March 22nd
Dreams and Amibitions, Groups and Individuals
I think one of the amazing things about Japan is a general lack of cynicism. I work in a university and read a lot students' self-introductions and evaluation sheets. I am always struck by their over-riding sense of duty, their desire to serve others.
Students talk about having always dreamt of being able to serve others, to look after them in their times of need. There is a real sense of innocence in their ideas and thoughts. There is also the sense of their life being firmly placed within, and in respect of, a community.
These kinds of sentiments are more typical of much younger children in the West. By the time Western kids are hitting 16 they are a lot more streetwise and reticent about talking about their 'dreams'.
When I was at university we were very much into being 'worldly', thinking we knew what it was all about. Being ambitious was cool, but dreams were deemed child-like.
Dreams are wide open, sincere things. There is a sense of the humble in the holding of dreams; whereas ambition smacks of the ego and control. To me, this seemed to mark a big difference between the two societies.
I've spoken to a lot of foreign people who have worked in the Japanese education system. In the majority of cases they are very negative. I think their is a sense of cultural superiority and ignorance at play here. The basic idea is that west is best, Japanese people were unwilling to speak their mind because of the pressure exerted by the group as a whole, that people should stand up more for what they thought. I've often heard cries of,
'Wake up and smell the coffee man. Be yourself, tell it the way it is!'
I must admit when I first came here I felt the same way. I thought that the system was stiffling individuality and creativity; maybe even it was giving up truth for the sake of harmony. Although I still believe this, having spent more time in Japan I see there are further distinctions occuring in these public settings.
Japan has a strong 'sempai-kohai' relationship running through everything. The sempai is the senior person in a relationship, the kohai the junior. So there is a hierarchy is most situations you enter. Respecting these relationships and not rocking the boat are pretty important. Teachers are a great recipient of this system as they are respected a lot more than their Western counterparts.
It seems there is more of an emphasis on a considered response because of this more settled social system. Instead of reacting 'naturally' and directly to a situation, students are asked to think about it, to take their time to formulate a response. Such a condition requires them to think of the wider implications of what they say and do, how it will affect those around them. It comes from a sense that we are very much 'in this together'.
Rather than seeing themselves as the person in control of the situation, they place themselves as an element in the situation. What constitutes the right response will not only reflect their interests, but the interests of all those concerned.
To a certain extent I am idealizing here, but I still believe that that essense is at work in Japanese behaviour. Obviously there are selfish and self-centered Japanese people, but even so there may well be a big difference between a 'self-centered' Japanese person and a 'self-centred' Westerner.
It's difficult to talk about a nation and what is characteristic of their outlook, because such an activity often leads to rash generalizations, stereotyping and, at worse, outright racism. But there definitely are big differences between nations and it's intriuging to try and work out what factors are at play.
As regards Japanese people's individuality, I think there is a tendency to express this more privately than in the west. One such example of this are manga the Japanese comics. The incredible wealth of individual expression and creativity is breathtaking.
It seems a lot of social commentary goes on in the semi-private worlds of manga. People can discuss them where they feel safe, like a great whispering nation!
When Japanese do express their deepest emotions publically, it is normally at moments of great ceremony and their expression is one of deep gratitude and humility. Indeed it is often at a level Westerners would feel slightly too emotional!
March 20th
Truth without Religion
Truth is incredibly important, but I also feel that the spirit in which we search for and express truth is also incredibly important too. I am thinking here of truths about relationships and the way we act with eachother as human beings. I'm not talking the truth as conceived by science and other such disciplines.
Truth spat out in bitterness is an incredibly harmful thing, regardless of it's basis as truth or its actual effects; it often marks a failing of character, a sense of the person's callousness, or selfishness, or a lack of mindfulness of the other person we are talking to.
It seems to me there is an impovershed sense of the relationship between ourselves and even to ourselves at play here, maybe one based on our rights as individuals to do as we see fit. We question whether we have the right to do something, and if we do, we go ahead and do it. But it seems also that there is the greater question of, is what we do good?
I myself have felt rather alienated from the concept of goodness. Saying it like that 'the concept of goodness' is already pushing it away, taking away the real effect goodness has in our lives. Recently I've started to have more courage to look towards goodness and see what lessons I can learn.
As a companion on this journey I've had a rather challenging and inspirational book, 'Good and Evil: an Absolute Conception' by Raimond Gaita. It really is a startling and enlightening read. For anybody who is interested in ethics I would recommend reading it. This book is very much about the philosophical status of ethics. In that sense it can be quite difficult reading, but it never gets stuffy and academic. A more accessible read from the same author, I have on good authority is 'A Common Humanity'.
If, like me, you have a deep sense of the importance of morality in life, but don't have a deep faith in religion or belief in God, then these books will offer a way forward. There may be a sense in which the love of truth, or the spirit of truth in love nurture our deep sense of good and evil.
