Higashi-Kujo Madang— Dancing with the dog
- “...In Frantz Fanon and the Psychology of Oppression (1985), Hussein Abdilahi Bulhan proposes a very useful outline of what should eventually become a full-fledged psychology of liberation based on Fanon’s ideas. ...Bulhan finds the ultimate state of freedom in what he calls maximum self-determination: ‘Self-determination refers to the process and capacity to choose among alternatives, to determine one's behavior, and to affect one’s destiny. As such, self determination assumes a consciousness of human possibilities, an awareness of necessary constraints, and a willed, self-motivated engagement with one’s world.... Without the right of self-determination, we are reduced to rigid and automatic behaviors, to a life and destiny shorn of human will and freedom’ (pp. 265-66).
(Erven 1992, 10-11)”
However, “self determination” must also address and overcome the misrecognition that others apply to marginalized groups.
The Higashi-kujo Madang organizers looked to create an event that showed a seamless decorum, while promoting emotional display: not an easy task. One way they did this was to not allow alcohol at the Madang. Another way was to avoid the stigmatizing stereotypes that were all too familiar to the organizers. Here, the avoidance of alcohol also played a role: the stereotype of “the drunken Korean” was a display to be avoided, even though madangs held in the buraku (and virtually every Kyoto festival) served alcohol without much thought that an overconsumption by a few would be conflated with a group identity.
The avoidance of externally attributed characteristics left the organizers with a reduced inventory of symbols, and neutralized some of the expressive possibilities of the event. Un- and under- employment, for example, was eliminated as a topic, as it could also be construed as a result of “the lazy Korean.” Underemployment is perhaps the most serious chronic economic feature in Higashi-kujo, but mainstream Japanese perceptions of the national economy may not include the notion that social circumstances (such as cultural domination) could be responsible for a lack of employment. After decades of virtual full-employment (for the great majority of middle-class Japanese), the recent economic slow-down, the continuing trend to offshore manufacturing and the discourse of economic “rationalization” (i.e., downsizing), will bring un- and under employment to thousands of young Japanese workers.
But in 1993, unemployment was perceived by the Higashi-kujo organizers as a stigma attached to those who, by a lack of talent or upbringing, are not deserving of employment. And in fact, “under-employment” for many in Higashi-kujo did not mean that educated individuals had no jobs, but rather that they were forced to work at several part-time, low-wage jobs: jobs that others preferred not to do.
- “To the extent that permanent residency in Japan might be said to be voluntary, these people are still following a divergent path from the normal Japanese life, for their way of life is dependent upon national/ethnic and generational factors. Mainly starting with the second generation, the conditions for those who do hold on to their ethnic pride get very difficult at times, they cannot profess their real names, they are inundated with negative images of Korea, and there are no school assemblies about their history, language, and culture.”
MADANG STATEMENT OF PURPOSE
Cross-cultural marriage was another topic that was out-of-bounds, but this time because it raised so many issues at the same time that the organizers felt a need to avoid the complexities of this topic. For a Korean woman, marrying a Japanese man solved many of the administrative problems of being Korean: the woman would acquire the man’s official residence and name, and the children would be Japanese. But for a Korean man marrying a Japanese woman, the result was a complex morass of identities, cross-tied by gendered and ethnic notions. Because of recent interpretations in the law, the children of such a marriage can claim Japanese citizenship. But the woman would give up her prenuptual family residence (kosetsu), and so the child would not have an official residence. If the Korean father’s residence were in the buraku, the child would become a buraku-dwelling Japanese. The lack of symmetry between these situations has created a differential perception of Korean/Japanese marriage, and the entire topic is loaded with emotions that the Madang organizers did not wish to explore.
The original artwork for the second madang poster showed a circle of dancers of all ages with the Korean word “madang” in the middle, and scenes of Kyoto (notice the needle-like Kyoto tower on upper right). On the left, a dog joins the dancers, its tongue wagging as it happily circles. In the circle an ocean is surmounted by a Rose of Sharon (hyacinth) and the tail of a whale.
Virtually every artistic expression in the Madang was considered from the perspective of possible mis- or counter-interpretation by the Japanese public. No expression that would admit easily to a stereotypical reading of “Koreanness” in Japan was allowed. And so the resulting picture of “Koreanness” was self-constrained in ways that some of the organizers regretted, but had little success in providing alternatives. As this was the only opportunity to create a visible source for collective resident Korean identity in Kyoto, it was too precious to risk an outcome that might be easily dismissed. A simple, graphic example of the care with which the organizers vetted the contents of the festival to eliminate potential stereotyping arose with the design of the poster for the second Madang.
The original design showed a dog dancing (or running) with a circle of humans linked arm-in-arm in a madang circle. This design was circulated at an organizing meeting, and one of the organizers said, “You know what they will say: ‘We’ll dance with the dog today and then eat him for dinner.’ We’ve got to get rid of the dog.”
The final poster for the second madang was carefully crafted to include Korean type and Japanese lettering. And the original artwork was modified: the dog was replaced by a seagull (“sea cat” in Japanese [umineko]). When I showed this to an audience of Korean specialists, they also noted that the hyacinth flower had been removed from the center. This is the flower that represents Korean royalty (as the chrysanthemum represents Japanese royalty). Also changed was Kyoto tower, replaced by a construction crane.
There was laughter at this observation, but it was not happy laughter. Another organizer pulled me aside. “You see, in Korea, dog is a seasonal food, eaten for health reasons, just as Kyoto people eat eel. And so the Japanese call us ‘Dog eaters.’ But here in Higashi-kujo we don’t eat dogs.”
Here is the same artwork done large to cover the school building at the madang.
Photo by author
Because the group was raised in Kyoto, the idea of eating dogs was as foreign to them as it was to their non-Korean neighbors, but they knew it was a common practice on the Peninsula. And so this hailing of them as “dog eaters” affirmed and denied their claim to Koreanness.
The care with which the organizers crafted the content of the festival was directed, in part, to deny a stereotypical Japanese response. But despite an obvious need to maintain civil relationships with school and neighborhood organizations outside of the buraku areas, there was never any discussion on reducing the amount or the volume of drumming at the event. The Madang was and is performed at a decibel level that few events1 in Japan can match.
1I have been to summer fireworks (hanabi) festivals which were as sonicly impressive as they were visually. Some of the explosions in these events are not visual at all, but merely black explosions that shake the earth, and press against your face and clothing.
