ACTING ASIAN

andContradictions in a Globalizing WorldInter national House of Japan

ACTING
ASIAN
Contradictions in a
Globalizing World

Japan Foundation
ASIA LEADERSHIP FELLOW PROGRAM 2004
ELLO

A SIA L EADERSHIP F ELLO W P R OGRAM
ELLO
2004

ACTING
ASIAN
Contradictions in a
Globalizing WorldASIA LEADERSHIP FELLOW PROGRAM
ELLO
2004

Acting Asian
Published byInternational House of Japan
andJapan Foundation
Copyright © 2005
International House of Japan
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Telephone: 81.3.3470 3211
Fax: 81.3.3470 3170
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Edited by
Myra Theresa Torralba
Cover and book design by
Jo B. Pantorillo

Printed in the Philippines

CO
NTENTSCONTENTS

Introduction
Acting Asian, v
New Paradigms
Gross National Happiness, 3
Kinley Dorji

Evaluating Growth in Japan, 17
Takayoshi Kusago

Contradictions
English, Education, and Filipino Identity, 35
Karina Africa Bolasco

Radical Islam and the Consolidation of Democracy
in Indonesia, 43Jamhari

Learning a Trade for Life?
Commercialized Craft and Child Labor
in a Northern Vietnamese Village, 63
Nguyen Van Chinh

Defining Asia
Theater Herstory:
Changing Roles of Chinese Women On and Offstage, 93
Faye Chunfang Fei

Crafting a Philippine Culture Index:
Cultural Education and Identity Building
in a Multiethnic Society, 100
Karina Africa Bolasco

Acting Asian in a Globalizing World:
A Feminist Perspective from Sri Lanka, 115
Sepali Kottegoda

Personal Takes
Impressions of a Culture, 127
Kinley Dorji

Rice Are Us: Some Unfinished Musings on Asian Identity, 133
Faye Chunfang Fei

When Public Intellectuals Come Together, 141
Karina Africa Bolasco

The Fellowship: ALFP Activities 2004
On Japan’s Minorities, 149
On Education, 153
On Media and the Arts, 155
On Business, 160
On Civil Society, 162
On Nationalism, Politics, and Religion, 167
On Democracy, 174
On Peace/Security, 179
On Public Intellectuals, 182
Mayuko Sasanuma

Perspectives from Japan
Why New Competence:
A Hidden Inequality in the Education Reform of 1992, 189
Takehiko Kariya

The Way We Love (to Hate) the United States:
The Loci of America in Japan Today, 203
Yasushi Watanabe

The ALFP 2004 Fellows, 215INTR
ODUCTION
INTRODUCTIOODUCTION

The 2004 Fellowship may be just another round of the Asia Leadership
Fellow Program of the International House of Japan and Japan Foundation,
not any different or special. Once more, another group of so-called public
intellectuals from Asia explores “Identity, Security and Democracy,” such a
broad and complex theme that two months of intense probing and exchange
hardly scratched its surface. But the fellows from seven countries: Bhutan,
China, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, Japan, Vietnam and the Philippines, felt privileged
to have been selected to take part in a program given to countless rich andvaried opportunities for really significant cultural and intellectual exchange.
Here in this book that tries to, but only almost, document what
transpired, formally and informally, the fellows share their papers, clusteredinto sections. “New Paradigms” has what we consider important papers
because they speak of shifts in mindsets and introduce new development
paradigms. Journalist Kinley Dorji’s account of their King’s use of Gross
National Happiness instead of Gross National Product as a framework for
Bhutan’s national development as they shift from a monarchy to a democracy
is a fascinating story of a small country located between the giants, India andChina, determining the direction of its own growth, carefully making surethey faithfully preserve their identity, culture and physical resources as they
modernize into a state. Takayoshi Kusago, an economist by training, similarly
questions the appropriateness and accuracy of existing economic measuresand indicators of progress adopted by the United Nations Development
Program when they dismally fail to tell the state of the mind, heart and soulof people in these countries, particularly in his own Japan.
In the section, “Contradictions,” three papers show how old tensions
generated by colonialism and anti-colonialism resurrect and morph into scarierforms because of globalization and resistance to it. As a publisher automaticallyinvolved in cultural education, I discuss how terribly confused the issue ofEnglish has now become in the Philippines—from the time the American
Thomasite teachers struggled to introduce it in public schools to how now
the young desperately learn to speak it with an American accent to be able toget into high-paying jobs in call centers outsourced by US firms. Jamhari,anthropologist at National Islam University, focuses on the rise of Islamic
fundamentalism in Indonesia and how historically it always clashed withdemocratic values but notes and remains hopeful that Islam and democracy
have a symbiotic relationship in Indonesia: the successful 2004 presidential
election illustrates how “Islam helps Indonesian Moslems participate in thepolitical process and support democracy.” Nguyen Van Chinh , senior lecturer
at the Vietnam National University, examines the severe exploitation of childlabor at the site of the economic tension triggered by Vietnam’s fast growingwood carving industry that services globalization.
In “Defining Asia,” Faye Chungfang Fei, artist-scholar, reexamines “theevolving and changing identities of women as characters, performers,
playwrights, directors, and producers in the history of Chinese theater” andhow on and offstage, “women were excluded from public life…deprived ofpolitical identity and economic security.” My paper on crafting a Philippine
culture index that should spin off into a culture curriculum for basic education
argues for its urgency so as to decolonize education and instill in the young a
sense of pride and nation in our own heritage and history. Sepali Kottegoda,
feminist, explores how “in our quest to preserve our ‘Asian cultures’ [we] also
defend those oppressive patriarchal structures which, for example, result ingirl children being discriminated against in terms of access to food or
education…” and why “women continue to be seen as the ‘signifier’ of cultural
identity.”
In “Personal Takes,” Kinley, Faye and I share our informal impressionsof the Japanese culture and the value of the program. Mayuko Sasanuma, theable program staff of International House, competently summarized all theactivities the Fellows went through, whether these were sessions with Japanesescholars, NGO workers, government officials, or artists, or these were trips
or visits to other parts of Japan. While we have been vastly enriched by ourstay in Japan, we are likewise honored in this book by the contributions of
two respected Japanese scholars: Takehiko Kariya who questions the new
education reform in Japan and Yasushi Watanabe who analyzes Japan’s lovehate relationship with the United States.
Finally, a word on the title of this Report. Acting Asian: Contradictions in
a Globalizing World was the title of our public symposium that traditionallyculminates every fellowship, allowing fellows to engage the Japanese public insome form of conversation. The group decided that while this title sufficiently
addressed the issue of identity, it also explored economic and political tensions
wrought by globalization. We deemed it a most suitable name for this recordof our fellowship.
Karina Africa Bolasco

New Paradigms

1

GR
OSS N
ATIO
NAL HAPPINESS
GROSS
NA
TION
Kinley Dorji

Gross National Happiness (GNH) is not about the concept of happiness. It is a guiding principle for change; it sets the quality of aspirations fordevelopment or progress as conceived deep in the folds of the Himalayas, ina kingdom that has been shrouded in mystery for centuries. As mystical as
this might sound, however, GNH is a reasoned and pragmatic attempt tofind a wholesome and stable course for change in today’s increasingly turbulent world. For the people of Bhutan, it is a Buddhist-inspired path to anation’s growth by ensuring individual and collective happiness.
On November 11, 2005, at Waseda University in Tokyo, I presented areview of GNH, a concept increasingly gaining popularity among politicians, development workers, and economists, and seeing growing discourse
within the intellectual community. One Japanese member of the audience
pointed out that, today, if you asked a Japanese youth what was the mostimportant thing in life he would say “money.” With such values he asked if I
thought the Japanese people could ever be happy. While my ten-week visit toJapan through the Asia Leadership Fellow Program (ALFP) gave me an
insight into Japanese society, enough for me to learn that a growing numberof Japanese people are agonizing over, and some grappling with, social,economic, and political problems, I do not know enough to come up with asubstantive answer. But the question was a stark reminder to me that GNH,
a notion that was, in fact, conceived as a response to just such a trend, is well
worth serious thought.
The premise
For readers not familiar with Bhutan, I present here a brief background and the perspective from which I write this paper.
After centuries of self-imposed isolation, Bhutan opened up to theworld in 1961. What we saw frightened us. Humanity had gone throughmuch but for this paper I shall look at two immediate issues that confronted
us: the survival of the human identity as nation-states and the development
process. The Bhutanese view of the world over the past four decades has
shown us that survival will continue to be a priority, particularly for small
countries, and that human progress must lead to GNH.
In the past Bhutan chose to keep the world out, fearful it would readily3

be swallowed up, an oft-perceived threat small countries suffered from. With
our immediate neighbours being China in the north and India in the south,both with at least one billion people each, and then South Asia with one-fifthof mankind, a nation of about 700,000 people felt extremely vulnerable.
There were examples, everywhere in the world, of population groups onceof distinct identities quickly losing them, many of them reduced to subjectsof academic studies. So Bhutan’s immediate reaction and concern was its
survival as a nation-state and this, on pure instinct, has become the underlying
tone of Bhutan’s relationship with the world, and of the manner it grapples
with the inevitable process of change.
In the uneven search for progress, the world was already sharply divided into rich and poor nations, the north and the south. In fact, the “development process” had been a response to help underdeveloped countries,
including Bhutan, known as the “third world.” As Professor Nishikawa Junof Waseda University points out, the meaning of the term development has
significantly metamorphosed, from “capital accumulation” to the “unfolding of civil society.” In presenting a case for happiness as the goal of development, he reviews past theories that claim it a natural tendency for humanbeings to pursue self-interest and that the pursuit of private profit will leadto public profit.1
It was clear to Bhutan that, in the pursuit of material comfort, too
many countries had lost their cultural identity, their spirituality, and had upset
the ecological balance through environmental degradation. From a Buddhist
viewpoint, material wealth had resulted in widespread spiritual poverty.
Bhutanese society was nowhere near perfect but the experience ofboth developing and developed countries taught it one resounding lesson:
this small kingdom had much to preserve. The Bhutanese had lived a sustainable, if not luxurious, life in harmony with a pristine environment. Families
and traditional social systems were still strong, the subsistence farming economy
supported a relatively comfortable standard of living, a centuries-old theocracy that evolved into a hereditary monarchy provided political stability, anda rich religious and cultural heritage was the source of the nation’s values aswell as the essence of its identity.
Change, as Bhutan saw it happen in the rest of the world, could threaten
all these and, therefore, the survival of the country. As Michael Rowbotham,an economics lecturer, pointed out at a GNH seminar in Thimphu in February 2004, the danger was very real that Bhutan could be drawn into theexcessive materialism of the West or the poverty of other developing nations, or indeed a blend of both. “Bhutan’s isolation, which has served thecountry so well, means that it is now faced with a flood of advance representing changes that Western citizens found difficulty in adjusting to over a
far longer period. This leaves the Bhutanese leaders with “the vital but immensely complex task of monitoring and regulating the nature and pace of4change—a momentously challenging responsibility.”2
How credible then is Bhutan’s proposed response: Gross National
Happiness?
GNH is born
The term Gross National Happiness was coined by the Bhutanese monarch, Jigme Singye Wangchuck. While traveling through India in 1979, he was
asked by a journalist what Bhutan’s Gross National Product (GNP) was. The
king said: “We are not concerned about Gross National Product, we careabout Gross National Happiness.”
The words of a king, according to ancient Bhutanese wisdom, is“heavier than the mountains, more precious than gold.” The term was picked
up within the government circle and by scholars. As one Buddhist scholar,
Karma Gayleg, a lecturer at the Royal Bhutan Institute of Technology, described it, it was like the oral teachings of the Buddha that grew into anenormous wealth of scriptures containing philosophies, policies, and laws, aswell as tenets of governance.3
Thus GNH was born.
As a concept, GNH is not new. It is the expression of a system ofvalues describing a strong and viable existence that has evolved over the
centuries. In presenting it as an inspiration for modernization, Jigme Singye
Wangchuck offers a refreshing alternative to a global development paradigm
fast becoming irrelevant.
An Indian journalist, Rajni Bakshi, points out that the basic premise of
exploration (into GNH) is that we live in a time when many positive trends
are widening the space for the value of GNH—both as a literal measure ofnational well-being in Bhutan and as a metaphor for values that would takehumanity closer to the ideal of right livelihood. “In a world driven by market
fundamentalism not everything is for sale but this (GNH) is seen as being
natural and the only path to greater prosperity and progess.” 4
In 1999, United Nations development worker Stephan Priesner notedthat Bhutan’s strong sense of identity had served as the primary reason forthe survival of GNH. Despite the onslaught of mainstream development
concepts delivered and advocated by scores of foreign professionals, experts, and pundits, development in Bhutan is still distinctly Bhutanese. But thebiggest challenge has been to sufficiently attend to preserving Bhutan’s uniqueculture and by the same token, redefining dynamically the concept so as toattract the young generation and serve nation building.5
GNH does not discard economic development—in fact, economic
vision is critical—but happiness takes precedence over economic prosperity
as a national aspiration. GNH is not against change but propounds control
of change at a manageable pace and with the right priorities. It insists on a5

judicious balance of tradition and modernity, materialism and spiritualism,
all within a pristine environment. It is an expression of the deep-rooted value
systems on which the Bhutanese socioeconomic and political systems werebuilt. Rowbotham sums up the broad flexibility that GNH offers decision
makers: “The concept of GNH would seem to represent an ideal that is far
superior to any intellectual system or single programme. A government thatembraces GNH is free to adopt and adapt policies at will from a multitude
of sources, old and new. . . .”6In the early discourse, as Bhutanese thinkers attempted to translate thispalatable inspiration into a coherent guideline for progress, it had been described as a policy, a philosophy, a national development goal, an ideology,
and, according to international scholars, a potential alternative to the global
approach to development today. It differs importantly from the known policies
and strategies adopted by developing countries because it has evolved on thebasic premise that what we have is good and should be preserved throughout change. Many developing countries have erroneously based their policies
on the cultural cringe that “what is foreign is better.” Bhutan also takes pains
to emphasize, albeit with the wisdom of hindsight, that modernization is notwesternization.
GNH tak
es of ftakes
It has to be clarified though that GNH does not promise to be an
instant fix to the world’s problems. But it has gained a momentum of its
own both at home and within some international circles. There are a numberof intended as well as somewhat inadvertent reasons for this, reasons remarkably significant by implication. In the often unhappy world of public
intellectuals, the concept of happiness has been debated over the centuries
and not much headway has been made. But here is a concrete—and morewholesome—approach to change; a country has actually made happiness thebasis, and reason, for change.
Rowbotham offers his view of why GNH is so attractive. “The substitute of a single word, ‘happiness,’ for ‘product’ injects humanity, in all its
rich complexity, into economics. Many tenets of economic orthodoxy arechallenged, most obviously the assumption that increasing material wealthautomatically equates with increasing levels of human happiness.”7
Indeed GNH seems to have hit the right chord—other societies arewelcoming it with a sense of nostalgia. The theory that societies had lost theircultural bearings in the quest for economic development seems well-founded.
There is general agreement that today’s world is a little lost morally, culturally,
politically. This is true for both poor and rich countries. GNH provides anopportunity for reflection: Could the missing element be happiness?
GNH is perceived as a response to globalization. According to Ross
6

McDonald of the University of Auckland’s business school, “The underlying
development philosophy of globalization seeks to maximize happinessthrough the cultivation of a narrow materialist self-interest and competitiveness both at the level of the individual and at the level of the nation-state. We
find ourselves then at a critically important juncture in human history, a point
at which a profound rethinking of our priorities is required and required
urgently.”8 Thus the timing was critical.
“Fortunately,” says Bangkok-based scholar Hans Van Willensward,“there is a country like Bhutan that seems to be able to situate itself out ofreach of this pessimistic global paradigm.” He then poses a critical question:“Can Bhutan promote the concept of GNH with its underlying philosophy
cum praxis to the world community and offer itself as an acupuncture point
for healing mother earth and her world civilization?”9The challenges
At an individual level and among a limited circle of intellectuals theconcept of GNH is appreciated and is becoming better understood. But weface the complex task of translating it into specific public policies and theninto activities that both reflect and instill GNH values. This is critical if theconcept is to withstand opposing forces.
The fundamental tenets of GNH are threatened by what are seen as
the offshoots of development and progress. If Bhutan was confronted by
the dangers of geopolitics in the past it now risks being overwhelmed by theforces of globalization, an overpowering threat. The power of the commercial-driven media is forcing a traditional society wide open. According to
Rowbotham this influence can be balanced only if the mirage of Westernconsumerism is recognized as such and people are kept in contact with theirown culture. “With the influx of televised images the nation as a whole has tobe able to deal with and appreciate the ludicrous methodology behind Western ‘civilization.’ This involves the education of all, not just the young.”10
Bhutan hopes to balance globalization by localizing its decisions andextracting what is beneficial and relevant from what the world has to offer.
In 1998 Lyonpo Jigmi Thinley, prime minister of Bhutan, said: “While we
accept the reality of globalization and cultural change, we can always endeavour to select the most beneficial aspects of it. To make the correct choice is
our greatest present and future task and we believe, very profoundly, thatevery country must take up and confront the challenge of increasing humanhappiness boldly and creatively.”11
This, Bhutan accepts, will not be easy. In a joint paper presented in
Bhutan in February 2004, Helena Noberg-Hodge and Steven Gorelick pointout that “globalization has not brought a better world into being, including
the underdeveloped world . . . but in reality a single culture and economic
7

system has relentlessly expanded. . . .”12 Financial consultant Frank Dixon
adds that development, which implies improvement, can be misleading, particularly since it usually involves exposure to Western ideas and practices that
can in fact leave a country in worse condition than before.13
The social and cultural costs of globalization can be devastating for
Bhutan. Although GNH is a value long embedded in Bhutanese society, it
might not withstand the destabilizing effects of globalization on cultural,political, religious, and socioeconomic traditions. Therefore, as Peter Hershockof the East West Centre in Hawaii points out, given the current accelerating
rate of change in economic, political, and social paradigms, any strategy for
integration into global development processes must be creative in nature if it
is to succeed.14 Bhutan seeks this creativity from its own past and the wisdomof Buddhism. As Ross McDonald writes: “I believe the realization of such
positive outcomes including GNH begins with the cultural empowermentof the central tenets of traditional wisdom. . . . The profound insights in
Buddhist culture must be retained to balance a healthy economy, just society,and sustainable environment.”15
According to Priesner the most subtle challenge is to avoid the erosion
or degeneration of GNH to a merely rhetorical level. The concept has beena reflection of a particular cultural consciousness rather than an academic
construct. This was its strength in the past, when all policy makers were
products of the traditional Bhutanese system and had a strong consciousnessof this identity as well as an intuitive link to their indigenous values. It may,
however, rapidly weaken under a new set of civil servants educated in theWest and therefore out of touch with their country’s traditional values. As the
Bhutanese cultural consciousness comes under increasing pressure, its “reflection” is doomed to fade as well.16
Today, GDP and GNP are generally accepted as inadequate measuresof a nation’s or people’s wealth, but GNH cannot be a viable alternative until
it can be accurately measured. Development workers, social scientists, economists, and public intellectuals are demanding and seeking tools that can measure GNH and provide statistical proof of happiness. Those who oppose
this argue that values like compassion, wisdom, and happiness cannot bemeasured. In 1998 the Bhutanese prime minister said: “We do not needscientific proofs to assess happiness meaningfully. We can, and in my opinion
we must, raise policy and ethical questions about happiness. It is a universal
proposition and value. It is a goal all humanity shares in common.”17
Another question is whether Bhutan, a small country currently at thebottom rung of the development ladder, could lead the shift to what could
be an ambitious new paradigm for development. McDonald says that, against
a background of a changing climate, environmental decline, the polarizationof the world into super rich and poor, and the globalizing economic ideology, GNH represents a new alternative approach to development.18 Western
8

visitors, like Simon Lang of The Economist (see December 16, 2004 issue), seein Bhutan the absence of comforts that Western society is used to and, therefore, a level of poverty in which people could not be happy. But GNH does
not deny the need for human comforts and Bhutan does not claim to haveachieved what every society is striving for. It is a reminder of forgotten
priorities in the process of development.
The most immediate challenge is for the government to successfully“operationalize” GNH and prove that it is not just a buzzword riding on
good timing. This is crucial because key decision makers in the Bhutanese
government itself remain unconvinced, in fact largely ignorant, of the valueof GNH.
These are all important challenges. Until they are addressed GNH willcontinue to provide more questions than answers.
Operationalizing GNH
Mcdonald notes: “The specific criteria that will be aimed for within
the realms of economic, social and cultural outcomes can only be determined by the people of Bhutan themselves and only in reference to their
distinct cultural priorities. I firmly believe in Bhutan’s desire to forge its own
path in the modern world and not to succumb to a mindless adoption ofalien priorities and I believe that a greater happiness is possible through sucha strategy.”19
GNH implies a serious responsibility. Buddhism demands that leaders, particularly, must acquire wisdom to exercise responsibility. It provides
many insights and methods that can contribute significantly to responsible
leadership. Buddhist theories on happiness show a close relationship between
happiness and wisdom.
In trying to translate GNH from a tradition-inspired concept into reality, and into the overall guiding principle for the development of Bhutanesesociety, GNH is being used as a theme for important documents of the
Bhutanese government and is being prioritized in all national plans. In his
report to the National Assembly in July 2004, the prime minister of Bhutan
weighed the achievements of the government against its own GNH goals.
He structured the report according to the four pillars of Gross National
Happiness, which he first introduced at the UNDP millennium conference inSeoul. Let us take a brief look at the four pillars:
1. Sustainable and equitable socioeconomic development
This requires the improvement of the physical, intellectual, social, andeconomic well-being of the people through social and economic services.
These services include health, education, trade and commerce, industries,
9

roads and bridges, urban development and housing, ICT, and employment.
The prioritization of development activities has always been based on
direct consultations with the people. Before devolving executive authority toan elected government in 1998, the king of Bhutan personally chaired public
meetings in each of the twenty districts to discuss the details of each fiveyear plan. These were attended by representatives of nearly every family inevery village. Today this decentralized system of decision making has beenabsorbed into a democratized political system in which independent local
government bodies are established through legislation.
Bhutan’s economic vision is clear, the main tool being hydro-power
projects. The government has harnessed powerful snow-fed rapids to produce hydro power, mostly for export. The export of power already earns
nearly 50 percent of the domestic revenue and, in 2006, with the completionof a major project in southern Bhutan, hydro power will earn 95 percent of
the national revenue, currently received as grants and assisted projects, mostly
from the Indian government. This unique attainment of economic self-reliance will be an achievement not seen in developing countries, which usuallyremain dependent on donors.
2. Conservation of the environment
Bhutan’s understanding of the environment and of ecological balance
had been established long before the current global awareness of the deterioration of the ecosystem. The emphasis on sustainability comes from the
Buddhist precept that all life forms are sentient beings existing in a state ofharmonious interdependence. Humans, arguably the most intelligent, must
assume responsibility for maintaining this balance. We must generate compassion, love, and a sense of responsibility for all other beings. We must
conserve the environment for our own well-being as well as for future generations. Bhutan’s environmental policy document, called “The Middle Path”(again a Buddhist principle), is based on these teachings. It emphasizes the
symbiotic coexistence of humans and nature.
Today, activities potentially harmful to the environment, including tourism, energy production, and wood-based industries, are curbed. Seventytwo percent of Bhutan is forest and, by National Assembly resolution, 60
percent shall be maintained permanently as forest cover. More than 26 percent of the land area is already being managed as protected national parks.20
This policy is being maintained despite its cost in terms of economic development. Bhutan believes that it is contributing to the global ecological balance by preserving its environment in its most pristine form.

10

3. Preservation and promotion of culture
As a policy, the government has defined the components of “culture”
as religion, language and literature, art and architecture, the performing arts,
national dress, driglam namzha (traditional etiquette), and sports and recreation.21 The emphasis on religion is particularly strong, especially since Bhutan
believes that, as the last bastion of Vajrayana Buddhism, it has a responsibility
to preserve this school of Buddhism.
The tantric roots of GNH gives the concept its depth as well as its
unique character. GNH is, therefore, closely linked with the Bhutanese identity because culture and religion are inextricably linked in Bhutan. This “culturist
model of development,” as the Bhutanese prime minister described it,22 isalso related to the Bhutanese’s sense of vulnerability. The emphasis on preserving and strengthening the cultural heritage—the essence of what is seen
today as the national identity—is viewed by the Bhutanese as a crucial strategy to preserve the nation’s sovereignty. Their distinct national identity safeguards them from being swallowed up by larger ethnic groups. The strengthof this perception is expressed in the statement of a Bhutanese official that“the Bhutanese are an endangered species.”
Today the harshest criticism Bhutan faces is that the culturist approach
to identity tends to isolate certain sections of Bhutanese society. This is basedon the government’s stance regarding 100,000 refugees living in UNHCRrun camps in eastern Nepal, claiming to be Bhutanese citizens. While thecitizenship of the refugees and the circumstances that led to the creation of
the camps in Nepal are too complex to discuss in this paper, Bhutan views
the problem as one of illegal immigration rather than of ethnicity. However,it does reflect the concern over demographic assimilation of the much larger
Nepali population that has overrun many small communities across the Himalayan foothills because the immigrant population in this region is Nepali.
GNH has no direct bearing on the problem but can only help by providing
clarity in terms of future policies.
4. Good governance
The governance of Bhutan is a fascinating story, having evolved throughuniquely dynamic eras. Currently Jigme Singye Wangchuck is pushing for the
democratization of the present structure, crafting a Bhutanese political system for the future. In line with this he has initiated and is personally overseeing the drafting of the country’s first written constitution.
Although history, which has seen the establishment of a number of
democracies through revolution and activism, teaches us that this is a wonderful way of diffusing such pressures, the king’s initiative has met with someresistance. To the majority of the Bhutanese people it is a possible threat to11

the country’s stability, which had been guaranteed in the past by the throne.
They have seen too many democracies that do not work. In recent months
the crisis in Nepal, which has been condemned as a failed state after a fourteen-year experiment with democracy, has left Bhutan more contemplative
than ever about the benefits of shifting to a democratic system.
Educated Bhutanese believe that freedom of choice is important but,without the ability to make informed choices based on literary and politicalmaturity, an anarchic democracy could be a threat to national stability. Bhutan
has seen, as Dixon points out, that changing the political and economic systems forces even well-intentioned leaders to do wrong to the people, environment, and society.23
But for Bhutan at this point there is no turning back. The country isalready going through a critical transition. The three arms of government
have been separated and the rule of law has been strengthened, with dozens
of important laws being enacted. The constitution will dramatically change
the political landscape of the country.
As Bhutan carefully adapts to changing circumstances, however, it iscritical that it preserve the sanctity of the Bhutanese monarchy and the essence of the traditional relationship between the king and the people. This is
widely recognized as the strength of the Bhutanese system, with the kingpersonifying the unity and stability of the country. Commitment to this relationship is vital because a king/emperor figure provides the political andpsychological unification required to keep a small society intact.
The four pillars as development policy
The four pillars of GNH are not new priorities but are drawn fromthe existing value system and presented as a structured national development
policy. Supporters of the policy praise the broad relevance of the priorities
that it reflects while its critics point out the absence of the uniqueness that
GNH promises. First published in the Bhutanese weekly Kuensel in 1998, it
drew a voluminous response culminating in an international seminar in February 2004, where more than eighty papers were presented on operationalizing
GNH.
Some critics point out that, apart from the term GNH, the policy is nodifferent from conventional development approaches. The four pillars arebroad and do not deal with specific areas, like education for example. Kinley
D. Dorji, a Bhutanese civil servant, argues that almost all visible progress wasbrought about by policies and programs that are no different from those ofother countries and little, if any, can be attributed to programs flowing directly from the concept of GNH. “The point is that if GNH is being targeted seriously, there has to be something that we are doing that is different
and distinct,” he says. “If measuring national development in terms of GNH
12

is to be truly distinctive, happiness must factor significantly—and not merely
incidentally or consequentially—into the development equation.”24
Skeptics, even some Bhutanese officials, write off GNH as a romantic
and, perhaps, well-meaning catch phrase with no real connection to the development process. It is true that, while the concept is very palatable thediscourse is limited to a small circle of intellectual optimists. Even within thehigher levels of the Bhutanese government there are few who have a graspof the concept and it is not discussed by other sectors of Bhutanese society.
An interesting feature of GNH is that it seems to possess an almost
exaggerated profundity that has not been fully articulated. At a time when theworld is bemoaning spiritual and cultural poverty brought about by an “onslaught” of development, GNH is, without doubt, a refreshing alternative. It
provides no shortcuts to happiness but can serve as a constant reminder topolicy makers that happiness is the real purpose of development.
Justifying GNH as a distinctive approach to change, the prime minister said: “It would have been easier for us to become economically selfreliant had we not been so deeply devoted to the promotion of our culture
and environment. Cultural and environmental objectives can be restraining
factors in the pursuit of blind economic interests. The rich character of thesociety in Bhutan would have become diminished, even impoverished, if we
had allowed a flood of cultural influences and environmental degradation
to set in.”25
Meanwhile, as GNH is subjected to intellectual discourse, scholars are
giving the concept new depth and dimensions, some of them proposing
new elements of the four pillars like social justice and human security. GNH
has also received strong encouragement from this sector. A Thailand-based
scholar on Buddhism, Joseph Johnson, commends Bhutan for its courage topursue a difficult goal. “While others wander towards a well-lit glitz promising immediate pleasure the kingdom of Bhutan fumbles alone in the dark tofind lasting happiness. The Bhutanese leadership remains resolute in their commitment to maximize happiness despite the difficulties and dangers involvedin such a project.”26
Mark Mancall, a professor of history at Stanford University, proposes
in an essay on “Operationalizing GNH” that the government, as the key
instrument of GNH, must establish an institutional framework to make sure
GNH “does not remain a slogan and a hope but will become reality.” Heproposes a GNH directorate to ensure the integration of economic planningand other activities into a GNH plan.27
A key task, thus, is to ensure that present and future Bhutanese leaders
understand and are committed to GNH. Jean Karel Hylkema, managing
director of the Buddhist Broadcasting Foundation in the Netherlands, emphasizes that it is important for leaders to be “enlightened” and, as Buddhism teaches, for them to understand the nature of reality so they can steer
Bhutan in the right direction.28
13

The Buddhist perspective
I believe it is important to take at least a cursory look at the influenceof Buddhism on GNH to understand its “true nature.”
Buddhist scholars have described GNH as being, essentially, a summarization of the basic tenets of Buddhism, which promote harmony andcompassion. But it should also be noted that GNH draws on Buddhism as a
spiritual guideline and not as a religion, as familiar as the visible precepts
might be. GNH, therefore, can be considered globally relevant if we believethat all religions share the same basic interpretations of good and bad.
Buddhism teaches that happiness lies within, and not outside, the self;
there is no way that sustained happiness can come from an external origin.
Since it is described as a study of the mind, according to its precepts happiness is achieved by conquering or understanding the mind.
During the National Assembly session in July 2004, the representativeof the official monastic body reminded Bhutanese parliamentarians to focus
more on their own understanding of values than on official definitions. If
key decision makers understand the true nature of GNH, the policies andprograms would naturally follow. GNH, like Buddhism, proposes that it is
only by looking inward that lasting happiness can be found at all levels: theindividual, the family, the community, the region, the nation, and the world.
This is the essence of the concept. In the national context the purpose of
GNH is to create an environment that will enable people to achieve happiness, or enlightenment, and therefore a better quality of life.29 Such an environment will also help diminish greed, the obstruction to happiness, by encouraging people to need less.
Conclusion
GNH is not a sudden or accidental hypothesis. It stems from a systemof values that has held a society together and evolved over centuries ofisolation. It articulates the need for such a tradition, nurtured through history,
to be preserved through change. For present-day Bhutan it is a vehicle ofhistorical transition.
The Bhutanese prime minister describes GNH as “the distinct perception of the main purpose of development, rooted in philosophical and political thought.”30 We should add to that the lessons we could draw from theexperiences of other developing countries.
GNH also conveys the essence of the Bhutanese identity, so vital forthe country’s survival. In that sense it is also a response to external threats
including the negative side effects of progress and the destructive pressuresof globalization. As a means to preserve an ancient culture, it acts as a safeguard against the wave of materialism that, according to Buddhism, comes14

from the basic human weakness: greed.
GNH, therefore, must be considered a legacy that should be passed
on to future generations. At the same time it can help facilitate the transmission of traditional values to the youth. In Bhutan today, younger people find
it difficult to identify with the more austere aspects of tradition that Bhutaneseparliamentarians, for example, portray. GNH, crystalized through intellectual
discourse, can better convey Bhutan’s rich traditions to the younger generations.
While expectations are high for GNH, we are, at present, at the beginning, not the end, of the process of applying the new paradigm to ourpresent-day realities. Meanwhile, the concept is being subjected to healthy
discourse. Buddhadasa Hewavitharana, a specialist in economic development
planning, points out that the operationalization of the Buddhist concept of
GNH also requires a revolution—not an armed revolution, but an intellectual revolution.31 It is this kind of revolution—a radical alteration of thought—that needs to spread across the nations of the world.
If viewed as an alternative to present global development paradigms,
GNH is an ambitious project. But Bhutan is not offering it to the world as a
packaged deal. Bhutan is an example of the balanced development a growing number of people are seeking. It is up to the international community todraw from the Bhutanese experience and, in the process, refine Bhutan’s own
thinking process.
While GNH stems from the wealth of profound Buddhist teachings,
I argue that this concept is not exclusively relevant to Buddhism. Again, GNH
draws on Buddhism not as a religion but as a spiritual practice. It is a middle
path that can be cultivated as a philosophy of development based on thesound concept of spiritualism. It is, therefore, relevant to the international
community.
GNH is forcing Bhutan to a new level of intellectual activity as a growing
number of decision makers and scholars reflect on the country’s priorities
and approach to change. Internal brainstorming in Bhutan and international
public discourse is giving more depth and clarity to the concept. It is a reminder to Bhutan that policies must not be built on intuition but on discourse.
Endnotes
1 Nishikawa, Jun, “Development and Happiness: Learning the Spiritual Wealth from
Asia,” working paper for the Creation of New Contemporary Asian Studies, March
2004.
2 Rowbotham, Michael, “Cherry Picking in Bhutan,” Gross National Happiness, Centre
for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
3 Gayleg, Karma, “The Characteristics and Levels of Happiness in the Context of the
Bhutanese Society,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.

15

4 Bakshi, Rajni, “A Good Time for Gross National Happiness,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
5 Priesner, Stephan, Gross National Happiness: Bhutan’s vision of development and its challenges, n.p., 1999.
6 Rowbotham.
7 Ibid.
8 McDonald, Ross, “Finding Happiness in Wisdom and Compassion—the Real
Challenge for an Alternative Development Strategy,” Gross National Happiness, Centre
for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
9 Willenswaard, Hans van, “Will ‘Middle Way Economics’ Emerge from the Gross
National Happiness Approach of Bhutan?” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan
Studies, 2004.
10 Rowbotham.
11 Thinley, Lyonpo Jigmi, Values and Development: Gross National National, Seoul, n.p.,
1998.
12 Noberg-Hodge, Helena and Steven Gorelick, “Towards an Economics of Happiness,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
13 Dixon, Frank, “Improving Unsustainable Western Economic Systems,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
14 Hershock, Peter D., “Trade, Development, and the Broken Promise of Interdependence: A Buddhist Reflection on the Possibility of Post-Market Economics,” Gross
National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
15 McDonald.
16 Priesner.
17 Thinley.
18 McDonald.
19 Ibid.
20 Policy documents of the Bhutanese government.
21 Prime minister’s report to the National Assembly, 2004.
22 Thinley.
23 Dixon.
24 Dorji, Kinley D., “Gross National Happiness: Concepts, Status, and Prospects,”
Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
25 Thinley.
26 Johnson, Joseph, “Development as Freedom, Freedom as Happiness: Human
Development and Happiness in Bhutan,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan
Studies, 2004.
27 Mancall, Mark, “Operationalising Gross National Happiness,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
28 Hylkema, Jean Karel, “Using Buddhist Insights in Implementing Gross International Happiness,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.
29 Mancall.
30 Thinley.
31 Hewavitharana, Buddhadasa, “Framework for Operationalizing the Buddhist Concept of Gross National Happiness,” Gross National Happiness, Centre for Bhutan Studies, 2004.

16

EV
AL
UATING GROWTH IN JJAP
AP
AN
EVAL
ALU
GRO
APAN
Tak
usa
go
akaay oshi K
Kusa
usag

Introduction
Economic development has a long history. Spanning two centuries, it
has been the core objective of theory and policy in the field. Different
economic systems (capitalistic and central planning) have been tried and economic policies, such as import-substitution or export-oriented industrialization, collective production, and international trade promotion through exchange rate management, have been designed and implemented. Throughthe long process of economic theorizing and the application of those theories, certain indicators have been selected and used extensively to show thedegree of progress in a country’s economy. Among those, Gross Domestic
Product (GDP) has become popular among economic policy designers anddecision makers of national economic development. This star indicator plays
a crucial role when a government writes a national development plan or
prepares an annual budget plan. Academic thinking, particularly the neoclassical school of thought, has backed GDP as the most important indicator of
economic growth under the assumption that the latter should exceed population growth if people are to see gains in economic well-being. This also
makes GDP the best tool for assessing the economic well-being of any
nation, partly because people tend to consider economic stability and prosperity the most significant prerequisites to their overall well-being. Thus GDP
becomes the universal norm for measuring a country’s economic might.
However, it has been pointed out over the last two decades that GDP
does not take into consideration noneconomic problems, which include growing environmental deterioration, social instability, regional conflicts, youth
unemployment, child labor, and human trafficking. These issues have repeatedly come to the fore. The pursuit of growth that puts blind faith in GDP
has been questioned by activists and academics, and alternative ideas—mostof them in line with the sustainable development concept first proposed by
the Club of Rome1—have received serious attention. Even so, GDP continues to be regarded as the most reliable indicator of a nation’s level of economic growth.
Of course, this would not be a serious problem if GDP growthalways brought higher net social benefits and satisfaction. To examine whether
this is the case, it is important for us to investigate whether people are satis17

fied or happy with their economic and social life. Can GDP be a solid basis
for satisfaction? Are we happy with higher, growing GDP? When GDP
grows, does our economic well-being always grow with it? With higher
GDP, do our skills and knowledge improve? Does a high level of GDP
ensure a stable and happy family life for all?
In fact, we all perceive our own well-being subjectively, but people’s
subjective views are not incorporated into the planning of economic andsocial policy. When a government designs new policies, it tends to identify
needs and problems based on quantitative surveys and even to base policy
targets on numerical measurements such as GDP, the unemployment rate,school enrollment rates, and the like. One must recognize the importanceand usefulness of numerical targets in improving people’s well-being; however, one cannot tell whether and to what extent such policies increase personal satisfaction or happiness. This paper explores why people’s subjective
views on what contributes to their happiness should be considered important factors in the measurement of their nation’s level of deveopment.
The paper starts by looking at Japan’s rapid economic growth overthe last four decades in GDP terms. Second, it examines GDP’s failure toadequately capture noneconomic aspects of well-being, such as social stability and family relationships, and ongoing efforts to design an alternative toGDP, such as the Genuine Progress Index (GPI). Third, the paper introduces the Human Development Index (HDI) as an alternative to GDP thattakes a broader view of societal development. Fourth, it shows how inJapan, prefecture-based GDP index ranking and prefecture-based HDI index ranking differ in terms of how they evaluate well-being. Fifth, it discusses the importance of people’s “subjective perception” of their personal
satisfaction and happiness. In conclusion, it notes that qualitative aspects ofgrowth are as important as quantifiable aspects (size and speed) and suggests
a shift from the present GDP-centered development to a more holistic development orientation based on subjective happiness.
Japan as a highly developed Asian nation
Japan is a highly industrialized nation with advanced manufacturing
technology (specifically, automotive, consumer electronics, and information
technology). Unlike the people in many developing countries in Asia, theJapanese can easily afford to buy clothes with their choice of design andfabric. More than half of them have vacationed overseas and have disposable income to spend on recreation.
The country’s extraordinary national economic growth since 1945—
orchestrated by the government and achieved through the hard work ofJapanese companies and their employees—has enabled Japan to reach oneof the world’s highest levels of economic attainment.
18

In the 1970s, Europeans warning the world about Japanese economic
power described Japanese workers as “economic animals” living in “rabbit
hutches.” In fact, that description is not far from the mark. The majority ofJapanese workers at that time—mostly rural folk who migrated to urban
areas to obtain a job in the fast-growing manufacturing sector—worked
long hours, and as a result improved their economic well-being with therapid economic growth of the 1960s and 1970s. Wages increased, and people
were able to build homes and send their children to secondary schools andeven universities, which in the prewar period were accessible only to the elite.
The majority more or less benefited from this national economic growth. In
fact, from the 1960s to the early 1980s, Japanese workers enjoyed an annual
average wage increase and consequently, increased purchasing power. One
could say that the Japanese came to perceive economic growth as an extra
benefit of improved economic security and prosperity.
If we look at Japan based on its economic performance (GDP) as
shown in Figure 1, we see that it achieved very high economic growth afterWorld War II. Some academics and policy makers in the West describe thisphenomenon as a miracle. It enabled the Japanese to build houses (albeit
smaller than those in other developed countries), send their children to school(see Figure 2), and enjoy universal health care (see Figure 3), which reliedheavily on tax revenues from high economic growth performance. The
Japanese were able to accomplish all these by maximizing their social andeconomic well-being during an era of high economic growth.
F igurpita and GDP ggrr owth rraa teiguree 1 . JJaa p an’an’ss economic ggrr owth: GDP per ca
capita(Source: National Accounts, Economic and Social Research Institute, Cabinet Office)19

Figure 2 . School enrollment rates in Japan(Source: Basic Surveys on Schools, Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science andTechnology)

Figure 3 . Life expectancy at birth in Japan by gender(Source: Life Table, Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare)20

Japanese happiness vis-à-vis high economic growth
A question: Are the Japanese happy as long as their economic growthcontinues? My answer is negative, and I would like to discuss some reasonsfor taking this position. For a quick but shallow look at unhappiness inJapan, read Japanese newspapers every morning and study the social trends.
You will see a surge in youth unemployment, increased flexibility of labor,more and more part-time instead of full-time workers, a sharp increase in
the number of NEETs (persons Not in Education, Employment, or Training, whose numbers exceed half a million in Japan) and suicides (more than
34,000 in 2003; see Figure 4), fatal child abuse and domestic violence reported all over the country, a high incidence of family breakups, and risingcrime rates. It is important to point out that some of these issues are notnew. This leads us to ponder why a nation with such high economic growthand development is faced with various social problems, and how the Japanese people’s perceptions of life have changed over the last three decades asa result of prosperity.
Figure 4 . Suicide cases in Japan(Source: Vital Statistics of Population, Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare)

21

Examining Japanese growth: A multidimensional reality check ofJapanese well-being
As we have seen, Japan’s per capita GDP has grown. What does thismean in terms of happiness and satisfaction? GDP tells us the size of theeconomy, which consists of private production and consumption, and government spending. However, it does not tell us what goods and services areproduced and consumed, or how each individual values his or her increase inpurchasing power. Thus, high per capita GDP rates do not necessarily translate to increased happiness for the people. One reason for this discrepancy is,large multinational companies in a globalized market economy seek to maximize their profits and minimize their costs—as Economics 101 teaches. They
easily exploit developing countries whose people have fewer opportunities
to express their opinions, and are not protected by labor laws. These corporations tend to prioritize short-term profits without regard for the longterm impacts, including those on the environment. Such facts are not considered in the computation of GDP.
Recently, some groups of intellectuals have offered alternative approaches to evaluating economic and social development. The next section
examines the discrepancies between these approaches in describing satisfaction with life.
Measuring the “quality” of growth
New efforts have been made to gather data on social and economic
development and to devise alternatives to GDP that monitor social andeconomic progress. Two alternatives are highlighted here: (1) the Genuine
Progress Indicator (GPI) and (2) the Human Development Index (HDI).
2
The GPI was created by the U.S. research group Redefining Progress toincorporate social costs (pollution, crime, and the like) into growth measurement (GDP). It factors in important destructive costs, and adds social andeconomic benefits ignored by GDP. It adds the value of time spent onhousehold work and volunteer work, and subtracts expenditures for security
systems, hospital bills, and so on.3 One research group that measured Japan’s
GPI found a huge discrepancy between GDP and GPI for the last four
decades. Although the growth in GDP plots as an upward-sloping curve,
the GPI plots as a relatively flat line (Figure 5). This means that a substantial
proportion of GDP growth has been made at the expense of environmental degradation, social instability, and increased crime, which raises questions
about the importance and effectiveness of economic growth in ensuring truesocial and economic welfare. Interestingly, unlike GDP, the GPI has notchanged much for the last three decades in Japan. This suggests that GDP
growth has not incorporated social costs incurred by economic activities
that aim for high economic growth performance.
22

What the GPI reveals
Figure 5 . GDP per capita and GPI per capita in Japan(Source: Ohashi, Nakano, Makino, and Wada 2003)

Japan’s Human Development Index (HDI)The HDI was developed by the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) in 1990, based on Amartya Sen’s capability approach.4 Since
then it has become popular among development practitioners and researchers. The HDI has three major components of development indicators: income, education, and health.5 Using the composite index of human development, it revealed that the Japanese, on average, have access to good public
services and a high income base. Japan’s HDI ranking put it at ninth in theworld in 2003, which is consistent with our general views about Japan: it has
a strong economy, a good educational base, and excellent health services.
The HDI provides evidence of Japan’s high growth performance and goodquality of life.
Limitations of conventional indicators: Does subjectivity
matter?
The GPI and the HDI have contributed significantly to advances in
our thought regarding development and growth. However, these indicators
do not adequately capture negative developments in education, health, andincome. For instance, the educational indicators of the HDI do not take into23

account students who refuse to go to school, variations in the type of schooling, or the number of bullying incidents at school. Health indicators only tellus the average life expectancy at birth and the disease infection rates. Data on
health promotion and disease prevention are quite limited. Thus, the national
HDI does not reveal systematic differences. Also, the evaluation it offers is
not broken down by social group, gender, ethnicity, and so on. We tend to
think of homogeneity as a unique feature of Japanese society, and as a goodtradition. Another problem with conventional indicators is that they do not
use qualitative information (people’s subjective perceptions about their lives
and their life choices) to evaluate economic and social advancement. I believe that people’s subjective well-being (hereinafter: SWB) and self-reported
happiness (hereinafter: Happiness) need to be examined based on qualitative
information.
As an economist, I should point out that economics “nicely” avoids
measuring or considering SWB by defining one’s absolute utility level as immeasurable, although Adam Smith, the founding father of classical economics, observed that high income eventually fails to increase people’s satisfaction. Rather, neoclassical economics treats utility as “decision utility,”6 whichsuggests one’s satisfaction after one has made choices for certain combinations of goods and services, rather than satisfaction based on one’s own
unique choice of combinations of goods and services that may not even be
consumed by others. In other words, utility defined by neoclassical economics does not tell us about individual satisfaction with the consumption or
production of a good or service. Decision utility cannot tell us whether acertain economic action (behavior) will make one satisfied, without comparison to other economic actions. Unfortunately, this utility notion has been afundamental assumption underlying many economic theories and models
that influence policy design and performance assessment. However, becauseof growing “unhappiness,” new efforts are emerging to capture SWB. Psychology has been particularly active on this subject.7 Some economists, including Amartya Sen,8 have advocated an alternative way of looking at people’s
welfare by interdisciplinary research that combines the knowledge of psychologists, sociologists, medical doctors, and economists. One critical component in this endeavor is being able to fully utilize qualitative information,or “voices,” toward evaluating the overall progress of a society and its
economy from the viewpoint of an individual. In the next section, we examine how we might combine quantitative and qualitative data toward understanding how people perceive their life, using the case of Japan.

24

R e giona
aria
tions and subjecti
ell-being: pprr ef
ectur
gionall vvaria
ariationssubjectivv e w
well-beinell-being:
efectur
ecturaa l HDI andoverall happinessTo further explore Japanese development and growth, two issues need
to be taken seriously. First, the possibility of regional variation in growth anddevelopment needs to be analyzed, and second, evaluations of quality ofdevelopment and growth in Japan need to incorporate people’s perceptionsof their life.
Variations in prefectural HDI and GDP in Japan
Table 1 shows Japan’s prefectural HDI for 1990, 1995, and 2000,
which were calculated by the author using official data on per capita GDP,
education, and health.
In 2000, the HDI in Japan ranged from 0.9065 for Aomori Prefecture
to 0.9667 for the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The UNDP Global HDRshows the world’s highest HDI to be 0.954 for Norway, which Tokyo surpasses. Israel takes the twenty-second place at 0.907, close to Aomori’s ranking. This means that all of the prefectures in Japan are in the high-HDI
group. However, people living in Tokyo enjoy higher human development
than elsewhere in Japan.
Table 2 shows the Japanese prefectures that rank at the top and thebottom in terms of HDI, GDP, and Happiness.9 The top five for HDI are
Tokyo, Aichi, Shiga, Shizuoka, and Fukui. The top five for GDP are Tokyo,
Aichi, Osaka, Shiga, and Shizuoka. The two groups show significant overlap,
partly because GDP is one of the three key components of the HDI. A
similar tendency is also found among the bottom five by GDP and HDI.
However, if we look at the figures closely, we see some differences between
prefectural ranking by GDP and by HDI. For prefectures in the Hokkaido,
Tohoku, and Kyushu regions, the ranks by GDP are higher than those by
HDI. In contrast, for prefectures in the Kansai and Kanto regions, the ranks
by HDI are higher than those by GDP. This suggests that educational development and public health development differ from economic growth in the
Hokkaido, Tohoku, and Kyushu regions.

