The ‘Beauty’ of Male Circumcision in Japan: Gender,Sexuality and the Male Body in a Medical Practice

Introduction

This article presents an aspect of ongoing research exploring male circumcision in Japan. Grounded in the ‘social semiotics of gender’ (Connell, 1995: 65), the essay explores the social construction of male circumcision in Japanese media and academic reports, which encompass the main source of information for those considering the procedure. Circumcision is still unusual among newborn babies; it has never been mandatory and most adult male circumcisions take place at beauty and aesthetic clinics. Although the actual number of circumcised men is unknown, ‘the popularity of circumcision among young men is apparent by the number of new clinics opening up with this as a speciality’ (Miller, 2004: 94). Therefore, this article proposes that the construct of ‘the beauty of male circumcision’ be used to refer to male circumcision as a plastic surgery – rather than a prophylactic measure – undertaken to meet ‘beauty’ concerns and enhance the sense of masculinity of Japanese men. Having the foreskin removed is part of a Japanese sexual culture of beauté that conveys sexual recreation within the commodification of the male body and a phallocentric gender regime.

In disentangling the Japanese culture underpinning male circumcision, this essay attempts to ‘theorize sexuality’ (Jackson and Scott, 2010) to cast light on how the medical procedure has been integrated into everyday sexual behaviour and located within general patterns of sociality. In doing so, the notion of ‘script’ (Gagnon and Simon, 2005: 13) helps explore how texts and images of male circumcision produce a reading of the male body in relation to the foreskin to highlight that this specific piece of flesh produces a gendered and sexualised male body. The exploration underlines how circumcised and non-circumcised male bodies relate to each other and the implications of such relationships for the female body. This assists with understanding the outcome of these relationships in terms of sexual behaviour, gender and hierarchy.

The idea of hierarchy brings about debates on the phallus in relation to the social semiotics of gender: ‘the phallus is master signifier, and femininity is symbolically defined by lack’ (Connell, 1995: 65). Hierarchy in relation to male circumcision implies, moreover, diversity and hegemony in the relationships between circumcised and uncircumcised men because the minor surgery is constructed as a strategy to develop a male body that makes the individual ‘feel safe, respected, [and] in control’ (Bordo, 1999: 57). Visual and textual representations go beyond physiological and anatomical explanations to turn male circumcision into ‘a tool working on the soul’ (Foucault, 1988) and the prepuce into a phallic symbol on its own. In other words, within a ‘phallic economy’, male circumcision appears to be a medical technology to help Japanese men regain power and control over their bodies and circumcised men become invested with dominance as the ‘legitimate bearers of phallic power’ (MacMullan, 1992: 7).

Hence, this article aims to cast light on how the male body is depicted in current representations of circumcision in Japan and how iconographic and textual representations of male circumcision impact on gender and sexuality. To address these issues, male circumcision is firstly located within current global debates, followed by a review of current gender relations and masculinity in Japan. Data sources and methods of analysis are then presented to support the analysis of the textual and iconographic representations of male circumcision grounded on four axes: medical knowledge, the male body, gender and sexuality.

A Debate of Polar Extremes

The beauty of male circumcision is a topic that emerged from the ‘timeless’ controversies concerning the anatomy, physiology and functionality of the prepuce. Sexuality, gender, disease prevention, aesthetics, medicine, morality and religion produce an amalgam of discourses that have made male circumcision ‘the world’s most controversial surgery’ (Gollaher, 2000). A historical review suggests that male circumcision might have stemmed from concerns for penile hygiene amongst civilisations lacking clean running water in the desert (Darby, 2005). Populations living in the Middle East and North Africa might have incorporated male circumcision to their daily lives as religious ritual because, prior to the Enlightenment, religion largely informed ‘public health and the social organization of desire’ (Cocks, 2006: 159).

