Opinion Race against time By Roger Pulvers	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
人種という概念と時代 ある日、能を見に行ったときのこと。舞台が終わった後、余韻にひたっていると日本人から思いがけないことを言われて…。

I had just left the No theater, having seen a wonderful performance by my friend, Kanze Hisao. I was standing on the pavement blinded by the light of a late August day. Or was I still in a trance brought on by Kanze Hisao's artistic intrigue?

I do not recall how it happened but I found myself chatting with a stranger, a youngish Japanese man in a worn, grey business suit.

Pulling his tie even further askew than it had been, he said to me, "Do you think you enjoyed the No theater?"

"I, uh, well, I ..."

"But you cannot truly understand it."

"No?"

"No," he said, now holding his faded, brown leather briefcase against his chest. "I mean, you are not a Japanese. Only we Japanese can understand No theater. It is in our blood."

You may have guessed that this incident did take place a long time ago, in 1976 to be exact. Virtually no young Japanese today would voice such an absurd opinion. In fact, it might be common now to hear a young Japanese say to a non-Japanese, "I think that you can understand No theater better than us Japanese."

It was the report earlier this year about Afghan refugees held in Ibaraki Prefecture that caused me to recall the incident. Many older Japanese seem to think that people who are not a part of what they deem the Japanese race can somehow never find a home here. To be excluded from this "race" means to be forever driven outside the tightly-knitted bamboo fence around the Japanese garden, compelled to stretch the neck for a privileged glimpse inside.

Happily, this view of their own country by the Japanese gains little currency with today's youth. They seem to realize that being a member of a particular nation gives no one a monopoly on national sentiment.

The word "race" itself has become all but meaningless in today's world. From the standpoint of our genetic makeup there is no such thing. There are different colors of skin, a gamut of sizes and shapes for our features, and a rich variety of appearances. But these now no longer denote race. There is only one race on earth: the human race.

But needless to say, the word "racism" is still with us, with a vengeance all its own. What is racism? It is the wanton treatment or disdain dished out by a member or members of one national or ethnic group against individuals of another.

Anyone can be a racist, even those who are or have in the past been victims of racism themselves. This hideous attitude may start with an innocuous comment about superficial differences — the way people look, the variety of food they eat, the kind of theater they appreciate — but make no mistake, it carries within it the plague of future hatreds. If race itself is obsolete, racism is still virulent enough to shatter our world into something unrecognizable.

The Japanese consciousness of Japan and other nations has grown and matured immensely since that hot August day when my blood raced at the sight of that great, now long-deceased actor, Kanze Hisao. Japanese people now come into contact with people of every ethnic origin under the sun in a myriad of situations. Let us hope that all are met on an equal footing.

Race is gone, though the inane beast that it gave birth to lives on.

Shukan ST: May 3, 2002

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