Police Mascots

The staging area for commemorative photos, complete with piipo-kun.

One of my special assignments for my Japanese Society and Culture class was to visit the Police Museum in Tokyo. What greeted me at the entrance was this guy.—>
Somehow, though, saying he greeted me at the entrance is putting it lightly: He wasn't just in one place at the entrance—he was all over it.

I was pretty confused, so I went inside to ask the museum personnel why Japan was being invaded by aliens and the police weren't doing anything to stop it. Well, I didn't say it exactly like that, but I did ask what the alien-looking thing outside was. The guy I asked looked kind of confused about how to explain it to me, but he eventually said it was the Tokyo Metropolitan Police station's mascot Piipo-kun (ピーポくん), and he said they took the cute features of different animals and put them together in the design: His ears are huge so he can hear the people's voices; he has an antenna to sense the movements of society; and his eyes see even into the nooks and crannies of society. I wasn't sure if those last two features were good or bad. Sounds a little like a nuclear experiment created an irresistibly cute Big Brother instead of Godzilla, but the explanation about his name was a lot cheerier.

His name comes from the Japanese pronunciation of the English word people (piipuru, ピープル) and the Japanese pronunciation of the English word police (porisu, ポリス). They mashed the two words together to get piipo because he is supposed to be a bridge between the people and the police. Then they added the Japanese "kun" (a title similar to Mr. or Mrs. except its friendly, not just polite). Someone in the Tokyo metro police station was a fantastic marketer or a refreshingly idealistic person.

A flyer on the bulletin board outside the Tokyo police headquarters.

After that trip I started noticing Piipo-kun all over the place: in construction signs, on warning signs, on safety bulletins and other police announcements/signs. Piipo-kun even has a whole family, as you can see on this bulletin outside the Tokyo metro police headquarters. The bulletin is a disarmingly friendly summary of laws/rules for bicycles. Check out how much info is on it (click for a bigger view): It tells kids to wear a helmet for safety and asks adults not to ride their bikes while talking on a cell phone; it encourages kids to follow traffic lights and to remember to check both ways before crossing the stree; it reminds adults that bicycling with a cell phone, with an umbrella, without a light at night, and with two people on one bike is dangerous and prohibited; It even answers legal questions. You have to use the road and not the sidewalk when you ride your bike, except for certain specially marked areas and unless you are a kid under 13, an elderly person (70+), or have a disability. Hitting pedestrians with a bike counts as a traffic accident and can result in both a criminal case and a civil case, just as car accidents do.

So it seems that Piipo-kun does serve as a bridge between the people and the police. He even has his own website on the Tokyo metro police site. When I got back to my dorm I researched the police mascot thing, and it
turns out that every single prefecture in Japan has its own police mascot. Check them all out here. I'm pretty sure that at public events it's some police officer's job to wear the mascot suit. I find this all fascinating because it seems to be a terrific way for the police to try to maintain a good reputation and be friendly with the citizenry, not that the Japanese police seem to need the help.

Japanese police are remarkably approachable. There is nearly always an officer or two stationed at a police box within a block of each train station. There are even officers who patrol the area on foot in addition to those on motorcycles and in cars. It's an official part of the police's job to give people directions, and the police boxes usually have maps in case the police need extra help telling you how to get where you want to go. The Japanese police even have a supply of money to lend people who have lost their wallets so that they can afford the train ride home (unfortunately not everyone pays the money back).

Now, I'm sure there are corrupt police and cases of police brutality or something in Japan, but most people don't seem worried about such things, and I didn't see any reports of it while I was there (though I also can't read everything in the newspaper yet). These mascots, on top of the direction-giving policy, are PR gold because they ensure that the populace have friendly, non-crime-related interactions with the police force. I wouldn't even dream of stopping the police in America to ask for directions, and I imagine that most people only see the police when they're investigating a crime or handing out traffic tickets. Hopefully, American police still do elementary school visits. Otherwise there's little opportunity for the police to develop a positive relationship with the citizenry. The closest thing to the police mascot America has is McGruff the crime dog, though I haven't seen him around in a while and I don't think he's an official police officer.