25

Ta b l e 1 . HDI in JJaa p an bbyy pprr ef
ectur
e: 1990, 1995, and 2000
efectur
ecture:Calculated by the author from (1) school enrollment rates from Basic Surveys on Schools,
Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology, (2) life expectancy rates
from Life Table, Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare, and (3) per capita GDP from
Annual Report on National Economy, Cabinet Office, using the UNDP’s HDI method.10

Ta b l e 2 . TTop
op 5 and Bottom 5 pprr ef
ectur
es bbyy GDPppiness
efectur
ecturesGDP,, HDI, and Ha
Happiness

26

Trends in overall happiness in Japan (1978-2002)
Thus far, we have seen prefectural development in terms of economic growth (GDP) and social and economic development (HDI). These
are all calculated quantitatively, which may not reflect how people feel about
their lives. It is important to look for any discrepancies between objective
and subjective measurements of socioeconomic development.
Happiness in Japan
To what extent do the Japanese subjectively feel satisfied with theirlives? Figure 6 shows trends in subjective happiness as surveyed since 1978
by the Cabinet Office of Japan. It clearly shows that the number of people
who report feeling “happy with life” or “very happy with life” has declined
over time, decreasing from 64.2 percent in 1984 to 41.3 percent in 2002,
while those who report feeling “unhappy with life” or “very unhappy withlife” increased from 11.1 percent in 1978 to more than 25 percent in 2002. I
should note that fewer than one in twenty Japanese report feeling very happy
with life, far below the figure for most countries.
Figure 6 . Overall happiness in Japan(Source: Survey of Lifestyles and Needs, Cabinet Office)27

In what prefectures do people report the greatest happiness?
If we assume that people are accurately able to assess their own subjective happiness or satisfaction, we can examine the degree of happiness bycounting the number of people who describe themselves as happy or unhappy. The author created a “happiness index” based on the Cabinet Office’s
Survey of Lifestyles and Needs, which is conducted every three years in Japan.
There is very little connection between GDP and the Happiness Index ranking of prefectures. More surprisingly, there is very little connection between
the HDI and the Happiness Index. For instance, Tottori ranks first on theHappiness Index, but twenty-sixth in GDP. Tokyo ranks first in GDP and
the HDI, but sixteenth on the Happiness Index. This means that one’s perception about one’s life and happiness cannot be judged or measured by asingle indicator such as GDP, or even a composite index such as the HDI.
However, there seems to be some connection between the HDI and happiness. Table 3 categorizes the forty-seven prefectures of Japan by comparing
the HDI and GDP rankings. We see that prefectures where more people
report being happy tend to be those in Groups 1 and 2, where HDI rankings
exceed GDP rankings. Factors influencing people’s happiness may not belimited only to the improvement of their economic situation, educational
attainment, and health; rather, there might be other factors that affect theirsubjective evaluation of happiness. It will require more analysis to identify
such factors, which go beyond the scope of this paper.
Who feels the happiest with life?
We have seen that there are wide gaps between the HDI and Happiness. It is important to know who feels happy with his or her life. To
determine this, we need to apply statistical methods of identifying the characteristics of those who feel happier than others. Based on the Cabinet
Office’s data on happiness (Table 4), I have found that women tend to feelhappier than men, older people tend to feel happier than other age cohorts,
and those who have a high level of education tend to feel happier than those
who do not. The data also suggests that higher income could be positively
linked to one’s overall happiness in Japan.

28

29

gs (2000)
in
ank
ings
ankin
y HDI and GDP rrank
es bbyectur
efecturesefecturPreftion of JJaa p an’an’ss Prg orizateorization
Ta b l e 3 . Ca
teg
Cate

Ta b l e 4 . Descripti
acteristics of peopl
ho artisfied with lif
Descriptivv e charcharacteristics
peoplee w
whoaree sasatisfiedlifee

A quest for growth, or a quest for happiness?
We have discussed “quality of development and happiness” by using
quantitative data and different indices to see if and to what extent Japanese
economic growth since World War II has brought the Japanese people satisfaction in life. The following were found through the paper:
1. At present, social problems are increasing in Japan and people’sviews and perceptions are not so positive. However, the Japanese are betteroff economically and have secured basic human necessities, as the national
and prefectural HDIs clearly show.
2. GDP and other popular indicators should not be viewed as the best
way to understand well-being. Rather, they are sometimes misleading withrespect to overall well-being, as evidenced by the discrepancies between the
HDI and GDP, and those between Happiness and GDP.
3. GDP cannot incorporate social costs and benefits (environmental
damage is not discounted, shadow work is not counted, etc.), which may
influence well-being. The GPI may be superior in reflecting social progress.
Interestingly, prefectures with a higher number of people reportingthemselves to be happy with their life tend to have a higher HDI than GDP
ranking. The happiness survey shows interesting discrepancies between objective indicators and subjective ones. Thus, a combination of quantitativeand qualitative data could enhance our understanding of social and economic problems and people’s needs. The HDI and other indices need to belinked with subjective information.
This paper has focused on the real meaning of social and economic
growth by addressing conventional and alternative growth measurements.
We have found discrepancies between GDP, the GPI, and the HDI, and also
between qualitative and quantitative measurements of happiness. If our ulti30

mate goal is to enhance the quality of life, we need to make further efforts
toward examining determinants of happiness. For this purpose, this paper
suggests that we should apply a cross-disciplinary approach toward understanding what makes people feel happy, which might be shaped by culture,social capital, economic system, gender, age, and ethnicity. This would require a time-consuming team effort to gather and analyze data. However,such an endeavor could help us choose a development path that would bringhappiness.
Endnotes
1 Meadows, D. H. et al., The Limits to Growth: A Report for the Club of Rome’s Project on
the Predicament of Mankind, New York: Universe Books, 1972.
2 A nonprofit organization based in Oakland, California, USA. Their website is at
http://www.rprogress.org/.
3 Cobb, C., T. Halstead, and J. Rowe, The Genuine Progress Indicator: Summary of Data
and Methodology, San Francisco: Redefining Progress, 1995.
4 Sen, Amartya K., Commodities and Capabilities, Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1985.
5 The HDI consists of the three dimensions of human development: (1) long andhealthy life, (2) knowledge, and (3) decent standard of living. The three dimensions
identify the following indicators:
a. Healthy life: life expectancy at birth (indicator) and life expectancy index
b. Knowledge: adult literacy rate and gross enrollment ratio (indicators), andeducation index
c. Standard of living: GDP per capita (indicator) and GDP index
The HDI is calculated by putting equal weight on the three indices. According
to the Human Development Report 2004, Japan’s life expectancy at birth is 81.5, its grossenrollment ratio is 84, its GDP is US$26,940, and its HDI is 0.938, making it ninth
in the world in terms of development.
6 Frey, B. and A. Stutzer, Happiness and Economics: How the Economy and Institutions
Affect Well-being, Princeton, N. J.; Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2002.
7 Diener, E., “Assessing Subjective Well-being: Progress and Opportunities,” Social
Indicators Research 31 (1994): 103-57; E. Diener and E. Suh (editors), Culture andSubjective Well-being, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000; R. Veenhoven, “Developments in Satisfaction Research,” Social Indicators Research 37 (1996): 1-46.
8 Sen, Amartya K., Development as Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.
9 In a sample survey conducted by the Cabinet Office, a Happiness indicator was
created based on the following question and possible answers: Q. Are you happy
with your life overall? A. (1) Very Happy, (2) Happy, (3) Not Happy/Unhappy, (4)Unhappy, (5) Very Unhappy.
10 UDNP, Human Development Report, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.

31

References
Cobb, C., T. Halstead, and J. Rowe. The Genuine Progress Indicator: Summary ofData and Methodology. San Francisco: Redefining Progress, 1995.
Diener, E. “Assessing Subjective Well-being: Progress and Opportunities.” Social
Indicators Research 31(1994): 103-57.
Diener, E., and E. Suh (editors). Culture and Subjective Well-Being. Cambridge, MA:
MIT Press, 2000.
Frey, B. and A. Stutzer. Happiness and Economics: How the Economy and Institutions
Affect Well-being. Princeton, N.J.; Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2002.
Meadows, D. H. et al. The Limits to Growth: A Report for the Club of Rome’s Projecton the Predicament of Mankind. New York: Universe Books, 1972.
Ohashi, T., et al. A study on Japan’s GPI (Nihon no GPI no keisoku kekka).
Tokyo: Future 500, 2003.
Sen, A. K. Commodities and Capabilities. Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1985.
Sen, A. K. Development as Freedom. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.
UNDP. Human Development Report. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.
Veenhoven, R. “Developments in Satisfaction Research.” Social Indicators Research
37 (1996): 1-46.

32

Contradictions

33

34

ENGLISH, EDUCA
TIO
N, AND FILIPINO IDENTITYEDUCATIO
TION
Karina Africa Bolasco“Little by little, belief became polluted, like the air and water.
The motive energy, always resistant but manipulable, finallybegins to run out.”
Michel de Certeau
The Practice of Everyday Life
English and the Thomasites
1,074 American teachers came to the Philippines in 1901 from 47 stateswith degrees from 192 colleges and universities in the United States. The 509
Thomasites. so called because they traveled to the Philippines in the US
transport Thomas, which sailed from San Francisco in July, arrived on ourshores on August 23. Charles Burke Elliott considered them “a second armyof occupation—surely the most remarkable cargo ever carried to an Orientalcolony.” [The Philippines] Awaiting them were 4,000 Filipino children enrolled
in 29 schools. By 1904, there were 50,000 children; by 1911, 355,722; and by
1920, 1 million were in 4,404 schools, covering about 37% of the schoolaged population. English was to be the medium of instruction, it was
unthinkable to many American authorities that any other language be used inschools that flew the American flag. But critics like the eminent linguist Najib
Saleeby and even the famous American writer Mark Twain saw America as“forcing the language of the conquerors upon a defenseless people.” [Elliott]
The argument that there was no one common language all natives could
speak and so English could be that did not hold water especially as Saleeby
pointed out that the Philippine languages were so closely related to one anotherthat in three months, a Visayan could understand and speak Tagalog. But thereal agenda was very clear to Gen. Arthur MacArthur—after quelling theFilipino resistance, English and the public school system was a vital and urgent
military operation, “calculated to pacify the people” and capture their minds.
“Molding of people’s minds is the best means of conquest, and education,
therefore, serves as a weapon in wars of colonial conquest.” [Constantino,
The Miseducation of the Filipino, p.2] It was a masterstroke for it lowered thenatives’ defenses against economic and cultural aggression. Filipinos today
are the most consummate users of American products and culture.
35

The Thomasites were a passionately dedicated lot who did not see
themselves only as bringers of basic literacy and numeracy skills to thousandsof uneducated Filipino children but more as inculcators of democratic values
and ideals in young Filipino minds, “with a view to making the country amodel of American-style democracy in the Far East.” [Racelis, Bearers ofBenevolence, p.4] They conscientiously taught whether in makeshift classrooms
or in private houses where goats and chickens sat with the children, andparents chewing betel nut squatting at the back, weaving or molding pottery.
They endeared themselves to the children and their communities, despite thatthe parents briefly feared these Americans were converting them to anotherreligion. Their journal entries recorded all their hardships and difficulties interms of limited resources and backward living conditions, but also werefilled with enthusiasm and warmth and fondness not only for the children
but for the communities as well who openly and respectfully accepted them.
Parents admired them and regarded them as the conduit to their children’s
bright futures and entry into the modern, bigger, and more prosperous world,
especially because those who excelled were sent as pensionados, scholars to
American universities. “The school curriculum itself promoted the American
way of life as superior. English as the medium of instruction was the path tounderstanding and incorporating the democratic tradition into the Filipino
psyche.” [Racelis, p.11] The Thomasites treated all students, rich or poor,
equally. They gave incentives such as snacks and prizes to those who did well.
Public performances in English, such as debates and declamation or oratoricalcontests, were often held, open to the proud parents and the public. The
most popular pieces were Abraham Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address” andLongfellow’s “Hiawatha”. There were plays and pageants and musicals, andparents beamed with pride “as their young Pilgrims, a turkey under one armand corncobs under the other, welcomed the American Indians to the firstThanksgiving dinner. Whether or not the earnest actor could understand hislines was less important than his being on stage, in public, speaking English.
Parents were impressed as were local officials, the parish priest, and thetownspeople. The maestro and maestra were welcomed heartily.” [Racelis
and Ick, p.7]
The other difficulty the Thomasites spoke of was that due to the useof a foreign language, they failed to teach or teach well the other subjects,
especially science and mathematics, despite their sincere attempts to encourage
creativity and real learning (They condemned sheer memorizing). Worse, on
the whole, a dual system seemed to have evolved in the lives of these young
students. When in school, they were perfectly willing and able to abide by thevalues the Thomasites taught them, but once they were back at home in thecommunity, they went back to their prevailing Filipino values. They learned36

to adjust and saw no contradiction in going by one set of rules under one setof conditions, and in going by another, totally the opposite, under anotherset of conditions. Uncannily, it could precisely be years of adroitly negotiating
two cultures that have prepared Filipinos for the diaspora, the yearly exodus
to overseas of men and mostly women in search of better-paying jobs.
g lish as Second
irst Languag e to En
Teaching En
g lish: FFrr om FFirstEng
Languaguag
eachingEng
Language
In 1925, the very first critically -acclaimed short story called “DeadStars” was written by a Filipina, Paz Marquez Benitez who belonged to the
University of the Philippines Writers Guild. This is considered and taught asa milestone of English teaching in the Philippine Literature course, as if all ofPhilippine literature was just that body of works written in English. Saleeby,an expert in Malayo-Polynesian languages, commented in 1924 that “ Twentyfive years of intensive English education has produced no radical change.”[Constantino, p.14] While it was true that significantly more Filipinos could
speak English than there ever were of those who learned to speak Spanish
under more than 300 years of Spanish colonial rule, the great majority still
spoke their native language. Saleeby went on to mock the American colonial
policy of insisting on it as sole medium of instruction and of official discourse.
It was, he said, “exalted and ambitious to an extreme degree” and “wasattempting to do what ancient Persia, Rome, Alexander the Great andNapoleon failed to accomplish.” [p.15]
The approaches to teaching English in the Philippines have shiftedback and forth because our educators and policymakers can never let go andmake up their mind about it. In the first decades after independence in 1946
was supposed to have been granted by the United States, it was intensive
language training for Filipinos as if they were native speakers. The very same
American language textbooks used in US schools were imported and in
Catholic private schools in key cities, these were rented out to students. The
training required intensive grammar drills and diagramming exercises,
supplemented by reading and comprehension activities as SRA, phonetics
and pronunciation in speech labs and theme or creative writing. This was mytraining in grade school in the 60s and high school in the 70s. But as we werelearning English in this thorough manner, it was already the language of our
texts in science, math, social studies and geography. Immediately, we were
immersed in English. Of the 8 or 9 (including Religion in private schools)
subjects, only the study of our language was in Pilipino. We were forced to
speak only English on campus and were penalized whenever caught speaking
our own language. This was a traumatic experience for most of us, and37

knew in our hearts there was something terribly wrong. My family, like allother families in our city, spoke Tagalog at home and it was natural for us to
immediately shift to Tagalog once outside of the classroom. But like theparents who so admired the Thomasites, our parents saw this rule asdisciplinary and could not be anything else but for our own good. Proficiency
in English continued to be the mark of the truly educated. At home, while
we spoke Tagalog, we all read in English, from newspapers and magazines
to books. We also wrote letters to friends and relatives in English. Even
dedications at the back of photographs were in English. Pilipino remained
the spoken language but was never prestigious or official enough for lettersor reports. I myself have to read aloud when reading Tagalog as I find it
difficult to read it silently.
The late 60s and 70s were given to massive student rallies anddemonstrations, onto the Martial law of the Marcos dictatorship. Colonialeducation was the most criticized as it continued to deepen colonial mentality;
English was heavily attacked as an impediment in fact to instruction. A child
who has to understand abstract science and math concepts will first and yet
have to grapple with a strange language. It has made learning doubly difficult,and turned it into rote, mere memorization of key words, definitions andenumerations. The Thomasites knew this as early as 1905. Those not proficientin English, largely rural-based students, have not been able to share theirthoughts or discuss and argue in class; critical and creative minds are renderedmute.in the classroom. So in 1974, as some form of concession, Marcos
approved the bilingual policy in education; the intent was to gradually shift to
Pilipino as medium of instruction up to the tertiary level by 1984. It finally
was the right and sound policy in place but was never implemented andappears to have been discarded. This was not bilingualism as in the UnitedStates today. What it did was to require the teaching of social studies, music,
arts, and physical education in Pilipino, subjects thought of as minor. But thecore subjects like reading, language, science and math were still to be taught
in English. At this time, the teaching of English in basic education shifted tocommunicative competence, or as a second language. In college, it became
English for Specific Purposes, meaning one only had to learn enough English
as needed by the student’s major, whether Law, Medicine, Engineering or
Business. After the People Power of 1986, and the ouster of Marcos, theeducators vacillated and worried over the deterioration of the training in
English especially because the multinational corporations and other businesscompanies complained about the graduates’ weak communication skills in
English, both oral and written. Instead of a political resolve to expedite
working towards an economy that will provide basic services and employment
Filipinos deserve, the government instead began to talk about preparing38

Filipinos for all types of work in other countries. Proficiency in English has
become an asset, whether one is a professional or a domestic helper. In
response therefore, the top private schools went back to intensive English
language teaching, back to grammar drills and diagramming exercises. Koreans
are coming to Manila to learn English and English language schools specificallyfor Koreans are mushrooming. In 21st century Philippines, the trend is totrain to speak English with the American accent or as Americans speak it, toprovide manpower to customer service call centers set up in Manila to service
the American public. Because the hours are graveyard shifts, these companies
pay high relative to Manila salaries for fresh graduates, but really low compared
to US minimum rates. Still many graduates of top schools are enticed to join
but on short-term bases, like one-or-two-year contracts, only to save up andbuy a car. American-accent schools or similar inhouse departments are
beginning to be set up to be able to supply the requirements of this outsourcing.
To many of the young graduates, speaking English as the Americans do is
not absurd because it is just a job, and it is the principle behind learning asecond language—when one learns French or Italian, one must eventually
speak it as the French or Italians do. Some social scientists say this is anindicator that these young graduates from top schools know who they are,and are comfortable with their identity, and confident they can proceed in thereal world.
Miseducation, Nationalism, and Democracy
The late Filipino nationalist historian Renato Constantino considered
the question of language as the most vital problem that has plagued Philippine
education. For any sovereign country to use another country’s language in the
education of its young is ridiculous and outrageous, especially after morethan half a century has passed since colonial rule. How terribly tragic that up
till now, many enlightened Filipinos in responsible positions, former activists
and leftists, nationalists all, are still against using Filipino as medium of
instruction (The 1987 Constitution changed the name of the national language
to Filipino). They are afraid of cutting what to them is the nation’s linguistic,
and more importantly, economic lifeline. Mastery of English has been thebadge of an educated person in the Philippines. After having acquired facility
in it through the same educational system, the elite and leaders think it mustand can work for others too who persevere. They are convinced that not at
this time, especially at this time when the world is globalizing, and all othercountries are learning English, should we shift gears and give it up as medium
of instruction. So great and deep-rooted is the disorientation and confusion
over this issue, caused by years of colonial education, that even after the39

experiments at the University of the Philippines Integrated School, where
Science and Math were taught in Filipino, using textbooks in Filipino, andwhere student performances greatly improved, there still is the reluctance tolet go of English as medium of instruction. Education experts who knowhow deleterious are the effects of an education taught in a foreign language
are too timid to speak up even as remarkable results of teaching in Filipino
can back them up. Even as it is a known fact that today Filipino, the national
language, is understood all over the country. It is as if we will return to thedark ages if we give up English as medium of instruction. Years of Americanoriented education, that continues to this day to miseducate Filipinos, haveinstilled in us a national inferiority complex. That education has made us
distrust the capabilities of our own language.
Giving up English as medium of instruction does not mean
abandoning English altogether. As in other countries like France, Japan, China
and Korea, those who will need it in their careers should learn it, and well, asa preferred foreign language. Its indispensability in the world today is notquestioned or denied; only the bloated priority it is given at the expense of
our very own language.
For the Thomasites, one of the reasons for imposing English was that
it was the language of democracy, and through it, Filipinos would embrace
the American way of life—equal opportunities for all. No privileged class,no poor. But the way it turned out, English created a new ilustrado class, asmall group of men and women who can articulate their thoughts in English.
“English became the wedge that separated the Filipinos from their past, andlater to separate educated Filipinos from the masses of their countrymen.”[Constantino, p.6] Benedict Anderson says that the aims of colonial education
are to “break the links to the indigenous past” and produce a carefullycalibrated quantum of (English)-speaking and (English)-writing (Filipinos) toserve as a politically reliable, grateful, and acculturated indigenous elite, fillingthe subordinate echelons of the colony’s bureaucracy and larger commercial
enterprises.” [Anderson, Imagined Communities, p.126] We now have a wider
sector who can read and speak in fairly comprehensible English, which isreally a hybrid of Tagalog and English, now called Taglish (This involves
extensive code-switching). Still, the great masses of Filipinos hardly express
themselves in English, and they therefore barely understand the discourse ofgovernment and politics which our leaders insist must continue to be in thislanguage. The outcome is a leadership that does not truly comprehend theneeds of the people for they can only communicate with them in general andvague terms. Issues are never fully discussed during, moreso outside, ofelections. Politicians with the best inflections and are seasoned orators in English
win the votes especially when they are covered by television. Democracy,40

rather than be a discourse of dialogue and consultation, is at best performanceof the few, much like the declamation contests of the Thomasites in the1900s.
Extent of absurdity is seen daily in our courts where witnesses’ testimonies in
Tagalog are translated to English when everyone present can fully understandTagalog or Filipino.
We have a society where the upper 50%, fairly educated men andwomen proficient in English have 82.2 % of the total income, the monopolistsof power, and the uneducated, lower 50% take home only 17.8% [National
Statistics Office website] of that income, they who are easily swayed by thepowers that be. The majority of Filipinos half-understand what their leaders
say or what the laws say. They love the sounds, but the sense is often lost on
them. They have learned to think that it is not their duty to know, or that they
have to understand national issues and participate in the discourse for the
public good. They are content to leave everything to their leaders. But lately,in the last two presidential elections, perhaps as a manifestation of their extreme
frustration and disgust with their leaders, big business and the elite, andhopelessness over their worsening economic situation, they elected and voted
for ignorant, non-English speaking, unqualified popular actors (Arroyo is
widely believed to have cheated Poe). It is ironic then that English which was
supposed to be the language of democracy instead now prevents thedevelopment of real democracy in my country.
Conclusion
To our National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin, identity is like theriver in philosophy. “You can never step into the same river twice. The river
has changed even as you step into it. Nevertheless the Pasig (River) remains
the Pasig, though from one moment to the next, it’s no longer the same
river.” [Joaquin, Culture and History] Raymond Williams shares this dynamic
view of identity. He says, “The history of the idea of culture is a record of
our reactions, in thought and feeling, to the changed conditions of ourcommon life.” [Williams, Culture and Society] I believe like many others that
the Filipino, all that he or she is today is his or her identity as Filipino, notbefore the Spanish colonizers came, nor before the Amercan public school
system was set up. All Filipinos belong to a nation and share a culture forgedby colonialism and the resistance to it, by historical conditions, and by its
multi-ethnic creative and critical imagining that continues whether or not it ismanaged or influenced. It is however urgent that the miseducation assemblyline be corrected and reversed—that it work towards building in our younga sense of pride in our nation. The knowledge of our shared history andheritage is not available to all. Our foremost historians Agoncillo and41Constantino did right to give us the grand narrative of our struggles against
the colonizers, and that narrative has been enriched, fine-tuned, nuanced andrefined by many new and in-progress studies and researches especially in prehistory and early nation-state formation. All these, however, have not been
inventoried to form and inform our basic education curriculum, not even to
generate the kind of history textbooks we have long needed to imagine anation.
Renowned linguist Noam Chomsky and psychologist Jean Piaget bothbelieve that bilingualism have no bearing on cognitive thought. Chomsky’s
reason is that language is autonomous from the rest of cognition; Piaget’s isthat language is not an important causal agent in the development of knowledge.
[Hakuta, Mirror of Language: The Debate on Bilingualism, p.83] This certainly isanother view of the bilingual policy— “A youngster whose wider experiencesin two cultures have given him advantages which a monolingual does not
enjoy. Intellectually his experience with two language systems seems to haveleft him with a mental flexibility, a superiority in concept formation, a morediversified set of mental abilities.” [Peal and Lambert, p.20] As Anderson
says, “It is always a mistake to treat languages in the way that certain nationalist
ideologues treat them - - as emblems of nation-ness, like flags, costumes,
folk-dances, and the rest. Much the most important thing about language is
its capacity for generating imagined communities, building in effect particularsolidarities.” [Anderson, p.133]
All forces exert the same dynamics, two-pronged with a strength anda weakness, an upside and downside, a positive and negative. Howeverbilingual, whatever the resulting hybrid language, what is crucial is how thesemake communities and nations cohere. Just as in 1905, based on the accountof one Thomasite, a 12-year old Filipino boy in a class studying about Captain
Smith and the first Virginia settlers, made a connection between the English
colonizing America and the Americans colonizing the Philippines. They learned
from the book that the English, greedy for gold, took advantage of the
Indians. The boy raised his hand and said he saw a picture of Captain Smith,holding an Indian by the throat, with a pistol at his head, saying, “Your moneyor your life.” The boy said he thought of the Philippines. [Racelis, pp.9-10].
The stories of colonization and nationalisms are stories of great ideas andcollective remembering. And the path of great ideas is like the path of astorm; wherever it passes, it wreaks havoc and ferment.

42

RADICAL ISL
AM AND THE CONSOLID
ATIO
N OF
ISLAM
CONSOLIDNSOLIDATION
DEMOCRACY IN INDONESIA 1
DEMOCRACYINDONESIA
Jamhari

Recently, there has been a lot of discussion about the emergence of amodern religious revival, primarily indicated by an increasing religious dedication among various groups. Among Christians and Catholics, for instance,
there has been an increase in church attendance. And more and more Moslems are conforming to fundamental Islamic practices—praying five times aday, fasting, and performing other religious duties.2 It seems to be occurring
worldwide, across all religions. In Indonesia, an increasing number of middleclass citizens and students are following religious practices and attending religious sermons. During Ramadhan, the increasing religious fervor can benoted everywhere—on television programs, in the streets, even in hotels andoffices.
What is interesting about the phenomenon is it is occurring at the point
when the “rational forces” of science and technology seem to have solved
the mysteries of nature and have consequently banished spirituality from theframework of modern society. Religious revivals usually do develop during
such junctures in history. They gain momentum when people assume thatmaterial fulfillment can make them happy.
One question that should be raised is whether such a phenomenon—
religions taking center stage worldwide—can truly be called a “revival” in thecontext of today’s society. Revivalism implies a collective returning to religion.
But many people nowadays have never been distinctly religious in the firstplace. Most of them are not returning to or reviving their old religiosity, but arein fact rediscovering their “lost” religion. It might therefore be more accurate to call what is taking place today not a religious revival but a religious
rediscovery.3 For the purpose of this paper, however, we shall continue to refer
to it as a “revival.”
One salient feature of the current religious revival is the strengtheningof the so-called fundamentalist movements in almost all religions in many
parts of the world. This can be seen in the emergence of “militant” Moslems
in Iran and Lebanon, the increasing influence of the Zionist faction in Israel,the deepening conflict between Protestants and Catholics in North Ireland,
and the popularity of “televangelists” in America. These indicate that there
has been a reorientation of religious values within society, even though it isexpressed in different formats.
The religious revival in Indonesia can be explained partly as the resultof a modernity crisis, characterized by a tendency to focus on the material
43

aspects of life, the marginalization of spirituality, and the domination ofrational thinking.
The demise of New Order authority and the new political openness
have opened the space for new social, political, and religious movements andorganizations that express people’s aspirations. These are actually delayed responses to the authoritarian New Order political system,4 and are in sharp
contrast to the mono-ideological movements of the New Order era. Amongthe increasing number of newly formed social groups are a number ofreligious organizations. They have, in fact, been quite visible in various sectorsof society. In the political arena, many political parties with religious andsocial orientations join Indonesian democracy festivals. Many religious-militant groups have also joined the Indonesian reform movement. Because
majority of Indonesians are Moslems, most of these groups are Islamic.
The emergence of these new Islamic groups will no doubt influence
the future social and political landscape of Indonesia. Some Islamic parties
participating in the 1999 general election, for instance, used Islam as theirideology and political base. They campaigned to implement Islamic Shari’ahlaw, and attempted to have the Jakarta Charter or Piagam Jakarta, particularly
the clause “the obligation for Moslems to abide by Islamic Shari’ah,” included in the constitution. It cannot be denied that the ideological issues
brought up by these Islamic parties has changed Indonesian politics today.
This paper focuses on the emergence of groups which, according totheir followers, want to apply Islamic teachings comprehensively (kaffah) andwholeheartedly. These groups have been variously called fundamentalists,
extremists, radicals, and militants, labels which are generally considered pejorative. It is important to note that the label fundamentalist initially used to refer
to Christian-Protestant groups actually has a neutral meaning. It simply indicates the groups’ attempt to return to their basic religious foundations. Because one of their implicit goals is the rejection of rationality, which bypasses
revelation or religion in its pursuit of truth, these groups have also rejectedscience and technology, both of which employ rational methods. This “irrationality” gave the term fundamentalist its negative connotation. However, thisno longer applies to modern “fundamentalist” Islamic groups.
It has been argued by many scholars that Islamic radicalism is a serious
challenge to the consolidation of democracy in Muslim societies. This paper
also attempts to situate Islamic radicalism in the process of consolidation of
democracy in Indonesia.
Islamic militant groups in Indonesia:
Tr acing their socio-historica
oots
acing
socio-historicall rroots
Militant as well as moderate or middle-line Islamic groups have existed long before the 2002 Bali bombing or the September 11, 2001 attacks
44

on the U.S., both of which have been attributed to these groups. They haveexisted before Samuel P. Huntington’s “Clashes of Civilization” thesis after
the fall of the Soviet Union. This is evidenced by the wealth of researchmaterials on the topic that have been available long before the above events
took place, or that discuss the activities of Islamic militants prior to these
events. An example is John L. Esposito’s Islamic Threat: Myth or Reality. The
book is basically a response to Huntington’s thesis,5 but it also contains studies on militant Moslems in Iran, Pakistan, Egypt, and Algiers. It shows thatmilitant Moslems have been around before the above-mentioned incidents.
This proves that not all militant Islamic movements were formed because of
conflict with and hatred for the West.
The militant movements in Iran, for example—although they have astrong anti-Western element—can be traced historically to the marginalized
Shi’ah group, particularly the descendents of Ali, from the Islamic politicalmainstream at that time. During the Mu’awiyah Caliphate, the members of
Ali’s family were hunted down and arrested as enemies of the state. The
Shi’ah, as they came to be known, eventually evolved into a clandestine community, whose leaders were strongly trusted and supported by the members.
Nowadays, the Shi’ah movement is strongly influenced by the millennial belief in the return of the savior or messiah. It is clear that militant Islam in Iranis not rooted in antipathy toward the West, but in internal conflicts. The antiAmerican sentiment developed only recently, particularly when Imam Khumaeni
led an Islamic revolution to topple Reza Pahlevi, who was supported by theAmericans.
In Indonesia, the history of radical Muslim groups can be traced to theBali bombing and other recent tragedies. One radical Islamic movement thatemerged in modern Indonesia was the DI/TII (Darul Islam/Tentara Islam
Indonesia or Islamic State/Indonesia Islamic Force).6 The DI/TII movement grew in three areas: West Java, Aceh, and Makassar. It started in West
Java, then its supporters in Aceh and Makassar joined the rebellion for different reasons. They were united by the common goal to make Shari’ah law themain foundation of the Indonesian state.
The underground movement was formed by a group led by S. M.
Kartosuwiryo, which rejected the Renville agreement between Indonesia andthe Dutch government during the Indonesian revolution.7 Kartosuwiryo andhis supporters moved from Central Java to West Java to continue their struggles
against Dutch colonial rule. They were able to control three regions there:
Ciamis, Garut, and Tasikmalaya, which became their headquarters. In rejecting the position of the Indonesian government to accept the Renville agreement, Kartosuwiryo’s group established Islamic Shari’ah as their basic law
and started the struggle for an Indonesian Islamic state (Negara Islam Indonesia or NII). The Darul Islam movement ceased operations when all of
its leaders were arrested or killed in the early 1960s.
45Islamic radical movements appeared again in the early 1970s and 1980s.
Groups such as Komando Jihad, Ali Imron, Terror Warman and the likewere active during this period. They declared war against Communism inIndonesia. Because of this, it was rumored that these groups were “utilized”—if not formed—by Indonesian intelligence to fight against the Communists. Moreover, the Indonesian New Order government also used thesegroups to legitimize the banning and repression of the radical IndonesianIslamic movements. This was a government strategy to cut the possible links
between these groups and political parties, which employed religious issues
in their campaigns. The government strategy seemed to have worked—theIslamic radical movements were stigmatized for sometime.
During the reformation era, Islamic radical movements reappeared insignificant numbers, along with many other types of movements that emerged
during this period. Among these radical groups were the Islamic Defender
Front (Front Pembela Islam), Lasykar Jihad, and Majlis Mujahidin Indonesia.
Such movements usually resurface whenever political openness is established,or as a delayed psychological response to an authoritarian regime.
The above discussion shows that Islamic hard-line or middle-line movements have different backgrounds and were formed for different reasons.
This could be disappointment with the regime, political marginalization, orother similar reasons. Religion is usually not the main cause, although after the
movement is formed, it could become an important factor.
Solidarity regarding the fate of Moslems in other parts of the world
can be another important factor in the formation of radical movements. The
popular example of this is the Palestinian issue. Moslems see the West’s weak
response toward the Israeli occupation in Palestine as unjust, particularly incomparison to its harsh policy toward Iraq. The Palestine problem is one
important example of a cause that can inspire solidarity among radical movements.
The Islamic revolution in Iran is another example of a cause that has
inspired Islamic hard-line movements. Its leader, Imam Khumaeni, is seen by
Moslems as a symbol of struggle against the oppressor, not only in Iran but
in other Islamic countries as well. In Indonesia the influence of Khumaeni
and the Iranian revolution on Moslem radicals is evidenced in their behavior,
their clothes, and the way they express their aspirations.
In terms of theology, Islamic radical movements are known for their
textual or scripturalist approach in understanding Islam, which mainly relieson what is written in the holy book. This approach has been criticized for its
negation of social, historical, political, and rational contexts to which religious doctrine applied in the past. In other words, it disregards the raisond’être of religious doctrine. By using this approach, the radicals are able tocapture the golden age of Islam as a “text,” which should be materialized as
it had been in the past without any interpretation.
46

Profiles of contemporary Islamic militant movements
There are several organizations in Indonesia that are considered Islamic militant groups. Some emerged after the fall of Suharto while others
were formed as a reaction to conflicts between Moslems and Christians insome regions.
The Islamic Defender Front (Front Pembela Islam or FPI)The FPI movement grew after the appointment of B. J. Habibie as theIndonesian president by Parliament, after the fall of Suharto. It aimed toorganize big student rallies in protest of the appointment. For students, Habibie
was considered a continuation of Suharto’s New Order. The protests grew
bigger and bigger until Parliament, in its annual session, asked Habibie tostep down. Initially the group was called Pam Swakarsa. It was establishedby the Indonesian military or TNI to ensure that the annual session of thePeople’s Consultative Assembly (Majelis Permusyawaratan Rakyat; MPR) wentsmoothly. The members were recruited from different regions such as Banten,
Central Java.
The FPI was formed in Jakarta as a pressure group aimed at eradicating
immorality. It was led by a young religious teacher, Habieb Muhammad
Rizieq Syihab (or Habib Rizieq).
Although the FPI rejected the leadership of Sukarno’s daughter
Megawati Sukarnoputri on the basis of gender, it was not trapped in such apolitical issue. Instead, it focused on campaigns to close down discothequesand brothels. To facilitate the implementation of Islamic Shari’ah in Indonesia, it mobilized the masses to support the inclusion of Piagam Jakarta in theconstitution. Its issues and agendas are what differentiates FPI from other
Islamic militant groups. It has its own “areas of concern” which are different
from, for example, those of Lasykar Jihad, Ahlu Sunnah Wa Al-Jamaah,
Majelis Mujahidin, and other millitant groups.
The FPI was officially established on August 17, 1998, Indonesia’s
fifty-third anniversary of independence, at the Pesantren al-Umm Ciputat
led by K. H. Misbahul Anam, in South Jakarta. The declaration was followed
by a sermon to celebrate the anniversary of the Pesantren al-Umm. The idea
to form the FPI came from a discussion between Rizieq and Anam. They
were both concerned with the increasing cases of immorality within society.
They appealed to the other ulama (learned men) and habib (a descendant of
the Prophet Muhammad) such as K. H. Cecep Busthomi (who was later shot
to death), K. H. Damanhuri, and Habib Idrus Jamalullail to join.8
According to Rizieq, the goals of the FPI, as an Islamic organization
based on ahlussunnah wal jamaah (people who follow the tradition of theProphet and the consensus of Ulama) (from manhaj salafi [the tradition of47

the earliest Islamic generation]), were to ask for goodness and to reject badness. The words “Islamic Defenders” which are used to refer to membersof the FPI, according to Rizieq, mean that they not only defend Moslems but
also Islamic values, which may be applied also by non-Moslems. The FPI
motto is “Live respectably or die as a martyr”’ (Hidup mulia atau mati syahid).
Rizieq, who wrote the book Dialog Piagam Jakarta (Jakarta Charter
Dialogues), and other FPI activists support the inclusion of Piagam Jakarta in
the Indonesian constitution.9 The FPI commitment initially was to push forthe implementarion of the Islamic Shari’ah. This goal was socialized througha special body named the Committee for the Implementation of Islamic
Shari’ah (Komite Penegakan Syariat Islam), which was able to reach regional
areas. Within two years, according to Anam, the FPI was able to recruit 15
million members from eighteen provinces.10
The FPI did not intend to replace the foundation and form of theIndonesian state; it acknowledged that the Republic of Indonesia Unity Statewas final. What it was struggling for was the alignment of existing laws with
the Islamic Shari’ah, as written in the Qur’an and Hadith.
The targets of the FPI movement were communities in the outskirtsof the city such as Ciputat and Bekasi, and slum areas in the city. The group
had a systematic commando line at the village level. That was why it was able
to mobilize its masses quickly whenever they were required to stage protests
and actions against “immorality.” This was also made possible because of
the influence of habib networks among Arab descendents who were highly
respected in the Betawi community.
The FPI continued its anti-immorality campaign, closing down anddestroying bars and discotheques, until the Indonesian police imposed a series of harsh measures against the group. Some FPI leaders were arrested,
including Rizieq. At this point the organization underwent a temporary freeze.
The Ahlussunnah Waljama’ah Communication Forum(Forum Komunikasi Ahlussunnah Waljama’ah)
In discussing Lasykar Jihad Ahlussunnah Waljama’ah, we should discuss the Ahlussunnah Waljama’ah Communication Forum (Forum Komunikasi
Ahlussunnah Waljama’ah; FKAWJ). Similarly in discussing the FKAWJ, weshould discuss an important founder and leader of the organization, Ja’far
Umar Thalib. The FKAWJ was formed by Thalib, M. Umar As Sewed, Ayib
Syafruddin, and Ma’ruf Bahrun on February 14, 1999, during a big sermon
in Yogyakarta. The organization is closely related to Jamaah al-Turats alIslami in Yogyakarta, a movement founded by Thalib and Abu Nida
(Chamsaha Sofwan). The latter was a “semi-clandestine” movement andwas thus commonly associated with groups such as Ikhwanul Muslimin and
DI/TII.11 The Pesantren Ihya’u as-Sunnah led by Thalib in Yogyakarta be48

came the basis for the FKAWJ, whose main goal was to facilitate the returnof Moslem “honor,” which was neglected during the authoritarian New
Order regime.12
The formation of the FKAWJ was motivated by the economic, political, and socio-historical crises in Indonesia during the reformation era. At the
beginning it joined other Islamic groups in support of Habibie. Together
with its military wing, Lasykar Jihad, it participated in the Moslem Forum or
Forum Umat Islam, where it argued that the student and mass protests against
Habibie were actually a form of protest against Moslem leadership.
Lasykar Jihad also took center stage in early 2000 when it called forjihad in Ambon to help the Moslems there in their fight against the Christians
in Maluku. It said this was necessary because the separatist group RMS(Republik Maluku Selatan; South Mollucan Republic) was actually behind the
ethno-religious conflicts in Ambon. The RMS group wanted to separate
from Indonesia. Lasykar Jihad wanted to intervene in order to defend theIndonesian flag.
However, the presence of Lasykar Jihad in Ambon only worsened thereligious conflicts. Because it clearly represented the Islamic faction, similar
Christian and Catholic groups, such as Lasykar Kristus, also joined in the fray.
It cannot be denied that after the involvement of Lasykar Jihad the conflicts
became religious.
Another Lasykar Jihad goal was to implement the Islamic Shari’ah inIndonesia. While it was engaged in the holy war in Ambon, one of its members committed zina, or illegal sexual intercourse (one that takes place outside of a formal marriage), which, according to the Shari’ah, is punishable bydeath through stoning. The decision of Lasykar Jihad to carry out such apunishment was met with strong protests and criticisms. Although struggling
for the implementation of Shari’ah, Lasykar Jihad claimed that it was nottrying to build an Islamic state in Indonesia, as was being done by otherradical Islamic groups. It claimed to focus only on improving the quality oflife of every Moslem.
In addition to waging holy war, Lasykar Jihad also set up a pesantren or
religious boarding school, which, according to Lasykar Jihad leaders, wasinitially built to house and care for orphans from Ambon. A pesantren at
Mungkid Village in Magelang, for example, was built to take in pupils fromAmbon. The pesantren functioned also as a place where university students
could conduct religious studies, and where children refugees from Ambon
could learn how to read and write.
Soon after the Bali bombing, Lasykar Jihad was dissolved, as per theorder or fatwa of its imam in Madinah. This invited a lot of speculation
regarding the group’s involvement in the bombing. But according to Thalib,
the FKAWJ’s military arm was liquidated not because of the bombing but
because it was being misused by its members, and also because its imam
49

determined that it had already accomplished its mission—to wage jihad in
Ambon.
Majlis Mujahidin Indonesia (MMI)
Majelis Mujahidin Indonesia (MMI) was founded on August 2000 in
Yogyakarta, during an event attended by thousands from many areas in Indonesia as well as from overseas. The head or amir of MMI is Amirul
Mujahidin Abu Bakar Ba’asyir, one of the founders of the Ngruki pesantren
in Surakarta. He was linked with Komando Jihad together with Abdullah
Sungkar, also a founder of the Ngruki pesantren. Ba’asyir escaped to Malaysia during the New Order regime, and was only able to return to Indonesia
after the overthrow of Suharto.
The main agenda of MMI is to implement Islamic Shari’ah,13 which is
closely related to the Moslem aspiration to set up an Islamic state (Daulah
Islamiyah). The group claims that it means to continue the struggle of DI/
TII to set up such a state.14 The majority of factions that joined MMI formerly belonged to the Darul Islam movement, which was attempting torecover its dispersed power.
In contrast to other militant Moslem groups such as the FPI and Lasykar
Jihad, which relied mainly on force, MMI chose the political and academic
approaches. For example, its members launched an information campaign
on how to implement Islamic Shari’ah in Indonesia, conducted mainly throughopen debates, public discourses, Internet websites, and books. They also
lobbied for the inclusion of the Jakarta Charter (Piagam Jakarta) in the constitution at parliamentary meetings. To socialize their main goal of implementing the Shari’ah in Indonesia, they also conducted seminars in university
campuses and mosques.
Initially, MMI wanted to form a coalition or alliance with other organizations also working toward the implementation of Islamic Shari’ah inIndonesia. In fact the first MMI Congress in Yogyakarta in 2000 was attended by representatives of various Moslem militant groups. It was expected that MMI could become a meeting point for the different Moslem
ethnic groups and militant organizations working toward the same goal. MMI
formulated three basic principles: unity in the mission to implement Islamic
Shari’ah (tansiqul fardi); unity in the program of Islamic Shari’ah implementation (tansiqul ‘amali); and unity in one institution for the implementation ofIslamic Shari’ah (tansiqun nidhami).15
The supporters of MMI are aware of the fact that the goal of implementing Islamic Shari’ah in Indonesia requires the help and participation ofvarious groups. Therefore MMI, as a coalition, aims to unite all Moslems inthe struggle for the comprehensive implementation of the Shari’ah (tathbiq
al-syari‘at) in all aspects of life, particularly in government, nationally and internationally.16
50Recently Ba’asyir was arrested for his alleged involvement in a conspiracy to assassinate Megawati Sukarnoputri, the Indonesian president, andfor his involvement in the bombing of several religious places, malls, andgovernment offices. MMI was often accused of having links with Jama’ahIslamiyah, which aims to destroy Western-owned facilities, particularly thosebelonging to the U.S. in Southeast Asia.
There are many other Islamic militant movements in Indonesia such as
Hizbut Tahrir, Tarbiyah Islamiyah, and Ikhwanul Muslimin. Like the three wehave discussed above though, these organizations, although they often share
a common goal (for instance, the implementation of the Shari’ah in Indonesia), differ in terms of how they want to achieve their goal. Even though they
may have the same political interests, they nevertheless follow different agendas. This is the main reason why it would be difficult to unite them under one
network.
Contemporary Islamic militant movements:
The rise of Islamic politics?
While the FPI was busy destroying shops, bars, and other “immoral”
establishments that peddle alcohol and sex, other Islamic militant groups inIndonesia were preaching in the streets, giving unsolicited religious or spiritual advice to anyone who would listen.
In the political arena, the militant Islamic groups were also very vocal.
During the 2002 MPR annual session, these groups conducted street protests
in front of the House of People’s Representatives (Derwan Perwakilan Rakyat;
DPR) and MPR buildings. They demanded the inclusion of the Jakarta Charter, containing the obligation of Moslems to obey the Islamic Shari’ah, in thestate constitution. They argued that since the majority of its citizens wereMoslems, it was natural for the state to listen to the Moslem aspiration to
implement Islamic Shari’ah in Indonesia. But although they had mobilized
the masses in an effort to force the DPR and MPR to include the charter,
their efforts were rejected by parliament.
In Surakarta, a group named FPIS (Front Pembela Islam Surakarta;
Surakarta Islamic Defender Front) drove out all foreigners, particularly Americans, from the area, as a protest to the U.S. (Western) attacks on Afghanistan.
The U.S. and its allies accused Afghanistan of protecting the Al-Qaeda, whowere accused of orchestrating the attacks on the World Trade Center twin
towers and the Pentagon in September 11, 2001. The U.S. attacks on the
Taliban government in Afghanistan were deemed by the FPIS as unnecessary.
The FPIS’ actions were meant to draw support from Indonesian
Moslems in general. However, they drew varied responses—some offeredsupport while others rejected and labeled the FPIS as a terrorist group.
In terms of numbers, groups such as the FPI or FPIS are relatively
51

small. However, their militancy is very strong and they actively participate inpublic debates on religious doctrines. It should be noted that these groups
have access to advanced technology. Their ability to use the Internet andother information technology to spread their ideas show that these are solidorganizations supported by members who are competent and up-to-date interms of both education and work experience.
Most of these movements prioritize action programs that attack immorality, which they consider a threat to their religion. They feel so strongly
about this issue that they do not hesitate to use force to achieve their goals.
The use of force is in fact considered necessary because the police
often refuse to take action, particularly against immoral places protected bycertain security officers.
A study on radical mass movements that use force to implement theirideas shows that such groups are more successful in delivering their messages
than those employing peaceful means. After all, violence attracts media attention, and through media exposure they could more easily influence public
opinion and have more chances of getting a direct response from the authorities.17
Many contemporary Indonesian Islamic movements are considered
radical and militant; they are called “hard-line groups.” The term militant isapplied to them because of their strong fundamentalist attitudes toward theimplementation of religion in society, and their aggressive actions against
immoral practices such as prostitution and gambling.
The strong commitment of these groups to their cause—the comprehensive implementation of the Shari’ah in Indonesia—is evident in their application of Shari’ah law to their own lives. They follow it meticulously, down
to the clothes they wear, the food they eat, and their unquestioning obedienceto their leaders.
The difficulty is in finding the right definition for “radical Islam.” Theword radical, particularly when applied to Islamic movements, is often considered pejorative. Especially after the September 2001 tragedy, the word
radical has been identified with terrorism.
Often the definitions employed were derived from Christian traditionand experience, and are thus largely inaccurate and misleading when applied
to Islam. The best method for arriving at an accurate definition is by identifying the most salient characteristics of the movements that fall under “radical Islam.”However, it should be noted that these characteristics should be treatedas a point of departure in the search for a deeper meaning and not as a final
conclusion. As such, they will always be open to discussion. According toJohn O. Voll, religious fundamentalism is “an affirmation of religious fundamental values and efforts to redevelop a society in line with the fundamental
values.”18 As such, Islamic fundamentalist movements “demand for Moslems to return to Islamic teachings” and for “an appearance of Moslem
52spirits,” and represent “an appeal to rely only on Islamic fundamental principles to fulfill the needs and challenges of contemporary life.”19
Probably what people have in mind when they refer to radical movements are groups called by the West “anti-Western terrorist groups.” Suchgroups were specifically attached to Islamic movements, which were against
Western policy. The Hisbullah group in Palestine, for example, is consideredby Israel and the West as the group responsible for the radicalism in that area.
Al-Qaeda and its networks are other examples of radical Islamic movements that are considered “anti-Western.”
According to studies on terrorism, radicalism is not confined to aparticular religion in a certain place. Radical religious movements also exist
among Hindus in India, and Catholics and Christians in Ireland. Even in asecular state like the USA, radical religious movements also develop. Thisshows that religious radicalism is a universal phenomenon, which can takeplace in all religious traditions.
When we talk about radical movements, terms such as extremism, fundamentalism, and militant are often used.
In classic social disciplines such as sociology, psychology, and politics,
radical social movements, whether religious or not, are seen as deviant movements.20 This is because their attitudes, views, and social behaviors differ
from those of mainstream society. According to the influential structuralfunctional approach, a social system should be seen as a unity. Its elements
support and strengthen each other to maintain the system. Radical movements, according to this theory, represent a defiance of the unity of a social
system.
In the above approach, radical movements appear as a reaction to
structural strain, which causes a disruptive psychological state. The structural weaknesses in a society lead to disturbances in the human psychological condition.
When these psychological disturbances are raised to their highest level, mass
movements appear. This is the classical theory of mass movements.
Although the classical theory of radical movements has some degreeof relevance to our modern society there are now other theories which consider radicalism syndrome as normal. In the modern politics approach, radical movements are not seen as deviant movements, but as normal movements with certain political goals. As political groups which utilize social capital to attract support, radical movements attempt to use their social capital(religion, society, and economy) for political interests. In other words, radical
movements are political movements similar to other political groups.
There are interesting findings from anthropological studies on radical
movements. First, the emergence of radical religious movements is often
followed by the emergence of “Ratu Adil,” or millenarian movements. These are
motivated by cultural and religious factors and are a response to external
power—colonialism or the introduction of foreign culture. Second, radical53

movements use cultural and religious symbols that deviate from the normand signify their opposition to mainstream society. These symbols can takethe form of a special costume or religious ritual. From an anthropologicalpoint of view, therefore, radical movements are a form of revivalism, indicating an attempt to reemerge from cultural backwardness. These movements
also signify a struggle against and rejection of foreign culture and power.
How then can radical Islamic movements be explained using the above
perspectives? Are they normal organizations within a democracy demanding
participation and openness, or political movements aimed at gaining politicaland economic benefits? Are the radical movements in Indonesia cultural movements that signify a rejection of and opposition to modernity? Or are they
only puppet movements used to discredit certain groups?
Radicalism as political movements
In the changing political map of the transition phase from the oldregime to a new one, when there is political uncertainty, many expect to enter
the power circle. This can be seen from the number of people who set up
political parties they use as vehicles for entering the government circle. In the1999 general election, there were more than 150 registered political parties,
but only forty-eight were qualified for the election. Ideologies and programs
propagated by the parties varied from religious issues to poverty and rankand-file issues.
This type of political euphoria is not specific to Indonesia. Such a
scenario also took place in Poland and Mali, which also experienced a politicalbreakdown. In the pluralistic Indonesian culture and society, such a chaotic
situation provides enough opportunity for various local political systems toemerge at the center of the political arena. This is why there were many
alternative political systems offered during the1999 general election.
The fact that the majority of Indonesians are Moslems has made Islaman important factor in Indonesian social and political life. According to asurvey conducted by the PPIM (Pusat Pengkajian Islam dan Masyarakat),Indonesian Moslems consider religion an important guiding force in theirlives. Ninety-two percent said that religion had given direction to their lives.
Seventy percent said they consider religion an important factor in making
decisions regarding social and political issues. Because of this strong connection of Indonesian Moslems with their religion, religion is naturally considered an important social capital used by political parties to gain political support.
The adoption by radical Moslem movements of religious issues, suchas the implementation of Islamic Shari’ah and the eradication of immorality,
can be interpreted as a strategy to gain mass support. The use of religious
issues is a rational choice in a religious society such as Indonesia. In contrast
to the conventional theory that radical movements are a social deviation, politi54

cal theory sees these groups as interest groups doing political bargaining
using religious issues.21
From the perspective of civil society, the religious radical movements
are part of the public sphere as social groups voicing religious issues.22 Seen inthis context, their militant stance is in fact part of the social negotiation processes necessary in formulating a new social order.
Furthermore, during the New Order regime, there was only one party
allowed to represent the Islamic community. The real Islamic political aspirations were severely repressed by the government. When government control
was lifted, many Islamic groups attempting to channel real Moslem aspirations emerged.23
In this theoretical scheme, the life and death of a radical movement
depend upon two things. First, they depend on how far the religious issues
raised are in line with people’s needs. Second, they depend strongly on how
much support the movement could get from the people. If the people donot subscribe to its religious agendas, eventually the group will have to bedissolved.
Radicalism as cultural movements
A KPPSI (Komite Persiapan Penerapan Syari’at Islam or the Committee for the Preparation of Islamic Syariat Implementation) political activist in Makassar said: “We are satisfied now that the discourse of Islamic
Shari’ah has been discussed openly, by its supporters or its opponents.” For
KPPSI members, the struggle to apply Islamic Shari’ah in Makassar was
motivated by several factors. First, they were disappointed with thegovernment’s failure to address the national crisis. Such disappointment reminds them of better days, such as when Kahar Muzakar, whom they consider a hero, controlled Makassar, and life was peaceful and prosperous. For
the people, it was because of Kahar’s effort that the Islamic Shari’ah wasapplied in Makassar, particularly in areas dominated by Kahar’s armed forces.
Although Kahar was not a religious leader or ulama, he was well respected.
With the help of some ulama such as K. H. Munawar Kholil and K. H.
Ambo Dale, Kahar and his community were able to apply Shari’ah.
The second factor that influenced the Makassarese’s struggle to implement Islamic Shari’ah was their disappointment with the stepping down of
Habibie from his office as president. As a Makassarese and Celebes, Habibie
was a symbol of progress and self-confidence in this region.
The third factor was the successful implementation of the Shari’ah in
Aceh as part of its autonomy program. This inspired the Makassarese tocontinue their struggle, and other regions to follow suit. The KPPSI as a
coalition of several Moslem organizations in Makassar copied Aceh’s strategy of implementing the Shari’ah by first working toward autonomy.
55

