Muragaki Awaji-no-kami leitet im Jahre 1860 eine japanische Delegation in die USA. In seinem Tagebuch notiert er seine Eindrücke von Amerika.

Bereits erschienen:
Teil 1 – Ehefrauen
Teil 2 – Geisterland
Teil 3 – Zehntausend Meilen
Teil 4 – Kaufmann
Teil 5 – Fischmarkt
Teil 6 – Scham

Von New York aus tritt die japanische Delegation schließlich am 9. Februar 1860 die Heimreise an. Die fast 30.000 Seemeilen lange Reise führt sie um das Kap der Guten Hoffnung, durch den Indischen Ozean und das Chinesische Meer. Am 7. November 1860 endlich nähert sich ihr Schiff der japanischen Küste.

Die Berge, die wir von fern sehen, müssen die von Ise sein. Wir sind alle den Tränen nahe.
‘Vier Sommer und vier Winter sahen wir in einem Jahr,, und da wir heimkehren, ist der Herbst fast vergangen.’

Am 11. November 1860 trifft die japanische Delegation wieder in Edo ein.

Sprachlos vor Entzücken, als wir den Fuji sehen. Vor sechs [richtig: neun] Monaten, als wir unsere Küsten verließen, beteten wir zu unseren Göttern, daß sie uns den heiligen Berg wiedersehen lassen mögen. Heute haben wir unsere Reise um den Globus beendet.

(zit. nach: Die Geburt des modernen Japan in Augenzeugenberichten, hrsg. u. eingel. v. Gertrude C. Schwebell. Düsseldorf, 1970)

Continued from my earlier post , here are some more impressions from Düsseldorf University’s recent “Japan in Diaspora” symposium.

Day two of the symposium started with Bochum’s Ludger Pries offering a more theoretical approach to the Japanese diaspora. Summarizing recent sociological discourse on the concept of social and geographical spatiality, Pries explained in his presentation how the classic notion of the concept of “community” and “society” has been deeply permeated by what he called “methodological nationalism” throughout the history of the modern social sciences. Communities have traditionally been regarded as sets of social relationships operating within certain geographically spatial, regional or national boundaries – what Pries termed “geographic container space,” or an “absolutist” notion of reciprocally exclusive communal spaces marked by clear geographical borders. Pries contended that this notion, even though it might have reflected reality to some degree at least in the Western world throughout the modern era, ought to be replaced with a more differentiated model of social and geographical space.

Citing Ulrich Beck as one of his influences, Pries went on to map out a “relativist” integrated concept that treats space as a framework of positional relations of both social and geographical elements or objects. The complex processes that shape and reconfigure geopolitical space today could accordingly be explained as the boundary-crossing interplay of three “relativist” ideal types of internationalization. These he defined as 1) Globalization, i.e. the strengthening of global ubiquitous phenomena, 2) Glocalization, the strenthening of interrelations between global and local forces, 3) Diaspora type internationalization, which he defined as the interrelations between a nation and her local dependencies – a framework which knows an imagined or real center of common identity, and 4) trans-nationalization, a set of social relations between local planes that are spanning nation states and transgressing their boundaries; it could be characterized as rather rhizomatic and thus different from the other types. If all this sounds rather too idyllic, it should be noted that Pries also acknowledged parallel processes that serve to strengthen rather than subvert the absolutist notion of space – such as the process of re-nationalization in former Yugoslavia. All in all, Pries gave a solid and thoughtful theoretical overview of current notions of spatiality in the social sciences that sparked some interesting discussions. While some of the concepts he advanced might appear to offer not much new to French theory buffs, hearing this stuff at a Japanese Studies conference in academically rather conservative Germany can be refreshing.

Up next was a contribution by Mori Hiromasa on a very specific case of Japanese diasporas – Japanese miners in Germany. While the huge guest worker programs for Italians and Turks prompted by the wirtschaftswunder that West Germany experienced during the 1950s/1960s are a well-known historical fact, few people know that there was a similar, albeit much smaller program for Japanese miners as well. Between 1957 and 1962, more than 400 miners worked in mines in the Ruhr area. They were sent as part of a government program to help modernize Japanese mining technology and were mainly supposed to acquire modern Western knowledge in this field, but the Japanese government also hoped that they would “experience Western democracy” and help promote understanding between the two countries by alleviating the shortage in the West German workforce. Although Mori did not discuss the political and diplomatic implications much, one could imagine that programs like this also provided an opportunity to rebuild diplomatic relations between the two former Axis partners in an uncontroversial way. The guest workers selected for the program came from the elite of the Japanese mining industry and had to undergo a careful screening and vetting process; they were not just required to be physically fit (with a height of more than 164 cm and a weight of no less that 56.3 kg), but also needed a middle school diploma and at least three years of job experience in their field, and they had to be of “impeccable character.” Only single men between 21 and 30 were accepted. Fascinatingly, the jobs seemed to have been so much in demand that two men even filed for divorce in order to be able to apply for the program. The high wages offered (twice as high as in Japan) only partially explain the massive popularity of the program, since there were were far more applicants than places.

