Midterm - Looking Deeper into the Issue of Food Isecurity in Japan
Hello everyone,
I realize I didn't exactly publish two posts within a week, as I said I would in my previous post... Life has been pretty busy! The heat and humidity have also been pretty brutal lately, which -- despite my attempt at near-constant water intake -- has worn me out! In addition, I submitted my midterm journal/essay on time, but wanted to revise it a bit before publishing it here. So -- a few days late -- here we go!
My professor's prompt: What have you learned about the causes and other consequences of food insecurity in Japan? Are there gaps in services that you see at Second Harvest? How might those relate to your insight about the masquerade of universality that you mentioned in [the third] post?
My response:
Introduction and background
To gain some better insight into the prompt topic, I decided to meet with Charles, 2HJ's current CEO. Charles is originally from the United States and has lived in Japan for about twenty years. He is fluent in Japanese and can often be spotted pinballing from building to building, cracking jokes with the volunteers and giving tours of the work space to government officials. Last week, I had the opportunity to interview him about 2HJ's work in relation to the larger structural issues of poverty and food insecurity in Japan. All information cited here (i.e., statistics, cultural information, etc.) is from our meeting on Friday, July 13th, in the Second Harvest Asia office above the main pantry.
Perceptions of poverty in Japan
Charles believes it is important to disabuse ourselves of the idea that one must fit a specific narrative to be "truly" poor. As I illustrated at length in my third blog post, there is no simple, one-dimensional way to capture the circumstances of those who live in poverty. Granted, it is easy to see why many who do not work or volunteer in this field have misguided notions of what poverty actually "looks" like: 98 percent of Japan's poor are men, 60 percent are day laborers, and about half are over the age of 55. This demographic skew contributes to the "masquerade of universality" that I briefly touched upon in my third blog post. When we are predominantly exposed to one particular "type" of poverty, we risk translating our limited observations into our narrative of the overall poor experience.
In the case of Japan, this narrative most commonly manifests itself in the perception that most or all poor people are also homeless. While this is certainly the case for many people -- including about 300 in Ueno Park who receive weekly hot meals from 2HJ -- most of Japan's poor have some sort of regular sleeping arrangement that is off the streets. These individuals may not have reliable electricity or running water, but they do have some sort of shelter over their heads on a regular basis.
On the surface, it makes sense that discussions about poverty would elicit images of the quintessential (i.e., heavily stereotyped) homeless person; after all, people who fit the bill are almost jarringly visible (yet somehow, at the same time, invisible) to us. Their lack of shelter is something of which we can easily take note, because we are quite literally confronted with it as we walk to work or explore the city.
But believing poverty to be synonymous with homelessness (and joblessness) has the effect of rendering other types of financial distress invisible. Part-time and minimum-wage workers, single parents, and individuals with disabilities, for instance, fall by the wayside in the public consciousness. Those who do not engage with impoverished communities on a regular basis can go through life virtually unaware of food in/security's deep entanglement with workers' rights; the campaign for a livable income; the financial precariousness that comes with disability and (chronic or sudden) illness; the unique circumstances of working mothers; various forms of (historical and present) discrimination; climate change; natural disasters; capitalism; and unnecessary supermarket/restaurant waste.
Gaps in 2HJ's service
In terms of demographics served, Charles says we're reaching various populations, including single-parent households, elderly people, students, refugees, people with disabilities, and homeless individuals; my observations during work hours certainly back this up. So the most obvious "gap" in 2HJ's service is not necessarily one of a specific under-served demographic (at least that I'm aware of), but of reach in general: the organization is only capable of engaging with about 10,000 of Tokyo's 2 million poor per year. This isn't 2HJ's fault; obviously, one entity can only accomplish so much. Regardless, Second Harvest tries its best, though it is easy to become stretched thin due to a severe dearth of food assistance programs in the greater Tokyo area.
To put this crisis in perspective, Charles told me that while New York City has roughly 1,100 locations that qualify as food banks and/or soup kitchens, Tokyo only has about 15. While there are a number of other great organizations that help the poor in and around Tokyo, they don't all provide food; in fact, one of the biggest problems with Japan's mainstream anti-poverty movement is that food justice is not a central pillar of its efforts. Second Harvest bucks the movement's norms in that it asks very few questions about its patrons' backgrounds, and places access to food at the forefront of its aid work.
