90 Seconds

The train disaster in western Japan this week is the deadliest in four decades. The death toll has risen to 91, with bodies still to be retrieved from the wreckage. Although the investigation of what exactly happened is not over yet, it looks increasingly likely that the driver was speeding in order to make up for lost time. He was running 90 seconds late.

Yes, 90 seconds. Anywhere else in the world, a delay of 90 seconds would not be considered such a terrible failure. But in a country that a reported average 6-second delay in the shinkansen (bullet train) schedule last year caused heads to roll and policies to be revised, 90 seconds is an eternity. The Japanese obsession with punctuality, especially when it comes to their world-leading rail system, leaves little room for mistakes.

Almost immediately after the accident, people put the blame on this obsession. The same driver, a 23-year old, was reprimanded a few months ago for missing the platform stop by 100 metres. Apparently he did so again last Monday, hence the lost 90 seconds; it is likely that he wanted to avoid further reprimanding, or worse, a fine. A colleague of mine told me that Japan Rail drivers are fined for delays and the fine is deducted from their salary.

Is this accident going to change something? I doubt it very much. The pride and joy of Japanese industry is not going to be deterred by one accident and, admittedly, such accidents are a rarity in Japan. Furthermore, the obsession with time is not particular to the rail industry; it permeates all levels of Japanese society and is too much ingrained in the mentality of "Industrial Japan" for swift and sudden changes to be possible. When I asked my colleague - after he complained that the stress of a possible fine was probably the cause of the accident - whether he would put up with less punctual trains in return for less stringent rules being imposed on the drivers, he looked at me as if I had lost my mind...

Pessach - Restraint in Praise

בנפול אויבך אל תשמח, ובכשלו אל יגל לבך

(משלי כ"ד, י"ז)

One of the unique features of prayer on Pessach is the fact that we say a full Hallel only on the first day of the holiday. On chol ha-mo'ed days and on the seventh day of Pessach we say the "half Hallel", a shortened version. This is irregular because on the other two regalim, Sukkot and Shavu'ot, as well as on Chanuka (all 8 days), we say a full Hallel. If Hallel is praise we give to God for delivering us from trouble and performing miracles for us, why only a partial praise is given on most days of Pessach? After all, on the seventh day of Pessach God parted the Red Sea for the Israelites and thus saved them from their Egyptian pursuers, prompting them to sing the Shira; surely this qualifies as an appropriate occasion for us to give full praise to God. So why only a half Hallel?

The redemption of the Israelites from Egypt was accompanied by a lot of misery. Pharaoh's stubborness brought upon his people and country ten plagues, culminating in the killing of all first-borns in the kingdom, including his own son. The parting of the Red Sea meant not only the safe passage of the Israelites but also the drowning of all of Egypt's army. Many human lives were lost during the Exodus.

The Gemarah in Megillah (10:) tells us the following story. After the drama of the Red Sea, when the danger was over and the Egyptians lay dead at the bottom of the sea, the angels up above wanted to sing out to God to praise him for the great miracle he had performed for his people. God silences them by asking a rhetorical question: "The works of my hands are drowning in the sea, and you wish to sing?!".

God teaches the angels (and us) that one should not rejoice over the death of human beings, even if they are the enemy. True, sometimes it is necessary to fight and to win, and in the process lives are inevitably lost, but this is no reason for singing out and praising the occasion. One should regard all loss of human life as a tragedy. This idea was espoused by the "wisest of all men", king Shlomo. In Mishley he writes:

Rejoice not when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles.

(Mishley, 24, 17)

The Meshech Chokhma, Rabbi Meir Simcha HaCohen, explains this rule in his commentary to the Torah (Shemot 12, 15). He says many people and religions dedicate a "day of victory" to commemorate the fall of their enemies, but Jews do not. Their days of celebration are not for celebrating the fall of the enemy, but rather the salvation of the Jews. Pessach is for celebrating the redemption from slavery; Chanukah is for celebrating the miracle of the oil in the temple; and Purim is for celebrating the miracle of being saved from Haman's decree. Song and praise are therefore reserved for being saved from trouble, not for the fall of the other side. Indeed, we have an obligation to praise God, but we must frame that obligation in the right context.

