Sensitivity Is a ‘Japanese’ Trait of Chopin’s Music: An Interview with Yasuko Shibata

_yasuko_shibata_fot._dagmara_smolna.3.jpg, default, Yasuko Shibata with Japanese translation of ‘Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words’ during tour of ‘The Amazing Land of Quarks, Elephants &

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Sociologist and political scientist Yasuko Shibata shares her sociological take on messianism as well as her thoughts on the ideas of Polish Romanticism that contemporary Japanese people find valuable, the emotional palette of Chopin’s music and linguistic challenges.

Agnieszka Warnke: You write in the ‘Polonicum’ quarterly that you first encountered the Romanticism of the Polish intelligentsia at the Old Library of your former school, Keio University. What was the text you stumbled upon? In the same article, you confess that ‘this beautiful political thought remains at the root of my identity’.

Yasuko Shibata: I wrote the text for the Polonicum quarterly as a homework assignment for a Polish-language summer course at the University of Warsaw. I blush when I hear the phrase you’ve cited, because it sounds very dramatic and also because my attitude toward Polish Romanticism has become much more rational since I studied sociology under Professor Joanna Kurczewska at IFiS PAN (Instytut Filosofii i Socjologii Polskiej Akademii Nauk, Instytut of Philosophy and Sociology of the Polish Academy of Sciences).

In the autumn of 2002, at the end of my bachelor’s studies at Keio University, I read Philosophy and Romantic Nationalism: The Case of Poland (Oxford UP, 1982), a monograph by Andrzej Walicki. I could say that Professor Walicki was the facilitator of my decision to learn about Polish culture and Polish Romanticism, as was my stay in Poland three years prior to that, in March 1999. I was still a high school student at that time, and I had a valuable opportunity to experience Polish culture through, for instance, a two-hour piano lesson with Professor Elżbieta Tarnawska at what was then the Fryderyk Chopin Music Academy.

I found Professor Walicki’s analysis of the philosophy and literature of Polish Romanticism perfectly lucid and very interesting. I was particularly curious about Polish Romanticism’s striving to ‘open up’ a path towards the future, regardless of the differing worldviews of thinkers and poets. I was impressed by the desire for sovereignty and liberty, as well as the Romantics’ faith in the power of the individual and the possibility of changing Poland’s situation. As a young student who hadn’t yet found her place in the world, I was inspired by the freedom-oriented efforts to carve out such a space. Influenced by this reading and by my first encounters with wonderful Poles, I chose Poland and its culture as that significant ‘other’ with whom I wanted to shape the core direction of my life.

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Street photograph, Takeshita Dor, Tokyo, Japan, photo: Lucas Vallecillos / Zuma Press / Forum

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AW: Messianism emerged in the Romantic period as both a philosophical and a literary current. Its premises are conveyed by the works of our national bards: Mickiewicz, Słowacki and Krasiński, each of whom understood the term somewhat differently. What is Polish messianism to you?

YS: Generally, I understand Polish messianism as religious consciousness shaped by Poland’s history and belief in the coming of a hero-saviour who could mediate between the world of mortals and the world of the divine, thus opening up a ‘channel’ to Heaven. Messianism also involves Poles’ sense of their own mission as a ‘Christ among the nations’ destined to build God’s Kingdom on Earth. As a sociologist, I’m interested in the significance of this faith and the resulting visions for Polish culture and for contemporary Polish consciousness.

Each bard had his own way of perceiving the world, and the diversity of approaches within messianism is incredibly interesting. I’m afraid that to give any kind of straightforward answer would be to risk a simplification that the writers themselves wouldn’t appreciate. The textbook answer would be that the later conception of the Polish nation in Mickiewicz is brighter and more open than the one we see in Krasiński, which is dark and hostile towards ‘others’. In Polish culture and society, the works of the great Romantics, including Mickiewicz, have the power of consolidating the national fantasies and phantasms that form the basis of the cultural structure, such as gender structure. The same applies to similar works in any nation-state. From an academic perspective and independent of the undeniable value and extraordinary beauty of these works, I think it’s worth making readers aware of the ideological function served by such fantasies, which are likely to be instrumentalised and to serve as ‘sacred sources of national identity’, to use a phrase coined by the British scholar A. D. Smith.

AW: I read your article discussing Słowacki’s ‘Lilla Weneda’ in the context of Deleuze’s notion of ‘contract masochism’ with great interest. I wonder about the interpretive potential of Polish Romantic literature and the ongoing relevance of these works.

YS: I believe that undertaking a critical analysis of the perceptions established by Romantic literature is valuable, since such an analysis makes it possible for contemporary readers in Poland and worldwide to openly discuss the significance of these works for Polish society. The works of the Polish Romantics, like literary works written and read elsewhere, can be interpreted in many ways, with the use of various methods and from many different perspectives. The possibility of ‘renewing meanings’ is crucial. What would certainly be interesting would be a discussion of the possible influence of national phantasms on the consciousness of contemporary Poles.

