Kamogawa 鴨川

The route from my apartment to Sanjō-eki and back took me down the rough stone path along the Kamogawa’s banks. In the daylight, the Kamogawa was just an ordinary river, just an obstacle standing between me and my destination. But at night, it transformed into something different. Something magical.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see the delicate light of the paper lanterns reflected in the water and the intertwined silhouettes of the young lovers sitting along the riverbank. I can still hear the hushed murmur of their voices, one with the gentle rush of the water, punctuated by the wisps of a street musician’s melancholy lyrics drifting from somewhere in the distance: makesou de … nakisou de … kiete shimaisouna toki wa… I can still smell the sweet perfume of the mountain grasses mingling with the aroma of tobacco. And I can still feel the warm summer breeze at my back…

In the hundreds of times I made the journey, I never once lingered to enjoy the music. I never once paused to inhale deeply. I never once sat along the Kamogawa’s banks, embracing someone I loved. I was always nothing more than a passive observer, gliding silently by.

I’ve traveled to many beautiful and awe-inspiring places in my lifetime, from the white sand beaches of Bali to the towering mountains of western China, making countless happy memories along the way. Yet as I lie in the darkness, I don’t remember any of these. I only remember the banks of the Kamogawa in the twilight. And I find myself wishing that I could open my eyes and be there once again, walking alone through the night and floating, as though I were a ghost, above the sea of worldly emotion around me.

cowardice

The icy night sky
precludes me from the heavens
like the cowardice
deep inside my wretched heart
that keeps me away from you.

Of Tires, Chickens, and Stupidity

In a September 17, 2009 editorial entitled “Economic Vandalism,” the Economist decried the Obama administration’s decision to implement harsh tariffs on tires imported from the People’s Republic of China as “bad politics, bad economics, [and] bad diplomacy.” It is hard not to agree with this assessment. At a time when the global economy is already faltering and the US desperately needs Chinese support on a wide range of key issues, it can hardly afford to alienate China with protectionist trade policies aimed primarily at generating domestic political capital.

The importers of the newly-tariffed Chinese tires will no doubt simply turn to other developing nations for their supply of inexpensive imports, and the United Steelworkers’ Union which originally petitioned the Obama administration to take action against the Chinese tires will have in essence gained nothing. Yet the trade dispute resulting from Obama’s decision to implement this tariff has potentially wide-reaching implications. Indeed, the fallout has already begun. After an outpouring of anti-American rhetoric from the Chinese internet community, the country’s commerce ministry announced that it would begin investigations aimed at implementing tariffs on imports of chicken and automotive products from the US. While China will barely notice the loss of a mere $1.3 billion of tire exports — a relatively miniscule 0.38% of its total exports to the US — the floundering American automotive industry cannot afford to lose a market of 1.33 billion consumers. GM, for instance, sells more cars in China than anyone but Volkswagen, and the retaliatory action by the Chinese government will further undermine GM’s already shaky financial state.

The impact of the brewing mini-trade war between the United States and China has the potential to reach far beyond the tire, chicken, and automotive industries. During the Great Depression in the 1930s, a rise in protectionist trade policies is widely credited with prolonging the recession and exacerbating its effects. With the world’s economy still on shaky footing, no country can afford to engage in self-serving protectionism. Furthermore, in capitulating to the protectionist demands of the steelworkers’ union, the Obama administration has set a dangerous precedent, inviting a flood of similar demands from other special interest groups. In addition, the United States, long the leading cheerleader of free trade and the global economy, has opened itself to accusations of engaging in hypocritical, politically-motivated policymaking. President Obama, who at one point specifically pledged to not engage in “self-defeating protectionism,” has now lost vital credibility in dealing with economic issues.

Moreover, the Obama administration desperately needs Chinese cooperation on a number of key policy issues. Its permanent seat on the UN Security Council and corresponding veto power means that China’s support is critical in addressing the nuclear weapons programs of North Korea and Iran. Likewise, PRC backing of any new international climate change legislation is essential. Finally, continued collaboration with China on economic issues, including yuan valuation and US treasury bonds, is also crucial.

