Reviews Japanese Only


	Book Info: Japanese Only: The Otaru Hot Springs Case and Racial Discrimination in Japan By Debito Arudou Akashi Shoten Inc.; ISBN: 4-7503-2005-6; October 2004; pp. 432

	Book Info: My Darling is a Foreigner By Saori Oguri Media Factory; ISBN: 4840106835; December 2002; pp. 159
	Who is the Weakest Link? Debito Arudou Gregory Clark Saori Oguri Tony Laszlo Ana Bortz

The Dave and Tony Show
By: Yuki Allyson Honjo

The “How” of it All

As the film critic Roger Ebert noted, it’s not so much what a movie is about, but how it is about it. That is, a mark of a good film is defined not so much by its subject matter, but rather by how the story is told.

The same could be said of good books, be it fiction or non-fiction. Some of the most mundane subjects can be the most beautiful of books. Take, for example, Edward Tufte’s Envisioning Information; it tackles the seemingly dull topic of how to make effective charts, graphs, and tables.¹ Yet, the resulting volume is sublime, the perfect combination of art and science, and delightful and surprising as a child’s picture book.

Debito Arudou (né David Christopher Aldwinckle) and Saori Oguri both tackle similar issues in their books: racial integration and tolerance in Japan. Arudou, in his 400 plus page tome Japanese Only, seeks to chart the “emergence of volunteerism and civil society in Japan through one particular event—the Otaru Onsens Case” (Arudou, p. i). In this lawsuit, Arudou sued a bath house in Japan because of its “Japanese Only” policies. Oguri’s Darin wa Gaikokujin, or My Darling is a Foreigner, is a slim bestselling comic (manga) book in Japanese on her life with husband Tony Laszlo, who also happened to play an instrumental role in Arudou's activism. “Upon getting married,” Oguri writes, “I think the issue of a life together is not so much whether you are a Japanese or a foreigner, but how your personalities are alike or different” (Oguri, p. 2). But, like every marriage, occasional misunderstandings and frictions occur in the Oguri household.

While their media and methodology are dissimilar, both Arudou and Oguri offer us case studies in Japanese racial tolerance towards "foreigners." Nevertheless, it is in the “how” that both authors not only go about telling their stories, but also in how they diverge; one succeeds, one does not.

The Dave Show

First, a disclosure: I know Arudou personally and have sympathy for his lawsuit. I firmly believe that Japan has little excuse to allow businesses to openly reject patrons based on race. I have very little time for apologists such as former Tama University President Gregory Clark: he implies that discrimination is a justifiable defense to preserve Japanese culture. “True, discrimination against foreigners can be unpleasant,” Clark argues. “. . .But as often as not, that is because they do not want to obey Japan’s rules and customs” (Arudou, p. 95). Nor do I give much credence to the idea that it is “un-Japanese” to sue: the lack of Japanese lawsuits is more a reflection of inefficiencies in the Japanese document-based court system rather than some amorphous and undefined notions of “culture.” Given my contact with Arudou, I think his commitment to this lawsuit is genuine and sincere. It should also be noted that JapanReview.Net co-editor, Paul J. Scalise, had vetted a draft manuscript and is included in the acknowledgements. I have—to the best of my abilities—tried to set aside my personal biases and empathies in this review: if I failed, it is solely my responsibility.

...In judging the merits and demerits of Japanese Only one has to decide the standards and benchmarks from which to guage it.

Arudou gained domestic and international fame through his protests against anti-foreign sentiments in the port city of Otaru, in northern Japan. In Sept 10, 1999, Arudou came across an anonymous e-mail post to the Issho Kikaku Mailing list by a South American woman married to a Japanese (Arudou, pp. 14-5). The multinational family was ejected by a hot spring in the Otaru area for being “foreign.” In reaction, Arudou and his colleagues created an informal group to test this assertion. Arudou, who is Caucasian and a long-term resident of Japan, was ejected from a hot spring bath house (onsen), Yunohana Onsen. A movement was born.

The onsen owners, who had claimed to have problems with inebriated and rowdy Russian sailors, asked Arudou, his Japanese family, and his non-Asian looking cohorts to leave. The businesses had posted signs stating that bath facilities were for "Japanese Only" (see photo Arudou, pp. 31, 39, 113). The onsen owners argued that it was discriminatory to reject only Russians, so they turned away all foreigners.

Arudou and his future co-plaintiff, Olaf Karthaus, together with the head of Issho Kikaku, “dapper and intelligent, European-born [Tony] Laszlo,” worked on the BENCI (Businesses Excluding Non-Japanese Customers Issho) Project. Issho Kikaku, according to its website, is a Tokyo based NGO “that aims to monitor issues related to human diversity, language, culture and coexistence worldwide, and strives to facilitate a greater recognition and understanding of these issues, both in the East Asian region and worldwide.” It was a sensible alliance: Ana Bortz, a Brazilian journalist and Issho Kikaku member, won one of the first lawsuits in Japan that ruled the refusal of service based on nationality was illegal based on the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (UN CERD).² While in the course of events, two onsen voluntarily lifted their bans, disagreements with Laszlo, et al. later erupt over how to proceed: he becomes the villain of the piece, and Arudou and Karthaus leave BENCI.