Now we understand the reason for the half Hallel in Pessach. On the first day, we say a full Hallel to praise God for the redemption from Egypt. But on the seventh day, we do not say it because we wish to express restraint and repress our feelings of joy in light of the great loss of human life that accompanied the miracle at the Red Sea. We do so by saying the praise, but not in its entirety. (The reason that in chol ha-mo'ed we say a half Hallel is that we do not want to make chol ha-mo'ed seem more important than a full holiday, i.e. the seventh day of Pessach).

The idea for this Thought is from R. Avraham Rivlin of Eretz Chemda

My Brother the Yakuza, by Ya'akov Raz

The Japanese mafia, a.k.a the Yakuza, has drawn the attention of many writers. Few have been able to penetrate this secretive organization and remain alive to report their findings. Most of the movies made about the Yakuza paint a Hollywoodian picture that is only partly reflective of the real nature of "the people who walk in the sun". Professor Ya'akov Raz, until recently head of the East Asia studies department at Tel Aviv university, seems to have done the impossible: penetrate the Yakuza and study it from within. This book is his account of this ten-year journey.

Raz tried to make inroads into the real Yakuza for a very long time. He pursued countless leads only to be let down and warned about his efforts. Eventually, he met a member of the Kyokuto-kai, one of the leading Yakuza families in Japan, who agreed to introduce him to the Oyama Oyabun, head of the Oyama branch of the family. The Oyabun gave Raz his blessing for conducting his research of the Yakuza using his family as a case study, saying that "just like you Jews" we are wanderers and outcasts.

Raz is very modest about his success in getting so intimate with the Yakuza. He claims, over and over, that he was very lucky and has no idea why he, of all people, has managed to win their confidence and they had warmed up to him.

The book is fascinating. Contrary to what one might expect, the account is not dramatic. Raz's story is mild, almost pastoral, to the point that half way through the book I found myself warming up to the characters and had to stop and remind myself these are criminals who work for one of the world's most violent organizations. I think this is to Raz's credit, succeeding to expose the personalities behind the facade and show that deep inside these are outcasts that perhaps had little or no choice but end up as a Yakuza. Some of these people were born as outcasts, as the infamous burakumin, the "non-touchables" of Japanese society that nobody speaks about but everybody knows of. The name of the organization symbolises this outcast status: Ya means 8, Ku means 9 and Za means 3, the total being 20, the losing number in Black Jack.

I learnt a lot about Japan reading this book. Many customs and codes of behaviour are explained through the story of the Yakuza. I suspect that many Japanese would also learn some things about their society by reading this book. Hopefully it will be translated into Japanese some day.

"Frankly Speaking..."

In a discussion in an online forum I participate in, someone brought up the topic of the recent demonstrations in China against Japan. One of the questions asked was why the Japanese do not apologize for the crimes they committed against the Chinese (and other Asian nations) during WW2.

I answered by saying that from the Japanese point of view, they have apologized enough times, both officially and non-officially. They do not think that they are not responsible for these crimes, but implicitness is ingrained in Japanese culture and therefore one should not expect explicit, public outpouring of regret and mea culpa confessions. Because everybody knows the Japanese were wrong, and because an apology has been made, the thinking here is that there is no use in talking about the subject endlessly and it is time to move on.

Following this, another forum participant asked if this was an example of the famous tatemae and honne traits of Japanese culture. I posted the following reply:

Yes and no.

To the best of my understanding, tatemae ("facade") and honne ("true sound") are used to explain the restraint which one should show in public (tatemae) regardless of what his inner feelings truly are (honne). The public display of emotions and opinions is considered impolite and may lead to confrontation, therefore it is better to keep up appearances and act according to your expected role or position and not say what you really mean. I heard that this social behaviour is derived from the old Samurai code, the bushido, which considered display of emotions as
a sign of weakness.

So, in a sense, you could say that tatemae requires implicitness, in order to hide the explicit emotions and feelings one may have. However, I believe that in every culture there is a degree of tatemae-honne; we don't always say or act according to how we really feel inside. When we do, people usually view it as inappropriate social behaviour.

