Published on February 16, 2020.
Based on a work by Kō Bun’yū, this essay discusses the structure of Chinese society in which “only swindlers are genuine,” and the distrust of people and government that arises from it, leading to the “three noes” of indifference, irresponsibility, and apathy.
Through the historical climate of counterfeits, corruption, stratagems, and outward obedience with inner betrayal, it examines the meaning of “friendship” in China and the background of Sinocentrism.

2020-02-16
Naturally, relationships of trust cannot be formed, and so the only condition for survival became that of the lone wolf; with self-centeredness added to this, Sinocentrism was probably born.
The following is from a work by Kō Bun’yū, one of the world’s foremost scholars thoroughly versed in China.
It is a book that not only the Japanese people but people all over the world must read.
In this essay, not only the preceding passage but also large portions of the middle have been omitted, but needless to say, all of those parts too are essential reading.
I urge the Japanese people to go to their nearest bookstore and purchase the book.
Those in the international community who have taken at face value the anti-Japanese propaganda of China and South Korea should recognize the truth through this essay.
The preceding passage is omitted.
○A Society of Distrust Born from Lies
Because it is a society in which “only swindlers are genuine,” people quite naturally become distrustful of other human beings.
Naturally, relationships of trust cannot be formed, and so the only condition for survival became that of the lone wolf; with self-centeredness added to this, Sinocentrism was probably born.
Moreover, from such a social structure, lies became an indispensable condition for survival.
That mentality became a national custom and even a national soul.
From the ethos of such a society, nothing can appear in words and deeds except behavior steeped in lies.
Middle section omitted.
As far as one can tell from reading Chinese history, bloody conflict among kin is by no means a rare or limited phenomenon in history, but a traditional national custom.
In particular, the higher one goes, the more intense the fighting among blood relatives becomes, and at times tens of thousands of people are dragged into it.
It is not uncommon for even nine degrees of kinship to be exterminated.
That is the rule of history, and also its fate.
In China, where there is every kind of counterfeit—fake documents, fake bills, fake academic credentials—there have even appeared fake banks and fake official documents of Zhou Enlai.
It is not only a society flooded with counterfeits; it is also a country of which it is said, “There is no official who is not corrupt,” meaning that there are no officials who do not engage in corruption or wrongdoing.
There is no end to officials who turn national wealth into private property.
According to estimates by government-friendly scholars, the total amount is more than ten percent of GDP, but in reality it is said to reach from one-quarter to one-half of GDP.
Under such circumstances, it is no wonder that people distrust the government and distrust other human beings.
The condition in which one not only trusts no one, but is also at a loss as to how far one may trust anything and even what one should do, is called “miwangzheng,” or bewilderment disorder.
Since many Chinese suffer from this, China may well be called a country of the “syndrome of bewilderment.”
Of course, this is a China disease unique to the Chinese people.
It differs from the “alienation of man” spoken of by Marxists, and from the “loss of self” that existentialists like to discuss.
It is perhaps also a fate born from the uniquely Chinese “meifazi”—“there is nothing to be done”—that arose from the Buddhist idea of resignation.
Because of distrust toward human beings, neither the state nor society can arouse any passion no matter what is attempted.
Thus people fall into the “three noes” of indifference, irresponsibility, and apathy.
Against enormous power, nothing can be done.
Even if people speak of “reform and opening-up,” and even if, in the long legends of history, there is a Son of Heaven who has received the Mandate of Heaven, or a great and wise Red Sun, and even if people speak of “destroying the Four Olds”—old ideas, old culture, old customs, and old habits—this country cannot be changed even by the miraculous powers of the gods.
If one must live in such a country of self-loss, a human being becomes mentally deranged.
It is no longer merely a matter of “bewilderment disorder.”
Middle section omitted.
Researchers point to the Chinese character as marked by euphemistic language, outward obedience and inner betrayal, suspicion and fear, cunning, cowardice, insincerity and irresponsibility, a lack of curiosity, and submission to the Mandate of Heaven.
These traits were probably born from a very, very long historical climate.
Why do the Chinese emphasize “friendship” so insistently, not only toward Japan but toward every country?
Perhaps it is a paradox born from a society of distrust.
And for China, which has persistently associated with “friendly persons” and “friendly trading companies,” the right to interpret this “friendship” belongs entirely to the Chinese side.
If China decides that someone is “unfriendly,” yesterday’s friend becomes today’s enemy.
Mao Zedong’s friends consisted only of good-natured Japanese people or eccentric Westerners such as Edgar Snow.
That was probably because he never knew when the people around him might strike him down in his sleep.
Therefore, in a secret room in Zhongnanhai in Beijing, he must have read Romance of the Three Kingdoms again and again, polishing his techniques of scheming and stratagems for how to win the next time.