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Finalists
E03 Cheryl Ong
Is anything done in the name of patriotism permissible as long as it is politically correct?
TSUJITA Masanori, Social Commentator and Contemporary Historian
At the National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo, the modern art exhibition “Does the Future Sleep Here?” has been held since March 12.
With the collection of art pieces that Matsukata Kojiro, then president of Kawasaki Dockyard Co., Ltd., had amassed from across Europe during the First World War as its foundation, the NMWA was opened in 1959. This collection included a large number of famous works such as Monet’s “Water Lilies” and Rodin’s “The Thinker”. In bringing these bona fide works of Western art back with him to Japan, Matsukata had intended to provide young artists with inspiration. Now, 65 years since the museum’s opening, how would modern artists respond? This exhibition was an enthusiastic effort built upon a line of thinking in this vein.
However, the exhibition became a topic of conversation in an entirely unexpected way. On March 11, at the press-exclusive private viewing of the exhibition, Iiyama Yuki, one of the artists whose work is being featured, organised a protest demonstration against “the Israeli government’s current Palestinian genocide”. Since the demonstration was in contravention of the official programme, there was even the fuss of a police mobilisation.
The artists’ assertion was this: Matsukata Kojiro had acquired art pieces using funds obtained during the First World War in a climate of wartime prosperity and furthermore, the motivation for this had been his conviction to raise the standards of Japanese art after having seen exceptional nationalistic propaganda posters in England. Those origins cannot be forgotten.
In addition, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, Ltd., successor to Kawasaki Dockyard Co., Ltd., is currently attempting to import drones from Israel for sale to the Ministry of Defense. This amounts to complicity in genocide. As the company is one of its official partners, the NMWA should be putting pressure on it to cease its import of weapons.
Last night, the art museum became a stage for political performance. There have also been incidents overseas where exhibits were targeted by environmental activists. Since these have been effective internationally, the actions of the likes of Iiyama Yuki have quickly racked up support on social media.
Indeed, their concerns are understandable. In light of the special exhibition’s objective, it’s reasonable that the Matsukata Collection’s history would become a point of focus. There can also be no objection to their message that genocide should be opposed.
At the same time, the appropriateness of such guerilla protest tactics, the subject of the protest and Iiyama’s closely-linked works need to be examined separately. For instance, can we go as far as saying that the import of drones amounts to complicity in genocide? Are we not forcing narratives to give our protests prominence?
In short, the point is that political correctness is not the only criterion of assessment. The skill of expression, the depth of the investigation, the broadness of the appeal. There are many other criteria. This is not necessarily a disavowal of political correctness. However, rigidly affirming anything as long as it is politically correct, like saying that anything done in the name of patriotism is permissible, runs the risk of taking the pronouncement too lightly.
However, in this instance, those with such opinions have been condemned as undermining the protest efforts. Their conduct has been made out to be that of Japanese artists who lack understanding of global trends.
Is that really the case? It would only be too easy to reduce everything in politics to, “Are you for or against? If you’re not for me, you’re against me.” Is that not what has been perpetuated here as well? The proof is in the number of people who have overlooked what is at the heart of the exhibition and piled on with their criticisms.
This writer went to see the exhibition on its opening day. At this moment it has yet to make waves in the way the controversial Aichi Triennale 2019 had. Nonetheless, it seems that art museums will continue to stir up political uproars. When that happens, in order not to get swept up in the popular opinion, adopting a non-political lens will be indispensable. The exhibition will run until May 12. Please give these things some thought once you have made your way to the exhibition site and seen it for yourself.
E18 Taylor Piper
Does Political Stance Grant Patriotic Innocence?
By Masanori Tsujita, Social Commentator and Modern History Researcher
On March 12th, the special contemporary art exhibition titled Does the Future Sleep Here? opened at the National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo.
The NMWA opened in 1959, founded upon a core gallery of artworks collected by Kojiro Matsukata, who served as Kawasaki Dockyard Company’s first president. The collection was purchased primarily in Europe during World War I and is home to an impressive number of masterpieces, including Monet’s Water Lilies and Rodin’s The Thinker. Matsukata hoped that bringing authentic pieces of Western art like these back to Japan would inspire future generations of young artists. The question is, how will today’s contemporary artists respond to that dream 65 years after the museum first opened? This special exhibition is an ambitious endeavor designed with that very question at its core.
