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MASCULINITY & JAPAN’S FOREIGN RELATIONS
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MASCULINITY & JAPAN’S FOREIGN RELATIONS
Yumiko Mikanagi
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Published in the United States of America in 2011 by FirstForumPress A division of Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Boulder, Colorado 80301 www.firstforumpress.com and in the United Kingdom by FirstForumPress A division of Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 3 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8LU © 2011 by FirstForumPress. All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Mikanagi, Yumiko. Masculinity and Japan’s foreign relations / Yumiko Mikanagi. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-93504-938-8 (hc: alk. paper) 1. Japan—Foreign relations—Psychological aspects. 2. Japan—Foreign relations—1989– 3. Masculinity—Japan. I. Title. JZ1745.M55 2011 327.52—dc22 2011000928 British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library. This book was produced from digital files prepared by the author using the FirstForumComposer. Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992. 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Acknowledgments A Note on Language
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1
Introduction
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2
Gender and Japan’s Foreign Policy
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3
The Historical Transformation of Dominant Masculinity
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Dominant Prewar Masculinity: Bankara vs. Kyōyōshugi
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The Salaryman as the Dominant Postwar Masculinity
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The Making of a New Dominant Masculinity
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Conclusion
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Bibliography Index
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Acknowledgments
This book project has taken a long time to finish and, because of that, I am heavily indebted to a great number of organizations and individuals. In particular, I would like to thank the Center for Gender Studies, the Institute of Asian Cultural Studies, the Peace Research Institute, and the 21st Century Center of Excellence Program (funded by Japan’s Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology) at International Christian University for opportunities to present my ideas and for research funding. I am also indebted to the Department of Political Science and Center for Japanese Studies, University of California, Berkeley; the Political Science Department, New School University; and the Weatherhead East Asian Institute, Columbia University, for providing support for my research. Many individuals lent their hands to help me write this book. Thomas Berger, Davina Bhandar, Amy Borovoy, Mary Brinton, Andrew Oros, and Gregory Pflugfelder all read some part or early versions of my manuscript and provided helpful comments. Daniel Aldrich, William Grimes, Kohno Masaru, Robin LeBlanc, Katharine H. S. Moon, Kenneth Robinson, Frances Rosenbluth, Mark Rush, Ulrike Schaede, and Michael Smitka gave me opportunities to present and discuss chapters of this book. I also thank Gerry Curtis, Gotō Kenji, T. J. Pempel, Steven Vogel, Bonnie Wade, and Yamanaka Keiko for their help and kindness. In researching and writing the book, I received kind and extensive support from my colleagues at International Christian University. I would like to especially thank Jean-Pierre Besiat, Ikoma Natsumi, Inoue Yūko, Katō Etsuko, Mogami Toshiki, William Steele, Takazawa Norie, Tanaka Kazuko, Jacqueline Wasilewski, and Zheng Wei. Tanaka Yūsuke, my former research assistant, deserves special credit because he not only helped me with research throughout this project but also wrote a conference paper with me that became the foundation for Chapter 3. I cannot thank him enough for his resourcefulness, insight, friendship, thorough assistance, and patience. My special gratitude goes to Lily H. M. Ling. In addition to giving me an opportunity to present some of my findings, she continues to inspire me academically and provide me with generous friendship and
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moral support during a difficult life transition. I would also like to thank our family friend Ōkubo Kiichi and my uncle Ogata Michihiko, who inspired me to take a step into the world of prewar Japanese higher schools. I am grateful to editors Rosemary Carstens, Donna Drialo, and Jessica Gribble for helping this book project materialize. As always, I am deeply indebted to Jeffrey Young for his unlimited patience, help, and thoughtful advice. I would also like to thank my parents for being my cheerleaders. I could not have survived difficult times without my family’s generosity and love. Needless to say, credit goes to all of my friends, peers, colleagues, and family members listed here (as well as those I may have accidentally failed to mention). Any faults in this book are mine.
A Note on Language
All Japanese words are spelled using the Hepburn style of Romanization with macrons (ˉ) indicating long vowels. However, there are some exceptions. First, words such as Tokyo and Osaka, which are already familiar to English-speaking readers, are not spelled with macrons. Second, if a name is spelled by a particular person using a different style, such as Ohnuki (as opposed to Ōnuki), I follow the individual’s preferred style. All Japanese names follow the traditional Japanese order, in which family names appear before given names, as in Natsume Sōseki. All quotations from Japanese sources are my translations unless otherwise noted. I am aware that frequent insertion of original Japanese words and phrases such as kinken shōbu (diligence and martial valor) sacrifices some measure of readability, yet it is done purposefully in order to preserve the nuances of these words that would otherwise be lost in translation.
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1 Introduction
Writing in 1887, the Japanese philosopher Nakae Chōmin unwittingly showed that the way of a man, his masculinity, was closely intertwined with the way he felt and thought about foreign policy (Nakae 1965 [1887]). In his well-known book titled Sansuijin Keirin Mondō (Discourse on Government by Three Drunkards), ―Mr. Gentleman‖ (shinshi kun), who was dressed impeccably in Western attire and displayed wide knowledge of Western philosophy, citing philosophers such as John Stuart Mill and Immanuel Kant, proposed a peaceful foreign policy based on the development of freedom, equality, and democracy. By contrast, ―Mr. Great Man‖ (gōketsu kun), who presented himself as a quintessential old-fashioned samurai wearing a kimono on his well-trained tanned body, despised pacifist countries as ―cowards‖ and proposed war and foreign conquest. Today, the world of politics and policymaking is mostly dominated by men. While the number of women attaining positions of power is increasing, the world of politics remains composed of men in many parts of the world and Japan is clearly not an exception. If foreign policy is made by a group of (mostly) men, is the ―way of being a man‖ connected to how these men envision foreign relations and formulate foreign policy, as Nakae reflected more than a century ago? The way of being a man and its linkage to foreign policymaking, as portrayed by Nakae, is the theme explored in this book. Similar to the character types presented by Nakae, two types of masculinity, that is to say literati masculinity (similar to Nakae‘s ―Mr. Gentleman‖) and warrior masculinity (similar to ―Mr. Great Man‖), will be presented, depicting opposite perceptions of masculinity associated with Japan‘s peaceful/cooperative and militarized/competitive foreign relations in the past and present. This book arose out of my interest in the last two decades of Japan‘s foreign relations. Since the adoption of the new constitution after WWII, Japan has aspired to become a peaceful nation and has largely given up
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its military. While Japan did develop the so-called Self-Defense Forces (SDF), the SDF‘s activities have been strictly limited to within Japan‘s national borders. However, since the 1990s, the Japanese government has expanded the SDF‘s roles and has begun sending SDF troops overseas. More recently, it appears that the Japanese state has become quite open to expanding the visibility and scope of activities of the SDF overseas, as seen in uncontested decisions to send them to fight pirates off the coast of Somalia and to help victims of the earthquake in Haiti. Thus, I contend that Japan has shifted its defense policy from a passive one to a more active one in the sense that Japan is determined to use the SDF as a tool of foreign policy. Despite many factors that constrain the Japanese government, such as its peace constitution and national sentiment against rearmament and the acquisition of nuclear arms, Japan‘s defense policy is shifting to make Japan more like what Ozawa Ichirō, a member of the Democratic Party of Japan and long-time power broker of Japanese politics, once called futsū no kuni (a ―normal nation‖), that is, a nation with a full-fledged military. What lies behind this change? This book offers an in-depth study of masculinity in Japan (as defined below) and its historical transformation in association with Japan‘s foreign relations. As Western feminist international relations (IR) scholars have argued, gender, masculinity in particular, and foreign policy are closely intertwined because policymakers are not abstract agents of policymaking but whole human beings inseparable from their gendered identities. This may be self-evident for many feminist IR scholars, yet what appears to be common sense to some still has to be studied and explored within the context of specific cases. My goal here is to show how dominant forms of ideal Japanese masculinity have risen and declined and how they are linked to the ways in which mostly male Japanese policymakers view the international world, thus affecting Japan‘s foreign policymaking. To be sure, I do not intend or claim to give a parsimonious theory on masculinity and foreign policymaking because, as I demonstrate in this book, the relationship between the two is a process of interaction. That is to say, the rise of a new dominant masculinity has affected Japan‘s foreign relations as much as it has been shaped and affected by international events and processes. How did I reveal this process? The best metaphor for my research methodology is that I have collected and matched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle with the hope that these pieces will, in the end, fall into their places and present a meaningful picture of the various types of dominant
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masculinity and the role each has played in Japan‘s foreign policymaking and international relations. Structure of the Book
In Chapter 1, I lay out the problem focused on in this book, namely the shift in Japan‘s foreign policy from a passive to a more active defense stance, and I explain why it‘s important to examine gender/masculinity in order to gain a better understanding of Japan‘s recent shift. A quick survey of the literature indicates that we need more insight into masculinity in Japan to see if, indeed, there is a linkage between masculinity and foreign relations. Chapter 1 defines the term ―dominant masculinity‖ as a set of symbols, attributes, behaviors, lifestyles, and values agreed upon as manly and ideal by large numbers of people in a given society. Chapter 2 covers the historical transformation of the dominant form of masculinity in Japan and presents important categories needed to understand various types of masculinity, dominant masculinity in particular. Most importantly, this chapter introduces the core concepts of this book: warrior and literati forms of masculinity. Chapter 3 delves deeper into the evolution of the dominant form of masculinity in Japan from the Meiji period to the end of WWII, focusing on the transition from warrior bankara masculinity to literati kyōyōshugi masculinity. Chapter 4 looks into the rise of a new postwar literati masculinity, namely that of the salaryman, which was dominant in Japanese society from the 1950s until the 1990s. Chapter 5 examines how and why salaryman masculinity has declined in the last two decades and whether the process of this decline has been accompanied by the rise of a new dominant masculinity. In the concluding chapter, I streamline this study‘s findings and, more importantly, offer questions arising from this study that need to be addressed in future research.
2 Gender and Japan’s Foreign Policy
According to the main conventional international relations (IR) schools of thought, all states are expected to have the same goal: to maximize power through the expansion of economic and military capabilities. This principle appears to have governed the behavior of the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War and, in the multipolar world of today, it still appears central to the actions of major states such as the United States, Russia, China, and even India. However Japan, after the Second World War, represents an anomaly. Japan has indeed pursued the expansion of its economy throughout the postwar period, yet it has kept a distinctly low profile in military matters. For the majority of Japan observers, Japan‘s defense policy has remained a minor issue throughout most of the post-WWII period. Japan free rode on the security umbrella provided by the United States while focusing on its own economic growth.1 While this anomaly was the norm for Japan for many decades after the end of the war, seeds of change gradually surfaced in the 1990s. After the Gulf War, the Japanese government shifted gears from a passive to a more active defense stance. And it appears that sooner or later the Self-Defense Forces (SDF), which have been unique among the world‘s military forces in that they were originally designed to be used only within Japan‘s national borders for purely defensive purposes, will become a full-fledged military capable of overseas deployments. While Japan hesitates to possess nuclear arms and few people see much possibility that Japan will obtain them in the foreseeable future, with this exception it may be that Japan today is becoming more and more like a ―normal‖ state with a real military pursuing the goal of power maximization as envisioned by traditional IR scholarship. Perhaps conventional IR theories are correct: Japan is finally acting like other states. That is to say, with larger economic capabilities comes a larger military with an active defense policy. Yet conventional IR only provides a rough sketch as far as the trajectory of Japan‘s defense policy
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is concerned. Japan remained rather passive regarding its defense stance until the 1990s, decades after it joined the ranks of the industrialized nations. What explains this lag? When we take a longer historical perspective, we see that this ―lag‖ is only part of a longer-term cycle that Japan has gone through since its emergence as a modern state in the nineteenth century. Since then, Japan‘s foreign policy has oscillated between two opposite poles: passive and active defense stances. Furthermore, this book shows that these oscillations affected and were caused by changing constructions of gender. In this chapter, I first discuss Japan‘s shifting defense stance over the last two decades. This is done to indicate that even though many observers think Japan has permanently moved away from its militarist past, the shift from a passive to an active defense stance is happening, in a manner reminiscent of shifts in the past. I then summarize existing arguments on Japan‘s foreign relations to illustrate the gaps in our understanding of the shift from a passive to an active defense stance. Next, in the hope of filling this gap, I introduce a feminist perspective on international relations. A brief explanation of the project and summary of the argument presented in this book follows. Japan’s Emerging Active Defense Stance
In the pre-WWII period, Japan took pride in its powerful Imperial Army and Navy. After the establishment of the modern state in the nineteenth century under the slogan ―rich country, strong army,‖ Japan rapidly expanded its military and political presence in East Asia in a concerted effort to establish the so-called Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. They would eventually encounter losing battles in Asia and the Pacific. However, after Japan‘s defeat in WWII, the Allied Occupation demilitarized Japan thoroughly and the country was reborn as a peaceful nation. Thanks to the new constitution, especially Article Nine (which forbids Japan from using force as a means to settle international disputes and forbids Japan from maintaining a military), Japan emerged as a completely new nation pledging to the world and its own people that it would never again engage in aggressive military actions overseas. Indeed, Japan has kept its promises, and it has remained peaceful in the sense that it has not been involved in wars. While depending heavily on the (actual or assumed) protection provided under the U.S.-Japan Security Treaty, Japan‘s defense stance remained passive throughout most of the postwar period. Japan has not revised its constitution and it has continued to limit the activities of the SDF, which were established
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in 1954, to defense within Japan‘s national borders. Japan also refused to acquire nuclear arms and adopted policy principles such as the Three Non-Nuclear Principles in 1967. Japan also does not engage in arms exports and adopted the Three Principles on Arms Exports in 1976. However, radical changes in the use of the SDF began in the 1990s. First, in April 1991, the SDF were sent to the Persian Gulf to sweep mines in collaboration with multinational forces. This was the SDF‘s first overseas mission since their establishment. Then, the Japanese government enacted the International Peace Cooperation Law in June 1992. 2 Since then, the Japanese government has sent the SDF to countries such as Cambodia and Mozambique to participate in United Nations‘ peacekeeping operations. Even though the SDF‘s overseas missions in the early 1990s were limited in terms of area and the type of activities they could engage in, with the benefit of hindsight, we now know that the Japanese government‘s decision to dispatch the SDF fundamentally changed the sphere of their activities from a strictly domestic terrain to the international stage. Thus, it is clear that the decisions made in the early 1990s set the course for the Japanese government to embark upon more active deployments overseas later. Another turning point of Japan‘s defense policy came in April 1996 when President Clinton and Prime Minister Hashimoto issued the U.S.Japan Joint Declaration on Security. 3 This declaration became the foundation for the Guidelines for U.S.-Japan Defense Cooperation adopted in 1997 and the subsequent enactment of the controversial Law on Emergencies in Surrounding Areas in 1999. 4 The declaration is indeed a dramatic turning point from Japan‘s postwar defense policy. Until then, despite constant pressure from the United States and rightwing Japanese nationalists to expand the SDF‘s role (within the alliance from the US point of view and independent from the alliance from the Japanese nationalists‘ point of view), the Japanese government had resisted the pressure, with occasional compromises, and restricted the SDF‘s activities to Japan‘s national borders (except for the aforementioned activities in the Persian Gulf and United Nations‘ peacekeeping operations). To be sure, the Japanese government began paving the road to expand the role of the SDF even before the adoption of the Joint Declaration, as indicated by the October 1995 revision of the National Defense Program Outline (NDPO) of 1976. The revision of the NDPO stressed the need for cooperation with the United States in case of ―situations in areas surrounding Japan‖ that affected Japan‘s security. This idea of ―situations in the areas surrounding Japan‖ was then
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incorporated into the April 1996 U.S.-Japan Joint Declaration on Security. However, all of the actions taken since the mid-1990s were only a prelude to the more substantial deployment of SDF troops in overseas military situations, which began with the ―war on terrorism‖ following the September 11, 2001, attacks on the United States. The shift in Japan‘s defense stance that began in the mid-1990s culminated first in the enactment of the Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law in October 2001 and then in the actual dispatch of SDF ships to the Indian Ocean to supply fuel to US and other nations‘ ships.5 Then, in February 2004, based on the Law Concerning Special Measures on Humanitarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq enacted in July 2003, the Japanese government sent SDF troops to ―noncombat‖ zones in Iraq.6 With the appointment of Abe Shinzō as prime minister in September 2006, it became more apparent that the Japanese government aspired to take an active stance in its national security policy. For example, Mr. Abe expressed his willingness to search for ways to participate in collective defense with the United States (Asahi Shimbun, September 23, 2006) and his open agreement with the SDF‘s expanded overseas activities (Asahi Shimbun, March 21, 2007). In fact, the government made this commitment to a more active defense policy material by upgrading the Defense Agency to ministerial status (as the Ministry of Defense) in January 2007. At the same time, the government revised the Self-Defense Forces Law and added overseas missions to the SDF‘s primary tasks, where the SDF had before been confined to national defense and disaster relief. While the Fukuda Cabinet, which took over from the Abe Cabinet after Mr. Abe suddenly resigned in September 2007, maintained a low profile in foreign policy, its determination to keep an SDF presence overseas was demonstrated by the process in which the government forced passage of the New Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law through the Diet in January 2008 after the original law expired on November 1, 2007.7 The cabinet of Asō Tarō, formed in September 2008 after Mr. Fukuda resigned abruptly, also continued to uphold the trend and supported the SDF‘s presence overseas. In fact, the Asō Cabinet expanded the SDF‘s overseas roles beyond issues directly related to anti-terrorist wars when the government dispatched the SDF to the Somali coastal areas to deal with piracy in March 2009. The trend to actively deploy the SDF overseas could have been reversed as a result of the lower house election held in September 2009. With this election, the near monopoly of power by the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) since 1955 (excepting a short period between
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1993 and 1994) was ended, and the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) won a majority and became the leading party in a coalition government with two smaller parties, the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the People‘s New Party (PNP). In part because of the SDP‘s commitment to maintain the current constitution, Article Nine in particular, the new government appears likely to halt Japan‘s ever-expanding use of the SDF. Indeed, on the one hand, there have been some signs that the DPJled government may want to reduce the scope of the SDF‘s overseas activities. For example, the government ordered the withdrawal of SDF replenishment ships working in the Indian Ocean in conjunction with the war on terrorism in January 2010 (Asahi Shimbun, January 16, 2010). On the other hand, when the catastrophic earthquake hit Haiti on January 12, 2010, the Japanese government quickly decided to dispatch SDF troops as a peacekeeping operation (Asahi Shimbun, January 25, 2010). As the International Peace Cooperation Law of 1992 only presupposes the dispatch of SDF to post-conflict zones, there is no law to allow Japan to send SDF forces to places hit by natural disasters such as Haiti. (Whether or not this decision was a violation of the law has not been debated thoroughly.) This decision indicated that the government is not only willing to help nations devastated by natural disasters, but it is also committed to the expansion of the SDF‘s overseas presence and visibility. Furthermore, the Japanese government began exploring the possibility of revising the Three Principles on Arms Exports in the spring of 2010. By doing so, Japan would be able to export arms and equipment used by the SDF ostensibly to ―attain stability and peace in the world‖ (Asahi Shimbun, March 14, 2010). This budding shift from a left-leaning government suggests that the desire of the Japanese state to increase the SDF‘s international visibility and scope of activity is widely supported by political leaders, overriding the ideological rifts between the major political parties. Explaining Japan’s Defense Policy
Since Japan‘s economic ―miracle‖ of the late 1950s and 1960s, and particularly since Japan‘s rise into the ranks of the top global economic powers in the 1980s, studies on Japan have focused mainly on its economy and business. Other aspects of Japan such as culture and society have drawn less attention. The economic focus was particularly true of studies of Japanese politics, foreign relations and public policies. These studies have concentrated primarily on Japan‘s political economy and, whenever foreign policy was discussed, Japan was portrayed as a
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―trading‖ or ―mercantilist‖ state, which placed economic growth and development as the nation‘s most important goal (Kōsaka 1964; Pempel 1978; Rosecrance 1986). The view of Japan as a mercantilist state was widely shared inside and outside Japan alike even as Japan entered a long-term recession in the 1990s (Nihon Keizai Shimbun, August 9, 1993). Yet among academics, from the mid-1990s the stagnation of Japanese economic growth and the rise of China‘s economic power resulted in a shift in interest from Japan‘s economic policy to its defense policy. The interest in Japan‘s defense policy also arose from the gap between Japan‘s substantial economic power and weak military presence, as previously discussed. Japan remained among the top economic powers in the world despite its stagnation in the 1990s, and confidence in the Japanese economy‘s long-term prospects was largely undimmed. At the same time, many scholars continued to perceive Japan‘s defense policy as passive and its military capabilities as modest, despite the important steps taken in the first half of the 1990s. Scholars attempted to explain the perceived inconsistency with conventional IR theories assuming that states seek to maximize their national security through the pursuit of power in both economic and military terms. Viewed through this lens, the changes in Japan‘s defense posture in the first half of the 1990s were modest, not amounting to a fundamental change, and the military buildup was small. Conventional IR scholarship, both Neorealism and Neoliberalism, treats the identities and interests of states as exogenously defined. Thus, despite the renewed attention to Japan‘s foreign policy in the 1990s, conventional IR has not been able to offer an effective explanation for why Japan kept a relatively low profile in national security policy through the early 1990s, particularly after Japan reached economic parity with the advanced nations. However, constructivist scholarship, most notably the perspective presented by Alexander Wendt (1992), opens a way to understand state interests and identities through the process of agent-structure interaction, which diverges from the views of conventional IR scholars. While Wendt focused on agent-structure interaction as the source of interest and identity formation, others have added the internal processes of a state as important dimensions in understanding state identity. Since the mid-1990s, important studies on Japan‘s national security policy using constructivist approaches have emerged. Peter Katzenstein (1996) laid the foundation for a constructivist approach to the analysis of Japan‘s internal and national security policies through his study of cultural norms and their effect on policymaking. Thomas Berger (1996,
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1998) applied what he called a ―historical-cultural approach‖ to understanding Japan‘s foreign policy. Berger saw that specific events and ideas form public opinions and institutions, which in turn shape national security policies. Again, while Wendt aptly argued for agentstructure interaction without looking at the internal processes of the agent (i.e., the state), both Katzenstein and Berger saw the workings of factors internal to the agent, such as state institutions and culture, as important factors shaping the interests and identity of Japan.8 More recently, Kenneth Pyle revisited Japan‘s modern history and saw that its feudal experience profoundly affected the way Japanese policymakers interact with the world (Pyle 2007:39–41). In contrast with Wendt, who saw that national identities are constructed through interactions with other nations, Pyle maintained that they are ―formed and shaped first of all by domestic influences‖ (2007:130). While it is indeed true that Japan has taken a peculiar position in terms of its defense policy during most of the postwar period, as we look at Japan‘s foreign policy today, the situation is different from what Katzenstein or Berger saw in the mid-1990s. There has been a clear shift in Japan‘s defense policy from a passive to a more active stance. To be sure, even this ―more active‖ stance remains circumscribed in many ways. Discourse over Japan‘s grand strategy is still quite divided, and very few in Japan, both among policymakers and the public, support the possession of nuclear arms. Thus, the shift from a passive to an active defense policy is happening with deep uncertainty, as noted by Richard Samuels, who remarked ―it remains to be seen how this discourse will evolve‖ (Samuels 2007a:152). At the same time, however, it is important to note that unlike most of the postwar period, no significant party ―refuses to accept the legitimacy of the SDF‖ (Samuels 2007a:152), while few advocate a defense buildup that is independent of US strategy and the United States–Japan alliance. In my view, not only is the legitimacy of the SDF acknowledged, but the SDF‘s role in Japan‘s kokusai kōken (international contributions) is now widely accepted. I call this a dramatic shift in Japan‘s defense position, which requires our attention. Bringing in a Feminist Perspective
While constructivists focused on Japan‘s passive defense policy and gave us useful insights about the internal and external factors that shaped Japan‘s foreign policymaking, we now know that Japan is adopting a more active defense stance. Because the shift was not as automatic or rapid as conventional IR theorists would have expected, the
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process requires further scrutiny. I am most interested in how gender played a role in this shift, as feminist IR scholarship has offered useful insights into how gender helps shape global affairs and foreign policymaking. Feminist IR scholars propose that ―gender makes the world go round‖ (Enloe 1989) and have demonstrated that gender affects and is affected by international relations. Feminist scholars have successfully revealed that gender, along with other factors such as class, race, and ethnicity, plays an important role in dividing the world into those in positions of power and those who are not. Cynthia Enloe, one of the most prominent feminist IR writers, has worked to make women visible by illuminating their roles in global affairs as military wives, factory girls, chambermaids, and so on (Enloe 1989). At the same time, Enloe has demonstrated that gender is a key to understanding the process of militarization and how global affairs continue to reproduce gendered hierarchies and unequal distributions of power between men and women. As demonstrated so clearly by Enloe, gender works explicitly in the global processes within which women (and men) are defined in distinctly gendered roles, as in women as chambermaids and men as travelers or women as cheap labor and men as well-paid managers, for example. However, gender also works implicitly in a manner that does not have an obvious association with men and/or women as physical beings. That is, gender works as a metaphor, which is used to describe some nations as being masculine and some as feminine. The best example of gender as metaphor is the discourse shared by colonial rulers in which they viewed themselves as masculine (and thus legitimate) and the ruled as feminine. According to Maria Mies, this metaphor could take quite a sexual expression as in ―European conquerors and invaders ‗penetrated‘ those ‗virgin islands‘‖ (Mies 1986:75). To be sure, there are also examples in which colonizers portrayed themselves as female figures, exemplified by Britain‘s Britannia and France‘s Marianne (Cusack and Bhreathnach-Lynch 2003). These two approaches are both useful in shedding light on aspects of international relations otherwise hidden from view, but the way I use gender will be more implicit than explicit. I will be focusing on how certain types of masculinity are forged and accepted as a way to indicate legitimacy. Here, I would like to clarify my usage of gender as an analytical concept by revisiting Joan Scott‘s definition in her seminal work on gender as a tool for historical studies. Scott defined gender in two parts. First, gender ―is a constitutive element of social relationships based on perceived differences between the sexes.‖ This part of the definition is discussed with reference to four
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elements: symbols, normative concepts that give meanings to these symbols, social institutions and organizations, and identity (Scott 1999:43–44). Second, gender is ―a primary way of signifying relationships of power‖ (Scott 1999:42). The gender concept I use in this book will make use of both parts of Scott‘s definition. In terms of the first part of the definition, I discuss different types of masculinity using symbols such as actions, attitudes, language, and physical items that have been perceived to represent ideal masculinity. I go on to discuss how these symbols were utilized by men in power (or those aspiring to be in power). For example, we will see that elegant Western clothing and manners were symbols adopted by men in power as a way of gaining ruling-class legitimacy during the early Meiji period. This point, that symbols represent certain types of masculinity and are used as a way to gain political legitimacy, touches on the second part of Scott‘s definition of gender as ―a primary way of signifying relationships of power.‖ Rulers have often sought legitimacy by constructing themselves as masculine and by labeling ―enemies, outsiders, subversives‖ as feminine (Scott 1999:47). And this conceptualization has been translated into specific policies, such as laws on family and reproduction. In addition to policies that are explicitly about men and women, other policies involved gendered ―coding‖ of terms as in colonial policy that legitimized and naturalized colonial rule of the feminized other by the masculine self (Mies 1986). In this book, we will see that gender, certain types of masculinity in particular, indeed has worked to signify power. We will see that Japanese policymakers tried to secure their positions of power versus actual and potential opponents by adhering to certain images of masculinity through the usage of specific symbols. Furthermore, policymakers‘ association with certain types of masculinity translated into ways that Japan viewed its position in the world, which, in turn, affected Japan‘s foreign policymaking. Many feminist IR scholars have revealed connections between masculine perceptions and international relations. Rebecca Grant, for example, saw that the concept of the ―security dilemma‖—a concept central to contemporary IR theories—is wedded to a ―gender-biased understanding of what constitutes the state and how it functions‖ (Grant 1991:14). Grant and other feminist IR scholars maintain that the abstract idea that the international world is constituted with states as ―rational‖ actors represents a gender bias in the field (see, e.g., Sylvester 1994; Zalewski and Parpart 1998; Peterson and Runyan 1999; Odysseos and Seckinelgin 2002). According to these scholars, attributes such as
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rationality and/or competitiveness, which play a central role in discussing images of international relations, are traditionally associated with Western male experiences. And the biased view of the world has not been confined to the study of international affairs but has also been applied to actual foreign policymaking (Tickner 2001). These feminist IR scholars contend that links between masculinity and foreign policymaking have worked to legitimize certain ways of understanding world affairs (as in balance-of-power theory, for example) as well as actual foreign policies resulting in always-competitive relationships among major powers. The essential feminist IR insight about the impact of masculinity on IR theories and on foreign policymaking is correct. However, the content of masculinity, and the pattern of foreign policy that masculinity helps shape, can diverge from the assumptions made by some of these scholars. Masculine experiences and values reflected in actual foreign policymaking are in fact quite diverse. Specifically, not all nations subscribe to the values and perspectives associated with Western or Anglo-American masculinity. Correspondingly, actual foreign policymaking may not be characterized by always-competitive relationships among major powers. These are precisely the points I intend to convey in the following chapters. If gender is socially and culturally constructed, we must acknowledge that gender construction varies across different cultural spaces and over time (Mead 2001[1935]). Therefore, the inquiry into foreign policymaking and its linkages with masculine values and experiences must begin with an extensive look into the ways in which masculinity is constructed in the given culture at specific moments in history. Thus, in order to look into the international relations of Japan, we need to start by seriously examining how gender has been constructed in Japan, today as well as in the distant and recent past. The Project
Earlier in this chapter I outlined a major change in Japan‘s defense policy in the 1990s, from a passive to an active stance, when the SDF was deployed overseas. What I mean by an active defense stance is one where a government views the use of military forces as an effective and legitimate means to achieve desirable goals in foreign relations. An active defense stance could be represented by increased military spending and/or expanded roles for the military forces. By contrast, a passive defense stance means that the use of the military is limited (for example, only within national borders), and that the government tries to
