124
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese
Psychotherapies: An Appraisal of the Ethical
Principles of Morita and Naikan Methods
Lehel Balogh
https://orcid.org/0000-0002-8622-8561
Abstract
The article expounds and compares two representative contemporary psychotherapeutic approaches which grew out of the Buddhist cultural heritage of Japan and have proved successful in
dealing with mental disorders in both Eastern and Western countries. Morita and Naikan therapies
are regularly discussed and evaluated together as their compatibility and belongingness are unquestionable facts, even though they appeared at different times and in different milieus. One
emerged from the clinical practice of a psychiatric department at a Tōkyō hospital where patients
with neurasthenia were being treated, while the other appeared in rural Nara as a transformed
version of an ancient ascetic tradition which aimed to assist devoted Buddhists attaining enlightenment. The article investigates the similarities and differences that form the foundations of the metaphysical, ethical, and therapeutic presuppositions of both therapies, pointing out the degree of their
compatibility, and the possibility of conceiving a unified ethical framework for them.
Keywords: Buddhism, Ethics, Morita, Naikan, Psychotherapy
Balogh, Lehel. 2020. “The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese
Psychotherapies: An Appraisal of the Ethical Principles of Morita
and Naikan Methods.”Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies, 12, pp.
124–148.
https://doi.org/10.2478/vjeas-2020-0005
Submitted: 02.02.2020, accepted: 26.04.2020
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
125
Introduction
The idea that health—whether physical, mental, or both—is somehow related to morality is just as old as it is prevalent. If one traces the origins of this notion back to the
Greek origins of Western philosophy, it is already evident in the writings of Plato,
Aristotle, or the Stoics that mental health has been conceived as a moral virtue,
whereas its opposite, mental disorder, has been seen as a result of a lack of moral
virtue. According to this view, mental disorder reveals a dis-orderly human character
that is not willing—or simply does not know how—to keep its thoughts, feelings, and
passions in the correct, morally endorsed good order.
Though the Stoics differ from Aristotle on the nature of the passions, they agree with his view
that the conditions for mental health are the same as the conditions for moral virtue. We suffer
from mental disorder and disturbance in so far as we suffer from delusions (cognitive error) or
disordered emotions and desires (affective error). […] The mentally healthy person sees the
world as it is, and can act on this correct view. The Stoics claim that a correct view of the world
includes a correct view of human beings and what is good for them; when we form that view
and understand it, we are able to act on it, and we exercise that ability. In their view, as in the
Platonic and Aristotelian view, once we understand why mental health is good for human beings,
we understand why they need moral virtues (Irwin 2013: 46).
Health care ethics is an essentially practically oriented branch of moral philosophy
which deals with realistic moral issues that can commonly arise in our daily lives.
Abstract ethical theories and metaethics are frequently criticised by the public for their
overly obscure and abstruse nature and for being far-removed from the everyday concerns of ordinary people whose lives ethical theories are supposed to explain and assist.
By nature, a practical ethical approach focuses on diverse topics of morality in a characteristically down-to-earth, pragmatic fashion. A significant branch among these diverse topics is concerned with health and health care issues, posing questions such as
whether or not maintaining good health is a moral obligation or whether one is free to
do whatever one wishes to do with one’s body and mind.
Psychotherapy as a cultural phenomenon emerged in the Western world from the
late eighteenth to the early nineteenth century in response to the general inward turn
of the sciences, philosophy, and the arts. The inherited image of the disturbed, deviant,
dangerously unpredictable madman which was typical of the Medieval Age and the
Renaissance was gradually substituted with the image of the mentally insane patient
whose inner motives and drives could be observed and explained. Modern psychotherapy surfaced as part of the new, scientific/medical model, and has developed
partly from the so-called “moral treatment movement.” This movement saw mentally
ill people not as morally unaccountable lunatics whose faculty of reason had been
irretrievably lost (as the Age of Enlightenment would see them), but rather as human
beings whose illness could be cured by means of moral (or religious) re-education.
126
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
One of the earliest forms of psychotherapeutic practice, the Freudian psychoanalytic therapy of Vienna, openly and rather courageously broke away from the moral
treatment movement, and pioneered instead the fundamentally value-free, scientific
approach of curing mental illnesses. In Freud’s view, the basic task of the psychiatrist
as a therapist was not to re-educate the patient, but to help shed light on the inner
conflicts (traumas) of the suffering person, and to assist one in making the unconscious part of the mind become conscious. The presupposition here was that more
awareness of the mechanisms of the human mind, its drives, and its conflicts will
naturally result in a more empowered, more responsible self, and in a healthier general
functioning of the individual. Sanity in this understanding is correlated with
knowledge and freedom: the more one knows, the freer one becomes; the freer one
becomes, the healthier one is.
Following Freud, several other schools of psychotherapy have stated in a calm and
dispassionate manner that their therapeutic goals did not include moral (re)education,
and that therapy was no more—or no less—than an ethically neutral medical treatment.
Transpersonal therapies—Jungian, Adlerian, or Lacanian psychoanalyses; existential
and other kinds of psychodynamic therapies; cognitive, behavioural, and cognitivebehavioural approaches; Rogerian person-centred and Maslowian—are all inclined to
present themselves in the light of objective value-neutrality. Nevertheless, as competently demonstrated by London (1964) and others, there have always been concealed
axiological structures and ethical practices in every single approach related to mental
healing. Psychotherapy is inherently goal-oriented; it attempts to help patients reach
particular goals, a certain level of normality, and a desirable degree of health, happiness, well-being etc. Indeed, it would be hard to picture this curative enterprise which
is declaratively and explicitly committed to transforming a “bad” state of human condition into a “good” (or at least a “better”) one as something that manages to be utterly
devoid of ethical values.
Hence one of the claims of the current article is that psychotherapies necessarily
convey and uphold certain culture-specific and tradition-sanctioned ethical values;
just as any form of medical approach, by defining health and illness, also regulates
what is advisable in order to attain and maintain health. Thus medicine, no matter how
objectively and impartially it prefers to perceive itself, in fact, always engages with
ethical values. If a society believes that maintaining health is, to some extent, the responsibility of its citizens, then the medical establishment cannot help but enforce the
generally held views as to which form of behaviour is desirable and which is not. As
a rule, if a community believes that maintaining citizens’ good general health is a
moral duty, it is in part because caring about one’s health sets a praiseworthy example
of an admirable character that ought to be emulated by other members of the community. On the other hand, it can also be partially explained by pointing to the fact that a
healthy person does not affect other members of the community in harmful, detrimental ways. A further factor could be that one’s own health is deemed to be of value
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
127
in itself. If a society’s rules and regulations are clearly established, then it is also clear
what course of action is commendable and thus recommended for the individual,
while there are in-built warnings and forms of admonitions against certain ways of
conduct that go against what is believed to be healthy, acceptable, and good. Nonetheless, it is not the claim of this article that all values that are upheld by a given
society, a given medical culture, or a specific psychotherapeutic practice are inevitably culture-bound; on the contrary, some values can and should be considered universal values of general worth that have the quality of benefiting any human person, regardless of one’s cultural background.
Indigenous Japanese psychotherapies, among which Morita 森田 and Naikan 内
観 feature prominently, have been habitually considered culture-specific to the extent
that it has been repeatedly suggested that they would not be efficacious for those unfamiliar with the cultural presuppositions of Shintoist, Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian moral teachings and metaphysical tenets. Truth be told, both Morita and Naikan
therapies seem to take for granted some core ethical values of the aforementioned
religious and spiritual traditions and unapologetically advocate them as part of their
world views. But one might wonder: is this sufficient reason to conclude somewhat
prematurely that these therapies, provided we understand them as a form of practical
ethics that overtly carries concrete moral values, cannot possibly have relevance for a
wider, perhaps even a global community? Does something need to be confined to its
place of origin merely because it originates in a specific time and at a specific place?
After all, Freudian psychoanalysis—whose seeds were planted in the culturally rich
soil of the extremely heterogeneous Austro-Hungarian Empire, and whose methodology not only closely resembled the tendencies of nineteenth century western sciences
but, at the same time, also the strategies of the longstanding Jewish literary legacy of
which Freud was an often unwilling modern-day heir—also spread well beyond its
rather narrow original boundaries and has, at times, claimed rights of universality.