Male circumcision entered the medical terrain of European societies grappling with the ‘pernicious’ influence of masturbation. Moral concerns were overwhelming and medical doctors faced a major challenge to justify the removal of the foreskin. ‘Congenital phimosis’ and spermatorrhea referred to two pathological conditions – both chronic and life threatening – caused by ‘too great excitement of the genital apparatus, following venereal excesses or masturbation’ (Darby, 2005: 63). These medical definitions originated in an environment where syphilis was endemic, theories about infectious diseases were confused and erroneous, sexual Puritanism classified any form of non-procreative sex as immoral and sexual pleasure was deemed fearful and dangerous. Afterwards, male circumcision became a matter of prophylactics and routine for newborn babies at medical facilities in the USA mainly, triggering much debate and controversy. Physicians supporting the practice highlighted that removing the prepuce could prevent urinary infections and sexually transmitted diseases, as well as penile and cervical cancer. Medics opposing the surgery maintained that male circumcision might provoke genital insensitivity, affect sexual performance and have emotional impacts (Bloom and Koo, 1999).

Most recent controversies centre on the results of randomised clinical trials with African populations to emphasise that male circumcision can prevent female-male transmission of HIV. The medical procedure supposedly enhances protection for men against HIV in the context of heterosexual sex and female to male transmission because the surgery reduces the prevalence of genital sores, mini-lesions and ulcerations that increase the risk of contracting sexually transmitted infections. In addition, cutting off the foreskin eliminates a high density of cells that are susceptible to HIV infection (Szabo and Short, 2000). In 2007, WHO/UNAIDS recommended that male circumcision should be scaled up in nations with high rates of infection through heterosexual sex. Circumcision became a relevant measure against heterosexually acquired HIV infection in men, which re-ignited the historical debate of polar extremes. Those supporting the procedure seek to re-medicalise male circumcision (Carpenter, 2010) and are driving efforts to implement urgent en masse campaigns in the Sub-Saharan region. Nonetheless, campaigns for male circumcision remain problematic because in places such as the USA – where routine circumcision was firmly established for newborn males – the rate of circumcised baby boys has decreased (Harrison, 2002) and ‘currently not a single national medical organization endorses neonatal circumcision’ (Van Howe, 2004: 584). In general, the practice is found among Jewish and Muslim religious communities, except for South Korea with ‘possibly the largest absolute number of teenage or adult circumcisions anywhere in the world’ (Kim et al., 1999: 28).

Academics opposing current trends contend that promoting adult male circumcision and presenting it as if it were ‘just a snip’ (Aggleton, 2007) could be misleading because circumcised men can still acquire HIV if safe sex is not practised. Similarly, lower rates of infection could be related to endogamy rather than to male circumcision (Van Howe et al., 2005: 260) – as is most likely the case for Jewish populations (Kimmel, 2001) – and promoting the circumcision of adults largely contradicts efforts to increase condom use among sexually active people. Women have also argued that female HIV-vulnerability could be exacerbated, as being circumcised could convey a form of leeway to neglect condom use (Hankins, 2007). Lastly, creating a ‘false’ sense of security amongst circumcised men and promoting the human body’s mutilation is largely unethical.

Demanding Women, Failing Men

A discussion on male circumcision requires a review of the studies on gender in Japan with an emphasis on masculinity and the male body. Social imagery constructed through ‘theories about Japan’, instrumental to explain the ‘spiritual’ peculiarity of Japanese society, have placed Japanese gender relationships within a binary that presents women and men as opposites in collision. Women are to become ‘good wives and wise mothers’ and men are to develop into the ‘house master pillar’ upholding the family system – and by extension – the entire nation. Likewise, Japanese industrialisation and development have been linked to a gender regime that implies a division of labour between the breadwinner ‘salaryman’ and the ‘perfectly complementary’ full-time housewife (Hidaka, 2010) that characterises a familial and national middle-class standard of life.