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attain foreign policy goals through non-military means such as diplomacy, foreign aid, trade and investment. Shifts from a passive to an active defense stance and vice versa have occurred several times in Japan‘s modern history. This book explores the linkages between this cycle and the transformation of gender, in particular, changes in what I call Japan‘s ―dominant masculinity‖ (explained in detail later in this section). Because Japan was thoroughly demilitarized right after WWII, and because Japan has utilized economic policies such as trade and official development assistance as its primary foreign policy tools, contemporary observers may view Japan as not masculine but more as ―feminine‖ or emasculated with no effective military means to deal with international issues. However, Japan‘s foreign policymaking, defense policy in particular, has been as tied to masculine values and experiences as in other states, because Japan‘s national policymaking has been nearly monopolized by men. This linkage between masculinity and foreign policy stirs our curiosity, yet few international relations experts focusing on Japan‘s foreign policy have studied it. Thus, the entry point into this project will have to be women‘s, gender, and men‘s studies on Japan, because these studies offer extensive views into the ways in which gender is constructed. The gender/women‘s studies literature on Japan shows both continuity and change in women’s identities and expectations. It is widely known that a belief in a gendered division of labor, that is, ―men work outside and women stay home,‖ is quite persistent in Japan. Feminists have pointed out that large numbers of women continue to aspire to marry wealthy men so that they can quit work (Kashiwagi et al 2006). Yet at the same time, the popularity of the sengyō shufu (fulltime homemaker) ideal declined dramatically from the early 1990s. According to Iwakami Mami, for example, sengyō shufu as the ideal life course declined by 12 percentage points between 1992 and 1997, while the option to continue working after marriage as an ideal increased by 8 points over the same period of time (Iwakami 2006:61). Thus, ―gender‖ in Japan, as in other parts of the world, is in constant flux. A rapid increase in the number of single women in recent years who have passed their mid-twenties, once considered tekireiki (prime time for marriage), is another sign that women‘s life courses have dramatically changed and diversified. The reason I place quotation marks around the word ―gender‖ is because most gender literature on Japan focuses exclusively on women. The primary example is a book entitled Jendā (Gender), published in 1994 (Hara, Maruyama et al. 1994) based on a symposium held at the University of Tokyo in 1993. ―Gender‖ features twenty articles on
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gender, yet all but a few focus exclusively on women. Indeed, in its introductory chapter Ōsawa Mari, who is one of the leading feminist scholars in Japan and an editor of this book, writes ―‗women‘ do not exist in the social sciences in Japan and ‗gender‘ has been ignored‖ (Hara, Maruyama et al. 1994:8) as if to imply that ―woman‖ is synonymous with gender. It is true that Jendā is more than fifteen years old, but the tendency to equate gender with women continues to exist today. For example, gender literature such as a book edited by Itō Yūko (2006), Jendā Aidentiti (Gender Identity), deals primarily with issues related to women and femininity without referring to men and masculinity. 9 Between 2004 and 2007, I had the privilege of organizing and leading workshops on ―Gender in Asia‖ at International Christian University.10 Despite my concern that gender should not be synonymous with women, most sessions (and articles) focused on women, not men, and few directly touched upon issues of gender. Gender is not a synonym or substitute for women. Gender is the socially and culturally constructed meaning of being a woman and feminine and being a man and masculine. Therefore, one must discuss men and masculinity as much as women and femininity, and this focus on the former is particularly necessary if one is going to examine whether international relations indeed reflect male experiences and masculine values. If women‘s studies literature does not offer much on gender per se or studies on men and masculinity, then the next logical step is men‘s studies. Men‘s studies in Japan have lagged behind women‘s studies but are now rapidly catching up and successfully showcasing the lives of Japanese men and issues concerning Japanese masculinity as well as sexuality. For the literature written in Japanese, with the publication of Kohama Itsuo‘s (1990) Otoko wa Doko ni Irunoka (Where are the Men?), which focused primarily on men‘s sex and sexuality, the field is now expanding rapidly with younger scholars. Among those specializing in men‘s studies in Japan, Itō Kimio is one of the leading scholars of the field (Sunaga 1999:129). In his first book, titled Otoko Rashisa no Yukue (Where Manliness is Going), Itō revealed some of the most important characteristics peculiar to masculinity in Japan, such as shūyo shugi (mental discipline) (Itō 1993:14–15). However, in his second book, Danseigaku Nyūmon (An Introduction to Masculinity Studies), Itō relied heavily on a Western understanding of men and masculinity and did not show an explicit indication that gender/masculinity construction varies across different cultures (Itō 1996). In fact, works focusing on Japanese men and masculinity have shared this tendency of equating Japanese
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masculinity with Western masculinity, seeing it as aggressive, violent, and domineering (Sunaga 1999:125; Itō 1996:148). Of course, there are some important works that explore characteristics of Japanese masculinity, such as Taga Futoshi‘s empirical study of Japanese men based on interviews (Taga 2001, 2005, 2006) and Sunaga Fumio‘s attempt to introduce a theoretical framework to the study of masculinity in Japan (Sunaga 1999). More recently, for example, Tada Ryōko‘s study of male customers of the sex industry revealed that Japanese masculinity/male sexuality is not about ―macho manliness‖ but it is about a ―desire to communicate with others‖ (Tada 2009:187). Tsuji Izumi (2009) has presented a unique yet insightful study revealing the connection between technology and construction of masculinity in Japan. However, the dearth of works focusing on the culturally specific construction of masculinity in Japan continues. In 2009, Itō noted in Danseigaku, a new edition of the seminal work originally published in 1995 (Inoue, Ueno, and Ehara 1995), that ―in the 1990s, men‘s/masculinity studies became a big trend internationally in various academic disciplines. Yet, there has been relatively little progress‖ in men‘s studies in Japan (Amano, Itō K., Itō R., Inoue et al. 2009:244). With regard to men‘s studies literature published in English, there are few writings on non-Western cases (including Japan). Writing in 2002, John Beynon stated that ―most of the literature about masculinity is about British and American men by British and American men and women‖ (Beynon 2002:62), and this statement remains true today. Of course one should not forget R. W. Connell‘s pioneer work based on Australian men (1995), assuming that this work qualifies as a study of non Anglo-American masculinity, but that still makes the field heavily focused on white males and their masculinity. It is true that the study of masculinity in non-Anglo-American cultures is gradually increasing in number. Gilmore‘s Manhood in the Making (1990) and Matthew C. Gutmann‘s edited book Changing Men and Masculinities in Latin America (2003) are two examples. However, reference to Asian masculinity is still rare. Having stated this, a couple of groundbreaking books have been published on Japanese men and masculinity. They are Men and Masculinities in Contemporary Japan: Dislocating the Salaryman Doxa (Roberson and Suzuki 2003a) and Asian Masculinities: The Meaning and Practice of Manhood in China and Japan (Louie and Low 2003). Men and Masculinities in Contemporary Japan revealed that along with the dominant salaryman style of masculinity, there are numerous types of marginalized masculinity, such as those of blue-collar workers and
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men who are primary caretakers of small children. Building upon the key concept wen-wu (literary-martial) in Chinese, or bunbu in Japanese, which Kam Louie and Louise Edwards (1994) developed to understand types of masculinity in China, Asian Masculinities demonstrated that representations and practices of masculinity that may appear feminine to Western observers may, in fact, be considered manly, dominant, and even desirable in both China and Japan. These books are important not only because Asian masculinity has been overlooked in Englishlanguage publications, but also because both of these books aimed at exploring ―Asian masculinities as understood by Asians in Asia‖ (Louie and Low 2003:2). While these publications constituted a significant step toward understanding Japanese and Asian masculinity, not from Western perspectives but from within, we are still left with several questions. From Connell‘s work, we already know that there are multiple types of masculinity in a given society. And not all types of masculinity are treated equally in the society (Connell 1995). Then we must ask, first, if some masculinities gain power over others, what are the types of masculinity that became dominant at a given moment in history? Second, what prompts the rise and decline of a dominant type of masculinity? Finally and most importantly, does the historical evolution of masculinity have any link to changes in Japan‘s foreign policymaking? According to Connell (1995), there are multiple layers of masculinity within a given society, such as ―hegemonic,‖ ―subordinate,‖ and ―marginalized.‖ In contemporary Japan, for example, it is apparent that the masculinity of working class men, well represented by the image of Japan‘s favorite anti-hero Kuruma Torajirō (better known as ―Tora-san‖), is different from that of the salaryman. While the salaryman type of masculinity has been considered ideal and even desirable in Japan throughout most of the post-WWII period, other styles of masculinity have been associated with social underdogs. So far I have used the term ―dominant masculinity‖ without detailed explanation. The notion is similar to Connell‘s concept of ―hegemonic masculinity‖ except that its dominance is local, not global.11 Whether there is such a thing as a globally dominant masculinity is open to question. A more recent investigation of transnational business masculinity by Connell and Julian Wood (2005) suggests diversity, not uniformity, in masculinity. Yet given the dominance of Western culture in the world, perhaps in part due to the popularity of Hollywood movies and English language–based mass media, a globally dominant masculinity may indeed exist. At the same time, locally dominant masculinity is equally conceivable because gender construction varies
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across time and space, and thus we still need to make a distinction between hegemonic masculinity and locally dominant masculinity. For the following reasons, this distinction is particularly necessary as we study masculinity in Japan. First, while I am aware that some use the term ―hegemonic masculinity‖ in discussing what I call ―dominant masculinity‖ in the Japanese context (e.g., Ishii-Kuntz 2003; Roberson 2003; Roberson and Suzuki 2003a), I prefer to avoid the term hegemonic masculinity because the notion of hegemonic masculinity is specifically derived from observations of Western societies. Thus its characteristics are often associated with white males. In my view, the concept is more effective in understanding gender in Western, more specifically Anglo-American, societies. The second reason this distinction between hegemonic masculinity and locally dominant masculinity is important is somewhat paradoxical. I believe that hegemonic masculinity (as masculinity associated with white men) is actually useful in understanding gender in Japan, especially in the context of Japan‘s modernization. Since the coming of Western influence, gender in Japan has been defined in the context of Western cultural domination. Thus, the relative paucity of white males in Japan does not necessarily mean that hegemonic masculinity in Western cultures has been irrelevant in defining gender in Japan. On the contrary, hegemonic masculinity as the masculinity of white, middleclass men in the West has affected the formation of gender in Japan through multiple channels of interaction between the two cultures, such as personal encounters, mass media, and literature. Therefore, it is important to distinguish globally dominant hegemonic masculinity from locally dominant forms of masculinity shared by policymakers and other leaders. Instead of hegemonic masculinity, therefore, I prefer to use the term ―dominant masculinity,‖ referring to a set of symbols, attributes, behaviors, lifestyles, and values agreed to by large numbers of people in a given society as manly and ideal. In other words, dominant masculinity means ―successful ways of ‗being a man,‘ in particular at a specific time‖ (Beynon 2002:16). 12 As gender construction changes over time, dominant masculinity, too, does not remain constant and thus it rises and declines and is replaced by another dominant masculinity. A society experiences a variety of dominant masculinities over time. Dominant masculinity, as opposed to marginalized or subordinate masculinity, is important because I focus on elites and political leaders and thus I am concerned with the masculinity of those whose goals are to retain power within a society through a variety of means, including
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the articulation and internalization of norms and characteristics associated with the image of ―successful men.‖ Like hegemonic masculinity, a dominant masculinity is a set of ideas about men that is shared by many in a given society at a given time to be ―natural,‖ ―ordinary,‖ and ―normal‖ (Donaldson 1993: 645) and, thus, those who aspire to be in positions of power will attempt to subscribe to this type of masculinity. Note that dominant masculinity is an ideal, and thus no single person is likely to have all the traits that are associated with it; instead, men with all such traits exist only in the imaginary world of myths, fiction, comic books, anime, movies, and the like. However, in a given society, there are groups of men the public views as close to the ideal, and these groups have varied over time. For example, in pre-WWII Japan, students of higher schools belonged to a privileged class of elites and were considered to be ideal Japanese (men). Thus they ―drew much attention in public discourse as symbols of a new age and future inheritors of the Meiji task of nation building‖ (Pflugfelder 1999:214). During the postwar period, in contrast, when class distinctions became much more obscure than in the prewar period, it was not the elite men from select higher schools who were considered to embody ideal masculinity, but the men who worked in large corporations as ―salarymen.‖ In this book, I will focus on both elites of the prewar period as well as the middle-class ordinary salarymen because these are the men who tried to embody the dominant masculinity, or were seen as doing so. The Argument in Brief: Warrior and Literati Masculinities and Japan
What follows in this book is an attempt to answer the questions raised earlier, focusing on the types of dominant masculinity that rose and declined, the factors behind the historical transformation of dominant masculinity, and the linkages between that dominant masculinity and Japan‘s foreign relations. Therefore, my first task is to trace dominant masculinity through Japan‘s modern history. As we discover the rise and decline of various types of dominant masculinity, we see that these types alternated between a masculinity that emphasized physical might and a masculinity that emphasized intellectual prowess, or between warrior and literati masculinities. These two types have alternated since the rise of the modern state in Japan. And when warrior masculinity was dominant, the Japanese government took an active defense stance and tended to emphasize the role of the military and a militarized foreign
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policy; when literati masculinity came to dominate the society, a passive defense stance or a more cooperative and less militarized foreign policy was adopted. Japanese society has seen the rise and decline of at least five distinct types of dominant masculinity since the foundation of the modern state in the nineteenth century: haikara (a Japanese rendition of Western gentleman masculinity); bankara (rough and aggressive masculinity resurrecting the image of the drifter samurai of the Edo period); kyōyōshugi (masculinity idolizing Western learning); ―men-as-soldiers‖; and the salaryman masculinity. The factors that gave rise to these types of masculinity and caused their decline were different each time. The rise and decline of a dominant masculinity is rarely caused by a single event or factor but is usually the result of multiple factors, both domestic and international. This book, in short, demonstrates that gender, dominant masculinity in particular, is formed within a specific historical context and that the rise and decline of dominant masculinities have been intertwined with Japan‘s international relations as both cause and effect. This book does not, however, claim that gender is the only factor that is relevant in understanding Japan‘s international relations. Gender is one of many factors that comprise a complex process of politics and policymaking, and the pursuit of power maximization through competition, as conventional IR theories claim, is undoubtedly part of that process. Yet as we will see in the following chapters, throughout the modern period, Japan has pursued power through the use of both active and passive defense stances in its foreign relations. The transformation of dominant masculinity within Japan is a factor that provides a key to understanding how the shifts between these two stances occur. While this book does not aim at proving an explicit causal link between changing constructions of gender and foreign policy, it demonstrates that dominant masculinity in Japan took different forms over time and that its transformation has been associated with shifts in Japan‘s foreign relations. It also shows that gender played an interactive role with Japan‘s foreign policy and international relations. That is to say, gender was behind the forces that shaped foreign relations as much as gender was shaped by foreign relations. Regarding Japan‘s changing contemporary defense policy, this book shows that the recent change from a passive to an active defense stance happened when policymakers questioned both Japan‘s passive defense stance and the associated salaryman masculinity.
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Notes 1 Free riding is a simplification of Japan‘s defense policy; in reality, Japan‘s military expenditures are among the highest in the world, and Japan hosts US troops by providing bases. 2 Formally titled the Law Concerning Cooperation for United Nations Peacekeeping Operations and Other Operations. 3 Article 5-(b) of the Joint Declaration reads: The Prime Minister and the President agreed to initiate a review of the 1978 Guidelines for Japan-U.S. Defense Cooperation to build upon the close working relationship already established between Japan and the United States. The two leaders agreed on the necessity to promote bilateral policy coordination, including studies on bilateral cooperation in dealing with situations that may emerge in the areas surrounding Japan and which would have an important influence on the peace and security of Japan. (www.mofa.go.jp) While the text merely reads that ―the leaders agreed on . . . studies,‖ experts agree that this is one of the important points of this declaration suggesting the possibility of United States-Japan military cooperation outside of Japan‘s national borders (Akiyama Masahiro et al 1996:28). 4 Formally titled the Law Concerning Measures to Ensure the Peace and Security of Japan in Situations in Areas Surrounding Japan. One of the reasons for the controversy over the law was that the government has refused to geographically define the ―surrounding areas‖ and left this phrase‘s meaning unclear. 5 The official name of the Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law is the Special Measures Law Concerning Measures Taken by Japan in Support of the Activities of Foreign Countries Aiming to Achieve the Purposes of the Charter of the United Nations in Response to the Terrorist Attacks Which Took Place on 11 September 2001 in the United States of America as well as Concerning Humanitarian Measures Based on Relevant Resolutions of the United Nations. 6 Of course, in any war, the distinction between combat and noncombat zones is a technical, not substantive, distinction. 7 The new law is formally titled the Law Regarding Special Measures Concerning Supply Assistance Activities in Support of Counter-Terrorism Maritime Interdiction Activities. 8 Interestingly, while Wendt questions the automatic connection between anarchy and the ―self-help‖ principle of the international world proposed by Kenneth Waltz (1979) and emphasizes the importance of firstand second-image theories that examine human nature or domestic politics, his model of international affairs is based on the assumption that states are unitary actors (Wendt 1992:395). 9 Out of twenty-two articles in this volume, notable exceptions are articles by Itō Yūko (―Tsuma no Kekkon, Otto no Kekkon‖ [Marriage for Wives, Marriage for Husbands]), Mutō Kiyoko (―Kazoku Kaigo to Jendā‖ [Family Care and Gender]), and Sagara Junko (―Kodomo to Terebi‖ [Children and TV]).
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10 The results of these workshops were later published as Ajia Kara Miru Jendā (Gender seen from Asia) (Tanaka 2008). 11 Connell defined ―hegemonic masculinity‖ as ―the configuration of gender practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the problem of legitimacy of patriarchy which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordination of women‖ (1995:77). 12 This was actually Beynon‘s definition of hegemonic masculinity.
3 The Historical Transformation of Dominant Masculinity
The dominant masculinity in postwar Japan has been the ―salaryman‖ masculinity. Being a salaryman has been the way of life for many Japanese men, and it has also been an ideal for the majority of men to strive for. But as we take a look at the historical evolution of dominant masculinity, being a salaryman is but one of many types of masculinity that eventually came to dominate all other types of masculinity (and femininity) in Japan. In this chapter, I first portray the historical evolution of Japan‘s dominant masculinity. Second, I present the different types of masculinity that rose to dominance during the course of Japan‘s modernization. Third, I introduce two categories of dominant masculinity, hard vs. soft and warrior vs. literati, which help illuminate a certain pattern in the way dominant masculinities emerged in the past. Finally, I show the linkage between alternating warrior and literati masculinities and Japan‘s foreign relations. The Evolution of Dominant Masculinity
Even in the twenty-first century, Japanese men often liken themselves to bushi (samurai warriors) and the bushi ethos is closely wedded to all types of masculinity in Japan. Thus, images of bushi, for better or worse, have affected the construction of masculinity in modern Japan like a basso continuo in a piece of orchestral music. While the actual bushi rule ended in the nineteenth century, its image has been a constant source of inspiration for the creation of various new forms of ideal manliness. Still, while bushi has been an important source of traits in dominant masculinity throughout Japan‘s modern history, it is important to note that dominant masculinity has gone through dramatic changes over time. The Meiji Restoration meant the end of the shogunate and thus the formal, if not the substantial, end of bushi as the ruling class. The end of
25
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seclusion and the resulting encounter with Western civilization during the Meiji period opened the eyes of the Japanese populace to the stark differences between Japan and the West, which included differences concerning gender. With an explicit goal of gaining respect and equal status with Western powers, the new ruling elites, who were bushi in origin to be sure, rejected everything—be it political, cultural, or social—about the Edo period, including the ways and values of bushi, and they moved rapidly to westernize Japan. What this meant in terms of gender was that the members of the new ruling class aimed at presenting themselves as civilized men worthy of respect in the eyes of Westerners. They carefully studied and imitated Western elites, including how men treated women and vice versa (Sekiguchi 2005). The Western lifestyles and values introduced at the time of the Meiji Restoration were later referred to as haikara (high-collar), roughly meaning ―Western chic,‖ the name deriving from a kind of Western-style shirt that became a symbol of sophistication, replacing the traditional kimono.1 However, this new lifestyle was quickly challenged by a more traditional and ―hard‖ masculinity, namely, bankara (a play on the word haikara, with ―ban‖ meaning barbarous). Bankara masculinity, which emerged around the time of the Jiyū Minken Undō (Freedom and People‘s Rights Movement) in the 1870s, challenged the haikara masculinity of the Meiji ruling class (Karlin 2002). About the time of the Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895), it replaced haikara masculinity in dominance and continued to be the dominant masculinity among elites until about the end of the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). After the Russo-Japanese War, a gentler masculinity that I call kyōyōshugi (self-cultivation) began to proliferate among students of higher schools. As we will see in the next chapter, these students were bred to become leaders and elites in all aspects of Japanese society, including politics, business, and education, and the ideal masculinity shared by these students was the most powerful and thus dominant masculinity of this period. While kyōyōshugi masculinity continued to dominate the culture of elites throughout the pre-WWII period, with the coming of militarization in the 1930s and the first half of the 1940s in particular, the elites‘ kyōyōshugi masculinity was gradually replaced. By the first half of the 1940s, again a more violent and militarized ―men-assoldiers‖ masculinity became dominant not only among the public in general but also among elite students. With the end of WWII and Japan‘s defeat, Japanese society and culture—including gender roles and ideals—went through radical changes. What emerged from war-torn, demilitarized and democratized
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Japan was a new type of masculinity—salaryman masculinity—which molded Japanese men into loyal and hard-working corporate workers. The rise of this type of masculinity was the foundation of the miraculous economic growth Japan experienced during the late 1950s and throughout the 1960s. Five Types of Dominant Masculinity
I will now portray five distinct types of masculinity that have become dominant since the rise of a modern state in Japan in the nineteenth century. Haikara Masculinity
Western civilization, as introduced by the Meiji government, brought about both visible and invisible changes. In terms of visible changes, every aspect of people‘s lives were affected. Western clothing, such as top hats and tails for men and dresses for women, were introduced. Both men and women changed to Western hairstyles; men sported facial hair, and women wore make-up. Western architecture began to change city landscapes and the Japanese people began to consume Western food, such as meat and dairy products. In addition, invisible changes occurred as in the flow of Western knowledge, such as technology, science, and political and legal systems, which in turn transformed people‘s lifestyles, values, norms, and ideals. These visible and invisible changes included changes in gender as well. As discussed in Chapter 1, the construction of gender can take the form of visible symbols. The most symbolic of all the changes regarding gender that took place during this time period was the renunciation of swords by men, men of the bushi class to be precise, as swords were not only arms to kill others but were, more importantly, symbols of bushi as the legitimate rulers since the twelfth century. What appeared in place of bushi masculinity was a carefully studied ―civilized‖ masculinity of the European and American ruling classes. Government officials who were at the heart of the bunmei kaika (civilization and enlightenment) movement studied and imitated Western manners and fashion through their direct contact with Western societies, such as the Iwakura mission (a large group of government leaders and students sent by the Meiji government to the United States and European countries in 1871). In addition, leaders also indirectly absorbed Western manners by reading numerous etiquette books, such
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as Fukuzawa Yukichi‘s Seiyō Ishokujū (Western Clothing, Food, and Houses) published in 1867 (Karlin 2002:44). While the new Japanese gentleman of the early Meiji Period was obsessed with the material aspects of Western civilization (Karlin 2002:44–48) to the point of superficiality, the coming of haikara masculinity signified a serious change in how dominant masculinity was constructed in Japan. The rise of haikara masculinity to dominance meant that men who aspired to maintain or gain power needed to reinvent themselves as Westernized gentlemen in terms of both style and identity. To be a man of power in the new Meiji Japan, therefore, meant intimate knowledge of Western culture, including fluency in Western languages, mastery of etiquette and manners (which included respectful treatment of ladies), and the attire of a Western gentleman. Because the new elites had to deny everything related to bushi culture, the rise of haikara masculinity meant that the basis of bushi masculinity, such as excellence in martial arts and extensive knowledge of Chinese classics, lost their value as constitutive elements of ideal masculinity. Bankara Masculinity
Bankara masculinity emerged as a reaction to the new Westernized haikara masculinity. By 1874, Itagaki Taisuke and his men who led the political opposition movement called Jiyūminken Undō challenged those in power by deliberately resurrecting images of traditional bushi and acting roughly, rowdily, and sometimes violently. The purpose of this was to make Westernized haikara ―gentlemen‖ look meek, cowardly, and even effeminate. The core of the new masculinity was the reassumption of a form of manliness reminiscent of bushi masculinity, and therefore it incorporated symbols suggestive of ―harder‖ and rougher masculinity. Thus, bankara men rejected then-fashionable Western attire and instead adopted a style that resembled the rōnin (drifter samurai) of the premodern period, such as torn kimono and geta (traditional wooden clogs). This attitude and attire, of course, were used as symbols not only to portray the new masculinity to be espoused by the new group of men intent on grasping power, but also with a clear intention to cast Westernized Meiji as too effete to be the legitimate rulers of Japan (Karlin 2002). By the time of the Sino-Japanese War, this masculinity replaced haikara and came to dominate.
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Kyōyōshugi Masculinity
By the early twentieth century, bankara masculinity began to face a challenge from a softer masculinity that welcomed Westernized ideals and values. Then, the spread of kyōyōshugi (the ―self-cultivation‖ principle) among the literati and prestigious kyūsei kōkō (old higher schools) students marked a renewed commitment to Western culture, not unlike the time of the earlier Meiji leaders who espoused haikara masculinity. Curiously, the appearance of kyūsei kōkō students— symbolized by a cap with white lines, black cloak, and hōba no geta (wooden clogs)—continued to project the image of bankara masculinity (Hata 2003:84). Yet, compared to the bankara masculinity of the midMeiji period, the masculine ideal shared among elite students was less focused on physical toughness and violence and more on self cultivation, emphasizing the pursuit of knowledge in academic fields such as Western literature, culture, philosophy, and art. By the mid-Taishō period (ca. 1918), kyōyōshugi faced challenges from Marxist thinkers (who had been affected by the Russian Revolution), yet this made little difference to the construction of dominant masculinity around the studies of Western thought and culture. Marxist or not, these elite students continued to define and were constrained by kyōyōshugi as the dominant masculinity, which emphasized the importance of Western knowledge and academic achievement. Men-As-Soldiers Masculinity
As Japan entered the Pacific War, every person was expected to defend and die for the nation and the Emperor. Indeed, women were also expected to ―defend‖ the nation in their own ways, such as by becoming mothers of (future) soldiers and working in ammunitions factories. Still, the men who joined the military became the ideal imperial subjects. Therefore, the wartime dominant masculinity was about men serving in the Imperial Army and Navy. In late 1943 the government decided on gakuto dōin, or mobilization of students who were previously exempt from conscription. While elite high school students kept a distance from Japan‘s militarism and still espoused kyōyōshugi masculinity, the ―men-as-soldiers‖ type of masculinity had become the officially accepted ideal in the early 1940s, when the military monopolized politics and the entire nation was militarized. And what were Imperial soldiers supposed to be like? The key is found in what boys studied in military academies. Young men
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who entered military academies were taught the ―spirit of soldiers‖ which meant ―to loyally work as hands and legs for the Emperor‖ (Hirota 1997:174). Along with military studies and physical training, students learned historical anecdotes for seishin kyōiku (spiritual education) aimed at toughening the minds of trainees. Seishin kyōiku was at the core of military academy curricula, and it was practiced not only in classrooms but also throughout students‘ everyday lives (Hirota 1995:197). Salaryman Masculinity
Japan‘s defeat in WWII and the subsequent Allied Occupation brought about extensive political, social, economic, and cultural changes aimed at demilitarizing and democratizing Japan. With regard to gender, first, demilitarization meant Japan was no longer allowed to possess a military, thereby dissolving the pre-war men-as-soldiers masculinity. Second, democratization meant the end of the ie system in which the kachō (the official head of the ie, which was a multigenerational family bearing the same family name) held tremendous, often oppressive, power and control over family members. In place of ie, the occupation authorities tried to transplant the US-style nuclear family ideal. In short, the occupation authorities sought to transform Japanese men from Imperial soldiers and authoritarian fathers who were loyal subjects of the Emperor to loving, caring fathers (often referred to as mai hōmu papa, or ―my home papa‖) (Kanō et al 2004). Instead of accepting this American ideal, however, as soon as Japan regained its sovereignty, commenced its economic recovery, and entered the high-growth period of the latter half of the 1950s, a new type of masculinity began to emerge. With the coming of Japan‘s economic ―miracle‖ in the late 1950s and 1960s, salarymen who displayed ―loyalty, diligence, dedication and self-sacrifice‖ (Dasgupta 2003:123) became the most desirable male role model and gained dominance over other types of masculinities. Young men were molded into loyal salarymen through seishin kyōiku, not unlike the training once used to mold young men into Imperial soldiers. By the time the Economic Planning Agency declared that mohaya sengo dewa nai (it is no longer the postwar [recovery] period) in 1956, salaried workers had become mōretsu shain (dedicated corporate workers) and the prewar slogan okuni no tameni (for the nation) was replaced by kaisha no tameni (for the company) (Ishikawa and Takishima 2000:49). Salaryman masculinity was the ideal and dominant masculinity at least until the late 1980s. It appears that the salaryman type of
The Historical Transformation of Dominant Masculinity
31
masculinity remained dominant, and even ideal, during that time, as it was then that a TV commercial for a health drink called Regain made by Daiichi Sankyō Healthcare Co. was released and became enormously popular. Widely broadcast in 1989, the commercial left an everlasting image of a dedicated and virile Japanīzu bujinesuman (Japanese businessman) with the famous refrain ―Nijū yojikan tatakae masuka? (Can you fight 24 hours a day?) in the minds and ears of Japanese viewers.2 However, after the Heisei Recession in the 1990s, salaryman masculinity lost its appeal as an ideal and nothing definite has replaced it. Categorizing Dominant Masculine Ideals
So far, we have surveyed the types of dominant masculinity that have been ascendant at different times since the nineteenth century. Were they all different from one another or were there any similarities? In an effort to understand whether or not there is any pattern in the rise and decline of dominant masculinities, I introduce two concepts used in the discussion of masculinity. These concepts are not common in academic gender/masculinity studies yet they appear often in writings and spoken Japanese in reference to men, boys, and masculinity. The first is the category used to describe the different types of masculinity that exist in Japanese society: hard (kōha) or soft (nanpa). The second is the notion used to describe the ideal masculinity: bunbu as in bunbu ryōdo (to excel in both literature and martial arts/sports). Hard Masculinity vs. Soft Masculinity
The distinction between hard masculinity or kōha (kō means hard, ha means faction) and soft masculinity or nanpa (nan means soft, pa also means faction) is useful in categorizing the different types of masculinity, because these terms have been widely used to refer to boys, men, and masculinity in modern Japan.3 I am not entirely certain when the Japanese terms kōha and nanpa were created or by whom, but they appear as early as 1909 in the famous novel Ita Sekusuarisu (Vita Sexualis) by Mori Ōgai. According to Ōgai, the distinction between kōha and nanpa is primarily the willingness to display sexual desires. Men who subscribe to hard masculinity (kōha men, hereafter) do not dare to look at pornography (at least not openly) whereas men who subscribe to soft masculinity (nanpa men, hereafter) not only read pornographic books but also are not afraid to go to public baths and then
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―go upstairs,‖ which was then commonly a seedy salon with ―bath ladies‖ (Okamoto 1928:5).4 According to Ōgai, differences between kōha and nanpa were also seen in the way men belonging to each school dressed and in their postures. While both kōha and nanpa students dressed in kokura bakama (long cotton culottes) and dark navy tabi (Japanese socks), kōha men had a way of showing their rough masculinity by ―rolling-up their sleeves‖ and ―standing square with their shoulders slightly raised‖ (this posture was meant to be menacing). Interestingly, Ōgai pointed out that the difference was also due to the birthplaces of these students and that most kōha men came from areas in Kyūshu, such as Saga and Kumamoto prefectures (1976:280). Traditionally, men from Kyūshu are known to be ―manly‖ and conventional. Granted that there is variation across historical periods, in general, kōha is associated with physical toughness, a muscular body, roughness, athleticism, and sometimes violence. Nanpa, in contrast, is associated with a slim body and sleek hair style, sophistication, and sociability. As for sexual orientation, neither kōha nor nanpa is explicitly heterosexual or homosexual. However, as Ōgai (1976) stated, there is a clear difference between these two in terms of the degree to which heterosexual socialization is acknowledged and demonstrated. The hallmark of kōha is its emphasis on and valorization of sexual stoicism, socialization among men, and rejection of fraternization with women (at least in public settings) as means of self-control. Fraternization with women in private may often be censured and scandalized but, at the same time, the same kōha men may boast about the number of women they have bedded. Taken to an extreme, some kōha men display misogyny. By contrast, the major component of nanpa is unabashed socialization with women, which sometimes manifests itself as promiscuity. Nanpa men take pride in their smooth courting techniques with women and sophisticated, modern tastes in fashion, and in their lifestyles, which in part are intended to overtly appeal to women. Relationships with women may be the most obvious distinction between kōha and nanpa, yet another distinction between the two is the difference in attachment to athleticism and physical development. Kōha is associated with serious attention to stoic physical discipline, thus making kōha men play ―hard-core‖ sports such as martial arts and baseball. 5 After all, kōha is all about taming one‘s desires and overcoming weakness in order to achieve higher spiritual development. Nanpa men, on the other hand, tend to not emphasize disciplining themselves as much, but rather interact with women and engage in sports only to mix with or impress women (Takeuchi 2003:10).
