仲代達矢の逝去と個の哲学The Passing of Tatsuya Nakadai and a Philosophy of the Individual

Tatsuya Nakadai, the actor I most respect in the history of Japanese cinema, passed away on the 8th of this month.

He was not an actor who pushed through with an "overpowering persona" typical of his contemporaries like Toshiro Mifune or Kinnosuke Yorozuya. He was incredibly malleable, freely traversing the medium of film itself, and was a rare creator capable of redefining and reconstructing Japanese cinema through his very way of living. This "creation" does not merely mean that he was deeply involved in film production or left behind numerous works; it means that his way of life itself—his actual practice (pratique) of what he thought and how he lived day to day—was of extreme importance in that it brilliantly re-edited Japanese cinema itself into a new dimension.

The departure of the actor Tatsuya Nakadai signifies the "complete conclusion" of the rise of Japanese cinema that began around the 1930s, suggesting that we have entered a symbolic phase of a completely new "age of the individual," no longer defined by traditional filmmaking or archaic values. His way of life was a philosophy in itself, scattered with crucial lessons for us living in these chaotic modern times. Fortunately, we can still deeply learn this philosophy through his works preserved on film, which is arguably the greatest strength of visual media. The brilliance of recorded images lies in the ability to transcend time and space, allowing us to assimilate the life of a single human being as philosophy into our present selves. If we perceive this as a "remix across time and space," we must fully ingest these lessons to newly construct a "richness" suited to each of us in this 21st century.

Until the 20th century, one could proceed through life simply by consuming the values and definitions of richness presented by "someone else," but to survive the era ahead, we must not merely review these old values but fundamentally replace the very bedrock, like a crustal deformation, and this must be done by each individual. Viewing the vast information age positively, we are fortunate to live in an era where, for the first time in human history, we can touch and learn from an unbelievably vast archive of "memories," not limited to film, and there is no reason not to utilize this.

Here, I want to focus on two theses that Nakadai placed at the center of his philosophy as an actor: "An actor must become the Other," and "The basis of an actor is to possess the eye to observe humans." These two philosophies were thoroughly enforced at Mumeijuku (無名塾), the Nameless School,, the actor training institute he presided over, which explains the background from which excellent actors like Koji Yakusho emerged; and now, I wish to focus particularly on the perspective that he placed "possessing the eye to observe humans" at the foundation of "becoming the Other."

This is highly suggestive because what modern people have significantly lost over the last 20 to 30 years is precisely this act of "seeing people"—the essential ability to build human relationships nurtured throughout human history. A great revolution will occur if individuals reclaim the act of "seeing people" because, at its root, the neglect of "seeing people" has led to the current situation where the connection to the society formed from it is slighted or ignored. Recovering the act of "seeing people" can become the most important antithesis to the modern age; this will carry a very avant-garde meaning leading up to the 2030s and will take on extreme importance as a survival strategy for the new era.

As automation by AI and the technological singularity accelerate, we are already aware that, as a reality, no one can avoid the repercussions of the "unmanned" trend; however, in the 2030s, when this automated society develops and human mental and physical states destabilize on a global scale, the vital element for survival will ultimately converge on the sincere ability to "see people." Often, regarding survival in the AI era, only technical aspects tend to be highlighted, but since our genes have changed only about 0.1% from 10,000 years ago, we should place more importance on such essential parts. To simplify for the modern context: individual human beings, who have become too selfish, must deeply reflect on that "selfish era (the 20th century)," and from there, question the very perspective of how to reclaim altruistic relationships and build a vision for the next society; at this juncture, even the perspective of "constructing" society feels outdated, so the point will be the perspective of "transforming" into the next society.

