Some Tips from Dr. Sex

Hail, my gentle hypothetical reader. It's been a very long while indeed since the last entry, but I sincerely hope the contents of this post will ameliorate somewhat my lamentable laziness.

Allow me now to introduce the subject of this post:

It's one of those portraits where a snide comment is superfluous.

Dr. Sex, also known as Dr. Zhang Jingsheng (张竞生), was born in 1888 in Guangdong province.* He studied at Peking University, participated in underground revolutionary activities, and was in the first batch of study-abroad students funded by the fledgling Chinese Republic in 1912. He got his Ph.D. from the University of Lyon in 1919, writing his dissertation on Rousseau.

As we all know, what happens in France...doesn't stay in France. Dr. Z had himself some bontemps and returned to take up a post as Professor of Philosophy at his alma mater, but then was ejected summarily after publishing Sex Histories (性史), at first called Sex Histories Part I, in 1926. Over the winter holidays (Coincidence...? Nay, gorging on food and being huddled inside makes everybody think about perversity, a universal condition across the distances of time and space.) Zhang sent out surveys to university students in the city, then edited together some of the responses into a book. Infamously, Sex Histories flew off the shelves and caused all manner of ruckus, including massive traffic jams. Its twelve accounts range from one by his then-wife, entitled "My Sexual Experiences," to "Looking Back On Gaining Knowledge in Childhood," by one "Jing zai" (roughly, "Respectful Dude").

As Haiyan Lee has described, Dr. Z's aesthetics mixed utilitarianism, German Romanticism, iconoclasm, social-Darwinian eugenics, and radical social utopianism into a hearty stew in which "beauty" became something each citizen of the "Republic of Beauty" had to diligently create and scrupulously uphold. This fantastic land, while full of apparent forward-thinking--viz. Dr. Z's resolute advocacy of nude, mixed-sex outdoor exercise--was decidedly not liberal or even individualistic: Beauty came in the singular, and one either met its criteria through the proper cultivation of one's erotic and aesthetic body, or one failed and became a threat to the overall beauty of society. "Nymphomaniacs," same-sex sexual liasions, and even women who wore trousers were all regarded Un-Beautiful, and warranted "correction"-- in the former case by labial surgery. Ideal men were tall, had deep orbits, high-bridged noses, and broad shoulders--that is, not Chinese. In short, Dr. Z's ideology presents another troubling example of how ideas that seem like they should be worthy of celebration and colorful parades also come with a mandatory set of less palatable accompaniments: in this case, personal liberation simultaneously endorsed with fascist domination through "biopower" remind us again of the extent to which authoritarian ideals were inextricable from the global development of modern state and society.

With that schpiel out of the way, I should note that Dr. Z's fate was an unhappy one: after the sensational publication of Sex Histories, Part I, he prepared a manuscript for a sequel (in which he planned to write about his own experiences) and was on the cusp of submitting it for publication when the backlash hit. Media appended him with snide nicknames, including "Dr. Sex," "Dr. Prostitution," and "Great Licentious Worm."** He held onto the manuscript, but the eagerly awaited Part II appeared anyway--and, according to some sources, the series magically continued until Part X. Zhang put furious ads in the papers declaiming against the people who were stealing his name brand, but to no apparent avail.

This brand was evidently still powerful (if rather tinged with salacious implications) well into the later years of the Republic, because I was able to pull a dodgy-looking volume from the nether planes of WorldCat called Strange Stories of Sexual Desire: Interesting Histories of the Art of Sex (性欲奇谈：性艺趣史). Said volume was seemingly put out by Zhang's own publishing house, The Bookstore of Beauty, and has "Edited by Dr. Zhang" prominently displayed on the title page beside the photo of a rather uncomfortable-looking nude (the chaise lounge against which she awkwardly leans look decidedly scratchy). But there is exactly zero mention of the good Doctor in the contents; instead, "Medical Doctor Wei," who narrates these Interesting Histories appears to be a woman; her name is her sole identifying feature. Real editing was ostensibly handled by one Jiang Xiaoping. In other words, by the 1930s Dr. Z was clearly hot-stuff enough that his name could help hawk anything sexy.***

Anyhow, back to the reason you, my dear hypothetical reader, have bothered to scroll down this far: Dr. Zhang will now be answering your questions, educating YOU in order that you may become a better citizen of the Republic of Beauty!

