www.debito.org

NANPORO--A TOWN IN FLUX
PART TWO AND CONCLUSION:
COUNTDOWN TO AND RESULTS OF THE ELECTIONS

(originally sent to Fukuzawa, ISSHO, Friends, and UFJ March 15, 1999)

This post is organized thus:

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PROLOGUE: YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?
PART ONE: "WE WILL HAVE NO POLITICS BEFORE ITS TIME"
PART TWO: FUNNY THINGS HAPPENING ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM
PART THREE: THE FORUM ITSELF
EPILOGUE: WINNERS AND LOSERS: THE ELECTION RESULTS

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PROLOGUE

"You really want me to be the representative of this Forum? I don't even know what the words in the title mean yet!"

said I in midnight meeting, in a beer hall several kilometers safely out of town.

"What. The 'Chihou Bunken' Forum? Look them up on your electronic dictionary."

I did. My Canon Wordtank (highly recommended) defined "chihou bunken" as "the decentralization of government powers into local public bodies", with our group's interpretation as a "power to the people right on" sort of thing. Hokkaido policymakers have been toying with "Chihou Bunken" because 1) Hokkaido allegedly has the highest per capita public expenditure of any prefecture for public works (they certainly receive the most tax money from Tokyo--talk about economic "crowding out") and that means too many strings attached; 2) Hokkaido still has the "gun system" ("gun" meaning "county", not "road-rage tool"), where Japan's by-far largest prefecture (a fifth of all Japan's land) is still divided up into micromanaging municipalities; 3) despite the threat of postbubble budget cutbacks, "Chihou Bunken" received a new lease of life when former PM Hashimoto made "local autonomy" one of his platform slogans...

"Debito, are you listening?"

"Yeah, sorry. Go on."

"Look, we just created the "Chihou Bunken o Kangaeru Kai" because we have to have a group name to officially sponsor this debate. It cannot sound partisan, and as we said, because you cannot vote you look the perfect non-partisan. That's why you are the emcee. But we also need somebody to take the phone calls when the candidates RSVP. I can't do it--I'm one of the candidates and it would be construed as 'jizen undou'."

"As what?"

"'Jizen undou'." Out came my blessed Wordtank. Definition: "Political activities before an official election period." Didn't quite see what was wrong here, but better to listen first, learn later. My friend continued:

"And it can't be our other contacts, Debito--they are government employees and would lose their jobs. Are you with me so far?"

"Hokay."

"So we need you to do this:

"One, go to the post office tomorrow and send all the candidates these letters of invitation to our Forum. The letter will explain the rules of this event and give them three questions to answer before the audience. Be careful--we haven't much time." He looked at his watch. "It is now Thursday morning. The Forum is Sunday. This letter asks them to RSVP you at home by Friday evening to say if they are coming or not. There are 21 candidates, but I'll take care of the ones who are friends of mine; you send to the rest. We'll have them addressed and sealed for you seven hours from now. The morning sokutatsu mail departs at 8:30 am. If we get them on that shipment, they'll get them well before lunch and be unable to claim 'insufficient advance notice'.

"Two, after posting, I need you to take a copy of this invitation letter to the government election bureau (senkyou kanri bu) in the Chouyakuba. We don't want the government to think that we are pulling any fast ones."

I broke in. "Yeah, but I've got work to do. I've got two speeches next week, one at our youchien on education, one in Hakodate on the JET Program [NB: You'll be receiving the Hakodate speech presently]. Is it absolutely imperative that *I* do it?"

"I'm afraid so. Sorry. Do it any time before five pm tomorrow. No need to talk with the election officials. Just give them the letter, with them well, and walk out. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes. "

Hell it shouldn't. Things are never that simple. "Okay."

"Three, we need you to be home Friday night to take those telephone calls, and call back candidates who haven't RSVPed. We'll have somebody there with you just in case you have problems. But remember we can't get on the line or else they'll think there's some subterfuge, call the election bureau, and blow this whole gig. Got it?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering what I was getting into. Still, phone calls like these couldn't be any tougher than those I made to hostile construction workers when I worked for an evil trading company. And with my volunteer status here, these guys would have to make do with my best. "Anything else?"

