Putting the Mafia to Shame

Putting the heat on the sons of samurai bandits

To most Japanese, the yakuza are as instantly recognizable as soldiers in an enemy army. They wear their hair in crew cuts, parade about in flashy double-breasted suits, and affect the swaggering gait and tough-guy scowl of characters out of Guys and Dolls. They are the gangster minority in a society that enjoys the lowest crime rate of any industrialized nation in the world (violent crime actually decreased by one-third in Japan over the past 15 years). But unlike mobsters of the West, Japan's yakuza (good-for-nothings) are part of a chivalric tradition that dates back to the 17th century, when unemployed samurai turned to Robin Hood-style banditry. Even today the yakuza like to think of themselves as romantic outlaws, bound together by a blood oath of loyalty, who never harm the innocent.

Until the past few years, some Japanese, out of respect for tradition, more or less shared that charitable view of their society's organized-crime element. At least the public generally tolerated known mobsters within their communities. But no longer. Public opinion has been aroused as never before against the hoods. Premier Takeo Fukuda has called for a crackdown, and across Japan police are unleashing "Operation Bulldozer"--a kind of psy-war harassment, Japanese-style--against the nation's 2,500 yakuza bands and their 110,000 members.

What turned the heat on the sons of the samurai bandits was an unprecedented outbreak of warfare among the gangs. Six yakuza have been killed and 34 wounded since the first of the year in gun battles that terrorized whole communities. Worse, one innocent bystander and two police officers were wounded in gross violation of the ancient code. According to police undercover agents, the warfare erupted because of the waning health and authority of Crime Czar Kazuo Taoka, 64, leader of the 11,000-member Yamaguchi-gumi, the biggest yakuza gang in the country.

Like his competitors, Taoka gained his donhood by organizing dock workers and setting up legitimate businesses, behind which flourish such illegal activities as gambling, prostitution and extortion. His estimated net revenues last year: $10 million. But Taoka, who is suffering from a heart condition, is no longer strong enough to prevent his fiery young lieutenants from trying to expand Yamaguchi-gumi power into territories held by rival yakuza. As the suspected aggressors in the internecine gangland warfare, Tao-ka's organization has been selected by police as their primary target in the cleanup. Says Seitaro Asanuma, director general of the National Police Agency: "Not until Yamaguchi-gumi is smashed to pieces will the nation accept the sincerity of our police organization."

That is a task the police have been trying vainly to accomplish for years. Last year the cops jailed no fewer than 2,000 of Taoka's men for brief periods. "But," admits Masaru Sawada, the policeman who commanded the operation, "kicking them endlessly in the seat of the pants didn't work." The sudden turn-around in public opinion just may. The citizens of Kobe have already held three mass demonstrations, chanting "Down with the yakuza!" Taoka's men, according to police, were stunned by such a massive outburst of hostility after years of public passivity. Some of them have even given up their lives of crime under the rising social pressure. To tempt the yakuza toward rehabilitation, Sawada is asking businessmen to hire repentant mobsters. So far he has found jobs for 80.

In Osaka, the police and public are cooperating in the same strategy of calculated humiliation. Local activists have picketed known gang headquarters. Landlords have tried to evict mobster tenants. For their part, the police have been summoning gang leaders to appear at the police station for tongue-lashings in an effort to shame them into giving up crime. "We are trying to change the waters the gangsters swim in," said a police officer. Perhaps the most devastating weapon the communities wield against the yakuza is social ostracism. Parents tell their children not to play with those of the gangsters; shop owners and wives snub the families of the yakuza.

For their part, the gangsters still seek to defend themselves as a traditional part of society. Speaking last week in the outskirts of Kobe under the eyes of police guards, one local gang boss out on bail defiantly described the yakuza as "lotus flowers on a sea of mud." Said he: "We're flotsam of society, but we're dedicated to our own code of honor at the cost of our own lives. If I as a boss didn't control my boys, the city would be worse off--call us a necessary social evil." Increasingly, it appears, the Japanese consider them evil --but no longer necessary.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.