The gender regime has translated into Japanese men who have been almost totally estranged from the home and women who have had limited access to paid work and been largely confined to the domesticity of housework. During the 1990s, despite working outside the home, married women were still largely responsible for childrearing and housework: ‘Japanese men spent only twenty minutes a day on housework even when their wives worked’ (Tipton, 2008: 227); and most recent surveys suggest that whilst Japanese wives who work full time spend ‘30 hours a week doing the housework, their husbands contribute an unprincely three hours of effort’ (The Economist, 2011). However, the increasing number of women entering tertiary education and paid employment have triggered changes in the gender regime and social imagery highlights a ‘“gender panic” in twentieth-century Japan’ (Kinsella, 2012: 72, emphasis in the original). The dyad salaryman-housewife does not fully represent contemporary gender relationships, which seem to have aggravated the economic impact of the ‘Lost Decade’ that has lasted for more than 20 years. The prevalence of singleness, divorce, postponed or refused marriage and childlessness mirror new gender dynamics that have put at risk social, political and economic stability (Rebick and Nakatani, 2006). Planners and politicians face a ‘crisis of ultra-low fertility rates’ (Jones et al., 2009) that could mean a zero growth of the economy in the 2040s because the working-age population in 2050 might be 17 per cent less than that in 2005 (Japan Centre for Economic Research, 2007).

Currently, women are named ‘unpatriotic and selfish’ by conservatives because of opting for a career rather than devoting themselves to homemaking and childrearing (Holloway, 2010: 4). Despite younger women delaying marriage and having fewer children, or avoiding these two activities altogether, a growing tendency towards premarital sex and a rather public tolerance towards divorce among contemporary Japanese women exist (Muta, 2008). Moreover, marriage has not lost social significance and the literature suggests that Japanese men are largely ‘responsible’ for current gender dynamics and the concomitant demographic conundrum because they have ‘failed’ to meet women’s demands. During the 1970s and 1980s, women seemed to resist or refuse marriage because they could not find a husband with the three H’s (high income, high education, height) (Nemoto, 2008). Nowadays, women seem to work while waiting for the ‘appropriate person’ (Nakano, 2011), which most likely refers to a man with the three Cs – comfortable income, communicative and cooperative with housework and childcare (Mathews, 2003).

Men’s Studies and the Male Body

Social imagery suggests that the ‘solution’ to existing Japanese social maladies largely lies in the hands of Japanese men and their capacity to become the salaryman that has traditionally supported the country. This is because the salaryman embodies the ideology of the ‘the corporate warrior’ who promoted the post-war ‘rapid economic growth’ (Kimura, 2006: 80) by upholding the corporate society and family system. Even though any individual receiving a salary is by definition a salaryman, the term as used within the Japanese context refers to corporate white-collar employees of private-sector organisations with a lifetime employment and seniority-based salary. The salaryman is thus the quintessential epitome of the Japanese ‘hegemonic masculinity’ (Connell, 1995).

The salaryman ideology has transcended domestic discussions to the point that foreign scholarship has produced overwhelming generalisations about maleness in Japan based almost exclusively on ‘the male elite sector alone’ (Sugimoto, 2004: 2). Therefore, issues of hegemony and diversity in the ways Japanese men enact their gender identity remain largely unexplored. Taga (2005) presents a historical review concerning the ways maleness has been debated in the media and academic circles and recognises three main areas of concern regarding masculinity in Japan. Firstly, the so-called ‘men’s studies’ mirrors issues in the ways masculinity and femininity are entangled in the division of labour. The gender regime that supposedly brought about development and economic stability after the Second World War has also been identified as the cause of discrimination and inequality in labour policies.

The second area of concern lies with the identity of men who, after dedicating their lives to the corporate world, enter retirement and a life within a household to which they do not feel they belong. They are late-middle-aged men struggling with their ‘second life’ and with family members who see them as ‘heavy wet leaves’ or ‘large-size refuse’ (Alexy, 2010). Finally and most worrying of the three areas is the issue of the younger generation of ‘failing men’ who have been ‘unable’ to cope with the recession in the economy. Unlike men from prior generations, the current ones appear unable to deal with the current political, economic and demographic conundrum. The image of failing Japanese men has been largely constructed by the mass media as an absolutely devastated Samurai being pushed around by a little woman (Figure 1). As Fujimura (2006: 206) puts it, ‘men are breaking down masculinity’ and there is a high degree of societal despair because the master narrative of the corporate warrior has become irrelevant to younger Japanese men.

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Figure 1.

Japan as number three.