The successes and effectiveness of Naikan and Morita therapies have been demonstrated extensively by clinical studies over the past half century and are available not
only in Japanese but in western languages as well.1 Notwithstanding, it is undeniable
that while both Morita and Naikan (or as their combination is called in America, “Constructive Living”) have spread into western countries, for example to the United States,
Australia, Canada, Austria or Germany, the number of practitioners is still quite insignificant. Moreover, the number of people to whom these therapies are virtually
unknown is a great deal higher. It is safe to say that the western medical establishment
still basically ignores these alternative modes of therapy for improving mental health,
in all probability due largely to the fact that Morita and Naikan’s usual presentation
as foreign and intrinsically alien to western sensibilities keeps even those at bay who
1
See for instance Kaspari, Lendawitsch, and Ritter 2015; Reiss 2016; Reynolds 1976, 1983; Sengoku et. al. 2010; Sengoku 2016.
128
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
would otherwise be more inclined to experiment with unconventional approaches. In
the next section, we turn to the underlying values of Japanese psychotherapies, in particular to the ways in which they attempt to transform the self in the course of the
therapy. We also take into account the metaphysical and ethical presuppositions of
these theories, along with the general goals of Morita and Naikan therapies.
Morita Therapy: Compassionate Self-awareness in an Eco-Biopsychosocial Zen
Morita therapy is perhaps the only reliable mental health treatment in the world designed deliberately to bring clients inside the rhythm of our natural environment. […] Morita never intended
a ‘psycho’ therapy per se. He did not set out to cure anyone’s mind. Instead, he gave clients a
restorative and dignifying place to dwell during therapy (LeVine 2018: xxiv).
Morita therapy has often been called a form of Zen therapy or psychotherapy “in
the way of Zen,” albeit its founder, Masatake (Shōma) Morita 森田正馬 (1874–1938)
put significant effort into contesting or at least downplaying Zen Buddhism’s influence on the method that he designed to treat mental and physical illnesses (Chervenkova 2017: 57). Morita himself, who was born into the quickly changing realities of
Meiji 明治 Japan in 1874, was admittedly under the heavy influence of Buddhist
thought and imagery. Since he undertook his first medical fieldwork on his native
Shikoku island 四国島 on spirit possessions and self-induced psychosis, he was also
well familiar with Japanese folk religions. Nevertheless, it is important to highlight
that Morita therapy—which was designed to heal neurosis (shinkeishitsu 神経質 or
neurasthenia) and compulsive behaviour—did not emerge primarily from a religious
background but from the highest circles of Japanese academia. It took approximately
twenty years for Morita, who himself had also been suffering from neurosis dating
back to his childhood, to develop his unique method. This development took place
chiefly in clinical settings at two locations: The Medical Faculty of Jikei University
慈恵大学 in Tōkyō 東京 where Morita was appointed professor of psychiatry from
1925, and the Morita Clinic that was established in 1932 and which was in a facility
adjacent to Morita’s house. Therefore, it seems appropriate to maintain that Morita
therapy is undoubtedly a religiously influenced form of psychotherapy which has utilised the rich tradition of Zen Buddhist kōans 公案 and religious notions that are explicitly concerned with self-transformation and enlightenment since its creation. The
method is, nevertheless, firmly based on modern medical science and is supported by
meticulous clinical observations.
Morita merged a variety of different strands of medical knowledge into his approach, and did not seem to shy away from medical novelties that could possibly improve the condition of his patients, some of whom were under the personal care and
supervision of Morita and his wife at their home before the establishment of his clinic.
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
129
Clearly, his devotion to find a cure for neurosis stemmed partly from his earnest efforts to discover a solution to his own personal problems and suffering; yet, at the
same time, his evident compassion and concern for other people’s neurotic sufferings
were also undeniable. At the beginning of the twentieth century, neurosis was not yet
a condition for which medical science was prepared to offer a ready solution that
would have lessened the mental anguish of patients. Morita knew this all too well as
he had been trying to rid himself of his own mental and physical distress for an extended period, and was therefore experimenting with whatever seemed to offer positive and even mildly encouraging outcomes: hypnosis, occupational therapy, persuasion, strict daily-life regulation method (acquired from the practice of famed Swiss
psychiatrist Ludwig Binswanger), and total bed rest etc. (Chervenkova 2017: 48–49).
He did, in fact, have some notable successes by curing compulsive behaviours in some
of his patients which, along with his candid and direct clash with contemporary psychoanalytic theory, made him a well-known academic figure in Tōkyō. While he conducted most of his research as a medical doctor, he never seemed to underestimate the
spiritual side of illness and healing. His collaboration and mutual respect for Dr.
Genyū Usa 宇佐玄雄, Zen Buddhist priest and founder of the Sansei Hospital, is well
documented. After Morita’s death, Usa introduced his work to D. T. Suzuki 鈴木大
拙貞太郎 (1870–1966) who took interest and found that Morita’s healing principles
were essentially Zen in nature (LeVine 2018: 44–45).
What were these healing principles? First, it is crucial to understand that for Morita,
as for many of his contemporaries in Japan, it was perceived to be an evident truth
that body and mind are essentially interconnected and thus inseparable. In other words,
body and mind are different aspects of the same reality. Morita likened them to an
incense stick (the passive aspect/the body) and the fire (the active aspect/the mind);
without the other, one could not emanate a scent (Chervenkova 2017: 61). Because
the body-mind is conceived as an indivisible unity, it implies not only that problems
which are seemingly only physical in fact stem from the mental, but also that mental
suffering arises from physical maladjustment to environmental circumstances. This
view obviously has far-reaching consequences as to the definitions of health and illness. It entails, among others, that a doctor cannot set out to heal the body without
first trying to understand why it became dysfunctional in the first place. The reason
behind any particular bodily dysfunction, and therefore behind any given symptom,
is that the natural flow of life energy of the individual had been somehow blocked,
and this blockage of the life force is manifested in physical symptoms. Zeroing in on
the symptoms does not solve the root of the cause; it merely conceals it while providing temporary alleviation from distress. For Morita, the fundamental reason for the
neuroses of the age was that people appeared to misconceive reality: just as it had
been taught by the Buddha some 2,500 earlier, Morita envisaged curing people of their
suffering by doing away with their misconceptions about the world and the self, and
130
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
teaching them to accept life as it is—devoid of delusions and illusions. As David K.
Reynolds,2 the celebrated American Morita and Naikan therapist, states:
Although Morita was a psychiatrist, physician, and department head of a top medical university
in Tokyo, he saw that neurotic suffering is not essentially a medical problem at all–it grows from
misunderstandings about life. The solution to neurotic anguish, therefore, is not medical therapy,
strictly speaking, but re-education. […] Neuroses are not illnesses. But, like illnesses, they are
painful and they involve suffering. Instead, they are rather unfortunate life-styles that involve
hurtful behaviour and self-destructive attitudes, and a sort of ignorance about human existence
(Reynolds 1984a: 13).
According to Morita, people misconceive reality by pathologically inflating their
sense of self, becoming preoccupied with their symptoms and with themselves,3 instead of focusing on what is in front of them: reality as it is. What is reality as it is?
Part of the answer to this question is that reality is inevitably rife with suffering. There
is no going around it: life offers its fair share of misery and affliction to every single
one of us. One may deny this primary existential fact, as many indeed do, while others
may attempt to soften its ramifications or its significance, but the fact remains: we all
go through painful experiences of unwelcome emotional turbulence, mental anguish,
bodily discomfort, disappointments, failures, sickness, loss, dying, and ultimately
death. Because mankind has a natural disinclination to experience events that are
deemed to be detrimental to their sense of security and wellbeing, we try to avoid
anything that threatens our existence and our welfare. The automatic reaction to the
dark side of our existence is that we struggle to diminish and eliminate whatever appears to endanger our lives. Some might postpone dealing with their ailments; they
may trick themselves into believing that they will never get sick, never age, never die
etc. Alternatively, one might get entangled in focusing single-mindedly on his or her
adverse conditions, compulsively magnifying the problems and obsessing about them
until the fear of death overgrows one’s sound decision-making abilities, and gradually
overshadows one’s quality of life. Reality is a tricky phenomenon, for as soon as one
constructs concepts about it, one misses it. But how could one think, talk, and even
feel about reality if one refrains from segmenting it and putting it into well-defined
categories and verbal notions?