Later, Arudou became a naturalized Japanese citizen and changed his name from David Aldwinckle to Debito Arudou. When he returned to the onsen wielding his new citizenship, he was again rejected based on his “foreign” race. Arudou and his two co-plaintiffs (Olaf Karthaus and Ken Sutherland), in reaction to Yunohana onsen's continued discrimination, sued the business for damages and the city for violation against the UN CERD.

Arudou and his partners then win the initial case against the onsen, but not against the city. Arudou, who once enjoyed a wide base of support, eventually finds himself alone, abandoned by his lawyer and co-plaintiffs, begging an anonymous government clerk to help him file his appeal against Otaru in Japanese. (Arudou, p. 365).³

It all seems like gripping material for a book and, indeed, could (and should) be. However, Japanese Only never works—and on several operating levels, at that.

Assessing Japanese Only

In judging the merits or demerits of Japanese Only, one has to decide the standards and bench marks from which to gauge it. Just as a bubblegum horror movie is not judged on the same standard as an art house film, so the basis on which one reviews a work of social science (with its demands for rigor and hypothesis testing) must be suspended for the navel-gazing travelogue.

But therein lies the problem: what is Arudou’s book? Is it social science, a handbook for activists in Japan, a primary resource cum compendium of media reports, didactic literature, propaganda, autobiography or a public policy memoir? Is it an impassioned plea for the end of discrimination? Does it argue for the merits of tolerance in Japan? It is unclear to the reader, and perhaps to the author himself, what the book is meant to achieve.

Japanese Only is loosely structured as a narrative in chronological order. Arudou tells us a story because “it reads better and sounds less tendentious than an essay” (Arudou, p. 391). To some extent, characters and a story unfold. Arudou is most effective in drawing Karthaus, his German co-plaintiff. He succinctly captures Karthaus’s quiet faith and humanity. In a few deft strokes, the reader has a glimmer of understanding Karthaus’s commitment to stopping racism and his largely Burkean world view. Sutherland, the other co-plaintiff, remains a fun loving but ultimately flat character.

One key problem with the narrative is development of the main character: Debito Arudou himself. First, Arudou’s name changes, almost inexplicably: Dave, Debito, Me, David, the translator, the transcriber, etc. We never truly understand what drives him nor the true costs of his activism, personally or professionally. For example, the author has said multiple times that he embarked on this journey to save his two young daughters from racism. Yet, he deliberately placed them in a situation where he knew his children would be discriminated against when he first took them to Yunohana Onsen to “make our point clearer” (Arudou, p. 23). The onsen manager looked at Arudou’s children and declared that older Japanese looking daughter could enter the onsen, but her younger Western looking sister could not.

Dave (so the whole room could hear): “Okay kids. We’re being ejected from the premises. For reasons we were born with.” (Arudou, p. 35).

This is an extraordinary decision and deserves explanation: facing such blatant discrimination at a young age (both were under 7 years old at the time) must have had a profound impact on their lives. Moreover, from his narrative, Arudou seems to be forever off on fact-finding missions and dedicating his time and energy away from his young family and career. His very understanding Japanese wife is only given passing mention, although she too fielded harassment. His family receives death threats in the mail: “FUCK YOU. . .WE WILL KILL YOUR KIDS.” (Arudou, p. 304) Arudou’s response is a rather bland cliché: “You don’t make deals with terrorists. . .stay the course.” (Arudou, pp. 305-6).

Events simply follow one after the other, and introspection or in-depth commentary is scant. Arudou’s mistakes are never acknowledged, his flaws (aside from a weight problem) are never sketched. Indeed, one suspects the reader is deliberately treated to a one-dimensional character with neither rhyme nor reason beyond the occasional sound bite: “it’s all for his children.” He almost never looks back. We wonder, Does he have a life outside of activism?

True, in one section Arudou muses that his friend thought that he may have been used by his fellow activists. He takes comfort in the fact that “human rights activism” has a common pattern of “dissent and discordance” (Arudou, p. 255).

Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass, W. E. B. Du Bois, Marcus Garvey and Booker T. Washington, Mohandas Gandhi and Muhammad Ali Jinnah, Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Seale, Malcolm X and Elijah Mohammad and even Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin, they all dissented—often bitterly. (Arudou, p. 255)

One would think that on this journey, Arudou would have made a misstep: no one was hurt? No one was left behind? He does not respond to many of his critics and justifies this with a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Seldom if ever, do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas.” (Arudou, p. 299)

At almost every step, the reader is treated to a litany of clichés from a group of mostly anonymous⁴ cheerleaders that he labels as "Friends" (viz. Arudou, p. 285).:

“He’s like a BENCI Hurricane.”; “Amazing how you find the time to type all this stuff, Dave.” (Arudou, p. 58); “Thanks for the report.” (p. 85); “Well done! Looks like we’re gaining ground!” (p. 88); “Great report, Dave!” (p. 126); “Bravo, Dave. Don’t take this lying down.” (p. 96); “Dave. . . you’ve been doing a Herculean job.” (p. 106) “. . . You work like a bicycle.” (p. 108); “Dave, thanks for all you have done on this issue.” (p. 137); “Dave, don’t let this go unanswered.” (p. 193); “Attaboy, Dave. Keep it up.” (p. 194); “Yes, we’ve accomplished miracles.” (p. 241); “No, you [Dave] will be the lightning rod, as usual.” (p. 283); “Stay the course you three!” “You are doing a great job!” (p. 290)

Those he dislikes or disagrees with are relegated to the “Peanut gallery,” which he abbreviates as “PG” (viz. Arudou, p. 285): “Well congratulations. Signs are down. . .Now are you dropping the suit?” (Arudou, p. 285).

Criticizing the narrative may be unfair. The author states in the first paragraph that the book is “a record of how social movements rise and fall in the age of the Internet” and a case study so that readers too can “make the world a better place” (Arudou, p. i). If we take Arudou at his word, the book is indeed a record, in as much as he does reprint the media reports, old e-mails sent to his “Friends” mailing list, transcripts⁵ , court documents and other miscellany. Many of these items can be found on his website (www.debito.org) for free, thus saving the reader 3500JP¥ (US$1=105JP¥, $33) to purchase the book. On his website, one can use a search engine making it a useful resource: lacking an index or a developed reference list, the same cannot be said about the book.

As a primary resource, Japanese Only is virtually unusable. The appendix, which contains two excerpts of the court judgments, is curiously underdeveloped. Many of the newspaper clippings incorporated into the text belonged in this section. An unwieldy chapter/sub-chapter structure, an addiction to random capitalization, all uppercase text, bold print, and shifting fonts: hunting for information in this book is tedious. Arudou quotes long passages in full that could have been summarized in a few sentences. He also uses a number of unsuccessful stylistic devices that detract from the “record.” His Japanese father-in-law, for example, appears to have an Italian accent: “Hey shaddappa you face.” (Arudou, p. 312). The self-indulgent writing is in desperate need of an editor: “One lit kiss later, they took deep breaths of shared fire” (Arudou, p. 101). (Would you know a couple is smoking cigarettes?) He finds it necessary to tell us that we have reached the end of a chapter by writing, “END OF CHAPTER ONE” (Arudou, p. 109). And the glossary, bizarrely, is in the front with what seems like a random selection of words, such as “snakku” (hostess bars) that are only peripheral to the issues at hand. One wonders why he found it necessary to point out that “girls” in the snakku will “probably not put out” (Arudou, p. x).

As for the claim of Internet activism, the book does not provide much useful information for the activist-to-be, aside from a few short passages. It seems unlikely that this book would help a would-be Algerian activist facing discrimination in France, or a Turk in Germany. The book remains focused on the specifics of Arudou’s case and makes no effort to contextualize, compare or contrast it to other movements.

The advice he does give is sensible: keep the main points of e-mail articles on the first screen and write stand-alone articles with “snappy writing” and a “sunny style” (Arudou pp. 111-2). He also gives a few tips about dealing with the press and press conferences. The serious internet activist may, however, find it more useful to go to NetAction’s website (http://www.netaction.org/) for stereo instructions on writing effective activist e-mail and other comprehensive guides to Internet outreach and advocacy.

In the post “Battle of Seattle” age in which tens of thousands of people rioted on the streets, many linked by cell phones, instant messaging, GPS, PDAs⁶ , and laptops, Arudou’s brand of “Internet activism” of cranking out “Nyuu Yoku Times”⁷ for his “Friends” e-list seems almost quaint. Arudou makes little use of technology to organize flash mobs, blogs, google bombs, or wikis⁸: he remains the old-fashioned pamphleteer. Unfortunately, his thorough and comprehensive website with thousands of pages of material, which is by far one of the most effective tools in his Internet arsenal, gets short shrift: the book has only passing references to this excellent resource within the main text (Arudou, pp. iv, 13, 57, 281, 307, 376-7).

