Letterfrom
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THE MOST MEMORABLE
of human endeavors can be summed up withina few words: man reaches moon. Jackson moonwalks.
Komaba Times publishes Issue 10.

In this special anniversary issue, we capture a collective journey through inertia–a resistance to change. Although we chose this theme before the pandemic, it became all the more apt as we quarantined ourselves, suspending any continuation of normal
life. Some inertias affect the entire world, while others are contained within the dormitory rooms
and 1K apartments which have become our cells.

Inertia can also describe objects that keep moving after they “stop”. This year, through these unusual
times, we’ve grown from a small, dedicated team of 8 to having 30 members and counting. Our first graphics
team painstakingly created each lovely spread you’ll see. Our new business team distributed this magazine toschools and organizations all over the world. Our innovative translations department bridged the gap between
the English-speaking and Japanese-speaking population at UTokyo.

We are also marking this anniversary issue through a special collaboration with The New York Times. We hope to
not only enrich our magazine with the global coverage of the renowned publication, but also to poke our toes in thewater and see how we dance with the best of them.
Featured articles from Todai Shimbun, our university’s longest-running newspaper, further exhibit our hybrid identity. What better way to represent a thriving but almost-unrepresented bilingual audience than to feature both English and Japanese content in our pages?
We’ve also revamped our magazine sections to reflect our new editorial direction. “Komaba” is the canvas ofour collective student experiences within our immediate local communities. “Social” tackles the problems
we see in the world head on, sharpening unformed opinions into thought-out plans for change. “Culture”
concerns all that we enjoy and consume, reflecting on the essence of our favorite pastimes and media. “Creative” serves as the outlet for artistic, poetic, and photographic expression beyond things
grounded in mundane reality.
Combined, they give what we’ve always needed as students at UTokyo. We’re not justa combination of majors and classes–we also represent a critical movementof artistic, irresponsible, optimistic, introspective, and future-changing
youth.
We hope you enjoy reading this issue!

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Featuring stories fromThe New York Times&
The Todai Shimbun典㛻二绂The page layouts are
credited through individualⷄꗲ:
Jade Hwang
Zhiyun Du
Minami Hase
Eriko Yamada
Alyssa Castillo Yap

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8Contents
泘域KomabaKomabaSocialSocialJules Iida

Letterfromthe
Editors

TableoƑ
4

9

6

Circles andCentury-Old ToClubs: Trackyo University is
ing the Diameters of Shaken by Riots
Life at utOkyO// Philip Shabecoff for// Sayumi Take The New York Times

10“Fade into Disր ䷷ 굺 ցյ骰 ‫♀ מ‬ք嫎☔⴫䇗մ典
tant Clamor”:ַ‫־׌ױי‬մ 껿㛻 ‫ס‬餉 ⩕ ‫☪ ע‬օΗ ㎁
Thinking the Todai 㕙 ‫ס‬ٛ‫ي‬ٜٚؓ‫ص٭‬؅ ꤀⴫մ典㛻‫עך‬儔‫ד‬鵍┕㰢Student Riots // Prof. 縒ֻ‫ ׾‬// 眦⸉僗ꄅ Yone- 榟‫׵‬䙫閁䷉ꪵ؅ // ╈◒⢸㜀
Joshua Baxter
hara Ari for 典㛻二绂 Nakai Kenta for 典㛻二绂

12

The Grand Water
Fountain
Conspiracy of Komaba Campus// Mahi Patki

14

To Our Tamed
Tongues: A
Word On Systemic
Racism// Prof. Yuko Itatsu

15

At Japan’s Most
Elite
University,
Just 1 in 5 Students Is a
Woman // Motoko Rich
for The New York Times18

To Everyone
Who Cares,
and Everyone Who
Doesn’t// Toko Sumiya

20

I StandWith
Tibet// Mizuki
Takahashi

CultureCultureCreative
Creative
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30

32

33

34

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How to Pretend You’rein Tokyo // Sebastian Modak for The
New York Times
A Year
On: OneLoveless Tokyo
Night // Alyssa
Castillo Yap

Miles Away:
Memoirsof One Peninsula// ShunMizumoto

Editors’ Picks// Miscellaneous

22

24

26

Crazy
Why Animal CrossThriftRiching Is the Game foring aAsians the Coronavirus Moment // P e r s o n a l i t y// Choi
Imad Khan for Trait
Jiwoong
The New York Times //Maho Nambu

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How We Use䘶⥼‫Ⱘכ‬鵰‫ע‬磬꽦
Our Bodies to‫׼־‬մ典㛻䷷䪧Navigate a Pandemic //Venting ☔‫מ‬绂ׂմ鐆‫׳‬٬鍤‫ ׳‬湾
Gia Kourlas for The New
Machine // 堭‫ס‬뇂ⱱ// ⺮荁吞 Kira
York Times Miscellaneous Muku for 典㛻二绂39

Quarantine
Collage //Akari Takahashi

Published March 8th 2021

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Komaba

OM

K

B
AA

Photographs by Shun Mizumoto4

circles and clubs:

tracing the diameters of life at utOkyO“HEY, WELCOME TO TODAI! Do you have any
circles you’re thinking of joining?” “You look real athletic. What about playing ball with us? Surely you’re interested in our club.”—Loud, eager voices overwhelm
freshmen as they timidly make their way through theendlessly long line of white tents. Standing under thelush green gingko trees, each tent represents a “club” or
a “circle”. Crawling through this “tent line” (tento-retsu) and trying (and usually failing) to deflect passionate,sometimes coercive invitations from clubs and circles is adraining two-hour ritual almost every UTokyo freshmanexperiences on their first visit to campus. But it’s also an
important event that could decide the outcome of one’s
campus life and maybe even beyond—a token of the dominance club/circle culture has over university life in Japan.
WHAT EXACTLY ARE “CLUBS”
AND “CIRCLES”? Clubs (“bukatsu”)
usually refer to sports teams that represent the university. The 58 clubs at
UTokyo form the Athletics Foundationof the University of Tokyo, a high-status community backed by decades ofhistory, and becoming a member requires huge commitment. Circles arebasically all other student communities
besides clubs. As of 2019, 391 circles
are registered in the club/circle search engine managed
by the Orientation Committee at UTokyo, and each circle community is uniquely colored depending on what
they do, how often they meet, who’s in it, and so on.
Clubs and circles are much more than just convenient
pastimes. Joining them is the fastest (and sometimes theonly) way to make new friends. “I’m just so happy that mycircle of friends expanded,” says a fourth-year of an in-kareacapella circle who writes that she gained “friends, memories, acapella skills, knowledge about music, and opportunities to interact with students from other universities”
from joining the circle. Befriending seniors in one’s club/
circle is also a campus survival skill—from getting advice
on which classes to take and tips for tackling exams to finding rare part-time jobs and internships, meeting the rightseniors could give you a boost in your grades and career.
The experience of working together with people in a club/
circle towards a shared goal, whether it may be winning amatch, staging a play or building an airplane, also teaches
members about leadership, teamwork, and other valuable
social skills. This is precisely why joining clubs/circles canbe a key to smooth job hunting—they are a common topic

by Sayumi Takein application forms and interviews. Corporations look for
those with personalities and skills suited and required forthe job, and many students present such qualities based on
the experiences they’ve had in clubs/circles. Some corporations even target particular clubs to hold exclusive job information sessions for, in the hope of recruiting physicallyand mentally trained students who have survived the strict
schedule and atmosphere that is characteristic of clubs.
THOUGH A KERNEL OF UNIVERSITY LIFE IN JAPAN, clubs/circles can include downsides. Most clubs
and some circles are extremely time and energy consuming that it’s difficult for students to maintain a good balance with their academics. “There were things I couldn’t
do because of the club, like studying abroad,” reflects athird-year of the soccer club who spends 6 days a week
on the field and still devotes time to reviewing past games and PR activities.
“But I was able to meet friends, seniors,and juniors I could trust and respect,acquire the toughness needed to confront unavoidable hardships and challenge myself, and gain insight on how
to effectively manage a group of people.”
The student-governed and closed
quality of many clubs/circles can be asource of more serious trouble. Stricthierarchical relationships between seniors and juniors
and peer pressure can lead to moral/sexual harassment
or dangerous usage of alcohol and drugs. Clubs/circles
are also a potential hotbed of antisocial cults and radical groups, and actual cases have been reported. Although universities are taking preventive measures toprotect their students, such as holding seminars andestablishing consultation hotlines, the threats remain.

“joining clubs/circles can be a key
to smooth job
hunting—they
are a common
topic in application forms andinterviews”

FOR MANY JAPANESE STUDENTS, the best memories
of university life are made within the sphere of clubs/circles. They are communities where students can find closefriends to stick with and reliable seniors to turn to. Their
activities are a treasure box of experiences that enhances
one’s abilities and pave the way for a brighter future. Thenagain, compromises must be made, whether that may
be giving up on academics or taking month-long breaks
to travel or participating in internships. It’s impossible
to talk about Japanese universities without mentioning
clubs and circles, but they may be just one of the many
options to consider when deciding how to spend—assome students put it—“the summer vacation of your life.”

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Komaba
Komaba[1969] TOKYO, JAN. 10—Another in a series of student riots at Tokyo University broke out thisafternoon when a group of helmeted radical students, armed with staves, tried to storm a university
meeting being held on a rugby field some distance from the campus.
The meeting, between the school’s administration and students belonging to neutral factions andthose allied with the established Japan Communist party, was held away from the school because theradicals had blockaded the campus. Policemen using tear gas halted the advance of the radicals had
blockaded the campus. Policemen using tear gas halted the advance of the radicals before they could
reach the field and arrested nearly 150 students.
Last night, the campus was the scene of an even more violent battle as radicals fought pro-Communists in a clash involving a mob of students estimated at 5,000. Policemen were called in to breakup the riot, a rare event in Japan where university autonomy is rigidly observed and government
intervention a last resort.

Cabinet Meeting Called
The riots and a student strike that has paralyzed the campus since last spring have disintegrated
much of the prestige that for generations has kept Tokyo University, 100 years old this year, thiscountry’s most powerful institution of higher learning.
A special cabinet meeting was called to discuss the university situation this afternoon and to decide on measures to break the grip of the students.
The school already has canceled entrance examinations for next year and may not graduate thepresent senior class. A proposal to convert the university into a purely postgraduate school is underconsideration by the Government.
FOR THE JAPANESE, Tokyo University—Tokyo Daigaku or, most frequently, Todai for short—is akind super-Harvard. Virtually all top Government leaders, including Premier Eisaku Sato, graduated from Todai as did most of the higher-level civil servants. Tokyo University also leads the nationin turning out academic and business leaders.
Almost every mother in Japan dreams that her son will be accepted one day by Todai. But of thethousands who apply every year, only the top layer of the cream of secondary school students isskimmed for admission.
But 12 months of turbulence apparently have eroded the once lofty reputation of the university.
First disrupted last January by a strike of medical students, Todai has been regarded for nearly ayear now as little more than a battlefield for warring factions of Zengakuren, or student government
groups.

62

The medical students struck to protest what they considered backward teaching methods. Other
purely academic grievances also are involved in the unrest at the university. Japan’s system of higher
education, modeled during the 19th century on the German system, is considered by many a bastionof autocracy and elitism.

Students Divided
The medical students were joined in their strike by the rest of the university as a sympathy gesture.
And, in a pattern that has become worldwide, the educational protest became submerged in a frankly political campaign by the radical students. Some of their goals have been specific—opposition to
the security treaty between the United States and Japan, for example—but the ultimate avowed aim
is nothing less than the overthrow of the existing form of government.
The radicals are bitter rivals of the pro-Communists in the struggle for control of the universities.
The students who support the Japan Communist party have eschewed the use of violence—except
in conflict with the radicals. They are seeking to establish a Communist government in Japan byconstitutional methods.
The radicals, however, seek violent change and despise the pro-Communists as revisionists. The
two groups have some interests in common, such as opposition to the Japanese-American treaty, butthey rarely work together.
The radicals reflect almost every shade of Socialist and anarchist thought.
RIOTING HAS BROKEN OUT at other Japanese universities as well as Tokyo. Against the background of turmoil, a public opinion poll conducted by the Premier’s office last month indicated thata large majority of the Japanese people are incensed by the actions of the radical students, particularly those at Tokyo University, of whom better things were expected. A recent magazine article about
the school ran under the headline, “Paradise of Fools.”
It would appear that time is running out for Todai. However, after today’s mass meeting with students, Ichiro Kato, the acting president of the University, expressed a cautious optimism.
Mr. Kato, who is acting as president because his predecessor was forced out of office by the student radicals last year, said at a news conference that the meeting had raised his hopes for settling
the campus dispute.
He added, however, that nothing particularly new was discussed by the students at the meeting.

Originally published on 11/01/1969(c) 2021 The New York Times Company

73

Komaba“Fade Into Distant Clamor”: Thinking the Todai Student Riots

A response by Joshua Baxter* to “Century-Old Tokyo University is Shaken By Riots”“CENTURY-OLD TOKYO UNIVERSITY IS SHAKEN BY RIOTS,”
proclaims the title of a New YorkTimes’ article printed on January 11,
1969. It goes on to portray scenes ofviolence as student factions clashedwith each other, as well as the police. By this point, the university’s
two campuses had been turned into
battlegrounds for almost a full year as
students attempted to ‘dismantle theuniversity’. As the article highlights,
the reputation and even the idea ofthe university was being called into
question through the actions of thestudents.
Looking back at these events from
Komaba Campus in 2020 proves just
how much the past really is foreign
to us. Images of helmet-clad students
sparing with wooden staves (gebabō) still might be a common sight for
those belonging to the Todai Kendo
Team but, for the rest of us, it is hard
to imagine the campus as a warzone.
The foreignness of these events is notjust because those of us who now
walk the halls of Building 1 or stroll
down Ginkgo Avenue were not there
to witness what happened. In many
ways these events belong to a whole
different era—in fact, one would haveto jump from Reiwa, over the Heisei
period, and all the way back to midShowa.
DESPITE ITS BREVITY—andperhaps the naivety of the author who
had just been relocated to Japan from
West Germany in 1968—the New
York Times’ article brings one of themain postwar political issues to theforefront, albeit it does so indirectly.
Sandwiched in between the columnsof the Todai article is a separate story
containing the image of the Showa
Emperor, Hirohito. This piece describes a tanka poem that the emperor wrote on the theme of “Stars” andis translated as:
In the dark sky of springcomes out a comet glittering
As the roaring thunders afar
fade into distant clamor
The image of Hirohito seems toperfectly punctuate the story on the
Todai riots. Wearing a fedora hat with84

a smile on his face, the rehabilitatedpostwar figure of the emperor has
no comment on the riots that havebled out into his city throughout the
1960s. Here he is portrayed as a jovial
poet amid the chaos that surrounds
him, both on the newspaper page
as well as within the nation. Thisjuxtaposition of Hirohito’s image andthe Todai riots offers us a way to understand the meaning of the student
movement: by forcing us to think.
THINKING IS A FUNDAMENTAL
CONCEPT OF THE UNIVERSITY.
These days every university brochureor mission statement is bound tocontain some appeal to ‘critical thinking’. And yet, a lot of education at theuniversity forces you not to think. On
some level the university is counter-productive, in that it prefers forstudents to play by the rules in returnfor good grades as opposed to having
them say something that might
matter. Gavin Walker, a professor ofJapanese history at the University of
McGill, recently published an edited
volume, The Red Years, on the eventsof 1968 in Japan. In it he argues that
we need to “think with” the student
movement, since the problems thatthey were addressing then have notbeen solved and they remain our
problems today.
The longevity of these problems
has left many people to conclude thatthe political, economic, and social

structures of modern society sufferfrom inertia. Democratic institutions, despite its ideals of equality, arestill dominated by special interestsand corruption. Capitalism, despite
its productive power, proves to be
most adept at producing inequality,
along with the exploitation of bothpeople and the environment. Social
injustices, whether it is race, gender,or other forms of discrimination,
continue to be a structural component of many public institutions.
This inertia has produced numerous
moments of conflict, including therise of populism and political dissatisfaction today. The project thatthe student movements of the 1960s
undertook was to produce a spacethat challenged this societal inertia,
by making politics active. They recognized that the fabric of our everyday
life is categorically political but one
that requires ‘movement’. Here it isprobably best to insert Slavoj Zizek’s
advice when he cautions not tosimply act like so many pragmatists
demand—you must do something
to solve world hunger, donate here!
Instead of seeing the Todai riots as
a foreign past, closed off and fading
into a distant clamor, I suggest thatstudents today follow Gavin Walker’s
injunction to think with.
* Joshua Baxter is an assistant professor at the University of Tokyo.