Unfortunately, the highly motivated miners who passed the selection process were in for major disappointments as they started working in German coal shafts after an all but rudimentary training phase, which included classes in basic German. The German mining companies were looking for regular miners and appeared generally unwilling to properly teach the Japanese workers the advanced technology they desired. Only after significant pressure from the Japanese side did they offer some advanced training courses (Hauerkurs). Moreover (and defying the stereotype), German working conditions appeared to have been surprisingly hard for even these elite miners from Japan. They routinely complained that they were not allowed to rest during work or that they had to present a medical certificate if they wanted to abstain from work when they were feeling too tired.

On the positive side, the German population greeted the miners in a very friendly fashion; all newspapers in the region carried major stories whenever a new group of these exotic guest workers arrived, German women asked them for autographs in the street, or wanted to have their pictures taken with them, and many miners found themselves invited for dinner by German families over the weekend. They also used the comparatively long holidays in Germany to travel around Europe long before groups of Japanese tourists became a regular sight there. Around 30 of the workers even decided to stay in the country after the program had ended; most of them ended up marrying German wives. While numerically not in any way comparable to the phenomenon Italian and Turkish guest worker migration, or even the Korean miner exchange program of the 1960s, these people did form an early Japanese diaspora in Germany, and certainly are a worthwhile object of study. Many of them kept some kind of connection to the country even after their repatriation and stayed organized in groups such as the “Glückauf kai”.

I myself (and this might be the reason I was so fascinated by Mori’s presentation) met one of these veteran miners in 2006 at a meeting of the Japanese-German Society Tokyo (日独協会), where he was one of the most active members. Apparently, they still meet every year shortly after the New Year festivities. He showed me pictures of him and his colleagues at work in post-war Gelsenkirchen. One of those photos showed a union-organized demonstration – the Japanese miners apparently supported the German Kumpels during strikes. Another one displayed six of these young Japanese looking very solemn onto a coffin that held one of their comrades. Mining was a dangerous occupation back then, and no less than five of the 436 Japanese guest workers that visited Germany died in the coal shafts.

While Mishima Yukio is known outside of Japan primarily as a « gay » writer, enshrined along with Oscar Wilde and Marcel Proust on a ceiling mural depicting famous « gays and lesbians » at the Gay and Lesbian Center at the San Francisco Public Library, within Japan, he is remembered primarily for his anachronistic devotion to right-wing politics and aesthetics. Mishima Yukio’s two reputations thus constitute a conflation of both homosexual and fascist « tendencies. » It is a conflation which may seem contradictory to anyone with a knowledge of the brutal repression of homosexuals under European fascist regimes, but which nonetheless seems to subtend much of our understanding of both terms, both in Japan and elsewhere. [...] Indeed it seems fair to say that historical fascism itself was, among other things, a chilling example of a desperate homosocial order driven to extreme measures to shore up its own identity. Queer studies teaches us that identity and subjectivity, regardless of sexual orientation, are always already in crisis. Faced with this reality we have two choices : either to disavow it through a paranoid projection onto minorities and women, or to embrace it as an opportunity to recognize that all of our identities are formed through a process of promiscuous « identification. » Perhaps it would be wise to take a hint from the famously homofascist Mishima, and remember not just « All Japanese » but all of us, « are Perverse. »

(quoted from James Keith Vincent, Mishima Yukio : Everyone’s Favorite Homofascist)

Muragaki Awaji-no-kami leitet im Jahre 1860 eine japanische Delegation in die USA. In seinem Tagebuch notiert er seine Eindrücke von Amerika.

Bereits erschienen:
Teil 1 – Ehefrauen
Teil 2 – Geisterland
Teil 3 – Zehntausend Meilen
Teil 4 – Kaufmann
Teil 5 – Fischmarkt

Den größten Schock ihrer Reise erleben die ganz der Verehrung ihrer Ahnen hingegeben Japaner beim Besuch der ‘Smithsonian Institution’, einer 1846 durch Kongreßbeschluß gegründeten Forschungsanstalt, der die Aufgabe der Popularisierung aller Wissensgebiete zugewiesen ist.