Unlike other groups that wanted to apply the Shari’ah on a national
level, the KPPSI in Makassar concentrated their struggle in regional parliament. This way they got significant support from both the legislative bodyand the masses.
The close link between regional autonomy and the implementation ofIslamic Shari’ah indicates that there is a cultural identity aspect to the struggle.
For the Makassarese, the implementation of the Shari’ah could help bridge
the differences among existing ethnic groups, such as the Bugis, theMakassarese, the Mandar, and other ethnic groups in Celebes. Islam has provento be an effective glue that could unite various ethnic groups.
Religious movements
Most Islamic radical movements were influenced by Salafi theology.
The hard-line Islamic movements in Indonesia, for instance, claim to be followers of “minhaju al-Salafi” (the Path of Past People). Salafi theology was
influenced by, first of all, the traditionalist philosophy of Ibn Taimiyah, whichcalls for a return to the sources of Islam and a rejection of cultural andreligious infiltration. Salafi theology was also influenced by the reformist
Wahabi movement in Saudi Arabia, which calls for the purification of Islamic teachings through the elimination of cultural influences and non-Islamic practices. Technological advancements were also initially rejected by
the Wahabi movement.
In Indonesia, reformist Islamic organizations such as Muhammadiyah
and Islamic Unity or Persis (Persatuan Islam), inspired by the Wahabi movement, are working toward the purification of Islamic practices.
Muhammadiyah has launched a campaign to eliminate a “disease” called
TBC (Tahayul [belief in mystical spirits], Bid’ah [heresy], and Churafat [unlawful rituals]) from Islamic practices in Indonesia.
Salafi theology lives on today in contemporary hard-line Islamic movements. The FKAWJ, for example, uses the books of Ibn Taymiya as the main
textbooks in their pesantren. Even their manner of dress—the wearing of
the jubah and scarf and the maintenance of a beard—are in keeping with theSalafi traditionalist approach.
The most fundamental characteristic of radical Islamic movements isthat they value the literal meaning or mazhab al-dhohiri of texts, which rely
more on the text itself than on contextual and textual interpretations. They
believe that the implementation of this rule is an obligation for Moslems.
This textual or scripturalist approach applies also to their understanding of history and civilization. The Islamic golden ages, the era of the prophets, is considered the ideal prototype for the Islamic state.
The scripturalist approach is once again gaining support because people
tend to turn to religion when they are in crisis.24 In the case of Indonesia, the56economic, political, and social crises triggered by the change of regime has
prompted many Moslems to look to religion for solutions. For such people,
the scripturalist approach is the most ideal because it suits their simplistic
desire for an escape from the harsh realities of existence through religious
redemption. A literal understanding of scripture is, for them, the fastest andeasiest way to this redemption.
Southeast Asia: The future model for Islam?
It has been noted by a number of observers that Islam in Southeast
Asia, particularly in Indonesia and Malaysia, could become the new picture ofIslam. So far, Islam has been identified with violence and terrorism. This ismainly due to the conflict and violence in the Middle East. Islam in Southeast
Asia has a different face, one that is more tolerant. This type of Islam emerged
from the pluralistic societies of Malaysia and Indonesia, where people ofdifferent cultures, religions, and beliefs coexist.
The place of women in Indonesia, for instance, is different from thatin other Moslem states. Here more women than men visit mosques to pray
and attend sermons. Probably the most obvious indicator of the more tolerant gender situation in Indonesia though, is the fact that a woman—
Megawati Sukanoputri—has been elected president of this Islamic state.
Another facet of the “new Islam” that is evident in Indonesia is its
apparent compatibility with democracy. After the fall of the militaristic andauthoritarian New Order regime, there has been a clamor among the mostly
Moslem citizenry for the establishment of democracy in the country. In fact
a 2001 PPIM survey shows that 70 percent of Moslems in Indonesia prefera democratic state.
However, this friendly, plural, and tolerant picture of Islam in Southeast Asia is often eclipsed by the activities of militant Moslem movements inthe area. In fact because of these groups, Indonesia is often labeled a “nestof terrorism.” The question is whether radicalism in Indonesia is a pervasive
phenomenon or just confined to a small wave of Moslems. The fact is although they are few in number, the radicals are able to cause a large amountof damage, as evidenced by the bombing in Bali.
Islamic radical movements have also influenced the Indonesian political map. The fact that certain Islamic political parties are aligned with radical
movements is certainly troubling. This means that the causes of the militantgroups, such as the implementation of the Shari’ah, will continue to be partof public discourses among Indonesian Moslems, and militant behavior andactivities will remain rampant in the country.
However, as long as the two big Islamic organizations in Indonesia—
the Moslem theologian’s party, Nahdatul Ulama (NU) and Muhammadiyah—
are not disturbed, the radical movements can be contained. With their sub57

stantive mass base and cultural approach—NU with its ulama networks andpesantren, and Muhammadiyah with its education and social activities—these
two organizations will continue to play an important role in Islamic development in Indonesia.
Islamic radicalism and democracy:
Concluding remark
When speaking about democracy in the context of the Moslem community, Islamic political culture, as Islamic radical groups believe, is considered by experts an important factor that cannot be ignored. This is because
Islamic political culture is seen as an obstacle to the development of a democratic political culture, and this in turn obstructs the consolidation of democracy. However, there are other academics who believe that Islamic politicalorientation does not have a significant negative impact on democratic values.
It is true that Islamic political culture is an important issue in the Moslem
community, but it may differ from one Moslem community to the other.
Islamic radical groups are convinced that Islam and democracy are
two different “creatures,” which occur independently of one another. As aresult, according to these groups, Islam will never exist side by side withdemocracy. They believe that the higher the level of Islamization in a community, the less likely patterns of democracy will be found in that community. Because of this conflict between democratic and Islamic attitudes, democracy is not generally a characteristic of Moslem communities. Even if
attempts are made to apply democracy in these communities, it will neverflourish.
Islam is a multidimensional religion. Some understand that it constitutes a set of beliefs and membership in a community. According to thisunderstanding, Islam includes a belief in God, acknowledgment of
Muhammad as the final Prophet, and the adoption of particular rituals, Islamic social activities, and an Islamic political orientation, included in a set ofpolitical attitudes that—using a general term—we call in this paper Islamic
radicalism. There is an Islamic social bond that embraces a variety of activities such as being a member of an organization, or an Islamic community
organization, both at the national and the local levels. This kind of membership is known as a network of Islamic civic engagement.
Interpersonal trust is an important element that is required if Islamic
radicalism and democracy are to be compatible. It is believed to be a determining variable in the stability of democracy. This means that democratic
instability in the Moslem community may be caused by a low level of interpersonal trust. Among members of Islamic radical groups in Indonesia it
seems that there is quite a strong Christian and Jewish phobia.
In the context of Islamic radicalism, trust is obviously defined as trust58

toward non-Moslem groups rather than trust toward other people in general. A large number of members of Islamic radical groups are in fact moresensitive toward the issue of interpersonal trust.
Tolerance is another component of a democratic culture, and is adefining factor in the creation of democratic consolidation. As already mentioned elsewhere in the study, some scholars argue that Islam and Christianity
are basically intolerant religions. Conflict between the two has become natural law. If an intolerant attitude is strongly linked with Islamic radicalism, thenit is almost certain that the religiosity of a Moslem radical will develop an
intolerant attitude toward Christians.
The low level of tolerance among Islamic radical groups in Indonesia
can be seen also from their struggle to formalize Shari’ah law (Islamic laws)
in the country. These groups insist that Moslems should practice only Islamic
laws, especially capital laws, ignoring other faiths.
This paper comes to the conclusion that Islamic radicalism has a significant and negative correlation with a tolerant attitude toward democracy.
To what extent does the emergence of Islamic radicalism influence the stability of democracy? Intolerance, fanaticism, absolutism, and Islamism can encourage people who firmly uphold their principles to carry out actions thatthreaten democratic stability. The extent to which intolerant Islamic radicalgroups do this strongly influences the consolidation of democracy. The ideathat Islam has a negative correlation with democracy and with democratic
consolidation can be evaluated from this angle.
It is important to note that in the case of Indonesian Moslems, Islamic
radicalism is not identical to Islam. On the whole, Indonesian Moslems havea neutral attitude toward the issue of Islam versus democracy. Moreover,radicalism is not identical to the Islam depicted by Indonesian Moslems.
What we found in Indonesia is a different picture; a large number of Moslems have positive ideas regarding democratic values. Islam helps Indonesian
Moslems participate in the political process and support democracy. Islam
helps create harmony between Moslem citizens and the democratic system
as a whole, a defining factor in the consolidation of democracy. This can beseen in the success of the first ever direct presidential election in 2004. Indonesian Moslems have proven that Islam is compatible with democracy inpractice. Moreover, they also provide a confident picture that Islamic radicalism is not the mainstream of Islam in Indonesia.
Endnotes
1 I would like to express my thanks to the Japan Foundation and the International
House of Japan, which provided me an opportunity to be a member of the Asia
Leadership Fellow Program 2004. This paper was elaborated during my fellowship inJapan. My sincere thanks also to the professors and intellectuals in Japan who provided valuable comments.

59

2 According to a PPIM survey, Indonesia is going through a massive santrinization
process. This is indicated by the survey results, which shows that 82 percent of
Moslems in the country are dutifully praying five times daily, and 90 percent fast during
Ramadhan. From “Makin Salah Makin Curiga,” Tempo, December 29, 2001.
3 Wuthnow, Robert, Rediscovering the Sacred: Perspective on Religion in Contemporary Society, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1992, pp. 1-5.
4 Marty, Martin E. and R. Scott Appleby, editors, Fundamentalisms Observed, Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press, 1991, p. 9.
5 Esposito, John L., Islamic Threat: Myth or Reality
6 For a complete discussion of DI/TII, see C. van Dijk, Rebellion under the banner ofIslam: The Darul Islam in Indonesia, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981.
7 Ibid.
8 PBB and Pemda DKI Jakarta government, “Radikalisme Agama dan Perubahan
Sosial di DKI Jakarta,” Pusat Bahasa dan Budaya, UIN Jakarta, h. 22. This explanation was based on interviews with K. H. Misbahul Anam, former secretary andfounder of the FPI.
9 Riziq Syihab, Habib, Dialog Piagam Jakarta: Kumpulan Jawaban Seputar Keraguan
Penegakan Syariat Islam di Indonesia, Jakarta: PIS, 2000.
10 PBB and Pemda DKI Jakarta, h. 23.
11 Ibid., hal. 39-40.
12 Ibid., hal. 37-38.
13 Awwas, Irfan S., Risalah Konggres Mujahidin I dan Penegakan Syari’ah Islam,
Yogyakarta: Wihdah Press, 2001.
14 Jahroni, Jajang, “Islamic Contemporary Movements in Indonesia,” Refleksi, UIN
Jakarta, 2001.
15 Markaz Pusat Majelis Mujahidin, Mengenal Majelis Mujahidin, Yogyakarta, h. 16
16 Ibid., hal. 15.
17 McAdam, Doug, Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency, 1930-1970,
Chicago: The University of Chicago, 1999.
18 Voll, John O., “Fundamentalism in the Sunni Arab World: Egypt and theSudan,” Fundamentalisms Observed, edited by Martin E. Marty and R. Scott Appleby,
Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1991.
19 Akhtar, Karm B. and Ahmad H. Sakr, Islamic Fundamentalism, Cedar Rapid, Iowa:
Igram Press, 1982.
20 McAdam, Doug, Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency, 1930-1970,
Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1999.
21 Ibid., hal. 6-10
22 Hasan, Nurhaidi, “In Search of Identity: The Contemporary Islamic Communities in Southeast Asia,” Studia Islamika, Vol. 7, No. 3, Jakarta: 2000, pp. 67-75
23 Jamhari, “Islamic Parties: Threat or Prospect?” Indonesia Post Soeharto, edited by
Geoff Forrester, Indonesian Project RSPAS ANU, 1998.
24 Rappaport, Roy A., Ritual and Religion in the Making of Humanity, Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1999; Wuthnow, Robert, Meaning and Moral Order,
California: The University of California Press: 1987.

60

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62

LEARNING A TRADE FOR LIFE?
COMMERCIALIZED CRAFT AND CHILD LLABORABORCOMMERCIALIZED1
IN A NORTHERN VIETNAMESE VILLAGENORTHERN
VIETNAMESE
VILLA
Nguy
en V
an Chinh
NguyenVanIntroduction
Much has been said about the sad fact that children in the developingworld are often made to work in small “sweatshops” where they are offeredcheap wages or are taken in as apprentices. Their work is usually considered“supplementary” and is sometimes unpaid, and whatever meager wages theyreceive often go directly to their parents or relatives. Little attention, however, has been given to changes in the organization of production in smallscale industries, the dynamic interrelation between the labor market, socioeconomic changes and local responses to such changes, and how they affectchildren’s work. This is perhaps partly due to the lack of academic interest in
the linkage between historical analyses and empirical observations on theeconomic role of children.
The recent changes of agrarian regime in rural Vietnam offer a unique
opportunity to look at rural children’s work under the conditions of a changing economic system. These changes have freed peasant households fromcollective constraints and enabled them to manage their allotted land, while afree labor market has emerged with the undesirable effects of rural unemployment. Meanwhile rural industries have fast developed, with products not
only for domestic consumption but also for lucrative export markets.
This paper aims to examine children’s involvement in the wood trade,particularly wood carving, a traditional craft in Giao Village in Hai Duongprovince, northern Vietnam. It suggests that the nature of children’s work
has changed since the wood trade became more commercialized with the
emergence of entrepreneurs and the contracting-out system. The examination will concentrate on production organization, the position of child workers,
and their working conditions and earnings. The paper will try to provide anunderstanding of different aspects of children’s role in small rural industries,
viewed from a three-way relationship between child woodworkers and theirparents and employers.

63On becoming a commercialized craft
The wood trade before the economic reforms of 1986
Although wood carving has a long history in Giao Village, dating backseveral hundreds years, its production methods did not change much until
recently.
In the past, wood carvers usually worked far from home. They wereorganized into different work teams, known as phuong or hiep tho (guild or
association) including a foreman (tho ca), craftsmen (tho ban), and a few trainee
assistants, called pho nho (little workers). The foreman was responsible for all
the activities of his group: finding jobs, organizing the production, and dealing with all the problems related to the workplace. Generally, such an organization was suitable for mobile work in which the wood carvers only soldtheir skilled labor and rarely produced works for sale.
While at work, workers were under the foreman’s supervision. Eachgroup of woodworkers normally consisted of carvers (tho cham) and carpenters (tho long) whose duty was to assemble carved objects into finishedproducts. Assistants were young trainees, often the sons of the foreman or
fellow workers who did odd jobs such as shopping and cooking and sometime took part in simple tasks. Because these “odd jobs” were relatively
heavy, the assistants were mostly older children from fourteen years upwards.
They were not paid for their work, but were given daily meals and sometimes a little bonus.
In the past, the craftsmen of Giao Village usually came home on harvests and special occasions such as the Tet spring holiday.2 They were normally paid on a daily basis or for pieces of work, depending on the verbal
agreement between the foreman and the employer. Earnings from woodwork were mainly used to support the family. There were no women involved in this work.
Life histories show that the wood trade stagnated somewhat during
the two wars against the Japanese and the French (1943 to 54), and started to
decline afterward. The period of stagnation from 1956 to 1980 was caused
by various factors. As reported, there was almost no demand for wooden
carved products in this period. The land reform launched in the village during 1955 to 56 and later, in 1958, the process of collectivization, brought
about great changes in people’s lives. Public constructions were called off,rich families were wiped out, and religious activities were curtailed or prohibited. Public works of a religious character concerning communal houses,
pagodas, and temples were negligible.
While the wood carving products lost their market, the woodworkers
themselves were regarded as subjects that needed to be reeducated. According to the socialist reformers, since artisans generally had liberal attitudes and64were inclined toward private ownership, they should be put under the overall
administration of the cooperatives and the commune committee.3 Under
the Communist Party’s guideline, the artisans were advised to join the collective production teams where they worked as non-farm workers in the framework of agricultural cooperatives, producing construction materials, building public works, and sharing the co-op’s crops.
Economic reforms and the revival of the wood trade
The revival of the wood trade in Giao Village was brought about bysocioeconomic changes in northern Vietnam, starting with the severe crisisof the collective economy, which led to the initial reforms in agriculture(1979 to 1985). Economic difficulties also led to a relaxation of labor management; peasants were allowed to work outside the co-op, particularly in
non-farm sectors. In addition, low returns from collective farming induced
former woodworkers to return to their own craft in order to supplement
their meager incomes.4 Moreover, the demand for wooden furniture wasalso rising as a result of the expansion of the domestic market after theliberation of the South in 1975.
The restoration of the wood trade in Giao Village can be divided into
two stages: the period of recovery (1979 to 1989) and the period of consolidation (1990 to the present).
In the early 1980s, some of the villagers made use of their free time to
produce and sell such household furniture as beds, cupboards, tables, andchairs. The bestseller at the time was a traditional-style cupboard decorated
with sophisticated carvings—a status symbol in previous times. For only acouple of years, households producing and selling wooden furniture became wealthy quite quickly. Despite the persistent policies against family crafts,
wood workshops continued to expand and many parents sent their children
to them for apprenticeship, hoping that they would help improve the household income.
As of 1995, data obtained from my village survey reveals that 341 of
376 households had one or more members involved in the wood trade.
There were 524 workers earning regular wages in woodwork, of whom 17
percent were children under sixteen years and 10 percent were female workers.5 Fifty-four percent of the wood workforce worked far from home. My
survey shows that about 78 percent of migrants from Giao Village worked
in Ho Chi Minh City and in other southern provinces, some 1,700 kilometersfrom home. The rest of the migrants worked in Hanoi and in the northern
provinces.
The organization of production in the wood trade of Giao Village
can be categorized into three major patterns, as follows:65

1. Independent artisans who worked on their own, as mobile workers
or at home, producing goods on direct order from local clients
2. Household-based workshops, which mainly used the family labor
force, subcontracting and/or producing goods for sale
3. Enterprises, which mainly used hired laborers, producing goods fordomestic and export markets
In the first two types of production, the artisans were still basicallyfarmers who did woodwork to supplement their household incomes. Theybought materials, used their own labor force, and marketed their own products. At peak demands, they might hire extra hands or subcontract elsewhere,
but this rarely occurred. Production was usually small-scale. Labor demand
was limited, and so was capital. Lacking capital, independent artisans preferred direct orders from their clients who were willing to pay a certain
amount in advance; the rest of the payment would be given to them after thecontract was finished.
The third form of production emerged in the early 1990s, with theappearance of the “merchant-entrepreneurs” who introduced the woodcraft of Giao Village to a larger market. It was apparent that mobility had
been an important factor in the woodcraft industry since the country’s
economy was shifted to a market mechanism. Due to the relaxation of state
control over the private economic sector in rural areas, some craftsmen took
the chance to expand their production, aimed at manufacturing high-quality
products to meet the increasing needs of the newly rich, tourists, and exporters, and soon became entrepreneurs themselves.6 They often set up theirworkshops in the village and hired local carvers. Because their products weremainly sold in the urban areas, they usually established extra facilities there
and brought in workers from the village. This created a new situation in thelabor market regarding wood products. By setting up a “putting out” systemin the village, an entrepreneur could mobilize a large number of workers at
short notice and at wages lower than those offered in the urban areas. Recently, some foreign investors and state enterprises started to cooperate withvillage entrepreneurs in producing and exporting carved wooden products.
In this process, entrepreneurs have become the intermediaries between investors/exporters and village workers. Wood workshops established in the
big cities (Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City) with foreign capital investment attracted
an increasing number of young carvers from Giao Village because of thehigh wages they paid.7 Entrepreneurs from the village recruited carvers (adults
and children) to work for their urban workshops. Obviously, the emergenceof entrepreneurs in the wood trade changed the production patterns ofcarved wooden furniture in Giao Village, increasing the need for the woodworkers’ seasonal migration and children’s involvement in the trade.
Most entrepreneurs involved in the wood carving industry of Giao
66

Village were former foremen although most were still relatively young, justbetween twenty-five and thirty-five. An influential foreman usually started hisbusiness by establishing his own workshop, hiring workers, recruiting trainees, and subcontracting. After some time, he would work directly for theinvestors/exporters and build up his agents’ network in the cities. Since they
had to manage workshops both in the city and in the village, they hired
foremen who took on the role of employer/entrepreneur.
As of 1995, there were eight entrepreneurs who had established goodconnections between the wood workshops in Giao Village and those in
Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City. Many independent artisans and householdbased workshops in the village received subcontracts from these eight enterprises and their products were transported to the cities for sale and export. A
good number of village woodworkers were also recruited by these entrepreneurs to work for their shops in the cities.
The commercialization of the wood trade brought about significant
changes in production relationships.
First, instead of sticking to the old-fashioned production methods
involving independent workers, the wood carving manufacturers began seeking higher commercial profit by establishing close links between the village
and the cities, between the wood workshops owned by peasant households
and the dynamic market at the national and international levels. In a sense thefamily craft came under the influence of various market forces such as capital, materials, investors, and exporters.
Second, the artisans became part of the cycle of commercialized production. The mobile groups of woodworkers headed by the foremen were
now no longer active. The foremen themselves became employees working
for entrepreneurs. They were either hired to work directly in the entrepreneur’sworkshops or were subcontracted and hired their own workers, usually
freelance and female workers, and particularly young trainees at cheap wages.
Third, the production system of the wood trade became more fragmented with the introduction of various types of manufacturing methods
and labor relations. The trade gained greater dynamism due to the expansionof family enterprises and export/import activities. Attractive wages in thewood trade and its contract putting-out system provided farming individuals and their children opportunities to enter the employment market. And
one could assume that children’s exploitation in these types of work might
be less flagrant than in household-based productions.
Although the entrepreneurship system assumed increasing importancein the wood sector, the running of businesses was mainly based on familyties. This was particularly true in the management system of small industries
in rural areas where relatives were widely employed in the entrepreneurs’business. For instance, woodworkers and brokers working for an enterprisecame mainly from the ranks of paternal or maternal relatives closely related67

to the employer while the supervisor at the workshop normally was theemployer’s own brother or sister. In many cases, entrepreneurs ran their business through the kinship network. Trusted relatives were normally authorized to manage the production at the village workshops on behalf of theemployer who was living in Ho Chi Minh City; they took on certain tasks
such as subcontracting, collecting and transporting goods, and paying workers. Many parents wanted to send their children to work under the supervision of the foreman belonging to the same lineage, who according to them,were more reliable.
Such kinship-oriented relations were not only based on mutual trust
but also had an economic motive. Workers owed their jobs to their entrepreneurial relatives, who were their employers. These, in turn, made use of thiskinship relation for their business advantage. During my field study at Giao,
I often observed how workers who were relatives of the employer were
not paid their wages on time. As a rule, employers usually paid a certain
amount in advance and paid the rest after the goods had been sold out. This
practice brought obvious advantages to the employers. Instead of borrowing money from the bank, they could take advantage of pending workers’
wages for intensive investment. And since these workers were more or lessclosely tied with their employers, they hardly complained. In fact the woodworkers of Giao Village mentioned two kinds of wages: tien tuoi (fresh/
quick money) and tien heo (withering/slow money). Those workers who wereprepared to wait until the products were sold would receive full payment,
and those who wanted to be paid quickly would get only part of the amount.
It is interesting to add that most of the other traders who sold or offered
basic necessities and services also depended heavily on wages from the woodtrade. Villagers bought things on credit and paid their debts after receiving
wages from the employers.
Wages were influenced by the agricultural cycle as well. Between harvests the pay was normally lower, particularly for unskilled workers, because
the labor supply was higher than the demand.
Woodworkers’ wages were often paid on a daily basis or per job,
depending on the agreement between employer and worker. However, wage
rates were based on the worker’s skill level and the jobs done. Carvers capable of creating good designs and working on complicated objects such as
statues and pictures got the highest wages. Those who worked as refiners
and varnishers got lower pay, but a little higher than those assembling thecarved objects into the final products. In general, wage rates in urban workshops were higher, ranging from 15,000 to 75,000 dong per day, dependingon the nature of the job. Cash was preferred but wages were also paid in
kind, often consumer goods such as TV sets, cassette players, bicycles, motorbikes, wood materials, etc.
Hardwoods such as po-mu (forkieniahodginisii), trac (Delbergia cochinchinemsis),68mun (ebony wood), and lim (Erithlophreum fordiio), were the main material used
for wood carving. The exploitation and distribution of these kinds of wood
were under strict control of the state and therefore, they were expensive andscarce. Most of the wood enterprises in Giao Village used wood from unofficial sources in the Northern Uplands, the Central Highland, Laos, andCambodia. It was difficult to estimate the quantity of wood consumed bywood workshops in Giao Village. Estimates based on the wood consumption of ten village workshops suggest that each shop used on average 20
cubic meters of hardwood and 60 cubic meters of normal wood per year.
As mentioned previously, the main wood carving products in the past
were items of worship (couplets, boards inscribed with Chinese characters,
frescoes, statues) and household furniture (sideboards, wardrobes, carved
beds, etc.). At present, besides these traditional types, woodcutting pictures,
fine art statues, house decorations, and gifts are also being produced en masse.
Most carved objects made in the village are transported to shops in Hanoi
and Ho Chi Minh City, where they are shipped to places such as Taiwan,
Japan, South Korea, and Singapore.
While the market for wooden fine arts articles has expanded rather
rapidly, carving techniques remain almost unchanged. Only a few modern
instruments have added to the old craft such as frame saws, polishing andvarnishing machines, and glues.
A drastic change in the wood trade concerns its labor force. In thepast, only male members from a small number of village households were
engaged in woodwork. Nowadays, about 90 percent of all households are
involved in the wood trade, making up two-thirds of the total village labor
force, among them many females and children.
In brief, wood carving in Giao Village has evolved in a haphazard
manner over the past five decades. It almost disappeared under the collective
regime (1958 to 1979), gradually recovered in the pre-economic reformperiod (1980 to 1985), and has developed strongly ever since. Changes in thewood trade could be seen in such aspects as the manufacturing scale, production organization, and the nature of labor relations. At present the woodcraft industry is strongly dependent on the emerging class of entrepreneurs
who seek to capture larger markets both here and abroad. And while village
workshops have started to subcontract with urban enterprises, many peasants still regard these activities as second only in importance to farming.
The revival and development of woodcraft were positive responsesof the peasants to the policy of decollectivization, in coping with the scarcity
of productive resources, low returns from farming, and underemployment.
One can assume that woodcraft has created more employment opportunities, allowing farming households to shift to non-farm work for additionalsources of income and consequently allowing the household labor force tomaximize its cash earnings.
69

It should, however, be noted that the case of Giao Village is not unique.
While Giao villagers are proud of their long-standing woodcraft tradition,
wooden furniture manufacturing is also popular in many surrounding villages, which together with Giao form an important center of the wooden
furniture industry in the Red River Delta. With so many players in the woodcraft game, pressure is bound to rise; the competition has become fiercer,
challenged further by the whims of market mechanisms. In this context astudy of child labor in Giao Village should not be separated from the larger
context of the Red River Delta.
Child employment in the wood trade
In terms of quantity
As discussed previously, the production of carved wooden furniture
was carried out in various ways, by independent artisans, households, andenterprises. In reality, these types of production were fraught with uncertainties. Some family enterprises could have, at their peak, twenty or more workers but these could suddenly decide to leave, in which case the workshop
would have to be closed. The vagaries of the wood trade largely depended
on hardwood supplies, wooden furniture export markets, and tax policies
rather than the labor supply. Because of this, most households involved inwoodwork kept their rice fields and continued to regard woodwork as ofsecondary importance to farming. Uncertainty in the manufacturing organization and the mobility of woodworkers made the survey of working children in this trade more difficult. In order to understand the extent and natureof children’s economic activities in the wood trade, I conventionally grouped
the children doing woodwork into two main categories for observation:group one included those children who worked within the household, under
the direct supervision of their family members; and group two was madeup of children working in enterprises and workshops owned by employers/
entrepreneurs.
Child workers in household-based workshops
After having obtained general information from the household survey, a group of thirty-six households doing woodwork independently or
taking subcontracts from their entrepreneurs was selected for an intensive
examination of their children’s involvement in woodwork. Seventy-threechildren ages eight to fifteen living and working in these households wereinterviewed. The findings indicate that only forty-two children (57 percent)out of the seventy-three interviewed were involved regularly in their households’ woodwork. Of these, 12 percent were female. About 48 percent of70

child workers in these household-based shops worked part-time outsideschool hours and 52 percent worked full-time. Only a small number (2 percent) of children who started their working life from the ages of eight to ten
began with simple tasks for a few hours per day. Almost all children began totake part in the wood trade as trainees at the age of eleven or twelve while
spending half a day in school. It is worth noting that 72 percent of children
ages thirteen and fourteen started as full-time workers while 28 percent werestill spending half a day at school.
The findings show a considerable variation between girls and boys in
the extent of their involvement in woodwork. Only a small number of girls
were working regularly in workshops while none of them were full-timeworkers at home. Girls started to learn the trade at the ages of thirteen andfourteen while boys began earlier, most often between ten and twelve. Whenthey reached fifteen, all boys were committed to take part, part-time or fulltime, in woodwork.
Child woodworkers in entrepreneur-owned workshops
The extent and nature of children’s work at workshops owned byentrepreneurs differed from that at household-based workshops. In the evelen
workshops surveyed, we found eighty-one children under sixteen years ofage who were regular workers, making up 60 percent of the entire workforce of the shops. Most were officially registered as “trainees.” Over 60
percent of those aged between eight and fifteen worked full-time, and 64
percent of these were unpaid workers. About 36 percent of child workers
who had been working in these manufacturing units for more than two years
were paid, mostly in the form of allowances or bonuses. Of the total number of working children, 23 percent were girls. The children who came fromoutside the village made up 42 percent.
The above figures give a general view of the situation of working
children, which may help elucidate the nature of their work in the woodsector. At the village level, my own survey of 376 households in 1995 indicates that a total of 524 persons were working in the wood trade and earning regular wages; 17 percent of these were children under sixteen years ofage and 10 percent were female workers. Only those who had held a stablejob in the wood trade for six months or longer in 1995 were included in thesurvey; children working in unpaid or underpaid jobs and those working
within their households were not included. My own estimate based on thehousehold survey is that about 300 children under sixteen were working as
apprentices in the village. One-third of these came from outside the village.
If we take all these children into account, working children under sixteen
made up 40 percent of the workforce in the wood sector of the entire
village.
71

In terms of education, findings in both groups reveal that half of theworking children between ages eight and fifteen were no longer attending
school. However, it should be noted that a majority of children working attheir household-based shops were still attending school while 60 percent ofworking children in entrepreneur-owned shops did not go to school. At theage of fifteen, 82 percent of working children in both sectors had left schoolfor good.
In addition to this, the survey findings further indicate that while 100
percent of working children had attended primary school, none of themfinished the secondary level. Those who finished the primary level tended tocontinue in the wood trade rather than enter the higher levels of secondary
school.
By categorizing child labor in the wood trade into two specific groups:(1) children working under parental supervision in household-based workshops and (2) children working under their employers’ supervision in private
enterprises, we could conduct a closer examination of such issues as job
motivation, social relations at work, working hours, and wages. This is vitalin understanding the nature of children’s work.
In terms of working hours, my observation shows that those children
who worked under their family’s supervision did not perform as well as
those who worked in an entrepreneur-owned workshop. Children working
at home often took breaks at will and were often distracted by their domestic surroundings. Many parents complained that the children working at homemade little progress in the development of skills. In their opinion, to becomea good carver, an apprentice should work under the supervision of a serious
foreman or employer who can enforce discipline. At the eleven workshops
surveyed, the average work time was about ten hours per day. A work day
lasted from 6 a.m. till 6 p.m. but children normally started a bit earlier andworked later because they had to prepare the work site in the morning andtidy up after work. Lunch break was between 11.30 a.m. and 1.30 p.m. At
work, children were not allowed to take breaks without permission. Someof them told me they had to learn how to control their bladders for several
hours while working so that their supervisors would not scold them fortaking too many trips to the toilet.
At household work sites, work time was no less than ten hours on
average. Children were also made to work at night, more often in this typeof production than in private enterprises, where children were only asked totake the night shift during peak periods.
The night shift normally lasted from 7 p.m. until 11 p.m., sometimes
longer. During my stay in the village, I observed that at peak periods, somechildren worked till 2 a.m. Some tasks regarded as light work, such as polishing, were often done at night. It was common to see children falling asleep
during working hours.
72Children between the ages of eight and ten, however, were rarely
placed on the night shift. At this age, they still spent half a day at school. They
were, however, encouraged to do woodwork because, as their parents put
it: “At least they will have something to do instead of playing under the sun
without supervision.” Contrary to their parents’ view, children at this age
could not care less. Sometimes they would just leave their work to play games
and most of them got punished for their misbehavior.
Girl workers were not highly valued. They were usually assigned tasks
that were regarded as “extras.” Most of them reported they had to fightwith their parents so they will be allowed to learn the trade. The girls were infact often interrupted from their woodwork and asked to do householdchores or to help on the farm while the boys were left alone. One possible
reason the girls were made to spend less time on woodwork than the boys
was the parents expected more earnings from the sons rather than the daughters. Also, most parents believed in the local proverb, “A daughter is someone else’s child,” meaning eventually her training would benefit her husband’sfamily, not her own. They thus refused to invest in their daughters’ apprenticeship. Furthermore, a daughter’s place, for most villagers, was at her mother’sside, helping with household chores. Girls who left home to work gained abad reputation.
A close examination of the working hours of child workers based on
periodic visits and twenty-four-hour recalls reveals more details of theirworking conditions.8 There was no significant difference in work time amongchildren of various ages, although younger children between eight and twelve
worked a little less than the older children. Full-time child workers worked
an average of 67.2 hours per week for boys and 53 hours per week for girls.
For those who worked part-time, their average work time was 25.5 hours
for boys and 23 hours for girls per week.
Child workers had no periodic holidays. They only took days off
when they were sick, or on important family occasions and feasts such as theTet holiday.9 However, working days were sometimes cancelled for lack ofmaterials or because of slow sales. On these days, child workers were allowed to “relax.” During harvest time in June (summer crop) and October(winter crop), part-time workers and girls were released from woodwork to
help in the field.
Child woodworkers, particularly boys, preferred to spend their freetime on karaoke, billiards, electronic games, gambling, and happy hours in“village bars.” Actually, such forms of entertainment as the karaoke, electronic games, and billiards were introduced only recently, after the woodtrade had brought a degree of prosperity to the village. These were mainly
aimed at village youths who worked in the city and spent their holidays at
home.

73

Work relations
Earlier in this paper, I discussed the hierarchical relations in the woodtrade, according to which woodworkers were divided into three categories:
foremen, workers, and trainee assistants. I also pointed out that the emergence of entrepreneurs has changed the labor relations in wooden furniture
manufacturing. In the past, wood carvers worked on direct orders fromtheir customers and basically treated each other as colleagues. Today, standing
between workers and customers are the brokers who actually control thewhole business. From this starting point, I will further delve into the positionof child workers in the wood trade.
At the outset, we should make clear that there are two kinds of woodworkers doing different jobs. Tho cham create the carved objects and tholong assemble these to make a complete product. Generally speaking, about
20 percent of woodworkers work as assemblers. However, all children
working in the wood sector were found to be carvers. Carpentry was not
attractive for them because the work was heavier and wages were lower.
The main process of wood carving consists of wood selecting, designing, refining, polishing, and varnishing. At the time of my survey, mostchild workers were only involved in refining and polishing. Normally, theforeman would design the products first and the child workers would thenrefine them. Only a small number of child workers, mainly boys at the agesof thirteen to fifteen, were able to carve such complicated objects as statues
and woodcut pictures. As a rule, those who could make designs independently were highly regarded by their fellow workers and got regular pay.
Refiners and polishers, regardless of their age, were considered assistantworkers and had lower pay. Similarly, the foreman’s qualification depended
entirely on his skills, so that a highly skilled worker at the age of sixteen orseventeen could become a well-paid foreman. A striking feature of wood
carving was that a foreman needed a number of assistants to do such tasks
as refining and polishing because these took a lot of time and patience. This
explains why there were so many trainee assistants at wood carving workshops.
The woodworkers’ wage allocation based on degree of skill has important implications regarding labor relations in the wood trade. In many
household shops, the head of the household formally ran the wood businessbut because he or she was not a wood carver, he/she in fact only worked as
an assistant for his/her “little” son or daughter who knew how to carve. Incase the child left the household and went to work for others, the householdshop would have to shut down. Generally, children who worked for theirhouseholds contributed directly to household incomes but were not paid. Inorder to keep the children working at home, parents often provided themwith incentives such as pocket money, bonuses, and new clothes. Unfortu74

nately, teenage workers usually chose to work away from home where they
could get paid properly and enjoy more freedom.
Although one may see a fusion of friendship and kinship ties at work,
the relationship between the child worker and the employer often went beyond these. One can say it was one between labor and capital, as foundelsewhere in Asia.10
Generally speaking, child workers employed in workshops were under the direct supervision of a foreman/master. As assistant workers, they
were assigned to do certain tasks, from simple chores to more complicatedwork. In the early stages of their apprenticeship, they performed those tasks
usually done by unskilled laborers. For example, after carving an object, theforeman needed someone to refine and polish it with care, and a child assistant did this. As an employee himself, the master did not control assistants on
his own. He was however authorized to use assistant workers for a particularjob. In terms of labor management, both master and employer controlled
the children. These two persons were entitled to punish trainees if they mademistakes or misbehaved. Working children told me that when they did something wrong, they would leave the work site quietly and come back later witha sponsor who would apologize or indemnify the employer for any material
loss or damage.
The recruitment of trainee assistants was done through family relations or other acquaintances. There were no official working regulations.
Agreements on the working conditions of children were often made between employers/masters and the parents. Such relations were built on trust
and moral rules rather than legal regulations, and they were considered sufficient guarantee for children to work. Employers would not accept children
without sponsors because they had to make sure trainees who came fromafar were reliable enough to be allowed to stay in their house for long periods.
Working children from outside the village were rather vulnerable; living away from home, they became totally dependent on their employers. I
often observed that these children tried their best to please their master andemployer. They worked hard, hoping that after a few years of training, theywould become carvers and earn a living for themselves. In confidential talks
with employers, I was often told that they taught children not only carving
skills but also “the ways of real men.” This, however, could easily lead toabuse because “turning children into real men” might mean forcing them to
do all kinds of tasks outside woodwork, such as running household chores,
taking care of their bosses’ young children, and farming.
In brief, labor relations in the wood trade were not based on work
alone. Other factors, such as kinship and acquaintance, and relationships between master and learner, employer and employee, played an important role,and sometimes led to abuse. Additionally, child workers, regardless of their75

skills, were always treated as premature kids. They were called pho nho (little
workers), the lowest rank in the hierarchy of the wood trade. This implies
that child workers could not expect to receive the same treatment as theiradult workmates.
Working for wages
Apart from those children who worked in their households as unpaid
workers, the percentage of child workers actually paid by their employers in
the eleven workshops surveyed was relatively low, only about 36 percent of
the total number of working children. The majority of these children worked
as unpaid trainees.
For those children who worked for wages, their earning rates varied
considerably, depending on their skill levels and the quality of the products
they made. In principle, wages could be paid on a daily basis or per piece ofwork but generally employers preferred to pay on a daily basis because, in
their opinion, this was a way of ensuring the good quality of the work done.
The child workers had no choice but to accept the employer’s terms.
A child woodworker of fourteen to fifteen years of age who worked
as designer/refiner could earn an average wage of 20,000 dong per workday, which was about two thirds of the wage of an adult doing the same job.
Trainees with experience of two or more years in woodwork earned about
10,000 dong per day, while female workers who did polishing jobs earned
about 7,000 dong per day. Because wage rates did not depend on age but on
skill, adult workers who did simple tasks might get lower wages than skilledchild workers.
As usual, trainee assistants were unpaid workers, but they were alsooffered small amounts of cash as bonuses on special occasions, especiallywhen sales were good.
The children had no power at all to negotiate about their position as
employees. Such issues as wage rates, forms of payment, and working conditions were often discussed by their parents/sponsors and prospective employers. In order to avoid a bad reputation as a child exploiter, employers
did not directly negotiate with the working children. Both parents and employers preferred that wages be paid directly to the former. Apart fromsome advance payment, employers normally retained the rest of the children’s
wages for their business until the end of the year. Meanwhile parents exerted
direct control over their children’s wages.
The fact remains that most working children wanted to get paid directly. Some of them reported they sometimes had to use their own “weapons” to get part of their wage. One key informant told me that normally hedared not ask his parents for money, but once he was sent to work awayfrom home under the conditions agreed upon by his parents and employer,76he would ask the latter for some advances. If this demand was not met, hewould leave the workshop or refuse to get up from bed. Though this ruse
often gained him little success, it reflected well the position of working children and their labor relationships in the woodwork sector.
During my stay in the village, I heard stories of apprentices who soughta freelance night job elsewhere to earn some pocket money. This was, however, not a common occurrence. Most child workers worked hard for theirmasters in the hope of becoming a real carver after three or four years of
training. It was obvious that obtaining professional skills to earn a living was
the most important thing for the children (and their parents) because they
could not expect to learn these skills at school or on the farm. For manyfamilies in the village, the wood trade represented a way to achieve prosperity. This aspiration was reflected in the children’s ideas on how to spend theirearnings. Based on my detailed notes from confidential talks with working
children, 83 percent of children working in the eleven surveyed wood workshops said they would keep part of their earnings for themselves, and only 3
percent said they would keep it all. Fifty-nine percent said they wanted tocontribute money to their parents’ plans to build a new house or to improvehome comforts (such things as a television set, cassette player, or motorbike);
26 percent (42 percent of girls) wanted to spend money on new clothes,shoes, and good food; 5 percent (only boys) wished to spend their earnings
on snacks, travel, and their friends. Most boys were relatively ambitious, wanting to spend their earnings on “big things” like a house and expensive consumer goods, while girls were less ambitious, saying they just wanted to keep
the money for themselves.
Children’s ideas on how to spend their earnings offer interesting insights into their motivation in seeking work. They thought little about “earning a bowl of rice” but more about improving their living conditions. For
some of them, earning money to cover the cost of their daily meals was ofprimary concern. There is ample evidence that children’s earnings played acentral role in changing the economic situation of individual households.
Villagers often mentioned children’s employment in the wood trade as asource of envy. Competition among villagers to improve their living standards and the attraction of a new lifestyle encouraged both parents and theirchildren to seek employment in the market economy, in this case in woodworkshops.
Although children rarely mentioned how they spent their money, myobservations indicate that boys spent their money on gambling, smoking,drinking, snacks, and other forms of entertainment (karaoke, cinema, etc.)
Girls preferred to spend money on new shoes, clothes, and school expenses.
Some of them bought livestock but many girls complained that their parents
just took their chickens, ducks, geese, and pigs and never paid them back in
cash.1177

