Preacherman
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From the Telegraph, London (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/mai...mo17.xml&sSheet=/news/2003/05/17/ixworld.html):
Sumo patrols put fear of god into Tokyo criminals
By Colin Joyce
(Filed: 17/05/2003)
The dark streets of Haruecho, part of the sprawling Tokyo conurbation, echo to the sound of eight giant sumo wrestlers in tight formation.
In case anyone does not notice them coming, they shine torches into alleys and take turns to clap wooden blocks together in a traditional way of demanding attention.
After a hard day's training, the wrestlers joke and look relaxed, clad in track suits and slippers. The luminous sashes they wear declare their serious purpose: the wrestlers of the 250-year-old Isenoumi club are on crime patrol.
As Japanese fret over the rising crime in their once famously safe streets, the wrestlers have begun nightly patrols to reassure their neighbours and deter criminals. The initiative has been enthusiastically lauded by residents and the media.
Yukishige Isenoumi, the club master, said: "Japan is suffering not just rising crime but a rise in serious and violent crime. If we can help even a little, we want to." Sumo wrestlers have not, traditionally, been involved in any kind of policing. But the sport's governing body sees itself as the guardian of a way of life that is peculiarly Japanese.
Sumo is considered sacred to the Shinto religion and wrestlers are seen as the embodiment of strength, endurance and honesty.
Teams of two or more wrestlers patrol in shifts between 11pm and dawn. Their route takes them through the mostly residential streets of Haruecho, around the quarters where the wrestlers live, practise and eat. The Edogawa ward of Tokyo, in which Haruecho lies, has the highest incidence of serious crime in the capital.
The wrestlers are unarmed, but, as the police joke, they do not need to be: any criminal would run a mile. Because of fears that the wrestlers could injure or even kill a suspect if they employed any of their sumo skills, they are under orders to contact police if they see anything suspicious, not to "have a go". Mr Isenoumi said: "We have been amazed at people's reaction. I suppose it is because no one expects professional sportsmen to being doing such a thing."
Recorded cases of violent crime in Japan have more than doubled since 1997 and arrest rates have fallen.
But compared with inner-city London the streets around the Isenoumi club appear remarkably safe. There are no drug dealers and little graffiti, apart from the occasional profession of love. Solar panels powering the lights along the nearby river are undamaged and people clean up after their pets.
But residents are concerned about purse snatching, often carried out by youths on scooters, and bicycle theft.
It is hardly the kind of urban blight that led to the formation of the Guardian Angels in the Bronx area of New York in the 1970s.
Naoto Asasaka, the club manager, whose idea it was to start patrols, said: "We are primarily concerned with deterrence. It is too late once a serious crime has happened.
"If an area starts to look run down, with rubbish piled around and all the police signs kicked in, it becomes inviting to criminals.
So far the wrestlers have encountered nothing more serious than the occasional drunk, whom they encourage to go home. However, they meticulously note down the numbers of illegally parked cars and record any new graffiti.
On the night I joined them, their main job was to record the whereabouts of several discarded bicycles.
Some people looked shocked at the sight of eight huge wrestlers walking through the streets at night. Others called out "Otsukaresama" from a bar, a greeting which means "You must be tired" but is best translated as "Thanks for your efforts".
In another bar next to the sumo club, people discussed a magazine story that named their area as Tokyo's most dangerous. The mama-san, as women bar owners are called, said: "It is good what the wrestlers are doing. It is so reassuring."
Daisaku Shiraki, a middle-aged man who lives just outside the patrolled area, said: "The patrols are good. Crime is creeping up in Japan as the economy declines."
Patrols are stopped before and during sumo tournaments to allow the wrestlers to concentrate. Members of the club, such as the popular Tosanoumi, are competing in the May tournament in Tokyo. However, interest in sumo is waning, especially among young people, who see it as old-fashioned. Tickets to tournaments, which used to sell out in hours, often go unsold, even on big days.
The anti-crime patrols were also conceived as a way of reigniting interest in sumo and connecting with the public.
Mr Asasaka said: "I hope that what we are doing here will help revive the popularity of sumo. In summer we plan to have local children join us for walkabouts in the early evening so that they can meet the wrestlers.