I think that Japanese implicitness goes further than that. Not only when hiding internal emotions do Japanese convey their feelings implicitly. It is a way of life, a way of talking and communicating. Public displays of emotion, even between family members, are still widely frowned upon (even though I find it is changing and the younger generation is much more open). To this day, if one raises his voice or bangs on the table during a business meeting, he is looked upon as weak, as someone who cannot convey his thoughts in the proper fashion.

A friend of ours, a student from Australia, told us the following story. She travelled to northern Japan with a Japanese student friend, on home leave from university. Her friend had not seen her parents in almost a year. And yet, when she met them at the train station, there was no hugging or kissing, only a curt nod and a polite exchange of "how have you been?". It is clear that in this case there is no conflict between the tatemae and the honne; surely the parents were happy to see their daughter after a long absence and vice versa. But cultural etiquette dictates that public display of affection is inappropriate, or if you like, too explicit.

So, in most cases, if you hear a Japanese using the phrase "frankly speaking...", you should make sure to treat that frankness with caution and not expect too much candor and honesty. That is probably the tatemae speaking.

Metsora - The Power of Words

No time before Shabbat comes in...

So here is a dvar Torah given by R. David Green, "The Power of Words", from the torah.org website. Shabbat Shalom.

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Parshas Metzora deals with a skin condition which people at one time contracted as a result of speaking ill of others. Many people have difficulty relating to the idea that the Torah forbids negative speech about others. Often when cautioned about speaking negatively, people will react by saying "well, it's true!" Still, the Torah looks askance at such speech. The question is: why?

The Chofetz Chaim (Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, d. 1933) offers a beautiful explanation in his book "Shmiras HaLoshon." King David in Psalms 34 says "Who is the man who desires life, loves days to see good? (My advice is) guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from deceit etc." Why does it say that life and goodness depend on proper speech? King David wants to convey to us the importance of concern for the well being of others. This means that people should be careful even about what they say of others, taking care not to harm anyone through something they say. Someone who is that careful will certainly develop a sensitivity not to DO an action which would cause harm to another person.

However, although this is true, it seems that speaking ill of others has an intrinsic negative side to it as well, aside from what it leads to. The Talmud Yerushalmi writes that the act of learning Torah is the greatest of all of the commandments, and corresponding to that, is that the transgression of speaking ill of others is the worst of sins. The Chofetz Chaim explains that the more spiritual a force is in the world, the stronger it is. His example is fire. It has an ability to consume most things more physical than it is. Wind is the second example he cites. Wind is less of a physical force, and it has the ability to destroy in a most profound way. Since speech involves air, it is a very spirtual force. When it is used positively, its effect is more profound than a positive act which takes on more physical trappings. The same is true in the converse. Negative speech has a more significant effect than a corresponding negative act on a more physical plane.

No one needs to be convinced of the problems people cause through negative speech. We probably all remember the time we wished we hadn't said something. Sensitivity in what we say is an important key to living a happy, effective life.

There is a famous analogy regarding the topic of speech. A man who was not particularly careful about his speech came to a Rabbi. He had decided to change, and needed advice on how to go about it. The Rabbi gave him a very peculiar answer. "Take a feather pillow into the street, and release its feathers in every direction." The man was perplexed, but his resolve was firm to do as he was advised and change his life. After doing as he was told he returned to the Rabbi. "Now what should I do?" he asked. "Go back into the street and collect all of the feathers to the very last one," was the astounding reply. Again the man made his way into the street and began the daunting task. At his wits end he returned to the Rabbi dejected reporting his inability to keep his last words of advice. "Remember," said the Rabbi, "that your words are like those feathers. Once they leave your mouth they never return. Make sure the words you allow out are ones you won't have to go chasing after!"

One Room Apartment - Tokyo

A picture I saw on Yossi Raz's blog in Notes. I assume the reason they built the house up in the air is the need for that much-coveted luxury in Tokyo: a parking spot.

Did Grandma Make Tea Today?

The ageing population of Japan gives rise to many social and economic problems, but also to new business opportunities.

