My friend Naoki has a new strategy when it comes to getting dates; these days he says the best bet is to kusuguru (¤¯¤¹¤°¤ë, tickle, or appeal to) a woman¡¯s sense of aikokushin (Û¹úÐÄ, patriotism).
This seems like a risky undertaking, considering that aikoku (Û¹ú, love for one¡¯s country) used to be a dirty word.?Back in the 20th century, the combination of the kanji characters ai (Û, love) and koku (¹ú, country) immediately alerted one to the presence of uyoku (ÓÒÒí, right wingers), which meant the yakuza (¥ä¥¯¥¶, gangsters) couldn¡¯t be far behind. Normal, law-abiding young women professed zero interest in anything remotely wa (ºÍ, specifically Japanese) and poured their energies into procuring Italian handbags.
Before minshu shugi (ÃñÖ÷Ö÷Áx, democracy) set in, ch¨±kun aikoku (ÖÒ¾ýÛ¹ú, loyalty to the emperor and love for Japan) was hammered into each and every kokumin (¹úÃñ, Japanese citizen). Among other things, it encouraged zettai ´Ú³Ü°ì³ÜÂᨱ (½~Œ·þ¾, absolute obedience) to power and authority. After World War II, the Allied Occupation put a rapid stop to that, and aikoku was replaced by kojin-shugi (‚€ÈËÖ÷Áx, individualism) which implied among other things, that it was best to keep one¡¯s national identity under wraps. Admitting to one¡¯s Japaneseness came with a pretty heavy burden, having to do with buryoku (ÎäÁ¦, armed force), haisen (”¡‘é, defeat) and kutsujoku (ÇüÈè, humiliation).

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