Who truly understands the working of the Internet?
We blog; we vlog. We post messages; we stop/block them. We share warnings; we style curses and deliver them with aplomb. We have resurrected the much-maligned chain letters, this time on the Internet by reformatting them—turning them into stylistic confessionals, creating pubmats for our epistolaries. In other words, the medium has become sexier, tonier but we have remained the emotional individual. We now marvel at our own fragility because that seems to be the prerequisite for the users of the new social media—individuals who not only wear their hearts on their sleeves but patch those hearts, stitch them onto plaid, lace them with a bit of toxin to stop predators.
We have reinvented death or, at least, the announcement of it. There is no immediate family anymore: anyone who gets to hear one’s passing is free (until called out) to divulge eternal disappearance. Grief is not limited to loved ones so long as you have a space to grieve over another person. We have all become existential, not in the Sartrean manner, but in the mold of an element alive, existing for many other things, for other many things.
We are triggered by news or developments even as we trigger the occurrence of news themselves.
We respond to any event shared online. Or, we feel compelled to do so. Technically, the compulsion to comment, critique, correct a post is always there for all of us. The difference between us and the others is the modicum of control we exercise when a post is misspelled, a date is wrong, or a photo is unbecoming.
That control, that strong sense of bracketing—the act of stopping before making a statement, or concluding one, or merely noting with an emoji—separates the person from the robot, the technical responding being. That majestic pause and the quick decision to withdraw one’s thoughts against another set of thoughts—that is new intellection. The quivering index finger on the “Enter” and the entire hand sweeping above that key and the other keys around it is called humanness.
Why do I go on enumerating these processes? Why the agitation?
Well, a few days ago, I stumbled upon a post about developments on the Japanese education system. I got interested. After being active in Japanese studies as an academic and having lived for some years in the country, anything Japanese always compels me to look, and look again. But I seldom stop right then and there. What follows is critical—this act of critiquing.
Is this true? Who made this?
The first few lines are a giveaway: “The Japanese education system is so revolutionary that it currently trains children as ‘World Citizens,’ not Japanese.” This aim seems to run counter to what I always know the Japanese to be. Their Japaneseness is their power.
The document then talks of a revolutionary pilot scheme called “Brave Change” (Futoji no henko). My immediate reaction is to interpret the document as demonstrating the propensity of the Japanese for slogans, ideologies. These words are aspirational and may not necessarily express a reality that is already in progress.
The document then goes on to paint the kind of education that can, for example, produce students who are proficient in four languages! It promises a shift in concept where “they will understand and accept different cultures and their horizons will be global, not national.” Everything seems to not support the knowledge about Japanese education and society as far as I know.
Where was I when these educational tenets were being produced and practiced? The critical in me, however, was getting overwhelmed.
Well, this is the Internet, where social media can link worlds and societies. I immediately shared the document, tagging individuals who I would generally define as “Japanologists,” those scholars whose field of specializations cover societies, cultures, histories and arts of Japan. I added more individuals who are not academics but long-time residents of the country, including one Japanese friend.
In between waiting for the comments from these friends, the document, which I shared, was getting “heart” and “like.” There was a wave of approval from those who came in contact with it. The Japanese are really good! No one noted my notes on the document, which was critical of the document—about how the Japanese have been historically fond of slogans, and other ideological statements.
During the Meiji era, when Japan was forced to open up, there were the three slogans of “Bunmei Kaika” (Civilization and Enlightenment), “Fukoku Kyōhei” (Enrich the Nation; Strengthen the Army), and “Shokusan Kōgyō” (Encourage Industry).
There were more slogans on Internationalization during the post War period. What is another slogan for education?
The document I posted for questioning and critiquing was being loved. And shared. Then the comments from the so-called Japanese experts began trickling in. Who said that? Where did the document come from? That is difficult to realize.
The document was getting the comments I thought any posting should earn. We should always be critical about any resource a person shares. We should, in fact, peruse and examine any document and subject them to scrutiny. A little research yielded the source of the material. It comes from a Dr Roach page. So much for the Japaneseness of things.
There was, however, a collateral impact the said document on education provided, an unintended consequence. Because our education experts are scraping the bottom in explaining how rotten we have become as educators and learners, any document that trumpets educational reforms and succinctly, if not brazenly, assures improvement, is bound to be liked—hook, life and sinker.
E-mail: titovaliente@yahoo.com
