Wasshoi! Magazine #2

WASSHOI! Interdisciplinary Magazine on Japan

NEW CONTENT: SHORT STORY

WASSHOIMAGAZINE.ORG/MAGAZINE • ISSUE 2, SUMMER 2021

HIME JI TO AKŌ An Illustrated Journey Through Hyōgo Prefecture

KEYNOTE

MODERN SLAVE TRADE IN JAPAN An Interview with Lúcio de Sousa

REVIEW

ARTICLE

MAISON KITSUNÉ

OKUHARA SEIKO

The Franco-Japanese Fashion Brand

Into the World of a 19th Century Female Painter 1

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

EDITORIAL

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HISTORY

KEYNOTE

ASPECTS OF THE PORTUGUESE SLAVE TRADE IN EARLY MODERN JAPAN (16TH‒17TH CENTURY): AN INTERVIEW WITH PROFESSOR LÚCIO DE SOUSA 16

ANTHROPOLOGY SOCIOLOGY

THE HIKIKOMORI SYNDROME: LIVING IN YOUR ROOM FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE GIULIO VILLANI 22

ARTS

HISTORY

ERASING THE HERMIT: OKUHARA SEIKO’S SNOWSCAPE DAH I J U N G

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ECONOMICS

ENTREPRENEURSHIP IN JAPAN AND ITS UNIVERSITIES PR AK H AR S AXENA

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FASHION

REVIEW

MAISON KITSUNÉ AND URBAN MINIMALISM PI E R O ZE N I

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FILM

REVIEW

SAYONARA TV: A BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT JAPAN’S NEWS MEDIA AUREL BAELE in collaboration with NIPPON CONNECTION

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FILM

POPULAR CULTURE

REVIEW

ŌTOMO KATSUHIRO’S VIEWS ON BROTHERHOOD AND CHILDHOOD IN HIS ANIMATED MOVIE, AKIRA MARTY BORSOTTI 48

FOOD CULTURE

BILINGUAL ESSAY

嫌い箸 INCORRECT WAYS TO USE CHOPSTICKS AU T H O R : AYAK A HONDA T R ANS L ATO RS : AM ELIA LIP KO & MARTY BORSOT TI 54

MUSIC

FILM

HISTORY

MIXING MEDIA: JAZZ, THEME SONGS, AND JAPANESE CINEMA IN THE 1930S AU R E L B AE LE 64

POLITICS

A HALF CENTURY OF THE JAPAN-EU TRADE RELATIONS: FROM TRADE CONFLICTS TO THE ECONOMIC PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT TA RŌ NI S HIK AWA 72

SOCIOLOGY

SOCIO-ECONOMIC CIRCUMSTANCES OF OVERWORK IN JAPAN BETWEEN 1970S AND EARLY 2000S: THE CASE OF KARŌSHI V I L S AN ZU LJI 80

ILLUSTRATED SHORT STORY

ONE NIGHT WITH HOT BATHS AND OYSTERS AU T H O R : DAWA LAM A I L LU S T R ATOR: E NRICO BACH MANN

EDITORIAL AU RE L BAE LE , LUIGI Z ENI , MARTY BORSOT TI

In April 2020, amidst the coronavirus pandemic, an idea for a new editorial project was born – a digital magazine presenting Japanese studies to a wider public. One year later and we come to you, our dear readers, with this second issue of Wasshoi! The shout is still loud within our ever-growing team. We have achieved much in the past year, thanks to the passion and dedication of our members. Our gratitude goes out to all of them, and also to our readers, whose trust and support have brought our magazine to life.

As you may have noticed, our visual logo has changed. Why does Wasshoi! now lie within a bamboo grove? July is the month of hope, characterised by the celebration of a long-held festival – Tanabata. During this festivity two star-crossed deities, Orihime and Hikoboshi, travers the Milky Way to meet once again. In Japan these two lovers are celebrated with colourful and lively decorations, and Japanese people typically write their wishes on narrow pieces of paper, which are hung on bamboo branches. Here, Wasshoi! represents the paper strip hung on a bamboo branch and corresponds to our wish for the success of this steadily growing project.

For this second issue we have had the pleasure of interviewing Lúcio De Sousa, Ph.D, associate professor at Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. With him we discussed a relatively unknown topic, to which he has dedicated his whole career: the East-Asian slave trade; from the port of Nagasaki, along Portuguese maritime routes, up to the Habsburg Empire. It is an honour to present you with an edited version of our talk.

Thereafter, Giulio Villani presents the delicate topic of Hikikomori syndrome through a socio-anthropological perspective. The baton will then pass to Dahi Jung, who will take us into the fascinating world of Okuhara Seiko, through an in-depth analysis of her Snowscape, where art and poetry bled.

Aurel Baele transitions us from the visual to the acoustic in his article about the connection between Jazz and Japanese cinema in the 1930s. Our two subsequent articles will present different aspects of the Japanese labour market: Prakhar Saxena focuses on the factors impacting the growth, or lack thereof, in Japanese entrepreneurship; while Vilsan Zulji introduces us to the issue of overwork in Japan, observing the industry between the 1970s and early 2000.

In addition, Tarō Nishikawa delves into the complex and fascinating Japan-Eu Trade Relations over the span of half a century, from the 1970s to the 2010s.

Piero Zeni and Marty Borsotti conclude the issue with two reviews respectively dedicated to Franco-Japanese fashion and Japanese animation.

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We have made you wait long enough, so without further ado we present to you the second issue of Wasshoi! Magazine, and to keep up the tradition, we will accompany your reading wit our shout: Wasshoi! Wasshoi!

our new p iss in m

Don ’t

This second issue comes with several new features: Ayaka Honda, our bilingual contributor, dedicates her essay to chopstick manners; and we are proud to present to you the first short story of our magazine, written by Dawa Lama and brilliantly illustrated by Enrico Bachman, which displays Japan as perceived through foreign visitors’ eyes.

Lastly, we are thrilled to have had our first collaboration with the Nippon Connection Film Festival, held in Frankfurt between the 1 st and 6 th of June. In this issue we will publish a review of one of the festival’s featured films, Sayonara TV, with many more review to come in the near future, both on our blogs and in the third issue of our magazine.

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Fig. 1: Arrival of the ‘Southern Barbarians’, c. 1600. Japan, Momoyama period (1573–1615). Pair of 6 six-panel folding screens; ink, colour, and gold on paper; overall: 146.7 x 337.2 cm.

HISTORY

KEYNOTE

ASPECTS OF THE PORTUGUESE SLAVE TRADE IN EARLY MODERN JAPAN (16TH‒17TH CENTURY) AN INTERVIEW WITH LÚCIO DE SOUSA

INTERVIEWEE: LÚCIO DE SOUSA, PH.D, ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF THE TOKYO UNIVERSITY OF FOREIGN STUDIES INTERVIEWERS: AUREL BAELE, LUIGI ZENI, MANUEL JOSE FLORES AGUILAR, MARTY BORSOT TI

Q: I would like to thank you on behalf of the whole Wasshoi! team for taking the time to do this interview, in which we will discuss the themes relating to your fascinating book, The Portuguese Slave Trade in Early Modern Japan 1 . Could you briefly introduce your research to our readers?

A: It is a very complicated subject, in the sense that there is a kind of widespread invisibility of slavery in early modern Asia. The models that we have regarding slavery are mainly from the Atlantic world. We have many slavery studies for it: the Caribbean, Latin America and also for Africa, of course.

We don’t have such studies […] For the early modern period in Asia. Why? Well, first it is a very difficult topic. Regarding my research, I am interested in the diaspora in two different frames. The first is the Microframe: case studies of specific persons and their experiences on the local level. The second is the Macroframe: diasporas on the global level. So, the slave started here… let’s follow them, what happened to them, and to people in the same conditions, and find patterns. Do they follow the same patterns? These patterns change

here. Why? That uses a lot of your time and requires you to have the ability to [conduct research in] several languages. You also have to spend a lot of time [familiarising yourself with various] archives to be able to identify the right collections. And in these collections, you have to try to discover or identify documents related to the subject that you are studying. This process is complex, takes a lot of time and practice, and, above all, you must love doing it.

‘There is a kind of widespread invisibility of slavery in early modern Asia’

1 Sousa, Lúcio de. The Portuguese Slave Trade in Early Modern Japan.

Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2019

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Q: The issue of East Asian slavery in the 16th and 17th centuries is not widely known. How would you define it, and what is its relation to the Portuguese? How would you put this into a historical context?

A: It’s normal, because this is a period of human[s as] commodities. We will always have human commodities – it is something universal for all societies. In the case of Japan, when the Europeans made their first contacts, the country was in a period of internal war 2 , of refugees and poverty. You have here the right ingredients for slavery. The problem is, or was, that we did not have any kind of report about it, nor any kind of study specifically focused on this kind of human trade. We had some glimpses, some references, but lacked an organised structure to know what really

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happened. We knew a lot about silk and porcelain trade, yet very little on slave trade. In fact, no one tried to identify, put together and articulate information to build a landscape of this slavery. But the ingredients were there, and it was also a period when the Europeans were a minority, needing manpower. [Regarding East Asian slaves], it was not necessarily to work on plantations, on sugar or mills. That is a different type of structure we are talking about. People [were needed] to work in boats, [on] harbours, or [in] households. It was a different kind of people, for a different kind of purpose. That is probably why this type of slavery was not so studied, as we have this American perspective on slavery. But slavery – the use of another human being – can have many types of combinations, and that was the case in Asia, at least regarding Japan and the Portuguese.

Q: Speaking of Japan, was there any form of slavery practiced before the arrival of the Portuguese?

2 [Editors’ note] The 15th and 16th century Japan is a period of warring states (sengoku jidai戦国時代). Powerful warlords continuously fought

A: Yes, of course slavery always existed. But I was not really interested in Japanese systems of slavery. I wanted to connect slavery with diasporas and globalisation. I was interested in knowing if people came from that country, from that area, when, why, and where they went. We already had studies about Japanese slavery. What we did not have was this connection with the foreigners, and I just made one of those connections. We have many references, at least in European sources, of boats from Vietnam, from Siam – or from Thailand – that [went to] Japan to buy people and returned to their kingdoms [filled with] slaves. We do not know what happened to them, well, at least I do not, because I don’t have [the necessary language skills]. The Portuguese, or Europeans, were in fact just one [of those participating in this slave trade].

Moreover, this idea of national flags is a kind of myth. The people inside these boats came from different places: China, Southeast Asia, and even Japan.

The Europeans were, in fact, a minority.

[The reality was that] different groups had the same purpose, so they were associated. Each one could assist the other group in things [the other] could

each other for land control and power. The establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate (1603) marks the end of this period.

or could not do. For example, the Japanese knew the language and the country better. They could communicate with people in Japan. The Chinese could help them in China, making the connection with Chinese authorities. Then we had Southeast Asian crews that could go to Malacca, and then from India and so on. They all became middlemen in this business that involved many types of commodities, [of] which humans were just one.

‘The country was in a period of internal war 2 , of refugees and poverty. You have here the right ingredients for slavery’

Fig. 2: Pieter van der Keere. Kaart van Japan (Map of Japan), Iaponiae (title on object), 1628–1630.

Print on paper, engraving; 18,1 x 24,9 cm.

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Q: In your work you shed light on the role that various religious orders, such as Jesuits and Franciscans, had in the process. How were they involved in the Japanese slave trade?

A: There is this idea that slave trade does not need organisation, that you can pick a poor person, put them inside a boat, go to another place and sell them there. No, you needed certification that attested that the person was a slave, and a legal one. We should not forget that, back then, buying a slave was an investment. It was like putting money in a bank. When a person bought a slave, they did not want to lose money, as they were investing – because they knew the slave could be sold [at] a higher price.

For example, a slave could be bought with a value of one, two or three pesos in Japan, and sold for 800 pesos 3 or more in Argentina. The profit was huge. So, all slaves had a kind of passport. However, in the Atlantic world slavery was regulated by [ruling monarchies], like the Habsburg Empire’s administration. But in East Asia it started in a spontaneous way, as it was not regulated and never

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legalised. Traders needed to have some way to create these kinds of passports – these licences to sell not only Japanese, but also Chinese and Koreans. And who better than the Jesuits, as representatives of God, to issue these kinds of licenses? That is when they started to participate in these trades. We have to [consider] that their presence in Japan and China at the time, in the 16 th and 17 th century, was highly dependent on merchants who basically financed them. Without their money they could not survive there, as the money sent to Japan and China by Europeans – by the crown and the Pope – remained in India, used for other purposes, and never [reached] them. Therefore, Jesuits had this kind of symbiotic relationship with the merchants and profited from that.

We do not know for sure, but they probably also received money by issuing these licences, and of course tried to erase [evidence of] their participation within this practice. Nonetheless, we managed to find victims of this trade that gave their testimonies, which we can cross check with others [to paint a more complete picture].

Q: Regarding this procedure of license issuing by Jesuits in Nagasaki, a slave needed to be converted to Christianity by means of baptism before formalising their status. It seems counter-intuitive to sell a fellow Christian. What was the thought behind this idea of a non-Christian foreigner converting to Christianity before being sold as a commodity?

3

[Editors’ note] With many ap-

proximations we could suggest that at the time 1 peso was worth about 0.2 pounds sterling, and 800 pesos could have been converted to approximately 160 pounds.

According to the National Archive’s currency converter, in 1590, 1 pound could have bought 2 stones of wool (12.7 kg) in the United Kingdom and corresponded to approximately 20

A: I can summarise that in one word: hypocrisy. What people say and how they behave is different. The level of cruelty that is possible, the level of insensibility regarding other human beings – because in different circumstances you could be that person. I also want to say that, regarding, for example, the Jesuits, [there were] many layers.

Not all were defined by that kind of approach regarding human beings. It was also because some of the Jesuits were against it that slavery stopped. They intervened, created a project of abolition and they managed to succeed. We have both sides. It was always a grey territory. We cannot assume that the product of an organisation is all the same, as it is made of individuals. When a person has power, that person really shows their personality – the kind of person they are. If they are a good person, they can abolish slavery. If they are a person without high standards, morally speaking, they can be a disaster. It depends on who has the power.

days of a skilled tradesman’s wage.

Similarly 800 pesos, or 160 pounds, could have bought about 19 horses in 1590’s United Kingdom, and corresponded approximately to 3200 days’ wages.

Fig. 3: Artist unknown, Southern Barbarians, c. 1625–1675. Pair of six-panel screens; ink, colours, and gold on paper; Each: 170.4 x 370 cm.

Fig. 4: Titlepage of printed Jesuit letters of Japan for the years 1583 and 1584.

Luis Froes. Auuisi del Giapone de gli anni 1582. 83 et 84. …. Rome, Franesco Zanetti, 1586.

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Q: You told us about the erasure of slaves from the documents, but we see here that there are still some persons, or groups, that are clearly visible as Japanese. Some small groups, for example, remained within the Iberian Habsburg Empire. To what extent can we say that they were assimilated? How would they connect to their own predecessors?

A: It was an emotional connection. It depended also on the region. For example, the narrative in Lisbon, or in Portugal, is very different [from elsewhere in the region]. In fact, some of their descendants became very powerful people.

I discovered some of them in the 18 th century and I am tracing them [to the present day], although I did not include it in my book. They played major political roles, and it is very interesting. But you also have common people that did not play these significative, or at least visible, roles in society. For example, this testament of a slave owner – he had so many Japanese slaves that he could not mention them. But we also see another side of a slave owner, as he was very rich, and when he died, he freed all his slaves and gave them his fortune. These slaves became rich people. Another will – of a woman – that is very interesting, [tells us] that a young slave was in fact an adoptive daughter.

Her owner ensured that if something happened, the daughter would have been taken care of and would have had a successful economic life. In some ways they were gradually assimilated – if not directly, [then through] their descendants – because they did not have any input from the mother land. They were assimilated. That’s what I think.

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Fig. 5: Writing Box (suzuribako) with Europeans, c. 1800–1868. Japan, Edo period (1615–1868).

Lacquer on wood with designs in gold and silver lacquer and inlaid silver; 23 x 20.2 cm.