Job mobility
I previously discussed the seasonal migration of male craftsmen in
Giao Village. It was the foreman/entrepreneur who played an importantrole in linking the rural craftsmen with the labor market in urban settings.
This was also true for child workers engaged in the woodcraft industry.
However, while adult workers were attracted to the urban workshops because these offered higher wages, the mobility of child workers was more
complex. As far as geographical mobility was concerned, we could distinguish two different flows of children’s migration: the first involved children
who moved into the village for apprenticeship; and the second those who
moved out of the village to urban wood workshops. Viewed from theperspective of job mobility, we could see an upward direction among working
children. They generally moved from the status of apprentices to that ofwageworkers, and after a training period in the village, they could be employed away from home.
Regarding the flow of in-migration, my survey of the village woodworkshops indicates that 42 percent of apprentices were from outside thevillage. Most of them came from the surrounding districts of Hai Hungprovince, but also from neighboring provinces such as Ha Bac, Hai Phong,and the northern mountainous provinces of Lang Son and Lai Chau. Surprisingly, some children from remote southern provinces such as Gia Lai and
Lam Dong were also sent to the village to learn the trade.
Most working children who moved into the village for apprenticeshipwere from peasant families. They were sent directly to the village workshops
through the network of acquaintances and relatives. Some trainees were pickedout by fine-art wood galleries to work for them after training. There were no
children who came to the village in search of jobs on their own. Only a few
girls came from outside the village for training. Most of these girls were
between twelve and sixteen and all of them had stopped going to school.
While child migrants moved into the village for apprenticeship, others
moved out of the village to work for wages. My village survey in 1995
indicates that about 17 percent of woodworkers who seasonally migrated towork elsewhere were children under sixteen years of age. In 1996 to 1997, I
visited urban wood workshops set up by the entrepreneurs from Giao Village in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City to get more insight into the life andwork of child workers there.
There were less children below the age of fifteen who were moving
out of the village to work for urban workshops than those who were moving into the village for apprenticeship. Most children recruited to work inurban workshops had to spend some years as trainees in the village workshops before they could become qualified to work for wages. Only a few
girl workers were working in urban workshops. One reason for this was the78parents’ desire to keep their daughters at home to enhance the prospects of
their marriage. Many foremen told me that since living costs in the city werequite high, they had to limit the number of child workers in their workshops.
But there were still child workers under sixteen working in the city. There
were two types of working children who migrated from the village to urban
shops. The first group consisted of paid child workers who were recruited
through verbal contracts between the foremen/employers and the parents.
The second group included unpaid child workers still working as trainees.
They were brought to the city by their masters who took care of their living
expenses but did not pay them wages.
Like in their home village, the “little workers” in these urban shops
were mainly assigned such tasks as refining and polishing carved objects.
They ate and slept right at the work site, usually in temporary shacks rented
from the local owners. Employers’/masters’ wives often cooked for theentire group. Food costs were normally deducted from the workers’ wages.
The employers I talked to often complained about child workers under their responsibility. They said it took a lot of effort to manage them, andthere were always professional risks such as sickness, which could be costly.
On the other hand, the children did not seem to worry much about the“money first” principle. Rather it was exciting for them to work in the city,
far from parental control. They were proud of their ruses to press theiremployers for advance payments so they could enjoy themselves, threatening
to go away or work elsewhere if their demands were not met. This was inline with their parents’ complaints that children often neglected to send money
home and sometimes even returned home with nothing but debts. There
was no doubt a large number of child workers moving between jobs. C.
Nardinelli’s study assumes that children migrated to those areas where they
were offered the highest wages.12 However, we should add that working in
the urban setting was an attraction in itself for many young workers. Besides
being attracted by the wage rates, which were normally much higher thanthose in the village, children also wanted to experience the excitements of thecity. It was not uncommon for them not to tell their parents when they leftthe village to come to the city and find jobs there, just to satisfy their curiosityand enjoy a sense of freedom.
Child woodworkers, employers, and parents
Generally speaking, children’s work in skilled trades is linked with thehistory of apprenticeship. Studies on child labor in nineteenth-century Europe13 or on working children in contemporary India,14 Senegal,15 and Indonesia16 regard the apprentice system as a potential source of children’s exploitation. Nardinelli however adds that certain factors such as custom, law, andthe bargaining strength of parents helped to reduce the potential abuse of79

apprentices. He also assumes that the exploitation of apprentices in skilled
trades was not severe.17 While this hypothesis is not backed by empirical data,
N. Burra’s observations of Indian gem polishers suggest the contrary—that
apprenticeship training is only a disguise for child exploitation.18
Observations on child labor in developing countries generally indicatethat children are popularly employed in fine-art crafts and family workshops
as apprentices. Unfortunately, there are few comprehensive studies on theissue of children’s apprenticeship. The next section provides empirical datathat can help us better understand this aspect of child labor. It suggests that
it is the shift to a market economy that led to the commercialization of
apprenticeship in the wood trade. Entrepreneurs resorted to child labor as a
strategy to rake in more profit. We should not forget though that the parents
themselves allowed and encouraged this so that their children could learn
professional skills, enabling them to cope with an increasingly fragmented
labor market.
The issue of apprenticeship: The employers’ perspective
Today, hundreds of children from various areas still come to Giao
Village for apprenticeship. The foremost question as far as the villagers areconcerned is whether this is beneficial to the village and to wood carving asa traditional craft. Practically speaking, what could these apprentices contribute? And why do these children choose to train at Giao village instead of atstate schools?
Those who support the open-training policy say that the expansion of
the wood workshops to accommodate the trainees has not only contributed
to the development of rural industries as set by Communist Party policy but
has also helped maintain a traditional craft that is in danger of becoming
obsolete and needs new stimulating forces. Furthermore, it has created morejobs and has raised the incomes of many villagers.
Those who oppose the policy argue that the masters/foremen aresolely motivated by financial gains; the children are being exploited for profit,
not to bring about a wood carving revival. Moreover, teaching the “tricks ofthe trade” to all interested outsiders would diminish the value of wood
carving as a traditional village craft that is unique to Giao; it would only leadto the mass production of objects with little artistic value.
Such a debate on open apprenticeship offers significant insights that
can help us understand the socioeconomic aspects of apprenticeship training
and the utility of child labor in the wood-carving industry. Based on direct
observations and talks with working children and their parents and employers, I will further analyze their views and motivations on utilizing child laborin this commercialized craft.
The argument that apprenticeship training could help revive the tradi80

tion of wood carving in Giao Village was supported by some media reporters who visited the wood workshops.19 They contended that it would bebetter to put those children who left school at an early age to work because
without proper supervision, they could easily be drawn into social vices suchas gambling, drinking, and smoking. Others opined that children should be
regarded as a potential labor force to meet the increasing demands of themarket economy, while ignoring their long-term development.20 Master craftsmen and entrepreneurs were praised for admitting children into their workshops so that they could learn a professional skill and earn money.21 This
would ensure the smooth development of social order and public security.
Among the village employers I talked to, I found such arguments in favor ofapprenticeship training particularly well received.
According to the employers, sending children to train in their woodworkshops can have many advantages for the children and their families. If
the children did well in their training, they would soon earn money to support their families. And even if they remain as unpaid trainees, working wasstill the best way to keep them from becoming involved in vices. Thosechildren attending school for half a day could spend the rest of their timelearning new skills and maybe earning some money as well. When they growup they would be qualified to earn a decent living. The masters also emphasized other beneficial aspects of apprenticeship such as learning discipline,
obedience, and good manners.
Masters/employers also considered apprenticeship a moral commitment because of the costs involved. They pointed out it would take at least
six months to teach a child how to do simple tasks. Even then the quality of
their work remained very low. Children often lacked patience to work on
delicate objects. They usually wasted the hardwood, which was very expensive, and therefore increased the manufacturing costs. Also, they sometimes
left their work without notice, thus disrupting the production line. Somechildren were even accused of stealing professional secrets and running off
to work for the competition.
However, despite their claims that apprenticeship training was a nonprofit but costly procedure, the masters/employers often failed to explain
why they kept on recruiting more child workers and opening more workshops for apprentices. Information I obtained from the child workers, theirparents, and the masters themselves helped throw some light on the matter.
As it turned out employers often exerted enough control to keep apprentices
in their workshops for a considerable period of time.
Generally speaking, access to apprenticeship was not free for everyone. The employer only accepted new trainees based on his knowledge ofthe applicant’s family background through the network of acquaintances orrelatives. Such relations were regarded as a guarantee for a trainee to live andwork in the employer’s house for an extended period of time.
81

Children from outside the village were preferable because they were
expected to pay their monthly fees and food (in cash or kind) equivalent toabout 30 kilograms of rice per month. Although this might seem a minor
charge, it was in fact a considerable source of income for the employer. If an
employer kept a few trainees like this under his roof, their total contributions
would be enough to cover the living costs of both the trainees and the hostfamily, even if the child trainees contributed nothing in terms of wood carving production. These fees had to be paid in advance on a quarterly or semiannual basis and if the trainees dropped out, they did not get their money
back. Obviously, by doing this, employers could force the trainees to beclosely dependent on them. The children coming from outside the village,
especially, became more obedient when they totally depended on their hosts.
The age of the apprentices was also an important qualification for
admittance into the workshops. Employers preferred children between twelve
and fifteen years of age, purportedly because these were the most receptive
to training. Children older than fifteen were supposedly not patient enoughto learn a craft; it normally took them several years to grasp the basic techniques particularly since their hands were no longer nimble. But the truth
might lie elsewhere. My direct observations tend to dismiss the myth thatyoung children’s hands are nimbler. The truth is that children older than sixteen are more independent and would protest against mistreatments, while
younger children are more obedient.
Apprentices said they were normally assigned simple tasks even after
they had acquired enough skills through a combination of observation andpractice. In their view, this was because the master did not want them to learn
all the tricks of the trade during the initial years of training to ensure that theywould not spill or steal occupational secrets, and because the master needed
the children to work as unpaid assistants, not wageworkers.
Employers not only used methods of “push” and “trickle down” totie down working children; they also used various effective means of exploitation. Nardinelli assumes that “the payment of premiums provides strong
evidence that apprentices in skilled trades were not exploited.”22 Actually,
premiums were not wages and were not proper compensation for thechildren’s labor. Moreover, premiums were offered only a few times a year,
mainly on special occasions. Premiums should thus be considered a strategic
tool for encouraging the children to do more for the employers.
Those trainees who worked in the workshops for a couple of years
were no longer required to pay monthly contributions. Instead, they were
offered daily meals and if they did a good job, they might get small allowances. This suggests that apprentices’ labor was significantly productive because in principle, children could get paid only when the value of their work
was worth more than what went into their upkeep.

82

The issue of apprenticeship: The parents’ perspective
It is obvious that a number of children sent to the village’s woodworkshops as trainees or wageworkers were not from poor families, particularly those from outside the village. Poor parents apparently could notafford to make an advance contribution—the equivalent of 300 or morekilograms of rice—for the upkeep of their child for one year. The results ofa survey I conducted among working children reveal that a majority of them
(68 percent) were sent to wood workshops by their parents while only 32
percent (58 percent of whom were girls) said they made the decision on theirown. This reflects the parents’ desire to place their children, particularly boys,
in waged jobs.
Listening to confidential stories told by the children’s parents helped
me understand why these parents had chosen woodwork as a worthy career
for their children. A veteran who formerly served as chairman of the local
cooperative confided to me that if he had just one more son, his family
would be much better off. He said his only son, a sixteen-year-old, had been
involved in woodwork for the past few years and because of this he felt his
family was faring much better than before. Every month, his son earned
about 500,000 dong. Thanks to his son’s earnings, he could afford such things
as a TV set. He believed that woodwork helped improve the villagers’ standard of living, and this was why they vied with each other to send theirchildren to work. But he worried that when his son grew older, he would
not send money home. In his opinion, young children (under sixteen) weremore dutiful than older ones. But he was worried that making children workat an early age might make them ill-educated.
This story, like many others I heard in the village, is indicative of thedesire of the native inhabitants to earn more income and improve their standard of living through non-farm activities, such as woodwork. Peasantsseemed to take these activities in stride; after weighing the pros and cons ofsending their children to work at an early age vis-à-vis giving them a decent
education, they usually decide that the family’s economic situation should
prevail.
Some parents had a high regard for wood carving, an occupation inwhich “one’s face and head are protected from rain and sun” (mua khong den
mat, nang khong den dau). This local saying reflects the popular belief that carving is a light and “clean” job as compared to farming, where one has to dirty
one’s hands in the paddy fields. In their reasoning, carving requires dexterity,
artistic talent, and patience rather than physical exertion; therefore it is suitablefor children. Moreover, it is a craft that could get you a reasonably good
income at affordable training costs.
In addition to this type of thinking, some parents simply believed thatwork was the best way to train their children to live properly because, as they83put it, “Playing around is good for nothing.” They often quoted the popularsaying, “Idleness is the source of all evils” (Nhan cu vi bat thien) in their decision to send children to work.
However, most parents voiced their concern about the negative aspects of making children work at an early age, fearing that lack of proper
education might affect the children’s future development. Such worries, however, seemed to be softened by the prospects of employment and earnings
that would help to improve the family’s standard of living. Somehow theyfelt that if the family’s economic situation was good, so would be the children’s
lot.
Although earning money is a desirable occupation, many parents obviously worried that money might spoil their children, particularly those working away from home. These were often reminded of their filial duties, together with stern warnings against smoking, drinking, and gambling. In actual fact these children were only allowed to work away from home under
the condition that their wages would be paid directly to the parents and theywould be under the supervision of the adult relatives or fellow villagers.
It should be mentioned that most professional woodworkers recognized the health hazards of their craft, which may have long-term effects on
the mental and physical development of children. The parents’ general attitude in this regard was rather neutral, if not downright neglectful. Someparents expressed concerns about their children, but felt powerless to stopthem from working, especially given the family’s economic situation. In thecontext of a fast-changing society, many parents became undecided about
their children’s future. They struggled between the desire to give their children a good future and the reality of survival. In the end, they usually left the
young ones“at the mercy of their fate.”23Child workers: Dutiful children?
How did the children judge their work and assess their relationshipwith employers? What were their motivations, thoughts, and aspirations?
These questions were uppermost in my mind while I did my fieldwork in
the village. Previously, I analyzed to some extent the children’s motives inworking for wages and their ideas on how to spend their money. Based on
information gathered from many conversations I had with working children
in the village, I shall now try to elucidate the child workers’ moods, aspirations, and feelings.
I often heard parents say that they sent their children to the woodworkshops mainly to keep them from playing in the sun, which may harm
their health. This simplistic explanation, however, seemed at odds with therealities of the working children who often reported that if they did notwork properly they would be punished. Work for them was decidedly not
play.
84

Interviews with working children reveal that they did suffer—theybrought up again and again not abuse directly but work-related hardships
and particularly their employers’ contempt toward them. Also, for them,work was somewhat boring and tiring, and they were always under threat ofpunishments, particularly scolding and beating. Their stories reveal that apparently the relationship between the employer/master and the child workers was a paternalistic one—meaning the employer acted like a father who
could mete out punishments for mistakes or misdeeds. As a result, the children suffered from abuse at work quite often. Nevertheless, they normallydid not tell their parents about this mistreatment. Some said they were too
frightened of their master’s power to report these incidents. They were after
all dependent on their employers, and felt they were in no position to bargain.
The child workers’ stories reveal some patterns with regard to theirmotivations for entering the labor market. As we have discussed, the mostpopular reason was to earn money to meet their personal needs such as
clothes, shoes, or simply some entertainment. In rural areas where rice culture was the only source of cash, which often fell short of household andindividual needs, the wood trade represented a welcome opportunity forearning extra income.
My empirical observations also reveal that from an early age, ruralchildren already start thinking about sharing family responsibilities and helping their parents. While still quite young, they express the wish to prove theirworth to their peers later in life. In their stories, they talked about how theywould one day be able to improve the family’s living standards, purchaseexpensive things, even build a new house for their parents. Such thinking
suggests the long tradition of children’s filial duty imposed by Confucianism,
which still runs strong in current Vietnamese society. Therefore in all fairness
it should be stressed that the money motive should not be considered theoverriding factor. The whole process also has a moral dimension, whichplaces emphasis on children’s duty toward their parents.
The children had one more strong motivation for joining the woodtrade: to escape the monotonous world of farming, which requires hard
work but promises low returns. There were, however, differences between
girls’ and boys’ motivation with regard to work. While boys were preparedto take on the future by learning a trade, girls tended to take woodwork as atemporary measure. Boys dreamed of high salaries and adventures far awayfrom home while girls wished to escape their domestic environment anddependent status, particularly the ethical codes imposed on women. Such“push and pull” factors that constantly impacted children’s work should not
be ignored.

85

Conclusion
Agricultural decollectivization in northern rural Vietnam has opened a
new opportunity for the revival of traditional crafts, including fine-art woodcraft. The wood trade today has in fact undergone large-scale development
together with the expanded export market of wooden furniture, mainly in
Asia. Consequently, work organization and labor relationships have likewisechanged. In previous times, hierarchical and collegial social relations were at
the core of the wood sector. Nowadays, with the emergence of new forces
including investors, exporters, and entrepreneurs, social relations between
employers and employees in the wood sector are mainly controlled by capital-related factors.
My research findings indicate that as of 1995, working children—
most of them trainee assistants—made up about 40 percent of the totallabor force in the wood trade. Village children started learning woodwork at
a rather early age—a small number started at the age of eight while themajority started between eleven and twelve. Normally, it took a child a minimum of three years to grasp some basic wood-carving skills. A comparative
analysis between children working at home, under the supervision of theirparents/relatives, and those employed in private workshops yielded some
remarkable statistics. In both sectors, the majority of children (52 to 60 percent) worked full-time. Most working children, about 60 percent, no longer
attended school, and more than 80 percent of them had left school for goodat the age of fifteen. Generally speaking, the proportion of waged childworkers was low. In the household sector, working children were generally
not paid while in the larger enterprises, only about 36 percent were paid, infull or on an installment basis. Girl woodworkers made up only about 12
percent of working children in household shops, and 23 percent in the manufacturing sector. About 42 percent of children working in enterprises camefrom outside the village. It is interesting to note that both children and theirparents preferred the large workshops rather than a master’s home, despite
the harsh discipline and long hours. In the parents’ view, their children would
make faster progress in enterprises where they had to work harder and wereplaced under more discipline, and where they had opportunities to learn newmodels.
As pointed out earlier, employers preferred to employ children as
apprentices rather than wageworkers. Friends and family were often involvedin coercing the children into working for their masters/employers for a coupleof years as unpaid workers. It was these unpaid working children who helped
employers reduce their production costs, making their goods more competitive, and thereby increasing their profits. On the other hand, the close
links between foremen/masters and apprentices facilitated job mobility inthe wood trade. The development of wooden furniture manufacturing in86

the village enhanced the exchange of commodities between urban and village workshops, helping generate more employment for rural dwellers. Furthermore, the urban-rural relationship in the wood trade intensified the geographical mobility of woodworkers. Children were absorbed in the mobile
woodworkers’ network as well. From elsewhere, they moved to the villageof Giao for apprenticeship while others migrated out of the village, headingfor urban workshops in search of higher wages. The labor mobility in thewood sector reflects the impact of the ongoing stratification of the labormarket, which impels rural children to flock to the non-farm waged sector.24
The mobility of woodworkers also reflects a potential labor surplus in the
agricultural sector where peasants work on their small plots of rice land withlow returns. This helps explain why despite the evident hardships of trainee
assistants in the wood sector, both parents and children still greatly desired tolearn the trade in order to make a living.
Children’s motivations for entering into waged employment also suggests the changing attitudes of rural youngsters vis-à-vis traditional ethics.
The fact that they prefer to work away from home and to satisfy their own
needs is a testimony to the general desire of the younger generation to be
free from old norms, social constraints, and family obligations.
Contradictions inherent in children’s work, their earnings and social
roles, all reflect the socioeconomic changes that have taken place in the rurallandscape since the market mechanism was introduced, and children’s employment is only part of that process.
Endnotes
1 This paper is based on my earlier research on child labor in rural Vietnam. I deeply
appreciate the discussions and suggestions on my findings at the 2004 ALFP workshop and retreat, as well as at the workshop on poverty in Asia held at Waseda University and Toyo University during my stay in Japan. The feedbacks from participants inthese workshops contributed greatly to my knowledge on the issue of child labor.
Some suggested that I present more detailed history of child labor in the woodwork
sector. This would indeed be very useful, but unfortunately I could not include it here
as it would make the paper too long. I hope I get another chance to present such
relevant data in the future.
2 Phan Gia Ben (1957) classified artisans in the colonial Northern Delta into fivecategories: a) mobile artisans, b) artisans producing goods as hired workers, c) artisansproducing goods on direct orders from clients, d) artisans producing goods on subcontracts, and e) artisans producing and selling goods on their own. According to thisclassification, most wood-workers of Giao Village belonged to groups a and b, those
who seasonally migrated to search for work away from home as hired workers.
3 Ban Cog Tac Nong Thon (Committee for Rural Affairs), De an tam thoi ve cong tac quan
ly tho a nong thon (A temporary plan for managing handicraft workers in rural areas),
Hanoi: Nxb Nong Thon, 1962.

87

4 A similar situation was found among peasants of the Philippines who had little
income from agricultural production and became artisans working on crafts (see R.
Rutten 1993).
5 Those who had held a stable job in the wood trade for six months in 1995 weregrouped in this category. Children working basically within their households while
attending school and receiving occasional earnings were not included in this group.
6 The term entrepreneur used in this study refers to those who are called in the local
dialect “cai thau.” These mainly organize, manage, and assume the risks of the woodbusiness they had set up, but sometime also directly take part in the work.
7 These investments were mainly from Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, and Singapore.
8 “Twenty-four hour recall” is one of the techniques developed by Pamela Reynolds(1991) to collect data on children’s work. This method involves the strict recording of
all activities done by the interviewees during the twenty-four hours prior to the interview.
9 The Tet (spring festival) is the main holiday for woodworkers. It often lasts from thelast week of December to the third week of January in the lunar calendar. During thesefour weeks, woodworkers spend their time visiting relatives and friends or simply
enjoying themselves through various forms of entertainment.
10 Lai Ah-Eng, “The Little Workers: A Study of Child Labour in the Small-scale
Industries of Penang,” Development and Change, Vol. 13, No. 4, 1982, 565-86.
11 It is a popular custom in many rural areas of the Red River Delta for girls to beallowed to earn some money of their own, called “von rieng” (own money). Whenmarried, they can bring their wealth to the husband’s home as dowry.
12 Nardinelli, C., Child Labour and the Industrial Revolution, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990.
13 Ibid.; Weissbach, Lee S., Child Labour Reform in Nineteenth-century France, Baton
Rouge and London: Louisiana State University Press, 1989.
14 Burra, N., Born to Work: Child Labour in India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1995.
15 Morice, A., “Underpaid Child Labour and Social Reproduction: Apprenticeship in
Kaolack, Senegal,” Development and Change, Vol. 13, No. 4, 1982, 525-26.
16 White, B. and Indra Tjandraningsih, “Rural Children in the Industrialization Process: Child and Youth Labour in ‘Traditional’ and ‘Modern’ Industries in West Java,”
unpublished paper, The Hague.
17 Nardinelli 87.
18 Burra 90.
19 Do Quang Dan, “Nguoi thuc day long moc dong Giao (The man who revived thewood trade of Dong Giao Village),” Tien Phong (The Pioneer), 22 November 1994;
Thanh Sang, “Soi dong nghe moc Cam Dien (Wood trade is booming in Cam Dien),”Hai Hung, 6 December 1994; Xuan Ha, “Tran tro cua nhung nguoi tho lang nghe chamkhac go Dong Giao (Concerns of woodworkers of Dong Giao Village),” Hai Hung, 18
July 1992.
20 Le Ngoc Hung, “Lam dung tree m: Van de xa hoi throng qua trinh phat trien (Theabuses of children: A social problem in the development process),” Hoa Hoc Ve Phu
Nu (Women Studies Review), No. 1, 1998, 34-40.
21 Huu Duc, “Thuc trang cac doanh nghiep nho o Ha Tay (The situation of small-scale
enterprises in Ha Tay),” Lao Dong va Xa Hoi (Labour and Social Affairs Review), No. 8,
1992, 7-8.
22 Nardinelli 87.

88

23 A closer look at the parents’ confidence on their children’s work reveals the belief
that “as family incomes rise, child labor declines” (see Nardinelli 102), which sounds
too rational.
24 Nardinelli 86.

References
Ban Cong Tac Nong Thon (Committee for Rural Affairs). De an tam thoi ve cong tac
quan ly tho o nong thon (A temporary plan for managing handicraft workers inrural areas. Hanoi: Nxb Nong Thon, 1962.
Burra, N. Born to Work: Child Labour in India. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1965.
Chandrasekhar, C.P. “The Economic Consequences of the Abolition of Child Labour:
An Indian Case Study.” The Journal of Peasant Studies, Vol. 24, No.___, 1997,
137-79.
Do Phu Tho.Vui buon lang nghe Dong Ky (Happiness and sadness in the wood craft
village of Dong Ky).” Quan Doi Nhan Dan (People’s Army Newspaper), 24
December 1995.
Do Quang Dan. “Nguoi thuc day lang moc Dong Giao (The man who revived thewood trade of Dong Giao village).” Tien Phong (The Pioneer), No. 44, 22
November 1994.
Do Tam. “Thu thue san xuat do go my nghe o Van Ha: Luat da khoi dong (Collecting
taxes imposed on the manufacturing of wooden fine arts in Van Ha: The laws
have been put into effect).” Ha Noi Moi, 7 June 1995.
Fyfe, A. Child Labour. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1989.
Forastieri, V. “Safety and Health of Working Children.” Health Aspects of Child Labour.
Frans c. Waal (editor). Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1996.
George, I. Child Labour and Child Work. Ashih Publishing House: New Delhi, 1990.
Hoang Giang. “O nhiem moi truong o cac lang nghe Hung Yen (On the environment
pollution in craft villages of Hung Yen province).” Kinh Doanh va Phap Luat(Business and Laws), 12 November 1998.
Huu Duc. “Thuc trang cac doanh nghiep nho o Ha Tay (The situation of small-scale
enterprises in Ha Tay).” Lao Dong va Xa Hoi (Labour and Social Affairs Review),
No. 8, 1992, 7-8.
International Labour Organization (ILO). Employment, Enterprises Development and Training in Vietnam. Bangkok, 1993.
ILO, The Elimination of Child Labour (IPEC). Child Labour in Indonesia. Geneva: ILO,
1994.
Lai Ah-Eng. “The Little Workers: A Study of Child Labour in the Small-Scale Industries of Penang.” Development and Change, Vol. 13, No. 4, 1982, 565-86.
Le Ngoc Hung. “Lam dung tre em: Van de xa hoi trong qua trinh phat trien (The
Abuses of Children: A social problem in the development process).” Khoa Hoc
Ve Phu Nu (Women Studies Review), No. 1, 1998, 34-40.
Meyers, W. (editor). Protecting Working Children. New York: UNICEF, 1989.
Minh Duc. “Tre lam thue, mot hien tuong can bao dong (Child labour, an alarming
social issue).” Phu Nu Viet Nam (Vietnam Women), 28 November 1996.
Morice, A. “The Exploitation of Children in the ‘Informal Sector’”. Proposal for research. Childwork, Poverty and Underdevelopment. G. Rodgers and G. Standing (editors). Geneva: ILO, 1981, 131-58.
_______. “Underpaid Child Labour and Social Reproduction: Apprenticeship in89

Kaolack, Senegal.” Development and Change, Vol. 13, No. 4, 1982, 515-26.
Nardinelli, C. Child Labour and the Industrial Revolution. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990.
Nieuwenhuys, O. “The Domestic Economy and the Exploitation of Children’s Work:
The Case of Kerala.” The International Journal of Children’s Rights 3: 213-25.
Reynolds, P. Dance Civet Cat: Child Labour in the Zambezi Valley. London: Zed Books
Ltd., 1991.
Phan Gia Ben. So thao lich su phat trien thu cong nghiep Viet Nam (An outline of thehistorical development of crafts in Vietnam). Hanoi: Van Su Dia, 1957.
Rosanne, R. Artisans and Entrepreneurs in the Rural Philippines: Making a Living andGaining Wealth in Two Commercialized Crafts. Quezon City: New Day Publishers,
1993.
Thanh Sang. “Soi dong nghe moc Cam Dien (Wood trade is booming in Cam Dien).”Hai Hung, 6 December 1994.
Vu Ngoc Binh. “Child Labour in Vietnam.” Social Sciences, No. 4, 1992, 47-54.
Xuan Ha. “Tran tro cua nhung nguoi tho lang nghe cham khac go Dong Giao (Concerns of woodworkers of Dong Giao Village.” Hai Hung, 18 July 1992.
Weissbach, Lee S. Child Labour Reform in Nineteenth-century France. Baton Rouge andLondon: Louisiana State University Press, 1989.
White, B. Globalization and the Child Labour Problem. Working Paper Series No.221.
The Hague: Institute of Social Studies, 1996.
White, B. and Indra Tjandraningsih. “Rural Children in the Industrialization Process:Child and Youth Labour in ‘Traditional’ and ‘Modern’ Industries in West
Java.” Unpublished paper. The Hague, 1992.

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Defining Asia

91

92

THEA
TER HERST
OR
THEATERHERSTORORYY:
CHANGING ROLES OF CHINESE WOMEN ON AND OFFST
AGE
OFFSTAF ay e Chunfang FFeiei
Chunfanang

The theme for the Asia Leadership Fellow Program (ALFP) 2004 isonce again “Identity, Security, and Democracy,” signifying its continuing
relevance and pressing importance. In the age of globalization, in the wakeof “September 11” and the ongoing war against terror, one’s initial responseto the theme is naturally geopolitical. Being no statesperson or policy maker,
I often find my personal thoughts along purely geopolitical lines, while filledwith moral fervor and philosophical angst, quite ineffectual. I have also noticed
that the participants from ALFP 2003 as well as this year have opted to relate
to the all-encompassing theme from his or her professional expertise andcurrent research project. For me the field of inquiry is theater.
Where there are people there is theater of some kind, for theater (andits derivative arts of dramatic cinema and television) is the art of people
acting out—and giving witness to—their most pressing concerns and inspiring
visions. Theater is at once a showcase and a forum, through which a society
displays its ideas, aesthetics, lifestyles, and values, and debates its conflicts,
dilemmas, contradictions, and struggles.1 Given its scope and pervasiveness,theater provides a dynamic sphere in which to study and fulfill humanity.
Each one of the concepts covered in this year’s theme, “Identity, Security,
and Democracy,” in and of itself, evokes for me a great deal of connections
with theater worthy of exploration. For instance, one aspect of my research
project “Theater HerStory” is to reexamine the evolving and changing
identities of women as characters, performers, playwrights, directors, andproducers in the history of theater. Putting “Identity, Security, and Democracy”
together, however, seems to indicate a certain connectedness of these concepts.
I am personally interested in exploring their connections. Are theyinterdependent? Do they form a progression? Is there a causal relationship?
At this stage I can already see, though vaguely, how “Theater HerStory”
may well serve me as a historical model for exploring the connectedness ofthe notions of Identity, Security, and Democracy. More than a few importantjunctures in world theater history readily present themselves. For instance,
when looking at the theater of ancient Greece, arguably the cradle of Western
civilization as well as the world’s first democracy, it is of paramount significanceto highlight the fact that women were excluded from public life on andoffstage (there were female characters but no female performers). Was thedemocracy a true democracy when more than half of the adult population93

were noncitizens, deprived of political identity and economic security? Was
the exclusion of women the ultimate hamartia (tragic flaw) of the glorious
ancient democratic vision? I believe that the theater and its practices over theages and around the world (e.g. Renaissance Europe, Colonial America,
seventeenth-century Japan, Victorian England, modern China, and so on)
provide abundant material for exploring the theme of “Identity, Security,
and Democracy.”
In telling “Theater HerStory,” female characters (created by men, or
women themselves) help us understand a great deal the mores, values, andconflicts in the particular sociopolitical contexts in which they reside. Thechanging roles of women on and offstage is something of great interest tome. While the bulk of my research for “Theater HerStory” remains AngloAmerican, for the purpose of relevancy to this year’s ALFP, I will be focusing
on Chinese modern theater.
Women and Chinese moder
n drama
moderndrama
Unlike some of the Chinese classical theater forms, such as Beijing
opera and Kunqu opera, Chinese modern theater (known in China as huaju
or spoken drama, as opposed to the classical sung dramas) is not as widely
known beyond its own borders. It is precisely through this form of theater,
however, that I will be examining the changing and evolving roles of womenin China, from its early days as a Western import to the present time as China
faces all the contradictions in a globalizing world. My discussion focuses onfour distinctive periods, namely pre-1949, post-1949, 2 post-Mao, andpostmodern.
Vision of the “Ne
w W
oman”
“New
Woman”The Western-style drama was introduced to China and began to acclimatize itself there during the first decades of the twentieth century. Even
though there were earlier attempts, most Chinese history books date thebeginning of modern drama to 1907, when a group of Chinese students
who had studied in Japan started a literary and artistic society named Spring
Willow (chunliu she) and performed a stage adaptation of American writer
Harriet Beecher Stowe’s novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin, first in Tokyo then in Shanghai.
At the time, the majority of modern Western plays favored by Chinese
intellectuals and artists were in the mode of critical social realism. The playsthat challenged the existing religious institutions, questioned outmoded cultural values, and exposed social injustices (for instance, Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’sHouse, Bernard Shaw’s Mrs. Warren’s Profession, and Maxim Gorky’s The Lower
Depths) were warmly embraced and actively promoted by the proponents
94

of the New Culture Movement,3 and subsequently the May 4th Movement.4
Both saw the rise of feminism as part of a social and political movement
toward a more just and equitable modern democratic society. “Democracy”
and “Science” were seen as the means, and used as the rallying calls, formodernizing China.
From the very start, women were called upon to be actively involvedin the development of Chinese modern theater, as writers, performers, organizers, and audience members. A number of talented women had demonstrated their “comparability” with men by pursuing a modern education andpublicly participating in nationalist and feminist causes.
Modern spoken drama was seen as the antithesis of traditional Chinese theater both in form and content. The traditional repertoire seemed toperpetuate feudal order, Confucian ethics, and patriarchal values, and featured stories where female characters were judged by their adherence to the“Three Obediences” (father, husband, and son) and the “Four Virtues” (morality, propriety, modesty, diligence).
The difference between traditional theater and modern drama wasmost noticeable in the latter’s determination to realistically portray the livesof Chinese people. Chinese modern drama in that period started to present
women of all social classes and their issues, rallying sympathy and support
for their struggle for equality and liberty in matters of the heart and themind. For instance, China’s leading modern dramatist, Cao Yu, in plays suchas Thunderstorm (Leiyu), Sunrise (Richu), and Family (Jia ),5 introduced characterstrapped in loveless arranged marriages, victimized by injustices caused byfeudalism, imperialism, and capitalism, and who tried desperately to breakfree and fight back. It was hoped a type of “New Woman”—educated,
independent, competent, free, and able to pursue personal happiness andprofessional success—would emerge. But continuous wars and harsh realities made it an unattainable dream for most Chinese women, because China
as a nation was not free from oppression, exploitation or humiliation. Feminism as a social movement, however, was quickly set aside in favor of themore urgent needs of nationalism.
“Holding up half of the sky”“Holding
halfsky”
If the pre-1949 Chinese modern drama was preoccupied with fighting the existing feudal traditions and imperialist powers, after 1949 it, together with other theater forms, mainly served the ruling Communist government as an instrument of political propaganda and socialist mobilization.
With the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, the rights of women
to social, political, and economic equality with men were formally proclaimed,
but the implementation of these rights seemed cynically superficial.6 Mao
Zedong, calling upon women to become equals of men for the cause of95

socialist revolution and nation building, said that “women can hold up halfof the sky” and exalted them for “loving military attires but not red lipsticks.” As far as women were concerned, these famous words were held up
as expectations and even became coerced realities. National identity was prioritized over personal or gender identities.
Onstage, leading women characters were revolutionaries whose devotion was to the Party and to the socialist state, not to the family; they were
presented as asexual beings, divorced from traditional roles as mothers andwives, or at least with no immediate personal/familial ties. As a result, inmodern spoken drama as well as so-called modern model operas, we ended
up having a lot of women characters who were widowed or childless, or
who “conveniently” had their husbands and children out of the way. Leading ladies who became household names such as Qiu Xiang in Mount Azalea(Dujuan shan), Mrs. A-qing in Shajia Pond (Shajia bang) and Fang Haizhen in
Harbor (Haigang) are just a few examples. In those days, the complicatedinteraction between the needs of women and the needs of revolution wasnever adequately addressed on or offstage. Issues of identity were all simply
lumped under nationalism.
Time to reflect and experiment
The next critical stage of Chinese modern drama came in the1980s,
the post-Mao era, a time when the entire nation was wheeling back from theten-year-long national nightmare called the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution (1966 to 1976). In China, art and literature experienced a period oftremendous thaw and revival as the intellectuals and artists embarked on asoul quest, and as the nation slowly but resolutely lifted the bamboo curtain
to the outside world. What followed was a great output of philosophicaland experimental works: Absolute Signal (Juedui xinhao), Wild Men (Yeren), Red
Skirts Are Popular (Jieshang liuxing hongqunzi), Old B Hanging on the Wall (Guazai
qiangshangde laobi), WM, and Magic Cube (Mofang), to name just a few. Chinese
modern drama witnessed the rise of new important directors and writers,
many of whom were women. Women characters onstage came from allwalks of life: doctors, teachers, educated urban youth sent to the countryside, factory workers, peasants, women in the military, etc.
The plays from this period of incredible creative energy were innovative and experimental in style, and self-critical in tone. They dealt with themesof personal identity, political disillusionment (over the discrepancy between
revolutionary ideals and reality), and subsequent reawakening; challenged extreme ideologies and the blind faith in authority; and called for openness andtruthfulness. Trials and tribulations in characters’ lives—personal losses andtragedies—were shared and examined in the context of the national psyche
and political upheavals.
96

White-collar woes
With the arrival in China of market economy, and of globalization inrecent years, modern drama witnessed new and significant changes: reduced
government subsidies, rising costs of production, and more importantly,
competition from mass media, particularly television and film, for both theaudience and creative talents—all of which has posed new challenges. It is in
this context we will examine the emergence of the new so-called “whitecollar” drama and its accompanying women characters.
Chinese modern drama has always been an urban form. Now in cities
like Shanghai and Beijing it is increasingly an arena mostly for young urban
professionals, the “white-collars” between the ages of twenty-five and thirtyfive, who are not only in the audience but also onstage and behind the scenes,
in a large number of independently produced plays. The urge to participate
is strong—to see and be seen on and offstage is what propels some of therecent “white-collar” productions.
“White-collar” refers to both the subject matter of the plays and theirproducers and audiences. Recent plays such as Taking the Fat Out of Love
(Aiqing shousheng), Singles Apartment (Dansheng gongyu), WWW.com, White Collar
Stories (Bailing xinshi), Parties of Emotion (Qinggan paidui), Roses/Cigars/Snorkels(Meigui/xuejia/sinuoke), Perfume (Xiangshui), feature young urban professionals
of multinational companies, consulting firms, and IT businesses, and often
have themes of alienation, disillusionment, loneliness, longing, and unsuccessful personal relationships.
Typically, an independently produced “white-collar” drama has a small
budget, a small cast, and a smaller theater (e.g. the 200-seat Theater Saloon at
the Shanghai Dramatic Arts Center). Most participants (of whom many are
women), from producers to playwrights, directors and performers, have
limited previous theater experience. What they lack in theatrical expertise,
they make up for with enthusiasm and resourcefulness.
Invariably these shows mirror the life-styles, attitudes, values, sentiments, and fashions of those who produce the plays and those in the audience. Some of the plays even get nicknamed “petty bourgeoisie” (xiaozi),“love bubbles” (aiqing paopao) or “little women” (xiaonvren). One statement
made by Huang Angang, a businessman and occasional independent theater
producer, was quite cogent: “It’s another night club for the yuppies.” It somehow reminds one of the English Restoration period when modish young
aristocrats went to the theater to see and be seen, on and offstage, except
here the prevailing mood is not of the English satirical comedy of manners
but more of television soap operas.
In terms of women characters who are central to the “white-collar”
drama, one may say the “New Woman” envisioned by the New Culture
activists nearly a century ago has finally arrived. She is educated, financially97

independent, free to date or mate, but, ironically, also decidedly unhappy,
deeply troubled, anxious, frustrated, and confused as the world around hergoes through a sea of change. Nothing is fixed or anchored the way they
once were; as an individual, the “New Woman” has to constantly face andmake moral and ethical decisions in her professional and personal lives. Security is not assured, values are relative, and identity is in flux. It is true that inthis type of play the range of women characters is narrow, both in age andsocioeconomic status, but the emotions are universal, and the situations realistic.
Another thing that strikes any casual observer of “white-collar” drama
is that it is highly personal and determinedly “apolitical.” Critics may say the“white-collar” theater has derailed the political mission of Chinese modern
drama, which from its very beginning seems to have always been to present
specific visions of history and nationhood. I, however, tend to see merit inSingaporean theater director Ong Keng Sen’s statement that “perhaps thepolitical act is in the movement back into a personal freedom of expression,” with the young people “embracing the language of globalization, consumerism, appropriation without guilt and with a deliberate naiveté.” And“in their ironic refusal to comment is the comment.”7 Personal is political, allin the name of identity, security, and democracy.
For nearly one hundred years, China’s modern theater has served its
nation and people as a public forum and showcase. Through the womencharacters it presents, we see the heroic struggles, horrendous sufferings,soul-searching reflections, mind-boggling dilemmas, and lofty aspirations thenation as a whole, and women in particular, have experienced. Nowadays
we and the characters we create and see onstage are all involved in negotiating the difficult course of identity, security, and democracy in the global age.
Endnotes
1 Cohen, Robert, Theatre Brief Version, Sixth Edition, McGraw-Hill Higher Education,
2003, p. 4.
2 In 1949, the People’s Republic of China was established after the Communists
defeated the Nationalists and assumed the power to rule.
3 The movement aimed to introduce Western concepts in China, such as democracy,
equality, and liberty; also a new style of writing as well as the latest science and technology of the time.
4 A student-led demonstration on May 4, 1919 marked the beginning of the upsurgeof nationalist feeling, with unity of purpose among patriotic Chinese of all classes.
The movement grew out of dissatisfaction with the pro-Japan Treaty of Versailles andthe effect of the New Culture Movement.
5 A stage adaptation of Ba Jin’s novel of the same title.

98

6 Wolf, Margery and Roxane Witke (editors), Women in Chinese Society, Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1975.
7 Cited by Yoshiko Shimada in her presentation “Is the ‘Women and Peace’ era over?”to the ALFP on Oct. 14, 2004.

