Japan and Canada inComparative Perspective

Economics
and Politics;
Regions,
Places andPeopleA Collection of Papers from anInternational Conference held inTokyo, May 2015

“Japan and Canada in Comparative
Perspective:
Economics and Politics; Regions, Places
and People”

A Collection of Papers from an International Conference held in Tokyo, May 2015,
organized jointly by the Japan Studies Association of Canada (JSAC), the Japanese
Association for Canadian Studies (JACS) and the Japan-Canada Interdisciplinary Research
Network on Gender, Diversity and Tohoku Reconstruction (JCIRN).

Edited byDavid W. Edgington (University of British Columbia),
Norio Ota (York University),
Nobuyuki Sato (Chuo University),and Jackie F. Steele (University of Tokyo)© 2016 Japan Studies Association of Canada

1Table of Contents
List of Tables................................................................................................................................................... 3
List of Figures ................................................................................................................................................. 4
List of Contributors ...................................................................................................................................... 6
Editors’ Preface ............................................................................................................................................. 7
SECTION A: ECONOMICS AND POLITICS IN JAPAN ...........................................................................
1. Japan’s Lost Decade: A Canadian Perspective ..................................................................... 11
2. The Possibility of Reform to Japan’s Upper House Requires Amendments to
the Constitution .............................................................................................................................. 24
3. State-Molded Civil Society Configuration by Political Institutions—aComparison of Japan, the U.S.A. and China ........................................................................... 34
SECTION B: REGIONS, PLACES AND PEOPLE IN JAPAN AND CANADA .....................................
4. Regional Revitalization as Culture, Identity and Citizenship: Promise, Periland Shared Sacrifice for Shared Investment........................................................................ 55
5. The Rural Idyll, Globalization and Cultural Differences Between Japanese andCanadian Residential Landscapes on the Fringe of Cities .............................................. 68
6. Commodification of Rural Spaces in British Columbia, Canada ................................... 96
7. Building Heritage Tourism and the Semiotics of Exhibition: Constructing
Places and Spaces Related to Historical Dramas in Japan ............................................ 110
8. Challenging the Happiness Imperative: Preliminary Notes on Kankanmori
Collective Housing Community ............................................................................................... 126
9. Welcome to the Tree House!: The Architecture of Raymond Moriyama and
His Life Comparison as an Interned Japanese Canadian with Artist William
Allister as a POW in Japan ......................................................................................................... 142
10. On Collaborative Ainu Research Initiatives: Needs and Challenges ....................... 152
11. Persistence of Traditional Subsistence Ideology in Nunavut Inuit Society: A
Comparison of Modern Economic Activities Between Nunavut and Greenland . 169
12. Part of the Moose: Maintaining Continuity Between the Kaska and Animals
Through Hunting Activity ......................................................................................................... 183

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List of Tables
Table 3.1. Details of the JIGS Data Used in this Study ..................................................................... 38
Table 3.2. Fields of Activity of CSOs by Percentage Share (top 6) ............................................. 40
Table 3.3. Policy Attention of CSOs by Percentage Share (top 10) ........................................... 41
Table 3.4. Functions of Organizations .................................................................................................. 43
Table 3.5. Levels of Activities of CSOs .................................................................................................. 45
Table 3.6. Budgets of Organizations (in 10,000 Japanese Yen) .................................................. 47
Table 3.7. Number of Members per Organization ........................................................................... 48
Table 3.8. Number of Staff per Organization ..................................................................................... 49
Table 7.1. Nine Types of Exhibition Space and Place ................................................................... 112
Table 11.1. Outline of Nunavut history .............................................................................................. 171
Table 11.2. Outline of Greenland History .......................................................................................... 172
Table 11.3. Factors Influencing Contrasting Economic Pursuits in Nunavut andGreenland ........................................................................................................................................... 176
Table 12.1. Year-round Hunting-gathering Activities .................................................................. 187
Table 12.2. Kaska Utilization and Method of Hunting Animals ................................................ 187

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List of Figures
Figure 3.1. The Foundation Year of CSOs, 1900-2010 ................................................................ 39
Figure 5.1. Model of the rural-urban fringe ..................................................................................... 71
Figure 5.2. The Rural-urban Fringe of Tokyo and the Location of Ushiku .......................... 72
Figure 5.3. Ushiku City—Its Landscape is Affected by the Rail Line ..................................... 73
Figure 5.4. The Jones (1988) Model of Theorizing the Cultural Landscape ....................... 74
Figure 5.5. Image of “Furusato”............................................................................................................ 76
Figure 5.6. Dispersed Farmland and Large Lot Residences near Calgary, 2008 ............... 78
Figure 5.7. Residential Tract Housing in Ushiku, Known Collectively as a Danchi .......... 79
Figure 5.8. New Condominium Complex or Danchi Along the New Tsukuba Express
Train Line ............................................................................................................................................. 80
Figure 5.9. Rural-urban Fringe in Western Tokyo—Denser Heterogeneity of Land Uses,
Higher Density.................................................................................................................................... 81
Figure 5.10. Dispersed Non-farm Households ............................................................................... 82
Figure 5.11. Tract Housing Next to Grasslands and Forest Land ............................................ 83
Figure 5.12. A Clustered Farm Hamlet with Branch Houses for Offspring on the
Periphery of Ushiku CityFigure ................................................................................................... 84
Figure 5.13. An Example of a Japanese kleingarten from Kasama City, Ibaraki
Prefecture ............................................................................................................................................. 88
Figure 5.14. Trip Advisor Internet Page for a kleingarten......................................................... 88
Figure 5.15. Canada Home ..................................................................................................................... 89
Figure 5.16. Daizen Joinery .................................................................................................................... 89
Figure 5.17. Soon to be Estate Homes Outside of Kamloops .................................................... 90
Figure 6.1. Agricultural Regions in British Columbia ................................................................ 102
Figure 7.1. The Saka no ue no kumo Museum, Matsuyama ................................................... 113
Figure 7.2. Museum of the Meiji Restoration, Kagoshima ....................................................... 114
Figure 7.3. Ryoma’s Birthplace Memorial Museum, Kochi ...................................................... 115
Figure 7.4. Ryōmaden Bakumatsu Heroes Pavilion, Kochi...................................................... 116
Figure 7.5. Yoichi Information Centre and Nikka Whisky Factory, Yoichi ........................ 116
Figure 7.6. Himeji Kuroda Kanbee Taiga Drama Pavilion, Himeji ........................................ 117
Figure 7.7. Taiga Drama Exhibition, Aizu-Wakamatsu ............................................................. 118
Figure 7.8. Photos of Shooting Gunshi Kanbee, Engyoji Temple, Himeji ........................... 119
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4Figure 7.9. The Gunshi Kanbee Exhibits within Himeji Castle (2014) ................................ 121
Figure 12.1. Kaska Traditional Territory ....................................................................................... 185

Return to Table of Contents5List of Contributors
Millie Creighton, Associate Professor, Department of Anthropology, Universityof British Columbia
Jeffry Joseph Gayman, Associate Professor, Research Faculty of Media andCommunication, Hokkaido University
Shunwa Honda (Henry Stewart), Visiting Professor, The Open University ofJapan
Masato Kamikubo, College of Policy Science, Ritsumeikan University
Jun Kaneko, Department of Humanities, Ehime University
Toshio Kikuchi, Professor, Faculty of Urban Environmental Sciences, Tokyo
Metropolitan University
Catherine Kingfisher, Professor, Department of Anthropology, University of
Lethbridge
Wei Liu, Lecturer, Department of Political Science, School of Political Scienceand Public Management, Southwest University
Brian K. MacLean, Professor, Department of Economics, Laurentian University
Takaaki Nihei, Professor, Department of Human Sciences, Hokkaido University
Anthony Rausch, Professor, Faculty of Education, Hirosaki University
Philip Seaton, Professor, Research Faculty of Media and Communication,
Hokkaido University
Akira Tabayashi, Professor, Department of Geography, University of Tsukuba
Tom Waldichuk, Assistant Professor, Department of Geography &Environmental Studies, Thompson Rivers University
Noritaka Yagasaki, Professor, Department of Geography, Nihon University
Mikako Yamaguchi, Assistant Professor, Department of Cultural Studies, Gifu
University

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Editors’ Preface
The twelve papers contained in this collection were first presented at the International
Conference on “Culture, Identity and Citizenship in Japan and Canada” held in Tokyo
between May 20-23, 2015 at the Embassy of Canada to Japan, and Chuo University Tokyo.
The conference was organized jointly by the Japan Studies Association of Canada (JSAC),
the Japanese Association for Canadian Studies (JACS) and the Japan-Canada
Interdisciplinary Research Network on Gender, Diversity and Tohoku Reconstruction(JCIRN). Other papers delivered at the Conference have been published separately as David
W. Edgington, Norio Ota, Nobuyuki Sato and Jackie F. Steele (eds.), Culture, Identity andCitizenship in Japan and Canada, Research Report No. 59, Institute of Social Studies, The
University of Tokyo, 2016.
The papers here represent studies from a wide array of social science disciplines,
including economics, political science, cultural studies, cultural geography andanthropology. For the most part they all deal with either Japanese or Canadian issues in acomparative perspective, which was a major theme of the Tokyo conference.
For instance, the first section on Economics and Politics in Japan examines aspects ofthese themes by contrasting Japan with other countries, interestingly in certain cases with
Canada. Brian K. MacLean opening paper re-visits Japan’s “lost decade” of the 1990s, andasks the question: “Was poorly conceived Japanese financial policies, especially interest
rate policy, responsible at that time for shifting the economy from ‘bubble’ conditions into a
sharp recession and slow growth period thereafter?” Using Canadian experience as acomparator of how interest rate policy has been used as a way of managing the economy,
he argues that Japanese policy making was fairly mainstream and should not be seen as
surprising. Moreover, with hindsight Japan’s approach to addressing its stock market andproperty “bubbles” in the late 1980s should have utilized what he terms “macro-prudential
policies”, rather than dealing with this problem by interest rate hikes alone. Masato
Kamikubo addresses the current Constitutional reform debates in Japan, including whether
or not to reform the Japanese Upper House of Parliament, the House of Councillors. His
study compares Japan’s reform options with the structure of the German and CanadianUpper Houses, and he contends that these international models should also be consideredin any Constitutional reform program. The last paper in this section by Wei Liu uses amulti-year international database profiling civil society organizations to look at how theseare shaped by the political and social environments in Japan, the USA and China. Identifyingthat there are sharp differences in the conditions of civil society in these three nations, his
analysis reveals interesting patterns in the profiles of Civil Society Organizations (e.g. nonprofits), especially in terms of their policy focus as well as capacity and resource issues.
Overall, he argues that the particular style of national government in each country—liberal
democratic in the case of the USA, democratic but with significant intervention in the caseof Japan, and a government overly concerned with economic growth and political stability
in the case of China—explains differences found in the data.

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The second section of this collection examines particular Regions, Places and People inJapan and Canada. Anthony Rausch considers government programs that try to encouragefirms and people to move from the big cities along the Tokaido belt of Japan (TokyoNagoya-Osaka) into more rural areas such as Aomori in northern Tohoku region. He
maintains that incentive programs to encourage regional revitalization are doomed to
failure unless they can incorporate local cultural traditions, especially the way in which
regional populations conceive of their local identity. The situation of rural Japan is also
taken up by Tom Waldichuck’s investigation of residential developments on the fringe oflarge cities—often called “peri-urban” places - in both Japan and Canada. The study is basedon his own direct observations of Kamloops, a regional city in British Columbia, and Ushiku
in Chiba, lying on the outer edge of the large Tokyo metropolitan region. Waldichuckargues that Canadian residents of rural-urban fringe often have an idyllic image of living ina substantial house in a semi-rural setting—a rather “romantic and nostalgic idea” thatoriginated in Europe. By contrast, Japanese people tend to associate residential nostalgiawith furusato (hometown) villages much further away from the Tokyo region than theimmediate urban-rural fring. Indeed, many people reside in Ushiku because it was and stillis an affordable place to live in, and a relatively convenient place from which to commute
into Tokyo, rather than providing feelings of a rural idyll. Akira Tabayashi and his
collaborators similarly focus on rural places in their study of trends leading towards the“commodification” of agricultural areas by urban residents, meaning the tendency tointroduce added-value activities such as hobby farms, farmers’ markets, wine tourism andso on. While these developments are apparent in both Japan and Canada he finds that thecommodification of rural spaces in British Columbia (BC) is to-date more advanced anddiversified than that of Japan, and plays an important role in sustaining the BC rural
economy and society. Philip Seaton’s paper explores the options available to municipalities
when they seek to create new sites of heritage tourism. A particular program of “placebranding” of Japanese rural towns has been through “contents tourism” (kontentsu
tsūrizumu), which has built on the trend of visitors to visit locations associated with wellknown historical characters or stories, usually connected with exhibits in local museums.
Seaton finds that heritage sites can play a role in attracting tourists, or more widely help
towns through identity creation and in educating school children about their local history.
Catherine Kingfisher reports on an interesting experiment in urban living; specifically,
the Kankanmori Collective Housing Community located in the western suburbs of Tokyo.
She discusses how the Japanese government has taken steps to incorporate “happinessmeasures” into its policy-making processes, following other countries. She argues,
however, that Japanese culture more easily associates happiness at the collective level
rather than with individual happiness. The Kankanmori project appears to allow residents
to simultaneously participate in collective living in the same building as well as maintainingsome privacy and independence. Millie Creighton narrates the stories of the lives of two
Canadians—Raymond Moriyama - a Japanese Canadian who was interned with his family
as a youth during the war years; and the other, William Allister, a White Canadian who wastaken as a Prisoner of War by the Japanese and spent over three and a half years
imprisoned in P.O.W. camps, first in Hong Kong and then in Japan. Her paper also reveals
also that venue of our international conference where many of these papers weredelivered—the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo, Japan –was designed by Raymond Moriyama
Return to Table of Contents8as a “tree house”. It has also been a venue for William Allister’s art, which has been
exhibited in the embassy building.
The final set of papers all deal with native indigenous peoples, either in Japan orCanada. Jeffry Joseph Gayman considers the question of how research into Ainu culture in
Hokkaido might help the cause of Ainu people. He reflects on his own proposed study andprovides thoughtful insights into the challenges of collaborative and participatory
indigenous cultural research in Japan. Shunwa Honda reports on his study of theideological role of subsistence activities of indigenous Inuit people in Nunavut Territory,
Canada, and compares these with the subsistence activities of the “Kalaallit” Inuit of south
Greenland. He finds that subsistence activities, such as capturing seal, are not only a meansof livelihood in Nunavut Inuit society, but they also take on importance as an ethnic marker
in political negotiations with government agencies and contiguous indigenous groups. By
comparison, subsistence activities in Greenland play a role in sustaining livelihoods, but are
seldom, if ever, employed as a political tool. The final paper by Mikako Yamaguchi
examines the Kaska indigenous people of western Canada, their hunting practices and their
special relationship with the moose animal wildlife, which form an important source offood. Her study indicates that the Kaska people differentiate between “animals that eatother animals” and “animals that do not eat other animals”, and that their hunting behavior
is quite different in each case.
The editors would like to thank all the contributors for preparing their very interesting
papers for this collection. We also thank our research assistant Natasha Fox for her hard
work in editing these reports for publication. Both the conference and this publication
were funded by a generous grant provided by the Japan Foundation.
David W. Edgington
Norio Ota
Nobuyuki Sato
Jackie F. Steele
June 2016

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SECTION AECONOMICS AND POLITICS IN JAPAN

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101. Japan’s Lost Decade: A Canadian Perspective
Brian K. MacLean
Professor, Department of Economics
Laurentian University
Email: bmaclean@laurentian.ca

Abstract
This paper evaluates claims that the poor economic performance of Japan during the“Lost Decade” (of approximately 1992-2002) was the result of glaring errors inmacroeconomic policy that policy makers in a high-income developed country should nothave made. It accepts that Japan suffered from a serious output gap (that is, a shortfall of
aggregate spending) over the period of the Lost Decade, and a serious asset price bubble
leading into the Lost Decade, and that better macroeconomic policy decisions, both before
and during the Lost Decade, would have resulted in substantially better Japanese economic
performance from 1992 to 2002. It argues, however, that the mistakes of Japanese
economic policy-makers were rooted in widely accepted economic ideas of the time and inpolitical realities not unlike those faced by many other high-income countries. It illustrates
the largely understandable nature of Japanese macroeconomic policy mistakes with
examples and comparisons drawn primarily from Canada's experience over the same time
period and later.
Keywords: Japanese economy, Lost Decade, monetary policy, fiscal policy, Canadian
economy1. Introduction
Japan’s “Lost Decade,” the period of recessions and slow growth from the early 1990s
to about 2002, has been the subject of a large number of economic studies. Broadly
speaking these studies divide into two types: one type of study emphasizes demand-side
factors behind the Lost Decade and the other emphasizes supply-side factors.
This paper will focus on the claims of a subset of studies that emphasize demand-side
factors behind Japan's Lost Decade. In particular it will consider the claims of studies—see
Kingston (2013), Lincoln (2011), Posen (2010), and Wakatabe (2015)—that argue not onlythat the poor economic performance of Japan during this period was the result ofmacroeconomic policy decisions but also that these decisions were glaring errors thatpolicy makers in a high-income developed country should not have made.
The approach of this paper will be as follows. First, it will accept—see also MacLean(2005) and MacLean (2006)—that Japan suffered from a serious output gap over the
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11period of the Lost Decade, and a serious asset price bubble leading into the Lost Decade.
(The concept of an output gap is explained, for example, in Chapter 7 of Frank et al., 2012).
Second, it will accept that better macroeconomic policy decisions, both before and during
the Lost Decade, would have resulted in substantially better Japanese economic
performance from 1992 to 2002. Third, it will argue that the mistakes of Japanese
economic policy-makers were largely understandable. That is, the mistakes were rooted inwidely accepted economic ideas of the time and in political realities not unlike those facedby many other high-income countries. Fourth, the paper will illustrate the largely
understandable nature of Japanese macroeconomic policy mistakes with examples andcomparisons drawn primarily from Canada’s experience over the same time period andlater.
The main body of the paper is divided into four sections. The first section will look at
Japanese macroeconomic policy making during the latter half of the 1980s when Japan
experienced its so-called bubble economy period. The second section will look at monetary
policy during the period of the Lost Decade. The third section of the main body of the paper
will look at fiscal policy during the Lost Decade. The fourth and final section of the paper isthe conclusion.

2. Macroeconomic Policy During the Bubble Economy Period
During the latter half of the 1980s Japan experienced an asset price bubble ofspectacular magnitude. More precisely, it experienced asset price inflation involving boththe stock market and the real estate market over approximately the same time period, withthe stock market bubble bursting before the real estate bubble did.
Some critics have blamed Japanese policy-makers for the bubble by attributing the
bubble to the low interest rates maintained by the Bank of Japan through much of the latter
half of the 1980s. Some go further to blame not just the low interest rates but also Japan’s
acceptance of the Plaza Accord (1985) to bring about appreciation of the yen which in turntriggered a slowdown in the Japanese economy that low interest rates were intended tocounter.
There are at least four problems with this narrative. First, while the Plaza Accord
hastened the appreciation of the yen, the fact is that at the time it was implemented the U.S.
dollar was over-valued against a range of currencies. The situation in 1982 was similar tothe situation that arose again in 2003. If we look at the Canadian dollar in the post-1984
and the post-2003 periods we also see massive appreciation of the currency against the U.S.
dollar.
Second, at the time, and even today, the consensus was that monetary policy—interest
rate-setting in this case—should be concerned with controlling the rate of inflation as
measured by the growth rate of the consumer price index (CPI). Throughout the period of
the bubble economy, Japan’s rate of CPI inflation remained low. The flip side of this is that if
policy makers were to have done something, then they should have used not tightening ofmonetary policy but rather they should have used what has come to be understood as“macro-prudential policy”. That is, instead of raising interest rates the government should
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12have tightened up on various financial market regulations to discourage speculation in thestock and real estate markets. But macro-prudential policy for targeting asset price bubbles
has only moved into the mainstream of macroeconomic discourse in the last decade or less.
We have seen macro-prudential policy used, for example, in Canada to keep a housing
bubble in check since about 2007 as the U.S. housing bubble started to burst. Canadianpolicy markers had begun to loosen rules on mortgage lending in Canada as the UnitedStates loosened its own rules during its housing boom. When the U.S. boom turned to crash,
the Canadian policymakers reversed course. And this macro-prudential policy has been themain line of attack against the ongoing tendency for a Canadian housing bubble.
Third, and related to the second point, the attitude of policy makers to bubbles wasmuch more relaxed in the 1980s. While some economists and the general public attributed
the Great Depression to the Great Crash, following the research of Friedman and Schwartz(1963), the Great Depression has come to be seen in the economics mainstream as theresult of the Federal Reserve allowing a collapse of the money supply and not due to theGreat Crash. This tendency of the mainstream to downplay asset bubbles was further
reinforced by postwar economic history. The U.S. macro-economist Dornbusch (2002, 65)
famously opined of the United States that no postwar economic expansion ever died anatural death—every expansion was killed by the U.S. Federal Reserve. What he meant isthat postwar recessions were caused by interest rate hikes aimed at reducing the inflation
rate. Implicitly, he was saying that the postwar recessions had nothing to do with asset
price collapses. And his saying applied not just to the United States. It fit the experience ofCanada and many other OECD countries.
And what really led mainstream economists to downplay bubbles was the U.S.
experience contemporaneous with Japan’s bubble economy period while Alan Greenspan
was Chairman of the U.S. Federal Reserve. In 1987 the United States experienced a sharp
and sudden decline of the stock market. But that stock market crash did not produce amajor or even a minor U.S. recession. The Fed cut interest rates and the U.S. economy
barely slowed.
There were economists who studied bubbles, and who emphasized the significance of
their collapse, and the work of some of these economists, such as Minsky (1986) andKindleberger (1978), received much greater respect from the mainstream of economics
after the collapse of the U.S. housing bubble and the outbreak of the financial crisis of 20072008. And it was only in 2013 that an economist who had done work on bubbles received
the Nobel Prize in Economics. It was Shiller (2000), who had first attracted public attention
by the timely release of his book Irrational Exuberance just as the U.S. dot.com bubble of thelate 1990s was on its last legs. During the Japanese bubble, as during the U.S. housing
bubble and during bubbles throughout history, there was no shortage of plausible stories
explaining why high and rising asset prices were justified.
Fourth, the connection between low interest rates and housing market bubbles is not
as automatic as many commentators imagine. For example, as MacGee (2009) discusses,
the path of interest rates in the United States and Canada during the period from the early
2000s to 2006 was not much different, but the U.S. experienced a massive housing bubble
and Canada did not.
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So, yes, the bubble in Japan should have been countered. But it should have beencountered with macro-prudential policies, not with interest rate hikes. And the fact that theJapanese policy market did not respond in this way does not point to any extraordinary
degree of wrong headedness or ignorance on their part. Rather, focusing on inflation
control and more or less ignoring asset price bubbles was widely regarded at the time as
best-practice central banking.
There is one other charge that the critics level against Japanese macroeconomic
policymaking or, more precisely, monetary policy, in the bubble economy period. It is thatwhile the Bank of Japan was slow to raise interest rates to counter the bubble, when it did
eventually raise interest rates, it over-reacted and by doing so it made the collapse of the
bubble worse than it had to be.
The problem with this assertion is that it ignores other reasons for why the Bank ofJapan would have raised interest rates when it did. Recall that central bankers see theirmandate as controlling inflation. At the time, this meant keeping inflation low. According to
the theory to which central bankers gravitated after the abandonment of monetarism,
there are two ways that inflation can escalate in normal times. First, the economy can get
into an expansionary gap situation. In the product market this means that actual output
exceeds potential output. In the labour market, this translates into an actual unemployment
rate that is below the natural rate. And Japan's actual unemployment rate, low byinternational standards at the worst of times, fell to its lowest rate in years by the late1980s. Any normal central banker of the era would have taken that as a sign to raiseinterest rates.
This is what happened in Canada at the time. The unemployment rate, which had beenat 11.3% in 1983 as the expansion began, had fallen to 7.5% by 1989. And this 7.5%
unemployment rate was considered by the Bank of Canada to be too low, as a threat to themoderate inflation rate of 4%. So the Bank of Canada began to raise interest rates. In fact,
the goal was not just to prevent inflation from accelerating but to bring it down.
I mentioned a second way that the inflation rate could accelerate. This is due to what is
known as a “negative” inflation shock. And what happened in 1990 or so is that oil prices
shot up in connection with the first Gulf War, making for a negative inflation shock. So
central banks responded with interest rate hikes, further interest rate hikes in the case ofcountries that were seen by the central bankers as facing an expansionary gap.
I think that central banks overdid their interest rate hikes. They underestimated thedamage that the hikes would do to employment and output. I was even active in calling forthe government to avoid re-appointing Bank of Canada Governor John Crow for a second
term of office. But the issue is not whether the Bank of Japan overdid it. The point iswhether the Bank of Japan did something far out of line with what was considered in thecentral banking community as best practice. And I doubt that can be said to be the case.

3. Monetary Policy during the Lost Decade
The critics claim that the Bank of Japan was too slow to cut interest rates to zero, that it
erred by hiking its key policy rate in 2000, that it was too slow to adopt unconventional
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14monetary policy, and it should have know better about all three of these decisions. Again,
my standpoint is to agree with the critics about causality—that a more rapid reduction ofinterest rates in first half of the 1990s, holding back on the interest rate hike in 2000, and amore rapid adoption of unconventional monetary policies would have produced better
economic outcomes. What I would like to point out is that it is not clear that other central
bankers would have done things differently.

3.1. The pace of interest rate cuts in the first half of the 1990s
Let us first consider the pace of the interest rate cuts. The official discount rate, the key
policy rate for the Bank of Japan in the first half of the 1990s, was over 6% at its peak in
1992. It was 0.5% in 1995. So the rate was cut by over 6 percentage points in three years.
If you have a strong tendency to cut by 0.25 percentage points every time you cut your key
policy rate, which is fairly standard for central banks (e.g., it is true for the Bank of Canada),
and if you cut eight times a year, which is also fairly standard (e.g., it is true for the Bank of
Canada), then it would take a year to cut the key policy rate by two percentage points, twoyears to cut it by four percentage points, and three years to cut by six percentage points. In
other words, if you were to have predicted how long it would take to reach a key policy rateof 0.5 from a starting point of 6.5, with the Bank of Japan cutting rates by the Bank of
Canada rule, you would guess three years, the exact number of years it actually took.
Now let us consider how low the Bank of Japan cuts interest rates and how
unprecedented it was at the time to cut interest rates to as low as 0.5 percentage points. In
April 2009, the Bank of Canada cut its overnight rate to 0.25%, which was termed theeffective lower boundary that interest rates could fall to. On its way, the Bank of Canada
reduced the rate below 1% for the first time since the Bank's formation during the Great
Depression of the 1930s. We experienced many central banks cutting their rates to nearlyzero in the aftermath of the 2007-2008 global financial crisis, but the fact that near-zero
interest rates became commonplace at that juncture in history should not blind us to how
unusual near-zero interest rates were before then and how rare, even revolutionary, it wasfor the Bank of Japan (BOJ) to take interest rates as low as it did.
And even though the economy was demonstrating strength in the mid-1990s the Bankof Japan did not hike rates.
It may be instructive to draw a comparison with the Bank of Canada. It was slow to cut
rates in the 1990s. The unemployment rate rose to over 11% in the early 1990s recession.
Under Bank of Canada Governor Gordon Theissen there was even a rate hike, which was
hard to explain, in the mid-1990s. As late as 1997, the unemployment rate was over 9%.
The general trend was for rate cuts, of course, but they were very gradual.

3.2. The interest rate hike of 2000
Next let us consider the Japanese rate hike of 2000. It seems to have triggered anotherrecession. However, there are three things to keep in mind. First, this was not a series ofinterest rate hikes. It was a single hike of 0.25 %. Consumption and investment are notgenerally hypersensitive to interest rates. It would have been hard to predict that a rate
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15

hike would have had such an impact. (It also seems likely that, especially given thatexperience of Japan in the global recession of 2008-2009, that global macroeconomic
conditions around the time of the BOJ rate hike may have played a quite significant role inthe subsequent downturn).
Second, until one has experienced near-zero interest rates over a long period it can beheard to imagine the problems they create. In particular, they create problems for
retirement incomes, and this creates pressure for central banks to err on the side of raisinginterest rates whenever interest rates are very low.
There is also the notion of a natural rate of interest, generally thought to be about 2%
or so.
In the case of the Bank of Canada, it kept the overnight rate target, its key policy rate, at
0.25% for one year, from April 2009 to April 2010. But as soon as the financial markets
stabilized and the economy began to recover, it raised interest rates in steps to 1%, andwould have liked to have kept raising them if conditions had permitted. But the global
economic outlook refused to cooperate.
Third, other central banks were raising interest rates in 2000 when the BOJ made its
much-criticized rate hike. There was a boom associated with information technology. And
other central banks, such as the Bank of Canada, were raising interest rates by a lot.
So, yes, the BOJ interest rate hike of 2000 was a mistake. But when seen in aninternational context it is a more understandable mistake than it seems from the accountsof the critics.

3.3. The adoption of unconventional monetary policy
What about the charge that the Bank of Japan was slow to adopt unconventionalmonetary policy?
One point to keep in mind is that the 1990s was a period when mainstream
macroeconomists were touting loudly the merits of independent central banks. There wasa famous study—see Alesina and Summers (1993)—that correlated central bankindependence with inflation rate performance showing, or at least claiming to show, thathigh central bank independence was related to lower inflation. Among the central banks,
the Bank of Japan was viewed as being one of the least independent central banks in theOECD. And, if the Alesina-Summers analysis was correct, this lack of independence createdthe risk that Japan would eventually be punished with high inflation if the weakly
independent status of the BOJ was allowed to continue. Now the process by which the BOJ
obtained greater independence was a result of new legislation. It is a complicated one that I
tackled back in the 1990s in a joint paper (Bowles and MacLean, 1998) with Paul Bowles of
the University of Northern British Columbia. It is useful to keep in mind, however, that the
new BOJ law was in line with current research in macroeconomics.
How is the new BOJ law relevant here? Well, central banks are conservative
institutions that tend to be concerned with keeping inflation low and little else.
Governments, through their treasury branches (in the Japanese case, the Ministry of
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16

Finance; in the Canadian one, the Department of Finance) exercise some degree of control
over their central banks. They are inclined to use that control to push the central bank toshow some concern for economic growth, low unemployment and the like. So if you wanted
to see a central bank implement unconventional monetary policy, you would generally
want the central bank to be subject to pressure from the treasury - the Ministry of Financein the Japanese case. From this standpoint, the timing of the BOJ law was most unfortunate.
Another thing is that the Bank of Japan would have had reason to think that fiscal
policy would be effective. As we will see in the next section, a tightening of fiscal policy in1997 was very effective at inadvertently producing a recession. But, more to the point, areversal of austerity policy produced a recovery of the economy. And the Japanese debt to
GDP ratio was still relatively low (compared to today) before the 2000-2001 recession.
And there were reasons to think that unconventional monetary policy would not beeffective. Some of the arguments in favour of what is now known as quantitative easing(QE)—see MacLean (2015)—assumed that if central banks expanded the reserves of thebanking system by creating more base money the commercial banks would automatically
boost their loans and this would boost private-sector investment spending and hence boost
aggregate demand. This does not seem to have been what actually happened with QE in
Japan during 2001-2006, with QE in the United States and in Europe since 2009, or with QE
in Japan as part of Abenomics after 2012. So the BOJ was right to be skeptical.
One mechanism of unconventional monetary policy that can work to boost aggregate
demand is monetizing the government debt. But this is still a semi-forbidden topic inmainstream macroeconomic policy circles, something so scandalous that central banks areloath to acknowledge engaging in it. What it involves is the central bank buying up the debt
of the government. As the central bank is part of the government, the government gets tofinance a portion of its spending for “free.” In effect, the government gets to print up
money, so to speak, to finance a portion of spending. Monetizing the government debt canwork as an unconventional monetary policy if it encourages the government to engage inmore expansionary fiscal policy than otherwise.
Another way that unconventional monetary policy can work is if it is used to achieve
exchange rate depreciation. As with monetizing the debt, this is something that is generally
frowned upon in central banking circles—in this case as a type of beggar-thy-neighbour
policy. In fact, this is probably the most important way in which QE had worked to date.
This could be overlooked in the 2001-2006 period because Japan did not experience amajor yen depreciation then. But 2003 and after was a period in which the previously overvalued U.S. dollar depreciated against a range of currencies including the Canadian dollar.
The fact that the yen stayed relatively stable against the U.S. dollar and did not appreciatedrastically, as did the Euro and the Canadian dollar, was a considerable achievement thatworked in favour of Japan’s net exports and Japanese economic growth.
But QE cannot achieve exchange rate depreciation against the U.S. dollar if the UnitedStates is dead set against it. Just because the United States tolerated measures to weaken
the yen (relative to trend) in 2004, say, does not mean that Japan would have gotten awaywith deliberate yen depreciation at earlier junctures.
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Two other ways unconventional monetary policy can work were actually pioneered by
the BOJ, so far as I can tell. One of these is the practice of flattening the yield curve. Thisrequires that the central bank buy not just short-term debt, which has been the generalpractice of central bankers in high-income countries, but also long-term government debt.
So, although short-term rates are at zero and cannot fall significantly, the long-term rates,
which may be more important for spending in the economy, may have considerable room
to fall.
The other is the practice that has come to be known as forward guidance. In Japan, thistook the form of a zero-interest rate commitment, or ZIRC. Under this practice, the central
bank not only lowers the key policy rate to zero, but simultaneously commits tomaintaining the rate at zero until such time as macroeconomic conditions warrant it. Thisis another way that interest rates further out of the yield curve can be lowered. For
example, if the interest rate is now zero and it is almost certain to be zero two years fromnow, then the two-year rate of interest will be zero.

3.4. Summing up: monetary policy during the lost decade
To conclude this section, let me summarize. First, the pace of Japanese interest ratecuts to the mid-1990s was in line with general practice at that time. Second, although theinterest rate hike in 2000 was a mistake, it is easy to understand why the BOJ would think asingle hike of a quarter of a percentage point would not have a big, negative impact on theoverall economy. Third, the BOJ was right to be skeptical about some of the arguments infavour of unconventional monetary policy. The most obvious benefits to QE were taboo
ones—monetization of the government debt and beggar-thy-neighbour exchange rate
depreciation. Other effective components—flattening the yield curve and the ZIRC—had to
be developed at the BOJ itself. And the new BOJ law, adapted in line with mainstream
macroeconomic research, had the unfortunate effect of shielding the BOJ from pressure
from the government to act sooner.

4. Fiscal Policy During the Lost Decade
The critics point to the tightening of fiscal policy in 1997 as a huge mistake. I would
agree it was a huge mistake. It is a mistake comparable to Roosevelt’s decision to tighten
fiscal policy in 1937, the decision of various European countries to tighten fiscal policy in2010, and the decision of the current Japanese government to tighten fiscal policy in April
2014 with a hike of the sales tax from 5 to 8 percent.
The issue with the tightening of fiscal policy is that its impact depends on what else
happens at the same time. The U.S. President Bill Clinton pursued a fairly tight fiscal policy
and was very popular for so doing. He succeeded because the Federal Reserve under Alan
Greenspan decided to ignore the mainstream evidence about the natural rate ofunemployment in the United States being over 6%—see MacLean and Osberg (1996) for
critical perspectives on the concept of the natural rate of unemployment—and kept
interest rates low even as the unemployment rate went to 4%. The expansion of
employment and output worked through the well-known automatic stabilizers to keep the
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U.S. federal government budget in surplus and to offset any consequences for output oftight Clinton administration fiscal policies. In Canada, Liberal Finance Minister Paul Martin
had the good fortune to initiate quite draconian spending cuts in the name of government
budget deficit cutting against the backdrop of surging net exports as a result of thedepreciating Canadian dollar and the U.S. economic boom under Greenspan’s unexpected
shift in U.S. monetary policy.
In Japan, there were no such “divine winds” that came along to offset the tightening offiscal policy. On the contrary, there was a string of financial institution failures that reduced
lending and hence investment in the economy, and then the dramatic East Asian financial
crisis of 1997-98—on which, see MacLean (1999)—and the crisis produced big drops inthe incomes of several of Japan’s important regional trading partners, and hence inJapanese exports and output.
It could be said that what is most remarkable about Japanese fiscal policy in the 1990s
is not so much that the government once moved to tighten fiscal policy but rather than it
was willing and able politically to run such large budget deficits for so long.
It is important to recognize that when the bubble burst the government moved fairly
quickly to counter it with expansionary fiscal policy. Compare this to the Canadian situation
after the 2007-2008 financial crisis that peaked in September 2008. Canada was in a
general election with voting taking place in October 2008. Every single major political party
was on record saying that there would be no deficits if they were elected. This continued
even as it became more and more clear that a global recession was in the cards, and thatbudgets would automatically go into deficit through the operation of automatic stabilizers.
After the election, even as the global recession hit, and output in Canada sank, the minority
federal Conservative government refused to act. The opposition Liberal and NDP parties
began to push for fiscal stimulus, and by January the government relented. But this was in
the face of the government possibly losing power to the opposition parties as well as due tointernational pressure, as the International Monetary Fund (IMF) was pushing countries torun deficits of 2% of GDP in coordination.
One final point to realize is that Japan’s fiscal situation lends itself to exaggeration, and
it is plausible to conclude that this would make Japanese policy makers more cautious thanotherwise about running government budget deficits and running up the government debt
to GDP ratio. One reason that Japan’s government debt to GDP ratio is not as dire as fiscal
conservatives would have you believe is that the net debt to GDP ratio is much lower than
the gross debt to GDP ratio, and it is the net debt to GDP ratio that is more relevant. The net
debt to GDP ratio takes into account that the government has not just debts, but also very
considerable financial assets (e.g., over US$1 trillion of foreign exchange reserves). For
many countries, the net and gross debt to GDP ratios are not much different, as thegovernment has no significant financial assets; but there is a huge difference between net
and gross government debt in the Japanese case.
The other reason that Japan’s government debt situation is prone to exaggeration isthat the debt to GDP ratio is a weaker proxy for the burden of the government debt than is
the ratio of interest payments on the debt relative to GDP. Interest payments on thegovernment debt depend, of course, not just on the government debt but also on the
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19average interest rate paid on the debt. You could say that when we use the government
debt to GDP ratio to compare the burden of the government debt across countries we are
implicitly assuming that the interest rates on debt of the countries being compared are
more-or-less the same. Economists with specialized knowledge can say that Japanesepolicymakers are responding to the wrong indicators of the fiscal situation. But politicians
have to respond to the public. And if the public, responding to the media, see a bigger
problem than the economists with the specialized fiscal knowledge, it is not a sign that thepoliticians and bureaucrats are particularly hopeless, but is rather an indication that they
are subject to the same pressures and exhibit the same shortcomings that we witness inmany jurisdictions around the world.

5. Conclusion
This paper has stated and evaluated a particular set of claims about Japanesemacroeconomic policy during and leading into Japan’s Lost Decade. I have accepted theKeynesian framework of the authors of the claims but I have presented evidence that thepolicy mistakes were less obviously inexcusable than the authors of the claims imply. I
have made the particular point of providing relevant evidence from Canada’s experience.
I have focused my attention on three sets of alleged policy mistakes: macroeconomic
policy mistakes leading up to the bubble and its crash, monetary policy mistakes during thelost decade, and fiscal policy mistakes during the lost decade.
Regarding policy mistakes during the bubble economy period, I have emphasized that
central banks during the bubble economy period and after used interest rates to control
inflation, not asset price bubbles. In the 1980s, the received wisdom was that asset pricebubbles could be safely ignored. That view has changed, and now the standard view is thatbubbles warrant attention but attention in the form of macro-prudential regulation offinance. In response to the view that the BOJ was too aggressive with interest rate hikes, I
argue that the hikes had another, or at least an additional, rationale—that is, the Japanese
economy was seen as overheating and in need of cooling off, and in need of someone taking
away the “punch bowl”.
Regarding monetary policy mistakes during the Lost Decade, I pointed out that thepace of BOJ rate reductions in the first half of the 1990s was not unusually slow, that
reducing the policy rate to zero was actually a daring move, that raising the interest rate in2000 had more dire consequences for the economy than most economists would havepredicted, and I provided various neglected reasons for why the BOJ did not resort tounconventional monetary policy until 2001.
Regarding fiscal policy, I noted that the 1997 fiscal tightening has many parallels inother countries and times, that the way the fiscal burden is reported encouraged Japanesepolicy makers to over-react to government budget deficits, and that their tolerance ofbudget deficits is actually more surprising than the fact that they were not bolder in theirpursuit of expansionary fiscal policy.
In terms of methodology, it has already been mentioned that the paper adopts a
Keynesian macroeconomic framework and that it seeks to understand Japanese
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20macroeconomic policy making by situating it in an international context, in part by using
Canadian evidence. Another feature of the methodology has been the application of theprinciple that decisions, including policy decisions, are to be judged not by their outcomesbut rather by the knowledge available to decision-makers at the time the decisions were
made. This is more than recognizing, as the saying goes, that hindsight is 20/20. It means
bringing to bear knowledge of economic history and the history of economic thought to put
decisions in context.
I would like to conclude with two comments about the significance of this paper. The
first point is that indirectly this paper has highlighted features of mainstream
macroeconomics thinking that influenced Japanese decision making for the worse but
which have since fallen out of favour. There was once an overwhelming consensus infavour of low inflation. Now there is more acceptance of moderate inflation, and muchgreater concern about avoiding deflation. There was once a laissez-faire attitude to asset
price bubbles. Now there is widespread acceptance of the need for macro-prudential
regulation to keep bubbles in check. There was once a consensus in favour of very
independent central banks. Now there is a growing recognition that an overly independent
central bank might be overly concerned with inflation and inadequately concerned withdeflation.
The second point is that there is a danger of exaggerating the incompetence ofpolicymakers in a period such as Japan’s Lost Decade. It suggests that in jurisdictions with“normal” policy makers, the same mistakes would never be made, and could lead to adangerous complacency. Indeed, to some degree this lesson has already been learned, forexample, central bankers such as Ben Bernanke have discovered that dealing with thecollapse of an asset price bubble was not as easy as he imagined it would be.

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References
A. Alesina and L. Summers (1993) Central Bank Independence and Macroeconomic
Performance: Some Comparative Evidence, Journal of Money, Credit and Banking, 25 (2),151-162.
P. Bowles and B. MacLean (1998) The New Bank of Japan Law: Why is Japan Joining the
Global Trend? in M. Donnelly (ed.) Confidence and Uncertainty in Japan, Toronto,
University of Toronto-York University Joint Centre for Asia-Pacific Studies, 193-209.
R. Dornbusch (2002) Keys to Prosperity, Cambridge, MA, MIT Press.
R. Frank, B. Bernanke , L. Osberg, M. Cross, and B. MacLean (2012) Principles ofMacroeconomics 4th Cdn. ed., Toronto, McGraw-Hill Ryerson.
M. Friedman and A.J. Schwartz (1963) A Monetary History of the United States, 1867-1960,
Princeton, Princeton University Press.
C. Kindleberger (1978) Manias, Panics and Crashes, New York, Basic Books.
J. Kingston (2013) Contemporary Japan: History, Politics, and Social Change Since the 1980s,
Malden, MA, Wiley-Blackwell.
E. Lincoln (2011) The Heisei Economy: Puzzles, Problems, Prospects, Journal of JapaneseStudies, 37, 2 (Summer), 351-375.
J. MacGee (2009) Why Didn’t Canada’s Housing Market Go Bust?, Economic Commentary(Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland),http://www.clevelandfed.org/research/commentary/2009/0909.cfm.
B. MacLean (2015) Quantitative Easing, in L-P. Rochon and S. Rossi (eds.) The Encyclopediaof Central Banking, Cheltenham, UK, Edward Elgar, 414-416.
B. MacLean (2006) Avoiding a Great Depression but Getting a Great Recession,
International Journal of Political Economy, Spring, 84–107.
B. MacLean (2005) Japan’s Ten Lost Years (or More), Graham Lecture, presented to the 34th
Annual Conference of the Atlantic Canada Economics Association, Dalhousie University,
October.
B. MacLean (1999) The Transformation of International Economic Policy Debate, 1997-98,
in B. MacLean (ed.) Out of Control: Canada in an Unstable Financial World, Toronto, James
Lorimer, 67-94.
B. K. MacLean and L. Osberg (eds.) (1995), The Unemployment Crisis: All for Nought?,
Montreal, McGill-Queen’s University Press.
H. Minsky (1986) Stabilizing an Unstable Economy, New Haven, CT, Yale University Press.
A.S. Posen (2010) The Realities and Relevance of Japan’s Great Recession: Neither Ran nor
Rashomon, STICERD Public Lecture, London School of Economics 24 May.
R. Shiller (2000) Irrational Exuberance, Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press.

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M. Wakatabe (2015) Japan's Great Stagnation and Abenomics: Lessons for the World, New
York, Palgrave Macmillan.