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Bunbu: Excellence in Literature and Martial Arts
While the distinction between kōha and nanpa is used to refer to boys, men, and masculinity in the general society, there is a special concept reserved to describe the ideal or dominant masculinity, namely, bunbu ryōdō. Roughly translated as excellence in both literature (bun) and martial arts (bu), bunbu ryōdō is often used to compliment ―manly‖ and gifted/successful men and boys (and sometimes women who are ―as good as‖ men). Kam Louie and Louise Edwards used this concept in their study of Chinese masculinity (1994). To be sure, Louie explicitly states that the wen-wu (bunbu as pronounced in Chinese) paradigm is not applicable to non-Chinese men because non-Chinese men cannot be wen and/or wu seen from the Chinese perspective (Louie 2002:12–13). It is indeed true that wen and wu, when studying Chinese masculinity, must be understood within a Chinese historical and cultural context, but the fact that Japanese also use the same phrase in reference to their masculinity means that the concept can be understood in a Japanese cultural context and applied as well to studies of Japanese masculinity. As in China (Louie and Edwards 1994), the ideal masculinity in Japan has always combined both bun and bu. As evidence of Chinese influence in the construction of Japanese masculinity, being knowledgeable in literature historically meant proficiency in kanbun (a Japanese method of reading annotated classical Chinese literature) (Aoyama 2003:163). However, in contemporary usage, bun means having wide and deep knowledge and excellence in the fields of art and literature in general. Art could mean both Western and traditional art such as Western painting and music on the one hand and calligraphy, haiku, and tanka (a type of Japanese poetry) on the other. Literature, again, could be both Western and Japanese and other non-Western writings. In the broadest usage, it could include all academic subjects. If bun masculinity is about excellence in the attainment of knowledge, bu masculinity is about physical development not dissimilar to kōha’s emphasis on hard-core sports. Bu masculinity has historically been associated with martial arts such as judo, karate, and kendo. In the contemporary usage of the term, however, the meaning has expanded to include excellence and dedication not only to traditional sports but also to Western sports such as baseball and rugby (Light 2003). In China, as Louie and Edwards noted, whether an ideal man has to embody both masculinities or one or the other may have varied over time (Louie and Edwards 1994:140,145–146). In Japan, in contrast, dating as far back as the thirteenth century, ideal masculinity had to
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entail both bun and bu. According to Kōjien, these two words appeared together as in bunbu nidō (the two ways of bunbu) in Heike Monogatari (The Tale of the Heike), written in the late thirteenth to early fourteenth century. And in general, the phrase bunbu places bun before bu to suggest that the bun quality has a higher value than the bu quality. (The order of characters in ideographs often suggests a difference in the importance of the characters, as seen in such phrases as danjo [male and female], fūfu [husband and wife], tenchi [heaven and earth], and jōge [above and below].) In reality, though, the weight given to bun or bu masculinity in the dominant masculinity has varied over time. Our overview of dominant masculinity indicates that some variants of dominant masculinity, such as haikara, kyōyōshugi, and salaryman, placed heavier emphasis on the bun component, whereas in the bankara and men-as-soldiers masculinities, the bu component was much more important. Two Types of Dominant Masculinity: Warrior and Literati Masculinities
There is a certain overlap between the types of masculinity in the general society (hard and soft) and the dominant types of masculinity of the society as a whole (the bun and bu types of bunbu masculinity). Namely, the dominant masculinity with an emphasis on bu qualities belongs to the category of kōha and the dominant masculinity with an emphasis on bun qualities belongs to the category of nanpa. In order to distinguish between the two different types of bunbu masculinity, we will call the first ―warrior masculinity‖ and the second ―literati masculinity.‖ It is important to note that while warrior masculinity belongs to the kōha category and literati masculinity belongs to the nanpa category, we must keep the bun vs. bu and hard vs. soft distinctions separate. This is because the hard/soft masculinity distinction is applicable to all types of masculinities in Japan whereas the warrior/literati distinction is applied to the bunbu masculinity and thus to dominant and ideal masculinity only. Certainly the warrior and literati types of dominant masculinity draw from traits in the hard and soft masculinities in the broad society, respectively. Yet to be a dominant masculinity, both warrior and literati masculinities must incorporate both bun and bu qualities. That is to say, warrior masculinity must incorporate some bun qualities and literati masculinity must incorporate some bu qualities, and this duality makes warrior and literati masculinities unique and somewhat apart from the simple hard and soft masculinities in the general society.
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Warrior and Literati Masculinities and Japan’s Foreign Relations
Masculinity is not set in stone. It changes over time and varies across cultures. Connell, for example, argued that modern masculinity was affected by historical developments such as the ―spread of Renaissance secular culture and the Protestant reformation,‖ the ―creation of overseas empires,‖ the ―growth of the cities as centers of capitalism,‖ and the ―onset of large-scale European civil war‖ (1995:186–187). Some observers may think that men and masculinity are about competitiveness and sometimes violence, whereas women and femininity are about cooperation and peacefulness. However, in Connell‘s study of the historical evolution of masculinity in the West, we find that masculinity was often, but not always, associated with violence. For example, gentry masculinity, which emerged in the eighteenth century, was inherently violent because the duel functioned as the ultimate demonstration of manhood. By the nineteenth century, gentry masculinity gave way to bourgeois masculinity due to industrialization and the development of bureaucratic states. As the state became centralized, which in turn gave rise to large-scale armies, in Europe the newly rising masculinity became closely linked to bureaucratically organized violence. While the transformation of masculinity in the West briefly witnessed the masculinity of fascism glorifying irrationality and unrestrained violence, post-WWII masculinity became increasingly constructed around rationality and expertise. Thus, the role of violence in defining masculinity diminished in Europe, if not in the former colonies (1995:191–199). In Japan, the close relationship between dominant masculinity and physical toughness or violence appears to wax and wane. Dominant masculinity always entailed both elements of bun and bu as mentioned above. Yet, literati masculinities often became dominant in Japan‘s modern history. For example, some variants of dominant masculinity, such as haikara and kyōyōshugi, were not so much about physical toughness and violence as they were about cultural sophistication and knowledge. But in between these literati masculinities, warrior masculinities such as bankara and men-as-soldiers masculinities did become dominant. In fact, we see that the dominant masculinity in Japan has alternated between warrior masculinity and literati masculinity (Table 2.1). As we look at the evolution of dominant masculinity, we do see a pattern: warrior and literati masculinities tend to alternate over time. As we have seen above, Meiji haikara masculinity, with less emphasis on bu qualities (thus its categorization as a literati masculinity), was
The Historical Transformation of Dominant Masculinity
37
During this period, the salaryman literati masculinity gained dominance and remained dominant until the early 1990s. Steve Niva, looking at the history of masculinity in the United States, pointed out that the US defeat in Vietnam transformed the American idea of manhood from one that gave men authority on the basis of their ―role as military guardians of the nation‖ (1998:115) to one focused on responsibilities over family and society. However, this ―crisis‖ of masculinity (and foreign policy) (1998:116) in the late 1960s and 1970s in the United States was quickly challenged by the ―remasculinization of American culture‖ (116) and the highly militarized foreign policy of the Reagan era. As Niva aptly observed, the rise of a remilitarized US foreign policy was accompanied by the remilitarization of masculinity, and thus it appears that there is a close link between masculinity and foreign policymaking in the United States. This link between masculinity and foreign policymaking may be unique to the United States, but it may also be seen elsewhere. Through our quick overview of the transformation of Japan‘s dominant masculinity, we have already seen that it fluctuated between warrior masculinity and literati masculinity and that the alternation between the two accompanied shifts in Japan‘s foreign relations. However, the linkage between dominant masculinity and Japan‘s international relations appears to be interactive, rather than a simple causal relationship with one a dependent variable and the other an independent variable. Therefore, in the following chapters, we will examine the linkages within each specific historical context.
Notes 1
It appears that the term haikara, together with its opposite, bankara, was coined in the late nineteenth century, several decades into the Meiji Period. The word was originally conceived of in 1898 as takaeritō (high collar party) by the journalist Ishikawa Yasujirō (penname Ishikawa Hanzan) and referred to a group of men who came back from overseas wearing Western shirts, according to Buritanika Hyakka Jiten (Britannica Encyclopedia; also Karlin 2002:61). Haikara originally was used satirically, referring to those who superficially imitated Westerners, and was associated with vanity. However, over time it began to be used with positive connotations (Takeuchi 1999:233). 2 From the official web site for Regain, available at www.regain.jp/index.html (accessed April 13, 2010). 3 Note that this distinction between ―soft‖ and ―hard‖ masculinity is not exclusive to Japan and has been made in Western cultures (Carrigan, Connell, and Lee 1987; Solomon-Godeau 1997; Beynon 2002).
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There are many different English translations of the terms kōha and nanpa. For example, the translators of Ogai‘s book, Kazuji Ninomiya and Sanford Goldstein, translated kōha as ―queers‖ and nanpa as ―mashers‖ (1972). However, because these words, queers in particular, have different connotations in contemporary usage, I have not used these translations. Ian Buruma calls them ―hard school‖ and ―soft school‖ (Buruma 1984:143). Donald T. Roden uses ―rough faction‖ and ―soft faction‖ (Roden 1980:27). In this book, for the sake of simplicity, I just call them hard and soft masculinities. 4 For a detailed study of the sexuality of kōha men, male-male sexual relations in particular, see Pflugfelder (1999:212–225). 5 What comprises ―hard-core‖ sports that are acceptable for kōha men is not entirely clear, but here are some examples. Hard-core sports are martial arts such as judo and kendo and other western sports such as baseball. Sports such as tennis, golf, gymnastics, soccer, and badminton are definitely not considered hard core. Interestingly, the distinction is apparently not divided between traditional and Western since baseball is seen as hard core.
4 Dominant Prewar Masculinity: Bankara vs. Kyōyōshugi
The period between the Russo-Japanese War and the 1930s was a rare moment in Japan‘s pre-WWII foreign relations. During this period, Japanese foreign policy was relatively less militaristic and a rise was seen in the Japanese government‘s willingness to cooperate with Western powers, symbolized by the so-called Shidehara Diplomacy (with, of course, the obvious exception of Japan‘s military involvement during WWI). To be sure, toward its Asian neighbors, the Japanese government continued its imperialist encroachment as exemplified by Japan‘s annexation of Korea in 1910 and the Twenty-One Demands to China made in 1915. Yet at the same time, in relation to the Western powers, the Japanese government exhibited an increased willingness to opt for diplomatic measures rather than aggression and violence. During this period, events external and internal to Japan contributed to the shift in Japan‘s foreign relations. On the external side was the rise of Wilsonian idealism, which led to the creation of the League of Nations, and on the internal side was the emergence of Taishō Democracy, a nationwide movement led by intellectuals, philosophers, students, and journalists, calling for freedom and democratic government.1 In terms of dominant masculinity in Japan, in parallel to these international and domestic events we see a decline of the militaristic warrior bankara masculinity and the rise of a more peaceful literati kyōyōshugi masculinity. How did this transition happen? In this chapter, we will take a closer look at these two types of dominant masculinity with a goal of examining the transition from one type to the other within the context of concurrent changes in Japan‘s foreign relations.
39
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Bankara Masculinity
In the mid-1870s, the Meiji government, the first modern state of Japan established in 1868, faced its first serious political opposition. The opposition movement known as Jiyū Minken Undō (Freedom and People‘s Rights Movement) was led by Itagaki Taisuke who, together with other political leaders such as Saigō Takamori, left the government in 1873 to protest the decision not to conquer Korea. The movement was about a demand for the establishment of a democratically chosen parliament, but it was also about frustration over ruling elites‘ foreign policy decisions and their infatuation with the West. As the opposition and mass media portrayed government officials‘ Western attire and customs as a feminization of Japanese masculinity, Jiyū Minken Undō became a contestation over the construction of legitimate masculinity as much as it was about politics and policymaking (Karlin 2002). Thus, young men called sōshi (young political activists, literally ―virile men‖), who were associated with this movement, showed disdain at what they saw as feminine Meiji leaders and showed their frustration by their brazen demeanor and deliberate donning of unfashionable attire such as torn kimonos and geta (traditional clogs). By doing so, these men aimed at projecting an image of themselves as legitimate rulers who were ―manlier‖ than those in the government. Their articulation of a new masculinity was thus about the legitimacy of a certain type of man to hold power, but it was also about these men‘s desire to build a strong Japan with military might sufficient to invade neighboring countries, as they believed in militarism and violence. The image these men aimed to project was their rendering of bushi, and they appear to have been inspired by a particular group of rebellious men of the Edo period. Sōshi‘s images resonated with those of the shishi (men of high purpose) who arose against the Edo government in the 1850s. These men ―were most often angry young men from the middle to lower ranks of the samurai class‖ and ―supported direct, violent action‖ (Gordon 2003:52–53). We see the continuity between shishi and sōshi masculinity in the celebration of violence propelled by ―pure motives‖ (Gordon 2003:81). The celebration of Western culture and valorization of haikara masculinity reached its apex during the so-called Rokumeikan period (1883–1887), during which government officials and nobility hosted lavish European-style balls and parties inviting foreign emissaries and delegates. However, the bankara masculinity embraced by the sōshi began to gain wider social support and to replace haikara as the
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41
dominant masculinity by the time Japan won the Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895). The war not only ―proved‖ that violence and militarism helped elevate Japan‘s international status, but it also provided an opportunity for critics to show that haikara government officials undermined Japan‘s national ambition when Japan won the war but was forced to return the Liaodong Peninsula, which Japan had taken as the fruit of its triumph. Humiliated, the popular media heightened their criticisms of Meiji elites as effete, giving momentum to those who opposed the government (Karlin 2002:61). Kyūsei Kōkō
Prewar national leaders were mostly members of the elite who graduated from certain elite schools. In contrast to postwar Japan, the prewar Japanese educational system was highly segregated based on scholastic performance, occupation preference, class, and sex. Most people only received six years of mandatory primary education in schools called jinjō shōgakkō (common elementary school) and maybe another couple of years of education in kōtō shōgakkō (advanced elementary school) (Takeuchi 1999:26). Thus, very few were privileged to receive secondary and tertiary education. Furthermore, to join the ranks of the top elite, one had to receive education not just in any of the upper-level schools but in particular schools. One not only had to graduate from an Imperial university, such as Tokyo and Kyoto Universities, but also graduate from one of the best kyūsei kōtō gakkō (or kyūsei kōkō, old higher schools), so-called number schools in particular.2 They were called number schools because the oldest and most prestigious national kyūsei kōkō did not have names but were simply called by the number of their respective school districts, as in Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō (or Ichikō, the First Higher School). As in England, where elites had to be graduates not only of ―Oxbridge‖ but also prestigious public schools such as Eton and Harrow, one had to graduate from one of these schools to be considered among the top elite in prewar Japan. The kyūsei kōkō system was established in 1894 after a reform of the existing kōtō chūgakkō (or kōtō chūgaku) (higher middle school) system. The Meiji educational system explicitly aimed at nurturing future upper-class leaders, as stated by Minister of Education Mori Arinori in 1886 when kōtō chūgaku was established: Those who study at kōtō chūgaku may start working upon graduation or continue advanced studies, yet they shall all join the upper class.
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Thus kōtō chūgaku is a place to foster people who are going to affect the thoughts of the masses by becoming senior officials for those who aspire to become civil servants, managers for those who aspire to become merchants, or specialized academics for those who aspire to become scholars. (Takahashi 1992:4)
Prior to the establishment of the kyūsei kōkō, the system of kōtō chūgaku, established in 1886, consisted of five school districts and numbers one to seven kōtō chūgaku. These kōtō chūgaku were all established in these districts within the first two years after the adoption of the system (Takeuchi 1999:43).3 The system of kōtō chūgaku only lasted for eight years but this was when the basic characteristics of prewar elite education were formed, which in turn formed the basis of the system of kyūsei kōkō (Hata 2003:68). Kōtō chūgaku as well as kyūsei kōkō were deliberately elitist, formed to generate national leaders. As stated in the above speech, Minister Mori established kōtō chūgaku to educate ―those who occupy the core of the state, thus the top of society‖ (Hata 2003:68). Kōtō chūgaku indeed was the path to becoming a member of the elite, because admissions into Imperial universities, which generated national leaders such as bureaucrats, bankers, corporate leaders, and school teachers, were exclusively limited to those who graduated from kōtō chūgaku (Takeuchi 1999:61, 69, 74). The creation of elites through the new education system was done not only to bolster Japan‘s modernization but also with a very specific international goal: to attain equal status with Western powers. In the speech given at the opening ceremony of the Dai Shi Kōtō Chūgaku (the Fourth Higher Middle School) in Kanazawa, Mori stated ―to obtain independence of our nation in the face of the interaction with other nations, it is of utmost importance that we foster those with precise academic knowledge to stand at the top of our society‖ (Akimoto 1983:144; Takahashi 1992:4). Even after the system of kōtō chūgaku was replaced by kyūsei kōkō in 1894, the elitist nature of the system remained the same and kyūsei kōkō now became the only path to the national elite by offering three years of education for male students aimed particularly at preparing them to study at Imperial universities. The exclusiveness of kyūsei kōkō is apparent from the fact that only 1,269 students graduated in 1908, which was 0.29 percent of all twenty-year-old men at that time. Even after the number of kyūsei kōkō increased from its original seven to thirty-four by 1940, the number of men who graduated from these
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schools remained as low as 4,674, or 0.72 percent of all twenty-year-old men at that time (Takeuchi 1999:34).4 Ichikō and Bankara Masculinity
We will now focus on Ichikō (the First Higher School) and its culture because an overwhelming number of prewar elites graduated from it (Takeuchi 1999:141). It was a sort of incubator for prewar dominant masculinity in Japan. The culture of Ichikō since its establishment was dominantly that of bankara masculinity. As we have seen, bankara culture originated as the culture of sōshi in Jiyū Minken Undō, and it reflected images of shishi, rebellious young bushi in the late Edo period. It is understandable why the kyūsei kōkō‘ culture rejected the westernized haikara masculinity of the Meiji leaders and instead associated with the culture of those who opposed the government if one considers the background of students who entered higher education during the early period of kyūsei kokō‘s formation. Deprived of the privileged status they held in the Edo period, the majority of students of kōtō chūgakkō came from the former bushi class, who were eager to retain their elite status (Takahashi 1992:5, 7). As a student described life at Ichikō in his school journal Kōyūkaishi5, bankara culture was an explicit attempt to transplant the culture of sōshi within elite schools: Rōjōshugi [the principle of rōjō or ―castle under siege‖] was created as follows. Manly sōshi dwelled here, strode avenues proudly in their hēihabō [tattered clothes and torn caps], and in the evenings, they rushed back to the dungeon and tightly shut its door. (Naka 1981:449)6
All of Ichikō‘s students lived in dormitories and thus Ichikō‘s culture was shaped through students‘ intimate dormitory lives. Ichikō‘s unique culture certainly reflected students‘ backgrounds as offspring of the former bushi class, but it was purposefully created by the leadership of two principals. First, Kinoshita Hiroji, the first principal of Ichikō, determined that the most important principle to govern students‘ dormitory lives was their autonomy. Thus, in 1888 when he was appointed vice-principal of the First Kōtō Chūgaku, he delivered the famous rōjōshugi speech urging students to detach themselves from the tumultuous masses and retain high morality. In this speech, Kinoshita stated ―once you step outside of the school, they are all enemies. Kōtō Chūgaku is rōjō‖ (Kyūsei Kotō Gakkō Kinenkan 1996:23). In addition to rōjōshugi, later in 1890, Kinoshita pronounced the famous shikōryō (four tenets) that commanded Ichikō students to: build self-respect and
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cultivate honor; rouse affection and cultivate the public spirit; develop humility and cultivate tranquility; and pay attention to hygiene and cultivate cleanliness (Takahashi 1992:19; Naka 1981:23–30).7 While Kinoshita is famous for his rōjōshugi speech and the shikōryō, it was during the tenure of the principal Kanō Kōkichi, which began in 1898, that rōjōshugi became the governing principle of Ichikō‘s dormitories. As a student wrote: Under the guidance of Principal Kanō, the term rōjōshugi was formulated and the climate which glorified hēihabō and gōshuhōgin [heavy drinking and loud singing], approved fighting and violence, sutōmu [storm, or a riotous midnight party], ryōu [literally ―dormitory rain,‖ meaning urination from upper floors], and rōben [literally ―wax study,‖ meaning studying with candle light] was born.8 (Takahashi 1992:24; Takeuchi 1999:193)
To be sure, this student carefully stated that Principal Kanō did not encourage or orchestrate these habits but at the same time he acknowledged that Kanō implicitly approved the growth of this culture by giving students ample autonomy in their dormitory lives. With the autonomy and distance from the masses guaranteed, Ichikō students spawned a unique culture that had a lasting effect on their lives. It is true that Ichikō officially embraced both bun and bu cultures as its school flag (named Gokokuki, literally ―national defense flag‖) featured oak leaves and olive twigs symbolizing martial valor and culture, or bu and bun, respectively.9 However, it was apparent that Ichikō‘s earlier culture valorized bu more than bun, and thus culture emphasizing physical toughness and rough masculinity not unlike the culture of Jiyū Minken Undō was at the heart of the nascent culture of Ichikō. The emphasis on bu became particularly clear as the Meiji government embarked upon a military buildup in 1893. Until then, contrary to the famous fukoku kyōhei (rich nation, strong army) slogan, the government kept its military expenditure relatively low.10 However, the government embarked upon a rapid military buildup in 1893. Indicative of this change, in February 1893 an Imperial order made government officials give up 10 percent of their salaries to help build battleships (Takahashi 1978:229). The change in the political climate was also reflected in the culture of elite schools. Thus, the First Kōtō Chūgaku introduced the principle of kinken shōbu (diligence and martial valor) as a ―daily practice‖ of the fukoku kyōhei slogan. After this, the principle became a central tenet governing Ichikō‘s school culture (Takahashi 1978:229–230).
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The spirit of militarism and emphasis on bu took the form of rough masculinity. Thus, while sanshu no jingi (three sacred objects)—a black school cap decorated with white lines, a black cloak, and hōba no geta (clogs made from the Japanese big leaf magnolia)—symbolized students‘ privileged status, it was always worn torn and shabby as students cherished the hēihabō style (Hata 2003:117). Violence was approved, sometimes openly encouraged, not unlike the rampant bullying of underclassmen by upperclassmen in English public schools in the late nineteenth century (Miyakawa 1997; Ogilvie 1957). Thus, upperclassmen and physically bigger and tougher athletes often resorted to tekken seisai (iron-fist punishment, to strike with a clenched fist) as a means to punish those who acted ―inappropriately,‖ whatever that was defined to mean (Takeuchi 1999:200, 205–210). Bankara culture was also a culture of misogyny. Every year, at the welcome party for freshmen, the chair of the dormitory iinkai (executive committee) gave a speech on ―traditional iron laws‖ of shitsu jitsu gōken (simplicity and sturdiness), hēihabō, and fujo haiseki (exclusion of women) (Hata 2003:180). While Ichikō and all other elite schools were all-boys schools and women were not allowed to make visits, the kinensai (Anniversary Festival) was an exception to the rule. However, even during kinensai, interaction with women was not allowed. What could happen as a result of a ―violation‖ of this rule was illustrated by an incident at a kinensai one year. At the twelfth kinensai in 1902, the musically talented Tanabe Hisao played the violin and attracted the attention of female visitors. However, this ―fraternization‖ invited anger, most likely propelled by envy, from other students and the violation of an iron law meant punishment by physically tough (kōha) students (although it is not clear whether he actually received the severest penalty, tekken seisai) (Hata 2003:17). Bankara culture emphasized physical toughness and celebrated athleticism through sports such as baseball and rowing (Hata 2003:185). In fact, sports during this period were ―the exclusive preserve of the higher school, the private college, and the university,‖ a privilege that separated these future elites from the masses (Roden 1980:122–123). Thus athletic students shared positions of power in dormitories, which left non-athletic students often frustrated and sometimes in physical danger as they were frequently victims of violent actions by athletes. For example, athletic students formed self-governing committees, Chūkenkai at Ichikō and Kyōfūkai at Nikō (the Second Higher School), for example, which enforced dormitory rules and, in cases of violation, executed penalties, the most extreme of which was the above-mentioned tekken seisai (Takeuchi 1999:199–200, 217).
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Furthermore, Education Minister Mori, who designed the prewar school system, believed that physical education was important in nurturing the ―spirit of imperial loyalty and good character among students,‖ and thus incorporated heishiki taisō (military exercises, later renamed heishiki kyōren or military drills) in the curriculum when kōtō chūgaku were established in 1886 (Takahashi 1992:146). The incorporation of heishiki taisō in the curriculum, in which students learned to stand and march in military-style rank and file and even experienced war simulation (Takahashi 1992:145–147), meant that physical education did not only aim at students‘ physical and mental development but also was closely linked to the government‘s preparation for modern warfare. Kyōyoshugi Masculinity
While elite students continued to don ―three sacred objects‖ in hēihabō style, at the dawn of the twentieth century, the bankara masculinity at the core of kyūsei kōkō culture began to lose its popularity. Around then, students writing in Kōyūkaishi began to express frustration and resentment toward bankara athletes and associated entities such as Chūkenkai and Kyōfūkai (Takeuchi 1999:217). The change appears to have begun from students‘ earnest desire to pursue academic queries without the disturbances created by bankara students. Triggered by a shocking suicide of an Ichikō student, Fujimura Misao, who jumped into Kegon Falls in Nikko in May 1903, students began asking more personal and existential questions of life and death (Roden 1980:165–173). To the horror of mainstream stalwart bankara students, students started to shift their gaze inward instead of focusing on state affairs or public issues as students of the previous generation had done. Bankara culture still dominated Ichikō at the time of Fujimura‘s suicide; an essay published the following fall in Ichikō‘s Kōyūkaishi by Suita Junsuke proclaimed ―We are men who worship war and cheer imperialism!‖ and appears to have resonated with the view of the majority (Roden 1980:168). However, signs of bankara culture‘s decline began to manifest themselves in the following years. Several years into the new century, many students began to question bankara culture, saying it was too formalistic and empty of substance, and called for more introspective thinking (Watsuji 1963; Takahashi 1992). Students detested dormitory lives dominated by bankara culture and disdained rough athletes who thrived on this culture and often resorted to acts of barbarism and physical violence. Thus, writing in 1908, then-Ichikō student Watsuji
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Tetsurō (who later became a famous philosopher) lamented,―[Our] school culture consists of ‗individual characteristics of a thousand students.‘ Athletes [alone] do not make school culture‖ (Watsuji 1963:47). When these elite students tried to answer the call for introspection and spiritual growth, they did it by immersing themselves in Western philosophical and literary studies. With the shifting focus from emphasis on physical toughness to advancement of kyōyō (self-cultivation), bankara masculinity was replaced by kyōyōshugi (a principle of selfcultivation) masculinity. Kyōyōshugi, according to Takeuchi Yō, is synonymous with ―jinkaku shugi (a principle of personality development) aimed at attaining an ideal personality through the cultivation of self as a result of studies in humanities such as philosophy, literature, and history‖ (Takeuchi 1999:237). Thus, the new masculinity asked men to attain personal maturity with deep and wide knowledge of Western thought and literature. The rise of kyōyōshugi was, in part, a natural result of kyūsei kōkō‘s training, which focused heavily on Western languages, German in particular. Typically, the curriculum of kyūsei kōkō included eight to nine hours of a first foreign language class and four to six hours of training in a second foreign language (Hata 2006:61). And the study of foreign languages did not mean simply mechanical learning of vocabulary and grammar. As exemplified by the Spartan classes taught by Iwamoto Tei, a dedicated and somewhat eccentric teacher of German and philosophy at Ichikō between 1900 and 1941, languages were taught to enable students to read original literature such as Johan Wolfgang von Goethe, Friedrich von Schiller, Hermann Hesse, and Heinrich Heine (Takahashi 1992:89–92; Kyūsei Kōtō Gakkō Kinenkan 1996:21; Takeuchi 1999:196–198). Students were quite aware of the privilege that came with proficiency in Western languages and were eager to show off their status through the use of foreign words as slang. Students embellished their conversation with words such as mädchen (girls in German) and liebe (love in German) and often played with foreign words to mean something else, as in onkel (uncle), which meant upperclassmen who failed their exams and thus were in school longer than others, and sänger, which meant geisha, instead of singer (Hata 2003:147; Takeuchi 1999:203). Students also mixed and matched words from different languages; for example, the word gerupin is a combination of geld (money in German) and "pinch" in English (relaying the idea of being broke or in a difficult financial situation).Students were immersed in the study of Western philosophy, which was symbolized by the Dekansho
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song (Dekansho is a blended word created as shorthand for Descartes, Kant, and Schopenhauer), the ―anthem‖ of all the higher schools in the late Meiji and Taishō periods (Roden 1980:316). Another favorite was their ―bible‖ Santarō no Nikki (A Diary of Santarō) written by Abe Jirō in 1914, which can only be read if one is well-versed in Western philosophical and literary writings such as those by Hegel, Goethe, Dante, and Nietzsche, as well as Greek mythology (Takeuchi and Satō 2006:1). Student Culture and Ryōka
As a way to explore student culture and students‘ masculinity a bit deeper, I examined the ryōka (dormitory songs) of ―number schools‖ as a quintessential expression of students‘ ideals and values.11 By doing so, I hoped to reveal that the ideals and values weaved into the lyrics changed from that of bankara masculinity to kyōyōshugi masculinity in the early twentieth century. Ryōka is a perfect source for studying elite students‘ culture and the construction of masculinity for three reasons. First, dormitory life was at the center of kyūsei kōkō student life, along with curricular and extracurricular club activities (Akimoto 1983:142). Thus, the experiences shared in the dormitory had a significant impact on students‘ identity formation. And singing ryōka with dormitory mates gave students a sense of camaraderie and esprit de corps. In fact, at Ichikō, it was customary for all first year students to learn ryōka from upperclassmen every year (Hozumi 1991:17). The fact that there were many who memorized over one hundred ryōka (Hozumi 1991:22) shows that students took pride in being able to sing as many ryōka as possible as a way to show their status as elite students and their dedication to their dormitories. Second, ryōka was not just a temporary fad among students, as indicated by the fact that alumni often continued to cherish ryōka throughout their lives.12 Ryōka not only resonated with students‘ current ideals but also had a lifelong influence on the values of alumni. Finally but not least importantly, these ryōka were often composed and written by students themselves. For example, the lyrics of the most famous ryōka, Aa Gyokuhai ni Hana Ukete (Ah! With a Jeweled Glass, Receiving a Flower), were written by Yano Kanji, who was not only known as an excellent baseball player but also a talented poet and lyrics writer when he was a student at Ichikō (Akimoto 1983:149). What this means is that not only did ryōka affect students‘ identity and culture, they also reflected the views and values of the students who were the composers and lyrics writers.13
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I examined the so-called classic ryōka. The term ―classic‖ in this case refers to the ryōka composed during the first decade of the twentieth century that established the ryōka style and were widely sung by students and the general populace (Hozumi 1991:42–66). Among these, I chose to examine five songs that were composed for Ichikō‘s kinensai held between 1901 and 1910: Haru Ranman no Hana no Iro (In Spring, in Full Bloom, Flowers Colored), Aa Gyokuhai ni Hana Ukete, Taiheiyō no Nami no Ho ni (At the Tip of Waves in the Pacific), Adanami Sawagu Nigori Yo no (The Corrupt World Tainted by Roaring Ripples), and Geibun no Hana Sakimidare (Blossoms of Art and Literature in Full Bloom). While other schools have produced ryōka, these five ryōka we chose to study are from Ichikō, in part because Ichikō produced the largest number of ryōka (355), far more than the second largest number produced by Shikō (the Fourth Higher School with 163 ryōka) (Hata 2003:173). Ryōka at Ichikō, where all students lived in dormitories, enjoyed broader popularity among students than ryōka in other elite schools where not all students lived in dormitories.14 These five songs appear to be among the most popular ryōka created during the first decade of the twentieth century, as attested to by their inclusion in many ryōka books and in two of the most extensive collections of ryōka, Nihon Ryōka Taizen (Kyūsei Kōtō Gakkō Shiryō Hozon Kai 1996) and Kyūsei Kōtō Gakkō Ryōka Senshū (Saitama Hakusen Kai 1998). These ―classic‖ ryōka portray beautiful nature on the surface. It is noteworthy that most of them make frequent use of natural symbols such as flowers, butterflies, birds, stars, and so on—which are often associated with feminine beauty in the West. For example, the first verse of Haru Ranman reads: In spring, in full bloom; flowers coloured. Through the loudly brightening; purple cloud In deep scarlet; the rising sun‘s light Throwing about; its balmy rays, The birds chirp; the butterflies flutter, The scattering flowers also; have brilliancy15
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However, if we scratch the surface of the innocent references to nature, we discover that the lyrics have some deeper meanings reflecting fundamental values and perspectives shared by the students. In other words, the lyrics embody the aspirations, values, ideals, expectations, and hopes of students as young men and elites who were chosen to lead the nation. Through the decoding of these lyrics, I was able to extract several key elements indicating such aspirations, values, ideals, and so on. The first element that stands out in all songs is autonomy. For example, the word appears three times in Haru Ranman. In one verse alone, there are two references to autonomy. The sixth verse reads: The light of autonomy Is the North Star which shines upon our nation in permanent darkness It orients the heart of our people If there is no autonomy What shall we do with our nation? (Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:56)
The word also appears twice in Aa Gyokuhai. It appears in the third verse, as in jichi no ōbune (the sailing ship of autonomy) and in the fourth verse as in risō no jichi (the ideal autonomy). In Taiheiyō the word is used in the phrase jichi no kendanji (brave youth in autonomy). It is no surprise that ryōka made frequent reference to autonomy since autonomy, together with rōjōshugi, was the oldest and most important principle that governed Ichikō dormitories. Second among the outstanding elements of all five songs, related to the autonomy Ichikō students so valued, we see elitism idealizing isolation from and standing above the ignorant masses. These songs depict general Japanese society as toko yami no kuni (our nation in permanent darkness, the sixth verse of Haru Ranman), eiga no chimata (the world of luxury, the first verse of Aa Gyokuhai), nigoreru umi (the turbid sea, the third verse of Aa Gyokuhai), and nigori yo (a corrupt world, the first verse of Adanami). By contrast, students are placed on top of oka (hills) in the third verse of Haru Ranman, the first verse of Aa Gyokuhai, the second verse of Taiheiyō, and the first verse of Geibun.16
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Third, the lyrics entail a tone of nationalism and imperialism. For example, the third verse of Aa Gyokuhai likens dormitories to jichi no ōbune (the sailing ship of autonomy) sailing into the wild ocean to rescue the nation. However, the clearest image of imperialism is portrayed in the second verse of Taiheiyō. The lyrics read: Petals are falling over the hill and we are gathered under the national defense flag Celebrating the anniversary, as we sing in our hearts Rises our hopes just like the sunrise On the snow covered field in Northern Sakhalin, and at the bay of West Dalian The Imperial flag of the rising sun makes clean shadows Our territories stretch north to south for 3,000-ri17 Ah our Yamato race makes the ideal first step here Who holds the hegemony of East Asia? To save 500 million people, when the Yamato race stands, healthy boys of autonomy will raise the name of Mukōgaoka to embellish history forever. (Dai Ichi Kotō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:133)