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‫עכ‬꡾‫״גַם׼‬㰢僿‫מ‬յ䪧哅‫׍׿⹦־׊‬յ㵠䷍‫ע‬憠丗‫׼׻מ‬մրꪫ氫ַ䪧哅磆☭⫈㯸ց‫ע‬乃杼⺨☔䍏‫ס‬㰢榟‫ס‬艄⽏‫׾ֵס‬ꯛ‫מ‬泘؅⺸ׄ‫׾׹؂ַכ׾‬ٛ‫ي‬ٜٚؓ‫ص٭‬㛻㰢‫ע‬丗㛡ׂ㰆㏇‫׾׌‬ն眦䇗榟‫ס‬鵍╈‫ךױ‬㵠䷍؅婊‫׾״‬䑒釐ֿ‫ַם‬ն┉亠յ䪧哅ֿ鶚‫ױ׆‬‫׍‬婊‫׾׿׼״‬ն❫‫⫈׾׌‬㯸փֿ㰢榟‫׾׻מ‬䪧哅‫מ‬꞊‫׾׌‬ず┉‫ס‬䗯㕔嶎‫ַיזםמ‬磆☭⫈㯸ց؅⛼䡗‫ַֹכג׊‬նմ㓊‫׷‬յ㷽⟣亠嫎յֽ詞‫ס״‬䪧哅؅磆☭‫ס׵ג׊‬ն㛻㰢⣐‫׵ⱱ⶜ס‬䐂

典㛻‫ⶐמ‬䇗鵟‫גז‬䏲յ杯㏇‫غ٭ف٭ـע‬㛻㰢‫מ‬鵟ֹ$‫׈‬؆‫ע‬ր䪧‫י‬յ䇗泘‫ע׼־‬二⪌榟⪒⿦‫מ‬鿥‫ג׿׼‬նր熖ֿ⶙哅‫ע׼־י׊‬䉬䤺؅䚉‫┉׾׋‬亠յ┉‫סח‬䪧哅‫מ״גס‬䪧哅㛙‫׵ך‬鶚֐侇ꝴ‫ׄ־‬‫נ׌ךגז־׊׿ֹיַ׵‬ց‫׽‬舅⟓؅䧏‫׌ױי‬ց‫כ‬鏤‫׾‬ն┉亠յ典㛻‫⯥עך‬僿䷷굺鐐爊‫ך‬䏲僿鐐氦⟓‫⫂ג׊‬㳊؅舅⮆‫ס‬꞊䑏ꯛ㓊‫׷‬յ☽‫ס‬䪧哅‫כ‬꞊鵽♀ׄ‫׾ַי‬ց哅┉‫ח‬䎎‫ס׽ג‬靷䥵ֿꄆַ⮆鬭ַ妳䧏‫ךה‬䪧哅؅⹦‫עס׾‬㵼‫׊‬䥟‫י‬㰢僿Ⲱ䍚‫ךכ׆׾׌‬յ⹨ׄ‫ג‬䪧哅‫⫂ס‬㳊‫⮆׷‬ꄇ‫ם־עיַחמ‬爊‫ס‬䪧哅؅杼鉮‫סׄד׾׌‬耆ⱱ‫⯥׷‬䬠‫׾םכ‬湳閁ֿ骰‫ם־♀מ‬‫כגז־‬璻ֻ‫ג‬㰢榟ֿ䇗㛻㰢䷷罫‫ס‬鷼䡗䈱鐧削㕔⼔傴‫׽׻‬‫׽┕׵מ‬յ䑒‫׵׊׍‬䪧哅‫ס‬泘嘅ֿⶇ⮆‫מ‬鷼䡗‫כ׾ַי׿׈‬‫ע‬銧ַꦘַն

舅⮆‫ס‬㰢ゖꯛ㓊؅疣ׂմ‫םױ׉ױ׈‬ゖ갭‫ס‬㰆㏇ֿ炐〝‫׾׿׈‬껿㕙‫ס‬ٛ‫ي‬ٜٚؓ‫䷷ص٭‬罫‫ֿד‬յ‫׿א‬؅僃㛻꡾‫מ‬榟‫־סַ׻ף׿׌ֹלעמ׌־‬ն乃̄‫䷷׼־‬⮍‫ֿג׊ױַױ׊יזםמ‬յ‫׿א‬؅⹆縒‫┖ַֹכג׿ׂי׊מ‬碌榟մ⫈㯸‫ך‬磆☭‫ג׿׈‬㰢榟‫⪦מ‬鵟‫׾׌‬䪧哅‫ס׫‬㣓ⳙ‫ע‬ր䷷⿦⣐ֿ‫ַֹכגזדכ׆‬ն❆ֻ‫ף‬塷⺒؅㰢‫׵י׊מש‬ր냕劅‫䷷סךױ‬熭傴‫ע‬澬㲊‫◄ג׊‬㲔‫מֹ׻ס‬傴‫ל׿ׄ׾ַי׿־‬յ㛻㰢‫ס‬䪧哅‫䷷עך‬⿦‫יז׻מ‬鏀閁ֿ鷿ֹ‫׽ֵ׵כ׆‬䐂‫׾‬ն‫ֹ׻סלֿ⿦䷷ס׿ב׿א‬‫סאמ‬鏀閁؅澬㲊‫־ס׾ַי׊‬䣆嫎؅㰢‫׊׾׀ך׵כ׆ש‬յ⫂㳊‫מ‬‫׵יַח‬舅⮆‫ס׽ם‬杼鉮؅‫׾׌‬免乢‫׌ךס׾׌מ‬ցն嫎㰢‫כ‬㱢㲈熭

㰢‫┉מֹ׻ס‬釤⪒ׂ鷿ֹ‫ס׵‬؅磵‫יׄ♀צ‬㱢㲈嫎‫מ‬꞊䑏؅䇶‫גׅ‬⺱碌榟‫ַֹכגַ׵‬ն㰢榟⣐ֿ䙫閁氳‫מ‬յ䪧哅‫ך‬䐂‫ג‬湳閁؅舅⮆‫ס‬泘氳䙫閁‫מ‬媮‫יז‬磵‫ַׂיׄחצ‬㣓ⳙֿꄆ釐‫כד‬䍚鐧‫╈׾׌‬ꄇ罫㰢鼧‫מ‬鶟㰢٬⶙哅յ杯㏇‫نע‬ٛ‫ػ٭ٔة٭‬ٛ‫╈ׂ⥸י׊כعت‬ꄇ‫׈‬؆նր┉釤㰢榟‫┉ע‬亠氳‫מ‬湳閁؅⹨ׄ⹦‫מֹ׻׾ַיז‬釤ֻ‫־׾‬‫׍׼‬յ䪧哅‫ס‬㰢‫־סם⛰ֿצ‬舅⮆‫ױױַם׼־⮆׵ך‬庠抅‫כ‬䪧哅湳閁؅յ舅⮆‫ס‬㰢ゖꯛ㓊؅疣ׂ‫ס״ג‬免乢‫⮵י׊כ‬榫‫ַַ׼ג׊‬⫃✞‫׈‬؆‫ע‬ր⪌㰢䎎⮣յ‫םֹ׻סל‬熭泘؅㷽⟣‫ף׿׌‬荁ַ‫־⮆־ס‬‫׎ױ׿׊׵‬؆ֿյ‫א‬؆‫׎ױ׽ֵעכ׆ם‬؆ն‫םױ׉ױ׈‬䪧哅‫ך‬䐂‫ג‬؅⹨ׄ‫ג׊ױַי‬ց‫כ‬鎇‫׌‬նր⩝魶‫מ־ַ׵‬ւ哧ⶡփ؅⹦‫כ ֻ䷷־׊־׾‬䓙ַ‫׌ױ‬ց‫׊ַם׿ׂי‬յ⼽‫وآب׵׽‬ٛ嫰㰢榟‫ס‬ꝴ‫ך‬孱鵟‫׾׌‬鍱꽦㵚瓀‫و‬ٛ٤‫סع‬樋؅✳‫מ־ַיז‬憠丗؅⹦‫־׊־׾‬縒ֻ‫ַםַי‬ց‫מכ׆‬մր憠丗‫ף׿׿⹦ֻ׈‬荁ַ‫ַֹכ‬䙫閁‫ׂםעך‬յ㰢‫ש‬哧‫׈׊‬؅䚉‫׋‬‫׌ךַ׊׮י‬ն憠丗؅⹦‫סׄד׾‬榟‫׀‬亠‫כד‬䑒‫ך־׆ל׍‬车‫׀‬鎅‫ױ‬㜊僶‫╈ַֹכג׊‬ꄇ‫׈‬؆‫ע‬䇗域‫ע‬㰢榟㍚⛮‫לם׾׌ⱶ⹆מ‬䪧哅‫כ׾‬䓙ַ‫׌ױ‬ց‫כ‬鏤‫╈׾‬ꄇ‫׈‬؆նր‫םױ׉ױ׈‬湳閁ꯛ㓊؅磝‫؂⺬ײ‬մ‫׊־׊‬䇗榟‫גזֿ┕מ‬ꮽյ⺱‫׋‬䪧哅؅⹨ׄ‫מⶡ׵יַי‬냕ַ憠؅⛰侇ꝴ‫׵‬绂ׄ‫ׂטׂחעס׾‬頖媇‫׻׌ך‬ց‫⯥כ‬僿䷷굺鐐爊‫ס‬뇂‫מכ׆גַֿהג☔׾ַיׅםחמ‬妳♀ַ‫ַֹכג‬նր䪧哅‫׼־‬㛡氳‫מ‬䪧哅؅⹨ׄ‫ׂםעךס׾‬յ㰢؆‫ד‬湳閁⺱㚖؅㰢榟ֿ舅‫׼‬磝‫ײ‬㛙‫סך‬孨Ⳃ‫מ‬瞿؅⭳‫ג׊‬ն丗؅⹦‫ׂםעך״ג׾‬յ㰢‫צ‬؅舅⮆‫ס‬湳閁‫י׊כ‬蠷ֻ‫י‬䏲僿鐐爊ׂ‫כ׆ס‬؅⻸⹜‫׾׌‬ց☔‫הג‬؅泘‫ס‬䎎‫╈ג׊מ׽ג‬ꄇ‫׈‬؆‫ע‬յ㰢⫂‫י׎‬㰢‫ךכ׆ש‬㵧全‫ס‬䆋ֿ䇶ֿ‫׊׌ױ׽‬յ⺨ꯛ㓊‫ס‬瑬┉☔縖‫ס‬鎇ⱱ؅䍚鐧‫׾׌‬ն껿㕙‫ך‬鷨‫׌ׇ‬䇗ꝴ؅扛껫‫עמ״גַם׊מ‬յ⹨Ⳃ⺬‫⛮י׎؂‬硌⴫‫ַׂי׊‬㣓ⳙֿゖ‫ַם׿׊׵־ס׾ַי׿؂‬ն

95

Komaba嫎☔⴫䇗մ典㛻‫ס‬餉⩕‫☪ע‬⺨牊㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫סء‬磵冽ֿ氦辐‫מצג׾׿׈‬յ‫ֿ׈⛥סא‬鎇갭‫׾םמ‬典㛻‫ס‬㎁꤀䓪ն䏲䥨‫׾׌׊‬㎁‫ס‬亠ꄠ‫׽ֵ׵‬յ典㛻‫׵‬㎁꤀䓪⺸┕‫םױ׉ױ׈מ״גס‬瓀؅铺‫ֿ׾ַי׋‬յַ‫מדױ‬婊㲊䣒‫ע‬䣒‫ַםַיי‬ն儖鋗◄‫עך‬㛻㰢‫׾ֽׄמ‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬䑒釐䓪յ☪䏲‫ס‬㏇‫׽‬亠؅‫ױ׈‬‫םױ׉‬釱憠‫׼־‬吾錞‫ַׂי׊‬ն‫ثّؕذ‬٬‫٭ؓؕـ‬٬‫٘ب٭آٖظؙ‬٤5)&┩槡㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ء‬仼儖撶؅釤‫כ׾‬յ典㛻‫ס‬㎁꤀䓪‫تס‬‫עؓؤ‬٬‫ך‬㎁⫂⛣ն稀⺬ꯂ⛣‫ס‬⛣‫מ‬奂‫י׊‬յ㛻‫⛣ַ⛥ׂ׀‬糋‫גׄחמ‬ն
㛙㎁鏤䪧哅‫ס‬ꝧ铺奂曍‫ע‬٬‫כ‬仾┍䅑㛻‫ך‬樑泘յ㰢榟‫ס‬槳㰢曍‫׵‬٬‫ך‬樑泘‫כ‬婊‫י׊‬냕ׂ‫ַם‬ն㛻㰢‫⪒׵‬㰢◫䬵槳㰢‫و‬ٞ‫ء‬ّٚ645&1‫מ╚׷‬葏鏤鎇縖‫ס‬槳㰢榟؅㵚霄‫䷷ג׊מ‬굺㰢鼧葏鏤‫ت٭ؤ‬1&",յ㎁꤀稀⺬ⱱ鏀㲊⯆䈱Go Global Gateway‫⯆סלם‬䈱؅丝⤓յ◄ⳉ磝笝‫䷉ס‬磝‫י״⻠׵‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬鶟㷣؅泘䧗‫ַי׊‬‫׾‬ն‫סא‬䡗冽‫׽ֵ׵‬յ5)&┩槡㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫סء‬International Outlook(㎁꤀䓪‫ס‬ꯁ泘‫׆׆ע‬䇗‫ך‬⠘鲣ׂ‫ؓؤتמ‬؅⛈‫ג׊ף‬ն‫־׊‬‫׊‬յ槳㰢⯆䈱‫ע‬䢥㷯‫׾׌‬㰢鼧‫ׯ׮עיז׻מ‬槳䇗ֿ⯥䬠‫׽גזםכ‬յ1&",‫עך‬1&",㛙鼧‫ס‬㰢榟‫◫סכ‬孱ֿ哕珷‫מ‬㵼‫כ׽גז־ם‬յ䥚ֻ‫׾‬鐐갭‫ע‬㛡ַն典㛻榟‫ע‬槳㰢‫ַם׊‬宾㛙孬鸦㰢榟㘃ⱶ‫ס׫‬鷹‫׽ס‬䇗‫ךױ‬㎁꤀儖鼧Ꝏ䎎侇؅ⳉ‫ג״‬絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ典◹‫؜‬ٝ‫ةش‬‫ע‬645&1‫ס‬丝⤓‫׽׻מ‬ր㰢鼧ⶡ⛣‫ך‬车‫י׿؂‬ַ‫ג‬䏲僿鐐爊鶟㰢䏲‫ס‬槳㰢‫ع٭َئ‬؅儖鼧‫גזםמֹ׻׾׀ךך‬ց‫כ‬鍐❫‫׾׌‬ն㰢鼧‫כׇ‬‫מ‬磵؆‫גַך‬宾㛙㛻㰢‫⶜סכ‬㲊؅儖鼧ֿ磵‫ךכ׆ש‬յⲖ曍⴫յ㰢鼧ꝴ‫⪜┘ס‬䇖‫ס‬鉮寕ֿ鶟؆‫ד‬ն☪‫עך‬典㛻ֿ磵؆‫◫׾ַך‬䬵槳㰢㛻‫◍⛣ⶡס‬䬵‫יַחמ‬յ鼧㷀‫ס‬斻玮䓪ֿ┉榟‫סהג‬㎁꤀⴫‫מ‬꞊鵽‫םױ׉ױ׈׾׌‬磬꽦‫סח‬꤃㲹‫כ׾ַיזםמ‬䧗䰔‫׾׌‬նր槳㰢⩝؅㛻㰢‫י׊כ‬䤔鏀‫כ׆׾׌‬؅㲚銧‫ֿסג׊‬‫ס׿ב׿אע־׾׌‬㰢鼧ֿ婊‫כ׆׾״‬ն‫א‬‫◐יזג‬烕洠稀Ꝏ؅㡎‫׾׌כ״‬䎎侇‫ס‬㓴车‫⛣ⶡס‬؅典㛻‫סלס‬䪧哅‫י׊כ⛣ⶡס‬鏀㲊‫ס‬侇‫◍⛣ⶡמ‬䬵‫מ‬犉哕氳‫ם‬㰢鼧‫כ‬յ舅⮆‫ס‬‫סך؀׆כ‬䪧哅؅㛻◄‫ַג׊מ‬㰢鼧‫ַֹכ‬㎁꤀稀⺬ⱱ鏀㲊⯆䈱‫ד‬նր儖⯆䈱Ⱘ錃‫ֵמ‬鼧‫ע‬㎁꤀氳‫⛮ם‬꽦؅犉‫כ׆׳‬؅䑴䭤‫ַג׊‬‫ַֹכ‬䙫⺸ֿ䍚‫כגז־‬杼鉮‫׾ַי׊‬ց‫כ‬鏤鷿ַ‫׾ׂי⭳ע‬ց‫עס׾‬㎁꤀⴫䥵䎎‫ס‬杼◄٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ؅ⳉ‫׾״‬ٛ‫מؠت‬㵚‫⹚׾׌‬䑴‫דױ׉ױ׈ע‬նր㵧全؅嫧悌䷷䪧‫ע‬ր㰢鼧榟‫┉ׇׂס‬鼧‫ע‬㎁꤀⴫‫מ‬㲔꤀‫◫מ‬䬵槳㰢‫ג׊‬㰢榟‫׵ך╈ס‬槳䇗‫ס‬縒ֻ‫׾‬昶◀ֿ‫כ׆ג׀ך‬յ典㛻‫ס‬䪧哅‫׵‬㞐‫׀‬氫嫧悌⛪⽰㯸䷷䪧☔乃炘⚡硌溿狒熭ն氫犉哕氳‫׾׌כֹ؀؂־־מ‬յ냕ַٓ‫ب٭يز‬‫כ׆ם‬ց‫׼־‬ր槳䇗‫ע‬攐‫מ‬妳‫גז־ם׼םמ‬ց ٘٤ֵֿ‫׾‬ն┉亠յ墦䒝‫׼ֿם‬㛡丗‫ע‬犉哕氳‫סא‬䄐‫ע‬婊‫י׊‬㵸‫׈‬ր 槳䇗؅ ‫ַם׿םמ‬敯媲ֵֿ‫׽‬յ⶜㲊‫ס‬丗‫ע‬‫׽┕מ‬յ‫מ٭ذتْج‬☔ 䄄٬䇗‫כ‬銧ֹ㰢榟ַֿ‫┉׾‬亠յׂ‫ַם‬ն
‫מכ׆סא‬㵚‫⷇׾׌‬嚀䚉‫ע‬㓴车鼧‫ך‬鹴ׄ‫״ג׾‬㰢僿‫סײס‬槳㰢؅榼鑁‫ֿג׊‬յֿ槳㰢‫סׄד׾׀ך‬凂ֿ榫䙫‫כ׾ַי׿׈‬ַֹն ‫׊־׊‬յ䇗‫׼־‬ꯂ鐧‫מ‬丗؅⛈‫ג׀י׊ף‬⪒㰢◫䬵槳㰢榟‫׆׆ע‬丗䇗յ֐☔⯥䏲‫ך‬䫟燯‫׽ֽי׊‬յ◫䬵凂‫ֿס׾ַיז⛷׵‬杯敯‫ד‬ն
㎁꤀◫孱鐐‫ס‬碬兎域㱳攐♳㵠ꝛ绷⿦‫ע‬ր㶨孨‫׷‬鶟㰢鹟䥃‫ס׫‬䏅ꮶյ槳䇗‫⺎ס‬耆䓪‫לם‬յ‫םױ׉ױ׈‬ٛ‫ؠت‬؅Ⳇ勅‫ֹֻג׊‬‫ך‬槳㰢؅鹟䥃‫עס׾׌‬յ杯敯‫ַ׼ׂס׆כד‬‫☔ס‬丗‫ַם׿׊׵־סֹױ׊יזםכ‬ց‫כ‬銧ֹն絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ‫ע‬յ槳㰢⩝‫כ‬典湾‫ַֹכגׁ׌‬䏲䖕ֵֿ‫ךס׾‬յ䇗槳㰢‫׊‬ٜ‫ٔ؞‬٤‫تق‬䫟鶟儖鼧㎁꤀⴫䶹䭤㲜Ꝏ‫ס‬湭    槳䇗‫ס‬ٛ‫ֻⱶמؠت‬յ磬岷氳‫ם‬靷䥵‫׵‬㛻al培‫ַ׊‬ց
磬٬䇗‫ַֹכ‬㚜‫׵‬ն‫◫ַ׀‬䬵槳㰢ֿ⢥帩‫╈׾׌‬յ㰢榟‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫

؅鶟‫ַׂי״‬꤀‫מ‬ꄆ釐‫עס׾םמ‬湾僿‫ئס‬ُ‫٭‬٬‫ؔؗ‬٤‫و٭ذ‬ٞ‫ء‬ّٚ‫כד‬碬兎攐♳㵠ꝛ绷⿦‫ע‬鏤‫׾‬ն‫٭ُئ‬٬‫ؔؗ‬٤‫و٭ذ‬ٞ‫ء‬ٚ⹾点☔䷷䪧稀⺬乃⴫溿狒熭‫ע‬Go Glob-

Gateway؅ր槳㰢‫ס׫‬弍㏇氳‫ם‬艄⽏؅䌕‫ס״ג׌⭳׀‬僃⮣‫┉ס‬塥ց‫כ‬鍐‫׾׌‬ն僖儕侇憠‫עך‬䇗榟☔յ䇗榟☔‫ס‬氧ꎰֵֿ‫ֿ׾‬յ湭⹾䷷䪧‫ע‬全䇗♓꡸յ‫כז׵‬氧ꎰ縖ֿ㘃ֻ‫כַ׊׮י‬鏤‫׾‬նր典㛻‫ءמ‬ٞ‫٭‬ّ‫ע‬㰢榟‫☔ס׼־‬妳‫׵‬냕ׂյ䑴ⳓֿ㲊⿦‫ס‬‫ف‬ٜ‫☔ם‬免‫ַַיׂם׼םמ‬㰢榟‫ע‬☔‫ַ׵‬؅鍱‫מ׀כ׾ײ‬鐐갭‫ֿס׾םמ‬㰢◄値‫ד‬նրմ鐐갭‫ע‬յ㰢榟‫ס‬Go Global Gateway‫מ‬ꝧ䦌‫ס☽מ׀כ׾׌‬宾㛙⺬ⱱ؅鏀㲊յ‫כ‬銧‫م׵י׿؂‬٤‫כ‬全‫ַם‬ց㰢⠘鲣ׂ‫ֿ׾ֵ׵כ׆׾ם‬յ‫و‬ٞ‫ء‬ّٚ‫ס‬䦡㛻宾㛙㛻㰢‫وס‬ٞ‫ء‬ّٚ؅㛻㰢⺸ׄ‫ס׵ס‬؅鬇榫‫ך‬‫״גַם׀‬յ仼儖攐僗‫ס‬㰢◄値‫ע‬㛻‫⯆ם׀‬硜‫םמ‬‫׾‬ց䇗䈱‫עמ‬㎁꤀◫孱‫׫‬‫סⱶ⹆ס‬丢㷈؅┖‫׆׾ׅ‬‫כ‬؅泘氳‫ג׊כ‬㎁꤀稀⺬ⱱ鏀㲊⯆䈱٬Go

GlobalGatewayֿⰨ錃‫ג׿׈‬ն宾㛙槳㰢‫ַֹכ‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬‫׍׼םײ‬յ㛙㎁鏤‫ס‬䪧哅‫⹦ס‬䐂‫׷‬㰢⫂‫סך‬㎁꤀ؕ
‫ي‬٤‫ⱶ⹆ס׫ع‬؅⻠‫״‬յ㰢10⪦僗‫כ׾ַי׿׈‬䓙ֹց‫׵כ‬鏤‫׾‬ն‫ء‬ٞ‫ف٭‬‫׵י‬䇗ꝴ‫⶙ך‬哅‫⯆םֹ׻׾׀ך‬䈱؅丝ֻ‫י‬‫ַם‬ց㵚‫׾׌‬杼鉮ֿ┘餉‫דכ׆׾ַי׊‬նր㎁꤀稀榟ֿ㛡ַ‫כ־ַםעךס‬氫嫧悌䷷䪧‫⷇ע‬䘧‫׾׌‬նր㰢鼧‫ס‬䇗ꝴ؅‫יׄ־‬㱭䡗‫و׾׌‬ٞ‫ء‬ّٚն⯆䈱‫ס‬㓹儖氳凂磝‫ײ‬؅㰢榟‫מהג‬杼鉮‫ֹ׻ֹ׼׵י׊‬յ㰢⫂䇶㕔‫ⱱ׵מ‬؅⪌‫׿‬‫ַג׀ַי‬ց

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⹨ׄ⪌‫׿‬؅ꝧ㡎‫䷷ג׊‬굺㰢鼧葏鏤‫ت٭ؤ‬㛻㰢‫מ‬ր㎁꤀⴫‫ַם׊‬ց‫ַֹכ‬鹟䥃罈‫ע‬墦‫׈‬‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫؅䫟鶟‫״ג׾׌‬瓀㲊‫ءג׊‬ٞ‫ف٭‬ꢙ‫ס‬ٛ‫ز٭ئ‬٬‫ؘن‬ٞ‫٭‬؅ⳉ‫״‬յ㛻㰢䷓瓀‫ַם׊מ ס‬յ‫׵כ‬銧‫ַם׿׼ַיז‬敯媲‫ֵמ‬

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‫ַםַי׿‬ն䷓瓀溿狒㛻㰢ꢙ㛻㰢䷓瓀溿狒 ⴫ֿ鶟‫╈׳‬յ典㛻‫ׄד‬㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ء‬؅妳溿狒؅㵠ꝛ‫׾׌מ‬榹╈⽰⿋‫׈‬؆‫ע‬ր㛻㰢ֿ‫׾‬ն㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬鶟㷣䈱⺬ַ؅ⶡ硾‫ם‬䧗嘅‫⺎ך‬╈‫ך‬㡎Ⳃ‫כס׵ג׊‬杼鉮‫׾ַי׊‬ց‫כ‬1&",

‫עךֹ׻‬炘⚡‫ס‬㓹泅‫י׊כ‬嚀耆‫ַם׊‬ն㎁꤀䈱ⶡ硾⴫‫ַ׌׷׽־؂׵ךי׊‬䎬‫ך‬鍐❫؅乃⴫溿狒熭‫ע‬鎇‫׌‬ն
ր杯敯⯆䈱‫עי׊כ‬ꃘ炘⚡‫מ‬靹春‫ך┕׾׌‬ꄆ釐‫׾םמ‬ց‫כ‬鏤‫׾‬ն氫‫ךס‬ր䎎侇‫ס‬熤⪌㰢‫סלם‬閱鑜‫סכ‬礘‫סײ‬(1&",礴䦮㲜Ꝏ‫ס‬峚麓ꥒ┉鼂䷷䪧稀⺬䡗壿꣪‫׾ֵמ‬ց峚麓䷷䪧1&",‫ֿד‬յ‫׿׆‬‫ךױ‬♓┕‫ס‬㎁盈‫⨣ס‬熓‫ם‬㰢榟؅⹨ׄ⪌炘⚡յ䄫妨‫ס‬孨Ⳃ‫׷‬䄹僶‫╻ׂ⪒כ‬ꦕ‫׾ַי׊‬⴫‫ע‬냕璡䷷罫嚀꞊յ溿狒嚀꞊‫י׊כ‬㛻㰢ֿ‫ג׀י׿‬ն㎁꤀⴫䫟鶟㰢鼧⪌鍱䥵䎎㲜Ꝏ‫ס‬ֿ⭳舅‫יַֽמלם‬㏯韬⴫‫׾ַי׊‬杯敯‫מ‬鉴‫ך┕ג׿‬յ㎁盈‫׷‬㎁㛙‫䷷ך‬罫؅⹨ׄ‫فג‬‫ءؠش‬ٚ‫ؗ‬٤‫غ‬؅典㛻‫ס‬㛡喋䓪‫┉ס‬鼧‫י׊כ‬⹦‫׽‬鱮‫׳‬䙫紶؅䍚鐧‫׾׌‬ն䐂‫כַם‬靸槡‫׷‬炘⚡‫⟓ס׼־‬榫‫ע‬䐂‫ם׿׼‬ַցն槳㰢榟؅㘃‫׌׷‬㏆ⱱ؅ⱱ‫מ‬㎁꤀⴫‫׿׈‬嫧悌䷷䪧‫ע‬㰢鼧榟‫ס‬㎁꤀◫孱‫ס‬ꄆ釐䓪؅‫ַםַי‬鼧㷀؅㎁꤀⴫‫׾׌‬յ㎁꤀⪦蜷鑜乃‫מ‬舅⮆‫ס‬榟孨㎢‫סך׆א׷‬䅻閁‫ס‬凂㛙‫⭳מ‬‫⪦ס‬蜷؅⛈‫׌ף‬յ‫ֿؓؔظْלם‬ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ء‬⮉նַ‫ך־׆ל־ח‬䍏ַ玮㕙‫ֵֿכ׆׾םמ‬‫⮵י׊כ‬榫‫י׊‬㛻㰢؅㲔韬氳‫מ‬㚺ֻ‫כ׆׾‬‫ג‬亠ַַֿց 㛻㰢‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬㏇‫׽‬亠‫דױ׉ױ׈׵‬ն┩槡攐‫מ‬䍚鐧նր攐‫מ‬典㛻榟‫עיזכמ‬萴ַֹ‫ה‬‫י‬յ舅⮆ֿ䍏縖‫׾םמ‬磬꽦؅䧏‫ֿכ׆ח‬㛻叜㸓䄄㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ‫ע‬典㛻‫ס‬㰢鼧榟釱⴫‫؀ה׵עס׾׌‬؆┘⺎耆‫ֿד‬յֵ‫׾‬爊‫׼־דס׾‬յ‫ַֹֹא‬磬꽦‫ע‬企‫ַֽי׊מ״‬մ典㛻‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫؅鏤‫ך┕׾‬泘‫ֿסׂחמ‬㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫׾ֽׄמء‬典㛻‫ס‬㎁꤀䓪䧗嘅‫ס‬狯⭳‫ד׈⛥ג׊‬ն
5)&‫ס‬㕙⺬յ㎁꤀䓪‫ס‬ꯁ泘‫עؓؤتס‬槳㰢榟奂曍⪒⛮‫סؓؤت‬٬յ㛙㎁☔䷷⿦奂曍⺱յ㎁꤀⪦蜷鑜乃丗    典㛻⫂‫ך‬㛡乃⴫⪦榟敯䛜؅⛼‫עמ׾‬㰢 ⺱‫ס‬‫סח‬ꯁ泘‫ך‬啶䡗‫׾׿׈‬ն‫ؓؠؓؠ‬ٝ؅➢鶟‫ךכ׆׾׌‬յ㎁꤀⴫‫⮆׀׬׌‬ꄇ‫ס‬鑜乃؅㕔‫ךכ׆׾׋‬榟‫و׾׿ױ‬ٝ‫٭ٔبش‬؅䣆壿ֿ䑒釐‫ַֹכד‬ն㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ךء‬꯽鉈؅杯‫╈׾ַי׊‬㎁‫ס‬⴮◹㛻㰢‫׷‬岲虒㛻㰢‫ע‬㱭⪒‫מ‬葏鏤‫ךײס‬⹦䐂‫׾׀ך‬㰢⛣؅㘃‫׊׷‬յ埪眦‫ס׼־‬槳㰢榟؅╈䑏‫׽⹦מ‬鱮‫ײ‬؅㍲‫׾ַיז‬ն‫ֿד‬յ氫嫧悌䷷䪧‫ע‬仼儖鏤‫䷷׾׻מ‬罫յ溿狒‫ס‬ꄆ釐‫׵׈‬䑫‫כַם׼םעי׿‬䍚鐧‫׾׌‬նր銧鏤‫ע‬

䇗☔ַ‫׾‬1&",♓㛙‫ס‬㰢榟‫מ‬㵚‫י׊‬ٛ٬‫ٓب‬٤‫ث‬24‫עך‬槳㰢榟٬㛙㎁☔䷷⿦ꄆ釐‫ֿד‬ր1&",♓㛙‫ס‬㰢榟‫כ‬1&",榟‫סכ‬悌䷷䪧‫הֹס׆ע‬㎁꤀⪦蜷鑜乃丗‫יַחמ‬‫חח׊‬յ㛡喋䓪؅澬⟊‫עכ׆׾׌‬ꦘ‫ַ׊‬ցն仼麓䷷䪧‫ע‬㇓ׂն鶟㰢鹟䥃‫מ״גס‬냕䐂憠؅ַ溿狒梪㗞‫ס‬丝⤓‫ⱱⲃמ‬؅‫׼םף׿ׄם׊‬絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ‫ע‬仼儖鏤‫䷷׾׻מ‬؅㷽⟣‫⛷׾׌‬遙ֿ‫┉סא׵׆ַם‬㍔‫םעך‬曍‫עיַחמ‬րꪜ䅻‫מ‬典㛻‫ם⮵┘יזכמ‬‫׾׀‬յ◅儖玮‫⯆סי‬䈱؅䬠勅‫׾׌‬ն鹟䥃䑒⟣㰢鼧‫מ‬燯‫כ׾׌כֹ؀‬յ냕ַ仼儖鏤耆ⱱ‫ס‬錞 絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ‫׵‬5)&‫׷‬24‫ס‬㛻‫◫׾‬孱‫ס‬꤀‫מ‬䑒釐‫⮆⺨׾םמ‬ꄇ‫ס‬㓹灄湳