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2. The Possibility of Reform to Japan’s Upper House Requires
Amendments to the Constitution
Masato Kamikubo
Professor, College of Policy Science
Ritsumeikan University
Email: masatok@fc.ritsumei.ac.jp

Abstract
The objective of this paper is to examine how the Japanese government strategicallyrealises amendment of the Constitution of Japan. Prime Minister Shinzo Abe is seeking thereform of the war-renouncing constitution, especially the reform of Article 9. However, it
splits Japanese public opinion in two. It is difficult for Abe to overcome the strong
opposition to constitutional reform.
The argument of this paper is that the Japanese government should focus on promoting
administrative reforms that require constitutional reform. This paper offers the suggestionthat “the reform of House of Councillors” would be a good first step toward constitutional
reform. Political issues that need constitutional reform are not only remilitarisation but
also human rights issues and public administration.
With regard to human rights issues, Komeito claims to add “new human rights” aspersonal rights, including the right to privacy, and environmental rights to the Constitution,a move called “Kaken”. Komeito, a member of the coalition government, strategically thinks
Kaken is more acceptable for Japanese people than the amendment of Article 9, so it ispossible to be an opening gun of constitutional reform.
On the other hand, this paper examines the reform of the House of Councillors as astarting point of constitutional reform. Japan adopts a bicameral system in which there are
two independent assemblies. The problem of Japan’s National Diet is that Upper House’s
power is too strong compared with other democratic nations. For instance, when decisions
by the Representatives and Councillors differ, a bill cannot be passed without two-thirds
approval in the House of Representatives. Japan’s Upper House was established as theHouse of Peers in the Empire of Japan. After the Second World War, the House of Peers was
replaced by the House of Councillors. Nevertheless, strong power of the House has still
remained. In particular, since the 1990s the government has often fallen into difficulties inmanaging the Diet because of the “Twisted Diet” in which the ruling party secures majority
seats in Lower House, while the opposition party obtains majority seats in the Upper
House. Therefore, political parties, especially Ishinno-toh (Japan Restoration Party),strongly argue that the House of Councillors should be abolished and a unicameral systemshould be introduced.
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24However, the argument of Ishinno-toh, which was originally a regional party, seems
strange because its main policy is decentralisation. In the world, almost all federations,such as the USA, Germany, Canada, and so on, adopt a bicameral system, and the Upper
Houses in the federation are the house for regional representation. Therefore, it seems to
be natural for Ishinno-toh to pursue reform of the Upper House. Concretely, it should claim
the Upper House should be the house for representatives of local governments.
This paper will explore the possibilities of Upper House reform in Japan comparing itwith the Canadian parliamentary system.
Keywords: Amendment of the Constitution of Japan, Article 9, new human rights, thereform of House of Councillor

1. Introduction
Prime Minister Shinzo Abe achieved victory in Japan’s general election in December
2014. It was Abe’s fourth straight victory in a national election. The Abe government
accomplished a secure majority in both the House of Representatives and the House ofCouncillors. Prime Minister Abe recognized his government’s policies were supported by
the Japanese voters.1 The Abe government has already passed the “Specified Secrets
Protection Bill”2 through the National Diet and established a Japanese version of the“National Security Council” (NSC)3 together with the collective security system.4 Hetargeted reforms of the Constitution of Japan, which is called a “war-renouncing
constitution”, especially the reform of Article 9 (Abe, 2006). However, this has split
Japanese public opinion in two and it may be difficult for Abe to overcome strong
opposition to constitutional reform.
In order to decrease Japanese people’s opposition, the Komeito Party, a member of thecoalition government, claims that it will add new articles (Kaken) to the Constitution,5 suchas “environmental rights”, “privacy rights”, “the right to know”, “intellectual property
rights”, “criminal victims’ rights”, and so on. The Abe government expects to be able toamend Article 9 of the Constitution because Kaken will result in a decrease of opposition to
constitutional reform. On the other hand, the Social Democratic Party and the Communist
Party, which have previously protected the Constitution of Japan, oppose Kaken.6
The main argument of this paper is that there are many political issues that require
constitutional reform, including remilitarisation, human rights issues and public
administration. It is suggested that “Reform of the House of Councillors” is a good example
of a significant political issue that requires constitutional reform.
This paper is divided into three parts. Firstly, many political system reforms that need
constitutional amendments are explored. These include “reform of the bicameral national
assembly” (Abolition of the House of Councillors), the problem of “the Diet session”, theintroduction of a “directly elected prime minister”, the introduction of doshusei (regional
system) and so on. It can be pointed out that both anti-constitution groups (kaiken-ha) andpro-constitution groups (goken-ha) recognize the importance of reform of the political
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25system. Therefore, an examination of such reforms by the anti-constitution groups willprobably result in progress in constitutional reforms.
Secondly, this paper examines reform of the House of Councillors. Politicians,
journalists, and academics claim that it is necessary to reform the House of Councillors
because Japanese governments have faced difficulties in managing a “Twisted Diet”. Thismeans that the ruling party secures a majority of seats in the Lower House, while
opposition parties obtain a majority in the Upper House. Nevertheless, it is difficult to carryout such reform because in order to do so the constitution of Japan must be amended.
Thirdly, this paper compares Japan’s reform with those of the German and CanadianUpper Houses. The Upper House in almost all federations that adopt a bicameral system(e.g. the U.S.A., Germany, Canada and Switzerland) is a kind of “regional representation”, inwhich the Upper House can reflect the interests of a multiracial society and/or different
language groups. It may be possible for Japan to reform its Upper House as a kind of“regional representation”.

2. Political System Reforms Which Need Constitutional Amendments
In Japan, there are a number of political agendas called kaken that require
constitutional amendments such as adding “new human rights” to the constitution. Such
new human rights include “environmental rights”, “privacy rights”, “the right to know”,“intellectual property rights,” and “crime victims’ rights.” When the constitution of Japanwas enacted in 1946, the concept of such human rights did not exist but recently theimportance of new human rights has increased (Gendai Kenpou Kyouiku Kenkyukai, 2014).
Therefore, it is useful for anti-constitutional groups (kaiken-ha), such as the Liberal
Democratic Party (LDP), to expand citizen freedoms and rights through the constitution.
Such improvements to the constitution may help protect the LDP from harsh criticism of
their draft constitutional amendments that overly emphasise “public interest”, “publicorder”, and “citizen obligations” but downgrade human rights.7 On the other hand, theSocial Democratic Party (SDP) and the Communist Party of Japan (CPJ) are proconstitutional groups (goken-ha) that reject the idea of any constitutional amendment.
They strongly opposed to Kaken even although they have pursued the development of
human rights.8
Other issues related to political reform which also require constitutional amendments
include “reform of the bicameral national assembly” (abolition of the House ofCouncillors),9 the problem of the “diet session”,10 the introduction of a “directly electedprime minister”,11 the introduction of doshusei (regional system)12 and so on. Both the
kaiken-ha and goken-ha recognize the importance of political system reform. Consequently,
LDP and Komeito think the examinations of kaken and political reform could be a natural
first step to start deliberations on constitutional reform.

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3. Reform of the House of Councillors (Upper House)
This section examines one reform of the political system associated with constitutional
amendments, that is, reform of the House of Councillors (Upper House). The House ofCouncillors has been considered as one of the causes of the stagnation of Japanese politics.
One of the serious problems of the House of Councillors is the so-called “Twisted Diet”(Takenaka, 2010). A Twisted Diet means that the ruling party secures a majority of seats in
the Lower House while the opposition party obtains a majority in the Upper House. In a
Twisted Diet, the ruling party passes bills through the Lower House but these bills are
rejected in the Upper House and as a result nothing can be decided in the National Diet.
One problem of Japan’s National Diet is that the Upper House’s power is too strong
compared with other democratic nations. For instance, when decisions by the
Representatives and Councillors differ, the bill cannot be passed without a two-thirds
approval in the House of Representatives.13 Japan’s Upper House was originally establishedas the House of Peers in the Empire of Japan, but although the House of Peers was replacedby the House of Councillors after the Second World War the strong power of the original
House still remains (Naito, 2009, 2-4).
After the Twisted Diet that resulted from the LDP’s crushing defeat in the House ofCouncillors’ election in July 2007, six Japanese prime ministers (Abe in 2006-7, Fukuda in
2007-8, Aso in 2008-9, Hatoyama in 2009-10, Kan in 2010-11, and Noda in 2011-12) all
faced difficulties in passing important bills through the Upper House. As a result, they each
had to be replaced after a short period of time (Goto, 2014).
Upper House reform is an old political issue but it is possible that it will re-emerge as a
specific political agenda. For example, some political parties, especially Ishinno-toh (Japan
Restoration Party), strongly argue that the House of Councillors should be abolished and aunicameral system should be introduced.14 They argue that this is because there is nodifference between the houses although this has not been academically verified. Upper
House reform has been used as a “political football”. However, this paper claims that such
reform should be professionally considered in connection with constitutional reform.

4. The Significance of Adopting a Bicameral System and the Special
Characteristics of Japan’s Bicameral System
In Article 43 of the Constitution of Japan, it is stipulated that “both houses shall consistof elected members, representative of all the people. The number of the members of eachhouse shall be fixed by law.”15 This article is exceptional in world terms in that only Japan
stipulates that “both houses shall consist of elected members” (Iwasaki, 2013, 1-10). Other
countries that have adopted a bicameral system are different. The Lower House tends torepresent the middle-class that basically reflects the interests of the majority of society.
This is similar in Japan but the structure of each Upper House varies depends on eachcountry’s situation. There are several types: “House of Lords” (UK); “Federation” (USA,Germany, and, Switzerland); and “Publicly Elected” (Italy and Japan) (Nonaka et al., 2001,
75-77).
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There are four merits of the bicameral system: 1. Tyranny is unlikely due to aparliamentary majority. 2. Careful deliberation is possible that avoids hasty decisionmaking. 3. Impulsive actions by the Lower House can be checked. 4. Various public
opinions and interests can be represented in a detailed manner. 1, 2 and 3 are widely
understood in Japan but 4 may not be. Nevertheless, 4 is very significant because in many
countries there is a diversity of culture (ethnic minorities, languages and religions),
economy (occupations and income), and politics (ideologies) (Nonaka et al., 2001, 77); andone of the important roles of politics is to adjust to these diversities. The Upper House is amechanism to reflect the interests of a multiracial society and/or different language
groups, which tend to be neglected in the Lower House (Iwasaki, 2013). However, thereason why the significance of 4 is not understood in Japan is that the Constitution of Japan
states that both Houses consist of elected people. Also, it is interesting that Japanese people
tend to consider that Japan is a “homogeneous society” (Oguma, 1995).

4.1 Case Study (1): The German House of Councillors
The Upper House in almost all federations, such as the U.S.A., Germany, Canada, andSwitzerland, is a form of “regional representation” (Wilfried, 2004). An Upper House canreflect the interests of a multiracial society and/or different language groups and so it may
be possible for Japan to reform its Upper House as a kind of “regional representation”. The
German House of Councillors, which is a good example of a “House for Regional
Representation”, will be examined as a case study.
In the German National Diet, there are 598 members in the Federation Lower Houseand 69 members in the Federation Upper House. The members of the Upper House aregovernors and ministers in local government. On the other hand, there are no full-timemembers in the Upper House and their voting behavior is strongly controlled by local
governments: the members exercise their voting rights by following the decisions of local
government (Maddex, 2001).
The Upper House (the Bundesrat) can reject bills that have been already passed
through the Lower House. However, the Upper House has no authority to amend bills but if
the bills are not passed through the Bundesrat they are scrapped. In order to enact a bill,
the Upper House must pass it (Iwasaki, 2013, 125-133). Therefore, the German Upper
House has strong enough authority to reflect the interests of regions, a multiracial society
and different language groups.
There are two points that Japan can learn from Germany’s Upper House in order toreform the House of Councillors. Firstly, it is a cheaper form of government. In Germany’s
Upper House, regional representatives, such as governors and members of local
assemblies, have seats and votes but as there are no full-time members of the Upper House
it is not necessary to pay them a salary (Iwasaki, 2013, 192). If this system were introduced
in Japan, the Japanese government would be able to cut its expenditure on members of theHouse of Councillors. Secondly, in the German Federation the roles of central and local
government are clearly divided (Iwasaki, 2013, 191). The central government creates laws
and local governments implement them. The Japanese system is similar in that local
governments implement the law. In Japan, it is very important that local governments
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28

participate in decision-making in the National Diet so it may be beneficial for the Japanese
government to study the German Upper House.

4.2 Case Study (2): The Canadian Upper House
Canada was the first country to combine a federal and parliamentary system. Also,
Canada was the first country to establish a federation under a constitutional monarchy. The
Queen and the Federal Senate and the House of Representatives have legislative power.
Laws are approved after voting in the House and Senate, and after the Queen’s assent (theRoyal Assent). The Governor-General is the Queen’s representative in Canada (MacLeod,
2008).
The Canadian government applied the design of the British House of Lords to create
their own Upper House. In the Canadian parliament, there are 105 members in the Upper
House and 338 members in the Lower House. The Lower House has a single-seat
representation system to elect members. On the other hand, Canada’s Upper House adopts
an “appointive system”. There are various requirements in order to qualify as a member of
the Upper House: a property requirement; to be at least 30 years of age; to have Canadiannationality; and, to be a resident of the province in which the candidate wants to be elected.
The prime minister recommends appropriate candidates to be Governor-General and theGovernor-General, on behalf of the Queen appoints members of Upper House. The
members have no term of office and the age of retirement is 75. When a member retires, a
new member is appointed by the Governor-General (Franco, 2006).
The Upper House has various rights including the right not to pass a bill that has
already been passed through the Lower House. There are four ways in which the Upper
House can do this: rejection; amendment; pending; and, interruption. The GovernorGeneral assents to bills that have passed through the two Houses. On the other hand, if one
House rejects a bill it is sent back to the House to which it was originally submitted. The bill
may be scrapped if it is rejected when undergoing amendment in either of the Houses(Iwasaki, 2013, 14-17).
In sum, the Upper House has basically the same authority as the Lower House.
However, in Canada it is considered that the Upper House is different from the Lower
House. The Upper House is called the House of “deep deliberation”. For instance, the Upper
House is able to keep a government bill that has been sent from the House ofRepresentatives in a temporary pending state. It is widely thought that the role of Upper
House is to cool the “populism” in the Lower House through deep deliberation. In otherwords, the Upper House is expected to apply a brake to the Lower House (Brooks, 2007).

5. Further Analysis of the Canadian Upper House
This paper will now examine whether a House of “deep deliberation” functions well or
not in Canada. Firstly, the relationship between the prime minister and the Upper House
will be investigated. In a parliamentary system, the leader of the biggest party in the Lower
House becomes prime minister. The prime minister can select members of the Upper
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29

House and recommend them to the Governor-General. These can include people related tothe same political party; experienced veteran members of the Lower House; veteran party
staff and secretariat; and business executives who support the ruling party. As long as theruling party has power it will be able to form a majority in the Upper House. Consequently,
the prime minister can have a majority of seats in the Lower House and exert strong
influence on the Upper House through the selection process. Among countries that haveadopted the parliamentary system, Canada is considered the country where prime minister
is in the strongest position (Iwasaki, 2013, 23-25).
Next, the “appointive system” will be examined. In a multi-ethnic society, there arecultural cleavages based on ethnicity, language and religion. Politicians should work not tomake them overlap with economic and political cleavages such as profession, income, andideology. As has been mentioned, the Upper House is a mechanism that can reflect theinterests of a multiracial society and different language groups that tend to be neglected in
the Lower House. Therefore, the Upper House in Canada is called a “House of sober, second
thought” (Iwasaki, 2013, 24). The role of the Upper House is different from the Lower
House, to which members are elected, in that it introduces another important element of
democracy: “deep deliberation”.
It is useful to study the independence and stability of Canada’s Upper House. Membersof the Upper House are appointed by the Governor-General and have no terms of office.
Unless they resign, members can continue to have a seat in the Upper House until they are
75 years old. Therefore, they can be completely separate from the pressure of voters andinterest groups and can use their expertise and wisdom to present solutions to the
problems of Canadian society from a long-term viewpoint.
Canada’s case gives rise to suggestions for the reform of the Japanese system. In Japan,
politicians tend to focus on their re-election and can succumb to “populism”. An election isa prerequisite for democracy but politicians tend to focus on popular support in order to be
re-elected. This makes it difficult for them to agree in the National Diet on what is best forthe state that leads to a “deterioration of politics”. The Canadian experience of a bicameral
system gives hints about how to prevent such a deterioration of politics.
As has been mentioned, in bicameral systems across the world, the Lower House
consists of elected members and representatives of all the people, while the Upper House
consists of diversified members. The Canadian parliamentary system is designed to
combine the House of “elected members” (Lower House) and “appointed members” (Upper
House) in order to prevent a deterioration of politics by introducing another element of
democracy: “deep deliberation”.

6. Conclusion
This paper argues that significant political issues which require constitutional
amendments include not only the remilitarisation of Article 9 but also human rights issues
and public administration. This paper indicates that “the reform of the House ofCouncillors” is a good example of an important political issue that requires constitutional
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30reform. Japanese governments have fallen into difficulties in managing a Twisted Diet andsome political parties wish to dismantle the House of Councillors.
This paper uses the Upper Houses in Germany and Canada as case studies. The Germancase indicates that an Upper House can absorb the interests of a multiracial society anddifferent language groups. The Canadian case shows that the Upper House is an arena of“deep deliberation”. These cases give us suggestions to solve the problem of thedeterioration of politics in Japan.
In short, even pro-constitutional groups (goken-ha) that try to protect Article 9 andoppose constitutional reform, cannot avoid examining constitutional amendments. One
way to do this is by adding new human rights to the constitution, which, in turn, can lead toreform of the political system.

Notes
1 Nihon Keizai Shimbun, December 15, 2014.
2 Nihon Keizai Shimbun, December 8, 2013
3 Nihon Keizai Shimbun, December 3, 2013
4 Nihon Keizai Shimbun, September 20, 2015
5 Komeito homepage, https://www.komei.or.jp/more/realtime/201307_04.html, accessed on
November 28, 2015
6 Nihon Keizai Shinbun, June 12, 2015
7 The Liberal Democratic Party “Kenpou Kaisei Souan (The Draft of Constitutional Amendment)”

https://www.jimin.jp/policy/policy_topics/pdf/seisaku-109.pdf, accessed on November 28, 2015.
8 Nihon Keizai Shinbun, June 12, 2015
9 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 43”,

http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.
10 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 52, 53, and 54”,http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.
11 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 6, and 67”,
http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.
12 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 92, 93, 94, 95”,

http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.
13 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 59”,

http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.
14 Ishinno-to (Japan Restration Party) Homepage

https://ishinnotoh.jp/policy/policydetail/, accessed on November 28, 2015.
15 The Constitution of Japan, “Article 43”,

Return to Table of Contents31http://japan.kantei.go.jp/constitution_and_government_of_japan/constitution_e.html, accessed on
December 10th, 2015.

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32

References
S. Abe (2006) Utsukushii Kuni-he (Beautiful Country), Tokyo, Bunshun Bunko.
S. Brooks (2007) Canadian Democracy: An Introduction 5ed., Don Mills, Oxford University
Press.
G. Franco (2006). Canadian Almanac & Directory 2006, Toronto, Micromedia ProQuest.
M. Iwasaki (2013) Niinsei Gikai no Hikaku Seijigaku (Comparative Politics of Bicameral
Parliament), Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten.
Gendai Kenpou Kyouiku Kenkyukai (2014) Kenpou to Sorezore no Jinken (Constitution and
Human Rights), Tokyo, Houritsu Bunka Sha.
K. Goto (2014) Dokyumento Heisei Seijishi 3: Genmetsuno Seiken Koutai (Document Heisei
Reform: Disappointment of Regime Change), Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten.
R. L. Maddex (2001) Constitutions of the World 2nd ed., Washington, D.C.: Congressional
Quarterly Inc.
K. Naito (2009) Kizokuin no Nakano Sangiin (House of Councillors among House ofLords),Rekishisho Tsushin (Report of History), 183, 2-4.
T. Nonaka, M. Nakamura, K. Takahashi, and K. Takami (2001) Kenpou (Constitution), Tokyo,
Yuhikaku.
E. Oguma (1995) Tanitsu Minzoku Shinwa no Kigen (The Origin of Myth of HomogeneousSociety), Tokyo, Shinyo Sha.
H. Takenaka (2010) Sangiin to ha Nanika: 1947~2010 (What is the House of Councillors?:
1947~2010), Tokyo, Chuo Koron.
S. Wilfried (2004) Federalism and Second Chambers, Brussels, Presses Interuniversities
Europeennes.

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33

3. State-Molded Civil Society Configuration by Political
Institutions—a Comparison of Japan, the U.S.A. and China1
Wei Liu2
Lecturer, Department of Political Science, School of Political Science and Public
Management
Southwest University
Email: newway@swu.edu.cn

Abstract
Our paper provides a comparative analysis of the characteristics of civil society
organizations (CSOs) by describing the relationships between social/political forces andinstitutions, and changes in institutional configurations in three countries. We argue thatthese relationships can be clarified by examining comparative data in terms of CSOs’
foundation year, the fields of their activities, their overall policy attention, purpose andsphere of activities, their budgets, number of members, and their number of personnel. Our
results suggest certain patterns of differences and similarities in CSOs’ characteristics inthe three countries that provide clues to institutional configurations and relationships. By
using the Japan Internet Group Survey (JIGS) data in a comparative context we seek torefine our study of the role of CSOs in comparative national environments.
Keywords: Civil Society, Civil Society Organizations, Configurations, Institutions, State

1. Introduction
What is the role of the state in the development of civil society and its influence on theactivities of civil society organizations (CSOs)? Is civil society totally distinct from the state
as its theoretical definition implies? Rather than a simplistic, oppositional relationship, inpractice, the boundaries between civil society and the state are often complex, blurred and1This article has been revised according to the comments and advice from the 2015
International Conference of Japan Studies Association of Canada, 20-23 May 2015, Embassy of
Canada to Japan & Chuo University, Tokyo.
2

The author would like to express his deep appreciation to Professor Yutaka Tsujinaka, L.
M. Tkach-Kawasaki, Willy Jou and Yohei Kobashi for their constructive advice and generous
support.
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34

negotiated. The state always tries to mold, shape and influence civil society and CSOs’
activities to its liking by means of state-recognized institutions (Tsujinaka, 2003, 83). The
state also promotes a particular pattern of civil society configuration through its direct andindirect structuring of incentives. Political institutions structure the “rules of the game,”
which in part determine who participates, how to play and who flourishes (Pekkanen,
2003, 116). In making this argument this paper joins a trend of efforts to make a moresophisticated understanding of how the organizational dimensions of civil society are
influenced by state action and political institutions (Carapico, 1998; Skocpol, 1999; Levy,
1999; Hall, 1999; Chessa, 2004; Pekkanen, 2003, 2004, 2006). We unfold the discussion
from the perspective of how the configuration of civil society is shaped and molded bygovernment-structuring incentives and political institutions.
Our discussion is based mainly on the Japan Interest Group Survey (JIGS) research led
by Professor Yutaka Tsujinaka, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University ofTsukuba. The JIGS Survey data provides a comprehensive approach to measuring civilsociety, paying attention not only to the organizations themselves but also to theirindividual members. Because of its original intention of a comparative empirical study oftransnational civil society structure and governance, the questions in the JIGS surveys are
kept roughly the same, with a similar kind of standardizing and sampling methods,
overcoming the defect of meaningless comparison and a lack of representativeness. JIGS
has carried out a survey of more than 10 countries and the surveys of Japan, China and theUnited States have been observed more than twice in an approximately 10-years interval,
so it can also record the changes of civil society over time. Furthermore, the questionnaire
of JIGS is designed not only to obtain a simple typological description of thoseorganizations in different countries but also obtain a general relationship amongorganizations and other political actors; in other words not only to get to know the basic
external activities of organizations but also clarify their internal details and facts, resulting
in a consistent record of configuration of civil society.
This work pays more attention to an empirical-analytical interpretation of civil society,cherishing an aim of describing the relationships between social/political forces andinstitutions, as well as changes in institutional configurations in these three countries. The
analysis is conducted mainly using the JIGS database, without any other efforts to view theterm civil society from a normative standpoint, also leaving aside the viewpoint of the vitalrole that civil society played in the transition towards democracy and its consolidation.

2. A Comparison of the Three Countries
Before the comparison of CSOs in the U.S.A., Japan and China, a most importantquestion has to be answered. That is whether civil society does (or can) exist in
nondemocratic countries (such as China) and /or non-western countries (such as both
Japan and China). The answer depends on how to conceptualize civil society. According to anarrow view, civil society is an inherently western concept, which means it derives fromthe particular theoretical tradition and practical historical experience of the west and can
only exist in that society, so the non-western countries (such as both Japan and China) do
not easily accept civil society. According to a more middle view, civil society can only really
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35exist within countries that have democratic institutions regardless of whether they arewestern countries or not, so Japan can be included but China has to be excluded. However,
the word “civil society” used in this article is more broad a view in that it treats all forms ofsocial organization and practices as different manifestations of civil society, so eachcountry has its own type of civil society (Howard, 2009, 191).
The comparison of civil society organizations in this paper between Japan, the U.S.A.,
and China itself is full of challenges but also full of promise. The aim is to compare the
U.S.A., a traditional western liberal democratic country with a long historical experience of
association life and considered the seedbed and model of nonprofit activity (Sokolowski
and Salamon, 1999, 261; Salamon, 1997, 282), with Japan, a non-western but electorally
democratic country with the concept of civil society imported from outside and a very
distinct historical heritage (Tsujinaka 2009a, 252), and China, which is neither western nor
electoral democratic country, with the civil society just being in a nascent immature state ina harsh living condition but with rising expectable promises (Chan, 2009, 245). In addition
to the difference of political systems and levels of society, there are also other differences,such as culture, political institutions, economic power, modernization process and so on.
At first glance, some similarities can be found between Japan, the U.S.A. and China.
However, with a deep and close observation, the differences are more outstanding. For
example, from the point of view of political systems, although Japan and the U.S.A. are thesame kind of developed capitalism countries, which are very different from China—adeveloping socialist country—the two countries are also very different and include one
with a parliamentary cabinet system and the other having a presidential system. From theperspective of culture, although Japan and China both belong to the east Asia area with asimilar cultural background that is very different from the western culture of the U.S.A.,
Japan changed its culture a lot to become a bridge between east and west from the start of
the Meiji Restoration, under the banner of Datsua-nyuo (leave Asia and join Europe). Fromthe perspective of the economy, territory and power, although China and the U.S.A. have asimilar broad territory with perhaps a higher probability of development than Japan, Japanis still a developed industrial country with leading technology and initiatives in lots offields, while China is still a developing country on the road of catch-up having many socialand political issues to deal with. From the point of modernization, although Japan and the
U.S.A. have entered a very high level that is different from China, Japan shares a similar
kind of state-promotion catch-up modernization process with China, although the essence
is different. From the viewpoint of civil society, as narrated above, the three countries arealso at very different levels.
When it comes to the comparison of the three countries’ civil society, the mostimportant subject is the configurative characteristics. Actually, the configurations of civilsociety vividly reflect the socio-political reality, political settings and the changes ofpolitical policies in the three countries. As Pekkanen (2004, 224, 246) argued, “historicallegacies and institutional arrangements have a critical influence on the configuration ofcivil society.” For example, the foundation year of CSOs displays not only a change ofpolitical and social policies, but also the collection of political interest and the start ofpoliticization of civil society. The other items, for example, fields of activity and policy
dimensions, purpose and sphere of activities, resources, and so on, all show the
Return to Table of Contents36characteristics and status of politicization of civil society from different viewpoints.
Through the comparison, this work tries to give a general exploratory description of theinstitutional configuration of the three civil societies and explore the possible attributionsof political settings and political policies that make them so different.
Although the JIGS survey of the three countries has been carried out two times inalmost 10-year intervals as mentioned above, to achieve a country-wide data set of the
U.S.A. and China still sounds difficult because of the limits of research budgets and political
restrictions. So we have to technically select the data of the capital cities to represent thethree countries, although theoretically the whole country-wide data would be the mostideal.
According to “2014 Global Cities Index and Emerging Cities Outlook”3, the threenational capitals of the U.S.A., Japan and China are all included in the top 10 of the global
cities index, with Tokyo holding a more prominent position (top 4) than the other two. But
from the perspective of population and area, Washington D.C. is relatively smaller thanTokyo and Beijing. And there are also some kinds of discordance of the three surveys. For
example, the population of the Tokyo survey was sampled through a telephone directory.
Accordingly, smaller organizations such as NPOs and NHOs who have no official telephoneregistered in the directory were not included in the survey (Tsujinaka, 1999, 2009b).
Although the objective of the first Washington D.C. survey was to compile a sample fromthe telephone directory, the same as that of Tokyo, the second survey was based on a
stratified random sample of NPOs having gross receipts of $25,000 or more that filed theirannual financial returns with the IRS (Tsujinaka 2001, 2011). However, the objects of the
Beijing survey were social organizations that were registered in governmental
departments. Accordingly, the People-Run non-Enterprise Unit organizations, foundations
and the unofficial organizations, which did not and could not register in governmental
departments as did the grass-root organizations, were not included (Tsujinaka 2008, 2013).
When we use the data to analyze and compare CSOs in the three countries, the above bias
and distortion should be taken into consideration carefully. Specifically, the Washington
D.C. survey was held firstly in 1999 and secondly in 2010. The Tokyo survey was held
firstly in 1997 and secondly in 2007. The Beijing survey was held firstly in 2001 andsecondly in 2010.
The details of the data sources in each case are as follows (see Table 3.1):

3https://www.atkearney.com/documents/10192/4461158/Global+Cities+Present+and+Future-GCI+2014.pdf
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37

Table 3.1. Details of the JIGS Data Used in this StudyYear

Sampling Method

Survey Method

N

Tokyo 1

1997

Random sampling through telephone
directory

Questionnaire
by mail

1438

Tokyo 2

2007

Random sampling through telephone
directory

Questionnaire
by mail

1803

Washington
D.C. 1

1999

Random sampling through telephone
directory

Questionnaire
by mail748

Washington
D.C. 2

2010

Stratified random sample of 501(c) 3 and501(c) 4 public charities, nonprofits withgross receipts of $25,000 or more that filethe annual financial return with the IRS

Websitequestionnaire
or by mail andtelephone571

Beijing 1

2001

Stratified sample of social organizations
registered in governmental departments

Questionnaire
by mail627

Beijing 2

2010

Stratified sample of social organizations
registered in governmental departments

On-the-spot
questionnaire
or by mail306

(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys (JIGS))

3. Description of organizations
3.1. The fluctuation of foundation year of the CSOs
The fluctuation of foundation year of CSOs in each city is shown in Figure 3.1. As
discussed below, the pattern reflects a number of policy changes in each of the countries.
Indeed, the foundation year of CSOs mirrors vividly a number of social and political policychanges, and the circle of birth, survival, development and decline of these organizations
directly coincides with these changes. For instance, a new policy of government can attract
more CSOs into various specific fields of social area to promote some particular interest.
More broadly, government changes in CSO subsidies, tax exemptions, and so on canbasically improve the essential conditions resulting in the development of certain
organizations, or it can totally destroy their survival conditions resulting in thedisappearance of certain organizations. Consequently, while in theory civil society is often
seen as a realm of social life contrasted with and separate from both the government andthe market, in reality the map of civil society, their survival conditions and theconfiguration of organizations are dependent on various policies from the government andthe financial supports from the market to a high degree.
We can reach this conclusion from a comparison of the three countries and the patternof CSO foundation year. First of all, let us start with the U.S.A. The data of Washington D.C. isonly available in the first survey in 1999, but it is still enough to observe the linkage
between the year of their start and various government policy changes. From Figure 3.1 wecan get a general image of increase of these organizations from around 1965 to around the1990s, and there is a sharp increase in the 1970s and 1980s. However, behind the
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38

fluctuation of the number of organizations there was a simultaneous change of policy.
Specifically, in order to meet unprecedented challenges and respond effectively tointernational crises during the postwar decades, American governments implemented
several financial policies to maintain domestic economic and political stability. For example,
the universal income taxation was introduced in the 1960s together with innovations in the
country’s public finance and economics systems, which gave the federal government a
virtually unlimited source of revenue. This transformation of politics of public financeplayed a key role in fueling the proliferation of nonprofits, not only as providers ofgovernment-funded services but also as advocates seeking to influence government
policies (Hall, 2006, 51). Also, the period from 1965-1980 saw a period of government–
fueled fiscal growth that greatly expanded the operating expenditures of American
nonprofit organizations (Salamon, 2012, 21; Grønbjerg and Salamon, 2012, 554; Child andGrønbjerg, 2007, 263). These changed polices could give a rational explanation of theincrease of organizations from the 1950s to the 1990s.
Figure 3.1. The Foundation Year of CSOs, 1900-2010
35
30
25

Washington D.C. 1
Tokyo １
Tokyo 2Beijing １

20

Beijing 2

15
10
5
0

(Source: Japan Interest Group Survey [JIGS])
From the Japanese data (Figure 3.1), there is an apparent increase of organizations
from 1945 to the early 1970s, reflecting the tremendous political and policy changes during
the post-war years. Between the end of the 1930s and 1945, almost all of prewar
associations were either absorbed within the war mobilization efforts or coerced andultimately realigned into the state corporatist structure. However, after World War II,
under the Occupation, with the democratic constitution and a series of new laws enacted,
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39

Japan’s civil society was virtually reborn and saw a flood of new organizations established(Tsujinaka, 2009, 252).
From the Chinese data (Figure 3.1), we can find a much clearer increase oforganizations from the 1980s, which echoed the dramatic changes of politics and policies
during this time. Before the Reform and Opening up policy of 1978, under the rule of theChinese Communist Party, society was organized on a principle of vertical rule withrestricted horizontal links of individuals and organizations. People were incorporated into
hierarchically organized institutional systems, and civic organizations were either banned
or incorporated into official organizations. However, from the late 1970s, with the opening
up and reform process, there was a gradual withdrawal of the state from the social andeconomic sector, resulting in a strong development of social organizations (Chan, 2009,
243; Tsujinaka and Kojima, 2014, 23).

3.2. The maps of CSOs and their policy attention
Political policies in various countries configure the map of CSOs and shape thedirection of their attention. From the Tables 3.2 and 3.3, we can see that in the U.S.A. themost populous field has been the education field and the most populous policy has been
educational policy. Although in the first U.S.A. survey the total of health or medical field andsocial welfare field (6.7+5.2) comprised the third rank, but in the second survey, it became
the second populous field. And in terms of specific policies, the total of health care andwelfare policy even overpassed educational policy to become the top ranked one. In a word,in the U.S.A., the most populous fields and most specific policy orientations of CSOs are
education, health care and welfare fields and policies. However, in Japan the analysis of
Tables 3.2 and 3.3 indicate different landscapes. In Japan, the economic and business fieldis the most populous field and the economic-related industry promotion policy is the mostimportant policy, which is different from the U.S.A. However, although the health care andwelfare fields are not as populous as those in the U.S.A., the policy of this field is the second
one of the most specific policy, which is similar with their counterparts in the U.S.A. China
shares with Japan the same kind of populous field of economic and business and mostconcerned policy of industry promotion. In China’s case the health care and welfare policy
do not receive the same level of attention as that in the U.S.A. and Japan.
Table 3.2. Fields of Activity of CSOs by Percentage Share (top 6)
Washington D.C. 1

Washington D.C. 2
Tokyo 1
Valid
Valid
Valid
Educational
18.3 Educational group25.3 Economic
19.5
Trade or Business or Commercial
17.5 Health/welfare group
14 Administrative related
9.7
Academic or Research
8.3 Advocacy group10.8 Professional
9.6
Health or Medical
6.7 Arts/cultural/scholarly group
7.8 Educational
8.8
Political or Public Affairs
6.6 Professional group
6.5 Labor
7.8
Social Welfare
5.2 Civic group
5.5 Social welfare
6.1

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40

Tokyo 2

Beijing 1
Beijing 2
Valid
Valid
Valid
Valid
Economic・business27.5 Business38.2 Business47.8 Science/research
19.9
Academic・sholarly
13.6 Academic
22.9 Academic
19.2 Agriculture/rural area
14.2
Professional
6.8 Professinal
22.8 Professinal
18.9 Business/industry service 14.2
Agricultre/forestry/fishery
6 Associational 16.1 Associational
14.1 Sports
8.9
Labor
5.8
100
100 Social service
7.9
Educational
5.8
Educational
5.6(Source: Japan Interest Group Survey [JIGS])
Table 3.3. Policy Attention of CSOs by Percentage Share (top 10)
Washington D.C. 1
Washington D.C 2
Tokyo-1by responses by casesby responses by casesby responses by cases
Educational, Academic
9.7
55.2 Education
12.3
44.3 Welfare/Health8
36.6
Health Care
7.2
41.3 Social welfare
8.3
30.1 Environmental
7.6
34.7
Environmental
6.7
38.2 Health/medicine
7.5
27.3 Industry promotion
7.5
34.3
EconomicDevelopment
6.7
38 Justice/human rights
5.3
19.1 Scholarly/academic/sports
6.7
30.7
Communication
6.6
37.9 Arts and culture
4.4
16 International communication/support
6.3
28.7
Human or Civil rights
6.6
37.7 Environment
4.3
15.4 Fiscal
6.3
28.5
Fiscal, Financial
6.5
36.9 Fiscal policy
3.8
13.9 Consumer Protection
6.1
27.9
Trade
5.6
31.9 Communication/information
3.3
12.1 Financial
5.8
26.7
Consumer Protection
5.5
31.7 Minority issues/anti-discrimination
3.2
11.7 Labor
5.2
23.8
Welfare4.9
28.2 Science/technology
3.2
11.7 Trade
5.2
23.5

Tokyo-2

Beijing-1
Beijing-2
by responses by casesby responses by casesby responses by cases
Industry promotion
8
31 Industry promotion
10.8 49.3 Industry promotion
11.2
55.9
Welfare/Health7.9
30.6 Local administration
9.5 43.5 Fiscal
10
49.8
Environmental
6.9
26.5 Scholarly/academic/sports
941 Local administration
9.8
48.8
Educational
6.1
23.4 Science/technology
8.2 37.2 Local development
9.1
45.2
Scholarly/academic/sports
5.7
22.1 Fiscal
7.5 34.1 Scholarly/academic/sports
6.3
31.4
Organization support
4.9
18.9 Local development
7 31.8 Science/technology
6.1
30.4
Labor
4.7
18.3 Welfare/Health5.7 25.9 Welfare/Health
5.5
27.4
Fiscal4.7
18 Environmental
4.9 22.4 Financial
5.3
26.4
International communication/support
4.5
17.4 Consumer Protection
4 18.5 Environmental
4.8
23.7
Consumer Protection
4.4
16.9 International communication/support
4 18.3 Labor
4.6
23.1

(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
Although there is not a completely unanimous coincidence and linkage between thefields of activity and policy dimensions, the two terms almost similarly show the
distribution of CSO interest, and the different status of each category (e.g. industry
promotion or education) reflects the different background and nature of political policies.
That is to say, through the process of modernization and development, different politicalpolicies that the government had implemented decisively influenced and configured the
profile of CSOs in each city and shaped the direction of their policy concern. For example, inthe decades following World War II in the U.S.A., the government carried out a series offederal social, tax, and spending policies, and transformed the general landscape of the
Return to Table of Contents

41

nonproprietary associational, charitable, and philanthropic entities. Steeply progressive
taxes on personal income and estates, combined with high corporate tax rates, createdpowerful incentives for tax avoidance, which were engineered to direct the flow of private
resources into various areas that the government was interested in, such as cultural,
educational, health, and welfare services (Hall, 2006, 51). Perhaps this can give areasonable explanation of why the education, health and welfare fields were so populous
and why these types of policy fields gained such a high level of focus among CSOs.
In the case of Japan, as a late-comer the Japanese government started a catch-up
campaign to enhance the economic and military strength of the country from the time of
the Meiji Restoration (1868), in which state played a strong role. Later on, in order torevive from the defeat of World War II, Japanese leaders in the bureaucracy and rulingpolitical party worked hand in hand with corporate executives and actively shaped andmapped the postwar political, economic and social life through numerous state programs(Gordon, 2013, 243-248). Under the postwar framework set by the Allied Occupation
forces up to 1951, the postwar era of catch-up campaign was characterized as a kind ofdevelopmentalism, which was different from government activities in the pre-war era. This
state-promotion pattern of developmentalism impacted CSOs through legislation enacted
by the government, and resulted in a flood of business/economic associations (Tsujinaka,
2003, 105). In the high-growth era (the 1960s and early 1970s), the central bureaucracy
and the ruling party responded to progressive local governments’ initiatives in terms ofsocial welfare programs by putting them on the national agenda and started theconstruction of a welfare state in Japan. Then a number of pensions and health insurance
programs were expanded and the environmental laws were also strengthened, resulting in
the growth of related organizations and a higher concern about health care and welfare
policies (Gordon, 2013, 284-285).
In the case of China, the whole process of modernization is also a kind of late-comer’s
catch-up, which is similar to its neighbor—Japan, but even later than Japan. So, thecharacteristics that Japan had experienced can also be found in China. The Communist
Party of China strongly controlled the state and society, and initiated and pushed forward
the development progress. The Reform and Open policy from the late 1970s started a newcatch-up campaign, under which developmentalism was set up in the center of political
agendas in both central government and local government. Along with the enormouschanges of polices were the blossoming of economic and business related research units,
think tanks, institutions, and associations. There was a high level of concern about thepolices of these fields, not only by officials of all levels but also by researchers and ordinary
people (Wang, 2011,14-17). However, due to the relatively falling behind the times ofdevelopment, when compared with the U.S.A. and Japan, the focus of policy making
changed only a little from the previous development-centered policy to deal with China’s
social and environmental problems together with high-speed development. By comparison,
Japan had taken the same measures in the 1970s. Although a harmonious society
construction program and a welfare-enlarging project have been set on the political agenda
in China, it is only just beginning. There is still a question of how seriously the ruling party
and government will push them forward at the potential cost of a lower-speed of economic
development. That is why in China we cannot find the same Japanese and American
Return to Table of Contents

42phenomenon of high interest by CSOs in health care and welfare, or the high level ofconcern of these policies in government circles.

3.3. Purpose of activities and functions
The functions of organizations in the Japan Interest Group Surveys is shown in Table
3.4. Overall, the pattern in the data indicates the influence of various political settings. The
purpose of CSO activities shows the general direction and essence of their organizational
activities and suggests different functions in their social and political process. From the
purpose of their activities, we can tell the difference between various CSOs, such aswhether they have a “social autonomous function”, a “political/economic function”, an“advocacy function” or a “social/public service function”. The “social autonomous function”
normally indicates that the CSO’s purposes is oriented towards their members’ service
provision, such as mutual communication or self-promotion, for example, providing
information, education and training opportunities, and recreation activities, and so on. Ifthey have a “political/economical function” then this is nearly always reflected in the
purpose of political and economic profits or rights, for example, protecting or advancing
their members’ economic interests, assisting members to receive funding from thegovernment, providing members with help in obtaining licenses or receiving contracts, andso on. An “advocacy function” usually indicates the purpose of influencing governmental
policies, for example, making appeals or requests to the government, educating the public
to achieve public goals, providing nonmembers with policy recommendations, and so on.
Finally, a “social/public service function” basically includes public service providing, forexample, providing other groups or individuals with information and funds, providing the
public with free, subsidized services or for a fee, and so on (Tsujinaka, Kobashi and Huang,
2014,120).
Table 3.4. Functions of Organizations

Washington Ｄ.Ｃ. 1 Washington Ｄ.Ｃ. 2 Tokyo 1 Tokyo 2 Beijing 1 Beijing 2
Social autonomous function
29.6
30.3
41.6
36.8
42.8
35.3
Political and economic function
21.8
11.9
25.4
18.5
17.1
18.4
Advocacy function
22.7
23
14.1
24.7
13.4
17.2
Social and public service function
25.7
34.7
18.9
20
26.6
29.1
(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
From Table 3.4 we can see that Chinese and Japanese organizations perform a similar
relatively higher level of the “social autonomous function” rather than other functions andcertainly compared with American organizations. In contrast, American organizations haverelative balance between different functions, although in the second survey it refers to alower political/ economic function, probably owing to the different objects of theinvestigation, of which the second survey is mainly NPOs, rather than general social
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43

organizations. Although, at first glance, the “advocacy function” of Chinese organizations is
not so low in comparison with its Japanese and American counterparts (13.4% of total in
the first survey and 17.2% of total in the second survey), but if the indirect advocacy
activities—cooperating with related government departments’ administrative affairs (10.5%
and 13.8%; not separately itemized in Table 3.4)—are taken out of consideration, the“advocacy function” that Chinese organizations recorded in the two surveys would be verylow (2.9% and 3.4%). In the case of Japan, there has been a view that the nature of Japanese
civil society is full of social capital but it lacks advocacy (Pekkanen 2003, 2006). Althoughfrom the first survey, there is no doubt that the advocacy function of Japaneseorganizations (14.1%) is obviously lower than that of the American ones (22.7%, 23%), but
the outcome of the second survey suggests that Japanese organizations even fulfill a higher
advocacy function (24.7%) than that of the American ones. The reason for why there is a
sharp rise by more than 10% at the time of the second Japanese survey still needs sometime to be found out and explained.
In general, the ratio and level of the “advocacy function” demonstrates the influence ofvarious political settings. Thus, in China, the establishment of organizations is still understrict legal and administrative controls, and their activities are also under stringent statesurveillance, resulting in the over-reliance on governmental policies and resources and alack of autonomy. So we can see the “social autonomous function” in China has a relatively
high ratio owing to the fact that it is relatively harmless, and so it is more welcome by thegovernment. However, due to so-called political stability and security concerns, the“advocacy function” has been hindered by the government in China, leading to a very low
ratio of “advocacy activities”. In the case of Japan, after democratic political reforms in
1945, Japanese organizations may have had better conditions for development. But as
discussed above, the state-promotion pattern of catch-up development in Japan
determined the way of the allocating social resources. Consequently, those CSOs that fit
governmental aims tended to flourish, while others diminished (Pekkanen, 2006, 7). In thecase of the U.S.A., through various methods, the government has shaped and mapped theoverall patterns of U.S.A. CSO organizations, as in Japan and China. However, attributing to
its long experience of liberal democracy, pluralism and individualism, there is an ample
room for organizations to also advocate and exert their influence on government policy
making.

