Banzai!

Rejuvenation, Japanese-style

Night has come to Ise, 80 miles east of Osaka and the site of the holiest Japanese Shinto shrines. The chilly (33DEGF), placid waters of the Isuzu River can be seen clearly in the moonlight by the 80 or so people on the bank who await the command of their instructor. He barks angrily, and they wade into the stream, chanting, shouting and grunting in unison, praying for spiritual renewal and purification. Then they run quietly through the streets of the village, dressed only in loincloths, their heads banded in white cloth on which the characters for "love" and "sweat" are written in black.

What looks and sounds like a cult indoctrination is in fact a "training session" for employees of Japanese companies. They were at Ise last month at the behest of their employers to learn team spirit, feel team achievement and, in so doing, perhaps become better, more productive workers. Says Ise Training Center Director Yasuo Nakayama: "We want them to suffer. We want them to feel pain. But we also want them to enjoy, to sing and dance. We want them to empty out their old selves and become new people."

The four-day sessions, held twice a month, each draw workers ranging in age from 17 to 60, about 90% of them men. Companies do not require their workers to attend, but strongly encourage them by paying the center's $200 fee in full and not docking workers' pay while they are at Ise. Many of the big Japanese companies, including Hitachi, Mitsubishi, Toyota and Marubeni, have at one time or another sent employees to Ise.

The trainees' day begins at 6 a.m. with the banging of a giant (25-ft.) drum, which rouses them from sleep in their dormitory bunk beds; each room has eight workers from different companies. They don their all-white clothes, usually sweat shirts and sweatpants, grab brooms, and clean their quarters. They then line up for a flag raising, singing Kimigayo, the national anthem.

After breakfast, three to four hours of classes begin. There are lectures in obligations to parents and children, social roles of men and women and their places in the tightly knit Japanese society. There is also vigorous physical activity, team efforts to move tree trunks, for example, or cement benches. Finally comes the climax, the dip in the icy Isuzu.

Most of the trainees feel good about the experience, returning to their work stations refreshed and rejuvenated. Said Kazuya Kadota, senior engineer at Hitachi: "Because of the high pressure at work, I haven't had time to communicate with my juniors. But being here will help me talk with them heart to heart. Our relationship will be smoother, and so their desire to work harder will increase."

Some alumni, though, are not so enthusiastic. Says a 26-year-old office worker: "You feel different for a while, and then you're back to normal." The sternly taught lessons of Ise are stimulating, contends Suzuko Ogura, 19, a forklift operator for automaker Toyota, "but it's a lesson easy to forget."

Founded in 1907 as a sort of Boy Scout camp, the center ceased functioning during the postwar American occupation, and only during the past decade has it begun serving the business community. The Japanese press has criticized it as excessively nationalistic and militaristic. Pictures of the Emperor and his family hang, it seems, on every wall. Songs sung by the trainees are forthrightly patriotic, praising Japan as the land of peace and beauty, the "land of the gods, banzai!" But Director Nakayama insists that the center's purpose is only to make better people, teaching things the family and the schools do not teach anymore: love, conscience and a sense of mission to compete and win anywhere in the world. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.