Morita pays heed to the dual nature of our engagement with reality: on the one
hand, one lives in a social world where one uses language and conceptual thinking in
Reynolds launched the so-called “Constructive Living” approach that is based on the amalgam of
Naikan and Morita therapies (see Reynolds 1984b). As he wrote in his book A Handbook for Constructive Living, “Constructive Living (CL) is an interpretation and extension of ideas found in two
Japanese therapies, Morita and Naikan” (Reynolds 2002: 14). In trying to unite the two approaches
that are apparently similar in some ways, yet also rather different in others, he had been sometimes
criticised and sometimes praised in both Naikan and Morita circles in Japan.
3 This pathological preoccupation with the self is called toraware とらわれ in Japanese.
2
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
131
order to communicate and get along with one’s fellow human beings. It is thus unavoidable that one separates oneself from the totality and fluidity of reality. Yet this is
a compromise that is necessary to make so that one can live together with other people
in a civilised society: one needs to use one’s abilities to think, talk, understand, and
cooperate. However, it is also crucial to see that, on the other hand, reality can be
experienced in a fundamentally different manner, in a private mode so to speak, when
one directly engages with the flux of existence. This kind of deep involvement with
reality can occur when, for example, one encounters minutely concrete events in the
natural order of things. One needs no words, no rational categories, nor even concepts
to be able to see a bird, feel a rock, or smell a fragrance. These are direct experiences
of reality that can be named and conceptually understood only after they have taken
place. One does not need to know the names of bird species in order to appreciate the
beauty of a single bird that is pecking in front of one’s eye. Similarly, one does not
need to know the scientific classification of a rock to be able to experience its refreshing coolness or its powerful sturdiness. This second sort of direct experience of reality
is not only more elementary but, in Morita’s view, vital for humans to remain both
physically healthy and mentally sane (these two are, of course, deeply interlinked).
When one learns to see reality in this latter way, by experiencing it as it is without
adding to it an oppressive mass of mental constructions (worries and expectations,
joys and sorrows), one is on the way to complete healing. Kondo and Kitanishi elaborated on this attitude the following way:
Can we really, by knowing ourselves, relieve or control our anxiety? Can we direct the movements of our minds at our convenience? Morita believed that our attempts to control and use our
minds like this are the reason why worries and suffering arise. […] Deliberately to try to forget
and remove the unpleasant memories and desires of the past, which are no more than natural
reactions, was to contradict reality and to risk increased attachment to those memories and desires. Neurosis itself was produced by just such contradiction (Kondo and Kitanishi 2015: 113).
On the whole, Morita therapy is more a form of re-education than one of the many
varieties of medical psychotherapy (in the western psychiatric sense of the word).
Consequently, being open to learning new ways of seeing reality—and, at the same
time, being prepared to unlearn some of our harmful old habits—is of crucial importance to attaining a greater level of mental health and overall well-being. When
one commits oneself to a Morita clinic, one is obliged to proceed through four different phases: total bed rest (four to seven days); light occupational therapy (three days);
heavy occupational therapy (tendays or more); resocialisation (tendays or more).
During the first phase one stays in a private room where no form of disruption is
permitted: no reading or writing; no television, radio, computer or mobile phone; not
even talking (except end-of-day interviews with one’s doctor). The objective is to
force the client’s mind to slow down and break with their habitual thought patterns.
This lack of stimuli normally makes one feel anxious at first as people are not used to
132
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
bearing their own stillness and silence. No physical activity is encouraged, and one
thus has nothing left to do but concentrate on one’s flow of consciousness out of which
one’s inner conflicts emerge.
Painful and frightening though it may be (and should be, Morita would add, because greater anxiety indicates the better chances for a breakthrough), one needs to
learn to detach oneself from one’s habitual flow of consciousness—from the same old
ruts that made one unwell in the first place. Letting the symptoms emerge does not
mean that one ought to analyse them; moreover, it also does not mean that one ought
to fight them. One merely needs to recognise them, accept them as they are without
assessing or evaluating them, and then let them pass. By learning not to cling to one’s
mental images and emotional responses, and by recognising how swiftly one’s emotions change—provided that one does not feed them by refuelling them over and over
again—one can gain the upper hand over one’s assumed helplessness against the
symptoms. Neither the symptoms, nor the source of the symptoms, will likely simply
evaporate if they are addressed directly. However, their power over one’s life may
very well weaken, provided that the symptoms are no longer regarded with special
attention. This, nevertheless, does not mean that one should ignore or suppress one’s
emotions. On the contrary, emotions should be paid due attention and accepted as they
come. One should not, however, become attached to them or take them as fixed, decisive, or final. As the Buddha had taught, nothing is fixed and final in this world, and
one may find true solace in the fact that everything keeps changing—no condition or
emotion, be it positive or negative, will stay forever. Acknowledging that suffering is
part of the game can paradoxically give relief to the sufferer. Morita, drawing on a
familiar Zen Buddhist idea—mushojū-shin 無所住心 or peripheral vision of consciousness—explicates what he means:
The word mushojū-shin is used in Zen to describe healthy attention. It occurs when one does not
limit her or his attention to a single focus and uses the mind fully. Mushojū-shin describes a state
in which attention is not fixed on a particular point and the entire mind is alert and functioning;
attention extends in all directions. […] Symptoms of shinkeishitsu occur because the client’s
attention is fixed on her or his symptoms. My therapy for those with shinkeishitsu promotes
spontaneous activity in the client’s mind, directs her or his attention toward external circumstances, and removes narrowly focused attention. Hopefully, treatment will lead the client’s state
of mind to the state of mushojū-shin (Morita 1998: 30–31).
After the first phase of the therapy, the clients sense a growing need to do something, anything, because extended inactivity and isolation makes them increasingly
bored and restless. In direct proportion to the mounting feeling of boredom, their desire for life rises sharply, and aims to express itself in creative activities. During the
second phase, the light occupational therapy phase, silent, monotonous work is introduced into the clients’ daily routine to facilitate spontaneous voluntary interaction
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
133
with the natural world. Finding small, concrete details in the environment and observing nature’s course is encouraged. At the same time, as a rule, no specific chore is
prescribed; one needs to find the most suitable tasks without relying on any sort of
external authority. The goal is to aid building natural and sincere connections with the
immediate reality one is surrounded by, and by doing so, improving one’s intuitive
capacities to naturally and trustingly relate to the world as a whole. Diary writing is
also introduced at this point, although it is important to note that writing about emotions and reflecting on one’s cognition is discouraged; instead, factual observations
are supported, specifically what one did during the course of a day. Silent observation
of nature is assumed to help reconnection with it and to internalise its order which is
supposed to be highly beneficial.4
The third phase, which can take about two weeks, initiates heavier occupational
therapy and tests the client’s ability to endure anxiety. Simultaneously, the natural joy
of work and activity is highlighted, whereas the inescapable downsides of activity,
such as fatigue, pain, struggle etc., are learnt to be accepted as they come and as they
are without falling into the trap of enlarging their significance and clinging to their
negatively perceived impacts. One thus learns to grow independent of one’s unruly
inner life. After all, in Morita’s view, emotions and thoughts cannot be controlled
directly. One may wish away negative thoughts and destructive emotions, but just as
we did not directly cause the emergence of these emotions and thoughts, we likewise
cannot directly wipe them out.5 A more constructive and expedient way of influencing
our thoughts and emotions would be to try not to influence them, suggests Morita. Not
allowing one’s capriciously shifting moods to interfere with one’s daily tasks and with
one’s life is the utmost goal of Morita therapy. As soon as one realises that the key to
a balanced and healthy lifestyle rests in experiencing one’s inner life to the fullest yet
never letting one’s feelings and thoughts take control, one has already arrived at the
gate of enduring contentment. Happiness immediately materialises when one’s focus
turns towards the immediate experience of daily life, which can be most effortlessly
Brian Ogawa, American Morita therapist and popular writer, remarks that “respecting nature
(shizen) and her enduring cycles has been an archetypal theme throughout Japan’s history. The Japanese resisted wholly objectifying/enumerating nature as routinely occurs in the sciences (e.g.,
botany and zoology) and Western philosophy. Human beings are an integral part of nature, with no
value differentiations between humans and insects, animals, trees, or even inorganic things like
stones. [...] In concert with this Japanese spirituality (connectedness), Morita Therapy holds that the
nurturing of human well-being depends upon tapping nature’s ‘warehouse of energy’” (Ogawa 2013:
109).