3.4. Sphere and level of CSO activities
The sphere and level of CSO activities also mirrors the essence of political settings. In
addition to the fields of their activities, which are concerned with the specific policies andpurpose of their activities, the overall sphere of their activities is one more dimension ofcivil social organizations, which records what level of geographic and administrative space
they select to provide their various services, as well as perform a variety of functions andexert all kinds of influences. The sphere or places of organizations’ activities shows not
only their disposition and characteristics, but also the relationship between them and otherpolitical actors, and between state and society (Mori and Tsujinaka, 2002, 103). To a degree,
the different level of activity sphere even determines the pattern of advocacy activities andtheir influences towards policy-making agendas.
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44

The sphere of activities of organizations in the Japan Interest Group Surveys wasclassified into the following five levels: local level (community, city or county);
state/prefecture level; large area/province level; nation/federal level; world level. From
the Table 3.5 we know that Chinese organizations are mostly active at state/prefecturelevel and large area/province level, without any other levels. There is also a clear trend that
more than 50% of Japanese organizations are active at nation/federal level, with the otherlevels of activities being almost equally lower. By contrast, the American organizations
enjoy relatively the same distribution at all five levels, although the ratio of nation/federals
level is slightly more distinct than others.
Table 3.5. Levels of Activities of CSOs
local level (community, city, or county)
State/Profecture level
Large area/Province level
Nation/Federal level
World level
Total

Washington D.C. 1 Wshington D.C. 2 Tokyo 1 Tokyo 2 Beijing 1 Beijing 2
23.9
25.3
14.3
15.4
0
0
16.1
21.4
11
13.3
43.9
68.1
0
9
11.1
6.9
56.1
31.9
35.3
28.4
49.7
51.5
0
0
24.8
15.9
13.8
12.8
0
0
100
100
100
100
100
100

(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
In the case of China, under the strict dual register and supervision regulations, there isnearly no chance of these organizations forming a nation-wide association to hold activities,
except for authorized People’s Groups, other GONGOs (Government Organized NonGovernment Organizations) or some other national organizations that are admitted, funded
and administered by governments, the majority of which are exempted from obligation ofregistration and keep a very close relationship with government (0% and 0%). Similarly,
because the objectives of the JIGS study are mainly with registered organizations, the local
level of activities of CSOs in China is also not observed from the data in Table 3.5 (0% and0%), although the activities of various grassroots organizations in China have become more
and more active recently. In addition, the world level of activities of CSOs is also not
observed from the data (0% and 0%), although many international organizations in China
are either formally involved in Chinese governmental projects or have a cooperative
relations with various official Chinese social organizations (Huang, 2014, 92; Zhao, 2014,
290-303).
In the case of Japan, as one of the world’s colossal metropolis congregated with many
political and economic chances and resources, Tokyo-based CSOs have more chances to be
big organizations with an aspiration of being active on the national stage. On the other
hand, the relatively higher portion of nation level of activities in the case of Japanese CSOs
also suggests an asymmetrical distribution of power between central and local
administrative units. In the phase of catch-up development or even after the success of it,
the central bureaucrats played a very important role in social and political progress andReturn to Table of Contents45

policy-making agendas, in the background of which organizations are more likely
embraced by the state with a somewhat corporatist relationship (Mori, 2010,138-140; Ito,
2000, 357). Therefore, we can see more organizations being active at the national level inJapan rather than at other levels.
In the case of the U.S.A., however, the distribution of the scale of CSOs is moredispersed between federal government and local states. In a quantity of CSO fields forexample, in the education field the state government still holds a very high degree of
autonomous power, so the organizations have more ability to influence government
policies apart from the federal government (Ito, 2000, 179). In fact, the local government orstate level may be the first or best place for some kinds of organizations to perform to someextent. So, we can see a better balance of activities between the levels in the U.S.A., although
the national level is a little higher than others.

4. Resources of Organizations
The levels of budgets, members and staff indicate the level of scale, financial condition,
professionalism of CSOs and level of involvement of civil society. The organizations’performance and survival tend to rely exclusively on their resources. Therefore there is no
doubt that their resources are the lifeline of these organizations. Their most basic andfundamental resources are their tangible organizational resources, for example, budgets,members and staff, although intangible resources are also important to their activities(Tsujinaka and Choe, 2002, 288). Among the tangible organizational resources, budgets are
more decisive than members and staff because the latter are mainly dependent on theformer. According to resources dependency theory, organizations are not self-sufficient
entities, but rely on extra-organizational agents for resources, and are therefore subject tothe demands and desires of the entities that provide their most important resources (Childand Grønbjerg, 2007, 262). So, the resource relationship is very complex due to the
distinctiveness of obtaining resources in each case. Among the various and complex
resource relationships, government grants and contracts play a crucial role in the different
types of funding streams, for example, donations, sales, fees, special events and so on. So,
any change of governmental grants and contracts will completely change the organizations’survival condition and their activities. And this also becomes a significant measurement forgovernments to influence and shape the civil society world to their own purposes.

4.1. Budgets
Table 3. 6 exhibits clearly that the budgets of Chinese organizations are much lower
than that of Japanese and American organizations. Approximately 90% of Chineseorganizations had budgets of less than 10 million Japanese Yen. However, even more than
80% of Japanese and American organizations had budgets of more than 10 million
Japanese Yen. And even the 10% of Chinese organizations that have budgets of more than
10 million Japanese Yen can’t be equal to their counterparts of Japan and the U.S.A.

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46

Table 3.6. Budgets of Organizations (in 10,000 Japanese Yen)0
1～99
100～299
300～499500～999
1,000～2,999
3,000～9,999
10000～19,999
20000～99,999
100000～Total
NWashingtonD.C. 1
.7
1.9
3.4
1.6
3.2
13.4
21.4
13.4
24.0
17.0
100.0
566(748)

WashingtonD.C. 2
Tokyo 1
Tokyo 2
.6
0.0
1.1
3.1
1.7
2.0
12.2
3.3
4.5
7.2
4.4
4.2
12.2
5.5
8.3
16.8
20.3
19.3
18.0
24.1
28.4
8.9
13.8
12.0
15.5
17.5
15.0
5.4
9.5
5.2
100.0
100.0
100.0
483(571) 1318(1438) 1099(1803)

Beijing 1
.3
48.7
28.8
6.3
9.4
4.6
.6
.6
0.0
.9
100.0
351(627)

Beijing 2
18.8
35.7
18.8
5.9
10.2
7.8
1.6
0.0
.8
.4
100.0
255(306)(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
The lower budgets of Chinese organizations reveal that the majority is only of a small
scale with a weak financial base. This may show that the social public life has not yet
received enough attraction from ordinary people to arrange social financial support to
CSOs. Otherwise, it may display a weak cooperation between the government andorganizations resulting in a low level of governmental grants and contracts. In addition, theweak budgets perhaps result in a low level of members and staff, and also give a negative
influence to their advocacy activities.
While Japanese organizations enjoy the same high level of budgets as their Americancounterparts, we can also show that the American organizations hold a superiority ofbudgets in more than 1,000 million Japanese Yen groups. The higher budgets of Japaneseand American organizations on the one hand, shows the high level of financial involvementby civilians. On the other hand it also shows a deep mutual cooperation between
government and organizations on all kinds of governmental programs to complete social
projects and deal with social problems. For example, in the case of the U.S.A., during the
1960s the federal government expanded its funding of scientific research and a wide rangeof health and social services, providing needed financial nourishment to nonprofit
organizations in related sectors under the joint objective of governmental efforts andnonprofits’ operations in the fields such as scientific advancement, anti-poverty, andovercoming ill health (Salamon, 2012, 22). Their stronger financial base may lead to a highratio of members and staff and a positive influence of their advocacy activities.

4.2. Number of members
In regard to the number of members, there is still a clear gap between Chineseorganizations and Japanese and American organizations, though this gap is not as big asthat of their budget conditions. Japanese and American organizations also enjoy nearly thesame level of members, but the American gigantic organizations, with members of morethan 5,000, are much more than that of Japan (see Table 1.7). Nonetheless, we still need to
pay attention to the objectives of the second survey of the U.S.A., which are NPOs and which
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47

have budgets and numbers of members obviously lower than those CSOs in the first surveyof the U.S.A.
Table 3.7. Number of Members per Organization
0
1～49
50～99
100～499500～999
1,000～4,999
5,000～19,999
20,000～99,999
100,000～
Total
N

Washington D.C. 1 Wahington D.C. 2 Tokyo 1 Tokyo 2
Beijing 1 Beijing 2
13.8
32.9
7
10.8
33.5
0
10
17.3
12.4
17.4
7.9
20.4
5
7.6
8.4
10.4
14.3
16
18
20.7
23.8
22.5
22.8
35.9
8.1
7.3
10.8
8.1
7
8.8
17.3
7.1
21
17.9
10.5
12.7
10.2
3.9
9.9
8.2
2.8
1.7
6.9
1.7
4.2
3.5
1.1
3.9
10.6
1.5
2.5
1.2
0.2
0.6
100
100
100
100
100
100
479(748)410(571)880(1438) 1176(1803) 544(627) 181(306)(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
The different level of membership is not only a manifestation of the level of theirgeneral financial bases, but also a reflection of a level of the civic involvement of the wholesociety. In the case of China, civil society is still on its elementary and initial phase ofdevelopment, and appears very immature, weak, and lacking independence, autonomy andself-determination under the relatively strong regulation and penetration of the state. So,
the entire recognition and realization about the role and function of civil society and the
responsibility of civilians is still immature. Therefore the engagement in CSOs is distinctly
low.

4.3. Number of staff
In terms of staff per organization, we can find out from Table 3.8 that Americanorganizations still have a dominance over Japanese organizations. Also, the gap between
Japanese organizations and Chinese organizations is very clear. Especially, there are many
more big organizations of the U.S.A. with more than 30 staff than that of Japanese andChinese. The number of staff in each organization tends to show the scale, professionalism
and financial condition of the organizations as well as the ability of their advocacy activities.
In the case of Japan, Pekkanen (2004, 225) mentioned the dual structure characteristic ofJapan’s civil society, with a plethora of small local groups and a paucity of large
professional groups. That is to say, groups with few or no employees (for example the
Neighborhood Associations) are especially plentiful. However, groups with many
employees (for example large advocacy groups) are especially scarce in Japan. If wecompare between the first survey of Japan and the first survey of the U.S.A., there are 14.8%
Japanese organizations with staff between 10 and 29. By contrast, the percentage ofAmerican organizations is 21%. There are only 3% of Japanese organizations with staff of
between 30 to 49; however, the American percentage is 6.8%. There are 2.4% Japaneseorganizations with staff between 50 to 99; but the number of American ones is 6.7%.
Return to Table of Contents48

Finally, there are 3.0% of Japanese organizations having staff numbers of more than 100,
whereas, the American organizations of this size account for 12.2% of the U.S.A. total. In
conclusion, the number of staff employed in the U.S.A organizations is more than two times
that of Japanese organizations.
Table 3.8. Number of Staff per Organization
Washington D.C. 1 Wahington D.C. 2 Tokyo 1

Tokyo 2Beijing 1

Beijing 2

0

4.1

30.9

7.5

4.8

8.6

11.2

1
2
3～4
5～9
10～29
30～49

8.1
9.4
14.2
17.5
21.0
6.8

10.9
9.5
8.9
13.8
14.2
2.7

13.3
15.0
20.2
20.7
14.8
3.0

16.9
18.7
21.4
18.2
14.0
3.0

10.5
15.0
25.3
26.2
12.0
1.7

12.3
8.8
24.9
30.2
10.9
.4

50～99
100～
Total
Ｎ

6.7
12.2
100.0

5.2
3.9
100.0

2.4
3.0
100.0

1.6
1.4
100.0

.6
0.0
100.0

.4
1.1
100.0

657（748）

485（571）1250（1438） 1676（1803） 474(627)285(306)(Source: Japan Interest Group Surveys [JIGS])
From the comparison of the three countries in the perspective of organizational
resources, we can conclude that Chinese organizations are much weaker than Japanese andAmerican organizations in terms of budgets, numbers of members and staff, which may
indicate that Chinese civil society is still in a nascent state with a rather harsh living
condition because of the dominance of the state. At the same time, the gap of resources
between Japanese organizations and American organizations is also obvious, especiallyfrom the perspective of staff numbers. This verifies the “four smalls” characteristics ofJapanese civil society; that is the small membership, small numbers of professional staff,
small budgets and that they operate on a small local area (Pekkanen, 2006, 27). The
relatively higher ratio of American organizations in resources also displays the higher levelof the recognition of civil society among American civilians and the role of civil society inthe modern social and political agenda. The more populous and prosperous nature of civilsociety, the closer the relationship will be between civil society and government. The morerobust, self-determined and independent is civil society, then the more active and positivethat civil society will be in the activities of influencing policy-making.

5. Conclusions
From the comparison of the various characteristics of the CSOs in three very different
countries, we found out that the disposition and resources of civil organizations vividly
reflected the sociopolitical reality in each country, such as the distribution of profits andpower in different fields, the state-society relationships, the level of politicization and thepotential influences of CSOs. We also found out that the state/government plays adominant role in the shaping of CSOs world through funds, contracts, subsides, tax
exemption policies and so on, resulting in an acceptable arrangement and configuration of
Return to Table of Contents49

civil society. We also found out that the CSO institution is a major determinant of civilsociety configurations. The essence of a political system, related laws and regulations
determines the establishment, survival and development of CSOs, and changes in theseenvironments can alter their sociopolitical reality.

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Y. Tsujinaka (2001) Cross-national Survey on Civil Society Organizations and Interest Groupsin U.S.A., US-JIGS Codebook.
Y. Tsujinaka (2003) From Developmentalism to Maturity: Japan’s Civil Society
Organizations in Comparative Perspective, in F. J. Schwarts and S. Pharr (eds.) The State of
Civil Society in Japan, Cambrigde, Cambridge University Press, 83-115.
Y. Tsujinaka (2008) Cross-national Survey on Civil Society Organizations and Interest Groups
in China, C-JIGS Codebook.
Y. Tsujinaka (2009a) Civil Society and Social Capital in Japan, in H. K. Anheier and S.
Toepler (eds.) International Encyclopedia of Civil Society, New York, Springer, 252-259.
Y. Tsujinaka (2009b) Cross-national Survey on Civil Society Organizations and Interest
Groups in Japan, 2nd J-JIGS2 Codebook.
Y. Tsujinaka (2011) Cross-national Survey on Civil Society Organizations and Interest Groupsin U.S.A., U2-JIGS Codebook.
Y. Tsujinaka (2013) Cross-national Survey on Civil Society Organizations and Interest Groups
in China, 2nd C-JIGS2 Codebook.
Y. Tsujinaka and J. Choe (2002) Organization Resources, In Y. Tsujinaka (ed.) Civil Society
and Interest Groups in Contemporary Japan, Tokyo, Bokutakusha, 288-299.
Y. Tsujinaka, Y. Kobashi and M. Huang (2014) Profile of Chinese Civil Society in Comparison,in Y. Tsujinaka, J. Li and K. Kojima (eds.) Civil Society and Interest Groups in Contemporary
China, Tokyo, Bokutakusha, 114-141.
Y. Tsujinaka and K. Kojima (2014) Introduction, in Y. Tsujinaka, J. Li and K. Kojima (eds.)
Civil Society and Interest Groups in Contemporary China, Tokyo, Bokutakusha, 16-32.
M. Wang (2011) Emerging Civil Society in China: 1978-2008, Leiden, Brill Academic Pub.

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X. Zhao (2014) International Society and Grassroots NGO, in Y. Tsujinaka, J. Li and K.
Kojima (eds.) Civil Society and Interest Groups in Contemporary China, Tokyo, Bokutakusha,
290-303.

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SECTION BREGIONS, PLACES AND PEOPLE IN JAPAN AND CANADA

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4. Regional Revitalization as Culture, Identity and Citizenship:
Promise, Peril and Shared Sacrifice for Shared Investment
Anthony Rausch
Professor, Faculty of Education
Hirosaki University
Email: asrausch@hirosaki-u.ac.jp

Abstract
This paper considers regional (re)vitalization in Japan with respect to the conference
themes of Culture, Identity and Citizenship. After outlining the background for regional
revitalization policy as of 2015 and presenting relevant views on culture, identity andcitizenship, the content takes up regional revitalization as related specifically to aspects ofculture, identity and citizenship. With regard to the intersection of regional revitalizationand culture and identity, a number of current projects as reported in the media arepresented, with the implications that emerge portraying the promise and peril of various
projects. Likewise, looking at the intersection of regional revitalization and citizenship, thecontent yields questions regarding the notion of shared sacrifice for shared investment as
an aspect of contemporary cultural-identity based citizenship. The paper concludes bynoting that against such a reality of the promise and perils of regional revitalization,
expectations by rural areas of a shared sacrifice for shared investment by urban Japan forthe sake of such revitalization is natural, if not obligatory. Stated succinctly, the notion ofcultural-identity citizenship obligates all Japanese to a shared sacrifice for sharedinvestment in support of contemporary regional revitalization.
Keywords: region, revitalization, sacrifice, investment, economy

1. Introduction
This paper examines chihō sōsei, regional vitalization (herein using the term “regional
revitalization”), a timely and contemporary issue for present-day Japan, within the 2015
Japanese Studies Association of Canada Annual Conference theme of “Culture, Identity andCitizenship in Japan and Canada.” As will be outlined herein, considerations of regional
revitalization in Japan highlight a range of tensions regarding culture, identity andcitizenship in contemporary society.

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2. Regional Revitalization and Contemporary Japan
Although a timely issue facing Japan at present, the reality of regional revitalization isthat resolution of the problematic economic and geographic tensions that have created theneed for revitalization emerged over time and will ultimately only be resolved over time.
The background to regional revitalization was referred to by Ishiba Shigeru, Minister of theRegional Revitalization Cabinet, in an April 2015 Japan News newspaper article where henoted a number of disturbing fiscal and corporate trends (Abe, 2015). Most important in
Ishiba’s mind was Japan’s national debt, which stood at the time at one quadrillion yen, as
well as the fact that Japanese corporations with overseas manufacturing facilities showed
few signs of returning these to Japan, conditions which Ishiba held heightened the need for“local vitalization” within Japan. Both of these “realities” reflect outcomes of long-term
policies on the part of government and long-term planning on the part of the private sector
and both will take time to rectify. As for regional revitalization specifically, the Japanese
government had declared as early as fall 2014 that a long-term vision for revitalizing rural
economies together with measures to address rural population decline were necessary(The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2014c). An immediate goal of the government’s announced plan was
to reduce excessive population concentration in the Tokyo metropolitan area throughcreation of 300,000 jobs in rural areas. This was to be accomplished partly throughpreferential tax schemes to encourage firms to relocate some facilities to rural areas
together with further development of agriculture, forestry and fisheries industries andtourism services in rural areas. Additional details of the long-term plan emerged in a
January 2015 Japan News article which outlined that the government would call for a 722.5
billion yen allocation in the fiscal 2015 budget. Through a comprehensive policy strategy
based on this fiscal outlay, the government aims to create stable jobs in provincial areas,
with 175 billion yen allocated to help people find jobs, 64 billion yen allocated to encourage
relocation to rural areas and 110 billion yen to encourage young people to marry and startfamilies (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2015a). Local response to these announcements was clear:according to the Tōōnippō newspaper of Aomori prefecture, as of the end of 2014, 36 of 40
Aomori prefectural municipalities had “high expectations” for chihō sōsei, with 35 having
developed a local “comprehensive strategy” to that end (Tōōnippō, 2014).

3. Culture, Identity and Citizenship in Contemporary Society
The focus by the JSAC 2015 Annual Conference on Culture, Identity and Citizenship inJapan and Canada is timely and appropriate. As Delanty (2002) pointed out, a notabledevelopment in recent political discourse has been the increasing confluence of culture,
identity and citizenship. Separately, the three terms are used to refer to what are complex,
yet dynamic concepts, difficult to define in the abstract as well as isolate within the trends
and trajectories of contemporary society. It is, however, in their combinations that theinterpretations and implications relevant to the current consideration of regional
revitalization emerge. Whereas citizenship historically focused on the civic, political andsocial rights of citizens defined generally by birth or descent, with citizenship acts seen as
envisioning and articulating the public good, serving in public office and holding those in
office to high standards, and sacrificing for the polity of which one is a member (Madiraju
and Brown, 2014), citizens today are largely passive participants of citizenship, convinced
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that conspicuous consumption, payment of (minimal) taxes and occasional voting are theonly citizenship acts required of them. On the other hand, cultural citizenship, as defined by
Stevenson’s (2001) cultural sociology, stresses the centrality of culture and identity for anunderstanding of citizenship, where the challenge of conception and practice is to bringidentity as a cultural element into the consciousness and act of citizenship. Based on thisview, Delanty’s (2002) definition of the cultural as cultural resources, cultural identities
and cultural presuppositions apply both appropriately and combinatively to the present
project. In this view, the intersection of culture and identity imply particular forms of
citizenship-engaged agency that are managed both at an individual and a geographicallyvariable policy level through common experiences, learning processes and expectations,discourses and actions of empowerment that result in a triadic conception of culturalidentity citizenship. “The power to name, create meaning, and construct personal
biographies and narratives by gaining control over the flow of information, goods andcultural processes is an important dimension of citizenship as an active process. In thisregard what needs to be stressed is the dimension of citizenship as a constructivist
process” (Delanty, 2002, 64). In Japan’s contemporary modern trajectory, such emergent
cultural identity and the citizenship acts it encourages, manifests itself increasingly at a
local level—in the preservation of regional nomenclature, the creation of local meanings
and the prioritization of resident narratives, all of which challenge and, in some cases,
subvert the monolithic and urban (if not Tokyo-centered) construction of modern Japanesecultural identity and citizenship.

4. Regional Revitalization as Culture and Identity: Promise or Peril?
In addition to the Great Heisei Municipal Mergers (see Rausch 2014, 2012a), the recent
history of Japanese rural policy reforms have focused largely on encouraging an increase inagricultural scale so as to improve international competitiveness in the agricultural sector(OECD, 2009), responding to the loss of far-sea fisheries and the “divide and self-regulate”
over-exploitation of near-coastal areas by local cooperatives in the fisheries sector(Katsukawa, 2010) and transitioning to an environmentally-oriented “new forestry”
approach in the forestry sector (Iwamoto, 2003). However, as espoused by Rausch (2010),
such policy reforms do little to capitalize on a fundamental resource of rural areas: theirlocal culture and local identity. Rausch contends that through organizing local cultural
resources in a conceptual-operational space format and thereby identifying the full rangeof possibilities in conceptualizing and operationalizing local cultural commodities, areas
can capitalize on the fullest potential for economic growth through their unique local
cultural economies. Against this background of policy real and ideal, this section examines
emergent regional revitalization policy, identifying elements of culture and identity therein,or lack thereof.
In a series column (1~4) presented by The Japan News of the Yomiuri Shimbun titled“Regionalism Revitalizes Japan,” the first of two projects presented outlined the potential
for shifting formally under-used forest resources in Okayama prefecture to a new “crosslaminated timber material” for use in construction, constituting re-establishment ofhistorically-utilized local resources and expertise through application of new technology.
The other project outlined in the column focused on developing high technology satellite
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offices in Tokushima prefecture. The idea of such satellite office centers is that information
technology-based digital work undertaken by Tokyo-based companies can thus be
outsourced to such rural sites and done by technology professionals who want to live in arural setting, constituting a new dimension in the present rural labor economy. Other
projects introduced in the four columns included activities related to tourism (Hokkaido)
and sake brewing (Nagano), as well as enterprises connected with geographies of historicalfabric and fashion (Miyagi), agriculture (Fukushima), commerce (Kobe), and education(Oita). While the range and dimensions of such projects not only reflects an impressive
combination, if not integration, of old and new, fixed and mobile, local and extra-local on
the one hand, the various projects also integrate elements of a particular local cultural
identity into regional revitalization through reviving and energizing local traditional
consciousness into contemporary economic ventures on the other. However, in a seeming
contradiction to the spirit, if not the details, of the central government’s interest andsupport in such undertakings, the column also reported that, “common to all the diverse
projects is a reluctance to accept government money and a bootstrapping determination toplace projects on a self-financing basis” (The Yomiuri Shimbun, n.d.).
Looking at another regional case, but one presented with greater detail and one thatreflects a fuller range of background and implications inherent in revitalization strategies
being undertaken in rural areas, The Japan News published a three part series on regional
revitalization in Aomori prefecture. Focusing on agriculture and fisheries, the three cases
presented pointed to the stark contrast of “promise” and “peril” inherent in focusing
exclusively on primary industries in revitalization efforts, even when these are inter-woven
into the cultural-identity landscape of the area. The first of the three columns pointed outthat some Aomori apple farmers were “struggling for survival with a Tsugaru Peach” (TheYomiuri Shimbun, 2014d). The Tsugaru district of Aomori has long been the top producer ofapples in Japan and apples are a dominant and powerful identity brand for Aomori.
However, with the gradual impact of climate change taking effect, the feasibility of
producing high quality apples was becoming questionable in some locations; hence thegradual transition to peaches—a process that will take years to complete, with eventualcompetitive success uncertain. The second column referred to the Sea of Japan coastal townof Fukaura “making a name for itself through tuna,” as local fisheries had turned fromtraditional catches of the area to taking migrating tuna on their northward run up thecoastline (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2014e). The fine print of the column, however, noted thatthe (somewhat smaller) tuna taken by Fukaura fisheries had in the past been destined to betaken later in the season by the more northward Oma village, located on northern coast of
the Shimokita peninsula and, like the Tsugaru district and apples, famous nationwide for its
giant tuna. While the intended objective of these two columns was to highlight the“promise” of local efforts toward revitalization, through a message of opportunity andflexibility, a starker message of “peril” can also be discerned: center-piece agriculturalcommodities are viable only as long as climate conditions allow on the one hand, as in theforced switch for Tsugaru farmers from apples to peaches, and can be snatched away by a
nearby competitor on the other, even one from your own prefecture and even in the casewhere doing so degrades the eventual product, as in the case of Fukaura fisheries versus
Oma.
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The third column of the three pointed toward the “promise” of what is termed the“sixth sector,” businesses in which primary industries combine with secondary sector(processing) industries and third sector (service and retail) activities, in order to realize
the fullest economic gain from a local product for the local economy (The Yomiuri Shimbun,
2014f). The column, focusing on a sixth-sector approach to fisheries processing on the west
coast of the prefecture, noted that Aomori has seen rapid growth in sixth-sector
industrialization initiatives, largely on the basis of central government and prefectural
support under a 2011 law whereby such startups can receive interest-free financing for
capital investments (this as opposed to the bootstrapping determination to place projects
on a self-financing basis with a reluctance to accept government money as highlighted in
the “Regionalism Revitalizes Japan” columns above). However, despite the success of such
sixth-sector industries, upon further examination, a “peril” can be discerned here as well.
According to a USDA Foreign Agricultural Service report, trends point less to the locallyowned and operated farms, fisheries and processors using the start-up subsidies andestablishing sixth-sector industries than to national or even international profit-driven
agricultural corporations and limited liability and stock-based companies capitalizing onsuch programs, with participation by such actors rising more than 70 % from 2008 to 2013
(USDA Foreign Agricultural Service, 2014).
Such economy of scale realities aside, sixth sector industries do allow for inclusion of
local cultural elements through the establishment of “local brands” for local areas. An
ongoing reading of any local newspaper in Japan will reveal the level of “local productbranding,” the reporting of which constitutes what Rausch (2012b) dubbed local“revitalization journalism,” and which is often accompanied by the creation of a mascot, or
yurukyara. Tan (2014) catalogued the number and growth of yurukyara mascots over just
one year when she discovered that 863 yurukyara in 2012 had grown to 1242 by 2013.
Naturally, Tokyo claims the most yurukyara, with 68, followed by Osaka with 64 and Chibawith 53. Telling for rural revitalization, however, is the case for Aomori, whose various
municipalities, associations and industries have produced 22 mascot characters for local
goods and tourism promotion. A fall 2014 Japan News article details the development, andexpectations, for one such yurukyara. Dubbed “Ichihime,” after the wife of a local
prefectural warlord from the Sengoku period, this local moe-kyara, or “moe-character,” isexpected to help the fortunes of Inakadate village, the home of Tambo Art, which uses ricepaddies as a canvas by planting various types of different colored rice to create giant art
works, by attracting tourists to the area year-round (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2014b). The
character was developed by a Tokyo-based company operating a molding factory in thevillage, and, hopefully, will bring Ichihime fans to the local places that will be linked to thecharacter, as well as generating sales of local goods that will be adorned with her image.
One of the strategies in the project was to differentiate Ichihime from other yurukyara of
the area, and thus the moe-kyara concept—cute, young female characters that can generate
a strong fan base—was born. Unfortunately, Tan also concluded that the effectiveness ofmascots is questionable, as the power of the yurukyara (and presumably moe-kyara) as afactor in tourist destinations is weak at best.

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5. Regional Revitalization and Citizenship: A Shared Investment?
While Delanty (2002), as above, outlined a cultural-identity based notion of citizenship,
where citizenship was viewed as a constructivist process of creating meaning andestablishing narratives, a more grounded dimension of citizenship that often goesunexplored is consideration of the economics of “shared sacrifice for shared investment” asa principle of citizenship. Under this rubric, citizenship implies a sharing of economic
sacrifice in order to create economic investment. Of course, such idealistic considerations
are subject to budget realities, where any budget promises related to regional revitalizationmust be considered relative to revenue and other fiscal obligations, and where transfers ofmoney from one sector or geographic area to another must be justified as “shared sacrificefor shared investment.”
Thus, beyond any such consciousness or practice of “citizenship,” problematic to thisdimension is the Japanese national budget itself. The 2015 budget, slated to hit a record
high of 97 trillion yen, will have to account for 31.5 trillion yen for social security
expenditures on an expected rise in revenues to a 24-year high of 54.5 trillion yen, all while
cutting bond issuance to a six-year low of 37 trillion yen. The revenue base is expected toemerge from income taxes (17%), corporate taxes (11%) and consumption taxes (18%) on
the one hand, bolstered by government bonds (38%) on the other. Servicing the national
debt will account for 24% of the budget, with an additional 32% eaten up by the social
security promises referred to above and 16% given over to the local allocation tax grantsthat will, in theory, provide for the local tax incentives offered to businesses to stimulate
relocation. Education, national defense and public works round out the top budget items at
5 to 6 percent each.
One of the primary objectives of the regional revitalization policy plan was an effort toencourage businesses to relocate to rural areas. In that regard, a December 2014 Japan
News article outlined how the central government planned to offer corporate tax incentives
for companies that relocate head offices or other key facilities from Tokyo and other majorurban areas to provincial regions (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2014c). The scheme aims toprovide momentum for the creation of industrial clusters suited to local conditions in
specific regions throughout Japan. The December article detailed that to qualify for an
incentive, a company will have to apply for programs devised by prefectural and municipal
governments, with central government tax revenue allocations to the local government
partially offsetting any associated reductions in the local tax revenues. By summer of 2015,
revisions and new conditions to the incentives policy had been introduced. As reported in a
July Japan News article, the central government will closely examine local measures for
effectiveness and offer support as deemed necessary (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2015b). As thebasic policy aims at increasing job opportunities in non-metropolitan communities andinvigorating regional economies, the range of transfer specifications was expanded beyond
corporate facilities and governmental institutions to include funding for programs
establishing continuing care retirement communities together with initiating laws allowing
for the transfer of authority on matters such as land-use conversion from the central
government to local authorities. With a budget of between 150 and 200 billion yen set for a
new type of subsidy to local municipalities, the central government will examine the actual
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60performance of the local measures in order to prevent the kinds of handouts seen in thepast as well as the adverse outcomes that result with bureaucratic sectionalism.
Public works are often seen as a possible way of stimulating not just the economy
overall, but specific sectors of an economy and specific regions of the nation as well.
However, given Japan’s past use of central government monies for unnecessary
infrastructural projects and the political support in outlying areas such funding has yielded,
use of public finances for public works has come under harsh scrutiny, if not criticism. Thisis unfortunate, considering current policy to expand the high-speed ground transportation
system, the Shinkansen, nationally to Hokkaido in the north and Kyushu in the south. Even
before the release of details regarding regional revitalization, voices speaking against useof state spending to speed up completion of the Shinkansen lines were clear. A fall 2014
Japan News opinion article asserted that despite both central and local governments callingfor efforts to complete the expansion as one way of revitalizing rural areas, “it isquestionable whether the nation as a whole needs to enact risky financial schemes to pay
for it” (The Yomiuri Shimbun, 2014a).
Such an opinion by a major newspaper highlights the problematic essence of “sharedsacrifice for shared investment” in today’s social consciousness of citizenship: it is deemed
questionable for the nation as a whole to underwrite sound, but also timely infrastructuralprojects that could contribute to regional revitalization. Recognition of such divided
sentiment is evident elsewhere as well. Mullen (2015), writing about the grim future ofJapan’s rural areas in the magazine Tokyo Weekender, points out that while entrepreneurs
and local activists are crafting innovative local solutions to stimulate lagging rural
economies, few see such open-minded and open-ended thinking in the government’s
policies. Indeed, many perceive just the opposite; they cite Prime Minister Abe’s decision tohave smaller municipalities “pitch” their revitalization ideas in order to secure national
subsides as a way of forcing the weakest areas of Japan into mutual competition, where
one’s success signals another’s failure. As quoted in the article, Tohoku University politicalscience professor Kawamura Kazunori holds that Abe is sending a strong message toregions that from now on, they cannot depend on the central government but rather mustcompete for virtually everything. Also quoted in the article is University of Tokyo politicalscientist professor Uchiyama Yu, contending that Abe’s policies are backfiring in rural
areas, as many agree neither with his agenda nor his approach, and that forcing areas toforego their local identity to create short-term universally-appealing strategy plans will not
be beneficial for Japan long-term. Tsuji Takuya of Hitotsubashi University also opined on
the divisions that are emerging in Japan’s social consciousness. He notes that, on an
individual level, city dwellers tend to think that depopulation and population aging arematters solely for the governments of such depopulating and aging areas and have little ornothing to do with urban life, whereas those in rural areas believe that such trends
constitute national issues and are therefore deserving of intensive investment as national
policy (Tsuji, 2015). Tsuji continues into more thorny areas of policy, alluding to theconflicts that arise between officials who work with an idealized image of regulatory
oversight as the path toward municipalities addressing such issues versus those who
advocate deregulation as a means for the people of an area to promote a dynamic, bottomup and highly locale-specific form of local development.
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61One area where a sense of “shared sacrifice for shared investment” toward regional
vitalization and national citizenship would seem to favorably overlap is the furusato tax
payment (furusato nōzei) system. Available primarily for individuals but also withallowances for businesses, this system allows for local tax breaks for individuals choosing
to have a portion of their tax payments forwarded to a specific municipality of theirchoosing. The system, envisioned by the central government in 2009 as a way ofaddressing wealth disparities between urban cities and towns and villages in rural areas on
the basis of decisions made by individuals themselves, is not without its critics (Soble,2015). Viewed from the perspective of the urban municipality that loses tax revenues,
Soble cites Doi Takero, a Keio University professor, who points out that the urban areas
where the donors live end up bearing the costs of the program as the tax write-offs subtractfrom the cities’ revenue. In fiscal 2014, a total of 14 billion yen was diverted from local
municipal tax revenues as donations to other municipalities, and with the government
doubling the upper limit on tax deductions to 20 percent of the donor’s municipal tax bill,
the figure is expected to balloon in the future. Another questionable aspect of how the
program has come to operate is that the rural municipalities receiving the tax donations
now compete for donors by offering “thank-you gifts” such as local produce, beef or
seafood. Some municipalities have taken the scheme as far as offering tablet computers or,in the case of Toyota city, home of Toyota Motors, free use of an eco-car. The numbers ofdonors, the amount of revenue diverted and the value of the gifts can be staggering. The
village of Hirado has courted 36,000 donors, more than the number of residents, for a totalof 1.46 billion yen, accounting for seven percent of its annual budget. The amount that local
governments are spending on such “thank-you gifts” can be problematic for municipalities
with small budgets. Some towns are allocating as much as 70 to 80 percent of the value ofdonations back into the gifts, meaning that rich donors can gain a bonanza of gifts, while
the two competing municipalities—one urban and the other rural—bear the fiscal burdensof the program. That said, defenders of the system contend that there are specific pluses tothe program: donors can both designate funds for specific purposes in the target
municipality—child-care subsidies for local residents and computers for local schools areoften popular selections—and select the gifts they find most attractive. In the latter aspect,some town and local business leaders content that the competition this creates for local
products encourages local innovation, strengthens local brand profiles, and brings
investment to the area.

6. Conclusion
As outlined in the opening, the focus herein is in the intersection of regional
revitalization, an important and timely issue for Japan, and how approaches to regional
revitalization reflect practices and realities regarding culture, identity and citizenship incontemporary Japan. The primary focus of regional revitalization efforts is in the creationof stable jobs in provincial areas through re-development of agricultural, forestry andfisheries industries along with relocation of corporate and government facilities to rural
areas and establishment of new business clusters. The specific activities outlined hereinthat show “promise” focused on re-establishing industries centered on existing local
natural resources, developing new regional business centers amenable to specific
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62industries, and re-branding existing local agricultural and fisheries resources undervarious sixth sector management schemes. In addition, policy plans allowing for tax
incentives for corporate relocation to rural areas and designation of municipal tax
payments to specific extra-local municipalities were also outlined. However, these same
policies and approaches were also shown to include “peril” in various forms as well. These
were shown to be financial, as when local profits are potentially lost to a host area throughcorporate stock practices or local revenues are lost to municipalities through “taxdiversions” and “thank-you gifts” in the furusato nōzei system, as well as “market
competitive,” as when one area undercuts another and unforeseen factors such as climatechange impact the continued potential of industries generations in the making.
Thus, with an aim toward realizable, meaningful and sustainable revitalization ofregional areas, we might ask if culture, in the form of regional or local culture, and identity,
in the form of regional and local identity, are paths of “promise?” As Rausch (2010) opined,
given the trend toward ubiquity of most products as contemporary market-amenablecommodities and most places as widely attractive and easily appreciated tourist sites, oneelement of the future economic base for any locale will in part be based on its capability
and success in capitalizing on its cultural and identity characteristics. If all “local products”
come to look, feel, and taste the same and all “local places” offer generally similar
experiences, those that will command a sustainable presence will be those that havemaintained and enhanced a specific and unique cultural identity that emerged from andstill connects to a set of local cultural and identity resources.
Yet despite this view towards the survival of local economies and the potential thisoffers to local areas, it appears that regional revitalization approaches have adopted less aturn toward a local cultural economy based on local cultural commodities than a focus on
creation of sixth sector industries, ones where traditional, predominantly extractive local
industries are re-established and re-branded. Undercutting this strategy, however, is thefact that local economies based solely on primary industries run stark risks as, as shown,what were once solidly locale-based traditional commodities, agricultural and aquatic, canbe subject both to changes broad and irreversible, as in the cumulative effects of climatechange, and, in particular instances, the strategies and actions of other locales. The realityof this approach is one of winners and losers, whether one product over another, one area
over another, or one group of interested parties (non-local stock-holders and corporate
entities) over another (local residents as producers and owners). In terms of Aomori
prefecture’s namesake commodities, the future seems less about activating Tsugaru nuri
lacquerware as a potentially national craft commodity and capitalizing on Tsugaru
shamisen as a potentially global cultural-music performance than reorganizing local
agriculture in the face of a changing climate based on the success of other regional
agricultural commodities, an approach that, at present, seems to favor peaches over apples.
For coastal Aomori, the future seems to be less about establishing an Aomori coastal brandbased on sustainable components of its coastal areas and marine habitat than accepting amarket-driven race that compromises one nationally-known prefectural village, famous fora particular product, for the sake of another. For “sixth-sector industrial” Aomori, a future
may emerge that is less a function of a nationally-organized and valorized program ofsubsidies that will ensure that the profits born of local products stay in the area of their
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origin, than one of a deregulated approach whereby economic interests outside the area
can “invest” their way into local profits, a reality where, once again, local resources andlocal labor are exploited for profits taken elsewhere.
Such a dualistic paradigm of “winners and losers” seems to fit both urbanites’ view ofregional revitalization, as well as the current policy approach of the ruling government.
Residents of Japan’s urban centers seem to view rural problems as the inevitable andirreversibly specific problems of rurality, something distinct and removed from their city
life, and the Abe Cabinet appears to favor “competition” and “effectiveness” as the primarymeans for determining regional revitalization subsidy recipients. Thus, regarding a
relationship between regional revitalization and citizenship, the question is less one ofdefining citizenship than identifying which “citizen” actors to focus on and then defining
the desired, appropriate or necessary actions of each. If one views citizenship within thepurview of the individual citizen, then perhaps the best we can hope for are tax transfers tolocations one has an interest in through the furusato tax payment scheme along withencouraging urban residents to travel to and spend money in troubled rural areas that are
in need of revitalization. If one views citizenship as an act of the national corporation, then,as related to regional revitalization, relocating offices and facilities to peripheral areas forthe “good of the country” becomes a corporate act of citizenship, but an act in which thetrue burden is borne by the individual employee and his or her family, problematic basedon whether the individual and family view such a forced move positively or not. If one
turns citizenship back on itself, and asks what constitutes acts of citizenship for agovernment itself, the question devolves into the ideologies and equations of governance:
how does a government do best for all its citizens? By operating from a principle of strict
equality for all areas and all residents, whether through uniformly-applied regulation andequative subsidy or conversely deregulation and a “survival of the fittest” mentality? Or,rather, by sorting and sifting through the various arguments for or against a particular
allocation of attention and funds for a particular place, company, cooperative or citizen andthen asking for a national “shared sacrifice for shared investment” by all?
Concluding with the conference theme in mind, the ideal confluence of culture, identity
and citizenship in the regional revitalization of contemporary Japan thus appears to be lessin an ideal of local and regional economies prioritizing local culture, local identity and local
cultural commodities so as to create local culture economies than in the problematic realitythat the cultural identity of all places, but particularly regional places, requires a modern
sense of “cultural-identity citizenship.” This is citizenship that accepts and encourages local
citizenship as a constructivist process, in the local creation of meaning and the promotionof local narratives on the one hand, and which implies and agrees to “shared sacrifice forshared investment” in support of the very multi-dimensional and multi-geographic cultural
identity that constitutes the complexity of modern Japan. If the regional towns and villages
that support the richness of local cultural identity that defines Japan are allowed towhither, then Japan as a vibrant country of both urban and rural dimensions—city andcountry, skyscraper and forest, factory and farm, museum and festival—ceases to exist. The
rural has long provided for the urban—with its youth, its agricultural produce, its natural
resources, its access to clear air, clean water and abundant nature that make it a desirable
place to return, whether in reality or merely through nostalgia. This is the citizenship
Return to Table of Contents64contribution of rural Japan to the cultural identity of urban Japan. The urban must now
ensure the contemporary survival of the rural—through meaningful, sustainable and nonexploitative support of regional economies. This is urban Japan’s obligation to an overall
Japanese cultural-identity citizenship.

