"It feels close." That's the image of Osaka I had as a child.
Born in Osaka in September 1985.
When I mentioned this to older people at a bar in Osaka, some of them would get it. "Oh, that year," they would say. That was the year the Hanshin Tigers were crowned Japan's best team (a 38-year wait until 2023).
The Hanshin Tigers won the league championship on October 16th, and then the Japan Series on November 2nd. So in photos taken when I was just a few months old, I'm always wrapped up in a bath towel commemorating the Tigers' victory.
When talking to older men in bars in downtown Osaka or anywhere, the next most common topics of conversation, after starting with the weather, are probably professional baseball and sumo. However, you need to be careful when talking about baseball. Just because you're in Osaka or Kansai doesn't mean you should just assume they're Hanshin fans, as this could lead to unnecessary trouble. There are surprisingly many Orix Buffaloes fans in bars in downtown Osaka. Most of them are die-hard fans from the Kintetsu (Buffaloes) era (or the Hankyu Braves era), so they have a lot of pride (of course, there are Giants fans, and fans of each team).
Speaking of professional baseball, I don't have a particular team I support, so I can go along with most of the conversation. I was born in Osaka in that memorable year, but we moved to Niihama City, Ehime Prefecture before I turned one year old. Then, at age five, we moved to Gifu City, Gifu Prefecture, and then to Kokura, Kitakyushu City, Fukuoka Prefecture, at age ten, before returning to Osaka in April 2004 when I started university.
Although I write in my profile that I was born in Osaka, I have lived in Osaka ever since I was 18 years old, and even during my student years I lived in Hokusetsu (Toyonaka City), where my university was located, so although it is in Osaka Prefecture, it is not "Osaka," and not many people there speak thick Osaka dialect (Osaka people often say things like "Osaka is from the Yodo River to the Yamato River," but that roughly corresponds to "Osaka City").
Because of this, I still can't even speak Osaka dialect fluently. I probably managed to speak the dialect of every place I moved to at the time, but now I can't. It's a bit like not having a favorite professional baseball team. In that sense, I've never felt like I had "roots" anywhere.
So, it wasn't just for the Tigers that I came back to Osaka after university. My mother's family used to live in Osaka, and I had many relatives there. So I often came here during summer vacation and New Year's, and I was familiar with the area. But that wasn't the reason I came back.
To be honest, I sometimes visited Osaka's downtown area to visit relatives, but I felt a particular aversion to the atmosphere and people who lived there. People felt extremely close, and the tone and tempo of the Osaka dialect was a little intimidating. I remember always holding my breath and watching what was going on around me when I was in Osaka. It felt like I'd accidentally ended up in a "club" with extremely close personal relationships, if that explains it.
Is Osaka really an "inner-group" city?
I moved to Osaka City when I was 25 years old. I lived in the area from Teradacho Station on the JR Osaka Loop Line to Shitennoji Temple, an old downtown area of Osaka. I've lived in the same area ever since, although I've moved a few times for short periods. So, the place I've lived in the longest is now (without a doubt) "Osaka."
After living in Osaka city for a long time, particularly in an area close to Shitennoji Temple that has the feel of "Osaka's old layer," I have finally come to understand something.
Osaka is not necessarily the "club-like" city I felt when I occasionally visited as a "customer" as a child, where people are close to others and have a strong sense of intimacy and intrusion. Of course, there are still people who behave in that "Osaka-like" way, but even then, in most cases, they do so very carefully and while keeping an eye on other people.
Looking back at the history of the city of Osaka, the current central area of JR Osaka Station and the Umeda area only developed fairly recently. Until then, the city's center had always been located on the Uemachi Plateau, which stretched out like a peninsula from the south, with the area around Osaka Castle still standing to the north. Today, Tanimachisuji, the street that connects Osaka Castle to Shitennoji Temple (and Tennoji Station), is the highest point of the Uemachi Plateau, which stretches north to south. For a long time, Tanimachisuji was Osaka's main street.
In ancient times, the Uemachi Plateau was the site of a capital called Naniwa no Miya for around 150 years, but apart from that period, the city of Osaka has never been a political or cultural capital. The ancient layers of the city are made up of two major temples and shrines: Shitennoji Temple, which was built before Naniwa no Miya, and Sumiyoshi Taisha Shrine, which symbolizes Osaka as a maritime city.
People gathered around the two temples and shrines, a temple town was formed, commerce developed, wealth accumulated, and the city of Osaka developed into a logistics hub. Osaka Castle, which briefly became the political center during the time of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, was also built on the site of the former Ishiyama Honganji Temple. The base of the greatest power of temples and shrines at the time, which cornered Oda Nobunaga, was located in the center of Osaka.
If you think about it, Osaka has never been a political city where nobles lived, nor a provincial city directly ruled by samurai. From ancient times to the present, I think it's fair to say that it has flourished as a city of the "people," primarily run by religious leaders and merchants. Of course, I'm no historian or anything, so this is probably best left as just bar ramblings.