Interestingly, I've observed more obvious "gaps" in those serving, as opposed to those who are served, through 2HJ. The demographic makeup of the organization's volunteer base merits unpacking. For instance, I could probably count the number of regular male volunteers on one hand (Yutaka-san, Sakurai-san, Kimura-san...). Things pan out this way mostly because women tend to have more free time; men are still expected to be the primary breadwinners of the [heterosexually married] household, and it is very common for women to stay at home with their children, taking up service work when their kids are older and more independent.
Additionally, many of my co-workers have expressed to me a desire for more ethnic Japanese people to pitch in at places like Second Harvest, and I wanted to know why they felt this was so important. Charles believes that these remarks stem from embarrassment that there is a perceived "weakness" in Japanese volunteering culture to the point that dozens of foreigners visit Japan to volunteer each year. At the same time, though, many Japanese feel that by volunteering for anti-poverty organizations they are, in Charles's words, "letting the government off the hook." Essentially, the government is the sole entity responsible for eradicating and preventing poverty -- and to step in to address its blind spots would be to absolve the government of its responsibility to its people.
In addition, Japanese culture instills in its people a deep sense of responsibility -- to their work, their social lives, etc. -- that makes people somewhat reluctant to dip their toes into the water and set limits to the time they're willing and capable of volunteering. Helping at a place like a food bank is largely seen as an all-or-nothing gig, and most people would rather focus their energies on helping their more intimate social circles (i.e., family, friends, co-workers) thrive.
Interestingly, Charles also described a feeling of hypocrisy many Japanese people hold toward volunteering; he has talked with a number of potential volunteers who felt that by so publicly exhibiting charity, they were misleading those around them about what kind of person they are. The sentiment is essentially, "I know I'm not a good person. But if I volunteer at a place like a food bank, I am partaking in something that publicly marks me as 'good.' Because I am not actually as good a person as my volunteering might suggest, I will be misleading others about my true self. Therefore, I should not commit to volunteer work if I don't want to be a hypocrite." I found this idea very intriguing, especially because the Western definitions of "good" and "bad" people often stem from religious doctrine; in Japan, that is not the case. Most people identify as Shinto or Buddhist if pressed, but aren't "adherents" in the Western sense. So what social more prompts so many Japanese people to believe they cannot partake in public service without being a faultless person first?
For further consideration
Though Charles has deeply embedded himself in Japanese society and culture, I think it is still important to revisit the fact that he and I are both Westerners. We both grew up in the United States -- and even if we regularly make an effort to critique our own respective upbringings, the American psyche has played a central role in our current worldviews (whether we have decided to accept or reject its components). It is possible that I would have gotten a different perspective had I interviewed an ethnic Japanese 2HJ employee/volunteer; it would have been difficult to do so, however, due to the language barrier I've experienced with most of my co-workers. In attempt to gain a broader range of perspectives, though, I did try to ask simple questions of my Japanese counterparts about why they decided to work with 2HJ. Many of them talked about having been abroad and learning about poverty, having grown up in economically unstable circumstances themselves, being bored as a retiree or at-home parent, and/or having participated in community service work with their families from a young age.
Conclusion
As is the case in every country, poverty in Japan -- including its causes, consequences, and potential solutions -- is incredibly complex. Through interviewing Charles, I learned that Japanese society as a whole has an exceedingly complicated relationship with its poor population(s), and especially with those facing food insecurity; by extension, it also has a lot to grapple with in the realm of general volunteer work.
I feel as if I have gained a deeper appreciation of these complexities; at the same time, I am acutely aware of the fact that I have only scratched the surface with this journal. Charles was incredibly helpful in clarifying all sorts of phenomena for me, but there is still so much more [political, social, economic, religious, etc.] nuance to this topic. What specific policy decisions have helped and/or harmed Japan's poor? How has cost of living changed over time, and how does this impact Tokyo residents' food security? How many people are just above the official poverty line, and do any services exist to keep them from falling through the cracks? How do Japanese society's attitudes toward working and/or single mothers, people with disabilities, and refugees contribute to these groups' heightened vulnerability? How do LGBTQIA+ demographics, which are rarely discussed in Japan (at least relative to the US), factor into the poverty crisis? What role do religious entities play in aid initiatives for vulnerable groups?
These questions, and their answers, are also multifaceted. As a cultural and linguistic outsider (especially with my limited amount of time in the country), it is especially difficult to navigate these nitty gritty aspects of Japanese society. Though this may be the case, I appreciate the willingness of those around me to try and answer my questions and to provide some context for the things I have witnessed over the past few weeks.
Thanks for sticking with me; through all the heat, work, and time spent exploring, I really was eager to share the insights from my midterm with you :) I hope to post soon about my trip to Hakone with my host mom!
