Essay

Where's the smoke?

By Michael Pronko

Coming home from a jazz club in Shinjuku a couple of weeks ago, I noticed something wrong. I couldn't tell what it was at first, but as I got off the train, I realized I didn't stink. Usually at jazz clubs there is so much smoke I can hardly breathe, and the smell seeps in and lingers for days. Recently, though, the general level of smoke in the city seems to be dwindling, and for intriguing reasons.

In other countries, public smoking was banned by law and stopped in one fell swoop. When New York banned indoor smoking in 2002, people suddenly had to step out on a small bit of sidewalk to get their nicotine fix. London smokers puffed away right up to midnight of the day in 2006 when the ban went into effect before stubbing out their last indoor ciggie forever. But in Tokyo, the slower, subtler methods of traditional culture have been employed to gradually reduce public smoking.

First, officials have used the most powerful asset of the city to clamp down — space. JR East first maneuvered smokers into one small smoking area at the end of train platforms, and then, in June this year, shoved them all the way out of every station. Smokers are now corralled into teensy areas far from entrances, hemmed in by bulky planters, big silver ash cans and glass dividers. Pretty soon, smokers will be riding piggyback to squeeze in close enough to get a puff.

One coffee shop I went into had two small tables left for smokers, right next to the bathroom. Meanwhile, international chain coffee shops offer plusher chairs and more legroom in their smoke-free interiors. At the end of a long day in Tokyo, deciding between a comfy chair and a cigarette can be a tough choice.

Where space can't cut down smoking, politeness can. One sign on a restaurant table in Kichijoji asked potential smokers to ask the customers at neighboring tables if it is OK to light up. For most smokers, going outside is simpler than embarrassing themselves by asking total strangers for permission.

The other weapon in the anti-smoking arsenal is advertising. Curiously, many of these posters are in both Japanese and English. The bilingual approach may be a way of softening the message, or maybe teaching smokers English. A recent ad campaign features handsome actors offering warm, manly advice about giving up tobacco. All these anti-smoking messages make me want to give up smoking, and I don't even smoke!

Unlike a lot of nonsmokers, though, I am not really offended by smoke all that much and I wonder if a serious smoking ban, set into law, would even work in Japan. Somehow, I doubt it. Tapping into cultural values just might be more effective.

Shukan ST: October 21 2011

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