I had to ask. "Yeah. Four, if you could FAX this info to the newspapers, that'd be great. I'll take care of Doushin and Mainichi cos I've got contacts there. If you could take care of Asahi and Yomiuri that'd be perfect. We'll FAX you a letter to forward tomorrow morning." I have a FAX at home so that was no problem.

"And that's all. Ganbatte."

I breathed a sigh of relief that my wife and kids were currently vacationing in Hawaii. Because I would be seeing some really dirty politics, witnessing how corrupt incumbents try to hijack the agenda, and how the little guy has to subtly take it back.

PART ONE: "WE WILL HAVE NO POLITICS BEFORE ITS TIME"

Thursday morning, as planned, I got the letters and FAXes off just fine and spent the day speechwriting. By the time I pulled my head out of my iMac the sun was setting, so I hopped in my car bound for election headquarters expecting to spend at least an hour facetiming. Yes, an hour. Here's why:

Whenever you deal with Japan's bureaucrats, you must come off as trustworthy or else you've had it. Unless you really know the rules, one doesn't just drop off a letter and walk out because they, if made suspicious about your motives, will find all kinds of arcane rules to trip you up. Or else just plain refuse to cooperate. Info control is the ultimate deterrent at the public official's disposal.

So when two senior election managers had me sit down and have a cuppa, they congenially but pointedly began asking me questions about this Forum's goals. To my surprise, they had long since received word of it from one of the opposition candidates, who was questioning whether he actually had to come to this. Was this not in fact "pre-election campaigning", i.e. the dreaded "jizen undou", and thus illegal?

My turn: "Actually, no this is not 'jizen undou'. We have no political affiliations. We are just a group of private citizens with an interest in seeing how our candidates think. We have had no forum for their opinions on important issues and..." I continued with the by-now-well-oiled speech about communication networks and earnest information exchange for the sake of our town when I realized that somehow I'd put a foot wrong.

Says they: "You mean you are inviting them because they are political figures? Because your group has political goals?"

"No, of course that's not what I'm saying. What made you think that?"

"You used the word 'candidates' (kouhosha). In your invitation letter you use town 'leaders' ("riidaa", in katakana). You cannot portray this in a political language or else we will not be able to permit this forum."

"I'm sorry, I meant to use the word 'riidaa'. Now, so that I don't use any more misleading language, could you please tell me more about the laws regarding 'jizen undou'?"

And they did. In Japan, official campaign periods are very short--about a week before people actually visit the ballot boxes. You are free to say "vote for me" during this period, but any time beforehand is "jizen undou" [literally "activity before the fact"] and thus strictly verboten. The principle involved is that "all candidates must start from zero once the campaign period commences", meaning that, any prior event that the (potential) candidate goes to, speaks at, or lends support to, must NEVER mention that they are running for election or want support in a political sense.

This also includes the tone of their language. Leaders' published pamphlets must be entitled something innocuous like "tayori" (newsletter) instead of something ringing of a requst for votes, must be sponsored by groups that are not "the committee to elect somebody", and must make an argument for support of a viewpoint without actually asking for any reader action on it. Moreover, in public statements on an issue, one might get away with saying the mayor is a nogoodnik, but will be snagged if he says he wants the job. Anything construed as "jizen undou" will disqualify the (closet) candidate from the upcoming election.

I realized this system is a double-edged sword. Though it avoids the war-chest fundraising-fomenting fifteen-month presidential campaigns and primaries of the US, it also constricts information flow, makes people pull their punches, drowns the voter in information at the last minute (instead of letting issues sink in over time), and allows the incumbent to utilize his already-established informal patronage networks to the detriment of the newcomer. Whether candidates can actually ever "start from zero" is another argument for nobody to sort out. But those are the rules, and you as a political participant misundertand them at your peril.

Back to our election bureau tete-a-tete. "So you see, Debito-san, as emcee at this forum you have to be very careful. I see nothing illegal about the event as is, but when you are making a speech you must avoid campaign-style language. For example, you must not refer to the candidates as 'candidates', only 'positeers' (teigensha) or 'town leaders'.