鏤㎢‫ס‬㛻㰢‫ס‬㓹嶖‫מ‬⢎‫כ׾ַיז‬䧗䰔նր葏

杯‫כ׾׌כֹ׻׊‬յ杯敯‫׵ך‬鷨㛻‫ס⿦䷷ם‬靷☔‫ַםַ־׊‬1&",榟ֿ㰜玮‫ֿכ׆ַם׊‬◫孱‫ס‬㵼‫ע׈ם‬杯㕙‫ך‬櫕䚉‫׾ַי׊‬ց‫כ‬峚澬⟊‫ַג׊‬1&",♓㛙‫ס‬㰢榟‫מ‬1&",‫ס‬䪧哅ַ‫־‬ն䏲僿鐐爊鶟㰢侇‫מ‬1&",榟ֿ儖齁‫ס‬伺ֿ䑒釐‫┕׾םכ‬յ葏鏤‫ך‬车‫⯥גז‬僿䷷굺鐐爊熭泘؅☽㰢鼧ֿ釐姲熭泘‫י׊כ‬鏀㲊‫׌‬‫מכ׆׾‬寕哕氳‫גזַכ‬꤃㙆ֵֿ‫״ג׾‬յ鶟㰢鹟䥃؅嚀‫מ‬1&",榟ֿ☽‫ס‬㰢鼧榟‫◫כ‬孱奂曍‫סؓؤت⛮⪒ֿ׿ב׿א‬‫ד‬ն氫嫧‫ע‬ր㛻㰢‫י׊כ‬㎁꤀⪦⺱溿狒ֿ榟‫׌׷׿ױ‬‫ַם‬ց‫כ‬鏀‫┉׾״‬亠յ槳㰢榟٬㛙㎁☔䷷⿦奂䧗嘅ց‫כ׾ֵך‬鏤‫׾‬ն㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫סء‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬ꯁ泘‫ע‬鍐❫鬨ֿ葏┉‫❫סח‬⡁鈝յ乃⴫؅⪮杯⴫‫ס׵׾׌‬ն夳鏤‫䷷׾׻מ‬罫؅鬭؆‫עי׋‬յ㰢软‫ס‬韬؅⟊錞儖鏤‫כ‬葏鏤յ┸亠‫䷷סך‬罫ֿ䑒釐‫╈׾םכ‬յ罫؅‫י׊כت٭ي‬յ葏鏤‫䷷׾׻מ‬罫‫׵‬鹟䥃‫ך‬‫ך‬յ葏鏤‫ס‬䪧哅؅榫䙫‫ךכ׆׾׌‬յ葏鏤‫׻מ‬閁؅綗䐂‫ַֹכֹ׻׎׈‬縒ֻ‫ד‬ն‫׊־׊‬յ㲔鏤㎢‫ס‬㛻㰢‫ע‬葏鏤‫ַֹכ‬塡㉺؅䧏‫׾ַיז‬ն 䥵ֿ鐐갭‫ַֹכ׾םמ‬ն舅⮆‫סהג‬銧蜗؅ワ‫הג☔׾‬؅㛻㰢‫⽛מ‬؆մ‫׽⹦םױ׉ױ׈‬磝‫׽ֵ׵ײ‬ր㵼‫ח׍׊‬荁ׂ‫ؠ٭‬ٜ‫׾׌ⱶ⹆מ٭ؔطؼِٖؤסלם‬꤀յ ‫ך‬յ伺‫מ־׼‬葏鏤㎢‫ס‬㛻㰢‫מ‬僗⮵‫י׀ךמ‬㛻‫ס‬㎁꤀䓪ն‫׊־׊‬յ儔‫ד‬㛡ׂ‫ס‬鐐갭ֵֿ‫׾‬‫׾׌‬嚀⚡‫׵‬꡾‫׾׿׼‬ն‫מ׼׈‬յ1&",榟ֿ‫ئ‬銧鏤‫׷‬僖‫⪌ַֹכ‬㰢侇僿‫מ״גס‬ꦘ荇؅‫׵ך‬㰢榟յ䷷⿦‫ס‬㛙㎁☔奂曍ֿ냕ׂ‫ס׾ם‬‫׾ַיזם‬ց絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ典ַ‫׾‬ցն㲔꤀յ5)&┩槡㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ء‬‫◄׵ס‬㲔ն榹╈‫׈‬؆‫ע‬杼㰢鼧⴫㰢熭ֿ䪧哅ַ‫׾‬նր‫ַֿםעׂגׅ┖┕♓׿׆‬ٚ٤‫؞‬٤⮆ׄ䎎侇‫ס‬䈓憠ֿ┖ֿ‫❆גז‬؅䌕‫׀‬ր㰢炐‫ַֹכ׾ֵ׵כ׆׾׿׈‬ն叜㸓㛻㰢㓴车‫עך‬յ⛣‫י⪒ךױ‬؅葏眦‫ס‬㛻㰢ֿⶭ‫י״‬‫י‬յ仼儖鏤؅‫יז׷‬䎎抅‫ַֹכ‬䙫閁؅䥨‫♀׊‬‫ء‬؅┕‫כ׆׾ׅ‬؅僃磙泘嘅‫םעכ׆׾׌מ‬典㛻‫┉ס‬芗㰢榟յ䷷⿦յ‫י׊א‬绷⿦ֿ㚺‫ז؂‬‫┉עי‬㲊‫ס‬䧗嘅‫גזגמ‬典㛻‫ס׫‬鍐❫‫׊כ‬‫׊‬յ㎁꤀氳‫ם‬琂◁‫הⳏך╈ס‬墦‫עמַׂיז‬䷉ꪵ‫ס‬䑒釐䓪؅䍚鐧‫ג׊‬ն錚了‫ס׵םֹ׻ס‬ց‫ך‬յٚ٤‫׆מס׵סאؠ‬‫⛮╚ס‬氳‫׽⹦ם‬磝‫ֿײ‬䑒釐‫ֹ؀ד׾םמ‬նꝎ‫׵‬鐄伺‫׾׌‬ն⮣撶氦车(c) 2021 The Todai䇗僖仼
Shimbun Online
CZ╈◒⢸㜀䏔٬Ⱌ㰢Ꝏ‫ע‬ր仼儖‫מ‬槳㰢‫מ‬全‫כ׼־ג‬銧‫ז‬ׄ‫ַםׂ׻עס׾‬ն㛡乃⴫⪦榟‫עמ״גס‬‫ַםַׄכַם־ַי‬ց‫כ‬㛻㰢⪒⛮‫ס‬䙫閁㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ֹלעء‬孨榫‫׾׌‬㛻㰢‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫‫ס‬䙫紶‫עכ‬ַց‫ַֹכ‬氫嫧悌䷷䪧‫ס‬銧蜗鵟‫׽‬յ典㛻‫׊כ‬‫י‬鸵㲏孨榫‫׾׌‬爊䈱‫ס׵ס‬նֵׂ‫ךױ‬ր⢸䉓‫כַםעכ׆׾؂ד‬絢榹㛻㰢㓴车䏔٬Ⱌ㰢  㵚‫י׊‬榹╈‫׈‬؆‫ע‬յ㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫ء‬舅⛮‫ס‬䙫⽏‫ע‬꡾㲊氳‫׵חח׊כ‬յ儖韬氳‫ם‬㎁꤀⴫炘⚡յ攐‫מ‬磬岷‫ס‬㎁꤀⴫ֿ蜷‫ַ׊‬杯㏇յ ‫כ‬㛻㰢ٚ٤‫؞‬٤‫סךء‬ٚ٤‫┸ס┕⺸ؠ‬亠؅؅⪒‫י‬葏鏤‫ך‬车ֹ‫ג׊מֹ׻‬磵冽յ鶟㰢䨕‫׽‬榟‫׵מ‬葏鏤‫ך‬䪧哅؅⹨ׄ‫סלם׾‬釶䖩ֿ餉‫עךסַם׽‬ց‫כ‬䧗䰔‫׾׌‬ն㛻㰢ֿ㎁꤀⴫
鼧㷀؅飃ֻ‫ג‬㛻㰢‫׽⹦ס‬磝‫ֻⱶמײ‬յ㰢榟

11

by Mahi
EXCITEDLY WALKING AROUND for the
Komaba Campus tour as a new student, I
felt very thirsty. Seeing no signs ofa water fountain, I asked the senpai tour guide about it. Confused,
he looked at me and said, “I usually
get bottled water...”, and then showedme the most popular water fountainof Komaba (in the library). Over the
next few weeks, I strolled aroundcampus hunting for the hidden
water fountains. Oh, and by water
fountains, I mean the press-button-water-shoots-up kind. Here’s
what I found out:

KOMABA I CAMPUS
HAS OVER 64 BUILDINGSAND ONLY 9 DRINKINGWATER FOUNTAINS.
For a campus of over nine
thousand students and staff
members, that is abysmal! Personally, I don’t fancy walking halfway
across the campus in between lessons
to refill my bottle (7/9 water fountains are clustered on the northeast side of campus)—instead, I
usually just refill my bottle fromthe washroom sinks. “Ewww”you might think! And rightly so, sinks
don’t exactly scream high-quality refreshing water.
In July 2020, the “UTokyo Student SDG Awareness Survey” conductedby the Todai Sustainable Campus Project (TSCP) student committee revealed that “40% of students use their own bottles or cups.” The remaining 60%, then, are sucked into the single-use lifestyle of buying bottled
drinks from the Co-op every day.
Thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic, most water fountains on campus
are dressed in a “shiyoukinshi” (use prohibited) sign. Even then, is it too
much to dream that when we return to campus (fingers crossed, soon)a prestigious national university like UTokyo will provide its students
with free and convenient access to clean water? We need bottle refilling
stations in every building, perhaps with motion sensors that fill up
your bottle with minimal human touch required (COVID-friendly!). By doing this, attention would be drawn to the importanceof reducing consumption, to then mitigate the broader issuesof plastic accumulating in our environment and climate change. Of
course, not having to purchase plastic bottles wouldn’t hurt the limited
money any student has!
WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, here is a map of all the water fountains

12

Patkion the desert a.k.a. Komaba Campus I. Jokes aside, I hope for this map to be a step towards amore sustainable campus, where being environmentally friendly is the easier option.
WALKING OUT OF CAMPUS, and into the streets of Tokyo, I wonder if, in an
ideal world, it is possible that all convenience stores have a water refill spot? I
talked to three NGOs that are already working to tackle plastic waste, andhere’s what they said.
“mymizu” is an app where you can find maps to access free water refill spots globally. Mariko McTier, co-founder of mymizu, says “We have to make it happen! Economics isalways going to get in the way, especially if it’s freewater. Eventually, there will be more pressure fromthe consumers, and that’s when convenience
stores are going to start shifting their business models.”
Greenpeace Japan has submitted aflurry of demand letters to the Japanese government and ran campaigns
called “Let’s Increase the Number of My Bottle Water Dispensers Campaign” and “Reuse
Revolution.” Hiroaki Odachi, plastic campaign leader from Greenpeace Japan, says
“It is not only possible to have water refill spots in all convenience stores, butalso to have most other products there
such as drinks and snacks with reuse/refill
options, and in supermarkets as well. It
is time for us to envision a single-use
packaging-free future and act on it.”Map of water fountains at UTokyo’s Komaba I campus

Refill Japan has made a map to navigate the already existing water refill spots and also rents out“temporary refilling stations that can be directly connected to a tap.” I couldn’t get a direct answer fromthe NGO but I find it hard to imagine it disagreeing
with the basic yet ultimate convenience of having water fountains at convenience stores.

13

Social
THE MOMENT IS FINALLY COMING.
As a historian, I’ve always been interested in
how civilizations change and how societies progress.
How cultures evolve and how public discourse
develops. The brutal murder of George Floyd andthe subsequent mass protests against police brutality
are changing the narrative about how we discuss
racism. I’m one of millions of people feeling the tidechanging. The COVID-19 pandemic may have imposed
physical isolation on us, but it has been atimely reminder of the need for global
connectedness and collective humandialogue.
I’ve had many conversations
on race in class over the last
decade. The conversation tends
to have two components. The firstalways addresses how race is asocial construct. We discuss how
racism manifests itself in media
representation, social and cultural
institutions, urban landscapesand the economy. We discuss
how deeply enmeshed it is in thecurrent systems of society, not just in
the U.S., but also in Japan and the dozen
other countries in which students have
lived.
HOW THEN DO WE DEAL
with systemic racism? This is
the second topic. We approach
this question cognizant of thefact that the majority of us are people ofcolor or with multiple racial heritage.
We learn the visual tropes of racist
representation and learn tospot them. We also explore
how stereotypes can besubverted, so the racist
comment is something to be laughed at.
Sometimes we talk about how wemaneuver ourselves within systemic racism as peopleof color. To defend against overt or subtle forms ofracism, we acknowledge that we’ve had to develop athicker skin, simply because we can’t keep getting angry
at every single encounter. We learn to tolerate racism toprotect ourselves from physical harm or verbal abuse.
Some have even learned to become oblivious to racism.
Others manipulate racial markers to get a foot in thedoor, succeed in a chosen career, and secure the black

Amex card. If anyone has made any effort to become
an “honorary white” person, it’s undoubtedly becauseof the social capital it carries, and that’s another tacticalchoice for success.
Studying the rules and playing the game to ouradvantage may have been important for our personal
gain. However, by developing these survival tactics, wehave also enabled the survival of systemic racism.
In retrospect, what’s surprising is that we havenever discussed the elimination of this beast calledsystemic racism. The actions we talked about
were acts of resistance, protest perhaps, anda rebellion at best. But there’s never beenmuch of an assumption that we’d beable to topple this giant. We talk about
how we can spot racism and how we
can navigate around it, but we had
resigned ourselves to letting thisarbitrary power structure dictate ourlives. Simply put, we have becomecomplicit in perpetuating systemic
racism.
We must say enough now. The
orthodoxy of racism can no longer be
upheld.
IN THE PREFACE of the Universityof Tokyo Charter, there is no mention ofrace. The Charter declares the University“shall guarantee no discrimination
based on nationality, gender, age,
language, religion, political orother reasons, origin, property,
lineage, marital status, position within
the household, handicaps, ailments,
career, etc.” This is rather an extensive
list, but race is conspicuous in
its absence. It’s a denial thatrace would be considereda source of discrimination.
However, we cannot deny racism exists
in the form of xenophobia and otherdiscriminations in Japan.
As members of the UTokyo community, what
can we do? Let’s start asking questions. Is UTokyo freeof systemic racism? Is UTokyo free of discriminatory
practice against racial minorities? What does UTokyo
do to guarantee no discrimination based on race?
Let’s point out racism in all its forms. Now is the time
to become recalcitrant to the orthodoxy of systemic
racism.
Yuko Itatsu is an associate professor at the University of Tokyo.

614

Japan’s
Japan’sElite
EliteUniversities,
Universities,Where
WhereWomen
WomenAre
AreaaRarity
Rarityby Motoko Rich
Originally published on 08/12/2019
TOKYO—From a young age, Satomi Hayashi studied hard and excelled academically. It seemed only natural that
she would follow in her father’s footsteps and attend the University of Tokyo, Japan’s most prestigious institution.
As soon as she was admitted, her friends warned that she was spoiling her marriage prospects. Men, they said,
would be intimidated by a diploma from Todai, as the university is known in Japan. Spooked, she searched Google
for “Can Todai women get married?” and discovered that prediction was a well-trod stereotype.
The admonitions didn’t stop her. But Hayashi, 21, wondered if other women had been scared off.