99

CRAFTING A PHILIPPINE CUL
TURE INDEXCULTURECULTURAL EDUCA
TIO
N AND IDENTITY BUILDING IN A
CULTURALEDUCATIO
TION
MUL
TI-ETHNIC SOCIETY
MULTI-ETHNIC
Karina Africa Bolasco

Introduction
It has been almost 40 years since Filipino historian Renato Constantino
first wrote about the miseducation of the Filipino in a weekly magazine in
1966. His wife, Letizia Constantino, in a joint monograph released in 1982
(She was then active in the Education Forum network, developing publications
to guide progressive teachers in a Teacher Assistance Program, most popularamong which was Issues Without Tears series.) analyzed how by funding thepurchase of public school textbooks in various developing countries, theWorld Bank has made sure the “miseducation assembly line”would just go
on and on. Constantino said then that miseducation deliberately intended tokeep new generations of Filipinos away from ideas of economic and politicalnationalism and like their elders, continue to believe in the discourse of “foreign
investments and political foreign interference in national affairs” and a “national
development program…securely founded on private enterprise, characterized
by export orientation, dependent industrialization, growth of capitalist
agriculture and agri-business, free trade, a free floating currency, hospitality
to transnational corporations, and chronic dependence on loans frominternational financial institutions.” She went to further describe this kind of
education:“The kind of educational system the World Bank wants toshape is therefore one that will meet the manpower needs oftransnationals, that will facilitate the development of the rural
areas in the direction of greater integration into the world farm
producing for the global supermarket, and above all, one thatwill insure the internalization by the entire student population ofvalues and outlooks supportive of the global capitalist system.”
Renato Constantino, in the same monograph that reissued his essay,lamented the fact that “…not one major educational leader has come out
for a truly nationalist education…no comprehensive educational program100has been advanced as a corollary to the programs for political and economic
anticipation.”
It was in this period of the late 70s and early 80s that I began to teachcollege students, after I graduated with a Literature degree. Like all the otherprogressive teachers wanting to shake students out of their apathy andcomplete resignation to the Marcos dictatorship, I taught an alternative history
and survey of Philippine literature. It was a history of resistance to colonialism,
and the literary pieces we chose were all critical of, and all fought back against,
Spanish, American and Japanese and even “Filipino” colonialisms. All schools
in the Education Forum therefore shared the same canon and principle thatthough schools are by nature conservative because they are socializing agentsof a society, they can be harnessed for social change if school knowledge(curriculum) and non-school knowledge (students’ objective and subjective
realities) are fully integrated in the process of transmission at the classroom
level. EF was organized on a critical thinking paradigm that questioned givens
and debunked myths. The Forum though was a minority; this kind of
education that greatly depended on the quality of teachers was not happening
in majority of private schools, only in those run by progressive congregations
who belonged to the Association of Major Religious Superiors of thePhilippines (AMRSP). This certainly was not happening in the public school
system, which had majority, over 90%, of the students in basic education.
In 1989, a published landmark investigation of national identity
formation in Philippine public elementary schools by Dr. Ma.Luisa Doronila(College of Education, University of the Philippines), The Limits of Educational
Change, revealed “some chilling findings,” among which were that if given a
choice, 95% of respondents would want to be citizens of another country—
first United States, and second, Japan. Philippines ranked third. The simple
question it asked, using a creative and rigorous research design, was: Are
Philippine schools educating Filipino children to be Filipinos?
It didn’t take long after the 1986 People Power that to some extent
Constantino the historian was discredited. His works were found too
sweeping without benefit of rigid and thorough documentation. The
Education Forum, just like all the other organizations and causes whose basisof existence was opposition to the Marcos dictatorship, naturally died. It
shouldn’t have, as the agenda of a nationalist education was not just a reaction
to the dictatorship, but given “that national identity is the most crucial politicalbelief every individual requires,” as stressed by Dr. Doronila, and given that
this is a prerequisite to “inculcating love of country,” which the Philippine
Constitution mandates shall basically guide the formulation of Philippine
educational policy.
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The education agenda, to this date, continually aided by World Bank in
textbook purchases and ten-year assessment programs, should finally recognize
and address the fact that “there is no universalistic set of orientations thatdefines national identity” for Filipinos. Still in place is an American colonialeducation, a vestige of the 1900 Thomasite-run public school system whichclearly in 1903 was a military strategy to pacify a colonized people and capture
their minds. General Arthur McArthur recommended a large appropriation
for this education as, “primarily and exclusively an adjunct to military
operations.” It is still largely Euro-American- centric. To many, especially the
public school teachers themselves who will be the first to vigorously object
to any such suggestions, it may not look that way anymore because they
conscientiously teach the proper singing of the national anthem and respect
for the flag, pledge of allegiance, the national symbols, costume, and historicalmonuments, all learned by rote and not integrated into their personal
experiences.. They teach pride in our rice terraces and other tourist spots,
pictures of which hang in school or are in textbooks. They encourage ourchildren to learn and perform well: recite poetry theatrically, paint and draw
to win contests, sing well individually or as choirs, or play the rondalla well,and dance our ethnic dances to foreign audiences’ delight but never engage
children in our own art history or art appreciation to raise audiences for
Filipino art. They play up our national traits: religious, hospitable, warm, frugal
and hardworking. They teach a de-politicized safe Philippine History, that isoften distorted or erroneous, and does not take pride in our long history offighting back colonizers. What, so far, it has given our young is a national
inferiority complex
Despite our resolve then to decolonize education, in the years of the
Marcos dictatorship, when our solidarity as a nation was at its strongest, weapparently hardly made a dent. Though we had the best of intentions, and apassionate commitment to it, it was sporadic, erratic, unsystematic, and largely
uninformed. Today, those progressive teachers continue to do that kind ofwork in their respective universities, sometimes as an informal faction, orvery often disconnected and isolated. Many of them are tapped by the
Department of Education’s national teacher-training program to show publicschool teachers in different regions how to localize education and integrate
disciplines into a whole rather than use the usual compartmentalized approach.
But again, hardly do such occasional seminars equip and empower enlightened
teachers whose enthusiasm and intellectual curiosity after going back to theirwork bases are quickly crushed by their principals and superintendents.
Again, these efforts do not even scratch the surface, what more stopor even reverse the “miseducation assembly line.” The intervention must be
official and create an impact on a massive scale, for it to mean anything at all.
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Str
addling Of ficia
vist Politics
Straddlin
addling
ficiall and Acti
Activist
Politics
The revolutionary movement against the Marcos dictatorship recruitedthe best and the brightest young Filipino men and women, many of whom
15 years later became bitterly disillusioned with grave mistakes of theCommunist Party of the Philippines. Trauma from military torture, detention,rape and other abuses, though in itself debilitating, according to them waseasier to deal with than torture and killing of comrades by their own comrades.
Haunted by their own personal memories, the best and the brightest went
back to their researches or creative works and teaching positions and becamedeans and university officials, even presidents. A good number moved over
to non-government organizations they founded, some with substantial funds
from Europe, and began to be active in the public sphere (Philippine civilsociety has been considered the most dynamic in Asia after 1986). Many
were coopted into running private companies or big business, or their own
family businesses. Many more were coopted into think-tanks of big politiciansor themselves into positions of political power, either elected or appointed.
The joke in our last national elections in May was that 95% of all campaigns
at all levels were run by former activists or members of the Communist
Party of the Philippines.
In this new socio-political landscape, it is not uncommon to negotiate
between official and activist politics, to work with hardcore businessmen or
bureaucrats and at the same time, like-minded activists.. Having shifted fromteaching to cultural production, specifically book publishing, I found new
ways of carrying out my personal dedication to social transformation. As abook publisher trafficking in ideas, it is always urgent for me to make as
wide a range of ideas as accessible as possible to the widest sectors of thegeneral public to allow for more informed and critical reactions to anddecisions on issues affecting them. Everyday practice of selecting what andwhose ideas to publish first has somehow formed my sense of what is
generally right or wrong in the context of the public good, yet balance thiswith the public’s right to know. Even harder to locate is that fine balance
between culture and commerce—what needs to be published must sell because
as a business that has to stay viable I have stakeholders I’m accountable to.
This practice extends to working with foundations and other companies
interested in co-funding book projects.
The other arena where negotiation is between state and activist politics
is in the Committee on Cultural Education, one of the 22 national committeesof the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), an agency
attached to the Office of the President. It has an endowment that has beenleft untouched all these years and continues to be funded by a portion of thetravel tax.
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The agency is composed of people from the different arts and cultural
work sectors nominated and invited to serve as volunteers for a period of 3
years, renewable for another 3 years. There is only modest honoraria to covertransport expenses to monthly meetings.
But the power is in being able to disburse funds to worthwhile proposals.
NCCA’s total budget is allocated according to the different aspects of culturaland artistic work—from preservation, conservation and restoration, to
education and artistic scholarships, to performances, and to researches andpublications. By the nature of its composition, it was easy for committees tobe run entirely by cliques.
At one point, the Historical Research Committee was partial to just
one historical association, and it was alleged that any proposals from the rival
association never went beyond first screening. This was seriously addressedby retiring many members and ensuring all the new ones represented
constituencies such as federations of artists in different regions of the country.
If there was a lions’ den, it would be the NCCA, and chairing it would
not be an enviable job. It is composed of intellectuals, artists and cultural
workers who are very opinionated or ideologically committed, vocal andassertive, yet many with differing vested interests and sometimes entrenchedin age-old rivalries. Such a fractious body, it would be highly possible not toeven agree on a definition of culture.
Cultural Maps
The first project I conceptualized and raised to the committee was thedevelopment, publication, and commercial distribution of what I called, forlack of a better term, cultural maps in 6 areas: Peoples and their Crafts,
Food, Festivals, Music, Dance, and Architecture. My idea was to identify ahundred (100) most important things a Filipino child should know in each ofthese areas. On a large rendering of the Philippine map, approximately 24’ X
36’, these 100 items shall be plotted out so that, for example in Music, in one
sweep the child sees what musical forms, instruments, folksongs, compositions,and composers are from his hometown or city, and which are from his
cousins’ hometown or city in the Visayas. Or that Mindanao has a wonderfularray of musical instruments very much like those of Malaysia and Indonesia.
Every map will be accompanied by a teacher’s Guide that contains a minidictionary which explains or defines all terms shown on the map. The intent
is for these maps to hang on classroom walls all year round, and even if they
are not formally discussed, they will allow children to subliminally learn theinformation to heart in much the same way they quickly learn the melody andlyrics of a song they constantly hear on radio or television.
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At the Board level, there were reservations over this proposal. Whatright does the Commission have to canonize and privilege certain artists andtheir works, and in effect, exclude others? How sure and reliable was theresearch to ensure the correctness and accuracy of all these 100 items we will
impart to every child? We were warned unlearning is a more draining process.
We argued that even now that we’re not doing it, someone else is, whether
wittingly or unwittingly, or someone else would, and do it badly. Really, it’salways been a sin of omission. If we remember how our grandparents weremade to memorize parts of Longfellow’s “Evangeline” and Jefferson’s
address in the Thomasite public school system, and how we in turn read
Irving Washington’s “Rip Van Winkle” and recited “O Captain My Captain”
by Walt Whitman, must we not ask why we did not read and memorize ourvery own whether in English or in Filipino? And is it not about time we did
this? If we are to err, should we not err on our own side and on our own
terms? Needless to say, we made sure we would be thorough and careful
and gave the process of research and selecting the 100 items in every area
more than enough time.
This crucial work of gathering, researching and finally selecting 100
items in every area was given to an NCCA committee officially in charge ofsaid area or field.: Dance map to the Dance Committee, Music map to theMusic Committee, and so on. It must be noted that the Art committees arecomposed of experts in the field who represent constituent groups: NGOsor artistic groups. Or even individual artists from different regions. This
therefore very awkwardly and insufficiently covered the need to consult at
the grassroots level assuming that indeed the composition of the committee
truly reflected the interests of all the members at large. Since the stakeholders
of different linguistic groups and geographical locations carry the closest ties
to their very own items in the list, they ideally should have been consulted.
Also, since a few committees were perceived as cliques which excluded otherschools of thought in their fields, there was a clamor to go to the different
regions to validate. But there were budget and time constraints. To address
this, and provide some form of validation, a panel of consultants was
designated to review all the lists from the committees. The selection tended
to favor the most known items, and the objection raised was whether or not
we needed in fact to include and privilege the least known. In the end, theconsensus reached was that for a first attempt, or for that first layer, it was
better to include the most known as the most popular were the most accepted
and therefore, the most vested, emotionally. The entire process took two
years to complete.
The visual rendering or artistic packaging of the maps, a vital andmost delicate aspect that can make or unmake them, was bidded out. Studies
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submitted by the winning bidder are now being reviewed and field-tested.
Printing shall also be bidded out to the private business to ensure that thesemaps will be released to the market and shall be made available commerciallyand continually, as opposed to being done by an NGO or government agency
who is likely not to care enough to market them. Money invested in suchprojects, if from a funding agency or a subsidy, is thought of as not urgently
needed to be recouped. Admittedly, such projects don’t have to be profitdriven but they necessarily end up so to stay viable as a business. Of course,
finding that fine balance between commerce and culture is always very tricky.
We seriously do have to look at what propels business without commodifying
culture, hopefully, because this is precisely how the Americans are globalizing(Americanizing) Asia and the rest of the world.
Nucleus of Nationhood
In The Limits of Educational Change, Dr. Doronila points out that because
our civic education is patterned after that of the Americans’ where there is aclear collective reality, our children don’t acquire an attachment to a politicalcommunity because historically our political community has evolved differently,
and at periods of classroom learning and transmission, students and teachers
have different objective situations. Without the congruence, no learning takes
place.
She proceeds to say that “… there is no universalistic set of orientations
that defines national identity, for its specific content has both cultural andhistorical dimensions which differ from one society to the next, and within asociety, from one epoch to the next. Thus it is possible to speak of Filipino
nationalism whose parameters may be similar in some ways to that of othernations but different in others.” She quotes from Eugene Kamenka’s Political
Nationalism: An Evolution of the Idea, “What is important is a conscious
psychological sense of nationhood. But what could become the nucleus of afeeling of nationhood and what could not, is a matter of detailed historicalcondition or historical accidents.”
She cites Clifford Geertz’s discussion of nationalism in nations formerlycolonized and newly established states that proposes “… a dichotomous
scheme for analyzing the basis of various definitions of national identity” butwhich in reality are elements always mixed.
Geertz further says “…nationalist idealogizing typically takes two forms:
the essentialist and the epochalist.” She explains that the essentialist definitionis“focused on the indigenous way of life in which local norms,
established social institutions and the unity of common cultural106

experience are used as the bases of the definition of the collective
identity. Although this has often been simplified in school mateials
as the ‘basic understanding of Philippine culture, the desirable
traditions and virtues of our people as essential requisites in attaining
national consciousness and solidarity,’ the problem of Filipino
scholars is considerably more complex. From the cultural diversityof the different ethnic groups that now comprise the state, they
have been and are trying to discover the criteria which these groups
can use to define their cultural affinities with one another.”
It looks inward into the national community, she further describes it,
to be able to select and make clear ‘the cultural basis of a nation in an effort
to make its political boundaries co-terminous with its ethnic boundaries.”
On the other hand, the epochalist definition is“focused on the historical processes by which the country has
developed to its present state, with these very processes being
used to define the commonalities in the historical experience ofthe ethnic groups that comprise the national community.”
In our case, these processes are precisely part of the colonial experience.
This takes an outward view of the national community with the intent ofhighlighting the unity of all ethnic groups within the nation-state on the basisof their colonial past and the processes of decolonization. She concludes
there is no contradiction in these two modes of defining national identity; it
is not one or the other but both. So when F. Landa Jocano writes in his book,Philippine Pre-history :“It is primarily the knowledge of the past which will enable us tounderstand better the roots of our national culture and toappreciate properly the dynamics of our contemporary society.
For it is not so much, I believe, that we have borrowed from theWest ideas and ways of life which have caused the paradox in our
cultural orientation. Rather, it is the continuous neglect of, if not
the suppression from, the learning process in schools and at homeof what are legitimately our own tradition, which contributes toour tacit acceptance of the idea that we have no cultural roots to
speak of. It is therefore in going back to pre-history that we canlearn more and understand better the major elements of our socialtransformation.”and our National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin writes in his now classic
book Culture and History:107

“Identity, I would say, is like the river in philosophy. You remember
the saying, ‘You can never step into the same river twice.’ The
river has changed even as you step into it. Nevertheless the Pasig
remains the Pasig, though from one moment to the next, it‘s nolonger the same river.
This is the dynamic view of identity.
I’m afraid we have a different view of identity: different because
we tend to regard culture and even history as static happenings—
and that term is so appropriate though it sounds so selfcontradictory . . . .we Filipinos tend to believe that culture is simple
addition, history is mere addition. We ourselves are, or were, afixed original identity to which certain things—alien cultures, alien
histories—have been added, layer upon layer. Therefore, if culture
is tradition, identity is subtraction. All we have to do is remove all
those imposed layers and we shall end up with the true basic
Filipino identity.”
they are actually both right. Joaquin is critical of the nativists or purists whotake only one view, and believe the true Filipino is the pre-colonial (Before
the coming of the Spaniards in 1521) native. And that to get there, and revealthat purity, the Filipino today must just be stripped off of layers of Spanish,
Chinese and American influences.
But so were Agoncillo and Constantino in their attempts to give us the
grand narrative of our struggles against the colonizers, which constitutes theother half of the history equation. And so are the proponents of the viewthat the Filipino today, with all of his or her past, is the Filipino. No question
about it, no discussion. As Raymond Williams says, “The history of the ideaof culture is a record of our reactions, in thought and feeling, to the changed
conditions of our common life.” After 1986, so many studies and researches
have contributed to, refined, fine-tuned, or nuanced and enriched our prehistory and historical processes of colonialism and decolonization. Tragically,
however, all these have not been inventoried and put together to form andinform our basic education curriculum, not even to generate the kind of
history textbooks we have long needed to build a nation that now seems
beyond imagining. I am reminded of Michel de Certeau’s The Practice ofEveryday Life, when he says, “Little by little, belief became polluted, like the
air and water. The motive energy, always resistant but manipulable, finallybegins to run out.”
So today it is not surprising that we still ask so uncomfortably the samequestions. Who is the Filipino? A citizen of the Philippines? One who holds a
Philippine passport and is stamped such everytime he or she travels to anothercountry? Are we all naturally Filipinos because we are born of Filipino parents108and are of this time and space, part of this collective life with its own waysof living and mode of interpreting common experience? Without effort,
without trying then do we become Filipinos by simply becoming part of thiscollective life? Are we Filipinos because we are working for the good of thePhilippines and Filipinos? What about the 7 million in diaspora to work forother countries but remit back their salaries to help our economy? Whatabout them who are forced to abandon their families because wealth andresources are so inequitably distributed here? Why are we not therefore byreflex pro-Filipino and patronize Philippine-made products instead ofAmerican imported goods? Why do we not care about the sovereignty, andstate and protection of our country’s resources for future generations? Do
we know what it means to be really politically and economically independent?
Why do we prefer paying to watch foreign artists over our very own orcontinue to be not alarmed that we don’t know even a single Filipino writer,
painter or scientist by the time we leave school. Why are we not concernedthat we don’t get to exercise our rights except perhaps the right to vote every
election time? Can our sense of our own rich heritage and history root our
pride, and deepen it? Beyond the national anthem and the pledge of allegianceand all the national symbols our civics curricula teach us, what forms andshapes our national consciousness, our sense of nationhood, and ournationalism, to be able to raise the quality of life of every Filipino?
This is not to argue on behalf of all those who push for high culture
versus the popular culture of the masses, normally considered gullible, fickle,
low-taste, vulgar, or slapstick. Nor for the elitist thinking that we are in sucha mess because the masses are poorly educated and ready to elect an unqualified
actor into the presidency. This is to argue for the urgency of a culture index
that will constitute a shared body of knowledge, a fundamental prerequisite
for one’s national identity and nationhood just as a shared family line andpast, same family values and practices establish an individual’s identity.: A
person’s family name is not just a name but announces everything that comeswith that family name. As Filipinos, we too own a shared heritage and history,
the knowledge of which is not common to all. We all must have a common
knowledge of our defining moments, our triumphant struggles as a nationof many groups, and know by heart the stories of our great men and women
who fought back and were consequently branded as bandits by the colonizer
or authority—all these to constitute some form of solidarity which is whatmakes a society cohere.
Raymond Williams in his book Culture and Society says:“Our problem is one of adapting our social training to a widely
literate culture. It is clear that the highest standards of literacy incontemporary society depend on a level of instruction and training
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far above that which is commonly available.. . . The content ofeducation, as a rule, is the content of our actual social relations,and will only change as part of a wider change.”
In my six years as chair of the National Committee for Cultural
Education at the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA),
we made it a point to limit our work to formal education, as opposed to allother kinds of cultural work (play, concert, a museum visit, a tour, etc.)
which, strictly speaking, could be considered cultural education. This wasdeliberate, and it clearly guided us in our evaluation of walk-in projects. Ourreasons for this focus are:
1.The schools are the most powerful shapers of a collective or
national consciousness. They are huge and widespread working
with the country’s young half of the population.
Every year they produce the country’s labor force, professionals,
artists, opinion makers and leaders.
2. They’re the only other force aside from mass media.
Every Filipino child’s day is divided only between time spent inschool and time spent watching television.
It certainly was no longer enough to merely continue funding the seminars
and workshops conducted by teacher-training NGOs among public andprivate school teachers. Schools have for so long been underutilized out of
ignorance and debilitating bureaucracy, lack of political will, and inability tomatch the machinery with the right operators, so to speak. Primarily too, andclearly, it was a situation where all the players didn’t, and therefore could notwork from it, have a shared body of knowledge. It was time, we thought, to
do interventions at the Department of Education level and secure official
approvals for projects, initiated by the Committee itself, to be carried out
within the public school system. These moves will be timely and shall coincidewith the introduction of the new Makabayan (Local word for nationalistic)
curriculum that integrates music, arts, physical education, home economics,
technology and civics and culture and history, and the fact that the Department
is now being run by former activists.
The Philippine Culture Index
Again from Williams, and lengthily, I indulge my readers to let mequote, part by part as needed by the discussion:“A culture, while it is being lived, is always in part unknown, inpart unrealized. The making of a community (or a nation, mine)is always an exploration, for consciousness cannot precede creation,
110and there is no formula for unknown experience. A goodcommunity, a living culture, will, because of this, not only makeroom for but actively encourage all and any who can contributeto the advance in consciousness which is the common need.”
Let this be the context of our proposal for crafting a Philippine Culture
Index (PCIP)—that a culture is a total way of life and is lived, and therefore
why and how are we to list down indices for it? Every ethno-linguistic
group (and there are around 130), every community, all over the Philippines
has its own culture, certainly not known to many, or a majority, or all of theFilipinos. Don’t we then build a national culture by knowing each other’scommunity culture and recognize the same experiences, the same thoughts
and feelings, the same ideas and imagination? The same repressed past yet
glorious too? Or even to note and understand the differences, big or small. Is
it possible to agree on certain truths or items, not just facts like the size andpopulation of our country or a list of our natural resources, and see them asties that bind us as a nation? Some opposed the Index not only for whatsuch lists inherently exclude but also because they find them plain elementaryand crude, or naïve.
Or as Art historian and critic from the University of the Philippines
Patrick Flores, in reaction to a hastily-put-together alternative art canon for
Filipinos for a turn-of-the-millennium project, commented that Isagani Cruz,
critic, professor and playwright from De La Salle University: “… makes it
appear that putting up a canon to dismantle the prevailing Eurocentric one isthe only way to gain pride as a race.
Flores proceeds to ask: “For whom and against whom do we invoke
achievement and what do we mean by it? A sense of identity, well-being,dignity, grace, and fulfillment?” He, in effect, questions an elitist canon even if
Filipino just as the successive independent Philippine governments after 1946
did not work for the people’s welfare.
But maybe this is where we are, and this is what we need to do—craft
a common body of knowledge and understanding on Philippine culture that
includes but is not limited to concepts, values, ideas, events, expressions,persons, places, icons, signs and symbols. It shall not be a mere list of
information but shall include for every entry a comprehensive context of its
meaning—historical, sociological, anthropological, psychological, dialecticallyengaging our history and its contradictions with its culture and art. It will
include debates on various issues or concepts. For example, with the Filipino
flag as entry, not only will the historical background be given, nor the small
stories around, behind and about the design and symbolism, the women
who sewed it, etc. but also the questions and debates, including the Mindanao
claim that because they’re not represented anywhere in the flag, how then can
111they see themselves belonging to this nation (From Nagasura Madale). It will
not be a mere static stock knowledge replacement of the Eurocentric content
of education but a dynamic engaging index that will show ongoing discussions
and recent findings.
What should set this apart from all other state-funded legitimation
projects is that this index shall be put together through peoples consultations,after communities have critically reviewed what they know about themselves,
and taken stock of gaps, errors, inaccuracies and misinformation, prejudices,and proceed with a resolve to correct these. When people who know theyshare a common history are empowered as citizens of a nation, will they not
actively participate in the affairs of that state? Setting a canon that truly
replaces the colonizer’s, and is not just a mitigated version of it, is the firstgrossly overlooked step we should have taken a long time ago. If only tocompletely discredit history textbooks that extol colonization for its legacies
to our people of education, democracy and health and sanitation and fail toexpose the torture and massacre of Filipinos in the same colonizers’ hands,
and ensure the writing of correct ones, then the Index should have served apurpose.
Evidence has shown that a society, if it decides to, can train or shape its
members in almost any direction but what is important, according to Williams,“…is not that we are all malleable—any culture and any civilization dependon this—but the nature and origin of the shaping process.”“Wherever we have started from, we need to listen to others
who started from a different position. We need to consider every
attachment, every value, with our whole attention; for we do notknow the future, we can never be certain of what may enrich it;
we can only, now, listen to and consider whatever may be offered
and take up what we can.” [Williams, Raymond, Culture and Society
1780-1950, p.320]
The Index is the natural destination of, or sequel to, the cultural maps.
It will be on a grander and more comprehensive scale. Initial lists gatheredfrom existing bodies such as school curricula, textbooks, encyclopedias,
museums and archives, lore and histories and stories shall be validated in the
different places and by communities themselves. They will then decide whichof their own they feel strongly should be known by others and should becontributed to the national list every Filipino must eventually know. This is
like putting together an inventory of all our resources as a nation, and such an
inventory we need badly either as our defense against globalization or as ourposition in the global scheme of things. Or as both.
When we threw this idea to a panel of experts across arts and disciplines,
and from all throughout the country, it was immediately judged as not doable,112a highly probable “bloody” and emotional exercise and therefore divisive as
communities decide which are the most important to them. In that consultation
alone of very enlightened cultural workers, two from Mindanao questioned
including our designated Natrional Artists in the list of what should bind us
as a nation? We cited Fernando Amorsolo, the grand old man of Philippine
art, Manila-born but loved painting the romanticized (in the way of the west)
provincial or rural scenery – the idyllic farm scene. The Mindanao
representatives asked why they have to know him. His paintings do not resonate
with their life in Cotabato and argue they cannot even feel for him. Besides,
they question also the selection process for these National Artists declared
only by Manila. They also raised, and validly, the question: how will those
who grew up and decided to stay in the provinces, not caring to bemainstreamed at all (meaning brought to Manila’s attention) and yet certainly
have an impact on their own local communities of young artists ever hope tobecome the country’s national artists. These were emotion-laden issues.
“The practical liberty of thought and expression is less a naturalright than a common necessity. The growth of understanding is
so difficult that none of us can arrogate to himself, or to an
institution or a class, the right to determine its channels of advance.
Any educational system will reflect the content of a society; anyemphasis in exploration will follow from an emphasis of common
need. Yet no system, and no emphasis, can be adequate, if they
fail to allow for real flexibility, real alternative courses. To denythese practical liberties is to burn the common seed. To tolerate
only this or only that, according to some given formula, is tosubmit to the phantasy of having occupied the future and fenced
it into fruitful or unfruitful ground.” [Williams, Culture and Society]
Diversity has to be recognized especially within an effective community
which disposes of majority power. To build solidarity as a nation, diversity
has to be sustained, and viably, without creating causes for wanting to separate.
This is most tricky, most delicate. Local cultures must be nurtured, and thefinest from each must be drawn to enrich the national culture. The buildingof a nation is not incompatible with keeping our native traditions and distinct
languages and cultures. The urgency is to help form a united, strong, sovereignand democratic nation and harness all our resources toward this effort.
“Solidarity, as a feeling is obviously subject to rigidities, which
can be dangerous in a period of change. The command tocommon action is right, but there is always the danger that thecommon understanding will be inadequate, and that its enforcement
will prevent or delay right action. No community, no culture, canever be fully conscious of itself, ever fully know itself. The growth113

of consciousness is usually uneven, individual and tentative innature.” [Williams, p.319]
This project, through a proper Resolution was approved and allocateda substantial budget in 2003. It helped that the CuItural Center of thePhilippines (CCP) president, Nestor Jardin, shepherded the proposal at theBoard level, which is composed of the 4 Subcommissioners (Conservation
and Restoration, Traditional communities, Arts, and Cultural Dissemination),heads of other cultural agencies like the CCP, the National Museum, theNational Historical Institute, Institute of National Language, Department ofTourism, Education Committee Chairs of both Congress and the Senate,
and the National Archives. It certainly will not start from nothing; a firstgroup of researchers can immediately work and draw from all that’s been
written and published. A first list can then be sent out to regional
representatives for validation. Island-wide consultations can be organized toenrich a first list. Let me end with another quote from Williams :“The idea of culture describes our common inquiry, but ourconclusions are diverse, as our starting points were diverse. The
word culture cannot automatically be pressed into service as any
kind of social or personal directive. Its emergence, in its modern
meanings, marks the effort at total qualitative assessment, but what
it indicates is a process, not a conclusion.”

114

ACTING ASIAN IN A GLOB
ALIZING WORLD:GLOBOBALIZINGA FEMINIST PERSPECTIVE FROM SRI LANKA
Sepali Kottegoda

Introduction
When the topic for this symposium was first discussed among us fellows,
the main question that came up was whether there is something called an“Asian” identity. After all, the program that we were all there for in 2004, inJapan, was called the “Asia” Leadership Fellow Program which, in itself,framed us, from seven different countries, as having one identity: Asian. We
understood that “being Asian”—as opposed to being from any other partof the world—was the key to our selection. This is an area of inquiry which
has become increasingly interesting for me and although I do not claim
expertise in the study of identity, I feel I could explore some ramifications of
my own location in South Asia.1 Hence, I venture into this inquiry from theperspective that rather than engage in a discussion about a whole singular
Asian identity, it might be more useful to examine the concept as arising fromthe phenomenon comprising the social, cultural, political, and economic
affinities of certain subregions within a particular geographical location.
Geography
The concept of “Asia” is, it can be argued, quite ambiguous in that as,
for example, in the case of Africa, it is a result of the colonial powers defining
a particular geographical area with a common identity for their own strategicinterests. For our purposes, the discussion of Asian identity may be better
served if we recognize this as an important denominator in exploring thequestion of whether we are “acting Asian” or “being Asian.”
The question is: What is it that we, fellows, are all supposed to share in
the eyes of the world that would bind us together and enable us to strengthen
our ties with each other and recognize that there is an Asian-ness that is
integral to our identity?
Firstly, we are from a geographical area called “Asia” which stretchesfrom Sri Lanka, Bhutan (South Asia), Vietnam, the Philippines, and Indonesia(Southeast Asia) to Japan, China (East Asia), and, of course, the West Asianas well as Central Asian countries. The describing of a particular area as“Asia” is a relatively recent historical phenomenon. From the perspective of
those of us living in this geographical area or continent, the term Asia clearly
115

derives from a history of colonization by European nations who termed us
as “the other’’—different in color, culture, language, social identities, andlocation.2
The specific geographical proximity of those countries which share
this history of invasions that expanded the political and economic control of
the European colonial powers, then, resulted in us being identified as “Asian.”This imposed identity, today, has specific characteristics that enable us torecognize certain aspects of commonality, if primarily at the subregional
level, which may link us to an Asian identity.
Ethno-cultural affinity
The continent of Asia has a distinct mix of religions which, it can beargued, contributes to creating a specific identity. This mix is specific in that
there are large sections of the population in the Asian continent which adhere
to one of the major global religions. The region has followers of Buddhism(Zen/Theravada/Mahayana/Vajrayana), Christianity (Protestantism/Roman
Catholicism), Hinduism, Islam, and tribal religions, the various subregional
combinations of which distinguish the region from other continents.
For example, Hinduism and Buddhism originated in India and spread
across most of the continent through emissaries, traders, and political invasions.
Sri Lanka received Buddhism and Hinduism from India; there is a legendthat Gautama Buddha himself visited Sri Lanka on three occasions and theplaces he stayed at are now sacred places of worship. Buddhism is said tohave reached Japan via Korea and China. Indonesia has archaeological evidenceof an extensive spread of Buddhism and Hinduism in previous periods,
while Indo-China continues the practice of Buddhism combined with
Hinduism. Islam, the main religion in Indonesia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, andMalaysia, has significant numbers of adherents in most of our countries.
Christianity came to this region on a large scale through first the Portuguese
and Spanish, then the Dutch and the British at the height of the Westerncolonization of Asia in the last few centuries. Hence, today, most of thecountries of Asia have a distinct combination of forms of religious worshipwhich, given its geographical reach, play an important role in guiding thesocial, economic, cultural, and political directions of these societies.
If, for the sake of argument, we were to place Sri Lanka in the “South
Asian” context, we would note the following: the country has a populationof nineteen million which is multiethnic and multireligious; 74 percent are
Sinhalese (Theravada Buddhists and Christians), 18 percent Tamil (Hindu andChristian), and 9 percent Moors/Malays (Islamic). While Hinduism andBuddhism arrived from India more than two thousand years ago, thecountry’s more recent history—directly linked to its current identity as an“Asian” nation—bears witness to close to half a millennium of colonization
116

by Western powers. The coastal areas of the country were colonized first by
the Portuguese (sixteenth century) and the Dutch (seventeenth century); theBritish colonized the whole country from the eighteenth century to the midtwentieth century.
The continuous period of colonization in Sri Lanka left its mark interms of the introduction of Western religions and forms of attire, and theinclusion of words from the Portuguese, Dutch, and English languages in thelocal Sinhala and Tamil languages. These cross-cultural exchanges can be seen
in several other Asian countries which have been subjected to colonial rule in
the past few centuries.
Similarly, we might refer to an example from another subregion ofAsia whose identity was derived from a common history of colonization.
Benedict Anderson demarcates the identity of Southeast Asia as “a region
which offers splendid opportunities for comparative theorizing since it comprises areas formerly colonized by almost all the great imperial powers (England, France, Holland, Portugal, Spain and the United States) as well as uncolonized Siam.”3
Hence, it can be argued that there are shared histories which link us in
an “Asian” identity but which also indicate differences in specific aspects.
Linguistic linkages and affinities emerge as another dimension which
creates this relationship at least at subregional levels. The Chinese language, in
its written form, is influential in a number of other geographically neighboring
languages distinguished by different nationalities, for example, the Japaneseand Korean languages. Similarly, the Sanskrit language in the Indian
subcontinent had been highly influential in the evolution of the Sinhala, Burman,
Malay, Bahasa Indonesian, and Thai languages. The ancient language of Pali isshared in the religious stanzas of Buddhism whether recited in Bhutan, Burma,
Laos, Thailand, Cambodia or Sri Lanka.
Other sociocultural peculiarities
In this perspective then, South Asia, for example, is a subregion withsociocultural affinities among its nations centered around India. Similarly, it
can be argued that East Asia is a subregion centered around the greater
Chinese civilization while Southeast Asia is a mix of certain socioculturalelements with Malaysia, Cambodia, and Burma finding closer affinities withthe entity of South Asia, and the Philippines and Vietnam closer to that ofEast Asia.
In her examination of women’s subordination, D. Kandiyoti argues
for a focus on the nature of patriarchal sociocultural practices in the “Muslim
Middle East (Iran), East Asia (China) and South Asia (India).”4 The argument
here is, there is a continuum of certain aspects of patriarchy and the resultant
subordination of women across national boundaries—in marriage patterns,
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in inheritance, in the hierarchical distribution of power within households,
which certain societies share within the geographical area known as “Asia.”
Others have narrowed their perspectives to a specific subregion as
forming the basis of their “Asian” commonalities. K. Bhasin and N. S. Khanargue that feminist inquiry in the South Asian subregion was a result ofa transformational process which started in South Asia in
the 19th century as an organized and articulated stand against
women’s subordination. . . . The voices against women’s
subordination during this period took the form of a demand
for the possibility of widow remarriage, for a ban on
polygamy, the practices of sati and of purdah, and demands
for the education and legal emancipation of women.5
One might well draw on Anderson’s conceptualization of nationalism
as “. . . an imagined political community—and imagined as both inherently
limited and sovereign” for one to come to an understanding of an Asian
identity.6 From this perspective, one could argue that, while there is no single
Asian individual representative of the whole of Asia, it is more the case of
subregional or subcontinental identities which contribute to a composite larger
identity called the “Asian.”actions
Politica
oliticall and economic interinteractions
In the arena of politics and economic linkages and affinities, several
aspects come to mind.
On the one hand there is a long history of political interaction between
various societies at the subregional or subcontinental level: either as interstate/polity alliances and friendships or as disputes and confrontations. In somesubregions, some polities have waxed and waned as subregional powers,
subordinating their neighbors. Geographical proximities have also enabledclose economic ties between neighbors and within and sometimes between
subregions.
One the other hand, in modern times, one sees the emergence, in the
post-Second World War period, of a number of regional institutions andcooperative mechanisms, which draw on area-specific commonalities: forexample, economic and political cooperation to strengthen the bargaining
powers of its constituent members in relation to other world regions. The
United Nations categorizes the entire geographical area of Asia and Australia
and the Pacific Islands as coming under the purview of the Economic andSocial Commission for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP).
The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) forms agrouping of countries at a subregional level on the basis of economic and118political cooperation for the improvement of trade and economic growth in
the designated geographical area. Similarly, the South Asian Association for
Regional Cooperation (SAARC) recognizes the specificities of the countries
in the region as being different from those of other regions. What is ofinterest here is that these subregional groupings necessarily require us torecognize that while the notion of “Asian-ness” sets us apart from Americans
or Europeans, there is still a strong perception that the differences and specificities
among the countries in Asia necessarily warrant discrete institutionalarrangements to engage in exchanges/relations that would be more beneficial
and successful for their constituent member countries.
Similar collective mechanisms have emerged in the nongovernmental
sector. The Asian Regional Exchange for New Alternatives (ARENA) is but
one of the organizations at the nongovernmental level which draw on theperception of a common Asian identity as the basis for exploring andencouraging cultural and social interactions among their constituent member
countries. Women’s organizations with a shared concern on issues of
discrimination against women have come together as the Asia Pacific Women
Law and Development Organization or the Asia Pacific Women’s Watch(APWW), again drawing on notions of belonging to the territory of “Asia.”
Likewise, there is LAWASIA that brings the legal profession together regionwide.
However, even within such continent-wide formations, there aresubregional specificities factored into the life of these regional institutions. In
some of the regional women’s organizations, for example, while there is an
overarching commitment to work toward gender equality, there is nonethelessa recognition that there are some issues—for example the practice of dowry
deaths (South Asia) or the issue of “comfort women” (East Asia)—which
are subregion-specific and hence require organizational strategies and policies
that conform to analysis and actions arising from historical, political, andeconomic specificities in the causes and consequences of these phenomena.
The recognition of these specificities has also resulted in subregional gatherings
such as South Asia Women’s Watch (SAWW), which shares information on
and analyses of the situation of women in the seven constituent member
countries, and channels these analyses into the broader network of APWW inlinking up with the wider range of concerns on the empowerment of womenat the regional level.
Economic linkages:”Asian-ness” within globalization
Globalization is the modern buzzword whether we are talking about
the production and sale of soft drinks, industrial technology, or the
manufacture of footwear or clothing. The rapid expansion in the movementof capital, goods and services, and labor across national and regional
119

boundaries has been unprecedented since the initial explorations from theEuropean continent to the far reaches of the world several centuries ago.
Some of the outcomes of this legacy of colonization we have discussed
above. As we argued, the very notion of “Asian-ness” is an outcome, partly,of this historical experience.
The focus here is to recognize that what was then colonization is now
indisputably packaged as “globalization.” What is of interest here is theincorporation of certain perceptions of “Asian” characteristics into the schemeof globalization which has become the backbone of the success of key
economic ventures undertaken in the region.
For example, if we look back into our colonial histories, we would seethat labor required for agricultural or industrial ventures, for example in thetea plantations set up by the British, rested on the wholesale transportation
and relocation of sections of the colonized populations, on the basis of
ethnicity or caste, to other areas/countries. Hence, Sri Lanka and Malaysia
witnessed the arrival of thousands of Tamils from South India brought overby the British masters to work as indentured labor in the plantation sector.
The subjugation of these peoples as the “colonized” and the control exerted
over every aspect of their lives ensured that they were a compliant workforce.
The distribution of these workers among the different tasks requiredin these plantations was based on “gendered” notions of capabilities; hence,for two centuries, women have had the primary task of picking tea leaves,working more than eight hours in the field from the early hours of themorning on a daily basis. The deciding factor here is the notion that womenare more skillful with their fingers and are more capable of working in adesignated area for long hours in a day. In Sri Lanka, until a decade ago, thewages of women plantation workers were paid to their spouses, apparently
on the grounds that women would not have the capacity to handle monies
whereas men would.
In the more recent period of “globalization,” we can recall that in the
1970s, South Korea and Taiwan were among the first Asian countries tointroduce into the region “Export Processing Zones” or “Free Trade Zones”
geared toward mass production for international markets on the basis ofpiecework. There has been a concentration on the production of items suchas electronic chips, clothing, and footwear, for example, using female labor
between the ages of eighteen and thirty. The rationale for using this sectionof the workforce is the notion that they embody “Asian” female qualities
such as respect for and obedience in the face of hierarchical structures,
nonaggressive behavior patterns, and skills relating to domesticity such as
sewing.
This so-called “docile” nature of young Asian women and their“nimble fingers” are as highly valued as the commodities they produce inhundreds of garment manufacturing factories and electronic industries in the120East Asian region; the adequate supply of this source of labor makes it easy
for employers to dismiss women whose productivity might suffer in theevent of marriage or childbirth. In South Asia, Sri Lanka was identified as an
ideal location with a relatively well-educated female labor force which, it wasnoted, still had those “Asian” qualities of women—docile, nonaggressive,
hardworking, and employable at low wages.7
Mig
ork
ers
Migrr ant w
work
orkersThe other key area in the economy where women have been targeted
for embodying the qualities of the “Asian” woman is in state-level measures
which facilitate the export of women as migrant housemaids in West Asian
countries. Sri Lanka, Indonesia, and the Philippines are among Asian countries
which send out thousands of women every year to work as housemaids;
their remittances now form an important component of the national incomesof these countries. In Sri Lanka, this policy has also brought about changes inperceptions of ethnicity-centered qualities of women. Over the past two
decades, women from the Muslim community, generally expected to be lessmobile compared with their Sinhala and Tamil counterparts, have migrated
out of their villages and the country for employment overseas along with
Sinhala and Tamil women.
From the West Asian countries, the demand is usually for married
women between the ages of thirty and forty-five to work for periods between
two and five years. This category of women are deemed the most suitablesince they are perceived to be already socialized in the “Asian” tradition to begood mothers and responsible homemakers who can be safely given thetasks of child care and housekeeping in the employer’s home. The fact thatthe remittances of these migrant workers contribute immensely to the nationalcoffers has meant that it is in the interest of the sending countries to encouragesuch avenues of employment for women.8
Women as the kkeeeepers of tr
aditioneeperstradition
The impact of this integration of women into the active labor force
can be seen in the increase in the number of women working outside theirhomes or undertaking subcontracted piecework within their homes. Thesedevelopments have in turn resulted in changes in living styles, consumption
patterns, sexual behaviour, and marriage patterns. The expansion of avenues
for skills training, education, and general mobility of women has increased
their visibility in the public sphere. There is an emerging fear among some
sections that these changes also endanger the “Asian-ness” of the qualities ofwomen and pose challenges to the dominance of the male-headedhousehold.9121Strangely, there seems to be little questioning of why it is only women’s
behaviour, style of dress or mobility which seems to symbolize the “Asianness” of our culture. After all, changes in men’s clothing, for example, fromtraditional to Western seem to have been approved by society very smoothlywith not a hint of the social turmoil brought about by changes in women’s
dress code. It seems, unfortunately, that women continue to be seen as the“signifier” of cultural identity.
Acting/Being AsianSo, I come back to the main theme of this paper. Are we “acting”
Asian or are we “being” Asian in this globalizing world? Do we, in our quest
to preserve our “Asian” cultures, also defend those oppressive patriarchal
structures which, for example, result in girl children being discriminated against
in terms of access to food or education, or uphold the notion that a woman
is subjugated first to the authority of her father, then her husband, and thenher son? Rather we should recognize that in the subregions which comprise
the geographical area known as “Asia,” it is possible to negotiate and relocate
our specific identities within a nondiscriminatory, nonexploitative framework,
whether it is in the arena of social cultural practices or economic exchanges.
There is clearly a need to recognize the rising economic powers ofseveral countries in this geographical region called “Asia.” Today, India, China,
and Japan as major centers of production and trade in the subregions ofSouth Asia and East Asia are the uncontested economic giants in the region.
As such, one can argue that these countries are redefining the global economicmap.
Endnotes
1 I would like to thank Lakshman Gunasekara whose constructive comments weremost useful in revising this paper.
2 Mohanty, C., A. Russo, and L. Torres (editors), Third World Women and the Politics of
Feminism, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
3 Anderson, Benedict, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of
Nationalism, the Philippines: Anvil Publishing Inc., 2003, p. xxxiii.
4 Kandiyoti, D, “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” in Gender & Society, Bloomington andIndianapolis, Vol. 2, Number 3, London: Sage Publications.
5 Bhasin, K. and N. S. Khan, “Some Questions on Feminism and Its Relevance inSouth Asia,” New Delhi, Kali for Women, 2002.
6 Anderson 6.
7 At the same time, it is also important to note that the same characteristics weresought and found in the setting up of export processing zones in Latin Americancountries; the rationale here appears to be related to the perception that such workers
share common characteristics as “third world” women.
8 Kottegoda, S., “Bringing Home the Money: Migration and Poverty in Gender Politics

122

in Sri Lanka,” plenary presentation at the International Conference on Women and
Migration in Asia, Developing Countries Research Centre, Delhi, December 2003.
9 De Alwis, M. and K. Jayawardena, Casting Pearls: The Women’s Franchise Movement in
Sri Lanka, Colombo: The Social Scientists Association, 2001; N. De Mel, Women and the
Nation’s Narrative: Gender and Nationalism in Twentieth-century Sri Lanka, New Delhi:
Kali for Women, 2001.

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124

Personal Takes

125

126

IMPRESSIONS OF A CUL
TURE
IMPRESSIONSCULTURE
Kinley Dorji

The on-sen—hot spring bath, Japanese style—is a great Japanese experience. Apart from being a wonderful bath, it depicts Japanese aestheticism
in all its finesse as well as the uncompromising cultural sensitivity of Japanesesociety. I learned that during my first visit to Japan, the hard way.
As a worthy journalist I had done my research and learned that one
thing you do not do is go to the public bath with your clothes on. You bathe
stark naked after going through the long-established norms of washing yourself. The etiquette is so important that Japanese society is seriously offended
by ill-bred gaijin (foreigner) who do not understand this. So I was more than
prepared.
I went to my first bath, proud to look like a samurai warrior in myyukata (robe). Just to be safe, however, I decided to wear my briefs as far as
the locker room. After confirming, discreetly, that the other men had undressed completely and had walked naked to the bath area, I quickly slipped
my underwear into the pocket of the yukata, which I left in the locker, andstrolled confidently through a bamboo partition into a large room where all
the men were preparing for the bath.
I was standing, straight and proud, in the middle of the room when I
noticed that every man in that room held a small towel with which he modestly covered his manhood. (I learned later that I should have brought thetenugui (towel), an essential article for the bath, from my room.) It was one of
the unforgettable moments of my life, standing there, among a crowd of
naked men, the only man without a towel.
I returned to Japan five years later, a much wiser self-professed public
intellectual. And, thanks to the Asia Leadership Fellow Program (ALFP), it
was to be a true learning experience.
A seventy-year-old friend, Okada-san, who had worked as a senior
volunteer in Bhutan in 2002, picked me up at the airport on August 30, 2004.
After we eventually figured out where he had parked his car and delayed
traffic at the tollgate because Okada-san had lost his ticket, we missed thehighway leading to Tokyo. Tired after a sleepless flight, I told Okada-san totake his time and fell asleep. Some thirty minutes later I woke up to findmyself alone in the car, which was rolling down a slope. I managed to pull
the hand brake and learned, when Okada-san caught up, that he had forgot127

ten to pull the brake when he went out to ask for directions.
I also learned that Okada-san was leaving the country again on a volunteer mission to Costa Rica. “You mean your wife doesn’t mind you leaving again so soon?” I teased. “No,” he said, “she’s very happy.” I thought
Okada-san was getting witty. In the following weeks I was to learn why hiswife was genuinely pleased to get him out of the country.
It was not just Okada-san. I knew a number of JICA (Japan International Cooperation Agency) senior volunteers in Bhutan and visited them in
Kobe and Hokkaido. They were incredibly wonderful hosts who wentsightseeing with me all day and, in Hokkaido, drove me long distances so I
can look at plant life. I was genuinely apologetic for wasting their time but
the answer was consistent: “No problem. We are free. We have nothing todo.”
It was not a happy freedom. My friends, postwar babies now retired,were dealing somewhat helplessly with the twilight years of their lives, allalone. Apart from more than 30,000 Japanese who are over 100 years, there
are several million unemployed senior citizens. Shibuya-san in Kobe explained
to me that many of them had never spent much time at home during theirworking lives so their wives found their daily presence difficult to deal with.
That was why couples were divorcing late in their lives.
Ten weeks in Japan, with the insights provided by our interaction witha number of “progressive liberals,” showed us some of the anguish behindthe facade of an incredibly successful and wealthy society we see from an
Asian perspective. And it was the Asian-ness of this perspective that helped
us understand the emotions that lie behind what Western society likes to callthe inscrutable face of Japan.
Vivid images of the war in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum
evoke in the visitor memories of a difficult, hard-fought war. History cameagonizingly alive when we had dinner with an A-bomb survivor who had
undergone surgery twenty-seven times. Equally painful are the reminders of
the atrocities committed by Japanese soldiers in East and Southeast Asia. A
senior Japanese scholar could not choke back the tears when he recapped theexperience. It was difficult not to get emotional when he personally apologized to the fellows from China and the Philippines for the behaviour of his
countrymen.
The mixture of distress and regret as well as the sensitivity of the topic
itself was palpable when we met a writer who has literally torn apart themyth of the kamikaze pilots. She too was overwhelmed by emotion as shetalked about what she had learned from the diaries of the young pilots who
had sacrificed their lives for their country. She appeared to share the sufferingof those reluctant heroes during the last nights in their camps and the night128

mares that preceded the solemn oaths they took before their emperor the
next day.
We came across a deep discomfort when we discussed nationhood as
it was symbolized by the emperor, the national flag, and the national anthem.
I picked up the distinct impression that these obvious symbols of the motherland were perceived to be tainted. The postwar generation of Japanese is
not comfortable with history. Apart from Singapore, which has pragmatically chosen to bury the past, Japan continues to be confronted by its Asianneighbours for the “war crimes.” And I do not think it helps that debate on
the issue is generally avoided.
As I tried to meditate in the beautiful surroundings of the International
House of Japan (I-House) garden, it was difficult not to feel the weight ofJapanese history.
The seven visiting fellows of 2004 decided to “act Asian.” We were allsensitive to the nuances that we perceived. We understood that there weresome issues we must not confront. Although Japan widely acknowledged
the fact that the aging population was a problem we were not supposed to
ask women why they did not want children, or husbands in some cases. Aninterpreter squirmed when I asked her if she had children. A young Ainu
artist gave us a lesson in Ainu art and ate dinner with us but it was rude to ask
her, even academically, why she seemed to distance herself from other Ainu.
The dynamic head of a major corporation was quick to admit thatJapanese corporations took too much of their employees’ time and kept
them away from their families. But there appears to be nothing being done
about it and, as a Japanese journalist worries, young men like his son rarely
see their parents because they come home after midnight and leave for work
before daybreak.
Even as Japanese thinkers are beginning to question the quality of lifein this rich society and the level of happiness of the people, I believe thatJapan, as an Asian leader, deserves a better global image. Today Japan’s international stature is assured mostly because of the large funds it contributes,
but poor communications mar its public face. Although this has been attributed to poor language I believe that culture, which prevents the Japanesefrom open and forthright discussions, contributes to the impression that theJapanese are “difficult” to deal with. An attitude problem also emerges particularly when Japanese men deal with women.
The I-House and the Japan Foundation (JF) earned my healthy respect
by giving us valuable exposure to some of the more unsavory aspects ofJapanese society. This included the government’s apparent discrimination
against the Korean and Buraku minorities in Kyoto. A day visit showed thelayers of tension as local Korean communities complaining about discrimi129

nation themselves rejected newer arrivals among them. In Hokkaido the Ainu
culture has been reduced to a small museum and an enchanting restaurant
where we—the chosen Asian public intellectuals and our I-House and JF
friends—sang a Beatles song with a cultural cringe.
Every visitor to Japan knows, today, that Japanese culture seems to hit
you as soon as you arrive. This is perhaps why one writer says, “The Japaneseare so convinced that they are different from everyone else that it is easy to
become convinced.” Given the almost insurmountable language problem, it
is extremely difficult to dig beneath the surface. So it was fascinating for me
to learn how closely linked Japan is to the United States. Every Japanese
intellectual we met seemed to personify a “love-hate” relationship with the
U.S. We even met Japanese intellectual giants who were literally “sulking” toprotest certain American actions.
Of course we all fell in love with Japan. For the 2004 fellows, thecolors of October in Hokkaido will remain a permanent memory, now
living in nine small saplings that I nursed all the way back home. A drive
through Niseko Town, a walk through the woods, a hot bath in the on-sen,
and an elaborate traditional Japanese dinner washed down with warm sakeand we were all wondering in earnest: “What have I done to deserve this?” I
will not even attempt to describe Japanese food. How can you adequately
describe the colors of the seasons being molded into a toraya cake or the
fragrance of fresh fish in a sushi lunch on the edge of the water in Otaru
City?
By October, a few weeks into the ALFP program, the Asian fellows
and the I-House and JF people were good enough friends to hit the karaoke
scene, a serious business. Again the commonly known songs were all English
but, microphone in hand, I sensed the thrill that makes a man who has been
subdued and quiet all day sing and writhe with great professionalism at night.
My topic for the ALFP was “happiness,” an inspiration for development conceived by the king of Bhutan. But when I took a bath in an on-sen
on Hachijo-Jima Island, halfway up the Hachijo-Jima-Fuji Volcano, with adelicate pine-and-bamboo mixed forest in the background and the open
Pacific in the front, I found a new meaning of happiness. And happinessturned into ecstasy in a traditional ryokan (inn), far down the coast of the Izu
Peninsula, in a room filled with the aroma of fresh tatami.
But I digress.
Identity, security, democracy . . . the theme for the 2004 ALFP program was profound and broad. For a Bhutanese student of identity, Japan’s
thinking during the Meiji restoration period was an exciting read. With Bhutan
poised on the edge of dramatic political change I could identify with 1868
Japan in a strangely nostalgic way. It was two similar worlds, 150 years apart.
130

With the advantage of hindsight, Bhutan decided that westernization was
not modernization, while Japan opted to westernize, but some similarities
are amazing.
In fact this brought up an old question that had been on my mind foryears. Thousands of Japanese tourists come to Bhutan every year, their main
reason being that Bhutan reminds them of what Japan must have once been
like so it is a trip back into time. True, we Bhutanese are cheated by shopkeepers everywhere in Southeast Asia because we look like Japanese and theJapanese, like us, bow in respect. Both Bhutan and Japan are also Buddhist
countries with a king and emperor as symbols of unity. But I had never beenable to see real connections between two countries that were, otherwise,poles apart.
This time, however, I might have hit upon a clue—not in scholarly
research or historical libraries, but in uncanny similarities that I heard in asmall noodle house in Azabu Juban when we chatted over cups of hot shochu(a type of Japanese liquor). When Japanese men introduce their wives to afriend or business partner they say, “Please meet my gusai,” meaning my foolish or ugly wife. When Bhutanese women say, “My husband is a tsagay (idiot),”
they say it with the same intended modesty. I don’t know of any other culture that does this. I also know now it is common in both cultures to lay out
a major feast for a guest and apologize for “such a simple meal.” To cap it all
I learned that Japanese men used to go “night hunting” for girls not so longago. Bhutanese men still do it and we also call it “night hunting.”
I recall my brief visit to Japan in 1999 when, on a media junket, I
tasted good food and saw wonderful sights but received no insight into thereal essence of the Japanese value system until I went to a four-hour kabuki
play that everyone said would be boring. Set in a village school, the story ofa nobleman who sacrificed his son out of his love and loyalty for his kingreduced me to tears. As a Bhutanese I could identify with this depth ofhuman relationship and value although, in Bhutan too, such nobility is now
largely confined to mythology.
To me it was not only a glimpse at the essence of Japanese culture; it
provided an understanding of an issue we wanted to get a grip on: the Asian
identity. How else can we understand our identity but by delving deep into
our past . . . our origins? For me it was the beginning of a new line ofinterest, a potential pursuit of an Asian connection.
At the end of the ALFP I asked myself many questions, as others
must have. So what was it all about? Was it just a good public relations
effort? Was it anything more than a junket? What, in the end, did I get out ofthe program?
In many ways I am yet to understand the full impact of my Japan131

experience. Japan is such a different world with so many complexities that I
do not pretend to know it at all. So I left Narita Airport in November withmore questions than answers. But I do confess that I left with not only abetter understanding but a changed view of Japanese society.
Like the rest of the world I had always viewed Japan and the peopleof Japan through a Western lens, with the perspective provided by the allpowerful Western media. It is difficult not to enjoy the Japan jokes or thefilms that become international hits just by stereotyping the Japanese. Therefore being able to look at Japan through an Asian—a Japanese—viewpoint
was an eye-opener.
Ultimately, for me, it has become a question of identity. My ALFP
experience has triggered a personal research project through which I hope togain some understanding of this vital issue, be it identity at a personal or
national level, or today’s fractured and disparate global identity.