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References
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G. Delanty (2002) Two Conceptions of Cultural Citizenship: A Review of Recent Literature
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Shinkansen Construction, The Japan News, October 26, 2014.
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November 3, 2014.
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The Yomiuri Shimbun (2014c) Relocating Firms to See Tax Incentives, The Japan News,
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14, 2015.
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Revitalization), December 21, 2014.
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5. The Rural Idyll, Globalization and Cultural Differences
Between Japanese and Canadian Residential Landscapes on
the Fringe of Cities
Tom Waldichuk
Professor, Department of Geography & Environmental Studies
Thompson Rivers University
Email: twaldichuk@tru.ca

Abstract
There are a variety of residential styles outside of cities owing in part to the interaction
with traditional rural settlement form. In Canada, the idyllic large non-farm estate—originating in Europe—is one type of housing people identify with in the rural-urban
fringe. Yet Japanese people are nostalgic about more distant rural landscapes of theirfurusato or hometowns. But the preference for, and identity with, housing landscapes ischanging on the edge of both Canadian and Japanese cities due to globalization and theimportance of nature. The purpose of this paper is to examine the cultural differences
between Canadian and Japanese residential landscapes in the countryside around cities. I
review the literature and supplement it with landscape observations. The preliminary
results are that, although rural landscapes outside of Japanese cities are increasingly being
valued for their food production and ecological qualities, these areas are still valued ascheap places to live. In Canada there is an emphasis on environmental preservation, but theidyllic rural estate home is still highly valued. The principal conclusion is that material
landscape differences between Japan and Canada persist owing in part to different
interpretations of the rural idyll.
Keywords: Rural-urban fringe, rural idyll, residential landscapes, culture,
globalization

1. Introduction: Culture in the Context of Japanese and Canadian Rural-urban
Fringe Residential Landscapes
The edges of cities are interesting places to study culture because of the mixing of ruraland urban landscape elements with the gradual change from built-over to rural landscapes
as one leaves the city. These are landscapes in transition. This paper is a cross-cultural
study of Japanese and Canadian residential landscapes in the rural-urban fringe. Culture
refers to “…people’s way of life, their behavior, and their shared understanding about
themselves and the world. Culture serves as a guide for how we act and interpret the world
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68around us” (Kuby, Harner, and Gober, 2007, 34). Both Martinez (1998) and Norton (2004)
talk about material and non-material forms of culture. This paper examines differences inlandscape elements or material culture, such as housing type or the makeup of thesurrounding farm landscape. The paper also examines non-material culture, such as thepeople who live in the rural-urban fringe, e.g., farmers and non-farmers, and their attitudes
toward landscapes; the people who make decisions about the management of the fringe,e.g., planners, and government bureaucrats and their attitudes. Planning regulations arealso considered non-material culture, which can lead to landscape differences, which ispart of material culture, or as Cadieux et al. (2013) label it “material landscape.”
In terms of non-material culture, many Canadians identify with the rural idyll—thispositive view toward rural areas that can be traced back to Greek and Roman civilization(Short, 2006). During these ancient times wealthy nobility would live in luxurious villas in
the countryside. In modern times estate homes have popped up in the Canadian ruralurban fringe that emulate architecture from 19th century Europe and especially England.
These homes have become attainable by middle class (Bunce, 1994) Canadians. Conversely,
many Canadians ignore the rural idyll and move to new residential developments in rural
areas because homes there are affordable (e.g., Gyarmati, 2015). The Japanese tend to havea more idyllic attitude toward more remote rural areas—sometimes this is where people
have their hometowns. At least once a year, many Japanese migrate back to their rural
hometowns—other people travel as tourists to rural areas.
There exist many material landscape differences between Japan and Canada inresidential areas of the rural-urban fringe. Japan’s rural-urban fringe landscape is generally
superimposed on a high-density rice and dry crop farming pattern, whereas the Canadianrural-urban fringe is superimposed on a larger scale agricultural and forest landscape. One
cultural distinction of the Japanese material landscape is that it has always had a mixture ofurban and rural land uses (Yokohari et al., 2000, cited in Mok et al. 2013). Historically,
Japan had agricultural areas in large cities, such as Nara and Kyoto as far back as the 8th
century. According to Yokohari et al. (2010), about 40 percent of land in Edo was used for
agriculture. Interestingly, much of this land was considered gardens that people could
enjoy. Historically, Canadian cities did not mix farmland within the urban core.
Finally, one must consider the socio-economic context of residential landscape change
going on in the rural-urban fringe. Rapid economic growth occurred from the late 1950s
onward in Japan, and urban residential areas expanded into rural areas leading to thedevelopment of the rural-urban fringe (Ichikawa et al., 2006; Kurita et al. 2009; Yokohari etal. 2010, cited in Mok et al. 2013). A similar phenomenon happened with the growth ofsuburbs in Canada (Smith, 2006). These were high density, single detached houses on smalllots. Yokohari and Bolthouse (2011, 421) refer to the term “high growth modernity” whenreferring to Japan’s rapid economic and population growth up until the 1970s when new
housing and parks were popping up everywhere. But in Japan there were no estate homes
on big lots as in parts of the fringe in Canada, and there was no rural idyll being promoted
as is the case in these low-density exurban (see Bunce, 1994) developments. Okamoto(1997) refers to the growth of large cities such as Tokyo and people migrating to the
distant suburbs where housing was cheaper. This migration was exacerbated by thecommercial real estate bubble in Tokyo of the late 1980s, which “bumped up” residential
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land prices further, meaning that people had to move to even more distant locations.
Commuting times were, and still are, so long that commuters had little time to spend athome with their families. Many people were, and still are, living in the rural-urban fringe
because it was, and still is. an affordable place to live in and commute from in both Canada
and Japan. The rural idyll was, and is not, a motivating factor for living in the Japaneserural-urban fringe.
Globalization has changed the appearance of both urban and rural residential
landscapes, so there is a sameness in terms of architecture, neighbourhood design and roadlayout wherever one goes. This started in earnest after World War II in Japan with the
adoption of land-use planning procedures from abroad, such as the garden city conceptfrom England. More recently, Canadian housing designs have been used in residential
developments. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Pacific in the Kamloops area of British
Columbia, a locally based construction company owned by people from Japan is building
homes in rural areas with Japanese characteristics. Also, the concern for safe and healthy
food in Japan has led to a proliferation of garden plots in the rural-urban fringe, much likethe “Kleingarten” allotments in Europe. In both the Canadian and Japanese rural-urban
fringe, there has been a greater desire to preserve natural landscapes.
The purpose of this paper is to describe non-material and material cultural differences
between the residential landscapes in the rural-urban fringe of Japanese and Canadiancities. Some of these differences are related to variations in the idyllic view toward thecountryside (Woods, 2011). I argue that this rural idyll does not exist in the rural-urban
fringe of Japan as it does in Canada where residential areas often are organized to present a
bucolic image, exemplified by large lots and rural estates. I will first define the rural-urban
fringe. Second, I will discuss non-material cultural differences between the Japanese andCanadian rural-urban fringe. Third, I will discuss material cultural differences at the macro,meso and micro residential landscape scales (Jones, 1988). Fourth, I will discuss the effects
of globalization on the residential landscape of both the Japanese and Canadian fringes.
Finally, I will summarize then conclude.

2. Defining the residential rural-urban fringe in Canada and Japan
Before describing differences between the Japanese and Canadian rural-urban fringes,
one must define the rural-urban fringe in theoretical terms. The city’s countryside by Bryant
et al. (1982) describes the rural-urban fringe as having an inner and outer zone
surrounding a city (Figure 5.1 Model of the rural-urban fringe). Beyond the outer fringezone is the rural hinterland, and beyond that is the urban shadow. This model is based on aflat farm landscape in Canada or the US. It is a simplified static view of a very complex anddynamic landscape. A newer view of the rural-urban fringe focuses on the people who live
and work there—actors—and their influence on change (Bryant and Mitchell, 2006, 237).
Still, the original model of the city’s countryside gives a good introduction to the spatialorganization of the fringe around cities. This paper begins its focus primarily on the inner
rural-urban fringe, which is the region adjacent to the built up city. I will compare this area
in general terms between Japan and Canada but I will give more specific examples from theperiphery of a small city called Ushiku, in the rural-urban fringe of Tokyo (Figures 5.2 andReturn to Table of Contents

705.3), and Kamloops, located about 350 kms northeast of the centre of Vancouver. Bothcities have populations of about 85,000.
Figure 5.1. Model of the rural-urban fringe(Source: Adapted from Bryant et al., 1982, as adapted in Bunting and Fillion, 1991, 220)

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Figure 5.2. The Rural-urban Fringe of Tokyo and the Location of Ushiku(Note the influence of the rail lines on the built landscape)(Source: Drawn by Dr. R. Nelson, modified from K. Miyasaka (cartographer) andWaldichuk and Whitney 1997, 34)

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Figure 5.3. Ushiku City—Its Landscape is Affected by the Rail Line

(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)

3. Analyzing the Cultural Landscape
One can analyze the cultural landscape through a model devised by Jones (1988, 203).
In this model, he uses a triangle to explain the landscape in terms of scale: micro, meso, andmacro scales (the three points on the triangle) (Figure 5.4). At the micro scale there areindividual actors, (bottom-left point), e.g., homeowners, who change their household
landscapes based on their intentions. At the meso-scale one acknowledges the functionallandscape and the mechanisms that are responsible, specifically individual actors involvedin the production process (bottom right point). Finally, at the macro-landscape scale, we
see the structural landscape, which is an outcome of ideology and production (top point of
the triangle). With this model one can see the context of residential landscape change inthe rural-urban fringe in terms of structural change at the macro level, the impact of
production on the meso landscape, and the impact of individual behaviour on the micro
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landscape. I will analyze differences in the Japanese and Canadian rural-urban fringe
residential landscape using Jones’ model.
Figure 5.4. The Jones (1988) Model of Theorizing the Cultural Landscape(Source: Jones, 1988, 203)

4. Non-material cultural differences & their influence on the material landscape:the rural idyll, nostalgia, and agrarianism
4.1. Canada, USA, and Europe
The rural idyll is a powerful example of non-material culture. It is associated withwords such as picturesque, bucolic and pastoral (Bunce, 2003, 14). Bunce also says thatfarming, community and recreation also are part of the definition (Ibid., 14). The rural idyll
varies in form from place to place, and has a major effect on who lives in the rural fringe of
cities and what the built or material landscapes look like there.
The modern capitalist version of the rural idyll developed during the second half of the
1800s and the early 1900s (Short, 2006). Bunce (1994) talks about the idealization of thecountryside, which developed in the 19th century and was a result of the urban andindustrial revolution (see also Bell, 2006; Short, 2006; and Woods, 2011). Short (2006)
mentions that urban squalor also resulted in escaping to rural areas; this escape to rural
areas continued into the 20th century (Bunce, 1994, 57-58). Short (2006) continues that
this rural idyll came about in opposition to modernity. The rural idyll developed due to therise of the middle class (Bell, 2006), and it desired to set itself apart from the urban
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working class, by imitating the lifestyle of country gentry by building country homes and“Arcadian” suburbs (Ibid., 206). In English speaking countries this rural idyll was strongly
influenced by the landscape of pre-industrial England (Woods, 2011). Thus, the idyll had an
impact on material culture; for example, large country homes or the design of suburbs.
In a more modern-day context, Bunce (1981) talks about the influences of positive
rural sentiment on city dwellers to move to the countryside. Bell (2006, 158) similarly talks
about new rural settlements in England for non-farm newcomers that resemble traditional
rural village neighbourhoods, which are often gated, and are called “fortress villages”.
These villages, which Bell identifies as new traditionalism, provide an exclusive type ofrural idyll in terms of executive homes for a middle-class urban population, wheretraditional middle-class values are preserved and protected against urban consumer
capitalism (Murdoch and Marsden, 1994, 220, cited in Bell, 2006, 153). These residential
landscapes are all examples of material culture or landscape.
The rural idyll is closely connected to the idea of nostalgia—another example of nonmaterial culture. Short (2006, 137) mentions that the rural idyll leads to a feeling of
nostalgia, which becomes stronger during difficult times (also Bunce, 1994, 208). Nostalgia
has been defined by Lowenthal (1985, 8) as “memory with the pain taken out” (cited in
Mitchell, 1998, 274). Nostalgia is also associated with a sense of loss of home orhomesickness (Harrison, 1982, cited in Bunce, 2003, 15). Gerald Walker has talked about
nostalgia in terms of reminiscing about grandparents or great-grandparents who farmed(personal comm., 1993-94). The feeling of nostalgia for a simpler past as in the preindustrial period has been common in North America since about 1970 (Mitchell, 1998).
Bell (2006) refers to nostalgia when describing new rural estate homes in England, sayingthat these homes and the lifestyle they promote are “a nostalgic defense against the bodyblows of post-industrial consumer capitalism” (Leslie,1993 and Probyn, 1990, cited in Bell2006, 153). These feelings of nostalgia have paralleled the post-modern period (Mitchell,
1998, 274). Nostalgia can thus probably influence one to move or visit to the rural-urban
fringe and can affect what kind of residential area and housing one chooses.
Agrarianism—or the positive attitude toward agriculture—is another example of nonmaterial culture and is also talked about in terms of the rural idyll in Canada and Europe.
For example, Bunce (1994, 207) refers to the philosophy of agrarianism combined withromanticism to give a positive attitude towards the countryside. He mentions that the rural
ideal in North America is less about aesthetics as it is in the UK, and more about old
lifestyles and the evolution of agriculture (Bunce, 1994, 36). In sum, the rural idyll,
including nostalgia and agrarianism have had an impact on the development of the material
landscape in the rural-urban fringe of Canada.

4.2. Japan
In Japan, McMorran (2014, 1) discusses the rural idyll and how it is emulated throughfuukeizukuri or “landscape design” of a hot springs resort. He does not define the rural idyll
but does refer to the Western literature (e.g., Mitchell, 1998; Mitchell et al., 2001 andothers), so he is relying on the North American and British interpretation of the term.
Francks (2006, 279) also refers to the rural idyll in relation to Japan, stating that the
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Japanese people do not “aspire to the rural idyll of life in the real countryside” compared topeople in Britain.
In Japan the meaning of nostalgia in the context of the rural-urban fringe is different
from that in Canada: it refers to a longing for one’s hometown or furusato (Clammer, 1997;
McMorran, 2014). Nostalgia also leads to a desire to visit rural areas beyond the rural
areas next to large cities. Furusato is an idyllic landscape and lifestyle—not harshwilderness (Rea, 2000) (Figure 5.5). The concept of furusato motivates one to return to
one’s rural hometown. McMorran (2014) mentions that in the mid-1980s post-war
nostalgia for the Japanese countryside was widespread. Thus, the Japanese living in cities
identify with their furusato or old town. Francks (2006, 1) mentions that the nostalgia thatthe rural furusato or native place evokes “remains a powerful weapon in the armoury ofJapan’s advertising industry,” meaning that nostalgia is used to promote tourism. In sum,nostalgia is not talked about in terms of deciding to move to the rural-urban fringe outside
the built up city, nor is it talked about in terms of residential design—it is talked about interms of visiting more remote rural areas.
Figure 5.5. Image of “Furusato”(Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tono-furusato-mura16s3872.jpg)
Agrarianism as a non-material cultural idea or group of ideas exists in Japan as it doesin Canada. In Japanese it is called nohon shugi, which more literally means “agriculture isthe-base-ism” (Ogura, 1982, 1) and is similar to American agricultural fundamentalism,
which purported that agriculture is the foundation of the American economy. This thought
has existed since the Edo period (1603-1867), and during the Meiji period (1868-1912) theterm was commonly used in agricultural policies and studies. Some Confucian scholars
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warned about the promotion of manufacturing and the merchant class, which would havean impact on the farming class and thus agriculture (Ogura, 1982, 2).
Penelope Francks (1992) mentions that ideas of agrarianism as well as romanticism
were used to oppose industrialization, although she does not elaborate. The rural idyll(which embodies agrarianism) has been used politically to preserve the traditional
Japanese rural landscape and what it produces (Francks, 2006). The fact that the Emperor
plants rice at the imperial palace every year strengthens the connection between Japaneseculture and agriculture, particularly rice, and supports the idea of Japanese nationalism.
Francks says that at a political level farm interest groups have been able to garner public
support for agricultural trade protection owing to the often emotional support fortraditional rural landscapes and what they produce. This sentiment of supporting the
agricultural landscape and what it produces can have an impact on the material landscape.
In summary, the rural idyll is a good example of non-material culture that can result inchanges to the material landscape in the rural-urban fringe. For example, it is associatedwith a desire for estate homes in Canada. Nostalgia in Japan refers to one’s furusato or
hometown, which one can identify with on an individual or national basis. Nostalgia also
motivates urbanites to get away for a visit to the countryside. But it does not result in
residential change in the rural-urban fringe of Japan. The ideas of agrarianism are stronger
in Japan. There is a strong belief in farming (Ogura, 1982). Thus, overall, while the rural
idyll in Canada may lead to residential landscape change in the rural-urban fringe withmore people moving into the fringe and desiring, for example, estate homes, it will not inJapan. However, more people in the Japanese fringe may take up small-scale agriculture orvegetable gardening, and they may be motivated to travel to more remote rural areas or totheir rural hometowns.

5. Material cultural differences: Residential landscape differences between the
Canadian and Japanese rural-urban fringes
The current landscape in both the Japanese and Canadian fringes is a product of nonmaterial culture, e.g., the rural idyll, including nostalgia and agrarianism or rapid
modernization in the context of modernity as described above. At the macro-scale level ofanalysis (Jones, 1988) of the fringe in Canada we see large-scale heterogeneity withdispersed farm houses and low density large non-farm country estates (Figure 5.6), apattern which is commonly referred to as exurbia (Bunce, 1994) and is a reflection of therural idyll. Closer to the city, one might also see high density single-detached housingdevelopments, which is not a product of the rural idyll, but rather affordable singledetached housing.

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Figure 5.6. Dispersed Farmland and Large Lot Residences near Calgary, 2008

(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)
In Japan, on the other hand, at the macro scale one can see bed-towns, new towns,
danchi, garden cities, farmland and fragmented urban development. These are all productsof planning during the rapid period of economic growth, related to modernity—these are
not reflections of the rural idyll. These rural-urban fringe settlements reflect the desire tobuild as much housing as possible during the period of high economic growth.
The “bed-towns” are commuter settlements in the rural-urban fringe of large cities
such as Tokyo. Some of these bed-towns have been transformed from former rural towns
such as Ushiku, or they can be planned new towns, e.g., Tama in western Tokyo (Edgington,
2003; Yokohari, Amemiya, and Amati, 2006). Some of these communities are leap-frog
settlements on rural land where costs are lower and where there are fewer regulations(Sorensen, 2000, cited in Galloway, 2007, 96). At the meso scale within the new towns andbed-towns there are residential tract developments of mostly single detached housing, also
known as danchi (danchi refers to a grouping on land). Sorensen (2001) says that housing
in these new towns is popular but expensive (Figure 5.7). Within these new towns there
are blocks of large high-rise condominium buildings that are also called danchi (Figure 5.8)
(Edgington, 2003; see also Botting, 2003).

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Figure 5.7. Residential Tract Housing in Ushiku, Known Collectively as a Danchi(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)
As mentioned above, many of these residential tract developments are a result of land
readjustment procedures, when landowners pool their farm and forest land andcollectively create a new residential subdivision (see Sorensen, 1999). Land readjustment
can also involve collectively redeveloping an existing urban or industrial area too.
At the meso scale the residential areas in these tract developments are usually on agrid with wide roads and sidewalks for pedestrians and usually cyclists. The danchi can
include apartment buildings and shops along the main street. I have seen a Christianchurch and a Buddhist temple in one danchi in Ushiku City. The houses are usually uniform
in appearance, have two storeys with three bedrooms, and are usually mass-produced.
These suburban houses are no bigger than houses in the city core, e.g., Tokyo (Hebbert andNakai, 1988). Houses can be bought out of catalogues, and one can go to a demonstration
housing display lot to look at homes before buying—similar to visiting a car lot or
showroom. Homes can be custom built or mass-produced (Patchell, 2002). Some of thesehouses even have Canadian designs (Canada Home, 2014). One can relate this mass
production of uniform housing design to being part of post-World War II housing
production that McCarthy (2008) describes in the US and other countries.

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Figure 5.8. New Condominium Complex or Danchi Along the New Tsukuba Express
Train Line

(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)
In addition to new towns and danchi, there is the planned garden city that can beanalyzed at the meso and micro scales. The garden city design originated in England and isrelated to the rural idyll. Most of this review is based on Ishida (2007, 116-117, 127). The
Den’en Toshi project in the suburbs of Tokyo started in 1953 when these suburbs werereally part of the rural-urban fringe of Tokyo. Translated into English “Den’en Toshi” meansgarden city, and the concept was borrowed from Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City
movement from the early 1920s in England. These were a series of suburbs along the
Tokyu Den’en Toshi commuter rail line in western Tokyo near the Tama River. Den’en Toshi
was planned to have 310,000 residents, but by 1987 the population was over 400,000. The
rice paddies have been preserved because the land is designated as an urbanization control
zone (UCZ) where no development is allowed, whereas the land set aside for development,
through land-readjustment, has been designated as an urbanization promotion zone (UPZ).
Still, there were problems with this garden city in the 1960s in terms of facilities, such aslack of sewers. There were also local groups forming to help preserve the local naturalenvironment, and there were attempts at creating green space corridors. Moreover, there
was a plan proposed in 1966 to link park and green space areas with tree-lined boulevards
called the Pear City Plan, but there was not enough land set aside for wide boulevards, andthe plan never came to fruition (Ishida, 2007, 127). Although the above proposed plan isrelated the area’s farm heritage, which can be related to the rural idyll (Bunce, 1994),
Ishida does not explicitly mention the rural idyll in his depiction of Den’en Toshi. Versionsof garden cities were also proposed in Osaka (Hanes, 2002). The garden city is the only
planned rural-urban fringe settlement that is related to the rural idyll—as perceived in
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80England! The new towns and danchi that were built in the rural-urban fringe did not
capitalize on the farm or forest landscapes in which they were situated.
The other landscapes to consider are the unplanned mixed rural-urban landscapes—
often referred to in Japanese as konjuka settlements (e.g. Waldichuk and Whitney, 1997).
Here residential developments are not landscape expressions of the rural idyll. Compared
to Canada one sees a denser heterogeneity of land uses such as multi-family residential,
forest, farmland, and factories (Figure 5.9).
Figure 5.9. Rural-urban Fringe in Western Tokyo—Denser Heterogeneity of Land
Uses, Higher Density(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)
At the more detailed meso-scale in Canada we see dispersed farm households,
dispersed non-farm households, golf courses, conflicting land uses, commercial vegetable
farming, and tract housing, schools, and religious institutions, such as churches andmosques (Figures 5.10 and 5.11).

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Figure 5.10. Dispersed Non-farm Households(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)

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Figure 5.11. Tract Housing Next to Grasslands and Forest Land

(Source: T. Waldichuk photo)
At the meso-scale in Japan these unplanned residential landscapes often consist of mini
housing developments with 10 or so homes (see Sorensen, 2001), clustered farm houses,
surrounded by farmland, and fallow or abandoned farm fields, and Shinto shrines andBuddhist temples. Most of the Shinto Shrines and Buddhist temples and graveyards haveexisted long before urbanites moved into the area. These religious landscapes tend not tochange as the surrounding farm and forest land is consumed by new housing. Also, shrines
and temples often add green space to new housing developments because they are usuallysurrounded by forest. Streets are narrow and curved with no sidewalks. Residential lot
sizes and houses are smaller on the fringe in Japan compared to that with Canada.
The largest lots belong to the farmers, who have a large main house and then some out
buildings on the same property. The farmers usually own farmland detached from theirfarm-houses, which can be, for example, half a kilometre away. The nearby households areusually those of relatives (known as branch families or bunke in Japanese) (see Figure5.12). Over time, on the dry fields close to their farmhouses the farmers build apartments,
rental houses or parking lots. Japanese farmers are attached to their land, and thus, tend todevelop it rather than sell it (Dawson, 1984).
Apartment buildings are usually two stories, and single-detached rental houses are one
floor, often two room cottages. People from large cities such as Tokyo try to acquire a plot
in the rural-urban fringe and then build a home on it (Hebbert and Nakai, 1988). Thus, one
can see farmhouses, often in clusters as mentioned above, apartment buildings among
vegetable fields and newer owner-occupied residential housing (see Allison, 1979).
Return to Table of Contents83One can see a sprawl-like settlement pattern in these unplanned konjuka areas.
Housing and land use, in general, can appear scattered but this is not perceived to be a
problem. Hebbert (1994, 77) states that “…the strong cultural biases against scattereddevelopment are inapplicable in Japan…” (cited in Sorensen 2000, 239). Often there are nosewers. Infrastructure such as sewers, widened streets, and sidewalks is generally put inafter the houses are built (Sorensen, 2001; Mori, 1998). The unorganized landscape leads
to problems of efficiency and the provision of basic services (Galloway, 2007).
Figure 5.12. A Clustered Farm Hamlet with Branch Houses for Offspring on the
Periphery of Ushiku CityFigure(Source: Ushiku City air photo)
Aesthetically, at the macro and meso level, these landscapes are often “…crisscrossedby high voltage transmission lines,” (Sorensen, 2000, 219) (Figure 5). Galloway (2007), in
his description of Japanese suburbs (basically the inner rural-urban fringe), compares themto sprawling patterns found in North America, e.g., big box stores and strip malls among
fields of unattached houses (Galloway, 2007, 96). There is no apparent order in thelandscape, which illustrates a fragmented rural to urban land conversion (Wiltshire andAzuma, 2000). Thus, a visitor from Canada may find these landscapes unappealing. It cantake a number of years for the rural landscape to become built over and totally urban. But
Sorensen (2000) claims that this long period of urban development in the Japanese fringe
results in a variety of houses often uniquely built, which is pleasant. Allison (1979, 160)
similarly states in his description of the suburbanization of western Tokyo (basically the
inner rural-urban fringe at the time) that a “rustic feeling” still exists.
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What are some of the reasons for this fragmented, sprawl-like rural-urban fringe
landscape? First, even though most of these areas are within urbanization control zones,
there are loopholes, so that urban development still occurs. Sorensen (2001) also statesthat the fragmented nature of the Japanese fringe is partly due to the presence of small rice
farms and post-World War II land reform. The Canadian rural-urban fringe generally
consists of a larger-scale dry crop landscape. Sorensen (2001) states that people walked on
footpaths between fields—which still happens—thus, leading to a denser landscape. He
also states that when North American farmland was surveyed roads and land for public
facilities such as churches was included and that even in Europe there was more public
land before urban development took place. Also, after World War II, owing to land reform,
the number of smaller plots that were held individually increased (Sorensen, 2001). In
sum, the non-material culture in the form of planning regulations and procedures has
resulted in a higher density, more fragmented landscape in Japan. Also, the pre-existing
farm landscape, i.e., small-scale rice versus large-scale vegetable and grain in Canada, has
had an impact on the contemporary rural-urban fringe landscapes in both Japan andCanada.
In conclusion, at the macro and meso scales of analysis, one can see planned suburbs inthe rural-urban fringes of both countries. But in Japan we see planned new towns
consisting of high density condominium and apartment complexes as well as higher density
single-detached housing (Galloway, 2007); danchi tract housing developments are also
common. The garden city or Den’en Toshi is an imported planning concept based on therural idyll found in England. These landscapes are a result of the high economic growth
period—part of modernity. One also sees low density housing being built in Canada,
sometimes the size of estate homes. This is the exurbia that is a product of the rural idyll.
The traditional clustered farm hamlets in Japan contrast with the dispersed farms in
Canada. There is sprawl on surrounding farmland in both countries, but there are no estatelots in Japan. At the macro scale of analysis we see a higher density of land uses and agreater heterogeneity of land uses in the Japanese rural-urban fringe due to smaller-scale
and the spatial organization of Japanese farms and the traditional form of farmland
succession, resulting in small farm plots and a more fragmented residential landscape. The
rural idyll in Japan, including nostalgia and agrarianism has little impact on these inner
rural-urban fringe landscapes.

5. Globalization in the Japanese and Canadian rural-urban fringe
Woods (2007, 487) defines globalization as “…a dynamic and multifaceted process of
integration and interaction that enrols localities into networks of inter-connectivity
organized at the global scale, and facilitating the global circulation of people, commodities,
ideas and representations.” It is this global circulation that is important in the rural-urban
fringe, especially in terms of the organization of landscapes at the macro, meso and microlevels as mentioned by Jones (1988). This section will examine the effects of globalization
on residential landscapes in the rural-urban fringes of both Canada and Japan.
The globalization of land-use planning has had an impact on the Japanese rural-urban
fringe since the end of World War II. Examples are the introduction of the garden city
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movement from England, e.g., Den’en Toshi, and the attempted implementation of agreenbelt around Tokyo (Yokohari et al., 2010). Also, the use of land readjustment for
urban development was introduced from abroad (Sorensen, 2000). There are many otherland-use planning concepts that have been introduced, such as public participation (SeeSorensen and Funck, 2007). These are examples of non-material culture.
If globalization means that different cultures are accepting similar ideas, then does auniversal rural idyll exit? Bunce (2003) ponders this issue. But he argues that the rural idyll
is different between England and North America in that the English rural idyll treats thecountryside as a national treasure, whereas in much larger North America the rural idyll is
not connected to nationalism. Still, a changing rural idyll due to globalization may have an
impact on rural-urban areas. Bell (2006) states that globalization involves the placeless andthat the rural idyll is like an imagined homeland that, according to some political views, isbeing threatened by globalization. Thus, some may advocate that these areas be protected
and preserved. Bell then talks about the effect of US pop culture, such as rural based TV
shows, and media on perceived notions of the rural idyll in England. He also mentions how
tourism activities in increasingly diverse rural areas lead to different conceptions of rural
idylls (Butler, 1998, cited in Bell, 2006). For example, in the rural Lake District of England
the Japanese enjoy looking at the landscapes of Beatrix Potter (Craik, 1997, cited in Bell2006, 156). Thus, globalization can have an impact on the rural idyll, and how rural areas
are viewed and maintained, leading to changes to the material landscape.
In Japan Takahashi (2001) states that rural areas are now valued for nature,
recreation, and education. Asano (2007) talks about the change in attitude toward
preserving rural and natural landscapes in Japan. Up until the 1960s, there was a focus onprotecting wilderness and natural places that were rare and scientifically important. Then,the focus was on ecological values and thus ecological landscapes. Recently though, there
has been an emphasis on the cultural value of nature and accessible natural areas are being
considered for conservation (Ishikawa, 2001, cited in Asano, 2007, 192). Community
groups that are made up of mostly of urbanite retirees have been managing once
overgrown woodlands in the rural-urban fringe (Takeuchi, 2003, cited in Yokohari and
Bolthouse, 2011). Thus, the value and use of the landscapes around residential areas in therural-urban fringe is changing.
The concern for the natural environment is growing in both the Japanese and Canadian(e.g., see Taylor, 2010 and Cadieux et al., 2013) fringes but the desire for individuals togrow food is still stronger in Japan. Although this trend may be influenced by the positive
view toward farming that is espoused by agrarianism (Ogura, 1982), much of this desire to
grow one’s own food in Japan may be due to the concern over food quality, e.g., theimportation of tainted food products; it may also be due to the perceived inaccessibility offood, leading to a counter movement of farming in the city (Yokohari et al., 2010, cited in
Yokohari and Bolthouse, 2011; Jussaume et al., 2000). Yokohari and Bolthouse (2011)
promote the establishment or re-establishment of agriculture in urban areas and mention
that urban agriculture is expanding beyond small garden plots with some urbanites now
becoming involved in the operations of aging farm households. These small-scale farms arecalled kleingartens (which means small garden in German) (see Figure 5.13). Since about
1990 laws have been changed to allow farmland to be leased out to for use by urbanites,
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from small garden plots to ones as large as 100 square metres (Japan for sustainability
newsletter, No.136, Dec. 2013; Kieninger et al., 2011, cited in Mok et al., 2013; Wiltshireand Azuma, 2000). Some urbanites also travel further into the countryside for one or twodays to stay and work at the larger kleingartens (Japan For Sustainability Newsletter,
No.136, Dec. 2013), and one was even advertised on a TripAdvisor website (see Figure5.14). Thus, this growing interest in small-scale farming by urbanites is having an impact
on the fragmented rural-urban fringe residential konjuka areas discussed above.
At the macro scale, there are also eco-villages being proposed in Japan by Takeuchi etal. (1998). “Eco-village” is a key phrase for establishing sustainable human settlementsinternationally (Atkisson et al., 1991; Ansted and Franta, 1994; Dichristian, 1996; as citedin Takeuchi et al., 1998, 178). Takeuchi et al. (1998) advocate moving people to rural areasfrom large cities and encourage people to settle in agricultural and mountainous areas.
They devised an eco-village model for the fringe (called an “urban front area”) that has
10,000 urbanites and 60 villagers with an area of 100 ha. The allotment garden in the ecovillage is good for communication between the urbanites and the farmers when growing
vegetables and flowers.
At the meso-scale, neigbourhood and housing design is also becoming global in termsof design. McCarthy (2008, 129) states “We see the countryside is increasingly a global
commodity, one produced to standardized and exacting specifications at a growing numberof locations.” “We learn that the same architects (and designers, builders, and othermanufacturers) are plying their trades in a growing number of far-flung rural locations.”
This is particularly relevant in terms of neighbourhood and housing design (e.g., Patchell,2002). At the micro scale, there are Canadian housing designs that have been adopted in
the Japanese fringe (e.g., Figure 5.15, Canada Home, 2014).
Conversely at the micro-scale in the Kamloops area of British Columbia a company
called Daizen Joinery has been building custom homes by adapting Japanese wood-working
designs (Figure 5.16, which is the homepage of Japanese company producing custom-built
homes near Kamloops, March 2015, Daizen.com).

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87Figure 5.13. An Example of a Japanese kleingarten from Kasama City, Ibaraki
Prefecture

Figure 5.14. Trip Advisor Internet Page for a kleingarten(Source: www.tripadvisor.ca)
Return to Table of Contents88Figure 5.15. Canada Home

Figure 5.16. Daizen Joinery(Source: daizen.com)
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In sum, globalization has and is continuing to change the residential landscape in both
the Japanese and Canadian rural-urban fringes. The past adoption of foreign land-use
planning concepts in Japan, such as new towns and garden cities are clear examples. At themacro level, rural areas in both Canada and Japan are valued more now for nature, and thiscan have an impact on residential design. Gardening and small-scale agriculture has
increased more in the residential rural-urban fringe of Japan. At the macro scales, there is a
proposal for eco-villages in Japan, including those located in the rural-urban fringe. There
are also Canadian housing designs being adapted to Japanese residential areas (CanadaHome, 2014), and there are Japanese designed homes being built in the rural-urban fringeof Kamloops (e.g., Daizen.com, n.d.). But country estate lots still exist only in the ruralurban fringe of Canada—a material landscape outcome of the ever-lasting yet changing
rural idyll (see Figure 5.17).
Figure 5.17. Soon to be Estate Homes Outside of Kamloops(Source: T. Waldichuk Photo)

6. Summary and Conclusion
The rural-urban fringe is a dynamic zone of land-use change. Its appearance is different
in Canada compared to Japan owing in part to culture. One can analyze these differences interms of non-material and material culture, with non-material culture, such as attitudes
toward landscape, leading to differences in material culture or material landscape change.
These differences can be analyzed at macro, meso and micro levels.
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In Canada attitudes toward rural and urban landscapes are affected by the rural idyll—
positive views toward rural areas, which include the related ideas of nostalgia for rural
areas and agrarianism—favourable attitudes toward farming. The rural idyll in Canada
comes from England and the rest of Europe. It has led to a material landscape of estate
homes on large lots populated by middle-class people, symbolizing in part a landscape ofleisure. In Japan, the rural idyll focuses on nostalgia for one’s furusato or hometown in rural
areas. Even if one is born in a large city, one associates furusato with rural landscapes—it
has become a national myth. These rural areas are well beyond the city, and thus, the“rural” in the rural-urban fringe is not held in the same high esteem, so no estate homes
appear there.
The fundamental material differences between Japanese and Canadian rural-urban
fringe landscapes, however, are based on differences in the traditional agriculturallandscapes of both countries and the survey systems used. Specifically, the small-scale rice
and dry field cultivation system used in Japan differs from the much larger scale vegetableand grain farming system used in Canada. Moreover, different Japanese and Canadianplanning regulations, which are part of non-material culture, lead to many landscapedifferences, particularly sprawl.
Since the end of World War II at the macro scale there have been large-scale residential
developments in the Canadian fringe, which is part of the suburbanization process within
the context of modernity. These are higher density, cheaper houses than estate homes. In
the Japanese fringe, at the macro level, there have been planned new towns, and highdensity track developments with a similar objective of providing affordable housing. The
context of this residential development is the post-World War II high economic growth
period. Still, there are no estate homes in the rural-urban fringe of Japan—there is no
demand as in Canada. A different interpretation of the rural idyll in Japan is partly
responsible for this.
Globalization has had an impact on the residential landscape in the Japanese andCanadian rural-urban fringes. In Japan at the macro level the garden city concept fromEngland was introduced to the fringe of Tokyo in the early 1950s. New towns wereintroduced consisting of high-density single detached housing reflective of modernism.
More recently there are some new housing designs, such as those from Canada. But thebigger change is that more people are involved in growing food in the rural-urban fringe—
there has been a proliferation of kleingarten-style allotment gardens. The reasons for thisincreased interest in food production are imported food safety concerns and foodaccessibility. These urbanite farmers’ attitudes may also be influenced by agrarianism—
positive views toward agriculture—which is related to the rural idyll. These same residents
are also interested in managing local forest landscapes. In the Canadian residential fringe
there are also more varieties of housing available; for example, higher quality custom-built
housing from Japan. However, one still sees the estate home. There is also an interest inpreserving the natural landscape. Thus, there are a greater variety of residential landscapesin the rural-urban fringes of both countries—these exemplify post-modern landscapes.

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6. Commodification of Rural Spaces in British Columbia,
CanadaAkira Tabayashi

Takaaki Nihei

Professor, Department of Geography,
University of Tsukuba

Professor, Department of Human
Sciences, Hokkaido University

Email: akira@geoenv.tsukuba.ac.jp

Email: nihei@let.hokudai.ac.jp

Noritaka Yagasaki

Jun Kaneko

Professor, Department of Geography,
Nihon University

Professor, Department of Humanities,
Ehime University

Email: yagasaki.noritaka@nihon-u.ac.jp

Email: kaneko.jun.iu@ehime-u.ac.jp

Toshio Kikuchi

Tom Waldichuk

Professor, Faculty of Urban
Environmental Sciences, Tokyo
Metropolitan University

Professor, Department of Geography &Environmental Studies, Thompson Rivers
University

Email: kikuchan@tmu.ac.jp

Email: twaldichuk@tru.ca

Abstract
Rural areas in developed countries have traditionally been considered spaces for
agricultural production. However, in recent years, they have been regarded as suitable forother functions, such as leisure and recreation, environmental conservation, culture, andeducation. Whereas the role of food production has decreased in rural areas, the role ofother forms of “consumption” has increased. This process may be understood as the“commodification of rural spaces.” This paper provides an overview of the commodificationof rural spaces in Japan and then reflects on the manner in which the commodification ofrural spaces is progressing in British Columbia, Canada. Four case studies are discussed inthis paper. The Lower Mainland region is characterized by diversified rural commodities
such as hobby farms, farmers’ markets, farm product shops, “Circle Farm Tours”, pick-yourown farms, horseback riding and estate homes. Wine tourism in the Okanagan region, and aslow food movement in the Vancouver Island region that concentrates on consuming
locally produced food from Vancouver Island are also very important. Ranch tourism andthe sales of branded dairy products characterize the commodification in the ThompsonCariboo region. The commodification of rural spaces in British Columbia, which is much
more advance and diversified than that of Japan, plays an important role in sustaining therural economy and society.
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Keywords: Rural spaces, commodification, agri-tourism, Japan, British Columbia

1. Introduction
At present, multiple functions are carried out in rural areas in developed countries, andthe diverse non-agricultural functions have had an impact on the landscape, as well asfunctional impacts. Although all rural areas are regarded as areas for farm production,
more recently such functions as recreation and tourism, residential accommodation for
urban workers, repositories of cultural and educational values and environmental
conservation have been added. Food production continues to be the most importantfunction of rural areas in developed countries, including Japan. However, the trend forrural resources to be utilized and consumed in different ways has increased sharply sincethe 1990s. Such phenomena can be regarded as the “commodification of rural spaces”(Cloke, 1992; Halfacree, 1993).
Cloke (1993, 55) observed that the “commodification of rural spaces was advanced by
the rural policy of the Thatcher era in the United Kingdom.” More specifically, markets
were created for various “products,” including residential zones, rural communities, ruralvillage lifestyle and landscape, newly commodified food, and industrial goods produced inrural villages. According to Woods (2005, 174), the result of the commodification of ruralspaces is that “the countryside has become a commodity, to be bought and sold through theconsumptive practices of tourism, property investment by in-migrants, the marketing ofrural crafts and products, and the use of rural images to sell other products.”
Since commodification strongly influences current rural spaces, it is important toclarify in what way commodification has been promoted, and how it characterizes present
rural spaces, in order to understand the characteristics of rural areas in advanced
countries. We have studied the characteristics of the commodification of rural spaces inJapan for the last decade (Tabayashi, 2013; 2015). If research from British Columbia,
Canada is added, our geographical perspective on present rural areas will be significantly
widened and developed. This is because British Columbia’s many natural attractions(including scenic ocean landscapes, wildlife, and the rugged Cordilleran landscape),
diversified and productive farming activities, and many cultural resources (including First
Nations sites, heritage sites and sports events) attract visitors (Wood, 2001). In addition,
there is a long tradition of urban residents living in estate homes in suburban areas andsecond homes in remote areas.
This paper first provides an overview of the commodification of rural spaces in Japan,
and then reflects on the manner in which the commodification of rural spaces is

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progressing in British Columbia, Canada. The paper then examines current types ofcommodification and the roles they play in sustaining the rural economy and society1

2. The Commodification of Rural Spaces in JapanFirst, let us observe current diversified activities in Japan’s rural areas. The main
agricultural industry in Japan is rice harvesting. Wheat and other grain crops, potatoes,
beans and peas, also have important histories. In addition, new farm products haveappeared, including foxtail millet, young barley leaves for chlorophyll juice and mulberryleaves for tea, which are cultivated as health foods.
In the past, agricultural cooperatives or wholesale markets supplied most farm
products to retail outlets. In recent years, there has been a growing trend for consumers
and producers to be linked directly, without intermediaries. Farm produce stands andshops, where urban residents can enjoy buying fresh and inexpensive vegetables and fruits,
are increasing. Allotment gardens have been established for urban residents to enjoy smallscale farming, and grow vegetables and flowers for their personal use. Local government
mediates these plots between farm households and urban residents.
At tourist farms, visitors pick fresh fruit or strawberries; they are attracted to therural atmosphere and the combination of natural scenery and cultivated landscapesfeaturing various farm products (Iguchi et al., 2008). Farmhouse restaurants that serve
dishes using local products are popular in several regions. New tourist activities such as theopportunity to ride horses and interact with animals, have emerged on many ranches thatonce produced only milk and other dairy products, in addition to outlets to purchase dairy
products, ham and sausage (Tabayashi et al., 2008).
The concept of second homes, built for people to escape from urban areas and spend
time in the countryside, has long existed. However, there has been an increasing number ofpeople who choose to reside in rural areas and work there or commute. Urban residents
hike or cycle to outlying rural areas, hilly areas, or village forests and enjoy rurallandscapes. For example, many people visit a traditional settlement of thatched-roofedhouses in Ouchi-juku in Shimogo Town, Fukushima Prefecture. Landscapes with terraced
fields also attract urban residents, who sometimes join in conservation activities andparticipate in farm operations.

2.1. Types of rural commodities in JapanThe commodification of rural spaces in Japan has progressed in a number of ways.
Rural commodities in Japan can be classified into four types, according to Perkins (2006).

1

The description of the commodification of rural spaces in Japan in this paper is taken
largely from papers that have already been published (Tabayashi, 2010; 2013; 2014).
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The first is the commercial supply of ordinary farm products, such as rice, vegetables, fruit,and various livestock products. The second is the supply of new farm products related tothe health and well-being of consumers. These include health foods, as well as beauty
products derived from rice, vegetables, fruit, tea, milk and meat. In recent years, thedemand for organically cultivated farm products and chemical-free food has increased,along with products with traceable origins. The third type of commodification concerns
rural residences for urban workers, which have rapidly increased. Recently, the number ofpeople working in cities and residing in rural areas has increased. The number of people
who have retired from jobs in cities and begun farming or enjoying country life has also
increased. This includes urban residents who have purchased second homes in the country
to relax during weekends and holidays. The fourth type of commodification of rural spaces
involves recreation and tourism, facilitated by walking paths and hiking routes, farm
produce stands, orchards for fruit picking, allotment gardens, farm stays for experiencing
agriculture, farmhouse restaurants, kleingarten, guest houses, magnificent naturallandscapes and hot springs, large-scale ski resorts, swimming beaches, pastures for horseriding and agricultural museums (Butler, 1998).
Our research suggests that there is a fifth type: activities to improve the quality of life
by conserving the landscape and environment, and understanding the culture and societyof rural areas. Urban residents, rural residents emigrating from cities and the longtime
residents of rural areas are involved in these activities. Residents in rural areas findmeaning in nature, landscape, lifestyle, traditional events and the culture of the regions
around them. Residents become proud of their regions, which reinforces their emotional
attachment and sense of identification. Urban residents look for healing in the landscape,environment, culture and society, and gain a feeling of satisfaction.
Of the above-mentioned types of commodification of rural spaces, the supply of
ordinary farm products and new farm products, as noted by Perkins (2006), overlap one
another, and it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between them. They are therefore
grouped into one category, along with marine products. This results in four types ofcommodification: (1) the supply of agricultural and aquatic products; (2) the consumptionof rural spaces for recreation and tourism; (3) residency in rural areas; and (4) activities toimprove the quality of life by conserving and managing landscapes and the naturalenvironment, and understanding traditional rural culture and society (Tabayashi, 2013).

