TOKYO REVISITED

New Zealand Listener, Volume 26, Issue 658, 15 February 1952, Page 20

TOKYO REVISITED

By

MICHAEL

HARDWICK

N the windows and doorways of little slate-roofed houses and shops and inns on either side of the railway track, the red and white flags stirred in the warm air of early autumn. From the blinding mid-day light of Kure, until we ran into darkness like a tunnel heyond Okayama, we saw them all the way: and when we looked out into the cooler air of morning, the first things we noticed were the sun flags, fluttering in the salty breeze off Tokyo Bay. Several thousand miles away a 72-year-old Japanese bent his morningcoated form over a yellow table and inscribed his name with a golden pen. Japan was at peace.

FIRST saw Japan in 1946. After some years in India it seemed a paradise even then. But Hiroshima was still slate and ashes; the rubble lining the road between Yokohama and Tokyo

had scarcely been raked through. It was a time of caution and uncer-

tainty. The Occupation watched the Japanese; the japanese watched the Occupation: both waited for the next move. -I remember the faces of the people in those days. There were few smiles. Food was critically scarce, clothing was patched and faded, trade and industry were in chaos. Above all, there was the unspeakable humiliation of the first total defeat in their country’s history. To a Japanese success is everything. Losing the war was failute of unparalleled degree. It was a failure of the nation and of every individual in the nation. It was no smiling matter. The Japan I left a year later was already changing. Taxes had risen; oncewealthy families were secretly selling their treasures. Petty thieves and unwashed orphans slept side by side in the dim underground passages. of railway stations, while a new community of black-marketeers grew sleek and prosperous, and certain members of the Occupation accumulated wealth quite out of proportion to their salaries. The value of the yen plummeted from 60 to over 1000 to the pound sterling. But for many Japanese there was new hope. From the bewildering flow of memoranda and directives and recommendations published by a well-mean- ing if sometimes ingenuous Occupation, workable systems were emerging. Un-dreamed-of reforms were being, brought about, and were becoming recognised as sensible and helpful. The Occupation, confident that it had the measure of the Japanese, eased back in its comfortable chair and beamed benignly upon its well-mannered children. ~ Sunrise / Things were moving again; jerkily at times, and with mary a false start, but at least there was movement: and somewhere ahead, momentarily glimpsed, it seemed there glowed the first faint light of a rising sun. When I returned to Tokyo recently I found the sun well up, and the great city and its people bathed in its warmth. The memories of the old dark days

seemed to melt away as the new bustle of the third city of the world hit me with a roar. Tokyo Central Station, a burned-out shell before, was more crowded than ever. Its vast, resounding entrance halls were fully repaired, their walls decorated with the kind of travel posters only the Japanese and certain Continental peoples seem capable of producing. The throng, no longer pushed sullenly forward in a desperate struggle for -six square inches of standing room’ in»a dirty coach with broken windows, Thére were smiles, and the jostling seemed good-natured. I watched bespectacled men in natty suitings and panama hats. office girls in well-cut gabardines and a liberality of lipstick, fat-faced, sailorsuited schoolgirls and noisy, uniformed high school boys, all pushing and heaving and perspiring together’ in determined but friendly competition. The suburban ‘electric trains which leave Tokyo every half minute afte ho longer crowded to the doors. Even at

peak hours there is far more room: ‘to move in than. a Wellington tramcar

can offer. Just recently the practice of reserving a coach for Allied forces and their guests was stopped. These coaches were never more than half-filled, and it irked, the Japanese (and many members of the forces) to see soldiers and’ their girl companions lounging in each other’s arms while elsewhere in the train aged people were strap-hanging. I learned later that this, and other instances of segregation, had been practically the only causes of what slight ill-will existed between the Occupied and the Occupation. No More Rickshaws When I stepped out of the station I was besieged by gesticulating taxi agents. Where once had been a few grimy rickshaws I saw a line of cars, several deep, ranging from the strange little vehicles the Japanese make themselves to shiny Fords and Chevrolets. Behind the cab rank, across. the great square, the girders of what will soon be a concrete building housing some two thousand shops and offices reared into the sky. — j I was bowed into one of the cabs. It was a Japanese vehicle of unn&med make. Its external appearance was vaguely familiar, a combination copy, it seemed, of several makes long popular in the Western world. Its interior was rough. but adequate. The driver had taken the precaution of removing the handles from the inside of the back dgors; no offence intended, but just to make sure one paid one’s fare before leaving. ._ We dodged through the traffic, the driver shutting off his engine and coasting at every chance, Either the Japanese have a genius for dexterous driving, or a benign spirit watches over them all; for although I have never ridden in a Japanese-driven vehicle without anticipating a collision every minute of the way, I have never seen one happen. Big American cars were about in erga numbers. Many of them were chauf-feur-driven, but-in at least half of the