Perhaps, then, this book is best understood not as a narrative, nor as a handbook for activists, but as a personal account of intolerant attitudes in Japan. It would be unfair to judge the book as social science, as it is clearly not designed with structured analytical content in mind. This is not as criticism per se, but simply an observation: Arudou himself writes that he aimed to create a book in which “a nonfiction event [was] told as a story with characters and a narrative” (Arudou, p. 391). It is somewhat of a pity that Arudou did not take advantage of his training from his Masters course under political science professor Chalmers Johnson⁹ at University of California San Diego and develop some of the intriguing themes he introduces in the book. He posits, for example, that anti-foreign sentiment was spreading in Japan, yet offers little except anecdotal evidence. One could see future graduate students investigating his claims.

And yet, Arudou makes some not so easily overlooked errors: in the glossary, he writes within the context of defining Zainichi Gaikokujin (Japan-born foreigners):

Because Japanese citizenship laws are jus sanguinis, only those with blood ties to Japan may be Japanese (as opposed to just about every other developed country, where if you are born there, you are automatically a citizen). This means that if Japan behaved like a normal developed country, the Zainichis would be Japanese citizens. (Arudou, p. vii)

To posit that “just about every other developed country” does not base citizenship on jus sanguinis is simply incorrect: citizenship in countries such as Austria, Israel, South Korea, Singapore, Norway, and Italy (to name just a few) is not automatically based on place of birth, that is jus solis, but rather jus sanguinis. All would argue that they are “developed.” In fact, no country solely bases their citizenship on jus solis: many countries use a combination of jus sanguinis, jus solis, and/or a process of naturalization. While in the New World jus solis is commonplace—77% of countries in the Organization of American States (OAS, a mix of developed and undeveloped states) has jus solis—only 8% of countries in the European Union (EU) and 20% of countries in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) apply this law. (For a JapanReview.Net analysis of jus solis/jus sanguinis in the world, click here).

I point out the problems with this definition, not for gratuitous stone throwing, but to highlight a key underlying premise of the book: Japan, Arudou implies, is an outlier in its legal treatment of foreigners. Yet this implication is simply wrong in the above case. Moreover, the concepts and definition of citizenship are fundamental to this argument. Arudou should get them right: in failing to do so, his credibility is undermined. Such mistakes and omissions further undermine his credibility when he reports that "Japan happens to be the only OECD country without any form of domestic law against racial discrimination" (Arudou, p. 306) and neither provides a single citation to support his claim nor outlines how he arrived at this conclusion in the first place. A shame, really.¹⁰

Arudou’s argument that racism is wrong, especially for non-ethic Japanese citizens, is presented clearly: both ethic and non-ethnic Japanese carry the same burdens of citizenship. Article 14 of the Japanese Constitution does, after all, guarantee racial equity to Japanese nationals: “All of the people are equal under the law and there shall be no discrimination in political, economic or social relations because of race, creed, sex, social status or family origin.” One of Arudou’s complaints was that Japanese legal scaffolding was not sufficient to enforce Article 14. Moreover, non-citizens are unprotected from racial discrimination.

However, his arguments become far more cloudy when he calls for a civil rights act that is “effective at all levels of government, enshrining the basic rights for Japanese residents, regardless of citizenship” (Arudou, p. 398). He mixes together an anti-racism message, the rights of non-ethnic Japanese citizens, and “pro-foreigner” rights. While few would disagree that an anti-discrimination law is desirable, broadly undefined “rights” for non-citizens are another matter altogether. Arudou posits that it should be mandated “simply because it is a good idea” (Arudou, p. 398). But it begs the question: Why? On what basis is it good? Good for a small minority of foreign residents? (Click here for Japan's Non-Citizens: Facts & Figures) Good for the economy? Good for Japan over all? And what exactly are “basic rights”—does it include rights to welfare? Should the Japanese government, for example, fund foreign schools? Arudou mentions political rights (Arudou, p. iii): which political rights? Should foreigners be allowed to vote or hold office? What do non-citizens have to do to earn these rights? Taxation, draft, or social service? Arudou does not attempt to distinguish between negative rights (i.e. do not discriminate) and the positive rights that would flow from his proposed civil rights act.

Too often the need for tolerance is presented as a feel-good sound bite; however, it is a complex issue. Given all the problems that Arudou faced, it is odd that he does not present a case for why tolerance is a “good thing” for Japan. Questioning the limits, successes, and failures of cultural tolerance is no longer just the realm of the ultra-right. Take, for example, Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh’s assassination in which he was allegedly shot and stabbed by dual Dutch-Moroccan national Muslim Mohammed Bouyeri in 2004.¹¹ This murder sparked a wide debate: many feared that the one million Muslims in the Netherlands were eroding traditional Dutch values of tolerance and liberalism. Many “native” Dutch felt that traditional Muslims did not respect key values such as equality of the sexes, religion, or sexuality. Holland is not alone in this debate. Similarly, France’s wrangling over Muslim girls wearing headscarves in school has polarized debate. In Thailand, after the East Asian currency crisis, Thais were not necessarily xenophobic (in that they welcomed tourism and foreign visitors), but were chary of foreign capital. Would Arudou debate that this too was a violation of civil and human rights?