2.2. Regional differences in the commodification of rural spaces in Japan
From 2007 to 2010, 15 rural and agricultural geographers, including the present
author, conducted a joint research project about the commodification of rural spaces in

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Japan2, and the individual regional pictures created by the 15 researchers have been
integrated.
There are a number of regional differences across Japan in the commodification ofrural spaces. The areas in and around major metropolises such as Tokyo, Yokohama,
Osaka, Kyoto, Kobe, Nagoya, Sapporo, Sendai and Fukuoka can be categorized as the
improvement to the quality of life through landscape and environment conservation andmanagement, and the development of an understanding of traditional rural culture andsociety. In these places surrounding the metropolitan areas, examples of thecommodification of rural spaces, such as residences in rural areas and recreation andtourism activities, can be seen. In addition, there are many second homes in these areas,
which are also residences in rural spaces. Primary plains and coastal areas arecharacterized by the supply of agricultural and aquatic products. Although thecommodification of rural spaces has not in fact progressed in broad mountainous areas
with sparse populations, these areas can perhaps be characterized as improving people’squality of life through the maintenance of rural landscapes and environments, andrecreation and tourism.
As seen above, differences in natural conditions such as topography and climate
initially determine the nature of rural spaces in Japan. In addition, proximity tometropolitan areas is significant, and a type of zonal structure centering on metropolitan
areas is apparent. Rural spaces are also impacted by existing tourist sites.
The commodification of rural spaces can be found in each region in Japan. However,urban residents have mainly initiated it. For residents born in urban areas, rural areas areunconventional, fresh, and attractive places. For those residents, rural areas are great
products to be consumed (Yamamoto, 2013). Since residents who were born and raised inurban areas have no accessible rural hometowns, they look for that home in rural spacesthat they do not know. Natural, agricultural, forest and fishery sites are inherited intact byrural families, relatives and regional societies. Urban residents can experience these ruralcharacteristics and identify different regional identities based on other regional
characteristics (Shinohara, 2013). On the other hand, local residents of rural spaces haverediscovered and become proud of nature, their environment, society, and the life
surrounding them in response to the inspiration of urban residents. This is an indication ofrural residents’ sense of attachment to their region and their enthusiasm for regionalsustainability (Nishino, 2013).

The 2007-2010 Grants-in-Aid for Scientific Research (A), “Human Geographical Studyon the Commodification of Rural Space in Japan” (Researchers’ representative: Akira
Tabayashi)
2

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3. Commodified Rural Spaces in British Columbia
3. 1. Agricultural regions in British Columbia
British Columbia is the third largest province in Canada, with an area of 9,450,000
km2, which is two and a half times larger than Japan. It is a vast region of great beauty,
physical diversity and human variety. From the Pacific islands to the Coast Mountains,interior plateau, and snowcapped summits of the Rocky Mountains, it presents aspectacular succession of panoramas (Wood, 2001). According to Statistics Canada, thepopulation of British Columbia in 2014 stood at 4,631,300, an increase of 11.3 percent over2001 figures. It is the third largest provincial population in Canada, and is 13.0 percent of
the total Canadian population. It is the only province to have continuous increase inpopulation since Confederation (Bone, 2011).
Due to its mountainous landscape and severe climate, there is very little good
agricultural land in British Columbia. An agricultural land distribution map documents thepockets of primary farmland, agricultural land reserves, along with the larger rangelands
areas, and the few areas of potential farmland in the north. Approximately three percent of
the land base is farmland and another 30 percent of the land has some agricultural capacity(McGillivray, 2011). British Columbia is divided into six agricultural regions as follows:
Lower Mainland, Vancouver Island, Okanagan, Thompson-Cariboo, Kootenay, and Peace
River (Figure 6.1). The following are brief descriptions of these agricultural regions, based
primarily on McGillivray (2011).
The Lower Mainland region produces over 70 percent of British Columbia’s dairy
products, berries, vegetables, poultry, eggs, pork, greenhouse vegetables, mushrooms,
floriculture and nursery products. Mild weather, plenty of frost-free days, good soil, a large
population, proximity to the United States and excellent transportation infrastructure haveresulted in thriving farming activities generating over half of the province’s agricultural
revenues. Tourism is directly related to agriculture in the form of farm tours and bed andbreakfast accommodation.
In the Vancouver Island region, with a population nearing three-quarters of a million,
there is a substantial market, as well as sufficient agricultural land, for dairying, sheep andcattle ranching, growing vegetables, fruit, and a variety of specialty crops such as kiwi fruitand organic vegetables, and raising livestock such as ostrich and fallow deer. The
greenhouse production of flowers and vegetables has become important, as has growing
grapes for an increasing farm-gate wine industry.
The Okanagan region is famous for its orchards. It produces apples, pears, and soft fruit
such as peaches, apricots, and cherries. It also produces dairy products and vegetables, andwine grapes. The success of the wine industry is based on new varieties of vines and a newmarketing system, the Vintner’s Quality Association labeling system, which guarantees
quality wine from 100 percent British Columbia grapes. These wines have helped to build
the reputation of the Okanagan region and tied it firmly to the tourism industry.

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Figure 6.1. Agricultural Regions in British Columbia(Source: Modified from McGillivray, 2011)
The Thompson-Cariboo region includes much of the grassland and open forests of theinterior plateau, which are ideal for grazing cattle. Today, the region is still devoted toranching, but its farms have diversified into dairy and lamb production, along withpotatoes, cabbages, turnips, cauliflower and carrots.
Agriculture is carried out mainly on the lowlands of the Columbia and Kootenay rivers
in the Kootenay region. Livestock and forage crops are the main commodities, but theregion’s moderate climate allows for apple growing, poultry, honey and many vegetable
crops. With relatively few people in the region and relatively high transportation costs,
commercial agriculture for export faces a number of economic constraints.
The Peace River region is prairie country, and its agriculture is dominated by grain. It
produces about 80 percent of the province’s grain crops, including canola. Cattle ranches
are also a significant part of the region’s agriculture. Grain farmers in this region face hightransportation costs, low world market prices, and the vagaries of the weather.
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The population of British Columbia is concentrated in the south and southwesternparts of the province. Nearly 70 percent of its residents live in the Lower Mainland region
where Vancouver, Abbotsford, Chilliwack, and other small cities are concentrated. Beyond
this population core, a secondary population cluster is found on Vancouver Island, where
Victoria forms the second-largest urban population, and there is a series of towns andcities. In the interior, Kelowna, Vernon, and Penticton constitute the major urban centres in
the Okanagan Valley, whereas nearby Kamloops is in the Thompson Valley (Bone, 2011).
Since the major consumers of rural spaces are urban residents, the commodification ofrural spaces has advanced in the areas accessible to urban centres. Therefore, this study
focuses on the Lower Mainland, Vancouver Island, Okanagan and Thompson-Cariboo
regions.

3.2. Types of rural commodities in British Columbia
In line with the results of our studies in Japan, we classified rural commodities in
British Columbia into the following four types. The first is the supply of agricultural andaquatic products, including suburban agriculture, farm produce stands and shops, local
food, slow food movements, organic agricultural products, branded agricultural products,
processed agricultural products and fishermen’s wharves.
The second is rural consumption for recreation and tourism. There are various
activities such as walking, jogging, hiking, horseback riding, visiting pick-your-own farms,
hobby farming, wine tourism, Circle Farm Tours, cycling, mountain biking, farm stays,
camping, zip-lines, canoeing, fishing, sailing, boating, whale watching, surf-riding, cruising,skiing, riding snowmobiles, dogsledding, hunting, mountain-climbing, enjoying magnificent
scenery and experiencing the wilderness.
The third type is residency in rural areas. Estate homes, second homes, long-term stays
on tourist ranches, and retirement residences are included in this category.
The last type is activities to improve the quality of life by conserving and managing
landscapes and the natural environment, and by understanding traditional rural society
and culture. Conservation and management of historical sites, First Nations’ heritage
tourism, rural settlement conservation, and environmental movements can all be observedin British Columbia.

4. Regional Differences in British Columbia in Terms of the Commodification of
Rural Spaces
4.1. Case study of the Lower Mainland region
The Lower Mainland region is the plain that extends along the lower Fraser River, fromdowntown Vancouver to 120 km east of the city. Approximately 70 percent of the
population of British Columbia is concentrated in this highly productive agricultural area.
Due to a tremendous demand from urban residents, various types of commodification ofrural spaces have expanded. One typical activity is farmers’ markets. They are open on
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Saturday or Sunday mornings, or Wednesday afternoons, in the downtown areas of many
towns and cities in the Lower Mainland region, and are comprised of 50 to 150 venders
selling vegetables, fruit, meat, dairy products, cakes and pies, clothes and crafts. “Fresh,”“healthy,” and “local” are important key words for the markets. The website of the BC
Association of Farmers’ Markets says, “The farmer’s market is a place to appreciate thechanging seasons, bump into neighbors, listen to music, eat strawberries within hours ofpicking, and introduce your children to the farmers who grew those cherry tomatoes they
love.” According to the association, there were 108 farmers’ markets in British Columbia in
2015, of which 37 were concentrated in the Lower Mainland and Vancouver Island regions.
There are also many farm produce shops or stands, in which locally produced farm
products are sold. People can also enjoy shopping at local farms for fresh, tasty, andnutritious food, and pick their own berries and fruit. Eighty-seven farms have organized
themselves into the Fraser Valley Farm Direct Marketing Association.
Circle Farm Tours had their origin in the idea that the public could be reacquainted
with agriculture through visiting farms, whether out of curiosity, or because they wereattracted by the fresh produce for sale, or perhaps they were simply wanting a lovely
country outing. The Circle Farm Tour is a roadmap to agricultural attractions in the Fraser
Valley. The tour is self-guided, allowing visitors to explore the Valley at their own pace andexperience agricultural attractions in a fun and interactive way (Hayden, 2015). There are
five Circle Farm Tours at Agassiz/Harrison Mills, Maple Ridge/Pitt Meadows, Langley,
Abbotsford, and Chilliwack. In 2003, Agassiz/Harrison Mills in the District of Kent createdthe concept, and it has developed into a partnership among six communities in the Fraser
Valley—Abbotsford, Chilliwack, Kent, Mission, Langley and Maple Ridge/Pitt Meadows—toencourage the development of a strong agri-tourism sector (Hayden, 2015). For example,
the Circle Farm Tour in Abbotsford encourages visits to Granny & Grump’s Antiques,
Birchwood Dairy Farm, Bakerview Eco-dairy, Fraser Valley Trout Hatchery, Maan Farms
Market & Estate Winery, Neufeld Farms, Campbell’s Gold Honey Farm & Meadery,
Tanglebank Gardens & Brambles Bistro, Onnink’s Blueberry Farm, Singletree Winery, Mt.
Lehman Winery, Goat’s Pride Dairy, Lepp Farm Market, and Restaurant 62. In addition tothese destinations, others, such as a pioneer village, museums, a fur trading post, garden
centres, and a pottery studio are included in other Circle Farm Tours.
Urban residents are increasingly choosing to live in the country, which has led to thedevelopment of scattered homes that are the owners’ primary residence. A number ofpeople have hobby farms on which they raise horses and enjoy horseback riding.

4.2. Case study of the Vancouver Island region
In the Vancouver Island region, the research focused especially on the Cowichan subregion, where the commodification of rural spaces is characterized by the development ofwine tourism and the establishment of a “slow city” based on the consumption of local food.
Many visitors and tourists come to this region because of its excellent accessibility toVictoria and Vancouver. In addition, due to its mild winter climate this region is consideredideal for retirement living in Canada. Small-scale farming is pursued in the narrow
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104farmland area between the Island’s mountains and east coast areas. Tourism based on First
Nations’ culture has also thrived.
Various types of local food production are conducted in this region: livestock and dairy
farming in mountainous areas, grape production on the slopes, and vegetable production
and fishing in the coastal areas. There are approximately 20 wineries, using local grapes,
with wine shops, tasting sessions, and wine factory tours.
The rural space for production has changed rapidly into a space for the consumption of
locally produced food such as cheeses, wines, organic vegetables and fish. Such local food isserved at restaurants attached to wineries. A network of local food producers and theirorganizations is developing various new food brands. Cowichan Bay is one of the two
designated slow cities in Canada, along with Naramata in the Okanagan Valley.

4.3. Case study of the Okanagan region
The Okanagan region extends in and around the Okanagan Valley, lying along a 250 km
north-south axis, and contains a series of long and narrow lakes. It has a mild, dry climate.
Its commodification of rural space is characterized by wine tourism.
European people first settled in this region in 1859, and the area’s economy was basedon extensive agriculture, such as cattle ranching and grain growing. The trans-Canada
railway arrived in the mid-1880s and the construction of a branch line was completed in
1892. Intensive farming was introduced in the early 20th century, when commercial fruit
farming began. Grazing lands, hay flats, and grain fields became 2-16 ha orchard lots,
supplied with irrigation (Senese et al., 2012). In the late 1920s, commercial-scale grape
growing began. The grape acreage continued to increase steadily over the next 50 years,
but grape growers were damaged by the Free Trade Agreement between Canada and theUnited State in the 1980s. Approximately 50 percent of Okanagan grape growers went outof business in the years following the agreement (McGillivray, 2011). Fortunately, theprovincial government introduced new regulations for producing wine from locally grown
grapes, and both vineyard acreages and wineries have increased since the end of the 1980s.
Since the latter half of the 20th century, amenity industries, including retirement
communities, vacation homes, and wine tourism have been developing in the Okanagan
region.
A high quality wine industry based on tourism has developed since the 1980s, due to(1) the mild, dry climate; (2) the introduction of capital, techniques, and entrepreneurs
from other regions; (3) government protection; and (4) cooperation with local foodactivities. There are approximately 140 wineries, some of which have restaurants. In
addition, there are many resort hotels, wine festivals, a wine museum, wine shops, andvisitor centres.
There is a strong relationship between wine and tourism industries in the Okanagan
region. Wine tourism facilitates the consumption-production overlap through tours,
tasting rooms, and cellar door sales. An increase in small-scale local consumption has
become central to both quality wine production and quality tourism production (Senese etal., 2012). One of the examples of the wineries in the Okanagan Valley is Quail’s Gate
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Winery on Okanagan Lake, a place known for its scenic beauty. Tourists can enjoy wine
tours, tastings, shopping, and lunch and dinner in the restaurant. Another example is theMission Hill Winery, which has a large green space with uniquely decorative architecture, ahuge collection of sculptures, wine tours, tastings, shops and a first-class restaurant facing
Okanagan Lake.

4.4. Case study of the Thompson-Cariboo region
The Thompson-Cariboo region has traditionally been cattle country and remains so,
primarily with cow and calf operations (McGillivray, 2011). However, the extensive rancharea has changed dramatically; specific changes reflect the differentiation fromcompetitors, specialization and intensification. One example is the change from extensive
cattle grazing to intensive dairy farming. Blackwell Dairy Farm near Kamloops focuses onorganic milk production and supplying a value-added fresh milk brand and dairy productthrough its own distribution system. In addition, the farm receives visitors for farm tours toshow the milking process.
Another example is a newly established winery that grows its own grapes. A largeranch has been changed into vineyard to take advantage of long daylight hours, low
precipitation, and mild weather during summer. In addition to supplying its wine to local
markets, it is selling directly to visitors from Vancouver and other cities. In the ThompsonCariboo region along the lowlands near the Fraser and Thompson rivers, the number ofvegetable farmers growing onions, cabbages, turnips, cauliflower, potatoes and carrots isincreasing. These farmers grow produce using local brands under contract to supermarkets
and farmers’ markets in Vancouver and other cities in British Columbia.
A further example is the change from traditional ranches to tourist farms and ranches.
Urban residents stay long-term in a cottage built on a ranch and experience ranch life andother rural tourism. There are also many country cottages where urban residents canretreat and rejuvenate.
The Thompson-Cariboo region and the north and west regions of British Columbia areblessed with abundant natural resources. Recreational and tourism activities, which takeadvantage of the natural environments and landscapes found in the national and provincialparks, are particularly thriving in these regions.

5. Conclusion: Characteristics of the Commodification of Rural Spaces in British
Columbia
The commodification of rural spaces, in other words, utilizes the regional resources
found in rural spaces. These resources are familiar to regional residents, and involve local
landscapes, natural environments, industries, products, lifestyles, annual events, culture
and histories. The diversified commodification of rural spaces can be observed in British
Columbia.
Diversified rural commodities such as hobby farms, farm product markets, Circle Farm
Tours, pick-your-own farms, horseback riding and country residences characterize the
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106Lower Mainland region. Many residents of Vancouver and other cities visit to consume
rural spaces during the weekend. A number of people live in the countryside to enjoy rurallife and hobby farming. The slow food movement that concentrates on locally produced
food is typical of the rural consumption in the Cowichan Bay region of Vancouver Island.
City residents, primarily from Vancouver, Victoria and other nearby cities visit on
weekends to consume rurality. Wine tourism is important in the Okanagan region, andranch tourism and the sales of branded dairy products characterize the commodification in
the Thompson-Cariboo region. Since both regions are far from the large population centres
in British Columbia, most visitors stay for a relatively long term.
There are regional differences in types of commodification, as defined by physicalconditions, accessibility to metropolitan centres, and local agricultural activities. In short,the commodification of rural spaces in British Columbia, which is much more advance anddiversified than that of Japan, plays an important role in sustaining the rural economy andsociety.
The various phenomena occurring in rural areas of developed countries, including
Japan and Canada, can be understood to a substantial degree, using the concept of thecommodification of rural spaces. One effective measure to develop regional economies is tocommodify rural spaces. Furthermore, promoting the commodification of rural spaces
could possibly lead to the development of healthy societies. Therefore, generalizations andconcepts must be continually developed, and more empirical research is needed in the
future.

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107References
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R. Butler (1998) Rural Recreation and Tourism, in B. Ilbery (ed.) The Geography of Rural
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Village to City: A Commitment to Excellence and Innovation, Abbotsford, MSA Museum
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Stone-Wall Strawberry Region: A Case Study of Zo Village in Shizuoka City, The New
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B. McGillivray (2011) Geography of British Columbia: People and Landscapes in Transition,
Third Edition, Vancouver, UBC Press.
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and P. T. Mooney (eds.) Handbook of Rural Studies, London, SAGE Publications, 243-257.
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Columbia, Canada, in P. H. Dougherty (ed.) The Geography of Wine: Regions, Territory andTechniques, Dordrecht, Springer, 81-91.
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A. Tabayashi (2014) The Commodification of Rural Space for Regional Development inJapan, in D. Kim, A. M. Firmino and Y. Ichikawa (eds.) Globalization and New Challenges ofAgricultural and Rural Systems: Proceeding of the 21st Colloquium of the Commission on the
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Tochigi Prefecture, Geographical Space, 1, 83-113.
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7. Building Heritage Tourism and the Semiotics of Exhibition:
Constructing Places and Spaces Related to Historical
Dramas in Japan
Philip Seaton
Professor, Research Faculty of Media and Communication
Hokkaido University
Email: seaton@imc.hokudai.ac.jp

Abstract
Historical dramas in Japan, particularly NHK’s annual Taiga Drama, have a long history
of inducing tourism to heritage sites related to the drama. In response to the knowledge
that a drama will be set in their locality, municipalities have adopted a number ofapproaches for profiting from anticipated tourism booms. This article analyzes the options
available to municipalities when they seek to create new sites of heritage tourism. Nine
types of site are identified, which are the combinations of two sets of variable: temporal(permanent, semi-permanent and temporary) and display type (purpose-built buildings,
exhibitions and display objects). Drawing on examples from various dramas (the Taiga
Dramas Saka no ue no kumo, Tobu ga gotoku, Shinsengumi!, Ryōmaden, Yae no sakura andGunshi Kanbee and the Morning Drama Massan) this article presents representative
examples of each type of display and explores the rationale for employing that kind of
display. The analysis reveals that municipalities are not simply concerned with financial
profit, but may also prioritize local identity creation. Furthermore, the display type may
depend not so much on the nature or popularity of the historical contents, but more on the
broader tourism infrastructure within a municipality, which affects the ability of themunicipality to accommodate an influx of tourists.
Keywords: Heritage tourism, contents tourism, Japan, television dramas, destination
branding

1. Introduction
The phenomenon of film-induced tourism has a history going back many decades,
although it was only in the 1990s that tourism scholars began investigations into thephenomenon (Beeton, 2015, 21). There is now a considerable literature presenting manywell-known case studies from around the world of tourism and travel stimulated by themoving image (see Connell, 2012). In Japan, too, popular culture has a long history of
inducing tourism, although the term coined by Japanese scholars is “contents tourism”
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(kontentsu tsūrizumu), which is defined as “travel behaviour motivated fully or partially by
narratives, characters, locations and other creative elements of popular culture forms,
including film, television dramas, manga, anime, novels and computer games” (IJCT, 2015).
In Japan, the term contents tourism is often associated with manga- and anime-induced
tourism, although the concept has wide applicability to various forms of media-induced
tourism and is now making its way into the international literature (Beeton, Yamamura,and Seaton, 2013; Seaton and Yamamura, 2015).
Media-induced tourism and contents tourism comprise a broad and diverse range ofactivities. They include visiting filming locations, sites related to artists/creators, studiotours, theme parks such as Disneyland and sites relating to historical events depicted inworks of popular culture (see Beeton, 2015, 32-34). In many cases, travellers on the trail ofplaces and spaces related to their favourite works of popular culture enjoy seeking out
locations that, on the surface at least, remain free of commercial exploitation or
touristification. Relatively few works of popular culture generate enough tourism to maketouristification commercially viable (although Lord of the Rings, The Sound of Music andSherlock Holmes are examples of works precipitating successful touristification), and inany case, for many fans the adventure of seeking out unmarked locations is an integral partof the enjoyment (Okamoto, 2015, 22). On other occasions, there is a pre-existing tourism
industry related to the work of popular culture. This is particularly the case if the work is
non- or semi-fictional and the locations are heritage sites. The film Braveheart, for example,
triggered additional tourism to existing sites relating to William Wallace in Scotland(Edensor, 2005), and in Japan heritage tourism triggered by historical contents is a wellestablished phenomenon (Seaton, 2015; Sugawa-Shimada, 2015). However, for someworks of popular culture the significant levels of tourism—either expected or actually
generated—provide the rationale for a local tourism industry to engage in the constructionof new tourism assets to satisfy and attract travelling fans.
This article discusses the options municipalities have when they consider constructing
a purpose-built site of contents tourism to magnify and profit from an anticipated contents
tourism boom. The article discusses both NHK’s Taiga Dramas, which have long produced
significant tourism booms and have been studied extensively for their economic impacts inJapan, and the 2014-5 morning drama Massan, which was a semi-fictionalized account of
the life of Taketsuru Masataka (the “father of Japanese whisky”) and his Scottish wife Rita.
While exploiting the popularity of historical contents and reaping the economic benefits ofan influx of tourists to heritage sites might make simple business sense for a local
community, this article reveals that the creation of exhibition spaces and places related tohistorical contents in Japan generates a much broader range of issues. It sheds light on theprocesses of building a heritage tourism industry and destination branding, as well as
illuminating local strategies for strengthening or renegotiating local identity.

2. Typographies of drama-related heritage sites
The greatest problem facing tourism planners considering the construction of a site ofcontents tourism related to a specific work of popular culture is being able to predict
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111whether that work will generate enough tourism to justify the investment. Such predictions
are notoriously difficult and fraught with financial risks. However, one of the safest bets
when constructing a site of contents tourism in anticipation of a tourism boom is to createa site related to the annual Taiga Drama and Morning Drama on NHK. Both of these drama
series have long histories and traditions of inducing tourism, so as soon as the location for
the next drama is announced the municipality where the drama will be set puts into actiona plan to benefit from the expected rise in tourist numbers. Furthermore, municipalities
wanting to take advantage of, or even initiate, a historical contents tourism boom typicallyhave a pre-existing set of heritage tourism assets in place because only those historicalfigures already memorialized in monuments, museums, local lore and the history books
typically warrant a starring role in a flagship NHK drama.
After the decision to create a place or space of tourism has been taken, municipalities
have nine main options, which are the nine possible combinations of two sets of variables.
First, places and spaces may be categorized into permanent, semi-permanent andtemporary. Permanent means there is no planned closure date, semi-permanent means it isexpected the exhibits will be removed at an unspecified point in the future, and temporarymeans the exhibits will be removed as soon as the drama-induced boom is over. Second,
the nature of the place or space may be categorized into purpose-built museum, exhibitionand display items. A purpose-built museum is an entire building constructed for the explicit
purpose of generating or taking advantage of drama tourism. An exhibition is when theinterior of an existing building is partially or wholly given over to an exhibition about thedrama. Finally, display items are when individual artifacts or display objects are added to an
existing display. The nine possible combinations (and a representative example to be
discussed in subsequent sections) are indicated in Table 7.1.
Table 7.1. Nine Types of Exhibition Space and Place

Permanent

Purpose-built
museumExhibition

Display items

Saka no ue no
kumoTobu ga gotoku

Shinsengumi!

Kagoshima

Kochi

Ryomaden

MassanMassan

Kochi

Yoichi

YoichiGunshi Kanbei

Yae no sakura

Gunshi Kanbei

HimejiAizu Wakamatsu

HimejiMatsuyama
Semi-permanent
Temporary

Return to Table of Contents1122.1. Permanent, purpose-built museum
Figure 7.1. The Saka no ue no kumo Museum, Matsuyama(Source: Website: http://www.sakanouenokumomuseum.jp)
The Saka no ue no kumo Museum in Matsuyama, Ehime prefecture, is a purpose-built
museum depicting the world of Meiji period Matsuyama. Saka no ue no kumo (Clouds Above
the Hill) is Shiba Ryōtarō’s epic novel of the Russo-Japanese War, which was serialized in
the Sankei Shinbun newspaper from 1968 to 1972 and then broadcast as an NHK special
Taiga Drama in 2009, 2010 and 2011 (see Figures 7.1). The museum was designed byworld-famous architect Andō Tadao and is worthy of visitation in its own right as abuilding. The museum’s English-language pamphlet contains a message from Andō anddescribes the aerial walkway in Figure 21 as a “unique staircase without middle pillars.”
The exhibits themselves introduce the main characters of Shiba’s drama and life in Meiji
period Matsuyama, particularly the education system.

Return to Table of Contents1132.2. Permanent exhibition within a museum
Figure 7.2. Museum of the Meiji Restoration, Kagoshima(Source: website: http://ishinfurusatokan.info)
An example of a permanent drama exhibition within a museum can be found in theMuseum of the Meiji Restoration (Ishin furusato kan) in Kagoshima (see Figure 7.2). The
museum provides a general history of the role of Satsuma in the Meiji Restoration of 1868,
but there are exhibits about NHK’s dramas alongside the more general historical exhibits.
There is a permanent exhibit relating to the Shiba Ryōtarō novel Tobu ga gotoku (As If In
Flight) about the life of Saigō Takamori (1828-1877) and the 1990 Taiga Drama that was
based on it. Saigō remains one of Japan’s most popular historical figures and he dominates
the heritage tourism sites in Kagoshima. In this museum, there is also a film set for one of
the rooms that featured in the 2008 Taiga Drama Atsuhime (Princess Atsu), about the
woman who married Shogun Tokugawa Iesada in 1856. Both of these dramas precipitatedconsiderable tourism booms in Kagoshima that register clearly even in aggregate data
about the Kagoshima tourism industry as a whole (Seaton, 2014).

2.3. Permanent display item
In a corner of the Ryoma’s Birthplace Memorial Museum (Ryōma no umareta machi
kinenkan) in Kochi, which is built near where legendary Bakumatsu period (1853-1868)
visionary Sakamoto Ryōma (1835-67) was born, there is a small display featuring one of
Ryōma’s many appearances in television dramas (Figure 7.3). Ryōma has become central tothe entire tourism industry in Kochi, but in this museum there are very few references to
his numerous appearances in historical novels, dramas and other forms of popular culture.
However, in one corner the costume worn by actor Eguchi Yōsuke when he played Ryōma
during the 2004 Taiga Drama Shinsengumi! is displayed. As the drama was over a decade
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before my visit to this museum, the costume can be categorized as a permanent display
item.
Figure 7.3. Ryoma’s Birthplace Memorial Museum, Kochi(Source: Website: http://ryoma-hometown.com)

2.4. Semi-permanent, purpose-built museum
Figure 7.4 shows the Ryōmaden Bakumatsu Heroes Pavilion (Ryōmaden bakumatsu
shishi shachū) in front of Kochi Station. This building can be categorized as a semi
permanent, purpose-built building. The structure was built to house the Ryōma deai haku
(Meeting Ryōma Exhibition) in 2009 and was open throughout the broadcast of Ryōmaden(The Legend of Sakamoto Ryōma) in 2010. However, Ryōma has assumed such an importantrole within Kochi’s overall tourism strategy that the building has remained. When I visitedin 2014, it had been renamed, but it still contained the set of Ryōma’s house that was usedin NHK’s drama as well as a more general tourist information centre and gift shop. It seems
likely the building will remain as long as it is deemed to be profitable, but it was notconstructed with the intention of it being a permanent building.

2.5. Semi-permanent exhibits and display items
The next two examples, a semi-permanent exhibition and semi-permanent display
item, come from Yoichi in Hokkaido, which was the location for the second half of theMorning Drama Massan (broadcast September 2014 to March 2015) (see Figure 7.5). This
drama was based on the life of whisky-maker Taketsuru Masataka and his Scottish wife
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Rita. The town created the Yoichi Information Centre (Yoichi jōhōkan) (Figure 7.5) in adisused shop just a hundred metres away from the entrance to the Nikka Whisky Factory.
While the factory museum focuses on the technical and historical aspects of whisky
production in Yoichi, the Information Centre focuses on the real-life Masataka and Rita. For
example, Rita became well known locally for her Scottish recipes and love of cooking, andthis features prominently in the Information Centre.
Figure 7.4. Ryōmaden Bakumatsu Heroes Pavilion, Kochi(Source: Website: http://www.attaka.or.jp/tabihiroba/bakumatsu-shishi.php)
Figure 7.5. Yoichi Information Centre and Nikka Whisky Factory, Yoichi(Source: Website: http://www.nikka.com/eng/distilleries/yoichi/index.html)
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There is very little about the drama Massan in the Nikka Whisky Factory itself,
although as can be seen in Figure 7.5, among the bottles of whisky on display there is acalligraphy board signed by the stars of the drama, Tamayama Tetsuji and Charlotte Kate
Fox. It is not clear how long the Information Centre and autographed calligraphy board willremain, but because they have stayed on after the completion of the drama in March they
may provisionally be categorized as semi-permanent.

2.6. Temporary, purpose-built museum
Figure 7.6. Himeji Kuroda Kanbee Taiga Drama Pavilion, Himeji(Source: Website: http://himeji-kanbee.jp)
Figure 7.6 shows the Himeji Kuroda Kanbee Taiga Drama Pavilion (Himeji no Kuroda
Kanbee taiga dorama kan), which was open throughout the broadcast of the drama Gunshi
Kanbee (Strategist Kanbee) in 2014. The drama was about the life of Kuroda Kanbee (15461604), a master tactician during the warring states period, who was born and grew up in
Himeji. It has been standard practice in recent years for there to be an NHK exhibition
related to the Taiga Drama in the key location for the drama that year. The exhibits havepanels giving profiles of the actors/actresses or location reports, there are props or sets on
display, and televisions screens play messages to fans from the cast or documentaries
about the making of the drama. There is also a gift shop selling drama-related goods andsouvenirs. This type of pavilion can be categorized as a temporary, purpose-built building.
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It was effectively a large shed on a lawn in front of Himeji Castle and was removed after
Gunshi Kanbee finished.

2.7. Temporary Exhibition
Figure 7.7. Taiga Drama Exhibition, Aizu-Wakamatsu(Source: Website: http://yae-sakura.jp)
The year before Gunshi Kanbee, the main location for the Taiga Drama was AizuWakamatsu in Fukushima prefecture. The drama in 2013 was about Niijima Yae (18451932) who took part in the defense of Aizu-Wakamatsu Castle during the Boshin War(1868-9) before marrying the founder of Doshisha University and having a distinguishedcareer as a nurse. Figure 7.7 shows the Taiga Drama Exhibition in Aizu-Wakamatsu in
2013. It was a temporary exhibition because rather than constructing a purpose-built
building, Aizu-Wakamatsu converted one of its public buildings for the year to house NHK’s
exhibits about the drama, Yae no sakura (Yae’s Cherry Blossoms).

2.8. Temporary Display Items
The final category is temporary displays. Engyoji Temple in Himeji is famous as alocation for the Tom Cruise film The Last Samurai. Engyoji Temple was also used as alocation for Gunshi Kanbee. While the temple is happy to let its facilities be used for filming,
it takes a low-key approach to attracting drama tourism. There is very little on its website
to publicize filming locations, and all the exhibits about Gunshi Kanbee when I visited in
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2014 were not only temporary but easily movable. The photos of the filming of Gunshi
Kanbee in Figure 7.8, for example, were on stands placed in front of a permanent exhibit
about the temple’s history and architecture. They could be removed by hand at any time.
The temple states clearly on its website that it is primarily a religious place and allows nopermanent changes to its appearance for the sake of filming or indeed attracting a few
more film/drama tourists.
Figure 7.8. Photos of Shooting Gunshi Kanbee, Engyoji Temple, Himeji(Source: Website: http://www.shosha.or.jp)

3. Contents Tourism and Local Tourism Strategies
I have presented nine major forms of exhibit/display related to televisions dramas. In
this final section, the discussion moves to what these typographies of places and spaces (asopposed to the contents of the exhibits themselves) tell us about local tourism, identity andthe uses of heritage. When considering which of the nine options outlined above to take,the response of tourism planners revolves around four key issues.

3.1. Heritage creation vs. tourism promotion
Heritage creation is when a municipality uses a drama as an opportunity to establish a
new set of tourist sites and narratives within its tourism profile. For example, the city ofMatsuyama in Ehime has used the drama Saka no ue no kumo (Clouds Above the Hill) as away of promoting the city. It built a new museum which opened in 2007 (Figure 7.1) andthere are signs around town stating that Matsuyama is Saka no ue no kumo city.
The process of producing the drama and opening a state-of-the-art museum related to
it took many years. Shiba had refused to let his novel (originally published in 1,296
installments in the Sankei Shinbun newspaper, 1968-72) be dramatized out of fear that it
would be misconstrued as pro-war. Following Shiba’s death in 1996, NHK obtained
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119permission from his estate to produce a drama. In 1999, Matsuyama city, under theleadership of Mayor Nakamura Tokihiro, began the development of tourist sites relating to
Clouds Above the Hill with a decision to create a purpose-built museum about the drama
and to support the reconstruction of the Akiyama brothers’ house (Hirano, Saaler andSäble, 2008, 259). The Akiyama brothers, Yoshifuru and Saneyuki, were the main
characters in the drama along with poet Masaoka Shiki. Both brothers served with
distinction in the Russo-Japanese War, Yoshifuru in the cavalry and Saneyuki in the navy.
The two museums, along with various other sites related to the Meiji period novelist
Natsume Soseki, are emblematic of an explicit municipal plan to turn Matsuyama into a key
destination for those interested in the Meiji period (1868-1912).
In other cases, the municipality aims for tourism promotion, namely using a historicaldrama to trigger additional tourism to existing sites. The historical figures featured inNHK’s dramas are generally very well known and have been treated as local heroes orheroines for decades before the drama was broadcast. Many localities have alreadydeveloped tourist assets, including museums, statues, monuments and placards to indicate
important sites. This pattern is exemplified by Kochi, which had a significant tourism
industry related to Sakamoto Ryōma well before the 2010 drama Ryōmaden wasannounced. In Kochi, again Shiba Ryōtarō was a key figure. His novel Ryōma ga yuku
(serialized in the Sankei Shinbun newspaper from 1962 to 1966), which was made into the1968 Taiga Drama of the same title, laid the foundations for the modern Ryōma tourism
industry in Kochi by rehabilitating the Ryōma legend after Ryōma’s reputation had beentarnished by its association with militarism in the 1930s and 1940s. The majority of Ryōmasites were constructed in the 1990s and early 2000s (Seaton, 2015b). These sites had beenin place for a decade or more prior to the drama being aired in 2010. Kochi, therefore, waswell placed to cash in on what was probably (according the Bank of Japan estimates) the
biggest tourism boom ever induced by a historical drama, the Ryōmaden boom of 2010
(Seaton, 2015a).
The Sakamoto Ryōma case study demonstrates that heritage creation and tourism
promotion are not distinct phenomena but stages along the same continuum. If there arerepeated representations of the same history in various cultural forms across a long time
period, the locality will engage first in heritage site creation and later, once a portfolio of
tourism assets has been created, in tourism promotion. Reiterations of this processcontinue until the tourism sector related to the historical contents reaches saturation point.
Thereafter, the returns on major investments in new permanent sites diminish, andattention switches to the renewal and upgrading of sites or the introduction of new
exhibitions and displays items to encourage repeat visitors.

3.2. Leading role vs. supporting role
The next distinction is whether the drama tourism site is the flagship site in the local
tourism industry, or simply plays a supporting role. Matsuyama and Kochi are good
examples of drama tourism playing a leading role. In such places, permanent facilities are
required, hence the permanent museums to Clouds Above the Hill and Sakamoto Ryōma.
However, when the drama plays only a supporting role, temporary places and spaces are
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more likely. Gunshi Kanbee was important in stimulating tourism to Himeji, but that city’s
main attraction will always be its magnificent castle. As if to demonstrate this, of the twomain exhibitions in Himeji about Gunshi Kanbee, the smaller one actually in Himeji Castle(Figure 7.9) had 890,455 visitors compared to 611,576 visitors to the Taiga Drama pavilion(Himeji City Website, 2015). Clearly many visitors to the exhibits in the castle were there
primarily for the castle (even though it was undergoing major renovations at the time andshrouded in tarpaulin) and engaged in what we might prefer to call “opportunistic drama
tourism” in contrast to the more “intentional drama tourism” of those visiting the Pavilion(Figure 7.9).
Figure 7.9. The Gunshi Kanbee Exhibits within Himeji Castle (2014)

And in Fukuoka, where Kanbee spent his final days as a feudal lord in recognition of his
services first to Toyotomi Hideyoshi and then to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the prefectural museum
put on a temporary exhibition in 2014. With Kanbee tourism focused on Himeji, Fukuoka
did not attempt to build a permanent, new place or space. However, in both Himeji andFukuoka, Gunshi Kanbee tourism was similar in that despite all the attention focused on thelocality by the drama, drama tourism still played a supporting role in supplementing
visitation to the locality’s primary tourism attractions. This supporting role was reflected in
the more temporary nature of the places and spaces created for drama-induced tourists toenjoy.

Return to Table of Contents1213.3. Non-monetary value vs. monetary value
The next distinction relates to whether the value of places and spaces are monetary,
non-monetary, or a mixture of both. While some heritage tourist sites operate on a simple
for-profit basis (revenues from entrance fees and on-site commercial activities exceed
running costs), many other sites are deemed to have value beyond their ability to generate
a financial profit and as a result receive subsidies from public (local and/or national
government), private (individual and/or organizational benefactors) or international (forexample, UNESCO) organizations.
“Value beyond their ability to generate a financial profit” refers to three issues. First,
regardless of whether the tourist sites themselves run at a profit or loss, heritage sites help
generate financial returns for other businesses in the communities in which they arelocated. The profits generated by visitor expenditure on food, accommodation, activities
and souvenirs can generate local tax revenues sufficient to justify using some of thoserevenues as public subsidies to the local heritage sites.
Second, some heritage sites are effectively built for public relations purposes orattracting visitors to the vicinity of commercial enterprises. In such cases, financial support
for the site is considered as part of an advertising budget. The most obvious examples here
are corporate museums, which tell the history of a business while also promoting its
ongoing business activities. Such sites may also be a way of attracting visitors, who thenspend money on consumer items rather than tourism experiences. The Nikka Whisky
Factory (location of NHK’s morning drama Massan) is a good example of this model. One
can walk around the distillery and visit a free museum with displays about whisky-making
and the history of the company. However, in the museum and main visitor centre there aresites for whisky-tasting. There are also restaurants and a shop selling the company’s
products and other souvenirs.
Third, heritage sites can play an important role in local identity creation or as sites of
education. Museums, monuments and other places and spaces remain the most effective
way of literally building a narrative into the heritage of a community. Very often the
primary audience is schoolchildren. Having a local, public museum for children to visit aspart of their school education is a common practice for municipalities in Japan. A clear
example of this third type is the Home of the Shinsengumi Museum in Hino City, Tokyo.
This purpose-built, permanent museum about the Shinsengumi (a group of Tokugawa
loyalist samurai who earned a fearsome reputation for their attacks on pro-Restoration
samurai in 1860s Kyoto) opened in 2005, the year after NHK’s drama Shinsengumi!. It was
unable to cash in on the popularity of the drama in 2004, and since opening its visitor
numbers (around 10,000 people a year) do not suggest any level of financial profitability(Seaton, 2015, 96-97). But, as its name suggests, the museum makes an explicit claim for
Hino to be considered the authentic Shinsengumi site. A number of the key members of theShinsengumi were from the Hino area and the relatives/descendants of a number ofmembers (including the “poster boy” of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata Toshizō), still live in thearea. The museum, therefore, plays an important role in local identity creation and passing
down local history free from the broader national (and often much more critical) narrativeof a group of fearsome samurai who fought to preserve the dying Tokugawa shogunate.
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In these various examples, the simple trend appears to be that the more significant the
non-monetary value of heritage sites, the more likely it is that the site created will bepermanent and be sustained by significant financial backing from one or more key
sponsors. By contrast, the sites that are semi-permanent or temporary have their lifespandetermined more by their profitability than by their non-monetary contributions.

3.4. Ample vs. limited tourism infrastructure
The final issue affecting the type of place and space constructed is the broader natureof the destination, in particular the state of existing tourism infrastructure and therefore
the financial potential of drama-induced tourism. The examples of Hino city and Yoichi
were given in the previous section as examples of heritage sites with significant nonmonetary value. These two examples have another similarity: they are both tourist
destinations with poor infrastructure for profiting from large influxes of tourists. The issue
is the same—a lack of hotel accommodation—but for very different reasons. In the case ofHino, the city is a residential area in the sprawling Tokyo-Yokohama megalopolis. There is
the usual array of small business hotels, but for tourists, there are few reasons to visit Hinoapart from Shinsengumi-related sites, and even fewer reasons to base oneself in a hotel
there. Most people visiting Hino to see Shinsengumi sites can do it as a day trip fromanother part of the Tokyo area. The same accommodation issue affects Yoichi, except in thiscase a small rural town with an economy based in agriculture does not have or need a large
number of hotel beds. Most tourists visiting Yoichi during the Massan boom in 2014-5,
therefore, based themselves in Sapporo or Otaru and did day trips to Yoichi.
Recognizing this limitation in their tourism potential, both Hino and Yoichi havefocused on non-monetary benefits. The Hino case has already been described. Yoichi wasacutely aware of how much money it could afford to invest in promoting Massan-related
tourism given the limited expectations of financial return. Instead, Yoichi adopted adifferent strategy: to use the drama as a way of promoting local produce. In real life, as in
the drama, apple juice features prominently in the Massan story as the product that kept
the Nikka Whisky Distillery in business during the years between the establishment of the
distillery and the first shipments of whisky a number of years later. In the Yoichi
Information Building (Figure 7.5), in addition to the exhibits about the real Taketsuru andRita, there is information about local produce such as apples and Yoichi wine. Interviews
with local tourism officials in Yoichi have also revealed that as a result of Massan there has
also been an extensive exercise in local identity creation through rediscovering local
heritage. Nikka Whisky has long featured prominently in the history and economy of thetown, so the Taketsuru/Rita story was well known, but in the wake of the drama, activities
included local classes for cooking some of Rita’s favourite recipes and schools using thedrama as a focal point for history lessons.
By contrast, other municipalities have the infrastructure to capitalize on an influx intourists. Cities like Matsuyama, Himeji, Kochi and Aizu-Wakamatsu are large enough andhave enough hotel capacity to accommodate a tourism boom induced by a drama. Suchplaces can afford to invest in measures to attract even more visitors in the knowledge that
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123extra money spent on attracting visitors should result in far greater per capita spending by
tourists because they stay overnight rather than simply doing day-trips from elsewhere.

4. Conclusions
It is well known that sites featured in NHK’s Morning and Taiga Dramas will see a large
increase in visitors in the period immediately before, during and after the drama isbroadcast. Taiga Dramas air for one year and Morning Dramas typically for six months, so
municipalities have a limited but still significant window of opportunity in which to profit
from the tourism boom. As this article has described, municipalities have a number of
options available to them. I have categorized the various types of places and spaces createdby local municipalities as permanent, semi-permanent or temporary, and as purpose-built
buildings, exhibitions and display items. The ways in which municipalities choose todevelop heritage sites depends on a complex series of variables relating not only to theinherent qualities of the contents, but also on the pre-existing tourism assets, regional
branding strategies and tourism infrastructure of the municipalities.
Through a process of trial and error, and also through considerable research into thefinancial impacts of drama-induced tourism over many years, Japan’s municipalities are
now generally quite adept at gauging the economic potential of tourism to heritage sites
induced by historical dramas. In this article I have spent very little time focusing on thecontents of the dramas or exhibitions themselves. Instead, I have focused on thearchitecture and nature of the places and spaces of historical drama tourism. The
characteristics of the sites themselves, it can be concluded, are a valuable barometer ofmunicipalities’ evaluations of the perceived and actual value, in both monetary and nonmonetary terms, of drama-induced tourism.

