II
There are many varieties of strikes, but in essentials they do not differ. When a general strike of longshoremen and harbour workers took place in Hokkaido, it meant that the city of Otaru was completely cut off from all supplies. Thereupon the Young Men’s Association came out and transported necessities “for the sake of the citizens.” And in Korea, in Genzan, during the transport workers’ strike the same thing happened. If a strike occurred in an ammunition factory when war clouds were on the horizon, “for the sake of the country” (whose country we know all too well) the strikers would be silenced for good and all. The great street-car strike in Tokyo was no exception. Quite apart from the causes leading up to the dispute on both sides, when 4,000,000 citizens were stranded, you could not just dismiss it by saying, “If they want to fight, let them have it out,” and so the whole city started writhing and like an old man in the throes of a seizure.
When a car drew up in front of Shinjuku Station, a crowd like an army of ants would surround it in no time. Office workers, who had to be at their offices by ten minutes to nine, kept pulling out their watches and scowling in exasperation as they mingled with the crowds: “This is outrageous. They’re free to strike, but I wish they’d do it so as not to inconvenience others.”
The sight of those damned yen-taxis gliding past was even more offensive that usual to these hard-up
