Ekaterina Nikova (Institute of Balkan
Studies, Bulgarian Academy of Sciences, Sofia, Foreign Visiting Fellow,
SRC, 1999-2000)
The author
Everybody in comparative studies knows that
you should never compare apples to oranges, even less so apples to daikon.
Yet ever since I arrived in Japan, I half-seriously began playing the
game of juxtaposing these two so very distant lands, finding both
striking differences and striking similarities.
My first reaction was close to shock. For
someone coming from the turbulent, neurotic, bankrupt, desperate
Balkans in the midst of the fifth Yugoslav war, Japan felt entirely
different. The serenity, calmness, silence, and feeling of safety gave
the sense that everything works here, that everything is taken care of
competently and promptly.
What can be more different from the isolated
archipelago of the Japanese islands than the small European peninsula,
situated on one of the world's busiest crossroads (though they are
curiously comparable in area and population)? What can contrast more
strongly to the homogenous, tightly-knit Japanese nation than the
mosaic diversity of peoples, racial types, religions, and cultures of
the Balkans?
The landscape, the colors, particularly the
mountains were so different from those at home. Later I was struck by
the simple elegance of the Japanese culture, poles apart from the
multi-colored, flamboyantly bright folklore and art of the Balkans.
People made the most shocking difference.
Before my arrival a friend warned me never to boast or to complain in
Japan. God, I said to myself, what else shall I talk about? He was
right - the reserved, often non-verbal, modest, shy Japanese were so
different from the talkative, hyperemotional, gesticulating, fiercely
arguing, theatrical inhabitants of the Balkans. I found the modesty of
Japan - from personal relations to international matters - to be such a
contrast to the exaggerated self-importance of the Balkans with their
claim to a grandiose past, exceptional qualities, huge contribution to
civilization, not to speak of their fatally central place in world
politics.
Further on in my stay I discovered the
similarities. When I first saw traditional textiles from Hokkaido, I
thought someone was playing a joke on me - I could have bet they were
Thracian. Once, in a Kamakura temple, I felt as if I were in an
Orthodox monastery. There were other parallels, too - I found a similar
hunger for knowledge, a high esteem for education, a responsiveness to
children, and an emphasis on the family and personal relationships. I
was surprised to detect in Japan the same hedonistic culture that in
the Balkans is an Ottoman legacy ・the same love for physical pleasures,
including a very serious attitude to food and drinking (who said that
the Japanese do not drink?). The onsen reminded me of the
Turkish baths where my grandmothers used to take me as a child - the
onsens of course are clean. Our raki is three times as
strong as sake and the spicy, juicy, abundant cuisine of the Balkans
contrasts splendidly with the exquisite, gentle, aesthetically
presented Japanese food. Yet my feeling was that with the Japanese the
love of pleasure is separated from more serious affairs, while in the
Balkan philosophy of life it is central.
Societies make another huge difference -
the hierarchy, the set roles, high trust and discipline of Japan versus
the socially amorphous, organically democratic Balkans. Historically
the strict social order was built during the two and a half centuries
of Tokugawa feudalism. Around the same time the Christian Balkans were
subjected to an alien, brutal reign, which, however, was easy to cheat
and resist by cunning and corruption. In Japanese tales, the
authorities always punish the bad guys. Balkan folklore glorifies the
hayduks/klephts. Obeying the law, the rules, is a virtue in Japan;
in our lands cheating the authorities, from tax evasion to traffic
regulation, is a national pastime. The Japanese sense of duty and
collective obligations, the acceptance of one's rank in a hierarchical
society, the preeminence attached to consensus and stability differ
dramatically from our faith in freedom and fight, from our fierce
individualism (seeking at the same time the protection of the small
group). While the Japanese try to avoid conflict, in the Balkans
confrontation and rebellion are the rule, opinions are strong and
fiercely debated, compromise is a dirty word. After all, the entire
Yugoslav tragedy can be interpreted as a failure to renegotiate the old
federation. I also found the historic limitation on personal weapons
and armed self-defense in Japan an interesting contrast with the great
importance attached to the gun, the sword and the knife in the Balkans.
If you come from the confessionally torn apart
Balkans, where so many battles have been fought for or in the name of
religion, where religion is a main identifier, you cannot but be amused
by the super-tolerant, nonchalant, sacrilegious to the verge of comic
relationship between the Japanese and their Gods.
Japan is a fascinating place to observe
change. Changes in Japan occur smoothly, within continuity. Japanese do
not like revolutions; even when they happen (like the Meiji Ishin),
they prefer to call them Restorations. The history of the Balkan people
is measured by catastrophes; if there has been any continuity, it is
the continuity of discontinuity, each new stage beginning from zero.
Throughout their modern history, both the
Balkans and Japan have shared the same obsession - the need to
modernize and catch up with the developed West. Having started at about
the same time under approximately the same initial conditions, Japan
was successful, ending up as an economic miracle and superpower, an
example for all latecomers. The Balkans remained the European laggards
and troublemakers, with a greater gap now than at the beginning.
Modernization in both places had very similar characteristics - the
crash growth, achieved through high accumulation and high pressure, the
crucial role of the state (as in all late industrializers), the same
strong ruthless elites, scarifying living standards and generations,
even the same slogan "Strong nation, strong army." In both places a
keen observer can detect the same bitter-sweet attitude to Western
modernity, the same struggle to preserve one's own identity and yet be
modern. I was amazed by the ease with which the Japanese import foreign
words and customs, while in the culturally European Balkans each new
word, even the computer lexicon, is resisted or translated. I suspect
that the Japanese sense of superiority is so deeply rooted that it
allows them to be modest and humbly learning, while the proud Balkans
suffer from an unannunciated historical sense of inferiority vis-a-vis
the West.
Having seen my world, the world of Eastern
Europe collapse, I was particularly sensitive to Japan's problems and I
was aware of the depth of its current crisis. It might sound
overstretched, but the challenges ahead of the prosperous and proud
Japan are not different in essence from those of the impoverished,
desperate Balkans. The winds of global change require from both a
profound restructuring of their political and economic systems and an
unprecedented opening to the outside world. The new times shatter their
social equality and stability; they will require both areas to come to
terms with the past and discover a new soul and identity.
A year in Japan - if you open your heart and
mind - marks you for life. It changes your eating habits, your attitude
to people, to work, to nature and society. Somewhere in the middle of
your stay, you stop stealing flowers and dutifully return the overpaid
change. A year in Japan is not enough to learn to slurp your noodles
but you pick up the habit of apologizing profusely and also bowing -
quite inappropriate for the rude shop assistants of Eastern Europe.
This comparison is, of course, half serious -
it is typical-stereotypical, neither scholarly sounding nor politically
correct. I know the rules and the taboos of comparativistics. Yet I do
believe that one of the greatest advantages of the Slavic Research
Center goes beyond the rich library, the warm collegial atmosphere or
the ease secured by Monbusho - so deservedly acknowledged by all the
fellows. A year at Hokudai exposes you to Japan, to its unique culture
and experience. For most of us, confined in our small fields and very
specific problems, it broadens horizons and mends optics. A year in the
Slavic Research Center is a real presento.
SRC Home
