While there are two distinctive locations that house anti-nuke protesting in Kasumigaseki, the similarities are far more apparent than their differences, especially to an untrained eye. As Spradley so carefully lays out, traversing into these two spaces as a fresh ethnographer is to be as “a map-maker who sets foot on an uncharted island”, in that the meanings embedded within the cultural exchanges taking place will be wholly unknowable to the outsider (Spradley, 81). Taking this into consideration, it is important to become familiar with the space before any deeper analysis is involved. As such, the following page will be dedicated to the exterior and interior nature of the protests, and how each perspective serves to create an organized unit that works in tandem.
This map allows us insight into the points of interest that the protest organizers keep in mind when planning the boundaries of space they will use during the protests. This map is based on our interview with Misao Redwolf, the key organizer of the anti-nuclear movement. The nodes, paths, and edges of Kasumigaseki in the minds of the organizers are demonstrated here to be more aligned by the types of people represented in each area, rather than the physical location of each landmark. This is somewhat opposed to the ideas that Lynch proposes in his This information hints at what later becomes more clear: the anti-nuclear movement is basing their organization off of the personnel in each space. In other words, they are shifting the feel of the space by placing personalities and acting roles into each space in order to dictate location roles. How they work these spaces using these personalities can be further understood by diving into the details of their organizational style.
Beginning with the protest located in front of the Prime Minister’s office, it is clear that a high level of orchestration comes before any of the actual protesting takes place. The protest takes place on the street corner opposite of the Prime Minister’s residence, so as to face the building itself. The structure and hierarchy of where protesters gather is rooted at this intersection and spreads ever thinner the further you walk down the sidewalks in either direction. At the center of the action is a small sector that has been roped off for the officials in charge of the protesting organizations to make announcements, give speeches, and usher in the beginning and ends of the demonstrations. This small encampment houses a small speaker system for a megaphone with which such tasks are carried out. Protest participants then line up single-file and extend down the street as far as the number of participants would allow. On average, this intersection would accrue around 70 participants each week that we attended, which translated into roughly a quarter of a block’s length of bodies on either side of the apex. Traffic cones and short stanchions are in place to clearly define where the protesting body begins and ends, and this in turn subconsciously informs any passing citizen of the officiality of the event.
In practice, this means that an average passerby, assuming they would be walking along the protest route, would be walking past participants for approximately a minute before exiting the range of participation. The elongation of this experience is the first hint that, unlike the plethora of protesting styles seen across the world, the kind in this district is more societal in its focus than administrative. Walking down the streets occupied by these protesters don’t give the same impression that most gatherings do in Tokyo’s streets. A stark contrast to most, one’s gaze is met eye-to-eye by a majority of those in line along the streets. When a speech or announcement is absent, the crowds chant in unison, “再稼働反対。原発いらない。” (“We stand against the return to nuclear. No more power plants”). This phrase is echoed repeatedly. With each participant making eye contact with those walking by, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the appeal is not one of cold political protest, but one that carries an emotional pathos meant for a more intimate appeal. The layout and manner with which this space is organized lends itself to this notion and creates a compelling case for further understanding the intentions of the organization. After all, if this space–the central hub of political discourse in Tokyo–isn’t being used to attract the attention of politicians, then why is it necessary to be here to begin with? This inquiry is more layered than simply extracting publicity and can be further explained by examining the other site of the protest that happens concurrently with this one.
Only a few blocks away from the main space, another seemingly identical demonstration is held in front of the National Diet Building. Far enough to be out of earshot, yet close enough to be easily recognized as associated, the well-oiled nature of the organizers shows itself in the level of similarity that is present in this location. Following the same general rules of organization (organization leaders and influencers near the middle, with regular attendees sprawling down the sidewalk), this iteration looks nearly carbon-copied from the Prime Minister’s Residence setting. In terms of participation, the amount of attendants was only slightly higher than that of the first site; typically totaling around 80 people standing per week. However, it does manage to differentiate itself in some key ways. First off, the sidewalk at the epicenter of the activity spreads a bit wider, allowing for a denser and more compact gathering of participants rather than a single-file fashion. Here, the organizers are instead stationed opposite the crowd, with a small stage and a more robust speaker system aimed in the direction of the attendees, rather than the Diet Building itself. While passersby will still be ushered through this setting as with the section in front of the Prime Minister’s Residence, this setup more deeply insinuates a focus towards bombast and spectacle, rather than the personal appeal of the former. The stage often welcomes politicians from inside the Diet to speak and offer support, but more prominently features regular attendees or officials from the protest organization. In fact, the speakers upon the stage reiterate many times that “all are welcome” to stand upon the stage and speak out on the issue at hand. Though there are overt rules on what can and cannot be uttered on stage, this openness with regards to the spoken word brings a much more grounded, human feeling to the extravagance.
All of this culminates to create the unmistakable impression of an event taking place, but unlike the event-based protests of the past, the anti-nuke movement situates the action in such a way that it becomes participatory for all parties. All that walk through are participants, whether they want to be or not, and this creates a feeling of inclusion and openness. Even strangers are inherently placed directly into the middle of the action, intentionally caught in between the mouthpieces and the every-man. Due to this, the weight of the protest is intended to be felt not by those who hold the power to legislate, but by those with the power to vote.
HT + SG
Demonstrating Space: Kasumigaseki 