WHEN SHE ARRIVED THREE YEARS AGO, fewer
than one in five undergraduates at the university were
women.
The dearth of women at Todai is a byproduct ofdeep-seated gender inequality in Japan, where womenare still not expected to achieve as much as men andsometimes hold themselves back from educational opportunities.
Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has promoted an agenda of female empowerment, boasting that Japan’s labor
force participation rate among women outranks eventhat of the United States. Yet few women make it to the
executive suite or the highest levels of government.
The disconnect starts at school. Although womenmake up nearly half the nation’s undergraduate population, the oldest and most elite universities reflect—and
magnify—a lackluster record in elevating women to themost powerful reaches of society.
For nearly two decades, enrollment of women at the
University of Tokyo has hovered around 20%, a lack ofparity that extends across many top schools. Among
seven publicly funded national institutions, womenmake up just over one-quarter of undergraduates. At theexclusive private universities Keio and Waseda, a little
over one-third of students are women.
Japan’s universities lag behind other selective institutions across Asia. Women make up close to half ofthe student body at Peking University in China, 40% of
Seoul National in South Korea and 51% of the National
University of Singapore.
At Todai, “you can see right away there is something
completely out of balance,” said Hayashi, a literature major. “Because women are half of society, there is something strange about a university that is only 20% women.”
IN STATUS-CONSCIOUS JAPAN, a diploma from Todai is the ultimate pedigree—the equivalent in the United States of Harvard, Stanford and the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology rolled into one. It opens doors
in politics, business, law and science.
More prime ministers have graduated from Todaithan any other school, and more than half of the country’s Supreme Court justices are alumni. The university
has the highest number of graduates to go on to Parliament or to win Nobel Prizes.
“We have the most powerful education that we candangle” in front of anyone, said Nobuko Kobayashi, a
1996 Todai graduate and a partner at EY Japan, where
fewer than 10% of partners are women.
“We were branded with it,” she said. “We almost bask
in its glory unconsciously.”
SPEAKING THIS YEAR TO FRESHMEN AT TODAI, Chizuko Ueno, a retired professor of gender studies, suggested that the imbalance was a symptom of inequality that extended beyond higher education.
“Even before students enter the university, there isalready hidden sexism,” Ueno said. “Unfortunately,” sheadded, “the University of Tokyo is an example of this.”(c) 2021 The New York Times Company

157

SocialHer sentiments touched a nerve in the audience.
On Twitter, male students complained of being harangued. “Why is she not celebrating us, the male students?” one wrote. Another called the remarks “feminist propaganda.”
In the speech, Ueno referred to a scandal exposing
deliberate discrimination at Tokyo Medical University,where officials acknowledged having suppressed the entrance-exam scores of female applicants for years.
ADMINISTRATORS WANTED TO LIMIT THE
PROPORTION OF WOMEN TO 30%, claiming thatfemale doctors were likely to stop working after getting
married or giving birth. A year after the scandal was revealed, women passed at a higher rate than men.
There is no evidence that the University of Tokyo
manipulates exam results. Rather, officials say, women’s
admissions are consistent with the applicant pool.
“We are just like stores that don’t have enough customers,” said Akiko Kumada, one of the few female engineering professors at Todai and a member of its gender equality committee. “Right now,” she said, “we are
not getting enough female customers.”
Kumada has a few theories. Young girls, she said, arerepeatedly fed the idea that academic achievement is not
feminine. She cited lyrics by AKB48, a female pop band,
like “While I’m still in school/It’s OK to be stupid.”
Some women, she said, might fear that a Todai degree

inevitably leads to a high-powered career in a brutal
working culture. One graduate committed suicide after
telling friends she had endured harassment and gruelinghours at an advertising agency.
TO RECRUIT WOMEN, the university has mostly
tried small-bore measures.
Todai sends female students back to their high schools
to encourage younger women to take the entrance exam.
In a recruitment brochure, “we try to balance the photos
we run,” Kumada said, “and make sure we have womenin them.”A more substantial policy provides dormitory subsidies to women from outside Greater Tokyo, an effort tomollify parents who might worry about safety in the bigcity. The university pays 30,000 yen a month—roughly$275—for about 100 female students. Critics have attacked the policy as discriminatory against men.
Outright quotas for women have been a nonstarter:
Todai administrators reject affirmative action as inequitable.
Staunchly traditional, Todai draws from the samehigh schools year after year. More than one-quarter ofstudents who enrolled in 2019 came from just 10 highschools, seven of which are all male.
Unconsciously or not, high school and college administrators say, parents are more likely to push sons toachieve.
(c) 2021 The New York Times Company

816

“With sons, parents really expect a lot and want theirboys to perform to the maximum level and aim as highas they can go,” said Hiroshi Ono, principal of Tokyo
Gakugei University High School, which sent 45 students
to Todai this year, 11 of them women.
Parents, Ono said, “feel bad about pushing girls towork that hard—they think it would be better for themto get married and be a housewife.”
Even at Oin Girls School, which sends more womento Todai than any other high school, administrators said
girls may feel ambivalent about pursuing an elite education.
“A woman’s life is much more complicated,” said Yukiko Saito, Oin’s principal. “They have to decide who tomarry, whether to marry, whether to have children ornot.”
FOR A VAST MAJORITY OF STUDENTS, admission
to Todai rests solely on one exam for which students
spend years studying. High school grades and extracurricular activities carry no weight.
Zkai, a cram school for university entrance exams,
has a high acceptance rate to Todai. Wataru Miyahara, adirector, said fewer girls study for the exam.
“It’s hard to tell which is the chicken and which isthe egg,” he said. “But there are so few girls at Todai, so
it’s hard for girls to look at Todai and say ‘I want to go
there.’”
Whatever the reason, he said, “they are not as ambitious as boys.”
Three years ago, Todai invited high schools to recommend one male and one female student who could forgo
the exam in exchange for an essay or group interview.
Fewer than 70 students a year are admitted this way, outof a freshman class of more than 3,000.
Aine Adachi, 20, who came to Todai three years
ago through this system, said expanding the criteria toevaluate strengths not captured by one high-stakes test
could attract more women.
“Having one criteria to judge a person by doesn’t
make it fair,” she said.
ON CAMPUS, Adachi, who is studying law, said she
feels scrutinized as a minority. Gender discrimination,
she said, comes in subtle forms.
Once she and a male classmate were planning a club
trip, huddled over laptops in a cafe near campus. Another male classmate walked up and observed their conversation.

“It looks like the boss and his secretary!” hequipped. “Why do you assume I’m the secretary?”
Adachi retorted. “Why can’t I be the boss?”
Women at Todai often feel isolated. When a classgathered for a graduation photo, Kiri Sugimoto, 24, alaw student, was the only woman.
“What irritated me was that the men made remarks
like having me in the picture would look great because
it wouldn’t look like a boys prep school photo,” she said.
“I was treated as the decorative rose among stones. That
irritated me to be treated like that.”
Some Todai men avoid socializing with female classmates, favoring activities in which most of the womencome from other universities.

At a Todai ballroom-dancing club, Erica Nakayama,
23, a masters student, said she and her classmates were
outnumbered by women from other universities.
Todai men, she said, frequently typecast female peers
as too serious.

“A boy once said, ‘Todai girls are a little
scary,’” Nakayama recalled. “I just kind oflaughed and let it go. But in a way it did kindof hurt my feelings.”
Some clubs tacitly bar Todai women, although theuniversity officially discourages outright exclusion. Of
more than 30 social clubs focused on tennis, for example, only two actively recruit Todai women.
MEN HAVE LITTLE INCENTIVE to change. Campus
advocacy is minimal. Even an investigation by the student newspaper about clubs that exclude Todai women
did not identify the exclusive groups.
Women hesitate to speak out. Nakayama said she
avoided activism that might be construed as feminist.
“It might have some repercussions for me,” she said.
People “might think I’m acting too manly or too strong.”
In and outside class, Hayashi said, women tolerate aculture in which men make jokes filled with sexual innuendo or comment on women’s appearances. “You are
expected to understand or communicate with these sexual jokes,” she said. “Otherwise you feel kind of left out.”“You just have to understand,” she said, “and accept
the male view.”(c) 2021 The New York Times Company

179Socialone turned a blind eye. But I grew up in the grand old
United States of America, and so naturally my instinct
is to be extremely loud about the very obtrusive television under the carpet. And loud I will be—because
I know that had I gone to Harvard or MIT, I would
have been (more than) completely comfortable letting
people know of that fact.

To
every
one
who andcares every
one whodoesnT
AS A TODAI WOMAN, I am jokingly told that I'mlucky because I certainly must be getting all the guys'
attention, and that there certainly must be something
wrong with me if I haven't breathtakingly captured

A response to “Japan’s Elite Universities, Where Women Are a
Rarity”
by Toko Sumiya

I NEVER TELL people I meet for
the first time that I’m from Todai.
I dread being asked what university I'm from at
the hairdressers and almost always resort to staring
pointedly at my phone to cut off any conversation.
At movie theaters, I hesitate to show my student ID
even when I desperately want the student discount.
After a whole year of studying upwards of 15 hours
a day and making it to my dream school, this is thereality I face. Is it because I've become much too Japanese for my own good, and am constantly quiveringin fear of other people thinking that I'm arrogant? Or
is it because I've been a chronic overthinker ever since
the moment I took my first breath?
Most likely, I am guilty of both. Yet most importantly, I don't tell people because as a woman; it isn't
always a good thing to be from Todai.
This is one of those dirty truths that everyone knows
but no one really talks about, almost as if someone
hid a 75-inch television under the carpet and every-18

some poor boy's heart. (Ever consider the fact that I
might not want to, mister?) Other days, I am effusively praised for being "as smart as all the boys," but also
warned not to be a "strong and annoying woman."At the same time, contestants of the annual "MissTodai Contest" (an antiquated tradition that for whatever reason all respected universities in Japan stillcling to) are praised for being "almost as pretty as girls
from other universities," the premise being that there
is no way we could possibly be attractive, after having
wasted our adolescent years with our noses stuck inbooks.
THERE IS NO GETTING AROUND the fact that
we are extremely privileged to have access to the besteducation in the whole country. Yet we are subject toa painfully frustrating form of sexism that exists precisely because we are privileged, and which epitomiz-

es what Japanese society feels about women—that even if
we have the skills to attend the most prestigious university
in the country, we cannot be proud of that.
We are, for lack of a better word, not nearly “womanly”
enough—but also most definitely women. You cannot be awoman of this university and also be traditionally attractive, yet you cannot be treated as an equal to your malepeers. Because this is Japan, and Japanese people are theworld's top experts at very obviously telling you something without uttering a single word—no one will ever tell
you this upfront. But oh, will you know.
So it makes sense to assume that I would be over the
moon, now that I have the means to very noisily air mycomplaints about this messed-up reality through writing.
MY OLD ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHERS in
America who took it upon themselves to remind me that
all of my opinions are “special treasures” would be disappointed to know that I am not excited about this at all. I
would much rather remain holed up in bed and tweet-rant
anonymously into the darkness.
The more we speak out, themore we "outspoken (hint: loud)
women" are labelled as outsiders
and cut off from the rest of society. Hell, just publishing this article
could have people think of me
as a strong-willed, typical
Todai woman who speaks
out of turn. I should bethankful for the chancesthat I get, and yet, I amquite honestly tired ofalways having to think
about what people will
think of me tomorrow
before I say anything.
Despite all of this, I sit
here at 1:15 with a glassof wine on a Saturday night thinking
about how I could
trick people into believing that this is good writing, sothat more people would read it.
Not because I want to be Superman at least once in my life
(although that doesn't soundtoo bad), but because thinking
about what not doing anythingmeans genuinely frightens me

more than seeing Voldemort's face stuck on the back ofProfessor Riddle's head.
Not doing anything means that I am complacent withthe fact that men could control Japanese politics and society for the foreseeable future. The more men there are at
Todai, the more they have to gain from the education andthe resources offered here, simply because there are morebodies to reap the benefits. My male classmates today arequite literally going to be the ministers speaking on television in 30 years’ time. Unless we make universities like Todai more attractive and accessible to all the brilliant young
girls out there, change is but an illusion.
Not doing anything means that future Todai women
have to be worried, like me, about what it means to interact with anyone outside of the university. My boyfriend isalso from Todai; I constantly feel like I am able to be my
chaotic self only because I know that he understands. It isalarming that I may not ever be able to have a relationshiplike this with people outside of Todai.
My purpose here is not to expect Fairy Godmother tobibbidi-bobbidi-boo us out of thisappalling situation, as I havestudied enough to know thatthat isn't what happens in theworld of grown-ups. And I reremain painfully aware of the factthat writing something like thismight end up further jeopardiz
jeopardizing our stance.
Regardless, I'm here be
because I understand boththat Todai has given meso much, and that there issomething horribly wrong
with the status quo. While
many of my friends are ut
utterly unbothered by what's
happening, I at least knowthat I am furious. I owe
it to myself to be honest
about my own emotions,as raw and confused asthey may be.
I stand here now to tell
you that yeah, there is avery ugly and old televi
television under that carpet,
because sometimes ittakes just those few
words for someone tolift the corner.

19

SocialI Stand With Tibet
by Mizuki Takahashi

Photograph by Gigion/Unsplash
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM. That is, Tibet.
All eyes are on Hong Kong and Xinjiang, yet
we forget one particular state in an eerily similar
situation: Tibet. Tibet’s history as an independent
state was mostly peaceful until the twentieth century, when in 1951, it was forcibly annexed by thecommunist regime of Mao Zedong. This prompted
the 14th Dalai Lama—the spiritual leader of Tibetan
people—to seek refuge in India in 1959, exacerbating the already dire situation.
Today, under Chinese rule, Tibet’s independence
and cultural autonomy stands eroded at best. President Xi Jinping has introduced measures to eliminate ancient Tibetan traditions such as farming, going as far as to enforce a labor program to assimilate
Tibetans into Chinese society. Education remains
another issue at stake, wherein China’s policy effectively reduces access of ethnic Tibetans to educationin their mother tongue. Just recently, China has coerced the last remaining Tibetan-language school
to teach in Chinese. If this sounds familiar, that is
because it is—similar enforcements and “education
camps” for the Muslim Uyghurs exist in Xinjiang.
Another existential thorn in all our sides comesfrom Tibet’s importance to our environment. All of
us talk about climate change, but we never realize
its relation to
Just recently, China has
Tibet. As thecoerced the last remaining source of theeight largest
Tibetan-language school to river systems
in the world,
teach in Chinese.
Tibet’senvironmental state impacts over a billion people inAsia. But Tibet’s rivers are facing a brutal attack by
China’s development policies.

20

BEHIND THE MASS MEDIA ATTENTION on
Hong Kong and Xinjiang, then, is another state thathas been subdued into repression by China. Yet there
is still some hope. In 2020, the Tibetan Policy andSupport Act (TPSA) was signed into law in the United States (US), showing US support for Tibetans. For
instance, the US can now impose sanctions on Chinese
officials if they decide to appoint the 15th Dalai Lama.
Tibet’s environmental importance has also beenaddressed, albeit only to a limited extent. Under the
TPSA, the US recognizes the strategic importance ofTibet’s natural resources, and the Another existential thorn
threat that climate
in all our sides comeschange poses to it.
from Tibet’s importance
The US therefore
will put in efforts
to our environment.
to monitor and encourage the preservation of Tibet’s environment. Yet this is only a drop in
the ocean of what needs to be done.
IF YOU WANT TO HELP, start by supportingsome of the NGOs that are helping Tibet achieve sovereignty. Globally, the International Campaign for
Tibet (ICT) is the largest NGO that offers not only
programs to assist the Tibetan community, but also
regularly produces reports to raise awareness about
the political conditions in Tibet. Closer to us, there areNGOs in Japan such as the Tibetan Children’s Project(TCP) which helps Tibetan refugee children.
One final note. Tibetan culture may be eroding, but
their adoration of the 14th Dalai Lama shows no signof diminishing. The Tibetans have not given in, andneither will I. Of course, I’m not saying that you shouldtake action. I’m also not saying that you should standwith Tibet. Nonetheless, I will.

21
6

Culture

Crazy
Rich
Asians:A Tale of
One CityTWO YEARS AGO, Hollywood’s grand, triumphantanswer to its race diversity
issues, the little island nationof Singapore’s the moment on
the global cultural stage, therecord-shattering, chart-topping, ground-breaking blockbuster Crazy Rich Asians was
released to uh, some fanfare.
Uninspired forbidden-loveevil-queen-mother-miraculous-change-of-heart story
aside, there really wasn’t
anything particularly Singaporean, or even Asian forthat matter, about the movie.
Despite the relentless marketing revolving around its
predominantly Asian cast

22(“It’s not a movie, it’s a movement!”—the guy who also
directed Justin Bieber’s 2011
3D concert film), the characters were more wealthy than
Asian. Ambiguous Eurasianethnicities, tiringly familiar
Hollywood faces, everybody speaking in some vague
Caucasian accent which they
thought to salvage with just
one single character basically doing yellowface with apainfully overdone renditionof “Singlish”, low angle panoramic shots of manufactured,multi-million dollar development spectacles that we’ve allseen a thousand times (Youknow the one. The three buil-dings with the ship on thetop), all culminated into theultimate visual expression ofSingapore’s destiny manifest:
a very expensive tourist destination for rich people.
15, directed by Royston
Tan and released in 2003, isalso set in Singapore, with aslightly different subject matter of gang violence. It too hasa predominantly Asian cast.
In fact, all five of the main
cast merely play semi-fictionalized versions of themselves in the film. The dialogue
is set in a healthy mix of English, Mandarin, Malay, Hokkien, and various other local
dialects. Quite unexpectedly,

it also features an extensive
sequence of Singapore’s various tourist attractions andlandmarks.
Except in 15, we are following protagonist Armani
as he looks for a building thatis “perfect” enough, one thatpeople will read about in thepapers, to jump off from. Accompanied by his two “brothers”, they hold placards that
read “䡘” “釐” “墄” (“I want
to die”) as they travel acrossthe city, stopping to pose infront of temples, museums,
parks, and apartment buildings. When they finallypinpoint the perfect spot, theiconic durian-shaped concert

Esplanade like Armani.
In the final scene, the boys sit on the
train bathed in the orange of the sunset. Their faces are blank, staring silently ahead as another gang chant echoes
over the speakers in Hokkien:“Please do not reason me with the truth.
Or expect to change me with your kindness.
I can’t offer an explanation for
my life.
If something ever happens toyou, where can your parents
find their sons?”
Slowly, Melvin leans his headon his brother’s shoulder.