Fig. 6: Utagawa Kunisada (1786–1864), Utagawa Hiroshige II (1826–1869), Mitsuuji in the Maruyama Pleasure District of Nagasaki (Dejima), Japan, 1861. Triptych of woodblock prints; ink and colour on paper. Dimensions: Image (a): 36.8 x 25.4 cm, Image (b): 37.1 x 25.7 cm, Image (c): 37.5 x 25.4 cm.

Q: Have you ever been struck by particular stories to the extent that they’ve haunted you? Do the people whose lives you reconstruct ever stay with you long after your research is complete? And how do you deal with that when it happens?

A: First, to be honest with you, the topics I choose to study are always topics that move me profoundly. We really go to the nuclear part of my being. I feel like an oyster with a piece of sand that is just horrible to have in. But somehow you transform it, or you try to transform it, into a positive outcome, into a pearl.

When I pick a topic, it is something that I cannot digest. It’s something that haunts me, and I cannot solve that, and I don’t find answers. It stays with [and] does not go away. When I was very young, I lost some of my friends…

There is this idea that when people die you forget them, and time goes by and the pain goes away. Everything fades away. But, at least with me, people that I really liked – my friends, my grandpar-

ents – people that really changed my life, well, when time goes by, I miss them the most. So, when time starts going by, with these people that I am studying, I start understanding them more, understanding many aspects. Because they are not only victims, but some of them also transformed their lives into something better. While in horrible conditions they managed with their will to transform it. I always think of them, for example when something is not good in my life, or whatever. I try to be grateful, because I am being paid to do the thing that I really like. […] To have this opportunity of choice, to be able to build your life as you want, it’s really rare. I have all these slaves, these spirits, these people with me, always. And they are very comforting to me. They ground me. It shows me that if I have the power, or whatever I may have, I always have to be grounded. And this should always be put at service of something better than my egocentric motivations. Because life is short. It goes like that.

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Q: It seems that Japanese slavery, and East Asian slavery in general, is not a commonly discussed topic in society nor in Japan-focused university courses. What do you think might be the reasons?

A: It is always difficult to touch [on] highly moral topics that involve pain.

This is probably one of the reasons, because history is a construction. It is very important, in a sense, to approach an historical narrative, because you understand that historical narratives for the same subject change according to the country and culture. We might not see data coming from a country in the same way, depending on where we are, but the country is the same. The information that comes out is also the same. What changes is how we digest it.

When we talk about these subjects that are so deep – so profound and highly moral – people don’t want to talk about that. They feel very uncomfortable. And it is very difficult to deal with the truth.

Truth is the most revolutionary word.

What happened in America with the natives’ genocide? Or in Armenia? What is happening now with the refugees in Europe? No one travels from [their] home to another place because [they] want to, but rather because they are forced to.

We have to face our historical ghosts.

We do not need to assume the guilt of our ancestors, but we have to see the reality of it. Because it will prevent us

from repeating the same mistakes.

Nowadays, we live in this kind of puritanism that is very difficult to criticise.

We have to face historical narratives, we have to criticise them, and the younger generations should do that. They should present history from a different perspective. We are now in a period where it is fundamental to define these economic and political [systems], because ours are not working. We cannot support ourselves on this planet if we want to keep producing and using more and more. Without respecting or creating laws, not only regarding human beings, but regarding the planet and all the rest. I don’t think that violence or exploitation is the key. We should protect people that are not safe – animals and plants that are fragile. We have to create mechanisms of balance and inclusion.

In the case of History, we have to include voices that existed, but we do not have knowledge of. It is easier to portray a ‘rose-tinted narrative’ of Europeans as heroes that went to Asia and built empires. But we forget that there were already people living there, in Asia and in the Americas, owning land.

How can we legitimate what we did there? How can we call hero a person that kills and massacres the population of a foreign land? We have to discuss these issues, including natives [in that discussion]. There are other voices, and we have to create a historical narrative that is multicultural – inclusive.

‘We have to face historical narratives, we have to criticise them, and the younger generations should do that. They should present history from a different perspective’ 14

Q: Your message is clearly addressed to present and future generations.

May we ask your advice on how we should continue to research and discuss this topic?

A: Be stubborn. Do not accept things that others say without analysing them. I was once in a conference, as a young scholar, and a very famous western academic criticised me, saying that I was wrong and that my work was fiction, that I could not prove it.

Later, the same day a Japanese scholar approached me and told me it was the best conference he [had seen in] a long time. At the time, I did not know him, but my colleagues told me he was really famous in Japan, one of the best in the field. You can see how some could say that your work is wrong while others would say it is the best. The perspective can change dramatically. What is really important is your commitment. If you are committed, [if] you put your heart and truth [into something], whatever

you do, [you] will do well. You will be successful sooner or later, because people that have quality will recognise your effort. This would probably be my advice: be stubborn and don’t be influenced by the noise. People that are always saying ‘you can’t’, once you succeed, will say ‘I knew you would be able to achieve that’. But you did not have those words when you needed them the most. Be strong, create a sense of purpose, of mission, an objective to stay focused on. Be dedicated to your heart, to your talent, and do not sell them because you think you could gain more. If you believe in what you are doing, you will have all the energy you need. Life is not easy, and it is never going to be easy for anyone. Life is for people that are courageous. And to innovate is even more difficult, because there is always resistance to innovation. Unfortunately, most human beings do not understand that innovation is the key for improving things – for survival.

Fig. 7: Publisher: Johannes Meursius (Flemish, active 1620–47), Plate 38: Triumphal ship with the city of Ghent in the background; from Guillielmus Becanus’s Serenissimi Principis Ferdinandi, Hispaniarum Infantis..., Antwerp, 1636. Print on paper, engraving; 30.6 x 39 cm.

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Fig. 1 Hikikomori room in the manga Welcome to the NHK

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ANTHROPOLOGY

SOCIOLOGY

THE HIKIKOMORI SYNDROME

LIVING IN YOUR ROOM FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE GI U L I O V I L L ANI

The term hikikomori 引きこもり, which literally means ‘pulling inward’ or ‘being confined’, refers to a social behavioural syndrome that affects young people and adults alike. Someone suffering from the condition will lock themselves away in their room, apartment, or house and remain isolated for months or even years. During this time, hikikomori have little to no contact at all with other members of society.

Studies estimate that in 2002 the number of hikikomori in Japan reached approximately 410,000 cases 1 . Because of the spread of this phenomenon, the Japanese government compiled a list of characteristics helping to identify the hikikomori syndrome. An individual is recognised as hikikomori if his or her complete withdrawal from society lasts at least six months 2 . Refusal to go to school or work is also a decisive factor.

Additionally, a person suffering from

this condition must be confirmed as mentally healthy – this means that once diagnosed with hikikomori syndrome, the individual must not show evidence of schizophrenia, intellectual disabilities, or other psychiatric disorders 3 .

The term hikikomori was coined at the end of the 20th century by the Japanese psychologist Saitō Tamaki, who is nowadays considered the world’s foremost expert in his field. This form of social isolation was previously reported in 1978 by the researcher Kasahara Yoshimi as taikyaku shinkeishou 退却神 経症, meaning literally ‘retreat neurosis’. According to Saitō, the number of hikikomori in Japan can actually be estimated at two million individuals, taking into consideration that most of those affected do not disclose their condition because of their complete isolation from society.

1 Andy Furlong, ‘The Japanese Hikikomori Phenomenon: Acute Social Withdrawal among Young People,’ The Sociological Review 56, No. 2 (2008): 309-325 2 Tamaki Saitō, Shakaiteki hikikomori:

Owaranai

shishunki

(Social

Withdrawal: A Never-ending Adolescence), Tokio: PHP Shinsho, 1998.

3 E. Aguglia et al., ‘Il Fenomeno Dell’hikikomori: Cultural Bound o Quadro Psicopatologico Emergente?,’ Journal of Psychopathology 16, No. 2 (2010): 159–161

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Fig. 2 A Japanese man living as a hikikomori.

The principal symptom of the syndrome is social withdrawal, the degree of which varies depending on the individual. In the worst cases, hikikomori do not leave their room even for washing or eating, perhaps asking for food to be left outside of the room by a family member. Solitary behaviour in school is usually the first clear sign of social withdrawal and is one of the most frequent problems among young Japanese people. The second symptom, present in approximately two thirds of cases, is anthropophobia, which also occurs with varying degrees of severity.

Individuals with mild anthropophobia were observed to be fearful of other people, while retaining the capacity to leave their own living space; refuse to answer the phone or to take part in social activities with family members or friends; and be unable to use public transport. Hikikomori with a more serious form of anthropophobia were shown to develop additional phobias, 18

such as automysophobia (fear of being dirty) and erythrophobia (fear of blushing). Another common characteristic of hikikomori is that their circadian rhythm is often altered or even reversed; they sleep for several hours during the day and remain awake during the night, e.g., to play videogames, read manga, or surf the web. They seem to have little interest in physical activity.

The factors which facilitate the development of this syndrome are diverse, but regularly stem from the household and the education system. The typical family of a hikikomori is not troubled by divorce or separation, but the father may be mostly absent from home due to his work, while the child spends most of his time with his mother, meaning they develop a strongly dependent relationship. The mother is too permissive and does not see her child’s defects – when he makes a mistake, he is not punished or scolded. The future hikikomori is incessantly spoiled by his mother, and the

father is just a marginal figure in the household who does not have enough power to loosen the mother-child bond.

Such a connection is very common in families where the hikikomori still lives with his parents and explains the use of violence towards the mother when hikikomori’s requests are refused 3 .

With regard to Japan’s school system, an academic record is considered one of the main indicators of a person’s abilities, value, and social significance. On account of this, the Japanese are from an early age confronted with a strict system of assessment, which classifies individuals depending on their results.

Students are therefore subject to constant stress and pressure if they want to gain access to a prestigious university.

This is such an extent that exam season often dubbed shiken jigoku 試験地獄: ‘exams hell’. The situation is worsened by the fact that the entrance examination for several universities cannot be retaken the same year, so if students still wish to retake the test, they will have to endure a further year of study. Failing the first test can lead to rejection from an academic field, and the prospect of being incapable of achieving a prestigious position in the professional world.

It is difficult for a hikikomori to reintegrate into society since they cannot think about a potential role they could fulfil after such an extended period of reclusion.

A very serious problem concerning Japanese schools is the so-called ijime 苛め. This word indicates a particularly virulent kind of bullying aiming at causing social exclusion. A group of students will identify a potential victim who is unable to react, and go on to subject them to humiliating and discriminatory practices for months or years on end. Ijime consists usually of damaging personal objects, exclusion from group activities, and voluntary disinterest directed at the victim. In the worst cases it can develop into physical abuse, requests for money, threats, and even murder. It is common for ijime to be hidden by both the abusers and the victim, due to the fact that being bullied is considered shameful. Admitting to being discriminated against is equivalent to revealing one’s own failure to function within society 3 .

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Treating the hikikomori syndrome is not the same for every person. The first step to recovery is the identification of the cause, where, once diagnosed, the subject receives treatment based on a mix of psychopharmaceuticals and psychotherapy. The main psychotropics used are antidepressants, with paroxetine having proven effective in patients with obsessive-compulsive tendencies 4 .

Different kinds of psychotherapy are employed, but the approach with the highest chance of success is aimed not just at the hikikomori but at the whole household, consisting of group therapy, which aims to create a safe space to facilitate interactions within the family.

Another type of treatment which brings positive results is nidotherapy, which does not seek to change the hikikomori themselves, but rather their surroundings. The objective is to create greater harmony between the environment and the individual. Consequently, the hikikomori gradually improve because they are no longer in a situation perceived as unfriendly 5 .

The hikikomori problem is very worrying in modern times. With the increase in cases among the younger generation, the total number of people affected by hikikomori syndrome may soon reach ten million. In the last years japanese society has become more strict regarding the enforcement of social norms and, integration according to an international survey, many young Japanese people express a lack of desire to become productive members of society 6 .

Although the hikikomori phenomenon is predominantly Japanese, similar cases have been found in other parts of the world, such as the United States and Northern Europe 7 . In the West, hikikomori syndrome adapts to the social and cultural context, but the central pattern remains the same. To avoid the spread of this phenomenon it is important to 20

take preventative measures. Greater tolerance has to be instilled in both Japanese and Western society, and an end called to the culture of shame regarding failure. Failure is what makes us wiser and more prepared for the future. It is essential for the hikikomori to learn that they don’t need to be alone, and can only be strengthened by developing family ties and opening themselves up to the world.

4 I. Shibata & S. Niwa, ‘Case Report of the Efficacy of Paroxetine in a Patient with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Major Depressive Episode Characterized by Ten Years Unremitting Social Withdrawal,’ Pharma Medica 21, (2003): 61-64.

5 Noriyuki Sakamoto et al., ‘Hikikomori, is it a Culture-reactive or Culture-bound Syndrome? Nidotherapy and a Clinical Vignette from Oman,’ The International Journal of Psychiatry in Medicine 35, (2005): 191-198.

6 Xiaochen Su, ‘Behind the Rise of Japan’s Recluses,’ Japan Times (Tōkyō), Dec. 20, 2019.

7 Jerald J. Block, ‘Issues for DSM-V: Internet

Addiction,’

The

Ameri-

can Journal of Psychiatry 165, No. 3 (2008): 306-307.

Suggested Readings Aguglia, E., et al. ‘Il Fenomeno Dell’hikikomori: Cultural Bound o Quadro Psicopatologico Emergente?.’ Journal of Psychopathology 16, No. 2 (2010): 157–164 Furlong, Andy. ‘The Japanese Hikikomori Phenomenon: Acute Social Withdrawal among Young People.’ The Sociological Review 56, No. 2 (2008): 309-325.

Kasahara, Yoshimi. ‘Taikyaku shinkeishō Withdrawal neurosis to iu shinkategorii no teishō’ [Proposal for a new category of withdrawal neurosis]. In Shishunki no seishinbyōri to chiryō [Psychopathology and treatment in the adolescent], edited by Hisao Nakai and Yasuhiro Yamanaka, 287–319. Tōkyō: Iwasaki Gakujutsu, 1978 Rosenthal, Bruce and Donald L. Zimmerman. ‘Hikikomori: The Japanese Phenomenon, Policy, and Culture.’ International Journal of Mental Health 41, No. 4 (2012): 82–95.

Teo, Alan R. ‘A New Form of Social Withdrawal in Japan: A Review of Hikikomori.’ International Journal of Social Psychiatry 56, No. 2 (2010): 178–185.

21

ARTS

HISTORY

ERASING THE HERMIT OKUHARA SEIKO’S SNOWSCAPE DAHI JUNG Snowscape (Fig. 1) is a hanging scroll created in 1880 by the female literati artist, Okuhara Seiko (奥原晴湖; 1837– 1913). The scroll depicts a hut secluded in the mountains. Three people in the foreground appear to be taking a walk and looking towards the hermit’s residence. Literati artists in East Asia, who were scholars educated in Confucianism, longed to become hermits one day and hide amid nature their spiritual home away from human society.

For this reason, literati art often depicts the artist as secluded within an idyllic, natural landscape. Okuhara’s Snowscape, at first glance, seems to comply with this tradition faithfully in that it depicts a yearning for a hermitic life. Following the literati art tradition, Snowscape also contains a poem on winter. The literati genre encompasses painting, poetry, and calligraphy, but each component is considered essential, and together they open up multiple layers of meaning. The poem is not just an accessory to the painting, nor is the painting simply an illustration of the poem. A painting may be at odds with the poetic imagery, and a poem might Poem from Snowscape with English translation

Fig. 1 Snowscape 雪中山水; Okuhara Seiko (奥原晴湖; 1837–1913); Japan, Meiji period, Nine month of the year 1880; Ink on silk, 174 x 54 cm; 22 Rietberg Museum, Zurich (Acc. no. RJP 646).

野⽼荘南天氣暖 ⼀枝常是占先春 夜來雪裡東⾵急 時有清⾹暗襲⼈

evoke something different to what the painting is leading us to see. There is an inherent tension in literati art that the observer has to reflect on to make out the overall meaning of the work. When these two elements are reflected on together, Okuhara’s scroll shows a deviation from the genre of literati painting: there is no yearning for a hermitic life.

The absence of the idealised hermitic life in the seemingly conventional work is likely derived from Okuhara’s unique position as female literati artist in late nineteenth century Japan.

