A young woman applies her makeup, pouting into a handheld mirror as she adds the finishing touches to her lips. In the next seat, a young businessman bellows into his mobile phone and across the aisle, a middle-aged "salaryman" executes chin-ups on an overhead handrail, blissfully unaware that his overcoat is brushing the legs of the woman seated in front of him.
A montage of life on a Tokyo commuter train this week -- and proof that the Japanese, supposedly the most courteous people on Earth, are forgetting their manners.
Decrying the decline in standards of public behavior is a favorite pastime the world over, but in Japan the handwringing is not confined to stuffy social commentators.
A recent survey by the Asahi Shimbun daily found that nine out of 10 Japanese believe that manners have deteriorated to critical levels -- a trend that in recent times has prompted requests for members of parliament to refrain from texting during debates and for broadsheet readers to fold their newspapers on rush-hour trains.
As they witness a rising incidence of "carriage rage" and other displays of what they consider "un-Japanese" conduct, many Japanese are wondering what has become of a society in which just about every social interaction was governed by a time-honored code of conduct.
Japan is, after all, a place where business cards are exchanged with both hands and accompanied by a bow of appropriate depth; where a simple "Excuse me" can be delivered using one of several expressions; where blowing one's nose at the table is almost unforgivable; and where people over a certain age conclude phone calls with a respectful bow to their unseen interlocutor.
Not surprisingly, the worst culprits seem to be concentrated among the millions who squeeze daily into packed commuter trains. Another recent survey found that more than 75 percent of people said their patience had been tested while using public transport.
Topping the list of offenses was talking loudly in groups, followed by mobile phone chatter, unruly children accompanied by nonchalant parents and "leaky headphones."
Other breaches include taking up more than one seat, rushing on to trains before other people have stepped off, applying makeup and reading pornographic comic books.
In Yokohama, a port city south of the capital, transport authorities have had enough. From next week, a crack squad of "etiquette police" will patrol subway carriages and politely ask passengers to give up their seats to elderly, pregnant or disabled passengers.
Members of the Smile-Manner Squadron, most of whom are well over 60, hope to embarrass young miscreants into vacating their seats rather than allow them to nap or, more commonly, to pretend to be asleep, while those in greater need of a rest are left standing.
The 11 enforcers -- officially known as "manner upgraders" -- will wear bright green uniforms so that they can be easily spotted by offenders. Each will be paid about US$14 a day and accompanied by a younger bodyguard in case a snoozing salaryman takes exception.
"Even though everyone talks about manners, you'd be surprised how tough it was to come up with definitions of what exactly is meant by proper behavior on trains," a spokesman for Yokohama's transport bureau told the Weekly Yomiuri magazine.
"We're going to keep looking into this, but for the time being we're just going to issue gentle warnings to anyone who is clearly out of line," he said.
Taizo Kato, a psychologist at Waseda University, told the magazine the Yokohama crackdown "symbolizes the collapse of the Japanese mentality and shows that we have reached a point where citizens are not aware of basic human manners."
The manner malaise is spreading beyond trains and platforms. Among the other offenders cited in the Asahi poll are neighbors who fail to separate their rubbish into burnable and non-burnable items and smokers who puff while walking along crowded city streets.
Many of the vices would barely raise an eyebrow in Britain. In a past attempt to stamp out inconsiderate behavior on public transport, the Tokyo government's list of etiquette crimes included carrying large bags, wearing strong-smelling perfume and -- one for the weekend golfer working on his swing -- using an umbrella as a makeshift 9-iron.
KMT Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) recent visit to Beijing and her upcoming visit to Washington will serve as a high-level test of her diplomatic mettle. In Beijing, Cheng was received with symbolic gestures, a warm reception, and high-level access. In Washington, she will receive far less pomp and far sharper questions about the KMT’s vision for the future of Taiwan. Her challenge will be to persuade Washington that the KMT’s engagement with China can coexist with strong deterrence. Cheng’s April 7-12 visit to mainland China coincided with an intense period of conflict in Iran. Despite the strategic significance of Cheng’s trip,
The closure of the Strait of Hormuz has sent the vast Asian chemicals industry into a tailspin. Deprived of the likes of Qatari natural gas and Saudi Arabian oil, the region’s fertilizer and plastics plants are slowing production or even shutting down. Everywhere except China, that is. In petrochemicals, China is unique. As well as a traditional industry that uses oil and gas as feedstock, it has parallel output that relies on its abundant domestic coal. Unsurprisingly, India and other regional powers want to copy and paste the Chinese method. This would not be easy — or climate friendly. The
US President Donald Trump recently repeated his claim that “Taiwan stole America’s chip industry,” reigniting public debate on the issue. As a former Taiwanese minister of economic affairs and an entrepreneur deeply involved in semiconductor supply chain development, I feel a responsibility to clarify this misunderstanding. From the perspective of global industrial evolution and the economic principle of comparative advantage, such a statement appears overly simplistic and risks obscuring the essence of the issue. The rise of Taiwan’s semiconductor industry was not built on “replacing America,” but rather emerged as a result of countries pursuing different development paths within the
Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto says he knows how to fix the problems facing Indonesia. Yet his economic mismanagement and authoritarian tendencies are steering the nation toward a familiar mix of currency instability and political chaos. The world’s fourth-most populous nation risks reversing the hard-won democratic and business reforms that came after the Asian Financial Crisis in 1997. At that time, the rupiah collapsed and the political upheaval that followed forced former president Haji Mohamed Suharto from power. Prabowo’s administration is ignoring similar warning signs. That disconnect was apparent in a national address on Wednesday, when Prabowo projected the swagger that has