Visitor: A butterfly lover’s philosophy of life.

As a boy I used to chase butterflies, in the field, and among the woods. My childhood time was literally divided between reading books in the room and searching for the airborne insects in the wild. After some period of field training, I learned all of the butterfly species by heart, so that I could identify which species the moment I saw one flying. Looking back, I think it was a marvelous manifestation of the brain’s ability to apply pattern recognition. What a pity it does not have any practical value in today’s world!

Sometimes, I could not tell what I was looking at, as the butterfly would appear strange and exotic. At such a time, my heart would suddenly throb violently. It could be a new species yet to be discovered by human kind (to discover one was the wildest dream of a boy like myself). The reality was not that exciting, as we all regret to learn. Most of the time, it was just the shades and backgrounds that made the butterfly appear to be different. After a more careful observation, it would turn out to be quite a common species.

From time to time, which was equally exciting, the butterfly would turn out to be a “visitor”. A species not normally resident, but was blown into the area by strong wind, especially after the passage of a typhoon. In other cases, when the butterfly had a strong ability to fly, it could wander on its own into the forest where I was chasing butterflies.

Since I spent so much time chasing butterflies, I think part of my philosophy of life has been formed by interactions with these elegant creatures. In my life, I sometimes catch myself waiting for “visitors”. Some person, event, or phenomenon, that would enter my world only rarely. It is such a pity that visitors do not come so often. But when one does come, it infuses my life with a strange sense of joy and expectancy. It makes me want to run off and venture into an unknown, enchanted kingdom.

I would vote for Obama.

I am not an American citizen. If I were one, I would vote for Mr. Obama.

In my view, the race between Mr. Obama and Mr. Romney is one between sharing vs. competition, collaboration vs. acrimony.

The idea that economic growth can be brought about through competition in the free market is a fantasy at best. In fact, people need to be in possession of certain knowledge and skills in order to be a functioning competitor. At a time when the disparity of household income directly translates into the educational opportunities for the kids, the gospel that Mr. Romney preaches is not only a logical fallacy but also a factually misleading propaganda.

The idea that prosperity can be brought about through competition is also false. Prosperity is based on collaboration, with each individual bringing onto the table his or her unique capabilities, without sticking a price tag to the contribution.

Mr. Romney’s speech divides and alienates people. Now is the time to take a hard look at the real conditions in which human beings make their efforts. Mr. Obama is not saying that we can be lazy and the let the state take care of us. He is just saying that in order to make a serious effort, we need to collaborate in a spirit of mutual helpfulness and respect. That is only a common sense. 

Something even a five year old kid knows, before the young mind is polluted by the false ideology of the free market.

The ideology of socialism is long gone. Now is the time for the simplistic belief in the free market to be gone. Electing Mr. 

Obama for President would be symbolic of the times when we are coming to grips with the realities of how human societies are organized and work, at long last.

Growing out of beers.

This summer, a strange phenomenon is happening to me. I seem to be growing out of beers.

Ever since I started enjoying alcohol at the legal age of 20 (well, my memory is actually rather fuzzy there), I liked beer the best, especially as a starter. On a summer evening, ordering a pint of beer has been the thing to do. It is a collective 

phenomenon. Actually, in Japanese, there is a special expression for the endorsement of beer as the first drink of the evening (Ask any Japanese people around).

Then it started to weigh in. I noticed the small gradual changes within me when it was too late. I find myself ordering other drinks (what a sacrilege!) at the beginning of supper with colleagues and friends. Beer is not the first choice any more.

I ponder why this change is happening. It is personally so interesting and at the same time rather unnerving. Am I losing something, perhaps the famous “mojo” (Austin Powers)?

I am watching my thirst and drive carefully as we Tokyo residents start to prepare ourselves for the inevitable chills of autumn. 

Reading for pleasure.

Last evening, I was giving a public lecture jointly with my best friend Ryo Hatoh at the Academy Hills in Tokyo. In the aftermath, we were doing the small talks, when Ryo casually mentioned how he used to love reading the Lord of the Rings.

That gave me an idea. This morning, I visited Amazon and downloaded the kindle version of this famed trilogy.

Here’s a little bit of personal history. I read the Japanese translation of the Lord of the Rings when I was a junior high student. Then, at senior high, about 4 years after starting to learn English, I made the (then for me) daunting effort of reading the original version. I must confess it was hard at that time. But I enjoyed the trial even so.

