This, believe it or not, is the Agency for Cultural Affairs, and these are the men responsible for preserving and categorizing all that is glorious about the traditional arts. On their shoulders rests the responsibility for bestowing that most coveted of all artistic honors. The British Order of Merit? Forget it. The French Legion D'Honneur? A mere bauble. There's only one title in Japan worth having, and these are the men who give it out: Living National Treasure.

There are two types of national treasures, the "tangible" and the "intangible." The former range from teacups and netsuke to entire shrines and temples. Living National Treasures fall into the intangible category, and are officially called Bearers of Important Intangible Cultural Properties. They may be active in the performing arts or engaged in traditional crafts. As a rule they are all very old, very venerable, and very rich.

My hosts are Masahiro Tokoro, civil service officer, Masanao Sasaki, investigator of cultural treasures, and Shigeyuki Miyata, assistant investigator of cultural treasures. At first they are a little reluctant to talk. In fact, there is a definite Zen quality to our exchange, which goes like this:

"How do you determine who will be designated a Living National Treasure?"

"It's very complicated, impossible to comprehend with just an interview."

"How are the investigations carried out?"

"By investigating."

With gentle prodding, however, the treasure-seekers explain that it is difficult to set standards. The only rule seems to be that there are no rules. "We are dealing with human beings, not objects," they point out. The guidebook they use states only that a Living National Treasure should embody a high degree of artistry and take measures to train others to carry on the tradition.

At present, there are 80 Living National Treasures, only 13 of whom are women. Once chosen, LNTs can keep their titles as long as they remain living. They receive an annual grant of Y2 million each, but the luster of the titles pays much, much more than the grant itself, in tangible and intangible ways: LNTs can charge pretty well what they like for their work and for their services as apprentice-masters.

The selection process is just as complicated as you would expect. Three investigators are assigned to each case. If the task, for instance, is to find a kabuki performer of LNT caliber, the first step would be to attend a lot of kabuki plays. Further research would include reading, interviewing the appropriate people, going to kabuki association meetings, getting expert opinions from university professors and so forth. And then more plays have to be viewed.

The names and files of the candidates are passed on to the councilor on cultural properties, then up to the director-general, then to the deputy commissioner for cultural affairs, to the commissioner for cultural affairs, and lastly to the minister of education, science and culture, who has the final say. All the investigations are carried out in secret to avoid any loss of face in the event that a candidate is dropped. The entire process could take two years, though the length varies considerably.

As I struggle to leave the ministry, Assistant-Investigator-of-Cultural-Treasures Miyata becomes positively garrulous. In future, he discloses, the ministry hopes to put everything into a data bank. "And then we'll get on the Internet." I struggle out of my seat, tripping nimbly over a plastic binder strewn on the floor. "And then we'll be able to do our research in cyberspace," smiles Mr. Miyata, as I squeeze backwards through the labyrinth of desks and papers. We all need to dream.