This book does not do the thought-provoking and complex topic of racial integration and cultural tolerance justice: Arudou merely sings loudly to the choir.

The Tony Show

...Obviously, Oguri's work is not meant to be particularly deep. To some extent it induldges in feel good multi-culturalism. However, Oguri succeeds where Arudou fails: She maintains a sense of scale and does not overreach.

As mentioned above, Tony Laszlo, the head of the mailing list Issho Kikaku, emerges as the villain of the narrative in Japanese Only. We realize quickly that Laszlo is different, as he is “Mr. Tony Laszlo:” the non-Japanese whom Arudou likes are referred to by their first name, for example, Ken, Olaf, Mike, Natasha, etc.

After being initially ejected by the Yunohana Onsen, Laszlo invited Arudou and Karthaus to combine resources with Issho Kikaku to create the BENCI project. Arudou depicts Laszlo as the wet blanket: Laszlo, in Arudou’s version of events, slows progress by asking for information and coordination: “David, once again, please stop charging forward without waiting for group consensus.” (Arudou, p. 86) Laszlo is also painted in an unflattering light when he asks for Arudou to remind the press that the BENCI project is in fact a group project, and not just Arudou acting on his own initiative. Arudou finds this petty. “Just who does this Laszlo think he is?” asks his friend Natasha (Arudou, p. 101).

Things eventually come to a head at what can only be termed as a misunderstanding. While the BENCI group was temporarily in recess, Laszlo went on his own fact finding mission using BENCI contacts that Arudou and Karthaus had gathered. Laszlo did not contact the other men in advance of his plans. According to Arudou’s version of events, he chose not to do so as Arudou was out of the country and Karthaus was mourning the recent death of his young son. Arudou is incensed and feels that they were deliberately left out of the loop: “That does it. I will not remain in a group where the leader can justify anything by saying ‘I am boss, and I can do what I like because of it’. . .This is not how a volunteer organization treats its volunteers.” (Arudou, pp. 253-4) They storm out of BENCI. Accusations and recriminations ensue: like a bad divorce, they wrangle over custody of BENCI and Issho Kikaku. One is tempted to recall the bon mot commonly attributed to former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, “The battles are so fierce because the stakes are so small.”

Thus it is odd to see Tony Laszlo again as depicted by his wife Saori Oguri’s manga, Darin wa Gaikokujin, or My Darling is a Foreigner. A slim 160 page volume of rough drawings, it was a nationwide best-seller of over a million copies. It was even advertised on the Tokyo subway system. Not surprisingly, in his wife's book, Laszlo is not the Svengali-esque character of Arudou’s work, but sweet and slightly kooky: at one point she points out his resemblance to an alpaca (Oguri, p. 71).

Assessing My Darling is a Foreigner

Obviously Oguri’s work is not social science or even meant to be particularly deep. To some extent, it indulges in feel-good multiculturalism. However, Oguri succeeds where Arudou fails: she maintains a sense of scale and does not overreach. On the other hand, Arudou seems self-important: “[saying] that it’s only an onsen. . .[is] just like Rosa Parks’ action was ‘only about a seat in front of the bus.’” (Arudou, p. 313)

Oguri’s book, first and foremost, is a story of a relationship. The situations are well observed domestic humor in the same vein as Dave Barry or Erma Bombeck. In one particular strip, she talks about her resentment, as a working woman, of doing most of the housework. Laszlo offers to do the dishes: initially, they never get done, and he inexplicably does not wash the back rims (Oguri, p. 59). I laughed out loud as I had a nearly identical conversation with my own partner. In another, she complains to Laszlo that he doesn’t call her “Honey” or “Darling” (as in American TV shows such as Bewitched). Laszlo points out that Americans haven’t done this since the 1950s (Oguri, p. 67).

Oguri knows her audience—she is speaking to a nation of Japanese. She answers the usual round of questions (“Does Tony eat nattou (fermented soybeans)?”) (Oguri, p. 73) and gently points out that Tony likes and eats many things, not so much because he is a foreigner but because he likes to eat (Oguri, pp. 76-77). Does she speak English? “A little desu!,” she answers (Oguri, p. 96). She doesn’t have to, as Laszlo speaks fluent Japanese. Unlike what Japanese women imagine the stereotypical foreign male to be, Laszlo can’t cook (although he admits this is not a good thing) (Oguri, p. 74), nor does he bring Oguri breakfast in bed (Oguri, p. 73). Sticky situations such as her mother’s initial misgivings (won over by Laszlo’s charm offensive) (Oguri, p. 41) and the father bemoaning that his daughter would soon move away to a faraway land (they live in Kawasaki, a Tokyo suburb) (Oguri, p. 44), are treated with humor. She scatters the text with mini-household tips from housewives around the world (Bangladesh, Cote d’Ivoire, and Germany).