"We also want them to grow up with a volunteer spirit and to take responsibility for their communities. We don't want people just to leave it up to us and think everything is all right."
Sumo patrols put fear of god into Tokyo criminals
By Colin Joyce
(Filed: 17/05/2003)
The dark streets of Haruecho, part of the sprawling Tokyo conurbation, echo to the sound of eight giant sumo wrestlers in tight formation.
In case anyone does not notice them coming, they shine torches into alleys and take turns to clap wooden blocks together in a traditional way of demanding attention.
After a hard day's training, the wrestlers joke and look relaxed, clad in track suits and slippers. The luminous sashes they wear declare their serious purpose: the wrestlers of the 250-year-old Isenoumi club are on crime patrol.
As Japanese fret over the rising crime in their once famously safe streets, the wrestlers have begun nightly patrols to reassure their neighbours and deter criminals. The initiative has been enthusiastically lauded by residents and the media.
Yukishige Isenoumi, the club master, said: "Japan is suffering not just rising crime but a rise in serious and violent crime. If we can help even a little, we want to." Sumo wrestlers have not, traditionally, been involved in any kind of policing. But the sport's governing body sees itself as the guardian of a way of life that is peculiarly Japanese.
Sumo is considered sacred to the Shinto religion and wrestlers are seen as the embodiment of strength, endurance and honesty.
Teams of two or more wrestlers patrol in shifts between 11pm and dawn. Their route takes them through the mostly residential streets of Haruecho, around the quarters where the wrestlers live, practise and eat. The Edogawa ward of Tokyo, in which Haruecho lies, has the highest incidence of serious crime in the capital.
The wrestlers are unarmed, but, as the police joke, they do not need to be: any criminal would run a mile. Because of fears that the wrestlers could injure or even kill a suspect if they employed any of their sumo skills, they are under orders to contact police if they see anything suspicious, not to "have a go". Mr Isenoumi said: "We have been amazed at people's reaction. I suppose it is because no one expects professional sportsmen to being doing such a thing."
Recorded cases of violent crime in Japan have more than doubled since 1997 and arrest rates have fallen.
But compared with inner-city London the streets around the Isenoumi club appear remarkably safe. There are no drug dealers and little graffiti, apart from the occasional profession of love. Solar panels powering the lights along the nearby river are undamaged and people clean up after their pets.
But residents are concerned about purse snatching, often carried out by youths on scooters, and bicycle theft.
It is hardly the kind of urban blight that led to the formation of the Guardian Angels in the Bronx area of New York in the 1970s.
Naoto Asasaka, the club manager, whose idea it was to start patrols, said: "We are primarily concerned with deterrence. It is too late once a serious crime has happened.
"If an area starts to look run down, with rubbish piled around and all the police signs kicked in, it becomes inviting to criminals.
So far the wrestlers have encountered nothing more serious than the occasional drunk, whom they encourage to go home. However, they meticulously note down the numbers of illegally parked cars and record any new graffiti.
On the night I joined them, their main job was to record the whereabouts of several discarded bicycles.
Some people looked shocked at the sight of eight huge wrestlers walking through the streets at night. Others called out "Otsukaresama" from a bar, a greeting which means "You must be tired" but is best translated as "Thanks for your efforts".
In another bar next to the sumo club, people discussed a magazine story that named their area as Tokyo's most dangerous. The mama-san, as women bar owners are called, said: "It is good what the wrestlers are doing. It is so reassuring."
Daisaku Shiraki, a middle-aged man who lives just outside the patrolled area, said: "The patrols are good. Crime is creeping up in Japan as the economy declines."
Patrols are stopped before and during sumo tournaments to allow the wrestlers to concentrate. Members of the club, such as the popular Tosanoumi, are competing in the May tournament in Tokyo. However, interest in sumo is waning, especially among young people, who see it as old-fashioned. Tickets to tournaments, which used to sell out in hours, often go unsold, even on big days.
The anti-crime patrols were also conceived as a way of reigniting interest in sumo and connecting with the public.
Mr Asasaka said: "I hope that what we are doing here will help revive the popularity of sumo. In summer we plan to have local children join us for walkabouts in the early evening so that they can meet the wrestlers.
"We also want them to grow up with a volunteer spirit and to take responsibility for their communities. We don't want people just to leave it up to us and think everything is all right."
