All Together Now ...
A few weeks ago, I had occasion to take part in an
awards ceremony being held to make presentations to the winners of
various prizes in a national essay contest. Previous to this, my
experience of such affairs had been limited to the small graduation
ceremony given by my daughters' day care center, a considerably less
rigorous event.
This ceremony though, was quite an important one,
and the awardees represented a complete cross-section of Japanese
society, from very young elementary students up through adults, and
also including a group of foreigners. Over the course of the
afternoon, during the two-hour rehearsal and then the slightly
shorter ceremony itself, I was particularly surprised by the
considerable trouble almost all the participants had with some of the
formalities involved - most notably the proper bowing
techniques.
I watched all of these people, one-by-one, step up
onto the stage, and struggle with what to do. The ideal form was
apparently for the presenter and the awardee to bow together first,
then for the person to step forward, be presented with the
certificate, bowing as he received it, then to step back a pace and
bow in unison once more before leaving the stage. Almost nobody got
it right.
In some cases the presenter would bow quite deeply
but the recipient would simply nod his head. This person would then
realize his mistake and make a hasty deeper bow. This would be picked
up by the presenter, who would bob down again in response, usually
just as the other person was 'coming up'. Finally they would come to
rest, the presentation would be made, and the 'bobbing ducks' routine
would begin again. Just when to start the bow? How far down to go?
What to do with your hands? Nobody seemed to have any idea about what
to do. And these were the Japanese! It was almost like watching a
group of foreigners trying to wrestle with the customs of a strange
society.
I very much wanted to do a 'good' job, so as my
turn approached, I watched the presenter very carefully and tried to
memorize the timing of his bowing movements. But just as I walked
towards the stage to receive my award, I realized that the presenter
was being replaced by a different person for the foreigner's group!
And sure enough, my preparation had been useless, for this person
followed a different rhythm, and I too ended up bobbing up and down,
trying to catch his movements ... And for the presentation, I made
another mistake here too. I took the certificate and said in a loud
clear voice "Arigato
gozaimasu." (I guess my mother's training
was long and hard all those years ago ...) When I got back to my
seat, my neighbour gently reminded me that it wasn't customary to say
'thank you' on such occasions. Silent acceptance was preferred. Sigh
... And I had so much wanted to show everybody that a foreigner could
do the job just as well as a native Japanese.
But then I realized ... I had done, hadn't I! At
least by the general standards shown over the course of the
afternoon, I had done neither better nor worse than anybody else. The
experience of watching all these people struggle with this seemingly
simple procedure made me realize that the 'art' of bowing is
obviously another one of those things that is on the decline in
contemporary Japanese society. Of course, bowing is still a very
important part of life here, and it is difficult to imagine getting
through a day without finding yourself bent over inspecting the tips
of your own shoes on at least a few occasions. Unless you hibernate
at home, that is. One certainly doesn't get much in the way of bowing
practice when communicating with one's children! (But now that I
realize it, you can't escape from bowing rituals even when alone in
your own home ... the telephone is bound to ring, and during the
conversation you find yourself in the ridiculous situation of bowing
to somebody you can't even see!)
Many westerners who come to Japan either to live,
or just on business, have considerable problems with bowing, and I
don't just mean the mechanics of 'what to do'. They have real
problems with partaking in a ritual that in their minds seems to
place them in such a subservient role. It is truly distasteful for
them to bow down before somebody. I visited this country on business
some years ago, together with the owner of the company for which I
then worked, a 'straight-ahead, shake hands, look 'em right in the
eye' kind of man. He simply could not bow to our hosts, and I'm sure
he felt quite some distaste at my attempts to respond in kind to the
Japanese bowing. In his mind, 'real men' stand straight up, and 'weak
toadies' bow and scrape.
Those with more experience of Japan, realize that
it is actually more common that the senior of the people involved is
the one who will be bowing the deepest, and that 'subservience' is
just not a factor in the thinking involved. Of course, 'rank' and
status is involved, quite deeply, and people with much experience in
the art of bowing are capable of making quite extraordinary
calculations as to the proper depth and timing of the bow.
But I suppose such sensitivity will soon be
something of a lost art. There are not many younger people nowadays
who have the inclination to follow such delicate nuances of the
custom, and as I found during that ceremony I attended, current
standards are very low indeed.
That seems somewhat of a pity to me, because the
few people during the ceremony who did perform such duties well, gave
every appearance of polished poise and politeness. They were not like
robots, mechanically going through a memorized sequence of movements,
but rather came across as confident, courteous individuals. I felt
envious of their abilities, and secretly decided that next time I
find myself in this situation, I'll be ready to handle it. I'll be
the perfect model of correct bowing. There's only one problem. When
am I going to get another award?