132

RICE ARE US: SOME UNFINISHED MUSINGS ON ASIAN IDENTITY
F ay e Chunfang FFeiei
Chunfanang

Identity is actually something formed through unconscious processes overtime, rather than being innate in consciousness at birth. There is always
something “imaginary” or fantasized about its unity. It always remains
incomplete, is always “in process,” always “being formed.”—Stuart Hall1
In 1987, after China Dream was produced off-off-Broadway in New
York, I was interviewed by Rice, a California-based monthly magazine. I was
intrigued: “Why did you name your magazine Rice?” The answer couldn’t
have been more obvious: “Ours is a premier Asian-American publication.
We Asians all eat rice.” In the fall of 2004, I read Rice as Self: Japanese Identities
Through Time by Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, a Japanese cultural anthropologist
based in the U.S. It was the book’s title that first caught my attention.
“You are what you eat,” goes the common saying. All over Asia andthrough the centuries rice has not only been a staple food but also a way oflife. Rice are us Asians, so to speak. But there is such a great variety of riceeaten in Asia, some more preferred than others in each country or region:
brown rice, white rice, red rice; long-grain rice, medium-grain rice, shortgrain rice; sticky rice, glutinous rice, peta rice, basmati rice, jasmine rice, miracle
rice—the list goes on. Also as Asians, we not only process, prepare, and cook
our rice differently, we even eat it in many different ways: some, like theChinese and Japanese, using chopsticks (our chopsticks are different, but
that’s another story altogether), some with their bare fingers. Obviously, rice
are us, but we are also very different.
A bowl of mix
ed rice
mixed
Then they came together, in the International Year of Rice designatedby the United Nations, the seven “rice-eating” public intellectuals of different colors, tastes, shapes, sizes, and types from seven Asian countries. The“Magnificent Seven” congregated in the International House of Japan inTokyo—a tranquil oasis nestled amidst a graceful traditional Japanese garden, steeped in history, next to the hustle and bustle of Roppongi Hills—
133collectively in search again of identity and its close relation to security anddemocracy.2
From behind her big publisher’s desk at Anvil Publishing in Manila
came Karina Africa Bolasco (“Miss Africa”), determined at “Crafting a Philippines Cultural Index”; down from the sacred Himalayan mountain peaks
came Kinley Dorji, the editor in chief of Kuensel, the only newspaper in
Bhutan, mesmerizing everyone with his mantra of “Gross National Happiness” (GNH) with an accompanying three-minute Buddhist meditation; fromIndonesia’s National Islam University in Jakarta came Jamhari (“Jam”), an
impish small person engaged with a serious big issue—“the Rise of Religious
Fundamentalism”; from Colombo came Chandrika Sepali Kottegoda(“Sepali”), an action-oriented scholar always with a twinkle in her eyes, spearheading the civic movement in Sri Lanka to empower women in all spheresof public life; from Hokkaido University came Takayoshi Kusago (“Taka”),
a Japanese economist deeply concerned with the balancing act between “Economic Growth” and “Human Development”; from Vietnam National University in Hanoi came Nguyen Van Chinh (“General Chinh”), committed toinvestigating the “terrible” state of child labor as Vietnam joins forces withthe global market. It was in this bowl of mixed rice that I found myself, atheater artist-scholar from Shanghai—at the moment “the most happening
city in the world,” according to Time magazine—attempting to tell “Theater
Herstory.” And together we embarked on an auspicious journey of discoveries and recognitions, whose dénouement was also a new beginning.
Everyone in this bowl of mixed rice was aged over forty except foryoung “Jam.” Everyone was well established in his or her chosen profession
and had attained the mystifying title of Asian “public intellectual.” It is also an
openly acknowledged fact that at this stage of our lives, both personally andprofessionally, most of us tend to travel in the same familiar circles, attending
the same conventions, and meeting the same crowds. While this may denotesecurity, stability, and structure, it also segregates us and confines us. What we
all needed was something analogous to an acting exercise, as noted by Kuo
Pao Kun in his 1997 ALFP report, in which one is encouraged to extricate
oneself as much as possible from formed reflexes and clichéd responses, toarrive at a state closest to intellectual and emotional “neutral-ness”—if everthat were possible—in order to be most spontaneously receptive to newthings.
To be selected to participate in the prestigious ALFP, to visit Japan, tointeract with a diverse group of intelligent, conscientious, open-minded, wellinformed, and deeply engaged public intellectuals from all over Asia, and to
exchange views on important issues of common interest from different perspectives, was certainly an opportunity very much appreciated. Because the134theme for ALFP 2004 was inclusive, provocative, relevant, and poignant all
at once, and because the fellows’ backgrounds were so different, what ensued was a truly open and jargon-free discussion, which I personally foundrefreshing and liberating. Some fellows called it “a retreat,” some called it “asabbatical,” basically a chance to rejuvenate. I believe when Kinley let it slip
during our field trip to Hokkaido: “What have I done to deserve all thisgood fortune?!” he spoke what was in every fellow’s mind. (Of course,
Kinley, comfortably decked out in his cotton yukata robe after a relaxing
soak in the outdoor on-sen, was also blissfully gazing into his sake glass, with afull Japanese banquet appetizingly laid out in front of him, when he spilled
those heartfelt words.)
I had long thought of myself as a well-traveled internationalist, an
enlightened student of the East and the West, and a postmodern citizen of
the world. Participating in the ALFP, however, has made me acutely awareof the gaping gap in my knowledge and appreciation of the rest of Asia,
Japan included. Being Chinese has deep emotional, cultural, and intellectual
relevance for me, but being Asian was mostly a matter of geographical proximity. When I say that the fellowship has been “enriching” it is no cliché, but,in fact, an understatement. It has located my blind spots and turned on thelights.
Japanese rice
Japan has always fascinated me, partly because it is a society that is so
modern and so traditional at the same time. The innovative modernity of theWest, particularly the United States of America, and the classical splendor of
East Asia, particularly China, have exerted powerful formative influences inmaking Japan what it is today. The stereotype of Japan as an isolated island
country and of the Japanese as homogenous chauvinists with closed minds isunfounded because the Japanese identity has been constructed and reconstructed through their interactions with other peoples throughout history.
The hybrid character of the Japanese national-cultural identity is undisputable; therein lies its strength as well as its enigma.
The concept of the self or identity, be it individual or collective, isalways defined in relation to the other. Apparently, in the discourse of self
and the other, rice has served as a powerful metaphor for the Japanese tothink about themselves in relation to other people. For instance, toward theend of the Early Modern Period, the discourse on the Japanese collective
self vis-à-vis Westerners as the other took the form of rice versus meat;
while the discourse on the Japanese vis-à-vis other Asians, most dramaticallyduring World War II, took the form of domestic rice (from divine origin)
135

versus foreign rice (inferior). The rice from China, from whose culture Japanese rice agriculture was, in fact, derived, was considered particularly inferior.3 The double process of identification to distinguish themselves bothfrom the West and from other Asians is still in evidence in Japan today.
I find it more than a little curious that the Japanese kanji term for“United States of America” is bei or beikoku, literally “rice country.” In Japanese, as in Chinese, there is not only one word for rice, but several: kome or okome, gohan, ine, and momi, to name but a few. Each of these words stands forrice at a different stage in its life: seedlings, ready for harvesting, uncooked,
cooked, that sort of thing. When most people in Japan were farmers, they all
knew the differences between the words, but now that most live in cities,
nobody knows the difference. So everybody says raisu (the Japanese pronunciation for the English word rice).4 Slowly going is not only the grain’s proper
Japanese name; in fact, Japanese rice, white and highly polished, is consumed
less and less year by year, as compared to 150 kilos per person per year
before World War II. However, people still use rice as a powerful metaphor
in talking about issues of identity. Natsuki Ishigami, a budding young playwright and theater producer introduced to me by Yasushi Watanabe of Keio
University, evoked the metaphor again in her play, Tokyo Rice, recently staged
at Tsukiji Honganji Temple. The cross-cultural model for the interpretationof the self and other proposed in Rice as Self certainly still serves as a vehicle
for the contemporary deliberation of identity.
Hybrid rice
My Japanese was nonexistent when I arrived at Narita Airport in Tokyo on September 1, 2004. When I left three months later, my Japanese was
not much improved. I must say it is not a true reflection either of my linguistic abilities or willingness to learn. I asked Lee Jong Won of the ALFP advisory board whether it would be necessary for me to learn some Japanese
when he first interviewed me in Shanghai. Professor Lee kindly assured methat with English and Chinese under my belt I would have no problem
getting around in Japan. Still uneasy, I asked several Chinese colleagues ofmine in the Japanese Department of my university to teach me the basics.
They discouraged me from even trying given the limited time I had, andwarned that the Japanese would respect you if you spoke good English but
would look down on you if you were a Chinese speaking poor Japanese.
Baffled, but also not desiring to confront possible discrimination, I gave up
learning Japanese even before I began.
Once in Japan, Chinese and English came in handy for me, with theformer assisting me in decoding Japanese words written in kanji. Aside from136

some of the usual polite greetings and survival phrases in Japanese, I, like all
the other non-Japanese fellows, got by on our common linguistic denominator: English. Semi-seriously, someone said we were under the dictatorship ofEnglish. (At the public symposium, Karina delivered an eloquent postcolonial
analysis of the role of English in her speech, “English, Education, and Filipino Identity.”) But we were also all clearly aware that we would not havebeen able to communicate with each other or with our Japanese colleagues if
it were not for our shared knowledge of English. When asked to sing a songas a group for our new Ainu friends in Sapporo, we, not knowing one
common song in any Asian language, sang “Let It Be” by the Beatles. Let itbe, so be it. As the final public symposium approached, all the fellows got
together to learn to sing in Japanese the Sukiyaki Song. I see it not only as atoken of appreciation for our Japanese hosts but also as a valiant gesture to
be Asian as a group.
All seven ALFP 2004 fellows have had extensive exposure to and/or
immersion in Western education and culture. All five doctorates in the groupwere minted overseas. The fact is that each grain of Asian rice in our mixed
rice bowl is not only different from each other, but also each in itself ahybrid of the East and West. Interestingly, however, it is this very hybrid
identity or crossbreeding that has liberated us and united us, at least allowing
us to communicate with ease and giving us a sense of community.
According to Yoshikazu Sakamoto in his “Transnational Civil Society
in the Age of Globalization,” public intellectuals are those people who arecharacterized by an intellectual hybrid identity, which gives birth to an intellectual perspective antithetical to exclusionary fundamentalism and ethnocentrism. It is those with a hybrid identity who “have absorbed Western scholarship, values of other Asian cultures, as well as what you consider your indigenous traditions” that are able to “foster the capacity and assume the responsibility to play a leading role in creating and strengthening a civil society transnationally, both at the regional and global levels.”5 It is a tall order. Are we theones to fill it?
Rice in a pprr essur
er?
essuree cook
cooker?
The night before I was to leave Tokyo, I was invited by the JapanFoundation to the opening of Memories of a Legend, a multimedia theatercollaboration by performing artists from Bangladesh, India, Nepal, Pakistan,and Sri Lanka. It was a medieval epic in contemporary form constructed on
twenty-four impressions based on The Baburnama, or Memoirs of Babur, thefirst emperor of the Mogul Empire in India, who was also the descendentof both the Timur court and Genghis Khan in Central Asia. The opening137

night performance was a true sweeping epic, entrancing and impressive, inboth form and content. The energy and expressiveness was unadulterated
South Asia to any trained or untrained eye. As intended, in this collaborative
project, The Barburnama served as a unifying focal point in trying to comprehend the contentious nature of the sociopolitical as well as the very humanand fantastical “realities” that make up South Asia. It was all about “bordercrossings, crossbreed identities, dislocations and relocations, and acculturation and acclimatization,” said Anuradha Kapur, one of India’s foremost
theater directors.
For me personally, what the audience did not see in the performance
space, the behind-the-scenes collaborative process leading up to the opening
night, seemed at least equally thought provoking and emotionally stirring, if
not more so. Theater is by nature collaborative, and egos are big and raw
most of the time. But bringing in five directors from five countries in SouthAsia, where cultures are intrinsically mixed, traditions opulently diverse, languages powerfully many, and neighbors not always neighborly, and having
them work together on a shared legend which has become a metaphor ofcontemporary sociopolitical discord in the region is, to put it mildly, a surerecipe for contention and conflict. The dynamics are extremely complex.
Yuki Hata of the Japan Foundation’s Performing Arts Division admitted in
the Producer’s Notes: “There were many times when I felt a strong urge toabandon the project entirely, but there were other times when the patienceand endurance of the artists involved made me proud to be a fellow
Asian. . . . I believe that all of the five, by sustaining wounds and enduring theunendurable, stubbornly acquired something of great value to take homewith them.” I wonder what they have taken home.
Rice are us, but we are also in a pressure cooker.
Epilogue
Exactly one month after I left Tokyo, on December 26, 2004, a devastating tsunami hit South Asia following a grade 9 earthquake in the Indian
Ocean. As soon as the news broke, I e-mailed Sepali in Sri Lanka and Jam inIndonesia, now my emotional connections to their respective countries thanks
to the ALFP 2004. I was relieved that both they and their families were
spared, but was still deeply concerned about the aftermath of one of themost terrifying natural catastrophes in living memory.
All great natural disasters have the power to transform and transfigure, changing the region and its people forever, both physically and psychologically. This tsunami came out of the blue, taking people completely by138

surprise. (Sepali said those in her country had a false sense of security as they
were nowhere near any known fault line and nothing like this had ever happened there before.) But what happens when you are constantly remindedthat natural disasters can hit at any given moment? What does that do topeople and their culture and society? I am thinking about Japan, naturally.
Within one week of my arrival in Japan, I experienced an offshore
earthquake and a powerful typhoon and read about a strong volcanic eruption. In the ensuing months, there were more such violent outbursts of nature, culminating in the October Niigata earthquake, which registered at 6.8
on the Richter scale and had hundreds of aftershocks. Overturned cars,
crumbled houses, and shattered roads filled television screens. Japan’s deadliest earthquake in almost a decade stunned residents used to frequent tremors; nevertheless, after rescue-and-recovery efforts, people simply went onwith their lives.
Geography and climate certainly play an important role in the shapingof national identity and character. What we see in Japanese aesthetics, rituals,
discipline, organization, order, courtesy, and cleanliness is ultimately the ability
to cope with the capriciousness of nature and the transience of life. During
our first field trip in September we visited Itsukushima Shrine in Miyajima,right after it was devastated by one of the numerous typhoons of the year.
We were told by our guide that the shrine was an official World Heritage Site,partly because it had been destroyed and rebuilt so many times. Similar tales
are heard everywhere.
In the Edo-Tokyo Museum, a huge slab of rock from an archeological excavation revealed layer upon layer of debris from fires, earthquakes,
and air raids—an eloquent record of Tokyo’s past. Immediately after showing us artifacts from U.S. air raids in 1945, our retired-school-teacher-turnedvolunteer-museum-guide led us to a breathtaking reproduction of the reconstruction of Tokyo under U.S. occupation. When I asked him how theJapanese reconcile those two seemingly disparate pieces of history, he replied: “We don’t think about the bad that happened before, we only look at
the good that came after.”
But can or should one really forget the past? Will the bad dissipate if
one decides not to think about it? If I may quote Langston Hughes, does it“fester like a sore and then run? Does it stink like rotten meat?/Maybe it justsags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?” What about those deeply conflicted love-hate feelings about America that we have heard so much about
in Japan? Why have the Japanese prime minister’s visits to the Yasukuni Shrine
aroused such deep concerns among other Asian rice eaters?
One way to deal with the past is to confront it, as they have done in
Hiroshima, the ghastly site of nuclear destruction that has now become a139strong base for world peace. Only by acknowledging the scope of devastation and the depth of human suffering can we begin to heal and move on.
Great disasters—natural or man-made—can only make us strong if we lookthem squarely in the eye.
Endnotes
1 Hall, Stuart, “The Meaning of New Times,” in Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in
Cultural Studies, edited by David Morley and Kuan-Hsing Chen, London: Routledge,
1996, p. 226.
2 The theme for the ALFP 2004 was the same as that of the previous year: “Identity,
Security and Democracy,” signifying its continuing relevance and pressing importance.
3 Ohnuki-Tierney, Emiko, Rice as Self: Japanese Identities Through Time, Princeton University Press, 1994.
4 Stuart, Paul Meredith, “NIHONSENSE,” Japan Times, 1987, pp.31-32.
5 “The Role of Public Intellectuals,” ALFP 2002 report.

140

WHEN PUBLIC INTELLECTU
AL
OGETHERINTELLECTUAL
ALSS COME TTOGETHER
Karina Africa Bolasco

The Asia Leadership Fellow Program is an intellectual exchange program
like no other. It’s the only one that allows Asian public intellectuals to live andtravel together, discuss and argue together, in dedicated sessions such as theworkshops and seminars, or between all that traveling and sightseeing
incorporated in the program as fieldtrips. Even as a digital camera is about
to be pressed, and the fellows are cozy in a pose, one fellow can make aloaded commentary on the state of things in another fellow’s country andstart a repartee right there and then. At breakfasts at the International Houseof Japan, on unguarded moments hanging from the train’s handbar on rush
hours, or just seated in a cab three fellows might share to a destination, there
is so much that goes on between and among fellows, of personal, culturaland intellectual exchanges. Not all would be and could be documented or
tracked but they did take place and register in the consciousness of anotherfellow, or of other fellows. And often that’s what counts more than what is
put on paper. If I were asked to sum up the program, then it would entirely
be this—the generous gift of genuine fellowship it gave us, seven womenand men (from Bhutan, China, Japan, Indonesia, Philippines, Sri Lanka, andVietnam) that let us struggle with our own myths, stereotypes and imaginationof Japan and in the process, understood a little more our very own countries
and their place in the scheme of things called Asia.
Having been a book publisher for almost 24 years, I came to thisprogram for Asian public intellectuals feeling inadequate and afraid of not
being able to participate fully and deliver a respectable paper at the public
symposium. True enough, as I looked at the qualifications of the other fellows,
I found out I was the least educated, and the only one a hundred percent
homegrown (US or UK-based education always makes a difference nomatter how people deny it). But what I realized could somehow qualify me
is precisely my years of developing a range of titles that has the least informed
and enriched public discourse, or influenced the like or dislike for bookreading. My work has given me more than ample space and time to be in thecenter of things. Working with writers, a good number of them intellectuals
in varying interest areas and expertise, and helping them conceptualize andshape their books to engage a reading public, has been very good for my141intellectual growth. I have been able to sustain lifelong relationships withthese writers, not just always of a professional nature. I have had my periodsof high or ecstasy just hanging out with these people, discussing issues of theday, and always, “the challenge of packaging a product.” Or how to write
for, or speak to, a public and help counter the heavy daily doses of inanityfrom the country’s two most powerful television stations. Their capitalist
cutthroat competition has not raised the bars for excellence, or improved the
product to the consumers’ benefit, but has instead sunk them to the lowest
layer of sensationalism and utter disregard for human dignity.
What has fiercely preoccupied us in terms of the tradebook (Books
not used in schools either as texts or reference) business is learning the waysof subverting popular forms. And then in the school markets, there are thetextbooks going to captive audiences or publics, where the space for molding
young minds is just there, but unfortunately the right academic scholars withknowledge and a vision allege they are not familiar with basic education
pedagogy and certainly don’t wield the right language for grade school andhigh school readers. A sin of omission; a gap immediately filled up by cutand-paste writers who happen to be classroom teachers. Through the years,
my responsibilities to my public as a publisher have become clearer andclearer, but not at the expense of it being run as a viable business. This toughbalancing act is what each time generates and regenerates energy andimagination to contribute to keeping a public informed and in schools, tothoroughly tearing down a national inferiority complex incessantly fed by thevestiges of colonization and a continuing miseducation.
Against this backdrop, the fellowship was priceless. Even as most of
us in Asia continue to be suspicious of Japanese intentions, we take pride in
it being an Asian initiative. As such, it respected Asians for valuable work intheir own countries, and generously offered us time, a very precious
commodity no longer ours, to exchange, reflect on our situations and theirimpact on Asia, and perhaps even agree to collectively embark on regional
small efforts toward improving the quality of living for all and making thisworld kinder for all. The organizers, the International House of Japan and
the Japan Foundation, aware of how wisely and adroitly managing physicalspace can shape and determine the quality of exchange, chose the mostappropriate base or quarters for the fellows, and somehow the right cities
and towns to visit. The selection of Japanese seminar resource persons wasalmost impeccable—showcasing the lucidity, wisdom, spirituality and calmnessof reason of Japanese scholars and thinkers. The engagement with socialand community groups, as raised by one fellow, was deliberately progressiveleaning. He missed having an audience with a member of the Diet or the
Minister of Trade, for instance. This probably was due to the fact that they142

were so conscious of the need to ensure no one in the end would, or could,
say it was merely government propaganda.
There is no more appropriate and captivating way of being introduced
to Japan than through its International House (nicknamed I-House), officiallyopened on June 11, 1955 by two young men who shared a fervent belief inthe value of cultural layers of international relations, more than the economic
and political. They were John Rockefeller III and Shigeharu Matsumoto who
resolutely pursued their dream of a culture center that would “…bring ourpeoples closer together in their appreciation and understanding of each otherand their respective cultures through such interchange and to assist each otherin solving mutual problems… ways should be found to allow each other,through a free and voluntary interchange of ideas and information.” It tookthem two and a half decades, the second world war that pitted their two
countries against each other, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
and postwar cracks on all fronts of Japan’s relations to the rest of the world.
Located in posh Roppongi where all the embassies are, the International
House’s most immediately outstanding feature is its precious, so very precious
and haunting garden. In the first and a half months of the fellowship, when
it was not yet too cold, it was my sanctuary. I exercised and meditated there;
listened to music from home, read books and scribbled lines hopefully for
future verses. When the insects started to bother me, I moved to the rooftop,
from where the garden was even more enchanting, and the serene sky andmoon seemed reachable. Of the four things in Japan which impressed
Rockefeller the most as he wrote in his diaries in 1929, second was “thebeauty of Japanese gardens.” He perhaps made sure this culture center would
bask in the glory and spirituality of such a garden, the preservation of which
was a prerequisite even in the major renovation project of the I-House facility
now underway.
All the fellows’ rooms were in one hall that had two shared bathrooms:
one for men and the other, for women. So we ran into each other in ourpajamas or Japanese robes, and had interesting conversations even in thelaundry room. The I-House library was a haven too with its sizeable collectionof books on Japan’s history and politics, literature and the arts, educationand language, and many other aspects of Japanese life and living. Its
subscription to the world’s best journals, dailies and magazines proves how
cosmopolitan Japan is. Every week I read the New York Review of Books
there up till 9pm. Its own Japan Times was probably the only paper thateulogized Jacques Derrida in its editorial, and would publish guest editorials
from countries celebrating their independence or nationhood.
The program took us to many parts of Japan: Hiroshima, Kyoto,
Gotemba, Hakone and almost all of western Hokkaido, flying in into New
143

Chitose and covering by bus all the way up to another airport, Asahikawa,from Niseko to Sapporo, from Mikasa to Furano. It showed us exemplary
local governance, competent town management, eco-tourism and effective
waste management, efficient administration of an old yet world-competitive
university, distinct Ainu art, music and cuisine, alternative loan system of the
Hokkaido NPO Bank, special education for truant children who drop out
because of pressure from teachers or bullies. Always and anywhere, there
were rich narratives to share, compare and learn from. Always and everywhere,
the high level of Japanese aesthetics was visible—nothing was done just to
get done. Even the littlest food packaging sought artistic perfection.
The retreat conference in Gotemba, a quiet town at the foot of theamazing and majestic Mt. Fuji turned out to be a useful and fertile exchange
between fellows and selected Japanese scholars on topics fellows presented
in their papers. Held at the facility of Japan’s second largest convenience
store chain, Lawson, royally surrounded by centuries-old sturdy trees, thediscussion may not have been as focused as of previous years which asked
who was the public intellectual, and what was his or her task. This batch’s
theme, “Identity, Security and Democracy,” was broad enough to take inalmost any field of interest, from Bhutan’s goal of Gross National Happinessto the Philippine Culture Index, from Sri Lanka’s migration studies and gender
empowerment to child labor and education in Vietnam, from research andpolicy formulation connecting industrialized Japan to its neighboring
developing countries vis-à-vis a new growth index that measures quality oflife to Islamic fundamentalisms in Asia, and theater herstory from China. The
same interests were more or less presented at two public symposia towards
the end of October, although I decided to be more specific than culture andzeroed in on our love-hate relationship with the American-English language.
The public symposia served as the high point of the program and marked its
completion.
I continued to stay another month, spent interviewing Education
Department officers and staff and visiting two public grade and high schools.
I also used that time to meet up with Japanese publishers, especially theuniversity press editors and directors. I looked into the possibility of translating
Japanese technical and engineering textbooks into English for Filipino students.
For without question, Japanese technology has even outperformed Americanor European technology. Asians would probably learn best from Asians.
In one seminar, a venerated Japanese scholar and media practitioner,in tears, apologized to us fellows, especially to Faye from China and to me,
for their atrocities and abuses of his people during World War II. While thehistory textbooks glossing over such atrocities were never directly discussed,
the refusal of some school authorities and teachers to fly their flag and sing144

their national anthem was. Yet, despite this, the Japanese youth have been
educated to become a disciplined and dedicated workforce that propelledtheir country to economic superiority. I couldn’t help but think of my own
country, where at least once a week, we proudly raise our flag, sing ournational anthem with hands on our hearts, and recite the pledge of allegiance.
Yet we have just continually failed to propel our country to economic
advancement, so much so that 7 million Filipinos have left their families toraise other people’s children and take care of other people’s sick and old.
The billions of dollars these overseas Filipinos earn for their families but also
at great sacrifice to their families (42 million affected at an average of 6 perfamily) keep our national economy afloat. At certain points in time within the
program, I was so sure we Filipinos are remarkable in that way—in ourresilience, flexibility, endurance, our faith and love of family. Perhaps the taskof the public intellectual in a time and place where helplessness and cynicism
are almost palpable is to find sources of hope.
At the evaluation of the program, I asked how public intellectuals canreally work together in the forum or arena that is Asia and for Asia. Rightafter I said it, I was struck by the fact that so much work still needed to be
carried out in my own country. And I was sure the other fellows felt the sameway. Why then shift to Asia? The most immediate and practical answers arebecause globalization forces us to come together as bigger blocs of countries,
and because Filipinos are all over Asia, all over the world in fact.
What will it mean for my people if Asia came together? Will their lives
be better? Is it even thinkable after centuries of colonization and wars have
deeply separated our countries? I must say yes simply because we now own
Japanese cars, run in Chinese rubber shoes, drink Sri Lankan tea, wear Indianblouses, eat Malaysian chocolates, sing Taiwanese songs, watch Korean dramas
and actually teach them (live Koreans) English.

145

146

The Fellowship:
ALFP Activities
2004

147

148

ON JAPAN’S MINORITIESJAPAN’S

T he Buraky oto)
Burakakuu (Sujin District, K
Ky
Sujin District is the largest and most densely populated of the nineteenburaku communities in Kyoto. The buraku people are outcasts that occupy
the lowest rungs of Japanese society. Buraku discrimination originated in the
feudal era; it was politically and systematically established by the Tokugawa
shogunate government when it labeled those engaging in slaughter or execution as eta (extreme filth) or hinin (nonhuman) and placed them outside thesocial status system. The buraku people were legally liberated in 1871 as aresult of the promulgation of the “Emancipation Edict” by the newly established Meiji government. Masao Yamauchi, director of NPO Net Karasuma,
insists that even after this the discrimination against the buraku persisted; hesays that discrimination in the human mind is more persistent and troublesome than a systematic one.
Owing to continuous political campaigns and lobbying by the buraku
people, discrimination in terms of education and job opportunities is lessvisible now, but in marriage it still exists. Yamauchi argues this is partly because the buraku people are generally thought of as slaughterers and executioners. In Buddhism, death is associated with impurity or uncleanness, andhence, the buraku people are regarded as impure; non-buraku people refuse
to have buraku blood in their family lines.
After the briefing, the fellows were guided through the Bank of
Yanagihara Memorial Museum, where a special exhibit was held on buraku
people who were engaged in important public services, such as anatomization,
execution, and the leather industry, during the feudal era. The Bank of
Yanagihara is the first and only bank founded by the buraku (in 1899), toenable those among them whose loan applications were rejected at regularbanks to loan money for education and the local industry.
K oreans in JJaa p an (Higashi K
ujo District, Ky oto)
oreans(Higashi
Kujo
Ky
Located next to Sujin District, Higashi Kujo District has a large population comprised of Koreans (zainichi) as well as people in the bottom rungs
149

of society. The district is regarded as a “squatter’s area” because many Korean residents have set up temporary houses along the banks of the nationallyowned River Kamo. Since 1992, the Japanese central government, together
with the Kyoto prefectural and municipal government, has been redeveloping the shantytown and has built three apartment buildings. According to
Yutaka Uno, a community organizer working for the improvement of thearea’s living conditions, what is truly rare about Higashi Kujo is the fact thatthe national government has “settled” a “racial” issue by means of infrastructure.
In planning for the concept and the design of the apartment buildings,
the people of the district made four concrete requests, which were mostly
heard. The fellows visited the actual site of the apartments, 80 percent of theresidents of which were zainichi Koreans. Uno says that the real challengecame after the completion of the infrastructure. For instance, the residentsof the government-funded residence are experiencing discrimination within
their own community. Such inner-community prejudice, Uno says, is muchharder to handle than that from mainstream society. The trial they face now
is how to nurture and improve this community so it will survive through the
future generations.
In the evening of the same day, the fellows were invited to a symposium on Japanese minority issues from Asian perspectives, organized by Net
Karasuma. After Hisashi Nakamura’s keynote speech on such issues as participatory social sciences, the need for “inter-people” studies, economic development in modern Japan, and the participatory development of the buraku
people and the zainichi, the fellows made brief comments on minority issues
in their own countries. They declared that after spending a full day observing
minority issues in Japan, they were convinced that Japan is not at all a homogeneous society, as they had thought before.
The Ainu (Hokkaido)
Tamami Kaizawa, artist, Sikerpe Art
The meeting with Tamami Kaizawa, an Ainu artist, was a unique combination of her stories about herself and her family and a hands-on experience in craft making using Ainu motifs. A native of Nibutani, 100 kilometers
southeast of Sapporo, Kaizawa has a personal history of struggle as thedaughter of a hard-core Ainu activist and a non-Ainu woman.
Nibutani, over 70 percent of whose population is of Ainu origin, is ahotbed of discrimination among the Ainu. As a small child, Kaizawa instinctively felt that being Ainu was something negative, and thus, she deliberately
150

avoided thinking about her Ainu descent and spent her years in school as a“normal” Japanese. She did not particularly detest her father and grandfather’s
activities, including filing lawsuits against the dam construction in Nibutani by
the national government, but neither did she support them.
It was when she started her career as an artist in a designer’s school in
Sapporo that Kaizawa slowly began to revisit her Ainu roots. This was partly
because she faced less discrimination in the city, and partly because she realized what she as an artist and an Ainu could accomplish—incorporate Ainu
symbols and motifs into art pieces. After quitting her job at an interior decorating firm when it took on a project at what would become a museum of
Nibutani Dam, which altered the lives of Ainu in her hometown, and whose
construction her grandfather and father had protested, Kaizawa set up her
own business, Sikerpe Art, in 1997.
Presently, Kaizawa designs clothes and furniture with Ainu motifs, teaches,and holds exhibits and fashion shows. Even now, she sometimes hesitates
when asked to discuss her Ainu origin. Nevertheless, she truly appreciates
Ainu culture and continues to study it. She also admits that being an artist anddesigning with Ainu symbols is one way she can appreciate herself and her
heritage more, and overcome her past traumatic experiences. “Being cool” isimportant in making non-Ainu (shisam) appreciate Ainu culture, which they
think has no relevance in their daily lives. She also believes that being Ainu
should not be considered something special, but rather something that isnatural.
Koji Yuki, artist/representative, Ainu Art Project
Koji Yuki was born in an Ainu community in Harutori, Kushiro, theson of Shoji Yuki, a leader of the Ainu Liberation Movement, and a nonAinu mother. When his grandmother, who raised him after his parents divorced, died, he was forced to leave his hometown to live with an aunt in
Kanagawa (near Tokyo). Disheartened and bewildered by the fact that his
father would not come to see him, Yuki began to despise his Ainu ethnicity;
he could not understand why his father persisted in being Ainu even when it
meant having to give up his own family. From then on he lived as a normal
Japanese, drifting from one job to another during his twenties.
When his company went bankrupt in 1990, Yuki began to look inward
and started reading “self-help” books, but somehow they never satisfied his
inner questing. It was when he came across American Indian philosophy,
particularly its belief in the value of nature, that the things his grandmothertaught him came back to Yuki. He then realized he naturally connected to thephilosophy because he was Ainu. Before long, he started devouring his father’s151

books and joined a study group in Tokyo formed by Ainu who escaped
harsh discrimination elsewhere. Gradually he began to feel that his rightfulplace was with the Ainu.
Yet, Yuki felt uneasy about his dual identity as an office worker and an
Ainu; the two were quite incompatible. He thus started seeking a place where
he could physically and psychologically be Ainu all the time. At about thistime, Yuki started to become disillusioned with some elder Ainu, who seemed
to be repeating the harmful practice of discrimination among themselves oragainst non-Ainu, and who were diminishing the value of Ainu artworks bytreating them as mere commercial products.
In 2000, Yuki and several other Ainu established the Ainu Art Project,in the hope of building a community where young Ainu can build their own
Ainu identities, particularly by means of art. In the process, the group also
aims to abolish “bad” traditions handed to them by older generations, while
passing on “good” Ainu traditions and culture to future generations. Based in
Sapporo, the Ainu Art Project has grown to a group of twenty-seven members, including some ten children from five families. They also opened arestaurant in Sapporo in 2003, which the fellows had an opportunity to visit.
They serve Ainu cuisine and feature traditional and contemporary Ainu musical performances. One of Yuki’s hopes is to promote Ainu culture by installing Ainu art in public spaces in Hokkaido, a reminder that it once was
Ainu land.

152

ON EDUCATIONEDUCATIO
TION

Tow
ar
d rrea
ea
lizin
g a m
ulticultur
owar
ard
ealizinlizingmulticultur
ulticulturaa l society in JJaa p an
Japanese compulsory education (six years in elementary school andthree years in junior high school), characterized by its nationwide homogeneity in quality and content and the exceptionally high enrollment rate in highschool (over 97 percent in 2003), has been experiencing transitions in the last
decade and is confronted with many unresolved problems. Wang Hui Jing,
representative of the Center for Multicultural Information and Assistance(CMIA), says that among these issues are chronic truancy, the increase of“NEET” (Not in Education, Employment or Training) youth, and the governmental promotion of national identity, manifested in the obligatory hoisting of the national flag and the singing of the national anthem at school
ceremonies.
Another phenomenon witnessed in the current educational field is the
rapid increase of non-Japanese students in public schools. Compared toearlier times (until the 1980s), when the majority of people of foreign origin
were either Koreans or Chinese, now there is a greater diversity of nationalities among the 1.8 million foreign residents in Japan. There has also been aswift rise in the number of intermarriages, especially between Japanese husbands and non-Japanese wives. Children from intermarried families tend toattend night schools more often than their Japanese counterparts, in part
because they cannot turn to their families for help in learning Japanese, and toenter full-time high schools one needs to pass an entrance examination conducted in Japanese. Wang feels that in a sense these foreign students are already falling out of the “homogeneous” Japanese society. However, she says
the decreasing birth rate among the Japanese and the continuous increase offoreigners will inevitably lead the Japanese to the question of how they could
coexist with people of different cultural backgrounds and languages.
The CMIA is a nonprofit organization supporting foreign residents inJapan, particularly young students. Its fundamental goal is to promote a
multicultural society where the basic human rights of both Japanese andnon-Japanese are respected, with or without knowledge of Japanese culture
and language. It provides educational guidance to non-Japanese students and153their parents in multiple languages, and offers Japanese language classes andother school subjects. Since such formal guidance is not sufficient in resolving
all the issues these students will face in the course of their lives in Japan, the
CMIA also tries to empower them so that they can be self-supportive. It alsocollects and analyzes data about foreign students for use in making policy
proposals to local municipalities. Most importantly, the organization encourages understanding and respect among people of different cultures, values,and viewpoints, in order for them to achieve a healthy coexistence.
V isit to Sa
pporo Jiyugaokuen, Hokk
aido
Sapporpporo
Jiyugaokaokaa Gak
Gakuen,Hokkaido
Sapporo Jiyugaoka Gakuen (SJG), established in 1993, is an alternative
school for truant students who cannot (or do not) go to regular schools forvarious reasons, such as emotional trauma from having been bullied or teased,
being unable to keep up with the speed of instruction or to adapt to the
traditional school system, or being forced to leave school for family matters.
The rise in truancy in the 1990s and the consequent increase in demand foralternative schools led to the establishment of institutions such as the SJG.
Currently, forty high school level and thirty junior high school level
students are enrolled at SJG. It has six full-time and nearly twenty part-timeand volunteer staff members. The school’s curriculum does not fully abideby the guidelines of the Ministry of Education; although classes still follow acertain course of study and timetable, more emphasis is placed on artistic
and physical expression and actual experiences. Students are also free to study
individually. The bottom line is that the classes offered at the SJG are enjoyable, particularly because the students are given the freedom to choose theactivities they prefer to do. Kazuyoshi Kamegai, representative of the SJG,
says that most students are able to greatly improve their communication skills
after spending a certain amount of time at the school.
Although the SJG is not an accredited school, its students could receive certifications of graduation from a regular junior high school. Most ofthem then go on to senior high schools (mostly correspondence schools).
Kamegai says that students or graduates of such alternative schools face lessdiscrimination these days since people now understand truancy better. However, governmental support for such schools remains inadequate.

154

ON MEDIA AND THE AR
TSARTSThe Media in Asia
Monzurul Huq, correspondent of Prothom Alo and the Daily Star, argues that the Asian media is highly developed and freedom of the press isenjoyed in many Asian countries. The Asian media has traditionally been partof popular movements, taking the side of the people. However, Huq says,
authoritarian media also exists in Asia. In totalitarian states, governments often control or manipulate the media directly or indirectly, taking advantage
of its financial reliance on governments. Reporters Without Borders, an international organization of correspondents working for press freedom, reports that in the Asia-Pacific region there is more media censorship and there
are more journalists killed, abducted or jailed than in any other part of theworld.
Huq asserts that Japan has one of the most vibrant media environments in the world in terms of the rich variety and relative neutrality of themedia. Freedom of expression has been enjoyed here since the end of WorldWar II, and there is virtually no censorship nor any form of suppression ofjournalists. With a high per capita income and an almost 100 percent literacy
rate, Japan has the world’s greatest newspaper readership. A total of seventy
million papers, including five national and over 150 regional and local publications, are printed in the country daily.
Most newspapers are nonpartisan and keep a middle-of-the-road position, although some are more conservative or progressive than others. Except for slight differences in opinion as expressed in their editorials, theybasically agree on certain issues, such as refraining from criticizing the royalfamily. Aggressive confrontation between papers and the government is rare.
Huq points out that this is mainly due to the so-called Press Club system. In
order to collect information and report on governmental issues, reporters
must belong to the Press Club, which every government office has within its
facility. This system is notorious for developing mutually dependent relationships between politicians and journalists, making it hard for journalists to be
objective or critical toward politicians.
Such shortcomings of newspapers and also of the apolitical television155

network are compensated by magazines, says Huq. A distinct feature ofJapanese magazines is their love of investigative reports. Since magazine journalists are not allowed in the Press Club and thus do not rely on the Club fornews sources, they are free to report on the wrongdoings of the government. Huq states that in this sense magazines are serving the Japanese people
better.
One of the most recent trends in Asia is the rapid growth of Internet
media. Some researchers argue that in the future, these may have more influence on the younger generation, many of whom spend more time browsing
the Internet than watching TV or reading newspapers. The new technology
of digitalization is creating the so-called digital divide in Asia. However, Huqsays that it is a fascinating trend that most newspapers in developing Asian
nations have online editions.
Is the “Women and P
eace” er
“WomenPeace”
eraa oovv er?
Warence, women and their rree p r esentationar,, viol
violence,
women
esentation
To Yoshiko Shimada, artist and lecturer at Keio University, the imageof women as peace-loving mothers is a troublesome stereotype. Equally
disturbing is that women have always been seen as victims of violence committed by male or masculine military forces. Shimada then questions: Is thisreally true? Weren’t they also enthusiastic supporters of nationalism andImage 1. “White Apron”

156Image 2. “Tied to Apron Strings”

imperialism? And even now, aren’t there many women in the Self Defense
Forces(SDF)? Shimada’s conclusion is that (Japanese) women have been both
victims and perpetrators. As an artist, Shimada has rendered various imagesof “Japanese women as perpetrators” in several art pieces and installations.
In the central picture of Image 1, taken in present-day North Korea,
a Japanese woman wearing a white apron1 is learning how to shoot (Koreans). Image 2 shows an installation comprised of white aprons from which
red silk strips tied to pistols are hanging. This represents women giving birth
to violence. Both of these images show women as perpetrators, embracing
violence within themselves.
Based on her study on Japanese womanhood and the emperor system, Shimada argues that compared to Hitler, Hirohito (the Showa emperor) seems effeminate. This is in a sense natural because he was supposed
to be a descendant of the Sun Goddess, and the people were the “babies of
the Emperor.” Hence, Shimada wonders whether the dying soldiers cryingout for their mothers were actually crying out for the emperor.

157

Image 3. “Look at Me, Look at You”

In this installation (Image 3), a white wedding gown with a white apron(symbolizing a Japanese woman) and a traditional Korean women’s attire
draped with a yukata, or a type of Japanese kimono (representing a Korean
woman) face each other, one on each side of a mirror. But the mirror is nota regular mirror; it is a half-mirror, allowing the Japanese woman to see her
own image in the mirror and the Korean woman to see the image of theJapanese woman through the mirror. Here, Shimada tries to visualize thepositional difference between the roles played by both women. What is also
important is the audience can experience what can be visible and invisible
depending on where they stand.
What the Japanese woman does not see on the other side of the mirror represents what postwar Japanese women did not see for nearly half acentury, i.e., the comfort women issue. Despite a number of references inwritings, the issue of the World War II comfort women was not addressed
as a woman’s issue either by Japanese feminists or the general public until
Kim Hak Sun and other former sex slaves went public in the early 1990s.
Shimada finds it problematic that every time Japanese women talk about
comfort women, they do not place themselves on the perpetrators’ side; theyalmost always side with the Korean women as victims.

158

“SDF Girls”
Upon invitation, Shimada interviewed and filmed some young womenin the SDF in Kyushu. Female presence in the military has not been discussed
much, and Shimada was interested in the relationship between women, war,and violence. While some women joined the SDF to contribute to society,others see it just as a job. Although they go through the same training as men,they are presently not allowed to participate in actual combat, although manyof them want to.
Shimada showed the video clip to female university students, organizing an all-women antiwar demonstration in Kyoto. Although they were against
all kinds of militaristic activities, some sympathized with the women in the
SDF, and some even admired them because these female soldiers were doing things commonly believed only men could do. Shimada hopes to bridge
the gap between women with different ideologies by engaging them in dialogues. Finally, Shimada insists that the Japanese feminism movement needs
to recognize the actual existence of women in the military and their participation in violent activities.
Endnote1 A white apron came to be seen as a symbol of Japanese motherhood, although it was
originally a nanny’s uniform in England; a Japanese government official who visited
the UK during the Meiji period introduced it to the Japanese, believing it could help
“modernize” Japanese women. Japanese mothers began to be seen as more nationalistic, and were given the task of raising modern and useful citizens of the nation.

159

ON BUSINESSCorporate Societal Responsibilities of Japanese enterprises in Asia
Yotaro Kobayashi, chairman of the board of Fuji Xerox Co., Ltd.,
asserts that the so-called “good corporations” have exercised Corporate Societal Responsibility (CSR) in one way or the other. Fundamentally, a corporation should exist for the needs of society, and they should be true andhonest to that society. For a long time, the philosophy and mechanism ofcorporate governance have centered on maximizing shareholders’ stakes. However, those corporations that have been thriving for over a century havesucceeded in maintaining and enhancing the original spirit and value of serving their customers, as well as all stakeholders.
Nevertheless, profit making is always important. Profit for corporations is like health for human beings; health (profit) is not a goal, but we(corporations) should think about what we (they) should do with it (profit).
What society wants corporations to do and what it considers the dutyof corporations differ from country to country, and thus, each company
must determine what it can and should do for its own society.
Pr
eser
vin
g tr
adition thr
ough inno
Presereservinving
tradition
throughinnovv a tion:
Learning from established stores
Haruo Funabashi, chairman of Sirius Institute, published a book in
2003 on forty long-lived Japanese companies, for the purpose of revealing
the secrets of their success. Funabashi estimates that countrywide there areseven to eight thousand businesses established prior to the commencementof the Meiji period (1868), among which six companies are more than athousand years old. With a few exceptions such as Kongo Gumi, a temple
restoration firm founded in 578, and Hoshi Ryokan, a spa inn opened in 717,
most long-standing companies existent now were established sometime during the Edo era.
Funabashi’s analysis shows these companies share some common features: their businesses are closely related to people’s everyday lives (e.g. daily
necessities like soy sauce and medicine), they have established traditional au160

thorities mostly in one place, and they are often run as a family business(particularly those involving craftsmanship). Funabashi also specifies the following elements as keys to these companies’ long-term success: the geographical location of Japan (i.e., the seas surrounding the country works as anatural barrier, shielding it from invasion); the climate (i.e., mild weather andadequate rain ensures good harvests and a continuous food supply and thediverse topography limits the impact of climatic disasters on certain areas);and society and thought (i.e., Japanese society is generally considered peaceful, in part due to the people’s belief in the value of coexistence with othersof different faiths or beliefs).
To show us an example of a long-lived company, Funabashi organized a visit to Toraya, a Japanese-style confectionery store founded in theearly sixteenth century in Kyoto. In its PR video, “Wagashi: The Beauty andSpirit of Japanese Confection,” wagashi, or Japanese confectionery, is depicted as an “inseparable part of Japanese life” which reflects “the change ofseasons” and “appeals to (our) five senses.” The present style of wagashi wasestablished during the mid-Edo period (seventeenth century), and now Toraya
prides itself on being able to offer over three thousand kinds of wagashi,each reflecting the beauty of nature and the four seasons. The fellows also
had the precious opportunity to watch a master wagashi maker demonstrate
how to make wagashi, and learn about the different ingredients used formaking wagashi, such as azuki beans, agar-agar, and wasambon sugar (refined
powdery sugar produced domestically).