I get the feeling, though, that in America people might think extensive use of mascots would somehow be unprofessional. I know at first I thought Piipo-kun was ridiculous. Now, though, I think there's a lot of potential in these sorts of PR techniques to change the paradigm of our relationship with the police. Many communities have a negative view of police, and many don't cooperate with them. But if they never interact with police in a positive way, how can the situation change. It would be nothing short of glorious if the solution to the problem is as simple as a cartoony figure like McGruff, but I don't think it would be unrealistic to say that those kinds of PR moves and positive community interaction could really make a difference.

Hello Kitty: Religion and Merchandise

A lot of the people in my study-abroad program expected to see Hello Kitty everywhere, or at least in a lot of places; it's one of the many stereotypes of Japan/Japanese culture that everything is cutesy and branded with Hello Kitty. Although stereotypes, like myths, typically contain a fragment of truth, it seemed during the semester that there was no truth to this one. That all changed once I started backpacking through Japan.

Before I discuss the major instances of Hello Kitty-ness I saw, I'd like to stress that I'm not sure why I started seeing that enigmatic kitten pop up on my travels--it would probably be a foolish ignorance of sample bias to speculate that Hello Kitty is all a tourist trap (I should also note that many of the tourists are Japanese or at least Asian). Since Hello Kitty is something like a cross between a corporate mascot and a logo for Sanrio, a Japanese merchandise company that has been specifically targeting the selling power of cuteness for decades, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see her in tourist spots. However, the idea of merchandising doesn't tell the whole story.

Hello Kitty, Itsukushima, and Momiji Manjuu

The Sanrio shop on Itsukushima

This is a perfect example of Hello Kitty as a driving force and an excuse for merchandise. There's a Japanese snack called a manjuu, which is basically a small, dense round bread item with filling (typically green tea or a red bean paste).

A typical momiji manjuu.

At some point, someone on the island of Itsukushima put a nifty twist on the manjuu by making it in the shape of maple leaves to play off the island's many maple trees. Thus the momiji manjuu was born (momiji means maple tree). Not to be outdone, Sanrio added to the twist by reworking the maple leaf's proportions to accomodate Hello Kitty's head. The cuteness is enhanced by the light Engrish on the signs. Click to see a larger picture if you can't read them.

Hello Kitty, Temples, and Protective Charms

A bunch of standard o-mamori.

Pretty much every single temple I have seen in Japan sells little fabric bags that are refered to as o-mamori (Protection or protectors), which is typically translated as "protective charm". They're available in many styles and for all sorts of things, such as good luck, academic success, and safety at intersections, among others. Although the idea of functional protective charms might seem downright silly and superstitious in America, many Japanese people do believe they work. There are some parts of the practice that appear to be capitalist manipulation of faith. For instance, I've been told by several hostel staff members in several cities that you have to give your charms back to a temple around New Year's and then get new ones because the change in the year makes the old charms lose their beneficial power and reverse their effect (an legitimization of forced obsolescence?). Furthermore, the design of the charms is apparently arbitrary, but temples that are tourist spots offer, in addition to the standard geometric-style designs, charms themed after the temple's particular claim to fame (Is it a souvenir or a religious item?).Nevertheless, after thinking about the Christian (or at least Catholic) analogues (crosses, rosaries, and saint medals), I concluded that the temples are probably sincere. Lots of people get or give new medals and religious symbols as the years pass (though not necessarily every year), especially to commemorate special times in their lives or pilgrimages to famous sites. After all there's nothing particularly devious about a church selling rosaries or crucifixes made from special local stone or medals of saints with a historical connection to the church, so it wouldn't be fair to jump to negative conclusions about the charms at these temples.

Explicitly Hello Kitty protective charms.

Of course any time I think I've put a cultural difference into perspective, something totally unexpected has to come along and throw me for a loop. At the Zen temple Kinkakuji (Temple of the Golden Pavillion) in Kyoto, I encountered protective charms clearly emblazoned with Hello Kitty. There goes my point of comparison: It would certainly be considered offensive or inappropriate for someone to sell a Hello Kitty crucifix, rosary, or medal (or a Nike one or one with any even remotely corporate symbol). I was so surprised, and unfortunately the staff was so busy, that I couldn't ask why the charms were considered acceptable. If I'd had greater presence of mind I'd've realized that I didn't need a Japanese word for blasphemy (which I certainly did not know)--asking whether the charm could be thought of as rude would have sufficed.