(1)On "harmonizing before having sexual intercourse":
"...first it is necessary that man and woman enter the realm of beauty at the same time. ...If either one has not yet entered the realm of beauty, that one suffers qualms throughout the night. ...In this instance I think it's best for the one who can't sleep to go to another room, read books related to all kinds of sexual learning, and supplement knowledge for the next occasion."****

(2)On female ejaculation:*****
"Women possess many types of nether fluids: one type is fragrant water and emerges from within the clitoris. The second type is vaginal fluid, and is discovered when the penis is in contact. The third is "Bartholin fluid," which is a type of fluid from the glands at the vaginal opening and is expelled only when the woman fully comprehends the joys of sex and is fully satisfied. When expelled, it shoots far [lit. "hits far away"] like a man's ejaculate. ... When this "third type of water" is expelled, the woman is as if drunken or dazed...then she becomes tired afterward, much like the state before and after male ejaculation. ...From this "example from nature," [during female ejaculation, paralleling the male's delivery of sperm,] the ovaries must be working intensely to send the ovum [lit. "egg beads"] down to the uterus to fuse with the sperm [lit. "seminal bugs"]."

(3)On changing oneself into a "beloved" husband:
"...when he awakes in the morning he should comb his hair prettily. If his wife dislikes the beard, then everyday he must not forget to shave assiduously like the overseas Chinese students in America. He should always be dressed in up-to-date fashion. ..."The greatest taboo is to come into touch with [your wife] when she is in a bad humor." ..."It is best if you and your wife live in separate houses, but if you can't you mustn't forget to partition the room or at the very least to sleep in separate beds."

(4)On "strengthening weaknesses of the sexual organs":
"the man should frequently wash his privates in cold water...avoid having intercourse excessively and must not use aphrodisiacs. He should also be diligent in washing his body."

"...woman's laxness is an extremely common defect in our country...they have never even once made an injection into the private parts and they are particularly indifferent to washing. Therefore their flesh is unhealthy and it prevents the development of sexual desires...when menstruation has finished one should inject water once into the vagina and usually do this several times monthly. Again one must bathe continuously....after washing, rub with a soft cloth until the flesh gets warm and desist when you feel like you're generating electricity. ...At the time of intercourse you must come to it with enthusiasm and conduct yourself with courage."

"...the sexual organs are overly concealed [in children]." [Zhang next describes a type of open-crotch pants for small children.] "...this is good, for in this way the sexual organs are continuously exposed to the outside air and the feelings of sensation are fostered. Secondly ...daily if possible, wash the child's sex organs and after washing rub them until they are warm. Thirdly, think of ways to prohibit masturbation and other similar kinds of dissipation..."

(5)On the proper conduct of intercourse:
"First, the number of times that the male ejaculates...should not be excessive and the sperm must not be ejaculated too quickly....Once or twice a week is sufficient for those in the prime of life....However the time for one occasion must be lengthened, at least more than twenty minutes and better if extended to from forty minutes to an hour."

"The tempo can be helped by filling or emptying the urinary bladder...before intercourse it is good for the male to fully urinate and for the woman to store up her urine. ...[This] slows ejaculation while...accelerating...the "third fluid. ...The most important thing is that the woman take initiative. It is forbidden for her to...become like a wooden doll...never etiquette and formality or a training course in Confucian ethics."
***

What a delightful pudding of hyper-sensitivity to "hygiene" with a touch of an abiding fear of male enervation through excessive ejaculation ("spermatorrhea"), all infused generously with clear, "scientific," and fascistically arbitrary delineations of acceptable sexuality and deviance! Delicious. The good Doctor will be in all week to help with egg beads, third fluids, and generating electricity from your privates.

Good night, and don't let the seminal bugs bite!

*A.K.A. Revolutionville.
** Oh journalists!
***He's actually made quite a comeback in the Reform years, as a simple Google (or better yet, Baidu) sesh will indicate.
****He so smooth. Look at that shameless product placement! Oh Doc, I wanna be just like you one day EMAIL THIS ENTRY TO ALL YOUR FRIENDS.
*****All passages except this one are taken from Howard Levy's 1967 translation.

Musings on belief and ritual

(Fushimi-Inari Daisha, Kyoto)

Dear hypothetical readers, I really have no excuses. I have been recovering from my months abroad (i.e., slacking off) at home for nearly ten days now; it's high time to do a little more reflection.

First, a brief disclaimer: I have been raised as, and remain, a nonbeliever. I am convinced that organized religion, particularly those that usurp social and cultural power to the extent that they attempt to exclude alternatives, can be extremely pernicious. At the same time, I have great admiration for what has already been created under such would-be spiritual monopolies, viz. music involving pipe organs, enormous marble statues and mosaics, oil paintings with perhaps unnecessarily sumptuous draperies, etc. Also, it is more than obvious that materialist histories that place intangibles like belief aside are simply lacking--they just do not touch upon the psycho-emotional world that human life cannot be without. For all that, though, attempts to read any doctrine inflicts upon me a throbbing headache, followed by the urge to nap for a couple of hours. [Read: the following may be incredibly shallow and/or somewhat offensive, despite my intention otherwise. Then again, what else is new?]

With that out of the way, onto the post!

