This winter, I immersed myself in Natsume Sōseki’s 1906 satirical masterpiece I Am a Cat (originally titled: Wagahai wa Neko de Aru). The narrative unfolds through the eyes of an unnamed feline, chronicling its observations of Mr. Sneaze (a reflection of Sōseki himself), Mrs. Sneaze (his spouse), and a motley crew of Mr. Sneaze’s friends, including Waverhouse, Coldmoon, Beauchamp, and Singleman, all set against the backdrop of Meiji Era Japan. This post doesn’t aim for a deep dive into the novel’s intricate themes; instead, I’d like to spotlight a few captivating elements and draw parallels to contemporary American society.
But first, a brief historical primer:
The Meiji Era was a tumultuous period for Japan. In February 1867, Prince Mutshito ascended the throne, becoming emperor. For over 200 years, Japan’s emperor was merely a figurehead, while the real power lay in the hands of the shōgun and 300 feudal lords known as daimyo, during a time known as the Tokugawa Shogunate (1603-1868). However, the forcible opening of Japan by Commodore Matthew Perry in 1853 ushered in Western influences, compelling the shōgun to modernize. Eventually, the pressure proved insurmountable; on November 9, 1867, shōgun Tokugawa Toshinobu stepped down, paving the way for a new government under Emperor Mutshito (later known posthumously as Emperor Meiji) on January 3, 1868.
Mutshito initiated numerous reforms, such as abolishing class privileges, establishing an elected advisory body called the Diet (which, while modeled after the British Parliament, wielded little real power since the Emperor retained ultimate authority), and further opening Japan to international trade. The national pride surged after Japan’s victory over Russia in the Russo-Japanese War, marking the Meiji Era as a time of rapid social, cultural, political, and economic transformations.
It is within this atmosphere of upheaval that I Am A Cat was penned. Throughout its pages, we witness the anxieties, aspirations, and concerns of its characters—and indeed, even the cat itself—reflected in their dialogues. A particularly fascinating section appears in Volume III, which presents dialogues that resonate with contemporary issues. For instance, the cat astutely observes the nature of public officials:
“Public officials are servants of the people and can reasonably be regarded as agents to whom the people have entrusted certain powers to be exercised on their behalf in running public affairs. Yet, as these officials become accustomed to their daily control of affairs, they can develop delusions of grandeur, acting as if the authority they wield is inherently theirs, treating the populace as if they have no say in the matter” (pg 361 of the Kindle Edition).
At other moments, the text echoes the sentiments of Adam Smith in a cautionary tale about how commercial values (what we now term as “modern man”) might taint human character, as illustrated by Mr. Sneaze:
“Modern man, even in his deepest slumber, is perpetually preoccupied with profit, or more disturbingly, the threat of loss… He is anxious and deceitful, unable to find peace from dawn until dusk, and only finding respite when the cold embrace of death finally claims him. This is the predicament civilization has thrust upon us, and what a disarray it is” (pg 440).
(One might note the sharp focus on loss aversion here.)
Observations on shifting social dynamics are also made by Singelman:
“Look how times have changed. Not too long ago, those in authority wielded unchecked power. There came a time when certain demands could no longer be imposed. Nowadays, however, there are strict limitations on the authority of peers and even ministers to compel individuals… Our forebears would be astonished to witness how directives from authorities that once commanded obedience now often go unheeded” (pg 450).
In a further reflection that channels Adam Smith, we see the duality of human nature regarding the desire for freedom juxtaposed with the urge to dominate:
“Each individual has grown stronger due to this newfound individuality. However, this growth in strength has concurrently led to a weakening in comparison to others… Naturally, everyone wishes to be strong, and no one desires to be weak” (pg 452).
While I could easily delve deeper into the rabbit hole of quotes from this text, I realize I’ve taken up enough space without driving to my main point.
The crux of my reflection lies in the notion that engaging with foreign literature (and broader cultural interactions) reveals the fundamental sameness of the human experience. We grapple with similar concerns, share common joys, and pursue analogous life goals. Yes, arbitrary boundaries and languages separate us; geography may influence culture and identity. However, as nationalists often proclaim, we are not “too” different to engage with one another. Exposure to foreign narratives illuminates our shared humanity, fostering empathy towards others and dismantling the so-called “friend-enemy distinction.”
