By Jamie Morris

TOKYO —

Hazuki takes a drag from his menthol cigarette, revealing a severed pinky finger. His tanned face and dyed blonde hair would suggest he's a surfer, but the stone-washed jeans and leather jacket are more like a rocker. Years ago, as a teenager with punch-permed curls and straddling his decked-out motorbike, he couldn't have been mistaken for anything but a "bosozoku" ­— which he was, and a proud one at that.

"They drove into the schoolyard," Hazuki recalls of his first encounter with the bosozoku, sometimes called "speed tribes" in English, gangs of young bikers known for their elaborate coats and deafening rides, on which they ruled the midnight streets. "I thought they were so cool," he adds, grinning.

The style and attitude of the bosozoku is captured in the photographs of Masayuki Yoshinaga. "Strictly speaking, they don't represent Japanese values like 'wabisabi' (elegant simplicity)," says Yoshinaga, a photographer who has made a career out of shooting groups on the fringes of society. "But in their minds, they are like samurai — there is no tomorrow."

Yoshinaga says that in his photos he tries to remind society of the bosozoku's teenage innocence, instead of the aggression and delinquency with which they are normally associated.

In video footage from his old "boso" days, Hazuki is a rebellious and fresh-faced teenager. Now, in person, his short chiseled body is covered in yakuza tattoos, partly visible through his opened collar. We are filming in a small park in Funabashi for a documentary I’m making about the bosozoku. The presence of the cameras attracts the interest of some police officers, but Hazuki efficiently shoos them away. "The bosozoku are finished," he laments, "but I'm trying to keep the tradition alive."

Once a member of Specter, a Chiba-based bosozoku group during the climactic late '80s, he is a biking legend turned OB. The letters OB stand for "Old Boy" and refer to former bosozoku members who associate with active groups. Hazuki still mentors current members as a "sempai" (senior) while training as an amateur kickboxer, his "day job." The artwork on his body shines vibrantly during kickboxing sessions and adds flavor to his ring persona. Membership at all-time low

Presently, two of Hazuki's "kohai" (juniors) are serving time in juvenile correctional facilities for violating traffic ordinances specifically designed to rid Japan of the bosozoku. Membership in these gangs is at an all-time low as the result of the successful crackdown. The police are targeting not only unlicensed riders of modified bikes but also media that cover their runs. It's a gradual campaign, including anti-boso public relations and legislation that many in Japan feel is long overdue.

In the mid-1950s, a new type of biker gang emerged in Japan. It was usually referred to as "kaminari zoku," thunder tribes, named for their loud bikes and unruly cruising. There is scant consensus on the beginnings of these biker gangs in Japan, but some theorize that the originators were ex-kamikaze pilots who weren't "blessed" with the opportunity to die for the emperor, and thus longed to regain the thrill of riding in formation. Others emphasize the importance of American gangs, as seen in films such as "The Wild Bunch," starring Marlon Brando, as a model for these Japanese bikers.

Ikuya Sato, author of "Kamikaze Biker: Parody and Anomy in Affluent Japan" and an ethnologist at Hitotsubashi University, argues that the bosozoku's origins were more likely a combination of the two, and also factors in Japan's budding wealth. Sato wrote his doctoral thesis on the bosozoku after encountering them during visits to juvenile detention facilities. During his research among the gangs of Kyoto, he discovered the importance of "play" — the theatrical aspect of the bosozoku trying to embody what he calls the "Saturday night hero."Term 'bosozoku' created by media in 1972

The term bosozoku was created by the media in June 1972. While reporting on a gang fight involving bikers in front of a train station in Toyama, a local television station from Nagoya combined boso with zoku. The bo from boso contains the nuance of violence, as in boryokudan or gangster), a term also used for the yakuza. In this way, the real pun in bosozoku can only be fully appreciated through its written characters.

By coining the term, the media spawned a new subculture in print and ignited the imaginations of youngsters seeking thrills outside the rigid school system. The biker gangs adopted the word to define themselves in a similar way to how the "punk" and later "grunge" movements embraced their own media-created labels. The mass media's relationship with the bosozoku was symbiotic, as it simultaneously sensationalized and vilified these attention-hungry teenagers.

For over 30 years, the news media gave prominent coverage to the bosozoku’s noisy bike runs and occasional violence. Giving them the limelight was a way to build them up and knock them down as they became easy targets— "folk devils," according to Sato — for a society increasingly concerned about rising crime and delinquency. "The bosozoku are very visible and also very loud," says Sato in an interview, "while domestic abuse and other crimes are invisible."

Encouraged by the media, the bosozoku "run" — effectively a parade of hundreds of bikes revving at earsplitting levels — allowed the bikers to assume a role as rogue characters. In Sato's view, the street was the "stage," the route the "script," and the "costumes" were their "tokkofuku," or battle uniforms, of retro pilot boots, long overcoats and matching pants. The uniform originated in the mid-1970s and was influenced by both kamikaze and old U.S. Navy uniforms. It presented them as more than just a collection of biker punks; they became a burgeoning symbol of youth angst.