"Also, Debito-san, something here in your invitation letter is illegal: you may not in fact allow Positeers to distribute their standpoint pamphlets at the Forum."

"But our reporters deserve to know more than just their answers to our questions. Even if these pamphlets avoid electioneering language?"

"'Fraid so."

"Just a moment," I said, "I got a pamphlet from a Mr Kobayashi, Town Leader, in my mailbox just two days ago. I have it right here, look." They glanced through it. "If I can get this in my mailbox and not have it called jizen undou, then why can't Leaders give it out at the Forum?"

"Because the Forum is being held at our local meeting hall, right? This is a public building, government-run, and having printed information distributed under government auspices implies tacit government support for politicians. We must remain neutral."

Which meant, I realized, that I could personally receive those information packets, walk home, and distribute them there. But such wheedling I was sure would use up my "public trustworthiness credit rating" real fast--the very reason why I was investing so much time with these fine fellows. So I agreed to announce this impossibility at the venue.

"Just one more question: How are reporters supposed to get more detailed information?"

"They can talk to the Positeers--not as candidates mind you--but as private citizens, and get information from them once they both leave the public building grounds."

This was getting superanal. "Thank you for all the information, but could you please give me some literature on the laws so I don't make a mistake? I want to do things the right way, but the rules are so complicated that I'm getting really nervous."

They were very cooperative. I got photocopies of the laws (which I would copy and pass on to our organization), another cup of tea, and some friendly banter about Nanporo and why I had come here and other small talk that I suddenly found very comfortably welcome. And as this meeting stretched well past six o'clock, I excused myself and was left with a final caution:

"Debito-san, I understand you want to do this and we respect your efforts. But be careful. We will be there on Sunday watching, and if you do something illegal we'll have to disqualify the Positeers. Do you understand?"

Shit. This was indeed a case of "governmental crowding out", extended from economics to communications. With the government monopoly over both communication networks and public meeting places, peppered with a minefield of laws to research and avoid, it is no wonder the average Japanese, when it comes to public issues, just shrugs his way into indifference. There are so many ways to go wrong it becomes confusing to know how to do things right.

And here I was, walking a tightrope, fogged in by a language barrier, forging my balance pole with the right iikata, being blown around by the laws, and threatened to be tripped up by the opposition candidates. One foot wrong and we would never be able to hold a forum again.

PART TWO: FUNNY THINGS HAPPENING ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 6PM

"How many calls we got, Debito?" said Mr Suzuki, who was at my house waiting with me for the Leaders' RSVP.

"Um, two from those who support the new Golf Course [meaning our opposition, henceforth called the "Pro-Golfers"--email me for the previous essay where I described the issue fully]."

"Two? Out of nineteen total? You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. And both of them said they couldn't attend due to pat 'scheduling incompatibilities' (futsugou)."

"Well, cheer up, Debito. From our side [who oppose the Golf Course--the "Anti-Golfers"], we've had five confirmations. They'll come. However, that means we still have four clear Anti-Golfers, one guy from Koumeitou who won't choose a side, and another seven Pro-Golfers we haven't heard from yet.

That added up. Nine Pro-Golf, nine Anti-Golf, and one fence-sitter made nineteen. "Okay, I'm with you so far."

""Oh, and Izawa-san [the Anti-Golf mayoral candidate]--he'll come. But that means only Anti-Golfers are attending; somebody might accuse us of looking lopsided. How about Pro-Golf Mayor Takeuchi? Any word from him, Debito?"

As a matter of fact there had been. "Yes, his rep called asking all sorts of questions saying Takeuchi wanted to come. But..."

"But what?"

"He apparently had a problem with the length of the event. Three hours on Sunday, from 9:30 am to 12:30 am, is unworkable. He says that as the incumbent he is busy and can only spare us fifteen minutes--from 11:30 to 11:45. Which is fine, I thought, because fifteen minutes is the total speaking time for all the candidates anyway. But if he has to stay the whole time, he won't come."

"So what did you say?"

