My Japanese Protest

by Joel Hanson

Shibuya: a trendy shopping area of Tokyo. March 22. I've just stepped off the subway into a cement square with my six-foot, seven-inch Canadian friend Laurier and his Japanese girlfriend. We're surrounded by giant office buildings and shopping malls and massive television sets that feed our short attention spans with a steady diet of music videos and fashion models. The streets are packed with straight-faced shoppers and weary businessmen and women on their way home after another ten-hour workday. There is a noticeable autumnal chill in the air. The women walk beneath a garish, Vegas-like kaleidoscope of neon lights as though they're on their own private, fashion-show runway, showing off their expensive leather shoulder bags and tightly laced boots. And in the middle of this consumerist mecca, a drum circle of war protesters and sign carriers gather to voice their opposition to Bush's illegal and unilateral three-day-old invasion of Iraq.

Laurier and I grab yellow signs from a group called World Action to Stop The War and head to a fourth-floor shopping mall restroom to write our own personal anti-war messages on the back. I choose "Disarm Bush, Too!" and Laurier opts for something harsh and profane.

Half an hour later, we join a few thousand fellow sign-carriers in a small park for a pre-march rally. The park's leafless oak trees look almost black in the twilight air. For almost an hour, surrounded by a circle of police and camera-toting onlookers, we listen to a series of half English/half Japanese speeches while we hone our anti-war chants of "Iraqi senso tomero!" (Stop the war in Iraq!) and "Senso hontai!" (No war!) and trade stories with activists from all over the world. The news of 1,400 arrests in San Francisco the day before warms the crowd like an elixir. A man from Portugal tells me that he's happy to see Americans protesting the war because the television news makes it look like everyone in the US unanimously supports Bush.

Inspired by the atmosphere, I walk over to a nearby table of volunteers and write down my favorite anti-war slogan from an anti-war protest in LA ten days earlier: "War Is So Last Century!" I attach this sign to my old one and flip them back and forth during the rally. People are drawn to Laurier's height and many stop in front of us to take pictures and read our signs. Then, we take to the streets. As we descend from the park on a wide staircase, I see a small army of police in riot gear: clubs, masks, and imposing shields on the street below. But their services will not be necessary tonight. This is Japan: a culture obsessed with politeness and decorum. Our anti-war protest is noisy and eye-catching, but too orderly, too docile. We move through the streets of Shibuya like a giant human snake, divided into groups of 500 in order to not disrupt the flow of traffic. But I want to block traffic, to sit down in intersections, anything to draw more attention and/or force a confrontation.

The marching is empowering anyway: my first satisfying release of anger at the American government I didn't vote for. And there are moments of triumph: frequent honks from passing motorists, smiles and peace signs from the crowd of onlookers gathered across the street like it's watching a parade, a few pedestrians pick up signs and join the march.

After the post-march rally is over, the three of us head to a basement-level Indian restaurant. The place is packed with protesters fresh from the march, gathered around tables, discussing politics and anti-war strategies. The restaurant employees give us the thumbs up sign as we enter and I feel a sense of solidarity with everyone in the place. We realize our efforts are not enough stop the war in Iraq, but the kind of widespread international anti-war support I witnessed that night makes me realize that, if we persist in our efforts and our numbers continue to grow, we might be able to stop the bullying, self-serving Bush administration from starting another one.

Joel Hanson is a former Washington resident now teaching in Japan.