Excalibur

Japan is an ancient country with a long and storied history. It is also a country with rigid rules, and a heavy, heavy emphasis on obedience and tradition. To the Japanese, tradition is order. Order leads to peace. Peace leads to prosperity.

Japan regularly ranks as one of the most peaceful countries in the world.

There is value in this mindset. Many aspects of Japanese culture are outright superior because of it. The streets in cities are clean. Public transport is amazingly efficient. Customer service is intensely polite and respectful, everywhere, at all times. Crime rates are some of the lowest in the world. Japan is peaceful, and Japan knows it's peaceful. Whenever I ask my students what they like about their country, the first thing they tell me is, more often than not, that it's peaceful.

But this emphasis on tradition can also lead to stagnation.

Fax machines are still used here. Older folk refuse to switch from their flip phone to a smart phone. Stereotypes about foreigners persist. Obedience and social obligation are taken to a point where work consumes everything. People are required to go to work even when there is no work to do, simply because that is what they are expected to do, and for no other reason.

Since order is so important, social hierarchy is also important, and those at the top of the chain are allowed to do and say whatever they want. The big cheese in any social environment will essentially be king or queen of that stratosphere.

Rules are set in stone here. Firmly in stone, like Excalibur, unable to be pulled out by anyone but the king himself.

This all falls apart when a foreigner enters the equation. Unlike the Japanese, we have our own way of doing things. We end up pulling Excalibur out of the stone, even though we aren't King Arthur. And then we wave it around and start cutting other stones in half with it.

This metaphor can range from anything to not using chopsticks the right way, to not taking someone's business card the right way, to not contacting the exact right person in your hierarchy in the exact right order you're supposed to, to using the wrong tone of voice with the wrong person.

The running joke among foreigners is that we can generally "gaijin smash" our way through these social situations. What this means is that it will be tolerated, because we don't know any better, even though it will make people very uncomfortable.

Personally, I'm not content at all to gaijin smash anything, and when I do, I feel very bad about it. I'm not here to upset the 和 in the room. I HATE upsetting the 和 in the room. It's awkward for everybody. 

But I do, from time to time, accidentally. This is bound to happen. 

There are different ways to handle the dissonance between the rigid traditionalism of Japan and the wanton freedom of America, from both sides. 

From the Japanese side, they can be patient and either explain what you did wrong, or get upset and angrily tell you off. I've experienced both the tolerant and intolerant approach. One is significantly more uncomfortable and less constructive than the other.

From the American side, I can either throw up my hands and say that's not the way we do things, or try my best to understand what I did wrong and change my ways. Or, at the very least, try not to upset the atmosphere in the room again.

At the end of the day, my job here, as a JET, is to help Japan with globalization. I think that what that means is handling this dissonance, and making something new out of it.

As it is now, the scale is entirely unbalanced. America is free, so free, free enough that it causes problems. Japan is rigid, so rigid, rigid enough that it causes problems. 

It is my hope that we can one day balance that scale. True globalization is learning from one another, and seeing the beauty in different ways of doing things. 

If, one day, we can fuse together the positives of western culture with the positives of Japanese culture, the freedom of self expression and individual rights and work/life balance along with the love of beauty and order and peace, then we can take huge steps towards making our world a better place.

There are two pieces of media that I have watched, both very early on in my JET experience, that resonated with me very strongly.

In Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Kylo Ren tells our hero, Rey, to "let the past die. Kill it if you have to." 

Our other hero, Luke Skywalker, comes to a similar conclusion. It's a major theme of the movie, leaving behind our expectations and embracing something entirely new.

In HBO's Game of Thrones series, one of our heroes, Jon Snow, is told by one of his mentors to "kill the boy, and let the man be born." 

Jon Snow's boyhood self and perception were simply not enough to face what came ahead of him. 

A running theme in the public consciousness now is the deconstruction of the past. You see it in politics, in media, in the technology we use, in everyday conversation. The old way of doing things simply doesn't cut it anymore.

The point here is that it's easy to say, "that's not the way I do things." To give up right then and there. I see people do it all the time. But the real joy in life, I believe, comes from opening our minds and seeing the world from a different angle. This doesn't mean giving up our values, necessarily, and I think that everything in the world should be within scrutiny, but it does mean leaving a certain element of stubbornness behind.

For me, personally, I've learned a lot, both from what I admire about and have frustrations with here in Japan. I have always hated transition, change, and all flux in life. I have always loved routine and rules. I have always loved my rose-tinted glasses, my imagined past, more than my uncertain present.

When I heard that "kill the boy" line for the first time, it struck a chord with me, and not a good one. I became deeply afraid. I didn't want to kill the boy. I liked the boy just fine. But I was afraid because I knew that I, too, had to kill the boy, or the man I was then and there. And it did happen, after I came here.

I am certainly a more well-rounded and capable person than when I first arrived here, simply by immersing myself in such a different place. Especially in a place that was so similar to me in concept, but different in its execution, leaving me flipped upside-down in many ways.

I hope I've helped my Japanese friends and co-workers in a similar way.