The exhibition caused a stir in an unexpected fashion. During the press preview of the gallery on March 11th, a group of featured artists, led by Yuki Iiyama, staged a protest in opposition to the Israeli government’s ongoing genocide in Palestine. As the protest itself was unannounced, the disturbance it caused resulted in police being dispatched to the scene.
The protestors’ assertions were thus: First, the roots of Kojiro Matsukata’s collection should not be forgotten. Not only did he use the wealth he amassed as a direct result of World War I’s booming shipbuilding industry to purchase his collection, but it was the patriotic propaganda posters he saw in Britain that spurred him to do so. The superior caliber of art he saw on those posters made him realize that he needed to elevate Japan’s standard of art as well.
Next, Kawasaki Dockyard Company’s successor, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, is currently importing drones from Israel to try to sell to the Japanese Ministry of Defense. This means they’re complicit in genocide. Finally, the NMWA should move to stop Kawasaki Heavy Industries, which is an official partner of the museum, from importing Israeli weapons.
Art museums have become stages for political demonstrations in recent years, including incidents where environmental activists targeted specific displays directly. Since the actions of Iiyama’s group were in line with those of the wider global movement, support of the protest quickly poured in via social media.
Suddenly, it’s easy to understand the protestors’ frame of mind: In light of the goal of the special exhibition, the history of the Matsukata Collection is naturally pulled into focus. There couldn’t possibly be any objection to their central statement that they oppose genocide.
At the same time, the legitimacy of their assertions, which have close ties to Iiyama’s featured works, needs to be examined separately from the unannounced manner in which the protest was conducted. For instance, can they say for certain that importing drones makes someone an accomplice to genocide? Or are they forcing a narrative in order to drive their message home?
In short, what I want to say here is that political stance is not the only metric we have to judge the information we’re presented with. How eloquently that information is conveyed, how extensively it was researched, and how widely it appeals to an audience are just a few of the additional criteria we can consider. This is not to say that political stance should be disregarded entirely, but rather that unwavering endorsement of only what aligns with your perspective is analogous to claiming patriotic innocence and could lead to your statement being brushed aside.
Incidentally, cautionary words like these were criticized for distracting from the protests, said to be the type of response typical of Japanese creatives who are ignorant of the current state of the world.
Is that really true? Politics has a terrible habit of boiling everything down to making allies of those who agree with you and enemies of those who don’t, and I believe that’s precisely what happened here. The large number of people who participated in the dogpiling without even seeing the exhibition in question first are proof of that.
I went to see the exhibition on its opening day. As of this writing, it hasn’t drawn the same level of outrage as the 2019 Aichi Triennale, but I doubt this will be the last time an art museum plays host to a political demonstration. When that next time comes, it will be critical to consider metrics beyond the political in order to avoid having your opinions swayed. The exhibition runs until May 12th. I encourage you to take a stroll around the exhibit hall and think for yourself.
E48 Jordan Rosman
Can the politically correct do no wrong?
Commentator, modern historian Masanori Tsujita
The modern art exhibition Does the Future Sleep Here? opened at The National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo on the 12th of March.
The NMWA opened its doors in 1959, exhibiting pieces from the collection of Kōjirō Matsukata, including such famous works as Monet’s Water Lilies and Rodin’s The Thinker. Matsukata acquired the bulk of his collection while working as president of Kawasaki Dockyards during World War I, so he could bring original works of Western art to Japan to inspire the next generation of artists. And so this bold new exhibition asks contemporary artists to speak to Matsukata’s original intentions, 65 years on from the opening of the NMWA.
The exhibition has entered public discourse for other reasons, however. At a media preview on the 11th of March, Yuki Iiyama and other exhibiting artists staged a protest at against ‘Israel’s current genocide of Palestinians’. The police even ended up intervening, as the artists did not disclose their plans in advance.
I will paraphrase their argument: ‘Kōjirō Matsukata bought the pieces in his collection by war profiteering during the First World War. Furthermore, the reason he started collecting art in the first place was because he was inspired by pro-English propaganda posters and thought Japanese artists should aspire to that level. We can’t forget that.
