Dogs and Demons – viewing Japan without the rose-tinted glasses

I finished reading Alex Kerr’s ‘Dogs and Demons’ last night. Two weeks or so after it landed through my door, it’s the fastest I’ve read a book in a while, and so safe to say it was an engrossing read. The book was originally recommended to me by a friend who’d lived in Japan before me following my observations about the appeal of and unique approach the Japanese have to space – inside the often cramped living spaces but also in the cities’ lay outs, especially Tokyo’s ‘vertical’ display of shopping and entertainment. With this in mind, and having never really looked into the book before buying it, I’d always assumed the book dealt with that particular point. The subtitle should have alerted me that it was probably not the case – ‘The Fall of Modern Japan’ does have implications after all.

Despite these facts, as I mentioned, the book was an enjoyable read for the most part. I made a quick post after having started it, which you can read here, and another about half-way through – both touching on what is arguably the book’s central ‘theme’ and argument, Japan’s verocious appetite for construction and the detrimental effect this has on the country’s nature, society and culture.

This post is a mixed affair – part review, part observation of the book and the points it makes.

I googled for reviews as I was reading it and could only find one ‘critical’ of the book, though only with regards to certain aspects of the author’s argumentation, rather than his overall point – that Japan is in trouble, socially, economically and culturally. There were plenty of reviews that applauded the book, mainly written by ex-Japan residents who were for the most part seemingly happy someone was calling a spade a spade when it came to what they saw as flaws in Japan’s culture and society. Having read the book and lived in Japan, and having a long history of love and fascination with the country and its culture, I stand somewhere in between those two camps in a way – I agree with the author on many of the critical points he makes, and which I often read about for the first time (aside from my own personal observations and discussions with Japanese people and ex-pat residents), and I also find a fair bit to be lacking from his ‘analysis’ and critique.

The book is ten years old more or less this year, and it has and hasn’t aged. Many of the things that left me confused, perplexed or angry about living in Japan, and Tokyo, are explained, given historical background and put into perspective, something which for me is one of the book’s strongest points. At the same time the ten years have put a dent in some of the conclusions drawn by the author, as well as, some might argue, disproven a few of them – such as for example his rather odd use of the – at the time – rising ‘kawaii’ movement (if you can call it that) as proof of Japan’s cultural decline. After all one man’s cultural horror is another’s wealth. I’ve never been as attracted to traditional Japanese cultural movements, such as Noh or Kabuki, as I have been to its modern equivalents, such as anime or video games. Yet the author, a keen fan of traditional Japanese culture, argues that Pokemon, kawaii culture (ie. Hello Kitty and co) and manga are proof of the country’s cultural decline. Personally I don’t agree and there is a wealth of academical and journalistic work to back either side.

The most annoying thing about the book is that, while captivating, it lacks a certain critical edge and rationale. When you might expect him to back up statements or arguments with research before drawing a ‘logical’ conclusion, he instead merely repeats a few of the book’s mantras, such as ‘Japan is concreting its nature’ or ‘corruption and misuse of power are endemic’, or simply hammers the point home in ways that become tiring over the course of 300+ pages. It’s as if the book constantly staddles a fine line between being academic (yet it lacks the depth of research and backing up required of such works) and being an articulate ‘rant’. That’s not necessarily a bad thing mind you, as most academic book are generally behind times and too stuffy to be engrossing. Still it made me uncomfortable and I did reach a point where, despite being interested in what the author was stating, I wanted him to either make a well-rounded conclusion or stop repeating what I’d already read for the umpthteen time.

As I mentioned the historical framework which Kerr gives to its major criticisms, such as the horrible grip the bureaucracy holds over the country, is fascinating for those, who like me, feel an affinity with Japan and yet know that something isn’t quite ‘right’ – despite the fact that ‘right’ for a westerner and ‘right’ for a Japanese person will most likely never be the same thing. His explanations of how the current political system came to be is fascinating, as is the looks at its inner workings and how these result in more pain for the Japanese, their culture and their country. Equally is debunking of the myth of Japan has an ‘advanced’ nation is fascinating, if at times poorly argued.

Yet I couldn’t but feel that at times this was too much an American’s view of the problem, as opposed to a truely impartial, or honest, foreigner’s look at things. This is a given as Kerr is American, though he was raised internationally and therefore I found it odd, as an international kid myself, that he would repeatedly draw parallels between Japan and the USA, as opposed to other countries. For example while his arguments about the inefficiency of the political system and its deep level of corruption and apathy are valid, they are not, in my eyes, that surprising or shocking, as he somehow tries to make them out to be. This is where my previously explored comparisons of Italy and Japan came back to mind.

For a start, Italy is just as bad as Japan, if not worse in some places (when it comes to corruption for example). Italy is also just as guilty as Japan of spewing out mindnumbing entertainment and culture, in stark contrast to its glorious cultural and historical past. Italy is also guilty of butchering its own countryside and heritage, though there I would wager Japan may well take the lead. I have witnessed the small village in northern Italy I partly grew up in change from picturesque to grotesque in the space of 20 odd years. Where once stood an interesting mix of modern, traditional and nature now stands two American-style malls and a lot of prefabricated, rather ugly housing lots. Alex Kerr’s points are valid, yet one can’t help but feel they are distinctly biased towards a Japan/USA world view, despite his invocation of European examples at various times in the book.

