Finally, ahead of the BBC

Having missed the Nova news, despite it being round the corner, and letting The Times scoop it.  I would like to point out that I still have the drop on the  BBC: By clicking on the link you can read their coverage of Japanese immigration’s introduction of compulsory fingerprinting of all foreigners entering the country… at least two weeks after I mentioned it in “You’re not from round here, are you?”, below.  They seem to have been speaking to “some people” who said very similar things to me too. Hurrah! I am in the moral majority!

Concrete Opinion

After the second world war, in the 1950’s and 60’s Japan experienced a building boom. Not unsurprisingly perhaps, given the amount of destruction waged upon its cities and towns by the American air force. A lot of the old wooden buildings that had the quintessential Japanese flavor that we now only see in places like Kyoto or Nara were destroyed and new buildings erected in their place: A terrible shame, especially since many old neighbourhoods were destroyed not because they were damaged, but simply they were seen as a throwback to when Japan was an old fashioned, feudally governed country and now unrepresentative of the emerging Asian power that Japan was becoming.

So Japan’s love affair with concrete began – and the more the economy picked up, the more premises and building that needed to be built. Even the government, with its coffers steadily filling as the economic revival gathered pace got involved, it built the famous bullet train network as well as highways, express ways and local train networks that still are the envy of many countries in the world. At it’s height the construction industry employed more than 20% of the entire Japanese workforce, so construction companies came to wield considerable political clout too.

Some wily politicians realised that, with the vast amounts of money available for public works, companies would reward any information or help in swinging the contract their way. Japan’s pork-barrel had never been so full, and everyone was getting their share.

Unfortunately, what didn’t happen in tandem with the building boom was the evolution of a system of zoning building areas or anything resembling planning permission. Basically if you owned the land, and had the money to build, you could pretty much build what you wanted – such as a chemical works next to an infant school. It also meant that power cables are not buried (because that is more expensive for the power companies). In fact, most of the mountain views of Japan – and there are a lot – are almost without exception despoiled by ranges of power pylons criss-crossing their summits.

Of course, there came a point when the private sector’s needs were largely met, and the contracts for private construction declined. The construction companies began to put people out of work – and the politicians got scared. What should have been the planned downsizing of the industry never happened. That 20% of the workforce meant a huge number of votes – especially in rural areas – belonging to the ruling LDP party. The politicians themselves were also too used to the amount of kickbacks they were getting to entertain the possibility that this state of affairs couldn’t continue. So, the amount of public money available for construction grew and grew.

What was no longer being built by the private sector was built by national and regional governments with “donations” ending up in the pockets on local administrators, and local populations being saddled with buildings they don’t need. Projects such as flood defences have meant that EVERY river in Japan has been concreted for some part of its length, even in the cases where no flooding had ever happened in living memory. Of course, concrete does not allow for much of an ecosystem to develop, and the results for wildlife have been catastrophic. Mountains haven’t escaped either. They are given concrete frames over them to stop rock slides – imagine the expense of covering a mountain in a concrete lattice! Add to this thousands of culture centers and community buildings that have been built, despite an absence of need, in nearly every village and hamlet in Japan.

The government supplies low-interest loans for these activities, which communities take up only to find that the running costs for these buildings far exceed the amount of money to be made from them – causing a circle of debt to accumulate. The second largest city in the country, Osaka, is so overburdened with these kind of projects that it had to declare bankruptcy, and is now governed by central government. It reckons to be solvent again in 2050! But still the construction industry is not sated.

Local governments receive a set budget every year. A lot of this is earmarked by central government for construction projects whether there is a local need or not. Now here is the rub – if the money is not used, the subsequent amount of money budgeted to that local government will be smaller. There is no incentive to save money… the only way to assure that current levels of budget are retained is to spend everything allotted for a given year. Thus, the white elephants of modern Japan are born – more concrete, more buildings, more running costs for things that people don’t use. More rivers and mountains concreted, more old buildings replaced by concrete boxes.

Japan is looking less and less “Japanese” every year, and governments and regions becoming poorer whilst the bureaucrats and construction companies get wealthier and ever more powerful. Somebody has said it won’t end until the whole country becomes a car park.

