Culture & Lifestyle

Masuo Kamiyama and the Tokyo Metro are in agreement on the subject of young women applying makeup on trains. (Photo from Tokyo Metro Web site)

In the 1976 movie "Network," British actor Peter Finch, in the role of harried TV news anchor Howard Beale, goes before the camera to exhort his audience, saying "I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot. I don't want you to write to your Congressman, because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first, you've got to get mad...

"I want all of you to get up out of your chairs... and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out and yell, 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!'"

An image of the frenzied Mr. Beale flashed briefly though my mind as I sat beside a twentyish female on my way to Ryogoku. She had extracted a remarkable assortment of paraphernalia from a cosmetics case, and had spent the previous 15 minutes applying pancake, rouge, eyeliner and several other preparations whose name, or function, I could not quite fathom.

As hard as I tried to disregard this display, I could not help observing the transformation taking place less than one meter away. Especially after she began awkwardly wielding a contraption resembling a surgical tool, which she positioned perpendicularly to her left eyelid and began applying pressure, presumably to make her lashes curl upwards like the tines on a rake.

I felt a bit... irritated. Not that was I alone on this point: periodic passenger surveys by railway companies have consistently rated young women's application of cosmetics to be the most annoying form of behavior aboard commuter trains. Second, I believe, is sound leakage from stereo player headphones.

But was I within my constitutional rights to issue her a verbal reprimand? Or would it only constitute a petty discourtesy, a mere act of retaliation for the discomfort I felt she was causing me?

"Tell her off," exhorted the miniature Satan, tap-dancing on my left shoulder while wielding his tiny pitchfork.

"No! It's rude! Don't do it!" hissed the little angel on my right shoulder, fluttering his wings.

What the heck, I decided, I'm going to do it.

I turned to her and said, in my most reasonable voice: "Excuse me young lady, but isn't that the sort of thing you should be doing in your bathroom at home?"

Her response was to ignore me and continue to squeeze the gadget against her eyelid.

"I wonder if you realize how inconsiderate you're behaving. You're making a complete spectacle of yourself in front of the other passengers."

Without speaking a word or acknowledging my presence, she abruptly released her grip on the gadget, plopped it in into the cosmetics case, zipped it shut, stood up, and walked away.

Our exchange was not observed by any other passengers, and sometimes I ask myself if it actually occurred. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.

But I certainly did not imagine the "manners poster" I saw while taking the Tokyo Metro. From earlier this year the new series has adopted "Ie de yarou" (Please do it at home) as its catch phrase.

One such poster contains the largely unheeded plea for young women to refrain from applying their makeup on the trains.

The poster may have been prompted by an incident earlier in 2008, when an older woman, offended by the sight of fellow female applying her face on the platform of a station, admonished the younger woman. For her troubles, the woman received a retaliatory smack requiring medical treatment.

Psychologist Chikako Ogura chose to broach this topic in this week's Shukan Asahi (6/13).

"I can understand how this sight might anger grownups, who perceive it as undignified or a lapse of manners," she writes. "But any activity has a reason, and people become angry because they don't understand the reason... Some parents don't teach their children [proper manners] and these children go out into society without knowing anything."

Ogura theorizes that today's young people see good grooming as important for impressing one's peers and superiors, i.e., the purpose of a good appearance is to enhance one's livelihood. And because strangers do not contribute to this livelihood, in the minds of today's youth, they do not warrant any consideration. Which means it's okay to do whatever you want in front of them.

How times have changed. In the good old days, all the subways' manners posters had to contend with were people who forgot their umbrellas. (By Masuo Kamiyama, contributing writer)