Gardens, Theme Parks and the Anthropologist in Japan”, in Allison James, Jennifer Hockey and Andrew Dawson, Eds

■ Source: “Who is Representing Whom? Gardens, Theme Parks and the Anthropologist in Japan”, in Allison James, Jennifer Hockey and Andrew Dawson, eds. After Writing Culture: Epistemology and Praxis in Contemporary Anthropology, London: Routledge, 1997, pp. 194–207 (www.tandfonline.com). Who is Representing Whom? Gardens, Theme Parks and the Anthropologist in Japan Introduction Within a day’s return journey from Tokyo, and much lauded by the international tourist brochures, lies the historical, religious and aesthetically stunning site of Nikko. Set amongst the first truly spectacular mountain ranges after the monotony of the Kanto Plain, this collection of shrines and temples displays the ultimate in Japanese architectural achievement, inspired since the eighth century by the natural beauty of their surroundings. Here is the epitomy of the oft-expressed Japanese feeling of oneness between culture and nature, where the vision of the designers and the skills of the craftsmen meld with the awe- inspiring creations of the gods. As the poster advocates, in introducing foreign visitors to a Japanese expression of deep appreciation, ‘Don’t say kekko (splendid) until you’ve seen Nikko.’ Many Japanese, if asked to name a single site to sum up their culture, to speak to the outside world of their people, would undoubtedly choose Nikko. It is accessible enough to be visited for the shortish period of hours or days usually available to visitors, and it includes many of the aspects of art, history and reli- gion that Japanese people would feel best expressed their world view. It is also within easy reach of hot springs where humans can commune physically with the natural resources Japan has to offer. There is logically, therefore, a splendid, comfortable train which regularly leaves central Tokyo for the destination, and which carries an English-speaking hostess to take care of foreign guests. This same train, with only a small diversion, carries passengers to another tourist spot, although this time the tourists are more usually Japanese. From Kinugawa Onsen, a hot-spring resort at which passengers alight, buses run frequently along to two late twentieth-century attractions. One of these is a reconstructed historical Japanese village, where Westernised Japanese citizens can step nostalgically back into the period when Japan was closed to the outside world; the other is a collection of 102 ‘world-famous’ buildings, each con- structed as a ‘faithful replica’ on a scale of 1/25 of the original site. ‘As if you were Gulliver’, the brochure reads, ‘come and see this unique intelligent theme park . and experience 5000 years of history.’ © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��7 | doi ��.��63/978900430�877_033 436 Who is Representing Whom? The Pyramids are there, as is the World Trade Center. The Colosseum and the Parthenon lead on to the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Duomo of Milan. The Great Wall of China is on show, as is the Taj Mahal. The Tower of London is another fea- ture, as are Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and a variety of other European castles and palaces. The Vatican Basilica of St Peter is carefully depicted, as are Nôtre Dame, Westminster Abbey and the Eiffel Tower. For some reason, Dover Castle has been selected for display, as has the only marginally ear- lier twelfth-century Norwegian church of Borgund. There is nothing from Africa or Australia, though the New York street scenes, and the scale model of Narita International Airport and other famous Tokyo architectural sites show evidence that the designers did not preclude twentieth-century achievements. In the last part of the display there is actually a large number of Japanese shrines and temples, together with Japanese country scenes, and a running railway system leads back to twentieth-century Tokyo, so that the visitor is left with no doubt about Japan’s important place in this museum of architectural deve lopment. Indeed, what seems at first to be a wonderful expression of the ‘internationalisation’ that Japan has for the last few years been firmly espous- ing, peters out somewhat towards the end. My disappointment was further compounded by the unappetising cosmopolitan snacks available in the coffee shop, and the total lack of a telephone that could be used to make international calls. These are readily available in most towns and cities in Japan, but the staff in the office at this so-called ‘World Square’ were not even aware, until I informed them, that I could make an international telephone call, collect, from their own office phones. This park is clearly not designed for the foreign visitor. The English- speaking hostess sticks with the main-line train to Nikko, and there is only a smattering of English in evidence amongst the staff of the Tobu transport systems in the World Square area. There are also few signs written in English, and the names and explanations of the world sites are depicted in Japanese, even to the extent of transliterating the Western-language titles into the Japanese katakana script. Whereas pamphlets and brochures for Nikko are readily available in English, French and a number of other languages, the only English on the Tobu World Square ‘Guidebook’ is evidently there to add an international flavour to it. Representation or Appropriation Here we have two examples of ‘representation’ to consider. The first is ostensi- bly a case of self-representation, the second less clearly so. Both examples turn the tables on the worries of the anthropologist about representing ‘the other’ .

Load more