Part II: Memories of March 12, 2011

Better to be a wino than a whiner.

The day following the earthquake brought several tremors. After discussing with several friends, we facetiously declared the world to be at an end. As such, we wanted to greet Armageddon in the most comfortable way possible, with several bottles of wine, a few unnecessarily large steaks and surrounded by good friends and laughter. Our “final” dinner was a great success and we all enjoyed the much needed, albeit quiet and restrained, levity that only your truest friends can provide.

Trembling due to quake or stroke?

Our lips now dyed a dark crimson from wine and bovine blood, we ventured forth into the post earthquake world. We decided to invoke the tradition of visiting the statue of Hachiko, a staple of a Tokyo night out. Shibuya on a normal Saturday is bustling with the young and the trendy preparing for a night of adventure. However, we arrived to a Shibuya all but abandoned. For a time, we walked around the usually vital, but now empty streets. Walking past the 109 shopping building and preparing to circle around to Shibuya's Center Street, we were awestruck by the ability to see more than several meters ahead, a rare occurance for this part of town on a Saturday night. It was disconcerting to say the least.  It was around this time when our façade of nonchalance began to crack. We decided to press on and have a few more drinks.

A disquieting sight . . . 

As our night continued, we drifted to the home of one of our members. There, we spent the rest of the evening playing cards and attempting to forget the disturbing sight of Tokyo’s empty streets. Eventually, we all claimed a piece of furniture and drifted to sleep still celebrating our successful faux end of the world.

We awoke the next morning to news that nuclear reactors in Fukushima were in a critical state and the potential for meltdown was high. We watched in stunned silence as a hydrogen explosion destroyed the roof of a reactor housing. The true severity of the situation realized, and our ability to hide our worry broken, we uttered few words except the occasional translation (“radiation” is not a word you are likely to find in beginner Japanese textbooks). We sat with our eyes glued to the screen or any nearby internet source. We combed through any and all news sources for information. Were we being evacuated? Was there a genuine risk of radiation exposure from the nuclear reactors? If yes, were we far enough away from Fukushima to be somewhat protected? These questions were on all our minds as we watched the unfolding drama. Vague answers being a staple of Japanese culture, no conclusive information/instructions could or would be issued by the news or government officials.

Part I: Memories of March 11, 2011

Notes: This is a series of stream of consciousness entries chronicling the events on the day of March 11, 2011 from my perspective. They are memories from a person who was far enough away from the epicenter to in no tangible way be affected by the tragedy of the Tohoku Earthquake. However, they are also the memories of a person was present to witness both the terrifying power of nature, and the true strength of character at the heart of the Japanese people.   

 2:45 PM
Quickly looking up from my computer screen, I scanned the room and took quick note of the sights: disorganized desks, teachers engaging in idle chatter and the expensive, yet rarely used TV in the corner of the room.

These things being rather ubiquitous to a Japanese teachers' room, I returned my attention to my lesson plans for the coming week(while covertly reading the news on my computer). That was when the tremors began. Being born and raised in Japan, the other teachers continued their work under the assumption that the quake would quickly pass.

As the shaking continued, I heard the first words of concern from a colleague. At the time, it seemed a very benign statement, but it was our first inkling that something was wrong.

“This one’s really long isn't it?”

Upon uttering those words, it seemed as if the strength of the tremors grew exponentially. To my amazement, none of the staff panicked. We knew that our first job was to evacuate the students. Calmly, the staff began dispersing around the school.

Leaving the staff room, I found myself at a small trot a few steps behind a colleague. As I saw her, I was in awe of her calm. She understood what needed to be done and that panic on the part of the staff would only create chaos and fear among the students. To this day, that demonstration of personal strength and discipline is my quintessential memory of said colleague (unfortunately this role model of leadership no longer works at my school).

The music room being no more than 20 meters from the staff room, I could hear the screaming of students echoing down the hall. Going to the music room, I was relieved to find the students taking shelter under desks and pianos, but not before placing their instruments neatly on the ground (very Japanese). A student hiding underneath the grand piano called me from her shelter and asked me to lay her euphonium on its side (whether to prevent a falling horn from harming another student or to prevent a fleeing student from harming the horn, I am still unsure).

