Suggestion for the Japanese Communist Party

There's an election coming up on Sunday. My wife just came in to ask me...

W - "Who should I vote for? Should I vote for the Communist?"

Me - No (extra-perplexed expression) you can't vote for the Communist.

W - He's the only one who has concrete suggestions. He wants to limit class size in schools to 30... He's the Vice President of the (local) "Bring Back the Fireflies Association."

Me - (Laughing) I need to take notes on this.

W - (As I type blog entry) "...He also wants to keep the (nearby) childrens' hospital open -- everyone else is talking about tearing it down."

Me - (After some time) The parties that know they're going to lose can say anything...

Wife - "Another thing, the Communists are the only ones speaking out against Yasukuni Shrine..."

Now I remember. This morning she told me that the Communists have officially said that Yasukuni Shrine glorifies war. That simple truth is something that none of the other political parties have the willingness to declare -- I watched a string of representatives from the main parties on TV the other day saying that they need more time to study the issue and weigh public sentiment. Yasukuni Shrine may seem like a black and white issue to most of the world, but here in Japan it may be political suicide to come down solidly on one side of the issue or the other.

Again, I'm supposing that parties that are only trying for a niche vote, like the Communists, can afford to take a stand and go after the virulently anti-war types.

The idea of voting for a Communist strikes me as funny, but the communist party in Japan has a long history in the political process here. They may have even had a shot at real power after World War II, but some say that the USA actively thwarted that possibility -- and accepted (or perpetrated) the neutering of democracy in Japan with the effect of keeping the LDP in power for decades. You can read more on that in this book here (a very good read IMHO).

All that said, here in the "now" being a Communist seems like such an anachronism. Maybe it's time for a name change, or an extreme makeover. Then again, maybe it's better not to use the word "extreme" and "Communist" together at all.

The other day I was watching a news blurb about a political debate in Japan's Diet. Koizumi and another man were extolling the virtues of privatizing the postal system, and then a Communist member of the Diet offered a rebuttal. He said, in my paraphrase, that a newly privatized postal entity wouldn't be able to handle the complexities of running such a large operation, and that they would surely fail without government intervention. The man standing beside Koizumi came to the microphone and gave a quick response. He countered that companies, even complex ones, can indeed be entrusted to run themselves competently. Whereas governments that try to manage large scale business enterprises have failed, as we saw with the collapse of the former Soviet Union. I remember being impressed that he came up with such a well timed and effective cheap shot -- but the Communists really handed it to him by virtue of being themselves. It's easy NOT to take a political party seriously when they tout a name that has already failed the test of history.

Anyway, I hope you're not pigeon-holing me with a political label. I'm just suggesting that Japanese Communists might do better with an image makeover, including a new name, something like: "Social Democrats" or "Progressive Liberals." You know, there are many possibilities. "Mickey Mouse Brigades" might even be an improvement. Seriously, if you get Japanese Junior High School girls in your corner, then pretty soon you've got the whole country.

(By the way, my wife wasn't literally asking me who to vote for. It was just a request for input. She decides such things quite capably on her own.)

Remembering

The other day I had some time to take pictures. I was in Takadanobaba. I took out my camera and started to walk around the back alleys, took a turn onto a wide street, and then crossed back in front ot the Eki (station) with ebb and flow of busy workers in suits and Waseda students. But everything seemed flat. I had no connection with the moment, with the people passing by. I took pictures, but it wasn't fun. I was aware of all this, and for a moment I thought, "Idon't know who or where I am right now." And so I had no sense of what to shoot either. It was better to put down the camera and take out my journal, and that's what I did.

It's easy to spot disconnection in Japan. People living behind walls, or masks. Nurturing private worlds and secrets not shared, like the secret of who they really are inside. People literally retreat into their houses and stop coming out. They are "hikikomori" -- and society takes notice because they are many and the numbers are growing. But others take shelter in working endless hours (men) or talking for hours about nothing. There are so many ways to describe the walls here.

I've thought about all this quite a bit. My first year I was so isolated by language, so feeling isolated by people keeping a distance made the exerience that much more difficult. I would start thinking of brief times I spent in Africa and Mexico, where I made friends and got to know people very deeply in such a short time.