Another rather annoying streak, and already mentioned, his the constant valuing of Japan’s tradition as somehow worthier than its modern equivalents, or lack of equivalents.

While I agree with certain sides of this argument, such as his dismay of the country’s treatment of its natural habitat, I also found myself going back over my own memories and feelings and realising that after all the reality of my time in Japan wasn’t as bad as the book made it out to be and that people like me probably didn’t see as many problems with modern Japan as he did.

A perfect example of this is the use of and approach to space in Japan, which originally led me to the book. Kerr explains that Japan’s lack of zoning laws, coupled with industrial- and political-strength appetite for construction and a disregard for public opinion has led to cities which are a blight on the country’s heritage and a ‘shame’ of sorts in the modern world. Kyoto is repeatedly used as an example in this argument. Now I only spent a short time in Kyoto during my 18 months there, yet I never once felt as horrified or shocked by the city as Kerr makes it out in the book. I did find it different than what I’d picture it to be, but by no means was it a horrible experience. Kerr’s explanation of what has befallen Kyoto has put some of my questions about what I saw there into perspective, and despite his obvious love for the city, I would argue that Kyoto still has much to offer those who visit it, depending of course on how they first choose to approach it.

As for Tokyo, I love the chaos that the aforementioned political factors have wrought on the city. I love walking around the city, be it downtown or in its suburbs, more than I’ve enjoyed walking in any other city I’ve lived in or visited. Despite this, reading about the reasons why this chaos exists does interest me and bothers me. However it bothers me more that arguments like Kerr’s are banded about without being given a just balance – I doubt I’m the only one who ever felt this way about Japan’s urban chaos and disparity.

Additionally he explains how the Japanese regularly argue that their country offers little ‘usable’ space for its population, due to its mountainous nature, therefore leading to the overly populated and cramped cities Japan is today known for. Kerr breaks down this accepted belief by quoting numbers that show Japan to have roughly the same habitable space as England, and more than many other countries which have not resorted to the same drastic measures as it has. Faced with facts it’s hard to find a bone to pick with his argument, yet it is this belief that their country cannot accommodate them easily that has led to what are, for me anyways, fascinating ways of using space and living inside it. These fascinating ways were also often deeply annoying for me, such as for example the difficulty or impossibility of having a lot of personal space or being able to invite people into your home for a drink. Yet the fascination was always, and still is, greater than the annoyance. We can argue all we want about the reality and need for it, but modern Japan’s unique approach to space remains I believe one of its most appealing characteristics.

One of the most interesting things I took from the book was a chain of thought that arose from Kerr’s look at the lack of real critical writing and commenting on Japan. He often laments the fact that Japan experts fail to point out the country’s failures when extolling its virtues to their non-Japanese audience. As a side note, and to be fair to the author, he does at one point put himself in that group when it comes to his work on extolling the virtues of certain traditional Japanese arts as well as give some balanced accounts of certain critics’ uneasy position.

Kerr argues that critical commenting on Japan’s situation is lacking, and in a way he does imply that more critical commenting and a real opening of what Japan is like today may help combat some of the problems the country faces. This got me thinking – ten years on what exactly is the commenting on Japan like, in a world where the internet changed everything when it comes to dissemination of information and the opening up of the critic field (ie. everyone can say what they want and think). Has the blogosphere (excuse the use of the term but it fits nicely there despite being a little outdated) and the renewed social dimension of the web made it easier for insiders, both Japanese and foreign, to expose Japan’s reality for what it really is? Well yes and no would be my answer.

Yes because it is easier to find daily accounts of what life in Japan as a foreigner is like today (this blog being, partly, an example of this), something that was not so easily possible ten years ago, and before, when the book was written. Yes because you can talk with both Japanese and foreigners living in Japan as easily as you can talk with your friend in the next city through the myriad of communication channels the internet has opened up. And yes because the internet and the revolution that is grasping all media industries today have made it possible for independent, investigative journalism without financial backing to be as easily available as the government mouthpiece media news. A last good example is also the proliferation of photo blogs about Japan as well as sites which translate Japanese news for westerners.

And no because despite the web’s influence and opening up of boundaries there still remains a distance between Japan and the West that no amount of modern technology and ‘global village’ approach will reduce. Japan is still a country that is mystified and far away. Its language is still barely spoken by anyone but its inhabitants. And while there is a wealth of critical information about the country available out there, there is also a wealth of rose-tinted, uncritical information out there too, simply extolling the virtues of a strange land and its people far away. Ultimately it remains a case of us and them (soto and uchi as the Japanese call it).

Dogs and Demons should be read by anyone who’s ever lived in Japan and/or with an interest in the country, its culture and its people. It should also be put into historical context, especially as the last ten years seem to have most definitely affected a big part of its content and arguments. It may be a critical look at Japan, at times harsh, yet it is most definitely a book that is essentially about what makes Japan so fascinating and why it enchants so many people like Alex Kerr or myself. It is, as one quoted review says, a product of tough love. And it provides plenty of food for thought.

As an aside, I’d love for anyone (who made it this far) to point out any decent critical blogs/sites about Japan. So far I’ve only found one or two and they all seemingly come with a rather annoying, holier-than-thou angle which I find hard to ignore much less support.