2. Japan could use more logic, less poetry

By SHIN-ICHI TERASHIMA

Japan has often come under fire from other countries for its perceived reluctance to assume a more prominent role in world affairs. For a nation with so much economic clout, Japan remains something of a lightweight in the international political arena. In most international affairs, particularly problematic ones -- and most particularly where the use of military force is involved -- Japan has basically been the “sleeping partner,” letting others run the show while providing substantial financial support.

This is a trait that has angered some and perplexed most. It is apparently inconceivable to the Western mind that any nation would eschew the chance to lead, to be at the forefront of global change, to help shape not only the present, but also, and more importantly, the future. What they do not realize is that, at least as far as the Japanese are concerned, there is no future.

  Western philosophy views the passage of time as a dynamic process: The past leads up to the present, which, in turn, points forward to the future. In this seamless continuum, the three component elements exercise a cumulative effect: The past shapes the present, and the past and present both shape the future. For the Japanese, however, there is no such broad spectrum where time is concerned. The present is all that matters. Trying to shape the future through the present, one of the tasks of any nation aspiring to global leadership, seems therefore unnecessary, inadvisable and distinctly un-Japanese.

For the Western mind, reality spans the three dimensions of time. But for the Japanese, reality is what exists in the present, not what has happened in the past or may happen in the future. Western philosophy delves into the nature of reality across time, but for the Japanese, life as it exists at the present moment in time is the definition of reality. Past and future fall into the realm, not of philosophy, but of poetry.

Any study of the past or the future relies heavily on imagination. We are, after all, attempting to analyze something that does not exist. Either it has existed (the past) or will, perhaps, exist (the future). For Westerners, such imaginary forays are conducted in accordance with the rules of logic, but for Japanese, being logical is far less important than conveying the correct poetic image; compare, for instance the clear-cut approach of Milton’s “Paradise Lost” to the amorphous sentiments of Japanese haiku and “waka.”

A logician and a poet may approach the same situation in different ways. The immutable rule of law exemplified in Western societies becomes fuzzy and imprecise in a Japanese context. Japanese leaders are sometimes criticized in the Western press for their unwillingness to make clear, unambiguous statements. They often appear to be dodging the question, particularly where controversial issues are concerned. When a member of a Western society acts in an unacceptable manner, the response of his peers and leaders is: So-and-so did this (past tense). He must be prevented from doing so again (future tense). In an analogous situation, the response of the Japanese and their leaders is limited to the present tense: “I am sorry to see So-and-so do this.”

According to Japanese thinking, there are two kinds of things in the world: “honto” (real or true) and “uso” (unreal or false). Things in the present are real because they are objective and scientific; those in the past and future are unreal because they are subjective and imaginary. Correspondingly, one’s life, too, should be firmly grounded in the present. One should be constantly on guard to maintain homogeneity with regard to the group, staying neither too far behind the times nor too far ahead of them. People are expected to be unanimous in their perception of accepted reality, namely, the present.

Since World War II, the Japanese have diligently toiled under the motto “Amerika ni oitsuke, oikose” (Catch up with America, pass America). The traditional Japanese education system has been supplanted by one based on Western concepts shaped to fit the Japanese mold, to make modern logicians (“rironka”) rather than traditional poets (“kajin”). The effort has been less than successful, which is hardly surprising given than successful, which is hardly surprising given that in Japan ideas and opinions are considered illogical because they are independent of things as they are, i.e. the present. Individual creativity can hardly be expected to flourish in an environment where expressing one’s views, particularly critical ones, is tantamount to antisocial behavior.

How can we improve either the present or the future if we are unwilling to express our opinions and consider questions of past, present and future? I recently observed an incident that spotlighted this dilemma. A university professor (A) , infuriated by the line of bicycles parked illegally on the sidewalk, began to overturn them one after the other. A colleague (B) then reprimanded him, saying that passerby could still get past by walking around the bicycles. A retorted that it was precisely because of the lenient attitude of people like B that such disorderly practices were tolerated. Stung by the remark, B accused A of putting on airs and of thinking that he was always right.

Neither participant in this little drama behaved logically. A was, of course, justified in criticizing the illegal parking, but his reaction to it was motivated more by pique than logic: Overturning the bicycles served only to further clutter the sidewalk, and doing so hardly ensured that the problem would not recur. B, too, failed to come up with either a short-term or a long-term solution to the problem: Ignoring it served only to preserve the status quo.

We can hardly solve our own problems, let alone those of the world as a whole, unless we are willing to confront them rationally. East may be East and West may be West, but the twain can, and must, meet if we are to find logical solutions to difficult issues.

The Japan Times, Saturday, October 23, 1999

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