161

ON CIVIL SOCIETY

Tr ansna
tiona
vil society in the aag
g e of ggloba
loba
liza
tion
ansnationa
tionall ci
civil
lobaliza
lization
Yoshikazu Sakamoto, professor emeritus at the University of Tokyo,
argues that the post-Cold War world structure is unprecedentedly undemocratic and unequal. Sakamoto starts by discussing issues that characterize andchallenge the contemporary world.
The end of the Cold War has given rise to a world military structure
headed by a single unrivaled hyperpower built on unilateralism. Whereas ahandful of big powers monopolize weapons of the most advanced technology, there is a worldwide diffusion of less-developed, secondhand arms
among lower-rank forces that counter the current world order usually bymeans of terrorism. Sakamoto asserts that the concentration-diffusion dynamics do not increase security on either side. Moreover, they will aggravate
global division, fragmentation, and insecurity.
Global disparity also exists in the economic arena. As an inevitableconsequence of the global capitalist market economy, the gap between richand poor has widened enormously both internationally and within nations.
While only a few enjoy an unprecedented affluence, half the world population still live on less than two U.S. dollars a day. Sakamoto insists that evenmore problematic than this enormous and inhumane economic disparity is
the absence of a political and moral framework/structure to address thisproblem. Under the logic of the capitalist market economy, there is no economic necessity to save the starving 10 percent of the world population,
who are, under the same logic, structurally dispensable. Thus, Sakamoto argues that not only does the problem concern economic disparity, but it also
challenges the global democratic accountability which is exactly the questionof our own identity as human beings, which should transcend national boundaries and geographical distances.
Scientific and technological advancement also rests on the logic ofmarket economy, where competition has become almost a good in itself.
Science and technology, while bringing about immense benefits, have tremendously degraded the environment and expanded the gap (a.k.a. digital
divide) between the advantaged and the disadvantaged. However, Sakamoto
162

argues, the combination of technological and economic development makes
a greater dehumanizing impact on the identity of the people in the so-called
developed societies. This trend was accelerated by the development of information technology and life science, which manipulate the human bodyand mind, or what Sakamoto calls “inner value” or “inner world,” for profit
making.1 Sakamoto asserts that herein lies the danger of science and technology that are turning human beings into decomposed and fragmented objects. The fragmentation of human values and human identity consequently
raises the question of whether there are values of universal validity which
provide the foundation of human identity.
Sakamoto then took up the issues of the universality of human rights
and the diversity of cultural values, both of which have a crucial bearing on
civil society and democracy. It is believed by non-Western people that thenotion of human rights is essentially of Western origin, alien to their indigenous values. However, Sakamoto argues that the assertion of specificity andoriginality of non-Western values has a pitfall, just as a naïve affirmation of
the universality of Western values has served to justify Western colonialism
and cultural domination. For instance, the insistence on the specificity of
non-Western cultures tended to legitimize the authoritarian oppressive regimes, which infringed upon the human rights of their own people. Sakamotoraises women’s status and role as an example. Do women’s rights to education, independent job taking, and reproductive health have universal validity,or are they merely the imperialist penetration of Western values under theguise of human rights?
To resolve this dilemma, we agreed to recognize the diversity of cultural values. But the question remains whether this respect for cultural diversity permits the violation of what are widely considered fundamental humanrights. Sakamoto asserts that the recognition of cultural diversity is based on
cultural relativism, which, in his view, can mean two different, or even opposite things: 1) the denial of the universality of cultural values, including theidea of human rights, which may lead to a state of anarchy in world value
systems. With no overarching universal norms transcending the specificitiesof the individual or local cultural values, there is a danger that what is right
will only be determined by the use of might; 2) the notion that culture should
not be located in a global hierarchy with Western culture at the top, butshould be recognized as a distinct system which possesses equal values (rejection of cultural imperialism). With these opposing definitions, the question
arises on what ground different cultures can be considered of equal value.
To Sakamoto, the only tenable answer is that every culture should be treatedas equal. He says that as long as a certain culture embodies the way of life of
human beings who have equal rights as humans, we can accept the diverse
163

quality of cultures. Therefore, if a culture denies the fundamental equality ofhuman beings, it lays itself open to international criticism.
Sakamoto concludes by looking at civil society as a foundation of
democratic process. He says that civil society is based on the mutual recognition of 1) the universality of fundamental equality rights and the homogeneity of human beings and 2) the diversity of values and cultures and also
human beings with multiple and hybrid identities. Sakamoto also asserts thatcivil society is a public space based on the inner world of the individual
where a search for spontaneous free choice is constantly undertaken in pursuit of open democratic dialogue in opposition to oppression, manipulation,and surveillance. Sakamoto sees both democracy and civil society as an “unfinished project,” which requires the continuous transformation and criticism
of our own way of living and thinking, not as objects or commodities, but
as active human subjects. Civil society is not some kind of target we achieve,
but is the way we live.
In the following discussion with the fellows, Sakamoto further argues
that civil society is essentially an interactive movement of ordinary people.
Civil society sometimes takes the form of some association or organization,
but there is always the danger that the maintenance of such an organization
becomes the aim itself. Sakamoto believes that the action/movement dimension and organizing dimension of civil society are compatible, though
there is always a tension in between. And to maintain that tension within us is
the essence of civil society, Sakamoto says. If you lose it, you will become abureaucrat. In this sense, civil society is an unfinished and continuous process,and being in a constant process of self-redefinition is the most importantelement of civil society.
To Sakamoto, democracy is also a process. It certainly has institutional
forms, but these are not the targets themselves, but are the means to attainsomething, and that something is the essence of democracy. We have theright to determine our own way of living and thinking, and that is the essenceof democracy. On discussing the relationship between civil society and democracy, Sakamoto states that civil society is the social foundation of democracy. Without civil society, there will be no democracy; democracy is apolitical manifestation of civil society.
V isit to the JJaa p an Internationa
olunteer Center ((JVJVC)
Internanationationall V
Volunteer
JVC)Michiya Kumaoka, representative of JVC, explained the developmentof Japanese NGO activities after World War II. Until the 1970s, JapaneseNGOs and international cooperative activities were generally very limited
except for a few religious organizations, partly because the Japanese society164itself was still poor. Then, the independence of Bangladesh in 1971 led to theestablishment of some NGOs, such as the Help Bangladesh Community or
HBC (now known as Shapla Neer).
By the late 1970s and the early 1980s, the interest of the Japanesepeople had started to shift from American and European issues toward
Southeast and South Asian or African problems. Shocked by what they saw
in news reports, many young Japanese, including Kumaoka, went to Thailand to help Cambodian, Lao, and Vietnamese refugees fleeing from Khmer
Rouge genocide. However, the activities of such volunteers were not wellorganized or systematized mainly due to the lack of experienced workers
with the proper linguistic skills. It was Masako Hoshino who, with some help
from the Japanese Embassy, started what later became the JVC in Thailand
in 1980 to integrate these separate volunteer activities.
By the late 1980s, the JVC had extended its activities to other Asian
countries, such as Afghanistan, Palestine, Iraq, and South Africa. Since the1990s, after the adoption of the “Rio Declaration on Environment andDevelopment (1992),” the JVC’s activities have expanded to long-term rehabilitation and reforestation in rural areas, in addition to their traditional activities, such as support for the self-sufficiency and livelihood improvement offarmers, humanitarian assistance in conflict areas, and research/advocacy activities in Japan. Representatives from two NGOs closely related to the JVC,
namely Oxfam Japan and Japan Campaign to Ban Landmines (JCBL), joined
the discussion with the fellows and also shared their visions.
Citizens’ movement in Hokkaido—activities of the Hokkaido
NPO Bank
As Japanese society moves rapidly toward an ageing society, mutual
support among citizens becomes indispensable and nonprofit organizations(NPOs) providing various services for senior citizens play an essential role intoday’s world. In Hokkaido, where 70 percent of the 212 local municipalities
are located in rural and depopulated areas and thus large-scale welfare work
is scarce, cooperation between local governments and NPOs within a community is particularly important. Modeled after the Grameen Bank in
Bangladesh, the Hokkaido NPO Bank is a nonprofit organization loaning
money with a low interest rate to small-scale NPOs working mainly in thesocial welfare sphere, providing services for the elderly and the handicapped.
Naoto Sugioka, professor at the Hokusei Gakuen University and director of the Hokkaido NPO Bank, emphasizes that securing funds is aprerequisite for the healthy operation of NPOs; otherwise they would fall
into the vicious cycle of shorthandedness, overwork, drying up of ideas, and165

eventually downsizing of the whole activity. Regular banks, however, areoften reluctant to loan money to NPOs because their financial foundation is
not so stable and they rarely own property to be used as security for loaning.
To enable small-scale NPOs to borrow money under such circumstances,the Hokkaido NPO Bank collects funds from private citizens, corporations,and local government units in the form of investments.
To be eligible for a loan, an organization must meet three conditions:
1) it must become a member of the NPO Bank, 2) it has to be recognized as
an NPO or a workers’ collective, and 3) its activities must be for the benefitof the general society. An NPO can borrow up to two million yen at a timewith the fixed interest rate of 2 percent and a one-year repayment period. A
screening committee, composed of experts including licensed tax accountants, bank clerks, and scholars, evaluates the applicant organization’s mission, the ability of its executive body, its management checking system, implementation plan, financial situation, fund-raising method, and cosignatory.
Oftentimes, however, the NPO Bank approaches NPOs and encourages
them to apply for a loan. Sugioka says many NPOs are not accustomed toborrowing money to expand their activities, nor are they trained to develop
projects based on sound planning. Therefore, one of the purposes of the
NPO Bank is to give such NPOs the incentive to strengthen or expand theiractivities with a little financial support from the bank. As of March 2004, a
total of thirty-four NPOs have borrowed money from the NPO Bank, andnone of them has failed to pay it back.
Endnote1 As examples of dehumanizing political implications of information technology,
Sakamoto cites two recent cases. The first case is the manipulation of information andthe media which is becoming a habitual technique of the political power holders, sothat a big lie is circulated and widely accepted. The manipulation of information andthe media we see today is mainly practiced under the so-called liberal democracy, which
is supposed to be operated on the basis of transparency and accountability. The secondcase refers to the advanced technology of surveillance, based on an incredibly sophisticated technique of data collection and processing which can easily erode and invade theprivacy of individuals, as illustrated by the internationally coordinated strict control on
travel, immigration, banking, and communication.

166

ON NATIO
NALISM, POLITICS
N
NATIO
TION
POLITICS,, AND RELIGIORELIGION

State Shinto and the religious structure of modern Japan
Susumu Shimazono, professor at the University of Tokyo, says thenotion that the Japanese are nonreligious people does not mean they are notinfluenced by religions. There are historical reasons for the Japanese people’sdifficulty in identifying themselves in religious terms.
In December 1945, the U.S. Occupation Forces issued the “Shinto
Directive” to abolish State Shinto and its special linkage with the government, for the U.S. believed what led Japan to a path of aggression was State
Shinto as an ideology, used as a militaristic and ultra-nationalistic propaganda.
Thus, the U.S. tried to return Shinto to its original status as a private religious
institution for the populace.
Shimazono says that in arguing what State Shinto is, there are bothnarrow and broad definitions. A narrow use of the term denotes that Shinto,
symbolized in shrines, was associated with the state. This was the rationale
behind the Shinto Directive. Shimazono says that this definition limits the
responsibility of Shinto in prewar aggression. On the other hand, a broader
sense of the term defines State Shinto as an emperor-centered religiouspolitical institution that dominated and influenced the entire nation from 1867(the Meiji Restoration) to 1945, utilizing Shinto thought and practice as thepillar of national integration.
In its modern nation-building process, the fundamental ideology of
the Meiji government was the unity of sai (rites) and sei (politics), and kyo(indoctrination), in which politics was conducted by the emperor who, as aholy being, performed rites and provided people with moral teachings. However, Shimazono says, the Meiji regime was aware that its policy of connecting religion with politics conflicted with the notion that a modern civilized
nation should separate religion and the state and grant the freedom of belief.
To resolve this contradiction and to further push the policy of the “unity ofrites and politics,” the Meiji government established the emperor-centered
State Shinto in the public domain, setting aside other religions including Christianity and Buddhism. Education played a central role in propagating thedoctrine of State Shinto. At schools, students were made to recite the Impe167

rial Rescript of Education which constituted the core of the Shinto doctrine,emphasizing loyalty and filial piety to the holy emperor.
Consequently, the ultimate goal of the Shinto Directive was a separation of sai and sei. “Rites” and “doctrines” were moved to the domain of
religion (private sphere). The singing of emperor-praising songs and the celebration of national holidays (all associated with imperial rituals) in the publicdomain, especially at schools, were discontinued.
Another reason for the Japanese people’s confusion over their religious identity is their failure to determine conclusively whether Shinto is areligion or not. In Japan, the issue of the religiousness of Shinto has been
politicized, making it even harder to resolve. Legally, Shinto is a religion andtherefore must be separated from the state and politics. However, there are
elements of rite (particularly those of Shinto) left in the public domain. Shinto
rituals conducted in the Imperial Household and mourning functions for the
war dead taking place in a Shinto manner at Yasukuni Shrine are cases inpoint. Shimazono asserts that the propriety of keeping religious elements inthe public/political realm is one of the most debatable issues in contemporary Japanese society.
Concerning state religions, Shimazono argues that most democratizedcountries, including Japan, have denied them. However, Shimazono believes
that as Islamic democracy indicates, democracy can also be achieved by placing a religion in the public sphere (state religion) and also respecting otherminority religions. Similarly, there have been cases worldwide where (often
exclusively) the state religion played a central role in the process of modernization, such as in Japan, England, and the U.S. Although Shimazono doubts
the universality of the idea that every person must have a religious identity, hethinks that it is inevitable that a country in the process of modernization
should be closely affiliated with a particular religion. It is not until the country
has achieved a certain level of modernization that it can afford to accept
other religions and respect individual freedom of belief. Therefore, Shimazono
insists, modernized nations should not impose their current system onto lessdeveloped countries.
Shimazono then asserts that an extreme separation of the state andreligion may leave people in a spiritual void. Without any religious values inschool education, it becomes difficult to teach children about important values in life. For these reasons, Shimazono thinks that sooner or later, the religious or spiritual element will have to be returned to the public domain.
Japanese society is already inclining toward this direction, he says. Having said
that, however, he argues that if the state and a religion become too close andif religion takes too much space in the public domain, there is a danger ofrestricting individual spiritual freedom. At the same time, if a particular reli168

gion is given too much power in the public realm, such a society will be adifficult place for minority groups to live in.
The militarization of aesthetics:
Nationalism, patriotism, and Japan in comparative perspectives
Cherry blossoms have long been cherished by the Japanese and givena vast range of complex symbolisms (“field of meaning”), representing life,
death, rebirth, pathos, reproductive power, and nonreproductive sexuality,
among others. Since the end of the nineteenth century, however, the military
regime began to manipulate the image of cherry blossoms, giving it a twisted
metaphorical meaning—that it was an honor for soldiers to sacrifice theirlives for the country just like beautiful falling cherry petals. This notion culminated during the final days of World War II, when the so-called Tokkotai(Special Attack Force) pilots attacked U.S. warships by ramming into them.
In her recent book Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms, and Nationalisms: The Militarization of Aesthetics in Japanese History, Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, professor at
the University of Wisconsin, attempts to find out how the military government succeeded in ingraining the aesthetics of sacrificing one’s life for thecountry as falling cherry petals; and to what extent individuals swallowed
state nationalism (meaning whether or not the Tokkotai pilots really believed
they would die like falling cherry petals for the emperor). In this light, Ohnuki
differentiates between the “patriotism” of individuals sacrificing their lives
and the “state nationalism” propagated by the state.
Ohnuki is convinced that these soldiers did not believe in the emperorcentered military ideology whatsoever, at least in their thoughts. She theninvestigates their thought processes and how they ended up reproducing theideology through their actions, by perusing the diaries of seven soldiers madeavailable by the bereaved. Ohnuki mainly focused on the elitist university
graduates, comprising one-fourth of the approximately four thousand pilots
who died in the Tokkotai operation. This is in part due to the fact that written records were rarely left by younger soldiers who were not so well educated. Ohnuki also picked out book titles from the diaries and tabulated
them, showing how highly educated these student soldiers were and also
how strongly they were influenced by ideologies of Romanticism, Marxism
or Christianity.
In nationalizing the actions of the Tokkotai pilots, Ohnuki adopts thetheory of naturalization (the process of presenting altered cultural institutions as long-standing tradition so that people will accept them as “natural”)
and méconnaissance (a phenomenon in which actors fail to recognize thatthey are reading different meanings of the same symbol or ritual). The Meiji
169

militaristic government succeeded in subtly changing the significance and symbolism of cherry blossoms and aestheticizing them as soldiers readily sacrificing lives for the country and for the emperor, as if that was the tradition
from time immemorial (naturalization). And méconnaissance blinded thesoldiers to the manipulation of the government; they kept seeing their own
idealism in cherry blossoms.
Simultaneously, they focused on their responsibility to society (“patriotism”) based on their belief, be it Romanticism, Marxism or Christianity. To
Marxists, for example, sacrificing their lives meant defeating the U.K., Japan,
and the U.S. which are all corrupted by capitalism, so that a new Japan would
rise out of old Japan’s ashes like a phoenix. They also aestheticized theiridealism and nihilism to understand their own deaths in philosophical terms.
These soldiers knew from the time they entered high school that they were todie soon, so they tried to understand why they had to die young.
Some survivors of Tokkotai say now that had the government blatantly put all their schemes to these soldiers, they would have rebelled more.
Ohnuki emphasizes that the purpose of her book is not to excuse the atrocities inflicted by the Japanese armies or the Tokkotai pilots, but to show what
precious human lives were sacrificed in the name of war. It is important tounderstand this if we are to prevent more wars.
Nationalism in postwar Japan
Eiji Oguma, associate professor at Keio University, discusses nationalism in postwar Japan by using the following rough classification: pro-Western progressives,1 anti-Western progressives, pro-Western conservatives andanti-Western conservatives.
The end of World War II and its immediate aftermath
In the immediate aftermath of World War II, the policy of the U.S.led occupation forces was to weaken and democratize Japan. To this end,
radical reforms, including demilitarization, the dismantling of the Interior
Department and the thought police, and the reinstatement of communists,and land reform, were carried out. The emperor remained as a symbol ofJapan, with limited function and power.
The anti-Western progressive force which called for the “liberation ofAsia from Western imperialism” lost its influence. Instead, pro-Western progressivism emerged among intellectuals and leftists, and pro-Westernconservativism among conservatives. Oguma asserts that around this time,
the United States was seen as a liberator.
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Cold War/Korean War (1960)
With the outbreak of the Cold War, however, the U.S. swiftly changed
its occupation policy. To mold Japan into its anti-communism ally, it demanded the remilitarization and revision of Japan’s pacifist constitution. Simultaneously, it initiated the suppression of communists, and prewar rightwing forces and militarists, who had been purged after the war, were reinstated to major posts on condition that they would cooperate with the U.S.
During the Korean War, Japan functioned as a supply base for the U.S. military, and the Korean War procurement needs revived Japan’s devastatedeconomy. In the 1952 San Francisco Peace Treaty,2 through which Japanregained its independence, the U.S. persuaded many Asian countries, Australia, and the U.K. to waive their reparation claims. U.S. Occupation Forces andbases remained in Japan under the US-Japan Security Treaty which was also
signed.
In Japan, pro-American conservative forces established the Liberal
Democratic Party (LDP) in 1955, and as anti-communism allies of the U.S.,
they made efforts to rearm Japan, uphold the emperor system, and revise
the constitution to return to the prewar state. The Communist Party shiftedto anti-Western progressivism, resisting “U.S. imperialism.” The so-called“1955 System” was fixated: two-thirds were pro-American conservatives
and the remaining one-third were progressives. Non-communist progressives
also shifted to anti-Western progressivism, opposing the U.S. anti-communist policy. They advocated “unarmed neutrality” and the protection of thepacifist constitution, as the “only atom-bombed nation.” Oguma argues thiswas a way of expressing nationalism; Article 9 and Hiroshima/Nagasaki
became the symbols of national identity. The progressives also got involvedin the anti-base movement3 and organized anti-U.S.-Japan Security Treaty
demonstrations.
The 1960s to the late 1980s
The economic development during this period and the increasing U.S.
influence on their country caused a change in the mindset of Japanese people.
In place of antipathy or blind compliance to the U.S., (unconscious) national
pride emerged as an economic power. The people opposed the constitutional revision or remilitarization, but they were indifferent to the peace/antibase movement. They saw the status quo as convenient for it allowed themto concentrate on economic development while putting the entire militaristic
burden on the U.S. Oguma asserts that such nationalism does not belong to
any of the aforementioned categories. Politically, the pro-American conser171

vative regime maintained its practice of granting favors to interest groups inrural areas.4
The 1990s to the present
The 1990s saw drastic changes both internationally and domestically.
The end of the Cold War led to the worldwide deployment of U.S. forces,
and the U.S. demanded a more active involvement of Self Defense Forces(SDF). Democratization took place in many Asian countries, and reparation
claims reemerged.5 As a backlash against such claims, historical revisionism
rose among anti-Western conservatives, symbolized by the publication of a
new history textbook. Oguma argues that these movements may have been
the reflection of the people’s need for “national pride,” since economic recession has made economic nationalism impracticable. However, such new
movements had their own limitation because of their internal disagreement
over how to deal with the U.S.
Domestically, the 1955 System collapsed. The pro-American conservatives faced a political impasse because the economic stagnation prevented
them from granting favors in rural areas. This led to the decline of their votegathering ability; now the LDP cannot be in the majority without coalescingwith the Komeito Party. With no way out, younger members of the LDP
resorted to blusterous actions, such as making hawkish statements against
Asian countries, going to the Yasukuni Shrine or advocating constitutional
revision. However, such aggressive statements are targeted only at Asian countries; they have no choice but to follow U.S. policy.
With all types of nationalism malfunctioning, be it politically, economically or diplomatically, Oguma cannot tell what the future course of Japanesenationalism will be. But as long as diverse and unstable nationalistic sentiments are channeled into sports events, there would not be much of a problem; otherwise, Oguma suspects the people might resort to violence.
T he wte) the U.S.:
waay w
wee lolovv e (to ha
hate)
U.S
.S.:
America” in JJaa p an todaytoday
T he loci of ““America”
Following Yasushi Watanabe’s lecture (see page 203), Masao Kunihiro,
former professor of Tokyo International University and former Diet member, shared several anecdotes regarding Japan-U.S. relations on a more personal level, and stressed the importance of such personal exchanges and theirimpact on the political or diplomatic arena.6
Kunihiro related how he witnessed a rather heated argument between
172

Shigeharu Matsumoto, founder of the International House of Japan andpersonal friend of Kunihiro, and Edwin O. Reischauer, then U.S. ambassador to Japan and close friend of Matsumoto. Matsumoto, who was outspoken and articulate in renouncing Japan’s war in China, criticized the Americanintervention in Vietnam. Matsumoto blatantly asked Reischauer, Kunihiro
recalls, why the United States would repeat the same mistake Japan once
committed in China. Matsumoto went on to say that he would never visit the
U.S. as long as it was engaging in the war in Vietnam. Matsumoto was true tohis words and rejected numerous invitations to speak in the U.S.
Watanabe then added that although Kunihiro is presently very criticalof the U.S., he is at heart a big supporter of the United States, because he has
seen the best part of America. Watanabe argues that herein lies the difficultyof identifying someone as anti-American or pro-American. One’s being criticalof the U.S. can be a reflection of his or her love of America.
Endnotes
1 From the 1940s to the 1980s, “progressive” meant everything from socialism tocommunism. But it also includes anti-communism liberalists. Also, in most cases,“Western” means “American” in the context of postwar Japan.
2 This was a partial treaty since some nations of the Allied Forces refused to sign it.
3 As a result, while the number of bases on mainland Japan was reduced by threefourths, the number of bases in Okinawa, which was under US occupation until 1972,
doubled. Currently, 75 percent of all U.S. bases in Japan are concentrated in Okinawa.
4 Such discourse as prioritizing the economy, being lightly armed, and neglecting theConstitution to escape the militaristic burden is generally termed as “mainstream
conservatism.”
5 The reemergence of reparation claims was caused by not only the democratization or
feminism in Asia, but also by the ending of the Cold War; during the Cold War, suchclaims, which might disintegrate the Western bloc, were discouraged and blocked.
6 Kunihiro also related the historical background of the International House of Japan,
the historical significance of the land where the I-House presently stands, and how
Shigeharu Matsumoto, the founder of the I-House, asked Shigeru Yoshida, thenprime minister and Matsumoto’s close friend, to appropriate the land for him so hecan build on it an establishment where artists and academics from around the globe
could meet and exhange ideas.

173

ON DEMOCRACY
DEMOCRACY

Nisek
o T
own, Hokk
aido
NisekoTown,
Hokkaido
Seiji Ohsaka, mayor of Niseko, explains that Japan is undergoing thethird major social and political reform in its modern history in the face of
unprecedented changes and challenges, such as an extremely low birth rate,
the stagnation of its economic development, and the diversification of its
sense of values. The current reform shares none of the common features ofthe last two: the Meiji Restoration (1868) and the defeat in World War II(1945), respectively; they were triggered by external pressures (gaiatsu), had acertain time frame and purpose, and had a particular model to follow. For
instance, during the period of economic growth (the 1950s to the 1970s),
since everyone shared the objective of achieving economic development,
what Ohsaka calls “I-shall-leave-it-to-you Democracy” or “Spectator Democracy,” in which only a handful of politicians exercise strong leadership,
worked effectively.
To overcome the challenges we face now, however, a true sense of
democracy must take root among the Japanese people, Ohsaka insists. The
attainment of such a goal is not an easy task, and hence local governance iscritical. As James Bryce put it, local governance is “not only the source but
the school of democracy.” Having issues in one’s reach and being directly
influenced by the decisions each makes is very important. And to promoteautonomy and encourage citizens’ active participation, fair sharing of information is indispensable. Information sharing is not just showing pieces of
information to the citizens, but a continuous learning process in which people
train their ability to utilize information to attain the common goals of thecommunity.
Following Ohsaka’s keynote address, Michitaka Kato, a Niseko Town
official, outlined the background and contents of the Basic Community Building Ordinance, as well as specific actions and measures taken under the ordinance, whose backbone is the policy of information sharing and citizens’
participation. In Niseko, all the information concerning town management isregarded as common assets of the citizens, and thus crucial information suchas budgetary data is made available to every household. Also, Niseko towns174

people have diverse channels (e.g. town-planning discussions and seminars)
through which they can participate in the town’s decision-making process.
Kato emphasizes that the ordinance is not so much a regulation as a proclamation of the citizens’ rights.
Niseko, which has a population of less than five thousand, has long
been known as a ski resort visited by over one and a half million tourists
annually, but it now hosts more visitors in summer than in winter. To makemaximum use of agriculture— Niseko’s other principal industry—as an integral part of tourism, a new division that oversees tourism, agriculture, andcommerce as a set was established within the town hall in 2003. Nobuo
Matsuda, head of this division, articulates its objective: making Niseko aplace where local industries, especially agricultural products, are gathered andconsumed both by the locals and the tourists (Local Produce Local Consumption).
Efforts to develop Niseko are not the monopoly of the town; various
initiatives are also being taken by the citizens. Two such attempts are therevitalization of the main street, which has been renamed “Kira Avenue” andthe organization of the Niseko Flower Festival held along the avenue. Junji
Makino, an executive of Niseko Resort Tourism Association (a corporation
established by the town) and one of the main organizers of the festival,
boasts the active participation of a grand total of five thousand people,
mostly volunteers, in decorating the avenue with over ten thousand flowers.
The tables and chairs placed along Kira Avenue function as a meeting spotof townspeople and tourists, as Matsuda had envisaged earlier. The lifestyleof Niseko residents per se is becoming an important resource of Niseko
tourism, Makino adds.
The fellows also met with Yuko Matsuda, who became a town
assemblyperson through her involvement in environmental preservation. Her
fundamental mission is to pass on the beautiful natural environment of Niseko
to younger generations.
The visit to the Compost Center and the Waste Landfill at the end of
the day, guided by Niseko Town officer Kenya Katayama, complemented
Matsuda’s briefing on Niseko’s agricultural industry. At the Compost Center,one can observe the entire process in which collected garbage is processed
into compost fit for agricultural use. Another visit was to Asobukku, a public
library which also functions as a center where townspeople can access information related to the town.

175

The state of Asian democracies
The end of the twentieth century witnessed the unprecedented uprisings of ordinary citizens throughout Asia. In South Korea, massive demonstrations against the military regime toppled Chun Doo-Hwan from power
in 1987. In 1992, a large number of Bangkok citizens gathered and succeeded in installing a nonmilitary junta government. In 1998, Suharto waslosing his grip because the Indonesian people had started to become criticalof him. Kiichi Fujiwara, professor at the University of Tokyo, argues that
this was a new phenomenon, not anticipated or predicted by political pundits.
The twentieth-century revolutions shared a pattern: led by vanguard
parties (usually communists), they usually failed and ended up installing a
dictatorship, which soon after taking power brutalizes its own people. Examples are the Russian Bolshevik and Chinese revolutions. In the last years of
the twentieth century, however, we saw a different picture emerge. This time
there were no vanguard parties. Though the citizens gathered around students’ organizations or other leading political groups, these organizations
were small and somewhat irrelevant.
But these powerful popular movements for democracy also ended
somewhat tragically, Fujiwara says. Within six months, or one year at most,the newly installed democratic institutions lost their appeal to the citizens.
Those political masses who had “stood up” and supported the ouster of the
dictatorship “sat down” immediately. A sense of apathy and disappointment
prevailed—everyone felt that nothing had really changed and the transition todemocracy did not mean much. The government fell back into hands of theold political establishments, as in the cases of the Philippines, Korea, Thailand, and Indonesia, among others.
Fujiwara explores the meaning of this new pattern of the “glory andtragicomedy of democracy in transition,” where suddenly a huge number ofpeople rise up in the name of democracy and are actually able to topple a
dictatorship, but soon lose hope and end up disillusioned. Instead of a vanguard party brutalizing people, nothing really changes.
Fujiwara argues that there are two types of “democracy”—democracy as a political institution (form of government) and democracy as anorm. Democracy as a form of governance opens equal political opportunities to people, but does not assure that the outcome of elections or otherdemocratic processes would actually result in the realization of a people’s
government. On the other hand, democracy as a norm is responsible to thepeople, and is a never-ending struggle to make political power accountable
to the public. These two things do not really match.
176

Fujiwara asserts that what we have right now in Asia is a form ofpolitical institution that can only be called “democratic,” and at the same timeis quite dissociated, if not distanced, from the actual society. During the democratic struggles in Asia, people believed in the democratic norms, not in a
democratic form of governance. They thought that if the dictator would
step down, there will be both democratic institutions and the realization of
democratic norms. Things are not that simple, Fujiwara says.
Democratic institutions are a way to accommodate democratic demands in a stable political institution. Accommodation does not mean realization, however. Democracy guarantees institutional participation in the formof elections. At the same time, however, other activities that may assure democratic governance are banned as illegal. In a way, accommodation also means
the “taming of democratic demands.” Therefore, Fujiwara argues, the distance between the norms of democracy and procedural democracy can actually become wider with the installment of democratic institutions.
Fujiwara has developed the “governmental parties” theory, where theruling party establishes a merger of government institutions to the effect that
opposition parties become essentially pressure groups, and not contenders
for political power. Japan is a case in point. Having little chance to win thenext administration, the rational choice for the opposition parties is to work
as pressure groups to push their demands against the government.
Fujiwara doubts government parties would be able to effectively install themselves in most Asian countries in the coming decade. There havebeen attempts to install a parliamentary cabinet system in many newborn
democracies, for this system gives far more weight to the ruling administrative power. Precisely because of that, however, these moves have met strong
opposition, and in many countries, were eventually trashed.
Nor does it mean that these societies will have full-fledged presidential
democracies, Fujiwara says. Although there are moves toward a presidential
form of government, what we observe in newborn democracies is the demise of political parties. The role of political parties is declining in many new
democracies because under the presidential form of government, there isalways a constant struggle between the congress and the president. Whenever
there is a presidential election, there is kind of a turncoat effect; everybody
wants to belong to the president’s party.
Democracy means something to the public only when their say counts.
It is a sad feature of political life in virtually every society that laymen’s voices
do not actually count. Nevertheless, Fujiwara insists that democracy has become an unchallengeable concept after the Second World War. It has become universally accepted. What we have in Asia is not a struggle for democracy against autocracies, but an effort to make liberal democratic institutions more accountable to the public.
177

The Hokkaido development project and its challenges
Hokkaido was first settled by the Japanese people at the end of thenineteenth century, when most inland areas were wild forests. At that time,over a million Ainu had already dwelled in what would later be called
Hokkaido. The newly established Meiji government viewed Hokkaido as
essential both as a military base against the southward advancement of theRussian empire and as a colony where jobless and landless Japanese farmers
and former samurai soldiers could settle and start new lives. To facilitate andenhance the development of Hokkaido, the government established the
Hokkaido Colonization Commission (Kaitakushi) in 1869. The Commission
later invited specialists from the United States and, based on their suggestions, adopted Western-style ways of living and modern agricultural technologies. Kiyoshi Koda, professor at the Hokkai Gakuen University, said that
Horace Capron, former U.S. secretary of agriculture, was among the advisers, and was paid better than the prime minister at that time.
In 1886, with the establishment of the Hokkaido Agency within the
Ministry of Home Affairs (and the abolishment of the Kaitakushi), thegovernment’s Hokkaido development policy shifted from agriculture-oriented colonization to industrialization. In part due to the improvement of
the railroad system, many industries emerged, such as pulp and paper manufacturing, coal mining, and iron and steel production. Thanks to the nationwide economic development, both capital and labor moved to Hokkaido ingreat numbers, and in 1920, manufacturing became the main industry of
Hokkaido, followed by agriculture and fishery. However, the importance ofthe Hokkaido development project gradually decreased as Japan began toseek economic, capital, and agricultural resources overseas.
After World War II, however, Hokkaido was focused on yet again asa food center, a place to accept people returning from overseas, and thefront base against the Soviet Union in the midst of the Cold War. To promote the comprehensive development of Hokkaido, the Japanese government established the Hokkaido Development Bureau in 1951, modeling it
after the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) system in the U.S. Since then, six
terms of the Hokkaido Comprehensive Development Plan have been implemented by the government. As a result, Koda argues, the infrastructures of
Hokkaido have been well established. Koda views the promotion of communications among the northern countries as one of the key objectives forthe next decade.

178

ON PEA
CE/SECURITY
PEACE/SECURITY

T he Hiroshima Peace Me
moria
Hiroshima
Peace
Memoriamoriall Museum andthe testimony of an A-bomb victim
Meeting Michiko Yamaoka, an A-bomb victim (hibakusha), and listening to her graphic account of her hellish experience was an opportunity tounderstand more profoundly the horror of nuclear weapons. Yamaoka began publicly testifying about the terror of the A-bomb after her mother,
who single-handedly raised Yamaoka, died a quarter of a century ago; shethen realized it was her duty to share her stories with the world while she wasalive. The war ended almost sixty years ago, but many people are still suffering the aftereffects and wars are still being waged in many places around theworld. The core of Yamaoka’s message is simple: the meaninglessness of
war and the importance of seeing the value of a peaceful life.
The A-bombing of Hiroshima, a garrison city where many soldiers
were stationed, was planned from the initial stage of the Pacific War. The city
was deliberately kept free of air raids until the day of the A-bombing. The
Hiroshima citizens were not informed of the air attacks in other big cities or
the occupation of Okinawa. On August 6, 1945, Yamaoka, then a mobilized
ninth-grade student, was 800 meters from the hypocenter. Blown away by
the blast, she found herself buried under the rubble, burned and unable tomove. It was her mother who came to look for her and rescued her. Yamaoka
describes the scene of innumerable people staggering with their skins peelingoff and their intestines hanging out and dead bodies piled up or floating in
the rivers as “Hell on Earth,” an indelible image that she can never forget until
the day of her own death.
That was only the beginning of Yamaoka’s long struggle against poverty and discrimination (the hibakusha were mostly shunned because they
were thought to have a contagious disease). In 1955, as one of the twentyfive “A-bomb Maidens,” Yamaoka went to the U.S. and underwent a totalof twenty-seven reconstructive surgeries, supported by a Quaker organization. At the beginning, full of anger toward the Americans as well as theJapanese government, she thought it only proper for the Americans to support the victims, but personally communicating with them made her realize179that it was the war that was to blame, not the people. After the operations
she regained the movement of her neck and hands and was able to help out
her mother, who had fallen ill by then.
Later, Masako Unezaki guided the fellows through the Peace Memorial Park, where they saw the A-bomb Dome and other war-related memorials.
The role of Hiroshima in peace making:
A jour na
list’
nalist’list’ss perspecti
perspectivv e
The Chugoku Shimbun (a Japanese regional newspaper), a forerunnerand leader in disseminating the Hiroshima experience throughout the world,
has broadly and extensively reported on the effect of atomic bombs, mainly
focusing on the plight of A-bomb survivors until the 1980s. In the 1990s,
however, it shifted its attention to different kinds of Nuclear Age victims
around the world and conducted extended investigations, such as reports on
the Atomic Soldiers (soldiers in the U.S. and China exposed to radiation forexperimental purposes without any prior warning about the risks involved)
and the Downwinders (those living downwind of the nuclear testing sites).
Many of the so-called superpowers have victimized their own people
through their pursuit of nuclear armaments, all in the name of “national
security.” Even now, workers at and nearby residents of uranium reprocessing facilities are being exposed to highly toxic radiation. The latest warheads
loaded on missiles are at least seven times as destructive as the one dropped
on Hiroshima. Japan currently possesses fifty-two nuclear power plants producing nuclear fuels.
Akira Tashiro, senior staff writer of the Chugoku Shimbun, says that
only a small number of people are aware of the fact that the entire globe is
becoming the target of a nuclear disaster, which may lead to the annihilationof the whole of humanity. To increase the level of awareness about thethreat of a nuclear holocaust, for the past fifteen years, Tashiro has workedon connecting the experience of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to the current
situation by writing a series of articles on nuclear issues, including stories on
the lethal effect of the depleted uranium (DU) used in the Gulf War. He has
visited a number of countries including the former USSR nations, the U.S.,
the U.K., and Iraq to disclose the deadly effects of nuclear weapons onhuman bodies as well as the environment. In January 2004, the Chugoku
Shimbun, in cooperation with the Hiroshima International Cultural Foundation, initiated a project called the Hiroshima World Peace Mission, dispatching citizen delegates to various parts of the world to spread the message ofHiroshima.
180

Tashiro argues that only those who understand the true meaning of
the Nuclear Age could change the world, and thus, concerned citizens as well
as journalists, scholars, and educators have a responsibility to inform thepeople of various countries of the reality of the nuclear threat. He says theissue of Hiroshima and Nagasaki should concern the whole of humanity,
and the abolishment of nuclear weapons and all kinds of warfare is a challenge that has to be faced by everyone on the planet. He hopes that the voiceof Hiroshima will be heard and will contribute to the prevention of warfare,the promotion of mutual understanding among people, and ultimately thecreation of a nuclear-free world.

181

ON PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL
INTELLECTUAL
ALSS

Look
in
g back to JJaa p an’
ast
Lookining
an’ss ppast
Shunsuke Tsurumi, one of the most prominent philosophers in postwar Japan, first brought up the life and work of the great writer Soseki
Natsume to discuss the productivity of the early Meiji period. When Natsume
studied English literature in England, he explored the question of why Chinese and Japanese literatures were so different from English literature. Since
Natsume grew up in an environment where the pre-Meiji culture was stillprevalent, Chinese literature had had a great impact on him. Haunted by thisproblem, he studied psychology, sociology, and other social sciences. Heeven tried to apply the natural science method to literature1 and to study
literature from an anthropological perspective by reading Malinowski andothers. During Natsume’s time, however, anthropology had not yet been
established as a discipline.
Natsume’s literary theory was not successful. The problem he formulated was solved only more than thirty years later by I. A. Richards. Nevertheless, Tsurumi says that up to now, almost one hundred years after Natsume’s
death, no scholar of English literature has yet posed such a significant question as the one the writer put forward; here lies the greatness of early Meiji
scholarship.2 These people belonged to two worlds (Japan and the westernworld). Tsurumi then asks, “When did the Japanese become scholars of only
one world?” He believes the year 1905 (the end of the Russo-Japanese War)—not the end of World War II in 1945—marked a watershed in modern
Japanese history.
To elaborate on this point, Tsurumi brought up two central figures in
the Russo-Japanese War: Gentaro Kodama and Iwao Oyama. Unlike manyof his contemporaries, Kodama, a former low-ranking samurai, was neversent to Europe, but instead learned Western military tactics from a German
named Meckel whom the Japanese Army had invited. Kodama thought thata war against Russia was unavoidable and proposed that he be appointed
the vice chief of staff, in charge of the appointment of all the officials in the
Army.
Iwao Oyama was a cousin of Takamori Saigo, a central figure in the
182

Meiji Restoration. When he went to study in Switzerland, he had an astute
Russion tutor who was being pursued by the Russian government. Oyama
told the Swiss official who warned him about his tutor that he himself used
to be pursued by the Japanese government, but he became a high-ranking
official because his side won, and therefore if his tutor’s party turned out
victorious he also might end up being a high official.
When several important leaders of the Meiji government had a conference in Kyoto to discuss the war with Russia, Oyama and Kodama, whowere about to set out on an expedition to Manchuria as chief and vice chiefof the general staff, respectively, told the leaders: “When we say to the Cabinet that it is time to stop (the war), just do so, under whatever terms, without
any investigation.”In the Portsmouth Treaty to end the Russo-Japanese War, signed by
Jutaro Komura, then Japanese foreign minister, and his Russian adversary,
Count Witte, Japan made little profit. A great rally protesting Japan’s decision
was held in Tokyo. However, Tsurumi asserts that the Japanese leaders knewthat if Japan pursued the war, it would inevitably lose, and they thus had nochoice but to end it in 1905. To appease the nation, however, they made itappear as if Japan had actually won the war against Russia. But the truth isJapan did not lose the war, Tsurumi asserts. Amidst this lie, Japan plunged into
the Pacific War.
Even after the war, this false scenario continued to be believed, Tsurumi
says. It was very convenient for the government leaders to deceive the nation.
It was also a convenient device for the United States to make Japan feelgood. The deception went on, and thus fascist Japan was preserved within
imperial America. Tsurumi is not sure how long this trend will last. He recallsthat in 1945, an American classmate from Harvard told him that the U.S.
would become totalitarian, which Tsurumi could not believe then. However,when George Bush came out on television and said, “We are crusaders,”
Tsurumi knew that what his classmate said in 1945 had come true. Under theveil of deception, Japan is already under the American empire. The Japaneseprime minister is blindly following whatever Bush says. Tsurumi asks, “Whatcan I do?”Dialogue with Amal Jadou, SYLFF Prize recipient
Amal Jadou, a Ph.D. candidate at the Fletcher School, Tufts University,
was born and raised in a Palestinian refugee camp near Bethlehem (Aida
Camp), one of nineteen such refugee camps on the West Bank and Gaza.
Her grandparents were deprived of their land as a result of the Zionism
movement in 1948. No sooner had they settled in a camp after evacuating183

from an Israeli massacre than Jadou’s grandmother was widowed, and had
to raise three children on her own.
Jadou compares the “miserable” and “poverty-stricken” camp life tothat in a prison. The refugees are denied access to their own lands and properties, and they have little, if any, freedom. Jadou says, “Somebody is always
controlling you and telling you when to smile or cry, when to go out of yourhouse or go to school.” There are over six hundred checkpoints in Palestine,and every day young Palestinian women are harassed by Israeli soldiers but
currently there is no legal protection for Palestinians. In Jadou’s words, Palestinians have been reduced to “subhuman” beings. Much as land or nationhood is important to Palestinians, even more critical is the “salvation of theirown souls and beings,” Jadou says. Although she was born in the camp, it ispsychologically a temporary home, and her grandparents’ house, which Jadou
has never seen, is her real home.
Feeling helpless at the “silence of the international community,” Jadou
decided to study foreign policy to understand what was happening in her
country. She was particularly keen on studying in the United States because
she believed that by supporting Israel politically, economically, and diplomatically, the U.S. was in fact a co-occupier of Palestine.3 In the U.S., Jadou
visited churches, schools, and universities to discuss the Palestine-Israel conflict. She says her hope lies in the following: Palestinian youth working toresist the Israeli occupation; Israeli people opposing the occupation; and theenlightened or motivated activists in the world, particularly in the U.S. She
believes by working together they can make a difference.
Upon completion of her doctoral studies, Jadou will return to Palestine to teach at Bir Zeit University, her alma mater. Under Israeli censorship,
Palestinian schools are not allowed to teach anything about the Holocaust,
Zionism or the Palestine-Israel conflict. Jadou’s ultimate goal is to run for thePalestinian Legislative Council and work for her country. She envisages afuture Palestine as a liberal, democratic, and open-minded country, where therule of law and human rights are respected, and most importantly, where
people can be themselves and flourish as free individuals.
Dialogue with Eg
ecipient
Dialo
logue
Egll a JJ.. Mar tinez-Sa
tinez-Sall azarazar,, SYLFF Priz
Prizee rrecipient
Egla Martinez-Salazar, a Ph.D. candidate at York University, discussed
the human rights issues in Guatemala, with a special focus on the Mayan
people. Throughout the thirty-four-year-long state-led genocide, more than
200,000 people were killed, of which 83 percent were Mayas, and over 440
Mayan towns were totally destroyed.
Egla’s first encounter with the Mayas dates back to her early childhood
184when her impoverished mestizo family migrated to eastern Guatemala towork in a cotton plantation. There, Egla witnessed firsthand how the Mayan
people were treated as primitives belonging to the bottom rung of Guatemalan society. She realized that “another Guatemala,” about which she had
never been taught in school, existed, and that the Mayan people were not justprimitive “Indios” who had no relevance in the contemporary world. Until
then, Egla had believed in the nationally imposed concept of Guatemala
having only two populations: Latinos and the indigenous people (not including the Mayas). But the Latino is also a constructed concept because people
like Egla who come from different indigenous backgrounds (mestizo) fallunder this category as well. Thus, not only did Egla discover the multiethnicityof her country, she also began to ask herself who she was, as a mixed person, as a woman, and as a poor person.
With these fundamental questions in mind, Egla became actively involved in social and political activities. Later when she was finishing her teachingdegree, she became part of a students’ association and worked with peasants, landless city dwellers, and Mayan people. In 1981, Egla’s father, who
was helping illiterate peasants with land rights issues as a municipal official,
was ambushed in his office and brutally killed. Four years later, her older
sister was kidnapped, tortured, and raped by the military, then three years
after that, her younger brother, who was also working with the Mayas, waskilled when he accidentally stepped on a landmine.
Egla says that her personal and family tragedies have been so overwhelming that sometimes it feels unbearable; she always remembers the lives
and deaths of her family and colleagues. Citing Walter Benjamin, she says if
we live painful memories through passivity, we are going to become moreabsorbed in our pain. The best way we can work through this traumatic
experience is to get involved and determined, and to contribute to the foundation of different hopes.
Egla says it has been difficult in the academe to connect these personal
experiences with theory. At the same time, she feels that too many academics
are so detached from realities, which are complex and nuanced. Thoughthese academicians easily theorize on such ideas as equality and suffering intheir ivory towers, it is hard for them to engage in real people or see true
human contradictions. Egla thus insists on the need to develop a new type of“engaged scholarship.” By “engaged scholars,” she means those who dare tochallenge different systems from privileged perception and ask different questions. Engaged scholars must challenge themselves to look for new concepts
to really understand what is happening in the world and their future implications. Egla promises to continue to be such an engaged scholar, and a “little
hammer” who will push forward ideas in which she truly believes, as a teacher,185

researcher, and community worker.
Endnotes
1 Natsume learned the natural science method through nightly discussions with
Kikunae Ikeda, who later founded the Ajinomoto Corporation.
2 Tsurumi’s major problem concerned his father. His politician father supported thewar against China and the U.S. in the Diet. “How can such a brilliant man support suchan immoral war which Japan will certainly lose?” The question fueled Tsurumi’s best
work. His most significant studies were made to resolve this dilemma.
3 Jadou severely criticizes the U.S. and Israel for controlling the Palestinians and theirsovereignty by forcefully changing the discourse. As long as a Palestinian leader iscooperating with the U.S. and Israel, these powers will continue supporting that leadership, but once the same leader becomes uncontrollable, they would demand a changeof leadership. Jadou argues that it is not for others, especially the U.S. and Israel, todetermine who represents the will of the Palestinian people, and she calls for a fair,democratic political process that will be under international observation.