Such a shame that everyones’ memories of what was a beautiful country have to be buried beneath it.

Would you like a woman with that drink, Sir?

Flashback to August: I was out drinking with my Japanese boss in Kobe. It was his way of apologising for getting me to come into work during my summer vacation in order to help with a foreign exhange program. I wasn’t bothered: three hours work, and now I was being treated to lots of expensive raw fish and as much beer and sake as I wanted to drink. Since it was all on expenses anyway, there was no reason to hold back, and I didn’t. We were having a pretty good time, and two or so hours flew by.

We left the reastaurant, me ready to wend my wobbly way home but my boss was having nothing of it: he was up for more, and whether I wanted to or not, I was coming along for the ride. More free food, more free beer – I didn’t put up too much of a fight.

Anyway, we ended up in a hostess bar. Not my idea, but since I wasn’t paying (wasn’t and indeed couldn’t) I didn’t have much say in the matter. Hostess bars seem to be pretty big business in Japan. You finish your hard day at the company, go for a few beers, and with the wife and kids at home, Japanese guys take off to the hostess bar. Usually these consist of a lounge-type bar, where you sit with your drinks and your buddies and are kept company by hostesses – young, becoming women who pour your drinks, sing duets with you on the karaoke machine and flirt and add general chit-chat to make the night more enjoyable. And that’s it. Not nearly as dodgy as some may think. Even so, just for a little flirting and chit-chat, it adds a huge whack to the bill to be thus entertained. Our hostesses were Japanese, meaning that the establishment was quite classy (and expensive) – the cheaper establishments apparently rely on Filipina or Thai ladies.

I suppose that the hostess bar is really just a modern iteration of the geisha establishments of older times. The geisha would pour drinks, make conversation, and sing or play a musical instrument to amuse their patrons. The hostess bar is just a racier version of that.

I suppose it might sound quite sordid, but is in fact incredibly tame – you talk, you sing, you drink and then go home. Having paid a lot for your company. One of the girls asked if we had hostess bars in England, and I had to say no. It’s a weird feeling, for me anyway, to talk to someone for whose company I (or rather my boss) is paying. Coming from a culture where it’s not unreasonable to strike up conversation with unknown people in bars and enjoy their company for a while without having to pay cash to do so, it’s a pretty strange feeling to shell out for the privilege. Though it was fun to seem so captivating, it lost its lutre when I reminded myself that I was only as amusing and interesting as my boss’ money was allowing me to be!

Musical Youth

On Sunday, I went to a music festival at the elementary school to which my girlfriend’s daughter goes. Since Mimata (the daughter in question) is only 7, I wasn’t expecting much, having  made similar “performances” myself as that age. I have to say I was mightily impressed. Thirty seven-year olds played an amazing piece of music on their pianicas (kind of a keyboard instrument that you blow into). I mean, the piece of music may have been basic, but they were note-perfect, and all in time with each other.

Now, I have no musically ability whatsoever and never have done. Schools in England seem to treat music as completely unimportant, and the idea that kids can play music instead of just generally making a racket seems overlooked. Yes, practice takes time, and the Japanese may be a bit masochistic when it comes to practicing, but it really pays off. Japanese kids are taught how to read music from age six, are required to have a pianica for school music lessons, and have a school performance each year. Someone like me, for whom written music is just a collection of dots and squiggles, is an anathema to any Japanese ten-year old. Everyone, whether gifted or not, played along with the rest of their class. No-one made any big mistakes, no one refused to play.

The Japanese try to build the group ethic up from very young. If you make mistakes or don’t try then you are not simply letting yourself down, but also your group (or class, or family etc), so these kids practice like crazy, not just for their own benefit, but also to avoid the shame of letting down their classmates. Though the group mentality has its downside (which we will surely merits its own post sometime), it is mightily impressive to hear the sixth grade (twelve year olds) play the Marsellaise with the all the pomp and vigour that would make them right at home at the Last Night of the Proms, without missing one note or beat.

The British school system could learn a lot.