‘Moreover, Kawasaki Heavy Industries (KHI), the renamed Kawasaki Dockyards, imports drones from Israel to sell to the Ministry of Defence. This makes KHI, one of the NMWA’s official partners, complicit in mass murder. The museum should be putting pressure on them to stop the import of weapons.’
In recent times art museums have become a stage for political performances, by climate activists and the like. Because they are well suited for international movements in particular, Iiyama and her allies have quickly gained traction on social media.
Their concerns are understandable. It makes sense to use this exhibition specifically to shine a light on the history of Matsukata’s collection, and I can’t imagine anyone would disagree with the idea that you should oppose mass murder.
Having said that, we can critique her tactics as someone who colludes with other artists to stage disruptive protests. But we must do this without attacking her exhibition piece. For one, can we really say that importing drones makes a company complicit in genocide? It seems like they are just forging a narrative aimed at furthering their agenda.
All this to say, political correctness is not the only measure of quality. There is also command of language, scientific rigour, and mass appeal, to name a few. That doesn’t mean that political correctness is not also a factor. But if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. And if the only thing you consider is political correctness, then everything looks politically incorrect. If you can get away with attacking anything for being politically incorrect, it risks undermining people’s expression.
But if you try to say this, it opens you up to abuse by people who think you are hurting the movement. After all, isn’t it just typical of a Japanese artist to have no idea what’s happening in the rest of the world?
I don’t know about that. Politics makes it easy to reduce everything into a matter of whether you are for or against something, and if you are against it you are the enemy. That seems to be what is happening here. The number of people ignoring the point of the exhibition to add to the pile-on is testament to that.
I attended the exhibition on its opening day. While this case hasn’t induced the same level of outrage as that of the Aichi Triennial 2019, chances are it won’t be the last political controversy to befall an art museum. It is crucial that we consider factors outside of politics, if we want to avoid simply following the herd. Does the Future Sleep Here? is showing until the 12th of May. I hope you can make it, and decide what you think for yourself.
E64 James Banbridge
Is political correctness exempt from criticism?
Masanori Tsujita, social commentator and modern history researcher
On March 12th, the National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo, launched a special exhibition, titled “Does the Future Sleep Here?”
The NMWA was founded in 1959 by Kojiro Matsukata, the former president of Kawasaki Dockyard. Originally established to house his extensive collection of artworks—most of which he acquired in Europe during World War I—the museum boasts a plethora of iconic works, from Monet’s Water Lilies to Rodin’s The Thinker. Matsukata hoped that by introducing his assortment of Western artwork to Japan he would inspire the next generation of artists. 65 years later, this special exhibition sets out to explore how the creative minds of today have lived up to his expectations.
The exhibition, however, has made headlines for other reasons. During a press preview on March 11th, a group led by exhibiting artist Yuki Iiyama staged a protest against “the Israeli government’s ongoing genocide against Palestinians.” The unannounced nature of the demonstration caused a commotion, leading to police involvement.
The demonstrators brought two issues to the forefront: the first being the origins of the NMWA. Kojiro Matsukata, encouraged by nationalist propaganda posters in the UK and wanting to improve the standards of art in Japan, purchased artwork for his collection with money earned during the war boom of World War I.
The second issue raised was that Kawasaki Dockyard’s successor, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, is currently importing drones from Israel and selling them to the Ministry of Defence, implying their complicity in genocide. Iiyama argues that the NMWA should urge Kawasaki Heavy Industries, an official partner of the museum, to cease their import of weapons.
In recent years, art museums have become somewhat of a stage for political performances, with exhibitions being targeted by groups such as environmental activists. Iiyama’s actions immediately sparked positive reception on social media, as her message aligned with ongoing protests worldwide.
It’s evident that Iiyama and her group are deeply passionate about their cause. Examining the history of the Matsukata Collection is certainly on theme for the exhibition, and I doubt anyone would disagree with the overall sentiment of anti-genocide.
At the same time, it shouldn’t be taboo to critique the ways in which Iiyama conducted her unannounced protest. Onlookers should be able to judge her exhibits, as they provide context to her activism. For instance, is it acceptable to accuse a company of complicity in genocide simply for importing drones? Could it be that she is creating her own narrative in order to draw attention to her cause?