"We have to at least have one Pro-Golfer, as you said. So I told him we wanted him to be there in any event, and would make adjustments for his busy schedule. Just coming, answering the questions, and leaving would be fine." Let us see what kind of a man he is in public, at all costs, I thought. "His rep then hung up and called back a few minutes later with an agreement. He's in."

"Understood, Debito. So can you call the remaining twelve nonrespondents? Here are the phone numbers of their campaign headquarters..." And that was exactly what I did.

It was scandalous. Of the seven silent Pro-Golfers, three directly or through their reps claimed scheduling problems. One, whose wife answered (since his headquarters was in his home), claimed ignorance of the event but would get back in touch. Never happened. And the remaining three campaign headquarters did not even answer their phones!

The Koumeitou fence-sitter (who was rumored to be on whichever side won the election), had his wife answer and request more thinking time, which wound up being indefinite. So much for the "Clean Government Party", I thought.

And the Anti-Golfers? No joy there, either. Two claimed busyness and short lead time. The remaining two, members of the Communist Party, said the same: "Sorry, can't come. Had events which were scheduled months ago for the eve of the election period." Thus the Forum stabilized at five Anti-Golf Positeers, one Anti-Golf mayoral-position-Positeer, and one Pro-Golf busy Mayor.

"Now that's disappointing," said Suzuki. "Who'da thought the Communists would turn up a chance like this?"

"Makes you really wonder just how sincere people are about serving the electorate, doesn't it?"

I would later find out, though our moles in the government, that Mayor Takeuchi had told his fellow Pro-Golfers to stay out of the Forum entirely, just in case they said something funny.

Incensed, I bellowed, "But at least they could have had the common courtesy to RSVP me! But no! Even the Commies blew me off! This is worse than just diabolical! It's rude!"

It was time to make people accountable, and bring the element of public shame into the equation. Was I going to make an issue of this at the Forum? You betcha!

PART THREE: ALL FORUM? ALL OPPOSED?
THE FORUM ITSELF
SUNDAY, FEB 21, 1999, 9AM

It was a bitterly cold morning, and the auditorium, the size of a regular basketball court including bleachers, was going to be suffering from both chilliness and excess capacity. We had met the night before and set up the stage, seating for seven Positeers and one Coordinator (a university professor whose age and social status apparently meant he didn't have to lift a finger to help us). I would be standing below and to the left of the stage with standing mike, introducing everyone and giving the opening speech. Then the Coodinator would take over and I would become official timekeeper and rule-enforcer.

The rules of the Forum, to be explained to the audience:

.
a) Each Positeer must answer a total of three questions, which they had received in the invitation letter:

These questions were written out on a blackboard each (they even let ME do it!) for all to see.

b) Each Positeer must answer each question in turn. So Positeer A will answer Question One, then Positeer B will answer Question One, and so on. They have a maximum of five minutes to answer. At the fourth minute, timekeeper Debito will bring out a Yellow Card. At the fifth minute, Debito will bring out a Red Card. At five minutes ten seconds, Debito will cut you off.

c) As Mayor Takeuchi is a busy man, we will save the Takeuchi-Izawa debate for last (Izawa will have to wait silently until around 11:30 or until all the Positeers finish). Takeuchi will go first, speak for five minutes on Question One, then Izawa Question One, Takeuchi Question Two, et cetera, with the same colored Card rules. (This was my suggestion, and to my surprise, it flew!)

Questions or comments from the audience are not permitted. Applause or razzing is permitted so long as it does not interfere with the proceedings of the debate. I was to be the audience cautioner.

At 9:15 the audience and candidates began trickling in and sitting down on goza reed mats on the auditorium floor. Attendees were generally older men with a blue-collar or retired-farmer look about them, but there were a few housewifes, salarymen, and kids (who were exiled to a nearby playroom). All told, by the time we got to the Mayoral Positeer debate, we had around eighty people--over one percent of Nanporo's 7000 eligible voters. Not bad for a few day's word-of-mouth communication! Once the prof Coordinator showed up (he was late!), we got started at 9:50.