Finally, there is a clear valorization of physical toughness and violence in these songs, which is the hallmark of bankara masculinity. The word kenji often appears in ryōka. The ideograph combines ken, which means health, and ji, which means child, and thus it literally means ―a healthy child.‖ However, as Tsuda‘s translation of the word as ―viril [sic] sons‖ indicates, the word means more like manly young men, or even brave young men (Tsuda 1987:312).18 In the third verse of Haru Ranman, kenji lives in shūrei no chi (the noble place, i.e., Ichikō‘s dormitories), and the first verse of Aa Gyokuhai makes reference to kenji living in goryō (five dormitories).19 The word appears again in Taiheiyō in its second verse as in kenji ―singing to celebrate kinensai.‖ Ryōka also make references such as kinken shōbu (diligence and martial valor) or simply shōbu (martial valor) (the second verse of Haru Ranman, and the third verse of Aa Gyokuhai), sword (the second and
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fifth verse of Aa Gyokuhai), oak leaves symbolizing bu (the first verse of Taiheiyō, the second verse of Adanami, and the third verse of Geibun). However, as we discussed in Chapter 2 in relation to the notion of bunbu, we see that excellence in martial valor alone was not enough to be considered manly. Thus, references to symbols of bu seen in ryōka are often coupled with bun. For example, the second verse of Aa Gyokuhai reads that ―brave men are holding sword and brush‖ (the latter was used for writing) and the first verse of Taiheiyō pairs oak leaves with olive trees. Interestingly, all of these five characteristics began to fade by the time Adanami was written for the seventeenth kinensai in 1907. To be sure, the song still contains the sense of elitism as it envisions the outside world as nigoriyo (corrupt), in the first verse. Some of the same symbols, such as the national defense flag and oak, still appear as in previous songs, yet instead of expressing militarism and physical might, these symbols are now used to mean friendship and self-cultivation. For example, oak trees, which previously meant martial valor, now symbolize the dormitories under whose roofs students slept and woke up together (the second verse). Moreover, the national defense flag (the fourth verse) is not used as a symbol of nationalism or imperial expansion as in the older ryōka, but instead its color red is used to portray hot blood, representing strong ties of friendship (Hozumi 1991:128–130). The song is indeed about friendship and the overall tone of the song reflects the emergence of a new school spirit that was more emotional and introspective. The song celebrates the purity of souls clearly in the fifth verse, which reads: We do not chase names that are written in water and disappear quickly For generations, we aspire that our souls be pure We sing at tonight‘s festivities under the old moon light (Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:150)
Incidentally, presumably due to its beautifully written and moving lyrics, Adanami is called ―an immortal masterpiece‖ by the alumni association and is loved by students and alumni even today (Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:151). The evolving student culture becomes more clearly reflected in Geibun, which was composed for the twentieth kinensai in 1910. We no longer see a celebration of imperialism and physical might, which was
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the tone that dominated previous ryōka, but instead we see open praise for art and literature as the title of this song (Geibun, meaning ―art and literature‖) signifies. Thus, the first verse reads: Blossoms of art and literature in full bloom Tides of philosophy flow out It is a joy to come to the City and study at Kōryō in Musashino Where we praise the autumn sunset Where thousands of scrolls are in the stack (Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:225)
As in the previous songs, autonomy is celebrated in the third verse as in ―the dimly lit roots of oak trees.‖ Yet, this autonomy is enjoyed not only because of the quiet isolation from the turbulent masses but also because students valued the fact that they were kept at a distance from Japan‘s imperialist expansion into neighboring nations. The song portrays school life as a respite from the outside world in which Japan has embarked upon imperial aggrandizement into China and Korea. This is made clear in the third verse, which reads: We spoke our ideals on the dimly lit roots of oak trees The dreams of three years were peaceful We are now listening to the wild waves at the mouth of the Yangtze River
To summarize, what we observed in earlier ryōka suggests the following: kyūsei kōkō students viewed themselves as chosen elites who were entitled to autonomy, isolated from the masses. They also believed that they had duties to lead the nation, and imperial expansion into neighboring nations was taken for granted. To accomplish these goals, the use of force was acceptable, but it would have to be accompanied by knowledge or reason, which is a celebration of bunbu with an emphasis on the bu element. However, as ryōka were created by students for students, they reflected the shifting moods and culture of the students and society in general. Thus, we see a major change in the tone by the time Adanami
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and Geibun were composed. As Ichikō‘s official guide to ryōka, Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Kishuku Ryō Ryōka Kaisetsu, stated:20 Five years after the Russo-Japanese War [when Geibun was created], nationalism faded and [students] vigorously pursued individual growth and the meaning of life. This song became a turning point and from hence ryōka began to blossom for the second time, directing its attention toward introspection and friendship. (Dai Ichi Kotō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:225)
We see that sometime around 1907 and 1910, when Adanami and Geibun, respectively, were created, the violent and rough bankara culture was fading giving rise to the more peaceful and emotionally intense kyōyōshugi masculinity. From Bankara to Kyōyōshugi Masculinity
What prompted the shift in the dominant masculinity from bankara to kyōyōshugi? There were a number of factors involved. The first and simplest was the change in the composition of the student body in terms of class. Data indicate that until about the Russo-Japanese war, all elites, military or civil, shared similar backgrounds, that is, they were from the shizoku (bushi) class. However, by the turn of the century, the family background of students began to change and the number of students who came from a heimin (commoner) background increased (Roden 1980:68; Takeuchi 1999:181; Matsumotoshi 1999:13–18, 23). This may help explain why the new masculinity kyōyōshugi, which gained popularity during the first decade of the twentieth century, placed less emphasis on physical strength and martial valor than did bankara masculinity. The second factor was Japan‘s international relations and Japanese elites‘ perception of Japan‘s position in the world. As Foreign Minister Mutsu Munemitsu stated on December 29, 1893, the main goals of the Japanese government since the beginning of the Meiji period was to attain equal status with the Western Powers and to correct unequal treaties such as the Kanagawa and Harris Treaties, which the Edo government concluded with Western powers toward the end of the Edo period: ―The urgent task of today‘s diplomacy is to gain self-esteem, and at the same time not to fear others or take them lightly. It is to gain mutual respect and join the fellowship of civilized powers‖ (Tanaka 2009). However, after Japan‘s triumph in the Russo-Japanese War, this desire to catch up to and gain respect from the West changed
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dramatically. The changed perception of Japan‘s status vis-à-vis the West is clearly found in political speeches delivered around this time. For example, on January 25, 1906, Prime Minister Saionji Kinmochi stated in his speech delivered to the Diet, ―after returning to peace, our relations with alliance partners became increasingly intimate‖ (Tanaka 2009). And, on February 2, 1909, Foreign Minister Komura Jutarō announced that ―the relationship between the Empire and other powers is at its most satisfactory state‖ (Tanaka 2009). The view that Japan had attained equal footing with the West was acknowledged not only by policymakers but also by elite students and intellectuals. For example, Watsuji Tetsurō wrote ―the Japanese empire has become the hegemon of the East‖ as a student at Ichikō in 1908, and he continued that ―philosophers are welcoming the dawn of new thoughts‖ calling bankara culture obsolete (Watsuji 1963:47). In a speech delivered in Wakayama prefecture in August 1911, the internationally known novelist Natsume Sōseki lamented the superficial nature of Japan‘s kaika (enlightenment) by referring to ―arrogant voices saying that Japan has become a first-rate nation‖ (Miyoshi 1986). While Japanese perceptions of attaining a higher position in the world‘s power hierarchy certainly affected elites, both policymakers and students, one cannot conclude that changes in school culture and dominant masculinity are simple results of Japan‘s foreign relations. The evidence indicates that the change of culture was also a product of students‘ own desire to pursue higher academic attainment. Therefore, even before the Russo-Japanese War, the aforementioned death of Fujimura Misao in May 1903 triggered a flurry of criticism against bankara school culture. An essay that appeared in the October 1903 issue of Ichikō‘s Kōyūkaishi, for example, read that ―the principle of kinken shōbu was too expedient and formalist and thus it was not essential and universal‖ (Takahashi 1992:232). In 1904, an Ichikō student, Uozumi Setsurō (a gifted philosopher who died young), who was firmly opposed to the conservative bankara culture, began a movement to change school culture. In the following year, he proposed the abolition of dormitories and came close to receiving tekken seisai from hard masculinity (kōha) students (Tsutsui 1995:25; Takeuchi 1999:193–222). Thus, a shift in students‘ thoughts and attitudes was already occurring by the turn of the century and Fujimura‘s death was just ―one of the manifestations‖ of such a change (Takahashi 1992:230, 233). In fact, a call for men of introspection was nothing new, as it existed as early as 1887 among intellectuals. For example, Tokutomi Iichirō (Sohō), the founder and principal of the private school Ōe Gijuku, who
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became one of prewar Japan‘s leading journalists, stated: ―Old men of Japan have finally departed and young men of new Japan are about to arrive, the Oriental phenomenon has finally left and the Occidental phenomenon is about to come‖ (Kimura 1998:21). In this speech, Tokutomi was envisioning the formation of new elites, whom he named seinen (youth), who internalized and embodied ―occidental‖ norms (Kimura 1998:27). The changing composition of students‘ background, Japan‘s rise to ―equality‖ in the world, and students‘ yearning for a new introspective culture and dislike of bankara masculinity dominating school culture certainly affected change in elite masculinity. In addition, there was a fourth factor, which was perhaps the most direct cause of the change in Ichikō‘s culture and subsequent changes in the culture of young elites in general: the appointment of Nitobe Inazō (well-known in the West as the author of Bushido: The Soul of Japan, published in 1899) as the principal of Ichikō in 1906 (Tsusui 1995:19–21; Takeuchi 1999:222– 234). When Nitobe was appointed, Ichikō‘s culture was still divided between bankara and ―something new,‖ or between ―athletes‖ and ―antiathletes‖ (Hata 2003:28; Takeuchi 1999:222–223). However, the appointment of Nitobe in 1907 as the principal of Ichikō provided a decisive blow to the declining bankara masculinity. While not completely rejecting the school tradition created by his predecessors, such as Kinoshita and Kanō, Nitobe warned that rōjōshugi for the sake of rōjōshugi led to exclusivity, meaningless congregation, arrogance and lack of diversity. He proposed instead to pursue soshiarityi (sociality) (Takahashi 1992:34; Naka 1981:46–49). Soshiarityi according to Nitobe meant not simple sociability but more like ―humanity or the spirit of mutual understanding,‖ and it was about opening oneself to others through communication (Takahashi 1992:33). Nitobe clearly disliked those who emphasized physical toughness alone. Nitobe never attended sports‘ team practices, unlike most other Ichikō teachers, and rarely joined athletes‘ photo sessions. Feeling rejected, athletes called him a sports-team-hating ―haikara gentleman‖ (Takeuchi 1999:224). In contrast, Nitobe was highly supportive of arts and literature in extracurricular activities (Takahashi 1992:35). Moreover, against the staunch resistance of bankara students, Nitobe broke with Ichikō‘s tradition and invited female spectators to the October sports day festival in 1908 (Takahashi 1992:36) Nitobe thrived on creating a school environment within which students‘ academic interests grew. He warmly welcomed students to join his love of ―occidental‖ culture and encouraged them to seek Western
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knowledge such as the bible, poetry, literature, and philosophy (Takahashi 1992:32). Reminiscing fondly, a student noted: The respectable teachers are Principal Nitobe and Mr. Uchimura Kanzō. [I remember] anyone could participate in and listen to Mr. Nitobe‘s honest stories over rice crackers and tea once a week at his rented house near the school and extracurricular lectures in the large lecture hall about Goethe‘s Faust, [Thomas] Carlyle‘s Sartor Resartus, [John] Milton‘s Paradise [Lost], etc. (Takahashi 1992:32)
Principal Nitobe did not initiate Westernization of the knowledge at Ichikō, as the study of Western literature and languages had already been at the core of its curriculum. His tenure meant, instead, a dramatic shift in the balance of power between two opposing values and modus vivendi of student life: bankara and kyōyōshugi. While excelling in both bun and bu remained the ultimate goal for all aspiring elites, what Nitobe did for the culture of Ichikō was to create a new ideal manhood by raising the legitimacy of heavier emphasis on bun while downplaying the role of bu. Japan’s Foreign Relations: From Competition to Cooperation
Running parallel to the shift in dominant masculinity from bankara to kyōyōshugi in the early twentieth century, we see changes in the way Japanese political leaders viewed the nature of the international world and how they conducted foreign relations. I examined formal speeches delivered to the Imperial Diet by prime ministers and foreign ministers with the goal of finding key words expressing how political leaders viewed the nature of international relations and their prescriptions for Japan‘s foreign relations. 21 Note that the Diet was not a fully democratic body at this time, as members of the Imperial family, aristocrats, and Imperial appointees held seats in the House of Peers (Upper House), and while universal male suffrage was instituted in 1925, women did not have the right to vote until after the WWII. Because of the very privileged and select nature of the Diet members‘ class backgrounds, the values expressed by them are likely to have resonated with the male elites discussed in this chapter. What colors these speeches between the first Diet session held in 1890 and the early twentieth century is the passion to attain equal status with Western powers through revision of the unequal treaties concluded at the end of the Edo period with nations such as the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Russia, and the Netherlands. It is clear that
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Japanese political leaders ―were not satisfied by the major progress Japan has made in twenty years‖ due to the continued existence of the unequal treaties, as noted by Foreign Minister Mutsu Munemitsu in his speech on December 29, 1893. They feared that Japan‘s sovereignty was at risk and they were convinced that, if Japan did not enhance its national power, the unequal treaties would never be revised and Japan‘s independence would be lost. Reflecting such a concern, in a speech delivered to the Diet‘s first session on December 6, 1890 (thus the very first speech of this kind), Prime Minister Yamagata Aritomo used the word dokuritsu (independence) four times, shuken (sovereignty) six times, and rieki (interest, meaning national interest) five times. In conjunction with these types of references, the need for rapid expansion of national power, including military capabilities, was frequently repeated in these early speeches. To be sure, the word kokuryoku (national power) continued to appear in many of those delivered throughout the pre-WWII period. However, emphatic and repetitive reference to the importance of expanding national power is seen in the speeches made in the late nineteenth century in particular. For example, in the aforementioned speech, Prime Minister Yamagata stated ―one cannot complete one nation‘s independence through protection of (lines marking) sovereignty and national interest in a day and night but through step-by-step expansion of national power.‖ Prime Minister Itō Hirobumi, too, maintained on December 1, 1892 ―when I see all nations of the world . . . there is none that does not use all their national power to build their arms and prepare for their self defense.‖ Without doubt, Itō thought that Japan urgently needed to expand its national power as he used the word kokuryoku five times in his January 10, 1896 speech, calling for the nurturing of national power. During this period, Japanese political leaders not only placed emphasis on the rapid expansion of national power, but also viewed the world of international relations as highly competitive. On November 30, 1891, Prime Minister Matsukata Masayoshi, who succeeded Yamagata, reflected that ―every state must develop international trade, means of transportation, and an army and navy, if it aspires to maintain independence,‖ and ―so long as our country aims at maintaining its honor and competing with other countries, we must aim at national defense and [the advancement of] the national economy and pursue most urgent tasks [to attain these goals] and allow ourselves no room for slacking.‖22 Ōkuma Shigenobu, Matsukata‘s foreign minister, used the word tairitsu (competition among equals) to describe the goal of Japan‘s diplomacy.23 His speech, delivered on February 16, 1897, reads ―what is important in our diplomacy is . . . to change everything such as
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institutions, culture, and education . . . to compete with all nations [in the world]‖24 And this desire to be competitive through the expansion of national power meant not only fast industrial development but also rapid growth of Japan‘s military capabilities. Thus, in Itō‘s aforementioned speech of December 1, 1892, he announced ―arms development [in the world] has reached historically unprecedented levels and therefore our nation urgently needs to develop arms, the navy in particular.‖ However, the sense of competitiveness and the strong desire for rapid power and military expansion diminished as Japan gradually attained ―equal status‖ through the process of revising the unequal treaties in the late nineteenth century. The sense of contentment in terms of Japan‘s relations with the West was seen in such phrases as ―our Empire and its treaty partners have become increasingly friendly‖ and the like, which became routine after the Russo-Japanese War. To be sure, such phrases first appeared in the years before this war, as in Prime Minister Yamagata Aritomo‘s February 16, 1891, speech in which he said that the government ―maintained deep friendship with other nations.‖ Prime Minister Katsura Tarō also stated that ―the friendship between Empire and its treaty partners is fortunately becoming deeper,‖ in his speeches delivered on December 12, 1901 and December 13, 1902. Yet, indicative of a stronger perception that Japanese political leaders indeed saw that Japan‘s relations with Western powers had reached a new and more satisfactory stage, after Prime Minister Saionji Kinmochi‘s speech delivered on January 23, 1908, this phrase and similar ones became a staple appearing in almost all succeeding prime ministers‘ speeches until the Manchurian Incident in September 1931.25 With the coming of the new period in Japan‘s foreign relations, new keywords such as chōwa (harmony), and kyōchō and kyōdō (both meaning cooperation), describing the (desirable) nature of Japan‘s foreign relations, began to appear frequently in speeches. Among the earliest reference to the need for cooperation is seen in the speech delivered by Prime Minister Katsura Tarō on December 12, 1901, who emphasized the importance of the principle of kyōdō among Western powers (referring to the Boxer Uprising in Northern China). However, it was Foreign Minister Motono Ichirō who stated the general principle of cooperative international relations; his January 23, 1917, speech reads that ―in general there is a need to harmonize the interests of the Empire and the Western powers.‖ The tendency to emphasize the importance of cooperation with Western powers was particularly strong during the period following the establishment of the League of Nations in 1920 and the series of naval
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conferences such as the Washington Naval Conference and the London Naval Conference held between 1921 and 1930, which resulted in treaties to restrict or reduce the naval armaments of the Western powers and Japan. Aptly summarizing changes in the way Japanese political leaders viewed the nature of the international world during this period, Foreign Minister Shidehara Kijurō pronounced that ‖the era of international competition is finally gone and there is no doubt that what replaces it is the era of international cooperation‖ in his speech delivered on January 22, 1925. On April 25, 1930, Shidehara also stated (in reference to the London Naval Conference) ―in international relations, there is nothing as harmful and futile as competitive naval buildups,‖ reflecting the less militarized foreign relations then preferred by Japanese policymakers. In sum, we find in these speeches that Japanese political leaders began to see the world as more harmonious after the Russo-Japanese War. Concurrently, they saw less need for a militarized and aggressive foreign policy and thus pursued cooperative relations with Western powers. Again, to be sure, the tendency to employ a less militaristic foreign policy was restricted to Japan‘s relations with the West and it was not necessarily applied to China and Korea as Japanese political leaders continued to expand control over their neighbors. And after the Manchurian Incident in September 1931, the outright celebration of harmonious and cooperative relations with Western powers began to decline, such that by the Marco Polo Bridge Incident in July 1937, these phrases and words had all but disappeared from these speeches. Challenges to Kyōyōshugi Masculinity and Its Decline
By the mid-Taishō period, elite students who immersed themselves in the study of classic Western philosophy and literature faced challenges from Marxist thinkers, who had been affected by the Russian Revolution. The earliest essay on communism appeared in Ichikō‘s Kōyūkaishi in May 1894, although this essay was a criticism of communism (Takahashi 1992:244). The number of essays on communism appearing in Kōyūkaishi increased around the turn of the century and by the 1920s, influenced by the society-wide spread of the socialist movement, students began to form their own socialist organizations. The movement involved all major kyūsei kōkō and continued to be active even after the school authorities banned the activity and dissolved socialist ―study groups‖ in May 1926. Despite public repression, leftist movements continued to flourish among students throughout the 1920s and reached their peak in the early 1930s (Takahashi 1992:244–309).
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But the increasing popularity of Marxism among students and the spread of leftist political activities on and off campus did not mean that students adopted a new type of masculinity. To be sure, students‘ reading patterns and thinking veered heavily toward the Left, thus their favorite authors such as Goethe and Tolstoy were replaced by Marx and Lenin. The content of their readings may have changed, yet this meant little difference to the construction of dominant masculinity.26 Marxist or not, these elite students continued to define and were constrained by the dominant masculinity, which emphasized the importance of introspection and the development of kyōyō (self-cultivation) based on Western philosophies and culture. In fact, elite students‘ obsession with kyōyō appears to have been immune to political events taking place outside of their ―castle.‖ Students continued to be absorbed in purely academic pursuits even throughout major international events such as the Sino-Japanese, RussoJapanese, and the First World wars (Takahashi 1992:322). As secluded and privileged elites, students were shielded from outside events, and thus self-cultivation never ceased to occupy students‘ minds. They continued to take pride in their isolation from the materialistic real world and engaged in ever-higher philosophical thinking (Takeuchi 2000:27). Their sense of emotional distance from the rising militarism was well articulated by the philosopher Miki Kiyoshi, who was a student at Ichikō during WWI. He stated that ―he and many other young [elite] men‖ were hardly affected by the war and were ―entirely indifferent [to the war]‖ and were ―governed by the ideology of kyōyō‖ (Miki 1966:388–390). Their detachment from and disdain of the real world is wellsymbolized by how they viewed the military. They pejoratively called soldiers zoru adapted from soldat (―soldier‖ in German) (Takeuchi 1999:273) and looked down upon soldiers‘ lack of kyōyō. Because graduates and students of military academies rarely read Western literature but read practical books on military tactics and war (Takeuchi 1999:269), in the eyes of the elite students, soldiers and officers were not smart enough to be worthy of their respect. Interestingly, the gap between elite higher school students and those in military academies was as much an urban-rural divide as a class divide. The popularity of the Imperial military soared after Japan‘s triumph in the Russo-Japanese War and the number of young boys who aspired to join military academies increased dramatically after this war (Hirota 1997:128). However, wealthy urban boys who went to elite middle schools continued to prefer kyūsei kōkō over military academies. As a result, the popularity of soldiers/officers (among young men) was not uniform across the nation and showed disparities in terms of class
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and geographical areas. Military academies attracted boys who were either too poor to go to elite higher schools, and/or were from rural areas (Hirota 1997:103–135). Higher school students thus stereotyped soldiers as lacking in kyōyō as well as urban sophistication. The Mukden Incident in September 1931 and the militarization of Japan‘s foreign policy did not affect students‘ love of kyōyō and the fact that kyoyōshugi was the dominant masculinity shared by elites. Curiously, the sense of immunity from outside events was seen not only among elite kyūsei kōkō students but also among the Japanese populace throughout the early 1930s until the actual outbreak of the war in China in 1937. People continued to enjoy the trappings of decadent Taishō culture such as ginbura (strolling in Ginza) and theaters in Asakusa, Hibiya, and Shinjuku (Yasuda 2006:206–207). At the same time, a noteworthy event occurred in February 1932 that foreshadowed a change in the dominant masculinity. The incident known as nikudan san’yūshi (three brave human bombs) occurred on February 22, 1932, in Shanghai, where the Japanese army had trouble breaking through barriers erected by the Chinese. All major newspapers such as Osaka Asahi, Tokyo Asahi, and Osaka Mainichi Shimbun reported on February 24, 1932, that ―three brave soldiers with lit bombs tied to their bodies threw themselves into and died in four-meter-wide barbed wire in order to open the path for other foot soldiers.‖27 While evidence found later revealed that these three soldiers did not necessarily ―volunteer‖ to conduct such an act of bravery and these articles may have exaggerated the truth, the incident was used as convenient war propaganda and these men quickly became national heroes (Asahi Shimbun, June 13, 2007). As kyūsei kōkō students continued to idealize kyōyōshugi, this event did not affect their masculine ideals but for the Japanese public in general, the event helped create a new type of hero. This incident was the first of a series of highly celebrated gunshin (military gods) stories, such as the suicide of Major Kuga Noboru, who was captured by the Chinese army in September 1932, and the death of Captain Nishizumi Kōjirō, who died on the frontline in Shanghai in May 1938 (Obinata 2006:18–21). While the public was moving to celebrate war heroes throughout the 1930s, kyūsei kōkō students were reluctant to change their ideals due to their detachment from and their traditional scorn for the military and militarism. Their minds continued to wander in the romantic world of Western literature and their privileged family backgrounds allowed them to stay away from messy reality. However, by the end of the 1930s, they finally had a taste of reality as they were forced to participate in behindthe-lines collective labor such as the maintenance of air defense facilities
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and the repair of roads (Takahashi 1992:323). By 1941, their academic life was increasingly restricted in terms of hours spent studying and indulging in philosophical thought, and the time spent providing services to the ever-militarizing state increased (Takahashi 1992:325). Students resisted this encroachment of militarism into their academic autonomy and freedom of thought. It is true that students‘ favorite books included books on war such as Tragedy in France by André Maurois, but they continued to love philosophical works such as For Sleepless Nights by Carl Hilty and Zen no Kenkyū (An Inquiry into Good) by Nishida Kitarō, according to a survey done by the Ministry of Education in 1941 (Takeuchi 1999:247). Another survey done at Mito Kōtō Gakkō in 1941 indicated that students continued to read traditional favorite novelists such as Natsume Sōseki and Fyodor Dostoyevsky and did not show any tendency to prefer fascist or militarist writings such as Adolf Hitler‘s Mein Kampf (Tsutsui 1995:64–65). Interestingly, despite their initial disdain for officers and soldiers and their emotional detachment from militarism, students appear to have seen fighting in the war as inevitable. And instead of instigating an antiwar movement, some may even have felt that fighting was their ―duty‖ and ―responsibility‖ (Takahashi 1992:321–323), as noted by an Ichikō alumnus Sasaki Hachirō, who later became a kamikaze pilot. An entry in Sasaki‘s journal on June 12, 1943, reads: ―I think that to go to the field of war is a glorious task given to me . . . I don‘t know if the nature of the war is reactionary or not. Yet duties and responsibilities are given to us and our goal is to fulfill them‖ (Takahashi 1992:323). This sense of resignation is seen in many students‘ journals and letters to their loved ones, indicating that Sasaki‘s view was a typical attitude of higher school students (Takahashi 1992).28 In 1942 students were mobilized, and a constant number of students, about ten to forty, from each school was drafted every year (Takahashi 1992:322). It is doubtful that the ―men-as-soldiers‖ ideal ever became dominant among kyūsei kōkō students, but, after student mobilization and their involvement in war became inevitable, men-as-soldiers appears to have become a masculine ideal influencing students‘ values and lifestyles, even if the students did not actually like this ideal. While kyōyōshugi as a masculine ideal never completely disappeared from the minds of not only kyūsei kōkō alumni but also the upper crust of society throughout WWII and even into the postwar period (Tsutsui 1995:75), it is also clear that kyōyōshugi lost its position as the dominant masculinity when the entire society, including elite kyūsei kōkō students, had no option but to prepare for and enter all-out war in the first half of the 1940s.
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Notes 1 The movement also espoused opposition to military invasion of foreign countries (Yasuda 1980:421–422) even though a broad consensus existed among policymakers and elites on imperial expansion (Gordon 2003:161, 173). 2 Kyūsei means ―old system.‖ It is called ―old‖ in contrast to the new system established after WWII. Thus, contemporaries referred to these schools simply as kōtō gakkō, It is not my intention to offer a thorough portrayal of life in kyūsei kōkō, which has already been done in aptly written books such as Schooldays in Imperial Japan by Donald T. Roden (1980) and Kyūsei Kōtō Gakkō Kenkyū by Takahashi Samon (1978). Instead, I simply illustrate culture and student lives in higher schools as a way to delve into dominant masculinity of the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japan. 3 In addition to five ―number schools,‖ Zōshikan in Kagoshima and Yamaguchi Kōtōgakkō in Yamaguchi were established as the first seven kyūsei kōkō. These two kyūsei kōkō were different from other number schools because they were not founded by the national government as were the others, but by former daimyo of these areas (Takeuchi 1999:52–53). 4 The total number of kyūsei kōkō is somewhat controversial. Kōzu Yasuo maintains that the number is thirty-eight whereas Matsumotoshi Kyōiku Iinkai included forty-one schools as the object of their study on kyūsei kōkō. Hata uses thirty-eight as the total number (Hata 2003:35–36). 5 Kōyūkai was originally formed at Ichikō in 1890 and all students became members and the principal was the chairperson. Its goal was to unite students and encourage ―a variety of artistry of bunbu‖ in extracurricular activities (Takahashi 1978:133, 137). Roden calls it the Society of Friends and its publication, Kōyūkaishi, the ―Society of Friends Magazine‖ (Roden 1980:114, 116). 6 The translation ―castle under siege‖ is by Donald Roden (1980:78). 7 Translation by Roden (1980:78). 8 Sutōmu is typically described as a rowdy midnight party (Takeuchi 1999:202). Yet in an essay published in Ichikō‘s kōyūkaishi in 1908, then Ichikō‘s student Watsuji Tetsurō stated that sutōmu was about ―homosexual desires‖ (Watsuji 1963:50). Thus, its description should contain sexual harassment and rape (of, usually, underclassmen by upperclassmen) (Watsuji (Yuasa) 1963:444; Pflugfelder 1999:217). 9 Gokokuki, adopted in 1889 by the Education Minister Mori Arinori, became a symbol of Ichikō. It was a bright scarlet flag made of silk with two white horizontal lines and the character kuni (country/nation) embraced by olive twigs and oak leaves placed in the middle. The character kuni symbolized ―fostering of the spirit of defending the nation-state through bunbu‖ (speech in 1936 delivered by Mori Kenkichi, principal of Ichikō, quoted in Naka 1981:95– 96). The flag was always flown at important school events. 10 The years 1876 and 1877 recorded a sudden surge in military expenditure, to 38.4 percent and 41.1 percent of national expenditure respectively, compared to less than 20 percent in previous years, presumably
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due to a number of former bushi uprisings, the largest of which was the Satsuma rebellion in 1877 (Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai 1988:524). 11 This section is based on a research paper Tanaka Yūsuke and I jointly wrote and presented at the 58th Annual Meeting of the Association for Asian Studies (Mikanagi and Tanaka 2006). 12 Even today, ryōkasai (ryōka festivals) are held regularly by and for alumni who cherish ryōka and kyūsei kōkō culture. At a ryōkasai held at Gakushuin University on April 1, 2006, I witnessed octogenarian men clad in kyūsei kōkō uniforms and caps waving school flags and singing ryōka gleefully (without ever having to look at lyrics!). While some female family members and friends of the alumni were present, it was obviously meant to be a men-only event. My presence was kindly acknowledged, yet it was my co-researcher Tanaka Yūsuke, a young man in his late twenties, who was eagerly welcomed as a ―successor‖ to this fading culture. 13 According to Hozumi, almost all of Ichikō‘s ryōka were composed and written by students, with some rare exceptions (Hozumi 1991:42–3). 14 It is important to note that some ryōka such as Haru ranman became so popular that they were sung by the general populace (Hozumi 1991:58; Daiichi Kōtō Gakkō 2004:57). 15 Translation by Tsuda Masao (Tsuda 1987:312). 16 The reference to oka is a pun on the location of Ichikō and its dormitories. Ichikō used to be located in Mukō-ga-oka, Hongō (where the University of Tokyo stands now), thus the reference to oka often appears in ryōka. Kōryō, which also means hills (and the actual address of Ichikō), as used in ryōka (the first verse of Geibun no Hana for example), is a Chinese reading (on‘yomi) of Mukō-ga-oka, Ichikō‘s nickname. 17 Approximately 12,000 kilometers. Today, Japan stretches 3,000 kilometers from the northern tip to the southern end. 18 In fact, in the second verse of Aa Gyokuhai, Tsuda translates the word ―brave youth‖ (Tsuda 1987:311) 19 Originally, Ichikō established four dorms in 1890 and, later, in 1900, a new dorm was added, making it five (Kyūsei Kōtō Gakkō Shiryō Hozon Kai 1985:32). 20 According to the introduction to the guide, written by alumnus (and a former governor of the Bank of Japan) Mieno Yasushi, this guide was published to commemorate the 130th anniversary of Ichikō and was intended to give an in-depth analysis of approximately 360 ryōka (Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Dōsōkai 2004:2–3). 21 These speeches were derived from a database compiled by Tanaka Akihiko (Tanaka 2009). 22 Emphasis mine. 23 Tairitsu in contemporary Japanese usually means confrontation. However, as Ōkuma‘s paraphrasing the word as heiritsu (to stand abreast) indicates, he used the word tairitsu presumably meaning ―competition among objects facing one another, applying a similar amount of force‖ (Shin Kango Rin 2004). 24 Emphasis mine. 25 There are some exceptions. Prime ministers‘ policy speeches for special sessions of the Diet, which are convened after a general election of the lower
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house, were usually short and thus omitted routine and/or embellishment phrases. As such, they did not include the phrase discussed here. Other exceptions include Prime Minister Terauchi Masatake‘s speech, delivered on January 22, 1918, which focused on the world crisis caused by the war in Europe. Prime Minister Wakatsuki Reijiro skipped this phrase in his policy speech made on February 1, 1926, as this ordinary session was more like a special session convened because he became the new prime minister after his predecessor Katō Takaaki passed away. Wakatsuki did not use this phrase in the speech he made in January of the following year, but it appears that he agreed with the view that Japan maintained friendly relationships with Western powers as he instead stated ―it has been eight years since the end of the (First) World War, and our country and the Western powers have continuously made joint efforts for the stabilization of the world during this period.‖ Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi‘s speeches on May 5 and 8, 1927, did not include this phrase, but it also did not make any reference to general diplomatic issues presumably because the session focused on the Shōwa financial crisis that began in March of that year. Interestingly, while Japan faced increasing criticism from the Western powers on the Manchurian Incident, the phrase appeared several times after the incident, as in Prime Minister Saito Makoto‘s speech (January 23, 1934) and Okada Keisuke‘s speech (January 21, 1936). The last use of such a phrase is seen in Prime Minister Konoe Fumimaro‘s speech (July 27, 1937) in which he stated that ―relations with the powers had been becoming friendlier‖ but lamented the occurrence of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident suggesting that the incident disturbed these friendly relations. This speech is the last speech that referred to Japan‘s relations with Western powers as friendly. 26 After the Mukden Incident in 1931, the popularity of Marxist thought declined as the incident helped intensify nationalism and promoted formation of nationalistic organizations on campus (Takahashi 1992:307–308; Takeuchi and Satō 2006:2). 27 The original article appeared in Osaka Asahi Shimbun on February 22, 1932, and was quoted in Asahi Shimbun, June 13, 2007. 28 While numerous letters, notes and journals left by mobilized students are extensively published in Japanese, many are often inaccurate copies of the original (Ohnuki 2003:289). Furthermore, major publications, the best known example of which is Kike Wadatsumi no Koe (edited by Nihon Senbotsu Gakusei Shuki Henshū Iinkai) published in 1949, tend to be selective, reflecting editors‘ political views (Ohnuki 2003:288–289, also footnote 19, p.507). While pervasive censorship and selection bias make it difficult to know the true feelings and thoughts of students, studies indicate that many students, instead of rebelling against militarism, accepted fighting and dying for the nation as their destiny, duty, and honor (Takahashi 1992; Ohnuki 2003).