Many Japanese people live alone, their spouses dead and their children far away in other cities. The estimate is that more than 3 million elderly people lead solitary lives. Should something happen to them, it might take a while for someone to notice and send help. Zojirushi, a home applicance company, came up with a new service a few years ago: i-Pot.

i-Pot (for "information pot") is a standard electric kettle, the kind that every home has, sitting in the kitchen and keeping water hot for a cup of tea or a bowl of miso soup. Except i-Pot also has a wireless communication device at the bottom that sends out a signal to a server that in turn periodically sends out an email to a designated internet address. Thus, the recipient can keep track of the i-Pot usage. Put differently: let's check our email and see if grandma woke up this morning to make a cup of tea? The service costs $30 a month, plus a $50 deposit on the kettle.

Apparently, the idea for this invention came up following a notorious case back in the mid-90s, when a 77-year-old woman and her 41-year-old disabled son were found in their Tokyo apartment three weeks after they died of starvation. Zojirushi, together with Fujitsu and NTT, developed the i-Pot to help prevent such tragedies from happening again. Today, more than 2,000 families use i-Pot to help them track the well-being of their loved ones.

Where Are My Pants?

Funny and insightful article in the Sunday Observer this weekend. Apparently, men have this annoying habit of asking their spouses for information on the whereabouts of their pants. Don't ask me; I'm a man...

Pope John Paul II

Pope John Paul II died this weekend, at the age of 84. I will carry two memories of him with me.

The first is of his election in 1978. I was a young boy growing up in Rome at the time and I remember both the relief and the surprise surrounding the news of his election. Relief, because it concluded the prolonged wait for the decision, coming so soon after the premature death of his predecessor. Surprise, as he was the first non-Italian pope to be elected in more than 400 years. I remember the day vividly; suddenly all the church bells started ringing out to announce that white smoke was coming out of St. Peter's basilica.

More importantly, I will always remember him as the pope who went a long way to mend the relationship between Christianity and the Jews, in words and in deeds. He was the first pope to visit a synagogue and the first pope to visit Israel. During his visit to Yad VaShem, the Holocaust memorial museum in Jerusalem, he said: "the fact that anti-Semitism has found a place in Christian thought and teaching requires an act of teshuva (repentance)". I can only hope his successor continues his ways.

May he rest in peace.

Shemini - The Sound of Silence

ויאמר משה אל אהרן: הוא אשר דבר ה' לאמר, בקרובי אקדש ועל פני כל העם אכבד. וידם אהרן

(ויקרא י', ג')

Picture the moment: The mishkan is ready and the week-long inauguration ceremonies are reaching their climax on the eighth day. And in the middle of all the celebrations, Aharon's sons enter the tabernacle to perform a ritual service with their fire-pans and as a result of this expression of servitude to God, they meet their death.

Moshe tries to console his brother for the death of his two sons:

Then Moshe said unto Aharon: "This is it that the LORD spoke, saying: Through them that are nigh unto Me I will be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified." And Aharon held his peace.

(VaYikra 10, 3)

Aharon's reaction to Moshe's words are silence. The Hebrew vayidom is irregular in this usage and a more appropriate verb would have been vayishtok, he was quiet. Vayidom expresses more than silence; it expresses total submission, no reaction of any kind. The Hebrew word for inanimate objects - the lowest rung in the categorisation of nature (humans, animals, plants, inanimate objects) - is domem. Aharon's reaction was that of an object. In face of tragedy, he did not mourn as a human would, he did not cry out as an animal would and he did not even wilt as a plant would. He was completely domem.

Perhaps we can learn something from this sound of silence by looking at the rest of this week's parasha. The story of the tragedy of Aharon is one of the two main topics in Shemini, the other being the laws of kashrut regarding animals we are allowed and not allowed to eat. Both topics relate to discipline and acceptance. Aharon's silence represents the total acceptance of God's will and the understanding that we humans are unable to comprehend fully the terrible mysteries and tragedies of human existence. There are many events in our lives that we have no control over - death of a relative being perhaps the most tragic - and silence is one way in which we can discipline ourselves to submit to the will of God.

The same goes for the laws of kashrut. To be able to control our eating habits based on religious principles which are sometimes not fully understandable to us, is a matter of discipline. We are witness to many people who do not follow the laws of kashrut and yet seem to lead perfectly healthy lives. And yet we understand that the reason we keep kashrut laws is not health or other tangible benefits but rather the acceptance of the will of God. Like the silence in face of tragedy, our faith in keeping the dietary laws dictated by the Torah is a matter of discipline and submission to God's will.