An einem Pfeiler sahen wir Proben von Menschenhaar, ausgestellt in einem Glaskasten. Man teilte uns mit, das sei das Haar der vorherigen Präsidenten [es handelt sich um die Perücken der Präsidenten]. Welcher Mangel an Höflichkeit! Diese Tatsache spricht für sich selbst.
In den Glaskästen an den Wänden befanden sich Tausende von ausgestopften Tieren, Vögeln, Fischen, Reptilien und Insekten. Die Vögel sahen aus, als ob sie noch lebten. Einige Affen hatten in ihrem Körperbau auffällige Ähnlichkeit mit Menschen; Reptilien undd Frösche befanden sich in mit Alkohol gefüllten Glasbehältern; da es zehntausende waren, wurde uns fast übel. In einer Ecke der Halle sahen wir auch versteinerte Menschenkörper [Mumien] in Glaskästen. Man sagte uns, sie wären tausende Jahre alt, aber es waren keine Skelette. Obschon völlig eingetrocknet, waren die Körper doch vollständig, hatten sie Haut und Fleisch. Schwierig war es jedoch, das Geschlecht zu bestimmen.
Es ist so, daß diese Mumien zur Förderung der Wissenschaft von allen lebenden Kreaturen [...] ausgestellt sind. Und doch wussten wir gar nicht, was wir dazu sagen sollten, daß sie neben Fischen, Vögeln, Tieren und Insekten ausgestellt waren! Ich fühlte, wie ich vor Scham errötete. Wahrhaftig, dachte ich, diese Fremden haben den Namen ‘Barbaren’ nicht umsonst erworben!

(zit. nach: Die Geburt des modernen Japan in Augenzeugenberichten, hrsg. u. eingel. v. Gertrude C. Schwebell. Düsseldorf, 1970)

Another PV from Shugo’s recent album Exit, which by the way is very, very good. I’d love to write a more in-depth review, but I’m up to the neck with work right now.

(via Tonofon – Shugo Tokumaru’s official blog)

Beim sogenannten “Jahr der Geisteswissenschaften” springt zwar kein Geld, aber immerhin ein bißchen Werbung für mein Fach heraus:

Prof. Dr. Gesine Foljanty-Jost von der Universitt Halle-Wittenberg erklärt, woran die Wissenschaftlerinnen und Wissenschaftler ihres Fachs forschen, wie ansteckend das Lesen von Mangas sein kann und weshalb es in der Japanologie nicht nur um Japan geht, sondern auch um Deutschland.

Link zum Video

12. November 1970 - Abendessen mit Mishima. Er war in äußerst aggressiver Stimmung. Charmant wie immer, doch Anfälle von starker Aggression. Meinte, ich könne ebensogut meine Koffer packen und nach Hause fahren, da “kein Ausländer Japan je verstehen wird”. Ich finde, er geht etwas zu weit. In gewisser Weise wird kein Japaner den Westen je “verstehen”. Also was soll das? Der Mann ist ein Perfektionist. [...] Er ging auch seltsam kritisch mit westlichen Gelehrten zu Gericht und ihren Studien über Japan, bestand darauf und blickte mir dabei fest in die Augen, daß die Gelehrten die “dunkle” Seite japanischer Tradition vernachlässigen und sich lediglich mit den “sanften” Aspekten japanischer Kultur befassen. Warum ist er in letzter Zeit so unhöflich? Und wo bleibt sein Sinn für Humor?

(zit. nach: Henry Scott Stokes, Yukio Mishima. Leben und Tod. Aus dem Amerikan. übertr. v. Traudl Kurz-Perlinger. München, 1986)

Muragaki Awaji-no-kami leitet im Jahre 1860 eine japanische Delegation in die USA. In seinem Tagebuch notiert er seine Eindrücke von Amerika.

Bereits erschienen:
Teil 1 – Ehefrauen
Teil 2 – Geisterland
Teil 3 – Zehntausend Meilen
Teil 4 – Kaufmann

Die japanische Delegation nimmt als Zuhörer an einer turnusmäßigen Senatssitzung teil. 40 bis 50 Senatoren sind anwesend.

Einer sprang auf und schimpfte – so laut er konnte – und gestikulierte wie ein Verrückter. Als er sich hinsetzte, folgten ihm weitere, die sich alle in derselben Art verhielten. Auf unsere Frage sagte man, daß die Staatsangelegenheiten hier öffentlich diskutiert würden. Wir konnten keine weiteren Fragen stellen, obwohl wir dazu animiert wurden. Es wäre sehr ungehörig und unhöflich von uns gewesen, sich mit den Staatsangelegenheiten einer anderen Nation zu befassen. [...] Die Senatoren trugen ihre üblichen engen schwarzen Jacken und Hosen und erhoben ihre Stimmen in einer entschieden zu ungehörigen Weise.
Wir flüsterten uns zu, daß die Szene der auf dem Fischmarkt von Nihonbashi ähnelte und lächelten.

Bereits zuvor hatten die Japaner in Washington an einem öffentlichen Empfang teilgenommen, bei dem sich eher unwohl fühlten.

