AS a sales pitch it struck all the right chords. 鈥淲e need to breathe the
forgotten wisdom into our technology-dominated civilisation, to allow modesty
and humility back into our hearts, and to restore the precarious relationships
between humanity and the rest of nature and among people themselves.鈥� This
appeal was part of the bid by Japan鈥檚 Aichi prefecture to host the World Expo in
2005. Its theme was laudable: to show how technology and nature can live in
harmony.
The proposed site was in the middle of Aichi鈥檚 Kaisho forest, an area of
pristine wooded hills 150 miles west of Tokyo. This is where the bid started to
unravel. For to make way for the 139-hectare complex it would be necessary to
cut down a few trees.
Quite a few, actually. It soon became clear that a substantial section of the
forest would have to be cleared. The blueprint called for road and rail
networks, telephone lines, electricity cables, a water supply and even the
expansion of the existing airport. Then Aichi dropped its biggest
bombshell鈥攊n order to qualify for government subsidies, the forest site
would be turned into a 2000-unit housing development once the Expo was over.
What was that about restoring the precarious relationship between humanity and
nature?
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To make sure I hadn鈥檛 misunderstood Aichi鈥檚 vision I took another look at the
publicity brochure: 鈥淭echnology was not given so humankind could ride roughshod
over nature and wreak irreparable changes. Rather, technology is to draw out the
hidden essence of all nature so that it can sparkle with new purpose.鈥� For 鈥渘ew
purpose鈥� read 鈥渇ully serviced housing development鈥�.
What you hope to see is not always what you get in Japan. It is a Japanese
trait to hide true feelings or intentions鈥攈onne鈥攚hile showing a
front to the outside world鈥攖atemae. In this case, I suspect, the Expo
publicity was an example of tatemae, while the forest clearance and housing
development was honne. This kind of contradiction is common in Japan. To
boneheaded foreigners like myself it is simply frustrating.
My other favourite example is the 1993 Club of Rome conference, entitled
鈥淕lobal Environment and Local Action鈥�, hosted by the southern city of Fukuoka.
As with Aichi and Expo, the Fukuoka authorities produced a wonderful brochure
that extolled the virtues of nature and the need for environmental protection.
鈥淭oday, the problem of our planet is one of the gravest concerns throughout the
world,鈥� it stressed. At the closing press conference, Keiichi Kuwahara, the
mayor of Fukuoka, was asked how he could square this message with the fact that
his council was planning to destroy a large area of wetland inhabited by
hundreds of species of migratory birds. Kuwahara told the astonished
journalists: 鈥淲e did not hold this conference to give priority only to the
别苍惫颈谤辞苍尘别苍迟.鈥�
Meanwhile, the Bureau International des Expositions in Paris, which sanctions
Expos, realised that Aichi鈥檚 plans were not quite what the publicity material
had led it to believe, and in February it urged Japan to rethink the location.
But I wouldn鈥檛 bet on any drastic changes. Business and local government in
Japan use the environment as a tool for selling ideas just as publishers use sex
to sell magazines in the West. While their promises sound attractive, the
reality often disappoints.