5 Ogawa comments that human emotions are like the waves of the sea. He advises that we should
not even try to pretend that we have the power to control them. “One of the features of emotions is
that they cannot be directly manipulated or managed at will. […] All exhortations of ‘Don’t worry’,
‘Be happy’, or ‘Don’t be sad’ imply that what we feel is what we choose to feel. This is both illusory
and flawed” (Ogawa 2007: 92).
4
134
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
achieved through reviving one’s creative potential by creating art: calligraphy, painting, wood carving etc.
Finally, the fourth phase is the resocialisation phase. By this time, it is permitted
to send clients outside or to let them stay at home overnight. They may return to their
schools or workplaces gradually. Nevertheless, returning to the former lifestyle is not
recommended because it would inevitably bring about the same habitual responses
and unfavourable behavioural patterns that one had decided to overcome. Therefore,
applying in one’s daily life what one learnt at the Morita clinic is highly advised, albeit
it is not expected that one’s personality would miraculously transform after the “healing” took place. Morita’s approach is more clear-headed than that. He believed that
every single person had the capacity to heal oneself from one’s inner healing sources.
The new, altered self would still be the same old self in the same old body and with
the same old mind; however, the change that takes place during the client’s stay at the
Morita clinic allows for a more independent and improved mentality. This new mentality directs one’s attention to an immediate experience of reality whereby one does
not easily get ensnared by the deceptions of the mind—something that is possible even
after one has been effectively reinstalled into society. The new mentality does not
attempt to evade suffering but instead accepts it with a somewhat detached, relaxed
attitude by taking in both the positive and negative aspects of life as they come.
Having surveyed the praxis of Morita therapy, it is now time to consider its ethical
characteristics that operate behind (and frequently in plain sight of) the scene. As previously remarked, Morita was in the habit of downplaying the Zen Buddhist features
of his method, although if one objectively assesses both the metaphysical grounding
and the ethical connotations of his therapy, little doubt remains that Morita was heavily influenced by the ethos of Japanese Zen Buddhism. Finding suffering universal,
seeing the root of illness in the deception of the mind, accepting suffering as a natural
part of life while advising direct experience of the concrete reality of the self are all
unmistakably (Zen) Buddhist tenets that Morita himself was surely aware of. Naturalness and straightforwardness in dealing with one’s emotions and with nature as well
could plausibly be assigned to Shintoist cultural heritage, while the call to experience
things as they truly are is evidently a Buddhist imperative. Connectedness to nature
fosters (re)connectedness with other people and a general interconnectedness of beings which in turn stimulates feelings of compassion. Detachment from the contents
of the mind is supposed to help achieve greater tranquillity and equanimity in the face
of life’s adversities. By refusing to let ourselves become the victims of our circumstances and symptoms, the Morita method reinforces a sense of agency and potency
concerning one’s life that one may freely develop further. Furthermore, it is worth
mentioning that accepting reality as it is does not equate to submitting to it, and it
certainly does not imply passive acceptance. On the contrary, it emphasises active
engagement with the world which can only be based on a disinterested, well-grounded
familiarity with reality. Just as in Zen Buddhism, experiential learning is of supreme
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
135
importance: one can only truly learn through one’s embodied personal experiences;
one needs to learn to think with one’s body. That is why creative engagement with the
world is significant: it enables one to stay in the direct experiential mode of perception
while letting one’s body naturally interact with its environs.
Morita believed that human nature was essentially good, and that life’s goals were
to let the person grow, learn, and experience. This fundamental trust in the good side
of human nature and the positive light in which Morita depicted the possibilities of
human life lent a generally affirmative and optimistic air to the ethical framework of
Morita therapy. Even amidst sickness and dying, if one learns to enjoy wholeheartedly
the simplest activities and to immerse oneself with a rediscovered childlike attitude
into the flow of life, one can manage to transform the misery and suffering of one’s
ailments into sincere appreciation of and serene gratitude for life. Morita also believed
that if the client’s mental attitude and lifestyle fundamentally change then, even without external medical treatment, various symptoms may eventually disappear. Morita
often emphasised that it is usually the patient who unwittingly causes his or her own
poor health by failing to adapt well to the environment or by responding to external
circumstances with either extreme sensitivity or emotional dullness. According to
Morita, anxiety originates from the delusions of the mind which are projected onto
one’s organs, causing malfunctioning and pain. Thus, a reversal of one’s mental attitude and a mindful, constructive mode of relating to the world can put an end to the
self-fuelled circle of anxiety and to all unnecessary suffering. The healing forces are
within; one only needs to learn to unleash them.
Morita’s unsystematic yet clearly outlined ethical theory rests on the assumption
that anyone has the power to open up a space within themselves, a space of freedom
and self-determination wherein one may witness how one’s moral agency resurrects
from its seeming deadness. The ideal complete cure for Morita does not mean the
disappearance of all symptoms; it is, instead, the state where we can function healthily
despite our continuing difficulties. The extraordinarily empowering message of this
approach is that no matter how great one’s sufferings are and how hopeless the future
appears, one has the potential to keep on living, even living well, by coming to an
awareness that sticking to one’s meaningful daily activities and concentrating on the
here-and-now enables one to overcome anything—including that which had appeared
insurmountable before. When we cease to care too much about ourselves and our
problems, we notice how others also suffer, and we begin to genuinely care about the
world. Once one’s gaze is directed outward, the self disappears behind this gaze and
becomes one with the world. When this happens, the world appears to be more real
and, according to the testimonies of numerous Morita patients, more stunning too. The
world does not need to be idealised or forced into artificial concepts; it needs to be
experienced: experienced as it is. Mulling over the past or worrying about the future
only produces mental chimeras that poison one’s body and soul. Sticking to the present is the path—the Zen-like path that Morita chose as a guiding principle in finding
136
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
both emotional balance and a firm ethical ideal that has the ability to make a person
well-grounded and vigorously healthy.
Naikan Therapy: Repentance and Gratitude for the Invisible Grace
of Amida Buddha
There are plenty of similarities between the Morita and Naikan methods. One of the
most striking is that even though it is abundantly clear that neither Naikan nor Morita
could have come to existence without the substantial aid of Buddhist thought and
practice, both of their founders—Morita Masatake and Yoshimoto Ishin 吉本伊信
(1916–1988)—argued against claims that their respective therapies were religious in
nature (Chervenkova 2017: 57, 81, 97–98). Apparently, this reticence to admit the
strong impact of Buddhist metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical ideas on their
teachings was largely due to the negative image that the acknowledgement would have
likely exerted on their reputation in the eyes of an increasingly secularised society.
After all, Japanese people were becoming progressively more wary of both the multiplicity of newly emerging religious sects and also of long established Japanese religions, such as Shinto or Buddhism—especially after the catastrophic end of World
War Two.6 Interestingly, both founders developed their methods from first-hand spiritual experiences (Chervenkova 2017: 46–48, 91–95), although in the case of Morita,
a medical professional, it was evident that he quickly endeavoured to back up his initial spiritual insights with evidence-based medical knowledge. As a result, he aspired
to form his method in a reputable scientific mould, taking care not to lend it the appearance of a merely rigorous spiritual practice. Yoshimoto Ishin, on the other hand,
who was not a scholarly man from academia but a fervently devoted Buddhist priest
As Shimazono (2015: 159) notes, Yoshimoto’s attitude concerning the religious nature of Naikan
therapy changed significantly during the formative years of the Naikan method. Yoshimoto “certainly believed in rebirth in the Pure Land after death, with the aid of Amida Buddha. And he thought
that a person who successfully went through introspection would attain religious faith.” However,
later “Yoshimoto became less insistent on the ideas of salvation by Amida Buddha and rebirth in
the Pure Land as a result of his experience of guiding his employees through Naikan. Workers who
went through mishirabe (or Naikan) at the instruction of Yoshimoto began to feel a greater sense of
gratitude for their working life. They tended to grumble less, and interpersonal relations improved.
