13,14 and 15 September, Tokyo, Japan.
A good soldier will tell you that time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted, and though it has sometimes felt indulgent to have spent quite so much time over the past six months in London engaged in desktop research, I am, as a consequence of it, arriving in each of the countries on this six-nations tour (I’m counting West Coast America and the America of the Eastern Seaboard as two different nations!) well-enough-prepared and with enough of a plan not to waste time finding out what to do ab initio. That is, except for my arrival here in Japan.
Trying to make sense of Japan from the outside is almost impossible. Even in the age of the internet in which – in theory – every aspect of world culture is just a few keystrokes away, Japan stands apart, and aloof, refusing – like a diffident Geisha – to unveil herself to foreign eyes. Other countries are more easily read: you need only click through a few photos of alps, a fondu, a watch mechanism, a dirndl and an alpenhorn to have grasped something of the essentials of Switzerland; a rugged granite mountain, a bright shaft of sun on a glen with a highland cow in the foreground, an island with glowering grey skies above it, a glass of whisky and a bowl of porridge, will convey something of the essence of Scotland (note, I didn’t say tartan!). But Japan is different. Complex. Irreducible. Intrinsically culturally impenetrable. The only thing you can do is to come and ‘be’ here, and then intuit what it is all about. Although the impact of things-Japanese is felt around the world, the totality of Japan (‘the system’) is so unlike anything else, and certainly anything Western, that you simply have to dive in and experience it from the inside. I can’t really find the words to say how unique it is. It is unique!
First things first. When you do arrive, the most striking thing is that it works. Brilliantly and smoothly. Online, it had felt un-navigable and completely confusing. But in reality everything feels intuitive. This makes odd the constant over-communication through signage and announcements. The Japanese seem a ‘shouty’ people, but without needing to be so. Everywhere, you drown in crowded monolingual signage in their playful combination of Kanji, Hiragana and Katakana script (which makes no sense to a non-Japanese speaker, and don’t even try to learn the written language), and by electronic ‘jingles’ and public announcements that emanate constantly from hidden speakers everywhere in public spaces and on public transport. But despite this ‘noise’, visual and auditory, it all just makes sense anyway, and it all connects, and beyond this there is no sense of rush or the need to compete to gain competitive edge or to panic, because everything just works at its own pace. People feel purposeful and they happily stand and wait and queue. Nobody rushes or jaywalks, or jumps the lights. Other cities give the impression of needing to ‘control’ the striving hordes of people, lest disorder break out; Tokyo may be the same (I’ve been here less than 36 hours at this point!), but it gives the impression of being a place where there is already massive instinctual conformity, and that has a built infrastructure that it is the expression shared communitarian instinct, rather than being a container for competitive individuals.
It is also – reportedly – a place that reveres hierarchy, but that looks strangely egalitarian. From the upstairs window of a café in Kambukichō this morning I watched a Tokyo Policeman quite unaffectedly and humbly bend down and pick up a piece of crumpled waste paper on the street. He felt it to be an affront to the public realm. That wouldn’t happen in London or New York. The Japanese have a word for this: Omotenashi – the idea of sublimating ‘self’ if the outcome is beneficial for ‘the other.’ They have words for many foundational concepts: Kodawari – the pursuit, through continuous improvement, of perfection – but in delightful tension with this, Wabi Sabi – an approach to life that finds beauty in imperfection! Paradoxical views, that point to the complexity of the Japanese worldview.
Oh, and everywhere there is crazy automation. Checking into my hotel involved minimal interpersonal contact and maximal engagement with a voucher-and-key providing touch screen. Within the hotel and beyond, everything seems to involve pressing buttons or touching screens – even the task of ordering lunch – and QR codes are deeply embedded in all of life here, in restaurants, bars, and in hotel bedrooms. Why automation? Why loud announcements and unnecessary signage? It all slightly misconnects. And it is part of the complexity that is Japan.
Coming here has been a life-long ambition. That I am finally here feels wonderful. That I have left it so late in life even to begin trying to make sense of this place feels like such a missed opportunity. But you’re never too old and it’s never too late!