Doing my best to reassure the band members, a voice over the intercom instructed us to begin evacuation. The ground still shaking beneath us and seemingly growing in intensity, we escorted the students outside to wait for the tremors to stop.

Jogging in and out of the school while, to my astonishment, flagrantly ignoring the “don’t wear your outdoor shoes inside” rule, were the staff. Going from room to room, we checked for stragglers. The staff worked like a well oiled machine as we checked and rechecked halls, rooms and other hiding spaces then signaled that an area was cleared.

Confident that the school was safely evacuated, the staff was able to proceed with a final head count of students. I cannot recall exactly when the shaking stopped (perhaps while we were evacuating students, or maybe while we were doing a final check of the school), but eventually the earth stood still once again. The whole of the school, or more accurately, the whole of the student body that had still been at school when the quake began were safely accounted for.

As I scanned the crowed, I was amazed by the different, yet all too human reactions from those assembled. The teachers hid their shock and fear by busing themselves with headcounts and emergency checklists. Some students sat quietly, while others stated their disbelief at the size and length of the tremors. Still others were embracing and crying from fear, a sight I can do without seeing again. As the staff went amongst the crowd, we tried to ease the tension and reassure students when possible. As I tend to do when dealing with discomfort and trauma, I joked with the students (I have a severe case of Chandler-ism).

After a time, we allowed students with a parent in the house to return home. However, this left a sizable group of students with parents away at work and, due to the closure of trains, unable to return. These students were moved into the gymnasium. The staff played games or chatted “happily” with the marooned students all the while covertly glancing at cell phones to check on our own loved ones (Facebook was a critical asset this day). For some odd reason, most likely desperation, fear and sentimentalism, I spent a great deal of time attempting to contact my former schools in Tochigi (they were as surprised by my call as I).

It was well into the evening when the last students began their treks home or to the homes of welcoming neighbors. The exhausted staff sat in the teachers’ room calling students to confirm their safe return. As our collective adrenaline rush ebbed, we began drinking copious amounts of coffee. In a display of esprit de corp, all the teachers began emptying their desks of any and all candy and treats which had been hoarded over the year. These precious bits of chocolate and sweets were put into a white garbage bag which was then placed lovingly in the middle of the room like some sort of Wonka based oasis.

Due to the mass shutdown of trains, a  number of teachers were stranded at school for the night. For many of them, their dinner would be from the bag of candy. What few blankets were available were distributed to the trapped staff members. Fortunately, I lived close enough to my school to return home on foot. And so I did.

Thoughts on the Concept of "True" Americans

Not shown due to cropping: Miss Davuluri's pageant winning middle finger raised in honor of all followers of ignorance and bigotry.

I wish I could say that my first written work in over a year was a pleasant update on the various happenings in my life as an expat. Unfortunately, such mundane topics don't tend to inspire ample amounts of creativity (nor is it particularly interesting reading). Instead, my motivation is a rather annoying churning of my stomach which I hope to quell by writing. Sweet catharsis.

Recently, a new Miss America was chosen. The newly crowned Miss America has been accused of not being a citizen of America. At best, she has been implied to be of Arab origins and at worst she has been called a terrorist. 

Nina Davuluri is a beautiful, and therefore well out of my league, woman of Indian ancestry born in Syracuse, New York. In the interest of honest and open discussion, I will admit that I too am prejudiced against Miss Davuluri's place of origin. As a University of Connecticut graduate, I have a hatred for Syracuse and all their sports teams which goes beyond explanation.

Upon her crowning, the denizens of the internet voiced their outrage that a "foreigner" and "Arab" won the title of Miss America. Simple fact checking quickly disproves these particular claims as nothing more than superficial bigotry (It is still disturbing that such prejudice exists and so many of those holding such views feel no shame in openly posting hate speech).