186

Perspectives
from Japan

187

188

WHY NEW COMPETENCE?:
A HIDDEN INEQU
ALITY IN THE EDUCATIO
N REFORM OF 1992
INEQUALITYEDUCATIO
TION
Tak
ehik
o K
ariy
akehikehiko
KariyariyaaHistory of educational reforms in modern Japan
New competence means kinds of intellectual skills, and I am one ofthose very doubtful of it. We have had three major education reforms inmodern Japan. The first took place in the late nineteenth century when the
newly formed Meiji government was in the process of modernization, in
which education played a very important part. The government decided tomodel the educational system after the modern school system of other countries, such as America, France, and Germany. The second reform took placeat the end of the Second World War. At that time the U.S. Occupation Forces
tried to change the Japanese prewar education system, which seemed tothem an elitist system. The third big change that took place in the 1990s is the
subject of this paper.
The current education system of Japan
After the war, we imported the idea of the American education system, which naturally reflects the important values of American society: democracy, equality, and freedom. The school system was simplified: six years
in elementary school, three years in junior high school, and three more years
in senior high school; the first nine years are compulsory. In postwar Japan,
the secondary education system was also simplified. In prewar days, we had
different types of secondary schools: middle schools for boys and girls,
vocation training schools, and so on. Now, however, there is only one typeof upper middle school, i.e., senior high school, above which are colleges
and universities.
Another feature of the new Japanese education system is egalitarianism. In some other countries, students are divided into classes based on thelevel of their ability or performance, but in Japan, from elementary throughjunior high school, it hasn’t been like that at least until very recently. However,senior high schools, as well as colleges and universities, have a very selective
and hierarchical system. Students have to take entrance examinations to enter
senior high schools. In one school district, there are usually five to ten schools,
189including vocational high schools, and based on their achievement levels,
students decide to which schools they will apply.
Currently, 97 percent of junior high school graduates, meaning almost
everyone, go on to senior high school. Half of senior high school graduates
go on to colleges or universities, and another 20 percent move on to postsecondary vocational schools. In total, 70 percent of senior high school graduates (or, 65 percent of their cohorts) have post-secondary education for two
years or more.
It can be said that these statistics show the high performance and efficiency levels of Japanese education, which seemed to have performed very
well, until recently. However, there were also people who found problems
with this system, and they tried to fix them. What happened after they tried
to fix the problems is crucial to the point I would like to make in this paper.
The nightmare of Japanese education
In every country, people complain about education, and that was also
the case in Japan. When I started my graduate studies in the United States in
the 1980s, many countries of the world respected the achievements of Japanese education. But that time, the Japanese themselves, especially experts ofeducation research, criticized it and demanded it be changed. So there was a
big gap between how the Japanese viewed it and how the outside world
viewed it. I found myself in a dilemma as to which side I was to take.
Naturally, everything has two sides, but we often forget that these two are so
closely linked that when you get rid of one, you also lose the other.
From the 1970s to the 1980s, the Japanese education system cameunder severe criticism. First of all, there was “Exam Hell” that put greatpressure on young people to go to better high schools, colleges, and universities. The many problems of school bullying, school phobia, and homicides
by students were found to have resulted from the failure to cope with thepressures of “Exam Hell.” The upside of this setup is that everybody had aclear idea of why they must study: the clear goal was to be able to go to a(better) high school and college. The examination process is very simple—
you work hard, you get good marks, you pass the exam. If you want tocomplicate the selection process and try to see the whole person, then a tenminute interview or ten-page essay would not be enough, and it is going to
be costly, too. So it is a kind of tradeoff—simpler and clearer criteria, incentives, and goals versus competition and stress and so on.
Secondly, in the mid-1980s, Japanese education was heavily criticizedfor not encouraging creativity and individuality among students. Those days,
we had fewer Nobel Prize winners than the United States or Europe. We
190

had no Bill Gates, either. Creativity means different things to different peoples
around the world, but in those days, some Japanese people insisted that in
the twenty-first century, Japan should “create” creativity; otherwise, it could
not compete with other countries. Also, it was said that since the Japanese area group-oriented people, we should provide more opportunities for individuality. However, again, there are always two sides. Being group-oriented
and putting communities before individuals is not always a negative thing,
and actually, it was the source of strength and motive energy that propelled
Japan’s economic development and corporate management.
The third defect the reformers saw in Japanese education was how it
pushed students to cram knowledge. Examinations were condemned forjust testing what students memorized. I argue however that students needbasic knowledge, for example, to be able to calculate, and being drilled is aprerequisite to mastering a skill. The real weakness probably was that teachers did not care about teaching students enough to show them how to link
separate pieces of knowledge they learned in different classes into a moreorganized whole.
Call for education reform
It was in that environment of unpopularity that an ad hoc council on
education reform was formed under Nakasone Yosuhiro, then prime minister of Japan. This council’s report stated that since Japan had finished catching up with advanced countries, cramming knowledge and learning theirtechnology, and had in fact overtaken others, it was time to become morecreative while Japan was at the top. Thus, creativity and individuality emerged
as the “new competencies” for the twenty-first century. Innovativeness, theability to think for oneself, and problem-solving skills were all called “newcompetencies.” They said that knowledge cramming was too old-fashioned,
and it was time to shift to “quality education” and produce more creative
people. This was how the third round of education reform started.
The first thing the government did was revise the national curricula,according to which private companies published textbooks, so there were
no national textbooks, only guidelines.
The revised curriculum required that instruction should be responsive
to students’ interests. This idea came from the criticism that teachers decided
what should be taught. Therefore, the government emphasized that now
students should be the center of education, not teachers or textbooks. Teachers were expected to listen to the students, find what their interests were, andmotivate them. Based on those interests, teachers should decide what andhow to teach. Under this policy, the so-called “sogo tekina gakushu no jikan,” an191

experience-based, cross-subject, and integrated-style class session, was adopted.
The government also decided to lessen the demands on students sincecramming of knowledge was seen as negative. As a result, the curricula content of elementary and junior high schools was reduced by 30 percent. But
where did this 30 percent go? It was merely transferred to the senior highschool curriculum. There is a certain level of knowledge the society requires
everyone to learn by the time they become adult. Anything taken away inelementary or junior high school has to be learned in senior high school.
Again, it’s either of two things: start slowly and speed up later, or speed upthen slow down. In any case, the government would try to leave some “roomto grow (yutori)” for elementary and junior high school students.
Another change the government tried to introduce was multiple criteria. Before, exam scores were very simple and clear. But now, as the government encourages different kinds of criteria to evaluate students, colleges anduniversities have changed their admission policies. Now, there are different
types of entrance examinations; admission can be based upon an essay, interview, sport ability, or artistic talent. Multiple criteria are likewise used for dailyclassroom evaluation. Students’ school reports are evaluated according totheir level of participation, attitude, and even by their eagerness to learn. All
these were attempts to create a new competence. This may be a good idea,
and we may need that kind of competence, but the real question is how we
can really attain it.
What happened in real classrooms?—a survey
There are more important questions to ask. What actually happened
and continues to happen in real classrooms? What problems will emerge inthe future? It’s not just a story of current Japan, but education must also
influence the future. And the third question is why we still like these ideals
even when we find them problematic. New competence, new learning: Why
do educators like these ideals? As a sociologist, I tried to answer these questions through empirical researches.
For this survey, my group chose 921 fifth-grade students in sixteen
elementary schools and 1,281 eighth-grade students in eleven junior highschools. This survey we did in 2001 repeated the same tests and questionnaire
once used in 1989 by other researchers in the same schools.
Figure 1 compares the scores in basic mathematics tests of both 1989
and 2001. As the table would show in 1989, the biggest percentage of students scored 90 percent or above and the average was about 80, but in 2001,
the scores fell and there were more students in the lower strata. The numberof students who marked 90 or above dropped drastically. Likewise, the192result of the basic math test we did on eighth-grade students showed a clear
decline in scores. What is alarming is not just that the average score declined,
but also that the distribution became much wider (Figure 2).
Figure 1. Math Scores of Fifth Graders in 1989 and in 2001

Figure 2. Math Scores of Eighth Graders in 1989 and in 2001

The scores of students who went to juku (a private school students go
to after school to complement the school curricula) and those who did not inboth years (1989 and 2001) were also compared. Students who went to juku
scored higher, but in 2001, the gap between these two groups became much193

wider (Figure 3). Also, the students who went to juku in 2001 scored less thanthose who did not go to juku in 1989. This fact shows two things: one is thedefects of public schooling and the other is the inequality among students.
Since only those students whose parents are affluent enough can afford to go
to juku, this means that those who cannot afford juku will end up with lower
scores. This is one example of how family income directly affects children’s
education.
Similarly, we compared the math scores of eighth graders who did
not go to juku and who did not study at all at home; in other words, theyrelied only on formal schooling or learning in the classroom (Figure 4). In
1989, even those students who did not study at all outside the classroom still
got higher scores. In 2001, however, more students who did no out-ofclassroom studying had lower scores.
Figure 3. Math Scores of Junior High School Students with Juku or without Juku (1989 and
2001)

194

Figure 4. Math Scores of No Study No Juku Students in 1989 and 2001

Figure 5 shows how many minutes students spent on homework. We
also divided the students into three groups based on what I call the “cultural
background” of their family. We wanted to ask them about their social andeconomic background, but it was not easy to include such direct questions inquestionnaires for younger students. So we instead asked such questions as,“Does your family own a computer?” “Do your parents often watch news
programs on TV?” “Do your parents take you to museums or concerts?”and “Does your family have lots of books in the house?” Based on theiranswers, they were divided into three groups: upper, middle, and lower
classes, using some statistical techniques. The result showed a clear difference
in study minutes among these groups. The students from an upper cultural
background spent more time on homework than those from middle-or
lower-background families.

195

Figure 5. Junior High School Students’ Homework Time per Day by Family Cultural BackgroundTo find out the effect of the types of learning they received in elementary school on their math scores in junior high school, regression analysis ofjunior high school math scores was also done. What can be concluded fromthe result is that the child-centered “new competence” type of learning has anegative impact on students’ math scores in junior high school, while thetraditional type of learning has a positive effect. Hence, it can be said thateven though the idea of “new competence” is good, if it is not implemented
in the right way, it will have a negative impact on students’ academic skills in
the future.
So far we have looked at “traditional” competence such as math skills.
I will now proceed to show whether or not “New Competence” is equallydistributed, and whether or not the cultural environment of students influences their commitment to new learning situations.
To find out the influence of the students’ family background on theircommitment to learning, the first question we asked was how active they
were in classes where students are expected to search for knowledge themselves. This is the idea of “new competence”; students are encouraged toformulate their own questions and solve them. It is students, not teachers,
who should know their interests, set up projects, work together, and findsolutions. Again, students were divided into three groups, and there was a196

clear correlation between their family’s cultural background and their activeness in such classes (Figure 6).
Another question we asked was how often students became leaders ingroup work-type learning situations, which supposedly is another attributeof the “new competence.” There was also an obvious connection between
the cultural background of the students’ family and their commitment tosuch “new competence” type of learning situation (Figure 7). Students fromupper cultural backgrounds became group leaders more often than thosefrom lower strata.
Figure 6. “I am active in classes where students search for knowledge themselves.”

Figure 7. “I often become a leader of group-work learning.”

197

What then contributes to such increasing inequality? Not only in the
education environment but also in the Japanese society as a whole, there is a
growing trend to put more importance on “individuality” rather than on a
“group-oriented” mindset. We have also come to value “self-esteem.” Thesenew values have emerged as counterattacks against the criticism on the oldfashioned, cramming type of schooling.
Such new values, however, also convey a hidden message to the students that school is not important anymore. Old schools crammed knowledge, and crammed knowledge is useless—this is the message students receive these days. And naturally, they will begin to wonder why in the firstplace they have to go to a school that teaches useless knowledge.
In another survey conducted on twelfth-grade (senior high school)
students, we asked how much they want to contribute of themselves tosociety or the country. We then calculated their study minutes at home perday, and we also asked them about their parents’ occupational and educational background. The result shows that among those students who wished
to contribute to society, the difference of study minutes among social economic statuses was not so big. However, the less students wished to contribute to society (or, we can say, the more self-centered they were), the bigger
the gap in study minutes between social classes became.
Generally, if you want to contribute to society, you will study hard nomatter what your family background is. However, if society becomes more
and more individualistic (and in my view Japanese society is moving towardthat direction), young people will lose the sense of linkage to society as awhole. Once they lose the sense of what they can do for society, they may
also soon lose the reason for working hard or finding jobs, and eventually,
they could stop studying. The study, in fact, shows this happening more likely
among those from a lower social background. If this trend continues, wewill have greater inequality in the future.
We also conducted another regression analysis. We asked students ifthey think it is possible to get almost every knowledge and skill without
attending schools (again the idea was to find out if they still think of schools
as useful). Then we divided the students into two groups based on theiranswers (agree or disagree). The result shows that among those students who
found schools useful, the gap in study minutes between social classes was
smaller than the class gap among those students who did not regard schools
as useful. This confirms that those who do not find schools important stop
studying. But who are these who are the first to stop studying? Yes, thosestudents from the lower family background. The point I reiterate here is that
it is happening unequally.

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Conclusion
In conclusion, I must say that what happened during the 1990s in the
education sphere was a nationwide experiment. A countrywide education
reform has already taken place, and we have seen declines in scores, expansion of inequality in scores and studying hours, and a widening gap in acquiring the “new competence.” Japanese education used to be an “equalizer” ofsociety, but not anymore. What is problematic is that the majority of people
do not know what is actually happening in schools. They still believe in theideals of the reform. Yes, the ideals and intent were good, but one has tolook closely at what has been happening as a result. Japanese education
stopped functioning as an “equalizer” of society.
Such phenomena as a rapidly growing inequality or a drastic wideningof income gaps might have happened even without the influence of education. However, when such a trend starts to be witnessed, education could
play the role of either an accelerator or a brake. The Japanese government
used education as a gas pedal and contributed partly to the expanding inequality in society.
Another observation was that the “new competence” is also unequallydistributed. The ideal goes that every child has his or her own interest and soteachers should help them find said interests and according to those, provide
them with proper education. But this is not an easy task for most teachers.
Imagine that you are teaching a class of thirty-five or thirty-six students, andyou have to make them think their own way and find their own interests,
questions, and solutions. I am fortunate to have only ten to fifteen highly
motivated university students in my class, and I still find it difficult to haveeach student find his or her own question and then solve it. That was what
the Japanese government demanded all the school teachers in Japan to do,starting on the same day, regardless of whether they were prepared or not.
Inequality in acquiring or learning the new competence is closely linked
with students’ family background. It has been “less help” for those students
from “less advantaged” families. Because of the nature of this new competence and the multiple-criteria policy, assessing how students perform in school
is becoming more and more difficult. Teachers still make comments like,“You have an interest in so and so subject” or “You are better than so andso,” but it is hard for parents to interpret and to know how their children are
performing in classrooms or how much their understanding has improved.
Those who are educated know what problem finding and solving is,and therefore can teach their children. For example, when my daughter had
an assignment to write an essay on the role of newspapers, my wife and I
were able to help her, utilizing the Internet, newspapers, and other news
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sources. However, such a task is not as easy for other families, especiallythose from a lower socioeconomic background. And who suffers the mostfrom such inequality? Of course, the children. Nevertheless, Japanese education reform has ignored these phenomena, and in fact, our society is moving
toward more inequality. If we decide that this is the direction our society andeconomy should take, we should do something for the youth before they
enter the extremely competitive job market. I believe that the government is
responsible for reducing social gaps, particularly through public education.
The education reform, however, has only widened the inequalities in Japanese society even more.
People understand the ideal of the “new competence,” but most ofthem do not know how to attain it, implement it, or teach it. I am of theopinion that those who are ready to take this new course of education should
do so. But those who are not, should wait. However, the Japanese centralized system asked every teacher to start this new course on the same day:April 1, 2002. And I must say that as our survey results show, the reform wasa failure.
The Japanese government tried to follow other advanced countries
such as the United States and the United Kingdom that have adopted childcentered education or the twenty-first-century-style new competence in placeof traditional skills. However, there is a difference between these countries
and Japan. The U.S. and the U.K. have a decentralized education system, so
one part of the country can start implementing new competence while others continue with the traditional style of education. In Japan, however, wehave a very centralized system, so such an experiment will have to involve theentire nation. In Japan, therefore, the reform should have been done or
implemented slowly and carefully; otherwise, it could lead to tragedy. We
must distinguish between ideals and reality.
Takehiko Kariya is Professor at the Graduate School of Education, University ofTokyo.
Questions and Answers
Q: Are there any similar studies on the social and cultural backgrounds of university
students?
A: Most Japanese universities and colleges are private and some 70 percent
of all university students go to private colleges and universities. There is also200

a clear correlation between university enrollment and the sociocultural background of students’ families. In the case of the University of Tokyo, one of
the most selective national universities in Japan, about 75 percent of thestudents come from the upper middle class.
Q: Is it valid to use the time spent by students on homework outside of school to evaluate theeffectiveness of the education reform, even though there might be students who have to spend
time on farming or doing chores for the family?
There are only a few Japanese students who have to help the family.
Also, there is a clear correlation between students’ socioeconomic backgroundand the time spent watching TV. Lower SES (Social Economic Status) students watch more TV than higher SES students. And the time spent on theTV among lower SES students is increasing yearly.
Comment: Critical thinking or writing should be taught in public schools, not just in
private schools which only privileged families can afford. That is more egalitarian.
A: I agree with you, but the question is at what stage and how you startteaching such skills. Critical thinking requires a lot of expertise, including thebasic knowledge students learn in elementary schools. Critical thinking or
problem-solving skills cannot be separated from basic knowledge. Therefore, I think we should start teaching such advanced skills at the senior highschool level.
Q: Is there any kind of study which may indicate the impact of the changes of the 1945
reform, such as how long it took before students began to exhibit high levels of achievement
or how they became exam-oriented? This may be too soon to evaluate the impact of the
1992 reform.
A: The education reform in Japan has an unfortunate history. Until 1950, theschools, teachers, and the government had a relatively good relationship.
However, during the 1950s and the early 1960s, there were political disputes
between the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) and the Socialist and Communist Parties. In this conflict, the teachers’ union supported the Socialist Partyor the Communist Party and the Ministry of Education supported the government and the LDP. Thus, teachers were excluded from important decision making on future education policies.
One of the issues they discussed during this period of conflict waswhether standardized testing should be conducted nationwide. The government tried to conduct such testing to predict what skills or knowledge should201

be taught more extensively to educate future doctors, engineers, and so forth.
However, this governmental trial was met with great opposition and criticism at the local level, particularly from teachers’ unions who were supported by most education researchers. Because of this political conflict sometime in the 1960s, the government gave up on holding a national standardized test or any kind of evaluation on students’ achievement. Hence, thecentral government had no data necessary for policy making and evaluating
the effects of reforms.
Comment: We should understand that schools can only do so much. Education can never be
equal because families are different and individuals are different. But it is important for
educators to constantly be engaged in the process of adjusting and fine-tuning the system.
A: Yes, I agree. Education is not the sole solution to equalizing the society. We
should know however to what extent education can be, or not be, effective.
Comment: In my country, where the modern education system started very recently, many
Western “experts” on education come and tell us, “You should teach creativity,” or “We(or other Asians) have made such mistakes, so don’t repeat them,” and so on. But we also
have to know that though it is a good idea, we do not have teachers or resources who canteach these values, nor do we have enough understanding of such concepts among our people.
A: One thing we should not forget is that cramming knowledge and criticalthinking or creativity do not contradict. Once you have a set of basic knowledge, then you can add to it the skills of critical thinking and creativity. Thatis my point. Without knowledge, we cannot possibly find problems or solve
them.
Comment: Universities should be part of the education reform if the government is trying
to shift its focus to “creativity.” Though some universities have implemented new ways ofadmission, still most universities conduct crammed knowledge-based entrance examinations.
A: The government does not force universities to stick to conducting entrance examinations, but they opt to do so partly because standardized written examinations cost less and partly because college professors still believein the value of traditional knowledge.

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THE WAVE (TO HATE) THE U.S:WAYY WE LO
LOVE
(TO
HATE)
U.S:
THE LOCI OF ““AMERICAAMERICAAN TODAY
AMERICA”” IN JAP
JAPAN
TODA
Yasushi Wbe
Waa tana
tanabeDefinition
The word anti-Americanism is used here as a short term for anti-American sentiment and discourse. It is less coherent and tangible than ideology.
Calling anti-Americanism ideology is perhaps too strong. It is as vague as
Orientalism, racism or anti-Semitism. It is a bit difficult to give an exact
definition of anti-Americanism, but a mere opposition to American policies
and attitudes should not in itself be sufficient to constitute anti-Americanism.
It is based on the idea that “something associated with the U.S., something at
the core of American life, is deeply wrong and threatening to the rest of theworld.”1 Joseph Nye defined it in a simpler way: it is a “deeper rejection ofAmerican society, values, and culture.”2
Comparative and transnational perspectives
According to the most recent Cabinet Office poll on foreign affairs in2003 in Japan,3 75.8 percent of respondents feel “attachment” to the U.S.
This figure has changed little in recent years, and the percentage is quite highwhen compared to the percentage of those who feel an attachment to othercountries in the region.
The same poll shows that 79.1 percent of respondents regard Japan’scurrent relationship with the U.S. as good. This figure has remained more orless the same in recent years and is remarkably high when compared to thepercentages of those who regard as good Japan’s relations with other counties and regions.
The Yomiuri-Gallup polls, which have been conducted since 1978,
have consistently demonstrated that Japanese respondents select the U.S. as
the “most reliable” other country in the world.4 These polls show that Japanese public perception of the U.S. has been rather positive and stable, andthat the U.S. holds a special status in the public consciousness of the Japanese.
According to a recent report by the Japan National Tourist Organization (July 2003),5 the U.S. was the most popular destination of Japanese
overseas travelers until 2001, before 9-11 occurred. In 2000, five million
Japanese visited the U.S. while 3.6 million traveled to China (including Hong
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Kong), followed by South Korea (2.5 million), Thailand (1.2 million), andFrance (one million). In 2001, 4.1 million visited the U.S. while 3.7 million
traveled to China, followed by South Korea (2.4 million) and Thailand (1.2
million). In 2002, after 9-11, China became the most popular destination
with 4.3 million visitors, followed by the U.S. (3.6 million), South Korea (2.3
million), and Thailand (1.2 million).
According to a recent report by the New York-based Institute ofInternational Education,6 the number of Japanese students studying in the
U.S. has tripled over the last two decades and has been around 46,000 inrecent years. Japanese constitute the fourth largest population of foreign students in the United States.
This figure is exceedingly high when compared to the number ofstudents from Japan studying in China (13,806), the U.K. (6,150), Canada(2,371), South Korea (2,324), Germany (2,182), Australia (1,913), and France(1,566); it represents about 60 percent of Japanese students studying overseas.7
It is worth noting that the number of students, unlike that of tourists,
has hardly changed in spite of economic recession in Japan, a decrease in thenumber of school-age children in Japan, and the whole complex of consequences of the 9/11 disaster.
These facts are only a few examples that illustrate the special status of
the U.S. in terms of acceptance and permeation in Japan.
At the same time, in spite of (or perhaps because of) this special status,
the U.S. has been a constant reference of new vocabularies in Japan, both
positive and negative. In books and articles, I encountered a multitude ofwords coined to depict Japanese attitudes towards the U.S., including such
popular terms as the following:
chibei—well informed about the U.S.
shinbei—pro-Americankohbei— favoring the U.S.
haibei—admiring the U.S.
raibei—praising the U.S.
hanbei—anti-American
kenbei—hateful of the U.S.
haibei—rejecting the U.S.
bubei—despising the U.S.
aibei—pity for the U.S.
hohbei—enough of the U.S.
enbei—weary of the U.S.
kenbei—tired of the U.S.
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kyohbei—fearful of the U.S.
kyohbei—scared of the U.S.
datsubei—leaving the U.S.
ribei—distancing from the U.S.
juhbei—obeying the U.S.
tsuibei—following the U.S.
These rhetorical expressions clearly exemplify the ingenuity and struggleof the Japanese in making sense of the special status of the U.S. as a preeminent cultural “other.” They are also evident in the sheer volume of popularliterature, including a whole range of negative and provocative titles, on the
U.S. in recent years. According to one survey, more than three hundred bookswith anti-American flavor have been published over the past five years. No
other country holds such a special status in the literary imagery of the Japanese.
The Pew Global Attitudes survey,8 conducted among 38,000 respondents in forty-four nations in the autumn of 2002, reveals that discontent
with the United States has grown around the world over the past two years.
Japan is no exception, with a favorable view dropping from 77 percent to 72 percent. Still, popular approval of the U.S. remains as high inJapan as that in Great Britain (75 percent), Italy (70 percent), and Canada (72percent), and higher than that in many Asian counties, especially South Korea(53 percent), another long-time U.S. ally in Northeast Asia. According to themost recent survey, the Indonesian rating has dropped to 19 percent; Indonesia is probably the most anti-American country in Asia.
Unlike in South Korea, there was no boycotting of American products in Japan, and protests against U.S. military bases were far less massive
and violent. In recent years, physical attacks against Americans, the U.S. flag,or U.S. government offices have rarely been made as a collective action against
the U.S. The way in which Japan has expressed its anti-Americanism appears
to be more indirect, subdued, and intricate.
In order to clarify the locus and implication of this distinctive feature,
I would like to explore the various contexts and expressions of anti-American discourse and sentiment in contemporary Japan in historical perspectives.
Historica
erspecti
Historicall P
Perspecti
erspectivv es
Anti-Americanism, as articulated in literary practice in Japan, is by nomeans new. For example, in 1909 the historian Kan’ichi Asakawa expressed
his concern that the Japanese tended to take more pleasure in pointing out

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U.S. shortcomings as they became more cultivated. Ten years later, in 1919,
the scholar and diplomat Inazo Nitobe related that there was a tendency inJapan, even among top diplomats and military officers, to despise the U.S.
Akira Irie, a noted expert of U.S.-Japan relations at Harvard, points out thata sense of respect for the U.S. had been long lost among well-educatedJapanese by the time of World War I. Shunsuke Kamei, a former Universityof Tokyo professor and another pioneer Americanist, argues that the dichotomy and oscillation between “admiring the U.S.” and “rejecting the U.S.”
has been conspicuous in the social imagery of the Japanese ever since the
Meiji period.9
In recent years, though, the tradition of anti-American discourse andsentiment as a mode of thinking has been reinvented in new contexts.
In the late 1980s, with the unprecedented prosperity of the Japanese
economy (the so-called “bubbly economy”) and the prolonged downturnof the American economy, the “we have nothing to learn from the U.S.
anymore” type of discourse flourished in Japan, and the U.S. was increasingly perceived as declining, decaying, and falling apart. Parallel to this was
the rise of a self-congratulatory tone in public discourse, including the popular literary genre of “Nihonjin-ron” (theory of Japanese uniqueness).10 While
things that were perceived to be unique to Japan were praised, all that was
conjectured as characteristics of the U.S. was rejected. For instance, American policies on crimes, diplomatic affairs, the economy, education, energy
policy, the environment, family, finance, human rights, infrastructure, the military, technology, transportation, and warfare were denounced. News reports
on crime, drug use, guns, lawsuits, materialism, me-ism, moral corruption,
poverty, racial discrimination, and individual bankruptcy were negatively recounted. The U.S. increasingly became the model of how not to be, rather
than an example to emulate. Kunihiro was completely correct in depicting it
as “Japan as Number One Syndrome.”
The image of the U.S. was further damaged by a series of so-called“Japan bashing” and “gaiatsu (outside pressure)” incidents in the late 1980s
and early 1990s. In particular, sharp American criticism of Japan’s unwillingness to contribute troops and its “checkbook diplomacy” at the time of the
Persian Gulf War intensified anti-American discourse and sentiment and stiffened Japan’s national pride as a sovereign state.
It was during this period that the expression “kenbei” (hateful of theU.S.) was coined to describe the new feelings of the Japanese toward America.
The word became so rampant as to appear in Gendai Yohgo no Kiso Chishiki(The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Words) in 1992.11

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Mid-1990s to early 2001 (pre-9-11)
The image of the U.S. bashing and pressuring Japan gradually faded as
the economic conditions of the two countries began to reverse themselves in
the mid-1990s. Instead, the perception of the U.S. as the sole winner in the
new world order of globalization in terms of culture, finance, information,
the military, politics, science, and technology became dominant. The ingenuity of U.S. society and its politics were idealized and held up as models forJapan to emulate. But at the same time a discourse on its “hidden and dark
motivations” was constructed and appropriated to account for Japan’s failure: the so-called “lost decade.”
It was during this period that such sensational expressions as “second
defeat,” “tributary country,” and “fifty-first state of the U.S.” appeared inpublic discourse to describe what Japan was all about, and that books withsuch provocative titles as The Destruction of Japan,12 Why Japan Lost the War
Twice,13 The Re-defeat of Japan,14 and Playing the “Without Japan” Game15 crowded
bookstore shelves.
The United States was portrayed as the hegemonic super-/hyper-power,
which engaged with the world unilaterally and using a double standard. For
instance, Washington’s refusal to release funds for the United Nations and to
ratify the Kyoto Protocol, the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), theAnti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty, the International Criminal Court (ICC),
and the Landmine Ban Treaty was denounced; “globalization” was apprehended as mere Americanization of money, mass media, and military power.
Various national publications began discussing the rise of anti-American discourse and sentiment under such titles as “Revival of ‘Kenbei (Hateful of theU.S.),’”16 “Anti-American Discourse Ignited,”17 and “Kenbei Sentiment Has
Come to the Fore.”18 As a matter of fact, several articles claimed that even
Kunihiro, a renowned expert on the U.S., was getting increasingly critical of
the United States during this period.
When Bill Clinton did not stop over in Japan on his way back from
China in June 1998, a feeling spread that the U.S. was practicing a policy of“Japan Passing” (or “Japan Nothing”), failing to pay due respect to the U.S.’slong-term ally in the Asia Pacific region.
This discourse of crisis, saturated with both self-torture and anti-American sentiment, provided a platform from which the so-called anti-American
conservatives gained ground in public discourse. Some conservative intellectuals sharpened their critique of the U.S. by reexamining such notions as“capitalism,” “democracy,” “equal opportunity,” “freedom,” “free trade,”“human rights,” “individualism,” and “modernity,” as these concepts wereinterpreted and implemented in the contemporary United States. This is re207

markable because during the Cold War, Japanese conservatives, with the
exception of far-right activists, had been mostly pro-American, based on
their opposition to socialism and communism; anti-Americanism had more
to do with liberals in academia, the mass media, labor unions, peace andhuman rights groups, and far-left activists. Thus, the rise of anti-Americanism conservatives in the 1990s was a conspicuous development.
Popular conservative monthly magazines like Seiron and Shokun, whichreach an average of 70,000 to 100,000 readers, have reported a marked
increase in the number of young readers, especially those in their twenties
and thirties, and women. SAPIO, another conservative monthly magazine
which reaches an average of 120,000 readers, has intentionally targeted the
young generation and now reports that two-thirds of its audience are in their
twenties and thirties. This success is attributed partly to “Goman-ism Sengen(Declaration of Arrogant-ism),” an elaborate and chauvinistic cartoon seriesauthored by Yoshinori Kobayashi, which constantly makes negative references to the U.S.
Books and magazine titles became rather sensational, even chauvinistic;
and they were often expected to be so in order to appeal to public sentimentand reach out to a wider audience. For example, the cover of the January 31,
2000 International edition of Newsweek had a photo of a fat cowboy with hisbelly hanging out in an American flag T-shirt, with the headline “Honk If
You Hate America” and the subtitle “Buddy or Bully? Rethinking the Role of
the U.S.” Newsweek’s Japanese edition (February 2, 2000), in order to appeal
to a wider audience, changed the headline to “Amerika ni Igi Ari (Strong
Objection to the U.S.!)” and the subtitle to “Sekai-jyu kara Kirawareru Goinde Migatte na Cho-taikoku (The Forcible and Selfish Superpower Hated All
Around the World).” Its cover story “The Superpower They Love to Hate”
read “Sekai-jyu ni Hirogaru ‘Kenbei’ no Uzu (A Storm of ‘Kenbei’ Spreading Worldwide).”Also, the locus of public interest has gradually shifted from the U.S. toelsewhere, especially to Asian countries. A recent study of international public and private sector exchange programs disclosed a decline of enthusiasm
for the U.S. (Honma 1995) My interviews also revealed that American Studies is no longer a popular major at colleges; that private foundations are
more eager to support Asia-related programs than those focused on U.S.Japan relations; that variety programs on TV tend to focus more on Asia andAfrica at the expense of the U.S.; and that emphasis on the alliance with the
U.S. is often taken as a pro-forma mannerism. A freer flow of people,
goods, money, and information across Asia is believed to be solidifying an
imagined community of Asia, whether invented or rediscovered, especiallyamong the younger generation, and thus to be contributing to a relative de208

cline of interest in, or preoccupation with, the United States. The Asia Leadership Fellow Program, which started in 1996, may be situated within thislarger tendency in Japan.
9-11 and after
The results of different public polls about the 2003 war in Iraq significantly differed and fluctuated according to the stage of operations. Shortly
after the initial strikes at the end of March 2003, approximately 60 to 65
percent of respondents disapproved of the U.S. attacks. Considering the factthat the rate of disapproval of the war in Afghanistan was around 40 percent at the same stage of operations in 2001, it can be inferred that the Iraq
war has further eroded the image of the U.S. in Japan. Antiwar demonstrations, though modest in size and action, took place in local cities across thenation and at the American Embassy in Tokyo and at consulates in other
cities.
The discourse on the U.S. has become more provocative since the war
in Afghanistan. Books on the “neo-conservatives” in the Bush administration, the imperialist conspiracy of the U.S., and the intertwined fate of Japanare plentiful.
Even some highly academic works by respected scholars are accompanied by provocative titles. Koichi Mori’s book (2003) on religious fundamentalism in the U.S. was titled, at the request of the publisher, “Johji Busshu”
no Atama no Nakami (Inside Contents of the Head of “George Bush”), witha scornful cartoon of President Bush on the cover.19 Hidekatsu Nojima’sbook (2003) examining the nature of American literature is entitled HanAmerika-ron (Anti-American Discourse), although the book has little to dowith anti-Americanism per se.20 It is worth noting that the Japanese Association for American Studies, which currently has around 12,000 members,
selected “The Loci of Anti-Americanism” as the theme of a symposium at
its annual meeting in 2003, and featured “Images of ‘America’ in Conflict” in
the Japanese Journal of American Studies in 2003.
Of additional interest in this period is that commentary on the U.S. has
been imported from overseas. Such publications as Addicted to War (2002) byJoel Andreas, 9-11 (2001) by Noam Chomsky, The Eagle’s Shadow (2002) byMark Hertsgaard, Stupid White Men (2002) by Michael Moore, Anti-Americanism (2003) by Jean-Francois Revel, and Why Do People Hate America? (2002) by
Ziauddin Sardar and Merryl Wyn Davies have been quickly translated. Moore’s
Stupid White Men sold nearly 180,000 copies in six month after its Japanesetranslation appeared in October 2002, and continues to sell very well. The
film Moore directed, Bowling for Columbine, attracted almost 20,000 people
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across the nation in less than two months.
The confrontation between anti-American conservatives and their proAmerican counterparts has become intense over the issue of the direction ofJapanese diplomacy. Anti-American conservatives call for a true restorationof Japanese sovereignty and criticize Japan’s blind compliance with U.S. policies. Pro-American conservatives, on the other hand, warn of the futility ofanti-Americanism and see cooperation with the U.S. to be in Japan’s bestinterests. Anti-American conservatives are more grounded in the humanities
with some European biases in it, and their pro-American counterparts are
more grounded in policy-making circles. The annual policy publication Nihonno Ronten 2003 (The Issues for Japan 2003) lists their debates as one of thehottest issues in today’s Japan.21
Even the Atarashii Rekishi Kyokasho o Tsukuru Kai (Association for
History Textbook Reform), a group of conservative intellectuals aiming atcorrecting the liberal-leftist or self-torturing biases in history textbooks froman ethno-nationalistic perspective, are reported to be split over the legitimacyof U.S. operations in Iraq. Kanji Nishio, a theoretical pillar of the group anda long-time critic of the U.S., has turned more sympathetic to the Unites
States, a stance which his collaborators Yoshinori Kobayashi and Susume
Nishibe view as compromising and self-defeating.
Closely related to this phenomenon is the fact that the discourse ofanti-American conservatives resonates with that of liberals on the Left intheir antipathy to U.S. hegemony and Japan’s blind obedience to it, almost
like that of a client state. While liberals seek a pacifist world based on multilateral/international cooperation and cosmopolitanism, their understandingof the status quo has more in common with that of anti-American conservatives. Interestingly, Takaya Shiomi, who founded the Red Army Faction in
August 1969 (and was imprisoned for twenty years), today insists on therestoration of nation and state as the basic units of human existence anddefends patriotism as a breakwater against U.S.-led globalization (2001).22
Though this is not a popular sentiment in the contemporary Left, the socalled patriotic Left is finding common cause with conservatives, especiallythose on the anti-American wing. It is worth noting, in this regard, that
Mitsuhiro Kimura, a far-right activist, joined a September 11 anniversarypress conference in 2002 with such liberal leftists as Makoto Oda and Shoichi
Chibana to issue a statement opposing the U.S. strikes against Iraq.

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Implications
Theoretical implications
The image of the U.S. as a primary reference or preeminent cultural“other” in the construction and appropriation of the Japanese national discourse has begun to lose its theoretical ground. Also, the conventional dichotomy between the “conservative (pro-American)” and the “liberal (antiAmerican)” has become increasingly more complex.
With the prevalence of anti-American sentiment and discourse on bothsides of the political spectrum, it has become more problematic to be proAmerican. “Pro-American” in Japan today can be easily taken as a synonym
for blind compliance with or even obedience to the United States. At thesame time, with the proliferation of “national” discourse, it has become
more difficult to justify a pacifist prescription based on multilateral/international cooperation and cosmopolitanism. This is especially true today when
Japan faces political and military tensions with North Korea and with thegrowing presence of China in the region. For liberals who also appreciate thereinventing and inclusive capacity of American society, it is a time of predicament. Being a “pro-American liberal” itself sounds like an oxymoron
today.
Policy implications
Considering the positive and stable public perception of the U.S. shownby the public opinion surveys cited above, we should not overestimate thesetransfigurations of public discourse, especially those that take place primarily
in literary circles. Some can even reject them entirely as fictitious constructionsof the mass media. Yet we should not underestimate the efficacy of mass
media in the construction of reality in the age of postmodern politics. This isespecially so when populist images and sound bites are influential and thetemptation to oversimplify the complexity of social realities is ever strong.
Neither should we forget that the mass media, while shaping public opinion,
are also shaped by public opinion and cannot maintain their influence if they
become too far detached from the sentiment and disposition of society.
Anti-Americanism is a minority view in the polls; yet it is a vocal minority
view that has the potential to resonate more widely and thus to inform thepolicy-making process.
It would be rather perilous and tragic if support for a U.S. policy wereautomatically dismissed as “blind obedience to the U.S.” and if, in turn, opposition to the U.S. were instantly to have populist appeal. We must remem211

ber that the U.S. became a campaign issue in elections in Germany, South
Korea, and Pakistan during the past few years.
In addition, the rise of nationalistic sentiment and discourse, if underscored by anti-Americanism, could sensitize neighboring Asian countries andundermine policy cooperation in the region. The diffusion of anti-Americanism in the region could deter the U.S. from active engagement in world
affairs, a result that would be extremely detrimental when U.S. engagement is
indispensable and irreplaceable in coping with global issues. “Active U.S. engagement may not always be the best recipe for international problems,” asNaim argues, “but it is often the only one available.”
According to the most recent Yomiuri-Gallup poll, conducted in November 2003, 41 percent of Japanese respondents and 54 percent American
respondents consider their countries to be on good terms. Forty-one percent
of Japanese respondents and 71 percent of their American counterparts
express trust in the other country. According to the 2002 poll, 65 percent ofJapanese respondents and 82 percent of Americans regard the U.S.-Japan
Security Treaty as important for the safety of the Asia Pacific region. Seventy-three percent of Japanese respondents and 43 percent of their American counterparts perceived the U.S. as a unilateral international actor. For apoll exclusively focused on bilateral relations, the overall result remains positive and stable. Yet it clearly shows that Japanese respondents are not as
positive and affirmative toward the U.S. as their American counterparts aretoward Japan. While tensions and conflicts are often the flipside of a close
relationship, we should not overlook this obvious disparity. This is especially
so when 49 percent of Japanese respondents in their twenties and thirties
distrust the U.S., a figure which is 9 percent higher than that for those in thesame generation who trust the U.S. and 10 percent higher than for the average respondent across all ages. Actually, this is the first and only generation
with more distrust than trust in the Unites States. After all, the members of
this generation are the ones who will carry on the bilateral relationship of thetwenty-first century.
Yasushi Watanabe is Associate Professor at the Faculty of Environmental Information,
Graduate School of Media and Governance, Keio University.

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Endnotes
1 Caesar, James, “A Genealogy of Anti-Americanism,” The Public Interest, July 2003.
2 Nye, Joseph, Soft Power : The Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public
Affairs, 2004.
3 Gaiko ni Kansuru Yoron Chosa (Public Opinion Poll on Foreign Affairs), Cabinet
Office, Government of Japan, 2003.
4 Yoron Chosa ni miru Nichibei Kankei (US-Japan Relations as Seen Through Public
Opinion Polls), Yomiuri Shimbun, 2000.
5 Visitor Arrivals and Japanese Overseas Travelers, Japan National Tourist Organization,
July 2003.
6 Open Doors 2002, Institute of International Education, New York, 2002.
7 Wagakuni no Ryugakusei Seido no Gaiyo (Summary of the System for Students Studying Abroad in Japan), Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology,
2002.
8 What the World Thinks in 2002, The Pew Research Center for the People and thePress, 2002.
9 Amerika Bunka to Nihon, Shunsuke Kamei, Iwanami Shoten, 2000.
10 “Japan Through the Looking-Glass: American Influences on the Politics of Cultural Identity in Post-War Japan,” PASSAGES, Humanities Press, Vol.2, No.1, 2000.
11 Gendai Yohgo no Kiso Chishiki 1992 (Encyclopedia of Contemporary Words 1992),
Jiyu-kokumin-sha, 1992.
12 Nihon Kaimetsu, Takanori Mizuno, Tokuma-shobo, 1998.
13 Nihon wa Naze Senso ni ni-do Maketaka, Minoru Omori, Chuo-koron-sha, 1998.
14 Nihon Sai-Haiboku, Soichiro Tawara and Atsushi Yamada, Bungei-shunju, 1998.
15 “Nihon-nuki” Gemu, Kazuyuki Hamada, PHP Kenkyujo, 1998.
16 “Kenbei” Sainen, Ryoichiro Matsubara, Asahi Shimbun, April 28, 1998.
17 Hanbei-ron ni Hi ga Tsuita, Seiron, Sankei Shimbun, June, 1998.
18 Kenbei Kanjo Dehajimeru, AERA, Asahi Shimbun, May 25, 1998.
19 “Johji Busshu” no Atama no Nakami, Koichi Mori, Kodansha-bunko, 2003.
20 Han-Amerika-ron, Hidekatsu Nojima, Nan-un-do, 2003.
21 Nihon no Ronten 2003, Bungei Shunju, 2003.
22 Saraba Sekigun-ha Watashi no Koufuku-ron (Farewell to the Red Army: My Ideas ofHappiness), Takaya Shiomi, Ohkura Shuppan, 2001.

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214

THE ALFP 2004 FELL
OWS
FELLO

KARINA AFRICA BOLASCO
Publishing Manager, Anvil Publishing, Inc.; Publisher
While completing her units in the MA programme in Philippine Studies at the University of the Philippines, Ms. Bolasco served as a staff writerfor the Minister of Labor and later as a Literature/English Professor at St.
Scholastica’s College and Ateneo de Manila University. She has been in bookpublishing since 1979 and founded and spun off Anvil Publishing, Inc. fromthe bookstore chain, National Book Store. Currently, Ms. Bolasco oversees
and supervises the entire operations of Anvil, from manuscript development to book production to warehousing and to book promotion, marketing and distribution. Anvil’s range of books stimulates intellectual needs andhumanistic concerns through disseminating information on a wide range ofthemes to various audiences from an educational and identity building perspective. Due to her dedication to enriching public life in the Philippines, she
has been a recipient of National Book Awards and Publisher of the YearAwards a number of times. In 1995, she was also cited as one of Ten Outstanding Women in the Nation’s Service for Book Publishing and Literacy.
Her essays and poetry have been anthologized in books.
KINLEY DORJI
Managing Director/Editor-in-Chief, Kuensel
Having completed his Master of Science degree in journalism at Columbia University, Mr. Dorji is in the responsible position of overseeing themanagement and editorial policy of Kuensel, the only newspaper in Bhutan.
As a distinguished intellectual in the realm of media, he is a regular observerand commentator on the dramatic political and socio-economic changes
taking place as Bhutan rapidly transforms its political system from a monarchy to a democracy. He also promotes Gross National Happiness (GNH) asa new notion for national development. Central to its conceptual framework
is a more holistic approach to social development as a balance between thespiritual and the material en route to finding a “third way” between capitalism and communism. It is hoped that this innovative thinking in attaining
well-being will pave the way for a new paradigm in human development.
215

FAYE CHUNFANG FEIProfessor, English Department / Director of American Studies Graduate Program, East China Normal University
Dr. Fei is an esteemed artist-scholar of world theatre. Having obtained
her doctoral degree from the Graduate Center of the City University of
New York, she taught critical theory, dramatic literature and theatre history in
the United States for eight years before returning to Shanghai. Dr. Fei has
authored and edited numerous publications including Chinese Theories ofTheatre and Performance from Confucius to the Present (University of Michigan Press, 1999 hardcover, 2002 paperback). Dr. Fei is currently working on
Theatre Herstory, a cross-cultural research project. Her talent as a playwrighthas gained international recognition, and one of her plays, China Dream, hasbeen staged in the United States, Japan, and Singapore as well as China. She
is also an author of poetry and short fiction.
JAMHARI
Executive Director, Center for the Study of Islam and Society, National Islam University (PPIM-UIN, Jakarta)
Having received a Ph.D. in anthropology from the Australian National
University, Dr. Jamhari is a reputed researcher on Islamic studies with a focus
on the installation of democracy in Islamic society and Muslim’s compatibility with civil society. Among his current interests and concerns is the aggravated poverty in rural areas as an underlying root cause for the upsurge ofreligious fundamentalism. Dr. Jamhari facilitates the interdisciplinary research
activities of PPIM-UIN Jakarta, which are designed to enhance mutual understanding between Muslims and non-Muslims. He grapples with injusticeagainst Muslim communities due to misperceptions, and explores the contemporary significance of Islam through the linkage with Western value systems. His publications include Islamic Contemporary Movement: The Riseof Islamic Radicalism (Logos, 2004).
CHANDRIKA SEPALI KOTTEGODA
Founding Member and Co-Director, The Women and Media Collective, Sri Lanka; Coordinator, Sri Lanka Women’s NGO ForumSpearheading the civic movement for removing obstacles to women’s
participation in all spheres of public life, Dr. Kottegoda is an action-oriented
scholar on gender and women’s studies. Having earned a Ph.D. in development studies from the University of Sussex, she is a founding member and216

co-director of the Women and Media Collective, the activities of which
include promoting women’s representation in the media, lobbying for theincrease in women’s representation in the political arena, and campaigningagainst violence against women. She also holds a teaching position in the
Ph.D. programme of women’s studies at the University of Colombo as asenior lecturer. Dr. Kottegoda brings her expertise to bear on strong advocacy and lobbying for public awareness of gender bias and of unequal development as a fertile ground for conflict. Her efforts in promoting theempowerment of women and sustainable development as a way to combat
poverty are highly evaluated at both government and non-governmental levels.
KUSAGO, TAKAYOSHI
Associate Professor, Graduate School of Economics and Business
Administration, Hokkaido University
Dr. Kusago obtained an MA in development economics from Stanford
University and later a Ph.D. from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Incorporating his firsthand knowledge and extensive empirical fieldwork into
relevant policies and planning, he is in the forefront of efforts to lay thefoundation for partnership between industrialized and developing countries,
as well as to connect various constituencies such as policy-makers, donors
and local practitioners. During 2001-2003, he addressed dominant factors
contributing to the exacerbation of rural poverty through his work as Poverty Advisor of the Bureau for Development Policy at UNDP Bangkok,
and made suggestions for the effective implementation of development aid
policy. His insight and leadership are increasingly seen as crucial in the search
for lasting solutions in poverty eradication and socio-economic development in Asia.
NGUYEN VAN CHINH
Senior Lecturer, Department of Ethnology/ Deputy Director, Center
for Asian-Pacific Studies, Vietnam National University, Hanoi
Dr. Nguyen Van Chinh obtained a doctorate from the University of
Amsterdam, the Netherlands. His Ph.D. dissertation “ Work Without Name:
Changing Patterns of Children’s Work in a Northern Vietnamese Village”
was awarded an honorable mention by the Netherlands Association of Social and Cultural Sciences (NVMC) in 2001. Focusing on the issues of children’swork, education, migration and ethnic minorities, his current research interests lie in poverty reduction and the restoration of social justice for the disad217

vantaged/marginalized. Apart from working as a university professor andresearcher, Dr. Nguyen also serves as a local consultant for UN-related agencies and NGOs including the Asian Development Bank, World Bank, World
Health Organization, and Save the Children. His involvement in these projects
is aimed at improving the living conditions of vulnerable groups and children’s
education.

218