Oguri is clever with her message of tolerance. She does not bludgeon the reader with the message, and instead points out the unreasonableness of a given situation by showing how it affected the relationship. After introducing the reader to their romance and announcing their intention to live together to her parents, Oguri finds out that many Japanese real estate agencies will not rent to them because Laszlo is a foreigner. The reasons cited:

1. They don’t understand Japanese
2. They have parties
3. It becomes a nuisance when foreigners leave for their home country without paying. (Oguri, p.53)

Oguri’s visions of a new life and romance with Laszlo are smashed. Disappointed, she curls up into a fetal ball. She points out that “rules” are completely unreasonable: Laszlo speaks fluent Japanese, they don’t have parties, and Oguri’s Japanese parents are the guarantor on the lease. All ends well: someone is eventually willing to rent to them. A smiling cartoon Oguri and Laszlo ask potential landlords to “not lump foreigners in one group” and “look at each person as an individual” (Oguri, p. 55)

This message that “We are all individuals”¹² (thus stereotypes are unreasonable) is woven seamlessly into the entire work. The resentments and fights that occur in the relationship are not so much because Laszlo is foreign, but because he is, occasionally, a thoughtless, inconsiderate mate.

The three steps to a fight:
1. When I talk to him, he doesn’t answer. We get to the next step when
2. I have to repeat myself. Then
3. He doesn’t remember what I just said to him (p. 132)

Being an inconsiderate mate is clearly not restricted to foreigners: there is a certain degree of universality to this trait. This format is even more effective as Oguri allows her own faults and peccadilloes to come through: for example, she can’t stand it when Laszlo eats his grated radish (daikon) separately from his grilled fish. She knows she’s being silly, but it still drives her mad (Oguri, p. 144). Most can empathize when a mate does something that annoys for completely arbitrary reasons. Again, “foreignness” is not the issue.

Unlike Arudou who tries to use folksy mannerisms (“There is usually something to watch—a silly program on the boob tube, braless ladies in bathrobes jiggling about,” Arudou, p. 4) masquerading as humor, Oguri does one better: she is genuinely funny and revealing.

The “What” of it All

With an audience of millions of domestic Japanese, Oguri’s manga may be a far more effective bully pulpit than Arudou’s. Both books have essentially the same simple take home message: “Tolerance is good; stereotypes and discrimination are bad.” However, by illustrating it with specific examples from Oguri’s life with Laszlo, the message is clear and focused. Arudou’s book is far more ambitious. It wants many things: to make you laugh, to educate you on the law, to tell you about Arudou, to give a history about “the movement”—the list goes on and on. By trying to be a little of everything, the message is lost in the muddle.

But it is worth discussing the “what” that Arudou was trying to do: one should not be so quick to dismiss the issues surrounding the Otaru onsens’ discrimination.

Was Arudou right to sue the onsen? Unequivocally, yes. What the establishments were doing is unacceptable among developed nations and illegal under international law: they were discriminating based on race. Also, one can only imagine a furor that would ensue in Japan if, for example, shops in the US denied service to Japanese because of perceived shoplifting problems from Chinese gangs.

Arudou’s rights were violated. The Japanese Constitution, however weak it is, still guarantees racial equity. The onsen was not a private club with a member selection process, it had no real right to refuse service. As a paying customer, he had the right to enter the onsen. Arudou had the right to demand redress: the onsen deserved to be financially punished. While one could imagine a convoluted legal argument that could have been made in defense of the onsens when Arudou was a foreigner, there was even less of a case once he naturalized.

Is it “un-Japanese” to sue? Perhaps, in that few “average” Japanese would subject themselves to the hassles and costs of hiring a lawyer and suing, but what exactly is being “Japanese?” Many, including Japanese themselves like to say that they are a nation that dislikes confrontation, thus pursuing a lawsuit is “un-Japanese.” Fingers are pointed at Americans for being overly litigious and some have accused Arudou for importing his American world view to the issue. And yet, such cultural arguments belie the facts. According to the Supreme Court of Japan, the number of total civil lawsuits in Japan has materially risen since the late 1960s. Assuming it is "un-Japanese" to sue, one would expect the number of civil lawsuits in Japan to be virtually non-existent, let alone rising. (Click here for a link on civil lawsuits in Japan).

Japan had adopted, at the turn of the century, document based jurisprudence. Compared to the testimony based system in the US, it is a much slower process. For various reasons (including possibly self-interest on the part of lawyers) the number of attorneys and judges per capita is low compared to that of the US. All these factors lead to high costs (after all, time equals money) which in turn, results in relatively lower numbers of lawsuits. There is little credible evidence that stands up to statistical scrutiny that supports the idea that “culture” is the reason why Japanese do not sue.¹³

Arudou and his cohort were simply more willing to put up with the cost in both time and money to bring the issue to trial. While Arudou does not give us the break down of the time and money involved, it appears that he invested a large amount of energy and man hours to “earn” 1m JP¥ (US$1=105JP¥, $9523) from the court case.¹⁴ A true commercial venture would have quit due to the inefficiencies involved. This may sound cynical but it is not meant to be: it merely points out that suing is not an attractive option because it is inefficient in Japan. But, Arudou and his band were not seeking redress in a business deal gone sour: they were forcing the court to rule against the onsen. The onsen and the city of Otaru were embarrassed in the process, and rightfully so.