Witnessing such practical effects, Yoshimoto seemed to realise that he no longer needed to preach
salvation by Amida Buddha and faith in rebirth in the Pure Land. In addition, he considered that
Naikan ought to be spread widely amongst people and not be practised only by a special group.
Perhaps Yoshimoto thought that, in order to achieve this, Naikan ought no longer to be a religious
activity. In these terms, secularisation seems to have been a success, since Naikan came to be well
known and practised, with the help of psychologists and psychiatrists who were willing to consider
it a form of psychotherapy. Scholars and the media too, who in general have taken strict positions
in opposition to New Religions, have been supportive of Yoshimoto Naikan” (ibid.: 159–160).
6
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
137
as well as a man of astute business sense, would have likely been more candidly religious vis-à-vis his method were the times more favourable for religious practice. Despite the fact that obscuring the spiritual nature of the practice—originally a religious
one—was the prudent thing to do in 1950s and 1960s Japan, spreading the teachings
of the Buddha, and in particular of Shinran 親鸞 (1173–1263), the famous thirteenth
century Japanese Buddhist monk, always remained one of the main goals of Yoshimoto.7
What were these teaching that the Naikan founder was determined to spread to
such secular settings as prisons, hospitals, universities, juvenile reformatory institutions etc.? The term “Naikan” literally means introspection or “looking inside”; however, the gaze that is directed toward the self during the one weeklong intensive therapy is not an ordinary gaze. It is the gaze that penetrates the ego-centred nature of the
“little self,” and struggles to transcend its selfish perspectives by catching a clear sight
of the message of Pure Land Buddhism: the message that everyone can be saved by
the vow of Amida Buddha. According to Shin Buddhism, of which the aforementioned Shinran was the founder, the everyday self tends to busy itself with its own
petty matters and is, as a general rule, lost in a world of its own creation. Thus, it is
unaware of its belongingness and indebtedness to the world. Preoccupied with its own
selfish schemes, the self forgets that without the continuous and often invisible support of other beings it would not be capable of surviving, not to mention flourishing,
in this life. Among other beings, one may count such obvious examples as one’s family members, friends, and even unknown people whom one never actually encounters,
but whose existence helps one in many unexpected ways. The person who makes
one’s shoes, the person who bakes the bread that one eats for breakfast, the person
who makes sure that one’s heater is functioning properly during cold winter nights,
and so on, all belong among the invisible others without whose assistance one would
sooner or later be reduced to a very rudimentary lifestyle, or without whom one would
simply perish. We all tend to take for granted that we have food on our tables, clothes
7 As Chervenkova (2017: 97–98) summarises: “The gradual transformation of mishirabe into Naikan
was already taking place, but up until 1942 the religious elements in the practice were rather noticeable, for which reason Yoshimoto was criticised that the method was in fact a religious one. He
therefore started eliminating these such elements gradually and in order to defend the new method,
he stated that
• Naikan does not deal with anything related to Buddha’s mercy and salvation.
• Naikan is not based on any religious doctrine.
• Naikan does not deal with the supernatural nor does it rely on the oracle of a particular spiritualistic medium.
• Naikan is only a method for self-reflection; as such, it does not stipulate that the practitioner
should join the ranks of a certain religion once they accomplish the practice.
However, it did not mean that Yoshimoto was no longer religious or that the practice did not involve
any religious sentiments at all. In fact, Yoshimoto admitted to calling himself jūshoku 住職, i.e.,
‘chief priest of a temple’ […].”
138
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
to wear, books to read, money to earn, and air to breathe, while our friends and relatives give us emotional and other kinds of support. Regrettably, we only seldom remember how important each one of these factors is in our health and wellbeing, and
in becoming who we truly are. In fact, according to Buddhism, the idea of an independent or substantial self that stands on its own is none other than an unmistakable
sign of our ignorance and vanity. The idea that we are separate beings is an illusion:
in reality, one lives in interdependence with others; not only with people and other
living beings, but also with inorganic entities such as natural phenomena (air, water,
fire, etc.). As Naikan practitioner Yoshihiko Miki 三木善彦 maintains, we are not
only individuals but at the same time we belong to and are comprised of the richness
of the universe:
Humanity is, of course, essentially a collection of solitary individuals. At the same time, however, our lives are bestowed as a gift to us by the web of environment[al] forces including people,
animals, plants, seas, rivers, mountains, and the sun, all of which have played their parts in
creating us (Miki 2015a: 53).
Shinran’s interpretation of the Buddha’s message was what Yoshimoto was working diligently to keep alive and adapt it to the changing circumstances of post-war
Japan. Whereas the message of universal salvation is not foreign to the Zen approach,
deliverance from the earthly illusion-world does not occur in Shin Buddhism as a result of the efforts one puts into attaining an enlightened vision (meditation, mindfulness etc.) but rather due to Amida Buddha’s saving grace. If one views the Morita
method as a therapy in the Zen mode, one may also recognise that one’s own efforts
engaging in the painstaking process of re-education make all the difference in Morita
therapy. Due to these efforts, one can realise a different, more balanced, and healthier
way of relating to one’s environment, and ultimately to one’s life.
In contrast, the influence of Shin Buddhism is decisive in Naikan therapy. This
means that putting effort into transforming the self is not the adequate attitude: one
must witness, through a carefully structured week of isolated self-inspection, how
one’s undeniable sinfulness and self-centeredness emerge. Only after one bears witness to one’s sinful nature and to the ungratefulness exhibited up to that time is one
ready to accept the divine grace that is generously provided to anyone who experiences genuine gratitude. In order to prepare oneself to receive the grace and feeling
of gratitude, one needs to repent for one’s past sins by creating a space in one’s heart
where the blessing power can reveal itself. If one clings on to oneself and is too much
attached to his or her own views and opinions, one will never be prepared to take this
crucial step away from one’s small-minded shadow. Trusting the Other Power (tariki
他力) and abandoning the inborn selfish perspective will likely lead one to an openness that is a prerequisite for change. Gregg Krech, American Naikan therapist and
author puts it as follows:
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
139
To be cured is a function of two essential ingredients: Acceptance of ourselves and our karma –
not only the suffering we have had to bear, but also the suffering we have imposed on others.
And secondly, the recognition that, despite our transgressions, our selfish acts and the problems
we have caused, we are loved. Our suffering is understood in the context of love. We are not
loved because of how we have lived, but despite how we have lived. This is nothing less than
the recognition of grace in our lives. And this awareness is, in itself, grace (Krech 2017: 61).
How does the Naikan method assist its clients so that they realise their natural
interconnectedness with the rest of the universe? How do they come to see and
acknowledge their sinful ways of life? First, one ought to clarify what “sin” stands for
in this context. Contrary to the Christian theological tradition, sin in Buddhism is not
a substantial feature of human nature. Like the Christian understanding, one is born
with a sinful nature, but one becomes sinful only when the true vision of reality does
not present itself on account of one’s ignorance. One lives in sin until one finally
comprehends that the feeling of separateness is just a figment of the imagination. Sin
is not seeing Buddha’s grace; that is, not seeing how we are all connected. Since the
self does not realise its essential connection to the totality of the world, it often justifies itself and puts the blame on others for all the things that did not turn out well. This
sort of self-justifying thinking and behaviour is sinful, according to both Shin Buddhism and Naikan therapy, for it does not see situations through the eyes of the other
participants, but only through its own biased and self-serving vision. Therefore, the
principal goal of Naikan therapy is to make people see, for the first time, how their
lives and their actions have affected those in their environment:
Naikan provides a systematic approach to reflecting on ourselves and our relationships that helps
us appreciate the ways we are being cared for and supported, many of which we take for granted
during the course of an ordinary day. It also helps us become aware of the impact our lives are
having on the world around us. In essence, we get to see ourselves from the world’s perspective,
instead of our own (Krech 2014: 40).
The Naikan method is uncomplicated and straightforward, revolving around three
simple questions: “What have I received from a significant other? What have I given
back to that person? What troubles and difficulties did I cause that person?” First and
foremost, one needs to reflect on how one’s relationship has evolved over the years,
from one’s early childhood up until the present, with regard to one’s primary caregiver—usually the mother. The time for reflection for each period is about one to two
hours and must be divided among the three questions based on a twenty-twenty-sixty
formula. For instance: first, what did my mother do for me from when I was six years
old to nine years old? (twenty per cent); second, what did I do for her during the same
time period? (twenty per cent); and third, what troubles did I cause her during this
time? (sixty per cent). The client needs to ensure that he or she recalls concrete, vivid
memories of the past, not just generalities, and that one does not dwell on how one
140
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
saw those events. Rather, the point is to examine them from the point of view of the
other person.