Reading the Poetry: Sensory Experience beyond the Pictorial Space The poetry in Snowscape is calligraphed vertically on the right hand side, filling up the uncoloured space of the cliff, and thereby becoming part of the visual experience of the scroll. The poetry expands our viewing experience by providing diverse sensory descriptions.

We first learn that on the south side, the old hermit’s hut is warmer. It leads us to imagine how the air may feel where the three people are standing in the picture. The first line also has the effect of enlarging the pictorial space, as differences in temperature invoke a richer physical environment than what we may initially perceive. On reading

1

English

translation

by

Yurika

Wakamatsu and Phillip Bloom.

the second line, we envision a single branch that seems to herald spring; and we may ask ourselves which branch in the painting this could be. Snowscape is painted primarily in shades of black ink, except for the delicate linings of light brown here and there, and the second line of verse adds a colour dimension to the picture.

It conjures up the image of a branch bearing a small green leaf. In the following line, we learn that the east wind and snow came during the night. Unlike the painting, which captures the landscape seen during the day, this line of poetry reveals a more distinct seasonal setting and allows us to experience the pictorial space over a longer period of time. Finally, the last line adds yet another dimension – scent – and suggests that it will still be some time until spring returns.

Organisation of the Pictorial Space While the poem expands our experience by adding sensory dimensions other than sight, the painting creates depth by strategically organising the pictorial space. There are two trees on the lower right side, located near a steep cliff that

To the south of the old hermit’s hut, the airs are warmer; a single branch always foretells the beginning of spring.

But in the snow that night brings, the east wind hurries, subtly carrying a faint fragrance that deceives. 1 23

dominates almost a third of the scroll vertically. The presentation and the position of the cliff and the trees recall the image of an open curtain. While still part of the landscape, they frame the snowy mountains, providing the viewer with a sense of visual access and creating the illusion of depth. By obscuring the right hand side of the snowy mountains with the cliff, the painting gives the impression that the pictorial space expands infinitely.

The mountains are rendered with light black ink. Their simple contours, without the addition of any other pigments on the surface, create a sense of distance, generating another level of depth. In front of the snowy mountains is a humble hut (Fig. 2) which likely belongs to the hermit mentioned in the poem, but there is no sign of human presence. Large rocks on the left side of the house function as another device to create perspective, indicating that the house is probably situated in a deep mountain valley. Between the people and the house there is a large pond, painted with blurred, watery ink just like the sky above the mountains. The pond is yet another device that emphasises the distance between the people and the hermit’s house, as it creates an illusionary effect of depth. In the foreground, thick black ink was applied with a fine brush to express the details of the ground and tree. A light russet colour was used on the tree trunk, the hut, and on some of the cliff to suggest vegetation.

Apart from creating depth, the pictorial space of the painting is arranged in such a way that the viewer’s attention focuses on the hermit’s hut. First of all, when the scroll is hung on the wall, the house is at the eye level of the viewer.

The hut amidst the mountains is what the viewer sees first in this painting.

Following the line of vision of the three 24

people on the bank, the viewer’s gaze lands on the hut again. The upper reaches of the tree on the lower right side also veer towards the hut. The branches behind the large rocks on the middle left side and the bent branches on the cliff are, too, directed towards the hut.

Fig. 2 Close-up on the hut.

Discrepancy between the Poetry and the Painting The poem and the painting in Snowscape each have their own strategy to enrich the viewer’s experience. What is significant here though, is that there is a discrepancy between the information that the two components provide. Reading the poem, the viewer’s experience is articulated by the different sensory

Fig. 3 Landscape with Pavilion; Kenkō Shōkei (賢江祥啓; active ca. 1478 – after 1523); Inscribed by Tōgen Zuisen (桃源瑞仙; 1430–1489); Ink and colour on paper; 50.3 x 35.1 cm; The Metropolitan Museum (Acc.no. 1985.7).

25

descriptions (‘airs are warmer’, ‘east wind hurries’, ‘a faint fragrance’). This experience, however, is only limited to the area ‘to the south of the old hermit’s hut’, on the lower half of the scroll. Here is where the discrepancy lies, since the painting insistently directs the viewer’s attention to the ‘old man’s hut’, whilst the poem positions the viewers solely ‘to the south of the old hermit’s hut’.

The three wayfarers are likely to have been included so that viewers may identify with them. Subsequently, the lack of information regarding the hut has the effect of making it seem even more unreachable within the pictorial space.

The Hermit in Literati Art A hermit in the midst of an idealised landscape was a popular topic that many literati artists painted. A comparison with a more conventional literati painting will illuminate how Okuhara’s Snowscape deviates from the genre.

Landscape with Pavilion (Fig. 3) is a work

Fig. 4 Poem from Landscape with Pavilion.

26

by late fifteenth-century artist Kenko Shokei (賢江祥啓, active ca. 1478–after 1523). Although he lived a few centuries before Okuhara, his treatment of the subject matter is representative and worth a closer look. A gentleman is relaxing at a lakeside pavilion, gazing at the water cascading from a steep peak above. Just like in Snowscape, the peak frames the painting from the left hand side, and the trees and rocks indicate that the pavilion is far away from busy human society. There is another person on a boat near the pavilion, further highlighting the idyllic setting (Fig. 5), and the poem in the top centre begins by praising these pastoral surroundings (Fig. 4).

The detailed description of the landscape enhances our visual experience, as is the case with Okuhara’s painting.

In the final two lines, the inscriber of the poem, Tōgen Zuisen, connects the painted image to an ancient Chinese hermit (Yan Ling) who turned down a position at court in favour of spending his days fishing in the Fuchun Mountains near Hangzhou, thereby linking the gentleman in the pavilion directly with the hermit. The last line of the

poem reads, ‘Oh how I long to visit Yan Ling at Fuchun’, expressing the narrator’s desire to become a hermit like Yan, or at least the desire to experience a similarly secluded lifestyle.

In contrast, there is no such direct association between the hermit and the yearning for hermitic life in Okuhara’s Snowscape. Who is the speaker of the latter’s poem and why is there only a mere trace of the hermit in both painting and poetry?

2 Martha J. Mcclintock and Victoria Weston,

‘Okuhara

Seiko:

A

Case

of Funpon Training in Late Edo Literati

Painting,’

Copying

in

the

Master and Stealing His Secrets: Talent and Training in Japanese Painting, ed. Brenda G. Jordan and Victoria Weston

(Honolulu:

University

of

Hawai’I Press, 2003), 117.

3 Ibid., 120-129.

4 English translation by Aaron Rio, https://www.metmuseum.org/art/ collection/search/42346

Okuhara Seiko: A Rare Literati Female Artist of the Late Nineteenth Century Examining Okuhara Seiko’s artistic career, and how she was introduced to literati art, provides a possible interpretation of Snowscape’s deviation from its genre. Okuhara was a prominent female artist in the late Edo- and Meiji-era. Although there was a growing number of female practitioners of literati painting in mid-nineteenth-century Japan, her considerable fame as an artist was still unusual, as she was born the daughter of a high-ranking official. Women of Samurai class were normally expected

to marry for political advantage. For Okuhara, pursuing literati art professionally was a way to gain independence and subvert the rigid gender roles of the late Edo-period 2. She was already a trained amateur painter as a young adult, but after deciding upon a career in art, she trained herself rigorously with rough sketches or underdrawings, known as funpon 粉本, to improve her craft 3. In 1865, aged twenty-eight, she moved to Edo from her hometown of Koga to build a professional artistic

English translation of the poem from Landscape with Pavilion

This world, who possesses it?

Tranquil is this place, long separated from the dusty world.

An endless cascade soars as if a flock of egrets, the surface of a boundless lake ripples like the scales of a fish.

Skiffs float beyond tree tops and thatched eaves, a screen of spired peaks stands at the clouds’ edge.

Why not share these fishing shallows with a throng of gulls?

Oh how I long to visit Yan Ling at Fuchun! 4 27

career. Moving to Edo was only made possible by becoming the adopted daughter of her paternal aunt’s family, the Sekiyado clan 5. The fact that she had to join another clan, in which women’s travel was allowed, in order to pursue a career says a lot about the social restrictions on women at the time. Considering this, her becoming a professional literati artist was probably one of the few opportunities she had to break away from her fate as the clan official’s daughter. As she was educated in calligraphy and traditional Chinese studies, and had already begun literati painting in her teens 6, it would have been deemed a viable career option.

It is possible that she stayed with literati art, not just because she had the skills and the passion for it, but also because pursuing other types of art such as yōga 洋画, western-style painting, was not as accessible for her. In addition, her social standing together with her unconventional character (she

Fig. 5 Close-up on the pavilion.

28

dressed and acted like a man) helped her become a major figure in the art world.

Examining her biography reveals how Okuhara strategically carved out her life path under unfavourable circumstances to become an established artist. Revisiting Snowscape with this thought in mind, it occurs to me that Okurhara never belonged to the literati herself. She was well-versed in Chinese classics and the style of literati painting but she was never a scholar who longed to retreat to idyllic nature. In fact, when her career diminished in the late 1880s due to a societal shift in artistic taste, she retired to Kumagaya 7, but it was not to follow the steps of the ancient Chinese scholars. Rather, it seems that circumstances forced her to do so. In 1891, when she was fifty-five, interest in her school had declined as western-style realism became more popular, replacing the traditional Chinese-influenced styles. Moreover, a new railway was built through her home and studio, forcing her to move to a new place 8. Art historians McClintock and Weston write that her choice to retire ‘may have been a conscious echoing of the time-honoured pattern of the literatus,’ because the Chinese tradition calls for one to get a good education, make a name for one’s service in government and then retire to the countryside 9. It may have indeed been the justification Okuhara told herself when she retired to Kumagaya, but the fact that she continued painting and developed a new style of full-colour miniatures (suitable for fans and albums called saimitsuga 細密 画) indicates that she did not actually intend to retire. Is it possible that Okuhara never could see herself leading a hermitic life? It is plausible that she practiced literati art whilst not identifying with the accompanying ideals.

Okuhara Seiko was an established literati painter at a time when western ideas and artistic styles were widespread. This article attests that the path she chose in life may have been a strategic one, doing what she saw as a way to subvert the rigid gender roles of late Edo and Meiji-era. Instead of marrying into a prestigious family as daughter of a high-ranking official, she adopted men’s dress and deportment, and flourished within a conservative art form. This provides a possible clue to understanding her painting, Snowscape. Unlike other landscape paintings that portray hermitic scholars, there is no identification with the retired hermit nor a yearning for a hermitic lifestyle.

The painting will draw the viewer’s eyes to the hermit’s hut, but only to let the viewer realise how far away it is. It is conceivable that such an unusual interplay between the hermit and his hut is derived from Okuhara’s uncommon position as female professional artist of a high-class family. The elusiveness of the hermit is perhaps an indication of her inner conflict with conventional literati values.

5 McClintock and Weston, ‘Okuhara Seiko,’ 132.

6 Ibid., 119.

7 Ibid., 143.

8 Okuhara Seiko, ‘Grove Art Online.’

Accessed February 14, 2021. https://doi.org/10.1093/ gao/9781884446054.article.T063379 9 McClintock and Weston, ‘Okuhara Seiko,’ 144.

Suggested Readings ‘Okuhara Seiko,’ Grove Art Online. https://doi.org/10.1093/gao/9781884446054.article.T063379 Pat Fister and Fumiko Yamamoto, Japanese Women Artist, 1600–1900, Lawrence: Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, 1988.

Martha J. Mcclintock and Victoria Weston. ‘Okuhara Seiko: A Case of Funpon Training in Late Edo Literati Painting.’ In Copying the Master and Stealing His Secrets: Talent and Training in Japanese Painting, edited by Brenda G. Jordan and Victoria Weston, 116146. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2003.

Shuishan Yu. Writing an Image: Chinese Literati Art. Rochester, MI: Oakland University Art Gallery, 2009.

29

Fig. 1 Total early-stage Entrepreneurial Activity (TEA) Rates among Adults (ages 18-64) in 48 Economies, in Four Geographic Regions for year 2019.

30

ECONOMICS

ENTREPRENEURSHIP IN JAPAN AND ITS UNIVERSITIES P R A K H AR S AX ENA

Entrepreneurship involves taking risks and making essential investments in uncertain conditions. It also involves innovation, planning, and taking decisions so as to increase productivity. Hence why it plays a key role in the economic development of a country and the creation of jobs. In the past few decades, universities worldwide have become a hotbed for entrepreneurial activities.

Google, Facebook, and Snapchat are a few examples of companies which were started by their respective founders during their time at university.

Presently in Japan, entrepreneurship levels are quite low (Fig. 1), relative both to pre-1991 Japan and to current levels in other developed countries. According to the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM) survey, Japan’s level of risk-taking, which is essential for any kind of entrepreneurial activity, is among the lowest in the world. This was the case as far back as the first GEM survey in 2000, where Japan showed one of the lowest rates of entrepreneurial activity among the 21 participating countries (1.3%).

Moreover, Japan was ranked 106 out of 190 countries for starting a business by The World Bank Doing Business, which is one of the lowest among developed nations. This entrepreneurial gap can be attributed to several factors.

Cultural Factors Almoamem Abdalla, a professor at Tokai Institute of Global Research and Education, claimed that the Japanese are said to interpret the word ‘risk’ (risuku, the English word that has been adopted into their language) as ‘something dangerous that will lead to a negative outcome.’ As a result, it is only natural for people living in Japan do their best to avoid risk 1 . Individualistic and non-confirming behaviour is frowned upon by Japanese society. There is a saying that ‘the nail that sticks out gets hammered down’ (deru kugi wa utareru 出る杭は打 たれる), which reflects the mentality of Japanese society regarding individualistic behaviour. Thus, the fear of failure and resulting social alienation pose a huge psychological barrier for budding entrepreneurs.

1 Abdalla Almoamen, ‘Japan the Risk-Averse,’

nippon.com

(online),

September 26, 2019.

31

Societal Factors Japan is a country where employment in large corporations is much more prestigious and respected than in the US 2 . Due to the historical pattern of permanent employment with the same company (shūshin koyō 終身雇用).

Students are encouraged to join elite universities and work for major conglomerates (keiretsu 企業系列), such as Mitsubishi, rather than take a risk and start their own venture.

Educational Factors In Japan, university Graduate Schools, where the curriculum focuses on entrepreneurial education, account for approximately 10%, a total of 55 schools 3 .

With a lack of historical ventures, present students do not have anyone to look up to, and high-achieving students end up opting for jobs in big companies, MNCs, or government agencies.

Financial Factors Getting capital for start-ups is a major issue. In 2019, venture deals in the USA surpassed 100 billion USD, whereas it was about 4.8 billion USD in Japan 4 (Fig. 2). In turn, it becomes very difficult for the budding entrepreneur to attain the funds for development and expansion.

There has been an increased effort to boost the start-up environment in Japanese universities. Japan has some of the highest ranked universities in the world and is one of the countries with largest number of Nobel laureates. Japan also 32

has a very high research output, meaning there is a huge potential to turn this raw research into commercially applicable products or services. The Japanese government and policy makers are taking steps to inspire students and support them in taking up entrepreneurial activities. As of 2020, most of the public universities in Japan have courses related to entrepreneurship along with some kind of incubator or accelerator.

Most notably, the University of Tokyo, with its ‘Entrepreneur Dojo’ having more than 237 start-up companies, had an estimated market value of $10–$13B in 2015 5 . In addition, Kyoto University’s KYOTO-iCAP firm is doing phenomenal work bringing state-of-the-art research into society by helping passionate individuals to create start-ups.

A high influx of foreign students is another factor which is boosting the number of start-ups in Japan. The government has relaxed conditions for foreigners starting businesses.

Only recently were coworking spaces (as opposed to independent offices) recognised as not fulfilling the requirement of securing an ‘exclusive office space’. However, in response to changing work styles and the emergence of more flexible and diverse office environments, more and more companies are operating in coworking spaces. Under the Personal Advisors System for Foreign Companies, the Japan External Trade Organization ( JETRO) relayed requests to the government from foreign companies to recognise coworking spaces as office spaces, which meet the requirements for acquiring the residence status of ‘Business Manager’. Additionally, the government has started issuing ‘startup visas’ from 2020, which are much

2 Kan-Ichirō Suzuki, Sang-Hoon Kim and Zong-Tae Bae, ‘Entrepreneurship in Japan and Silicon Valley: a comparative study,’ Technovation 22, no. 10 (2002), 595-606.

