The Land od the Rising Yen

educated nation, people in Yedo (Tokyo), which was even then one of
the largest cities of the world, knew nothing of the very existence of the United States. This may have been unpardonable ignorance yet ours was a happy, satisfying
and elegant way of life; looking back on it, it seems a Lost Paradise.
    ‘There was one thing in 1945 which
shook us even more than defeat. It was the riches — the appalling, dazzling
wealth and technical superiority of the United States. We vowed never to be
poor again. We have kept our vow. Many people feel contempt for us because — they
think — we have totally surrendered to Western ways, in no time at all. They
are wrong. Some people — leaders of economic and business life — did exactly
that. Or meant to do it. But for many of us the accumulation of wealth is
simply a means to a circuitous return to the good old days of Paradise Lost,
the pre-Perry days, their freedom, their elegance. The days when we did not
know that the United States existed.
    ‘Westernization? To some extent it is
inevitable. We go to work in Western clothes, use computers and Western
methods, but go home, change into yukatas and kimonos and revert
to another way of life. Our way is the shell-fish way. The shell-fish has soft
meat inside but a very hard, protective shell outside. The outward acceptance of Western customs helps perhaps to preserve our internal values.
The Chinese did exactly the opposite: they tried to reject westernization in
toto and thought, in their conceit which is their gravest national disease,
that they knew better about everything. The result was deadly. I am for
westernization to a certain degree; a great degree. Westernization is the only
method of keeping to our own ways; today westernization is our only chance of
remaining Japanese.’
     
    My informant had got some of his
facts wrong. It used to be forbidden under pain of death to leave Japan, so one cannot speak of a lack of the spirit of adventure. When they could travel
they did so. They visited both Korea and China in large enough numbers, even if
not exactly as ordinary tourists. In the Meiji era, innumerable study-groups
went abroad. When emigration became possible, millions of Japanese went to
countries ready to receive them for a while: the United States, British Columbia, Brazil and Peru. Today the Japanese are the greatest travellers, second
in number only to the Americans — and surely more curious, more eager to
acquire knowledge and experience than the average American. He is surely also
wrong about the Japanese unwillingness to learn English. I do not know
what’s happening ‘deep down’ but in certain circles the desire to speak English
has become a mania.
    These views reflect a clash not only
between Japan and the West but between the Japanese business-world and the
right-wing, anti-Communist intelligentsia. The latter feel that the businessmen
enjoy all the benefits of Japan’s boom but contribute little to world peace,
national culture and the true, spiritual interests of a reborn Japan.
Fascinating though these views are, deserving attention, they are hardly more
than a voice crying in the wilderness. They represent a nostalgic desire, a
rear-guard action and a warning which bustling, busy, thriving Big Business is
unlikely to heed. But it is a whisper which is going to persist; and, in the
end, it will either die out or become a battle-cry.
     
    I was sitting at the bar of a pub in Kyoto, off the beaten track, where a gaijin is still a rarity if not a sensation. I
was drinking beer when I became aware of being closely observed by a man
sitting next to me on a high stool. After a while he overcame his shyness
sufficiently to speak to me. He spoke in broken English. He had watched me
drink my beer with obvious enjoyment then asked: ‘Japanese beer good?’
    ‘Very good.’
    A happy grin.
    ‘Japanese beer better than English?’
    ‘Much better.’
    A still happier grin. I thought it a
shade too triumphant, so I added: ‘But German beer better still.’
    He was puzzled and taken aback.
    ‘You just said, Japanese beer better
than English.’
    ‘Yes. Japanese beer better than
English; German beer better than Japanese.’
    Long, thoughtful silence. Then a girl
came in and ordered whisky. He watched her drink it, then asked me: ‘Japanese
whisky better than English?’
    ‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘much better.’
    Delighted grin. He was elated. Then I
said: ‘But Scotch whisky is better