I learned a lot about Japan on my trip there -- the legal system, the Tokyo subway, the easiest way to apologize. But as I gather my thoughts about it, the first things I want to say are what I learned about my own country -- and more specifically, about American jurors -- by traveling to another place. Three things stand out:
Not knowing is stressful
There was an odd duality to my time in Japan. At one level, I was there to deliver a talk about juror stress in America, and I was always rehearsing it in my head. Jurors feel stress at every turn, I planned to say, in large part because they don't know. The courthouse is in an unfamiliar neighborhood, they don't know where to park, they don't know where to have lunch. And, more substantively, they don't feel sure of the law they're supposed to apply, what the burden of proof means, whether they're allowed to fill in the gaps. Most jurors feel a strong responsibility to do a good job, and it's difficult to face this responsibility when there's so much you don't know.
At another level, even as I went over these points in my mind, I was living them. I like to think I'm a comfortable traveler, but there was so much I didn't know in Japan. Everything was backward: they drive on the left, turn keys to the left, pull the hotel bathroom door open instead of pushing. A huge number of street signs were only in characters. There were dishes on the breakfast buffet I couldn't identify even after I ate them. I got lost for over an hour, hopelessly turned around on the map, working my way back to the hotel by asking two-word questions of every uniformed person I saw. (Luckily, Tokyo has a lot of uniformed people.)
I've never been a real juror, and I probably never will be. But in the unfamiliarity of Tokyo, I felt a little like one. And what helped me? Two of the same things, I realized, that I was planning to explain that American judges and lawyers use to help jurors get their bearings: information and kindness. I found a better map, waiters and those uniformed strangers all tried to guide me, and my Japanese hosts patiently answered all my questions. The whole experience gave depth to the ideas I was formulating about the stress jurors feel, and how to help them.
Reject stereotypes
I had been told that the Japanese would assent to any opinion; that there would be long silences in conversation; that protocol was paramount. I'm sure there's a basis for these ideas about Japan, but the people I met showed that, like all stereotypes, these are misleading. The Japanese lawyers, scholars, and journalist I talked to were informal, voluble, and had strong opinions. The etiquette rules I had read about were flexible and even useful as we talked. (I had read you're always supposed to comment on the other person's business card, for example. In fact my Japanese hosts did this -- and I started to do it too, once I realized it's an automatic starter topic for a conversation with a new acquaintance.) Stereotypes are always at least partly wrong.
Jurors believe in juries
As I prepared my talk on the stresses jurors face and the ways courts and lawyers try to help them, it was clear that American approaches to juror stress are insufficient. Even the best-managed court system can't fully protect jurors from confusion, angry deliberations, and horrible evidence. So why, the Japanese wanted to know, do American jurors continue to serve, when jury service can be so difficult? I was reading studies and juror blog posts for the answer, and it was clear. Partly because they have to, yes, but in large part because they are proud to.
Americans widely believe that the voice of the citizen in the courtroom is important. In the big Harris Interactive poll on juries in January, half of respondents said they would trust a jury more than a judge to render a fair verdict, while only 23% said they would trust a judge over a jury. (The rest were unsure.) Juror blogs and the juror questionnaires I've seen repeat this theme often; juror after juror says it will be inconvenient to serve, but it's a civic duty they recognize and value. The Japanese aren't sure that Japanese jurors will share this feeling.
It sounds sentimental, but it made me feel lucky, and all the more grateful for my trip to Japan.
(My photo of the Imperial Palace grounds in Tokyo; Creative Commons license.)