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References
S. Beeton (2015) Travel, Tourism and the Moving Image, Bristol, Channel View Publications.
S. Beeton, T. Yamamura, and P. Seaton (2013) The Mediatisation of Culture: JapaneseContents Tourism and Popular Culture, in J. Lester and C. Scarles (eds.) Mediating the
Tourist Experience: From Brochures to Virtual Encounters, Farnham (Surrey, UK), Ashgate,139-54.
J. Connell (2012) Film Tourism – Evolution, Progress and Prospects, Tourism Management,
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T. Edensor (2005) Mediating William Wallace: Audio-visual Technologies in Tourism, in D.
Crouch, R. Jackson and F. Thompson (eds.) The Media & the Tourist Imagination:
Converging Cultures, London, Routledge, 105-118.
Himeji City Website (2015) Himeji Kanbee purojekuto ni yoru keizai hakyū kōka ni tsuite,
http://www.city.himeji.lg.jp/koho/press/_33150/_33333/_33400.html, accessed January
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T. Hirano, S. Saaler and S. Säble (2008) Recent Developments in the Representation of
National Memory and Local Identities, Japanstudien, 20, 247-77.
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http://www.cats.hokudai.ac.jp/ijct/, accessed October 2015.
T. Okamoto (2015) Otaku Tourism and the Anime Pilgrimage Phenomenon in Japan, Japan
Forum, 27.1, 12-36.
P. Seaton (2015a) Taiga Dramas and Tourism: Historical Contents as Sustainable Tourist
Resources, Japan Forum, 27.1, 82-103.
P. Seaton (2015b) Using a Historical Figure to Create a Local Tourism Brand: A History of
Sakamoto Ryoma Tourism in Kochi, paper presented at the Association for Asian Studies
Conference, Chicago, March 2015,
https://www.academia.edu/11678829/The_History_of_Contents_Tourism_in_Theory_an
d_as_Practice, accessed January 2016.
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Tourism of/for Young Women, Japan Forum, 27(1), 37-58.

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8. Challenging the Happiness Imperative: Preliminary Notes
on Kankanmori Collective Housing Community
Catherine Kingfisher
Professor, Department of Anthropology
University of Lethbridge
Email: c.kingfisher@uleth.ca

Abstract
In recent decades, an increasing interest in happiness and wellbeing has come topermeate scholarly, governmental and public imaginaries and practices. Driven in part by
the emergent sub-disciplines of positive psychology and happiness economics, these newengagements with happiness are marked by a radically individualistic perspective.
Collective housing communities represent a challenge to this dominant, EuroAmericanorientation by locating wellbeing, at least in part, in the social. In this paper, I draw on
preliminary research in Kankanmori, a collective housing community in Tokyo, in order toplace into relief the cultural assumptions and forms of power at the foundations ofdominant EuroAmerican approaches, and to highlight alternative models of wellbeing thatprovide potential, practical responses to problems of social isolation and alienation.
Keywords: Happiness and wellbeing, culture, governance

1. Introduction
It’s more fun to live with more people. –Kankanmori resident, 2014
In recent years, Japan has joined a number of countries in placing happiness andwellbeing1 on the public and governmental agenda. Although happiness has not been at theforefront of Japanese culture historically, “at present,” Florian Coulmas argues, “thepromise of and call for happiness is widespread in Japan” (2008, 3). This contemporary

1

Although the genealogy of both happiness and wellbeing warrants investigation, I adopt
them uncritically in this paper since they are the most commonly used terms in the literature. In
addition, and again as in much of the literature, I use them interchangeably, although wellbeing isperhaps the broader of the two.
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“quest for happiness,” as Coulmas puts it, manifests itself in mounting numbers of popular
publications on the topic, the increasing circulation of discourses of wellbeing in the press
and in politics, and in an escalating pattern of coupling happiness with consumption inadvertising. The government of Japan has also expressed official interest: in 2010 itestablished a Commission on Measuring Wellbeing, and between 2010 and 2012, it focusedits National Survey on Lifestyle Preferences, administered yearly since 1984, explicitly on
happiness and its determinants (see Tiefenbach and Kohlbacher, 2013a & b; Uchida,
Ogihara and Fukushima, 2015).
As Coulmas indicates, the emerging concern with happiness in Japan reflects the global
circulation and purchase of aspects of what he refers to as the “western tradition”(Coulmas, 2008), comprising what I characterize as the EuroAmerican model of happiness.
My goal in this paper is to explore this emergence – which embodies a uniquely 20th - 21st
century iteration of a concern that has deep historical roots in a number of philosophicaland religious traditions—from two angles of approach. First, I sketch, in general terms,
both the cultural foundations of the EuroAmerican model and its connection to particularforms of power relations; specifically, those related to neoliberalism. My intention here isto trouble the often-uncritical universalization of EuroAmerican forms of personal, socialand governmental organization that marks much of the happiness literature. I then extend
the analysis by means of a concrete reference point—Kankanmori, a collective housing
community in Tokyo—in order to further place into relief the biases of the EuroAmericanmodel. In exemplifying a hybrid approach that valorizes neither the individual nor thecollective to the exclusion of the other, Kankanmori, the first urban collective housing
community established in Japan, also provides both an alternative model of happiness andwellbeing in general, and a potential practical response to problems of social isolation andalienation in particular. Attention to Kankanmori, and to other places it like it, cantherefore contribute to an expansion of conceptual and policy-related discussions ofhappiness and wellbeing, whether in Japan or elsewhere.

2. Situating the EuroAmerican happiness imperative2
The emergence of the contemporary obsession with happiness can be dated to 1973,
when Bhutan developed a Gross National Happiness Indicator to challenge the hegemonyof Gross National Product as an appropriate measure of well being and prosperity.
Supported by the United Nations, which has instituted an International Day of Happinessand now releases an annual World Happiness Report, happiness and wellbeing have taken
on increasing prominence of place in governmental orientations and practices across theglobe. The U.S., Britain, France and Australia all publish reports on wellbeing (Davies,
2015), and France and Britain have also taken steps to incorporate happiness measuresdirectly into their policy-making processes (Dolan, Peasgood and White, 2006; Stiglitz, Sen

2

Portions of this section draw on Kingfisher 2013a.

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and Fitoussi, 2010).3 The efforts of the Japanese government, mentioned above, are partand parcel of this trend.
Although increasingly global in its governmental and popular reach (see, e.g., Lu andGilmore, 2004; Zevnik, 2014), the discourse of happiness and wellbeing remains in many
respects firmly rooted in EuroAmerican cultural orientations. Two pillars of positive
psychology—a quintessentially American enterprise, and one of the keystones, along withhappiness economics, of the EuroAmerican mode—comprise the foundation of this
discourse. The first is a construction of happiness as having to do with emotional
satisfaction and positive affect—as marked by the presence of good feelings and theabsence of bad feelings, or of any kind of emotion constructed as “negative.” Both reflect
positive psychology’s basic claim that psychology as a discipline has suffered from an overemphasis on what is wrong (mental illness, distress, crisis), rather than on what is right(strengths, capacities), and on the corresponding claim that we need to focus on enhancing
the positive as opposed to fighting the negative (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990, 1997; Linley et al.,2006; Gable and Haidt, 2005; Seligman, 2002, 2006; Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi, 2000;
see also Christopher and Hickinbottom, 2008). In an odd sort of slippage, this has
translated into a construction of what are tagged as “negative” emotions—anger, guilt, selfdoubt, anxiety, dependence—as inherently detrimental. Here, the range of possible humanemotions is divided and placed into a binary system of good/bad.
The second pillar of positive psychology is an emphasis on interiority (Christopher andHickinbottom, 2008; Taylor, 1989)—on an inner life that is in many ways autonomousfrom the external world. This emphasis provides the foundation for positive psychology’s
key method for enhancing wellbeing; namely, work on the self, via therapy, meditation, andvarious disciplines of positive thinking, all with the goal of producing a positive attitude.
This serves to institutionalize another set of binaries—inside/outside, personal/social—in
which the inside and the personal are over-valorized at the expense of the outside or thesocial. Thus while advocacy of community involvement and voluntarism have been popping
up more frequently in recent years, for the most part it is still the case that collective
enterprises—and, perhaps, even relationships with others in general—are positioned lessas activities worthy in and of themselves, and more as mechanisms by means of which
individuals can augment their own personal sense of wellbeing.
These emphases on interiority and positive affect/satisfaction do not reflect universal
human drives or desires, but are, rather, historically and culturally unique. The taken for
granted focus on inner life that marks positive psychology—and, indeed, much of
EuroAmerican culture—emerged in EuroAmerican cultural contexts in full form only3

In countries whose governments do not address happiness and wellbeing directly, otherbodies are filling in the gaps. In Canada, for example, the Canadian Research Advisory Group at
the University of Waterloo, comprised of former government officials as well as academics, isworking to encourage government recognition of the policy relevance of wellbeing.
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128around the time of the Enlightenment (McMahon, 2006, 2010; see also Ahmed, 2010;
Davies, 2015; Kingwell, 1998). Given these shallow roots, any attempt to highlight theimportance of interiority—or, rather, to assume it—as a historical universal is renderedhighly problematic. When a cross-cultural perspective is added, the narrow specificity of
the EuroAmerican model becomes even more apparent. Different cultural systems canplace different relative weightings on orientations towards others versus orientations
towards an inner self (see Kingfisher, 2002 for a review). Nor are emotional satisfaction
and positive affect overvalued everywhere: emotions like a sense of dependence,subservience, or dissatisfaction, for example, are considered crucial in some contexts(Christopher and Hickinbottom, 2008; Joshanloo and Weijers, 2014).
Positive psychology’s foregrounding of interiority and positive affect represents amanifestation of the general claim of its home discipline that “happiness is best understoodas a personal concept” (Joshanloo and Weijers, 2014, 718). This claim, in turn, both reflects
and serves to naturalize a distinctively contemporary construction of liberal individualism(Ahmed, 2010; Zevnik, 2014; see also van Uchelen, 2000)—a construction that embodies
more than just supposedly neutral cultural values, but that also indexes—and produces—the power relations associated with a particular historical and cultural formation:
neoliberalism. Neoliberalism, as we know, claims that if markets are freed from stateintervention and if individuals are accordingly liberated to be their naturally autonomousand entrepreneurial selves, the result will be a healthy economy and a collection—if not asocial collectivity—of happy, self-fulfilled individuals (see, e.g., Bourdieu, 1998; Kingfisher,2013 a & b; McDonald and O’Callaghan, 2008; Peck, 2013; Rose, 1996). When analyses ofneoliberalism and of the contemporary obsession with happiness are paired, twosignificant points of convergence are placed into relief. First, it just so happens that the typeof person most valorized by neoliberalism—self-examining and—self-governing, “active”
and autonomous—is the type of person most valorized in positive psychology (Miller,
2008, Ehrenreich, 2009, 2010; McDonald and O’Callaghan, 2008). Take, for example, thefollowing statement: “No longer do dominant theories view the individual as a passive
vessel responding to stimuli; rather, individuals are now seen as decision makers, withchoices, preferences, and the possibility of becoming masterful [and] efficacious.”
Mirroring claims made by pundits of the “active society” (Walters, 1997), including key
architects of structural adjustment and austerity programs, this statement was in fact
written by the founders of positive psychology (Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi, 2000, 8).
Thus positive psychology can be used to support the gutting of social programs in the nameof so-called empowerment, and thus wellbeing. To give just one example, Paul Dolan andMathew White (2008, 77), two happiness economists, claim that government use ofmeasures of subjective well being to determine whom to target with programs designed toincrease resilience will have the beneficial side-effect of allowing for cuts to welfare
programs. Richard Layard, a leading figure in happiness economics, concurs, claiming thatstate sponsorship of individualized therapeutic modalities (in particular, Cognitive
Behavioural Therapy, or CBT) will lead to reductions in government expenditures on
financial assistance programs (Layard et al., 2007; cited in Davies, 2015, 111). In short, it is“as if positive psychology were a…manifestation of the technical and instrumental
rationality” of neoliberalism (Fernández-Ríos and Cornes, 2009, 10); and government
attention to happiness measures and the mainstream scholarship on wellbeing more
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129generally may accordingly reflect an interest in efficiency—a keystone of neoliberal
economics—as much as any kind of benevolent interest in happiness and wellbeing per se.
Second, except when it is intervening in peoples’ lives in the most illiberal ways, thegoal of neoliberalism is to encourage self-governance in place of state government. In thisframework, responsibility for happiness, just like responsibility for poverty and risk moregenerally, is devolved to the level of the individual, as is made clear by positive
psychology’s emphasis on work on the self. Neoliberal governance, then, entails more thanthe policing and regulation of welfare recipients, the homeless, the “others” to the market,
and the inmates of carceral society; the work that gets done in the so-called center, in thetaken-for-granted, mundane everyday lives of proper middle and upper-class subjects, isequally crucial to its operations. Thus we are all enjoined to work on ourselves in order tobecome happier and more fulfilled—and thus better workers and entrepreneurs; and there
is a plethora of technologies of self devoted to this enterprise, ranging from the statesponsored to the individually purchased, from anti-depressants, to therapy, to yoga andmeditation regimes, all designed to enable us to craft ourselves into the kinds of persons
most valued in our society.
Traveling through popular culture as well as in policy circles, positive psychology is at
the heart of a confluence of academic, policy-related and popular orientations that has, inturn, provided the conditions of possibility for the emergence of a happiness imperative: apositioning of happiness as a social obligation, a form of propriety that requires an intense
work on the self and that marks the unhappy as failed persons. In being held (and holding
ourselves) responsible for our own happiness—both a prerequisite for social citizenshipand a consumer product—our analysis of our lives is channeled away from political
economy and structures of inequality and towards a particular form of destructured, nonor post-social personhood. “Rather than assuming that happiness is simply found in ‘happy
persons,’” then, we could think more carefully about “how claims to happiness makecertain forms of personhood valuable” (Ahmed, 2010, 11). In working to transform
ourselves into such valuable persons, we can become so engrossed in monitoring ourselves
for evidence of negativity and working to cultivate positivity that we fail to attend to what
is happening outside of ourselves, and remove ourselves from collective engagement—
thereby contributing to the decollectivization that Bourdieu (1998) claimed is one of thebiggest dangers of neoliberalism. Dominant EuroAmerican approaches to happiness thus
serve simultaneously to disassemble the social and buttress the market. It is perhaps
appropriate, then, to refer to the contemporary culture of happiness as a “regime ofhappiness” (Zevnik, 2014, ix) inextricably tied to governmental attempts to create proper
depoliticized, consuming subjects—a kind of happiness/market/governance complex.

3. The Challenge of Collectivity: Urban Collective Housing Communities
Although disbanded by the Abe administration in 2013, the framework of the JapaneseCommission on Measuring Happiness provides at least one useful foil to the dominant
EuroAmerican model. As outlined by Uchida, Ogihara and Fukushima (2015, 826), theCommission included among its five key orientations recognition that, “To ensure that weachieve a sustainable society, we should examine wellbeing not only at the individual level
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but also at a collective level. In addition, we should focus on inequity within societies.” In
locating wellbeing in the social as well as in the individual, and in highlighting, in addition,issues of social structure and political economy, the Commission’s orientation to can serve
as a corrective to the ethnocentrism of mainstream happiness studies. Significantly, Yukiko
Uchida, who served on the Commission, is a cultural psychologist. The “cultural” in cultural
psychology indexes its attention to “the critical role of culture in explaining psychological
functions and behaviors,” in contrast to traditional (EuroAmerican) psychology, whichtends to “define psychological phenomena as universal entities” (Ibid., 823). Uchida and hercolleagues accordingly argue for the need to attend to the “cultural construal of happiness.”
In their comparisons of EuroAmerican and East Asian, and, in particular, Japanese,
construals of wellbeing, they outline, among other patterns, a generalized difference
between a foundational orientation to personal achievement and personality attributes in
the former, and an emphasis on intersubjectivity and a self-other balance in the latter(Uchida and Kitayama, 2009; Uchida and Ogihara, 2012; Uchida, Ogihara and Fukushima,2015). This is a significant difference that undermines the supposed universality of
EuroAmerican individualism, and that points to the need to broaden our scope of attention.
In keeping with this call to explore the collective as well as the individual aspects ofhappiness and wellbeing, I devote the remainder of this paper to a discussion of
Kankanmori, an urban collective housing community in Tokyo. My research in Kankanmoriis part of a comparative project4 focused on tracing how models of collectivity aretranslated and assembled in cultural contexts that have traditionally valorizedindividualism, on the one hand; and in those that have historically valorized collectivism,on the other. The project is in the very early stages of development; thus the analysis I
provide, based on only two short stays at Kankanmori to date, is preliminary, meant toraise questions and broaden discussion rather than provide conclusions.

4. Framework and Method
Urban collective housing communities provide one example of what we now refer to as“intentional” communities, which include ecovillages, spiritual communities, cooperatives,
disability communities, and, increasingly, retirement communities. The social andeconomic orientations of intentional communities range from “total communities,” where
there is no private property or space, and in which all activity takes place within thegeographic boundaries of the community, to hybrid communities that make space for bothindividual and collective activities and identities.
Although not new, recent years have witnessed a re-emergence of interest in
intentional communities. Thus the Fellowship for Intentional Community web site(www.ic.org), which hosts the largest international database on intentional communities,
lists as many communities that are “in formation” as those that are already existing. Within

4

My second research site is Quayside Village, in Vancouver.

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131this re-emergence, I have chosen to focus on urban, hybrid communities, for two reasons.
First, they are understudied, relative to, for example, ecovillages and spiritual communities.
Second, and in contrast with the latter, they are neither geographically isolated nor
exclusively collectivist. In being more spatially integrated with the wider society, and in
making space for the individual as well as the collective, they thus provide a more viablecritique and alternative than isolationist intentional communities to the hyperindividualized models of life that seem to be most common in contemporary,
predominantly urban post-industrial contexts.
My theoretical and methodological orientation draws on the concepts of translation
and assemblage, which encourage exploration of how ideas and practices emerge inparticular forms, in particular places, and among particular actors as artifacts of active
cutting-and-pasting, or bricolage (Deleuze and Guattari 1987; Freeman, 2009; Kingfisher,
2013; Lendvai and Bainton, 2013; Shore and Wright, 2011). In other words, approaches togovernance; the constitution of the individual, the collective, and their relationship; andexperiences of collective living, for example, are theorized as constructed in the process of
their translation from and articulation with locally and globally circulating historicaland/or cultural discourses.5 These emergent forms, or assemblages, thus reflect theparticular material and discursive resources, histories, agendas, and cultural contexts ofagents’ productions, resulting in unique formations that are nevertheless tied to larger
patterns. This kind of theoretical orientation calls for ethnographic engagement, or
participant observation, as opposed to the kinds of measuring devices, deployed byhappiness economists, which often uncritically universalize EuroAmerican culturalorientations. Accordingly, my key method has been to reside in Kankanmori6 in order toobserve and participate in everyday events (e.g., shopping for, preparing, sharing, andcleaning up after common meals), and in naturally occurring as well as orchestrated7
conversations with residents.

5

As I discuss below, I am referring here to models of collectivity that travel from, e.g.,
Europe or the United States, to Japan, as well as to Japanese imaginaries of historical forms ofsocial organization.
6

It is worth reiterating that, at this point, I have had only two short stays at Kankanmori. My
future intention is to reside in Kankanmori for six months to a year.
By “orchestrated conversations” I mean interviews. Given my rudimentary Japanese
language skills, I used an interpreter during my first stay at Kankanmori. As my Japanese
improves, I will rely less on such orchestrated conversations and more on naturally occurring,
everyday conversations in which interlocutors engage with each other for reasons other than thepresence of a researcher.
7

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5. Kankanmori
After two years of planning, including some 30-odd workshops and meetings witharchitects to design spaces that encourage particular forms of sociality, Kankanmori,located in Nippori, just outside of the Yamanote line that circles Tokyo’s central core,
opened in 2003. There are currently 34 adults and 14 children living in the community.
Occupying two floors of a 12-story building in the fabric-town section of Nippori,Kankanmori has 28 apartments, ranging from share-house (or roommate) apartments to
those designed for families of four or five. At the center of the building is a large common
area, at the heart of which is a commercial size kitchen and space for eating, meeting, andchildren’s play. A full 13% of Kankanmori's space is common space. This was a deliberate
decision, reflecting a desire to encourage residents to extend their “private” space beyond
the confines of their individual apartments – a mechanism, in other words, for establishingcommunity. (This mechanism has been by and large successful: residents regularly use thecommon spaces to work on their computers, read, cook for their personal consumption,and entertain friends and relatives.) In addition to 10-12 common meals per month,residents in Kankanmori engage in a number of cooperative activities, including gardening,bulk buying, and hosting a series of social events, some for residents only, and others open
to the wider community. Kankanmori is self-governing, with decision-making based onconsensus rather than voting. To aid in the planning and decision-making processes, there
are some 20 committees and subcommittees in which residents participate. Committees
report to the community as a whole at monthly meetings and at the AGM.
In the view of many residents (as well as in the descriptions and analyses of manyscholars; e.g., Allison, 2013; Coulmas, 2008; Kawano, Roberts and Long, 2014), until themid-20th century, Japanese social organization was closer to the collectivist than theindividualist end of the continuum. Thus ikigai—what makes life worth living—focused onembeddedness in a community (see Mathews, 1996), the two types most frequently noted
being extended families, on the one hand, and companies—in which employees tended tostay throughout their entire work lives—on the other. Kankanmori is positioned by anumber of its residents as an explicit political and policy-relevant intervention designed
address the issues generated by the erosion of these patterns—including childcare
shortages, domestic violence, and social fragmentation—as well as issues associated with arapidly aging population. Residents also saw collective housing as an antidote to a post-war
redefinition of the good life in which commitments to work and extended family began totake on increasingly negative valence in relation to valorizations of privacy, individualism,
and consumerism—a shift that Kankanmori residents were dissatisfied with, having foundthemselves, prior to moving in to the community, feeling cut-off and alienated in their highrise Tokyo apartments.
Joining Kankanmori served to ameliorate this unhappy situation, and community
members spoke with me at length about the positive aspects of collective living. They
placed particular value on common spaces—not only the kitchen and eating areas, but also
the common play areas for children and the garden and patio spaces. Many said that theyespecially enjoyed preparing and sharing common meals and participating in special
community events: they liked always having someone they could eat, drink, and converse
with. Parents highlighted in addition the benefits of having other parents to go to for advice
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on parenting, the convenience of having other adults available to pick up the slack in an
emergency, and the relief of having peers for their children to play with in a safe
environment. Finally, and most generally, all the residents I spoke with voiced theirappreciation of being in a situation that allowed them to simultaneously participate incollective living and maintain some privacy and independence.
On the one hand, Kankanmori residents were interested in recapturing an idealized
past of connection and mutual dependence. Reference was made in this regard to nagaya, aparticular style of one-story, row-house collective living prevalent prior to the Meiji
restoration that is being re-envisioned by contemporary Japanese architects (Schultz,
2014). On the other hand, Kankanmori is not simply about nostalgia for an imagined past ofcollectivist harmony. Thus members referred to new forms of social relationship that theyfelt represented significant departures from historical forms of collectivity in Japan that
were, in their view, fairly rigidly homogeneous (in terms of, for instance, occupation andgeographic origin). In contrast, they argued, Kankanmori residents encountered others
very different from themselves in background and lifestyle—something they felt was one of
the most inventive aspects of their approach to collective living. They placed great value on
sharing community with people in a range of professions, who hold various ideas andphilosophies, engage in different kids of activities, and come from different places.8
Residents—young and old—also highly valued living in a cross-generational community.
Indeed, the cross-generational aspect of Kankanmori was so important that, at one point,
when they found themselves without children (due to, e.g., members’ job transfers), they
advertised a discount to families with children. Diversity is thus a keystone of thecommunity. One resident summed up this orientation best when she said that Kankanmori
residents are neither friends nor family, but something different, something new. As
another resident expressed it, Kankanmori is about creating new bonds that are not basedon blood.
It is worth noting in this regard that Kankanmori models itself not only on nagaya, but
also—both more explicitly and more frequently noted by residents—on the Swedish
approach to collective housing introduced to Japan in the late 1980s by Ikuko Koyabe, a
recently deceased architect now widely known as the “mother of collective housing inJapan.” During a conversation we had in 2014, Koyabe described how, in her view, theJapanese culture of collectivity was lost during the post-war era. In the contemporary
context, she said, collectivity was no longer organic, but, rather, had to be created, andtailored to contemporary economic and social arrangements. As part of this effort, she
conducted research on Swedish collective housing; and, in keeping with her conviction thatcollective communities have to be established by participants rather than legislated byexperts or government officials, she accompanied 10 potential Kankanmori residents toSweden in 2002 so that they could explore its approaches collectivity and then decide for8

Kankanmori residents hail not only from Tokyo and neighboring prefectures, but also from
more far-flung places in Japan, including Hokkaido and Kyushu, as well as from Europe.
Return to Table of Contents134themselves how they might want to organize social and spatial relations in Kankanmori.9
As she wrote when Kankanmori opened, “instead of just taking the ideas of Northern
European countries we wanted to adjust their ideas to our lifestyle. We wanted to
introduce something new” (2014, 12).
In addition to—or as part of—this “something new,” a number of residents’ stories
indexed a relationship between moving into a collective community and re-evaluations oflife-as-a-whole that entailed critiques of the happiness imperative—which, they told me,
informed the lives of many of their friends and co-workers, whose responses to collective
housing ranged from astonishment to a kind of horror. Some residents changed jobs andreassessed friendships, while others altered the relative weighting of various activities intheir lives. These reconfigurations reflected, in their view, ongoing efforts to create amutually beneficial harmonization of the person and the community, neither of which
would cannibalize the other. This was not, then, about a rejection of the individual, who, instereotypes of traditional Japanese culture, is completely subsumed by the collective. On
the contrary, although residents’ “private” space expanded out into common areas, as
noted above, common space generally did not extend into residents’ apartments; there wassome protection, then, of individual space and autonomy. In addition, I was told, the goal is
not to participate in community in order to boost one’s personal level of happiness, but,rather, to build a healthy community with a capital “C”—that is, the community that, as one
resident put it, is a “basic characteristic of humanity.” As Koyabe expressed it, whilecollective communities need to start at the level of the individual—since they are, after all,comprised of individuals—and although the production of individual wellbeing is clearly
important, individual desires are only ever accomplished via engagement with acommunity, via learning how to live with difference and how to communicate. In thus
positing the individual and the collective as inextricably tied, Kankanmori may provide an
opportunity to explore the spaces in between, offering a release from the either/or binaries
that plague happiness studies (and perhaps social theory more generally as well).
Kankanmori, then, is a truly hybrid site: not only in terms of the “Japanese” and the“Swedish” (which of course cannot be taken as a unified entities), but also in terms of what
we take to be the “individual” and the “collective.”

6. Conclusion
The concern with happiness and wellbeing has come to permeate popular, scholarly,
and governmental imaginaries and practices in a range of settings. Mainstream happinessstudies, however, has been marked (marred?) by a lack of reflexivity—a lack of awarenessand articulation of its EuroAmerican cultural foundations, on the one hand, and of its
connections with neoliberalism, on the other. What is called for, then, is an approach that

9

Kankanmori is planning to send another 10 members (including at least one person who
was on the first trip) back to Sweden in the summer of 2016, in order further to compare notes.
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135makes explicit the relationship between models of wellbeing and forms of governance (e.g.,
Ahmed, 2010; Ehrenreich, 2009, 2010; Ferguson, 2007; Kingfisher, 2013; McDonald andO’Callaghan, 2008; Zevnik, 2014), and that situates models of happiness and wellbeing inhistorical and cultural context by means comparative, ethnographic work (Christopher andHickinbottom, 2008; Jiminez, 2008; Johnston et al., 2012; Kingfisher, 2013a; Mathews andIzquierdo, 2009; Thin, 2012. See also Coulmas, 2008; Kitayama and Markus, 2000;
McMahon, 2006, 2010; Uchida and Kitayama, 2009; Uchida and Ogihara, 2012; Uchida,
Ogihara and Fukushima, 2015). This paper reflects a preliminary attempt to combine these
two strands of critique and analysis—the governmental and the cultural.
In Japan, interest in happiness and wellbeing has emerged in the context of an
economic downturn (Allison, 2013; Coulmas, 2008), and alongside increasing anxiety about
a range of social issues: most notably a rapidly aging population and the phenomena of
NEET (Not Engaged in Employment, Education or Training) and hikikomori (social
isolation) among youth; but also an array of other problems related to immigration andminorities, gender, interpersonal violence, suicide, and mental health more generally(Allison, 2013; Aspinall, 2014; Cleveland, 2014; Goodman, 2012; Horiguchi, 2012, 2014;
Kitanaka 2012; Kwano, Roberts, and Long, 2014; Leheny, 2014; Seldon 2014; Siddle 2013;
Sugimoto 2014; Tiovonen 2012; Toivonen and Imoto, 2012; Uchida and Norasakkunkit,
2005; Norasakkunkit, Uchida and Toivonen, 2012). Significantly, Riefenbach andKohlbacher (2013 a & b), in analyzing the government's National Survey on Lifestyle
Preferences between 2010 and 2012, discovered that a key determinant of happiness andwellbeing in Japan is loneliness. This is one of the issues indexed by Kankanmori residents
as relevant to their decision to move into the community: the desire for connectivity, forinterdependence. Together, the well-documented, widespread problems of social isolation
and alienation in Japan, coupled with the need for connection expressed by the residents ofKankanmori, indicate that approaches to happiness and wellbeing that focus on theindividual may be too narrowly construed.
My intention, however, is not to romanticize collectivity—which also entails forms ofgovernance, and which no doubt can be experienced as oppressive as well as liberatory.
Kankanmori residents are acutely aware, for instance, of the difficulties involved inbalancing their commitments outside of Kankanmori with their participation in thecommunity, and, within the community itself, in navigating the relationship between what
they mark as the social and what they mark as the private. A number of residents felt
pressure to contribute more than they desired or felt capable of, or experienced guilt when
they decided to give more time and space to their personal lives than to community
endeavors. In this sense, they recognized that community is an unfolding and emergent
practice that waxes and wanes, and that is comprised of pressure as well as of thefulfilling.10

10

I intend to explore these patterns and nuances in more detail as the project develops.

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My goal, rather, has been, first of all, to place into relief the individualism andindividualizing forms of governance generated by dominant EuroAmerican models ofhappiness and wellbeing. A preliminary ethnography of Kankanmori, coupled with thegeneral critique of the EuroAmerican model I presented in the first part of the paper,
serves to accomplish this—and also to point to alternative ways of thinking about andpracticing happiness and wellbeing. Again, Ikuko Koyabe: “instead of getting more material
goods and services for an individual family we thought we should open up our lives. We
might be able to make a place to relax but at the same time keep our privacy if we sharedtime, information or place” (2014, 11). This challenges models of consumerism as
fulfillment, as well as approaches that posit the individual and the collective as inherently
oppositional, rather then mutually constitutive and thus inextricably tied. Given the speedwith which EuroAmerican approaches have gained currency in a range of popular andpolicy-making contexts, the refusals and alternative approaches of Kankanmori, and ofplaces like it,11 offer a rejuvenating—and expansive—breath of fresh air.

The importance of exploring the spaces in between – in between the individual andthe collective, and, in the case of Kankanmori, between Japanese and Swedish models – canalso be fruitfully extended to the spaces, or differences, between urban collective housing
communities in different sites. One small example from Quayside Village in Vancouver,serves to illustrate the importance of dwelling in the space in between the similarities
across sites that have to do with the global circulation of models of collective housing, on
the one hand, and the differences that reflect how models are translated and assembled inunique cultural and local contexts, on the other. Quayside residents visit each other’s“private” spaces regularly – for dinner, coffee, or to borrow things – the latter sometimes
when residents are not home. Once, when I was helping prepare a common meal and ran
out of a particular ingredient, I was to told to go into the apartment of a resident who was
not home at the time in order to fetch it. This would not happen in Kankanmori, where
people rarely visit each other’s apartments, but instead tend to restrict their interactions
with each other to common spaces. This is a little difference, but it could be a little
difference that really matters in terms of experiences of collectivity, and that may be tied
to some general cultural differences between Japan and Canada in terms of how people
negotiate space and social relations. It is important, in other words, to explore such
communities as both general and unique examples of collective living.
11

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in the Japanese Education System, in J. Kingston (ed.) Critical Issues in Contemporary
Japan, New York, Routledge.
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9. Welcome to the Tree House!: The Architecture of RaymondMoriyama and His Life Comparison as an Interned Japanese
Canadian with Artist William Allister as a POW in Japan
Millie Creighton
Associate Professor, Department of Anthropology
University of British Columbia
Email: millie.creighton@ubc.ca

Abstract
This presentation explores architecture and art as forms of creative cultural expression
while it also engages in the comparison of the lives of Raymond Moriyama, a Japanese
Canadian who was interned in Canada as a youth during WWII, and William Allister a
Canadian who was taken prisoner by the Japanese military and spent several years in POW
camps in Japan. The comparison has been both embraced and criticized. Some have seen
the comparison of the two men’s lives and experiences in WWII as an important call fortranscendence over unjust and difficult experiences, while others have seen it as an
inappropriate equation of Japan imprisoning citizens from a foreign country vs. Canada
imprisoning its own citizens because of their ethnic descent. Both men overcame theircircumstances and went on to pursue creative careers, one as an architect and the other as
an artist. Raymond Moriyama became one of Canada’s most prominent architects designing
such buildings as the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto, and the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo,
suggesting it to be a representation of a Tree House. Decades after WWII William Allisterwould return to Japan to come to terms with what happened to him, and go on to produce
art with Japanese theme images. The two men met and shared life experiences as a way ofhelping to overcome the bitterness of their experiences. The culmination of their mutual
engagement, was a bringing together of the two men’s creative products through an exhibitof William Allister’s art, in the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo designed by RaymondMoriyama. The paper also discusses how the architectural construction of this embassy
was supposed to represent a Tree House and the suggested symbolism of this inrecapturing a sense of humanity, and identities of citizenship.
Keywords: Japan, Nikkei, Japanese Canadian internment, World War II, POWs of WWII,
architecture, art, creativity, resilience, Canadian Embassy in Tokyo

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1. Introduction
I chose the topic of my paper for the 2015 Japan Studies Association of Canada (JSAC)
meetings held at the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo, Japan, with two relevant considerations
in mind. The year, 2015, marks the 70th anniversary of the ending of World War II, and thefirst time in the history of the Japan Studies Association of Canada that its meetings were
held outside of Canada, instead held at the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo. My paper focuses
on issues relevant to World War II and its aftermath, through the stories of the lives of two
Canadians, one a Japanese Canadian who was interned with his family as a youth during the
war years, and the other of a White Canadian who was taken as a Prisoner of War by theJapanese and spent over three and a half years imprisoned by the Japanese in P.O.W.
camps, first in Hong Kong and then in Japan. My paper also seeks to address the very venueof these JSAC meetings, as I wish to discuss the building we are in—the Canadian Embassyin Tokyo, Japan—and also the architecture of it as a human creative product (along with art
as a human creative product) in reference to the building, construction, and re-capturing ofidentity, both individual and collective, along with the re-envisioning of citizenship, bothwithin countries (in this case Canada specifically) and in terms of being global citizens or as
it can possibly be expressed in Japanese, Chikyujin (citizens of the earth) (see Creighton,
2007; 2008 for a discussion of Chikyujin).
In pursuit of the above, I will focus on the creative products of two people, Japanese
Canadian architect Raymond Moriyama and (White) Canadian (I indicate ‘White’ since anethnic category is being identified for the other primary person of focus) William Allister,
their personal interactions with each other and a movie made comparing and connecting
their lives. In particular I will focus on how the architectural goals of Raymond Moriyama
are reflected in this building in which most of the 2015 JSAC meetings took place, The
Canadian Embassy in Japan—a building which hence links both countries, Canada andJapan. Moriyama was interned as a youth in his home and native country, Canada, in one of
the internment camps to which Japanese Canadians were relocated. William Allister also
experienced incarceration as a young man; he was taken prisoner during WWII by Japanand spent more than three and a half years (44 months) as a POW held by Japan, first in
Hong Kong and then the majority of that time in Japan. For both men their creative
products and pursuits were both an expression of their own version of human creativity,
and also a means of dealing with, addressing and overcoming their formative experiencesof incarceration.

2. Architecture, the Tree House and Raymond Moriyama
Returning to the architectural discussion I will explain the reference to the Tree House.
Perhaps many conference attendees, along with many other people who first visit thisembassy, found it a bit odd or unusual when first entering the building to take four flightsof escalators upwards while still outside the building in order to enter on one of the higher
floors rather than walk into the building directly on the ground floor. I know I found it
quizzical long ago when I first came to this embassy. At that time, and in particular as along-term researcher of department stores and other consumer complexes, I thought I had
a clear sense of where escalators belonged. Escalators belonged on the inside of buildings,
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escalators). However, in the case of this Embassy one takes the escalators upwards, until
one is at the level of the tree-tops, of the trees which line the building which are actually
growing in the park area that adjoins the Embassy, and then one enters. This is because
Moriyama’s intention for this Embassy was that it be a Tree House. Hence for the 2015
meetings, JSAC members have all gathered in a Tree House. A Tree House evokes a spirit ofyouth—many of us had, entered, or played in tree houses when young—and idealism
perhaps. Moriyama thought of a tree house as a “magical place” (expressed in Campbell’sfilm, The Art of Compassion, 1995) hence an apt place for the unfolding of humansociability, planning and exchange. This embassy as one metaphorically and structurally
representing a Tree House is unique—I cannot think of another embassy or consulate (orany other prominent modern building) imaged as a Tree House. More common metaphorsfor embassies and consulates are either sites of grandeur or a metaphoric Fortress—
structures that attempt foremost to project a sense of importance, power and security. I
am a dual citizen (of Canada and the USA) and once worked at the American Embassy inTokyo for which this concept of “Fortress” seems an apt metaphor and which contrasts tothis Canadian Embassy as a “Tree House”.
Anthropologists who have studied building and architectural form in relationship tohuman social life, construction of identity and moral personhood (for example, Morgan,
1965; Levi-Strauss, 1963; 1987; Carsten and Huges-Jones, 1995) suggest that continuity incollective identity in part is suggested in architectural forms through iteration and reiteration. The Canadian Embassy as a Tree House designed by Moriyama, already involves are-iteration to the first Tree House Moriyama built. The Canadian Embassy in Tokyo, Japanis not Moriyama’s first tree house. He built his first tree house in Canada, in the interior of
British Columbia. Canada had not commissioned nor compensated him for building that
one, and he built it during the constraints of being interned by Canada. However, it isperhaps from that first tree house that this Canadian Embassy as a Tree House stems.
Moriyama built his first tree house in the interior of BC as a youth—undergoing a great dealof bitterness—incarcerated by his own country in the internment camps set up there forJapanese Canadians during the WWII years, after his family’s initial incarceration in cattle
stalls at the fairgrounds of the PNE (Pacific Northwest Exhibition). One element of
Moriyama’s bitterness was his mother’s miscarriage while housed in the PNE stalls, theconditions of which along with the stress of internment Moriyama attributes to being thecause of the loss of what as a child he thought could have been his “younger brother” (Peter
Campbell, Director, The Art of Compassion, 1995).
Even as an interned youth, Moriyama was already acutely interested in spatialconcepts and was given lumber from neighbouring (White) Canadian farmers in thecommunity near where he was interned, which he used to build his first tree house.
Incidences such as these are notable in suggesting some hope in the ability of the humanspirit to transcend pettiness even in times of stress. It does not negate the injustices doneto Japanese Canadians nor is it mentioned to suggest that, but it does indicate that (some)average people could nonetheless deal with others during such times in a more meaningful
and humane way. A similar example is provided in one of Linda Ohama’s films (The Last
Harvest, 1992), which shows how members of the local White community near where
Japanese Canadians were interned help resolve the issue of whether the interned Japanese
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Canadian children should become educated while being interned, and if so, how—something the government had not worked out nor assured in that situation. The locals
decided that since the Japanese Canadian internees who were children, were children andsince children should be educated, and since there was one local school for thecommunity’s children, the Japanese Canadian children interned in a nearby location shouldbe allowed to attend it. In building that first tree house Moriyama thought of a tree house
as a magical place where his spirit could rise above the facts of his incarceration, at least
while creating and being in it, and above the sense of bitterness of being incarcerated by his
own country. In designing the Canadian Embassy in Japan, as a Tree House, Moriyama was
not only invoking this sense of magic and of creating a potentially magical place, he wasalso “returning” to the Tree House as such a place.

3. From Architecture to Art and William Allister
William Allister, who is now deceased but someone with whom I interacted anddiscussed these issues extensively in the past, was of course, also once a youth. As a young
man he enlisted with a group of friends—all eager to go off and fight exciting battles and bein a war for Canada. After enlisting in WWII, they were stationed in Hong Kong—seen as an“easy” assignment where there was no action. Allister wrote of his youthful frustration at
this, and how he along with the others were irritated and annoyed at this “wimpy” posting
where nothing really happened. They had signed up for war, and that was what theywanted. They wanted to be in a “real war” for which they had signed up and in which they
were eager to take part. Allister would later have a sort of “conversion” experience andchange his mind about all this (too late), and spend much of the decades of his life aftersurviving his WWII experiences trying to express through his art, and educate through histalks (one of which he gave to one of my classes) the idiocy of wars, and how we should
realize we do not want them, nor want to be in them, and our pressing human moral
obligation to try to prevent them. But as a young man, who had not yet experientiallylearned this, he was eager for that action and involvement—and he and the others did get
their wish after all.
Hong Kong fell to the Japanese on December 25, 1941. The day had pivotal symbolic
significance for many Canadians as Christmas Day, which added to the bitterness many
Canadians felt about this event. The Japanese had invaded Hong Kong—as a British (andCanadian) post on the same day it attacked Pearl Harbor as part of the United States, inwhat seemed an all out attack on Western powers in terms of attacking both places on thesame day based on Japan time. (Even if Hong Kong is geographically in Asia it was seen as a
British stronghold). As indicated the day was December 8, 1941, and I said it was the same
day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, not the following day as is often stated, and I believe
erroneously or misconceptually reported. (For example, See, in her 2009 novel Shanghai
Girls says that Japan attacked Hong Kong just one day after attacking Pearl Harbor.) Suchstatements do not recognize time changes nor the international date-line issue. The datedifference is not a temporal one but a perspective from where one is recording the date,given the international date-line and time changes. Thus, from the Asian and Japaneseperspectives and designations both occurred on December 8 (as that was the date for bothin Japan since Japan is a day ahead of North America).
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The battle for Hong Kong was intense and Allister and the others were in it. (It may
have indeed been a classic case of the dictum that one needs to be careful what one wishes
for because one’s wish might come true.) When Hong Kong fell on that highly symbolic
Christmas Day, over 10,000 Canadians were taken Prisoners of War (POWs) by theJapanese. For those that lived, the next few years of their lives would not be good ones,
although for many they would be memorable ones that shaped the rest of their lives. The
majority of those 10,000 Canadians taken POWs would not live through the severity of the
POW conditions. They would die of starvation, they would die of sickness, they would die ofoverwork from forced labour, they would die from beatings and torture, they would die
from a combination of these. They were first sequestered in Hong Kong and then taken to
Japan. Conditions were harsh, food was scarce, torture was common, as was harsh forced
labour. Allister wrote of his experiences as a POW that one of his greatest shocks came wellinto his incarceration period as a POW, and not from his captors but from his family. Due tothe war, conditions, the stopping of communications, censorship, and so on, the POWs did
not receive any mail or communication from those “outside” for a long time. Then well into
his imprisonment as a POW in Japan, a letter to him from his family arrived despite all this.
He wrote that he was in shocked disbelief (and still talked about this to me decades later)when he opened that letter and the first line he read by his own family indicated that they
were overjoyed hear he had been taken a POW. Their meaning, of course, was that they
were joyful at knowing he was still alive despite having heard no longer of his whereabouts
or survival for some time. He, however, as someone in the awful circumstances of being a
POW was astounded at the comment that anyone could be happy to hear he was a POW. As
Allistair (1989) wrote about it:
I opened the letter with trembling fingers and stared uncomprehendingly at the first
sentence: We were overjoyed to know you are a prisoner of war. Overjoyed! There I sat inshit up to the eyeballs, half dead, crawling with lice, exhausted, starved, disease ridden,
jolted by electric feet, a bloody walking skeleton and they were overjoyed? Had they allgone balmy? It took a while to see it their way.
The Canadian POWs taken at Hong Kong—if they survived—were often left with muchbitterness, as were other Canadians (and Canada) over these POWs in particular. (There
have been suggestions that there was greater bitterness among people in Australia, Britain
and Canada as countries from which many POWs were taken, who experienced thehorrendous conditions of being POWs, and also as countries that did not have the offsetting
positive experiences of post-war occupation interactions in Japan with Japanese, compared
to Americans among which there were less POWs taken, and who often had offsetting
positive experiences with average Japanese in the post-war period because of the American
occupation.) Allister would spend years through his writing and his art to try to overcome
this bitterness. For others this was not their approach. This can be perceived in just the titleof a book co-authored by Jack Edwards (with Jimmy Walter, 1991), another one of thesurvivors that Allister knew (and whom I met with in Hong Kong); Banzai, You Bastards!
(not a title that suggests promoting overcoming and transcending bitterness and hatred)—a strong contrast to Allister’s own approach. As Allister once expressed his view, it was that“even if someone does me dirt” I should not hate him or her but try to understand whatmade the person that way.
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Allister dealt with these themes in his book regarding his capture and POW
experiences, Where Life and Death Hold Hands (1989). For example in the book he recounts
the story of the Kamloops Kid—whom I think was found guilty during the war trials andexecuted after the war—who was a Japanese Canadian who had gone back to Japan, andwas on the Japanese side and one of the captors, and according to the POWs one of theworst. Rather than hate him, Allister attempted to try to understand what had caused him
to be so brutal and how experiences of discrimination or abuse due to his status in Canada
may have been part of the background to that. At some point Allister’s attempts toovercome his bitterness were reflected in his art, in which he actively engaged Japaneseimagery, often using classical or traditional Japanese images, or bringing together Japaneseand Western imagery in his paintings.
Allister then decided that to overcome lingering animosity towards Japan, he needed toaddress the issue head-on by returning to Japan, which he had not done since his POW
years, and to the actual sites of his imprisonment, thereby as he puts it in his writing,addressing a need to “return to the scene of the crime.” Decades after the war ended, in the
1980s, he thus took a trip to Japan with his wife Mona. He went on to write a prize-winning
essay about this visit that appeared in Reader’s Digest. By that time, 40 years after WWII, of
course the POW camps were long gone, and where Allister had been located had become
the Kawasaki ship building yards. He thus wrote to Kawasaki as a company to let him comeand go to the sites where he had been imprisoned as a POW. There was nothing to compel
Kawasaki representatives at the shipyards to do this, however, they granted his request.
Allistair was even escorted to various sites by the son of a former prison guard.
Although such pronouncements are difficult in an absolute sense, in terms of physicalhardships and adversity I would say Allister suffered more than Moriyama. This is not tonegate that the Japanese Canadian internment did involve physical hardship, at times inextreme form, and adversity that is often overlooked, denied or erased in the minds ofother Canadians. Nonetheless, by the time the 1989 movie comparing the lives of the twomen, The Art of Compassion, was made, a movie that would bring the two men into frequent
and repeated contact to discuss their lives and experiences together, and allow them to get
to know each other well, Allister who had faced the harsher physical conditions seemed tohave gone further towards addressing and eliminating his bitterness more completely. For
Moriyama, the core of any remaining bitterness is expressed in the film in a conversation
between the two men. Moriyama tells Allister that in some sense he (Allister) was betteroff because at least for him (Allister), he was imprisoned by the enemy with which hiscountry was at war, whereas for Moriyama what he (Moriyama) had to deal with was that
it was his own country that did this to him. So at the heart of his bitterness seemed to be
more this psychological aspect of the denial of his identity and citizenship as a Canadian.
There was also bitterness at times expressed in the Japanese Canadian community thatsuch a film comparing the two men’s lives was even made. I do not agree that thecomparison should not have been made, but try to understand and relate the sentiments
behind this. This was being done, after all, not long after the long struggle to get official
recognition that the Japanese Canadian along with Japanese American internment had been
wrong, and Redress had finally been won. One of the difficulties in the struggle had been
dealing with the false equation of Japanese imprisoning Canadians as POWs with Canada
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imprisoning what mainstream Canadians often referred to as Japanese, but who wereJapanese Canadians. Statements by those opposing recognizing the wrongs of theinternment, apologizing, or granting Redress on the part of Canada were often premised in
the idea that Canada should not apologize (or pay money to) “the Japanese” (actuallyJapanese Canadians) they interned, because Japan had never apologized or paid money to
the Canadians they had imprisoned as POWs. The problem inherent in this, is the false
collapsing of two completely different categories (a country imprisoning foreign prisonersof war, and a country imprisoning its own citizens and legal residents) which Japanese
Canadians, particularly those interned, got clearly, but some other Canadians often did not.
These circumstances should not have been equated or taken as parallel; one was theimprisonment of those taken as enemies from a foreign country with which the country
was at war, and the other was the imprisonment of citizens of a country by their own
country, thus something very different.
Creative works figured highly in the discussion of both men’s abilities to recover, andgo on to productive and creative activities and accomplishments; their lives thus truly
constituting a two-fold story of the ability of the human spirit to rise and soar despite
extreme setbacks. The culmination and bringing together the telling of the two men’s lives
and experiences, happened in this very building in which the JSAC meetings have been heldin 2015, about 25 years earlier so just around the time JSAC was starting up (there is nonecessary connection in that but I think that it is interesting that both JSAC and thisbuilding came into existence around the same time and have now passed that marker of 25
years and have also been brought together in this building) with the holding of an art
exhibit of William Allister’s art in this Canadian embassy building as an architectural
example of Raymond Moriyama’s work. Allister and his wife Mona, attended the opening,as did I.

