Wherever we went in Japan, there were all sorts of guys in official-looking uniforms. They usually had battery-powered batons with orange lights to signal with. They carried whistles which they rarely ever blew except when they got really pissed. Some waved bright-colored flags. Others held tiny megaphones. And they took their responsibility — whatever it might be — very seriously.
They often wore snazzy uniforms, blue or green with wide white belts and midshipman caps, adorned with official patches, bearing some unfathomable insignia. They were never armed but they carried portable radios to stay in touch with god knows who. There were usually in teams of three. One would get the baton or flag, the other the radio, and the third guy got the megaphone. Every fifteen minutes they would swap. And let’s be clear, this is a strictly “Men Only” line of work.
Every parking garage had a crack team to stop pedestrian, bike, and car traffic, so the driver of the vehicle, who they treated like the President of Japan, could enter or exit safely. And they often wore white gloves for some inexplicable reason.
Others patrolled the streets, keeping a careful watch and stopping you from doing something wrong, like smoking on the street, which is illegal in many areas. As an aside, you can still smoke in many restaurants, but not on the streets. Go figure.
One old guard in a green uniform came up to me when I was sitting by the Kinshicho Train Station and very respectfully pointed to my e-cigarette and shook his head and hands to indicate that I must cease and desist. I never really figured out what authority these guys had, but everyone follows their instructions without question. And so did I.
I mean, they are definitely not cops. The cops, who are usually riding big motorcycles, wear light blue uniforms and have that police swagger you see all over the world from people who are entrusted with a gun and told to keep order.
These — let’s call them guardians — are usually older, no nonsense gentlemen who take their job very seriously.
Many of the larger bike parking lots have them and they were able to write tickets for cyclists that exceeded the time limit or parked illegally in a spot where they weren’t allowed.
But they seemed to be EVERYWHERE. I encountered uniformed geezers standing in front of businesses like Lotto ticket shops (sometimes called “Dream Shops”), and it was unclear what the hell they were doing. But whatever it was, they would stand there at parade rest for hours on end and act like the fate of the world was hanging in the balance.
There seems to be a lot of “make work” jobs in Japan, especially for older men. For instance, one Sunday morning I was walking into Osaka and I encountered a guy sitting on a folding chair at a busy intersection, and he had this goofy metal abacus-like device placed on another folding chair that he was using to click off each vehicle that went by, along with its type — car, truck, bus, motorcycle, or bike. In America, we would just install a rubber strip traffic counter across the lane and let a machine do the counting. But in Japan, that’s a job for someone. And as I walked further into downtown Osaka, I went by several more human traffic counters.
I’m ambivalent about the guardians. In one respect, it’s nice that everyone has a purpose and cares about their community. But I have always been wary of people in uniform who go around telling others what to do. And therein lies the difference between American and Japanese people. Americans are free spirits and march to their own beat. The Japanese have adopted the herd mentality and respect authority pretty much blindly.
Japan is the longest living totalitarian state in the world, though few think of it in this way. And it goes a long way toward explaining their blind obedience to all laws and authority, like traffic lights where they will stand — even at five in the morning, on a empty street with no cars and no other people — and will wait patiently for the little green crossing sign to flash. They question NOTHING! And they really have no other choice. If the Japanese just did whatever they wanted to do, their society would devolve into bedlam and chaos. There are just too many of them in too confined a space. Somehow, they have managed to all agree that order leads to happiness. And it’s not about having a police state. The guardians are hardly storm troopers. And the cops are not heavy-handed. No, it’s about mutual consent and a willingness to follow the rules because that ultimately leads to joy and prosperity. To me, it seemed a bit weird. But it was also very reassuring.
Can you imagine such an America?
