The way I met my last boyfriend was this: A yenta-ish friend who runs one of the bars I go to showed me Ryuichi's photograph and asked whether I'd be interested in meeting him. When I arrived, a space was cleared and Ryuichi's friends--I swear, I'm not making this up--acted the part of his elders and protectors and interrogated me about my job, where I lived, and whether I was from an intact, respectable family! Good thing for him they were so adamant on that first point, too, since he quit his job soon after and decided to spend a year doing little but surfing.
This
post from the always-interesting Cathy Young a few days ago isn't about Japan, or about gay life, but it illustrates the kinds of questions I was alluding to
here--things Western journalists tend to neglect while cooking up Hamburger Helper articles about the evolution of Japanese household patterns:
Is anyone going to seriously argue that a man's resources--income, power, status--are generally irrelevant to women's preferences in the mating game in modern-day American culture? That doesn't mean most women are calculating golddigers (as some men's rights folks like to depict them), but yes, women generally prefer not to "marry down," and not just in terms of money but also in terms of prestige, education and intelligence, for which a college degree is considered a marker. To deny this fact is, shall we say, not very reality-based. Unlike many conservatives, I'm not saying that this is the way it should be or the way it always will be. But for now, such a trend is definitely there.
Japan's post-War constitution, interestingly enough, defines marriage as between a man and a woman not because of any prescience about the fight over gay marriage (there isn't any here) but in order to outlaw forced arranged marriages. Family elders could no longer use marriageable young adults as instruments by which to carry out politicking or feuds, at least legally.
But the practice of finding a spouse through お見合い (
o-miai: lit., "looking at each other," a meeting between two eligible people, usually arranged by their families through a matchmaker) lingered on, and though people date freely now, it's still common. While marrying "for love" is much more the norm now than it used to be, a good job is still recognized up front as the major criterion when a man is under consideration as a potential husband. And that
certainly would have been the case thirty-five years ago, when the women whose husbands are now retiring and driving them crazy around the house were sizing up the available men.
You don't get a sense of that or its implications as spouses aged together from the recent
Reuters article:
"Japanese men's life expectancy falls by about 10 years if they divorce late in life," said Nishida, who now runs regular discussion days to help couples overcome the hurdle of retirement. "That's because they can't do anything for themselves."
She did not divorce but insisted her own husband at least learned to cook for himself.
"Couples need to rebuild their relationship," Nishida said. "Retired men still tend to act like the lord and master."
Not all men see a need for change.
"Mature Divorce" star Tetsuya Watari said in an interview on the program's Web site that he never cooks and has not bothered to give his wife a birthday present in decades.
"I don't think Kotaro's way of life is wrong," he said of the workaholic character he played in the drama.
Some viewers agreed with him.
"I can't agree with the wife's point of view," said one poster on the Web site.
"She says Kotaro works all the time and doesn't help around the house, but that's normal for someone devoted to his job — I think it's admirable. At least he's not a talentless loser."
The above passage gives every appearance of an effort at scrupulous fair-mindedness. But even in giving both the he-said and the she-said, it leaves a lot out. Retired men may act like the lord and master, but it's equally true that plenty of married women of that generation--and this is hardly a phenomenon unique to Japan--regarded the home as their turf alone and would hardly have encouraged their husbands to poke around in "my" kitchen cabinets or work less overtime if it meant a decrease in money and prestige for the household. True, one hears of wives who begged their husbands to trade down in employment so they had more time with their families, but that was not the norm in the era of post-War economic hypergrowth.
The viewpoint ascribed to the men--and I should take the opportunity to point out now that how much of the superficiality of the final version is due to Isabel Reynolds's reporting, as opposed to, possibly, an editor who was bent on giving the paying customers what they want out of their stories about the aging society in workaholic Japan--is just as reductive. The Japanese have been known for working long hours, but, especially before the end of the Bubble, the time spent away from home "for work" often involved a few hours of carousing with coworkers at the end of the day. Sure it was basically mandatory if you wanted to advance, but the reason it was possible to make it so was that men let the women take care of the household in its entirety. There were undoubtedly husbands who worked stone-cold sober at their desks right up until they had to dash for the last train and then collapsed wordlessly into bed and started snoring away when they got home; but most offices, at least, were not set up that way.
Also, a funny thing happened on the way to the year 2000: Japan became super-rich. It remains rich despite the bursting of the Bubble. When today's retirees were getting married, Japan was on its way to becoming a global economic power, but war and rice rations were still in living memory and made certain kinds of sacrifices seem fair enough, even necessary. Now that the Japanese are accustomed to the choices available to consumers in a First World country, those sacrifices are less palatable.
All of which is to say, it takes two to do the dysfunctional marriage tango. The bargain struck in Japanese marriages after the War was that the men worked themselves to death (sometimes literally--the word is 過労死 [
karoushi: "death from overwork"]) until retirement, thereby earning themselves the right to do nothing but play golf from then on. Women were supposed to satisfy their desire for work by rearing the children and keeping the house, but they also had money and time to spend on flower arranging classes, movies, and lunch at trendy restaurants with the girls.
Of course their husbands never learned how to take care of themselves. Not only have they not been taught to, they've been taught not to. BY WOMEN. Mother did for them all through childhood; if they didn't live at home after college, they lived in a corporate dorm with a dining hall; and once they were married...well, see the above. (As someone who's dated three first-born sons of Japanese households, I could say a lot more about that, but it would be unseemly.) You can certainly point out plenty of ways that the system is unfair to women, but it doesn't strike me as unreasonable for a sixty-year-old man whose wife decides she wants a divorce to say, essentially, "Just a minute here--I fulfilled my end of the deal, and now you want to welsh on it and still have me support you!"
One final thing worthy of note: Reporters understandably cover conflicts and tensions and things because they're interesting, and the resulting problems tend to drive developments in society and policy. Unfortunately, if the only Japanese people you ever read about are homicidal teenagers, consumers of
manga porn, and geriatric couples who hate the sight of each other, you can start to get the sense that the entire archipelago is utterly bonkers. Those problems and others do exist, and they're serious. I talk about them myself. But Japan is a great place that, in the main, does right by its people. Walk in Tokyo parks on weekends, an