I seriously suggest you take a look.
March 16th
Japanese Grannies
Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for lunch. His house is hidden-away in a typical Japanese residential area; a rambling labyrinth of tight alleys crammed with faceless post-war housing. When most people think of Japan they conjure up an image of traditional Japan, maybe women in brightly coloured kimonos paying homage to some deity at the entranceway to some picture postcard shrine. Although these scenes do still exist it may be more accurate to think of most urban areas as a concrete metropolis with meandering rivers of open sewage.
Anyway, it's probably best to leave Japanese town-planning [pet hate] out of this post because it was meant to be all about Obaa-chans (Japanese grannies). Now, anyone who has lived in Japan for a while will be able to tell you some amazing stories about old people. Japanese old folk never know when to give up and maybe it's a bloody good thing too. That being said, it does still shock me when I see ladies of 90+ right at the top of some orange tree collecting fruit. Not as a one-off mind - this is their job through the picking season. After loading the fruit into baskets and taking it to the depot, they'll box it up and lug the boxes on to the back of waiting mini-vans.
These feats are even more incredible when you consider that when people reach 85+ over here their gradually arching backs, suddenly lock at 90 degrees. So in order to place that box on the back of that van they need to do a sideways summersault landing on a platform a metre up. And they have to do the same move in reverse to dismount!
Just imagine the complications this brings to life in general: when they walk they have to stare at the pavement, when they lie down to sleep their legs remain rigid in the air. Possibly the most havoc they cause is when they cross the road; while cars race by at breakneck speed they continue at a steady pace, cutting a immaculately straight line through the wildly veering traffic.
Luckily they are aided in their death-cheating journeys by a small piece of equipment that is like a zimmerframe set on wheels. Half way up the frame there is a seat and beneath the seat there is a space for transporting shopping – or toy dogs as is often the practice here.?They call it a 'silver car', silver here meaning those of silver hair [further note, pronunciation should be shirubaa kaa].
Now, not only do these contraptions make for fearless chariots on 
shopping runs, they also make convenient chairs for sitting outside your house when you fancy taking in some sun, or by the roadside when you fancy having a little breather.
When I arrived at my friends house there was an Obaachan doing just that, sitting in her ‘silver car', chilling. I smiled at her, bowed and offered a greeting. I went inside and then came out again with my daughter a few minutes later. The Obaachan was gone, or so I thought, but when I looked in the opposite direction she was there, at another house, sitting atop her ‘silver car’ smiling unfalteringly at me. Quite regal really. So, I smiled back, bowed and offered a greeting. My friend’s daughter, Hinako, came rushing out and told me we could get a bike for my daughter, Aya, at her grandparent’s house, so she got on her bike with Aya and I hot in pursuit.
We were walking at a brisk pace and after about 100 metres I noticed an old lady sitting on her ‘silver car’ outside a house to my right. She was there smiling unfalteringly at me. It can’t be the same one I thought, so I smiled back, bowed and offered a greeting. But she did look familiar and, well, no, it couldn’t be her. Nonetheless, I had a creepy feeling come over me, so I thought it best to take a few more details down this time. I studied her a bit: wrinkled, white hair, gappy teeth, lilac-grey dress with a pattern of small violet flowers.
We carried on walking and got to the Hinako’s grandmother’s place, got a little trike for Aya and headed home. At the first corner, there she was again – gappy unfaltering smile, lilac dress, violets on it…and this was another 100 metres on from the last spot I saw her. I screwed up my face, opened my eyes and pretended this wasn’t really happening.
We continued at a steady pace, me pushing Aya who was following Hinako, calling out her name like a mantra. Isn’t it funny how younger kids become understudies to the older ones – dutifully mirroring their every move like they suddenly might be asked to come out of the obscurity of being a 3 year old and play a 6 year old.
When I passed the spot I’d seen the old lady before, she was nowhere to be seen. That calmed me a little and allowed me to enjoy the rest of the walk. However, when we got home there she was again with her gappy smile shining down this eerie benevolence on the street. Her head was inclined at 45 degrees, like she was ‘playing cute’, a wistful look in her eyes. She was back in the first place I’d seen her.
I raised an eyebrow more than a bit baffled; my stomach tightened a little. Surely, this couldn’t be true. There must be a logical explanation for this, maybe these old ladies are actually sisters, all five of them born from one egg, destined to live down the same street, wear lilac and own a ‘silver car’. Or was she really just one person; Captain Kirk’s first love, who stole a transportation pod from the Starship Enterprise and kept it hidden away in the base of her ‘silver car’.
It seems I’ve grown numb to all the weirdness of this place. And the weirdness seems to exist in the small details which makes it so difficult to pin down and so much simpler just to accept.