3 July 2009 (11 Tamuz 5769)
A few years ago I received Israeli nationality automatically according to the "Law of Return". Since I did not apply for it, I hoped that I would be able to retain my Japanese nationality, though Japan does not allow dual nationality. I turned out to be totally wrong. This week I went to the Embassy of Japan in Tel Aviv to renew my Japanese passport. When I explained to them - I preferred not to tell a lie as I thought that they would find it sooner or later - how I acquired Israeli nationality, they were ready to accept my application to renew my passport. On the following day, however, I received a phone call from them telling me that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tokyo, whom they consulted in the meanwhile, does not allow this. It follows that in official terms I lost my Japanese nationality retroactively on the day when I was offered Israeli nationality. In practical terms I lost it this week as I am left with no Japanese passport now and cannot renew it any more.
I am really sorry that Japan still remains among an every decreasing number of countries that do not allow dual nationality. For me nationality is something like a piece of paper. There is nothing sacred in it, nor should one nationality preclude another. Having lived in Israel for a number of years, I have seen many people with dual, triple or sometimes even quadruple nationality. In this era of globalization more and more people find themselves settled in countries other than where they were born. Then it will be natural for them to want to obtain the nationality of the country of their residence in order to be full-fledged citizens, while retaining the nationality of the country of their origin for symbolic and practical reasons. The majority of politicians in Japan still seem to consider nationality differently.
The only practical ramification of this loss I can think of now is that from now on I have to enter Japan legally as a foreigner, which sounds rather ridiculous. But I feel somewhat relieved now as I always felt as if I were trying to "dance at two weddings" at the same time. I also feel more reconciled with myself. I have experienced some significant changes with far-reaching consequences in my later life. This loss will definitely affect my life both symbolically and practically. Do I feel sorry? Not necessarily. Now I feel more determined to concentrate on my project to firmly establish my life here and try my best to make some humble contribution to the country that has accepted me. I am proud of being an Israeli Jew who does not keep any "security insurance" called non-Israeli citizenship as well.
10 July 2009 (18 Tamuz 5769)
[no update due to a computer problem]
17 July 2009 (25 Tamuz 5769)
[no update due to a computer problem]
24 July 2009 (3 Av 5769)
My relatively new notebook computer stopped working a little more than two weeks ago, but in spite of all kinds of trials I made to save it, nothing could prevent me from having recourse to the worst possible scenario - to send it to the technical support center and be forced again to do without a computer and the Internet at home for a few weeks. The timing was "perfect"; I had to continue preparing four talks for the World Congress of Esperanto and one talk for the World Congress of Jewish Studies to be held in late July in Bialystok and in early August in Jerusalem respectively.
When my computer got broken, only two of the five talks were ready, and I had only a little more than two weeks to finish them, so I had good reason to start worrying about this. Ironically, however, I could be far more productive because I had no computer and Internet connection at home for about two weeks until my broken computer was repaired and returned to me this week. I made such a progress in the preparation of the three remaining talks as well as one article I was supposed to write after these two congresses that I could even allow myself to have a two-day "vacation" at home, watching movies all day long.
This unexpected incident, which I have experienced several times, has made me decide, hopefully once and for all this time, to limit the time I spend checking email and surfing the web. I should assign a certain amount of time for Internet connection - probably three times a day, each time between half an hour and an hour but not more - and force myself to disconnect from the Internet while working; working at some library may be a good way to resist the temptation of the Internet. Nothing seems to harm my concentration and productivity more than being connected to the Internet all the time and automatically receiving a constant flow of incoming email messages (and being tempted to check and answer at least some of them while working). Hopefully, the next two weeks will also help me to make this change in my daily routine, as I will be too busy with the above mentioned two congresses.
In short, I fully realize now that the Internet is a double-edged sward; it is difficult to live without it, but it can be even more difficult to live with it (decently).
31 July 2009 (10 Av 5769)
I was in Bialystok, Poland from last Friday until yesterday (Thursday) evening to participate in the 94th World Congress of Esperanto held in this city, where the initiator of Esperanto was born and spent his childhood. I gave four talks and took part in one panel discussion there. This was the first time to participate in this unique annual event; naturally, it has given me a lot of material for thought. I would summarize the feeling I have now as follows: I am interested neither in international communication nor in non-Jewish cultures in particular, but mainly in Jewish Jews and Jewish culture; I have returned to Israel with stronger Jewish (and Israeli) identity.
I have realized that having a common language is only a necessary but not sufficient condition for international communication between people with different native languages and cultures. Cultural barriers far exceed linguistic ones in such communication. Although I was born and spent my formative years in Japan before leaving the country and deciding to emigrate to Israel, every visit there alienates me. In this international congress with participants from many countries in the world I had an opportunity to compare Japanese mode of communication with those of others on the spot. Of course, I am not trying to make any value judgment, but personally, it is not for me.
I had a very hard time trying to communicate with participants from Japan. We shared at least two languages, Japanese and Esperanto, but I could never feel that I shared the same "language" with most of them, including those I already know from Japan. Japanese verbal and nonverbal culture has struck me as almost grotesque in relative terms with the following traits: lack of facial expressions, lack of verbal and nonverbal informality, and lack of sense of humor. In my personal opinion these three things can only hinder interpersonal communication. Although Japan sent the second largest number of participants to this congress, its presence in this congress was not felt at all, and I also heard many participants from Japan speaking Japanese with each other in this congress (and was disappointed) as is the case in Esperanto conferences and meetings in Japan, thought this is of course far less bad than not to communicate with anyone at all.
The two "summits" in my stay in Bialystok were the following. The first is one of my four talks where I danced in a traditional East European manner; although I am a linguist by profession, I am sure that those who saw me dance in that talk of mine will remember me not as such but as a Jewish dancer. The second is a spontaneous street concert by a group of three musicians in the center of Bialystok who happened to be from Israel; I asked them to play some East European tunes so that I might be able to dance what I know. I have realized that dance can unite human beings from different cultures far more efficiently than Esperanto. Three local girls, who are not Esperantists, approached me with a request to teach them briefly how to dance in a Jewish way.
During this spontaneous dance I happened to meet two Israelis who came to Bialystok for another reason and are not Esperantists. I invited them to have some drink together. Never in my life did I feel so comfortable speaking in Hebrew. Not only did I feel that we shared the same language, but also did I feel that we shared the same "language". I am very proud of being an Israeli Jew more than ever now. In this respect I have to confess that while speaking in Esperanto during this congress, I constantly had a frustating problem to convey Jewish contents in Esperanto. There are no ready-made words for Jewish concents that are so commonly used in Hebrew and Yiddish, and the moment I translate or explain them into Esperanto, I simply lose the "Jewish taste". As I wrote, the coziest moment I had in Bialystok outside the congress venue was when I had a chance to shmooze in Hebrew with my fellow Israelis, but inside the venue I really felt myself at home when I shmoozed with a couple of Yiddish-speaking Jewish participants.