It's amazing what you can't find about Japan if you're not living in the Eastern world. West, east. No matter how much our worlds come together via social networking and fast internet speeds, west and east can never seem to truly merge. Oil on water. And, the west/east barrier sets up a convenient but unfortunate "us vs. them" mentality among those less willing to bring it all together. The divide teeters on the edge some days, politicians calling for greater Occidental/Oriental co-operation, at other times slamming the other side's way of life, morals, ideals, and everything else anyone can possibly find offensive. Sometimes we fight, sometimes we love, like any good relationship. And for the most part, this new globally cultured world is something that we all want. So who is right, east or west?
When Matthew C. Perry forced Japan to open up its borders in July of 1853, a new global relationship was born. This was the start of something good; something forced, but then again, something good. At cannonpoint, Perry demanded something, just one audacious thing, of Japan: change. Change in a nation essentially cut off from the world for most of its life and happier for it every day. Talk about a rude awakening. Now, of course, both countries are probably better off, but who can forget even now what it took to get us here?
That famous event in history (hardly history, in the grand scheme, as it nearly just happened) is a telling symbol of the east/west relationship, and upon it our preconceptions of "us vs. them" are unfairly drawn. When the Japanese saw Matthew Perry's 黒船 (black ships) on the horizon, they must have known in that brief instant that everything was about to change. The Japanese, living a quiet life (a lot of them still do, so that's good), living a life away from the hubbub and the excitement of the industrious west, signed a treaty and became best buds with good ol' Murica. Today, one may argue that both sides are the better for it, and if the ends justify the means, then that's fine too. And if we look at it like that, then consider this: all this happened nearly 150 years ago. How far have we come?
It all comes down to understanding. 150 years later, we still struggle to really manifest a "global culture." We stick to our own though we do business with other countries, and we all grow up together like children in a playground. The bullies bully, the quiet kids sit in a huddle at lunch, the pacifists make great strides to simply be happy (these are countries I'm talking about here). The few who just had pixy stix for lunch can't stop running around and showing everyone their cool temporary tattoos (that's America, by the way). But though we co-exist (poorly at times), and we trade and generally maintain good relations, we do not really understand each other. There is always something greater than ourselves, and if for nothing more than simple self-revelation, we should actively aim to seek it out. You haven't lived a real life until you've lived like the other half lives.
It's not "us vs. them" anymore. It's just "us."
We in America get a smattering of Japanese music, movies, and books from time to time. We eat sushi and play Nintendo and read backwards comics and wear Naruto headbands. Is that the stuff culture is made of? The Japanese have similarly adopted many aspects of American and western culture, and as a result of historical events, are sort of split in half between the two sides of the world. Today, the Japanese, once forced at cannonpoint to (ironically) conform or be shot down, act as the lubricant in the east/west door jamb. With the door swinging wide open, it seems, we all get through a little easier. I certainly won't argue with that.
And what of culture anyway? Is it time for a global culture, a global economy, a new way of life again? It might be something far simpler: it might be time for us to make our personal stands, to set our goals across the ocean, to a new way of life that is far older than we know. Occident and Orient, east and west, yin and yang, black and white, they're all just words. The true magic is in what you give, and what you can learn by giving.
Without forcing it, of course.