Wir konnten nicht verstehen, warum wir diese Tausende von Menschen vom Balkon aus begrüßen sollten, und nicht einmal eine Tasse Tee wurde uns angeboten, und weshalb wir später dieses Gebäude besichtigen mußten, das wie ein verlassener buddhistischer Tempel aussah [das Weiße Haus].

(zit. nach: Die Geburt des modernen Japan in Augenzeugenberichten, hrsg. u. eingel. v. Gertrude C. Schwebell. Düsseldorf, 1970)

Though occupied with preparing a talk on studying in Japan and cramming for my exams, I managed to attend at least part of the symposium on Japanese Diaspora Studies at Düsseldorf’s Heinrich-Heine-Universität that I wrote about earlier. This was, to the best of my knowledge, the first conference on this topic in German Japanese Studies. It was quite lively, with contributions from German, Japanese-American, Chinese and Japanese scholars and discussions routinely held in three languages, as befit the subject. In this first post, I will summarize the opening speeches by Shingo Shimada and Harumi Befu. I will try to provide summaries to some of the other contributions later, notably Kyungsik Suh’s well-received account of his zainichi identity and language politics, and Ludger Pries’s more theory-focused paper on the concept of trans-national space.

In his introduction, host and organizer Shingo Shimada emphasized the potential for further theoretical development that the conference offfered to Japanese Studies in Germany, especially since paper dealt with both Japanese diasporas abroad and foreign diasporas in Japan. He explained how he had always focused on issues of identity, otherness and alterity rather than on traditional Japanese Studies subjects in his research, and how diaspora studies tied in with his personal background as a Japanese expat teaching in Germany. Shimada expressed his hope to turn Düsseldorf University into a center of Japanese Diaspora Studies in Europe by cooperating with international researchers.

Düsseldorf, of course, is home to the biggest Japanese diaspora community in Germany. In absolute numbers, the Japanese population is rather small when compared to e.g. certain U.S. west coast cities- there are 7,000 Japanese people in the city of Düsseldorf, and 11,000 in all of Northrhine-Westphalia. But here is perhaps the place in Europe where you are most likely to meet a Japanese person while walking down the street, since these few thousand people constitute over two percent of the city population. Düsseldorf’s Japanese are mostly business men and their families who stay for a couple of years before returning to Japan. They form their own tightly-knit community with their own parallel institutions (from schools and super markets right down to a Shin Buddhist temple) and don’t interact much with the locals, except perhaps on Japan Day, which draws huge crowds every year. In that they are quite similar not just to Japanese diasporas all over the world, but perhaps to expat communities from every background, everywhere (e.g., the gaijin crowd in Hirō isn’t exactly famous for its openness towards Japanese society, either). In short, Düsseldorf does indeed seem like a promising environment for what Shimada intends to build.

Stanford’s Harumi Befu delivered the keynote speech to the conference. After apologizing for contributing to “English language imperialism” by speaking English (most people seemed unsure wether they were supposed to laugh here), Befu gave what came down to a general, roughly chronological outline of the history of the Japanese diaspora. He distinguished between three types of diasporas – dekasegi-type migrant worker diasporas, war-driven colonial diasporas and those business communities like Düsseldorf that owe their existence to the forces of the global market. He went on to characterize each type in detail, focusing on the (post-)Meiji versions of these types, but also tying each to certain pre-modern predecessors – e.g., the dekasegi migrants emulated a pattern of migration already existent in Tokugawa Japan, where impoverished villagers would move to the cities to make a buck, while ‘global market’ type communities had their predecessors in pre-sakoku overseas settlings of Japanese merchants throughout East/SE Asia. In the last part of his speech, Befu commented on the problem of integrating these migrant communities into their respective (local, rather than national) host society. He noted that small communities of overseas Japanese out of necessity tend to interact a lot with the local population, while the larger ones like the Düsseldorf diaspora form rather impenetrable ethnic clusters, develop hierarchies between newcomers and long-stayers and keep almost exclusively to themselves. The paradoxical development in the inter/transnational Japanese ethnoscape thus seems to be that even while Japan itself is slowly becoming more international and open, its growing international dependencies become more and more ingrown and static.

All in all, the first day felt like a good start to this symposium. Nice food at the reception, too.

The European manners that Mishima often affected were typical of the old upper class. His samurai fantasies were not necessarily a contradiction to this. He wanted to remain an aristocrat, a knight of a special brotherhood in a vulgar age. Being Japanese, the only tradition of knighthood he could fall back upon was The Way of the Samurai, as expressed in such flamboyant works as Hagakure. [...] But let us not be conned into thinking that he stood for more than himself. It would be best to concentrate on his books as works of art, not as props for grand statements about the authors life and death [...] I do think most Japanese are right in regarding Mishima’s seppuku as little more than the pathetic act of a very gifted buffoon.

(quoted from Ian Buruma, The Missionary and the Libertine. Love and War in East and West. London, et al.: 1996)