ones I saw the owners lounging in the back seats were not Americans, but opulent-looking Japanese. Prosperity in the Ginza We reached the Ginza. I paid my fare and was released, with profuse thanks. The last time I had walked along the Ginza, the most fascinating street I know of anywhere, its appearance had been one of long-faded prosperity. Second-hand goods, army surplus supplies and black-market articles of Occupation origin were the principal wares in those days, American cigarettes used to be sold secretly at the equivalent of 10 shillings or so for a.packet of twenty. This time I think I could have looked for and found anything I wanted. I could have selected my favourite brand of cigarettes and not paid more than two shillings for them. Food stores. pitifully empty before, were crammed with goods. I saw American coffee, English chocolate, Continental wines, brands of canned foods and cereals I hadn’t seen since the beginning of the war, and an infinite variety of Japanese dishes in glass cases outside the inviting fronts of little eating houses. I saw refrigerators and electric ranges, shirts, suits and gloves. I saw clockwork bears that walked, elephants that raised

their trunks and flapped their ears, and dachshunds that worried bones, at an average price of four shillings. I saw unbelievably beautiful brocades, black and red and gold lacquered boxes and cabinets that would have cost a month’s pay to possess; a suit of Japanese mediaeval armour, art works in three and seven and ten mighty volumes; violins, saxophones, long-playing ‘records colossal radiograms and tiny plastic portables; rings at several hundred pounds a time, and costume jewellery priced at a few pence for each piece. Most of the firms I had known before were still there, but in every case their premises had been renovated and attractively modernised. The little stal's that line the pavement edges were piled high with wares. When I went into a shop I found the old standards of behaviour had hot changed. Haste was made to serve me. pains were taken to find exactly the article I required, and when it was not forthcoming I was led by one of the assistants to a rival establishment, two or three streets away, where he was sure I should be able to get what I wanted. There is no hint of servility in it all: it is courtesy; a quality long forgotten in the Western world. I passed a group of Japanese ladies bowing deeply to one another in one

of the busiest parts of the street. They had met by chance and were now taking formal leave. To me, it is a pleasure to know that such traditions still exist Many Japanese institutions have gone by the board, and in some cases it is just as well. But despite the attempts to ape the occupiers, and the breaking down of many traditional bonds and barriers, the respect, the courtesies, the niceties of living have survived little changed. I spent that evening with. Japanese friends in the American Club. It was half. full of well-heeled Japanese and American civilians, eating together and talking quietly over French brandies and Scotch whisky. "Well, what do you think of us now?" one of them said. ‘ I told him I thought things were flourishing. "It looks fine on the surface,’ he agreed; "but our economy’s still shaky really. Production costs are high and raw materials are hard to get. If we’re to compete in the world market we'll have to work harder for less money." "Will you be glad when the Occupation ends?" I asked. — ; "In many ways, but not altogether. You’ve been a good influence on us during these few years, and we’ve all made some very sincere friendships." "Do you think your people are sincere about democracy?" I said. "Yes," said one of my friends. "We sometimes read of happenings in the West that make us wonder if you are; but when we saw a military god like MacArthur dethroned by a mere civilian we got the kind of proof we’ve waited for." "We don’t want Communism," said another. "It has no attraction for us and nothing to offer us. But remember we have to live by trade, as England has. If we can’t get the trade we want in the West, we'll just have to turn to the Communist countries for it. And you know what that could mean."