So what makes us who we are? We judge each other’s character based on our actions. It seems problematic to separate a person from their actions since actions are the only way we are able to know a person. Assuming that we consider calling a victim a separate person is undesirable, and that we are more than just the sum of our biological parts, it would seem it is necessary to consider the existence of a soul; at least, let me define the soul as personhood separated from biological makeup. In this scheme we are left with actions as our only visible indicator of character and personhood.

We define people by their actions. If someone steals, he/she is a thief; if someone tells the truth, they are honest; if someone speaks out of turn, they are rude. We pass judgments of character based on actions because acts betray an underlying worldview; a way of perceiving the world that is either congruent with the rest of society or aberrant, acceptable or worthy of punishment.

Are people then defined by their worldview? I don’t think anyone seriously defines themselves by the system they happen to have grown up with. A person is not solely defined as a Liberal Democratic capitalist or as a right-wing Evangelical Republican. These are titles we give each other to generalize and group together in order to make sense of people on a superficial level. On a more subconscious level within the individual, a worldview of capitalism can help shape the motivation for actions or which actions are to be taken, but it is not the defining source of all actions or all motivations. It’s a tool the “person” uses to make sense of the world around them.

If, within a healthy individual, a worldview is a base of operation and behavior is the outward result of an operation, what is then the operation? What stands between the system and the behavior? It would seem that it’s the will: the intent to act or not act and the steps taken toward a good or bad end. Criminals are always judged more harshly if their intent was to cause injury; a person without the intent (the will) to harm, despite acting in an unacceptable way, will always receive a lesser sentence than the one who wills it. A person’s character is judged only superficially by their outward behavior, but defined more concretely by the intent behind their action.

By this sequence of reasoning, a person is therefore defined by the will. The will, together with the (often) unconscious worldview base of operation, directs all our experiences, memories and knowledge toward a certain end which results in purposeful action. It’s not the same as “impulse” in that it isn’t simply a reaction to information coming from the senses, but rather it functions within a less tangible region of the human experience; namely, the intellect, reason, imagination etc.

How do we know if people with brain injuries don’t actively will certain inappropriate behaviors? I suppose we can’t really know; all that can be said is that by suffering a brain injury, a person’s ability to control certain impulses becomes severely impaired. How are impulses related to the will? Are they secretly our true desires suppressed by social niceties? If we were just a combination of biological processes, then I’d have to agree, but I don’t think we are. I think there is something deeper in us that makes us who we are; a soul that has the potential for great good no matter how good or bad our outward actions seem to make us.

I’m sitting eating freshly made soba noodles a master chef has just brought in, listening to the conversations, catching a few nouns and verbs here and there and the murmur of English in the other room. A man is drawing pictures across the table from me while I make conversation with the friend next to me about the perils and necessities of social systems and bureaucracy. In the lulls between arguments, I sip my soba noodles catching bits of the artist’s conversation to another about the time he spent in Paris with other artists.

Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon laziness, the artist leans over the table and hands me a picture. He had drawn me while I talked unaware to my friend. He tells me it’s a gift – it’s what he loves doing. I’m floored, humbled, unbelieving that I’d be the subject of any artist’s composition. The lunch continues, I go back to my conversation, and the artist goes back to his drawings of people, friends, couples, old and young sharing a quiet afternoon on a cherry blossom day in a temple by a river.

(Rilke)

and shadows

memory like mercurial stones,
illusions set in glass-stained doors.

Sitting in the corner of a coffee shop, one has the advantage of seeing everything without being seen. New people appearing, in and out like waves from the sea, changing faces drinking some dark brew. Couples, singles, clusters, scrape of chairs against the brown tiled floors and subliminal music ringing in some far off sphere of bald pipes and distant ceilings.

I watch the masses consumming their daily intake of stylized opiates: 13-shot-venti-soy-hazelnut-vanilla-cinnamon-white-mocha-with-extra-white-mocha and caramel, iced-grande-mocha-frappacino-with-two-shots-of-valentia, grande-quad-ristretto-skinny-dry-cappuccino.

Sitting around, waiting for some answer no one has a clue was asked, the terror of oblivion masked and forgotten in a stagnant well of overpriced advertised and fantasized anesthetics.