Lilla Weneda grająca na harfie w wężowej wieży, ilustracja do III aktu dramatu Juliusza Słowackiego, fot. Muzeum Narodowe w Warszawie — Lilla Weneda playing harp in snake tower, illustration for 3rd act of play by Juliusz Słowacki, photo: National Museum in Warsaw

I based my article on Słowacki’s Lilla Weneda, published in 2012 in Pamiętnik Literacki [Literary Memoir], on a presentation I delivered at Professor Maria Janion’s famous seminar. It’s an attempt at analysing Słowacki’s mythopoeic play by employing Professor Janion’s proposed method of ‘phantasmatic critique’, as well as Gilles Deleuze’s concept. Among other things, I discussed the eponymous heroine’s role of innocent victim in Słowacki’s vision of the Polish nation.

I currently continue to explore Polish Romanticism by following my own path. For instance, I would like to reflect on the notion of revenge in the works of Mickiewicz. I’m also interested in the Romantics’ sensitivity to all kinds of otherness and their attempt to overcome a binary perception of the world – in the works of Słowacki, for instance.

AW: Polish messianism revolves around the notions of heroism and suffering. Are they also present in Japanese culture?

YS: It’s not easy to compare Polish messianism with Japanese cultural values. One possible example, however, would be heroism in the works of Zygmunt Krasiński. The protagonist of Nieboska komedia [The Undivine Comedy], Count Henryk, suffers as he witnesses the increasing power of the revolution led by Pankracy and expects the end of the world of Polish aristocracy, to which he himself belongs. Until the very last moment, the Count fights against the revolutionary camp in Holy Trinity Castle. To enable the nation to create a new order, he must defend the values of the old world, and so he strives towards his own death. It’s a bit of a stereotypical take on the matter, but loyalty to one’s own values and the willingness to defend them seem ‘similar’ to a proud samurai’s readiness to die by suicide.

AW: Can Japan somehow draw from Polish Romanticism?

YS: The striving for freedom and the recognition of the value of the individual could be inspiring for some modern-day Japanese people. When I talk to students at Polish universities, they often rightly say that they don’t understand the ‘Japanese’ attitude to work and to life overall – for instance, the tendency to self-annihilate and to uncritically submit oneself to collective goals. There are also strong, unique individuals in Japan, of course, who are capable of taking initiative and introducing new solutions. They are trying to shift the main direction of ‘Japanese’ work culture in the context of continuing globalisation and changes in the demographic structure of Japan’s political and economic elites. It seems to me, however, that Japanese society is still affected by a homogenising pressure, which stigmatises all kinds of ‘otherness’ – such as divergences from the generally accepted rules of behaviour, way of thinking, sense of time or physical appearance – as problematic or harmful to the general public. The values of Polish Romanticism could encourage some Japanese people to boldly express their opinions and to protest against the powerful system, which often suppresses the lives of individuals.

AW: In 2007, you wrote that you were hoping for a deeper discussion about the nation in your country. Has anything changed in Japanese society since then?

YS: In-depth discussions about the nation from a critical perspective are still necessary in Japan. Despite globalisation, the nation-state continues to be the main framework of the world’s political order, yet without an awareness of the national ‘imagination’, which is often stifling for the individual will, it’s difficult to organise society so that citizens can develop a sense of security and self-worth as well as strive for happy lives.

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Young people on metro in Shibuya station, Tokyo, Japan, photo: Enno Kapitza / Focus / Forum

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Many Japanese people – including those from the younger generation – like Japan. Books and media programmes that praise Japanese values and virtues, sometimes from the perspective of foreigners, enjoy great popularity. It’s a bit similar to the so-called ‘nihonjin-ron’ (theorising about the Japanese) that was popular in the 1970s, although the myth of the ‘homogenous Japanese nation’, then widespread, has now faded. Instead, there are discussions about problems related to Japan’s organisational culture, as well as moral principles whose purpose is to establish harmony and order.

While they are immersed in a social discourse that emphasises the positive aspects of Japanese discipline, it’s easier for Japanese people to forget the symbolic violence inherent in the concept of a nation, violence directed especially against minorities and immigrants but ultimately also against all individuals. That’s a slightly different subject. Together with a Polish researcher, we’re launching a project on the attitude of young Japanese people toward the ‘soft power’ of Japanese culture in the context of the country’s international reputation and contemporary geopolitics. I hope to make some initial forays within the framework of the project into the significance of the concept of nation for young Japanese people.

AW: In Poland, Chopin’s music enjoys a status equal to that of the works of the Romantic poets. In the general discourse, the emphasis is on its national character. In one of your articles, you analyse how the works of the Polish composer are interpreted by Japanese pianists, demonstrating that some perform his works in such a way as to bring out its patriotism. Many, however, don’t feel obliged to do so. Where do these different approaches come from?

YS: The numerous Japanese musicians I’ve talked to over the past ten years (I’ve been heading a project on the reception of Chopin’s music by the Japanese since 2012) agree that the emotional palette of Chopin’s works is incredibly rich and naturally transcends the category of the nation. On the other hand, they’re aware, of course, that Chopin loved Poland, that he was a patriot. Playing the mazurkas and the polonaises, they make the effort to convey the beauty of these pieces rooted in Polish culture and express Chopin’s feelings for his homeland. Many Japanese pianists believe that mazurkas require a ‘Polish’ sense of time, space and liberty.

