On patrol in the streets of Tokyo Guardian Angels: In one of the most famously crime-free nations in the world, the Japanese Angels have spent their first few months battling public bewilderment more than crime.

Sun Journal

August 17, 1996|By LOS ANGELES TIMES

TOKYO -- It's 2 a.m., and four young Guardian Angels trot in tight formation through the deserted streets of a Tokyo neighborhood wearing combat boots, military fatigues and the group's trademark red berets.

Suddenly, the screeching of wheels breaks the silence. Then -- ++ bang! -- something explodes, and everyone dives for cover. Was that a gunshot? A bomb? After a few more sharp bursts accompanied by the titters of teen-agers, the Angels relax: "Firecrackers," mutters one as he returns to his feet.

The Guardian Angels, famous league of civilian crime fighters, have come to one of the most famously crime-free nations in the world -- last year Japan recorded 1,236 homicides, compared with 1,182 in New York City alone. The question is: Now what?

"We do what we can here in Tokyo," 24-year-old chapter director Keiji Oda says in the Brooklyn-accented English he picked up during several years with New York's Guardian Angels. He founded the Tokyo chapter of the nonprofit group in February.

Japan's Angels admit they have spent their first few months battling public bewilderment more than crime.

"We're used to getting stared at," 22-year-old Takashi Murakami says as he patrols a trendy shopping district in the capital.

But the Japanese Angels take their jobs seriously.

They patrol Tokyo's subways and streets Thursday through Sunday in the afternoons and nights, communicating on $3,000 walkie-talkies donated by Motorola, and they use hand signals and code names such as Snoopy and Penny.

The rest of the week they meet in a park near their headquarters to practice self-defense techniques and first aid.

On a recent Saturday night they walked an entertainment district until nearly 4 a.m., picking up trash, ripping down pornographic posters and looking after drunken teens curled up like question marks on the pavement. Pedestrians -- even police officers -- looked on and scratched their heads.

Although the Japanese Angels have yet to see the kind of action familiar to their New York and Los Angeles counterparts, they already boast a few Japanese-style success stories.

They have rescued sauced "salary-men" who have stumbled onto train tracks, and driven off teen-age motorcycle gangs hogging public sidewalks. They've stopped kids from covering public bathrooms with graffiti, and intervened when they've seen women being roughed up by boyfriends.

"When people see a guy fighting with his girl, nobody will do anything about it -- not even look at them -- because they think it's none of their business," Oda says. "Japanese communities haven't been taken over by criminals; they've been taken over by apathy."

Oda said he thinks that such attitudes could someday give rise to the level of crime found in the United States. So the Japanese Angels have made indifference -- and the reluctance of Japanese to stand out from the crowd -- Public Enemy No. 1.

Oda grew up behind his parent's kimono shop on the northern island of Hokkaido before going to the United States as a student. His college roommate introduced him to the Guardian Angels in Boston. Oda liked it so much he wound up spending more than five years with the group in Boston and New York.

He decided to establish the Angels in Tokyo last year after witnessing the slow government response to last year's Kobe earthquake and, later, the ease with which the Aum Supreme Truth cult apparently carried out its subway attack.

Some Japanese are beginning to take note. The news media are starting to pay attention, although a couple of stories have portrayed the Angels as garbage collectors with an attitude. Local governments around the country also are starting to call Oda to seek his advice on how to set up their own anti-crime patrols or, in some cases, how to handle local crime problems.

The few Tokyoites who recognize the Guardian Angels seem happy to have them around.

"I definitely feel like there is more crime around here nowadays," says 50-year-old Taeko Saito, selling cigarettes and candy in a small kiosk. "I feel safer knowing a group like the Guardian Angels is here."

Government statistics show that while the overall crime rate in Japan is falling, the number of violent crimes is rising. According to the National Police Agency, the number of homicides rose 4 percent from 1993 to 1994, and in 1995 police confiscated a record 1,833 guns, persuading police to take the rare step of asking for 3,500 more officers.

The Angels are afraid of treading too heavily on police department turf and have been working hard to establish a rapport with officers. The Angels begin each patrol with a crisp salute to the officers stationed on the group's route; the officers occasionally return an amused half-salute, although often they stare back with indifference.

The Angels regularly drop by police stations to chat and pass along information. "You don't see New York City cops and Guardian Angels exchanging information like this," Oda says.

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