Page 120 - Nightmare Japan Contemporary Japanese Horror Cinema
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A Murder of Doves 107
motivational factors behind instances of ijime. In their discussion of wa,
or the concept of harmony in Japanese life, Davies and Ikeno note that
notions of ‘geographical determinism’, enhanced by Japan’s isolation as a
chain of islands, have impacted a myriad of interpersonal and social
behaviours, including the practice of ijime. As a result, an ideology
privileging both hierarchy and community has emerged. In particular,
Davies and Ikeno note that:
[T]he social structure of Japan developed a vertical organization that stresses
one’s place within the group and in which one’s rank or status is clearly
distinguishable…Because such a framework includes people with many
different characteristics, a form of unity in which all people aim for the same
goal is important for the group and is strictly enforced. This strong group
consciousness brings about a feeling of “in or out” (uchi-soto) (2002: 10-11)
As one might expect, such rigidly dualistic thinking – one is either ‘in’ or
‘out’, either a part of ‘the group’ or ‘an outsider’ – increases the cultural
connotations of ‘conformity’ and ‘ostracism’; consequently, students
strive for acceptance as a member of the larger social whole and fear
rejection, in which – for often ambiguous reasons – they may be isolated
from, or outright rejected by, the majority (Sugimoto 2002: 128).
Furthermore, ijime frequently assumes ‘a “soft” form…damaging victims
psychologically’ (128). Sometimes misconstrued as ‘playful rather than
manifestly violent’, ijime can transpire without capturing the attention of
authority figures, and it is not uncommon for teachers and law
enforcement to sanction bullying. As cultural anthropologists such as
Peter Cave demonstrate, one can link bullying with ritualised traditions
that, stemming back to some of the earliest samurai codes, find
articulation in cultural practices ranging from the organisation of school
clubs (bukatsudō) around militaristic ideals, to the construction of the
image of the ‘corporate warrior’ (kigyō senshi) during Japan’s most
successful period of economic recovery (Cave 2004: 412).
Like Fukusaku Kinji’s penultimate film and splatter-fest, Battle
Royale (2000), in which a class of students are fixed with exploding
collars, armed with assorted weapons, and placed on a deserted island
from which only one class member may leave alive, Iwai Shunji’s All
About Lily Chou-Chou reveals the darker side of a capitalist system