Nervous, I opened with a pretty choppy bit of Japanese that didn't sound formal at all (and got a lot of "nanda, koitsu" types of chuckles from the truck drivers), welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming. I explained the point of the Forum (communication for the Choumin and all that), and then brought out my axe to grind:

"Now I would like to tell you about the situation of our Positeers who are not here today. We were a little late in getting the message out to our Town Leaders, sorry, but with a window of 36 hours these were the responses we got:

I started with the Pro-Golfers: "Gawase-san and Sawada-san telephoned me and said they were busy. Unfortunately, other than the Leaders you see here, nobody else called. So I called them. I talked to Takeida-san and Ishikawa-san directly, and they said they were not coming. I talked to Kikuchi-san's representative, Kawai-san, who said busy. I talked to the wives of Ochiai-san and Azuma-san, who said busy." By this time, the audience was chuckling in places.

I then switiched to the Anti-Golfers, to give them the same roasting: "I called Ogawa-san and Kido-san, who said busy. I called Nihon Kyousantou's two leaders, and their representative, who wouldn't give his name, said busy."

I saved the best for last, especially since they were Pro-Golfers: "I then called Miyoshi-san at 555-1212, Yamamoto-san at 555-3434, and Shirakura-san at 555-5678. All of these numbers are their public contact points. Nobody answered or returned a call." I left a pregnant pause and heard people tut.

I then introduced all the five present Positeers one by one (Kobayashi-san, Tajima-san, Suzuki-san, Satou-san, and Oka-san, who stood up and bowed to applause), then mayoral rival Positeer (god it was getting hard to not just blurt out "candidate"!) Izawa, then the Coordinating prof, who explained all the rules and the fact that we were waiting for Mayor Takeuchi to show up. Then off they went with their answers.

As timekeeper, I cannot remember sufficiently what was said (such are the limitations of being a participant and not a witness), which is probably a blessing for readers who think this essay is already overlong. I do remember, however:

1) some tried to finish before even the Yellow Card came up, although once they got used to the fact that it was a signal, not a caution, they began soaking up their full allotment; only three speeches in the fifteen total went overtime.

2) One candidate, a young salariman firebrand named Kobayashi (the one who slipped his quasilegal "Tayori" into everyone's mailbox) accused the Forum of having a bias--since everyone here was Anti-Golf and there was no balance (probably meaning nobody for him to savage in public). I felt my face get awfully warm at that, but I realized I had the opportunity to reply later--as emcee I was entitled to make closing remarks. I formulated a response as the seconds ticked away.

Fast forward. At 11:25, in walked Mayor Takeuchi, dapper in an expensive suit but a small, slight-looking raisin of a man nonetheless. He took his seat beside Izawa with the proforma amount of bowing, and waited about ten minutes for the remaining speeches to finish.

Things did not, unfortunately, go according to plan. Takeuchi whispered to the Coordinating prof that he hadn't the time to fritter away at these questions, so he would either speak in one glurt of 15 minutes or not at all. The prof acquiesced to this, and threw the situation at me to deal with. So I said, "Takeuchi first, 15 minutes, 14 minutes for Yellow Card. Then Izawa second, same deal." Prof nodded and that was that.

Takeuchi then took the mike, and it was an interesting study of the political communication styles of old. Takeuchi was 74 years of age, Nanporo's Mayor for the past 24 of them, which meant that he had held the top job for a third of his long life. He was obviously not used to campaigning within an enclosure, because this slight-looking man released a voice of such volume that the speakers began to shake. He talked in the slow style of a person outdoors atop a Sound Truck, with three words about every ten seconds or so, and echoes within the now-vaultlike auditoruium began to drown him out. It was shell-shocking the audience (especially me, right below the biggest woofer on the ceiling), but nobody made any motions to turn down the sound system. Fine by me. He was no longer able to stay in the background and take refuge in his reputation. This is precisely the reason why I wanted him here at all costs.

It took its toll on image control. Formatwise, Takeuchi's speech was not something the telegenic political generation would copy, but contentwise it was even worse: it was 15 minutes of nothing. All Takeuchi talked about was all the good things that happened to Nanporo during his tenure, how the old golf course had had one million users over the past ten years, how he wanted this new golf course to carry this town into the next century as his final masterwork, and how, surprise surprise, suddenly he was going to get the new course built for half price! Not one of the questions did he answer directly, and he noticed neither the Yellow or Red Card, looking miffed when I had to call him on time. It was the speech of a desperate man representing business interests that were really feeling threatened, willing to halve their price in one stroke. Once he was done, he was gone, leaving the auditorium without even a second look.

