1 September 2006 (8 Elul 5766)
[no update due to a busy schedule]
8 September 2006 (15 Elul 5766)
When my previous computer crashed physically last December, I was forced to live without the Internet for some time and felt as if I were detached from the whole world, as most of my communication with my parents, sister, friends and colleagues was conducted by email. Like many busy people I consider telephones, including mobile phones, as a very inconvenient means of communication in most cases because generally speaking, the other side dictates you when to communicate, while email allows you to answer whenever it is convenient for you. Letters have the same advantage as email messages, but it takes too much time to exchange them.
When I lived in Jerusalem last time from 1988 to 1993, the use of the Internet was not so widespread as now, so I corresponded with my parents with letters and every once in a while we called each other by telephone. For the past several years I have been in touch with them mostly by email. Recently I have realized how vulnerable communication by email is. Technologically speaking, it probably presupposes more things than any other means of communication; malfunctioning of only one of them for whatever reason is usually enough to cause this channel of communication to stop functioning, too.
Unfortunately, such an incident happened recently: my parents' computer crashed several days ago, and there seems to be no way to repair it. It seems that now is the worst time to buy a new computer for many reasons, so I am trying to convince my parents to buy and use a mobile phone as a temporary solution until I visit Japan next time, hopefully next February, by which the next version of Windows has been released without delay, and I arrange their Internet connection through CATV, which will finally start operating soon in the area where they live; unfortunately, neither ADSL nor optical fiber connection is available there. So we are back to one of the two means of communication we used to use when I was a student here, i.e., telephone. Naturally, neither of us will have patience to correspond by snail mail.
This incident has made me think about the so-called digital divide. In the narrow sense of the word it means a gap between haves and have-nots in terms of the possession of computers either at home, at work or at nearby cybercafes and the availability of the Internet connection. But even when you have both of them, the gap still remains as long as you do not have enough enough cyber-literacy, and worse still, as long as you do not use them at all or properly. No one is more irritating that those who do have the Internet connection and their own email addresses but do not answer at all or abuse email by violating netiquette, and worst of all, call me when email perfectly suffices when there are billions of people in the world who cannot benefit from it.
15 September 2006 (22 Elul 5766)
It took me years to come to terms with myself, i.e., to accept myself as I am, though the question who I am remains. Many people seem to answer this question by using ready-made identities on various levels, including nationalities, occupations, etc. Self-hatred or self-denial is probably be defined as a discrepancy between what you want to be identified with and what others identify you with. It can continue or even worsen when this discrepancy disappears formally. Not every identity can be abandoned at your will. As we progress in life, we accumulate various identities. Some identities may be incompatible with each other by definition, but it seems to me that many identities, even on a most fundamental level, are not (and do not have to be) always mutually exclusive.
One of the tragedies than can happen to individuals as well as to groups of individuals is hatred or denial of one of their old identities they wanted to get rid of in exchange for a newly acquired one, at least in their own eyes, when the two could be cumulative, supplementing and reinforcing each other. Abrupt disconnection from your recent past probably produces spiritual void even when you are perfectly happy with the new identity, and is liable to cause irreversible damage to yourself.
This may be what has happened to Japan and Israel when they denied their recent pasts, i.e., everything that was before the Second World War, and everything that was produced in the Diaspora, respectively. It takes time to fully internalize your new identity, and without the abandoned old identity you are left in a vacuum. I have also seen individuals trying to deny themselves or part of their past which is still relevant. They were unattractive and even repulsive as human beings. I feel really ashamed when I imagine how I might have looked to others with my self-hatred or self-denial.
22 September 2006 (29 Elul 5766)
In 1993, the last year of my life as a student in Jerusalem, I made exchange lessons with two people here in Jerusalem who were both from Moscow originally and were interested in improving their Japanese; they corrected my spoken Russian in return. With one of them I have been in touch in all these years; he visited me twice while I was still in Japan, and I visited him in his new place of residence in New York after he left Israel. Unfortunately, I could not keep in contact with the other. Some time ago she surprised me by suddenly emailing me after so many years. She seems to have heard about me and my whereabouts from a friend of hers who also knows me quite well.
I and she had to postpone our planned meeting a little because soon after she emailed me for the first time, her son, who was about to finish his three-year military service, was injured in the recent Lebanon conflict and was hospitalized. Since he could finally leave the hospital and return home in Jerusalem recently, I arranged a meeting this week. I was curious to know what 13 years could do on a person both physically and mentally; at least physically she did not change very much. Her son was about six or seven years old when I first saw him, so I could not recognize him at all.
His stories and remarks about the armies have given me a lot of material for thought. The most unforgettable story is that he had to kill two enemies in the front. Equally unforgettable was his remark to my question that why those absurd murders that have been increasing in Japan are rare in Israel. He explained to me that those who have seen life and death will not easily resort to killing others in a fit of anger or just for fun. I feel that in a sense he is more experienced in life as I since I was born and raised in a rare (and naive) country that still keeps its US-imposed constitution that regards the armed forces as illegal.
It seems to me that among the major factors contributing to such big differences in the mentality of people in Israel and Japan are their attitudes to the armed forces and the military service. Naturally, Israel cannot afford not to have its own armed forces, but Japan, which is seemingly peaceful, has been under growing external and internal threat and in my opinion, cannot and should not keep on denying the possession of its own armed forces, which is almost masochistic. I can only giggle when I hear those naive (?) leftists in Japan who try to cling to the present constitution in spite of the fact that they generally deny and hate everything American (and never criticize anything Chinese and Korean). They simply do not understand that possessing an army does not necessarily mean being a militarist. This is like accusing someone who possesses a knife of being a murderer.
Having witnessed how the young people who dedicate three years of their late teens and early twenties to the military service and finish it to be more mature, I even go so far as to say that one of the easiest solutions to some of the social problems in Japan may be to make every citizen after high school serve in the self-defense forces (until they become the full-fledged armed forces) for a certain period of time. Those who care more about China and Korea than about Japan should definitely do so regardless of their age unless they defect to one of these countries, which will also serve the interests of Japan.
29 September 2006 (7 Tishrey 5767)
One of my favorite Jewish writers is Bernard Malamud. Among his numerous short stories on Jewish themes I especially like "The Magic Barrel". It is a story about a yeshiva student who is desparate for marriage and turns to a professional matchmaker. In the end he finds a nice bride through him in a most unexpected way. And Malamud knows how to tell the story in such an amazing way, though his English is quite simple.
Unlike this yeshiva student I have never been desparate for marriage in spite of my age, nor have I ever turned to a professional matchmaker; on the contrary, I definitely prefer remaining single to making a compromise. But as I have been living in the Jewish milieu, some of my fellow Jewish friends have tried to arrange informal matchmaking for me. As was expected, none of the women I was introduced impressed me very much. Besides, I simply cannot start a relationship with someone so abruptly, even taking marriage into consideration.
Recently a good friend of mine explained to me the fundamental problem of matchmaking. I was totally convinced, and her explanation also made it clear why I was bothered when I was introduced someone in the past several times. According to her, with whom I completely agree now, this informal matchmaking by friends can be very offending. You yourself have certain ideals in mind about your prospective spouse, but the people your friends try to introduce you are far from your ideals. What does this mean? You are offended by the fact that your friends thought that their acquaintances they tried to introduce you would match you; you feel they undermine you by their introducing you the kind of people you have never dreamed of going out in terms of age and marital status, etc.
Even at this very moment a very good friend of mine is trying to arrange matchmaking for me with someone. But I have already learned a lesson to reject any offer of this kind categorically so that I may not be offended by the underestimation by my friends.