More insidious are the claims that those with non Anglo/Western European ancestry and those people with colored skin derived from pigment, rather than tanning bed, are somehow less American. Note that people from the metropolitan east and west coasts tend also to be excluded from holding the title of "real" American.

While the concept of a uniquely "American way" has been part of the American political discourse since her founding, recent political actors have found great success reinvigorating the concepts of "American values" and a "true America(n)". These concepts are used to stratify America and create an intra-national "us" vs. "them" mentality (which helps facilitate a palpable persecution complex). An irony of creating subjective classes of Americans is that, much like the concept of the "middle class", the majority of Americans identify as being part of the chosen few who qualify as "true Americans".

Ask any of your friends whether they consider themselves upper, middle or lower class. The majority will respond they are upper or lower middle class. That's right; Americans have created arbitrary classes WITHIN the nonspecific, arbitrary and yet somehow special category of middle class. Honestly, try it out. I'll wait. 

The nature of a “true” American varies depending on the audience to whom a politician is pandering. Sometimes it is based on occupation as seen when blue collar workers are hailed as salt of the earth “true” Americans. Sometimes, hobbies such as hunting are used to gauge a person’s level of Americanism. Often, geography is used to determine who earns the title of true American (people from New York City being cited as somehow less American than others). But at the most basic level, “true” Americans tend to be those who adhere to some revered set of core “American values”.

Modern political discourse has introduced more narrowly defined and often subjective values which politicians adeptly use to assure their voting base that they are somehow special and truer Americans.

“True” Americans are not the intellectual elite, but those who work hard at their 9-5 job to support their family. They possess that disappearing American work ethic and gumption which made America great. They believe in the potential for unaided social mobility in a playing field which has proven time and again to be fair to all Americans.. Again, this stratifies America into the chosen group of people who believe in hard work and the lazy drains on society.

This is ridiculous.

There is NO objective list of “American values” (the Bill of Rights perhaps being the closest to a codified list of things in which I believe Americans should revere, but not hold sacred beyond discussion and civil debate), except maybe the very vague and cliché’ concepts of life and liberty. There is no single and universally agreed upon set of American values which, if you follow adamantly, makes you a better or truer American than your neighbor.

You are American if you were born on American soil or have been nationalized a citizen of the United States (an act which requires an oath to uphold and protect The Constitution of the United States). You can be a true American if you are white, black, Christian, Buddhist, liberal, conservative, have served honorably in the military or are a pacifist. You can be a true American if you invoke the name of “God” in the Pledge of Allegiance or make the choice to respectfully refrain from uttering the Pledge. You can be a true American if you work at the highest paid levels of corporate America or are struggling to live on social programs such as welfare and food stamps. You can be a true American if you are part of the intellectual elite or are part of the willfully ignorant.

While some of the above listed types of people may not always be the most pleasant of company (particularly the willfully ignorant), and may conflict with your personal beliefs, the fundamental fact is that America is a diverse nation filled with diverse people. It is through America’s variety of opinions, cultures and people that she draws her strength, adaptability and durability. 

- 暖 

Thoughts on Complacency (aka Thoughts from an Existential Breakdown Part I)

A man named Dante once contemplated the meaning of life and death while also pondering the nature of Hell. He also enlightened the masses as to why Empire Strikes Back was superior to Return of the Jedi. Granted, his musings on life and death tended to take the form of discussing collateral damage and casualties during the destruction of the Death Stars. But his seemingly pointless back and forth with his friend often resulted in profound statements about reality and, for the purposes of this entry, my life.

For Dante, Hell was the familiarity, simplicity and, ultimately, the complacency he had developed while working at his unfulfilling, underpaid, and unappreciated life as a convenience store clerk (if you have not seen the Clerks films I demand you stop reading this nonsense, obtain them via legal means and watch them immediately). Dante's frustration culminates in the occasional desperate cry of, "I'm not even supposed to be here".

I am a sentimental person by nature, yet I don't look to the west for comfort nor do I feel significant longing for days gone by in America (time at university excluded).  So, as my second year in the land of the rising radiation levels comes to a close, I grow increasingly concerned with my own complacency. Japan has become far too easy and comfortable. Often, when I think of home I think of this little box of an apartment or floating around the city.From this arises the concern that I have lost the motivation, drive and, ultimately, willpower to return to America.