Social imagery often depicts young Japanese men’s failure to comply with their social roles in terms of labour, gender and sexuality. As they ‘fail to become regular employees’ (Mathews, 2004: 132, emphasis added) and choose temporary or casual jobs, they equally fail to become the father that provides and protects the family and by extension the master pillar that supports the social, political and financial system. Moreover, they fail to maintain a ‘manly’ appearance because the frivolity of cosmetics and fashion that adorn their bodies makes them look ‘weak and feminised’ (Demetriou, 2008; Yomiuri Shimbun, 2010). Finally, they have begun to be labelled as ‘herbivorous boys’, a term that satirises their lack of ‘carnal’ desires and appetites (Saito and Shima, 2009) as an indicator of their failures as sexualised beings.

Although ‘true masculinity is almost always thought to proceed from men’s bodies’ (Connell, 1995: 45), the influence of the salaryman ideology has made the male body socially almost invisible. A salaryman is most likely an academic achiever whose white-collar position reflects his intelligence and efforts at school. Therefore, studies on the male body in Japan are still rare because the salaryman most likely refers to an ideal of masculinity represented by mental work, academic achievement and disembodiment. Moreover, the idea that ‘the average Japanese man has an appetite for work’ (Shibuya, 2009: 43) has resulted in research that highlights a reading of the Japanese male body almost only in terms of the struggles with the sedentary lifestyle and mental exhaustion entailed in their mind-oriented labour conditions. Most official surveys and academic and media reports revolve around issues pertaining to overwork, suicide and obesity – apparently one out of two Japanese men are overweight (Asahi Shimbun, 2010; Kawanishi, 2009; Kōsei Rōdōshō Kenkōkyoku, 2007; Yomiuri Shimbun, 2011). Sociological and anthropological studies deal also with issues related to men’s baldness and identity (Sunaga, 1999), men’s worries and identity (Shibuya, 2009) and masculinity and the cosmetic industry (Miller, 2004) as well as male virginity in Japan (Shibuya, 2003).

Methodology

A study of the aesthetics of male circumcision entails a sociological analysis of the ways it is presented in Japanese websites, newspapers and magazines as well as medical, sociological and anthropological reports produced in English and Japanese language from 2000 to 2012. I draw upon Jensen’s ‘pragmatism in semiotics’ (1995) in my attempt at theorizing male circumcision in order to tease out the social meanings embedded in the medical procedure and to highlight that signs always mediate consciousness, social life and practice. This means that I take gender and sexual-related ‘scripts’ (Gagnon and Simon, 2005) as fundamental to the perception and cognition of male circumcision in Japan.

Semiotics of the beauty of male circumcision are constructed on sexual and gender scripts, which help Japanese men learn ‘the meaning of internal states, organising the sequences of specifically sexual acts, decoding novel situations, setting the limits on sexual responses and linking meanings from nonsexual aspects of life to specifically sexual experience’ (Gagnon and Simon, 2005: 13). Nevertheless, representations ‘are symptoms, not portraits’ (Goffman, 1976: 8), thus, the iconographic analysis did not entail an ‘attempt at contemplating truth, but an act for a purpose in a context … [because representations] … do not provoke a “response” in any behaviourist sense, but may produce “a predisposition to act”’ (Jensen, 1995: 11, emphasis in the original). Therefore, in theorizing male circumcision, textual and iconographic analysis was not grounded on direct representations of reality but on ‘accounts or pieces of reality’ that cannot stand on their own and only make sense when read within the context of current sexual and gender relationships in Japanese society.

Data were interpreted within a framework of feminist theory (Ramazanoglu and Holland, 2002), under the assumption that in Japanese society contemporary gender relations are hierarchically constructed as power relations that permeate the ways Japanese men and women interact. Nonetheless, masculinity and femininity were not seen as ‘opposites in coalition’ (Holland et al., 1998) but as producing a regime of normality that largely contributes to the reproduction of a patriarchal social order. Overall, the investigation was an attempt to shed light on the ways representations of male circumcision integrate medical knowledge together with gender and sexual scripts. Similar to Weeks (1986), sexuality should be seen as both a public and a secret phenomenon, intimately personal whilst regulated by law; biological and cultural; socially constructed, organised and institutionalised and yet the product of fantasy, individual agency and resistance.