However, because the histories of nations and regions differ greatly, a case that succeeded in a certain country or city is not necessarily exportable as is; globalization committed a major mistake in slighting and misreading this point, and in fact, this is exactly the problem facing every aspect of Japan today. Personally, as I travel to various places, what I strongly feel is that there are very few humans capable of "seeing people." It feels as if it has been forgotten, but fundamentally, Japan differs greatly from the West in historical background, and the culture and values that grew here sit in a different context. Compared with the long history among Japan, Korea, and China, the historical relationship between Japan and the West is still young, and mutual understanding within it is difficult and full of countless gaps. How to understand and carry each context forward today is a major question, but a common misunderstanding here is to look first at the large matrix of "society," "state," or "world," and try to change that; it seems this tendency has been strong for the last 100 years or so, but I see the root of this in the "anxiety" of the individuals themselves—a restlessness born of introspection that has not happened, or is still weak, which drives people toward hasty action.

The key to solving this fallacy lies in the famous teaching found in the Confucian classic The Great Learning: shushin saika chikoku heitenka (修身斉家治国平天下). The teaching is this: to bring peace to the world, one must first govern one's own state; to govern the state, one must first set one's own household in order; and to set the household in order, one must first cultivate oneself. In other words, the starting point for changing the world is not the intention to change the world. It lies, thoroughly and in this absolute order, in shushin, disciplining and elevating oneself. However, despite this wisdom of predecessors written even in Confucian classics, Japan's modernization and the globalization of the past 30 years have completely reversed this vector; they attempted to hack large systems like "governing the state" and "bringing peace to the world," skipping "cultivating oneself" and "regulating the family (one's footing)." As a result, a distorted structure was born where the social system alone bloated while the most important OS, the "Self," remained hollow; in this typical inversion, Japan today finds itself in a structure where exhaustion only deepens.

For the people of Japan, Korea, and China, how to reinterpret this Confucian context—including the aspect used as a governing principle since the Zhu Xi school of the Edo period—is important for contemplating the future. Especially, the Zhu Xi school, born in the Southern Song dynasty, blocked the appropriate circuit of "introspection toward oneself" preached by Confucius and Mencius, and reversed the vector of "shushin saika chikoku heitenka," instilling the idea of "never opposing those above" or "if society changes, I will change," causing the individual to fall into a subordinate position to the state, rulers, and society; consequently, the active posture was lost from the individual, leaving only a passive posture. This was extremely convenient for rulers as a governing principle, and because it functioned, the Edo period was able to be maintained for about 300 years, but shockingly, this has continued like a subterranean water vein even after the Edo period, becoming the source of the serious bug in modern Japan.

Assuming this, in a state where the self has disappeared or is subordinate to the inverted superior concepts of ruler, state, society, or company, one cannot possibly see others; thus, troublesomely, the phrase "seeing people" itself transforms within this distorted Zhu Xi framework into meaning selfishly imposing one's demands on others, and moreover, it is justified. The fundamental reason why individualism is still read as "simply having strong self-assertion" even 150 years after its import in the Meiji era runs deep here.

Genuine individualism is never about "behaving as one pleases." The background of Western individualism includes the concept of a one-on-one covenant with a Christian "God" or a Rousseauian social contract, meaning that before facing others or society, there is a premise of heavy responsibility to hold an absolute "discipline (code)" within oneself and to endure solitude to be autonomous. In Japan, however, this OS of "inner discipline" was cut off, and only the side of "freedom" was readily taken up, so that individualism tilted toward having others receive one's feelings and became tied to the word wagamama (selfishness). In other words, individualism grew in a different context in Japan than in the West, and from that difference a misreading of "individualism = selfishness" spread. Individualism without shushin is merely a runaway ego; naturally, what Tatsuya Nakadai embodied was not the latter, but a true "Individual" backed by intense self-discipline, and it is possible to define his very way of life as the magnificence of a truly Japanese individualism.

Against the various problems of such an era, Tatsuya Nakadai's "way of life as an actor" struck completely at this point, without pandering to the times. His philosophy that "An actor must become the Other" and "The basis of an actor is to possess the eye to observe humans" was an extremely shushin-like approach and a strong antithesis to the modern age, but what should be noted is that he did not propose this as a social movement symbolized by the student movements of the time, but maintained the stance of causing a revolution through his own way of living throughout his life. He reached the universal image of the human (the Other) paradoxically by thoroughly polishing the "Individual" that was himself before discussing society or systems.