The Chinese response to Obama’s actions was justified. China did not, so to speak, fire the first shot. The United States, especially with its role in leading the world into recession, no longer possesses the ability to unilaterally take economic action against other nations without facing reprisals — nor should it. China’s domestic economy is growing rapidly, reducing its reliance on exports to the US and placing it in a position to be able to call out hypocritical and counterproductive American policies. For once, the tables have been turned: the United States now has far more to lose than China.

Misleading Headlines and Media Bias

China court sentences drunk driver to death. This rather shocking headline graced an AP story posted yesterday to MSNBC.com, implying that the Chinese justice system was now in the habit of executing citizens for what, in the United States, is generally a misdemeanor offense. Many who saw this headline likely read no further: it simply further confirmed what they already had been told countless times by the media about the Chinese government’s widespread abuse of its citizens.

However, the article itself tells a very different story than this sensationalist and misleading headline. It reveals that the 30-year-old man was, in fact, not condemned to death for the simple act of driving while intoxicated:

He was reportedly drunk and speeding in the capital of Sichuan province last year when he struck four other cars. Four people were killed and another person was seriously injured. He was also driving without a license.

Indeed, the man was sentenced to death for what amounts to murdering four other drivers and seriously injuring a fifth, an offense which, under any judicial system, would result in far more than a slap on the wrist. May I suggest a more accurate headline? Drunk driver kills four, is sentenced to death.

Not content with just a misleading headline, however, the article’s author proceeds to give us a lesson in lying with statistics.

China imposes capital punishment more than any other country. Amnesty International says China put at least 1,718 people to death last year. The actual figure is believed to be higher.

This widely quoted figure fails to take into account that China also has the world’s largest population, currently sitting at 1.33 billion — more than four times the number of citizens in the US. A more accurate statistic would be the number of executions per capita, which can also be calculated from the data provided by Amnesty International. NationMaster has done so, providing us with some significantly different results.

When population is taken into account, the country with the most heavy-handed use of the death penalty is not China, but rather the Bahamas, closely followed by Singapore. Indeed, thirteen nations use the death penalty more frequently than China, which places 14th on the list of executions per capita. The United States ranks 20th, sentencing its citizens to death more than 175 other countries. Why does the American media rarely highlight this fact, or condemn the Bahamas and Singapore?

While the PRC government, like any other, certainly has plenty to answer for, this type of deliberately misleading journalism serves as little more than propaganda, reinforcing popular inaccuracies and distorting reality. Americans are incensed when we catch wind of this type of biased reporting taking place in other countries, yet turn a blind eye to blatant offenses occurring in our own press. The next time, before we complain about irresponsible, misleading reporting, we should look in the mirror.

Birthplace of Genji? Not really.

Murasaki Shikibu’s famous Tale of Genji (源氏物語) is unarguably a famous piece of classical literature. It is frequently called “the world’s first novel” (though this is a matter of some debate), and is generally considered to be a literary masterpiece. Thus, it comes as no surprise that there is no shortage of various persons and groups seeking to somehow benefit from Murasaki’s fame.

One of the best-known of these is the Buddhist temple Ishiyama-dera (石山寺), located just outside of Kyoto along the shores of Lake Biwa. According to the temple, Murasaki wrote Genji while spending time at the temple, in the room now known as the “Genji Room” (源氏の間). The monks have been asserting this as fact for hundreds of years. The following excerpt, translated by my classical Japanese professor Jamie Newhard, is from the Ishiyamadera Engi (石山寺縁起), originally published in 1327:

Murasaki Shikibu … secluded herself at this temple for seven days. Looking out into the distance over the lake, she cleared her mind, and various scenes floated up in her heart and obstructed her vision. Since she was not prepared with paper, in her heart she asked the Buddha enshrined here for the paper of a copy of the Prajnaparamita Sutra that was placed in the hall, and wrote down the unexpected scenes continuously. … The place where the tale was written is called the Genji Room, and it is said that this place is unchanged.