The kanji characters used on "tokkofuku" retain some of their original meaning by typically featuring themes of honor and battle, but often represent entirely different phonics and expressions. Sometimes even English names are used, as in the case of Hazuki’s group, Specter, meaning ghost. Black Emperor, once the most influential and infamous bosozoku clan, used a black Nazi-style swastika, but borrowed the font for its name from the cover of the Santana album "Black Magic Woman."Symbols used for shock value rather than politics

The use of such symbols as the swastika, hinomaru (rising sun) or imperial chrysanthemum together with their in-your-face attitude would suggest a right-wing political agenda. In fact, apart from some shared symbols and a propensity to make a lot of noise, there is very little evidence of direct alliances between bosozoku and the "uyoku" groups in the black vans. The symbols, used to attract attention, are are for shock value more than anything else.

The bosozoku's ability to intimidate makes them an attractive recruiting ground for the yakuza. Nineteen-year-old Ryo, the leader of a bosozoku "team" in Nagoya, tells me proudly that next he will become a gangster. Wearing cheap sunglasses, he resembles an actor about to go on stage rather than a mobster. He even hides his "tokkofuku" in a bag when entering the karaoke bar where we speak.

Later, he reveals that members of his team pay up to 20,000 yen each just to have drinks with the yakuza clan they want to join. The police estimate that the number of bosozoku who pay protection money has more than doubled since 1999, making them a useful source of income for the yakuza. This may be one reason why police action against the bosozoku is at an all-time high.

Not all bosozoku have aspirations of joining the yakuza, though. Makoto, a Yokohama OB who formed a group of 500 bikers into the "Yokohama Rengo" (Yokohama Alliance) five years ago, clearly resembles Hazuki. He also has a truncated pinky, and plenty of "ink." The yakuza-style tattoos covering his arms beguile the fact that Makoto actually owns a flower shop. "I know nothing about flowers though," he says.

Makoto claims that he is anti-yakuza and always has been. Anti-yakuza except, perhaps, for the one day he was a yakuza. It's also the day he cut off half his finger.

Makoto reminisces of when his "kohai" was taken prisoner by a local yakuza clan as part of a plan to enlist the young man into their army of foot soldiers. Makoto successfully pled for the boy's release, the condition being that he himself joined the mob. He accepted their terms, but quit on his first day. The severed finger, which symbolizes "seppuku" (ritual suicide for atonement), allowed the clan to save face while preserving Makoto's own honor.

After Makoto's team broke up following a gang fight in which one man was killed, he eventually formed an alliance to foster peace among bikers. Ironically, he's currently in jail for assaulting one of his own employees, who allegedly did drugs against his wishes.Police appear soft on bike gangs

When it comes to the police, most people scoff at their handling of the bike gangs, which looks more like a game of "cops and robbers" than an actual crackdown.

Susumu Mito of the National Police Agency's traffic division, and a former member of a bosozoku task force, defends their tactics. "It's difficult to stop the bikes forcefully without the riders getting hurt," he says, "so we video and photograph them during the runs to watch for more serious crimes." Criminalizing specific aspects of the bosozoku is a strategy to prevent the bikers turning to more serious crimes or joining the yakuza.

But despite the cynicism, the sharp decline in bosozoku numbers suggests that the police strategy has worked. The heyday of these once-defiant teenagers who ruled the streets at night is long gone. Instead, a new breed of biker — one that claims to play by the rules — has emerged.

"Kyushakai" are old biker-boy clubs. Their rides look similar to boso bikes, but their owners say they comply with modification laws and obey the rules of the road. "The police are gradually pushing the bosozoku into 'kyushakai' groups," says Yoshinaga. "After that, they will try to get rid of these groups as well."

Hazuki, a run organizer and rider himself, coordinates magazine photo shoots and interviews with "kyushakai" groups around Tokyo. Once enemies, many of these groups now ride together, and while they still wear club jackets and boots, the 'tokkofuku' are gone. There are other differences, too.

On the back of a decked-out ride arriving at a "kyushakai" gathering in Kanagawa sits Wendy, a blonde Canadian. Her husband, Masa, parks the machine before they dismount. Masa is an ex-bosozoku; Wendy is an English teacher.

"Most of them used to be bosozoku and I've never seen them stop at red lights before. Tonight they behaved themselves," says Wendy as we film. Later, during a "real" run, the bikers replace parts, rev up their machines and seize the streets — red lights be damned.

On day rides with the "kyushakai," their thunderous engines still attract both cheers and jeers from people as they roar past, but they are rarely reported on television. Their costumes have gone, and so has the stage. All that remains of the golden age of the bosozoku are aging bikers and their beautifully designed machines.

"I don't think everything about the bosozoku is appealing, or that all their behavior is acceptable," concludes Yoshinaga about his photographs and their subjects, "but I want to suggest that the world they created was unique."

Masayuki Yoshinaga has been photographing Japan’s subcultures for more than 10 years. He has devoted his art to painting a portrait of Japan’s fringe groups including gangsters, bike gangs, goths, right-wingers and even immigrants. His work can be seen adorning the construction barricades outside of Shinjuku station’s south exit, as well as in several published books. Most notable in the realm of bosozoku, is his book "Zoku," from which the images here were taken. An interview with Yoshinaga, bosozoku video and information about Figure8Production’s documentary project can be found at www.figure8productions.com

Japanese ban biker gangs

By Colin Joyce in Tokyo

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2002/04/08/wbike08.xml