5 The Salaryman as the Dominant Postwar Masculinity
With its defeat in World War II and the subsequent demilitarization and democratization introduced by the Allied Occupation, Japan went through major sociopolitical changes, which entailed the formation of a new dominant masculinity. In this chapter we will focus on the so-called salaryman masculinity as the dominant type in postwar Japan and how it has been associated with Japan‘s foreign relations. The End of WWII and the New Dominant Masculinity
Japan‘s defeat in World War II brought about dramatic changes in Japan‘s construction of gender. First and most important, the new constitution stipulated equality of the sexes. Thanks to the new constitution and the democratization reforms undertaken by the Allied Occupation, Japanese women gained formal, if not substantial, equality under Japanese law for the first time in history. Thus it was during this period that women obtained suffrage, and most openly sex-based discrimination in the prewar legal system, such as restrictions on property rights in the Civil Code or punishment of adultery in the Criminal Law, were eliminated. While women‘s legal empowerment during this period is the most celebrated change in the realm of gender, the end of WWII and the Allied Occupation also brought about major changes concerning men and masculinity. The most significant change that forced the prewar dominant masculinity to change was that, under the Allied Occupation, Japan was completely demilitarized and Article Nine of the new constitution stipulated that ―land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained.‖ With the dismantlement of the Imperial Army and Navy, conscription ended and all officers and soldiers became civilians. As a result, Japanese men lost their identity as imperial soldiers. Thus the ―men-as-soldiers‖ dominant type of
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masculinity, so apparent during WWII, was dissolved, which created room for a new dominant masculinity to arise. Furthermore, in addition to the demilitarization of Japan, changing family ideals and relationships introduced by the democratization of the Japanese legal system (which demolished the prewar ie system) affected men and masculinity. The ie system, which refers to a multigenerational family bearing the same family name, was headed by the kachō, who was most likely the oldest son, with the responsibility to sustain the family into the next generation by his inheritance of the family name, occupation, and assets. The kachō, as a father and oldest brother, exercised extensive authority and control over the lives of other family members. The occupation authorities envisioned replacing the ie system with the American ideal of the nuclear family. In this new type of family life, men were given roles as loving husbands and caring fathers, which replaced the prewar authoritarian father model. The Japanese invented the term mai hōmu papa (my home papa), signifying the new expectations placed on men, especially within family lives (Mikanagi 2005c:113). Together with the dissolution of the ―men-as-soldiers‖ ideal, the end of the ie system envisioned the transformation of Japanese men from militant soldiers/oppressive fathers to family-oriented men who loved, cared for, and paid attention to the welfare and happiness of their families. Of course, a mere change in laws was not enough to give men and women a greater understanding about the ―democratic‖ family and the roles of men and women within it. Thus, in addition to the changes made to the texts of the laws, mass media created desires and aspirations among the Japanese people for a new type of family. Film was the medium that was most popular in Japan among the general public, until the late 1950s when TV sets were introduced to Japanese households. According to Sakamoto Kazue, so-called hōmu dorama (home dramas), which were films or TV shows focused on a family as a relatively ―stable group of people‖ and aimed at showing ―events internal to that world‖ (Sakamoto 1997:102), became a new film genre after 1951 when the first three hōmu dorama films, Yukiwarisō (Kidneywort), Wagaya wa Tanoshi (Happy Home), and Saijōke no Kyōen (The Saijō Family‘s Feast), were released (Sakamoto 1997:181, 184, 189). Unlike TV hōmu dorama, which were mostly imported from the United States, these films featured aspects of the prewar ie structure and traditions, such as multigeneration households and the responsibilities of eldest sons (Sakamoto 1997:214–227). While these films entailed universal themes, such as conflicts between parents and adult sons and their wives over
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living arrangements, these hōmu dorama often demonstrated that the prewar multigenerational family structure was in the process of transformation, leading to the emergence of more contemporary, American-style nuclear families (Sakamoto 1997:210). With the spread of TV sets in the late 1950s among the middle class, hōmu dorama reached their peak of popularity, creating new ideals for families, especially gender roles (Iwao 2000:4–5). TV sets were popularized in Japan sometime around the wedding of the current Emperor (then Crown Prince) Akihito to his fiancée Shōda Michiko in 1959, due to the Japanese people‘s desire to watch this joyous event. But even before this event, the TV industry was on its way to gaining popularity over films, thus creating an infrastructure that was well suited to the dissemination of new values and ideas about lifestyles (Iwao 2000:4). Ironically, the business practices of the Japanese film industry in the 1950s helped spread images and ideals of US family life. In response to the threat of the rising popularity of TV shows, movie companies refused to provide films for broadcast to TV companies, which resulted in TV companies‘ dependence on imported, mostly American, shows (Iwao 2000:6). The result was the introduction of American shows such as I Love Lucy, The Donna Reed Show, and Father Knows Best. And the massive inflow of American shows throughout the 1950s stimulated the production of local counterparts. Thus in 1958, a TV company, Nippon Terebi (Nippon Television), successfully produced the first indigenous hōmu dorama, titled Watashi wa Kai ni Naritai (I Want to Be a Shellfish), followed by Mama Chotto Kite (Mama, Please Come Right Away) in 1959. Both were modeled after American home dramas such as the abovementioned The Donna Reed Show and Father Knows Best (Iwao 2000:7). Thus, from the 1950s until the early 1970s, TV dramas, both USmade and locally made shows, helped spread the American-style couplebased family ideal to Japanese viewers (Iwao 2000:8). During this period when prewar values, including principles that governed family lives and gender ideals, were all but denied, American TV shows played an important role in bringing in new values. The images of men presented by these shows were in striking contrast to the images and ideals of wartime Japanese men, which evolved around stoic soldiering when away from home and domineering authoritarianism when at home. The ideal US masculinity portrayed by these shows, that is to say, gentle, loving, and often light-hearted and comical family breadwinners, had a profound influence on the way Japanese people restructured their own desires and lifestyle goals. In short, after the demilitarization and
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democratization of the Japanese state, the introduction of American ideals of manhood through TV shows helped fill the void left in the society by the end of the ―men-as soldiers‖ masculinity of the pre-WWII period. The Rise of Salaryman Masculinity
As American TV shows were loaded with modern marvels such as beautiful houses, kitchen gadgets, cars, and fashion, it is small wonder that they enjoyed wide popularity in Japan. There is no doubt that American lives, as reflected in these shows, were seen by war-tired, poverty-stricken Japanese with adoration and pining. Along with the US material prosperity portrayed in them, Japanese viewers must have noticed the vast differences between traditional Japanese ideas of gender and what they saw in these shows. Despite the tremendous influence American TV shows had on people‘s desires, values, aspirations, and gender perceptions, what heavily influenced the formation of new ideals of gender during this period were not these shows but the changing reality of the economy. Beginning in the latter half of the 1950s, the Japanese economy entered its so-called high economic growth period and, during this period, men‘s lives changed dramatically. Among other changes, changes in the economy dragged men into long working hours, thus shattering hopes for the rise of the American-style mai hōmu papa as the new dominant masculinity. Instead, another masculinity, namely that of the salaryman, rose to dominance. In the late 1950s, images of men as what people today may call workaholics began to appear in the mass media. The men portrayed in magazine articles such as ―Sararīman no Seitai‖ (The Reality of the Salaryman, Shūkan Sankei, October 18, 1959) and ―Sararīman no Chūseishin‖ (The Loyalty of the Salaryman, Gekkan Nippon, January 1960) were far from the images of mai hōmu papa and depicted men who were more like cogs in the wheels of the giant corporations where they spent long hours, with almost no time at home with their families (Mikanagi 2005c:113). Thus, despite the Allied Occupation‘s efforts to create Japanese families more or less according to the American ideal, by the 1960s Japanese men were not known for their loving and caring fatherhood, focused primarily on the family, but were known more as ―economic animals‖ heavily dedicated to their work and with little time with their families. By the end of the 1960s, the adjective mōretsu (fiercely dedicated), popularized by a TV commercial for Maruzen Petrochemical in 1969, often preceded words pertaining to male workers such as salarymen,
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shain (employee) and jūyaku (executive) (Mikanagi 2005c:113). Men were now glued to their workplaces in real life, and images in the mass media concurred with this reality; furthermore, this type of man began to be celebrated as ideal and desirable. For example, according to a survey titled ―Young Women‘s Ideal Husbands,‖ published by the major women‘s magazine Fujin Kōron in 1966, men who placed priority on work became more popular than those who prioritized family (Fujin Kōron 1966:130–138). The tendency continued into the 1970s. Opinion surveys done by the Sōrifu (the Prime Minister‘s Office, or the current Naikakufu, Cabinet Office) in 1972 suggest that a life as a salaryman had become not only the reality for many men, but was also viewed by both men and women as a desirable lifestyle. In a survey of men over eighteen years old (Sōrifu 1972a), an overwhelming majority (83.8 percent) agreed with the idea that ―husbands work outside and wives protect families.‖1 Only 8.7 percent disagreed.2 Considering that strict sex-based division of labor is mainly possible if the husband is the one employed, the results of this survey are an indication that a majority of men preferred the salaryman‘s lifestyle. A counterpart survey that was done of women over eighteen years old concurred. In this survey, 83.2 percent agreed with the above idea whereas 10.2 percent disagreed (Sōrifu 1972b).3 Being a mōretsu worker meant, above all, spending a lot of time at work. Thus, despite the popularity of American ideals in which fathers and husbands place a heavy emphasis on their family lives, the majority of Japanese people, both men and women, preferred to maintain the traditional gendered division of labor in which men focused on paid work and women stayed at home. Male workers were expected to endure long grueling working hours, and employers made sure that they were physically fit enough to be able to do so. Being mōretsu meant salarymen were not even allowed to keep their off-duty hours to themselves and their families because they were expected to join bar hopping, karaoke, or mahjong outings on weekdays after work and to play golf with their co-workers and bosses on weekends. Thus, when he finally was able to stay at home, all the salaryman was able to do was rest and recover from stressful duties, with little energy left over for his family. However, being a mōretsu salaryman meant something deeper than a worker‘s physical dedication to work. It required workers not just to be there physically but also to transform their inner selves to identify with the company. Companies used a variety of tools to attain this goal, including the recitation of company mottos and the singing of company songs. For example, at Matsushita Denki, the company song was
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broadcast three times a day (morning, lunch time, and evening) until 2008, when the company changed its name to Panasonic and introduced a new song.4 The song‘s lyrics translate to: Bright heart and flowing life come to fruition, Matsushita Denki Time flows, yet every day renews youthfulness Let us wrap the flowering world and the green country With love, light and dreams Believing in each other‘s abilities, we create happiness together, Matsushita Denki Thoroughly giving joy of life to the world We shall fill our future and glorious morning with love, light, and dreams. (Lyrics by Miyazawa Shōji, composed by Hirai Kōzaburō, 1974; see PHP Sōgō Kenkyūjo 1999:30–31)
With the vaguely happy images reminiscent of those found in songs for children, this song may not appear to be a serious instrument for educating employees. But repeated frequently, the song may have had the subliminal effect of creating a sense of unity, of team ―spirit,‖ among workers. Indeed we don‘t know the actual effect of this and other similar songs, but we do know what the company expected of their workers: emotional dedication to jobs and strong company affinity. In fact, in other companies, the effort to transform employees‘ psyches was more vigorous. Toshiba, for example, applied Spartan training to their fresh recruits and mottos such as ―365 days a year, 24 hours a day, make it your duty,‖ and ―Leave, if you don‘t have fighting spirit,‖ indicate that mental toughness and dedication, along with physical hard work, were expected of salarymen (Mizukami 1969:13). These training tools are collectively known as seishin kyōiku (spiritual education) not unlike those used by the Imperial Army. While it is hard to grasp the exact number of companies and employees involved in seishin kyōiku, according to one account, ―[a]s many as onethird of all medium and large companies‖ in the early 1970s incorporated some form of seishin kyōiku into their company training programs based on ―Zen, Confucianism, and samurai traditions‖
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(Rohlen1986:307). And a Zen monk, writing in 1997, stated that at his Sōtō temple in Saitama Prefecture, there were ―approximately 5,000 lay trainees a year, between 60 and 70 percent of whom were in companyrelated groups‖ (Victoria 1997:118). Instilling these qualities often took the form of intensive shain kenshū (employees‘ training workshops) for new recruits and sometimes mid-career men, in which employees traveled away from their companies and spent several days together (Rohlen 1986:307–309). Some companies wanted military-style drills and thus sent their employees to the SDF (Mizukami 1969:13). Others sent their new recruits and even mid-career employees to training camps and had them go through physically and mentally demanding ―training‖ packed with events such as early morning long-distance jogging, speech exercises, team debates, and even hypnosis sessions (Natsubori 1969:188–189). As expert observers such as Thomas Rohlen (1986) and Dorinne Kondo (1990) noted, a variety of exercises such as zazen, long-distance running, and misogi (cold water ablution or ritual cleansing) were used to imbue employees with values desired by managers: perseverance, cooperativeness (and yet competitive at the same time), and loyalty to authority. Interestingly, in any of the exercises, be it zazen or longdistance running, the goal is not to come out ahead of others. Rohlen noted, ―competition is within the self, and success is marked by completion of the ordeal‖ (1986:330). However, by centering all activities on han (squads), a sense of competition is preserved, not between individuals but between groups, at the same time that loyalty and contribution to one‘s own group is nurtured. Another important point is that seishin kyōiku often aimed at letting go of the employee‘s ego and receiving ―bodily mortification‖ with gratitude through exercises such as zazen and misogi (Kondo 1990:88). The World of the Salaryman
To be sure, seishin kyōiku was not unique to corporations. As Frager and Rohlen wrote in 1976, ―virtually all Japanese‖ ―were familiar with its tenets and most experienced some form of seishin education‖ (1976:276). Seishin kyōiku was ubiquitous, most likely seen in school sports club activities and even during physical education classes in which the purpose of sports was not necessarily to improve one‘s athletic skills but to show and toughen guts through meaningless repetition of simple movements. Thus valorization of toughness of spirit existed in Japanese society in general and corporations‘ reliance on seishin kyōiku in educating
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employees cannot be understood without the larger social context. Because of the widespread acceptance of the virtues of seishin kyōiku, and even though only 30 percent of the workforce was actually comprised of salarymen in the 1950s and 1960s, the image of the ideal salaryman as a product of seishin kyōiku began to extend to all Japanese men (Miller 1995:20). The salaryman as an ideal Japanese male image was also forged in part thanks to the portrayal of typical Japanese men as ―urban, middle-class workers‖ with lifetime employment and a seniority wage system (Miller 1995:20, 1998:45–47). In this way, by the 1960s, the salaryman had become the new dominant masculinity of postWWII Japan. So what does it mean to be a salaryman? There are well-known work conditions Japanese corporate workers used to enjoy such as lifetime employment and the seniority wage system. Therefore, to be a salaryman meant that one had stable employment, with a salary that increased over time largely regardless of performance. And to gain such privileged status, men had to have a four-year education from a top university and to have entered their job soon after graduation from college, most likely staying with the same company until retirement. However, the salaryman as a masculine ideal meant something more than work status. Clues to understanding the values internal to salarymen are found in the abovementioned seishin kyōiku, as its goal was to transform employees from within. Seishin kyōiku expected pupils to acquire characteristics exemplified by words such as gaman (perseverance) and nintai (toleration). I assume that these words signify values at the core of the salaryman ideal (Frager and Rohlen 1976:257– 260). What do these keywords signify? First and most importantly, perseverance or toleration of any situation, exemplified by such unreasonable situations such as misogi in the middle of winter or zazen at 3:00 a.m., suggests not only an emphasis on a wholehearted dedication to work but also the presence and acceptance of, and loyalty to, the group goal. However, companies are rarely democratic organizations, especially in Japan where the rate of unionization has been low and union bargaining positions have been weak, and thus ―group‖ goals are not decided consensually but by superiors who hold authority over employees. Thus, perseverance happens because of the presence of authority and the workers are keenly aware of the hierarchical structure of their companies. The wide use of seishin kyōiku aimed at changing workers‘ ―spirits‖ suggests that the relationship between a worker and his workmates and superiors should be more than a mechanical relationship. That the
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salaryman had to show personal transformation and mental dedication to work means that his relationship with others at work would also become mental and emotional. Thus, the expected reward for a worker‘s successful performance was not just material remuneration but mutual confidence and trust. In addition to key words such as gaman and nintai, the phrase atae rareta koto o kotsu kotsu konasu (work diligently on what is given), an expression often used to compliment a diligent pupil, was used to praise dedicated workers. Thus, perseverance or serious dedication to one‘s work was often associated with acceptance of work that was assigned by someone with authority. What it means is that the salaryman was not supposed to pursue his own selfish interests (or follow his creative instincts), but to do his best to respond to the needs of those above him, including knowing and fulfilling the expectations of others. Note that these key words and phrase signify that the process, not the goal or the result, is important. Therefore the goal of the salaryman in the game is not to ―win‖ at the end, but to show everybody that he did his best during the process of whatever he was assigned to do. The emphasis placed on process is reflected in the fact that contemporary Japanese grew up hearing the famous quote L’important n'est pas de gagner, mais de participer (The important thing is not to win, but to take part) by Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the International Olympic Committee. Translating this wisdom to company work, the salaryman was expected to make his contribution to his group (section, division, etc.), thereby earning trust and respect from group members and those in authority. Furthermore, because the process is more important than the result, one is not expected to question the effectiveness or purpose of the action. Contribution is valued regardless of the task the group is performing. Salarymen Policymakers and the World
It is my contention that the values associated with salaryman masculinity were so deeply rooted in the behavior and thought patterns of Japanese men (and even some women) during most of the post-WWII period that they were reflected in Japan‘s foreign relations. After all, decisions, be they on foreign or domestic policy, were made mostly by men. These men may not have been salaryman themselves, but because of the dominance of salaryman masculinity in Japanese society, politicians either grew up internalizing the values associated with salaryman masculinity, or they felt the need to think, speak, and act like salarymen in order to gain popularity with the masses.
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As a way to examine the link between salaryman masculinity and Japan‘s foreign policy, I examined the formal speeches delivered to the Diet by prime ministers and foreign ministers, as in the previous chapter, between 1949 and 2009. I chose these speeches for one particular reason. That is, as these speeches are presented to the Diet and the public in general (in contrast to speeches delivered to a particular group of people), they will have to reflect views and understandings acceptable to Japanese society in general. This makes me assume that subconsciously, if not outright consciously, those who draft and deliver these speeches will have to consider what they think of as values shared by the majority of Japanese, which includes values associated with the dominant concept of masculinity. (Some of those who are engaged in drafting and delivering these speeches may also think that the most important audience is men and, thus, they make sure these speeches resonate with, or at least do not violate or contradict, the values associated with society‘s dominant masculinity.) I examined these speeches focusing on questions about policymakers‘ perceptions of the structure of the world and Japan‘s position within it, their interpretations of other nations‘ views on Japan and, consequently, their understandings of the diplomatic goals and actions Japan should adopt.5 Once we look at the speeches with these questions in mind, interestingly, several keywords recur throughout them, as if they were mantras for Japan‘s approach to world affairs. International Status
What is striking about statements made by many postwar policy leaders is their view of the world as a hierarchy of states demarcated by clear rankings differentiating one state from others. During the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union held the two peaks of this hierarchy. It is unclear where other Western states ranked, but as far as Japan‘s place was concerned, it started from the very bottom at the end of WWII. In fact, during the period immediately following its defeat in WWII, having lost its sovereignty, Japan was outside of this hierarchical structure and not even a full and legitimate member of the world community. The aspiration to become part of the community was well reflected in the speech Prime Minister (and Foreign Minister) Yoshida Shigeru made on April 4, 1949. Yoshida declared that Japan aspired to be ―accepted as an honorable member of the international society.‖ Yet, even after Japan regained its sovereignty in 1952, Japanese leaders appear to have perceived that Japan had to work hard to climb up the
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international ladder for status recognition. Thus, in his speech delivered on June 16, 1953, Foreign Minister Okazaki Katsuo stated clearly that the goal of Japan was to improve its kokusaiteki chii (international status). Interestingly, gaining membership in the United Nations in December 1956 prompted Japan to gain confidence and anxiety simultaneously, as if policymakers felt that the new status was granted prematurely. Thus, on February 4, 1957, in reference to joining the United Nations, Prime Minister Ishibashi Tanzan stated that ―Japan must nurture its material and mental abilities worthy of the new status and responsibility.‖ On November 11, 1957, Prime Minister Kishi Nobusuke again referred to the ―rapid improvement of Japan‘s international status‖ and stated that we must ―painfully become aware of the weight of the responsibility [that comes with the status].‖ This anxiety began to dissipate by the end of the 1950s, reflecting Japan‘s high economic growth. Thus on June 25, 1959, Prime Minister Kishi declared ―both our national power and international status have recovered dramatically,‖ and between November 1964 and January 1966 (November 21, 1964, January 25, 1965, July 30, 1965, October 13, 1965, January 28, 1966), Foreign Minister Shiina Etsusaburō repeatedly made references to Japan‘s ―increased national power,‖ suggesting that, at this point, he felt comfortable with Japan‘s newly attained position of power. Prime Minister Satō Eisaku, too, often expressed his satisfaction in Japan‘s ―improved international status‖ and thus made frequent use of the phrase during his tenure between 1964 and 1972. These references to ―status‖ suggest that Japanese policymakers saw the world as a hierarchical structure marked by clear positioning of each state, as opposed to understanding the world as a space within which members are in fluid relationships to one another. As seen by Japanese policymakers, Japan sank to the very bottom of this hierarchy with its WWII defeat, yet its status had improved over time. Speeches indicate that Japanese policymakers perceived that Japan was given an international status higher than what it deserved in the mid-1950s, but with Japan‘s economic recovery and high growth, by the 1960s, its leaders apparently felt that Japan‘s national power had increased to match the (perceived) improved status granted to Japan when it was able to join the United Nations in 1956. Honor, Confidence, and Trust
By the end of the 1960s, Japan made the transition from a wardevastated international pariah to an advanced economy with ―improved
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international status.‖ Reference to ―improved international status‖ continued to recur in official speeches throughout the 1970s, as in the speeches made by Prime Ministers Satō Eisaku (January 25, 1965, July 12, 1966, December 15, 1966, December 5, 1967, December 1, 1969, February 14, 1970, January 22, 1971), Tanaka Kakuei (January 27, 1973, January 21, 1974), Ōhira Masayoshi (September 3, 1979, January 25, 1980), as well as Foreign Ministers Fukuda Takeo (January 29, 1972) and Hatoyama Iichirō (October 3, 1977), and the tendency continued well into the mid-to-late 1980s, as seen in speeches delivered by Prime Minister Nakasone (February 6, 1984, January 26, 1985, July 6, 1987) and Prime Minister Uno Sōsuke on June 5, 1989. However, over time, the phrase began to be used not as an expression of Japan‘s desire to gain higher status but as a confident premise on which these policymakers often discussed new policy directions. But what was the new direction of policy discussed after Japanese policymakers perceived that Japan had attained its long-coveted ―international status‖? From the very early post-WWII period, Japanese policymakers pursued higher international status embellished with meiyo (honor), shinrai (reliability, confidence), and shinyō (trust) from the members of the international community. Japanese policymakers were keenly aware that what Japan had lost in WWII along with its international status was not just its material well-being, but something intangible yet valuable, such as trust from other states. As early as July 1, 1947, the desire to attain other nation‘s trust was expressed by Prime Minister Katayama Tetsu, who declared that what was most important for Japan‘s international relations was to ―recover international trust.‖ Prime Minister Ashida Hitoshi, who succeeded Katayama on March 20, 1948, also promised ―[I] will do [my] best to earn the confidence of the great powers.‖6 While Japan was forced to focus on material recovery during the early postwar period, it had successfully made an economic comeback by the 1960s. However, Japanese policymakers reached a painful realization that impressive economic growth might bring Japan improved status in the form of membership in international organizations, for example, but not necessarily the honor, respect, or acceptance of other nations. Thus, in the 1970s, as Foreign Minister Fukuda Takeo stated on January 29, 1972, Japan needed to ―open a path to attain honorable status in the world.‖ The following October, Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei declared ―[I] will do [my] best to build a nation . . . .that is more relied upon by other nations in the world,‖ and his Foreign Minister Ōhira Masayoshi, too, urged that ―Japan must . . . increase international trust‖ on October 28, 1972.7 Attainment of this
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goal must have weighed heavily on the mind of Minister Ōhira as he concluded his speeches on January 27, 1973 and January 21, 1974, referring to shinyō and shinrai, respectively. At the end of the speech he delivered in 1973, he stated that the important goals of Japan‘s diplomacy were to ―produce international cooperation‖ and at the same time to ―improve international trust,‖ and, in 1974, he declared that he would ―cooperate with the government and the people to move forward on the path of winning international confidence and reputation.‖ Ten years later, policymakers were still talking about their desire to attain trust and confidence from the world. For example, on September 10, 1983, Prime Minister Nakasone called for Japan to ―play proper international roles‖ in order to ―occupy a position of international honor.‖ Earlier in the year, on January 24th, his foreign minister Abe Shintarō also stated that Japan needed to win ―the world‘s confidence.‖ In 1984, Nakasone stated his hope that ―the twenty-first century be Japan‘s century.‖ In this speech delivered on February 6th, he expressed his mixed views on the world‘s confidence in Japan as he stated that there was a need for ―Japan to continue to be accepted as a reliable cooperative country.‖ This statement implies that Nakasone assumed that Japan was already accepted as a reliable nation by the world, yet still needed to continue a sustained effort to maintain its reputation. As Japan emerged as the second largest economy in the world in the 1980s and the Japanese began to gain a sense of self-confidence, the expressions of desire to gain international trust and confidence seem to have dissipated for the rest of the 1980s. Yet speeches examined here indicate that Japanese policymakers‘ sense of having insufficient trust from the international community did not go away completely, and it resurfaced in the 1990s. Thus, on March 2, 1990, Foreign Minister Nakayama Tarō expressed his aspiration for Japan to gain international confidence, and on January 25, 1991, Prime Minister Kaifu emphasized that ―in order for Japan to occupy an honorable place in international society and to gain the respect and confidence of the world,‖ Japan must ―take initiatives in resolving global problems such as the environment and drugs.‖ As if the experience of the Gulf War and the sense of isolation from the ―world‖ left a permanent scar in the minds of policymakers, throughout the 1990s the need to gain ―honorable status‖ or to become a ―reliable nation‖ was repeated by prime ministers such as Hosokawa Morihiro and Hata Tsutomu (September 21, 1993, March 4, 1994, May 10, 1994, respectively). And even in 2000, Prime Minister Mori Yoshirō maintained that ―Japan has to become a state trusted by the world‖ in his speech delivered on April 7th. Furthermore, on January 19, 2004, Prime Minister Koizumi proposed actions to realize
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―honorable status‖ in international society. And on January 18, 2008, Foreign Minister Kōmura Masahiko declared that ―we are going to exercise leadership in making the world peaceful . . . thereby earning the confidence of international society.‖ Most recently, on January 29, 2010, Prime Minister Hatoyama Yukio stated, ―I would like to nurture [Japanese] culture‖ that will be ―trusted by international society.‖ Expectations
Another keyword that illuminates how Japanese policymakers perceived Japan‘s relations with the rest of the world is kitai (expectation). Their frequent use of this word signifies that instead of formulating foreign policy goals on the basis of internally generated ideas and discussions, policymakers seemed to shape Japan‘s diplomacy according to a vague perception of what the ―international community‖ (whatever that means) expects from Japan. Another, and equally convincing, possibility is that these policymakers prefer to give the appearance that their foreign policies derive not from their own selfish goals and interests but from the ―expectations‖ of other states or the ―international community.‖ When we trace policy speeches delivered during the first two decades of the postwar period, it appears that Japanese policymakers perceived that kitai increased with their nation‘s economic achievement. Thus, during the early postwar period when Japan was still focusing on recovery from the war, the term kitai (from other states) did not appear in these speeches. However, as soon as Japan attained economic recovery and confidence in its economic performance, policymakers began to perceive (or imagine) that the world placed certain expectations on Japan. The first time following the end of WWII that the word kitai from the world appears in these speeches was when Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru mentioned his impression of nations he visited, such as the United States, Canada, West Germany, and France, in his speech on November 30, 1954. Yoshida stated that ―interest in and expectations for Japan by these states have not decreased in comparison to the prewar period.‖ During the 1960s, when Japan experienced rapid economic growth, the use of the word kitai (from the world) increased dramatically. For example, on September 28, 1961, Prime Minister Ikeda Hayato mentioned ―every nation in the world has great expectations for our nation‘s role [in the establishment of world peace].‖ Foreign Minister Shiina Etsusaburō used the phrase ―expectations for Japan‘s contribution to world peace‖ in his speech on November 21, 1964. Foreign Minister
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Ōhira Masayoshi echoed that Japan is ―expected by the rest of the world to give its share of contributions to world peace and human happiness‖ on January 23, 1963. Prime Minister Satō Eisaku seemed to have loved the word as he used it often, as in ―increased expectations for our roles‖ in his speeches delivered during his tenure between 1964 and 1972 (July 12, 1966, December 15, 1966, March 14, 1967, December 11, 1968, January 27, 1979). Even in the 1970s, the word was frequently used by policymakers such as Prime Ministers Fukuda Takeo and Ōhira Masayoshi. For example, Prime Minister Fukuda used the word, as in ―expectations from international society,‖ on July 30, 1977; ―expectations of our nation regarding world peace and prosperity,‖ on October 3, 1977; the ―world‘s expectations of our international role,‖ on January 21, 1978; and ―do our best to meet the world‘s expectations,‖ on September 20, 1978. Following his predecessor, on January 25, 1979, Prime Minister Ōhira seconded that Japan needed to manage its economy in order to ―answer the world‘s expectations.‖ The willingness to respond to such kitai from the world continued to appear in speeches delivered in the 1980s, such as in Prime Minister Suzuki Zenkō‘s promise that Japan ―will perform the duties expected by international society,‖ made in his speech on January 26, 1981. Prime Minister Nakasone, too, frequently used the word kitai during his tenure between 1982 and 1987. He said that the ―world‘s expectations‖ are ―getting stronger‖ in speeches delivered on December 3, 1982, and January 26, 1987; ―becoming more severe and pressing,‖ on January 24, 1983; and ―increasingly high‖ on September 10, 1983. Nakasone pondered ―how big expectations and demands of Japan were‖ on February 6, 1984, and, on October 14, 1985, stated that ―there is an increased expectation in international society for Japan to play active roles not only in the economy, but also in politics and culture for the world‘s peace and prosperity.‖ As with phrases such as ―honorable status‖ and ―reliable nation,‖ not only was this view about international expectations shared by other prime ministers from the Liberal Democratic Party who succeeded Nakasone in the 1980s (such as Takeshita Noboru, Uno Sōsuke, and Kaifu Toshiki), but also by prime ministers of the 1990s from other parties. Thus, while the Liberal Democratic Party lost its monopoly of power during the first half of the 1990s, the view that the world had big expectations of Japan, and that Japan was yet to respond to them, continued to be part of speeches delivered by prime ministers such as Hosokawa Morihiro of the Japan New Party, Hata Tsutomu of the Japan Renewal Party, and Murayama Tomiichi of the Social Democratic Party
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of Japan. This view that the ―world has large expectations of Japan‖ is still shared by policymakers as, most recently, on January 29, 2010, Foreign Minister Okada Katsuya (of the Democratic Party of Japan) stated, ―Japan must respond to the world‘s expectation through active behavior and the presentation of [clear] visions.‖ Note that the use of the word kitai is often vague in terms of exactly what the world ―expects‖ of Japan or who exactly are the ones having these expectations. Most typically, the word is used in a phrase ―the world‘s expectations‖ and the content of such expectations is left unspecified. At best, it is connected to some vague action or policy ideas. For example, in the speech delivered on November 27, 1987, Prime Minister Takeshita said ―what I call ‗creation of home‘ means the construction of the Japanese islands as the place where every Japanese citizen is able to live a happy, joyful, fulfilling life and [the exercise of Japan‘s vitality] responds to the expectations of the world‘s peoples.‖ For that reason, Prime Minister Satō‘s specific reference, made in his speech on December 1, 1969, that the world is expecting Japan to ―assist in the development of developing countries in Asia,‖ Prime Minister Hosokawa‘s reference to economic and administrative reform in his March 4, 1994, speech, and Prime Minister Obuchi‘s statement that ―international society has strong expectations for Japan‘s economic recovery,‖ made on January 28, 2000, are rare exceptions as they actually mention what is expected of Japan. As to who makes up the ―world,‖ most political leaders spoke of the ―world‖ or the ―international community‖ as if there was a consensus among all states or nations, and rarely made clear who was expressing these expectations. There are some exceptions, to be sure. Prime Minister Miyazawa‘s reference in his speech on January 24, 1992, to Presidents George Bush and Roh Tae-woo as those having ―strong expectations of Japan‖ is one example. Prime Minister Hata‘s statement on May 10, 1994, is also an exception because, instead of referring to an abstract ―international community‖ or ―world,‖ he listed European states such as Italy, France, Germany, and Belgium as the ones who share ―expectations of us.‖ But in general, what permeates these speeches is the view that the world has some shared consensual expectations of Japan. International Contributions
Thus once Japan achieved a certain level of economic development and sense of international status, policymakers perceived there was a need to gain international trust and respond to ―expectations‖ from the world.