The Naikan interviewer only enters the secluded, quiet room once every two hours
or so. Their role is to check upon the client, specifically whether he or she is reflecting
on past events in accordance with the simple principles of the method, and to make
sure that he or she is not undertaking unnecessary (and counterproductive) mental
ramblings about rationalising and justifying his or her past actions.8 The aim is not to
judge or accuse the client; the interviewer is not there to provide clues as to whether
he or she agrees, disagrees, accepts, or refuses the clients’ deeds. The client must learn
to experience by him- or herself how self-centred his or her life has been. Despite the
many immoral acts one has cumulatively committed during a lifetime of lying, deception, cheating, and stealing, one has always been, and still is, accepted and supported
by the world. Ozawa-de Silva, a distinguished Naikan researcher, discerns various
forms of “altered perception” that is characteristic of those clients who have successfully undergone Naikan therapy. One of these is when the client’s view of herself
changes dramatically during and after therapy:
Once the client recognises the immeasurability of what he or she has received from others, any
sense of being a self-made person collapses, and the client feels profound regret for things that
cannot be undone and a sense of indebtedness to others that cannot be repaid. However, not only
does the client’s view of self change, but the view of the ‘old self’ changes dramatically. Clients
may come to feel that in the past they were callous, self-centred, cruel and lacking in understanding (Ozawa-de Silva 2006: 75).
Becoming aware of one’s indebtedness and the constructive guilt that urges one to
rejoice over the gratitude one feels for all the care and support one has been constantly
given is the chief ethical content of Naikan therapy.9 It can be understood as a symbolic death and rebirth experience, whereby one assiduously scrutinises one’s prior,
sinful self, preparing for its symbolic death, and then lets oneself be reborn via an
8
Akira Ishii, who is known for popularising the Naikan method in German-speaking countries, remarks that trying to avoid the past is just as unwise as it is common. “Some people do not
acknowledge the facts of the past and try to act as if certain events never took place. But if we try to
deny our past, we also deny our present existence as the result of these events. By looking at reality
from another perspective, we can accept this reality more easily. Thereby, we will be freed from the
past” (Ishii 2000: 176–177).
9 “There are many problems in the world such as bullying, juvenile delinquency, and school truancy
among youth; divorce, drug, and alcohol dependence among adults; corruption and crime in the
business and political world; a population explosion and a food crisis. These crises threaten the
future of our world. [...] To solve these problems, it is necessary to create a new value to overcome
self-centered egoism and benefit our races, our nations, and the human race. The way of Naikan
thinking—not sticking to our own point of view, but looking from different angles, denying egoism
and living cooperatively with other races and animals is one of the methods to bring on a new value”
(Miki 2015b: 83).
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
141
elated event of spiritual awakening to a new experience of the self that is deeply embedded in the texture of reality (Chervenkova 2014).
Although the Naikan method does not teach explicitly about Amida Buddha’s saving grace nor demand that the practitioner belong to any sort of religious affiliation,
Buddhist or otherwise, the structure of the method provokes a strong emotional response from clients that is, for many, akin to a religious conversion. Clients describe
an experience of unity with the universe, a deep sense of gratitude for their lives, a
renewed desire to live and live well by taking better care of not only themselves and
their lives, but also those of others. In sum, a successful Naikan therapy transforms
the heart. Compared to its pre-therapy state, it is less selfish to a remarkable extent
and, at the same time, more appreciative of one’s family and friends, one’s body, and
the blessings of one’s life in general. It teaches one to gain unexpected insights into
the previously unconscious layers of one’s personality and patterns of behaviour that
seem to have functioned virtually automatically before. By recalling past events and
seeing them from a different angle, one reshapes one’s habitual narratives of the past
in a more compassionate manner. By the same token, through achieving a total vision
of one’s life up until the present moment, one comes to accept the fleeting, transitory
(and thus infinitely precious) nature of life. All this can lead to more constructive
behaviour, improved interpersonal relationships, better health, and a feeling of belonging that takes place as a result of reconnecting the self in good faith and with a
joyful outlook to the social, natural, and universal world in its entirety. As Krech
writes:
When our attention is focused outward, we notice opportunities to give to others. But when our
attention is focused inward on our discomfort, anger, inconvenience, or desires, then such opportunities go unnoticed. The qualities of outward attention and compassion are so intermingled
that it is difficult to imagine a person possessing the latter quality without the former (Krech
2002: 71).
Conclusion: A Unified Ethical Framework?
There has been a mindfulness boom in the past twenty or so years both in academia
and the popular literature of self-help books. As Manu Bazzano—philosopher and Zen
therapist—observes, the role and range of mindfulness and other Buddhism-inspired
techniques in health care settings are important, and these should be both appreciated
and critically discussed. “We are in a phase of transition in the integration of Eastern
contemplative practices and Western psychology” (Bazzano 2014: ix). Some recent
publications on this issue are indeed critical, but rather constructively so. Jules Shuzen
Harris, an American Zen priest, argues for instance of the need to discern the essential
ethical tenets of Buddhism and warns against severing them from a therapeutic practice that seeks to employ mindfulness meditation and a compassionate regard for all
142
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
living beings. For Harris, the construction of mindfulness as a “tool” or a mere “technique” to answer our mental health problems is fundamentally mistaken. Instead, an
attempt to wed Buddhist practical and ethical teachings with compatible contemporary psychological findings could both enrich and return its original meaning to Buddhist approaches in mental health care.
Mindfulness is being touted as the answer to everything from PTSD to workers taking too many
sick days, but it’s been completely abstracted from the philosophical and ethical underpinnings
that give it power. It’s become a tool to fix a problem rather than a complete shift into a different
way of thinking and being. Psychology is a way back to those ethical underpinnings and helps
keep Buddhism from following down the path of American yoga (Harris 2019: 16).
Zen Buddhist therapeutic approaches have been on the rise for some fifty years,
thanks particularly to western mental health care specialists who are enthusiasts of
East Asian cultural achievements. These professionals have detected a natural alliance
between the Buddhist project of bringing enlightenment to people who suffer the consequences of the workings of the deluded human mind, and the project of psychotherapy—one that seeks to bring understanding and relief to those whose minds bring
forth mental anguish and misery. One of the authorities in the field, David Brazier, a
British Zen Buddhist psychotherapist, underscores the importance of the ethical in
therapy, explaining that the precepts of Buddhism are not “merely descriptions of the
goal, they are also an essential part of the means” (Brazier 1995: 48). Precepts have
the ability to guide the right action and reveal the buddhata, namely the Buddha-nature or the essence of the Buddha mind that lies dormant in every being. This buried
Buddha-mind can be awakened by the right practice; however, in therapy, one needs
to be circumspect lest one pushes particular ethical contents onto the client too vehemently. Such an attitude would beat its purpose. Brazier writes:
Generally, in a modern cultural context, it is not appropriate to instruct clients in the precepts,
though to do so in some cases is valuable. Nonetheless, we can rely upon the client’s buddhata.
The precepts simply describe an ethical sense which everybody already has. It is not the therapist’s part to help the client to evade this reality. On the other hand, to impose a model of it
would be counter-productive” (ibid.: 49).
In other words, in the Buddhist view it is not the therapist’s task to compel the
client to follow certain externally defined ethical rules and principles. It is instead the
client who needs to discover these ethical rules internally, in one’s own heart and
mind, perceiving them as morally valid and existentially meaningful. This is possible
precisely because everyone is endowed with the seeds of the enlightened mind which
contains the same ethical principles for everyone. In this understanding, one does not
need to struggle to emulate the examples of some virtuous other; one merely needs to
see reality as it is in an undistorted form. This clear vision of reality would naturally
involve seeing one as part of a larger whole, one organically belonging to this larger
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
143
whole, which would lead one to want to benefit from the general good of this whole.