Perhaps the charms are aimed at kids (I can't know for sure since it's an American bias that something cartoony=something for kids; Anyone who saw Ren & Stimpy or looks around on the train in Japan knows otherwise.), and that makes it okay. I know I had a plastic rosary whose craftsmanship was not up to snuff until I could be trusted not to treat a nice one poorly. Maybe I'm looking at the question all wrong. Asian religions such as Buddhism and Shinto (Japan's most popular religions) tend to have far fewer absolute moral strictures (for instance no longstanding insistence that suicide is a sin) than Christianity. Perhaps o-mamori are just tokens that are meant to take bad luck or karma in the place of their bearers, and there aren't strict rules about them. Maybe they just need a blessing from a source of spiritual power and are meant to be enjoyed or appreciated by whoever receives them. If anyone has some insight, let me know. Next time I'm in Japan I'll be sure to ask.

Temples Temples Everywhere, and Most in Comet Colors

Although I had planned to see a lot of famous temples and shrines in Kyoto, I didn't realize just how many temples there were. As I walked around the city, it was as though they were like Starbucks—one on every corner. I probably should have expected as much; Supposedly more than 90% of Japan is Shinto or Buddhist, but I didn't see that many temples around Tokyo during the semester.

Anyway, here are some shots of the city and some miscellaneous photos. It's almost New Year's (Year of the Rabbit), so there are lots of bunnies.

Yanagi: Willow Trees

A river runs through the city from north to south, so there are lots of bridges and walking spots along it. Willow trees, which supposedly have special significance in Kyoto, line the banks. According to a random sign near a group of the trees, when Emperor Saga was looking for a bride hesaw a dream that told him to send a messenger to a willow tree at Rokkakudou (Hexagon Temple). Waiting at the willow was a beautiful woman, whom the Emperor later married.

Obligatory Engrish.

Sanjuusangendou: Thirty-three Bay Temple

Whoosh!

This temple's name refers to its size (a bay is some old unit of measure), but it's actually famous for its 1001 statues of Kannon, a goddess of mercy. The statues are in a special area where photography isn't allowed, so unfortunately no pictures. Also, I didn't get to see all 1001 statues (no, I didn't count them). A few of them had been rotated out for repairs. It's gotta be tough maintaining a thousand statues.

What I found more surprising, though, was that the rest of the temple was painted in UTD's school colors, orange and green. Although this was not the first temple I had been in, all of the others I had seen during the semester were various shades of brown/wood color, and most TV sshows depicted them as either brown or red. Apparently Japan is so polite and good at customer service that when I called ahead to confirm my reservation at the hostel, they called back a few hundred years and had the standard temple colors changed to be more welcoming for me (Hurray stereotypes!).

To find out the real reason for the color scheme, I had to ask a monk in the information office. Although it was pretty clear that he was dumbing the explanation down a bit in case my Japanese vocabulary was not very good, he basically said that it turns out that part of a traditional grinding process with certain stones resulted in an orange or orangey red color. That color is supposed to be the typical color of Japan's temples. The reason I hadn't seen any orange temples until then was that many of the temples in the area were being restored to that color in recent years. That didn't answer the question about the green, though. When I asked again, the monk simply said that green was thought to go well with orange. I'm not sure whether that means that historians made up the green part after discovering the orange color or whether it means that the temples were actually painted orange and green originally, but I'll take it.

So, to anyone who thinks UTD's colors are weird, I say, Exhibit Kyoto: An entire civilization (at one point the cultural center of Japan) thought it would be aesthetically pleasing to put orange and green together. It can only be culturally offensive to disagree, right?

Here are the rest of my pictures of Sanjuusangendou.

Kiyomizudera: Pure-Water Temple

The next stop on my sightseeing list was Kiyomizudera. It's a huge temple complex complete with pagodas, a brilliant view of Kyoto, and a waterfall (sort of). As if to prove the monk from Sanjuusangendou correct, most of the buildings were orange and green.

Comet Spirit