Lee Jun-seok’s bibimbap

But the move by the younger Lee defies his previously-known identity.

Kim Hyun-kiThe author is the Tokyo bureau chief and rotating correspondent of the JoongAng Ilbo. To be a sushi guru, it usually takes three years of rigorous training to perfect rice cooking and another eight years to master the mold into bite-sized sushi. Samsung Group founder Lee Byung-chull, a sushi epicure, lectured it takes 320 rice grains to make a piece of sushi for lunch and 280 grains for dinner. In Japan, the difference is 230 grains for tuna and 280 for flatfish. At any rate, to become a sushi master, one must be first able to exactly count the rice in his hand. That would typically take 11 years of apprenticeship, starting from scrubbing the floor in a famous sushi shop.

Thirty-three-year-old Kazuhiro Kakita — the owner of the bustling Yurakucho Kakida sushi restaurant in Tokyo — has defied this norm. He skipped the conventional sushi kitchen apprenticeship and learned the skill entirely from YouTube for a year.

Former People Power Party leader Lee Jun-seok, left, listens to former Democratic Party leader Lee Nak-yon during an event to celebrate the launch of a new political party led by Lee Nak-yon on Tuesday.

Acute observation, perseverance and an innovative menu have produced a new breed of sushi master. He can grab 130 grams of rice with his eyes closed. He chooses fish from the market every morning, goes to his day work as president of a human resources company, and reports to his night work at his sushi bar. His modest eatery has expanded to a 140-seat restaurant thanks to word-of-mouth via social media. For him, an 11-year apprenticeship is a bygone legacy.

Takeshi Niinami, CEO of Suntory Holdings, which produces Japan’s most famous whisky brands like Yamazaki and Hibiki, sees artificial intelligence as the biggest threat to the spirit producer. He believes a smart machine will be able to match the taste of a 25-year-old Yamazaki that costs $18,999 a bottle in minutes. The CEO is engrossed in brain science, which can make someone feel intoxicated without drinking alcohol. The fact that a whisky producer takes less value in the aging process itself is a revolutionary change.

We live in an age where past notions are being destroyed and reinvented. One area that is stubbornly static is politics. That goes for Japan as well as the United States. The Liberal Democratic Party, rooted in factionalism, has dominated Japanese politics for 70 years. The factional heads buy loyalty and collude in party conventions to rotate leadership. The 80-something bigwigs of the old school run the country. The U.S. is no different. Despite the implication of his role in the Jan. 6 riot at Capitol Hill in defiance of the presidential election results, Donald Trump commands a comfortable lead in the Republic nomination to signal a rematch with incumbent President Joe Biden. Can we expect changes and dynamism from any of the two candidates — 82-year-old Biden versus 78-year-old Trump? First lady Jill Biden advocates her husband’s age as it is “an asset.” But in a world of fast-changing evolution, past experiences may be of little help.

Our political landscape is equally barren. Voters in the April 10 parliamentary elections have choices beyond the usual ruling party and the main opposition after third parties have emerged. The mainstream parties downplay and ridicule the fledgling parties as “illicit realtors.” Former leaders of the governing People Power Party (PPP) and majority Democratic Party (DP) — or 30-something Lee Jun-seok and 70-something Lee Nak-yon — both bolted out of their respective parties to launch new parties. That indeed makes them an odd couple. But it’s not just because their ideological spectrum is different. PPP interim leader Han Dong-hoon stresses that his party is actually more “liberal” than DP. The boundary between conservative and liberal has become blurry and matters less these days.

But the move by the younger Lee defies his previously-known identity. After his surprise win in June 2021 as party head with no lawmaking experience, Lee Jun-seok said that he dislikes the political bibimbap that mixes all ingredients into one dish. “My raw ideas of change and our challenges for these changes can be viewed to the people as daring as if going into a war.” I believe his unrefined but fresh energy, individuality and radicalness were what drew infatuation and support from many young voters. But we cannot know what bibimbap Lee is out to cook today and how the move amounts to a challenge or warlike ferocity. People would have expected Lee to be a new politician representing the new concept of politics with innovative recipes and menus, not a co-owner of an antique shop.