3 Liao, Li-Hsien, Ting-Yu Ling, and Huang Lifen, ‘The Status of the Entrepreneurship Education in Japan,’ in RECENT RESEARCHES in APPLIED ECONOMICS and MANAGEMENT: Business

Administration

and

Financial

Management, ed. Pedro Lorca and Catalin

Popescu

(Chania:

WSEAS

Press, 2013), 271.

4 Phred Dvorak, ‘Japan Plays CatchUp in Venture Capital as Rivals Boom,’ The Wall Street Journal (online), December 26, 2020.

5 Katsuya Hasegawa and Taketo Sugawara, ‘Characteristics of University Startups in Japan,’ 2017 IEEE Conference Proceedings (TEMSCON), 2017, 70.

Venture deal values (in USD Billion) 160 140 120 100 80 60 40 20 0

U.S.

China

Japan

Fig. 2 Venture deal values for year 2019.

33

easier to obtain compared to traditional ‘business manager visa’ and provides one year to meet the conditions for a ‘business manager visa’ (a necessity for running businesses in Japan). Another positive change is found in the number of incubators and accelerators which have sprung up in the past few years, particularly in Tokyo and Kyoto; these include Start-up Weekend and IMPACT Japan. 500 and Y-combinator (two of the biggest incubators from USA) have also started operating in Japan (Fig. 3).

Overall, in recent years, there has been a measurable and positive effort towards creating an environment which is safe for budding entrepreneurs. The amount of money raised by start-ups in

Fig. 3 Demo day of 500 Kobe Accelerator.

34

Japan has increased by more than seven times in as many years, and venture funds are rising as the government continues to pour money into the business sector. A unit of the government-owned Japan Investment Corp., or JIC, created a $1.2 billion venture-capital fund in 2020 4 . After three decades of economic depression, producing entrepreneurs is one of the most important steps which can be taken to accelerate the Japanese economy, and universities are the most promising places to create such an environment, encouraging students to face challenges and take risks for the future.

Suggested Readings Bosma, Niels, and Donna Kelley. Global Entrepreneurship Monitor Global Report: Global 2018/2019 Global Report. London: Global Entrepreneurship Research Association, 2018.

Karlin, Andrew R. ‘The Entrepreneurship Vacuum in Japan: Why It Matters and How to Address It’ Knowledge@Wharton, January 02, 2013.

Kagami, Shigeo. ‘Innovation and University Entrepreneurship: Challenges Facing Japan Today.’ In Innovation, Technology Transfers, Finance, and Internationalization of SMEs’ Trade and Investment, ed. Sothea Oum et al., 97–121. Jakarta: ERIA, 2015.

Hasegawa, Katsuya and Sugawara, Taketo. ‘Characteristics of University Startups in Japan.’ 2017 IEEE Conference Proceedings (TEMSCON), 67–72. Santa Clara, CA: IEEE, 2017.

Liao, Li-Hsien, Ting-Yu Ling, and Huang Lifen. ‘The Status of the Entrepreneurship Education in Japan.’ In RECENT RESEARCHES in APPLIED ECONOMICS and MANAGEMENT: Business Administration and Financial Management, ed. Pedro Lorca and Catalin Popescu, 269-273. Vol. 1. Chania: WSEAS Press, 2013.

Shinato Teruo, Katsuyuki Kamei, and Léo-Paul Dana. ‘Entrepreneurship Education in Japanese Universities - How Do We Train for Risk Taking in a Culture of Risk Adverseness?’ International Journal of Entrepreneurship and Small Business 20, no. 2, 184–204.

2013.

35

FASHION

REVIEW

MAISON KITSUNÉ AND URBAN MINIMALISM P I E R O ZE N I

I first discovered the Maison Kitsuné store during a vacation to Paris in 2019 while on one of my strolls around the city.

The boutique I visited really piqued my interest towards this French-Japanese brand with its fun and good-looking garments. I was drawn to its attractive, simple, yet high-quality clothing, and was enticed further when subsequent research revealed the experimental and diverse silhouettes presented in their seasonal collections. Maison Kitsuné is known by many as a popular fashion label, but in fact it has a more diverse variety of products and services than you might think. The Maison was founded as a music label (Kitsuné Musique) in 2002

by Gildas Loaëc and Masaya Kuroki, and expanded shortly after to include a luxury fashion label (Maison Kitsuné), and later a bar/restaurant chain (Café Kitsuné). The brand’s joining of two different cultures is implicit in its name.

In French, maison represents the nature of the brand: a prestigious business (fashion) house. In Japanese, kitsune means fox: an animal that, among other things, is a symbol of versatility in Japan, and it is for this reason that the brand uses the many faces of the fox to represent the different components and details of Maison Kitsuné. The brand offers a unique lifestyle, blending Parisian and the Tokyoite attitudes and aesthetics.

The brand is currently very popular in Asia, thanks to its flagship stores, such 36

Maison Kitsuné Spring-Summer 2021 Collection.

as in Seoul, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Honolulu, Bangkok, and Shanghai. Their success is built upon strategic image branding, from fancy boutiques to the high-end Café Kitsuné, which offers a variety of products, including tableware and accessories, as well as high-quality foods and beverages drawn from French and Japanese cuisine. Every branch has a distinct, welcoming, and thoughtfully curated interior adapted to its location, ranging from a modern and urban look in Paris to a more minimalist and wooden look in Tokyo.

The Ready-to-Wear line was first launched in 2005 and had its high fashion debut in 2019, with the Maison’s first ever Paris Fashion Week collection; it has seen incredible growth in recent years, thanks to its fun, recognisable, and high-quality collections. The majority of the Ready-to-Wear pieces are made in Portugal. They are not mass-produced, but made in small factories, selected for their high production standards, ensuring quality in the materials and craftsmanship.

Overall Maison Kitsuné has very clean and simply designed garments, perfect as every-day pieces or for more formal occasions, though sometimes a little too minimalist for my taste. An example of a recurrent theme is the illustration of a fox’s head in various shades, such as grey, orange, and multi-coloured.

The illustration can be found on a variety of different clothing types. Another recurring detail is the little embroidered fox, in different colours and with different patterns, which can be found on various clothes, such as t-shirts and polo necks.

Maison Kitsuné describes their seasonal Ready-to-Wear collections as a ‘perfect balance

between comfort and simplicity’, showcasing a blend between the two fashion perceptions of France and Japan.

This simplicity is accompanied by the reinterpretation of classic garments, which gives a sense of freshness to the collections, like with the fluffy stripes pullover. The design can be described as a blend between modern streetwear, sharp tailoring, and comfort. Their catalogue contains a wide range of sweaters, pullovers, shirts, and t-shirts, produced in various basic colours, with unique special details that give each piece its own characteristic. Consequently, these details let the brand differentiate itself from other fashion houses.

Café Kitsuné, Tokyo.

37

While Maison Kitsuné conveys a feeling of uniqueness and inspiration to its customers, the brand goes even further.

Every seasonal collection presents innovative and original clothes with new patterns, materials and silhouettes, specific for each collection, which ensures a cycle of continual development in their design language. Arguably, a wider range of bags would add value to this variety. Currently, the Maison offers only cotton tote bags with different prints. A bag collection produced in leather, or in more sustainable and versatile materials, designed with the unique French-Japanese style of Maison Kitsuné would be very interesting and demonstrate the true nature of the fash-

ion house and their bicultural origins.

Japanese minimalism and functionalism could join with French delicacy to form an elegant-utilitarian bag collection, maintaining a clean and simple design aesthetic. Maison Kitsuné could also benefit from being more transparent about their production and sourcing procedures. The Maison doesn’t provide any information about sustainable or ethical practices. More informative and transparent communication with the customer could really bring value to the brand.

The spring/summer 2021 collection draws inspiration from the two cities that have influenced the brand since its inception: Paris and Tokyo. The French and Japanese approaches to the contemporary fashion scene, the different lifestyles and characteristics of the two

Maison Kitsuné Spring-Summer 2021 Collection.

38

cities, are at its heart: A combination of the French chic aesthetic and the Japanese modern approach. Simplicity and elegance of design continue to be represented in this collection. Pastel colours contrast with earthy tones; polo shirts, trench coats, and sailor tops are reinterpreted with workwear and long-lasting fabrics. The collection provides a harmonious cohesion between each piece, in both colour and form. It gives a sophisticated look while remaining simple. These pieces really show a mix of streetwear and elegance: the many pockets placed on trench coats, the stripe-pattern on polo shirts, the refined material on baggy trousers, and so on. Being a spring/summer collection, more light and airy pieces like tops and long dresses are on offer.

These items fit very well with the overall design language of the collection, especially the skirts and various types of dresses, which are given long pleats and a more urban look, rather than a

rigid and defined form. In addition to these summer clothes, Maison Kitsuné has unveiled eye-catching headwear, notable not for its pattern but for its form. The hats have a wide brim, especially at the back, providing protection from the sun, and are colour-matched to the other pieces. The Maison also offers a Parisian collection for men and women, described by the brand as a redefinition of the modern Parisian’s silhouette. It is characterised by the brand’s signature tricolour fox logo that evokes the French flag and stands in contrast with the standard monochromatic logo. Moreover, there is the ‘ACIDE’ collection, with a genderless arty design and a new signature logo called the ‘ACIDE Fox’. Overall Maison Kitsuné offers a great range of clothes, from basics and classics to more fun and experimental, with its own bicultural taste.

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FILM

REVIEW

SAYONARA TV: A BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT JAPAN’S NEWS MEDIA A U R E L B AE L E in collaboration with N I P P ON CON N ECTI ON

Is mainstream media on its way out? Is it indeed time to say sayōnara to TV? With the rise of social media over the last decade, traditional news outlets around the world seem to be in steady decline, including in Japan. This is apparent at Tōkai TV, a local news station in Nagoya, where director Hijikata Kōji recently delivered a highly intriguing and captivating behind-the-scenes look at the Japanese world of news production through his 2020 documentary, Sayonara TV. The film follows the day-to-day lives of three individuals at the station for a full year, with the rest of the production team such as editors and technicians remaining in the background as extras.

First, there is Fukushima, the anchor of the main news programme, News One, who is conflicted about being the centre of attention whilst having to keep his opinions to himself. Sayonara TV briefly shows how Fukushima was met with a wave of criticism on social media in August 2011 in what became known as the Caesium-san scandal, wherein the Tōkai TV-affiliated channel Pīkan TV named ‘suspicious rice, Caesium-san’ as the winner of regionally produced rice from Iwate Prefecture, alluding to possible radioactive contamination.

Second is veteran journalist Sawamura, who is critical of the way media companies selectively filter their content for broadcasts. Third is newcomer and aspiring journalist Watanabe, who is on a one-year contract as an intern and struggles to deliver results.

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Fig. 1 Poster for the movie Sayonara TV (2020)

by Hijikata Kōji.

Through these individuals, Hijikata offers us a nuanced picture of the challenges faced by the media, as well as its role in society. However, some of these challenges are more straightforward than others. Of particular intrigue is the position of the media employees themselves. From the very first scene, Hijikata highlights how reactions from news station workers, used to being behind the scenes, are much like what you would expect from any member of the public when cameras intrude on

their personal lives. Another issue concerns the role the media traditionally plays as the fourth estate in a modern political system. When defining their role, the Japanese media prioritises reports regarding day-to-day incidents and problems, with a secondary focus on protecting the more vulnerable groups in society, while politics is given considerably less critical attention. Coupled with the continuous pressure to improve the declining viewership, and the drive for efficiency and high productivity within tight time constraints, these images provide a clear idea of the problems faced by the media. Moreover, Tōkai TV belongs to Fuji News Network, which itself is a part of the Fujisankei Communications conglomerate: one of the biggest commercial media companies in Japan.

The race for higher ratings, the focus on trivialities, and the advertising of products for increased profits make the

media complicit in political decay and public ignorance. In launching such criticisms, the documentary is somewhat reminiscent of Noam Chomsky’s description of mass media in ‘Manufacturing Consent’. However, it is perhaps Sawamura’s questioning of the nature of reality in media that forms the most salient point raised in this documentary. One could argue that Sayonara TV is simply about the media and its filtering of news, and yet the conclusion suggests that it could also be interpreted as a critique of the documentary itself.

Fig. 2 Editing team behind the news programme.

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Despite its creative depiction of the industry, one element throughout Sayonara TV remains ambiguous for the overall narrative: the position of the director. For whom and with what purpose does he create this film? Hijikata is in fact affiliated with Tōkai TV, thereby creating a professional bias that warrants some scepticism, particularly as the original documentary was shot just before the commemoration of the station’s 60 th anniversary (2018). This ambiguity as to the true intentions of the director feels disappointing, and even somewhat deceptive. Nevertheless, Sayonara TV delivers a provocative and interesting insight into a modern-day Japanese news broadcaster in a way that helps us to reflect on our own views about media.

Fig. 3 Team meeting of editing team with Hijikata at bottom center.

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WASSH OI!

PROUDLY PRESENTS ITS FIRST THEMATIC ISSUE TO BE PUBLISHED IN SUMMER 2022

LOVE IN JAPAN

We are looking for contributors who would like to write an article on this theme. If you have an innovative or interesting idea to develop, why not make your shout heard?

Send us an e-mail with your abstract by August 22nd at: info@wasshoimagazine.org For more details, please refer to the guidelines accessible on our website! https://www.wasshoimagazine.org/call-for-papers 43

FILM

POPULAR CULTURE

REVIEW

ŌTOMO KATSUHIRO’S VIEWS ON BROTHERHOOD AND CHILDHOOD IN HIS ANIMATED MOVIE, AKIRA M AR T Y B O R SOT T I

Akira is an animated movie directed by Ōtomo Katsuhiro, released in 1988.

The script is loosely based on Ōtomo’s manga of the same name, which is set in a dystopian Japan in 2019, coping with the aftermath of a third world war.

Tokyo’s city centre has been wiped out by an unknown weapon and subsequently rebuilt as Neo-Tokyo, which is about to host the 2020 Olympic Games (what an eerie prediction, right?). Despite this futuristic setting the society depicted screams of late 1980s global unrest, where punk culture and the perceived death of the urban lifestyle utopia foreshadowed the oncoming socio-economic crisis of the 1990s.

In Akira we observe motorbike gang wars, social neurosis and a decaying system, with a sparkle of apocalyptical anxiety and political conspiracy typical of the Cold War period. Similar themes are found in what can be considered as Akira’s Western alter-ego, Alan Moore’s monumental Watchmen, which denounces the decadence of his time and the foolishness of the Cold War conflict.

In both its formats, Akira set a standard in Japanese pop-cultural productions, and it is commonly believed to be a key moment in the development of the manga industry. For its astonishing visuals and immersive soundtrack Akira has since become a classic of Japanese animation, and its influence can still be 44

perceived nowadays in all types of media, from street-art to fashion and, of course, animation itself. For this review I would like to focus on its depiction of human nature through the relationship between Kaneda, the hero, and Tetsuo, the villain (and victim) of the movie.

Childhood has been one of Otomo’s favourite themes, notable throughout his career, and Akira depicts the response of teenagers to a discernibly twisted and necrotic adult society. The concluding part of the manga, which presents the brutality of human nature through the actions of a self-governing group of kids imitating adult society, evokes Wil-

1

liam Golding’s Lord of the Flies (1954) and Ōe Kenzaburō’s 2 Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids (1958).

At the very beginning of the movie, right before a masterful motorbike pursuit scene, the author suggests how Tetsuo admires his friend Kaneda to the point of developing a sense of inferiority. This subtle feeling of unease is conveyed by the character’s body language, as he lowers his eyes when confronted by his friends. On the opposite end of the spectrum lies Kaneda, who plays the conflicting roles of gang leader and protective surrogate big brother. Despite being unrelated, the two share a strong bond since they grew up together in the same orphanage, where Kaneda constantly protected his frequently harassed friend. Their cursed destiny is set in motion at the end of the introductory segment of the movie, when Tetsuo is severely injured in an accident caused by his impetus to finish off an already defeated rival gang member.