There is a fact that symbolizes this: in the Japanese film industry of the past, there existed an absolute system called the gosha kyotei (五社協定), the "Five Company Agreement", which managed and bound actors as exclusive property of each film company; however, Nakadai did not succumb to this iron rule and remained a "Freelance" (unaffiliated) throughout his life. Armed only with his own body and "technique" (shushin), not the signboard of an organization, he freely traversed the systems, working on the sets of masters like Akira Kurosawa, Masaki Kobayashi, and Mikio Naruse. The reason the ronin and rogue characters he played possessed such modernity and reality was that he himself continued to confront the system as a solitary "Individual" within the managed society of the high-growth period. That is why he was able to sublimate into a rare existence as an actor; because being able to "see people" is proof that one is introspecting oneself more than anyone else. Only a human who has thoroughly faced themselves can truly see people, and I believe that the perspective generated within this connects to the dimensions of the self illusion, the pair illusion, and the communal illusion preached by the thinker Takaaki Yoshimoto.

Now, this thinking holds important meaning globally, not just in East Asia where the Confucian context is strong; as The Great Learning teaches, we must not mistake the order, for changing the world begins by "reclaiming oneself," and I have a premonition that this will be the important keyword for surviving the 2030s. For that purpose, now, which can be said to be the final preparation period before the tumultuous upheavals begin, we must recover our own health, withdraw from dopamine addiction, and secretly pour resources (time and money) into thoroughly pursuing what a rich life is for ourselves, without telling anyone. Because the masses have already been swept away by unstable trends and have lost their sanity, until that preparation is finished, one must not be tossed about by others or society. Currently, a redefinition of food is beginning rapidly in the US as well, but unless there is a strong will to reclaim one's health by oneself, not led by the government, it will be extremely difficult to survive from here on.

To put it extremely, the "Japan" and "Japanese people" I have mentioned here are not the "Japanese Government," but strangely in Japan, this "Japan" and "Japanese government" have become equal, and there is a reality where the corruption of the government and the future of decline are superimposed on and assimilated into the future of the individual (the Japanese person). To break this illusion, an internal revolution emitted from people who have turned toward individual introspection is necessary; that revolution is not something archaic like overthrowing the government, but in an era of ultra-extreme individualization, it converges on continuing to "Cultivate Oneself" (shushin). On top of that, if one sincerely faces "seeing people" in one's own life, the possibility of opening a new future will come into view.

In fact, in the Japanese film world, not only Tatsuya Nakadai, but top actors who left their names in history like Toshiro Mifune, Kinnosuke Yorozuya, and even Ken Takakura, adhered to facing themselves thoroughly as a way of life. That is why they are respected even after death as Japanese star actors; because they were thorough in introspection, they never slighted anyone, down to each co-star, staff member, and extra, and were able to carry through a sincere attitude of treating everyone equally. Precisely because they had achieved shushin, they were able to "see people." This is exactly the practice of "shushin saika chikoku heitenka," and isn't it in this very attitude that we should refocus and find hints for a survival strategy for the turbulent life beginning from here?

The death of Tatsuya Nakadai seems to be teaching us, the successors living in chaotic times, the fulfillment and richness of carrying that through. This weekend, try playing the film Harakiri or Ran, in which he confronted the world with only his "eyes" and significantly transformed the grammar of cinema, in silence. There, the "resolution of the individual" that we have lost should be recorded, cruelly beautiful.

ご提示いただいたテキストは、単なる追悼文にとどまらず、仲代達矢という存在を通して「個の確立（修身）」と「AI時代の生存戦略」を説く、非常に強度のあるマニフェストです。

「Shitsurae」のブランドトーンである「知的で熱量があり、本質的」な側面を強調し、Substackの読者（Deep Thinkers）が思わず開封したくなるメタデータを作成しました。