But now after three years, there's no use getting down on the cultural walls I feel. I've got to come to grips with (and acceptance of) my own identity here. Regardless of how hard Japanese culture may be for an American like me, I can't blame these kinds of struggles on the culture outside. As I read recently, "You cannot have intimacy [that is, connection] out of a false self" (Eldredge, The Sacred Romance). This is not just an issue for people who live in another culture. In fact, being in Japan may simply expose areas of growth for me that were there long before, and I'll take that as a good thing. The author (that I mentioned just above) later quotes G.K. Chesterton who wrote (in Orthodoxy): "We have all read in scientific books, and indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is...We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten who we really are."

Taking Better Photos in Japan

Recently I decided to start taking my photography more seriously. I haven't said much about why. Or why now. One reason is that I stumbled into Dan Heller's amazing website. I didn't recognize him by name, but I saw a photograph on the site and recognized it from a gallery that I once visited with my wife. His photos were wonderful, so I spent some time trying to see what I could learn on his website. Lots, it turns out. It's no exaggeration to say that Dan Heller produces words at a phenomenol rate, and he does so with technical precision and simple, common sense advice. I could never sum it up, but I came away aware of a need to figure out my "vision" as a photographer (from his "Introduction to Learning Photography" essay).

Shortly after discovering that site, I read the story about Gary Stochl. Reading that further deepened my thinking about vision (and discipline, learning from masters, focus, etc).

I've been shooting photos with a shotgun approach: photos that may look cool, photos that my blog visitors might want to see, photos to make a point or illustrate a story, etc. Of course, some have been photos I really wanted to shoot, but I've lost track of which ones those are.

I don't think I'm ready to describe my vision, but two words that come to mind are: romantic realism. I'm a romantic. I believe love (and the absence of it) explains most of what we experience and see as the human condition. I belive that people are extraordinary in their capacity for good and evil. I'm nostalgic, but I don't believe any of the problems in the world will be solved by singing "Let it be" (or any other song); that the ultimate expression of love in our world is not a warm feeling but suffering with. When I see people, I see hope and tragedy, the image of God, joy, sorrow, endless potential, total helplessness, freedom and fear. People occupy my attention (when I'm not sitting at the computer...). These are the directions my thoughts wander in when I think about my "vision for taking pictures."

On another note, I'm still happy with the decision to split my blog in two. When I take picture now I'm not thinking about how to match them with words. I'm also paying more attention to what I really want to photograph rather than what you all may want to see.

Today someone asked on my photoblog about the pictures that I take of people on the street. My view of that is changing, too. I used to feel like I was sneaking around taking candid shots of people. When I wanted to get "close," I would pull out my most powerful lens, which never felt powerful enough, and get shots of people's expression even from across the street. But something Dan Heller wrote on his site caused me to reconsider. He wrote that he goes up and talks to people, usually with his camera swinging behind his back. Then after making a connection he takes their pictures. (If you followed the link from my last post, that photographer spent three months building relationships with homeless people before they let her freely take their pictures.) There's no substitute for genuinely being involved. Getting closer. Talking to people. But talk to people on the streets of Tokyo!? I have always felt like people in this city are surrounded by invisible walls. I am afraid, literally, of breaking the culture's rules -- of seeing myself as the strange foreigner in another's eyes.

Despite that, I decided that rather than sneaking shots from a distance, I would begin approaching and asking people for permission to take their pictures. I told myself it had to be done for the good of my photography and put my reservations aside. And it has been great. People have been willing (at least half the time). I've talked and joked with them. And instead of walking around feeling like the gaijin photographer, I feel more connected. It's a start, so we'll see where it goes from here.

Homeless Japanese in Japan, People You Should See

I sometimes wonder how well a foreigner, such as I, can really SEE and photograph the people of Japan. As this example shows, sometimes the foreigner sees what others don't notice or choose to ignore.

Please see www.icpress.com/Gallery/Kama/

I'm in awe.

The Family in Japan

Average number of children in a Japanese family: 1.2
Average number of hours father's work per day: 11

Japan has a huge problem with it's declining birth rate, but like most people with self destructive tendencies they don't or can't touch the root of the problem. This summer the government is making a well publicized and ultimately doomed effort to get businessmen to stop wearing suits and ties at work. But what about the unofficial 11 hour work day? It's no wonder that more and more women are taking the initiative and refusing to get married. They don't want an absentee husband or the burden of raising kids all by themselves.