Well, after the most fantastic break in Tokyo, Caught*Red-handed is BACK! I’ve had a truly magnificent time, so watch out for upcoming posts detailing my every move whilst out there, however before all that, what better way to get back into the groove than with a fantastic post from our resident linguistics expert, Mr Brett Fyfield! Believe me, I’ve been meaning to release this article for a loooong time but tech problems whilst in Tokyo as well as a whole host of other mishaps (coming soon in later posts!) have meant there’s been a bit of a delay. Let me tell you though, it’s well worth the wait…

In a city where 13,000 people fight for breathing space in every square kilometre, the dispossessed battle over the use of a public park with a giant multinational corporation intent on expanding its lifestyle brand. In another corner of the city young factory workers freshly laid off wonder where their next meal is coming from, as the soup kitchen struggles to feed the swelling numbers of hungry that line up out outside.

Poverty and homelessness is nothing new, but as Japan’s double jeopardy of debt and demography begin to unravel these scenes shall surely multiply. Ever since the bubble burst in the mid nineties the numbers of homeless have been steadily increasing. Rising unemployment has forced more people on to the street, and there is no way for them back to work.

In the early 90′s the homeless were seen as a nuisance and they weren’t officially recognised in Tokyo until 1997. As recently as 2008 the homeless in Shibuya were being forcibly evicted from their cardboard boxes and blue tents. The government’s hard line has softened somewhat since the The Democratic Party came to power in September last year, with the Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama telling inhabitants of a Tokyo shelter housing 700 people that “help can’t wait”.

For many it seems that their chance for a productive life has already passed them by. The social stigma attached to joblessness and homelessness, particularly for men, has created an underclass of unemployable. The average of age of homeless men is around 55, in a society where one company for life was once the norm, this is as good as dead.

It’s not just the older men that find it hard to find their way back to work, above the age of 35 unmarried men have a hard time too. In a society where men are the primary income earner, these men have failed to find their vocation and end up on the scrap heap in the peak of their productive lives.

The homeless in Tokyo tend to inhabit cardboard and blue tarp settlements in some of the capital’s busiest area. In Shinjuku, on one side of the station a cardboard village radiates from the station and along the subway leading toward the metropolitan government buildings.

You might think that in a country that has until recently enjoyed a top two consumer ranking that the social welfare system would be just and fair. Far from it. The government has made many attempts to shift homeless from the station area, sometimes forcibly and on occasion resulting in violence and death.

In other parts of the city local governments are complicit in the seizure of land by multinational corporations, clearing the walkways and public parks for multimillion dollar kickbacks. Discrimination against the homeless is reinforced by buearocracy. To qualify for welfare in Japan you need a fixed address, even if the welfare assistance you need is to find accomodation. Many homeless would rather freeze to death than take a semi-permanent lodging and lose their tents.

Japan is not, and has never been a classless society. Tamae Ishiwatari in her discussion of the plight of Tokyo homeless in 1999 referred to the Shogun’s law — showing no mercy to such an unpleasant sight — a sight which violated public good. This condition of disdain for the helpless has deep cultural roots. The familiar foreign romantic notion of the masterless samurai, or mountain mystic is more difficult to reconcile with the modern image of suits-homeless eking out a capsule hotel existence.

“Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health & well-being of himself and his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care, and necessary social services …”

Article 25 of The Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Some of Japan’s most famous individuals lived a vagabond lifestyle, some by choice, others by exile. Bashou, most notable as the poet who popularised haiku, burnt down his home and wandered for years returning only to die. Musashi, the archetypical Rōnin, lived is whole life homeless and scorned. Yayoi Kusama, celebrated today though still institutionalised, spent years homeless in New York.

The down-and-out on the streets of Tokyo don’t have the luxury of choice, yet they are still deserving of our attention. Fortunes have have changed for Japan in such away that they are irreversible. There is no return, in the near future at least for the Japanese to technological superiority or economic prosperity. Rather than turn our back on the rising tide of homelessness we need to find a way to embrace the social changes in away that allows people to live with dignity.