4. Architecture, Building Identities, Citizenship, Dwelling and Being
It is time for further thoughts on architecture, identity, citizenship, and this CanadianEmbassy in Tokyo, Japan as the Tree House. Anthropologists and other social scientists
have long looked at the way architecture stages and shapes human being-ness, social
relationships and personhood. Some follow a Marxian approach that material conditions do
not just derive from consciousness but give rise to consciousness. Hence built forms as partof material conditions give rise to consciousness. Some follow Bourdieu (1977; 1990), whodeveloped the idea of habitus initially in relation to houses and dwelling, showing that justas an initial task of infants and children in socialization and sociability is learning alanguage, it is also an initial task to learn the “grammar” of building and spatial
expectations that derive from cultural forms of architecture, first experienced usually in thehouse or dwelling. Mary Douglas (1970, 116) in another context has asserted that: “What isbeing carried out in human flesh is an image of society.” Victor Buchli (2013), in attempting
to establish An Anthropology of Architecture, echoes this for architecture. He writes:
It is the negotiation of these distinctions and the images of society that are sustained inbodily and architectonic form, which together are profoundly generative of the terms bywhich moral personhood and social life are understood in relation to each other. It is
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analytically quite difficult to segregate one from the other in a meaningful way. This
negotiation, however, is at the heart of cultural work, the never-ending terms by which life
is made and sustained, requiring new understandings of embodied form in relation to built
form and similarly novel forms of disembodiment within the same process... (Buchli 2013,
137-139, my emphasis)
Since anthropologists have a long tradition of assessing how built structures stage
personhood and collective identity, a sense of belonging to the group (which includes“citizenship”) and a prompting towards expected forms of moral personhood in relation to“dwellings,” usually construed as “houses” as places where people dwell, I will discuss it inthose terms, linking it to Moriyama’s assertion of this Embassy as both a Tree House, andalso as a dwelling or type of “house” for an aspect of human dwelling.
Anthropological work as far back as Henry Morgan with Houses and House-Life of theAmerican Aborigines (1965[1881]) suggests that architectural form both reflects andgenerates expectations of humans in relation with other humans, the environment, and theconcept of the cosmos—it prompts forms of social and moral personhood. Pivotally,
Morgan wrote that it was not the cessation or elimination of want that marked success inarchitectural form, but that, “Every institution of [humankind] which attained permanence
will be found linked with a perpetual want” (Morgan 1965, xvi). This can be linked to
Heidegger’s classic discussion of the pivotal nature of “dwelling” for human beings and how
this is tied to architecture. Heidegger asserts that humans “most ever learn to dwell” (1993,363), rendering this a never completed nor achieved process—but not in a hopeless way.
For Heidegger (and Moriyama) the problem of dwelling is a perpetual problem involving aprocess of integration that never ceases. He writes (in a post WWII context of housing
scarcity) in his essay “Building, Dwelling, Thinking”:
However hard and bitter, however hampering and threatening the lack of houses
remains, the proper plight of dwelling does not lie merely in the lack of houses. The proper
plight of dwelling is indeed older than the world wars with their destruction, older alsothan the increase of the earth’s population and the condition of the industrial workers. The
proper dwelling plight lies in this, that mortals ever search anew for the nature of dwelling,that they must ever learn to dwell. What if [humanity’s] homelessness consisted in this, that[humankind] still does not even think of the proper plight of dwelling as the plight? Yet assoon as [humanity] gives thought to [its] homelessness, it is a misery no longer. Rightly
considered and kept well in mind, it is the sole summons that calls mortals into theirdwelling (Heidegger 1993, 354).
Heidegger also writes: “Only if we are capable of dwelling, only then can we build.” Heconnects this to an awareness of nature and natural processes in understanding how todesign architecturally—as Moriyama has considered and as he does design, specifically as
displayed in this Embassy, conceptualized by Moriyama as needing to connect to anawareness of what he refers to as the LAW—land, air, and water. Another reason forMoriyama’s decision to build this Embassy as the Tree House was an awareness of what
was in the surrounding environment including the trees of adjoining area.
Levi-Strauss has referred to architecture as providing the “illusory objectification”
through which social and moral personhood is envisioned and prompted, again beginning
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with dwellings. This does not mean it is an illusion in our usual sense of understanding that
term, but an imaged projection. It is clear that in his construction of this Embassy as a Tree
House, Moriyama also gave great thought to “dwelling” and to illusory objectification(whether or not he was thinking of it in those terms). This Canadian Embassy in Tokyo, asa/the Tree House projects the corresponding idioms of person, society, identity andcitizenship it embraces. Moriyama has defined this building both as a Tree House, and as a
“dwelling”. Here he contemplates not just the dwelling of the human body but also of thehuman soul and spirit (which I believe is also suggested by Heidegger’s assertion thatmortals “must ever learn to dwell”). Moriyama states his purpose in designing thisEmbassy as a Tree House was prompted in part because a tree house is a magical place—and building such a magical place was part of his attempts through architecture to design
spaces where the human spirit could dwell and soar (in Peter Campbell, Director, The Art ofCompassion, 1995).

5. Conclusions
As a building, this Canadian Embassy in Tokyo, Japan, iterates and reiterates acollective past, including a history of “wrongs” such as the Japanese Canadian internment.
It projects a dwelling and a soaring of the human spirit and its ability to choose and to aim
at something other than set templates operative in the past, showing that it is not the casethey are a given that cannot be gone beyond, but that patterns can be identified andbroken, and new versions of society made possible; it projects a dwelling and soaring of thehuman spirit that can go beyond the past (neither deny it nor forget it, but go beyond it) tocreate or build new patterns of human behavior and interaction and new conceptions or
pathways of identity and citizenship, aiming at inclusiveness in Canada’s now asserted
multi-culturalism, and a greater sense of a just equality and citizenship or membership for
all in a diverse society that acknowledges and remembers yet attempts to over come past
negative historical incidents.

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References
W. Allister (1989) Where Life and Death Hold Hands, Toronto, Stoddart.
V. Buchli (2013) An Anthropology of Architecture, London, Bloomsbury.
P. Bourdieu (1977) Outline of a Theory of Practice, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
P. Bourdieu (1990) The Logic of Practice, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
P. Campbell (Director) (1995) The Art of Compassion, Victoria, BC, Gumboots Productions.
J. Carsten and S. Huges-Jones (eds.) (1995) About the House: Levi-Strauss and Beyond,Cambridge University Press.
M. Creighton (2007) Changing Heart (Beats): From Japanese Identity and Nostalgia to
Taiko for Citizens of the Earth, in J. Walls, D. Hayward, and E. Y. Y. Yeh, Leiden (eds.) EastWest Identities: Globalization, Localization, and Hybridization, Netherlands, Brill Academic
Publishers, 203-228.
M. Creighton (2008) Contemporary Taiko Performing Soundscapes, Landscapes, andIdentities, in J. Jaffey and H. Johnson (eds.) Performing Japan, Kent, England, Global
Oriental, 34-67.
M. Douglas (1970) Purity and Danger: An Analysis of the Concepts of Pollution and Taboo,
Harmondsworth, Penguin.
J. Edwards and J. Walter (1991) Banzai, You Bastards!, London, Souvenier Press.
M. Heidegger (1993) Building, Dwelling, Thinking, in D. F. Krell (ed.) Basic Writings from‘Being and Time’ (1927) to ‘The Task of Thinking’ (1964), London, Routledge.
C. Levi-Strauss (1963) Structural Anthropology, translated by Claire Jacobson and Brooke
Grundfest Schoepf, New York, Doubleday Anchor Books.
L.H. Morgan (1965 [1881]) Houses and House-Life of the American Aborigines, Chicago,
University Press of Chicago.
L. Ohama (Director) (1992) The Last Harvest, Vancouver, Harvest Productions.
L. See (2009) Shanghai Girls, New York, Random House.

Return to Table of Contents15110. On Collaborative Ainu Research Initiatives: Needs andChallenges
Jeffry Joseph Gayman
Associate Professor, Research Faculty of Media and Communication
Hokkaido University
Email: jeffry.gayman@imc.hokudai.ac.jp

Abstract
This article, which focuses on the situation of the Ainu Indigenous people, delineates
the need for, and dilemmas of, a community-participatory research project centered on
barriers to and catalysts toward Indigenous people accessing their own Indigenous
knowledge. In other words, despite the seemingly promising development in 2008 ofrecognition by the Japanese Parliament of the Ainu people as an Indigenous people ofJapan, the past seven years have seen extremely few concrete developments in actual Ainu
policy. In the meantime, policy deliberations have remained vague and kept behind closed
doors. Consequently, frustration amongst peripheral Ainu activist organizations has beensnowballing. On the other hand, creation of solidarity necessary amongst the Ainu people
to lobby for actualization of their Indigenous rights, including those revolving around
Indigenous knowledge, has been hampered by the lack of financial and infrastructural
support for gatherings which have as their objective anything other than cultural ends,
creating a Catch-22 with regard to the advancement of said movement. Mainstream
Japanese society stands to gain from a systematic and critical examination of the issues andsolutions faced by the Ainu vis-à-vis progress in regards to the rights recovery movement.
Such an investigation, however, had not yet taken place. Herein I describe a collaborative
project on articulations of “Indigenous knowledge” in Hokkaido between Ainu culturalactivists, foreign Indigenous scholars, and foreign and domestic (Japanese) academic
researchers involved in research on Indigenous peoples, designed to identify the factors
leading to the perceived “impasse” in Ainu policy implementation, particularly as it relates
to Indigenous knowledge.
Keywords: Ainu people, Indigenous rights, Policy ambiguity, Collaborative research,
Dilemmas faced by Indigenous minorities

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1. Introduction
What are the needs and issues of an Indigenous1 people who have only been recentlyrecognized as such, and at that in a mediocre manner, living in one of the most
multiculturally conservative industrial countries of the world? This is a question uponwhich this paper sheds light as it deals with the topic of needs for and challenges tocollaborative university-community Ainu research initiatives in Hokkaido, Japan.
Starting eight years ago in 2007, the Japanese government in rapid succession voted
for the approval of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples(UNDRIP, 2007), passed an official parliamentary resolution calling for the
acknowledgement of the Indigeneity of its Ainu people (2008), and, in the same year,
established and implemented an Advisory Council on Future Ainu Policy (Hereafter,“Advisory Council”) to deliberate the applicability of the UNDRIP to Japan, the final reportof which was produced in 2009. Despite these developments, nonetheless, recently
inordinate amounts of time are still being spent by Ainu activists running around in circles
waiting for pro-Ainu governmental policy to solidify, fighting battles against conservativeand vindictive elected officials who would seek to have Ainu funding cut, and jostling
against other Ainu individuals and communities for funding and other support available
under the current Ainu policy system. Amidst such a stagnant situation, one question whichshould be at the front of the minds of academics involved in Ainu research is, what role canresearchers play in contributing to improvement of conditions?
In this paper I take the stance that policy ambivalence is both a consequence of, and acontributing factor to, unclear research ethics and goals maintained on the part of Ainu
researchers. Just as with First Nations peoples in Canada, ethical research principles dictate
an Indigenously-centered collaborative research approach to issues affecting Indigenous
stakeholders. Unlike many aboriginal groups in Canada, however, relations between the
Ainu Indigenous people and the national government of Japan, including funding agencies
responsible for providing funding for Ainu-related research, remain vague and uncodified.
In order to begin to rectify such a situation, I submit that joint collaborative research byoutsider researchers and the involved Indigenous communities needs to be conducted inorder to clarify ambiguous factors associated with the perceived policy inertia.
Categorizing policy facets into political, socioeconomic, legal and cultural aspects, I
point out that strengthening the former three amidst the current Ainu policy environment,
which is geared only toward advancement of the latter, is problematic. I suggest joint
collaborator research involving foreign Indigenous activist/scholars as a means ofidentifying differences between these categories and thus beginning to distinguish effective
ways for promoting each.

1

Following upon the example of the authors of Beyond Ainu Studies and the Oxford Guide
to Canadian English Usage, I choose to capitalize the word Indigenous, as one would First
Nations, Aboriginal, Native Americans, and so on.
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The descriptive process necessary to explain these matters will involve first, an
explanation of the current “Japan-specific” Indigenous policies, second, a general portrayalof the uneasiness being expressed by Ainu activists under such configurations, and third,
descriptions of international Indigenous research standards as well as criticisms byacademics espousing them in regard to Japan. Fourthly, I turn to a description of acollaborative research project proposed2 by the author, which attempts to deal with thequandaries presented above by being open to both the current policy envisioned by theAdvisory Council as well as to priorities being espoused within the international
Indigenous movement. Finally, I outline the research challenges that I foresee to be
involved in beginning to implement such a research project amidst currently perceived
restrictive conditions.
A full examination of the situation of the Indigenous Ainu people in terms of analysis ofcurrent policy’s degree of fulfillment of activists’ demands is beyond the scope of thispaper. I present here only a cursory outline sufficient to argue the points presented herein.
It is hoped that subsequently, the research project described below will serve to more
systematically elucidate current problems and prospects.
All explanations in this paper are firmly grounded, as I expand upon below, inreflections from first-hand experience in fieldwork in Hokkaido, as well as in collaborative
projects with Ainu educators and activists here spanning a period over the past 12 years. In
this sense this essay comprises both position paper and research account.
Under current configurations in Hokkaido in which researchers are playing a central
role in influencing how Ainu traditional knowledge subsequently may come to be accessed,
collaborative projects between researchers and local Ainu communities may importantly
serve the function of empowering the Ainu to become aware of how their own Indigenous
knowledge is being used to empower or disempower them vis-a-vis inter-ethnic relations
between themselves and the mainstream Japanese population. It is thus my hope thatcollaborative research approaches such as the one proposed by the author may begin tostart to unravel the darkness surrounding current dissatisfaction of the Ainu activists.

2. Research Stance
The author is a scholar employed at the Hokkaido University Research Faculty of Mediaand Communication, with a teaching affiliation in the Hokkaido University Graduate School2

Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS) Grants-in-Aid Research Grant#80646406, Action Research on Articulations of Indigenous Knowledge in Hokkaido (hereafter“ARAIKH Project”), 2014-2017, in progress. Due to ethical considerations revolving around theconfidentiality of Ainu research participants involved in this ongoing initiative, in this paper I
limit references to the project to its practical and theoretical basis; in this sense, I choose toemploy the word “proposed”.
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of Education. My main area of research is education for and regarding Japan’s Indigenous
people the Ainu, and I have been conducting ethnographic fieldwork on Ainu education,
cultural transmission and the Ainu rights recovery movement, including participation in
the Steering Committee of the 2008 Indigenous Peoples’ Summit in Ainu Mosir (2008, IPS)in Hokkaido, for approximately 12 years.
The perspective being put forth here is one of Indigenous Studies informed by the
stance of an educational anthropologist. The main argument of Indigenous Studies is thatIndigenous peoples should have the right, as enshrined in 2007 The United Nations
Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), to self-determination in allareas of their individual and collective lives, a perspective I feel ethically inclined to adopt
as a graduate of the University of Alaska’s Masters Program in Cross-Cultural Studies, andas a member of the American Anthropological Association, an association of scholars manyof whom whose mandate is to overturn the historical legacy of anthropology as aperpetrator within the global phenomena of colonialism. I should like to point out thatwhile I receive the support and encouragement of other Ainu scholars at Hokkaido
University, the views espoused here are completely my own and have not been endorsedby the University.

3. A Japan-Specific Indigenous Policy: The Political and Legal Situation of the
Ainu in Japan
As noted above, the national government of Japan cast its vote in support of the
UNDRIP in September, 2007, passed a Resolution to Recognize the Ainu people as an
Indigenous people of Japan in June 2008, and formed the Expert’s Committee under the
Cabinet Secretary to deliberate implementation of Indigenous Ainu policy in light of the
UNDRIP in 2008. In this way, as the first significant advancement vis-a-vis Indigenous
rights subsequent to the September, 2007 passing of the UNDRIP, great expectations roseamongst Ainu activists and the international Indigenous community regarding the
publication of the report of the Advisory Council on future Ainu policy. However, thesehopes were soon to be dashed when the proposed policy was unequivocally delimited to be“Japan-specific”, and its contents limited to the right of the Ainu to practice their “culture”3.
More specifically, one of the members of the Advisory Council, Professor Teruki
Tsunemoto of Hokkaido University (Tsunemoto, 2012) explains this reasoning byemphasizing the distinction that unlike countries in North America and Oceania, in Japan
there exist no treaties nor clauses in the Constitution of Japan which would grant the Ainu
collective “substantive rights”, as called for by the UNDRIP (Ibid., 43). As a “Japan-specific”

The content of “culture” have been explicated as follows: “Culture intrinsically has a broad
significance that embraces all aspects of people’s lives and lifestyles, such as technology, study,
arts and morals in addition to food, clothing, and shelter” (Tsunemoto, 2012, 46).
3

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approach, Tsunemoto calls instead for what the Advisory Council explains as a policy basedon a “procedural concept of indigenous rights,” which acknowledges the Japanese
government’s “grave responsibility to provide reparations” (Ibid., 46) for damage related tohistorical policies, but does so in a non-confrontational way by emphasizing that the
government provide recompense by “making provisions” for the creation of environments“that enable the Ainu people to keep their ethnic identity” (Ibid., 47).
Herein, the key points are, firstly, that rather than the Ainu people themselves being
responsible for taking the initiative in implementing measures relating to themselves ortheir own wellbeing, the measures are being advanced by Japanese bureaucrats (Uemura,2012), and secondly, that the conceptions of policy are formulated in a manner which
disregards political rights, largely bypasses legal rights, and for the most part disconnects
socioeconomic improvement initiatives from the main pillar of policy support, that ofrevitalization of Ainu culture.
In moving forward toward policy implementation, emphasis during the six years since
publication of the Advisory Council report has consistently been made on theestablishment of a “hard” infrastructure, before beginning to deal with the “soft” aspects of
Ainu involvement. In regard to political rights, the Advisory Council Final Report bypasses
the issue, pointing out the unconstitutionality of such, and remarking that consideration offoreign cases “should be regarded as a middle- to long-term issue” (Advisory Council,2009). Legal rights to enjoy benefits as an Ainu, in turn, are something which applies to
Ainu individuals for social welfare purposes, but which do not maintain in the case of Ainu
organizations nor communities, nor which apply to collective educational rights within the
public education system. Ainu socioeconomic measures continue to be administered by aseparate government section from those related to the revitalization of culture.
Presumably, one major factor for concern which would inevitably occur should
substantive rights be suddenly and immediately granted in a Japan in which no such rights
had existed prior to recognition of the Ainu as being Indigenous, is the phenomenon of
backlash4. A second is the lack of extant Ainu implementing bodies; Tsunemoto (2012, 46)
specifically emphasizes that the Ainu have no “tribes or other autonomous bodies topossess or collectively exercise” the “right to political self-determination.”
As stands to reason, this approach firstly makes for ill bed-fellows with demands forsovereignty being put forth by Ainu activists, a point strongly argued by academic
advocates of Indigenous rights, as noted in the next section. It secondly relies heavily upon
extant Japanese bureaucratic structures for the implementation of public policy (Uemura,2012), a tendency which, in addition to flying in the face of notions of self-determination asenshrined in the UNDRIP, seems to leave no room for consideration of already existing

Tsunemoto (2012,43) explains that, “in Japan, where public understanding of the Ainu is
still very limited, decisions based on self-recognition [of the right to enjoy special Indigenous
rights] are hardly acceptable.”4

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Ainu efforts toward taking the initiative in matters related to their own issues. This is apoint which is creating considerable frustration amongst some factions of the Ainu
community5 who see no progress, nor mention of, considerations being made toward theirunique Ainu aspirations, as I delineate in section 4.
Indeed, Ainu activists are decrying6 an apparent lack of efforts being made toward
articulation, on the one hand, firstly, between Council proposals, representing a benign andcomprehensive “Japan-specific” approach, and, on the other, toward actual community
Ainu aspirations, as rooted in Ainu sentiment and the ideals of the international Indigenous
movement. Secondly, they vocalize their doubts about the gap between concrete “central”
government initiatives being advanced at the future site of the Symbolic Space for Ethnic
Harmony in the town of Shiraoi, Hokkaido with the cultural praxis occurring in provincial
Ainu communities7.
Here, it was a desire to make a response to activists’ claims by shedding light onperceived discrepancies that inspired the author to instigate the ARAIKH Project, theconceptual details of which I explain in section 5. In short, the author’s concern is that the
ambiguity arising from a lack of discussion regarding the adjustments necessary toarticulate policy with reality, is serving no constructive function, and that it is the role ofresponsible researchers to disperse such ambiguity at the earliest possible juncture.
However, this process, as I delineate in the last section of this paper, involves structuraldynamics within Ainu society which are irrevocably interconnected to current policy
issues, and any research project, which would seek to alleviate them, runs the risk of being
associated with the causes of suffering rather than their solution.

4. Criticisms of a Culturally-Weighted Policy and the Argument for the Central
Role of Indigenous People in Indigenous Research
As outlined above, Japan has qualified its Ainu policy as being Japan-specific, andlimited the proposed direction of future Ainu policy to the right to praxis of culture “in the
broad sense.” As a means of effecting such a policy, the Committee Members of theAdvisory Council have called for a “procedural conception” of Indigenous rights.
Ultimately, it should be noted that the Advisory Council conceptualization leaves room
open for a transformation of policy to one more substantively based, based upon the5

Observations based upon ethnographic fieldwork by the author.

6

Ibid.

7

Explanation given by Curator Yahata Tomoe of the Ainu Museum at Shiraoi, lecture on“Reflections on the ‘Symbolic Space for Ethnic Harmony’” at Sapporo Freedom School, 24 July
2015.
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premises of future public understanding of the Ainu, and the growth of Ainu capacity tohandle their own fate, as evidenced by the following quote:
If Japan’s first set of indigenous policies based on the procedural concept ofindigenous people results in an increase in the number of Ainu who embrace theirethnic identity and the promotion of public understanding of the Ainu, the future
generation of the Ainu and the majority of Japanese society will have the choice ofchoosing the next step of Ainu policy, which may include the substantive concept
of indigenous peoples (Tsunemoto, 2012, 48, emphasis in original).
Yet despite such a caveat, or on the contrary exactly because of it, the fact that the
proposed policy direction contains grave inconsistencies has been pointed out by many,scholar and non-scholar, Ainu and non-Ainu alike.
For example, the reason posited for current non-implementation of a substantive rights
policy, that Ainu have no autonomous and representative tribe to judge identity directly
contradicts the Expert Council’s conclusion that the Japanese government, “has a grave
responsibility to provide reparations for related damage” (Tsunemoto, 2012, 46) when noreference is provided as to whom the reparations might be made. Granted, the issue of
deciding who qualifies to be Ainu may be the greatest bottleneck preventing the smooth
implementation of Ainu policy. Yet the UNDRIP calls for the self-determination ofIndigenous peoples in all matters affecting the content and quality of their lives, culturesand societies. Academic critics (Uemura, 2012; Morris-Suzuki, 2014) have stridently
maintained that Japan should more closely follow the standards of the international
Indigenous rights movement by allowing the Ainu more rights on legal and political fronts,
and more say in land and resource rights use. They point out that “culture” and “activism”
cannot be so easily distinguished from one another (Morris-Suzuki, 2014), and question thelegitimacy of an “Indigenous” policy directed toward promotion of public understanding.
Ainu activists, on the other hand, have also continued to question the legitimacy of apolicy centered only on “culture”, discussing Ainu land rights in public forums8, criticizing“Japan-specific” conceptualizations based on a notion of the Ainu as not desiring more
substantive rights9, demanding fuller systems of support for the Ainu language, and evencalling for “Ainu sovereignty”10.

8Inkarushipe Forum.

9

Mr. Sawai Aku, statement to the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Racial
Discrimination, New York, August, 2014. Translated copy on hand with the author.
10

Statement by Shimizu Yuji at the International Symposium on Multiculturalism in
Hokkaido: Theory and Praxis, 2 March 2014. The gist of the arguments for Ainu sovereignty is
encapsulated in the political platform of the Ainu Party, of which Shimizu is Deputy Director:
http:///www.geocities.jp/aynuparty/policy.html.
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Meanwhile, Nomoto Masahiro, the current director of the Ainu Museum at Shiraoi,
points out that the Ainu have created a network of cultural links, and states that thenational and regional governments and the Ainu Association of Hokkaido (hereafter, AAH)
“have a duty to help Ainu people become actively involved in policy development and be
given the initiative in related endeavors.” (Nomoto, 2012, 63). Another crucially importantelement of Indigenous well-being hinted at by such statements is that of Indigenous
involvement in research and education related to Indigenous matters. Forward-looking
Indigenous scholars in the CANZAS countries and elsewhere have written entire books (forexample, Smith, 1996) delineating the reasoning why Indigenous peoples should be incharge of their own research (Because Indigenous peoples know their own issues better
than anyone else!), as well as creating guidelines for ethically-responsible research relating
to Indigenous peoples (AFN 1993). Yet forums and debates regarding Ainu involvement inresearch are something of which we have yet to hear in Hokkaido.
Indeed, the Advisory Council’s seeming neglect of current Ainu activist organizations
may be its largest shortcoming. As Tessa-Morris Suzuki (2014) and others have pointed
out, activism is also a part of culture, and as the quote by Nomoto indicates, various cultural
networks of Ainu exist, many members of whom have extremely strong opinions regarding
the implementation of Ainu policy, which do not necessarily align with the policy proposals
put forth by the Ainu Association of Hokkaido, yet which deserve to be heard, for manyreasons. It was in response to these needs that the author conceived the ARAIKH Project.

5. The Need for Clarification of the Issues and Conception of the Research
Project
5.1. The need for clarification of the issues
Presumably Ainu culture is something that is maintained by those who haveexperienced, and fought for, the maintenance or growth of Ainu society. Yet Advisory
Council deliberations regarding Ainu policy originally included one Ainu member out ofeight, Kato Tadashi, the Chairperson of the Ainu Association of Hokkaido. What’s more,deliberations of the Advisory Council, as well as its successor the Ainu Policy Promotion
Council, have occurred behind closed doors, with no explanations being offered for thesilencing of demands being submitted by alternative voices.
Amidst such a situation, the author has been in close communication with the majorityof Ainu activists active outside of the AAH since the 2008 IPS, and has been able to witness
their frustration and wavering motivation as possibilities for a substantive rights policy
became replaced by a discourse of “procedural rights.” Yet these activists’ demands havenot changed a bit, and in fact in some cases have become even more cogent in recent years.
In fact, these activists have been the ones at the center of Ainu struggles in the face ofapparent apathy by the Japanese and Hokkaido governments in terms of actions for therepatriation of Ainu burial remains housed at Japanese universities (litigation against
Hokkaido University), efforts by Hokkaido politicians to rescind educational materials
related to the Ainu (Citizens Group Against Recall of the Ainu Side Reader), and to disprove
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159the existence of the Ainu people as a distinct ethnic group (individual efforts via theInternet against the Councilman Kaneko Yasuyuki). They have also sought to deliver the
Ainu voice to the Japanese Diet via the formation of the Ainu Party.
That current Ainu policy makes no consideration of Ainu legal, social or political rights
is something which has been pointed out by a number of scholars. That the hate speechesof vindictive politicians runs counter to the ideals espoused even in a policy limited only tothe praxis of culture, seems self-evident. That these developments are creating tensions
within the Ainu psyche, which have no way of being cognized nor healthily released, hasbeen pointed out by no one. Is the silencing of diverse Ainu voices a healthy maneuver, andshouldn’t a counter-effort to listen to them as well as reflect upon their significance, be put
into effect?
In regard to potential limitations of the current policy direction, one significant matter
symbolically not being considered is the possibility that many of these very vocal Ainu
stand to extend greater influence over Ainu society may have been nipped in the bud withthe current financial insolvency of the Ainu Party. That such a possibility has not been
seriously considered by policy experts seems to be a case in point of the potential demeritsof current policy ambiguity. The prospect that the very Ainu culture which legislation is
being designed to maintain may become very one-dimensional once these activist-culturebearers have passed away may be a very real possibility. When we consider the fact thatout of eight Party Officers of the Ainu Party, three are over 75 years old, it stands to reason
in the light of promotion of Ainu activist culture, that we should not be waiting for theirdemise, but instead rather giving sincere consideration to these Ainu leaders’ voices.
One issue of a policy of waiting for Ainu capacity to reach maturity is that these Ainu,
who already embrace their ethnic identity, are steadily losing their motivation to continue
their struggle for Ainu rights as time passes and they are forced to wait for even theprocedural concept to kick into effect. For example, already seven years have passed since
the Resolution Seeking to Recognize the Ainu People as an Indigenous People, yet noconcrete policy developments have since appeared. On the contrary, one result of the“procedural” development existing, that of plans for the creation of the Symbolic Space forEthnic Harmony in Shiraoi, has apparently absorbed so much attention from policy makers
that it leaves no room for the consideration of substantive rights, at least not until
completion of the facility in 2020. For many Ainu activists, the loss of the dream of thesubstantive concept of Indigenous rights in such a manner is such an irony to bear that they
can hardly maintain their motivation. Yet, with current developments for construction of asingle symbolic cultural facility in Shiraoi heading in the direction of a “unidimensional
Ainu policy”11, how can the “motivation” which is the intrinsic impetus for the growth ofculture, be maintained?

11

Phrase used by Ainu activist informant, age 48.

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A second point is that many of the issues that these activists face in their activism are acondensed version of the stresses involved in education of the Japanese populace for anunderstanding of Indigenous rights. If their struggles are not recognized as such now andanalyzed according to that premise, a proper conception of the issues involved in creating
mainstream public understanding may never materialize. It is to these issues that theauthor has proposed a collaborative ARAIKH Ainu research project.

5.2. Conception of the research projectAs a scholar, I am now involved in a three-year research initiative designed as a pilot
project to develop a methodology whereby Ainu and non-Ainu, scholars and non-scholars
can work in tandem in an action-research mode to analyze the articulations of Indigenous
Ainu knowledge in Hokkaido and elsewhere. As the research project name, “ActionResearch on articulations of Indigenous Knowledge in Hokkaido,” indicates, the keyword of
the project is Indigenous knowledge, and my particular hope is that the outcomes might beused for the sake of developing a platform from which Indigenous education and researchguidelines and best-praxis models might be created. In this sense, one potential outcome,that of self-determination in “education”, is one that I feel meshes well with the mandate ofdeveloping a policy supportive of Ainu praxis of “culture in the broad sense.”
I feel that this project is one which is open to re-exploration of the conditions forfulfillment of ethical guidelines for “outsider” (i.e. non-Indigenous) researcher in the
support of Indigenous peoples in the countries in which they live and work, and at thesame time could lead to commentary on and/or proposals regarding the direction in which
Ainu policy is currently heading, thus potentially fulfilling one ethical role of the outsider
researcher mandated by the standards of Indigenous Studies.
The project’s purpose is as follows: For educators and researchers of Ainu, Wajin12 andforeign ethnicity involved in Ainu tertiary education to collaborate with Indigenous
researchers of Indigenous descent to host action research workshop retreats in Ainu
communities in which Indigenous scholars familiar with the successful processes ofIndigenous revitalization serve as facilitators, and thereby, while learning discourses on
and practices centered around Indigenous knowledge, to methodically and scholasticallyexamine the means for overcoming impasses in Ainu knowledge construction, and torecord and analyze these processes.
Here, Indigenous knowledge is conceived of as the sum of the embodied practicalknowledge, skills and attitudes which characterizes and defines an Indigenous people’ssocial and physical relationship to one another, and to the natural environment whichsurrounds them. It includes moral and spiritual values, beliefs, and aspirations, and isconsolidated in and most potently expressed in the Indigenous language. Action research

12Ethnic Japanese.

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161refers to a method of research founded in the participant’s everyday praxis of their own
knowledge and culture, in which analysis of the retreat session discussions is constantly
refined and broadcast out to the Ainu community for feedback and further refinement.
Secondly, project implementation consists of four main pillars: 1) Participation in theWorld Indigenous People’s Conference on Education (“WIPC:E”, May, 2014, Honolulu,
Hawai’i), 2) Implementation of an action research methodology on articulations of
Indigenous knowledge centering around collective seminar retreats, attended by local
Ainu, and facilitated by foreign Indigenous scholars, 3) Analysis and broadcast of theoutcomes of the retreats, and 4) Feedback of the results into university education,
especially in Sapporo.
The main concept of the project is to work toward a sociological explanation, centering
around the voices of the Indigenous participants, regarding the status quo of theircollective Indigenous knowledge, the barriers restricting access to such, and vice-versa,
catalysts propelling growth toward such. The ultimate goals of the project are a holistic andcross-sectional analysis of the contemporary state of Indigenous knowledge, creation of a
local platform and forum for discussing such, as well as development of a model for theprocesses’ application to higher education and Indigenous research. Through inclusion of
the “alternative voices” of Ainu activists, the project seeks to fill the lacuna created bycurrent policy implementation schemes.

6. Foreseen Challenges
6.1. Theoretical need for collaborative community-participatory Indigenous
research in JapanFirst, in order to contextualize the framework in which collaborative research projects
involving Indigenous peoples might be advanced by indicating one gold standard
benchmark for research projects involving Indigenous peoples, I would like to introduce
the Alaska Federation of Natives (AFN) Guidelines for Ethical Research:
AFN conveys to all scientists and researchers who plan to conduct studies among
Alaska Natives that they must comply with the following research principles:

Advise Native people who are to be affected by the study of the purpose,
goals and timeframe of the research, the data gathering techniques, thepositive and negative implications and impacts of the research.

Obtain informed consent of the appropriate governing body.

Fund the support of a Native Research Committee appointed by the local
community to assess and monitor the research project and ensurecompliance with the expressed wishes of Native people.

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162



Protect the sacred knowledge and cultural/intellectual property of
Native people.



Hire and train Native people to assist in the study.



Use Native languages whenever English is the second language.



Guarantee confidentiality of surveys and sensitive material.

Include Native viewpoints in the final study.

Acknowledge the contributions of Native resource people.



Inform the Native Research Committee in a summary and in nontechnicallanguage of the major findings of the study.

Provide copies of the study to the local people. (AFN, 1993)

As can be seen, the guidelines provide a framework for research which is based in theneeds, aspirations and values of the concerned Indigenous community, and which
contributes to community development.

6.2. Structural challenges to community-participatory Indigenous research in
Ainu society
However, in the Ainu case in many senses it would seem that the successful
implementation of such research is doomed before it even starts, due to the contemporaryconfigurations of Ainu society in which, for all practical purposes, there exists noauthoritative governing body to grant research permission, nor local community to serveas the agent of development.
Readers familiar with the history and current situation of the Ainu people will probably
be familiar with the fact that assimilation into society was promoted via assimilatory
education, forced agrarianism, and prohibition of Ainu traditional customs, and thatcurrently Ainu suffer from lower educational attainment and higher rates of dependency
upon welfare than Hokkaido residents in the same towns. They may not be familiar withthe fact that the Ainu Association of Hokkaido, the largest representative body of the Ainu
people, is a semi-organ of the Japanese government, that membership in the Association is
not automatic and remains low, or that no representative Research Ethics Committee that
could regulate the activities of outsider researchers has been established therein.
Readers familiar with Ainu policy developments will probably be familiar with thepassage in 1997 of what is known as the “Ainu Cultural Promotion Act”, as well as theefforts of Ainu activists in getting this legislation passed. They may also be familiar with thepassage of the 2008 Resolution Seeking to Recognize the Ainu People as an Indigenous
People. They may not be familiar with the fact that remaining poverty, discrimination and
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163other factors cause many Ainu to be hesitant to come out as such and live as Ainu in all
situations of everyday life, that funding for “cultural” activity has led to accusations ofinvolvement in cultural praxis for financial gain and the internal criticism of “soulless”
praxis, or that even amongst activists factionalism exists between hard-core activists andculturalists, with culturalists reluctant to voice criticism for fear of bashing or association
with radical left-wing supporters, and hard-core activists expressing frustration toward
culturalists for their lack of commitment to the issues. Nor may they be familiar with thedifficulties in fostering autonomy, which would seem to be a prerequisite for participationin the praxis of an Indigenous-centered research; the lack of a self-regulating body (自治体)
amongst Ainu society, or the difficulties of achieving pan-Ainu consensus when funding setups set municipalities with large Ainu population at odds with one another in competition
against other towns and municipalities seeking to gain Hokkaido Prefectural or national
funding.
In terms of governance, readers may be familiar with the Ainu Association of Hokkaido,
but they may not be familiar with the distrust mentioned above in regard to the AAH’s
participation in the Ainu Policy Promotion Council deliberations, when there has been notransparency regarding Policy Council statements (Uemura, 2012). These matters of
distrust are compounded by issues of faith in Ainu leadership at upper government levels
by Ainu outside of the AHH (Ibid.), as well as issues of faith in leadership at lower levels, inwhich in the past a mood of repressive censorship has tended to extend down even to
informal organizations, with issues of ageism and sexism being claimed (Gayman, 2012;lewallen 2006).
On the other hand, on the research front, readers may be familiar with the existence ofthe Hokkaido University Center for Ainu and Indigenous Studies, but they may not befamiliar with the praxis by scholars at Hokkaido University in the past of physicalanthropology (Ueki, 2008), in which human Ainu remains acquired by dubious means wereused as scientific specimens, nor the fact that the university was the site of a sit-in against
discriminatory remarks by one of its professors, nor the fact that the university is currently
being litigated against for repatriation of these remains. They may not be familiar withlingering distrust against Hokkaido University researchers13, or for that matter,
researchers in general, nor the frustration of some Ainu activists regarding the role of
HUCAIS, in which most, if not all, Japanese Ainu researchers refer to their research as
research on Ainu “culture,” rather than on Ainu Indigenous rights. Nor may they be familiar
with the fact that there have been only three Ainu graduate student enrollees in Hokkaido
University in recent years who frequently have only furtively identified themselves as Ainu,
nor that there are virtually no courses for undergraduate students to learn about the Ainu
people or the Ainu people’s current rights situation.

13

As experienced by the author in his interactions with the Ainu since becoming employedat Hokkaido University.
Return to Table of Contents1646.3. Practical challenges for collaborative community-participatory Indigenous
research in Japan
In this way, there are innumerable challenges lying in store for a collaborative
university-community research project. Although the history of Indigenous research atsuch Hokkaido education and learning institutes such as Hokkaido University, where I am
currently employed, begs for a more contributory form of research engagement, as
outlined above, uncritical analyses of Ainu identity in university research remainconspicuous, and numerous issues revolving around the matter of self-determination inregard to even such innocuous issues as cultural transmission are being bypassed inresearch. Training of young Ainu scholars is desperately needed, and an accurate andcomprehensive grasp of the diversity inherent in contemporary Ainu society is needed
amongst non-Ainu students in order to promote understanding that might lead to advocacy
for policy changes. And yet tensions and apprehensions against university researchers,
including the author, still exist.
Within the Ainu community, re-evaluation of authority structures within Ainu society
which are hindering furtherance of access to Ainu knowledge and motivation to engage incultural transmission are critically necessary in order to ensure the cooperation of multiple
generations in collaborative research, but these very structures themselves arecomplicating the formation of such groups. Meanwhile, at a time when pan-Ainu solidarity
is necessary, community loyalties and inter-community feuds are similarly hinderingcollaborative research group formation.
On a logistical level, the absence of financial, administrative and moral support
structures may be a major hindrance to systematic collaborative research efforts. Amidst achronic low-income situation wherein many Ainu cultural practitioners are habitually
overextended by the demands of their employment, heavy workloads and sheer
geographical distances place insurmountable burdens on time and energy resources. In
terms of group solidarity purposes, an absence of recognition of group rights results in alack of infrastructure enabling processes of group decision14; travel funds are not provided
by Ainu funding agencies for “political” or “academic” events. As a result, amidst an absenceof extant networks which might be capitalized on for collaborative group research
purposes, the entire responsibility for and all energy required for selecting members of theresearch “group” may fall upon outsider researchers. Once collaborative group research
has commenced, motivation of group members amidst the above-mentioned already trying
life circumstances, can tend to become a full time job15. In this way, unless support
structures are drastically restructured, the logistical and motivational burden may prove
too heavy, and the goal of “group” representation unachievable, for the average researcher.

14

Uemura (2012) has referred to this as a zaisei (financing) problem.

One Ainu activist leader acquaintance has limited his “training” efforts to only two
individuals.
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15165

Other conceptual and ethical dilemmas of Ainu Indigenous-based education/researchwhich could surface might involve the articulation of concepts such as “collective”, or theextent in collaborative action research to which Ainu agency should be allowed at theexpense of cohesiveness of the project at an academic level. For instance, must the agent be
a group in order for “representation” to be claimable? Alternatively, culturally appropriate
research demands respect for local values and communication styles, but to what extent toallow frivolity at the expense of scholastic excellence? Or to exercise leadership if teammembers don’t demonstrate initiative? In such cases if communication styles result in
unnecessary expenses to the research project objective, should there be any limits to intercultural largesse? These and other lingering questions press large upon the project of Ainu
collaborative research.

