A group of young people recently gathered in a darkened park in Tokyo. Holding placards and megaphones, they chanted slogans condemning the Japanese government and a lack of jobs and opportunity.
The scene, which is repeated often in the gritty Tokyo neighborhood of Koenji, is nothing close to the protests that have recently shaken Iran. Indeed, the protests would hardly raise an eyebrow in most parts of the world, but in this country, which values conformity, they represent a stark departure from the norm. Since the 1960s, when youth protests turned violent, even the mildest form of protests by young people has been viewed as taboo.
But the pain of recession is changing that, giving rise to a new activism among Japan’s youth, who have long been considered apathetic.
“I’m here because I want to change society,” one leader, Yoshihiro Sato, 28, recently shouted to a crowd of about 50. “Will you join me?”
Unlike the 1960s generation, which agitated to change the bourgeois basis of Japanese society, Sato and other young people are today fighting to join it. They are demanding greater professional opportunities, more job security and a stronger social safety net.
After so many decades without a grass-roots movement, protests are so rare here that many who wish to take part require basic training.
The Tokyo-based Pacific Asia Research Center, an institute that typically runs seminars on social issues like poverty, organized the recent march. After a surge of interest from young people who said they wanted to get more involved in social issues but did not know how, the center started offering what it says is Japan’s first activist training program. The sessions include poster-making and campaigning on the Web.
“Once we’re done, we’ll overrun Japan with demonstrations,” Seiko Uchida, the head of a research center, told a cheering crowd.
That may be hyperbole, but the deteriorating economy has unarguably affected young people more than any other demographic. Unemployment was 9.6 percent in April for Japanese aged 15 to 24, compared with 5 percent unemployment overall.
But unemployment and welfare benefits are sparse in Japan. And government spending is skewed toward pensions and health care for older voters rather than programs that might train young workers or help them support their families.
In the first quarter of the year, Japan’s economy shrank a devastating 14.2 percent on an annual basis as exports slumped because of the global economic slowdown. Many of those who lost their jobs were younger people in precarious “temporary” positions that were the product of a decade-long deregulation.
The disparity has fueled generational friction, particularly between those who reaped the fruits of Japan’s rapid postwar growth and younger Japanese who came of age in Japan’s “lost decade” of the 1990s, when the country’s economic growth stagnated, and during its anemic recovery.
When companies like Canon and Toyota Motor started to fire temporary factory workers late last year, a handful of the workers lashed out publicly, confronting managers at factory gates, often in front of TV cameras. Others brought a flurry of lawsuits against former employers.
Over the New Year’s holidays, about 500 laid-off temporary workers who had lost their homes congregated at a park in the center of Tokyo, building an impromptu tent city next to the offices of the Labor Ministry. The scene led to a media frenzy and national soul-searching on the plight of young Japanese.
Today, workers are rushing to unionize, and the Japanese Communist Party says it is getting about 1,000 new members a month, many of them disgruntled young people.
Masahiro Mukasa, a struggling techno musician, started a union for freelance artists and musicians in December. The Indy Union intends to help members negotiate with particularly abusive employers.
“People think musicians just have a good time. But we need to make a living, too,” Mukasa said. “I want to show that our livelihoods are at stake in this bad economy.”
Still, in a society that values conformity and order, most Japanese remain deeply averse to confrontation and protest, and there is nothing approaching what could be called a mass movement.
“Japanese feel it’s shameful to get involved in protests,” said Makoto Yuasa, a longtime activist. “Many still look at us suspiciously, like we might be making bombs.”
Still, “this is the most significant rise in activism I’ve seen in years,” said Yoshitaka Mouri, a professor at the Tokyo University of the Arts, who has been following the rising protest culture. “A movement is brewing among young Japanese.”
Hajime Matsumoto, an activist who operates from a thrift shop in Koenji, has amassed a large following at his protests and rallies. Some like-minded Japanese have opened their own stores alongside Matsumoto’s, huddling after hours to help hatch protest plans, turning Koenji into a center of activism.
“The poor man’s revolt has finally begun!” Matsumoto shouted at a recent demonstration, banging on a full set of drums perched atop a piece of plywood on wheels. His message: Even poor people deserve a good life. “If we all get together, we can bring about change!”
Some experts question how much political influence demonstrators will wield. Few expect them to be a big force at the ballot box later this year when Japan holds parliamentary elections.
Young people are outnumbered by older voters, and are concentrated in cities, where ballots carry less weight proportionally than in the sparsely populated countryside.
Still, the nascent focus on worker and generational rights is a break from the years under former nationalist prime ministers Shinzo Abe and Junichiro Koizumi. At the time, stoked by nationalist rhetoric from politicians and government officials, youth seemed to swerve to the right.
To quell the rising anger, the government has increased spending on programs for younger people. In his latest economic stimulus package, Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso pledged ¥1.9 trillion (US$19 billion) in programs to raise youth employment. He is also prodding companies to elevate temporary workers to full-time status. Such actions have done little to change the economic issues.
For now, the public has some sympathy with the protesters, and the rallies are getting heavy coverage in local media.
“I support these young people,” said Masaaki Saito, 60, an owner of a small electronics store in Koenji who took part in student protests in his youth.
“It’s been a long time,” he said, “but Japan’s youth are getting their voice back.”
Former president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) in recent days was the focus of the media due to his role in arranging a Chinese “student” group to visit Taiwan. While his team defends the visit as friendly, civilized and apolitical, the general impression is that it was a political stunt orchestrated as part of Chinese Communist Party (CCP) propaganda, as its members were mainly young communists or university graduates who speak of a future of a unified country. While Ma lived in Taiwan almost his entire life — except during his early childhood in Hong Kong and student years in the US —
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) lawmakers on Monday unilaterally passed a preliminary review of proposed amendments to the Public Officers Election and Recall Act (公職人員選罷法) in just one minute, while Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) legislators, government officials and the media were locked out. The hasty and discourteous move — the doors of the Internal Administration Committee chamber were locked and sealed with plastic wrap before the preliminary review meeting began — was a great setback for Taiwan’s democracy. Without any legislative discussion or public witnesses, KMT Legislator Hsu Hsin-ying (徐欣瑩), the committee’s convener, began the meeting at 9am and announced passage of the
Prior to marrying a Taiwanese and moving to Taiwan, a Chinese woman, surnamed Zhang (張), used her elder sister’s identity to deceive Chinese officials and obtain a resident identity card in China. After marrying a Taiwanese, surnamed Chen (陳) and applying to move to Taiwan, Zhang continued to impersonate her sister to obtain a Republic of China ID card. She used the false identity in Taiwan for 18 years. However, a judge ruled that her case does not constitute forgery and acquitted her. Does this mean that — as long as a sibling agrees — people can impersonate others to alter, forge
In response to a failure to understand the “good intentions” behind the use of the term “motherland,” a professor from China’s Fudan University recklessly claimed that Taiwan used to be a colony, so all it needs is a “good beating.” Such logic is risible. The Central Plains people in China were once colonized by the Mongolians, the Manchus and other foreign peoples — does that mean they also deserve a “good beating?” According to the professor, having been ruled by the Cheng Dynasty — named after its founder, Ming-loyalist Cheng Cheng-kung (鄭成功, also known as Koxinga) — as the Kingdom of Tungning,
RSS