Segregate. Separate. Detach.

Japan’s COVID restrictions at the border were finally loosened, so I’ve decided to go back to Japan at the end of the year. Around this time last year, Japan's border control for infection prevention was very tight. The prolonged border control in Japan discouraged people from traveling internationally, but the country’s measures against infectious disease are still strict even after relaxing border controls. Japan drew an invisible defensive line to protect people living inside this line from the outside.

When I visited Japan this past March, the atmosphere at the boarding gate for an airplane bound for Haneda was very grave and tense. People on line were dead silent because they were concerned that they would be rejected from traveling at the checkpoint. Once I arrived at Haneda, I had to go through complicated quarantine procedures one by one until finally entering my home country. I remember that I prayed for permission to enter. Once permitted, I was filled with a great sense of peace and safety inside the borderline I crossed—this was what I personally felt.

Most Japanese thought that self-isolation and restricted accesses to public facilities like schools and event spaces were unavoidable, even if the economy would decline and living conditions would become unstable. Those measures were not mandated by the government, but were requests to cooperate. In my opinion, Japan’s strong protective rules were created by the Japanese people of their own will. A complicated quarantine process to enter Japan, strict immigration procedures—these are necessary to protect people living inside the country. Thanks to these protections and securities, I think people can live feeling safe.

I watched a British film, I, Daniel Blake, the other day, and I thought about its message. That being there is no use for hoping, or that living in one’s own way is only for privileged people? Or is this kind of helplessness widespread throughout our society? I am of the same generation as the protagonist, and was genuinely impressed by this film. I believe I’m not the only one. I was convinced that superior works of art can move people’s hearts and be a driving force to change society, regardless of cultural differences and language barriers.

Directed by Ken Loach and written by his long-time screenwriting partner Paul Laverty, the film won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2016. I think the two filmmakers are philosophers of Neorealism—a theory of international relations based on the formation of order through equilibrium and the power and security of the international community, where the state plays an important role—by using film as a tool of their expression. They stay abreast with working class people in the UK and continue to depict the dilemmas and rights of those who are excluded via social stratification. 

Daniel Blake, 59, is a former carpenter. He suffered from heart disease, which caused him to lose his job. The government welfare system requires him to undergo complicated procedures in order to receive social security benefits. The authorities, such as the government or state, usually use numbers like tax IDs or credit scores to identify a person and determine if he/she qualifies for benefits, but they rarely treat him/her like a unique individual. Digital technology may be rational and accurate, which is necessary for building a society, but it is questionable as to whether a digital government system is tolerable. If you digitally qualify for a certain category of a system you are protected, but if not then what happens? What on earth are the benefits given by the government? Whether you qualify or not leads to a starkly different outcome. I think this is an awful, harsh reality.

The film asserts why our human rights keep getting rejected and why our happy lives are not guaranteed, even if we properly fulfill societal requirements. The following words, hand-written by Daniel Blake, are read aloud at the public funeral at the end of the film. I burst into tears upon hearing them:

I am not a client, a customer, nor service user.

I am not a shirker, a scrounger, a begger not a thief.

I am not a national insurance number or blip on the screen.

I paid my due, never a penny short, and proud to do so. 

I don’t tug the forelock but look for my neighbor in the eye and help him if I can.

I don’t accept or seek charity.

My name is Daniel Blake.

I am a man, not a dog.

As such, I demand my rights.

I demand you treat me with respect.

I, Daniel Blake, am a citizen.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Thank you.

Segregate—to protect. But protecting what?

Separate—to protect ourselves. But protect from what? 

Detach—to release. But release what? 

The scarf of this month features the song Drawing a Line by Yoeko Kurahashi.

I drew an image inspired by this love song that describes the agony of trying to detach her feelings from the one she loved. The line in this song signifies the distance between the two hearts.

I sincerely thank you for your support in 2022.

I do appreciate your continued support in 2023.

Wishing you Happy Holidays and a joyful New Year!

-Yuh Okano