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Did they have any prescription for meeting the need? What did they perceive as the means to attain confidence and trust from other states and fulfill their expectations? How was Japan supposed to gain other states‘ trust and a position of honor? Japanese leaders often talked about Japan‘s sekinin (duties/responsibility) and yakuwari (roles) in the world in their speeches. References to abstract roles and duties Japan was to play (as opposed to specific goals, such as gaining a seat on the UN Security Council) in the world increased during the tenure of Prime Minister Satō in the mid 1960s. For example, on January 25, 1965, Satō stated ―I would like to perform duties worthy of our improved status in international society.‖ Or, on January 28, 1966, in referring to Japan‘s joining the UN Security Council as a nonpermanent member, he maintained that ―[our] international role has gained importance and I cannot but say that we have a heavy responsibility for [maintaining] peace.‖ Satō‘s speech on December 5, 1967, articulated that policymakers perceived that increased international duties came as a result of improved international status. But what kind of duties and roles? It appears that policymakers translated duties and roles emanating from international ―expectations‖ to mean ―international contributions.‖ But to what end and by what means should Japan make such contributions? In the abstract, the object of these contribution was made clear by Prime Minister Yoshida on November 8, 1949, when he stated, ―I believe the only way to facilitate the conclusion of a peace treaty is to promote the civilized world‘s understanding of our nation through clarification of our determination to make contributions to world civilization, peace, and prosperity.‖ Since then, the phrase ―contribution to world peace and prosperity‖ has become a mantra repeated by many prime and foreign ministers. Thus, Prime Minister Ishibashi announced that Japan ―must make contributions to world peace and prosperity . . . as a basic principle of its diplomacy‖ in his February 4, 1957, speech. Interestingly, while the goal to make international contributions was acknowledged in the following years, Japanese policymakers appear to have lacked confidence in fulfilling the task, as Prime Minister Ikeda expressed on January 23, 1963. Ikeda noted that ―we may not have enough capability yet. . . . but we surely are able to make unique contributions to world peace and prosperity.‖ As Japan‘s path to becoming an economic giant became more promising toward the late 1960s, policymakers became more confident about making bolder promises to the world. Thus, on March 14, 1967, Prime Minster Satō declared that Japan would ―make contributions to
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the improvement of world peace and prosperity in Asia.‖ In the 1970s, as seen in Prime Minster Tanaka‘s speech of January 21, 1974, the Japanese government continued to aim at ―making contributions toward increased peace and prosperity in Asia.‖ In the 1980s, as Prime Minister Nakasone expressed in his speech delivered on October 14, 1985, policymakers wanted to ―show the world our basic stance and determination to make active contributions to the peace and prosperity of international society.‖ More recently, on January 18, 2008, Prime Minister Fukuda concluded his speech by saying, ―I would like to build a [network] of confidence between the people and the administration, the people and politics, in order to make a progress toward a revitalized Japan that makes contribution to the world.‖ However, beyond these abstract words of ―peace‖ and ―prosperity,‖ policymakers rarely talked details about what they meant. Did ―peace‖ mean simply no war? Or did it mean more than that, such as a world without nuclear weapons or any kind of organized violence? Did ―prosperity‖ mean simply greater GDP for all states or a reduction of the economic gap between the rich and the poor, or securing basic human needs? Policymakers rarely defined what they meant by the phrase ―peace and prosperity,‖ leaving the notion of kokusai kōken extremely vague. The most typical usage of the phrase was like the one by Prime Minister Takeshita, ―a Japan contributes to the world,‖ which he used in all of his speeches delivered at the Diet between 1987 and 1989 (November 27, 1987, January 25, 1988, July 29, 1988, February 10, 1989) and which was repeated by Prime Minister Uno on June 5, 1989. And as to what Japan would actually do, again, few leaders mentioned anything concrete. Therefore, Prime Minister Suzuki, when he referred to Japanese‘s ―high intellectual ability,‖ which could be used to ―develop unique scientific technology‖ that would make ―contributions to world progress,‖ in his speech delivered on January 26, 1981, or linked ―creating a solid administrative and financial basis of the state and local governments‖ to making ―contributions to international society‖ in his speech on September 28, 1981, it was a rare exception to the norm (although how these two are related to each other is not entirely clear). In sum, these four keywords or phrases—kokusaiteki chii, shinrai/shinyō, kitai, and kokusai kōken—portray the essence of how Japanese policymakers of the period examined here perceived the nature of international relations and the relationship between Japan and the world. That is, first, the world has a hierarchical structure. Second, Japan was viewed as a state with little status but, with successful economic growth, it gained higher status. However, top status still
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eluded Japan because it had failed to achieve a position of honor and earn trust from the international community, and thus, Japan must continue to strive for these goals Third, what Japan has to do to further improve its status is to respond to expectations from ―international society,‖ and, fourth, the means to do so is through ―international contributions.‖ The World as a “Corporation”?
As we have seen, the world seen by Japanese leaders was structured hierarchically and even though Japan successfully attained higher status by the 1960s, it still needed to achieve international trust and confidence. And Japanese leaders expected to gain such status by answering the international community‘s expectations and making ―contributions.‖ This view of the world and how Japanese policymakers spoke about Japan and its relationship with the rest of the world present a strong resemblance to the view of the salaryman about his company and the ways in which he related to his work. As the salaryman saw the world hierarchically ordered, Japan‘s policymakers saw the world not as an arena of independent actors freely making their own choices, but as a space with a clear hierarchical structure, defined by tangible material power and intangible factors such as honor and prestige. As with most salarymen, who never reached management positions, postwar Japanese policymakers felt that Japan was never in a position of authority to make decisions about major world affairs, but resided instead in the lower strata with a constant need to raise the country‘s status. As it was so important to the salaryman to answer the expectations of those around him, so it was to Japanese policymakers who strived to respond to what other states expected of Japan. As a salaryman was expected to dutifully perform whatever task was given to him without questioning the purpose of the task, Japanese policymakers emphasized the need for ―international contributions‖ without asking the fundamental question of what Japan could achieve through them. It is not that Japanese policymakers had always seen the world as a corporate hierarchy. Japanese political leaders once saw that the world was in a state of flux and thus needed clever alliance manipulation. Toward the end of the Edo period, faced with powerful Western nations, many proposed establishing an alliance with China. To be sure, this view coexisted with the idea that Japan would have to conquer its neighboring nations, including China, and become the leader of the East ―in order to rule the world‖ eventually (Satō 1974:26). Japanese political
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leaders began to see the world as having a more rigid structure in the late nineteenth century to early twentieth century. The view that the world was in a state of flux made a comeback with Japan‘s defeat in WWII (Watanabe 1974:237). One would expect that the rise of the Cold War and the reorganization of the world into two camps ruled by two superpowers in the late 1940s may have made Japanese policymakers view the world as hierarchically structured once again. Indicating an awareness of a solid structure governing the world, as we have already seen, Japanese leaders made some reference to ―international status‖ during the time that tension between the two blocs was increasing, as in the speech made by Prime Minister Yoshida in October 1951, for example. Yet we see more frequent use of the phrase toward the end of the 1950s. And as Prime Minister Ishibashi‘s speech in February 1957 suggests, it was when Japan joined the United Nations that Japanese leaders became aware of Japan‘s international status. In the late 1950s, these words became more like a cliché as Prime Minister Kishi used the phrase in five out of nine speeches between 1957 and 1960. Thus, the view that the world is hierarchically structured became solidified only in the late 1950s. This was also the period when Japanese policymakers‘ view of Japan‘s place in the world became clearer. That is, by the 1960s, Japanese policymakers felt that even though Japan was successfully climbing up the world hierarchy, the world now had increased expectations of Japan. In the 1970s, policymakers perceived that Japan continued to face the need to answer such expectations through international contributions, which should then grant Japan the world‘s much-coveted trust and confidence. And what is most interesting is that this view of the world and Japan‘s position in the world became the basic framework of Japan‘s foreign policy during the period when Japanese society experienced high economic growth and when salaryman masculinity was beginning to be both an ideal and reality for Japanese men. The Decline of Salaryman Masculinity
After all the efforts Japan put into making international contributions, by the mid-1990s, however, Japanese leaders were frustrated. Their desire or willingness to respond to perceived ―international expectations‖ began to falter as political leaders felt Japan had yet to be given respect and honor despite all it had done over the past few decades. Signaling that it was about time for Japan to be given a position of respect, Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryūtarō expressed his desire to secure a seat as a
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permanent member of the UN Security Council in his policy speech made in January 1996. Yet as Hashimoto‘s successor Obuchi Keizō in January 1999 stated, the important goals of the nation were ―safety and prosperity of our nation, to gain respect in international society, and to perform duties that accompany our international status.‖ 8 Prime Minister Mori Yoshirō stated in April 2000 that contribution to the construction of international security was an important task for Japan so that it would become ―a state trusted by the world.‖ Curiously, even Japanese leaders who appeared to be confident in dealing with the international community felt that the ―world‖ did not trust Japan. Thus, reflecting a strong desire to earn trust and a position of honor, Prime Minister Koizumi in January 2004 stated ―it is natural for a state to go out of its way for world peace and for people and nations in plight, and such an attitude will, I believe, lead to the attainment of the ‗honored place in international society‘ stated in the preface of our constitution.‖ Japanese policymakers continue to view the world as they have since the 1960s and, perhaps because of this, they feel frustrated that the world has yet to recognize Japan‘s respectability even now. That salaryman masculinity still plays an important role in policymakers‘ view of Japan and its foreign relations is reflected in Prime Minister Abe‘s portrayal of the ideal image of Japan in the world. In a speech delivered in September 2007, Abe stated (in reference to Japan‘s participation in the ―war on terrorism‖): ―Members of the Self Defense Forces who are silently engaged in their duties in the sultry Indian Ocean represent images of Japan‘s international contribution.‖ This statement is noteworthy for two reasons. First, the statement lacked assessment of what Japan‘s activities in the Indian Ocean accomplished or should accomplish but simply equated Japan‘s participation with making an international contribution. Second, the image of the members of the SDF portrayed as ―silently engaged in their duties,‖ reminds us of a key phrase in seishin kyōiku, which is ―work on what is given diligently.‖ While SDF members‘ duties undoubtedly involved danger and high risk, it is interesting that what the prime minister noted was not courage or patriotism (often used by foreign governments to celebrate and encourage their troops) but ―silence‖ and what it stands for: loyal dedication to work. Another example that may suggest that salaryman masculinity continues to affect Japan‘s foreign policymaking is seen in the Japanese government‘s search for ways to make contributions. Thus, on June 30, 2008, Prime Minister Fukuda told UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon that the Japanese government would send the Self Defense Forces to Sudan. Referring to this decision, a government insider stated that ―it
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appears that a search for ‗kōken saki’ [a recipient of Japan‘s contribution] was more important than [a discussion of] Japan‘s roles in international politics or local needs‖ (Asahi Shimbun, July 1, 2008). However, one has to note that, in the last decade, the view of the world as a corporation within which Japan is a cog without much power to affect ―management‖ may be slowly coming to an end. By the mid 1990s, as we have seen, policymakers have begun to desire global leadership positions. Thus, the word ―initiative‖ or ―leadership‖ in world affairs began to enter the speeches examined here. Prime Minister Hashimoto‘s speech in January 1996 stated the goal unequivocally: My basic principle of diplomacy is ―autonomy.‖ I believe Japan has to become a state whose behavior is not based on the world political economy as a given, as in the past, but makes a step forward from the tradition of [making] international contributions to taking initiatives for the world‘s stability and development based on the philosophy world society will accept.
To be sure, early reference to Japan‘s leadership was limited to economic issues. Following Hashimoto‘s speech, his foreign minister Ikeda Yukihiko stated that Japan exercised leadership in the liberalization of trade and investment and technological cooperation in the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC). The qualified desire for leadership is also seen in Prime Minister Hashimoto‘s speech in November 1996, in which he stated that ―the development of the world economy . . . is the area in which we can exercise active leadership.‖ Prime Minister Obuchi, too, in February 1998, promised that as ―the world‘s second largest economic power . . . we will exercise our leadership.‖ However, by the end of the 1990s, the desire to attain a position of leadership had extended beyond economic affairs. Japanese leaders were referring to a more general leadership to be exercised in the world. For example, in January 1999, Foreign Minister Komura Masahiko concluded his speech by stating that his ―belief as a foreign minister‖ was to achieve ―diplomacy with leadership.‖ Policy leaders in the new millennium concurred. For example, in January 2001, Prime Minister Mori said, ―what is being asked of Japan in the twenty-first century is . . . a sense of responsibility and leadership to sustain the international system.‖ In September 2006, Prime Minister Abe made his desire that Japan take on global leadership even clearer. He stated that the ―beautiful country of Japan‖ is a country that ―is trusted, respected, and loved by the world, and possesses leadership qualities.‖ And with
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speeches made by Foreign Ministers Asō Tarō and his successor Kōmura Masahiko in January 2007 and January 2008, respectively, policymakers began to envision Japan exercising powerful leadership in global issues such as development, environment, pandemics, and nuclear nonproliferation. Interestingly, the idea that Japan has to make international contributions, instead of exercising active leadership, continues to coexist in these speeches, even as both prime and foreign ministers begin referring to ‖initiative‖ or ―leadership‖ more and more in recent years. Foreign Minister Machida Nobutaka, who concluded his speech with a reference to ―creative diplomacy,‖ was still talking about ―making active contributions‖ to transnational issues. In January 2008, referring to Japan‘s coveted permanent seat on the UN Security Council, Foreign Minister Kōmura stated that it was necessary for Japan to become a permanent member of the UNSC in order to make ―increased contributions in international society.‖ Thus, it appears that the view that Japan is a cog in the hierarchical world is fading and Japanese leaders are more inclined to seek positions of leadership (and perhaps authority) to shape the world. Still, perceptions of the world based on salaryman masculinity still linger in the minds of policymakers and affect their perceptions and decisions concerning foreign relations.
Notes 1 In this survey, 52.3 percent answered ―agree,‖ and 31.5 percent answered ―somewhat agree.‖ 2 That is, 6.3 percent said ―somewhat disagree‖ and 2.4 percent said ―disagree.‖ 3 In this survey, 48.8 percent answered ―agree‖ and 34.4 percent said ―somewhat agree.‖ Among negative responses, 7.6 percent answered ―somewhat disagree‖ and 2.6 percent said ―disagree.‖ 4 Interview with a customer service representative, July 10, 2006. For details of the change, see http://kaden.watch.impress.co.jp/cda/news/2008/10/01/2985.html. 5 These speeches have been derived from a database compiled by Tanaka Akihiko (2009). 6 As is often the case in Japanese, there is no subject in the original sentence. However it is obvious from the context that the statement refers to the prime minister‘s convictions and therefore I have inserted ―I‖ and ―my.‖ 7 The same adjustments as indicated in n. 6 above. 8 Emphasis mine.
6 The Making of a New Dominant Masculinity
There is no doubt that the salaryman has been the dominant image representing Japanese men and even an ideal for both men and women in Japan throughout most of Japan‘s postwar period. Yet with the coming of the long-term Heisei Recession in the 1990s, that ideal as Japan‘s dominant masculinity began to fade. What explains its decline? And if the salaryman masculinity no longer serves as an ideal for Japanese men to strive for, has any other type of masculinity replaced it? In this chapter, we will explore the ongoing process of gender reorganization in which a new dominant masculinity appears to be in the making. The Fading of the Salaryman as the Dominant Masculinity Type
The salaryman as Japan‘s dominant masculine ideal still lingers on, to be sure. As if to remind Japanese people that the salaryman is still the ideal, if not the reality, for most men in Japan, Daiichi Sankyō Healthcare Co. revived its popular energy drink Regain in June 2007. As discussed in Chapter 2, Regain originally came to the Japanese market in 1988 and its TV commercial featured a powerful image of an energetic salaryman accompanied by simple background music not dissimilar to a military march, which many still remember. Twenty years later, the revival of this drink is an interesting reminder that the salaryman ideal is not yet dead. Many men today live lifestyles different from those of previous generations, yet that of the salaryman is still considered desirable, perhaps even more so among women than men. A survey conducted by the Japanese government in 2007 showed that 60 percent of mothers with children less than three years old responded that they did not want to work, while a negligible percentage of single and married women with no children and a much smaller percentage of those with children
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four years and older agreed with this view (Naikakufu 2006). These data not only suggest the power of sansaiji shinwa (the ―myth‖ that children up to three years old must be taken care of by stay-at-home mothers), which compels many Japanese women to stay at home when their children are small, but also demonstrates the myth‘s flipside, that is, that men who are able to provide for families on their income alone (while children are small) are considered desirable husbands. Provided that salarymen are most likely perceived by many women to provide the security of long-term employment, steady income and benefits, this preference to become stay-at-home mothers (at least for the first three years of childrearing) works to sustain the desirability of salarymen as husbands. However, other data indicate that people no longer find salarymen, who are single-mindedly focused on work, ideal. For example, data indicate a steady decline in the popularity of the traditional gendered division of labor, which is a prerequisite for salarymen who devote their lives to work. In 1979, according to a survey done by the Prime Minister‘s office, which asked about the idea that ―men [should] work outside and women stay at home,‖ 72.5 percent of those surveyed agreed with the concept (Naikakufu 2002). Yet between 1997 and 2002, a series of surveys indicated a sharp drop in the number of those who supported the idea. In 1997, the share of those who agreed with it was 57.8 percent, whereas in 2002 the number declined to 47 percent, showing nearly a ten percentage-point drop in five years (Naikakufu 2007b). And in 2008, a survey done by Yomiuri Shimbun indicated that 68 percent of those surveyed (63 percent of men and 72 percent of women) did not agree that men should work outside and women stay at home (Yomiuri Shimbun, August 27, 2008). The above two sets of survey data have many implications for gender in Japan today. The first set of data on women and their desire to work indicates that women continue to prefer to (or share internalized restrictive rules that they must) stay at home especially when children are young. The implication of these data for men and masculinity is that in order for women to be able to stay at home, they prefer to be married to men who are able to provide for their families during those early childrearing years, suggesting that many women prefer salarymen as partners. The survey data on the traditional gendered division of labor suggest an increased acceptance of women who continue their paid work after marriage. However, the data also have implications for men and masculinity. While there are no surveys asking the question whether more men should become stay-at-home fathers while women work outside of their homes, given that Japan is a society far from achieving
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gender equality, it is unlikely that there is a large number of people who would agree with this idea. Therefore, the result of the survey on the gendered division of labor does not necessarily indicate that more people are ready to reverse traditional gender roles as in ―women work outside and men stay at home,‖ but it does indicate that men are no longer expected to be the sole breadwinners, eclipsing the foundation of the salaryman‘s lifestyle. In sum, these data suggest that salaryman masculinity is still an ideal for many as there are women who think salarymen who bring in stable incomes for their families are desirable and there are men who strive hard to fit that ideal. At the same time, however, the salaryman‘s way of life is quickly disappearing for an increasing number of men in Japan. There are at least two major forces that have undermined the salaryman as the dominant type of masculinity. The first and most immediate cause was the ten-year Heisei Recession and the resulting restructuring of the Japanese economy. These economic factors have had a dramatic impact on the reality of Japanese men‘s work lives. At the core of these changes was the transformation of Japanese-style management, which was known for its guarantee of long-term employment and wage increases based on seniority for those who worked in large corporations. Japanese-style management ―ended‖ with several symbolic events in the 1990s. One such event was Fujitsu‘s introduction of a seikashugi (performance-based) pay system in place of the seniority wage system in 1993 (Asahi Shimbun, May 26, 2007). Since then, an increasing number of corporations have replaced their seniority wage systems with performance-based pay systems. Indeed, according to a study done by the Japan Institute for Labor Research and Training, based on data collected by the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (MHLW), over 80 percent of large corporations with one thousand or more employees had introduced some form of seikashugi pay system as of 2004 (Rōdō Seisaku 2005:4). Another shocking event that symbolized the end of Japanese-style management was the failure of Yamaichi Securities in November 1997, which was a large event in itself and which also helped accelerate Japan‘s financial crisis and painful restructurings (Asahi Shimbun, May 27, 2007). However, there is another force, a more indirect one to be sure, which appears to have contributed to the transformation of Japan‘s masculine ideal. This is Japan‘s experience of the first Gulf War and the Japanese perception of how the world viewed Japan‘s role in it. The Japanese government made a financial contribution of 13 billion yen to
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help fight the war against Iraq, but without joining the multinational coalition force led by the United States. Despite Japan‘s generous spending, however, Japan was missing from a thank-you advertisement issued on March 11, 1991, by the Kuwaiti government in the Washington Post, listing governments that helped fight the war. This omission, according to the Japanese mass media (Asahi Shimbun, March 15, 1991, Tokyo Shimbun, August 22, 2007), shocked LDP politicians and Ministry of Foreign Affairs officials. The incident is often referred to as a torauma (trauma) and it lingers in the minds of policymakers even today. For example, more than a decade later in 2006, Abe Shinzō, then Japan‘s prime minister, wrote how disappointed he was to have seen Japan missing from the list (Abe 2006:136). Interestingly, instead of thoroughly reviewing what Japan should have done, policymakers quickly shaped the idea that jinteki kōken must be added to Japan‘s foreign policy in case of military contingencies (Asahi Shimbun, March 15, 1991; Abe 2006:136). The term jinteki kōken literally translates as ―people contribution,‖ and ―people‖ could mean either civilians or soldiers (in Japan‘s case, SDF troops). Until the early 1990s, Japan did not have laws that allowed the government to dispatch ―people,‖ whether civilians or soldiers, to overseas war zones. However, in retrospect, we know that by the term jinteki (people), the government did not mean a group of civilians or a mixture of civilians and the SDF, but primarily the SDF. Soon after the end of the first Gulf War, the Japanese government passed a bill allowing the SDF to participate in ‘UN Peacekeeping Operations (PKOs). The primary goal of this legislation was to establish a legal basis for participation in UN PKO activities, and the chosen tool was SDF troops, as well as civilians and policemen. The first deployment under this law was in 1992, when the SDF (and civilians) were dispatched to Cambodia in a PKO to oversee UN-sponsored elections. The PKO bill was a stepping stone toward a more ambitious type of action, in which sending the SDF became a goal in itself. The enactment of the Law on Emergencies in Surrounding Areas provided the legal basis for such actions, and the subsequent dispatch of SDF troops to Iraq and the Indian Ocean were SDF-led deployments. While the Japanese government expanded the roles of SDF troops, it has not revised its constitution, including Article Nine. This means that sending SDF troops to overseas ―war zones‖ remains unconstitutional. (For this reason, the government took pains to explain that the areas to which troops were deployed were hisentōchiiki, or noncombat zones.) Given the constitutional restraints on the use of the SDF, Japan could have considered options other than sending SDF troops when it began
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considering jinteki kōken. For example, a possible alternative may have been to use diplomatic channels and become an intermediary between disputing parties. A news report revealed that this option may have been proposed by President Gorbachev to Prime Minister Kaifu during the first Gulf War (Tokyo Shimbun, February 27, 2003). However, instead of brainstorming other alternatives, Japanese policymakers jumped to the conclusion that jinteki kōken meant sending SDF troops. The quick introduction of jinteki kōken with the SDF as the only alternative to money indicates that policymakers attributed the lack of appreciation by the international community to Japan‘s inability to send troops overseas. Whether Japan‘s monetary contribution was truly not appreciated by the recipients is not clear. Some suspect that the omission of Japan from the list of the Kuwaiti government‘s thank-you advertisement was not because Japan failed to send its troops to the Persian Gulf but because most of the money the Japanese government spent went to the United States and not to Kuwait. Thus, the Kuwaiti government may not have been aware of Japan‘s contribution (Tokyo Shimbun, August 22, 2007). Regardless of the true reason why Kuwaiti government did not thank Japan, the advertisement devastated Japanese policymakers and thus it is still remembered as a trauma. But what does this episode have to do with masculinity? The message Japanese policymakers thought they received from the international community after the Gulf War had a gendered impact, contributing to the end of the salaryman as the ideal type of Japanese masculinity. Why? Because the salaryman masculinity was forged during postwar demilitarized Japan, in which the dominant masculinity was not allowed to be that of a warrior, while other nations in the world continued to maintain militaries that often provided values and attributes for male ideals and the dominant/hegemonic masculinity. On the other hand, throughout most of the postwar period, Japanese people in general (except for right-wing politicians and activists) were either resigned to or content with the new literati masculinity, which lacked almost any association with soldiering and war. As we saw in the previous chapter, salaryman masculinity requires Japanese policymakers to accept a hierarchical concept of the world, so that when the chief (i.e., the United States) gives orders, Japan is compelled to take part in and make contributions to group efforts (without questioning the legitimacy or efficacy of the group action). Applying the salaryman analogy to the international order, making contributions to the group effort should have resulted in appreciation and, hopefully, respect from peers. However, the international community responded coldly. This led policymakers to question not
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only Japan‘s policy decisions but also the salaryman masculinity they had espoused in the post-WWII period. The lack of gratitude from the international community was certainly felt among many Japanese, but it may not have been consciously understood as a challenge to Japan‘s dominant masculinity. And it is hard to prove that the event offended policymakers‘ conceptions of their personal salaryman masculinity as this would require an examination of the individual psychology of policymakers, perhaps through surveys, which are currently unavailable. What we do know, however, is that Japanese policymakers failed to carefully examine how the financial contribution had been perceived by the coalition, and they did not engage in a thorough review of all possible policy alternatives for future events similar to the first Gulf War, but, rather, came to a hasty conclusion that any contribution short of sending military troops would be inadequate. Furthermore, throughout the 1990s, Japanese policymakers had become more apprehensive about the rogue masculinity emerging among young men in the wake of salaryman masculinity‘s growing inadequacies. Despite the fact that academics and other experts portrayed images of youth that were not necessarily supported by strong evidence, the government reacted strongly to them. And through the way that the government has responded to these images of Japanese youth, we discover that beneath the policy decisions over the ―problem of the youth‖ there exists a sense shared by policymakers that a new warrior-type masculinity has to be forged. A New Image of Japanese Youth
During the late 1990s and the first half of the 2000s, a new image of Japanese youth emerged. This image had two specific aspects. The first was constructed by keywords such as frītā (young people with part-time jobs), parasaito shinguru (parasite singles), hikikomori (the socially withdrawn), and NEET (Not in Employment, Education, or Training). These terms signify a transformation of how one relates to work and life in general and these images are considerably different from the salaryman ideal. If being a salaryman meant being hard-working, company-oriented, and goal-specific, the images of youth characterized by the new words are nearly the opposite: idle, isolated, and purposeless. All of these keywords often used to characterize problems associated with contemporary Japanese youth are related to ways in which the youth relate to work. The oldest of these keywords is the term frītā, which was coined by Recruit Corporation in 1987 (Yamada
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2004:116) combining the two words frī (free) and arubaitā (transliteration of the German word arbeit, meaning labor) plus ―ā‖ (transliterating the English suffix ―-er‖ at the end of the word). The term originally meant those who willfully refused to become full-time workers, but now it means young people who do not hold steady jobs in general (Yamada 2004:116–117). The term parasaito shinguru (parasite single) was coined by the sociologist Yamada Masahiro in 1997. The term refers to singles ―who enjoy rich lifestyles while depending on their parents for their basic livelihood‖ (Yamada 2004:8). It does not connote a lack of devotion to work but it does signify a lack of willingness to become a fully independent adult, because parasite singles benefit from living with their parents, receiving financial and other help, and remaining unmarried. The term hikikomori (the socially withdrawn) was made known to the public in the late 1990s when psychiatrist Saitō Tamaki published a book titled Shakaiteki Hikikomori (Social Withdrawal) in 1998, referring to those ―avoiding and withdrawing from all interpersonal relations except for immediate family‖ (1998:18). The term received greater attention in 2000 when two incidents—the kidnapping of a girl in Niigata and the Seitetsu Bus hijacking—involved young men who were labeled by mass media as ―hikikomori‖ (Honda, Naitō, and Gotō 2006:229). Finally, NEET is a category created by the British government in relation to labor policy. The term was already used by labor specialists around 2003, yet was popularized in 2004, thanks to an article by Genda Yūji (2004), an article in a newspaper (Sankei Shimbun, May 17, 2004), and a book by Genda and Maganuma Mie (2004) (Honda 2006:18–19).1 The second aspect of the new image of Japanese youth emerged in the late 1990s through a series of dramatic crimes committed by young people and the media portrayal of these crimes: Japanese youth as crime-prone and uncontrollable. The first of these crimes occurred in 1997 in Kobe, and is known as the Sakakibara incident, from the pseudonym Sakakibara used by the suspect. The serial murders were shocking not only because of the cruel method used by the suspect (beheading of a schoolboy and leaving a cryptic note with the head at the gate of a middle school) and the fact that all the victims were small children, but also because the murders were committed by a fourteenyear-old boy. This incident was followed by the murder of a middle school teacher in 1998 by a thirteen-year-old boy using a ―butterfly knife‖ (a Balison, a type of folding pocket knife). This type of knife had become widely popular among young boys after the pop star Kimutaku (Kimura
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Takuya) used one in the TV drama Gifuto (Gift) broadcast in 1997. Other incidents such as the 1999 Nishio City Stalker Murder Case, in which a seventeen-year-old male stalker killed a high school girl, the aforementioned Seitetsu Bus hijacking in 2000, in which a seventeenyear-old boy stabbed three people and killed one of them on a bus near Dazaifu City, and the murder of a housewife by a seventeen-year-old boy in Toyokawa City in 2000 ensued. By the early 2000s, youth crimes quickly lost the media‘s attention. However, two incidents in 2003 and 2004 reignited heated media attention. In July 2003, a four-year-old boy was kidnapped and murdered by a twelve-year-old boy after being unclothed and having his genitals stabbed with scissors. And in June 2004 in Sasebo City, a sixthgrade girl stabbed her classmate to death (Naito 2006:116–120). Together with the increasing public attention paid to gakkyūhōkai (classroom breakdown), which refers to dysfunctional grade school classrooms in which teachers have lost control over their pupils, since the end of the 1990s, overheated mass media attention on these incidents helped create a new image that youth in Japan were becoming atrociously violent, dangerous, and uncontrollable. The emergent image of Japanese youth described above does have gender implications despite its neutral appearance of representing young people in general. The news images are more about boys, young men, and masculinity than girls, young women, and femininity. How so? As for young people‘s working patterns, one has to remember that women, both young and adult, have not been expected to have long-term jobs and thus it has not been a serious problem if a young woman is a frītā or NEET. Also the persistent belief in the gendered division of labor means it is acceptable if a woman stays at home, even if she is socially withdrawn. Detailed data on NEET provide a case in point. Data indicate that there are equal numbers of NEET men and NEET women (Naikakufu 2005b:42). However, as we look at the reasons why these young people have become NEET, women seem to be doing what society expects them to do. For example, a study done in 2005 shows that among hikibōgata NEET (NEET without a desire to work), the number of women who are ―doing nothing in particular‖ (20 percent) was the same as those preparing for higher education or marriage (20 percent, respectively) (Naikakufu 2005b). As for hi-kyūshokugata NEET women (NEET with a desire to work but not actively looking for a job, ―NEET with a desire to work‖ for short), along with those who are ―doing nothing in particular‖ (43.3 percent), some women are preparing for higher education (6.5 percent), preparing to get a license (16.7 percent), or
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doing kajitetsudai (housekeeping help, 16.7 percent) and so on. Because many NEET women have been doing what traditional gender norms prescribe them to do, such as preparing for marriage or helping with domestic chores, it is apparent that recent public discourse on the ―problematic‖ NEET or frīta is really about men without salaryman-type steady jobs. As for the image that Japanese youth are crime-prone, except for a few exceptions such as the June 2004 Sasebo City case, almost all suspects are young men or boys and thus it is natural for the public to think that it is a problem with boys, not girls. Opinion surveys done by the government confirm that the image of youth crime is predominantly about young males. The government has been doing a survey titled Shōnen Hikō nado ni Kansuru Yoronchōsa (An Opinion Survey on Juvenile Crimes and Other Issues) every three to four years, which asks questions such as ―do you think shōnen (juvenile) crimes are increasing?‖ (93.1 percent answered ―yes‖ to this question in the 2005 survey, for example) (Naikakufu 2005a)). Interestingly, the survey itself helps create the image that it is only boys who commit serious crimes by using the term shōnen in the survey title and questions. To be sure, the term shōnen technically means both boys and girls under twenty years old, according to Juvenile Law. However, in colloquial Japanese, it usually refers to boys unless it is specifically paired with the term shōjo (girls) as in shōnen shōjo. Thus when people say that shōnen hikō (juvenile crimes) are increasing in number, they imply that crimes committed by boys are increasing. Reality: In Search of a New Ideal?
