Violence

Coming home from work last night in Kobe, there was a disturbance in the street. Everyone froze. This is Japan; there is no civic unrest. A man was beating a woman around the head, snarling at her before delivering another solid blow. She was protecting herself but not running; a bag of rubbish still held in one hand from her donut shop. At first, I thought it was her boss, berating her for some mistake and becoming violent, but after a few more cursory blows, he walked off, cursing her at high volume. The street slowly uncoiled. No one had done anything. We were all paralysed. Slowly, timidly, a few of the patrons in the next door cafe edged over to the woman, who was cradling her head, stunned. I was on the other side of a busy street, and I couldn't do anything. Short mad visions flashed through my mind - how dare he! why didn't anyone do anything? why were we all paralysed! - and I fantasised about following him and kicking him in the balls. He must have bumped into the bag of rubbish and lost it - but what anger!

My mind flashed on - not a salaryman; white pants, but he carried himself as if he were important, as if he were someone - and then I thought I knew. Japan's largest yakuza syndicate, the Yamaguchi-gumi, has its headquarters in Kobe. When the Great Hanshin Earthquake savaged the city ten years ago, it wasn't the government that responded first, it was the yakuza who provided emergency assistance. That might be it. My anger dissipated quickly - to try to punish a possible yakuza member righteously would be death.

I was quite shaken up by it - I've never seen someone beaten in public, let alone a man beating a woman - and more so because of my complete powerlessness.

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