Izawa, all eyes on him now, looked nervous and not sure whether to copy the Sound Truck style or strike out in a new style. He also spoke too loud and too slowly, but it fit the stories I'd heard about him. He had always been up to now a follower--always toeing the line of his superiors, never making waves or really assuming a leadership position. Which was why his sudden resignation and candidacy over this golf course was so surprising.

However, what he did not have in style he made up for in content: Izawa did answer all three questions in specific, in ways that elicited applause, and only four people, all trucker-types, walked out during it. They probably had business links to the new golf course, but they were definitely not the types I wanted to see running this town.

And that was it, except for the final words from the emcee. Here is what I tried to say:

EPILOGUE:
WINNERS AND LOSERS: THE ELECTION RESULTS

There was still more in the aftermath but I'll skip it. The rest of the week was a blur for me. The official campaign period started off the next day. Sound trucks were everywhere, posters went up in their appointed places, political pamphlets filled our mailboxes, and yet another mysterious letter appeared from the "Society to Protect Nanporo Citizens From The Circulation of Rumors", again with no contact number or Nanporo postmark. Estimated cost of this smear campaign: a cool million bucks. Still, I was by now oblivious, busy with other projects and out of town.

I made it back by Sunday, February 28, Election Day. Results were announced over the public megaphone PA system by eleven o'clock that evening.

They were:

TOWN COUNCILLORS ELECTED
(all non-party-affiliated unless otherwise indicated)

1. OCHIAI Susumu (Koumeitou, probably Pro-Golf, New Councillor), 529 votes

2. SATOU Shouichi (Incumbent, Anti-Golf, Forum Positeer), 450 votes

3. KIDO Isamu (Incumbent, Pro-Golf), 416 votes

4. KOBAYSHI Masaki (Incumbent, Anti-Golf, Forum Positeer and Critic), 380 votes

5. TAKEIDA Shinji (Incumbent, Pro-Golf), 374 votes

6. OKA Shinichi (Incumbent, Anti-Golf, Forum Positeer), 353 votes

7. KUMAKI Kimio (Communist, Former Incumbent, Anti-Golf) 346 votes

8. OGAWA Matsukura (Incumbent, Pro-Golf) 345 votes

9. SHIRAKURA Ken'ichi (Pro-Golf, New Councillor), 341 votes

10. TAJIMA Hideki (Incumbent, Anti-Golf, Forum Positeer), 330 votes

11. SAWADA Kazumasa (Incumbent, Anti-Golf) 328 votes

12. MIYOSHI Fujio (Incumbent, Pro-Golf) 320 votes

13. AZUMA Shizuo (Incumbent, Pro-Golf) 291 291 votes

14. GAWASE Masahiko (Pro-Golf, New Councillor) 279 votes

15. NANBU Youko (Communist, Incumbent, Anti-Golf) 276 votes

16. ISHIKAWA Masahiro (Pro-Golf, New Councillor) 247 votes

Bubbling under and losing their seats:

KIKUCHI Masao (Incumbent, Pro-Golf) 211 votes

YAMAMOTO Tetsuo (Incumbent, Pro-Golf) 190 votes

SUZUKI Masahiro (Anti-Golf, my friend throughout all of this) 188 votes.

So all told, eight Pro-Golfers were reelected, and two Pro-Golfers were kicked out, splitting the assembly in half. The mayor would be the swing vote.

And the results of the Mayoral campaign? Out of a total of around 7000 eligible voters, there was a turnout of about 88%. The results were:

TAKEUCHI Masakazu, Incumbent Mayor: 2250 votes

IZAWA Toshimi, Anti-Golf rival candidate: 3925 votes.

It wasn't even close.

We won.

Dave Aldwinckle
Sapporo

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Copyright 1999-2003, Arudou Debito/Dave Aldwinckle, Sapporo, Japan