To begin the analysis, and concurrent with the debate of polar extremes, information sources were collated into four groups: views against male circumcision, views in favour of the procedure, media source and academic report. Subsequently, systematic networks (Bliss et al., 1983) helped to analyse the data. By using networks, theory could be tested because textual and iconographic representations could be translated into the language of the theory. Through an induction-deduction interactive process four axes (medical knowledge, the body, gender and sexuality) were produced to sort out and present the analysis of information. In the process, meanings taken from each piece of information were explicitly stated because meanings:

… are never fixed but emerge out of a ceaselessly changing stream of interaction between producers and readers in shifting contexts. They may, of course, become habitualised and stable; but always and everywhere the meanings […] shift and sway in the contexts to which they are linked. (Plummer, 1995: 22, emphasis in the original)

Circumcision, Beauté and the Male Body

The absence of official records makes it difficult to determine the actual number of circumcised Japanese men and newborn babies. Reports from hotlines serving family planning clinics and the Japan Family Planning Association indicate that requests for information concerning circumcision usually come from young men and male teenagers concerned about the size and shape of their genitals (Yomiuri Shimbun, 1989). It is unlikely that the National Health Insurance Scheme will cover the cost of the medical procedure and doctors are not particularly obliged to report on the number of foreskins removed, because the removal is basically regarded as a matter of aesthetics. Since a physician is entitled to recommend surgery only when the foreskin is deemed to be a cause of illness or infection, the historical debate of polar extremes occurs in Japanese settings too. Whilst some physicians, mainly plastic surgeons, openly promote male circumcision, urologists largely oppose removing the foreskin.

Those supporting circumcision assert that it is a valid procedure to treat boys at risk of urinary infections due to an overly tight foreskin covering the penis glans (Hiraoka et al., 2002). The problem, however, as identified by a group of urologists lies with identifying an abnormally grown foreskin that could lead to infections due to the inability to retract. While there is little disagreement about the consequences of non-retraction, a proper evaluation of neonates and infant boys entails a major challenge because ‘prepucial separation progresses until adolescence’ (Kayaba et al., 1996). On these grounds, paediatricians and urologists have produced a series of strategies to grapple with foreskin retraction by implementing non-surgical methods to help manage a foreskin that is tightly adhered (Hayashi et al., 2009; Iwamuro et al., 1997, 1998; Yanagisawa et al., 2000). In using these methods, the prepuce can remain intact and circumcision becomes unnecessary.

In order to dispel myths surrounding male circumcision, Ishikawa (2008) and Hinami et al. (2003) have produced compelling guides for the laymen that utilise anecdotal stories in plain language to demonstrate that the main concern about the foreskin revolves around ‘penile hygiene’ (Iwamuro, 2003, 2009). Their intent was to fight against the strong influence of the cosmetic and beauty industry which uses the media, particularly the internet, to convince Japanese men of the desirability of circumcision. Although the influence of the mass media appears to overpower that of medical institutions, a lack of official data and longitudinal research makes it difficult to evaluate the impact of beauty clinics on circumcision trends. However, iconographic and textual analyses show that Japanese men can be easy ‘prey’ for the cosmetics industry due to inaccurate and/or incomplete medical knowledge, which could lead to abusive pricing and medical malpractice. Information sources also tend to correlate with age of the consumers involved. Teenagers and young men usually see circumcision as a means to deal with having a ‘small’ and ‘ugly’ penis, which could sometimes develop into an obsession or a sort of ‘mental disorder’ (Ishikawa, 2008; Osaka Shūkan, 2003). Older men, on the other hand, tend to think of circumcision as a preventive method against penile cancer (Yomiuri Shimbun, 1989). These concerns chiefly stem from misinformation and/or ignorance concerning the anatomy and physiology of male genitalia. A poorly developed sex education that emphasises reproduction matters has produced the social visibility of the female body through menarche and pregnancy processes but has largely steered clear of discussions on the male body (Castro-Vázquez, 2007).