Ironically, his desire to be recognized as a valid member of his gang and his urge to expel his rage dooms the young boy. The movie kicks in as Tetsuo is taken hostage by the army, which is conducting research on biological weapons and psychic warfare, and becomes the subject of experimentation to induce supernatural powers. Tetsuo’s psychological breaking point is reached when he realises how strong his powers are, thus shattering his sense of inferiority.

He starts behaving as a demi-god bound to punish the oppressive world that has always been unfair to him.

The figure of Kaneda intensifies Tetsuo’s reactionary attitude, as the little brother seeks autonomy, beyond the shadow of the big brother. What is sug-

1 William Golding, Nobel Prize winning British author (1911 - 1993).

2 Ōe Kenzaburō, Nobel Prize winning Japanese Author, born in 1935.

3 The suffix -chan attached to names is often used in a familiar way to refer to young girls. This suffix can also be used to highlight a close family relation (brother; father; mother), in a friendship or in a love relationship. In some instances -chan is used to indicate something small and cute like a puppy.

gested here is the individualisation of the little brother, who observes his elder and builds his own identity through antagonism and confrontation. In the very first scene in which Tetsuo displays his overwhelming power, he does not hesitate to say, ‘I won’t be needing you to come to the rescue, okay? I’ll be in charge of the heroics. So, if you need any saving, just ask, Kaneda-chan’. 3 The tone and the phrasing convey this change in Tetsuo, who talks to his friend as though he was dealing with a small child or a young girl. This very first confrontation with the little brother marks a turning point for Kaneda too, as in a very puerile way he responds to anger with anger, instinctively trying to maintain his leadership over Tetsuo.

45

Yet, despite this friction, Kaneda never abandons one of his own and is aware of his responsibility over his friend’s actions. This is conveyed by a particular line: ‘He’s not your friend, he’s ours! If somebody’s gonna kill him, it should be us!’, which could be understood as if Tetsuo is one of us, we are the ones bound to deal with his punishment. The relationship between these two characters is further fleshed out before the conclusive segment of the movie, when the two declare their mutual hostility: ‘Kaneda, you always treat me like a kid. You always show up and start bossing me around!’, and the reply, ‘That’s Mr. Kaneda to you, punk!’. Thus, a strong intention of breaking all social ties is conveyed: the family is no more. Without context this particular exchange is reminiscent of an argument between two normal teenagers; but within Akira’s nihilistic framework, it translates to a murderous declaration.

dreamlike segment Kaneda is shown a flashback of their first encounter and can now feel all of Tetsuo’s insecurities and torments, finally acknowledging his pain.

However, despite all this vocalised rage, the bond between the two is a strong one and the surrogate big brother will not give up on his little brother.

During their last confrontation, Tetsuo loses control of his powers, which escape the boundaries of his own body, deforming it and engulfing him, like an amoeba absorbing everything it touches. Frightened by the consequences of his own doing, Tetsuo reverts to his former self, the little brother in need of protection: ‘Kaneda! Help me!’. Our hero will not hesitate in sacrificing himself to rescue his friend, thus affirming that their relationship was not broken, despite Tetsuo’s rebellion. In a

In the end, the two friends are separated, and the viewer is left unaware of Tetsuo’s destiny. Yet, in Akira’s final moments we hear three simple words: ‘I am Tetsuo’. One could argue that such a conclusion represents Tetsuo’s coming of age. The frail child entered into adolescence amid a crisis of the self and feelings of antagonism toward his family. To become an adult, this angry kid needed to reconcile these conflicts and learn how to share his feelings. To some extent, Akira can be understood as a metaphor for growing up, and an archetype of the problematic young men of its epoch.

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In a flashback Tetsuo remembers his childhood with Kaneda.

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48

FOOD CULTURE

BILINGUAL ESSAY

きらい箸 著者: 本田綾香 訳者: アメリア・リプコ,

マーティ・ボルソッティ

INCORRECT WAYS TO USE CHOPSTICKS AYAKA HONDA

私 は ふとした 時 に海 外 の 人 の「 お 箸 の マナ ー」について気になることがある。お箸はアジ アの一部の国の文化であり、私たちはスプー ンやフォークのマナーは知らないのでお互い 様である。 私たちは幼い頃から両親や、学校 の先生にお箸の持ち方や、お箸を使うにあた ってのルールを自然と学んできた。 日本には「嫌い箸や 、忌み箸」という、お箸 を使う際にやってはいけない無作法な行為と されているルールがある。 およそ１６種類程の「嫌い箸・忌 み箸」とい うやってはいけないお箸の使い方があるが、 日本人の私が特に気になる嫌い箸について、 いくつか紹介していきたいと思う。 まず一つ目は、よく目にすることがある 「刺 し箸」。 この行為は、料理に箸を突き刺して食 べることを意味する。 箸本来の使い方に「食 べ物を突き刺す」という概念は無く、 「 挟んで 食べる道具」である。 日本人の子どもたちも、 はじめは箸の扱いに慣れていないので、上記 のような刺し箸をしてしまうことが多い。 しかし、何年も練習を重ねてやっと箸本来の 扱いに慣れていくのだ。 箸を使うことが不慣 れな外国人が、箸を使う際に挟んで食べるこ とを諦めて、フォークのように使ってしまう光 景を幾度か見たことがあるが、これは当たり 前と言っても良い。

AMELI A LIPKO, MARTY BORSOT TI (TRANS.)

There are times when, without meaning to, I find myself getting concerned about foreigners’ chopstick manners.

Chopsticks are a cultural asset for many Asian countries. In Japan we are not wellversed in Wester table manners, and the same could be said for foreigners and chopsticks. From a very young age we naturally learn proper chopstick etiquette, as it is taught to us by our parents and teachers.

In Japan we have several rules – known collectively as kiraibashi 嫌い箸 or imibashi 忌み箸 1 – that we follow to avoid ill-mannered chopstick use. These rules identify roughly 16 practices that should be avoided. I would like to introduce some of the rules that, as a Japanese person, I personally believe are important to abide by.

The first, and perhaps the most common mistake, is sashibashi 刺し箸 – stabbing food with chopsticks to bring it closer to your mouth. Chopsticks were not designed to skewer but rather to grip the food you want to eat. Stabbing food is quite common among young children, as they are learning how to hold chopsticks and are not yet able to use them properly.

1 Translator’s note: Both terms mean ‘things prohibited by chopstick manners’.

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何故なら、私はすべての料理を器用に箸の みで食べるが、これは長年の練習の成果なの だ。また、似たような嫌い箸で「立て箸」(Fig. 1) は、死者の枕元に供えるご飯に箸を突き刺 して立てることを意味する。 日本では仏様（死んだ人の前）への食べ物 に箸を突き刺してお供えをすることによって、 生者と仏前を明確に区別しているので、この 行為はタブーとなる。 私はこの立て箸をして いる外国人を初めて見た際、かなり驚きとっさ にその箸をご飯から引き抜いてしまった。 な ぜ 私 がその 行 動をしたのか 説 明をしたの だが、日本特有の文化に驚かれた。 立て箸を 見て仏壇を想像してしまうのは日本人であれ ば当然であろう。

However, as years of experience pile up, everyone grasps how to handle their chopsticks the proper way. I have often seen foreigners struggling in vain to use chopsticks correctly, only to give up and use them like a fork instead – a reasonable response, all thing considered. If you are wondering how I am that handy with chopsticks, it is thanks to many years of practice.

In a similar vein, another habit to be avoided is tatebashi 立て箸 (Fig. 1) – the practice of planting chopsticks vertically into a bowl of rice. This is traditionally done at Japanese funerals, where the food is placed by the pillow of the deceased as a ritual offering to Buddha 2 . The chopsticks act as a way to clearly separate the living from the dead, and it is therefore considered taboo to thrust chopsticks into a rice bowl during meals. The first time I saw a foreigner stick their chopsticks into a bowl of rice, I was so surprised that I quickly pulled them out. I promptly explained why I did it, but they were nonetheless surprised by this peculiarity of Japanese culture. I think, for Japanese people, seeing tatebashi naturally brings to mind the image of a Buddhist altar.

2 Translator’s note: Offering food to the deceased within the context

Fig. 1 Tatebashi 立て橋.

of ancestor cult is done in a similar manner.

People

usually

place

a

bowl of rice in front of the Buddhist altar (butsudan 仏壇) at their home and

thrust

chopsticks

in

it

to

metaphorically send food to their gone loved ones.

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次に「箸渡し」。箸から箸へと食べ物を渡す 行為の事を指すのだが、日本人は死んだ人の 火葬の後、死者の骨を拾う際に全く同じ行為 をするのでかなり縁起が悪い。日本人は箸に 関 わるお 葬式や 遺骨を拾う際の動作を連想 させることはマナー違反である。 外国人に箸 渡しの行為を促される際、私はお皿を差し出 すようにしている。 不思議な顔をされるが、日 本の文化が染 みついてしまっている私は、嫌 でも遺骨や死者を連想してしまうのだ。

The next habit that I would like to discuss is called hashiwatashi 箸渡し. It refers to the action of passing food from your chopsticks to someone else’s and is believed to bring bad fortune. The reason for this lies again within funeral practices.

In Japan, after someone is cremated, the unburnt bones are picked up and passed between the family members with special long chopsticks, before being placed in an urn. Seeing food passed between chopsticks tends to remind Japanese people of this mournful practice. When I eat with foreigners, I try to anticipate their eventual hashiwatashi by holding out the dish. They look at me quite puzzled, but whether I like it or not, being heavily influenced by my own culture means that seeing food passed between chopsticks inevitably reminds me of dead people and their bones.

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日本に住んでいる私も 「寄せ箸・指し箸・迷 い箸」を行っている日本人を時々見かけるこ とがある。 寄せ箸は、食器を箸を使い手前に寄せるこ と。指し箸は食事中に人を箸で指 す（人を指 で指すような感覚で行う）こと。迷い箸は、ど の料理を食べようか迷い、料理の上をあちこ ち箸を動かすことである。 基本的には大いに 盛り上がって、大人数で食事をしている際に 起こりがちな行為である。 その状況では、楽 しく食事をすることが優先となるので、多少の マナー違反であれば 多めに見る人が大多数 であろう。 また、知らずにマナー違反をしてし まっているケースも時々見かける。 その際は、 身内や 親しい間柄であれ ば お 互 いにさりげ なく注意しあうのだ。 もちろん 、これ は日 本 特 有 の マナーで あ り、中国や 韓国ではまた違ったルールが出て くるであろう。 近年、海外に日本の寿司やラーメンが浸透 してきたこの 時 代 だからこそ、お 箸を使う機 会がある人もいるだろう。 日本人は外国人の 箸の使い方を重要視はしていない。 しかし、 知識や 文化に触れるために、楽しみながら、 お箸の使い方について調べ実践してみるのも また一つ面白いかもしれない。

Living in Japan, I have at times caught sight of Japanese people making mistakes known as yosebashi 寄せ箸, sashibashi 指し箸 3 and mayoibashi 迷い箸.

Yosebashi is a term we use to describe the action of bringing a dish closer to you by pulling it with chopsticks. Sashibashi is when you use chopsticks to point at someone while eating (very similar to pointing at someone with your finger).

The last mistake, mayoibashi, is the action of moving your chopsticks over bowls and dishes while thinking about what to eat next. These mistakes tend to occur during lively meals with larger groups. On such occasions, because having a good meal is the priority, the majority of people will overlook these kinds of minor offences. Additionally, people sometimes make these mistakes without realizing. In such instances, if they are family or close friends, they will probably casually let each other know.

These rules are of course specific to Japan, and so it is quite possible that Chinese and Korean cultures have different rules regarding how to correctly use chopsticks. In recent years, with foods like sushi and ramen becoming popular abroad, more people are likely having the opportunity to use chopsticks. Generally, I do not think that Japanese people attach too much importance to the way foreigners handle their chopsticks. Nonetheless, I believe that learning and practicing correct chopstick manners can be an interesting and fun way to learn about Japanese culture and customs.

3 Translator’s note: This word is read the same as sashibashi mentioned in the first example but written with different Japanese characters. The first sashibashi is written as 刺し箸, and the second one as 指し箸.

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Fig. 1 Matsui Sumako portrayed as ‘Monna Vanna’ in the homonymous theatrical play, 1913.

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MUSIC

FILM

HISTORY

MIXING MEDIA

JAZZ, THEME SONGS, AND JAPANESE CINEMA IN THE 1930S A U R E L B AE L E

Now they are trying to jazz up the whole world. The main cause of that jazzification is nothing other than the film theme song. This [jazzification] is the business policy of film companies and record companies joining hands 1 .

At the beginning of the 1930s Japan witnessed a veritable jazz boom. The success of the theme song for the 1929 film Tōkyō March (Tōkyō kōshinkyoku) brought jazz into the consciousness of the Japanese people. Record and film companies systematically tapped into such golden formulas and exploited this mixing of media in the following years. Thus, the audial and visual utilisation of jazz on screen was there to stay, becoming almost omnipresent in Japanese cinema. In that respect, Terakawa’s analysis was quite apt for his time. Yet many general histories of pre-war Japanese filmmaking neglected the use of popular theme songs in films. In recent years, however, there has been renewed interest in this aspect of Japanese cinema, particularly regarding the context of the 1930s.

The decade was, after all, a tumultuous one: economic troubles, the beating of war drums, cosmopolitanism, colonialism, technological advances, and, of course, a vibrant entertainment industry. Technological developments in the 1920s made it possible to have sound come from the film itself rather than from a live performance. Even so, this

sonic turn in Japan was a gradual one, and was only fully established towards the end of the 1930s. Moreover, despite initial attempts for cooperation in the years prior, 1927 marked an important turning point with the arrival of foreign record companies and new business practices. So, how did films and records make Japan jazz up in the 1930s? And how did the record and film companies cooperate? What follows is an attempt to briefly sketch out how theme songs, the entertainment industry, and jazz were connected, forming a crucial part of the sound revolution in pre-war Japanese cinema.

1 Shin Terakawa, ‘The Present and Film Theme Songs – Looking at the Sales of Records,’ Eiga kyōiku, no. 55 (1932), 24.

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Sound in Cinema before 1930s Despite being called the silent era, Japanese cinema in the decades before 1930 were much more sound-orientated than the name would let us believe.

Japanese and foreign films were often narrated by a benshi, a film narrator, who interpreted the story and gave voice to protagonists and antagonists.

With their lively performance, benshi came to stardom and social prominence in the 1910s and 1920s. Their success was in part the result of cooperation with the film industry, which focused on exhibition, thereby gaining wider attention. Additionally, benshi were fea-

tured in popular magazines, affording them a greater allure. It is argued that another reason for the success of benshi were their vocal performances. They used techniques similar to the musical accompaniment found in traditional Japanese theatre, such as nagauta and gidayu, yet transformed it into something modern 2 .

However, their popularity and influence were already under scrutiny from the authorities, who attempted to regulate and control benshi in the name of protecting social mores. During screenings, live music performances could be heard too, as benshi were also accompanied by musicians.

The arrival of sound films - in the US with The Jazz Singer (1927) and in Japan with The Neighbour’s Wife and Mine (Madamu to nyōbō; 1931) - was not welcomed by either of those groups, who saw their means of living endangered. Nevertheless, this technological advancement did not immediately signal the death of the benshi, who would only be gradually losing terrain in the 1930s. Indeed, it is generally accepted that the costs for new equipment to shoot and play sound films in Japanese cinema were high.

Fig 2 Cover for the music sheets of Shōchiku’s Milky Way (Ginga), 1931.

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Film Theme Songs The close relationship between film and recorded music can be first traced back to the popular Song of Katchusa. Composed by Nakayama Shinpei, this hit was released in 1914 by Orient Records with a performance by Matsui Sumako (Fig. 1). The record formed the basis for a film adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s novel Resurrection later that year, and accompanied the screening. This practice was considered profitable and would characterise the Taishō Period (1912-1926).

