The Land od the Rising Yen

for them.
    I learnt, too, that I — like everyone
else — had been graded and assessed in advance and from that moment I jealously
watched the places we went to and — whenever I could do so without disgrace —
threw a discreet glance at the bill when it was being signed. I was greatly
flattered one evening when, taken out by a company vice-president, I saw that
the bill for the two of us ran to Y 50,000 (nearly £60 or $140), which was
about my host’s monthly salary. But I was duly put in my place next day when I
heard that on the same night the President himself entertained a Dutch tycoon —
a businessman who really mattered, and not a mere writer — and their bill, including a geisha-house to which I was not taken, came to Y 150,000
(£180 or $425). There was nothing extraordinary in this. It was just an
ordinary evening out for the President. Nothing is really too much for the
Japanese tax-payer.
    Big firms also give lavish parties,
sometimes to several thousand guests. All of them receive a gift at the end. I
saw only two of these gifts. One was a set of encyclopedias — about twenty-four
volumes for each guest; the other was a tape-recorder.
    A big Japanese firm does not think
twice before inviting you over to Japan for a discussion, or to give a lecture
or just to look around. First class air-ticket, a suite in a luxury hotel and
all your expenses paid.
     
    A witty and cosmopolitan
businessman-friend, who was also frank, told me once that he was due to go soon
on an exciting journey to South-East Asia with a fat travel allowance. He looked
forward to the journey, especially to Hong Kong and Thailand, because he was
mad about Chinese and Thai women. But he was also worried. He had crossed his
company’s President and feared his revenge. It was a very Japanese affair, no
argument, no unpleasantness, no open disagreement. All that happened was that
the President suggested something at a meeting and my friend asked him, most
courteously, if another way of doing it had also been considered. This was
nearly open rebellion and he was worried lest his trip be cancelled on some
feeble excuse to teach him a lesson for the future.
    One evening he came to meet me, half
amused, half furious.
    ‘The bastard...’ he fumed.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked.
    ‘My trip, of course.’
    ‘He cancelled it?’
    ‘Oh no. I’m going all right.’
    ‘He cut your allowance?’
    ‘No. That’s the whole point. The
cunning old bastard. He doubled it.’
    '???’
    ‘So that I should be able to take my
wife.’

POLITICS
     
    Japan runs true to form. Even in the old
days she was accustomed to political chaos coupled with economic prosperity.
Today she is more prosperous than ever before; and instead of chaos she is
plagued with or enjoys — political oblivion. As a military power Japan is non-existent: she renounced war; as an international political factor she does not
count. If Mao growls or the Indian Prime Minister dismisses one of her
ministers, it is front-page news the world over: if there are fights and
fisticuffs in Japan’s parliament people read a brief paragraph about it, yawn
and turn the page. Mao Tse Tung and Mrs Gandhi are household names; but how
many people know the name of Japan’s Premier?
    Japan ’s nationalism is economic nationalism and there
is nothing new about this, except that it is militarily non-aggressive. Yet we
resent this slightly, as if Japan had less right to trade and succeed than we
do (except, of course, that we don’t). Japan, in turn, indignantly resents the
suggestion that this economic nationalism exists, as if it were a grave
accusation and not the only possible — and most innocent — outlet for a great
and proud nation.
     
    Japan is a democracy established on an Anglo-American
pattern by a new constitution promulgated in 1947. The Diet consists of two
Houses: the House of Representatives (the Lower House with four hundred and
eighty-six seats) and the House of Councillors (the Upper House, with
two-hundred and fifty seats). Members of both houses are elected, on different
suffrage. Members of the House of Representatives are elected for four years,
of the House of Councillors for six (with one half of them elected every three
years). Voting age begins at twenty and women — contrary to all expectations —
have the vote. Indeed, they make good use even of their passive votes: there
are seven women in the House of Representatives and sixteen in the ‘other
place’. Since