his lifelong haikai journey, documented in Oku no Hosomichi. Thus, the foundation of Basho’s haikai philosophy lies precisely in fueki ryuko, and it is only by truly understanding this core that new artistic expressions become possible.

In simple terms, the concept of fueki ryuko refers to a harmony of tradition and innovation from past to present. Yet, viewed from another angle, it represents a sophisticated philosophical technique that blends and transcends conventional notions of time. For example, in Kyoraisho (去来抄), written by Basho’s disciple Kyorai Mukai (向井去来), Basho is quoted as saying, “不易を知らざれば基立ちがたく、流行を知らざれば風新たならず.” This can be translated as, “Without knowing eternal truth, one cannot establish the basis of art, yet even with a solid foundation, without continuous innovation responding to the shifts of time, no fresh wind can emerge.”

Here, fueki signifies the universal essence or eternal truth of haikai, transcending time, while ryuko refers to the “new wind” that emerges in response to contemporary society and its environment. While these two elements might seem opposed, Basho, grounded in traditional Japanese thought, saw no fundamental separation between them, asserting instead that “both ultimately share the same root.” Conversely, it suggests that the Japanese tendency toward separation in thinking had already emerged in the Edo period before the Meiji Restoration. Personally, I believe that this shift was significantly influenced by Neo-Confucianism (朱子学), which had become the prevailing philosophical ideology of that time. It was precisely because this transformation in thought occurred throughout the Edo era that Japan was able to swiftly embrace Westernization in the Meiji period.

When establishing his original haiku theory, Basho categorized haiku for his disciples into two types: those with eternal, timeless value, and those reflecting contemporary trends. Nonetheless, he insisted that both shared the same root, thereby becoming a rare figure who managed to integrate diverse philosophical viewpoints into a unified perspective.

This is precisely the philosophical insight of Basho that elevated haikai into a completely new dimension, making him one of the most significant figures in the history of Japanese haikai, whose influence remains profound to this day. Interestingly, Basho’s disciple Doho Hattori (服部土芳), in his critical text Sanzoshi (三冊子), explained that the single root of Basho’s teaching was fuga no makoto (風雅の誠). Fuga no makoto signifies the true essence of beauty and poetic heart in haikai; Doho, following Basho, emphasized that the spirit of pursuing this fuga no makoto must underpin both fueki and ryuko.

In other words, although it is natural for haiku as an art form to evolve with the times, such evolution must not stagnate in mere eccentricity or superficial novelty but must remain deeply rooted in the essential beauty of haikai, fuga no makoto, in order to yield truly outstanding works. This perspective is extremely important, and I myself place it at the core of my creative philosophy. Thus, fueki ryuko can be universally defined across all forms of art as a philosophy that preserves traditional values (fueki) while simultaneously embracing fresh sensibilities and transformations (ryuko).

Guided by this philosophical understanding of haiku, Basho instructed his disciples to distinguish consciously between “senzai fueki no ku” (千歳不易の句, eternally valuable haiku) and “ichiji ryuko no ku” (一時流行の句, haiku reflecting contemporary trends). However, Basho also cautioned against strictly adhering to old-fashioned styles or resorting to sensationalism; instead, by asserting that “the essence of both is fundamentally the same,” he established a poetic philosophy centered on creating new trends upon a foundation of universal beauty, with the sincere hope that his successors would surpass even himself. In a sense, Basho’s fundamental insights accurately grasped the zeitgeist of his era, encouraging people to avoid the increasingly prevalent tendency toward divisive thinking and instead view matters from an essential perspective.

Basho’s advocacy was not confined solely to the Edo period but resonates deeply today as well. Currently, all traditional forms—including haiku—are broadly classified as “traditional culture,” creating an ongoing divide between those who rigidly uphold classical styles and those who value novelty for its own sake, leading to the frequent neglect of the genuine sources of Japanese culture. Debate continues under this polarized, binary opposition between “tradition versus innovation,” resulting in a tiresome, hollow “new era” devoid of genuine substance. This phenomenon is evidence that these historically cultivated, essential philosophies have gone unheeded, while arrangements that put profit and prestige first have carried on.

In the past decade or so, Japanese culture has gained considerable attention overseas. Paradoxically, however, the base that carries this culture at home is thinning toward zero, with surviving cultural traditions increasingly leaning toward conservatism, preventing the emergence of Basho’s envisioned “new wind.” Considering these trends, I personally foresee a substantial cultural replacement in the future.

In other words, the bearers of Japanese culture will widen to people of any country or origin who engage deeply with it. From a long-term perspective, I believe this trend is inevitable; and it will allow people to enter a new stage of refining and deepening Japan’s historical cultural thought. This suggests a future scenario in which this culture once again moves toward a leading role in global culture. What new creations will emerge from this scenario? While the fascinating narrative of the 21st century has only just begun, it will undoubtedly be intriguing to watch future developments unfold.