Besides the dominance of certain information sources over others, semantic nuances produce misunderstanding too. In the Japanese language, whilst phimosis (hōkei) is colloquially used to indicate that someone is uncircumcised, circumcision (katsurei) only refers to the tradition of male circumcision for religious purposes. Technical terms such as foreskin removal (hōhi setsudan) or ‘an operation on a phimotic penis’ (hōkei no shujutsu) are barely heard in daily conversations. Moreover, the availability of three terms to point out how retractable the prepuce is complicates matters further. The condition of a foreskin can be classified as pseudo or false phimosis (kasei hōkei), true phimosis (shinsei hōkei) and paraphimosis (kanton hōkei). In theory, false and true phimosis do not represent a risk to health as long as the penis glans can get exposed for cleansing. It is only when the penis glans gets uncovered and the prepuce cannot return to the original position that medical intervention is required because this is considered to be a case of paraphimosis or glans penis strangulation. Nevertheless, a number of urologists suggest that even in those cases circumcision can be avoided by using non-surgical methods.

From a purely medical point of view, any classification on foreskin retraction is problematic because physicians are not unanimous in the diagnosis of true and false phimosis. Therefore, it is impossible to know exactly which categories Japanese men fall into. Nonetheless, discussions on male genitalia, even with physicians, are unlikely to occur because of embarrassment and the influence of the hegemonic ideology that links maleness to mental work that trivialises and silences concerns about the male body. As a result, it is not unusual that most men rely on the media, including pornographic materials, or their peers for information and insight into their own bodies. Therefore, ignorance about the male body largely makes Japanese men unwittingly complicit with the discourse on the virtues of male circumcision and forces them to reckon with expensive surgeries and medical malpractice. The cost of having the foreskin cut off, which is a minor surgery, could be exorbitant as there are no regulations covering the cost of plastic surgeries (Yomiuri Shimbun, 2006).

On the other hand, medical malpractice largely results from poorly developed informed consent practices. Patients do not fully understand that even a minor surgery such as male circumcision involves a risk of failure. There are cases of men suffering from side effects such as sexual organ deformity or dysfunction because the prepuce was not removed properly. There are also instances of serious disappointment because the patient was ill informed and after the surgery the penis does not look as ‘pretty’ or ‘large’ as expected. Some of them are not aware that the intervention leaves a cicatrix and find their sexual organ ‘uglier’. Unfortunately, culprits remain unprosecuted and cases not filed and/or reported in the mass media (Mainichi Shimbun, 2006; Yomiuri Shimbun, 2006), mainly due to embarrassment. Men have to produce in the first place a ‘convincing’ reason to opt for surgery in ‘such a part’ of their body that involves ‘a concern that men cannot say to anyone’ (Figure 2).

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Figure 2.

There is a concern that men cannot say to anyone.

Therefore, a key question is: if the procedure is not underpinned by sound medical justification, circumcision has never been mandatory and Japanese men opting for it are likely to bear expensive costs and sometimes face medical malpractice, why do they still want to be circumcised?

Losing Face, Gaining Confidence, Improving Performance

Textual and iconographic analysis suggests that the commercialisation of male circumcision heavily relies on a script concerning genitalia and masculinity, which means that maleness is built upon the size and shape of the genitals. Male circumcision is sold as a surgery to boost maleness rather than a prophylactic measure. In Japan, aesthetics seem to precede health and it is the cosmetic industry which is largely entitled to remove the prepuce as part of a package of measures to attain ‘penile improvements’. Words are carefully selected to send the message that having the foreskin removed encompasses penile improvement in terms of health, physical appearance and sexual performance that largely produce a ‘wonderful boost’ for the male morale. Although all the advertisements present a brief description concerning the difference between false or true phimosis and paraphimosis (e.g. Tokyo Norst Clinic), ¹ the foreskin is overwhelmingly presented as a ‘piece’ of skin that ‘bothers’ and that is a ‘demerit’ of the male body (e.g. the Chuoh Clinic). ² Nothing positive is mentioned about keeping the foreskin untouched and certainly nothing is mentioned about penile hygiene. Surprisingly only one website mentions something about HIV/AIDS related to circumcision (Hōkei hikaku). ³