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Kyohei Sorita, 18th International Fryderyk Chopin Piano Competition, photo: Wojciech Grzędziński / NIFC

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Kyohei Sorita, an excellent Japanese musician who won the silver medal in the 18th International Fryderyk Chopin Piano Competition, often emphasises the patriotism in Chopin’s music when he appears in the media. But for the Japanese pianists whom I interviewed, the category of the nation isn’t of primary importance. Since they grew up outside the social and institutional discourse on Chopin, I suppose they’re free of the framework of nationhood in their interpretations of his works. According to some pianists, Chopin’s pieces were dedicated to people close to him, the idea of humanity, to nature or, more broadly, to the cosmos. The Polish pianists with whom I also conducted pilot interviews would often give similar answers.

AW: Is there a ‘Japanese quality’ to Chopin’s music?

YS: Interviews with Japanese pianists who’ve studied or worked in Poland suggest that sensitivity is a ‘Japanese’ trait of Chopin’s music. Lyricism and the ability to express sophisticated feelings often attract my interlocutors; they say that tenderness is the key quality of his pieces. Chopin’s sensitivity makes it possible to experience and express the ‘hidden beauty’ of his music in one’s own way while also revealing the depth of each artist. It’s symptomatic that Kayo Nishimizu, my interlocutor who’s been living in Poland since 1987, confessed that she learned ‘Japanese sensitivity’ anew through Chopin’s pieces, a sensitivity which she didn’t understand while living in Japan. She also said that the music suits the Japanese, who don’t often express their feelings overtly.

In addition to the highest level of technique, performing Chopin’s works requires a ‘natural’ state of the body and the mind; musicians must be honest with themselves, focused and relaxed at the same time. The same certainly applies to pieces by other composers, but my interviewees emphasise that it’s especially important in the case of Chopin. It’s one of the reasons that lovers of classical music, of course not only those who are Japanese, come to Warsaw for the Chopin Piano Competition, hoping to meet extraordinary individuals and their Chopin-style sensitivity.

AW: You’re the author of the Japanese translation of the book ‘Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi,’ which serves as a compendium of knowledge about Polish culture from the perspective of the Polish language. Could you tell me about your own experience of learning Polish?

YS: My process of learning Polish has been tightly linked to my life in Poland and being closely in touch with Poles. While translating the book Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words, I looked back with fondness on my first days in Poland. I started to study Polish in 2002, on a Jagiellonian University summer course. In 2003, I attended additional lessons during my university studies. I had wonderful teachers, and after a few months, owing to the patience of my classmates, I could slowly start to converse with them. I conducted interviews to collect material for my master’s dissertation. Those experiences – the conversations, interviews and their transcription – allowed me to immerse myself in the living Polish language.

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Cover of ‘Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words’ in Japanese, 素粒子、象とピエロギと−101語のポーランド, translated by Yasuko Shibata, text by Mikołaj Gliński, Matthew Davies & Adam Żuławski, edited by Adam Żuławski, illustrated & designed by Magdalena Burdzyńska, published by Instytut Adama Mickiewicza, 2021, photo: Grażyna Makara / culture.pl

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AW: What posed the greatest difficulty? The two languages seem completely different, but maybe they have certain traits or concepts in common?

YS: People often say that Polish pronunciation is easier for the Japanese than English pronunciation and that some Polish words sound similar to Japanese words, although their meaning is different (for instance, osoba [a person] means ‘buckwheat noodles’ in Japanese, and tako [so] means ‘an octopus’). However, what’s difficult is the pronunciation of sounds that don’t exist in Japanese, such as the vowel ‘y’ and the strident consonants ‘sz’, ‘cz’, ‘szcz’ and ‘rz/ż’. I still can’t pronounce ‘ch/h’. There are a multitude of tricky things – for instance, how to understand and express the nuances of Polish words, such as various verbs with suffixes. Japanese, too, offers a wide range of possibilities.

Among similarities, there’s an honorific conveying respect towards others. I’m attached to this form, and I sometimes use it even when communicating with my friends in Japanese. My friends and colleagues in Poland often ask me to stop using honorifics when addressing them. In Japan, too, the form of communication is becoming more and more casual, maybe owing to computerization and the culture of social media. For a translator, being in touch with everyday language is of utmost importance, and it’s a challenge for me to capture fresh and colourful Polish words and master at least some of them.

Yasuko Shibata – sociologist, political scientists, adjunct professor at the Faculty of Japanese Culture of the Polish-Japanese Academy of Information Technology and lecturer at the Faculty of Law at Keio University in Tokyo. In 2010, she earned a doctorate in sociology at the Institute of Philosophy and Sociology of the Polish Academy of Sciences. She conducts research on the Japanese reception of Fryderyk Chopin’s music and the Polish reception of Japanese culture. She’s the author of the Japanese translation of the book Quarks, Elephants & Pierogi: Poland in 100 Words (素粒子、象とピエロギと−101語のポーランド).

Translated from Polish by Anna Potoczny

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