Does this case matter? Arudou, of course, thinks that his case is important: “For the first time, even disenfranchised non-native speakers of Japanese could turn the domestic media into a fulcrum, getting the word out so effectively we could influence public policy, even alter the very perception of a ‘foreigner’ in Japan” (Arudou, pp. 13-4). However, will the court case cause the social reform that he is so desperately seeking? Arudou places great weight on the courts to provide justice and reform: “We need a law or racial discrimination will not be eliminated.” (Arudou, p. 384) His world view is legal-centrist in the sense that he believes that government (which includes the courts) is the chief source of rules and enforcement efforts (Ellickson, p. 138). This seems to be an overly simplistic response to an extremely complex issue.

As Arudou himself points out, the importance of case precedence in Japan is weak compared to that of the US legal system. Thus, the legal impact of his win is unknown or at least, unexplained. Arudou for one is treating the loss to Otaru City as an opportunity to press his case. He seeks an appeal to the Japanese Supreme Court¹⁵ ; failing that, the United Nations. At present, he is starting proceedings against the Japanese national government for failing to pass anti-discrimination laws. (For further information, please click here) However, aside from himself and the onsen owners involved, it is unclear if the case really makes much of a difference in Japan. Arudou, aside from his article news clippings, fails to provide evidence that it does.

In the seminal work The Hollow Hope¹⁶ , Gerald N. Rosenberg argues that significant social reform through the US Supreme Court is difficult, at best. In Rosenberg's view, using the courts to create significant reforms in civil rights, abortion, and women's rights were largely failures. Rosenberg posits that the cases themselves made little impact. Using both quantitative and qualitative measures, he shows that landmark cases such as Brown v. Board of Education and Roe v. Wade did not generate major social reform. In fact, vindication of constitutional principles accompanied by small change may have been mistaken for widespread significant social reform, inducing reformers to relax their efforts. Also, Rosenberg found that there is no evidence to suggest that Court decisions mobilize supporters of significant social reform, but data suggest the opposite can be true: opponents do mobilize.¹⁷ The court cases trailed the social movements, not the other way around. Movements and social mores had already made major headway before the court rulings were made. The faith placed on the court to create social reform may be unproved and suggests that it may be largely emotive.

In a related vein, in Order without Law¹⁸, Robert C. Ellickson, discusses the fact that while laws may exist, legal knowledge in the general population (in the US and abroad) is scanty, at best (Ellickson, pp. 144-6). Everyday best practice is based on a system of norms: when those norms come into conflict, various methods (including the courts) are used to coerce behavior. Ellickson suggests that legal case law is largely ignored in norm creation.

By depending so heavily on a visible sovereign for foreigner/non-ethnic Japanese rights, one wonders about the real success of Arudou’s campaign. Japan and the US have different legal systems, so direct comparisons with Rosenberg’s arguments are problematic. However, Arudou’s faith in the Japanese court system may be misplaced. Without the mass support from a significant majority, the legal case alone seems unlikely to produce wide-reaching and sustainable reform. But, with increasing immigration perhaps necessary to sustain Japan’s economy, Arudou’s tireless activism, and book's such as Oguri's manga, there is hope for mass support.

However, the Otaru Onsens Case made a difference for one man and his family and for one community, and that is what may matter most in the end.

Notes

1. Edward R. Tufte, Envisioning Information (Graphics Press 1990). Tufte's work has won over a dozen awards for both design and content. For more information, see: http://www.edwardtufte.com/tufte/index.

2. In her lawsuit, the courts ruled that the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (which Japan ratified in 1995) applied in this case. This case later became the precedent and backbone of Arudou's legal complaint.

3. Addendum: time-line clarifications were formally made on June 30, 2005. For the original text, click here.

4. According to Journalism.org, professional journalists should refrain from using anonymous sources in their narratives unless (a) the quote is of major importance to the community at large and will not be repeated routinely, (b) every effort was made to get the source on the record, and (c) a top editor is convinced there is absolutely no other way to get the main thrust of the story into the publication. If, however, what is being rendered is opinion, including personal attacks, praise and other normative judgments, as opposed to specific facts that can be verified elsewhere, the rendering of anonymous sources in objective print narratives compromises the "theory of journalism" and its professional guidelines.

