Changing Impression of Japan

 
Each time I visit Japan or conduct a research project on Japanese culture I learn something new, intriguing, and am compelled to reconsolidate my growing experience with this state, nation, culture, and individual people. If this were not happening I feel I certainly would be at fault of a grave form of ignorance.

As I've undertaken larger projects, delving deeper below the surface of "Japanese culture" I've felt a push back. Simple questions become cause for concern and my role as anthropologist often oscillates between interviewer and interviewee. At times I have been unable to satisfy the inquisition of the guardians of Japanese culture, and my goals seem to be held aloft in an impenitrable fortress of privacy.

Yet at times I've been wonderfully surprised by the reflexive impact of anthropological inquiry. I am no activist seeking to correct some malice I see afflicting Japan, though I may not agree with all that I discover as I slowly peel the layers of this often confusing, and sometimes mysterious culture. I also cannot honestly expect that I do not make waves of impact through my work, regardless of their size and my intent of minimal bias. Witnessing the connection between my inquiry and self-reflection in the people I work with, meet, or happen upon is perhaps the most visible aspect of my work to me. There is also a sense of joint discovery as my questions have at times inspired others to look into their own history and culture.

In closing this project, and in the hope of future discourse, I am pleasantly surprised by the capacity for compassion within the human condition. The Kobe Luminarie (in Japanese), an annual requiem to those who died in the devistating 1995 Kobe earthquake, seems an appropriate example of this. Although not always a purely honest expression by all participants, events such as the Kobe Luminarie convey a sentiment that is unignorable, artful, and beautiful in the possibilities it embodies.

Politics: Foreigners in Japan

 
While exploring China Town in Kobe with a friend a while ago, a curious thing happened. Along a street lined with tightly packed restaurants and street cart vendors, heavily congested with foot traffic of local and foreign tourists alike, a stereotype caught my attention. It was one projected at my companion by a young Japanese man hawking for customers from his employer’s storefront. The Japanese man called out his offer first in Japanese, and when this failed to rouse my companion’s interest he leaned closer and spoke loudly in English directly at my friend – “Come eat here!” Although Caucasian, my companion’s native language is not English and he told me later he wasn’t even aware of the man calling to him, in Japanese or English.

Kobe is an interesting place owing to its history as being a port city, and former home to many embassies, foreign residences and foreign style buildings. It is something of a matter of acclaim for the city, with tourist brochures dedicated solely to the “international” flavor of the city. The incident with my friend, however, is a little more tell-tale of common conceptions about Caucasian foreigners, and a broader discourse on Japanese views of foreigners in general. Japan has had a bumpy history with the topic of prejudice and racism, perhaps best documented by Japanese human rights activist and university professor Debito Arudou.

Unfortunate as it is, one reason for the stereotypical association of English with Caucasian likely comes from the overwhelming majority of Caucasian visitors to Japan being from the United States^[1], not to mention the US military bases across the country. There is also the possibility that some Japanese people are simply not giving enough conscious attention to these matters. That was certainly the impression I got from this display of international flags (above), and the lack of scrutiny to ensure they were faced properly. Then again, growing up in a country where you don't have to worry how you hang your flag (because it's always correct) has an impact on this as well.

1: Based on 2008 statistics from Keizai Koho Center, p.60.