This is why Naikan and Morita therapies, which are in line with Buddhism in their
moral guiding principles, can claim to address not only clients of Japanese origin or
those well-versed in Buddhism, but virtually anyone and everyone. Everyone experiences suffering, everyone is subject to the delusions of the mind, and everyone can
discover the same truths that can guide them to the cessation of suffering. This is the
core of Buddha’s teaching, and the core of Zen, Morita, and Naikan therapies too.
This circumstance also explains why clients do not need to rely on the therapist’s
authority. All of these Buddhist-influenced methods have at least this in common:
they gently steer the client to the realisation that the answers to his or her questions,
the key to solving one’s problems, are all within. One may well learn from a valuable
therapeutic method how to discover and appropriate these inner sources that can transform one’s mental attitude towards the world: Zen therapies might teach one to meditate attentively,10 the Morita method may appropriately instruct one on how to bring
mindfulness into everyday activities and a natural approach to life, while Naikan therapy may assist one in owing up to one’s human sinfulness and help one to realise the
extraordinary power of forgiveness and grace. But all of these insights and new
knowledge must be gained experientially; one cannot simply copy and emulate a wiser
and healthier person and thus automatically become wise and healthy. Emulating good
examples may help because the right action might direct one to discover important
truths, but the discovery must be made by the self—not only on an intellectual level,
but through one’s very own flesh-and-bone experiences.
As described in the introduction, western psychotherapies grew out of the “moral
treatment movement,” the objective of which was to morally re-educate mentally ill
patients. Following Freud and others, psychotherapy sought to break away from its
morally and religiously laden legacy, and instigated instead a value-neutral, purely
objective, scientific inquiry which intended to cure people by taking advantage of the
methodologies of modern medicine. However, such a therapy of complete value-neutrality remains unconvincing and unrealistic. Medicine and institutionalised health
care as a human enterprise aims by definition to better the human condition. Any form
of medical—or nonmedical—therapy necessarily works towards creating better health,
and more human happiness and wellbeing, while at the same time leading the way to
less (internal and external) conflict and to fewer medical or nonmedical problems.
“The first step to seeing what life requires is for us to understand that to have a self means we are
self-centered. Doing zazen we begin to see our patterns, our desires, our needs, and our ego drives,
and we begin to realise they are what we call the self. As our practice continues we begin to understand the emptiness and impermanence of these patterns. With this understanding, we can abandon
our attachment to them. To do this, we must have patience, persistence, and courage” (Harris 2019:
18).
10
144
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
Therefore, instead of concealing its ethical presuppositions and goals, it seems sensible that a therapy would openly engage moral questions from the outset and would
not hide behind the mask of scientific/objective value-neutrality. Having ethical values is not something that ought to be abolished by the progress of science; it is doubtful that any human endeavour that is utterly free of the dilemmas of morality could
exist.
The moral values that Morita and Naikan therapies manifest can be considered
universally applicable because they offer solutions to primary human concerns that
are easily accessible to anyone belonging to the human race. These methods touch
upon universal human problems and hence transcend narrow culture-specific limitations. They deal with death and anxiety, the significant role of the mother as a primary
nurturer in one’s life, the importance of belonging and how lack thereof causes mental
health troubles, how separation causes distress and might result in illness, how health
and vitality are inseparable from spontaneous and active engagement with nature and
the world, and how a positive attitude and trust in oneself and trust in the rest of reality
can bring about a momentous change in the quality of one’s life. These values, when
discovered through one’s personal experiences—not just internalised from external
regulations—can be beneficial to anyone regardless of age, culture, gender, or religion.
Morita and Naikan therapies seem to adapt well to different cultural milieus, and since
they do not require belief in their religious groundings (e.g. in the existence of Amida
Buddha), they can work harmoniously with other religious and nonreligious belief
systems. As Reynolds (1989: 3) notes, “Morita therapy and Naikan have centuries of
history rooted in Zen Buddhism and Shinshu Buddhism respectively. Yet both have
adapted into secular psychotherapy forms with no necessary connection to their religious roots. Both have shown a remarkable ability to meet the needs of [the] Japanese
in a rapidly shifting social milieu.” What is more, they emphatically propagate such
moral values as autonomy and freedom, unbiased judgment, and democratic equality;
overall, they are rather positive and empowering. They have faith in one’s natural
ability to learn, grow, and become a person that is an integral and caring part of his or
her community while, at the same time, remaining genuinely him- or herself.11 From
this viewpoint, the good of the group is not necessarily in conflict with the good of
the individual; they both support and sustain each other.
Would it be possible, then, to bring Morita and Naikan therapies under the same
umbrella by establishing a unified ethical framework? Are they compatible with each
other? On many levels, they are indeed positively like-minded. They share several of
the central Buddhist (and Shintoist) teachings about the world, the self, and the goals
One does not need to give up one’s unqiue personality to become a healthier and morally better
person; one just needs to realise one’s elemental connectedness to the world. This alone will
accomplish becoming a more compassionate, altruistic, and caring human being.
11
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
145
of human life. They might be considered not only compatible but perhaps even complementary—the Morita method embodying the sterner, fatherly aspect, and the Naikan method adopting a softer, motherly approach. The values they disseminate are
indeed rather similar, although Morita places more stress on the positive sides of life,
such as the joy of creativity and one’s innate power to heal oneself, whereas Yoshimoto drew attention to the somewhat negative or problematic aspects of human
life, namely one’s sinful nature (lying, cheating, stealing, ungratefulness, and selfishness). Nevertheless, the categories of “positive” and “negative” are used here only in
a relative sense: the Morita method advocates seeing and accepting the negative sides
of life just as much as the Naikan method directs one’s realisation towards all the
positivity that awaits one beyond despair, including gratitude, compassion, and love.
As Murase points out, the central value in these therapies is the so-called sunao 素直
—genuineness or authentic originality—which “implies the harmonious and natural
state of mind vis-à-vis oneself and others. It is directly associated with honesty, humility, docility and simplicity” (Murase 1982: 327). Murase argues that this central
value is not actually Buddhist (or Confucian) in origin, but rather Shinto, and has been
firmly ingrained in the ancient Japanese folk tradition for millennia (ibid.).
Notwithstanding all the similarities and the compatibility of the two approaches,
some prominent differences still exist between them, including how one therapy focuses on the present reality (Morita) while the other looks to the past (Naikan). I believe this is not just a superficial difference: it proves to be essential in the therapeutic
process. The Naikan method would not function without the orientation of the past,
while the Morita method would lose its essence if it were to renounce its primary focus
on the awareness of the present reality. Another point where the two approaches do
not quite seem to agree is that in Naikan therapy one needs to make an effort to keep
one’s thoughts in the prearranged framework of the three main questions, whereas in
Morita a more spontaneous and therefore less structured engagement with reality is
encouraged. A third apparent difference is that while the Morita method progressively
increases the proportion of physical activities, the classic Naikan therapy proposes a
rather inactive form of guided mediation where physical movement is restricted and
discouraged. A fourth point on which they diverge is the issue of the apparent dichotomy vis-á-vis the emphasis on Self-power (jiriki 自力) or the Other Power (tariki).
Whereas Naikan therapy advocates the reliance on tariki and the acceptance of the
grace emanating from the Other Power, Morita therapy places far greater emphasis on
the personal efforts of the self.
Even though the two analysed Japanese psychotherapies appear to differ in important ways from each other, it seems plausible to suggest that their differences regarding the moral values they deploy could be harmonised into a unified practical
ethical framework. The same could probably not be said about their therapeutic methodologies, but this article is not concerned with that question. Acquiring a correct
view of reality, the human condition, and the self in particular are imperative for the
146
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
unified ethical framework of Morita and Naikan therapies. Hence learning to live
without illusions and developing an ability to face reality as it is are of crucial importance. Since these Japanese therapies maintain that the self, others, and nature are
intrinsically connected, the question of any moral obligation to care for one’s health
can now be answered without difficulty: one certainly has such an obligation. Since
one is inseparable from one’s environment, one negatively influences one’s surroundings if one neglects one’s health, not only by setting a bad example but also because
the self is its environment. Once we acknowledge that we are all interdependent, it
naturally follows that by hurting ourselves we hurt others too.