5. A good fraction of this volume are so-called "transcripts" of various private and public conversations.

6. GPS stands for "Global Positioning System," a device that gives location coordinates anywhere in the world. PDA stands for "Personal Digital Assistant." One such PDA is a personal palm pilot. PDAs can double as telephones as well as send and receive text messages, thus instantaneously coordinating people over large areas.

7. This Japanese phrase is a bilingual pun on The New York Times, meaning "Bathing Times."

8. A flash mob is a group of people who assemble suddenly in a given locale, do something unusual or notable, and then disperse. Members are usually organized via the Internet or other digital communications networks such as instant messages. A Google bomb or Google wash is an attempt to influence the ranking of a given site in results returned by Google. A blog, or "web log," is a web application that contains periodic posts on a web page. A wiki is a website that allows users to add content, as on a forum website, but also allows anyone to edit the content.

9. Chalmers Johnson also comments on the case: "But please do not hold your breath for the American Embassy to help any American citizens. Its sole function is to sell arms to the Japanese and keep the officers' clubs for the 39 U.S. Marine, Air Force, Army, and Navy bases in Okinawa open and functioning. The U.S. ambassador [Tom Foley] is, after all, the man for whom term limits were invented. . .He couldn't give a cold dog turd whether or not you, your wife, and children get a bath at an onsen or are in other ways being treated in Japan as all Japanese insist on being treated when they are in the United States. We have had lots of experience trying to get the American Embassy to represent Americans rather than the military industrial complex but I cannot think of a single success. . ." (Arudou, pp. 174-75).

10. Addendum: According to the Migration Policy Group (MPG) in Brussels, Belgium, there are several OECD countries "without any form of domestic law against racial discrimination." In contrast to Japan, for example, Turkey has "no provision on ethnic origin, sexual orientation or age in the Constitution." Moreover, "there is no separate anti-discrimination legislation in the Turkish legal system." Other OECD countries where the laws are either ambiguous or not clearly defined to outlaw racial discrimination per se include, inter alia, Germany, Hungary, and Finland.

11. Wikipedia notes that (decidedly right-wing) Independent Dutch member of parliament Greet Wilders advocated a five-year halt to non-Western immigration after Theo van Gogh's death: "The Netherlands has been too tolerant to intolerant people for too long, we should not import a retarded political Islamic society to our country."

12. With apologies to Monty Python.

13. For analyses of such myths and their counterevidence see, inter alia, Yuki Allyson Honjo, Japan's Early Experience of Contract Management in the Treaty Ports (Routledge Curozon 2003); Willem Visser t'Hooft, Japanese Contract and Anti-Trust Law: A Sociological and Comparative Study (Routledge Curozon 2002); Frank Upham, "Weak Legal Consciousness as an Invented Tradition," in Stephen Vlastos ed. Mirror of Modernity: Invented Traditions of Modern Japan (California Academic Press 1996): 48-64; and John Owen Haley, "The Myth of the Reluctant Litigant," in Kenneth Port ed. Comparative Law: Law and the Legal Process in Japan (California Academic Press 1996): 108-122.

14. Arudou and his co-plaintiffs initially sued for 2m JP¥ (US$1=105JP¥, $19,047) each at their lawyer's suggestion. The court awarded them each 1m JP¥ for their mental duress. Initially, Arudou and his co-plaintiffs won their case against Yunohana Onsen, but lost their suit against Otaru in which they sued the city for failing to uphold UN CERD. Arudou notes that Japanse civil suits require plaintiffs to sue for either monetary damages, for mental duress, or for defamation of character. (Arudou, p. 297)

15. Addendum: on April 7, 2005, the Supreme Court of Japan rejected the appeal by Arudou seeking damages from the city in connection with Yunohana Onsen's policy of barring foreigners from the facility. While it upheld the lower court ruling, calling the onsen's refusal to admit non-ethnic Japanese "unreasonable discrimination," it also addressed the plaintiffs' argument that the city had a duty to meet the requirements of the UN CERD, which Japan signed in December 1995, by introducing an ordinance to ban racial discrimination: "The convention has only general, abstract provisions recommending appropriate measures to eliminate racial discrimination, and the Otaru government does not have any obligation to institute ordinances to ban such discrimination."

16. Gerald N. Rosenberg, The Hollow Hope: Can Courts Bring About Social Change? (The University of Chicago 1991)

17. It would be interesting to test Rosenberg’s argument on Arudou’s lawsuit. Did it (or will it) mobilize opponents to anti-racial discrimination legislation and crystallize “racist” beliefs? Yunohana Onsen certainly did mobilize with a “counter-lawsuit petition” (Arudou, p. 296). Moreover, it would be interesting to see if any of the photographs displayed on Arudou’s “Rogues Gallery” were at all motivated from his lawsuit.

18. Robert C. Ellickson, Order without Law: How Neighbors Settle Disputes (Harvard University Press 1994)

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