・Special thanks to Donovan
Graphics by Jules Iida
Stills and poster from
Tan, 15, Zhao Wei Films

his son in the face, asking his child
why he would bother birthing a goodfor-nothing “pai kia”. Erick laughs theincident off over a bowl of dumplings.
Armani squats in the shower, hacking
away at his wrist with a penknife, abored look on his face. An anonymous
schoolgirl jumps to her death fromher apartment, landing right behind
Melvin and Vynn as they walk tolunch. Her empty eyes fix on our two
teenaged gangsters as she bleeds out.
They then head home to put on cucumber face masks and talk girls andshoplifting.
Despite their unrelenting refusal to«As the camera follows the
be a part of “normal” society, we seeboys through their lives, they the world at large slowly creeping onto
encounter loneliness, pain, and them. The ever-present gaze of the general public, quietly judging them anddeath, which they face with un- their antics violate the invisible barrier
blinking eyes and indifference» that both sides had raised between
themselves through incongruous education systems, income inequality, and general societal
neglect. Armani physically assaults an office lady whocomplains about the boys making noise on the bus. Thegang gets into a gruesome altercation with students of an
Integrated Programme school, Singapore’s covert way ofdenominating elitist, near-private schools, who may very
well have grown up to be Nick Young’s buddies in Crazy
Rich Asians. Shaun angrily tells off a middle-aged lady,
who could very well be mistaken for his mother, for nervously side-eyeing him in the elevator. And though they
win these little physical battles, the nauseating scenes ofdrug abuse, self-harm, and even the scenes where they
sprawl out on their backs doing nothing in particularmake clear the desolation and aimlessness behind theirstoic faces, and that in the long run, our bengs will be thelosers in the rat race.
ON THIS NATION built on breakneck competition

and meritocracy, which rose from athird-world country expelled from Malaysia in 1965 to become the hub andplayground of the global elite today as
we see in Crazy Rich Asians, these fiverestless souls find their place in the world quickly disappearing, with nowhere
to run to but to each other.
Crazy Rich Asians tells the story of“defeat” and redemption—that withthe magic of *love*, one can rise froma lowly economics professor at NYU
to the queen consort of generational
wealth hoarded from imperial Britishcolonial times. That in today’s era of rapidly rising income inequality and social unrest, hey, rich people have feelings
too! 15 shows us the other side of thecoin—just defeat—those left behind in
Singapore’s meteoric social and economic progress, who at best will amountto the anonymous background waiters,
security guards, and drivers in Crazy
Rich Asians, or dead at the foot of the

by Jiwoong Choi

hall Esplanade, Erick and Shaun pat
Armani on the back for a job welldone, as Armani himself breaks into asatisfied grin. His final solitary journeylater is shown through an uncomfortably lengthy and quiet close up on histeary face as he rides the bus to his suicide destination.
Following this sobering and seemingly final sequence, however, thefilm carries on with its usual programming of vignettes from the daily livesof the rest of the gang members, fondly referred to in Singapore as “bengs”:
filming homemade music videos
chanting gang slogans to techno music
while topless, doing DIY face piercingsin their apartment flats, comparing penis lengths, swallowing condoms filledwith ecstasy to smuggle into Malaysia,
and skipping school.
Suffice to say, the Singapore that Tan
delves into in his debut full-length feature film, which had to be cut 27 times
before it could get past the government’s censors, is worlds apart fromthe one the international audience
was offered in Crazy Rich Asians. As
the camera follows the boys throughtheir lives, they encounter loneliness,pain, and death, which they face withunblinking eyes and indifference.
Shaun’s unseen father repeatedly slaps

23

Culture

Why
WhyAnimal
AnimalCrossing
Crossing
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theGameGameforforthetheCoronavirus
CoronavirusMoment
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Originally published on 07/04/2020
Page layout by Alexine Castillo Yap
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24

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It’s all
all thethe moremore
It’sintensified for
for
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struggling
those
with isolation
isolationwithand addiction.
addiction.
andImages by Nintendo via The New York Times!"#$%&%'$()*$+*,$-./0$(12*3$4.25678
25

Culture

THRIFTING FOR
A PERSONALITY
TRAIT

by Maho Nambu

WORN DENIM tumbled in cheap detergent, a hip couple in purple cargo pants
and twenty dollars in my pocket. Tokyo
does not fall short of its thrift life: theback alleys of Harajuku where vintage
Chanel competes against straight-off-themannequin Chanel, the orphaned piecesof clothing waiting to be re-loved on thestreets of Shimokitazawa, and reliving the
80s’ retro-punk in Koenji.

Photograph by Stephanie Hau [Unsplash]

Thrifting is a trendy pastime amongst the
hipster youths swerving anything remotely
related to the word “mainstream”. The reality of thrifting in Tokyo, however, includes
thumbing through racks of checkered shirtswith obscure stains in a cramped basementwith no windows—not to mention you needa little more than 2000 yen in your wallet.
So why does Tokyo’s youth engage inthrifting? Does it really stem from aburning passion to reduce textile wasteor do we just need to feel unique in acollectivist society?

KILLING TIME down the narrow alleys of Shimokitazawa, you always come across young womendecked out in bizarre colors, accessorized by their boyfriends looking just as comical. I cannot help
but get a kick out of the juxtaposition of seeing these young experimental couples brushing past
JKs in their school uniforms. It is like an act of rebellion against the six years of secondary education
shackled in the monotony of grey skirts and navy blazers, the gleaming school chest-badge serving
as a stamped proof of being the property of a collectivist society.

26

Clothing is your debut to the public eye: the first layer of you that you are disclosing to the world.
After graduating from uniforms, you are given the freedom to choose how you present yourself.
Having spent years of your adolescence accustomed to uniformity, there must be something thrilling about stepping into a thrift store: a wonderland of self-expression noteven limited by the realms of time. Going back to the question of why Tokyo’s youth
thrift, the eco-consciousness buzz, broke student
budgets and overly-paid
Youtubers’ “thrift haul”
videos are all valid reasons. But still, I am speculating that these Japanese
Gen Zs are also drawn to
the musky smell of thrift
stores in an attempt tofind their individuality
exclusive to themselves
without a higher authority
shaping their identity.
Photograph by Mario Effendy [Unsplash]

Photograph by author

I TOO am brimming the last of myteenage years and am walking aroundin circles attempting to discovermyself. Everyday is like being stuck at
a stoplight, looking both ways before
attempting to cross the road into
adulthood, only to be struck unconscious by an identity crisis going 90
in a 65. Youth is a stubborn child,wanting to belong yet wanting to bedeemed exceptional.

I am that stubborn child. I make my visits to the thrift store to spend my allowance on a Nike crew neck and excuse its overly familiar logo because it is “vintage”,
hence “not mainstream”. Thrifting allows a choice for self-expression unrestrainedby corporate powers shaping the fashion world today. Perhaps the Japanese youth
are seeking a breath of fresh air in these cramped underground thrift hubs. Inhaling
the scent of musty parkas and artistic individuality, they have found their ultimate
escape from a collectivist quotidian.

27

Culture

How to Pretend You’re in Tokyo+*%,"+#-&)#.%/01#2!"#$%"&$!'("!)*+"!"#$%&'(")*+,-.*"/,&0,12"3',34%5)"2)+'')2"6,+")*'"7+2)")58'9"#5('4'0'("$3(":')4%$..'(;"!)",3%0"),,&")*+''"($02"),"%'$+3"2,8'",6")*'"<5)012"2'<+')2;"!6"0,-"<$33,)"73(")*'"='+6'<)"3,,(%'"2*,="6,+"%-3<*9"6,+"'>$8=%'9"%,,&"-="$3("0,-"#5%%"2''"$3,)*'+"(,?'3",=)5,329"7%%53.")*'"-=='+"@,,+2",6"#*$)"0,-")*,-.*)"#'+'",A<'"B-5%(53.2;"C+")*$)"
6$8,-2"=%$<'2D%5&'"E*5B-0$"F+,2253.9")*'"53)'+2'<)5,3"0,-"*$G'"2''3"53"HII")58'%$=2'2D$+'"6$8,-2"6,+"$"+'$2,39"B-)")*'+'"52"2,"8-<*"8,+'"),"%'$+3"B0"=5<&53."$"8')+,"2),="$)"+$3(,8"$3(".,53."6,+"$"%,3."#$%&;/*52"#$2"2-==,2'("),"B'"$"B5."0'$+"6,+"),-+528"6,+")*'"<5)0D$%+'$(0",3'",6")*'"#,+%(12"8,2)"G525)'(D$2"5)"#$2"2')"),"*,2)")*'"3,#"=,2)=,3'("C%08=5<2"$3("J$+$%08=5<"K$8'2;"/*$)9",6"<,-+2'9"(5("3,)"*$=='3;
L5)*"8,2)",6")*'"#,+%("2)5%%"<,373'("),")*'5+"*,8'29")*$)"/,&0,")+5="#5%%"*$G'"),"#$5)"6,+")*'"85%%5,32",6"=',=%'"#*,"<$3<'%'("@5.*)2"$3("*,)'%"B,,&53.2;"!3")*'"8'$3)58'9")*'+'"$+'"#$02"),"<$=)-+'")*'"2=5+5)",6"$"2,8')58'2"58='3')+$B%'9"$%#$02"6$2<53$)53."<5)0;"J'+*$=29":-2)"6,+"$"35.*)9")*'2'"+'<,88'3($)5,32"85.*)"'G'3"8$&'"0,-"6''%"%5&'"0,-"$+'")*'+';!"#$%&'"%()&*I FIRST MET KAZUTO OKAWA, who performs under the name
LLLL, outside a convenience store in the quirky neighborhood of
Koenji on my first night in Tokyo. He was sitting on a curb in acircle of friends, his face obscured by long, disheveled hair. Overthe years since that first encounter, his music—a blend of sugary
pop hooks and space-age soundscapes—has become synonymouswith the city for me. If those conflicting feelings of disorientationand joy that hit every visitor to Tokyo could be translated to sound,
this would be it.
When I asked Okawa what music best captures his home city, hedirected me to the classics. Musician Keigo Oyamada, better known
as Cornelius, is sometimes reductively called the “Japanese Beck”
for the way he swoops between genres with ease. Every album isa journey, but for the most evocative of the city, Okawa suggests
his 1995 album “69/96.” “It’s forever futuristic,” he said. “A perfectmatch to Tokyo.”
If Cornelius is too out there for you, Okawa recommends “Kazemachi Roman” by Tokyo folk rock pioneers Happy End: You may
recognize a song from the soundtrack to that great tribute to Tokyo,“Lost in Translation.”
To begin understanding the phenomenon that is Tokyo’s J-pop
scene, Okawa says to start with Sheena Ringo’s “Kabukicho nojoou.” “It captures the dark side of the city,” he said. “And it happens
to be one of the most popular J-pop songs of all time.” For the flipside of the same pop coin—perhaps it is a more lively summer night
you are trying to re-create—he recommends Taeko Ohnuki’s aptly
titled “Sunshower.”28

If those conflicting feelings ofdisorientation and joy that
hit every visitor to Tokyo
could be translated to sound,
this would be it.

(002%#&%&'"%>).."$%?#+<"NO TRIP TO TOKYO is complete without a whole lot of eating. While it may be hard to accurately re-create a bona fide
Tokyo bowl of ramen or plate of sushi, there is plenty that you can do from home.
Quick and easy dishes include yakitori (yes, you really can make it at home) and nori chips (perfect with a cold Japanese lager).
For something more involved, and seasonally appropriate, follow the lead of Motoko Rich, The New York Times’
Tokyo bureau chief. “With the weather getting cooler, it’s time to break out the butane burner for shabu shabu, a classic
Japanese dinner that you can make and eat right at the table,” she said.
First, make a kombu dashi, a broth flavored with dried kelp, then take beef, tofu, vegetables and mushrooms and dipthem into the bubbling liquid, making sure to swirl in the ingredients long enough that they cook through. “Although
we can cook shabu shabu at home, it also reminds me of fancier mid-20th-century-era restaurants in Tokyo, where theservers wear kimonos and carry regal platters to the tables.”345#.1%*06$%7)&"$#$*%!0$)80.
IF YOU WANT to lose yourself in Tokyo by curling up with a good book, we have plenty of recommendations, whether it is a long work of fiction you are after or more snackable short stories. There is more—a lot more—than Haruki
Murakami. Rich recommends “Breasts and Eggs” by Mieko Kawakami. “I love the way Kawakami references real andrecognizable, but not exoticized, Tokyo locations,” she said. “You feel in the know, reading it, rather than as if you arebeing introduced to a precious Other World. It is Tokyo as it is lived in, not a film set.”,""%&'"%()&*%0.%&'"%,9$"".

IF AN EVENING of TV and subtitles is what you are after, start with the binge-worthy “Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories”
on Netflix. The show is about the customers who pass through a tiny counter-service restaurant that is only open frommidnight to 6. At turns heartwarming, hilarious and melancholic, it is a moving portrait of Tokyo after dark. If the opening title sequence does not make you feel good, check your pulse: it is ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response)
for the soul.
When it comes to movies, as Mike Hale, a Times’ television critic, said, “Tokyo is simultaneously the most cosmopolitan and the most intensely local city you can imagine, and that’s a perfect combination for storytelling, as directors from
Kurosawa to Kiarostami to Sofia Coppola have shown.”
Where to start then? You cannot skip Akira Kurosawa, the influential filmmaker whose career spanned almost six decades. Hale recommends “Stray Dog” (1949), shot in Tokyo in the aftermath of World War II. He describes it as “a walking tour of the city in sheer survival mode.” Next, try “Tokyo Drifter” (1966) by Seijun Suzuki. “Suzuki’s stylized yakuza
story sets traditional themes of honor and corruption against a jazzy, jagged, surrealist distillation of the rapidly changing
city,” he said. Finally, for something more contemporary, watch the Cannes Palm d’Or-winning “Shoplifters” (2018) byHirokazu Kore-eda. In Hale’s view, the film, about a family of grifters, “shows both the glittering modern metropolis andthe shadow world just beyond the neon.”:"&%70-&%).%&'"%;)$&6#<%=0$<1
WHILE JAPAN’S MOST INTERNATIONALLY FAMOUS video
gaming figure may be an Italian plumber with a taste for mushmush
rooms, there are also plenty of games more grounded in real-life Tokyo thanSuper Mario Bros. Brian Ashcraft, an Osaka-based senior writerat gaming website Kotaku, recommends the expansive “Yakuza”
series, which follows Kazuma Kiryu as he makes his name in theunderworld. The Yakuza games are action-packed, but with dancebattles, karaoke sessions and laugh-out-loud dialogue, they are alsounabashedly silly. “This year has resulted in all events and trips toTokyo being canned,” Ashcraft said. “The Yakuza games do a fan
fantastic job of bringing parts of the city to life. These obsessive, digitalrecreations mimic the idea of Tokyo. For me, that’s good enough.”Originally published on 01/12/2020(c) 2021 The New York Times Company

29

Culture

A response to “How to Pretend
You’re in Tokyo”
1

by Shun Mizumoto“WHERE DOES the three-legged raven sleep?” Out of theblue, this enigmatic song from my childhood drifts into
my mind, washing over me in a serene tide of nostalgia.
Night was falling in Asakusa, Tokyo, where I worked as apart-time receptionist at a guest house. I was just catching
my breath, having finished welcoming most of the day’s
guests coming from all over the world. It was about a few
years ago, before this global societal shift. Back then, Tokyo was still bustling with foreign visitors.
In hindsight, my sudden remembrance of the song—the “three-legged raven” song—must have been promptedby a very personal question. I could sense this question
growing louder within myself as I listened to the visitors
happily recounting their eventful stories in Japan: what is
my own story of this country?
This conundrum brings me back to one particularplace—Kii Hanto. A vast, wild and mountainous peninsula, the land of my youth. Let me take you there for a little
while.

