Gift-giving in Japan II: Breaking the cycle

So far, I have written several entries in this column dealing in one way or another with the concept of the "gift" in Japanese culture: on the importance of souvenirs ("Omiyage" in Japanese), on the generosity of Japanese people (particularly to visitors or guests), and even on the necessity for showing gratitude toward one's ancestors and past generations. It would seem that Japanese society is, in many ways, built upon the notion of gift-giving - not to mention the debt or obligation that one incurs when accepting such gifts.

Without wandering too far down the well-trodden path of anthropologist Ruth Benedict - whose classic wartime study of "the Japanese mind," entitled The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, remains today by turns as insightful and deeply problematic as it must have when it first appeared in 1946 - I would have to agree with her that the concepts that she isolated and treated at length, of "On" (a kind of debt of gratitude) and "Giri" (reciprocal duty, for those who have taken care of you in some way), are absolutely crucial to gaining a firm understanding of Japanese social relations.

They can also act as a thread to help a person negotiate the labyrinth of obligation, including gift-giving and receiving, that makes up a good deal of Japanese culture.

As I understand the terms - and hoping to avoid the rather dubious distinction Benedict made between "Guilt" and "Shame" cultures - On is a kind of psychological debt, a sense of obligation and gratitude for some favor received from others. It appears to have its roots in the vertically structured, hierarchical society of feudal Japan, which we can still see today.

I suppose that the Sempai (senior) and Kohai (subordinate) relation would be a good example of this. They each bear a sense of responsibility toward the other - one is supposed to lead and teach, and the other must follow and learn.

On the face of it, we might see this as an uneven power relation: the Sempai is free to boss the Kohai around, for example, and there is little to be done about this. In fact, this is how I once conceived of the relation, viewing Japanese society almost like one big Fraternity made up of elaborate "hazing" rituals. But that is not the case, because (ideally speaking, of course) the Sempai has a debt toward the Kohai, a duty to guide him or her. After all, what is a "Sempai" if he or she has no "Kohai"? It's almost like the old "Master-Slave" dialectical relation: can we really call someone a "master" if his or her "slave" refuses to acknowledge this relation? In that case, I suppose we would just have a "boss" or a "tyrant," but in any case the entire relation breaks down. The two depend upon one another in order to function as such.

Giri also seems to have its roots in feudal society. I have seen it translated as "moral obligation" in various places, and from what I can tell, it apparently consists of acts that would lead to what Benedict referred to as "virtue." She wrote, "A man's indebtedness (on) is not virtue; his repayment is. Virtue begins when he dedicates himself actively to the job of gratitude." I take this to mean that Giri is the act of repaying the On that one has accumulated, though I may be guilty of oversimplifying matters.

At any rate, and getting back to my main point, an understanding of the concepts of indebtedness and obligation would go a long way in helping an outsider gain some sort of feel for Japanese social relations, be they of a personal, family or business nature. Knowing when to enter into, as well as when to break out from, what I will call "the cycle of indebtedness" is a crucial part of this.

Let me give an example. While I was away on holiday during the recent winter vacation season, I considered buying some Omiyage for a colleague who has been especially helpful to me. However, my wife stopped me and pointed out the fact that he would feel indebted to me if I gave him any more gifts. You see, I had been picking up various knickknacks for him, during trips to conferences or on weekend outings, in order to express my gratitude for the many kindnesses he has shown me at work, and I never thought much of it - after all, these were small items, inexpensive trinkets that had little material value in and of themselves.

But my wife had a good point - I was in danger of tipping the delicate balance of Giri, of Credit and Debit (to put it in more familiar terms, I suppose), and putting him in debt to me (if I hadn't already done so!). I thought back on it, and recalled how he had scrambled to give me something in return each time I had presented him with some small gift. I guess that he was feeling the weight of his indebtedness to me increase with each new Omiyage. He normally would end up scratching his head, smiling nervously, and accepting my meager presents with the stock-phrase, "You shouldn't have."

Well, I suppose that I literally "shouldn't have," after all!

At the time, I simply retreated to the tour bus and sulked. "I just don't understand this country," I recall saying to my long-suffering wife, "and I guess I never will!" I was feeling confused, because now, somehow, the very idea of giving someone a gift had been transformed into an almost aggressive act. It seemed perverse to me.

After pouting for about an hour, I realized that she was right - though I have yet to officially admit this to her - and that I had just been taught a valuable lesson in "breaking the cycle" of obligation.

In the end, I must say that there is no hard-and-fast rule on gift-giving or -receiving in Japan. It really comes down to achieving a delicate balance, a fine sense of feeling, and a true consideration for others. To continue the labyrinth metaphor, we might say that this entails finding one's way through the winding corridors one step at a time. Or perhaps we could say that one needs to understand that in Japan there is a time to give, a time to receive - and a time to know when to break the cycle!