Are Japanese youth, young men and boys in particular, really idle, isolated, and uncontrollable? As for the problem of NEET, if one takes a closer look at the youth labor data, while the number of ―NEET with a desire to work‖ is on the rise, the sharp rise of unemployment and frītā among young people is much more of a serious issue than the rise of NEET. According to Honda Yuki, between 1992 and 2002, the number of NEET increased 27 percent (from 670,000 to 850,000) whereas unemployment increased 102 percent (from 640,000 to 1,290,000) and frītā increased 111 percent (from 1,010,000 to 2,130,000) during the same period (Honda 206:28–30). However, for some reason, the rise of NEET has received much more serious attention than unemployment or frītā, resulting in negative images of Japanese youth. Thus the rise of NEET is exaggerated and the real problem is increasing unemployment and frītā among young people. Increasing numbers of unemployed
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persons and frītā only suggests the state of the Japanese economy and changing young people‘s working conditions, but says little about their life and career goals, desires, work ethics, or identities. They may appear to be isolated and idle, perhaps because they don‘t have the full-time jobs typical of salaryman, but the true factor shaping their lifestyles is change in the structure of the economy, not their character or gender. As for crime-proneness, again, data contradict the public image. Statistics indicate that the number of crimes committed by minors has not increased. According to data published by the Ministry of Justice, the number of crimes committed by minors has been steadily decreasing in the last twenty-five years (Hōmushō 2007:22). As for felonies, the number was much higher (over three thousand per decade) between 1955 and 1984 than it was in the two decades since 1985 (1,898 cases between 1985 and 1994; 1,796 cases between 1995 and 2004) (data published by the National Police Agency quoted by Nichibenren, http://www.nichibenren.or.jp). It is indeed true that the above incidents are horrendous enough for one to imagine something serious may be happening among some young people in Japan. Yet in terms of actual numbers, such crimes are not on the rise. In sum, contrary to the images created and upheld by the mass media, there is no strong evidence indicating that younger people in Japan are becoming lazy or crime-prone. What we see is that the only clear difference between young people and previous generations is that they find it increasingly hard to find stable jobs and pursue salaryman ideals, and thus they are forced to find ways to make a living in new and creative ways such as becoming a parasite single or frītā. In sum, the image of youth is primarily an image created by the mass media and the dominant discourse of policymakers, pundits, and the public in general. Molding a New Dominant Masculinity
Although the new image of Japanese youth is only an image and not strongly supported by evidence, the Japanese government appears to have jumped to the conclusion that it indeed reflects reality and has responded to the ―problem‖ of youth in two ways. First, the government created a set of policies to help promote young people‘s work abilities, in the form of a nationwide campaign. The campaign began with a proposal made by the Keizai Shimon Kaigi (The Council on Economic and Fiscal Policy) on May 13, 2002 (Kōseirōdōshō 2005). A keyword focusing on an individual‘s ability to work was created. The term ningenryoku (human capability) coined by Yoshikawa Hiroshi meant ―the general ability to participate in and manage our society and live
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powerfully as an independent human being‖ (Kōseirōdōshō 2005). After this proposal, the government began employing the term ningenryoku in its official documents, such as cabinet decisions made in June 2002, June 2003, June 2004, and June 2005 (Kōseirōdōshō 2005). Following the proposal made by the Keizai Shimon Kaigi, the Cabinet Office established Ningenryoku Senryaku Kenkyūkai (a study group on ningenryoku strategy) in November 2002. By 2003, the effort to enhance young people‘s ningenryoku had become a government-wide project. In April 2003, the government established Wakamono Jiritsu Chōsen Senryaku Kaigi (Council for Young Peoples‘ Independence, Challenges, and Strategy) in order to coordinate actions for young people‘s employment issues among various ministries such as the Cabinet Office, the Ministry of Education (MEXT),2 the MHLW, the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry (METI), and the office of the Minister of State for Economic and Fiscal Policy. The council issued an action plan on June 10, 2003, that included concrete plans such as the introduction of career-oriented curriculum in colleges and graduate schools and the creation of ―job cafés,‖ where information on job searches for young people is offered for free. The council followed up on this plan with budget appropriations every year and in 2006 the council upgraded the plan with a revised action plan.3 While the council engaged in a government-wide campaign to promote ningenryoku, each ministry implemented various measures to support this policy. For example, in May 2005, the MHLW organized a series of conferences called Wakamono no Ningenryoku o Takameru tameno Kokuminkaigi (national conferences to enhance the ningenryoku of young people). The conference goals were to discuss ―ways in which young people are able to enhance their human capabilities and become independent; the roles of concerned parties; and overall issues concerning youth employment,‖ and ―to transfer information to various strata of the nation regarding youth employment problems based on this goal‖ (Kōseirōdōshō 2005). The conference issued a Kokumin Sengen (National Declaration) on September 15, 2005, stating that it would: (1) foster the ability to communicate among young people; (2) give young people wider opportunities to work; (3) prepare many ways for young people to learn from work; and (4) give young people second chances (Wakamono 2005b). To indicate that the Japanese government was seriously focused on youth employment issues, in September 2006 the Abe cabinet was formed utilizing the keyword sai charengi (second challenge) encouraging young people to try again after failures. The second policy response evolved around the image that Japanese youth were becoming more crime-oriented. As mentioned above, data
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compiled by the Ministry of Justice indicate a decreasing number of juvenile crimes, yet the ministry‘s homepage contradicts this data and states that ―juvenile crimes are in a very serious state‖ (see http://www.moj.go.jp/KEIJI/). With this view, the government changed the law in order to provide harsher penalties to young people who commit crimes. Thus, in May 2007, the government revised the Juvenile Criminal Law and, under the revised law, children under fourteen (the minimum age is not specified) can be sent to a youth detention center as opposed to child welfare facilities where children under fourteen who committed crimes had been treated before the revision of the law. But an education policy aimed at Japanese youth implemented in recent years parallel to the above policies indicates that policymakers‘ apprehension about Japanese youth goes beyond work and crime-related issues. The education policy aimed at Japanese youth reveals what policymakers see at the core of the youth problem: lack of patriotism. As a prelude to implementing a new education policy aimed at nurturing patriotism, the Japanese government enacted a law declaring the hinomaru as the national flag and Kimi ga Yo as the national anthem. While it may seem odd to other nations that there was no law defining the national flag and anthem until recently, Japan is a country where symbols of patriotism have been carefully avoided due to their association with prewar militarism and nationalism. However, in the late 1990s, policymakers began to regard the leftist Japan Teachers Union‘s resistance to singing the national anthem during commencement and flying the national flag in public schools as a problem, which led to the adoption of the Law Concerning the National Flag and Anthem in August 1999. The law simply stipulates: Article 1, the hinomaru is the national flag of Japan; Article 2, Kimi ga Yo is the national anthem of Japan. In the mid-2000s, the government launched a policy directly aimed at nurturing patriotism among pupils and students. The effort first came in the form of an overhaul of the Fundamental Law of Education. The law, which was revised in December 2006, declared one of the goals of education is ―to nurture attitudes that respect tradition and culture, love of country, and the kyōdo (home, hometown, or homeland) that fosters them, that show respect for other countries, and that make contributions to peace and the development of international society‖ (Article 2–5). On the surface, the aim of this revision was to deal with the declining academic performance of school children and the increasing numbers of NEET (Yomiuri Shimbun, January 13, 2005). However, scratching the surface, it is clear that the government‘s revision was motivated by the
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view that the fundamental problem with Japanese youth is their lack of love for country, tradition, and culture. To translate the revised law into actual education, the government revised Gakushū Shidō Yōryō (teaching guidelines) for elementary and middle schools in March 2008. Gakushū Shidō Yōryō is a guideline issued by MEXT regarding materials taught in all schools—elementary, middle, and high schools—in Japan. Reflecting the spirit of the revised Fundamental Law for Education, the guidelines are heavily loaded with references to ―respect for tradition and culture.‖ For example, the first chapter of the elementary school guidelines states ―moral education in school aims at fostering Japanese who . . . respect tradition and culture and love the nation and hometown that fostered them‖ (Monbukagakushō 2008b:1). The inculcation of tradition and culture could take a more implicit expression, for example, in the section on Japanese for first and second graders, in which the guideline reads that teachers must have pupils ―listen to or make presentations on mukashi banashi (stories of old days), mythology, and folklore‖ (Monbukagakushō 2008b:21). For music, new instruction for third and fourth graders was added, so that they now study ―music of our nation and homeland including music played with Japanese instruments‖ (Monbukagakushō 2008b:79). In the middle school guidelines, the phrase referring to ―tradition and culture‖ in moral education in the elementary school guidelines is repeated in chapter one. In addition, subtle references to tradition and culture permeate the guidelines throughout. In fact, references are found in unlikely subjects such as English and physical education. For example, for English, the guidelines instruct teachers to use materials that reflect ―everyday lives, manners, and customs, stories, geography, history, tradition and culture, and natural sciences,‖4 of the English-speaking people in the world as well as of the Japanese (Monbukagakushō 2008a:112). Regarding physical education, while budō (marshal arts) was an elective in the guidelines prior to the revision, the new guidelines made it a requirement for students in the first and second year of middle school. And even for third year students, budō became a semirequirement in the sense that students are asked to choose either budō or kyūgi (a choice of ball games such as soccer and basketball), or both (Monbukagakushō 2008c:112). A closer look into the changes made to the physical education curriculum in middle school reveals that fostering respect for ―tradition and culture‖ has a subtle yet clear gender implication. On the surface, the change in the physical education curriculum does not have much to do with gender, since first year students are required to study eight
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categories of physical education including dance, which is traditionally considered an activity for girls. However, as for third year students, while budō is a semi-requirement, dance is only one item among others to be chosen from such as gymnastics, track and field, and swimming. In the previous edition, the guidelines required second and third year students to ―choose one or two items from kyūgi, budō, and dance‖ thus making it possible for students to not study budō at all (Monbukagakushō 2008c:112). Considering that budō has been historically associated with warrior masculinity, the effort to bring budō into the middle school curriculum means at least three things. First, the government believes that pupils and students require not only increased respect for tradition and culture but also a tougher body and spirit. Second, the education policy change is not gender-neutral and the government appears to be more concerned about masculinity and boys than femininity and girls. Third, and most importantly, as the salaryman masculinity was a literati masculinity that placed less emphasis on physical toughness than did warrior masculinity, this renewed emphasis on physical toughness indicates the government‘s interest in causing a shift in dominance from a literati to a warrior masculinity. In sum, the government‘s goal of incorporating respect for tradition and culture in education and fostering patriotism is about encouraging a tougher masculinity among Japanese boys. Conclusion
While the evidence is inconclusive as to whether younger people are truly becoming more idle and/or crime-prone, as we look at policies adopted by the government to deal with this question, we see that policymakers have been apprehensive about Japanese youth, boys and young men in particular, and their masculinity. Policymakers have believed that young people are becoming less motivated to work, lack the capacity to stand on their own, and tend to commit crimes. Furthermore, they appear to have assumed that young people (boys and young men, in particular) do not love the nation, tradition, and culture enough and that this is a problem, even though there is no strong evidence to support that assumption. Thus, policymakers have responded to the ―problem‖ not only by creating policy programs to help young people‘s work abilities and to deal with their crimes but also by implementing a new education policy aimed at nurturing respect for tradition, culture, and patriotism. The underlying hope seems to be that, through changes in education policy, young people will learn to love their nation and young boys and men will be tougher and more ―manly.‖
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As we enter the second decade of the twenty-first century, it is apparent that the salaryman masculinity is in decline. As outlined earlier in this chapter, during the first decade of the twenty-first century, the government tried to bring about a new and tougher masculinity among Japanese youth. This happened as the government shifted its defense stance from a passive one to a more active one with expanded and more prominent roles for the SDF. The two may be a mere coincidence, yet considering that the characteristics of salaryman masculinity did not entail soldiering and militarism, a new masculinity to replace it will have to be somewhat more militarized in order to support the emergent active defense policy. The strategies we have seen in this chapter indicate that the government has tried to mold youth to be hard-working and less crime-prone while, at the same time, perhaps attempting to forge a new masculinity to replace literati salaryman masculinity with warrior masculinity. However, the coming of the DPJ-led government placed Japan‘s foreign policy and other policies in flux. While the DPJ-led government has not reversed all of the policies decided and implemented by the previous governments, the direction of the current government‘s policies, both domestic and international, are highly unclear. And despite the previous governments‘ efforts to create a new and tougher masculinity among young people, Japan has yet to see the rise of a new dominant masculinity to replace that of the salaryman.
Notes 1 Note that while NEET in Britain only includes those between ages sixteen and eighteen, NEET in Japan covers those between ages fifteen and thirty-four, not married, and not looking for jobs (Honda 2006:16–17). 2 Formally, the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology. 3 Information available at http://www.meti.go.jp/topic/data/e41112aj.html. 4 Emphasis mine.
7 Conclusion
In a nutshell, what I presented in this book can be summarized as follows. Since the establishment of a modern state in Japan in the nineteenth century, the dominant type of masculinity in Japan has gone through both continuity and change. The continuity is that the dominant masculinity has always contained elements of both bun and bu. However, it has also gone through some major changes, as none of the types of dominant masculinity is identical to any other. Most importantly, the weight of bun and bu elements varied over time as the dominant masculinity alternated between a ―hard‖ warrior masculinity and a ―soft‖ literati masculinity. So far, I have indicated that this alternation between warrior and literati masculinities is associated with shifts in Japan‘s foreign relations, defense policy in particular. This book project originated from my attempt to answer the question of why Japan‘s defense stance shifted since the mid-1990s, using a gender perspective. What we have seen so far is that the transformations of dominant masculinity and of Japan‘s foreign relations is an interactive process in which changes in the former affect the latter, including Japan‘s defense stance, and vice versa. And we see that, indeed, during the last two decades the decline of salaryman masculinity and a shift in Japan‘s defense stance have happened in synch with each other, suggesting a strong linkage between the two. Findings
Needless to say, both the construction of gender and foreign policymaking are complex processes. Thus, it is unrealistic to assume that there are clear and simple causal relationships between these processes. Thus, I do not claim to have shown a straightforward causality of any kind. Yet it is not impossible to discern some factors that indicate how gender and foreign policymaking are related.
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Looking back at the various types of dominant masculinity since the nineteenth century, we see that the formation of a new dominant masculinity has always been related to Japan‘s international relations and foreign policymaking. In fact, in all types of dominant masculinity, it is quite clear that international factors affected the formation of dominant masculinity, to varying degrees. The best and clearest example of Japan‘s international relations having a direct impact on the formation of a dominant masculinity is seen in the case of the ―men-as-soldiers‖ masculinity, which began to rise during the 1930s and came to dominance in the first half of the 1940s. This dominant masculinity could not have risen without international factors, that is, Japan‘s imperial expansion and military engagement overseas. Another dominant masculinity heavily influenced by international events was the haikara masculinity of the nineteenth century. From its inception, the Meiji government explicitly attempted to bring ―civilization‖ into Japan in order to revise unequal treaties concluded at the end of the Edo period. It was in this context that haikara masculinity emerged, as Meiji men emulated Western manners and etiquette, denying everything to do with the pre-modern ―uncivilized‖ bushi (samurai) culture of the Edo period, with the hope that Japan would gain respect from Western nations and attain equal footing with them. Likewise, international influence on the formation of kyōyōshugi masculinity is quite evident, as its essence was extensive knowledge of and proficiency in Western cultures and languages. In addition, the international political situation played an important role in its rise to dominance, as kyōyōshugi emerged during the time when Japanese policymakers felt they had finally attained equal footing with the West due to Japan‘s triumph in the Russo-Japanese War. While all types of dominant masculinity have been shaped and affected by Japan‘s foreign relations and issues to varying degrees, the environment in which kyōyōshugi masculinity was forged indicates that the rise of a new dominant masculinity is a complex process and international factors alone are not always sufficient to explain its formation. The study of elite higher schools, discussed in Chapter 3, indicated that among higher school students, bankara masculinity was already facing challenges due to demographic changes and increasing numbers of students who disliked its roughness and emphasis on physicality even before the Russo-Japanese War. Thus, the transition of the dominant masculinity from bankara to kyōyōshugi involved a significant international event, that is, triumph against Russia in war. Yet, at the same time, it was a process generated from within the student
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body and accelerated by the appointment of a key person as the principal of Ichikō, Nitobe Inazō, who supported students‘ focus on literature and philosophy rather than athletics. In contrast to the three types of dominant masculinity above, salaryman masculinity shows that some types of dominant masculinity may be shaped relatively less by international events. During the postWWII period, salaryman masculinity became dominant as a direct result of Japan‘s corporate management style. To be sure, we cannot ignore the fact that Japan‘s postwar economy emerged within the postwar international context in which Japan was demilitarized and, as a result, its prewar ―men-as-soldiers‖ masculinity lost its place of dominance. But the failure of mai hōmu papa to become the dominant during the postwar period, and the rise of salaryman masculinity suggest that international factors alone, in this case, the Allied Occupation‘s efforts to transplant an American ideal masculinity (helped by the Japanese mass media), cannot bring about an effective change in a society‘s dominant masculine ideal. We are now witnessing the decline of the salaryman masculinity in Japan. Chapter 5 indicated that both domestic and international factors have been equally important in causing its decline. The most important factors were initially the collapse of Japanese-style management due to the Heisei Recession in the 1990s and the ongoing failure of the economy to supply stable long-term jobs and income to a sufficient number of adult men. Another important factor was Japan‘s experience of the first Gulf War. Japanese perceptions of the international community‘s lack of appreciation for Japan‘s contribution resulted in the Japanese government‘s desire to forge a new dominant masculinity to replace that of the salaryman. We have yet to see the rise of a coherent new dominant masculinity in Japan, but recent policy decisions, such as changes in school curricula, all point to a new and militarized warrior masculinity in the making. Perhaps the masculine ideal that became dominant with the least international input was bankara masculinity. Unlike its predecessor haikara, bankara masculinity emerged primarily as a result of domestic political conflicts. It was adopted and expressed by men who opposed the men in power and their haikara style of masculinity. The men in this opposition movement, the Freedom and People‘s Rights Movement, demanded the establishment of a democratically chosen parliament. In this process, they portrayed government officials as effete and weak and thus unqualified to rule; the masculinity expressed by these opposition figures was, in contrast, rough and violent. The formation of bankara
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masculinity was mostly due to a reaction against the ―feminine‖ haikara of the ruling elites. However, it is important to note that none of the five types of dominant masculinity examined here were exempt from the influence of international events of their time. Even bankara masculinity, the most indigenous of all types of dominant masculinity examined in this book, rose to its position of dominance in part because of the controversy over Japan‘s foreign relations. To be sure, bankara men used symbols such as wearing torn kimonos and wooden clogs, reminiscent of drifter samurai, to demonstrate that they had the legitimacy to rule as opposed to men of softer and more Western haikara masculinity. At the same time, their goal was to portray the decision made by haikara politicians not to launch overseas military invasions as weak and effete. With certain caveats, we may be able to conclude that while there is no simple causal relationship, international events surrounding Japan and Japan‘s international relations played important roles in the emergence of all dominant masculinities in Japan‘s modern history. What about the reverse, that is, has dominant masculinity played an important role in Japan‘s international relations? According to some feminist IR writers, masculinity and male experiences shape the practice of foreign policy (and IR theories). Do the findings in this study support this claim? I have already stated that the alternation between warrior and literati masculinities is loosely associated with the rise and decline, respectively, of Japan‘s defense stances. Some cases examined in this book indicate that the rise of militarized warrior masculinity foreshadowed a more active defense stance and literati masculinity preceded a more passive defense stance. For example, the rise of bankara masculinity emerged before military engagements (the SinoJapanese War and the Russo-Japanese War), and kyōyōshugi masculinity spread among young elites before Japan entered the period of Shidehara diplomacy, which was marked by cooperative relationships with Western powers. Equally important, the postwar political leaders‘ speeches examined in Chapters 3 and 4 showed that the values associated with the dominant masculinity of a specific era appear to have shaped the ways policymakers viewed the world and, in this way, dominant masculinity shaped policy decisions. For example, the values associated with salaryman masculinity, such as seeing the world as a hierarchical organization, and an urge to perform whatever task is given without questioning the goal of the task, resonated with the values underlying these speeches, which, in turn, influenced how Japanese policymakers made foreign policy decisions and how Japan related to the world. In
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short, Japanese political leaders viewed Japan as a cog in a large international ―company‖—like a salaryman working for his company— and they formed Japan‘s foreign policies accordingly. This close resonance between the salaryman‘s view of his world and Japanese policymakers‘ perceptions of the international world may explain the unique ways in which post-WWII Japan kept a low profile in global affairs. Unlike the speeches of political leaders of other powers, most notably presidents of the United States who assume that it is the US role to lead the world, Japanese prime and foreign ministers, even in the 1980s when many believed that Japan had become one of the top powers in the world, never presented a clear vision that Japan sat close to the pinnacle of global power with the duty to lead and shape global affairs. Their speeches often indicated a perception that there was some kind of preexisting order created and led by someone else, and Japan‘s role was not to challenge the order or help with its transformation, but to make ―contributions‖ and thereby gain ―respect‖ and ―trust‖ from others. Japan‘s seemingly mysterious international relations suddenly become not so mysterious when one uncovers the linkages between Japan‘s dominant style of masculinity and international relations. I began this book with a question about the shift in Japan‘s defense stance from a passive to a more active policy in the 1990s. What do our insights on gender and its link to foreign policy tell us about this shift? This study, I believe, has revealed a factor that has served as the background, if not a direct cause, from which a more militarized policy has emerged in recent years. There are two main and direct causes of the change in Japan‘s defense posture: the first Gulf War and the negotiations with the US government on East Asian security issues in the mid-1990s (Mikanagi 2004b). Without the first Gulf War (and Japan‘s inability to participate in the multinational coalition force) and subsequent United States–Japan negotiations over Japan‘s contribution to their alliance, Japan would not have considered expanding the scope of the SDF‘s activities overseas. However, as I explained in Chapter 5, between the input (i.e., the first Gulf War and United States–Japan negotiations) and the output (the shift from a passive to an active defense policy), there lies a complex black box, or process, in which gender played an important role. First, as we saw in Chapter 4, Japan‘s desire to make international contributions regardless of the cause was closely intertwined with the then-dominant salaryman masculinity. The tendency to avoid discussion of the fundamental nature of Japan‘s defense policy in the post–Cold War period and to make decisions based on the assumption that Japan has to make contributions to the international community was in the
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background of the process. There was little discussion about what goals such contributions would serve or why Japan had to make them, not to mention any proposals for Japan to take its own initiatives and shape the world according to its own visions and interests. The tendency to emphasize the importance of contributions and the lack of clear longterm visions and specific goals continued to color not only the process in which the shift from a passive to an active defense stance occurred, but also shaped Japan‘s foreign relations in general throughout most of the post–WWII period. And this tendency cannot be understood without reference to norms and values associated with salaryman masculinity as presented in this book. Second, given Japan‘s experience during the first Gulf War and the negotiations with the US government, it may have been inevitable that Japan would take a more active stance in its engagement with global issues. However, a larger Japanese role did not necessarily have to mean an active defense stance, that is, active deployment of SDF troops overseas. Japan could have considered nonmilitary alternatives. As Richard Armitage, deputy secretary of state during the first term of the George W. Bush administration, stated, Japan‘s international contribution ―does not necessarily mean sending military troops. It could send police officers, construction workers, and teachers‖ (Asahi Shimbun, December 10, 2008). However, as we saw in Chapter 5, Japan‘s response to the first Gulf War arose from a conclusion that the international community demanded a military presence from Japan. Because there were several policy alternatives in addition to expansion of the SDF‘s overseas roles, international factors such as the first and second Gulf wars, the war in Afghanistan, and demands from the US government for Japan‘s active engagement in these wars cannot fully explain Japan‘s decision to upgrade the scope and intensity of the SDF‘s roles. Thus, this discussion on dominant masculinity types in Japan sheds light on the Japanese government‘s shift in its defense policy. Further Questions
Given that there are numerous issues to be explored regarding the links between gender and foreign policy, I would like to think that this study has provided a step forward in our search for greater understanding of these links, particularly in non-western cultural settings. However, perhaps the biggest contribution of this study to the field of gender studies and feminist international relations is that it opens up a large number of questions to be answered in further studies. These questions
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fall into three study categories: masculinity, dominant femininity, and the link between masculinity and foreign policy. A Study on Masculinity in Japan
The first set of questions concerns masculinity in Japan. While this book examined different types of dominant Japanese masculinity since the nineteenth century, it did not discuss such issues as subordinate and marginalized masculinities. If one is to have a comprehensive view of masculinity in Japan, we must explore these as well. Interestingly, with a few notable exceptions such as haikara and mai hōmu papa masculinities, it appears that images of and attributes assumed to be associated with bushi recur in various types of masculinity in Japan. ―Samurai Japan,‖ a nickname given to Japan‘s allstar baseball team, which played in the 2009 World Baseball Classic, and ―Samurai Blue,‖ a nickname given to Japan‘s World Cup soccer team uniform, indicate that the Japanese people still associate samurai (bushi) with quintessential manliness in Japan. Thus, even though the first dominant masculinity of modern Japan, haikara, emerged within the cultural and political context of outright rejection of the rule of the bushi and bushi culture, the various types of dominant masculinity since haikara‘s high point have all incorporated images and attributes of bushi in one way or another. Characteristics associated with bushi, such as roughness, austerity, loyalty, spiritual purity, discipline, dedication to duty, and so on, were selectively used in the creation of these masculinities. The question is, if modern masculinity in Japan was in part forged as a rejection of bushi masculinity, why do images and attributes of bushi continue to resurrect themselves and become part of contemporary ideals of masculinity in Japan? Furthermore, what explains how certain attributes and characteristics but not others associated with bushi masculinity become part of other types of dominant masculinity and what explains the selection process? For example, while bankara men chose to emulate bushi both in terms of psyche and physical appearance, salarymen emphasized the importance of psyche (loyalty and discipline) and placed less emphasis on physical toughness. In addition to historical continuity, one also needs to look at international connections. While images of bushi appear to play an important role in the formation of masculine ideals in Japan today, they are, in part, shaped by transnational forces. For example, the root of core elements of dominant masculinity in Japan, bun and bu, are found in China as wen and wu (Louie and Edwards 1994; Louie 2002; Louie and
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Low 2003). We need to explore further how transnational forces work to create masculinities in a given culture. As I explained in Chapter 1, the reason I avoided using the term ―hegemonic masculinity‖ in this book was partly because men in modern Japan have always interacted with hegemonic masculinity in the West and thus I needed to create a concept for a locally dominant masculinity. But this differentiation between the two concepts poses an interesting question: how did the hegemonic masculinity of the West interact with and affect the creation of masculinities in Japan? Western hegemonic masculinity is transmitted to the world through various channels such as literature, mass media, and direct personal contact. In our time, TV shows and movies, Hollywood movies in particular, have created heroes (and heroines) and have had a tremendous impact on how we perceive ―manly‖ men. The case of haikara masculinity tells us that even during the days before Hollywood movies, Japanese leaders were fully aware of gender in the West and willfully formulated a new masculinity in Japan by emulating it. While Western influence on the construction of gender in Japan (and perhaps everywhere else) is powerful, all of the types of masculinity we have examined here, perhaps excepting bankara masculinity, which was a conscious attempt to resurrect the bushi masculinity of pre-Westernized Japan, are hybrids mixing indigenous and foreign values and norms. Then the question is, to what extent has (Western) hegemonic masculinity been influential in the creation of dominant masculinity in Japan, and how has it affected the formation of Japan‘s dominant masculinity? In contrast, as images of bushi continue to affect the formation of Japanese masculinities, another interesting question may be what part of masculinity in Japan resists the influence of transnational forces and why? A Study on Dominant Femininity
A second set of questions concerns women and femininity. I intentionally avoided discussion of women and femininity in this book because gender studies in Japan have produced an overwhelming number of studies on women and femininity but very few on men and masculinity. However, by focusing on masculinity, this study inadvertently posed new questions about women and femininity. Hegemonic masculinity is about a system of male dominance and therefore ―there is no such thing as hegemonic femininity‖ (Tickner 2001:16). However, if dominant masculinity is defined as ―successful ways of ‗being a man,‘‖ then there should be a female equivalent of
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―successful ways of ‗being a woman‘‖ Indeed, during the height of the Westernization promoted by the Meiji government, not only did men pursue the haikara way of life, but women were very much part of the same pursuit and thus a new Westernized femininity was shaped to match haikara masculinity. Another clear example of dominant masculinity accompanying dominant femininity is the emergence of shufu (housewife) as the femininity accompanying the salaryman masculinity of the post–WWII period. What this book did not offer is a study of the types of femininity that reigned alongside various types of masculinity. And there is yet another interesting question: do all types of masculinity have counterpart femininities or are there ―standalone‖ masculinities (and femininities)? While some dominant masculinities reviewed in this book such as ―menas-soldiers‖ and ―salarymen‖ did have their partner femininities as in gunkoku shōjo/no haha (militarist girl/mother) and shufu, respectively, I cannot think of a partner femininity for bankara masculinity as men of bankara masculinity took pride in misogyny and thus avoided explicit association with women. Assuming that dominant femininity has always existed, it may have gone through transformations similar to those of dominant masculinity. If dominant masculinity alternated between warrior and literati masculinities, then how did this alternation affect femininity and women? Again in the case of bankara masculinity, one of its main characteristics was misogyny and the exclusion of women from men‘s domain. If men associated with the bankara dominant masculinity were misogynous, did the rise of this type of dominant masculinity negatively affect women‘s empowerment? Conversely, did the rise of nonmisogynous (women-friendly) dominant masculinities help women‘s access to men‘s domain and women‘s empowerment? 1 In order to understand gender and its relation to power, we must move on from the study of women and femininity in isolation from men and masculinity to the next stage of a comprehensive examination of gender. A Further Study on the Link Between Masculinity and Foreign Policymaking
The final set of questions concerns the main theme of this book: the link between masculinity and foreign relations. This book indicated that there appears to be an association between the alternation of warrior and literati masculinities and active and passive defense stances, respectively. While a close look into policy speeches shows that the values and norms associated with the salaryman masculinity are reflected in the ways
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political leaders view Japan and its relations with the rest of the world, the actual process in which masculine values are translated into specific policy decisions must be further explored in detail. As Robin LeBlanc aptly demonstrated in her most recent work, masculinity has a lot to do with how Japanese politicians make everyday decisions (LeBlanc 2009). If so, foreign policy decisions should also not be exempt from decisions infused with masculine values and ideas. Thus, taking LeBlanc‘s work seriously, we must probe deeper into the ways in which gendered experiences and views shape the specific content of foreign policy decisions. Thinking Further Ahead
What is happening with masculinity and foreign policy in Japan now? Although I cannot say that there is clear evidence that a warrior masculinity is poised to take over from salaryman masculinity, what we have seen in this book—the alternation between warrior and literati masculinities in particular—implies that what will become popular in the end may be a harder masculinity providing a supportive ground for a more active defense policy. Yet we also know that history never identically repeats itself. In fact, contrary to the historical ―cycle‖ of alternation between warrior and literati masculinities, we may be witnessing a historical aberration in that a soft literati salaryman masculinity is about to be replaced by an even softer masculinity. Despite the rather extensive attempt by LDP governments, as examined in Chapter 5, to introduce a harder masculinity among the youth since the 2000s, we are not seeing clear signs of younger Japanese boys and men acquiring a harder masculinity. The reality appears to be that the continuing weakness of the economy is forcing Japanese men and boys to search for a new identity other than the salaryman ideal, but that they have yet to find one. In fact, some evidence shows that contrary to our expectation to see the rise of a new warrior masculinity after the lengthy dominance of the literati salaryman masculinity, another very soft masculinity is on the rise. In the late 2000s, the term ―herbivore men‖ (sōshokukei danshi) was popularized by the mass media to describe a new breed of young men. Herbivore men are androgynous men who are happy to be gender neutral in the sense that they show little interest in traditional manliness. They are not interested in attaining a manly physique and thus they appear to be happy with pale skin and a scrawny body, while paying meticulous attention to hairstyle and skin conditioning. They often don clothing resembling that of anime heroes and flashy accessories
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traditionally considered feminine. They often have quiet and passive demeanors and are not interested in ―manly‖ activities such as hardcore sports. One may consider this a Japanese version of metrosexual masculinity in the United States. However, while metrosexual men do not contest or deny their heterosexual orientation (they are not gay), herbivore men are not only feminine in their appearance and attitude but their namesake is their hallmark, that is, they are sexually passive, to the point of being asexual. But the rising visibility of herbivore men is only an indication that there is a new masculinity in the making. It should not be confused as evidence of the next dominant masculinity. It is quite possible that Japan may generate a new type of dominant masculinity that is neither a warrior nor a literati type and, as dominant masculinity is linked to foreign policymaking, Japan‘s foreign policy may follow the middle road proposed in Nakae Chōmin‘s nineteenth-century ―Discourse by Three Drunkards on Government,‖ an option that is neither simple militarization nor pacifism (Nakae 1965 [1887]).
