Blog Entry 1

Blog Entry #1

First, let me say that I’ve found this absolutely fascinating so far.  I look forward to reading more!  Below are my reading notes, my “putting this into my own words” the concepts we read for this week.  I think I understand the concepts fairly well, and hopefully I’ve explained the various nuances correctly.               

“Aimai” is defined as “a state in which there is more than one intended meaning, resulting in obscurity, indistinctness, and uncertainty” (9); it is a kind of socially-enforced ambiguity.  It is built so deeply into a culture that, by necessity, values close-knit communities and fears any sort of impoliteness that may cause social friction that many native Japanese speakers do not realize they are being ambiguous at all.  Born from the physical necessities of living on a mountainous island, this ambiguity “has contributed greatly to the economic development of Japan, the need for strong emotional unity has also resulted in an inability to criticize others openly” (11).  While this might seem a refreshing change of pace for Americans (who spend much of their time being offended), in reality “aimai” causes trouble with international relations, especially because the Japanese regard any concrete, direct language impolite – by saying something concretely, one either appears to be bragging or else putting the other person in the conversation below oneself.  A direct “yes” or “no” would be almost non-existent.

Reading this, after watching Aoi Tori, helped me make sense of the movie.  While watching, I wondered why the substitute teacher so often did not respond to questions directed towards him, why he paused so frequently in conversation.  I started to wonder “what if a Japanese viewer would interpret this differently than I would?  How exactly do I interpret silence?”  It took me a few minutes to realize that, if I had addressed the substitute and been met with only silence, I would assume he was either angry with me or thought I was being foolish.  Reading this confirmed my idea that the Japanese do think differently about silence, although I had no idea it was so concretely built into their culture.

“Uchi” and “Soto”, to put it simply, mean “inside” and “outside”, respectively.  Because the whole of Japanese culture is based firmly on family dynamics, this system of “those who belong” and “those who do not” is built into the conscious mind of its people: “the Japanese clearly distinguish insiders from outsiders in daily life, depending on whether the others belong to an uchi or soto group” (217).  On the most basic level, the family units are extremely tight-knit; the family is “uchi”; those who are not family are “soto”.  The best way to describe this concept is to look at a traditional Japanese household, although the concept expands to other levels of society as well: “In the traditional Japanese pattern, each household is a distinctly isolated unit of its own, complete with walls and a high fence around the house to insure privacy.  Yet inside, walls consist of sliding doors made of paper so that privacy is kept to a minimum” (218).

This also applies to other social groups that people necessarily fall into – school classes; clubs; coworkers; and other such groups where it is easy to identify who is “soto” (not one of the group) and “uchi” (one of the group).  This extends to even international relations – the entire Japanese nation is “soto” while those who are not Japanese are “uchi” (or, more specifically, “gaijin”). 

This also made sense in regard to Aoi Tori, and in regard to other Japanese film and television I have watched.  It is a universally human trait to try and find security in a group, and to want to be accepted, but the “uchi” versus “soto” concept goes much farther than I have seen in my own culture, especially when it comes to family life.  The idea that the family spends all of their free time at home together was surprising; it is certainly not what happens in my household.  But it does fit in with an idealized version of “family time” that our media and culture expresses in many ways: in TV shows, the families always watch TV together, although that’s not what my family does; game companies advertise “family night” as a way to sell their games, although my family rarely has time for something like that.   

                “Danjyo Kankei”, the concept of changing female roles within Japanese society, made the most sense to me.  The historical pattern of women becoming more and more independent as time goes on is one that is seen in Western culture as well; the struggles that Japanese women have been through is familiar.  I took less notes when reading this section because it was one I understood well.

“Chinmoku” is the idea of using silence as means of communication.  In Japanese culture, silence is utilized in myriad forms.  As already mentioned, the “aimai” ambiguity can lead to more silence in a conversation, because speaking up may come across as bragging or overstepping one’s bounds.  Historically, the Japanese consider silence to be a part of “truthfulness”, an idea that goes back to Zen Buddhism and states that the internal, non-physical is “true”, whereas the external, physical is tainted and to some degree “false”:

“[The Japanese] believe that the truth lies only in the inner realm as symbolically located in the heart or belly. Components of the outer self, such as face, mouth, spoker workds, are in contrast, associated with cognitive and moral falsity.  Truthfulness, sincerity, straight-forwardness, or reliability are allied to reticence.  Thus a man of few words is trusted more than a man of many words” (52).

There are several forms of silence. There is a silence that indicates one is carefully thinking over one’s ideas before responding in conversation (“enryo-sasshi” – reserve and restraint); silence can also smooth over a tense situation: it is better to be silent than to offend someone (i.e. married couples often spend more time in silence than in expressing their feelings verbally).  Silence can also be negative – a purposeful, ignoring silence is a common form of bullying in Japan, and one that often goes unreported, because even children not engaged in the bullying are afraid to step up and say what they know is going on.  Silence is also used as a way of hiding the truth; politicians, school principals, and other forms of authority remain silent in order to avoid self-incrimination.  Obviously, silence also has an effect on international relations, because many cultures interpret silence differently.