When I walk around Shitennoji Temple or Tanimachi-suji, which are close to my house, I suddenly feel a sense of Osaka's history. The sense of "being at the center" that is often cultivated in "capitals" of countries and regions alike isn't very prevalent in Osaka. In the Kansai region, there's Kyoto, and in the Japanese context, there's Tokyo, which are undoubtedly the historical, cultural, and political "centers."
Osaka has always been a city on the periphery, which is why it seems unique, but it has always positioned itself as something "different" from the "center," that is, as a different option (alternative). It is a city that has developed with the idea that being "different" from the center is its reason for existence and its value. If the intentions of the current government or those in power change, it must quickly grasp this and consider how to behave.
Not to mention business, religion is also a type of service industry, and it is also a business of welcoming customers. Therefore, even at the micro level of everyday life, they must always read the expressions of their "customers," adjust their phrasing, and behave in a way that will make them as "happy" as possible.
Therefore, habits such as "talking nonstop" and "finishing a story with a punch line," which are often pointed out as Osaka's distinctive features, may actually stem from a kind of merchant-like spirit of service. Phrases like "Shiran-kedo," which have spread nationwide, are not so much a sign of irresponsibility as they are a result of the tendency to "exaggerate" one's story as an expression of a spirit of service, along with the accompanying embarrassment and a kind of sincerity, and the merchant-like mindset of putting oneself down at the end to get a laugh, according to observations of native Osakan speakers.
Osaka is not just a city where people are blunt, rude, and close to each other; it is also a delicate city filled with a bazaar-like tension, where people are sensitive to the sense of distance between themselves and others (customers), including how to close that distance, and skillfully manipulate that in order to get the situation running smoothly. (Incidentally, I received many suggestions on this topic of focusing on "language" from Kanemizu Satoshi's recently published book, The Mysteries of Osaka Language (SB Shinsho), and from a talk event with Professor Kanemizu. I recommend that you read both books.)
Osaka, the city of modesty. Bazaar-like communication disguised as a club
That's why "showing off" (or "ii-kakkoshii" in the local dialect) is shunned, whether by individuals or establishments. This is because trying to make oneself look bigger, by assuming some kind of authority or value system, leaves no "openness" for others (customers) to feel at ease. I've been going to various establishments, including bars, in Osaka for a long time, and what I feel is "typically Osaka" are those that have that openness, that little bit of fun, or something a little off.
Rather than an aesthetic of modesty or "iki," I think Osakans are simply shy. They like to act cool. They like to act arrogant and always be the center of attention. They even make jokes and make comments in conversation because they are conscious of when the speaker's turn comes, and there is even a sense of service involved, as they feel it would be embarrassing for them to be the only one in the spotlight, and they want everyone in the conversation to be in a good mood.
Would you be surprised if I told you that Osaka is a city of "shyness" and that Osakans tend to be shy? I'm not saying that everyone is always like this. But after living in Osaka's downtown area for 15 years, I've come to see this side of the city and its people. So I no longer have the aversion to Osaka that I once had. Of course, this tendency of Osakans is not all good, as it may also mean that they are vulnerable to outside authority and peer pressure.
When I think about why this is the case, I return to the perspective I mentioned earlier of it being a "city of religion and commerce." I described it as "bazaar-like," but there's more to it than just a business-like attitude or a sense of service. In a bazaar, you never know who will come or when, and shops can't choose their customers. I think this sense of assuming "you don't know who will be sitting next to you" is relatively prevalent in Osaka.
This may be because Osaka is a land with a complex historical background, and is not a "capital city" where residents are expected to adapt to the city. Although Osaka was rezoned in modern times, it still retains streetscapes rooted in ancient customs and norms. Separated by a single street, an upscale residential area adjoins an area where land prices are in an entirely different league. On one street, there are many people who share a particular faith, while on another street, there are many people with specific roots. It is a city where people of various origins come and go, living side by side.
People with roots in neighboring countries with a long history, people of recent foreign origin, and people from rural areas who came alone as workers during the period of rapid economic growth all live side by side, sometimes sharing space and time in the same bars. At least in downtown areas like where I live, where there are many locals who are sensitive to the complex context of the land, this is something that is taken for granted, and history has been built up over time.
In the Osaka bars where I feel comfortable, there is a reasonable sense of tension that the person drinking next to me might be different from me, but there is also the hope that we might overcome that tension and feel a sense of unity in the atmosphere. This is not so different from the possibility that there might be Hanshin fans, Orix fans, or even Kintetsu fans, Hankyu fans, and Nankai fans in the same place.
The philosopher Simone Weil wrote, "To have roots is the soul's most earnest and most neglected need." I too have either ignored this need or actively turned my back on it. Perhaps "not having roots" is the very definition of freedom.
That spirit is still there today, but the 15 years I spent in downtown Osaka gave me something that would be a lie if I didn't call it "roots."
So no matter where I drink tonight, I'll probably end up back in my usual neighborhood and have a few more drinks. It's my neighborhood now, and as a member, I feel a certain sense of responsibility. I still don't have a favorite professional baseball team, but being able to feel like I'm a part of a town like this is quite literally an overwhelming happiness.
Well, I don't really know.