Notes 1 I would like to thank Grace Andrews for asking a very insightful question regarding this point.
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Index Aa Gyokuhai ni Hana Ukete (Ah! With a Jeweled Glass, Receiving a Flower), ryōka (dormitory songs), 48, 49–52. See also ryōka Abe Jirō, 48. See also ryōka Abe Shintarō, 79 Abe Shinzō, 8, 87, 88–89, 94 Adanami Sawagu Nigori Yo no (The Corrupt World Tainted by Roaring Ripples), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–54. See also ryōka advanced elementary school (kōtō shōgakkō), 41 Ah! With a Jeweled Glass, Receiving a Flower (Aa Gyokuhai ni Hana Ukete), ryōka (dormitory songs), 48, 49–52. See also ryōka Anniversary Festival (kinensai), 45, 52 annotated classical Chinese literature (kanbun), 33 Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law (2001), 8, 22n4 APEC (Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation), 88 Armitage, Richard, 112 Ashida Hitoshi, 78 Asian Masculinities: The Meaning and Practice of Manhood in China and Japan (Louie and Low), 17–18 Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), 88 Asō Tarō, 8, 89 At the Tip of the Waves in the Pacific (Taiheiyō no Nami no Ho ni), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–52. See also ryōka autonomy: in diplomacy, 88; in student culture, 43, 44, 50, 51, 53, 63
129
bankara masculinity: warrior masculinity: as a culture of misogyny, 45, 115; origin of, 26, 28, 37n1, 39–41; pre World War II, 39–46; rise and decline of, 21, 29, 35–36, 54–57, 108. See also Ichikō (First Higher School); kyōsei kōtō gakkō or kyōsei kōkō Berger, Thomas, 10–11 Beynon, John, 17 Blossoms of Art and Literature in Full Bloom (Geibun no Hana Sakimidare), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–54, 65n16. See also ryōka budō (martial arts) and warrior masculinities, 103, 104 bun-bu masculinity, 18, 33, 113. See also bunbu ryōdō bunbu nidō (two ways of the bunbu), 34 bunbu ryōdō (literati-martial masculinity ideal), 18, 31–34, 44–45, 53, 113 bunmei kaika (civilization and enlightenment) movement, 27 bushi (samurai warrior), 25–26, 27, 40, 43, 108, 113 Bushido: The Soul of Japan (Nitobe), 56 Cabinet Office (Japan), 101 Can you fight 24 hours a day? (Nijō yojikan tatakae masuka?) Regain health drink slogan, 31 “castle under siege” principle (rōjōshugi), 43–44, 56 Changing Men and Masculinities in Latin America (Gutmann), 17 chii (social status), 84 chōwa (harmony), 59 Chōkenkai (Ichikō school governing committee), 45, 46
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competition among equals (tairitsu) as goal of diplomacy, 58–59 conferences to enhance the ningenryoku of young people (Wakamono no Ningenryoku o Takameru tameno Kokuminkaigi), 101 Connell, R. W., 17, 18, 23n11, 35 Corrupt World Tainted by Roaring Ripples, The (Adanami Sawagu Nigori Yo no), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–54. See also ryōka Council for Young People's Independence, Challenges, and Strategy (Wakamono Jiritsu Chōsen Senryaku Kaigi), 101 Dai Ichi Kōtō Gakkō Kishuku Ryō Ryōka Kaisetsu (guide to ryōka), 54, 65n20 Dai Shi Kōtō Chōgaku (Fourth Higher Middle School), 42 Danseigaku Nyūmon (An Introduction to Masculinity Studies) (Itō), 16, 17 dedicated corporate workers (mōretsu shain), 30–31 Dekansho song, 47–48 Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ), 9, 105 A Diary of Santarō (Santarō no Nikki) (Abe), 48 diligence and martial valor principle (kinken shōbu), 44, 51 Discourse on Government by Three Drunkards (Sansuijin Keirin Mondō) (Nakae), 1, 117 dominant masculinity: as elusive ideal, 20; evolution of, 3, 15, 21, 25–27, 35–37, 116–117; further study of, 113–114; local versus global distinction, 18–19; molding a new masculinity, 100– 104, 109; in post World War II Japan, 67–70; of pre-World War II elites, 20; and technology, 17. See also masculinity; specific masculinities “dormitory rain” (ryōu), 44
dormitory songs (ryōka), 48–54, 65n12, 65n14, 65n20. See also specific songs DPJ (Democratic Party of Japan), 9, 105 drifter samurai (rōnin), 28 duties/responsibility (sekinin) as foreign policy element, 83–84, 87, 95–96, 111–112 East Asian security issues discussion with U.S., 111 Edo period, 40, 54, 85–86, 108 Edwards, Louise, 18, 33–34 employee's training workshops (shain kenshū), 73 enlightenment (kaika), 55 Enloe, Cynthia, 12 expectation (kitai) as foreign policy element, 80–82 feminist IR perspective on gender, 11–14 fiercely dedicated workers (mōretsu), 70–71 first Gulf War. See Iraq War (2003) First Kōtō Chūgaku, 43 foreign policy and foreign relations: Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law (2001), 8, 22n4; competition among equals (tairitsu) as goal of diplomacy, 58–59, 65n23; and diplomatic autonomy, 88; duties/responsibility (sekinin) as foreign policy element, 83–84, 87, 95–96, 111–112; East Asian security issues discussion with U.S., 111; expectation (kitai) as foreign policy element, 80–82; honor (meiyo) as foreign policy element, 78; and international contributions (kokusai kōken), 11, 84, 87, 88; International Peace Cooperation Law (1992), 7, 9; and international status (kokusaiteki chii), 84; Law Concerning Special Measures on Humanitarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq (2004), 8; Law on Emergencies in Surrounding
Index
Areas (1999), 7, 22n4, 94; people contribution (jinteki kōken) as foreign policy element, 94–96; recipient of international contributions (kōken saki), 88; reliability, confidence (shinrai) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84; rich nation, strong army (fukoku kyōhei) slogan, 44; roles (yakuwari) as foreign policy element, 83–84; shift from competition to cooperation with Western powers, 57–60, 65n25, 111–112; Three Non-Nuclear Principles (1967), 7; Three Principles on Arms Exports (1976), 7, 9; trust (shinyō) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84; U.S.-Japan Joint Declaration on Security (1996), 6, 7–8, 22n3, 111. See also Iraq War (2003); Self Defense Forces; World War I; World War II “for the company” (kaisha no tameni), 30–31 “for the nation” (okuni no tameni), 30 four tenets of Ichikō school culture (shikōryō), 43–44 Fourth Higher School (Shikō), 49 Freedom and People's Rights movements (Jiyū Minken Undō), 26, 28, 40, 109–110 frītā (young people with part-time jobs), 96–97, 99–100 Fujimura Misao, 46, 55 Fujin Kōron, 71 fujo haiseki (exclusion of women) school culture, 45 fukoku kyōhei (rich nation, strong army) slogan, 44 Fukuda Takeo, 78, 81 Fukuda Yasuo, 8, 84, 87 Fukuzawa Yukichi, 28 full-time homemaker (sengyō shufu) ideal, 15, 114–115 Fundamental Law of Education revision (2006), 102, 103 futsū no kuni (a “normal nation”), 2
131
gakkyūhōkai (classroom breakdown), 98 Gakushū Shidō Yōryō (teaching guidelines), 103 gakuto dōin (student war conscription), 29 Geibun no Hana Sakimidare (Blossoms of Art and Literature in Full Bloom), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–54, 65n16. See also ryōka Genda Yūji, 97 Gender (Jendā) (Hara, Maruyama), 15–16 Gender Identity (Jendā Aidentiti) (Itō), 16 Gilmore, David, 17 Gokokuki (national defense flag and symbol of Ichikō), 44, 64n9 gōshuhōgin (heavy drinking and singing), 44 Grant, Rebecca, 13 Greater Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, 6 Guidelines for U.S.-Japan Defense Cooperation (1997), 7 gunkoku shōjo/no haha (militarist girl/mother) femininity, 114–115 gunshin (military gods) stories, 62 haikara (high collar) masculinity: international events influence on, 107–108; rejection of by kyūsei kōkō, 43; rise and decline of, 21, 26, 27–28, 35–37, 37n1, 40–41; Western culture's influence on, 114. See also literati masculinity Happy Home (Wagaya wa Tanoshi) (film), 68 hard (kōha) masculinity, 3, 20–21, 31–32, 34–37, 36t, 38n5 Haru Ranman no Hana no Iro (In Spring, In Full Bloom, Flowers Colored), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–52. See also ryōka Hashimoto Ryūtarō, 86–87, 88 Hata Tsutomu, 79, 81, 82 Hatoyama Ichirō, 78 Hatoyama Yukio, 80 heavy drinking and singing (gōshuhōgin), 44
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hegemonic masculinity, 18–19 hēihabō (tattered clothes and torn caps), 43, 44 heimin (commoner) class students, 54 Heisei Recession, 31, 91, 93, 109 heishiki taisō or heishiki kyōren (military exercises), 46 higher middle school (kōtō chūgakkō or kōtō chūgaku), 41–43, 46 hikikomori (the socially withdrawn) youth, 96–97 hinomaru (national flag), 44, 64n9, 102 hōmu dorama (home dramas), 68–70 Honda Yuki, 99 honor (meiyo) as foreign policy element, 78 Hosokawa Morihiro, 79, 81, 82 human capability (ningenryoku) enhancement campaign, 100–101 Ichikō (First Higher School), 43–46, 48–51, 55–56, 60, 64n2, 64n3, 64n9, 109 Ichikō Society of Friends (Kōyūkai), 43, 64n5 Ichikō Society of Friends magazine (Kōyūkaishi), 43, 46, 55, 60 ie (a multigenerational family) system, 30, 68 Ikeda Hayato, 80, 83 Ikeda Yukihiko, 88 Imperial Diet, 57–60 In Spring, In Full Bloom, Flowers Colored (Haru Ranman no Hana no Iro) ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–52. See also ryōka international contributions (kokusai kōken), 11, 84 International Peace Cooperation Law (1992), 7, 9 international status (kokusaiteki chii), 84 An Introduction to Masculinity Studies ( Itō), 16, 17 Iraq War (2003), 93–94, 96, 109, 111, 112 iron fist punishment (tekken seisai), 45, 55 Ishibashi Tanzan, 77, 83, 86
Itagaki Taisuke, 28, 40 Ita Sekusuarisu (Vita Sexualis) (Mori), 31 “it is no longer the postwar [recovery] period” (mohaya sengo dewa nai), 30 Itō Hirobumi, 58, 59 Itō Kimio, 16 Itō Yūko, 16 Iwakami Mami, 15 Iwakura mission of the Meiji government, 27 Iwamoto Tei, 47 I Want to be a Shellfish (Watashi wa Kai ni Naratai) (television), 69 Japan Institute for Labor Research and Training, 93 Japanīzu bujinesuman (Japanese business man), 31 Japan New Party, 81 Japan Renewal Party, 81 Jendā Aidentiti (Gender Identity) (Itō), 16 Jendā (Gender) (Hara, Maruyama), 15–16 jinjō shōgakkō (common elementary school), 41 jinkaku shugi (personality development principle), 47 jinteki kōken (people contribution) as foreign policy element, 94–96 Jiyū Minken Undō (Freedom and People's Rights Movements), 26, 28, 40 Juvenile Criminal Law revision, 102 kachō (official head of the ie system), 30, 68 Kaifu Toshiki, 79 kaika (enlightenment), 55 kaisha no tameni (for the company), 30–31 kanbun (annotated classical Chinese literature), 33 Kanō Kōkichi, 44, 56 Katayama Tetsu, 78 Katsura Tarō, 59 Katzenstein, Peter, 10, 11
Index
Keizai Shimon Kaigi (The Council on Economic and Fiscal Policy), 100–101 kenji, meaning of, in ryōka, 51 Kidneywort (Yukiwarisō) (film), 68 Kimi ga Yo (national anthem), 102 Kimutaku (Kimura Takuya), 97–98 kinensai (Anniversary Festival), 45, 52 kinken shōbu (diligence and martial valor) principle, 44, 51, 55 Kinoshita Hiroji, 43–44, 56 Kishi Nobusuke, 77, 86 kitai (expectation) as foreign policy element, 80–82 Kohama Itsuo, 16 kōha (hard) masculinity, 3, 20–21, 31–32, 34–37, 36t, 38n5 Koizumi Junichirō, 79–80, 87 kōken saki (recipient of international contributions), 88 Kokumin Sengen (National Declaration on youth employment issues), 101 kokura bakama (long cotton culottes), 32 kokuryoku (national power), 58 kokusai kōken (international contributions), 11, 84, 87, 88 kokusaiteki chii (international status), 84 Komura Jutarō, 55 Kōmura Masahiko, 80, 88–89 Kondo, Dorinne, 73 kōtō chūgakkō or kōtō chūgaku (higher middle school), 41–43, 46 kōtō shōgakkō (advanced elementary school), 41 Kōyūkai (Society of Friends), 43, 64n5 Kōyūkaishi (Society of Friends magazine), 43, 46, 55, 60 Kuga Noboru, 62 Kuruma Torajirō (“Tora-san”), 18 Kuwaiti government, 94, 95 kyōcho and kyōdō (cooperation), 59 kyōdo (home), 102 Kyōfūkai (Nikō school governing committee), 45, 46
133
kyōyōshugi (the “self-cultivation” principle) masculinity: decline of, 60–63; international influence on, 107–108; origin of, 21; rise of, 26, 28–29, 39, 46–48, 54–57. See also literati masculinity kyūgi (team sports), 103, 104 kyūsei kōtō gakkō or kyūsei kōkō (old higher “number” schools), 29, 41–43, 47, 53, 60, 61–63, 64n2, 64n3–4 Law Concerning Special Measures on Humanitarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq (2004), 8 Law Concerning the National Flag and Anthem (1999), 102 Law on Emergencies in Surrounding Areas (1999), 7, 22n4, 94 LeBlanc, Robin, 116 Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), 8–9, 81, 116 literati masculinity, 3, 20–21, 35–37, 36t, 113. See also haikara masculinity; kyōyōshugi masculinity; salaryman masculinity long cotton culottes (kokura bakama), 32 Louie, Kam, 18, 33–34 Loyalty of the Salaryman , The (“Sararīman no Chūseishin”) (Gekkan Nippon), 70 Machida Nobutaka, 89 Maganuma Mie, 97 mai hōmu papa (my home papa), 30, 68, 70, 109 Mama Chotto Kite (Mama, Please Come Right Away) (television), 69 Manchurian Incident (1931), 60 Manhood in the Making (Gilmore), 17 Marco Polo Bridge Incident (1937), 60 marginalized masculinity, 18, 19 martial valor (shōbu) principle, 44, 51
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Marxism and Japanese student culture, 60–61, 66n 26 masculinity, essential types of, 18–19. See also dominant masculinity; other specific masculinities Matsukata Masayoshi, 58 Matsushita Denki (Panasonic) “spiritual education,” 71–72 Meiji Restoration, 13, 20, 25–28, 40– 41, 48, 108 meiyo (honor) as foreign policy element, 78 Men and Masculinities in Contemporary Japan: Dislocating the Salaryman Doxa (Roberson and Suzuki), 17–18 men-as-soldiers masculinity: decline of, 67–68, 109; dependency on international factors, 107–108; as a distinct masculinity type, 21, 35–36; as influence on student militarism, 63, 66n28; origins of, 26, 29–30; rise and decline of, 21, 36; in student culture, 63, 66n28; during World War II, 29–30. See also warrior masculinity men of high purpose (shishi), 40, 43 mental discipline (shūyō shugi), 16 METI (Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry), 101 MEXT (Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology), 101, 103 MHLW (Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare), 93, 101 Mies, Maria, 11–12 Miki Kiyoshi, 61 militarist girl/mother (gunkoku shōjo/no haha) femininity, 114– 115 military exercises (heishiki taisō or heishiki kyōren), 46 military gods (gunshin) stories, 62 Minister of State for Economic and Fiscal Policy, 101 Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry (METI), 101 Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology (MEXT), 101, 103
Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (MHLW), 93, 101 Ministry of Justice, 100 Miyazawa Kiichi, 82 mohaya sengo dewa nai (“it is no longer the postwar [recovery] period”), 30 mōretsu shain (dedicated corporate workers), 30–31 mōretsu (fiercely dedicated) workers, 70–71 Mori Arinori, 41–42, 46 Mori Ōgai, 31–32 Mori Yoshirō, 79, 87 Motono Ichirō, 59 mukashi banashi (stories of the old days), 103 Mukden Incident (1931), 62 Murayama Tomiichi, 81–82 Mutsu Munemitsu, 54, 58 my home papa (mai hōmu papa), 30, 68, 70, 109 Nakae Chōmin, 1, 117 Nakasone Yasuhiro, 78–79, 81, 84 Nakayama Tarō, 79 nanpa (soft) masculinity, 3, 20–21, 31–32, 34–37, 36t, 38n5 National Declaration on youth employment issues (Kokumin Sengen), 101 National Defense Program Outline (NDPO), 7–8 National Police Agency, 100 Natsume Sōseki, 55 NEET (Not in Employment, Education, or Training) youth, 96–100, 102 Nichibenren (Japan Federation of Bar Associations), 100 Niigata kidnapping, 97 Nijū yojikan tatakae masuka? (Can you fight 24 hours a day?) (Regain health drink slogan), 31 Nikō school governing committee (Kyōfūkai), 45, 46 nikudan san'yūshi (three brave human bombs), 62 ningenryoku (human capability) enhancement campaign, 100–101
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Nishio City Stalker Murder Case, 98 Nishizumi Kōjirō, 62 Nitobe Inazō, 56–57, 109 Niva Steve, 37 Not in Employment, Education, or Training (NEET) youth, 96–100 Obuchi Keizō, 82, 87, 88 Ōhira Masayoshi, 78–79, 81 Okada Katsuya, 82 Okazaki Katsuo, 77 Ōkuma Shigenobu, 58 okuni no tameni (for the nation), 30 An Opinion Survey on Juvenile Crimes and Other Issues (Shōnen Hikō nado ni Kansura Yoronchōsa), 99 Ōsawa Mari, 16 Otoko Rashisa no Yukue (Where Manliness is Going) (Itō), 16 Otoko wa Doko ni Irunoka (Where are the Men?) (Kohama), 16 Ozawa Ichirō, 2 parasaito shinguru (parasite singles) youth, 96–97 people contribution (jinteki kōken) as foreign policy element, 94–96 People's New Party, 9 performance-based pay system (seikashugi), 93 PKOs (Peacekeeping Operations, UN), 94 Pyle, Kenneth, 11 Reality of the Salaryman, The (“Sararīman no Seitai”) (Shūkan Sankei), 70 recipient of international contributions (kōken saki), 88 Recruit Corporation, 96 Regain health drink, 31, 91 reliability, confidence (shinrai) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84 rich nation, strong army (fukoku kyōhei) slogan, 44 rōben (“wax study”), 44 rogue youth masculinity, 96–100 Rohlen, Thomas, 73
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rōjōshugi (“castle under siege” principle), 43–44, 56 Rokumeikan period (1883-1887), 40 roles (yakuwari) as foreign policy element, 83–84 rōnin (drifter samurai), 28 Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905), 26, 36, 39, 54, 61, 108 ryōka (dormitory songs), 48–54, 65n12, 65n14, 65n20. See also specific songs ryōu (“dormitory rain”), 44 Saigō Takamori, 40 Saijō Family Feast, The (Saijōke no Kyōen) (film), 68 Saionji Kinmochi, 55, 59 Saitō Tamaki, 97 Sakakibara incident, 97 Sakimoto Kazue, 68 salaryman masculinity: as dominant masculinity, 20; as ideal, 18, 71, 74–76, 91–92; origins of, 30–31, 109; perspective of the world, 85–89; rise and decline of, 3, 21, 30–31, 36, 37, 70–73, 92–93, 95– 96, 103–105; and the sansaiji shinwa standard, 92; and seishin kyōiku, 73–75, 85, 87; values of, 74–76, 91–92. See also literati masculinity Samuels, Richard, 11 “Samurai Blue” (World Cup soccer team uniform nickname), 113 “Samurai Japan” (All-star baseball team nickname), 113 sansaiji shinwa (stay-at-home mother myth), 92 sanshu no jingi (three sacred objects) symbolism, 43, 45, 46 Sansuijin Keirin Mondō (Discourse on Government by Three Drunkards) (Nakae), 1, 117 Santarō no Nikki (A Diary of Santarō) (Abe), 48 “Sararīman no Chūseishin” (The Loyalty of the Salaryman) (Gekkan Nippon), 70
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“Sararīman no Seitai” (The Reality of the Salaryman) (Shūkan Sankei), 70 Sasaki Hachirō, 63 Sasebo City incident, 98, 99 Satō Eisaku, 77–78, 81, 82, 83–84 Scott, Joan, 12–13 SDF. See Self-Defense Forces SDP. See Social Democratic Party seikashugi (performance-based pay system), 93 seishin kyōīku (spiritual education), 30, 72–75, 87 Seitetsu Bus hijacking, 97, 98 Seiyō Ishokujū (Western Clothing, Food, and Houses) (Fukuda), 28 sekinin (duties/responsibility) as foreign policy element, 83–84, 87, 95–96, 111–112 Self-Defense Forces (SDF): expanding role of, 6–9, 14, 94–95, 111–112; as full-fledged military force, 5; as ideal world image of Japan, 87–88; as tool of Japanese foreign policy, 2; use in corporate training, 73 sengyō shufu (full-time homemaker) ideal, 15, 114–115 September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, 8 sexual orientation and style of masculinity, 31–32, 116–117 shain kenshū (employees' training workshops), 73 Shakaiteki Hikikomori (Social Withdrawal) (Saitō), 97 Shidehara Kijūrō, 39, 60, 110 Shiina Etsusaburō, 77, 80 Shikō (Fourth Higher School), 49 shikōryō (four tenets of Ichikō school culture), 43–44 shinrai (reliability, confidence) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84 shinyō (trust) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84 shishi (men of high purpose), 40, 43 shitsu jitsu gōken (simplicity and sturdiness), 45 shizoku (bushi) class students, 54
shōbu (martial valor) principle, 44, 51 shōnen hikō (youth crimes), 97–100 Shōnen Hikō nado ni Kansura Yoronchsa (An Opinion Survey on Juvenile Crimes and Other Issues), 99 shufu (housewife) femininity, 114– 115 shūyō shugi (mental discipline), 16 simplicity and sturdiness (shitsu jitsu gōken), 45 Sino-Japanese War (1894-1895), 26, 28, 36, 41, 61 Social Democratic Party (SDP), 9, 81–82 socially withdrawn youth (hikikomori), 96–97 Social Withdrawal (Shakaiteki Hikikomori) (Saitō), 97 soft (nanpa) masculinity, 3, 20–21, 31–32, 34–37, 36t, 38n5 sōshi (young political activists), 40, 43 soshiarityi (sociality, humanity of the spirit), 56 sōshokukei danshi (herbivore men) masculinity, 116–117 spiritual education (seishin kyōīku), 30, 72–75, 87 stay-at-home mother myth (sansaiji shinwa), 92 stories of the old days (mukashi banashi), 103 “storm” (sutōmu), 44, 64n8 students and schools: and autonomy in student culture, 43, 44, 50, 51, 53, 63; and education policy change in Japan, 100–105; fujo haiseki (exclusion of women) school culture, 45; Fundamental Law of Education revision (2006), 102, 103; men-as-soldiers influence on student militarism, 63, 66n28; rōjōshugi (“castle under siege” principle), 43–44, 56; role in transition from bankara to kyōyōshugi masculinity, 108–109; student war conscription (gakuto dōin),
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29; tradition and culture (patriotism) inculcation into, 102–105; Western language proficiency of elite students, 47. See also specific schools subordinate masculinity, 18 Suita Junsuke, 46 Sunaga Fumio, 17 sutōmu (“storm”), 44, 64n8 Suzuki Zenkō, 81, 84 Tada Ryōko, 17 Taga Futoshi, 17 Taiheiyō no Nami no Ho ni (At the Tip of the Waves in the Pacific), ryōka (dormitory songs), 49–52. See also ryōka tairitsu (competition among equals) as goal of diplomacy, 58–59, 65n23 Taishō period, 29, 39, 48, 60, 62 Takeshita Noboru, 82, 84 Tanabe Hisao, 45 Tanaka Kakuei, 78, 84 tattered clothes and torn caps (hēihabō), 43, 44 teaching guidelines (Gakushū Shidō Yōryō), 103 tekireiki (prime time for marriage) concept and women, 15 tekken seisai (iron-fist punishment), 45, 55 three brave human bombs (nikudan san'yūshi), 62 Three Non-Nuclear Principles (1967), 7 Three Principles on Arms Exports (1976), 7, 9 three sacred objects (sanshu no jingi) symbolism, 45 Tokutomi Iichirō (founder of Ōe Gijuku), 55–56 Toshiba company “spiritual education,” 72 Toyokawa City murder, 98 trust (shinyō) as foreign policy element, 78–79, 84 two ways of the bunbu (bunbu nidō), 34
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Uchimura Kanzō, 57 Uno Sōsuke, 78, 84 UN Peacekeeping Operations (PKOs), 94 Uozumi Setsurō, 55 U.S.-Japan Joint Declaration on Security (1996), 6, 7–8, 22n3, 111 Vita Sexualis (Ita Sekusuarisu) (Mori), 31 Wagaya wa Tanoshi (Happy Home) (film), 68 Wakamono Jiritsu Chōsen Senryaku Kaigi (Council for Young Peoples' Independence, Challenges, and Strategy), 101 Wakamono no Ningenryoku o Takameru tameno Kokuminkaigi (conferences to enhance the ningenryoku of young people), 101 warrior masculinity, 3, 20–21, 35–37, 36t. See also bankara masculinity; men-as-soldiers masculinity Watashi wa Kai ni Naratai (I Want to be a Shellfish) (television), 69 Watsuji Tetsurō, 46–47, 55 “wax study” (rōben), 44 Wendt, Alexander, 10, 11, 22n8 wen-wu (literary-martial) Chinese masculinity, 18, 33, 113 Western Clothing, Food, and Houses (Seiyō Ishokujū ) (Fukuzawa), 28 Western television, influence on Japanese viewers, 68–70 Where are the Men? (Otoko wa Doko ni Irunoka) (Kohama), 16 Where Manliness is Going (Otoko Rashisa no Yukue) (Itō), 16 women: and the bankara concept of masculinity, 45, 56; and education policy change in Japan, 100–105; feminist perspective on gender, 11–14; fujo haiseki (exclusion of women) school culture, 45; and the gendered division of labor in Japan, 15; and
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gender identity, 16; and the gunkoku shōjo/no haha (militarist girl/mother) femininity, 114–115; NEET women in transition, 98– 99; and political policymaking, 1; post World War II legal empowerment of, 67; and the salaryman as ideal husband, 71, 74–76, 91–92; and the sansaiji shinwa, 92; and the shufu (housewife) femininity, 114–115; and the tekireiki concept, 15 Wood, Julian, 18 World War I, 61 World War II: demilitarization and democratization of Japan, 26, 30, 67–68; post war Japanese constitution, 67, 94; post war
Japanese foreign relations, 1–2, 5, 6–9, 36, 76–77, 82–85, 112 yakuwari (roles) as foreign policy element, 83–84 Yamada Masahiro, 97 Yamagata Aritomo, 58, 59 Yano Kanji, 48 Yoshida Shigeru, 76, 80, 83, 86 Yoshikawa Hiroshi, 100–101 young people with part-time jobs (frītā ), 96–97, 99–100 young political activists (sōshi), 40, 43 youth crimes (shōnen hikō), 97–102 youth issues in Japan, 97–104 Yukiwarisō (Kidneywort) (film), 68 zoru (soldiers), 61
About the Book
Transformations in both Japan's domestic culture and its foreign relations in the last two decades have led to, among other outcomes, a shift to a more militarized defense policy. Yumiko Mikanagi explores an intriguing aspect of this shift: changes in what is considered masculine in contemporary Japanese society. Tracing the alternations between dominant “warrior” and “literati” conceptions of masculinity from the nineteenth century to the present, Mikanagi reveals parallels in Japan’s foreign policy and offers new insights into the country's recent defense policy decisions. Yumiko Mikanagi is on the faculty at the New School for General Studies.
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