Here, I am underpaid, undervalued and, thanks to the devaluation of the bachelors degree/supersaturation of college graduates in the last 20-40 years, most likely less than qualified for much (political scientist willing to describe the faults in your national politics for food). However, unlike Dante who everyday lamented his Hell of complacency, I often find it hard to grieve or be overly mortified by my current station in life. This point raises an interesting question. Can it truly be considered Hell if you are enjoying the experience? The answer is "no".

Despite my now wavering will to return, I do fear that I will wake one day to find myself in a cramped Japanese apartment, working for scraps, decades older with no way of retiring, jaded, having lost the satisfaction of working with my kids, and never having provided any true value to society (can you tell I wrote this after a company meeting where 30-40% of the foreigners fit into the above category?).

Dan　
暖

Thoughts on Cleaning Time

"We've gathered all the corrupt businesses,
 staggering governmental inefficiency, and 
          that annoying glass ceiling.
 Let's sweep them to that corner and go play
                  some dodge ball!"

“Will Jose from Class Act please report to the principal’s office?” In high school, we heard this announcement so often that it served to promote Jose to semi-celebrity status. So salient was “Jose from Class Act” that he was often a serious contender for most student body positions. Of course, being a 40+ year old man of questionable legal standing he was ineligible to assume a prestigious position on the student council.

Jose was the leader of a small army of cleaners who diligently worked to keep my school as clean as possible. Often working deep into the night, this squad toiled exceptionally hard and received little to none of the gratitude they rightfully earned. Coming from a background where someone else cleans up my messes, I was pleasantly surprised to find that in Japanese schools the students and staff are responsible for much of the cleaning and upkeep on the school grounds.

In concept, I adore the idea of students being in charge of their space. Students taking responsibility for the cleaning the school should, theoretically, instill school pride in the students. However, after a year of watching and participating in this cleaning period, I have come to see it as a bizarre metaphor Japanese society.

Japan is more often than not concerned with form over function. On the surface, the classroom is “cleaned” every day by the unified efforts of the students. The students sweep and run around mopping up grime with their rags. While the room is kept fairly clean, there is a significant amount of filth which is merely pushed to the outskirts and ignored (unless taken care of by a dedicated teacher or ALT as the case may be). The students bask in the kudos of the teachers and all are happy to ignore the literal dirty secret.

Japanese society has a startlingly similar tendency to do the same. In general, she is a wonderful country. Japan is a modern and respected nation due in no small part to her hard working populace. However, pushed to the outskirts are things with which the Japanese people really do not wish to cope. Problems such as poverty, an expanding incidence of disease (both physical and mental), and the remnant bits of patriarchal/chauvinistic behavior in her populace are largely ignored.

Of course, I acknowledge that most countries ignore their respective societal issues (as Hurricane Katrina demonstrated in the United States). However, I think the parallels between cleaning time in schools and Japanese society in particular is especially interesting. Also, I am far too lazy to turn this analogy into a larger humanitarian/global societal critique.

Thoughts on "Social Claustrophobia"

I have always been fairly successful in life. I can attribute a large amount of my success to my genuine sense of self loathing and numerous neuroses forged in the fires of my upbringing.

"Dan should be doing more work while having his
panic attack. Can't he multitask?"~Japan



In healthy doses, a self deprecating attitude and mild belief that others stand in judgment of you and your efforts is a strong motivator. However, I live in a country where the social pressure to conform and succeed is palpable.

I watch my Japanese counterparts go about their day seemingly unfazed by the overwhelming societal expectations and burdens placed upon them. This situation reminds me of Plato’s Cave (later adapted for the modern age in the Matrix). The Japanese were born and raised into this system and therefore this is the reality they know. I was raised in a less oppressive society (from my point of view). Thus, I more acutely feel the verdicts of inadequacy directed at me. This tends to result in exceptionally high levels of self consciousness.