A common discursive strategy used by clinics is the deployment of ‘scientific’ facts as compelling reasons for circumcision. Although the reliability and validity of the data are questionable, the benefits of male circumcision are presented through graphs and tables seemingly representing statistical analyses of ‘surveys’. Clinics also provide feedback from the physicians involved regarding the procedure, but anecdotes from circumcised men whose lives changed radically following the procedure are meant to be a rather convincing argument about the beauty of male circumcision. As Mr S (aged 24) from Tokyo puts it:

I worried alone about the small size because the head looked like it was tapering off. It was rather embarrassing getting naked in a hot spring in front of my friends; I had a [psychological] complex. To change I decided to get circumcised. At first, I was hesitant about going to a clinic but stopped thinking and went for the surgery. It is very good that I am different than before and became a positive person. (Ueno Kurinikku) ⁸

Iconographic representations depict male circumcision as an ‘absolute’ aesthetic matter. Rather than hygiene or health, images only show how penile surgeries improve the physical appearance of the penis. A beautiful penis looks like a ‘lovely mushroom’ without anything covering the surface of the sexual organ (Figure 3). Therefore, leaving the prepuce untouched is detrimental to the penis because ‘it looks bad’ not only to women, but is also a source of embarrassment in the presence of other men sharing a hot spring (if they find out that you are uncut). This, as emphasised in one advertisement, could become a psychological complex and the cause of sexual impotence (Kitamura Clinic). ⁴

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Figure 3.

Male circumcision solves men’s worries! False phimosis, paraphimosis, true phimosis.

In some respects, having a large prepuce covering the glans is a matter of face because ‘the penis is the face of man’ (Yoshizawa Clinic). ⁶ The most widely distributed image to promote male circumcision shows a young man wearing a turtleneck sweater. In the depiction, the neck of the sweater covers half of the guy’s face, exactly as if it were the prepuce enclosing the glans (Figure 2). In this light, the entire male body turns into a sexual organ, and the penis glans conveys the man’s face. This not only projects the sexual organ as the most important part of the body since ‘the pride of man is the lower half of his body’ (Hills Tower Clinic), ⁷ it also helps classify men accordingly (Figure 4). The humanised representation of the penis could be effectively used to graphically explain Connell’s (1995: 77) hegemonic masculinity or ‘the accepted answer to the problem of legitimacy of patriarchy which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordination of women’.

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Figure 4.

The penis is a man’s face.

Cartoons that produce a ‘penilised’ image of the male body (Figure 4) best illustrate how hegemonic, subordinated, marginalised and complicit masculinities underpin the beauty of male circumcision in Japan. Similar to Bordo (1999), the imagery suggests that hierarchy and ascendency concerning masculine identity still depend on the size of the sexual organ. Iconographies appeared to be classifying men based on their sexual organs. In the representation, those at the top of the ranking are ‘well-endowed’ men who might not even require male circumcision because ‘the penis glans is always exposed’. This is supposedly the ‘normal penis’. However, in reality, it represents a phallic ‘ideal’ that bestows full power on men and iconographically exemplifies the construct of hegemonic masculinity. As Connell (1995:79) holds ‘the number of men rigorously practising the hegemonic pattern in its entirety may be quite small’. In real life, within the grip of a penile economy, all men are in the quest for ascendency because no penis glans gets fully exposed in ‘normal’ conditions without medical intervention.

In this context, the comparison between a non-erected (in Figure 4, heijōji literally translates as at normal time) and erected penis (bokkiji) shown in Figure 4 exemplifies the above. Cases of erected organs completely unable to retract the prepuce embody the most ‘undesirable’ form of masculinity that requires urgent surgical assistance. In the image, sexual organs appear to be grouped according to anatomical and physiological differences, which provide a classification of male bodies together with the sense of masculine identity embedded. The expression on the faces of those penises ranking lower reflects the anxiety and unhappiness of those men who could be easily linked to a subordinated or marginalised masculinity. These men, as advised by the image, have nothing to worry about; they could always find an easy solution in circumcision. The images suggest that all men can align themselves easily with the hegemonic masculinity through shaping their genitalia. It is having a penis and the will to shape it that makes Japanese men complicit in the production of hegemonic masculinity, enlarging the possibility of taking advantage of the ‘patriarchal dividend’ (Connell, 2000) with returns in the forms of control and authority over marginalised and subordinated men as well as women.

