Troublemakers ...
One of the most entertaining parts of my morning
newspaper is the section that appears twice a week containing letters
from readers. Most of the missives fall into one of a few common
types: effusive 'thank yous' from tourists addressed to the 'polite'
Japanese people; rather bitter complaints from somewhat longer-term
residents about the 'impolite' Japanese people; sarcastic and cynical
jibes at Japanese customs, behaviour or politics from people
apparently unfamiliar with proverbs about sticks and glass houses;
and then finally, the rebuttals and counter-rebuttals that commonly
follow any of the above, including frequently hilarious 'corrections'
to perceived slights in news stories penned by staff members in the
embassies of insecure third-world countries.
The letters are usually far more engrossing than
the 'serious' news that fills the rest of the paper. I've spoken
about these sort of letters with Japanese friends on occasion, and
find that they invariably have the same impression - that foreigners
are a noisy bunch of complainers. I'm sure it's not that these
friends feel that Japanese society is 'perfect' and that everything
here is beyond reproach, but that they would prefer that problems be
dealt with by methods somewhat more private and less confrontational
than public whining.
Now in my tenth year of residence here, I too have
been through some of the standard 'stages' that foreigners all seem
to pass through when they come here to live. Do some of these words
apply? (in no particular order!) Wonder ... euphoria ...
disappointment ... cynicism ... understanding ... resignation ...
acceptance ... I don't find myself writing to the newspapers too
often, and on those few occasions when I have done, it was simply to
make a point related to what I felt was an important news item,
non-specific to any particular cultural group. I have tried to avoid
being a 'complainer' here.
But the general feeling among Japanese that
foreigners always have their fingers on the trigger, ready to
complain at the slightest provocation, was driven home to me just
yesterday afternoon, in a meeting with some members of the staff of
the local community centre. At their request, I am holding a small
exhibition of my woodblock prints in the centre early next year, and
yesterday's short meeting was being held to go over some details of
the preparation, posters and suchlike.
On any number of occasions during the
conversation, as they brought up various points for discussion, it
became apparent to me that they were expecting me to offer resistance
to their suggestions. The young lady responsible for the posters was
nervously apologetic as she explained to me that as the paper and
printing methods for producing the posters differed from my methods
of producing prints, the colours on the poster may not exactly match
my finished work. Of course, I simply shrugged and commented that I
was sure that nobody would be inspecting the posters so closely, and
they were simply a way of informing people about the exhibition. She
wasn't ready to leave it at that; "But please understand that the
colours may be slightly different ..." I didn't care, and said so
again, but I know that she didn't believe me. A few weeks from now,
when she shows me the finished poster, I am sure she will be waiting
for my 'explosion'. When we discussed probable attendance figures for
the show, they explained that as this was to be a small and rather
informal affair, that I shouldn't expect huge crowds and long
line-ups. Again, I shrugged off their concerns, and suggested they
not worry about such things; I had a quite realistic view of what to
expect. And again, they repeated their concerns, trying to defuse my
grounds for complaint ...
It became apparent to me that they must have had
some kind of bad experience in a similar situation at a previous
time, and had thus been 'trained' to expect trouble from foreigners.
At every moment they were 'on edge', waiting for me to start making
trouble. I don't think that I ever did manage to put them at ease and
convince them that I wasn't going to cause any problems, and that I
was just happy they were making so much effort to help publicize my
work ...
It reminded me of a similar situation I
encountered earlier this year, when a casual acquaintance of mine (an
elderly Japanese man) was involved in organizing an art exhibition
that featured works by foreigners. He had real horror stories to
tell; of actually being threatened with violence by an 'artist'
unhappy with the way his works had been hung, and then of acting as
middle-man between a gallery owner and a foreign artist, and being
caught in the subsequent litigation ... So few of the people he dealt
with were willing to accept that he was working on their behalf,
doing the best he could to help them. They only focused on what they
thought were problems, ignoring the 'good side' of the
situation.
But now that I've spent a couple of pages trying
to portray myself in your eyes as a non-complainer, a 'nice guy',
somebody who focuses only on the 'good side' of a situation - and
certainly not a troublemaker, I have to confess that such an attitude
on my part was sorely tested one day this week by an experience at my
local bank ... (At hearing this word 'bank', I am sure that those of
you familiar with Japanese consumer banking practices are nodding
your heads sagely at this point, knowing what to expect, but no, it's
not that aspect of banking that concerns me at the moment ...)
I visited my local branch to make a money transfer
for a purchase I had recently made, and as I entered the office,
noticed that one entire side of the room had been transformed into a
Christmas display. I didn't stop to look closely, but just took it in
at a glance as I made my way to the counter to fill out the
paperwork; it seemed to be a village of miniature buildings, most
with lights twinkling in the windows ... tiny figurines standing here
and there ... artificial 'snow' drifted about ... It was a very large
display, four or five meters wide, quite spectacular. Somebody had
obviously gone to a great deal of time and trouble to set it up. As I
put my papers in at the teller's window, the young lady gestured
towards the display, "Please take a look at our Xmas decorations ..."
She was obviously quite proud of what they had built.
As I waited for my transfer to be processed (with
no complaints about how long it was taking!), I wandered over to see
their presentation. And here, I have to ask for your assistance - can
you think of some expression I could use stronger than '... his jaw
dropped in stunned amazement'? Because I am sure that that is exactly
what happened - I stood there in absolute astonishment, with my mouth
hanging open stupidly. The buildings of the display were just what
one would expect to see, two and three story 'brick' structures,
windows all aglow, miniature doors festooned with holly, and roofs
dusted with snow. No problem.
But the figurines! Marching in from one side of
the display, arrayed in precise ranks, came file after file of toy
soldiers. Not 'Nutcracker' style old-fashioned tin soldiers, but men
of a more modern appearance. Soldiers in jet black uniforms, wearing
polished leather boots, right arms held high in salutes as they
goose-stepped across the snowy scene, red-and-black swastika flag
waving at the head of the column ... A hundred or so Nazi soldiers.
Off to each side were the 'opposition'. On the far
right were the Americans, dug into emplacements and firing their
machine guns in the general direction of the Germans. On the far left
were the British, with a few model aircraft and some lorries in place
to support their men. And spread above this scene of 'peace and
goodwill', in large gold-coloured letters pinned to the cloth
backdrop ... glittered the seasonal motto ... 'Merry
Christmas'!
I'm not sure what else to say to you. I presume
that one of the branch employees collects model soldiers as a hobby,
and some misguided soul in charge of preparing the bank's Xmas
decorations thought that these 'toys' would make a suitable addition
to the display ... The notion of celebrating Christmas is relatively
new in this country, and what experience most Japanese have of it
runs mainly to department store displays of Santa Claus surrounded by
toys. The idea that there is some underlying message to all the
celebration is pretty much foreign here. (... but was I saying
something earlier about 'glass houses' ...)
I didn't have the heart to say anything to the
nice girl at the window when I went to pick up my receipt ... nor did
I write to my newspaper fulminating about what I had seen ... I
didn't see any reason to cause bad feelings among people who after
all were simply trying to spread what they considered to be a bit of
'Christmas cheer'.
But what do you think? Should somebody tell
them?