Usually, a song became a hit prior to the release of the film, another example being The Boatsman’s Ballad (sendō kouta). It was released on record in 1922

by Airplane Records, Orient Records, and finally by Nittō Records when the song had already become a hit. Only in 1923 was the song adapted into a Shōchiku movie. Such productions were called ‘ballad films’, or kouta eiga, and the theme songs were popular music genres like ballads (kouta) or new folk songs (shinmin’yō). Theme songs could be played at various points throughout the film, as well as in the intermission with the gramophone to keep the audience captivated and their attention focussed during the whole screening.

1927-1928 was a turning point with the establishment of three record companies who were subsidiaries to the American Victor Talking Machine Company, Anglo-American Columbia, and German Polydor. Besides new advertising strategies and technology, these companies also brought new business practices like the exclusive contract system. Another crucial element was how the big three altered cooperation for the media mix. Nippon Victor and Nikkatsu pioneered in this practice with

2 Fujiki, Hideaki. ‘Benshi as Stars: The Irony of the Popularity and Respectability of Voice Performers in Japanese Cinema,’ Cinema Journal 45, no. 2 (2006): 68–84.

3 Shūhei Hosokawa, ‘Katsutarō’s Trilogy: Popular Song and Film in the Transitional Era from Silent Film to Talkie,’ in The Culture of the Sound Image in Prewar Japan, eds. John Michael Raine and Johan Nordström (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020), 84.

the song Loving You (Kimi koishi). The second collaboration between those companies for Tōkyō March (1929) was an attempt to change the process yet again. However, as musicologist Hosokawa Shūhei pointed out, Tōkyō March was an exception to the rule, even in the 1930s 3 . Nippon Victor released the jazzy theme song which was composed by Nakayama Shinpei, written by Saijō Yaso, and sung by Satō Chiyako.

Although the cinema release flopped, music sales broke records at the time with 300,000 discs sold. Other film theme songs or eiga shudaika followed suit, such as Ballad of Gion (Gion kouta; 1929), Miss Nippon (Misu Nippon; 1930), Waitress (Jokyū; 1931), and A Foreigner’s Luck (Tōjin o-kichi; 1930). Moreover, this media mix went beyond the two entertainment sectors, relying on aggressive advertising in print media (magazines, newspapers, scoresheets, songbooks, etc.), in cafés through gramophones, and via radio.

57

Theme Songs and Popular Trends in Society The success of theme songs in the early 1930s lay in the fact that they responded to popular trends in society. Jazz, or the amalgam of popular music genres that fell under that label, was chosen for such theme songs. With the rapid technological progress being made, music came to signify the energetic and cosmopolitan nature of modern life. In The Neighbour’s Wife and Mine his idea is glorified in the theme song Speed Times (Supīdo jidai). The madame next door, who performs in a jazz band, extols the marvels of operating an elevator while singing ‘speed hoi’. Additionally, a wave of erotic, grotesque, and nonsensical (ero guro nansensu) imagery swept Japan in the 1930s. This phenomenon was an exploration of the boundaries of modern life and jazz was related to this phenomenon. Companies eagerly provided visual and audible content in response to this increased interest in the erotic. After all, feelings could be commodified as well. Although there were other types of music to be heard during screenings, jazzy tunes were ubiquitous in the theme songs.

Though jazz theme songs were enormously popular, this trend was subdued by the nationalist trumpet, with the invasion of Manchuria by the Japanese army in September 1931. While there was some consumer demand for military music, the media were eager to profit from the nationalist wave by massively reporting and publishing entertainment on the war 4 . Record companies Nippon Victor and Nippon Columbia led the way by issuing new recordings and reissuing older military songs and speeches. They were soon followed by other companies who hoped to cash in as well. Such war enthusiasm did not escape the newspapers, either. In January 1932, the Tōkyō 58

Asahi Shinbun reported two reasons for this change under a dramatic title ‘The storm engulfing the record business’.

According to the article, the success of military and patriotic songs overtook film themes not merely due to the invasion itself, but because the public could no longer consume the relentless output of theme songs produced by the record companies 5 . However, this thinly veiled criticism against capitalist practices failed to stop record companies from continuing their partnership with the film industry. They released theme songs and films in the same pattern as before, but now included works with a patriotic undertone, such as Manchuria March (Manshū kōshinkyoku; 1932).

In Hollywood, theme songs were popular up until the mid-1930s, after which they declined due to a downturn in box-office revenue 6 . In Japan, however, the media mix remained highly advantageous, and theme songs continued to be produced in increasing numbers despite the introduction of talkies (or sound films). There were records for imported talkies, such as The Blue Angel (1930), and domestic ones such the aforementioned Madamu to nyōbō. With the introduction of sound technologies, attention on the audible grew in general movie magazines such as The Movie Times (Kinema junpō), more specialised ones such as Film and Music (Eiga to ongaku), and music magazines such as Music World (Ongaku sekai). Because of the technological advancements, music could be played virtually throughout the whole film.

The reasoning for the popularity of jazz remained more an analysis of society than one of the music itself.

Regarding talkie films, the musicologist Horiuchi Keizō argued that ‘[i]nterest-

4 Louise Young, Japan’s Total Empire: Manchuria and the Culture of Wartime

ing rhythms, counterpoints that are not complex, and easy and clear musical forms are all good. In contrast, the complexity of counterpoints and the Japanese voice weaken impressions, and since complex musical forms do not allow us to focus our attention on the music, the latter is in danger of becoming insignificant’. Yet a moment later, Horiuchi states that the reason for jazz being so prevalent on screen was because the music represented daily life better than highbrow music 7 .

Imperialism, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999, 69, 74-75.

5

‘Rekōdo-kai

wo

fukimakuru

‘arashi’,’ Tōkyō Asahi Shinbun (Tōkyō), Jan. 28, 1932, 10.

6 James Wiezbicki, Film History: A

History

(New

York

and

Oxon:

Routledge, 2009), 116-120 7 Keizō Horiuchi, ‘Tōkī to rebyū ongaku,’

in

Jazu

ongaku

(Tōkyō:

Arusu, 1939), 385.

Fig. 3 Ad for Nitto Records on the back cover of The Sunday Mainichi published the 27 th of March 1932.

59

Jazz, Theme Songs and Musicals By the middle of the 1930s, talkies had found their way into Japanese cinema and become more universal. The tie-up between record and film companies remained profitable and the use of popular theme songs continued from silent films into talkies. However, the circumstances were different for musicals. Cooperation, such as for kouta eiga, discontinued and new theme songs were ordered for the all-music film itself. This would partly inform a remarkable view held by the film critic Fukuda Kōichi in The Movie Times in 1934. He believed that the balance in the relationship between record and film companies had changed. Fukuda saw Japanese film companies, especially Shōchiku, using the record companies for their own benefits. The cause of this change, according to Fukuda, was that record companies were blinded by profits and produced records without a concrete business plan 8 .

The use of jazz in Japanese musicals of the 1930s was heavily influenced

by Hollywood productions. Musical films such as the King of Jazz (1930) (Fig. 4), with the self-acclaimed ‘king’ Paul Whiteman, and The Blue Angel (1930), starring Marlene Dietrich, were in Japanese cinema in the first half of the decade. Despite such influences, Japanese productions worked with and reflected contemporary Japan. Talents were recruited from the theatre and opera worlds or from the jazz scene itself.

Dick Mine, a popular jazz singer, played in several musicals, among which were Makino Masahiro’s Singing Lovebirds (Oshidori Utagassen; 1939) (Fig. 5), Saitō Irajirō’s Tōkyō Blues (Tōkyō burūsu; 1939), and Igayama Masamitsu’s Jazz Chūshingura (1937). Both Singing Lovebirds and Jazz Chūshingura illustrate how 60

syncopated rhythms were not bound by time, since jazz reverberated in gendaigeki-style (contemporary drama) as well as jidaigeki-style (dramas set in the Edo Period, 1603-1868) productions.

However, not all critics could appreciate such eclecticism. An anonymous review in The Movie Times concluded that Jazz Chūshingura was simply an ‘odd’ movie 9 .

In addition, the term ‘jazz’ was a promotional word used in advertisements, like the jazzified (jazu-ka) Chūshingura.

However, using ‘jazz’ in the title, such as Watanabe Kunio’s Jazz on the Streetcorner (Jazu no machikado; 1935), was rather rare.

Fig. 4 Theatrical release poster for the musical film King of Jazz, 1930.

Credits Roll on the 1930s’ Cinema Mixing media was already a successful formula in Japanese cinema of the 1920s, and became highly profitable in the following decade. The arrival of foreign record companies in Japan, by funding and establishing subsidiaries, was crucial, as too was the technological progress being made in cinema.

The production of theme songs in the 1920s became industrialised, with music reflecting not just cultural waves, but social and political ones. However, the transition to sound movies in Japanese filmmaking happened gradually through the 1930s and the benshi still performed in that decade. Nonetheless, by the mid-1930s more and more talkies and musicals were being released.

Fig. 5 Singing Lovebirds, directed by Makino Masahiro, 1939. Cover of the DVD release.

8 Kōichi Fukuda, ‘Eiga shudaika rekōdo, sono hoka,’ Kinema Junpō, no. 497, 58.

9 ‘Jazu Chūshingura,’ Kinema junpō, no. 607, 99.

10 Makiko Kamiya, ‘ ‘Meirō’ jidaigeki no poritikusu: ‘oshidori utagassen’ (1939nen, Makino Masahiro) wo chūshin ni,’ Engeki eizōgaku, no. 1 (2011): 135-140.

With the militarisation of Japan, and certainly after the start of the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945), jazz and modernism came under attack. Singing Lovebirds is generally seen as the last great opposition by modernism to Japanese nationalism in the late 1930s, as well as the last representation of jazz in cinemas. However, according to the media historian Kamiya Makiko, one must see the work in light of the political context. In 1937 the whole Empire of Japan was mobilised for the war effort.

The term meirō, or wholesomeness, was used in propaganda to divert attention away from the hard reality of war and its critiques, as well as to maintain a positive national spirit. In 1939 the ministry of culture decreed the adoption of cheerfulness in national leisure. Films that advertised themselves as cheerful, as light-footed works, won popularity during this period 10 .

This begs the question of how and to what extent popular music and film were mobilised for war between 19391945. That, however, is for another screening.

61

Fig. 6 The Neighbor’s Wife and Mine (Madamu to nyōbō, マダムと女房), directed by Gosho Heinosuke, 1931. Frame from the movie.

Suggested Reading Azami Toshio. Nijū seiki Nihon rekōdo sangyō-shi: gurōbaru kigyō no shinkō to shijō no hatten [A History of the Japanese Record Industry of the 20th Century: The Advance of Global Companies and the Development of Markets]. Tōkyō: Keisō Shobō, 2016.

Miyao, Daisuke, ed. The Oxford Handbook of Japanese Cinema. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.

Raine, Michael John, and Nordström, Johan, eds. The Culture of the Sound Image in Prewar Japan. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020.

Spring, Katherine. Saying It with Songs: Popular Music and the Coming of Sound to Hollywood Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013.

Wiezbicki, James. Film Music: A History. New York and Oxon: Routledge, 2009.

62

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63

Year

Event

1970

Start of the EC’s Common Commercial Policy

1973

First Japan-EC High-Level Consultations

1978

Japan-EC Joint Statement First Japan-EC Inter-Parliamentary Meetings

1983

Japanese EC-level voluntary export moderation on ten products

1984

First Japan-EC Ministerial Meetings

1987

Opening of EC-Japan Industrial Cooperation Centre

1991

Japan-EC Joint Declaration First annual Japan-EC summits

1993

Launch of Trade Assessment Mechanism

1994

Launch of Regulatory Reform Dialogue

2001

Launch of a Decade of Japan-Europe Cooperation Action Plan for EU-Japan Cooperation

2002

Japan-EC (EU) Mutual Recognition Agreement (MRA)

2019

Japan-EU Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) Japan-EU Strategic Partnership Agreement (SPA)

Fig. 1 Key Events in the Japan-EC/EU Trade Relations.

64

POLITICS

A HALF CENTURY OF THE JAPAN-EU TRADE RELATIONS FROM TRADE CONFLICTS TO THE ECONOMIC PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT TA RŌ NI S H I K AWA

Significant Development of the ‘Weaker’ Japan-EU Relations Compared closer security and economic relations between Japan and the US and between the European Union (EU) and the US, the Japan-EU relations are described as weaker in the Japan-USEU triangular relations. Nevertheless, since the 1970s, Japan and the European Community (EC, currently the EU) gradually intensified their contacts amid trade conflicts due to their trade imbalance (the EC’s deficit), and institutional settings were built up between

the two parties. Ultimately, in 2019, the Japan-EU Economic Partnership Agreement (EPA) came into effect and the Japan-EU Strategic Partnership Agreement (SPA) was provisionally applied.

While the Japan-EU relations spread from economic issues to political issues especially after the 1990s, this article mainly focuses on trade and economic issues and illustrates how the Japan-EU trade relations has changed during the last fifty years.

The 1970s: Increasing Contacts amid Trade Conflicts ‘Duality’ of the Japan-EC Trade Negotiations Due to Japanese ‘torrential’ exports to the EC in certain goods such as tape recorder, TVs, steel, and automobiles, the Japanese Government introduced voluntary export restrains (VERs) under the concept of ‘orderly marketing’ since the early 1970s. Although the EC’s Common Commercial Policy had started in 1970, the Japanese Government introduced VERs vis-à-vis respective EC Member States instead of the EC as a whole. This is because trade relations between Japan and the EC was based

on trade agreements between Japan and EC Member States and a Japan-EC trade agreement was absent 1 .

1 Chihiro Hosoya, ‘EC Nihon-kan no bōeki fundō wo meguru kōshō’ [EC-Japan

Negotiations

on

Trade

Disputes], Kokusai mondai, no. 237 (1979): 8–11.

65

At the same time, amid trade disputes, institutional settings for dialogue were built up between Japan and the EC as a whole, such as the Japan-EC High-Level Consultations (between the Japanese Government and the EC Commission) from 1973 and the Japan-EC Inter-Parliamentary Meetings (between the Japanese Diet and the European Parliament) from 1978. In sum, since Japan discussed trade issues with both the EC Commission and EC Member States, the Japan-EC trade relations in the 1970s was characterized by the ‘duality of negotiation actors’ in the EC side 2 .

The 1980s: Intensifying Trade Conflicts ‘Internal Issue-Driven’ Institutionalization After a brief cool-down of trade conflicts provided by the Japan-EC Joint Statement in 1978, the trade deficit on the EC side grew again in 1980 3 . Amid trade conflicts between Japan and the EC, the EC gradually appeared as a ‘substantial actor’ in Japan-EC trade negotiations 4 .

Indeed, the Japanese Government had negotiated with the EC Commission and that resulted in the first Japanese EC-level 5 voluntary export moderation on ten products agreed in 1983. The moderation was an important ‘turning point’ in developing sectoral trade negotiations from EC Member States-level to EC level. In addition to Japanese 66

exports to the EC, the EC was also concerned about the EC’s market access to Japan ( Japanese imports from the EC), specifically non-tariff barriers in Japan.

At the same time, during the 1980s, Japan-EC cooperation was extended and strengthened in terms of wider issues (such as industrial cooperation), and the Japan-EC Ministerial Meetings were institutionalized from 1984 as regular political consultations 6 .

Recapping briefly, in the 1980s, Japan-EC trade conflicts as Japan-EC ‘internal issues’ drove the institutionalization of dialogue frameworks between Japan and the EC.

2 Chihiro Hosoya and Hiroshi Okuma, ‘EC to Nihon’ [The EC and Japan], in Ōshū kyodōtai (EC) no kenkyū: seijiryokugaku no bunseki [A Study on the EC: Anlaysis of Political Dynamics], eds. Chihiro Hosoya and Yoshikiyo Minami (Tōkyō: Shinyudo, 1980), 355–356.

3 Diplomatic Bluebook 1981 Edition, Part 2, Chapter 1, Section 5, 2., Ministry of Foreign Affairs Japan.

4 Hosoya and Okuma, op.cit, 342.

5 Bulletin of the European Communities, No. 2, 1983, 10.

6 Hidetoshi Nakamura, ‘The EffiFig. 2 Naohiro Amaya, Japanese DirectorGeneral of the Basic Industries Bureau, met Etienne Davignon, Member of the CEC in charge of Internal Market and Industrial Affairs and Customs Union.

ciency of European External Action and the Institutional Evolution of EU-Japan Political Relations’, in The EU’s Foreign Policy: What Kind of Power and Diplomatic Action?, eds. Mario Telò and Frederik Ponjaert (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), 196–197.