This week a good friend of mine lost his mother. Aharon's silence relates also to one of the laws of Shiva. Many people come to visit the mourners during this week, offering their condolences trying to provide whatever comfort is possible. Sometimes they engage the mourners in conversation about this and that, thinking that by doing so they are helping them to take their mind of things. But oftentimes the mourner wishes to just sit quietly and be comforted by silence and not by words. The Halacha says that the visitor should take cue from the mourner and refrain from engaging in unnecessary conversation if silence is more appropriate. We often do not feel at ease with silence and feel the urge to put an end to the awkwardness of quiet. The Halacha tells us to overcome this urge and be more sensitive, to follow the example of Aharon and be silent.

In memory of my friend Amnon's mother, Rut bat Reuven HaCohen, z"l.

Non-Orthodox Conversions

The Israeli High Court of Justice gave a ruling today which might have far-reaching implications for the future of Israel and Judaism.

The court ordered the state to recognise the so-called "leaping conversions", in which the study itself is conducted in Israel but the actual conversion ceremony is performed overseas. People have used this mechanism to bypass Israeli law, which recognizes only Orthodox conversions when performed in Israel but also non-Orthodox conversions when performed overseas. Therefore, converts who studied in a non-Orthodox institute in Israel would go abroad for a few days to perform the actual conversion in a Jewish community there, and then return to Israel and apply for citizenship under the Law of Return.

I am not familiar with the details of the new ruling and therefore cannot guess the full impact it will have on the Law of Return, but if I understand correctly then the practical meaning is that any person producing a conversion document from any community in the world will be automatically accepted as an Israeli citizen. I shudder at the ramifications of such a reality.

When I lived in Israel, this was a non-issue to me. But having lived in Japan for a few years and having witnessed several "conversions" performed by the local community's rabbi here, I now realise the consequences of such blanket approvals of conversions. Suffice it to say that the gap between these conversions and "mail order" conversions is not that big. On two separate occasions I heard Japanese women undergoing studies for conversion here complaining that they are not learning much about Judaism and that many of their questions go unanswered. If this is indicative of the status in other communities - and there is no reason to believe it isn't so, as there no central supervising body - I don't see how anyone can take a conversion diploma from some anonymous community seriously. Certainly it shouldn't be the basis for accepting someone under the Law of Return and granting Isareli citizenship.

Time will tell what will happen as a result of this ruling, but I'm not very optimistic.

Samba in a Kimono

Can an actor known for his role as a Samurai warrior become a king of samba? In Japan, the answer is yes.

Ken Matsudaira, one of Japan's most famous actors, best known for his role as shogun in a long-running TV series, is currently a huge music phenomenon here with his "Matsuken Samba II" hit (Matsuken is his nickname, a combination of his last and first name).

Last week he filled Tokyo Dome with 20,000 fans who danced and shook their backsides in sync with Matsuken. The king himself appeared clad in a golden kimono outfit, complete with the samurai hairstyle and white-painted face, surrounded by dozens of male and female dancers in similar outfits.

So "hit the bongo, sound the samba" as the lyrics go, and join Matsuken in the new samba craze sweeping over Japan. Here's an audio sample: Windows Media Player.

Occidentalism, by Ian Buruma and Avishai Margalit

The attacks of September 11th have spawned a plethora of books about Islam and the Middle East, all trying to explain to the bewildered Westerner how those planes came crashing out of the skies on that bright and fateful autumn day. Occidentalism is one of these books, the authors taking the opportunity of the hightened attention to write a book that, although not officially positioned as such, is an attempt to form a response to the late Palestinian intellectual Edward Said's famous 1978 work: Orientalism.

I read this book largely because I enjoyed another book by Ian Buruma about the history of Japan. Unfortunately, Occidentalism is a far cry from the eloquent and gracious Inventing Japan. Buruma and Margalit succeed in combining their knowledge into one book that does not read as if it was written by two authors, but fail in making a clear and coherent argument to explain Occidentalism (i.e. the way the East views the West). Although they try to bring together the many cultures and nations of the Occident, including Asian history, their analysis is most meaningful only when they write about Islam, which I suspect was what they set out to explain in the first place.