I still remember how I waited eagerly the end of the exam period. Released from the burdens of cramming, I would walk carefree under the blue sky, get on the train, and start reading the Rings straight away.

I still remember the tremendous joy I felt going through the pages, and yet, there was also a sense of guilt. In an educational system where too much emphasis is put on paper exams, absorbing oneself in a fantasy novel seemed to be a silly idea, even if it improved my English capabilities in a general sense.  It was actually this sense of guilt that made the reading of the Rings such a thrilling adventure.

Seeing through the (with the benefit of hindsight) perverse perceptions, I can now understand how my learning should have been organized. My English education should have been exactly like the experience of reading the Rings, rather than filling my head with silly grammatical rules. Lord of the Rings was actually a much better English teacher than all the meaningless entrance exam preparations combined.

Now I am looking forward to my second read, after 30+ years. 30+ years. Gee. 

How I stopped worrying and learned to love the bomb.

It used to be that I held my breath and was hurt by every negative comment that I encountered on the web. Well, not any more. I yawn when someone tweets something negative about me or something that I dearly care for. Their bombs have simply become duds. 

I have been an avid user of the net since its nascence. Those were the days when BBS and mailing lists were at the forefront of what were considered new and exciting. The misanthropes and bomb-droppers were those who would abruptly write something nasty, just to attract attention to themselves, or to make everybody around uncomfortable.

And those creatures often succeeded, much to our dismay. The well-meaning fellows would often intervene, which resulted, almost without a single exception, in an ever escalating calamity. For the bastards, the well-meaning comments and efforts of reconciliations were just fuels to boost their malicious ego trip. I have seen many BBS and mailing lists going to the dogs through such a process.

We should not forget what a great invention twitter has been. There, the malicious comments can be largely left to themselves. The stupid tweets physically exist, but not so much socially. There is a selection pressure, in which those who tweet for benefit and substance would attract more followers. Even if you want to have an ego trip on the twitter, chances are that you won’t be able to ride on a big wave. Only ripples from the like-minded would soak your feet.

So, that’s how I stopped worrying and learned to love the bomb. The culture of mutually assured humiliation still exists on the web, but it does not really matter any more. We can now stop worrying about trivialities of human vice and start worrying about things of real importance.

Peter Sellers as Dr. Strangelove.

The reason for resilience.

Talk given by Ken Mogi at TED Long Beach on 29th February, 2012, 10 days before the 1st anniversary of the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake of 2011.

twitter: @kenmogi
e-mail: kenmogi@qualia-manifesto.com

On March 11th 2011, a massive earthquake hit Eastern Japan. About 30 minutes later, devastating waves of tsunami came ashore across the Tohoku area. It was a natural disaster of a scale unprecedented in the remembered history of Japan. Scientists later confirmed that it had been an event once in a thousand years. Then the nuclear power plant accident at Fukushima followed, casting shadows over people’s lives and hearts. It was a “black swan” event that even experts had failed to predict. The tsunami swept cars, houses, to the utter despair of those looking on in disbelief. Children cried, while their parents could do nothing but to comfort them. Tens of thousands of people lost their loved ones, their cherished homes, and their long-held ways of life.

In memory of the people who lost their lives in the earthquake and tsunami, I would like to dedicate here a moment of silence.

Almost immediately after the disaster, recovery efforts started. People around the world were impressed by the resilience of the Japanese people, who never forgot smiles on their faces, despite the incredible difficulties encountered in the wake of a disaster.

Here I would like to share with you a philosophy behind the resilience of Japanese people. Among Japanese fishermen, there is a saying that “under the board, there is hell.” Once the Mother Nature rages, there is nothing you can do about it. Despite the risks, a fisherman ventures off into the ocean, to do his best to make a living.

This old proverb is true for all of us. As the world becomes small, we are facing newly emerging oceans of contingencies. Just like the Japanese fishermen, we don’t give up. We proceed, with smiles on our faces. In fact, we can even say that risks and uncertainties are the mothers of hope and wisdom.

Here I have a flag, given to me by a fisherman in Kamaishi, who has been personally affected by the tsunami. In order to cheer us up, I swing here the Japanese fisherman’s flag. Under the board, there is hell. That’s why we all hope to build peace and prosperity on our humble boat, through our resilience and hard work. And that’s why we are all here today. Thank you very much.