Paranoid? Perhaps. My being judged by coworkers? Undisputed fact.

This pressure to conform and appear productive often makes me feel confined and limited. While I am sure there is a specific term for what afflicts me, I, for lack of a proper degree to know such matters, have coined the term “social claustrophobia”.



Thoughts on Reflex Reporting

To any who may be reading,

I am writing this in an attempt to alleviate some of the anxiety caused by the media. In general, the almost instant access to information has resulted in news reports which, I feel, are less concerned with deliberate reporting of facts and more concerned with ratings and shock value.

My objective is NOT to criticize news media as a whole. Most sources are attempting to present the facts in a timely manner during a chaotic time. To paraphrase John Stewart, "during times of crisis the news media are exceptional at reporting facts and keeping the people informed". However, the hints of panic inducing phrases and keywords (out of context) without considering the full implications of their effect on an emotional populace is frustrating to those of us in the midst of the disaster searching for objective facts and updates about the developing situation. We have enough troubles coping with the situation in country without news sources inciting our families to panic.

Let me stress that despite being only mildly concerned about the safety of myself and my loved ones in the area (Tokyo, Kanagawa, Tochigi, and Ibaraki), the situation is bad. I will admit to having created an evacuation plan in the event the situation develops less favorably than I would prefer.

With that said, the news media have been fond of comparing the developing situation at the reactors with Chernobyl. Often, the phrase "the worst nuclear disaster since Chernobyl" has been written. While the word "science" is contained in the title of my major (political science), I am in no way qualified to make in-depth analysis of the current situation at the reactors. However, from the more level headed reports I have read regarding the issue, it appears that we are far from the the threat level presented at Chernobyl.

"But Dan, this is a crisis involving a nuclear reactor. Does that not inherently make the analogy to Chernobyl apropos?"

I do not mind comparisons to Chernobyl being made. However, the media is not providing a context for such a comparison. Let me provide a crude example of how I view the majority of comparisons to Chernobyl.

Imagine a perfect town with no war and no crime (Disney World). The people go about their lives living in harmony. One day, a man is murdered. The event is tragic and rocks the community. However, over time the town returns to normal and the peaceful crime free community returns.

Now, if I say to you, "one day, another crime was committed . . . the worst crime since the murder." To me, the natural reaction would be to assume the crime was either another murder, or a crime involving some type of bodily harm to the victim.  What if I told you that the crime was merely a purse snatching? Theoretically, this would be the worst crime since Chernobyl since no other crimes occurred in the interval.

The difference lay in where your mind instinctively went when I made vague statements regarding the severity of the crime. Without context, you most likely assumed the worst. In context, you understood that something bad happened, but were better able to understand the need not to panic. This is what I believe the news media is forgetting. There are legitimate reasons to compare this and Chernobyl. But there is also a need to contextualize the comparison with facts so the masses can, at least vaguely, understand the levels of difference between the two situations. Granted, my analogy is not perfect, but it illustrates one level of frustration experienced by foreigners still in Japan .

 I am also hesitant to compare a crisis involving the health and lives of so many with a simple purse snatching. But an explanation regarding the differences in the presentation of information abroad vis-a-vis the manner information is being presented to us in country needed to be said.

News media are also using stories to almost deliberately encourage a state of fear among those not in Japan. News stories with titles claiming that the crisis with the Japanese reactors is no threat to America . . . "for now" border on  fear mongering.

One of the above locations is a dance club.

Again, I am not saying that we should not be concerned. The situation is one which warrants concern. Dare I say the crisis on a national level (versus only within the immediate area of the reactors) is becoming less encouraging by the day. But I call on friends abroad to find sources of information presenting objective updates on the current situation. I also call on the news media to reflect on how you present your material rather than resorting to sensationalist "reflex reporting" of information.

I apologize for the lack of eloquence in this piece of writing. I would blame any stylistic inadequacies on being in the midst of a crisis, but that would not explain why most of my writing tends to be of such poor quality.

-Dan 暖

Written on March 18, 2011