THE KII PENINSULA is seamless—ancient pilgrimage paths traverse the mountainous terrain, connecting
four sanctuaries: Ise, Kumano, Koya and Yoshino. Threereligions—Shinto, Buddhism and Shugendo—effortlessly blend with each other as do the various natural elements—mountains, rocks, rivers, waterfalls and the sea.
And they, all wrapped up in the veil of spirituality, seep
into people’s life, just as the three-legged raven, a ‘guidebird’ from the ancient myth, swoops in and out of a children’s song I used to sing in a merry tone.

2

30

3

5
6

4
Amongst the realms of this serene continuity mymemories reside. They are a perennial retreat for all fiveof my senses. The view from the mountain top, the roarof breaking waves, the fragrance of freshly-cut hinoki
wood, the blazing heat of the fire torch festival, and themellow sweetness of local mochi confectionery—these
nostalgic sensations are woven into my life memories.
These memories make the most authentic story of Japanthat I myself can tell—not about Tokyo’s megacity nor
about the iconically traditional Kyoto, but only about Kii
Hanto.
BACK TO TOKYO. With their vacation plans on hold, people
around the globe might be dreaming of this chaotic, weird yet
fascinating metropolis. As for myself, being stuck in this verycity leads me to think of the remote, rustic yet mesmerizing
peninsula. People have so many stories about somewhere theyhold dear to their heart, and each of them makes the place evenmore special. Let’s sit back on a couch at home and savor thislong-distance romance for a while, shall we?

Photo locations:
1 Shichiri-mi-hama Coast, Kumano, Mie
2 Niutsuhime Shrine, Katsuragi, Wakayama
3 Hatenashi Hamlet, Totsukawa, Nara
4 Sakura-no-Sato Park, Odai, Mie
5 Ise Grand Shrine, Ise, Mie
6 Shinsuibaku Waterfall, Kozagawa,
Wakayama
7 Soni Highland, Uda, Nara

7

31

Culture

Editors’
Picks:
Though I had dabbled inwatercolor in high schoolfor art club, I ventured into
digital painting and layout
designs in my iPad only very
recently during all the freetime indoors this past year. The
apprehensions and uncertainties
of being an amateur continue
to diminish with every
opportunity I take in applying
my newfound hobby to various
extracurriculars, for instance,
designing this very page you arereading our editors’ picks on!
- Zoe, art editor

Four Komaba
Times Members
Share thelittle Pieces
in TheirLives That
Have Kept
Them Active(and Sane)
During This
Period ofInertia

Curling your hair to a cool
fro in the summer—the angle
at which your hair rises witha tight curl is perfect for
optimal airflow. You can feelthe breeze sliding between
each hair and grazing yourI started my own blog, just to write

scalp. And you get to lookabout my naked thoughts. It turned

cool B)out being mostly about the politics- Juju, art editor

in the depoliticised. I felt a bit
uncomfortable making it public,
I still do, but I wanted to stayconnected and sustain
the dialogue, with myself
and with others.
- Eriko, translations
director

Bridge is one of my favourite composers, he’s so underrated
and creates such entrancing music that’s a great escape fromthe repetitive daily life of Covid times. It’s great for studying
or as a listening enterprise in itself; I’d recommend his 3
Sketches or Piano Quintet in D minor for classical music
enthusiasts and novices alike!
- Karen, social media
1032

A Year On:
One LovelessTokyo Nightby Alyssa Castillo
Yap2018 starts:
Tokyo is new,
Tokyo opens my eyes,
Tokyo is not anything we have ever seen,
Tokyo reaches the sky - do you see its skyline? Find red.
Tokyo Tower. Can you see it from where you are now? No. Until now.
Tokyo Tower. I want to show you how it touches the sky.
Tokyo Tower. It glows red, I know it does
Though I cannot see it
From where I am.
Ending 2019.
2018 Reality
I was happy when I arrived.
I was happy when I returned home. Then,
I was very lonely the night back. I was disfiguredby the longer stay. I saw, fast, suddenly, greying.
My parents are older, My brothers are older,
My friends are older. So, everything ages.
So does the day. I left at 18 and wrote
about loneliness at 19.
2019 Reality
I thought about going in circles.
Like 2018. Circling at night and taking note:
What places I should bring you all around,
if you ever visited, I’ll take you around,If you ever came around.
But the clock ticks. Ticks, another day.
A year on, 2020.
Tokyo is loveless.
Kept inside evenwhen not at home.
Kept outside when
we try look out theBox. Box-like life.

33

Creative

How We Use
Our Bodies
to Navigate by Gia Kourlas
a Pandemicc.2020 The New York Times Company
Originally published on 31/03/2020

NEW YORK—One day, before the coronavirus pandemic,
a river of pedestrians—half manic, half clueless—was feeding onto the escalator at the West Fourth Street subway station during rush hour. Blocking the escalator entrance werepeople gazing at their phones. Once they finally stepped on,they planted themselves on the left. It was a mess.

You stand on the right; you pass on theleft. This is the choreography of everyday
life.

I found myself directing people where to stand and when
to move. As the bottom half of the escalator started to organize itself, I noticed that something similar was happening
toward the top. I recognized the voice up there: It belonged
to Ori Flomin, a dancer, teacher and choreographer. We saw
each other and giggled.
“Of course,” he said, “we are the ones arranging people
in space.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about choreography lately. Not thekind performed onstage, which we won’t be seeing for theforeseeable future, but the choreography of space: How are
we using our bodies to navigate a pandemic?
IN THIS TIME OF CONFINEMENT, we have been given one immeasurable gift—the freedom to go outside. In

exchange, we must abide by a simple rule:
Stay 6 feet away from others. As choreographic

intentions go, that’s not remotely vague. Yet during my runs
and walks over the past few days, I’ve noticed that 6 feetdoesn’t mean the same thing to everybody.
Spatial awareness, like coordination, isn’t a given. Watching the choices people make when they move in public,
much less in this time of social distancing, can be shocking,from the much-bemoaned tourist who comes to a grinding
halt in Times Square to the woman with a yoga mat knocking people aside to get her spot on the floor. (It’s OK; she’ll
still feel good about bowing her head and saying namaste.)

Now the choreography of the streets hastaken on higher stakes. It’s the difference
between health and sickness, life and death.

Inside we’re alone. Outside, a new alertness is in order, onethat demands a deep connection to the position and movement of the body—or proprioception, sometimes referred
to as the sixth sense. Close your eyes and balance on one
foot: However much your proprioception, or sensory information kicks in, it will help you to remain upright. Wobbles
and falls are normal, but that means it’s time to work onbalance.
That feeling and control of where we are in space is important right now; dancers, through years of training and sensorial alertness, grasp this inherently. If this pandemic

34

is teaching us anything, it is that we need toreturn to our bodies. Life is precious, and so
is movement.
“IT IS APPALLING HOW WE DISUSE THE BODY,”
postmodern choreographer and dancer Steve Paxton once
said. “Dance reminds us about that. Dance explores someof the physical possibilities; dance refocuses our focusing
mind on very basic existence, and time, space, gravity open
up to creativity. This seems to me a reminder of nature, of
our natures.”
Dance is no longer being shown live on proscenium stages, but its materiality haunts New York City. It might be afriendly ghost. Is the proliferation of dance classes being offered on Instagram a sign that dance might be the kind of
medicine our bodies need?
Along with that comes mindfulness, a word that has
become too synonymous with self-care. But focusing on thepresent moment is a necessity. When I’m walking or run-ning — and I’m about to buy a jump rope—I bear witness
to a lot of mindlessness. Why is it that the person

wearing a mask—practically full ninja, as
if about to dispose of radioactive waste —is often the one who heads straight at you?

What makes the couple jogging side by side on the Williamsburg Bridge think it’s OK to pass an older man by amatter of inches? What are the runners wearing marathon
finisher shirts thinking when they spread across a path fora bro chat, their saliva and sweat misting the air?
Either a new entitled breed has revealed itself or people
are showing how oblivious they are to their bodies in space.
When you walk outside, you are responsible for morethan just yourself. We are in this together, and movement
has morals and consequences—its own choreographic
score, or set of instructions—in this age of the coronavirus.

Walking or running in the middle of a sidewalk is no longer acceptable. Pick an edge.
If passing someone from either direction, make an arc with
6 feet between you—just as soon after you’ve made sure thecoast is clear behind you. As for running or walking side byside on a narrow path? You have to be joking. Single file.
If you’re standing in a line, make some space. Feel thefloor. Play with gravity. Get to know your feet. Start

to recognize that even in stillness, there is
movement.

WHEN YOU LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOING, you see
things. It used to be that condoms littered the sidewalks;
now, the pavement is littered with used disposable gloves.
Both objects of protection are of great importance, it seems,

until it’s time to find a garbage can. But what we can’t throwaway—especially on the street—is the protection and graceof social distancing. The pandemic has created somethingfascinating: a new way of moving, a new way of dancing inthe streets.
It can feel like a game of chicken. Who will be the first to
make space? What is the latest swerve or hop to become astep of survival?
One thing seems certain: It will be a while for duets toregain their place in dance culture. (After the world rights
itself again, I predict years of solo dances, just as after Sept.
11, choreography was full of dancers gazing upward.) But inreal life, duets have cropped up everywhere. Your partner isa stranger; the stage is the sidewalk.
PAXTON WAS RIGHT to say that we need to refocus our
minds, to get back to basics. Social distancing isn’t

just about honoring space; it’s also aboutcelebrating it. An odd thing happened when I was run-ning the other day—my random playlist went to Bach, thesame music used in the first section of Paul Taylor’s “Esplanade,” his 1975 masterpiece based on the everyday or foundmovements. There isn’t one dance step in it, just as there
weren’t any in my run. But running, like walking, is moving
in time in space. And suddenly it felt like a dance.
In the 1960s, a generation of experimental choreographers was forward-thinking enough to embrace the beauty and wisdom of pedestrian movement: standing, sitting,walking, running. As we find ourselves in a position ofcherishing what we’ve always taken for granted, we need toretrain our minds as well as our bodies because right now
we’re all dancers, and we need to start acting like it.

“Start to recognize that even instillness, there is movement.”

PHOTOGRAPH BY: 2020 The New York Times Company

35

Creative
I learned that the more you get to know someone, the more you really don’t know them. It’s a hodgepodge of confusion that makes you
happy regardless.

Fly me to themoon, for that’s
the only place I
can find peace.
To the guy who I fought
all those years ago. I
forgive you and hopefully
you forgive me. Now thatyou have graduated too, I
hope you are doing wellin post-University life.
Perhaps you are in policy/law or politics now?

Best to you.

No matter how
bad things
got, I’ve
never had theurge to run
away. I do
now. A lot of
people romanticize theidea of forgetting yourpast self
entirely andcreating a new
one in a different stateor country.
That sounds
f**king appealing as
ever.

I missed you somuch all those
years. Although
I guess the youthat I’ve been
obsessed with ismore of an imaginary you, an idealized version ofyou, I still missyou. And frankly,
I’m really happy
that I do, because it’s betterto feel the hurt
than nothing.

“Hey, youno way i f**kingthere!
Wanna gowrote a vent here andabroad for
my internet had tofun, tostudy andbreak when i hit ento ‘broaden
teryour horizon’??
and it’s gone...
Pack yourthis is a f**kingstuff rightaway and get on a plane!
joke.
That ‘Tomorrow’ guy is ruddy deceitful.”
I’m gonna pick you up and throw you outof the window.

no timeto havetime

2020 sees me continuing the uphill battle to disentangle myself from thesepreconceptions of love and desire dominated by a male perspective.

I want to be good at math!
I know I might never be able to love like my parents did, but I
guess each generation interacts with love in their own way. Because
people don’t know what love is, and, let’s face it, nobody does,
online dating can seem somewhat effortless. Yet isn’t this whatlove is about: a fuzzy, heady psychological phenomenon to be obsessed with?

36

For National Coming Out Day, I
gotta admit I’mpansexual andpolyamorous.

To focus on classes, I started to readjust my eating and sleeping schedule. I eat DURING class and I sleep infragments. It’s strange. I eat facing abunch of icons and occasionally framesof human faces on a screen.
The mediatiWhy does my brain hyperfocus onzation of theanything BUT the things i actually other’s body. I
try to remindneed to get done?
The guy I used to havemyself that I
a crush on, who was
HAVE a bodyalso the bane of mywhile shovexistence, did someing food down my throat in front of athing quite cruel toscreen. I’m sure I will go blind in theme… BUT it’s the firstnear future if this continues.
time it doesn’t hurt.
Maybe I’m not ready tomove on…well, yet, but
I guess I’m starting
to let go.

i want to cry but
i can't.
i seriously can't
cry...
i cant even force
myself to do it.
it hurts.
2020 was a year likeno other. You constantly had something to shout at,but didn’t know
how. For thisreason, we
invited the Komaba Times community and beyond
toshout
out from theirheart,ANONYMOUSLY. Thisis our 2020,
unfiltered.

I wonder what it would be like to vent to
the future. I was a fortunate middle ofthe first ten years and got to meet manyolder and younger than me in the firstnine years of PEAK. While dorms closed
common rooms and professors changed curriculums, first in syllabus and then moving to Zoom (online video) what botheredme the most was how slow the dorm dryers
were. Whoever and whenever you are, didthat ever improve?