St. Valentine’s day, the Japanese way.

The 14th of February is a day on which the hearts of many Japanese men throb, in (literally) sweet expectations of pleasures to come.

The day is recognized as the “St. Valentine’s day”, a day on which you express your love to your sweethearts. That bit is pretty much the same all around the world. What is unique in Japan is that it is mainly a girl that is expected to express her love, giving a box of chocolate to the boy held dear in heart. Often the presentation is a surprise one, coming from an unexpected admirer of the opposite sex. That’s why the boys’ hearts throb on this fateful day.

Conspiracy theories abound as to how the Japanese Valentine’s day has “degenerated” into a unidirectional offering of cacao based sweets. Some say that it was a campaign of the chocolate manufacturers which kick-started the now (in)famous tradition. Brainwashing aside, chocolate giving has taken hold most probably because it somehow resonated with the Japanese psyche.

Japanese girls seem to like the idea of giving a box of chocolate to the loved one, as it fits the image of sweet feminineness. Boys, on the receiving side, admire the tenderness and considerations expressed this way. It is thus the result of a cultural marriage between the Western tradition and Japanese conception of what is feminine that has made chocolate giving on Saint Valentine’s day such a runaway hit.

It is interesting how much and deeply one could delve into the traditions and cultures of a particular nation, by taking note of a seemingly trivial custom. One would be able to reveal many things about the Nation of Japan, just thinking about the chocolate giving on Saint Valentine’s day. This short essay is intended as just a starter. I would be able to deepen my thoughts better, with the help of a box of chocolate.

If I get one, that is.


A Japanese girl offering a box of self-made chocolate, from http://umasou.com/barentain/, a recipe site for Valentine’s day chocolates.

How a Japanese prime minister has become MHP.

When I was a kid, it used to be that the prime minister was considered the nation’s top job. A boy often had the aspiration to become one some day, pouring out in school essays how he would then change the nation. Quite apart from the obvious flaw of Japanese society that girls usually did not (and still do not) aspire to become politicians, the classic picture does not hold anymore. The times they are a-changin’.

The prime ministers come in and go through the now famous revolving door of Japanese politics. When a prime minister is elected and comes into the spotlight, he (sadly, in Japan, we don’t have yet to write “or she” here as a historical fact; same applies to U.S. presidency) enjoys the “honeymoon” with the Japanese populace for a very short time. That period is then followed by a series of humiliations, both public and private, fueled by the overjealous attention of the Japanese media whose main job these days are forcing politicians to step down. One government figure resigned, one mission accomplished.

Thus, a Japanese prime minister (“JPM”) has become the synonym for the “MHP” (Most Humiliated Person) of the nation. No wonder a boy doesn’t aspire to become a P.M. any more. Nobody wants to be humiliated, or deserves to be.

This thought is just in. A female prime minister might really change the situation for the better, as it is not such a decent job to humiliate a lady. Even the media bastards know that.



Prime Minister Yoshihiko Noda. He has had his share of humiliation. I am personally sorry for him.

The decipherer of an enigma.

Last night, I was having drinks with my best friend and literary agent Hamish Macaskill, in a Tokyo wine bar. While we were waiting for the British novelist David Peace (now resident in Tokyo) and Spanish film director/writer David Trueba, Hamish said something quite interesting. There is a trend, Hamish said, of English writers producing contemporary or period dramas based in Japan. In the genre, Hamish said, it appears that it is essential to write the details that a Japanese writer or those who are familiar with the Japanese culture (like Hamish himself) would omit. In fact, Hamish often finds the details described in a novel based in Japan (the smell of a soy source, etc.) unnecessary and disturbing.

"It seems that the novels that I don't like sell well!" Hamish said.

Hamish's comment stroke a chord of truth in me. We take for granted what we are accustomed to. The merit of an outsider is that he or she can decipher the implicit cultural codes. The writer becomes the decipherer of an enigma.

As the two Davids arrived, we went on with the wine drinking and deciphering business, bringing together different backgrounds, prejudices, hopes and dreams. (Hamish is originally from Australia) It was a fitting action for the soul and the body on an evening of pre-Christmas merriments.


David Trueba (left) and Hamish Macaskill. David Peace went to the restroom.