Buruma and Margalit begin by listing the main differences between the West and East, as these are perceived in the eyes of the East: the West is urban - the East is rural; the West is capitalist (see the picture on the book cover) - the East values social values; the West is materialistic - the East is spiritual; and, of course, the West is always evil, out to destroy or at least conquer and subdue the East. Then they set out to show that most of the (mis)conceptions of the East about the West - i.e. Occidentalism - is nothing but a product of the West's (or, more precisely, European) influence and ideas. So basically the East is using Western thought and philosophy and adapt it to its needs, turning against those they perceive as evil, the West.

There are a few problems with this argument. First, the Orient cannot all be lumped into one basket. Arguing that Japanese nationalism, German nazism and Muslim fundamentalism all come from the same roots and share the same view of the West is stretching it a bit. Second, the Occident itself is not homogeneous. For example, the authours bring Jewish Zionism as an example of the "evil West", providing a very simplistic view of Zionism as "Jews buying land with money from Arabs". Third, the authors seem to ignore the widespread ties between West and East - e.g. the US-Japan relationship, or the backing of the Gulf states by the US - as these ties would blow holes into the neat Occident-Orient divide they try to picture.

Despite its flaws, Occidentalism is a good read (and it's a short book), as long as one approaches it as one would approach an essay or a commentary column in the newspaper, not a book that purports to explain the problem of "the West in the eyes of its enemies".

"Thanks" Tails

Drivers all over the world rely on the good will of fellow drivers, be it when they need to switch lanes or exit from a parking space. There are different ways to say "thank you" for an expression of good will on the road. One may lift up a hand in a gesture of appreciation or honk the horn briefly. In Japan, the custom is to turn on the emergency lights (all lights blinking) for a couple of seconds, to let the driver behind you know that you appreciate his good manners.

But now there is no need for all that. There is the "Thanks Tail", another brilliant invention from Japan. I suppose the inventor got the idea from watching dogs wag their tails when they're happy or when they want to say "thank you" for a particularly juicy bone. So why not do the same with cars? Why not have the car wag its tail in appreciation?

Enter the "Thanks Tail":

To see the tail in action, press here and wait for the video to start. You won't regret it.

Daf Yomi - We Run, They Run

There is a special prayer one says at the end of each massechet. In it, one mentions several differences between those who study Torah and those who don't: we get up, they get up; we work, they work; we run, they run - each party for a different purpose obviously.

In the wake of last week's siyum hashas (the ending of the Daf Yomi cycle) I received by email the following picture, with the caption: "we run, they run".

YaYakhel - When Too Much is Enough

והמלאכה היתה דים לכל המלאכה לעשות אותה, והותר

(שמות ל"ו, ז')

After a break of one week's parasha (and what a parasha it was!), the Torah goes back to the story of the building of the mishkan, the tabernacle that was the focus of worship during the years in the desert. All men and women of all tribes contributed to the mishkan, bringing gold, copper, textiles, wood - all that was necessary for the construction of God's tabernacle. The outpouring of giving was so large that Moshe needed to put a halt to it, asking the people to stop bringing their offerings. The Torah then says:

For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to make it, and too much.

(Shemot, 36, 7; KJV)

This pasuk is confusing. Either the stuff was "sufficient" or it was "too much". What is the Torah telling us? That only by there being too many offerings the condition of enough offerings was fulfilled?

One of the explanations for this strange wording is that the Torah wanted to teach Bnei Israel a lesson in humility. The situation can be explained by the following example. In a close race in a political electio both candidates are running neck-to-neck and the polls give no clear indication as to who would win. When the votes are all counted (and recounted), it turns out that the winner won by one vote only, no more no less. The winner is obviously delighted, but his jubilation is quickly overcast by the hundreds of voters who approach him in the days following his victory, saying: "You see! It was my vote that got you elected!".