VENTING
MACHINE37‫‪⽰堭ֿ㘃‬ש־‪յ䓙ַ宯‬מ׀כג׊מ‪⽰堭؅泘‬׾ֵ‪յ‬כ‬‫‪ֻյ‬‬‫‪յ鉮ꃿ‬ךכ׆ַׂיזם‪䗯俌ֿꄆ‬ס‪⽰堭‬ס׵חַׂ‬‫‪ն‬׾םמ‪㳊佄‬׵‬‫‪ֿյ峚‬דהֿ׿؂‪䓙‬כ׾ֵֿ‪ٜ‬٭‪ٜ‬סׂ‪㛡‬עמ‪մ⽰堭‬‬‫‪ն‬׾׌‪⻖㲊‬ע‪鼧䷷䪧‬‬‫‪յ‬ע‪牊걉‬ס‪ٜ‬٭‪ٜ‬ס‪⽰堭‬ע‪ր㲔‬‬‫א‬‫‪羜俌湳閁؅釶‬׷‪喋䌋䓪‬מ‪؆ն鴫‬׎ױ׽ֵׂ‪㛡‬ל׮׿‬‫ֹ׻׾׿⹦ײ‪鐆‬ךױ⽏‪䙫‬ס‪銧㛙‬ס⿁⛼‪յ‬ףֻױ׊יֻ‬‫‪ց‬׌ױ׀י⭳ֿײ‪岐‬מ‪յ⛼⿁ꗲ韛‬׽םמ‬‫׾נ‪鍱车ꎬ鏰ꄆ‬מ׽‪䚉釶؅갔‬‬‫ס‪յ舅骰‬ע‪մ ㏧◒⟣┉䷷䪧䗯㕔杼䄄㰢硌溿狒熭‬‬‫לם׾״ⳉ׵◄‪杼‬ס⚡⶜☔‪յ杯♏堭‬חחַ‪溿狒؅车‬‬‫‪ն‬ד☔‪堭‬ס‪樟荇‬׾׌‪孨驱‬ך‪瑬┉稗‬ס‪湾堭‬‬‫‪你ն‬ס‪㛻㰢䇗榟‬עסגז⚡⭳כ‪մ㏧◒䷷䪧ֿ湾堭‬‬‫׆ג׿־‪车‬י׿‪鵽‬מ⚡‪堭‬ס‪؆ց‬׽־‪湾堭鎾ր‬מ‪⺱碌榟‬‬‫‪ն‬גזדׄ־ז׀ֿכ‬‫‪ն‬׌ך׀‪㶽‬ס‪ֿ鷞‬׿א‪ր‬‬‫‪‬־׈ױ‬‫‪ց‬נ׌ךגז־םַיז‪䓙‬עכ׾םמכ׆׾ׄ‪禈‬׵‪䇗‬‬‫׊כ‪杼榺‬׾ׄ‪禈‬ײ‪磝‬׽⹦מ‪յ⛼堭‬׼‪⣷‬ס‪琷ֹն溿狒‬כ‬‫‪ֿյ舅‬ס׌ג‪ַֹ培姲؅嵹‬כַג׊‪؅辐杯‬־⛰‪ր‬עי‬‫‪ց‬גזד‪ַֹ䎬䌋‬כ‪湾堭‬יזכמ⮆‬‫‪ն‬׌‪鎇‬כ‬‫‪儔磬‬סׂ⪒‬‫‪؆ց‬׽־‪ր‬ע‪㏧◒䷷䪧‬גזד‪꽦縖‬‬‫◫כ⿦⚡סׂ‪㛡‬ך‬‫‪ն‬גזםכ☔‪堭‬׼ֿם׊‪孱‬‬‫׀‪㛻‬ע‪䏅ꮶ‬גֻ┙מ‪ֿ⛼堭‬כ׆׾ֵך‪մ熭㰢縖‬‬‫‪ַն‬‬‫‪ֿյ堭‬׌ך‪鑜杼‬ע‪㓹泅‬סי׊כ‪㰢縖‬ס‪ր杼硌‬‬‫ס‪乃伺‬ףֻ❆‪䚉釶ն‬׷‪䚉䗯‬ע‪㓹泅‬סי׊כ☔‬‫‪舅抅‬עך‪ַֹ縒ֻֿ杼硌‬כ‪鶟塥‬ס‪鶟塥ֿ☔걉‬‬‫‪յꄇ‬ך‪鴫‬؀׊׳עך‪⮆ꄇ‬ס‪ֿյ菚软‬׌ךס׵ם‬‫כ׾ַי׊‪䏲鴙‬עⱱ‪耆‬ס‪儖全‬ח‪䧏‬ס‪☔걉‬לם⽏‪䓪‬‬‫‪ց‬׌ױֻ‪縒‬‬‫‪㏧◒䷷䪧ն‬כ‬‫כ‪鶟塥‬ס‪鶟塥؅☔걉‬ס‪乃伺‬‬‫מ‪Ⳃ嚀‬ם׀‪㛻‬ס⛼Ⱘֿכ׆׾׌⟊‪縒ֻ亠؅槳‬׾ֻ‪䨿‬‬‫‪ַֹն‬כ׾ם‬‫‪䇗‬י״‪յ⛼堭؅㡎‬ע‪堭‬ס⫷גׅ‪մ㏧◒䷷䪧ֿ䧸‬‬‫‪㍲ն‬ד‪䄢꯽堭‬ס‪瑬┉堭꥗‬ד‪鍤؆‬מ؀׆סל׮‬‫ס‪銧蜗‬ע‪㏧◒䷷䪧‬י׊כ‪憠‬גׄ♀‪妳؅‬מ‪꤀‬ס‪⛼堭‬‬‫‪ն‬גׅ‪؅䧸‬׀‪ꮶ‬כّث‪ٛ‬‬‫׿׆ע׀׬׾‪յ妳؅鿥‬דג‬‫‪ַն‬םעךׄד‪釐碛‬ס׼‬‫׈‪车յ‬־‪յֵ车յ‬ףֻ❆‪ր‬‬‫‪ֿյ‬׌ךַ׿׀ֿ‪ꮟ‬ע‪车‬‬‫׀כ׾נ‪ꮟ؅鵽‬ס׆‬‫׎ױ׀ךע‪㲔‬ףַֻכ־׾׀ךֿ‪堭‬םַ׿‬‫‪؆ցն銧鏤‬׎ױ׿ױ‪榟‬עך״‪杼鎅‬ע‪؆ն熓堭‬‬‫‪յꮰ䏱‬׼ֿם׊׿⪌׊⭳מ‪؅䚉釶氳յ䚉䗯氳‬‬‫‪ַֹն‬כַׂיז‪䙫⽏ֿ⺬ֹ䎬؅䫒‬כ‬‫‪湾堭؅‬‬‫מ‪堭꥗؅䣆‬ס☔‪յ杯♏堭‬ע‪꤀‬׾⛼י״⮣‬‫׆׾ײך‪鍤؆‬ך‪䚉釶‬׊‪րֽ鍱‬מ׵ככ׾⹦‬‫‪舅‬ך‪4/4‬סלם‪㏧◒䷷䪧ն5XJUUFS‬כ‪ֿ㛻◄ց‬כ‬‫‪ն‬ד‪䣆壿‬סח┉׵ס׾׌‪⛼؅氦辐‬‬‫ؕصסח┉‪ր‬‬‫‪ն‬׌ױ״‪꺙鍤‬׵ךع٭‬‫⹨‪䤈鍐؅‬ס☔ך׆א‬‫‪ցն‬׌ך◄‪ֿ㛻‬כ׆׾ׄ‬‫‪ֿյ‬סם◄‪㛻‬ך׆׆‬‫ֹ‬‫‪ն‬כ׆ַם؂‪‬כַ‪؅⸡‬כ׆ַם״‪ׂ鍤‬ױ‬‫‪ր社‬‬‫‪ն‬׾םמ‪⛼⿁ֿ靸榤‬ם‪յ껫泘‬׵ך‪乃菚‬׵ך‬‫׵ם‪؆‬؀ַ‬‫‪ց‬׌ױ׀ַיזםׂױֹֿ‪湾堭‬י׊⹜⻸‪؅‬ס‬‫‪ꪫ氫ַն湾堭‬ל׮׾׌ף׿׌ע‪ր⛼堭‬ע‪մ㏧◒䷷䪧‬‬‫‪䚉‬׷‪յ䚉䗯‬׾ַיז‪墦‬׵ך♏‪侇‬ס‪熭㰢䤗软⪒沸‬ע‬‫ך׾םמׄ־ז׀ֹ؂⽏‪⪒⛮؅‬ס‪☔ꝴ‬ג״⻠‪釶յ儖耆؅‬‬‫‪ֹց‬׺׊‬‫‪ն‬׾‪뇂ⱱ؅鏤‬כ‬‫‪湾堭‬ם‪յ뇂ⱱ氳‬מ⩝ס‪鍱车ꎬ鏰‬‬‫‪ն‬׾ַיזֿ‪┩槡ֿ䇶‬ס‬‫‪ն‬׌ך‪堭‬ד‪鍤؆‬מ‪ꮽ‬ס‪㍲鉮鐄◅ⶇ塶‬‬‫‪䓙你僿‬‬‫☔‪յ䡗‬׾׿‪ꦕ‬׼־‪ַ‬׊‪䓙䘝‬ם‪ 㰢氳‬גַ‪䥚‬מ‬‫‪ն‬ג׊ױײ‪؅鍤‬ה‪妳䧏‬גז׋‪岜‬ס׈‪榔‬כ׈‪萶‬׾׌‬‫‪㏧◒䷷䪧‬‬‫‪D 5IF5PEBJ4IJNCVO0OMJOF‬‬‫‪Creative‬‬‫׾׌‪⽰堭؅䥑꨽‬ד‪؆‬םהמ‪յ갭‬עמ‪մ夵䇗塜僖‬‬‫؂‪车‬ך╈‪⧘ցֿ㲯‬ס‪‬״׋עַ־גֹ‪ր堭⚡㡎‬‬‫‪ַֹ湾ַ䎬䌋‬כ‪‬׋׵כץאײ‪ն└ⶇ┉乃㰄‬׾׿‬‫׼־⯥♓♏‪㜧荁侇‬ע‪⽰堭٬湾堭‬׳‪겧擻؅鍤‬׷‪䚉䗯‬ך‬‫⮆‪ַ┉鼧‬ם׎־‪埝‬מ⴫‪յ仼儖乃‬׿ֿ‪⹨ׄ禆‬ךױ♏‪杯‬‬‫‪ն‬ד‬‫׈׊‪哧‬׳‪յ杯♏湾堭؅鍤‬׈‪ꪫ氫‬׾׌‪⹿⪯⽰堭؅ꗲ韛‬‬‫׌‪溿狒‬ך‪յ典㛻‬כ‪瑬┉☔縖‬ס‪ն⹿⪯⽰堭溿狒‬־⛰עכ‬‫ַ‪绂‬מ☔‪‬ס☔‪堭‬׾׌‪孨驱‬ך‪┩槡‬ס‪յ杯♏湾堭‬׼‪⣷‬׾‬‫‪ն‬ג‬‫‬‫׾״‪鉮ꃿ岐‬יֻ‪ٜ؅釶‬٭‪ٜ‬‬‫‪ն‬־ֹ؀ד‪⛼哅‬םֹ׻סלעכ‪鉮ꃿ‬ס‪մ⽰堭‬‬‫‪ր⽰堭‬‬‫‪㛡‬׵‪յ⽰堭⪌ꝛ傴‬״ⳉ‪稴꥗㡦⿦؅‬ס‪乃㰢㛻鰭⪯ց‬‬‫ע‪峚鼧嫾伺䷷䪧☔乃炘⚡硌溿狒熭‬׾׌‪丗㓴璛‬‬‫ױ‪䙫⽏؅馐‬ס‪銧蜗‬ס♏‪侇‬ג׿ױ‪ր⽰堭ֿ鍤‬‬‫כ‪ց‬׌ױ׊‪鉮ꃿ‬י׊ⷉמ‪䙫㍲‬ס‪յ⛼縖‬׼ֿםֻ‬‫כ‪⹿☪⽰堭꥗յ嶎妣擻鏤‬׼־‪ն┒蜗꥗‬׾‪鏤‬‬‫ס‪辐杯‬׾ֻױ‪յ⛼縖ֿ馐‬׿חמ׾┖ֿ♏‪侇‬‬‫׼־⿁⛼ַ⹿‪ր‬ע‪ַׂն峚鼧䷷䪧‬יֻ‪㘃‬ע‪牊걉‬‬‫׽⹦‪辐杯؅‬׼־לם‪؆յ庣鍶乃‬؀ה׵ע׽⹦‪儖堭‬ס‬‫‪ց‬נ׌ױ׽ֵ׵כ׆׾׿⪌‬‫‪ն‬׾׌‪鐄伺‬כ‬‫‪ն‬׾ֻ‪啶‬ה‪㍭ꦘֿ䏨‬עמ‪鉮ꃿ‬ס‪մ⽰堭‬‬‫‪鉮ꃿ‬ס‪ր⽰堭‬‬‫ױ׽ֵעךׄד׾ֻ‪䬵‬׀‪糋‬מ‪⛼⿁؅杯♏鏤‬דגע‬‫‪峚鼧䷷䪧ն‬כ‪؆ց‬׎‬‫ױֵׂע⮆‪鼧‬׾ַי⭳מ‪ր銧蜗‬‬‫ַי׿‪ַ꤉‬ם׼םמ‪յ銧蜗‬׍ׁ׌מ‪┉鉈‬ס‪姦㸓‬ך‬‫‪ַցն‬׊‪ֿꦘ‬ס׌׆‪颯‬׽‪鼧⮆؅䫁‬׾‬‫ׄⲂס‪鉮ꃿ‬ך׆א‬‫ס‪辐杯‬ס‪յ⽰堭㍾僗‬כ‪羜俌湳閁‬ס♏‪ֿ侇‬ס׾םמ‬‫׾ֵך‪ٜ‬٭‪ٜ‬‬‫‪ն‬ד‪ր喋䌋䓪ց‬‬‫‪յ‬מ‪⽰堭‬׾םכׄⲂס‪羜俌湳閁ֿ鉮ꃿ‬ס♏‪մ侇‬‬‫׾ֵֿ‪堭‬ס‪⫔꯽‬ס‪⹿☪⽰堭꥗‬‬‫♏‪㍲ն䇖㱦侇‬‬‫‪ն‬ד‪⽰堭‬ד‪؆‬םהמ‪塜僖‬ג׿ױ‪鍤‬מ‬‫ג׵׿׆‪ր‬‬‫‪؆ֿյ‬׎ױ׽־⮆ֿ׈‪ꪫ氫‬עךׄדג׊‪錌‬ד‬‫ג׊‪辐‬מ־‪؅庋䤗䓪雛‬צ‪‬׆؀׻‪䜲‬ס‪玮你‬‬‫‪ցն羜俌‬׌ךס׾םמ‪յꪫ氫ַ堭‬ף׿׌‪杼鉮‬כ‬‫‪ն‬ד❆┉ַ‪艄⽏岐‬׾םמׄⲂס‪湳閁ֿ鉮ꃿ‬‬‫׊כ❆┉׾םכׄⲂס‪մր喋䌋䓪ցֿ鉮ꃿ‬‬‫‪㕙⺬ր䔝‬ס‪⽰堭‬סُ٭طֿ‪ր䔝ց‬ףֻ❆‪յ‬י‬‫‪ַց‬׊׿ֹי׀ךع٭ظכ☔‬‫כ׆׾׿ױ‪鍤‬כ‬‫ַ‪յ撴䓙‬ס׵ַ׼חמ‪䅻‬ע‪ַֹն䔝‬כַםע‬‫כ☔‪յ䔝‬יזַכ׼־ד‪ն‬׾׿ױ‪鍤‬י׊כס׵ס‬‫ׄ؂ַם׀ךֿכ׆׳‪؅鍤‬׎ֹֽ‪鵹悌‬ס‬‫‪ַն‬םעך‬‫‪ց‬׿⮯ס‪‬ןׁן׀‪ր䏲僼‬‬‫׿ף⽛כ‬‫‪յ‬׾‬‫׆ַֹכ‪ց‬־גז־׼חֿ׿⮯מ־ַ‪ր‬‬‫‪ն‬ד׿אֿ‪䣆嫎‬׳‪؅鍤‬כ‬‫‪յ鵹‬מ‪遊‬ס׈׼ח‪ր‬‬‫䷷‪峚鼧‬כ‪ց‬׌ךס׾ַי׿ױ⻠ֿצ‪ㄎ‬ס‪悌‬‬‫‪ն‬׾‪鏤‬ע‪䪧‬‬‫‪յ‬עמ״גס‪┕鷼‬ס‪մ鉮ꃿ‬‬‫‪؆⽰堭؅‬׈ׂג‬‫‪ַֹն‬כַם־׊׳‪鐆‬‬‫׾ׂי׊ם׆‪丗؅‬‬‫ַיז؂‪䇗ֿ㚺‬עך┕ס‪塷‬דױ‪㍲杯♏鏤錌‬‬‫‪ն‬גזױ׊י‪յ玮你ֿ全‬מסַם‬‫כ‪䇗؅⸻䇗‬ס׆‬‫‪ն‬־ֹ؀ד׀׬ֹ‪銧‬כ‪յ☪䇗‬־ֹ؀ד׀׬ֹ‪銧‬‬‫ױַך‪؅鍤؆‬כ׆גז‪ֿ괏ַ鷿‬כ‪塜僖‬כ‪鉮鐄玮你‬‬‫׽‪؆㍑‬שַ׍‪ֿյ‬׌ךס׾י׊‪؅辐‬צ‪䜲‬ג׊‪ն你ֿ⮼全‬׌‬‫־ַם׋‪؅䚉‬׈‪ꪫ氫‬כ׾ײ׼־☔♏‪յ杯‬ך‪ַ銧ַ亠‬לׂ‬‫‪؆ն‬׎ױ׿׊׵‬‫‪菚‬סׄ‪‬טל־‪յ二䇗؅烓ֹꝛ♀‬ל׿ׄ‬‫⹨ַ׼׵‪յꄋ⿁؅‬׊‪菚؅‬סלם‪堭‬ך⹾‪ꝛ‬ס‪㳃‬ס☔‪‬‬‫י׊⥼‪䢥⛼؅䘶‬ג׊כ׽גז׹‪յ‬םֹ׻ס‪‬כ׆׾ׄ‬‫‪ն‬־ֹ׺׊ךַם׀ך‪ֿ氦釤‬ײ‪ꪫ氫‬םג‪յ二‬כֹ؂⽏‬‫‪峚鼧䷷䪧‬‬‫‪38‬‬

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EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

Paul Namkoong, Amishi Agrawal

CREATIVE DIRECTOR Jaekyoung Jade Hwang
TRANSLATIONS DIRECTOR Eriko Yamada
MARKETING DIRECTOR Chris Clayton
ART EDITORSJules Iida, Alyssa Castillo Yap,
Eriko Yamada, Zhiyun Du, Minami Hase

CULTURE EDITOR Choi Jiwoong
CREATIVE EDITOR Minghao Xu
PHOTO EDITOR Shun Mizumoto
WRITERS

Joshua Baxter, Yuko Itatsu, Maho Nambu,
Mahi Patki, Toko Sumiya,
Akari Takahashi, Mizuki Takahashi,
Sayumi Take, Alyssa Castillo Yap

TRANSLATION Jinil Kim, Yusuke Kumaki,
Yinghua Chou

MARKETING

Hyun Sue Kang, Jinil Kim, Takara Nishida, KH Yang,
Shaw Xie, Peter Yang
SOCIAL MEDIA Karen Isaacs
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FRONT COVER DESIGN Alyssa Castillo Yap,
Jules Iida
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FACULTY ADVISOR Yuko Itatsu[THE NEW YORK TIMES]REGIONAL MANAGER, NORTHEAST ASIA &OCEANIA Joshua Peller
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Imad Khan, Gia Kourlas, Sebastian Modak,
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