7 Shigeyuki Iwaki, ‘Nihon EU kankei no shinten to kadai: Keizai tsūshō bun’ya wo chūshin ni’

[Develop-

ment and challenges of Japan-EU relations:

Focusing

on

economic

and trade areas], Refarensu, no. 682 (2007): 17–19.

The 1990s: Partial Cooling Down of Trade Conflicts New Trade Negotiation Mechanisms From the late 1980s to the early 1990s, amid the end of the Cold War, the EC progressed the creation of the Single European Market and tried to increase the competitiveness of European industries. On the other hand, after the collapse of ‘bubble’ economy, the Japanese economy experienced severe recessions. In this context, particularly after the Japan-EC Joint Declaration in 1991 and the annual Japan-EC summits from 1991, Japan and the EC started to have wider cooperation, including po-

litical issues 7 . Looking at trade issues, Japan-EC trade conflicts partially cooled down, and Japan and the EC started discussing trade issues through more cooperative and mutual mechanisms, such as the Trade Assessment Mechanism from 1993 and the Regulatory Reform Dialogue from 1994. In summary, in the 1990s, the atmosphere between Japan and the EC turned into more cooperative one on economic and political issues.

67

The 2000s: ‘Issue-Seeking’ Relations Stagnation of Trade Relations?

In the annual Japan-EU Summit in 2000, a Decade of Japan-Europe Cooperation was decided to launch, and an Action Plan for EU-Japan Cooperation was agreed as a framework for cooperation in 2001. The plan includes various kinds of issues for cooperation, including promoting peace and security, strengthening the economic and trade partnership, coping with global and societal challenges, and bringing together people and cultures. Moreover, the EC issued the European Security Strategy in 2003, where Japan was mentioned as a ‘strategic partner’. In the field of trade and economy, the Japan-EC (EU) Mutual Recognition Agreement (MRA) came into effect in 2002 and it was the first bilateral MRA for Japan. Moreover, while both Japan and the EC traditionally put emphasis on the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT)/World Trade Organization (WTO) multilateral trade liberalization, in the 2000s, they started negotiating bilateral trade agreements.

For example, Japan firstly signed the

68Fig. 3 35th EU-Japan Interparliamentary meeting.

EPA with Singapore in 2002. The EU also started free trade agreement (FTA) negotiations with South Korea in 2007 and signed the FTA in 2010. Looking at Japan and the EU, based on the recommendation by the EU-Japan Business Dialogue Round Table in 2007, a taskforce to explore the feasibility of a Japan-EU Economic Integration Agreement (EIA) was established respectively in Japan and the EU. The taskforces proposed to establish a new high ministerial level institutional structure to explore ways of stimulating the Japan-EU economic relationship. However, official negotiations of a Japan-EU trade agreement did not start in the 2000s. In sum, compared to ‘issue-driven’ Japan-EC relations amid trade conflicts from the 1970s to the 1980s, the Japan-EU relations in the 2000s can be called as a ‘issue-seeking’ relation 8 . Although the Japan-EU relations became less confrontational in the 2000s, this situation ‘without problems’ paradoxically did not enhance the Japan-EU trade relations well.

8 Michito Tsuruoka, ‘EU to Nihon pātonāshippu no kōzu’ [EU and Japan - Structure of Pertnership], in EU tōgō no kiseki to bekutoru: toransunashonaru-na seiji shakai chitsujo keisei e no mosaku [Trajectory and Vector of EU Integration: Seeking for the Formation of Transnational Political Social Order], eds. Toshiro Tanaka and Katsuhiro Shoji (Tōkyō: Keio University Press, 2006), 387–389.

9 Patricia A. Nelson, ‘Taking the Lead in Current and Future Trade Relationships’, in The EU-Japan Partnership in the Shadow of China: The Crisis of Liberalism, eds. Axel Berkofsky, Christopher W. Hughes, Paul Midford, and Marie Söderberg (Oxon: New York, NY: Routledge, 2019), 128–129, 137.

10 Julie Gilson. EU–Japan Relations and the Crisis of Multilateralism (London: Routledge, 2020), 178.

The 2010: The Way to the EPA - ‘External Issue-Driven’ Relations?

After the Great East Japan Earthquake in March 2011, Japanese and European business associations jointly called upon EU and Japanese leaders to launch negotiations for an EU-Japan EIA at the EU-Japan Summit. Amid increasing business pressures, Japan and the EC agreed to start scoping exercises for the EPA (discussions with a view to defining the scope and level of ambition of EPA negotiation) at the Japan-EU Summit in 2011, and the EPA negotiation started in 2013 9 . Especially, the start of the Tramp Administration in the US in 2017 and its protectionist trade policies ‘provided a stimulus to push through the EPA negotiations’ 10 .

While issues concerning investment protection and investment dispute settlement mechanisms were separated from the EPA and their discussion still continues, the negotiation of the EPA was concluded in 2017, and the EPA was signed in 2018 and came into force in 2019. The EPA is a significant sign of ambition by Japan and the EU to promote free trade amid the spread of trade protectionism. Along with agreements in Asia and Pacific (Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership - CPTPP, Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership Agreement - RCEP), the Japan-EU EPA 69

is one of so-called ‘mega FTAs’, which comprises around 30 percent of the world GDP and around 40 percent of the world trade, and it achieved deep trade and investment liberalization and deals with new issues such as trade and sustainable development. Recapping briefly, ‘external issues’, especially protectionist trade polices by the US Tramp Administration, drove deepening the Japan-EU trade relations and that led to the Japan-EU EPA. Fig. 4 25th EU-Japan Summit in Tokyo, Japan.

During this Summit, the Officials signed two landmark agreements – the Strategic Partnership Agreement and the Economic Partnership Agreement.

Japan-EU Trade Relations in the Global Context The Japan-EU trade relations has significantly developed during the last half century. From the 1970s to the 1980s, the relation was inevitably developed by trade conflicts and various institutional settings were built up between Japan and the EC. From the 1990s to the 2000s, while the Japan-EC/EU trade relations were relatively stable with cooperative atmosphere, it can be said that there was not enough momentum to develop their relations. However, in

70

the 2010s, the crisis of trade liberalism made Japan and the EU cooperate closely through the EPA. While the Japan-EU trade relations changed from ‘internal issues-driven’ to ‘issue-seeking’ relations, ‘external issues’ in international political economy still have significant influences on their relations. In order to examine the future Japan-EU trade relations, it would be necessary to look at not their relations themselves but also their positions in broader global trade environment.

Fig. 5 Round table with Jean-Claude Juncker, 1st, Donald Tusk, 3rd, and Shinzō Abe, 5th (from left to right).

Suggested Readings Axel Berkofsky, Christopher W. Hughes, Paul Midford, and Marie Söderberg, eds., The EU-Japan Partnership in the Shadow of China: The Crisis of Liberalism. Oxon: New York, NY: Routledge, 2019.

Jörn Keck, Dimitri Vanoverbeke, and Franz Waldenberger, eds., EU-Japan Relations, 1970-2012: From Confrontation to Global Partnership. London: Routledge, 2013.

Kenjiro Ishikawa. EC no chōsen Nhon no sentaku: 1992nen no tenbō [ Japan and the Challenge of Europe 1992]. Tōkyō: Chūōkōron-sha, 1990.

Julie Gilson. Japan and the European Union: A Partnership for the Twenty-First Century.

Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000.

Julie Gilson. EU–Japan Relations and the Crisis of Multilateralism. London: Routledge, 2020.

71

72

SOCIOLOGY

SOCIO-ECONOMIC CIRCUMSTANCES OF OVERWORK IN JAPAN BETWEEN 1970S AND EARLY 2000S THE CASE OF KARŌSHI V I L S AN ZU L J I In discussions on labour and work ethics, Japan can easily be seen as occupying a high profile. This is often attributed to the Japanese labour system of lifetime employment, quite common especially from 1970 to 2000. However, this high work ethic has come at a deadly price: rising cases of sudden death due to overwork called karōshi 過 労死 (Fig. 1), which have become indicators for alarming issues within the system. How did it come to this, and what elements have contributed to the rising cases of karōshi?

The following article briefly explores the socio-economic processes employed since the 1970s, when the Japanese economy became the second largest in the world, and the labour problems that developed during this time. Still, it should be noted that the Japanese working system has been changing its parameters in recent years, emulating western tendencies, due to several political and economic developments, as well as a greater self-awareness; therefore, the image of an overexploiting Japan is a rather outdated and stereotypical one.

Paradigms of the Post-War Period Karōshi is said to have occurred when individuals experience a sudden death - brought on typically by heart failure or stroke - due to overwork. Since the 1980s, when Japan’s economic boom was tangible, Japanese workers have been expected to cope with multiple responsibilities within a single company, making multitasking a basic requirement for almost every position. Each employee has been expected to possess a wide range of attributes that are not necessarily connected with their job, but which are consistent with the broader goals of the company. One factor leading to such a practice might have been the keiretsu 系列 system where in large-scale companies had a string of smaller subsidiary companies and subcontracting firms organised hierarchically. This business structure was modelled on that of a clan and normally required each company to belong to a single keiretsu. The system was based on workers’ commitment and loyalty to their companies, allowing them to function as stand-alone entities, existing in a legal grey area within their own social reality. Company leaders were able to put pressure on their employees to adhere to overwork, as such practices were tolerated and, to some extent, encouraged. Moreover, when the economic bubble burst in the 1990s, Japanese 73

Claims Submitted for Workers’ Compensation

900 800 700 600 500 400 300 200 100 0

1998

2000

2002

2004

2006

2008

2010

2012

2014

Fig. 1 The graph shows the number of workers’ compensation claims submitted by families in cases of karōshi from 1998 to 2014. However, in the past many people did not report karōshi victims as they fear public criticism. This has changed over time, and karōshi cases have increased as the graph shows. Nevertheless, the statistics do not include all the actual cases 1 .

companies tried to increase productivity, and more importantly reduce costs, by increasing working hours instead of hiring new employees, leading to the creation of a workaholic generation that was more likely to develop depression or similar psychological illnesses 2 .

Economic and Cultural Reasons for Karōshi When the Japanese economy stalled in the 1990s, its market was closed off to imports, leading to falling assets and deflation. This was similar in some respects to the more recent 2008 global financial crisis, though its effects were limited to Japan. This event economically disrupted a whole generation of 74

workers, who later came to be referred to as the Lost Generation; a reference to the increased difficulty in finding employment that still affects many of them today. Japan was forced to devalue its currency and major companies needed to cut labour costs, and they did so by turning most of their white-collar contingent into self-sacrificing workers.

Moreover, in this attempt to save companies from bankruptcy many neoliberal practices were implemented, such as greater reliance on subcontractors. As the lifetime employment policy was still an integral part of the Japanese labour system, business leaders could make use of it to cover costs by exploiting their workers through service overtime, thereby keeping up with the competitive global market. Japanese employees suddenly found themselves confronted with an excessive load of work, for

which they were rarely compensated, and it did not take long before health repercussions occurred. As their reputations were closely tied to that of their company, employees were urged constantly to manifest qualities like cooperation, group harmony and duty during their everyday work life; to sum it up, sacrificing the self for the benefit of the group.

The aforementioned system of lifetime employment had its own fair share of impact on the conditions of workers during the bursting of the economic bubble and the subsequent crisis. Lifetime employment implied a strict system of internal promotions and a consequent lack of job mobility, forcing workers into lifelong commitments to their companies. This developed during the post-war period, when Japanese managers favoured long-term growth over short-term profits, and displayed a high level of commitment to the firms in which they spent their careers. This practice trickled down the hierarchy, contributing to the structural inducement of a tendency towards overwork, which consequently laid the foundations for the phenomenon of death by overwork (karōshi).

1 Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare ( Japan); illustration adopted from Reuters by J. Wang 2016.

2 Behrooz Asgari, Peter Pickar and Victoria Garay, ‘Karoshi and Karou-jisatsu in Japan: Causes, Statistics and Prevention Mechanisms,’ Asia Pacific Business & Economics Perspectives 4, No. 2 (2016): 49-72.

However, losing one’s job in times of economic stagnation, even from a lifetime position, became a conceivable prospect - particularly among the middle-aged - putting even more pressure on workers. This is one of the reasons Japanese companies could improve their corporate organisations even during these hard times, by developing an internal labour market along with cooperative industrial relations. In reference to this situation, Japanese employees have been highly praised for their commitment to their firms; strongly identifying with corporate goals and perceiving them as their own. This has led to the creation of the corporate warrior image, encouraging workers’ determination to give up their lives for the sake of the company, as is suggested in the following graphic (Fig. 2).

75

Deaths Linked to Overwork in Japan 400 350 300 250 200 150 100 50 0

1999

2002

2006

2009

2012

2015

Fig. 2 Cases of karōshi, showing that work-related suicides (karojisatsu) occurred far more often since the 90s. However, it is ultimately the government that judges whether or not a case is officially death by overwork 3 .

From the 1990s until the early 2000s Japanese employers used different strategies to shield their companies from possible repercussions of their poor working conditions. Traditionally, employees exerted power through unions to obtain better wages and fight off impositions from employers interested in profits over workers’ health. However, most of the unions’ actions were jeopardized as they progressively became enterprise-orientated, as can be seen with the case of Toyota’s employees’ unions between 1991 and 2005 4 . Such unions were generally comprised of regular workers whose fortunes were tied to their firms, guaranteeing them higher positions, and that is why they were portrayed as enterprise unions. Their prime concern was to protect members’ job stability by promoting employment policies that encouraged fealty to the 76

company line. Consequently, unions had a tendency to shy away from confrontations with management, even when employees reported work-related concerns. Many union leaders were in fact more concerned with salary negotiations than tackling work condition issues. It is no secret that during these times many managers in Japan failed to monitor the hours and the workload they imposed on their workers and displayed a general lack of consideration towards workers’ health and working conditions 5 .

Yet, many workers felt compelled to remain with the group, both as a perceived duty and in fear of consequences, both social as well as economic.

Takeo Doi argued that loyalty to the group was a core value for the Japanese, mobilising the concept of amae 甘え, intended as a propensity to rely on the

group, and seeking satisfaction within it as part of a process of diminishing one’s ego and individuality. Doi offered a critique of his society and - although often misquoted as his concepts are used in the creation of stereotypical images of Japan - his observations helped tackle several social issues such as the bad work habits linked to karōshi.

Despite huge improvements in working conditions, enforced or self-imposed overwork is unfortunately a reality that has not yet been fully eradicated.

It is still quite rare for many Japanese to leave work according to their shifts, as they might feel pressure to commit to their daily tasks. In some companies there are still unspoken rules that morally force workers into unpaid shifts. Such employers have come to be known as black companies (burakku kigyō ブラック企業) and have bad reputations among people looking for jobs. In some employment fields the desk time (or overtime) working environment is still an issue, while loyalty to organisations in other fields might be measured differently or not at all.

The government has tried to regulate this harsh market by implementing strategies like the uPremium Friday campaign, asking companies to let employees go home early on the last Friday of each month, but results have not been as successful as expected. More recently, new policies to improve working conditions for women labourers, known as Abenomics, have been met with mixed reactions. To this day there are still some companies, generally those perceived as more traditional, that adhere to old models of working practices and have met with difficulty in adapting themselves to the new trends.

3 Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare ( Japan); illustration adopted from Reuters by J. Wang 2016.

4

Charles

Weathers

and

Scott

North, ‘Overtime Activists Take on Corporate Titans: Toyota, McDonald’s and Japan’s Work Hour Controversy,’ Pacific Affairs 82, No. 4 (2009/2010): 615-636.

5

Scott North, ‘Limited Regular

Employment

and

the

Reform

of

Japan’s Division of Labor,’ The AsiaPacific Journal – Japan Focus 12, No. 14 (2014).

Karōshi: A Situation That Will Cease to Exist?