As a result, the ethical practicalities of Morita and Naikan are highly relevant since
these therapies deal with broader social and ethical questions as well as health care
issues. In a nutshell, they venture to reinstall and reintegrate the isolated individual
into the social and cosmic order by re-educating him or her about the true nature of
reality. Learning to control one’s emotions and thoughts by not wanting to control
them any longer is a critical part of this ethos, and it goes along well with the humility
one learns to express when faced with life’s difficult challenges: illness, death, one’s
own immorality etc. In this regard, it does not actually matter whether one prioritises
the Self-Power or the Other Power approach; these two approaches can be complementary rather than oppositional. A healthy detachment from reality, paradoxically,
seems to go hand in hand with a full involvement in that same reality. When one
becomes skilled at accepting all the particular events of the succeeding moments of
time without clinging to them, trying to hide from them, or creating a fanciful, idealised alternative reality, then one can put up with whatever new conditions—happy or
sad—life brings. This, in turn, grants the universally sought-after virtue of equanimity
of the mind and a positive outlook which can foster general goodwill and generosity.
In essence, this ethical framework would lead to a form of pragmatic altruism which
is not based on external principles but on the recognition that one belongs together
with all the other beings of the world.
REFERENCES
Bazzano, Manu. 2014. “Preface.” In Manu Bazzano, ed., After Mindfulness: New Perspectives on
Psychology and Meditation. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. ix–xii.
Brazier, David. 1995. Zen Therapy: Transcending the Sorrows of the Human Mind. New York:
Wiley.
Chervenkova, Velizara. 2014. “Rites of Incubation in the Modern World: The Symbolic Experience of Death-Rebirth-Reconnection in Naikan Therapy.” World Cultural Psychiatry Research
Review, 9 (3), pp. 123–131.
Chervenkova, Velizara. 2017. Japanese Psychotherapies: Silence and Body-Mind Interconnectedness in Morita, Naikan and Dohsa-Hou. Singapore: Springer.
Balogh, Lehel (2020)
The Moral Compatibility of Two Japanese Psychotherapies
147
Harris, Jules Shuzen. 2019. Zen Beyond Mindfulness: Using Buddhist and Modern Psychology for
Transformational Practice. Boulder: Shambhala Publications.
Irwin, Terence. 2013. “Mental Health as Moral Virtue: Some Ancient Arguments.” In K. W. M.
Fulford et. al., eds., The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy and Psychiatry. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 37–46.
Ishii, Akira. 2000. “Recommendations for NAIKAN.” In Akira Ishii and Josef Hartl, eds., Das
Wesen von NAIKAN: The Essence of NAIKAN. Wien: NAIKIDO ZENTRUM, pp. 169–185.
Kaspari, Sabine, Margit Lendawitsch, and Franz Ritter, eds. 2015. NAIKAN: Eintauchen Ins Sein:
50 Jahre Methode Naikan. Neue Wege zu sich selbst finden. Neunkirchen: Kulturverein
Naikan.
Kondo, Kyoichi and Kenji Kitanishi. 2015. “The Mind and Healing in Morita Therapy.” In Christopher Harding, Iwata Fumiaki, and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, eds., Religion and Psychotherapy in
Modern Japan. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 103–119.
Krech, Gregg. 2002. Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection. Berkeley:
Stone Bridge Press.
Krech, Gregg. 2014. The Art of Taking Action: Lessons from Japanese Psychology. Monkton:
ToDo Books.
Krech, Gregg. 2017. “Introduction.” In Gregg Krech, ed., Question Your Life: Naikan Self-Reflection and the Transformation of Our Stories. Monkton: ToDo Books, pp. 59–61.
LeVine, Peg. 2018. Classic Morita Therapy: Consciousness, Zen, Justice and Trauma. London
and New York: Routledge.
London, Perry. 1964. The Modes and Morals of Psychotherapy. New York: Holt, Rinehart and
Winston.
Miki, Yoshihiko. 2015a. Naikan Therapy: A Way of Self-Discovery and Self-Renewal. Ryuji Mizoguchi, tr., Nara: Weissman Press.
Miki, Yoshihiko. 2015b. The Book About Encountering Your Heart’s Treasure: You, Too, Can Be
Re-born Through Naikan. David K. Reynolds and Yuko Sakaiya, tr., Nara: Weissman Press.
Morita, Shōma. 1998. Morita Therapy and the True Nature of Anxiety-based Disorders (Shinkeishitsu). Akihisa Kondo, tr., New York: State University of New York Press.
Murase, Takao. 1982. “Sunao: A Central Value in Japanese Psychotherapy.” In Anthony J.
Marsella and Jeffrey M. White, eds., Cultural Conceptions of Mental Health and Therapy.
Dordrecht, Boston, and London: D. Reidel Publishing Company, pp. 317–329.
Ogawa, Brian. 2007. A River to Live By: The 12 Life Principles of Morita Therapy. n/a: Xlibris.
Ogawa, Brian. 2013. Desire for Life: The Practitioner’s Introduction to Morita Therapy for the
Treatment of Anxiety Disorders. n/a: Xlibris/Pearson.
Ozawa-de Silva, Chikako. 2006. Psychotherapy and Religion in Japan: The Japanese Introspection Practice of Naikan. London and New York: Routledge.
Reiss, Wolfram, ed. 2016. Selbstbetrachtung hinter Gittern: Naikan im Strafvollzug in Deutschland und Österreich. Marburg: Tectum Verlag.
Reynolds, David K. 1976. Morita Psychotherapy. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University
of California Press.
Reynolds, David K. 1983. Naikan Psychotherapy: Meditation for Self-Development. Chicago and
London: The University of Chicago Press.
Reynolds, David K. 1984a. Playing Ball on Running Water: The Japanese Way of Building a Better Life. New York: Quill.
Reynolds, David K. 1984b. Constructive Living. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press.
Reynolds, David K. 1989. Flowing Bridges, Quiet Waters: Japanese Psychotherapies, Morita and
Naikan. New York: State University of New York Press.
148
Vienna Journal of East Asian Studies
Reynolds, David K. 2002. A Handbook for Constructive Living. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i
Press.
Sengoku, Mari et al. 2010. “Does Daily Naikan Therapy Maintain the Efficacy of Intensive Naikan
Therapy against Depression?” Psychiatry and Clinical Neurosciences, 64, pp. 44–51.
Sengoku, Mari 千石真理. 2016. “Shūchū naikan wa ikigai-kan no kōjō ni yūkō ka? – SOC kenkō
shakudo o mochiita kenshō 集中内観は生きがい感の向上に有効か? – SOC 健康尺度を用
いた検証 [Is Naikan Therapy Effective for Improving Sense of Meaning? An Evaluation with
Antonovsky’s Sense of Coference (SOC) Scale].” Inochi no mirai いのちの未来 [The Future
of Life], 1, pp. 115–128.
Shimazono, Susumu. 2015. “From Salvation to Healing: Yoshimoto Naikan Therapy and its Religious Origins.” In Christopher Harding, Iwata Fumiaki, and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, eds., Religion and Psychotherapy in Modern Japan. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 150–164.
GLOSSARY
D. T. Suzuki
鈴木大拙貞太郎
Genyū Usa
宇佐玄雄
Jikei University
慈恵大学
jiriki
自力
jūshoku
kōan
住職
公案
Masatake (Shōma) Morita
Meiji
mushojū-shin
naikan
Shikoku island
shinkeishitsu
Shinran
森田正馬
明治
無所住心
内観
四国島
神経質
親鸞
sunao
素直
tariki
他力
Tōkyō
toraware
東京
とらわれ
Yoshihiko Miki
三木善彦
Yoshimoto Ishin
吉本伊信
author and populariser of Japanese
Buddhism
Zen Buddhist priest and founder of
Sansei Hospital
university in Tōkyō where Morita
worked
Japanese Buddhist term referring to
Self-power
chief priest of a Buddhist temple
a paradoxical anecdote or dialogue in
Zen Buddhism
Japanese physician, psychiatrist
the years of 1868–1912
peripheral vision of consciousness
introspection
one of Japan’s main islands
neurasthenia or anxiety disorder
Buddhist monk and founder of Shin
Buddhism
the quality and virtue of being genuine,
honest, humble.
Japanese Buddhist term referring to the
Other Power
the capital of Japan
pathological preoccupation with the
self
Naikan practitioner from the city of
Nara
Japanese therapist, founder of Naikan
therapy