The discourse surrounding the beauty of male circumcision also creates a necessary relationship between sexuality and genitalia and suggests that sexual satisfaction can only be derived from heterosexual sex, where the male body acts upon a female body through vaginal penetration by preferably a circumcised penis. Circumcision is therefore scripted as a way to deal with ‘demanding women’, functioning as a tool for Japanese men to meet the women’s ‘preference’ for circumcised penises. The latter narrative constructs a ‘reality’ that male circumcision results in better-looking genitals that women like because a circumcised penis looks cleaner, ‘prettier’ and supposedly enhances the quality of sexual relations.

The sexual culture underpinning the beauty of male circumcision suggests that having sex with a circumcised man is a guarantee of improved performance in bed. His ‘beautiful’ organ makes him confident and confidence translates into harder and longer lasting erections. In this light, male circumcision can be a cure for sexual impotence and premature ejaculation (sōrō) as well. Having the foreskin removed produces an organ that boosts a male’s erectile capacity because a circumcised penis becomes less sensitive, which permits a better control over ejaculation. Advertisements suggest that penile sensitivity lies on the penis glans surface, which is supposed to be the cause of premature ejaculation (Kitamura Clinic). In this way, removing the foreskin reduces sensitivity and enables a man to regain control over his sexual organ, his entire body and, more importantly, over sexual intercourse. A proper ejaculatory control makes men exert control over sexual intercourse and the female body because the act finishes with his ejaculation. However, women are ‘happy’ to have their bodies under control by circumcised men because these men are able to produce prolonged and ‘fulfilling’ sexual acts.

Conclusion

The textual and iconographic analysis of the beauty of male circumcision offers a different angle to the sociological implications of a medical procedure. Despite current tendencies insisting on promoting male circumcision as a ‘purely’ prophylactic method, the Japanese case suggests that a social and sexual culture underpins the medical practice. Discussions on the relevance of the penis size as a marker of masculinity and the hierarchical order of men are not new. However, the beauty of male circumcision highlights the relevance of the foreskin in the construction of maleness because having the penis glans exposed or otherwise is a way of measuring the size of the sexual organ. The beauty of male circumcision suggests that the prepuce can become a phallic symbol on its own, which produces a gendered and sexualised male body and permits the creation of a hierarchical order of circumcised and uncircumcised men.

In an attempt at theorizing, the notion of sexual scripts appears to be instrumental to disentangling how the male body, gender and sexuality underpin the social construction of male circumcision. As a largely unregulated medical practice, access to reliable statistics is difficult. However, male circumcision appears to be a profitable business. Through the use of textual and iconographic displays scripted by various logics that connect maleness and sexuality to the genitals and playing up the aesthetics of circumcision, Japanese plastic surgeons and beauticians transform the male body into a commodity.

Inaccurate medical knowledge, linguistic limitations, and a poorly developed sex education conflate to produce an environment where Japanese men largely rely on the mass media – the internet in particular – to learn about their own bodies. Therefore, ignorance and anxiety concerning genitalia tend to influence the decision of Japanese men who opt for circumcision. Male circumcision may be promoted as a cure to sexual dysfunctions or as a means to improve sexual life if one were to consider its placebo effect. This remains a challenge, however, due to the lack of reliable scientific evidence.

Through an analysis of the beauty of male circumcision, I have attempted to show that the mass media and academic literature are complicit in constructing the dominant ideology that the ‘solution’ to the gender and demographic conundrum in current Japanese society largely lies in the hands of men. Both textual and iconographic displays reinforce the idea that current demands of Japanese women can be better met by circumcised men. Finally, the results of this iconographic and textual analysis need to be seen through an ethnographic investigation with Japanese physicians, men and women to explore how the beauty of male circumcision affects medical practices, gender identities and sexual behaviours.