Confessions of an atheist.

First of all, happy holidays, everyone!
This is a season of goodwill.
So it is with a spirit of goodwill that I jot down the confessions below.

One of the most salient endeavors of notable intellectuals in recent years has been the effort to spread the philosophy of atheism. The late Christopher Hitchens was one of the most active proponents. And of course, Richard Dawkins, whose book "The God Delusion" laid out persuasive arguments as to why religions can be sometimes oppressive, did a great service to humanity in pointing out the road toward more freedom.

It is a trivial matter, in my own perspective, that a concept of God where "he" or "she" possesses a personality like our own, is passé. In fact, Baruch Spinoza presented a beautiful argument about the absolute infinity of "God" in his magnum opus "Ethica" in the 17th century. According to Spinoza, a concept of God where he has a body, will, and intellect, is self-contradictory as these properties pertain to finite existences like ourselves. I think that was a conclusive argument. The concept of observing and punishing God has been passé for more than three centuries.



Thirty something decades after Spinoza, I think the only intellectually interesting and challenging problem about the concept of God today is why we sometimes do have illusions of a "finite" God. There might have been psychological and/or evolutionary needs. For example, the central thesis of Christianity, as I understand it, is the belief that Christ was the Son of God, and yet was incarnated to have a finite body like us, and went through all the hardships that led to his eventual crucifixion.

Although as a rational human being I remain an atheist (strictly speaking, as I am resonant with the Spinozan concept of God, I might qualify as a "pantheist"), I do find the "story" of Christian incarnation and crucifixion fascinating and deeply moving. That an "absolutely infinite God" could voluntarily put Itself in the position of a finite and mortal being like ourselves by incarnation and go through the agony and pain of persecution and death, is, I think, one of the most beautiful "fictions" that human beings have ever conceived.

After all, the very nature of our phenomenal experience is illusory. Love is an illusion, and so is perhaps the very concept of scientific truth. To say something is illusory does not mean that it must forever be marked by stigma. When an illusion has proved powerful, it is useful to study the nature of its epistemological origins, and clarify the continuing effects on people's lives.

Thus, although I hope to remain a rational thinker, I feel as if the basic claim of the "atheist" movement has now been well received and accepted, at least in the intellectual circle, so that it is probably time to proceed with business of the elucidation of its nature of the "illusion" of God, in a spirit of goodwill.

Well, that was my confession, folks. Happy holiday seasons, again.


The Crucifixion, seen from the Cross, by James Tissot, 19th century.

Beauty and dictatorship as defense mechanisms.

The “dear leader” of North Korea, Kim Jong-il is dead. The dictator could not control his own heart condition. All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn’t put the dear leader together again. Although he was feared by the people, I think Kim Jong-il was feeble as a man, deep down. And perhaps he knew that himself.

As everybody knows, dictatorship is a kind of defense mechanism. The very concept of a political power suggests a dependency on others, in a big way. If you don’t have other people, on whom can you exercise your earthly powers? It is not very much fun to be a dictator, if there is only one people (you!) in the nation. As a dictator you depend on your people. So much so, that it becomes a dangerous addiction before long.
Reports suggest that when Kim Jong-il succeeded his father Kim Il-sung, he was not sure of his power base. He judged, correctly, that the military was to be the key for securing power. He went on with his business of strengthening the military. The nuclear weapon, the missiles, and the rest is now history. After all, these were manifestations of the defense instinct of a feeble man, who was dependent on his people for his very existence.

At this point, I should say that there is a completely different mechanism that could be taken by a fragile existence.

Beauty.

Take the painting of Mona Lisa by Leonard da Vinci, on display in the Louvre in Paris, for example. As a physical entity, it is very fragile. It has no means of defending itself. If an evil will wishes to destroy it and set it on fire, it can easily do so. However, the extreme beauty of the Mona Lisa has been the strong defense machinery which has preserved the painting over the centuries. And it will be preserved thus, for all eventualities, in the centuries to come.

So here is the spectrum of self-defense for you. On one extreme, you have dictatorship, nuclear weapons, and the missiles. On the other, you have beauty. What a bewilderingly complex and enigmatic world we live in.


Kim Jong-il, 16 February 1941 – 17 December 2011 (image from Wikipedia)



Mona Lisa, circa 1503–1519 to …. (image from Wikipedia)