My personal view is that political correctness should not be the only lens through which we evaluate one’s argument. We must also consider other metrics—such as articulation, depth of research, or persuasiveness. This is not a critique of being politically correct; rather, it’s an observation of its shortcomings. Activists who hide behind a shield of political correctness for validation often mirror extreme nationalists who wield patriotism like a weapon—in both cases, their claims lack substance.
However, those with a more nuanced perspective on Iiyama’s protest have been accused of diverting attention from the real issues at hand, much like Japanese artists who remain blissfully ignorant of international topics.
But is that a fair assessment? In today’s political climate, it has become incredibly easy to label those with differing views as enemies, and I believe that is what’s happening here. The sheer number of people attacking the NMWA without taking the time to engage with the exhibition itself is a clear indication of this trend.
I had the opportunity to visit the exhibit in question on its opening day. As of writing, it hasn’t yet attracted an internet hate mob to the extent of the Aichi Triennale 2019. Nonetheless, I expect to see more displays of activism at art museums in the future. When they inevitably occur, rather than getting swept up in the moment, we ought to consider frameworks besides politics and evaluate each claim based on its own merits. The special exhibition is open until May 12th, and I highly encourage you to visit and form your own opinion.
Runner-up
E45 Alyssa Weldon
Does Political Correctness Grant Patriotic Immunity?
Masanori Tsujita, critic and modern history researcher
The National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo opened its doors March 12th for a contemporary art exhibition titled “Does the Future Sleep Here?”
The NMWA was established in 1959 based on the art collection of former Kawasaki Dockyard President Kojiro Matsukata. The museum houses several famous works he acquired primarily during World War I, such as Monet’s Water Lilies and Rodin’s The Thinker. Matsukata brought original Western art to Japan out of a desire to inspire young artists. The question now, 65 years after the museum’s opening, is how contemporary artists respond to his vision. The exhibition is an ambitious initiative designed with this idea at its core.
However, the exhibition caused an unexpected stir. At a media preview on March 11th, participating artist Yuki Iiyama and others held a demonstration protesting the genocide currently being carried out by the Israeli government in Palestine. The unscheduled event resulted in a police response.
The heart of the issue rested with the collection’s history. Kojiro Matsukata bought up the artwork using the funds he had acquired during the economic boom of World War I. Moreover, his motivation for the purchase stemmed from the belief that the quality of Japanese art needed improvement, impressed as he was by the remarkable propaganda posters he caught sight of in England. We must not forget that this is the origin of Matsukata’s collection.
Furthermore, the successor of Kawasaki Dockyard, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, is trying to import drones from Israel to sell to the Ministry of Defense in Japan. This amounts to complicity in slaughter. It is essential for NWMA to pressure the company, an official partner of the museum, to end the transport of weapons.
Recently, museums have become theaters for political performances, with exhibitions targeted by environmental and other activists. Many on social media were quick to raise their voices in support of Iiyama and her fellow artists, as their actions align with international movements.
Indeed, the artists’ awareness of these issues is commendable. Focusing on the history of the Matsukata collection certainly addresses the objective of the exhibition. A message against genocide does not invite disagreement.
On the other hand, the merits of Iiyama’s displayed works, closely linked to the method of the sudden protest and its message, must be examined separately. For instance, is it acceptable to equate the import of drones to complicity in massacre? Is she not forcibly creating a narrative in order to call attention to the protest?
To put it simply, the point I am trying to make is that political correctness is not the only measure of evaluation. There are many other criteria, such as quality of expression, thoroughness of research, and breadth of appeal. I say this not to disavow political correctness, but to point out that blindly affirming something that is politically correct is akin to affirming patriotic immunity, which could lead to undervaluing expression.
However, these opinions were lambasted as undermining protests—that this was behavior typical of Japanese artists, who are unaware of global trends.
Is this really the case? Politics tends to reduce issues into “you’re either with us, or against us.” Perhaps this same negative tendency has manifested in this exhibition. The large number of people who shared their criticism without even seeing the exhibition in question is evidence enough of that.
