Lost Decades And Joints, And The Hard G In Hagiography

Early on in David E. Kaplan and Alec Dubro's Yakuza: Japan's Criminal Underworld the authors make it clear that there's so much more to the Japanese mafia than boffo all-body tattoos and clipped digits, which is fine — I'm sure that's the case — but isn't it the most interesting thing about the Japanese mafia? And since that's probably true, when writing a book about the Yakuza, it's going to take a lot to get people to disinterest themselves in that rich detail about Japanese underworld life.

It's a tall order made that much taller by the academic nature of the text. Look, no one would have begrudged them a full-color glossy picture insert spread in the middle of the book there (some consider such spreads a joy in and of themselves), even for an academic book. It pulls readers in. It breaks things up a bit. There's the opportunity for a multi-media tie-in. But no, the authors stick to the serious, sober discussion of the continuing scourge of the Japanese underworld.

And even though the book is dense, and the font frustratingly diminutive, and the leading dishearteningly un-leaded, there are still many opportunities therein to have your mind blown, chopped pinkies or no.

For example, sadly, most societies seem to frown on organized crime, and their ranks are pushed underground, in the so-called "underworld," that liminal space reserved for devilry, soil-dwelling insects and Kate Beckinsale. Not so in Japan, where the Yakuza is surprisingly above-board, advertising their headquarters, handing out business cards and even holding press conferences. It's a cultural acceptance that, like seemingly so many things about Japan, outsiders can't quite figure out. And which also in part informs the reader why the definitive book about the Japanese underworld had to be written by American journalists.

The other great thing about the Yazuka is their hagiography. By selling drugs, trafficking in sex slaves and generally swinging their dicks around, are modern day Yakuza a generally destabilizing influence on society? Sure. But their origin story is perfect: during the Meiji era gangs of middle-class heroes protected the populace from out-of-work Samurais who acquitted themselves poorly by terrorizing villages with their mayhem, swords and top-pate ponytails. According to Yakuza lore, these "chivalrous commoners" were the forbears of the modern Yakuza. This self-concept became part of the Yakuza code, and helped inform the Yakuza commitment to always remain courteous to civilians, which, as mentioned above, may or may not run counter to the nasty byproducts of Yakuza business (addiction, sex slavery, human trafficking, etc.).

Speaking of vice, what is it about organized crime that always seems to default to gambling, prostitution and drugs? Aren't there other business opportunities for gangsters? Oh, right — banking.

I don't think I was misreading — it's possible, but I was pretty lucid when I read this part — but there seemed to be an awesome buried lede in the "Collapsing Bubble" chapter whereby a lot of the shitty loans that sank the economy in 1990-91 and led to Japan's Lost Decade (or two) went, or basically went, or kind of a lot went to the — fucking! — Yakuza for shit like golf courses nowhere in particular. Which is awesome, and which is something that I don't think Paul Krugman really ever touched on.

And then there's the Yakuza film genre, which was similarly infiltrated by the Yakuza. I don't know if it's as weird as the North Korean film industry, but it seems pretty over the top. Incidentally, I think the one dude is missing a joint at 1:20:

Speaking of finger cutting, which is mentioned in Yakuza but not perseverated on, who the fuck came up with cutting someone's finger anyway? Do these people not type? Or if they do, do they not type semi-colons, Ps, apostrophes or quotes? No paragraph breaks? Is the dirty little secret of Yakuza literature (which of course exists) that it rolls along without carriage returns, sort of like the last fifty pages of Ulysses?

Of course we know the answer to where it came from: just like every other fool ridiculous "ritual" or "tradition," it comes from some psychotic kid whose whole reason for being in the world is to come up with stupid shit to do with one's body. The same kid in summer camp who contorted his scrotum for the entirety of Spruce cabin graduated to the insane blood brother pact, and then went on to haze underclassmen with vodka and Sharpies. From there it's not that large a leap to cutting off the first joint of your pinkie.

I just want to know, Who? Who came up with this? And why pinkie? Is the pinkie the least necessary of all the fingers? What about the ring finger? Maybe the middle finger, like Rahm Emanuel (did you know that he was only being stubborn about it?)? The whole thing is ridiculous. After all, the thing you have to remember about ritual mutilation is that it has to mean something; get it right, or not at all.