To start, let me explain the immigration situation. As of November 20, every foreign resident, visa holder, tourist etc with the exception of second or third generation Koreans (and other World War 2 prisoners of war descendents), people under 16 and “special guests” must provide fingerprints and a picture every time they enter Japan as part of the “preventative measures against acts of terrorism” (official pdf).

Many in the blogosphere are seeing this as further proof of racism and discrimination against foreigners in a mostly homogenous country with a long history of isolationist policies. Instead of re-iterrating the comments and passionate discourses of the foreign community, let me direct your attention to this forum.

These arguments on the implementation of Japan’s newest foreign policy have less to do with how the world will react to Japan, than with how foreign nationals within Japan feel their Human Rights are being threatened. Is Japan’s new policy a blatant attack on foreigners living in Japan? Or is it a manifestation of rising political conservatism and general apathy in the Japanese population toward political situations? Although I won’t outrightly deny either as a possibility, I choose to lean less toward a direct attack on precious “Rights” (as defined by the West), and direct my attention more toward the political attitude of the individual in Japan.

From a Western perspective, and one I held prior to speaking with some Japanese informants, it would seem that Human Rights are being breached. Consider this survey conducted by the Cabinet called “Public Survey on the Defense of Human Rights”) (and here for an proposed analysis). It would appear from the results of question 12 that only 59.3% of the Japanese population believe that foreigners should be getting equal treatment along with the rest of the population. Before plunging into a torrent of protest over the claim that seemingly 30% of Japanese people think that foreigner don’t deserve equal rights, we should take a closer look at not only the question itself, but also at what is considered a “human right” in Japan. I don’t deny the absurdity of the question itself nor that “[when] a human rights survey from even the highest levels of government allows for the possibility of human rights being optional (or worse yet, justifiably deniable based on nationality), we have a deep and profound problem” (debito; however, I would argue that what is considered by most Western people as universal and undeniable “human rights” is actually quite a different thing from the “rights” surveyed in this study and furthermore believed in by the average Japanese who has never left the country.

I’ve posted elsewhere on the concept of “Moral Education Classes” in Japan and how these classes are designed to teach high school students proper manners in Japanese society. Another aspect of these classes is how the concept of “human rights” is indirectly acquired. When students are asked what is important in society, they list things such as “respect for elders,” “picking up trash,” “not using cell phones on trains,” and other non-obtrusive behaviors. Aside from the possible lack of English ability to express their true feelings, it does seem to be a general assumption that human rights are in fact considered to be more about communal harmony than individual assertion.

This attitude does in fact follow the line of reasoning often found in all things Japan: concern for the group comes first before the individual. So why should we, as foreign nationals, be surprised when we discover that our “individual, undeniable, universal” human rights don’t seem to be taken quite as seriously as we feel they should be? Who deemed them to be “universal” in the first place? The same people that believed democracy was the best form of human governance no doubt.

I’m not saying Human Rights and Democracy are Western Evils that should be expunged and flushed from the system in order to get back to the “good old days” of the Japanese Empire. That would be putting me farther along the extremist path than even the most politically conservative Japanese wouldn’t dare to dream about (at least in public). Quite the opposite, I’m suggesting that in order for democracy to function at all, more education and awareness on both sides of the fence must be allowed to happen.

Talking to a Japanese friend and fellow English teacher, I came across an interesting proposition: the role of geography in the proper functioning of democracy. She suggested that democracy has functioned in other countries because people had the physical room to disagree with each other. They didn’t have to live in close quarters with those they disagreed with, they could hop on a ship and move to a whole other continent, or if that didn’t work, move to the other side of the continent if they’re views didn’t line up with their neighbors’. Democracy hinges on personal disagreement and individual opinion backed by other individuals who might happen to agree with one’s worldview. Moreover, it hinges on the idea that everyone is equal and as such is entitled to his own view of how the world should function. Democracy is therefore not the ideal for communal harmony in enclosed spaces.

So what of Japan? In the large urban centers, physical space is a luxury. One must be especially heedful of a neighbor’s discomfort if one is to achieve the ideal of communal harmony in the modern world. There is literally no room for outspoken disagreement. A nation-wide case of silent cabin fever might in fact be preventing any sort of social discussion on political matters, much less any protest against foreign-national human rights or the rise of conservatism in the government. In light of centuries-old instilled suppositions on the value of communal happiness, is it any wonder that individual rights and freedoms are largely overlooked in favor of social stability.