Today, the temple’s website continues to put forth essentially the same assertions. Recently, for the 1000th anniversary of Murasaki’s tale, the temple installed a cartoonish wooden cutout Genji (seen above) outside its main gates and placed a robotic Murasaki Shikibu inside the Genji Room.

Despite its ancient origins, however, the tale associating Genji with Ishiyama-dera appears to have little basis in fact. Most scholars agree that little of none of the tale was likely written at Ishiyama-dera; the majority of Genji was most likely written while Murasaki was at court in Kyoto itself.

SeaWorld, Without the Glass and Fences

When thinking about Ise (伊勢) and Japan’s Shima Peninsula (志摩半島), famous Shinto shrines, married rocks, and Mikimoto Pearls come readily to mind. Miniature SeaWorld-style theme parks do not. Yet, Futami Sea Paradise (二見シーパラダイス) is one of the area’s most interesting attractions.

What makes the park especially unique is the freedom given to both visitors and aquatic life forms: this is SeaWorld without the glass and fences (or the roller coasters). Walruses and seals mingle with humans freely, albeit under the watchful eye of park staff. Dolphins play catch with children from an open pool. As part of a sea lion show, the animals are led directly into and through the crowd.

And the occasional “lucky” visitor will even be kissed by a walrus.

My first thoughts upon visiting the park involved liability, lawyers, and lawsuits. These were wild animals! They could hurt someone! Think of the children! But as I walked around wide-eyed and slack-jawed, witnessing the happy interactions between Japanese families and the park’s resident marine mammals, I quickly became convinced that this was simply one more example of the amazing experiences that Americans were being deprived of because of our society’s paranoid and overly litigious nature.

Chasing a Recluse: Kamo no Chōmei

12th century Japanese author Kamo no Chōmei (鴨長明) is most famous for the Hōjōki (方丈記), a classic work in which he describes his retreat from the world and subsequent experience living in a hōjō – a ten foot square hut – in the wilderness of Hino (日野山), a mountain outside of Kyoto. Chōmei’s Hōjōki is thus often compared with Thoreau’s Walden. After having recently completed reading the Hōjōki, I set off on an attempt to visit the alleged site of Chōmei’s famous hut.

As I began to climb towards the mountains of eastern Kyoto from the nearest station, signs marking the way to Chōmei’s hut began to appear every few hundreds of meters. Slowly, the ubiquitous convenience stores, apartment blocks, and vending machines that characterize urban and suburban Japan began to gave way to rice fields and small single-family homes. After hiking a few kilometers, past bemused locals – why is there a foreigner out here? – and an abandoned public sports complex, I arrived at the foot of Mt. Hino.

Traces of civilization abruptly disappeared, replaced only by worn markers reassuring visitors that the overgrown dirt path ahead of them was indeed the way to Chōmei’s hut. After scrambling up slippery hillsides, past several suspicious-looking giant centipedes, and being feasted upon by several dozen mosquitoes, I finally arrived at the site of Chōmei’s famed hōjō.

I’m not sure what I was expecting. I was, after all, traveling to the site of a tiny, wooden hut from the 12th century. But in Japan, almost anything with the slightest potential appeal is readily converted to at least some form of a tourist attraction. Buildings from past centuries are frequently reconstructed, complete with the requisite souvenir shops and dining opportunities. Surely there would be something interesting to mark the site at which one of the most famous pieces of classical Japanese literature was written?

Instead, I found nothing more than a faded signpost resting askew against some rocks. I snapped the requisite picture (at right), and turned to stumble back down the trail before Mt. Hino’s insect population could inflict any more damage.

If for some reason you would like to repeat my journey, take the Tōzai Line (東西線) of the Kyoto City subway to Ishida (石田駅) and head southeast from the exit, passing a Seven-Eleven and following the turns indicated on the signs along the way. More detailed information on Mt. Hino can be found (in Japanese) here.