Fortunately, there has been a regular drop in karōshi cases in recent years, but the culture of overwork that leads to such tragic outcomes is still present within many companies. Within the evolving Japanese society, with the arrival of new working generations and the retirement of the older, more traditional ones, one could argue that more workers’ compensation claims may be submitted in the future. Due to globalisation and the development of new perspectives, as well as a different work ethic, Japanese workers are less likely to hesitate in fighting for their rights, even taking matters to court if necessary.

However, the fact that karōshi remains an ongoing reality raises the possibility that employers still have enough power to control and shape their work environment, enabling a continued abuse of working conditions. Some remnants of the original concept of lifetime employment might also have a role in the persistence of this issue. There is one problematic practice that still affects 77

many jobs, namely the lack of clarity in hiring contracts and job descriptions, which creates grey areas in the calculation of wages and the establishment of clear work shifts 6 . Politicians are aware of these situations; as is suggested by the implementation of various labour contracts to regulate overtime in Japan under Prime Minister Shinzō Abe’s mandate. One example of such countermeasures is the establishment of gentei work, also known as limited regular employment, or the possibility to hire on contract. However, in practice, it has led to more confusion, as limited but regular hiring makes little sense, and has shown that companies can still influence the law by working together with politicians who share the same interests 7 . It is the worker himself who now has to regulate his overtime and deliver results, which is why new laws are not always effective.

Finally, Japan appears to be becoming aware of the karōshi problem and demanding better work environments.

A virtuous process has been set in motion towards the improvement of working conditions, but this is still ongoing and has not yet completely resolved the issue, especially in strongly hierarchical companies. The tragic case of Matsuri Takahashi, who committed suicide because of overwork 8 , helped to raise awareness regarding karōshi and the fact that there is still much to be done regarding working conditions in Japan, especially in the area of self-imposed overtime. It could be helpful not only to have a closer look at how Japanese laws deal with job contracts and karōshi today, but also to consider new and different forms of labour contract, and analyse how they could be developed over time besides a time-honoured moral system that some Japanese people may still believe in, as well as to what extent 78

they could bring about improvements both on social and economic terms. A ray of hope can be found in how Japanese people now relate personally to their work situations, better expressing their individuality and defending their rights in contrast to the old-fashioned post-war period labour style, in which talking about physical stress at work would be considered taboo.

6

Mostly

journals.

discussed See

in

internet

https://japaninter-

c u l t u ra l . c o m / f re e - re s o u rc e s / a r t icles/japanese-business-keywords/ so-what-is-karoshi-actually/

or

h t t p s : / / k i m i . w i k i / w o r k / ov e r t i m e work-in-japan.

7 The discussion can be followed here: Abe Shinzō’s Campaign to Reform the Japanese Way of Work | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus (apjjf.org) https://apjjf.org/2017/23/ Kojima.html.

8

https://www.theguardian.com/

world/2017/oct/05/japanese-woman-dies-overwork-159-hours-overtime.

Suggested Readings Asgari, Behrooz, Peter Pickar and Victoria Garay. ‘Karoshi and Karou-jisatsu in Japan: Causes, Statistics and Prevention Mechanisms.’ Asia Pacific Business & Economics Perspectives 4, No. 2 (2016): 49-72 Carlile, Lonny E. ‘The Japanese Labor Movement and Institutional Reform.’

In Institutional Change in Japan, edited by Magnus Blomström and Sumner La Croix, 177-199. London: Routledge, 2006.

Sugimoto, Yoshio. ‘Forms of Work in Cultural Capitalism.’ In An Introduction to Japanese Society, ed. Yoshio Sugimoto, 88-123. UK: Cambridge University Press. 2010.

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ILLUSTRATED SHORT STORY

ONE NIGHT WITH HOT BATHS AND OYSTERS A U T H O R : DAWA LAMA I L LU S T R ATO R : ENRICO BACH MANN

A fter a day well spent in Himeji, it is time for Laura, Becky, and Tanja

to continue their journey. In front of the train station they say their goodbyes. After repeatedly bowing their heads and expressing gratitude, Becky’s relatives speak some last caring words, wave and leave.

Entering the shinkansen, its warmth eases the stiffness of the cold wintery day spent outside, exploring the city. With relief, the young women fall into the seats, as the train, with a soft jolt, silently starts moving. There are only a few other passengers in the carriage. Himeji grows smaller and smaller until they leave it far behind them. The scenery slowly, but steadily, changes from urban to rural. Big apartment complexes give way to smaller family homes, more traditionally built houses, and farm buildings. Green forests, fields and patches of grass take up the space in between. From time to time, Tanja spots the roof of a shrine peeking through leaves. One of the things they learnt to appreciate about travel in Japan is the quiet. People don’t usually bother each other that much.

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There is one man - he’s wearing a suit and has his briefcase with him - whose mobile phone rings. He immediately picks up, and whispers into the phone, his hand covering his mouth. It only takes him about 10 seconds to explain to the caller that he is currently on the train and won’t be able to take the call properly. As soon as he hangs up, he looks around, seemingly worried and uncomfortable for having taken the call. Afterwards, only the announcements about upcoming stops and the employee pushing a cart loaded with bentō boxes and drinks disrupt the otherwise quiet journey. Laura is looking through the pictures they’ve taken that day, while Becky dozes off with her headphones plugged in, listening to music.

‘Tsugi wa Akō desu – Tsugi wa Akō desu!’

The robotic, female voice of the announcement informs the passengers about the next stop, Akō. Tanja carefully nudges her sleeping friend, who mumbles something in return. They gather their things, pack their bags and grab the luggage to exit the shinkansen.

Akō is their final destination for today, a small city right at the southern coastline in the prefecture of Hyōgo. With a little help, they had booked a night in a ryōkan, a Japanese bed & breakfast with hot springs, free to use for its guests. It’s been over a week, since the three friends arrived in Japan, and they have already visited many different places. The booking includes a small bus picking them up at the train station, and they are more than happy to get pampered before having a good night’s rest. It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the coastline and its cliffs, where the ryōkan is situated. Inside, a row of house shoes lies ready for them, as it is normal to leave your outdoor shoes in the entry way of a house. The woman behind the counter checks them in, politely explains the itinerary of the stay, and then hands over the room keys with a smile. With a bow, she wishes them a pleasant stay. All three answer with a slight bow as well, thanking her.

The woman then quickly turns her attention to more guests waiting to be checked in. The room is on the fifth floor. While the elevator ascends, reading the word ‘onsen’ on the lower floor excites them.

‘Let’s go check it out right after, deal?’ Laura says.

Tanja nods in agreement. The entry way of the room holds another pair of house shoes for each of them. Becky enters first, carrying her luggage to the window front with a view over the ocean. She takes a seat in the armchair and sighs contently. Tanja and Laura follow, swooning over the room with its tatami floor, the sliding doors, the Japanese décor and the view. The sun starts to set while they put away their luggage. Before booking the ryōkan, they made sure it was tattoo friendly, as all three of them are tattooed. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to use the onsen and spending the night at a ryōkan must include a visit to the hot spring bath.

‘Not again…’ they hear Tanja mumbling from the entry way.

The other two laugh.

‘Did you enter the toilet wearing the wrong shoes?’ they ask.

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After Tanja returns, the other two have already changed into the comfortable yukatas provided by the hotel. They then start preparing for the onsen. The hotel gladly lets them use the bath, however, they were asked to cover up the tattoos with waterproof band-aids. As all three are covered in some rather big pieces, it takes about 45 minutes to cover it all up. All the while, the sun is slowly moving towards the horizon, colouring the sky in red and orange. The onsen, separated by gender, is practically empty when the young women arrive.

Tanja is rather apprehensive, as it’s her first time. The other two enter and casually undress, while Tanja quickly follows their example. Before entering the hot bath, it is customary to wash yourself properly first. The washing area is made of beautifully black and white marbled stone. Several small stalls are free to use. A tiny bucket is provided to pour warm water over the body and rinse off the soap. The hot water gives off soothing and calming steam, which enwraps the whole body, already making it quite easy to forget and leave behind the past day’s hassle. As the three ready themselves to enter the bath, each with a small towel, they head to the outdoor area of the onsen. The cold wintery ocean breeze greets them, as they slowly enter the hot water.

From the edge of the bath, cliffs follow, and the sound of crashing waves add to the relaxing mood. The outdoor bath is a knee-high pool, framed by torches and some faint lights. A bamboo wall shields the gendered baths from each other. The women sink into the warm water, letting the heat wash away the fatigue and tension built up from days of travelling. For a while, they just listen to the waves crashing and seagulls cawing, watching the sun set and then disappear beyond the horizon. The sky turns dark blue, before slowly changing to black, as stars one after another start flickering up above them.

The band-aids can’t withstand the heat of the water for long and soon start peeling off. Laura sighs and whispers: ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ The others nod.

A while later a growling noise can be heard. Becky blushes.

‘I’m hungry… Hopefully, they serve dinner soon!’ she laughs.

Tanja smirks and Laura shakes her head, laughing as well.

Soon after, they pack their things and, very much refreshed and relaxed, head back to their room. When they arrive, the table is already set for dinner, and Becky quickly grabs the menu, checking what they can expect. The region of Akō is known for its fish delicacies and oysters. The three take a seat on pillows prepared for them. At seven o’clock sharp, there’s knocking at the door and two women enter the room. They bring several smaller plates and distribute them on the table. Becky and Tanja order beer, while Laura goes for umeshu, a Japanese plum wine.

The starters include pickled vegetables - a choice of aubergine, pumpkin, or cucumber - some miso soup and a variety of sashimi, beautifully arranged on the plate. With a happy ‘ITADAKIMASU!’ they start eating. The spiciness of the pickles, accompanied by the sour taste of vinegar, goes well with the smooth white miso soup.

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Wasabi and a little bit of soy sauce bring forth the tender texture and strong taste of the finely cut sashimi. After some time passes, the employees re-enter, clean the tables, and then serve a rather special dish. It’s only one small bowl each, filled with some sort of egg pudding and a tiny piece of meat on top. Becky then reveals that it’s turtle meat. Curiosity mixes with shock, as both stare at the meal before them. It’s not an ingredient which is used on a regular basis in Switzerland, or rather, not at all. It never crossed their minds that it would be used anywhere else, either. Though of course, they’ve seen turtles on display before at food markets. To set an example, Becky takes a spoonful of the pudding. The others follow suit. The egg dish is a mixture of sweetness, blended with a little saltiness - very delicious.

The turtle meat doesn’t have a particular taste to it, but resembles chicken meat.

Later on, the main dish is served. Each is given an ohitsu - a small rice container made of bamboo - and some more pickled vegetables.

In the middle of the table, the employees set up a stew pot, with a clear soup and oysters in it, and a big plate with mushrooms, vegetables and tofu to put in. Becky watches as Tanja tries oyster for the first time. She stirs the stew with her chopsticks, and then brings the oyster to her mouth to take a bite. Her face seems unreadable. Becky laughs.

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‘Do you like it?’ she asks. Tanja frowns.

‘Not too sure about it… I’ll have some rice first’ she answers and reaches for the rice cooker.

Upon opening, her face changes from excitement to disappointment. Laura and Becky open theirs as well. The rice was cooked with oysters in it. The two of them start laughing loudly. Tanja seems frustrated and complains: ‘Why does it have to have oysters in it? Oh, man. I was looking forward to eating just plain rice…’ She starts laughing too and puts some of it on her plate.

They finish their main course and are quickly served dessert, a sweet gelatinous pudding with various fruits. To finish off, they go for another round of beer and umeshu.

After dinner is over, the ladies from the ryōkan clean the table, put it away, and set up the futon with puffy, warm looking duvets and a pillow to sleep on. They wish their guests a good night and leave the room. Happily, the three young women fall onto their futon, hunger stilled, body and mind relaxed and refreshed. Warmth enwraps them for the second time today and before drifting into a deep slumber, they promise to go for another bath when the sun rises the next morning.

At 6:30, the alarm goes off. Tanja is startled. Half asleep, she pulls the duvet over her head. Laura turns it off and sits up, stretching her arms. Totally unbothered, Becky still seems to be sleeping soundly.

‘Five more minutes,’ Tanja mumbles.

Laura shrugs her shoulders. As she disappears into the bathroom, Becky slowly wakes up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. They put on the yukatas, cover their tattoos, and head for the onsen one last time.

Band-aids on, they enter the warm water, the morning sky, light blue with a hint of the night sky dissolving on the horizon, above them.

Seagulls are circling a fishing boat, visible a few hundred meters away.

Laura chuckles.

‘Maybe he can see us.’

The cold ocean breeze carries the salty taste of the water with it.

After soaking in the hot springs for a while, they return to the room, pack up and head downstairs into the dining hall, where breakfast is served. In the elevator, Laura whispers.

‘Do you think they’ll serve croissants? I’m in the mood for something else besides rice and fish…’

Tanja can’t help but laugh.

Other guests have already taken a seat at their assigned tables, enjoying the view over the ocean, while drinking green tea. Opposed to Laura’s wish for something western to eat, breakfast consists of grilled fish, miso soup, a bowl of rice, and some steamed vegetables.

After the hearty meal, their luggage awaits them in the lobby. Another kind woman checks them out and bids them goodbye. Laura, Becky, and Tanja are then brought back to the train station of Akō, where the shinkansen takes them to their next destination: Nagoya.

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Chief editor Managing editors

Luigi ZENI, Switzerland Aurel BAELE, Belgium Marty BORSOTTI, France

Translator and editor Editors

Amelia LIPKO, Switzerland Julian BENTHAM, United Kingdom Penelope BENTHAM, United Kingdom Tim BENTHAM, United Kingdom

Graphic designer

Riccardo LOPES, Switzerland

Web developer

Paola CITTERIO, South Korea

Social media manager Digital marketing manager Illustrator Contributors

Manuel Jose FLORES AGUILAR, Switzerland Giovanni BALDI, Italy Enrico BACHMANN, Switzerland Ayaka HONDA, Japan Dahi JUNG, Switzerland Dawa LAMA, Switzerland Giulio VILLANI, Japan Piero ZENI, Switzerland Prakhar SAXENA, Japan Tarō NISHIKAWA, Belgium Vilsan ZULJI, Switzerland

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An Interview with Professor Lúcio de Sousa

Sayonara TV: A Behind-the-scenes Look at

– Aspects of the Portuguese Slave Trade in

Japan’s News Media

Early Modern Japan (16th‒17th century) Fig. 1, 2 & 3: © Tōkai Terebi Hōsō Fig. 1 & 5: © The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. Fund 1960.193.

Fig. 2: © Rijksmuseum

Ōtomo Katsuhiro’s Views on Brotherhood

Fig. 3: © Art Institute of Chicago, Robert

and Childhood in his Animated Movie, Akira

Allerton Endowment Fund.

Fig. 4: © Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma

Fig. 1 & 2: © Katsuhiro Ōtomo © Akira

Fig. 6: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Committee Company Ltd.

The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1951 Fig. 7: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art,

Mixing Media: Jazz, Theme Songs, and

Bequest of William S. Lieberman, 2005.

Japanese Cinema in the 1930s Fig. 3: © Nittō Chikuonki Kabushiki Gaisha

The Hikikomori Syndrome – Living in Your

Fig. 5: © Nikkatsu Corporation © Makino

Room for the Rest of Your Life

Masahiro Fig. 6: © Shochiku Co., Ltd. © Gosho

Fig. 1: © Tatsuhiko Takimoto © Kenji Oiwa ©

Heinosuke

Kadokawa Shoten Fig. 2: © Francesco Jodice, OTRS 2013022110009441

A Half Century of the Japan-EU Trade Relations – From Trade Conflicts to the Economic Partnership Agreement

Erasing the Hermit – Okuhara Seiko’s Snowscape

Fig 2 & 3 & 4 & 5: © European Union

Fig.1: © Rietberg Museum, Zurich Fig.3: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Socio-Economic Circumstances of Overwork in Japan between 1970s and Early 2000s – The Case of Karōshi

Entrepreneurship in Japan and its Universities

Fig. 1: © Estherpoo Fig. 3: © Kasto

Fig. 1: © GEM 2018 / 2019 Global Report

Fig. 5: © Liamburnettblue

Fig. 3: © 500 Kobe Accelerator

Maison Kitsuné and Urban Minimalism Fig. 1 & 2 & 3: © Maison Kitsuné Official Website

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