This is the situation Moshe wanted to avoid. The accomplishment of completing the mishkan was remarkable. The joy of the people, who succeeded to build this temple to God from their donations, was enourmous. But imagine what could have happened had there been just enough contributions to complete the construction. This could have easily turned into a false send of pride, into a feeling of "kochi ve'etsem yadi": It was I who made the whole thing possible. If it weren't for my piece of gold, there would be no mishkan.

Therefore, it was only by having more than was necessary that Moshe could have avoided this turn of events and at the same time taught Bnei Israel an important lesson in humility. It is not our offering which turns the tide, it is God's will. The "too much" was necessary in order for it to be "sufficient".

The idea for this week's Parasha Thought is from R. Mordechai Kamenetzky.

Tokyo - A Clean City?

Last Friday night, a friend came over for dinner. He's been living in Tokyo for several years, this being his second stint here. He has also lived in Hong Kong for many years. He claimed that Tokyo is the "filthiest city" in Asia and in comparison with the time he spent here in the 80s, the situation had deteriorated considerably.

This comment took us a bit by surprise, as Tokyo is generally a very clean city. Compared with any major metropolis in the world, and considering the fact Tokyo is home to more than ten million residents (only in Tokyo, not including the suburbs), it is remarkable how clean it is. A lot of this can be attributed to the Japanese sense of cleanness, aesthetics and hygiene. I also heard there is a law that the public area in front of your home is your responsibility, and this is why every morning I see the old ladies from neighbouring houses busy cleaning the pavement and the street and picking up every stray leaf. It is very rare to see someone dropping litter in the street or throwing something out of a driving car.

But there is one area where the Japanese, at least in Tokyo, seem to forget their manners completely: cigarette butts. They seem to be everywhere. In certain areas, most noticeably nearby train stations, the pavements are littered with hunderds of them. Here, I agree with my friend: stricter fines should be imposed on people who litter the streets, especially with "small litter" like cigarette butts. If a person had to pay 20,000 yen (about $200) if caught littering, I'm sure this would do a lot to improve things. Perhaps it is not time yet to enact Singapore-like laws here, but if the authorities do not halt this trend now, it may quickly evolve to become a major problem.

MBA - A Degree for Crooks?

Last week, The Economist ran a story on the MBA degree, following a recent spate of articles blaming business schools for the unethical behaviour of MBA graduates, leading to scandals such as Enron, Tyco and WorldCom.

The critics claim that MBA students are taught according to economics principles of maximizing wealth and that this "frees them from any sense of moral responsibility" for what they do in the business lives. The Economist points out that this view stems from a gross misunderstanding of the MBA degree and that students and employers alike are wrong in assuming that the MBA is a qualification for business leadership. Just as law or medical degrees are necessary but not sufficient for the making of good lawyers or doctors, so business degrees provide skills and knowledge but do not guarantee that a person will become a successful business leader.

From my experience, there is truth to both sides of the argument. All too often during my MBA studies I witnessed students and teachers adopting a stance that if a certain methodology is followed, success is guaranteed. The "case study" approach, which is the dominant approach in most leading business schools, has many merits but one of its failures is that a particular case study provides a false sense of cause-reason certainty. To prove (or disprove) a certain theory, a case study is brought forth as "proof" that the theory can (or cannot) succeed in a real business environment. This results in fallacies such as hasty generalizations or biased samples, leading to over-confidence in business being an exact science and businessmen being pesudo-scientists that can shape the market and the future of their companies solely by their actions.

Having said that, I do agree that an MBA degree cannot be blamed for the corporate scandals that rocked the business world in recent years. Honest people are not bred in business schools. Economic theories such as maximization of shareholder value or the agency paradox or competitive strategies are nothing but tools. Put them in the right hands, and they will be put into practice in a worthy manner; put them in the hands of crooks and they will use them to further unethical practices. Not unlike a doctor, who can use his knowledge to cure or to kill. In that sense, I agree with The Economist's conclusion that "happily, there is no degree programme for [teaching maturity and wisdom]".

Chaos

This picture was taken in Tel Aviv by a young artist, Gilad Benari. I think it captures nicely the dichotomic nature of Israeli society.

I Had This Yank in My Cab...

Browsing through Arts & Letters Daily today, I came across this book review in The Daily Telegraph.

Seems like the combination of American writers who think they are funny and writing about England is doomed to end up as a bad book.