I went to see the exhibit on the first day it opened. So far it has not evoked as much online criticism as Aichi Triennale 2019; however, political incidents are certain to occur at museums in the future. It is important to have standards detached from politics in order to avoid being swept away by prevailing sentiments. The exhibit is open until May 12th, so I invite you to visit and form your own opinions.
Winner
E53 Matthew Sueda
Is Political Correctness Akin to ‘Patriotic Immunity’?
TSUJITA Masanori, Cultural Critic | Modern History Scholar
The National Museum of Western Art (NMWA) in Ueno, Tokyo has been hosting a special exhibition of contemporary art titled “Does the Future Sleep Here?” since March 12.
The NMWA opened in 1959, showcasing a collection of art primarily acquired in Europe during World War I by Kojiro Matsukata, the former president of Kawasaki Dockyard. The museum’s collection houses iconic masterpieces like Monet’s Waterlilies and Rodin’s The Thinker. It is said that Matsukata brought these fine examples of Western art to Japan with the hope of inspiring young artists in his homeland. So, how might contemporary artists engage with Matsukata’s legacy and mission today, 65 years after the museum’s opening? “Does the Future Sleep Here?” is an ambitious experiment, premised on this line of inquiry.
The exhibition made headlines, albeit in an unexpected way, when Yuki Iiyama and other exhibiting artists staged a protest at a media preview on March 11, denouncing what they described as the “genocide currently being committed by the Israeli government in Palestine.” The unprecedented nature of the demonstration caused considerable commotion, even prompting police intervention.
The demonstrators argued that Kojiro Matsukata amassed his art collection using capital generated from the military economic boom during World War I. Furthermore, his initial motivation for collecting the art stemmed from seeing the exceptional quality of patriotic propaganda posters in the United Kingdom, convincing him that Japan’s art standards needed to be elevated as well. The provenance of this collection, they insisted, must not be forgotten.
In addition, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, the successor to Kawasaki Dockyard, is currently importing drones from Israel and attempting to sell them to Japan’s Ministry of Defense. To do so, they argued, is to be party to genocide. Thus, the demonstrators contended that the NMWA should urge its official partner, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, to cease importing weapons.
Lately, art museums have increasingly become venues for political demonstration, with exhibitions being targeted by environmental activists and other groups. In keeping with this broader international trend, Iiyama and her peers quickly garnered support on social media for their actions.
I understand their desire to problematize and question; their concerns are clear. In light of the exhibition’s theme, it is only natural to focus on the origins of the Matsukata collection. There should be no objection to their message of opposing genocide.
On the other hand, the merits of Iiyama’s exhibited work, which is closely linked to the content of the protest, must be considered separately from the abrupt manner in which the protest itself was conducted. That is, can we confidently equate the import of drones with complicity in mass murder? Or could it be said that Iiyama is warping the narrative in order to add weight to her appeal?
In other words, what I wish to convey is that political correctness should not be the sole measure of evaluation used here. Many other criteria deserve consideration, such as the skill of expression, the rigor of investigation, and the degree of appeal of the message. This is not to deny the importance of political correctness; rather, I am suggesting that the categorical affirmation of actions solely because they are politically correct risks losing sight of the intrinsic value of expression itself. This approach resembles a particular brand of ‘patriotic immunity,’ where actions aligned with a ‘greater good’ are shielded from critique.
Nonetheless, on this occasion, such opinions faced backlash because they were seen as detracting from the protest activities. Critics labeled them as tone-deaf and ignorant of global affairs.
Is that really the case? Politics often reduces issues to a binary choice of “for or against,” where “you’re either with us or against us.” Isn’t it the same sort of destructive tendency rearing its head again here? The evidence lies in the large number of people who participated in the political bashing without having actually seen the all-important exhibit.
I attended the exhibition on its opening day. So far, there hasn’t been a major firestorm like the freedom of expression controversy that occurred during the 2019 Aichi Triennale. Nevertheless, it is likely that we will continue to witness political commotion at art museums in the future. To avoid being swept up in the moment, it is essential to consider criteria that extend beyond politics. “Does the Future Sleep Here?” runs until May 12, and I encourage you to visit the venue and judge for yourself.