Many say that Japan is becoming more and more conservative, that the people in power are re-creating some of the same policies that were in place before the war. The attitude of regular people toward the encroachment of western powers as represented by the foreign national are turning more and more negative. However, there are many individuals, my informants included, that see a problem with the current state of affairs. But no voice of opposition is rising above the din of conservative banter, no protests against the way things seem to be inevitably moving are being held. Japan is supposedly a democracy, but how will it balance the need in democracy for the voice of the individual and the seemingly opposing notion and much more highly valued need for social uniformity?

These forms of non-verbal diplomacy can best be illustrated through the Japanese tea ceremony. Formerly the practice of upper class samurai conducting military strategy, the tea ceremony revolves around the process of making tea and communicates (mostly in silence) the virtues of humility, restraint, simplicity, grace and profundity. Through a variety of different gestures, both the guests and host are honoured and treated with the utmost civility. This was the basis of feudal diplomacy, the mortar that kept a degree of order in the upper levels of society and eventually trickled down to the peasant class.

The Meiji Restoration saw the break down of feudal structures in favor of the middle class; however, power was still held by the privileged few and in due course, led to the “unfortunate past” of Imperial Japan. In a sense, democracy today is attempting to establish itself amidst a latent feudal mindset. Strands of the feudal system are still to be found intertwined in Japanese society. The Burakumin are just one example. Largely the descendents of the peasant lower class who were designated as “non people” and “filth” in the Edo Era, this social minority still faces social and economic discrimination. On the other hand, the descendants of the upper class are well respected and often silently and unofficially differed to in policy-makings on all levels.*

However, the unofficial channels remain in the background and are viewed largely by the middle class as an unfavorable expression of Imperialism. After the war, new forms of diplomacy, education, and social interaction were adopted in order to rebuild a defeated nation. These forms were largely, if not completely, based on American ideals of democracy and equal opportunity. The middle class would gradually grow and come to consider itself of equal status with the upper class through the reforms of previously militaristic education.

To nurture “self-reliance and mutual cooperation” in order to become a productive nation again, school officials created moral education classes where each student would learn such things as healthy study habits, correct attitudes, and moral values. It is important to note that the attitudes engendered in Japanese youth involve non-verbal and formal forms of diplomacy, such as the bow, the direction of the eyes when speaking to a superior, what to say, how to say it depending on the social relationship, proper forms of address and more recently, certain aspects of patriotism. Furthermore, within the larger education system there is a growing insistence on encouraging Japanese youth toward self-expression and independent thought. All good strides toward a democratic society of free-thinking individuals; however what remains untaught are the acceptable forms of self-expression needed to maintain a balanced society. In short, verbal diplomacy remains untaught.

The result is a growing number of self-conscious individuals demanding to be heard amidst a society which built itself on the non-verbal mortar of respect. Members of society which were, until recently, well respected for their roles are now challenged and brought down by others who believe that they can gain anything simply through brute verbal force.

The case of “monster parents” in Japan is a very real demonstration of this unrestrained self-assertion. Educated by the well-meaning university of self-expression, these “monster parents” send their children to school expecting the child to have the same individual freedom there as they have at home. When their demands are not met, parents will often lash out in anger and tears toward the teachers who are simply enforcing educational standards. Once a teenager was given a cell phone by his parents which was subsequently confiscated by the administration (since cell phones are prohibited on school grounds). A short while later during the day, the parent came storming into the classroom in front of all the students demanding that his/her child be given the cell phone. After their demands were not met again, they proceeded to verbally attack the upper echelons of the school. This very visible display of almost child-like insubordination toward figures of authority reveals the cracks slowly forming at the very foundations of society.

The order engendered by non-verbal diplomacy in the feudal age continues to influence the current social environment. However, with the development of a democratic society, where all are meant to be equal, verbal communication is essential to transcend the social divides. The ability to simply communicate desires is not enough; it must be balanced by a learned understanding of verbal diplomacy. Without it Japanese society, in the worse case, may well become what was feared at the beginning of this post. It is generally accepted in Japan that unquestioned authority leads to tyranny; it must also be understood that disrespected authority, while it may not lead to tyranny, may well lead to chaos.

*this is based on my dotted observation of social interactions between colleagues and a group of politically-minded symposium attendees.

Quotes come from: October 1, 2007. Provisional translation.