Traveling in Japan during the summer meant encountering massive clumps of tourists, of course. I mostly paid visits to Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, but these too were crowded with people, from the pimped-out glitter of Ieyasu's shrine/tomb to the relatively subdued Touji temple. Observing the people and the surroundings, the following points were immediately obvious:

1. Ritual observed at temples and shrines were distinctly similar, featuring the same hand- and mouth-washing, coin-tossing, bowing, and clapping. For tourists, of course, there was also frantic photo-taking (or complaining about not being able to take photos in areas that forbade it). And, aside from the peer pressure of hundreds of other tourists in close quarters, authorities put up signs with multilingual "NO PHOTOS" signs at every point that a photo-crazed person might get the urge.

2. Ritual materials also overlapped considerably. Ema (wooden placards with pictures on one side and blank spaces for wishes to be written on the other) and o-mamori (protective charms, usually wooden or paper, the latter folded and inserted in a cloth pouch) I had thought the special province of shrines, but were also offered for sale (and offering) at temples:

(Ema praying for romance.)
(Ema of various designs, Hakodate Kokoku Jinja)
(Fox-faced ema, Fushimi-Inari Daisha, a kitsune, or fox-spirit, shrine)

3. Which leads me to the next characteristic: money was evident everywhere. Money tossed at small stone Buddhas for luck; money stuck into the trunks of ancient trees planted by long-dead, famous emperors; price labels for every charm, stick of incense, candle, and paper fortune on sale.

(Piles of dough at Kinkakuji, Kyoto)
(Coins lodged in the trunk of this old tree Go-Shirakawa of Heike Monogatari fame was supposed to have planted)

Of course, this high profile for $$$ is not limited to Japanese places of worship. But a votive candle or the Pietà seem like quite different ways of displaying sociocultural capital while simultaneously expressing belief. For one, the sensation of being in some of the more tourist-laden shrines was more like strolling through an amusement park or even a department store of gifts (お土産) to buy for friends and family back home. Yet these were indubitably "places of worship"-- on the personal level, there were certain quieter spots and moments of sensory in which I felt something spiritual.

(Kinkakuji again. Not so many people snapping shots of this!)

Moreover, there were people partaking in ritual processes and material consumption of a level that probably seems rather more "faithful" than chucking your 5-yen coins at a stone Bodhisattva of Mercy. One particularly impressive scene: a family was seated in the "Shogun's Room" to the right side of main shrine of the Toushouguu 東照宮 at Nikko, accompanied by a Shinto priest who walked them through making offerings and prayers. This extremely formal occasion occurred less than ten feet from the hall where all we tourists shuffled about making noise and wishing we could blast the place, complete with its portraits of the 36 Japanese "Immortals of Poetry," with photos.

Anyway, the point is that for wearing consumption so conspicuously on their collective sleeves, the shrines/temples/tourist hotspots could not be derogated as not being sacred centers of belief and faith in some way. Which leads me to the principal question that I pondered (half-assedly) as I sweated my way through Kyoto, Nara, and Nikko: to what extent is religion fundamentally about conspicuous consumption and cash changing hands? This is not meant to be disrespectful (though the question is probably not one any devout believer would ask); in what sense are belief, ritual, and commerce one and the same?

(Nara mascots...)

In the broadest view, the three concepts could be understood as one. Commerce and ritual involve a fundamental faith in the continued significance of all social, symbolic, and material elements involved; what good could it do to trade a pear for an apple if one has not some deep belief that there is something meaningful in the trade--that will remain meaningful a hour, a day, or a week after the trade occurs? Similarly, ritual could be called a commerce of a particular stripe, and without sustained belief in the world remaining unchanged enough to give one's ritual act meaning, it could not stand. Such belief can be called faith, for its contents are not known to be a priori fact. (Unlike some atheists, I hold that trust in the scientific method and other positivisms should properly also be called "faith," of the same species as faith in ritual practice.) On the other hand, perhaps faith also requires such rites and exchanges to define it. Could any of the usual dogma of a given organized religion be explained without some idea of exchange included? Rather than denying the intangible of belief a place in more concrete and statistically measurable venues, it seems pretty clear to me that such spirituality must of needs rise from physical origins, for instance the acquisition of a new object or the swinging of a censer. Of course, there's a biological explanation for this, as senses tingling and muscle fibers twitching are inseparable from cogitation.

That was a long detour to the real point, which is that for all the apparent weirdness of shrines that look more like shopping arcades, such consumption is in fact a crucial element of belief and worship in these specifically Japanese instances and, I believe (punny!), in all organized religion at large. It's easy to condemn the "lack of spirituality" in things like these polylingual, obviously tourist-targeted fortune-selling machines,

but is it really so bad to acknowledge openly the inseparability of belief and trade? I for one thought it was refreshing to throw my coins into the collection boxes before bowing, clapping and praying to the gods and Buddha. It would help the priests and monks preserve their historical buildings and lovely landscaping, and maybe help get the attention of the divine, too.

(Touji, Kyoto)