6.4. Possible ways forward
Amidst such challenges as the many listed above, experimentation with the followinginterpersonal measures that do not require any financial overhead may prove to be aneffective way forward. Firstly, increased dialog between researchers and locals aimed at
actualization of community-participatory research and the ideal of empowerment andincrease in wellbeing will be indispensable, as the current policy-research nexus teaches us
in the inverse. However, amidst such efforts, given traditional Ainu community
factionalism, set-ups wherein the project leader working as the coordinator of small,loosely assembled units not necessarily in dialog with one another will probably provenecessary. Similarly, given the variety of Ainu communities existing, reconceptualization of
categories and goals of collaborative research to include recognition of intra-Ainu diversity
will be indispensable. In such a scenario, dialog might only presented as one ideal “option”,
but not a mandatory goal.
On another front, in terms of the content of currently successful research projects,
future tie-up of the ARAIKH Project with Ainu language revitalization work would have agood “image”, but possible demerits of narrowness of focus when language is only one
aspect of Ainu Indigenous knowledge with which this research project purports to deal. In
terms of ethical guidelines, one way to overcome the current absence of a pan-Ainu ethicalgoverning board might be efforts toward the compilation of such at a local level amongst
conservation societies, language classrooms and local Ainu Association branches. For theterms of the ARAIKH project of engaging foreign Indigenous expertise, a compact schedulein which foreign Indigenous researchers visit only during Japanese university vacations
and tour several communities for dialog in one intensive trip, might be the most efficient
way of scheduling time. In any event, evaluation of the needs amongst Ainu society should
be undertaken in conjunction with a serious re-evaluation of the efficacy of the current
Ainu policy deliberatory process and Ainu involvement therein (Uemura, 2012).

7. Conclusion
If the Japanese government is to uphold the commitment engendered by its recent
official recognition of the Ainu as an Indigenous people, an undelayed clarification of thefactors contributing to Ainu disempowerment is in order, and a systematic and clearlyReturn to Table of Contents

166defined collaborative research initiative with the Ainu and other Indigenous peoples
should go a long way toward such ends. The author commenced just such a collaborative
research project with the Ainu people envisioned to provide such clarification in 2012; thepurpose of this paper has been to elucidate, in light of the above situation, the backgroundneeds for such a research project, as well as the challenges posed at the juncture ofcommencement of such.
My objective has not been to unilaterally denounce the good progress that is currently
being made, but rather to point out remaining inconsistencies which are being identified by
Ainu and non-Ainu, scholars and non-scholars alike. I foresee continued negotiation
between the national and prefectural governments and the Ainu people on issues of accessto Ainu knowledge, and a clarification of the structural barriers limiting such is foreseen asa major catalyst to such mediation. On both a practical and theoretical level, much work
remains to be done, and a great need for it exists. Hopefully, this essay has shed light onsome factors which are jointly shared by First Nations communities and their academic
supporters in Canada as well, and beyond that, within the globe at large.

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References
Advisory Council for Future Ainu Policy (2009) Final Report, in H. Stewart (ed.) The Ainu:
Indigenous People of Japan, Sapporo, Hokkaido University Center for Ainu and Indigenous
Studies Booklet Vol. 3, 57-69.
Alaska Federation of Natives (AFN) (1993) Alaska Federation of Natives Guidelines for
Ethical Research, accessed via the Internet on 6 September, 2015 at:
http://www.ankn.uaf.edu/IKS/AFNguide.html
J. Gayman (2012) Dochaku no Ti ni Motoduita Ainu Bunka Keisho ni Kansuru Kenkyu:
Caruchuraru Sefuthi Ron o Chushin Ni, Doctoral Dissertation, Kyushu University.
M. Hudson, A. Lewallen and M. Watson (eds.) (2014) Beyond Ainu Studies: Changing
Academic and Public Perspectives, Honolulu, University of Hawai’i Press.
A. Lewallen (2006) Hands that Never Rest: Ainu Women, Cultural Revival and Indigenous
Politics in Japan, Doctoral Dissertation, University of Michigan.
T. Morris-Suzuki (2014) Tourists, Anthropologists and Visions of Indigenous Society inJapan, in M. Hudson, A. Lewallen and M. Watson (eds.) Beyond Ainu Studies: Changing
Public and Academic Perspectives, Honolulu, University of Hawai’i Press, 45-69.
M. Nomoto (2012) Ainu and the Museum: The Birth of the Ainu National Museum, in H.
Stewart (ed.) The Ainu: Indigenous People of Japan, Sapporo, Hokkaido University Center
for Ainu and Indigenous Studies Booklet Vol. 3, 57-69.
L.T. Smith (1996) Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples, London,
Zed Books.
H. Stewart (ed.) (2012) The Ainu: Indigenous People of Japan, Sapporo, Hokkaido University
Center for Ainu and Indigenous Studies Booklet Vol. 3.
T. Tsunemoto (2012) Toward Ainu- and Japan-Specific Indigenous Policies, in H. Stewart(ed.) The Ainu: Indigenous People of Japan, Sapporo, Hokkaido University Center for Ainu
and Indigenous Studies Booklet Vol. 3, 43-56.
T. Ueki (2008) Gakumon no Boryoku: Ainu no Bochi ha Naze Abakareta Ka, Tokyo,
Shunfusha.
H. Uemura (2012) Ainu Minzoku Seisaku no Arikata: Kokusaiho oyobi Kenpo / Kokunaiho
no Kanten Kara, Forum Opinion, NPO Gendai no Riron Syakai Forum FORUM OPINION
Henshu Iinkai, 2012 (6), 97-111.

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16811. Persistence of Traditional Subsistence Ideology in Nunavut
Inuit Society: A Comparison of Modern Economic Activities
Between Nunavut and Greenland
Shunwa Honda (Henry Stewart)
Visiting Professor, The Open University of Japan
Email: honstew@gmail.com

Abstract
Subsistence patterns vary among the many regional Inuit groups of North America.
Regional variations since colonization of the Arctic have been strongly influenced by thestyle of colonial rule, as well as geographic, economic, social and environmental
configurations. Here I shall compare the situation of the Inuit of eastern Canadian Arctic—
Nunavut, not including Nunavik (Quebec) and Nunatsiavut (Labrador)—with the Inuit(Kalaallit) of south Greenland. This choice of regions is based upon the contention that bothexperienced direct, concerted colonial subjugation in the late 18th century, later than otherArctic regions. However, notwithstanding this commonality, a significant difference may be
noted between adaptations in subsistence activities. The Inuit (Kalaallit) of south
Greenland have to a greater extent embraced sheep and vegetable farming, whereas theInuit of Nunavut have shown no interest in livestock farming and continue to pursue more
“traditional” subsistence activities. Through an examination of variation in elements ofgeography—contiguity to or distance from the national majority, economy (opportunity formodern economic development), society (a presence/absence of other ethnic groups), andenvironment (effects of climate change) of these two regions, I shall inquire into thehistorical and contemporary factors that have worked to manifest a striking difference insocial and economic milieu of these two societies today.
Keywords: Nunavut, Kalaallit, colonial experience, subsistence, climate change

1. Introduction
In this essay, I briefly explore the historical, social and economic milieu behind theimportance of subsistence ideology in the contemporary economic and political arena of
Nunavut Territory, Canada. To illustrate this phenomenon, I make a comparison with theideological role of subsistence activities of the south Greenland Inuit (Kalaallit).
Subsistence activities of the Nunavut Inuit have taken on a meaning beyond mere
physical survival. I have noted in my research at Kugaaruk (Nunavut Territory) since 1975,
that subsistence activities, particularly seal hunting on the sea ice, are also a potent symbol
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169

of ethnic identity (Stewart 1995). Hunting and other subsistence activities serve as an
expression of self-representation of the Inuit as a distinctive culture and society,emphasizing the uniqueness of the Inuit as contrasted to contiguous indigenous groups andthe Canadian majority society.
In this respect, subsistence activities in Nunavut Inuit society are not only a means of
livelihood, but also take on importance as an ethnic marker in political negotiations withgovernment agencies and contiguous indigenous groups.
In Greenland Inuit society, subsistence activities play a role in livelihood, but are
seldom, if ever, employed as a political tool (Hayashi 2014), except in the case ofinternational debate of climate change.
In spite of the fact that both groups derive from a common cultural and genetic
background, the remarkable disparity in cognizance of indigeneity and ethnicity, and thedivergent paths of economic development cannot be explained by environmental
conditions alone.
I discuss the historical, social, political and economic factors that have contributed to acontrast between Nunavut and Greenland Inuit society concerning the importance attachedto subsistence activities, with particular emphasis on developments since the 1950s.

2. The Problem
Inter-regional comparisons of Inuit (Eskimo) societies are few. Hughes (1965)
presented a pan-Arctic review of cultural change in the mid-20th century. A comparison of
Nunavut – Greenland by Loukacheva (2007) focused upon legal and political economy, butdoes not include observations on economic or subsistence activities.
I have chosen six factors influencing patterns of persistence in Nunavut subsistence
activities and change in the economic activities of Greenland Inuit society. They are, 1)
modality of colonial rule (benignity or harshness), 2) the geographic element (contiguity toor distance from the suzerain state and national majority), 3) the economic element(opportunity for modern economic/entrepreneurial development), 4) the social element(presence/absence of other contiguous ethnic groups), 5) the environmental element(consequences of climate change), and 6) political status. With these elements in mind, I
inquire into the historical and contemporary factors that have worked to manifest astriking difference in change and persistence of subsistence and economic activities
between these two societies today.
Canadian Inuit societies outside of Nunavut are not included in this study.
This choice of regions is based upon the contention that both groups share a common
cultural ancestor (Thule, 1000-1500 CE), and have experienced colonial subjugation fromthe late 18th century. However, notwithstanding this commonality, a significant difference
may be noted between adaptations in subsistence activities. The Inuit (Kalaallit) of south
Greenland have to a greater extent embraced modern economic activities exceeding
subsistence (as defined below) such as commercial fishing, whaling and agriculture
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170

including sheep and vegetable farming. Hayashi (2014) argues that sheep farming
introduced into 20th century Greenland has become a traditional economic pursuit.
On the other hand, the Inuit of Nunavut have not engaged in livestock farming andattach greater importance to more “traditional” subsistence activities.
I use the term “subsistence” here in an extended sense. As Freeman notes (2000, xvi)
subsistence is often defined as the bare minimum of survival using only simple tools.
However, as Kuokkanen also argues, contemporary indigenous economies are mixed,
including commodity production, wage labour and enterprise (2011, 221), and as such are
not independent of the monetary economy (2011, 233). Subsistence activities in modern
Inuit societies are grounded on cash income where cash income is a prerequisite tomechanization of subsistence activities in permanent settlements (Government ofGreenland, 2012, 2; Stewart, 1995). I here define subsistence as culturally significant foodproduction and other life supporting activities, excluding activities based primarily upon
wage employment (i.e. mine or government employment). Subsistence activities may
include local monetary transactions, particularly in Greenland, but are not oriented tointernational markets.

3. Historical BackgroundAs a background to this presentation, I briefly outline the histories of Nunavut andGreenland, with emphasis on the 19th to 21st century colonial experience.

3.1. Nunavut
Because this organization is of Canadian specialists, I present only an abbreviatedversion of Nunavut history (Table 11.1). The Nunavut area was settled at least 4000 years
ago by the Palaeo-Eskimo, and about 1000 years ago came the Neo-Eskimo Thule people,
the genetic and cultural ancestors of the modern Inuit (Dyke et al., 2011). Although PalaeoEskimo sites dated to 4600 BCE are known for northern Greenland, evidence of PalaeoEskimo occupation in Nunavut before 4000 BCE has yet to be discovered.
Table 11.1. Outline of Nunavut history
4000~2500 yBP

Palaeo-Eskimo (Pre-Dorset and Dorset cultures)

1000~500 yBP

Neo-Eskimo (Thule Culture)

500 CE~present

Inuit society

1999

Nunavut Territory established* yBP = years before present
Effective colonial rule that began in the 19th century was preceded by large scale furtrade in the 18th century (Francis and Morantz, 1983) that contributed to the incorporationof Nunavut Inuit into the global economy. Effective colonial rule of Nunavut from the late
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171

1800’s was much harsher than that of Greenland, including forced enrolment in English
curriculum residential schools far from home (Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2003), de
facto control by the Northwest Mounted Police (later Royal Canadian Mounted Police) andthe Hudson’s Bay Company (Damas, 2002, 80, 127; Loukacheva, 2007, 88-89). These facts,
in addition to coercive relocation to permanent settlements (Tester and Kulchyski 1994, 610) symbolize the harshness of colonial rule in the Canadian Arctic as compared toGreenland.
The Nunavut Territorial Government was established in 1999, but is more limited inauthority than Greenland Home Rule. Nunavut Inuit society is homogenous in nature, andsubsistence activities, according to the game pursued, are generally similar. The population
is 37,000, of which about 31,000 persons are of Inuit ancestry (Nunavut Bureau of
Statistics).

3.2. Greenland
Human settlement in Greenland began about 4,600 years ago (Gronnow and Jensen,
2003; Sørensen, 2012, 189), including two, possibly three genetic populations—early
Palaeo-Eskimo, late Palaeo-Eskimo and the Thule population—not including the Medieval
Norse and modern Danish (Gilbert et al., 2008; Helgason et al., 2006) (see Table 11.2).
As opposed to the generally homogenous Nunavut Inuit society, the Inuit society ofGreenland may by characterized by three geographical units, the Inuhuit of the north, theAmmassalik / Tunumiit of the east, and the Kalaallit of the south. In this paper, the southrefers to the area extending from Nuuk to the southern tip of the island.
“Kalaallit” is the official designation of all Inuit of Greenland, but historically this this
ethnonym referred primarily to the Inuit of south Greenland (Gad, 1984, 563; Gullov, 1997,
408-409; Kleivan, 1984a, 254; Kleivan, 1984b, 620; Stewart, 2014, 4-5). I have yet to find alegal criterion for “Kalaallit” (Greenland Inuit), but in general terms, being born inGreenland is an administratively registered proxy for Inuit (Hamilton and Rasmussen,
2010, 45). In this paper, in order to reflect the difference in the three geographical units, I
refer to the entirety of Inuit in Greenland as Greenland Inuit, and use the term Kalaallit inreference to the south Greenland Inuit. The distinction is for the purpose of arguments
presented in this paper, and does imply a denial of the official designation of the entire
Greenland nation.
Table 11.2. Outline of Greenland History4600～3000 yBP

Early Palaeo-Eskimo (Saqqaq, IndependenceⅠcultures)

3000～ 800 yBP

Late Palaeo-Eskimo (IndependenceⅡ or Dorset culture)

1200～4-500 yBP

Neo-Eskimo (Thule culture)

1000～ 600 CE

Norse from Iceland bring agriculture to south Greenland

1721～1952 CE

Kingdom of Denmark-Norway immigrants, colonial period

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Colonial status abolished, made a county of Denmark

1979 CE

Self-government

2009 CEHome Rule* yBP = years before present
The population of Greenland is approximately 57,000, of which about 50,000 persons
are of Inuit ancestry (Statistics Greenland, 2014; Central Intelligence Agency, 2015). Thereexists a marked difference between subsistence activities of north and east Greenland andthose of south Greenland Inuit (Kalaallit), as well as an almost diametrically opposed
reaction to climate change (Nuttall, 2008). Such a regional variance is not conspicuous in
Canada, but the reaction to climate change by the north Greenland Inuit is similar to that of
the Nunavut Inuit.
Livelihood of the south Greenland Inuit is based largely upon government (8,000
employees) and service industry employment, agriculture and tourism, including whale
watching, while the Inuhuit of north Greenland are primarily a hunting society. The
economy of the Ammassalik/Tunumiit of east Greenland is a mix of hunting, commercial
fishing and tourism.

4. Concise Overview of Greenland / Nunavut Economic Activities: A Comparison
For the sake of brevity, observations here are very general, often ignoring details. Also,
here “tradition” refers not to a condition frozen in time, but a time slice of ever-changing
cultural and social phenomena. In this essay, “tradition” refers mainly to subsistence
activities rooted in history, and here is differentiated from recent entrepreneurial
economic activities such as sheep farming, whaling, tourism, and so on.

4.1. Greenland
Colonial rule in Greenland until the mid-20th century basically fostered self-support intraditionally occupied small communities (Gad, 1984, 561). Colonial rule, although benign
in nature, of course brought about many changes, but much of the traditional cultural fabricremained intact (Beukel, 2010, 13; Fleischer, 2003, 40-41; Thomsen, 1996, 266-267) (Thispoint is disputed by Graugaard (2009), but generally accepted in the literature). In
Greenland, the colonial law system distinguished between Danish law and customary law(Loukacheva, 2007, 88-89), a system that stands in stark contrast to 19th~early 20th
century Canadian Arctic situation. Paternalistic isolation (Loukacheva, 2007, 21-22;
Sorensen, 2007, 55) and education from the 18th century conducted primarily inGreenlandic (Kalaallisut) (Orvik, 1976, 68; Rink, 1974, 214-217) also contributed to themaintenance of traditional society.
However, modernization policy by the Denmark government enacted in the post-WWII
era radically changed Inuit culture and society (Petersen, 1984). Briefly, modernization
policy focused upon and promoted industrialization, such as commercial fishing,
agriculture and industry in south and to some extent, east Greenland (Kleivan, 1984c, 701Return to Table of Contents
173704). These policies resulted in a demographic shift turning Greenlanders from being
primarily subsistence hunters into urbanized wage earners. Full-time hunters now number
about 2000, that is, less than 3.5 percent of the total population (Government of Greenland,
2015, 5), a drop of 50% from 1993 (Sorensen, 2007,155). A full-time hunter may be
defined as a person trying to survive out of fishing and hunting, as opposed to full-timewage earners and professional farmers and commercial fishermen(http://trade.ec.europa.eu/doclib/docs/2014/june/tradoc_152604.pdf; Government ofGreenland, 2012, 12).
Commercial fishing, accounting for 89% of total exports (Hendriksen et al., 2014, 258),
including exports to Japan, is the major industry in east Greenland. Mining prospects arepromising, but stalled by the current political situation. Deposits of petroleum may become
accessible due to less and thinner sea ice. Development of these resources could contributeto economic independence for Greenland (Greenland Bureau of Minerals and Petroleum,2012), which in turn may form the economic base for an independent Greenland nation(Nuttall, 2008). Numerous deposits of rare earth also hold promise for economic
development (Hendriksen et al., 2014).
Agriculture in south Greenland is still in its initial stage, but 130 tonnes (2012) ofpotatoes are harvested and more than 25,000 sheep are sent yearly to a local meat
processing facility. This may not appear to be a large production, but is a substantial
contribution to food self-sufficiency for a population of only 56,000 persons. In addition tohome gardens found in all south Greenland homes, 48 full-time farmers and several
experimental stations produce cabbage, beans, turnips, cucumbers, and tomatoes fordomestic consumption (Tietge, 2010; Røen et al., 2010).
Agriculture is not an alternative in east Greenland; but amelioration of sea ice
conditions and ocean current change have contributed to increased production of fishingfleets. More than 5000 Greenland Inuit are employed in fishing and other associatedindustries.
Recent sea ice conditions also make Arctic cruise season longer and safer. Cruise shipsthat put in mostly to east and south Greenland bring more than 30,000 persons, in addition
to the 30,000 tourists arriving by air, more than the population of Greenland (Stromberg,2011).
These economic activities are all a product of, or furthered by recent climate change.
Aside from the sentiments of north Greenland Inuit, the Government generally views
climate change (warming) positively and considers it a factor for new economic
opportunity (Nuttall, 2008, 46).
Greenland Home Rule is essentially semi-autonomous and the capital Nuuk isseparated from Denmark by 3500 kilometres of ocean. Moreover, Inuit are the only
indigenous people and the Danish government has historically considered Greenland “theland of the Inuit”. Because of these and other factors, there is little need to emphasize or
symbolize indigeneity, a potential political tool often mobilized by Nunavut Inuit and otherindigenous peoples. Indigeneity seldom enters into Greenland politics.

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4.2. Nunavut
Nunavut, in contrast to Greenland, a territory with limited autonomy is geographicallycontiguous to the national majority. The Nunavut Legislative Assembly has only
circumcised authority (Loukacheva, 2007, 56, 60; Nunavut Acts Designation Policy) whencompared to the parliament of Greenland, which has judicial, financial, legal authority andeven some authority in foreign policy that does not contravene international law orcompromise Danish defense and security policy (Statsministeriet).
Economic possibilities exist also in Nunavut, such as natural resource development andtourism. However, petroleum deposits, known mainly for the north-east section, will bedifficult to develop because sea ice is chocked-in by many small islands, making marinetransport difficult or impossible. Tourism is an important element also in Nunavut, buthere also sea ice conditions limit tourists to only 14,000 a year, 1/4 the number or touriststhat visit Greenland (Stewart et al., 2007).
I have not found statistics concerning number of full-time hunters in Nunavut, but myobservations there over the past 30 years lead me to believe that a sizable percentage ofthe population may be classified as full-time hunters according to the criteria noted above.
However, in Nunavut I observed no monetary transaction in the distribution of country
food among the Inuit. In contrast, country food is sold locally in markets and shops, even bystreet vendors in Greenland.

5. Discussion: Change and Persistence
Naotaka Hayashi, in his research of Greenland sheep faming, points up a difference inthe role of indigeneity and ethnic identity between Nunavut and Greenland Inuit societies(Hayashi, 2014). Hayashi states that the Nunavut Inuit tend to be more concerned withtradition, rather than exploring new avenues of development (2014,155). His argument isvalid in many respects, but here I shall re-appraise his judgment on the role of traditional
subsistence ideology and indigeneity, and how these relate to persistence of subsistence
activities in Nunavut.
Hayashi says (Nunavut) Inuit tend to be preoccupied with past tradition, rather thaninnovation of tradition. This stands in contrast to Greenland Inuit, who embrace outsideelements to innovate tradition (Hayashi, 2014,155). He goes on to say that this attitudetends to reproduce an emasculated manifestation of tradition in Nunavut (2014, 156).
This argument suggests that “innovation” typifies Greenland, while “persistence” and“stasis” is characteristic of the Nunavut Inuit. Hayashi’s argument highlights one aspect of
Nunavut Inuit society, but we are left with the impression that Nunavut is tradition-boundand backward-looking.
The emphasis upon traditional subsistence in Nunavut Inuit society should beinterpreted against historical, political, social and environmental conditions unique to
Nunavut as compared to Greenland (see Table 11.3). I propose that traditional subsistence
ideology in Nunavut is future-oriented, and an effective adaptation to present
environmental and political circumstances.
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175

Table 11.3. Factors Influencing Contrasting Economic Pursuits in Nunavut andGreenland
Greenland

Nunavut

Modality of historical colonial
rule

Benign (laissez-faire): few
conflicts

Harsh: forced residential
schooling etc.

Geographical relation to rulingstate

Geographically separate: lessintervention by Danish gov’t.

Contiguous: constant necessity
for negotiation with Federal
gov’t.

Economic development potential

Large mineral and petroleum
reserves, agriculture possible inthe south

Few mineral reserves,
petroleum reserve development
difficult due to sea ice
conditions

Relations with other Indigenous
groupsGreenland Inuit only Indigenous
group

Contiguous borders withnumerable other Indigenous
groups: conflict of interest

Change in physical environment

Less sea ice, glacier retreat andclimate warming conducive toeconomic development

Early spring sea ice melt, late ice
formation detrimental tosubsistence activities

Political status

Strong ethnic self-government
with theoretical possibility of
independence

Subordinate territorial status,
little possibility of increased
autonomy.

Indigeneity in politics

Not important

Important in gov’t and interindigenous negotiation

Importance of traditional
indigenous knowledge

Scant importance to modern
industries such a sheep farming
and commercial fishing

Essential to ethnic identity andcohesion, and a lever in landclaim and other politicalnegotiations

In Greenland, traditional subsistence activities are pursued to a certain extent, but asHayashi indicates, are seldom employed as a political tool (2014, 155-157), except in thecase of international debate over climate change. The relatively benign colonial regime inGreenland, as well as the mono-ethnic composition of the population, has fostered a social
atmosphere where an active representation of ethnicity and indigeneity is not a politicalpriority. The highly autonomous contemporary Greenland government, representing asingle indigenous people, has the opportunity to pursue autonomously various avenues of
economic development. Indigeneity, symbolized by hunting and other traditional
subsistence activities, although conspicuous in popular media, does not play an eminentrole in domestic politics (Hayashi, 2014, 156). As an important economic and culturalactivity, full-time hunting is largely limited to small scattered communities and plays only aminor role in the south Greenland society, where more than 85% of the population isconcentrated. Rather, capitalistic economic pursuits are hailed in the government slogan ofGreenland as a “The Pioneering Nation” (Nuttall, 2012, 118).
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176

The interaction of several factors has been decisive in recent economic development inGreenland, particularly in the south. South Greenland was, and is, where Danes settled. This
constituent led naturally to European influence on the Kalaallit (southern Greenland Inuit)society and culture. The benignity of colonial rule created a social atmosphere wherein
Kalaallit assimilated Danish economic ideology with little resistance. As many researchers
point out, modern entrepreneurial economic undertakings were primarily proposed or
introduced by Danes (e.g. Rasmussen 2000). For example, Jens Chemnitz, who first
introduced sheep farming, was the son of a Danish cooper (Langgard, 1998, 94). The
historical legacy of small-scale horticulture and husbandry of the Norse in the 11th-15th
centuries probably was not a decisive factor in the establishment of sheep farming in theearly 20th century. The environmental potential for sheep farming existed since at least thepast two centuries (Rasmussen, 2000, 128), but it was not until the Danish government
began a programme promoting modernization the 20th century that sheep farming took
hold.
Modernisation policy introduced in the early 20th century was followed by concerted
programmes of modernisation in the 1950s and industrialisation in the 1960s that
accelerated economic innovation (Kleivan, 1984c).
The absence of inter-ethnic competition and the commingling of Danes into Kalaallit
society have created an atmosphere conducive to cultural and economic innovation
possible in a relatively mild marine and terrestrial physical environment.
In contrast to the social and political environment of Greenland, a rather oppressive
colonial history, coupled with geographical contiguity to numerous other minority
indigenous groups and the Euro-Canadian majority, put Nunavut Inuit in the position thatnecessitates ethnic representation and repeated demonstration of indigeneity. As aterritory, many decisions concerning development and resource co-management inNunavut necessitate endorsement of the Federal Government (Nunavut Acts Designation
Policy).
Economically, harsh environmental conditions preclude the possibility of agriculture
and off-shore fishing, as well as making it difficult to ship out mineral and petroleum
resources. The possibility of economic diversification in Nunavut is limited byenvironmental factors. Under these circumstances Nunavut Inuit leaders have chosen toemphasize traditionalism as a means to survive culturally, socially and politically in the
Arctic. Traditional subsistence ideology is an effective agent to realize such goals. Also,
traditional subsistence ideology plays a role in conflict of inter-ethnic interests, and is apolitical base for negotiation with the Federal Government. Distinctive ethnicity andindigeneity, symbolized by traditional subsistence activities, are indispensable political
tools to the Nunavut Inuit.
Inuit ethnicity is epitomized in Inuit Qaujimajatuqangit (IQ). In the broad sense, IQ
encompasses various systems of knowledge, wisdom, practice, and belief gained throughexperience and culturally transmitted among members and generations (Huntington andFox, 2005, 64). IQ is specifically a code of ethnic (Inuit) ethics and an emblem of ethnicity
evincing the uniqueness of the Inuit of Nunavut, contrasting that of contiguous indigenous
Return to Table of Contents177peoples and the majority Canadian society. As such, it functions as a potent political lever ininter-ethnic and Canadian government negations.
IQ also serves as a vehicle to promote social cohesion and pride in a society that has
few alternatives for economic development. In this respect, IQ is a future-oriented ideology,
particularly Nunavut Inuit youth who do not have the option to pursue entrepreneurial
occupations available to the Kalaallit.

6. Conclusion
Nunavut Inuit and the Kalaallit of Greenland share common cultural roots, and werevery similar in subsistence regimes until the early 20th century. In spite of the commonality,
the two groups evidence divergent paths of economic development, and as a result, there isa marked contrast in the importance attached to traditional subsistence ideology andTraditional Indigenous Knowledge (TIK) as embodied in IQ.
In Nunavut, IQ is specifically a code of ethnic (Inuit) ethics and an emblem of ethnicity
evincing the uniqueness of the Inuit of Nunavut, contrasting that of contiguous indigenous
peoples and the majority Canadian society. As such, it functions as a potent political lever inintra-ethnic and Canadian government negations (Loukacheva, 2007, 63). It is noteworthy
that in Greenland, where Home Rule was achieved in 2009, there are no co-management
projects so well-known in Canada, because Greenland government has the authority tomake its own domestic decisions.
TIK plays little importance in the livelihood of south Greenland Kalaallit. Here, local
knowledge concerning recently introduced agriculture and offshore fishing, and the related
global economic fluctuation is of foremost importance. In contrast, traditional subsistence
activities form the basis of ethnic maintenance in the Nunavut Inuit society. This is theplatform for negotiations with neighbouring ethnic groups and the Federal government.
Environment is the common denominator in both groups, but the numerator differs
between them. In south Greenland, climate amelioration makes husbandry and agriculture
a viable economic pursuit, as well as permitting development and shipping of petroleum
and mineral deposits. On the other hand, climatic change in Nunavut does not yet result inan environment conducive to agriculture nor ameliorate sea ice conditions enough to allow
development and shipping of natural resources, nor allow cruise ships in the number of
those landing in Greenland.
In this essay, I argue that traditional subsistence activities in Nunavut are not only ameans of livelihood, but also take on importance in inter-ethnic social relations andpolitical negotiations, both on domestic and international stages. Subsistence ideology inNunavut is a future-oriented strategy to cope with the present environmental, social andpolitical situation of Nunavut today.
In closing, I express my appreciation for the constructive comments to the draft of thisessay by Nobuhiro Kishigami of the National Museum of Ethnology.

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18212. Part of the Moose: Maintaining Continuity Between the
Kaska and Animals Through Hunting Activity
Mikako Yamaguchi
Assistant Professor, Department of Cultural Studies
Gifu University
Email: mikakoy@gifu-u.ac.jp

Abstract
North American indigenous people are known as the people that have maintained a
relationship with animals through hunting. In this paper I examine the continuity between
the indigenous Kaska people of northwestern Canada and the animals of the region,
through their hunting activities. Specifically, first of all, I will analyze Kaska hunting byclassifying their knowledge, rituals and norms of hunting. I will suggest that rituals forgame animals are not necessarily required for all species. This reveals the fact that thepresence or absence of rituals depends on whether the animal will be eaten, suggestingthat hunting for eating is more important than hunting for profit or fur.
Secondly, I will examine my field data of moose hunting focused on ritual andcognition. The moose is the most important food of the Kaska and their relationship withthe moose is at the core of Kaska society. Also my field data shows that Kaska people
recognize that their hunts succeed because their relationship with the moose has been
maintained.
The background of this idea is the recognition that the Kaska view of animals is
composed of two general concepts. One is the reciprocity between human beings andanimals; the other is “original oneness.” Also performing rituals for animals is anexpression of the Kaska people’s desire to maintain a close and ongoing relationship withthe animals.
Keywords: Canada First Nation, Hunter-gatherer culture, Ritual and activity, Yukon
Territory

1. Introduction
In this paper I examine the continuity between the indigenous Kaska people of western
Canada and the animals of the region through their hunting activities. My first thesis
centers on an analysis of Kaska hunting practices and uses an animal classification scheme
based on the hunting method employed, the way in which the hunted animal will be used,
and the accompanying hunting ritual. It suggests that rituals for game animals are not
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183necessarily required for all species. It reveals the fact that the presence or absence of
rituals depends on whether the animal will be eaten and establishes that hunting for eating
is more important than hunting for profit or fur. A second thesis considers the reasons that
the Kaska people perform hunting rituals for animals that do not eat other animals, basedon moose-hunting field data which focus on ritual and cognition. The moose is the mostimportant food of the Kaska and their relationship with the moose is at the core of Kaska
society. As an indicator of this, my field data show that the Kaska people recognize that
their hunts succeed because their relationship with the moose has been maintained.
This study is based on empirical observational ecology in which I attempt todemonstrate the interplay between observational ecology and religion by discussing the
behavioral strategy of northern hunter-gathers (Irimoto, 1994).

2. Objectives and Method
The traditional territory of the Kaska First Nation encompasses over 240,000km² of
boreal forest area in Northeast British Columbia and Southeast Yukon (Figure 12.1). The
Kaska language is classified as a Northern Athapaskan, Thaltan-Kaska-Tagish language of
the Na-dene family. Further, the Kaska are classified into the Northern Athapaskan cultural
sphere. However, Kaska culture has been deeply influenced by the First Nations peoples of
the Northwest Coast, including elaborate social systems such as the clan system, because
the Kaska are located on the border (Moore, 2002).
My field research, which forms the basis of this paper, was intermittently executedfrom September of 2005 to March of 2014 under a license (License Number 06-07&SE, 0785&SE, 09-010&SE) issued by the Yukon Territory. During this period, I lived with the
Kaska people and learned hunting, trapping and gathering in the bush, and collectedprimary source materials by experiential empirical observation. Many of my informants
were Kaska elders (65 years or older). I also did complementary research by fact-findingon the spot and collecting literature.

3. Kaska Subsistence Today
Traditionally, Kaska subsistence has been based on hunting and gathering. Much of
Kaska hunting depend on land mammals like moose and caribou for the greater part oflife’s necessities, especially in regions lacking large salmon stocks. It is estimated that thefirst contact between “white people” and the Kaska occurred in the Halket trading post on
the Liard River that the Hudson’s Bay Company managed in the 1820's (Honigmann, 1981).
People from outside the region began immigrating to prospect for gold in the early 1870's
and a large number of Euro-Canadians passed along this route in the Kaska territory on theway to the Klondike gold rush of 1897 to 1898. At the same time, Euro-Canadian trappers
were trapping in this region until the end of the 19th century. Protestant and Roman
Catholic missionaries visited the Kaska people prior to 1926, the year that the Catholicfathers established a mission at MacDame Creek on Kaska land (Honigmann, 1981). At thattime, Euro-Canadians brought many new technologies. Later, trading posts, stores andReturn to Table of Contents184

churches were erected in the Kaska territory. As a result, people gathered in the town andsettled.
Figure 12.1. Kaska Traditional Territory(Source: http://www.kaskadenacouncil.com/kaska-dena-nation/our-land/120)
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185

However, the Kaska people believe that the most significant changes in their lives werecaused by the construction of the airport and the highway, followed in the 1940s by theimmigration of Euro-Canadians. The influence of Euro-Canadian society increased rapidly
with the appearance of a stable traffic road. It accelerated the growth of "micro-urban
villages” (Smith, 1978). Shifts to the money economy and the occupation economy rolled in
Canadian administration and the community system, ultimately contributing to changes inbeliefs and language. For instance, when the field-work of anthropologist Honigmann,carried out between 1944 and 1945, was surveyed, an investigation in English was possible(Honigmann, 1981).
Thus, it is understood that contact between Kaska and a Euro-Canadian (society
and/or culture) came about in two stages, the former being a gradual introduction oftechnology and goods in the early immigration of Euro-Canadians and the latter coming as
a great social change after the stand of the 1940s. Today, the town has amusement facilities
such as hotels, restaurants, and golf courses, as well as welfare facilities such as highschools, hospitals, and libraries. Almost everyone lives in houses with modern equipment
such as electricity, water service and TV, and many of them own cars.
Even with such different value systems, the Kaska people seem to have accepted muchof European culture. In town, the Kaska lifestyle is almost identical to that of the “whiteman.” However, this does not mean that the Kaska are losing their ethnic culture. Suchchanges, especially the transformation of their culture by their quickly and adaptively
taking up new tools and technology, are a common trait of many indigenous societies thatsurvived in a severe environment (Yamaguchi, 2011).
Traditionally the Kaska community was not a closed society. Its members were active
participants in trading, marriage, and war with neighboring First Nations. The Kaska
people tend to embrace convenience tools and accept new ways with a positive attitude.
Henry Sharp, who conducted anthropological research on a Chipewyan, Athapaskan family,
described the Chipewyan people as follows: “They are great survivors with an almost
uncanny ability to reinvent themselves in the face of changing circumstances. Their history
is a history of repeated adaptation and transformation to the changing context of their life”(Sharp, 2004, 139-140). As with many other Canada First Nations, hybridity is acharacteristic of the Kaska culture, and the Kaska people survive by positively receiving
new elements from other cultures, while maintaining the core of their own culture. In thisway, the Kaska have accepted a money economy but bush food remains an essential part of
the Kaska diet. In other words, the Kaska have adopted a “mixed economy” (Omagari,2004). Under such a mixed economy, the people retain their hunting-gathering culture in
the contemporary world (Berkes and Berkes, 1999).

4. Kaska Utilization and Method of Munting Animals as Natural Resources
During my field-work, I witnessed the Kaska people, especially the elders of thecommunity, using natural resources year-round (Table 12.1).

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Table 12.1. Year-round Hunting-gathering Activities
Month
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
AugustSeptember
OctoberNovember
December

Activity
Trapping
Trapping
Tanning hide
Ice fishing
Beaver and muskrat hunting
Tanning hide
Beaver and muskrat hunting
Tanning hide
Gathering birch water and edible wild plants
Tanning hide
Gathering medicine
Drying medicine
Gathering berries
Gathering berries
HuntingFishing
Making dry fish
Hunting
Making toboggan and snowshoe
Making toboggan and snowshoe
Maintaining trail
Trapping
Trapping
Ice fishing

According to my field data on the utilization of natural resources, a high percentage ofthis usage involves animals (Yamaguchi 2012, 2014). Therefore, my analysis here focuseson animal resources. As described in the introduction, it reveals that for the Kaska people,
the appropriate classification scheme should be based on animal species, hunting method
and the utilization by the hunter of the hunted animals (Table 12.2).
Table 12.2. Kaska Utilization and Method of Hunting Animals
Classification

Hunting method

Utilization

Kaska
classification

Order

SpeciesRifle
huntingtrapping

meat

Skin

Animals that do
not eat otheranimals

Leporidae

Snowshoe
hare

○

○

○

△

Rodentia

Red squirrel○△

Fur for

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187

sale
Least
chipmunk△

Northern
flyingsquirrel△

Hoaraymarmot○○Woodchuck

○

○

North
Americanporcupine

○

○

Quill
for
sawing○Fur for
sale
and
use

○

Fur for
sale
and
use

AmericanbeaverArtiodactyla

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△

○

○

Muskrat○○Mule deer△△White-tailed
deer

△

△

Elk

○

○

△

Moose

○

○

Hide

Caribou

○

○

Hide

Mountain
goat

△

△

Dall’ｓ sheep

○

○
188

Animals that eatother animals

Carnivora

Least weasel（Ermine?)○Fur forsale

AmericanMink○

Fur forsale

Americanmarten○Fur forsale

Northernriver otter○

Fur forsale

Wolverine○

Fur for
sale
and
use

Canadian
lynx

○

△

Fur forsale△△Black bear△

Grizzly bear△

Gray wolf△○

Fur forsale

Coyote△△△○Fur forsale

Red fox△

Table 12.2 shows that the largest frame of the Kaska classification scheme is “animals
that eat other animals” and “animals that do not eat other animals.” The Kaska people
believe that “animals that eat other animals” are not good for food and that only “animals
that do not eat other animals” are suitable for eating. There are, however, exceptions. The
Kaska people will sometimes eat “animals that eat other animals,” including, for example,
the lynx. In such cases, they will offer an excuse. “Because the lynx eats only grouse,” they
will remark, “it means they really don’t eat meat.” It appears that the Kaska people arequite conscious of an animal’s categorization within this scheme.
The members of the Kaska community use animals killed in hunting not just as foodbut also as material that serves a variety of other purposes. The most important of thesematerials is the skin. The Kaska tan the skin to make clothes and tools. Traditionally they
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189have also tanned the fur for use in sewing, but now many of them sell the fur to earnmoney.
As indicated in Table 12.2, the Kaska hunt animals in two ways: hunting with a rifle andtrapping. Taken together with the two classification factors described earlier, this produces
the three-way classification scheme described in the table. Focusing first on method andutilization, three main groups emerge: (1) animals hunted (with a rifle) for food and otheruses in the community, as in the case of moose; (2) animals trapped in order to sell theanimal’s fur, as in the case of martins; and (3) animals sometimes hunted (with a rifle) forfood and sometimes trapped in order to sell their fur, as in the case of beavers. I thenanalyzed the connection between these three groups and the performance of rituals. It was
clear that the Kaska people perform rituals for some, but not all, animals. I learned thatrituals are performed for a moose or beaver—when the beaver meat is eaten—in order topromote the rebirth of their animal spirit, whereas no rituals are performed when thebeaver is trapped solely for the sale of its fur.

5. The Meaning of the RitualTo find the reasons for the rituals, I examined various hypotheses related to animal
resource utilization. The first possibility is that the Kaska people want to apologize to theanimal for its killing. Just as is true for many Japanese (and others) who have grown up in
the contemporary world, I become highly emotional whenever I witness an instance ofkilling and often feel a powerful sense of remorse. To express this remorse, ancientJapanese rituals such as “Kuyou” for slaughtered animals are meant to apologize for thekilling and to provide a funeral for the dead animal’s soul. However, if this sort of apologydriven motivation were behind Kaska rituals, one would have to believe that it would apply
for all animals that the Kaska killed, or at least for all animals killed directly by means of arifle. But, as already observed, the Kaska people don’t perform rituals for all animals. And
while, at first glance, performing a ritual seems to be connected to animals killed by rifle,
the fact is that even if a beaver is trapped, a ritual may sometimes be performed.
The second possibility is that the Kaska people perform their rituals in order to avoid
revenge from the animal’s spirit. The Kaska view of world is based on animism andshamanism (Honigmann, 1981; Yamaguchi, 2014). According to this traditional view,
animals have personality and are able to talk with the Kaska people. Many Kaska huntersbelieve they have a “medicine animal,” similar to a guardian angel. This "medicine animal"
has a spiritual power that can be used to help people. According to the Kaska, each animal
species has a different power and ability. At the same time, the Kaska people regard thepower of some animals as dangerous. Honigmann (1981, 108-109) described these magicalpowers and dangers as follows:
Upper Liard Kaska. In pre-contact time the Indians of the Cassiar recognized,
several species of animals as magically dangerous. Holding first place in thiscategory which among other Mackenzie drainage people is reserved for the wolf.
Like mink, the otter could drive persons insane, subject them to fainting,nosebleed, and produce more serious illness such as “twisting up”. Both animals
were avoided as food. A mink inadvertently caught in a deadfall had its carcass
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thrown into the fire and covered with feathers. This “put them (i.e., mink) in goodmind”. To take live mink from a trap was particularly dangerous. An otter taken ina beaver deadfall was returned to the stream or lake with instructions to one’s
children not to drink water near the place. Dreaming of the otter made people
fearful and such dreams were regarded as originating with the animal itself. Otter
possessed power to transform themselves into human beings. Attitudes of
profound respect and avoidance were not lacking for the wolf. A hunter who
wounded this animal always let it go free with the expectation that the creature
would again present itself to the hunter. Should it then be killed, a depletion ofgame would follow within two or three years. ….Contemporary informants still
categorize the mink, otter, and wolf as “devil’s helpers”. Also allied with Gusliina
are the snake, toad, elephant, wolverine, flying squirrel, and grizzly bear.”In this sense, the performance of rituals seems to correlate with the way the Kaska
classify animals as those that eat other animals and those that do not. Based on my fieldwork, the Kaska people perform a ritual almost exclusively for animals that do not eatother animals. However, even though it is very rare, rituals can be performed for an animal
that eats other animals. To illustrate, one of the Kaska elders recounted a story describing ahardship that she and her mother had endured: “(At) that time, we (the elder and hermom) suffer from starvation. Then black bear come close our camp. Mom shot the bear.
Usually we take eye out before cooking head means after skinning. But that time, mom tookeyes at first. During skinning bear, mom keep talk with that bear very carefully. She told
him that, we so starve… no moose even no rabbit… we need food. And after skinning, firstplace mom put bear’s head on the tree and made prayer. That’s first time to eat bear meatand I never eat after. It was good though. Also I remember next morning yang moose cometo our camp and we get it.”This narrative suggests that bear meat can serve as an emergency food, even though abear is an animal that eats other animals. It may also be true that since a black bear’s diet ismostly plants, this is the reason that some members of the community may sometimes eat
bear meat. But the bear is also considered by the Kaska to be a brother with strong power.
It may be for this reason that the elder’s mother treated the bear’s remains very carefully
and performed the ritual— to avoid the bear’s revenge.
This case further suggests that the performance of a ritual correlates to the Kaska
classification scheme. Animals in the category of "animals that don’t eat animals," maywarrant a ritual. Correctly, people perform a ritual if they want to eat the meat of theanimal. In this sense, we can understand why even the killing of an "animal that eats otheranimals," such as the bear, sometimes requires a ritual.

6. The Ritual of Moose Hunting
In the case of animals used specifically for food, then, the necessity of a ritual has beensuggested. In this section, I consider why the Kaska people perform a ritual for animals that
don’t eat other animals through my field data dealing with moose hunting, with a focus on
ritual and cognition.
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The moose is the most important game for the Kaska people. According Table 13, theKaska hunt moose intensively in August and September. The rifle is the main hunting
implement. The Kaska use motorboats, cars, and small planes for transportation while
hunting. It is certainly true that hunting is the most important of the bush activities, and isconsidered central to the Kaska way of life. The motives for hunting are simple: it serves asa primary source of food and provides numerous body parts that can be used for multiple
purposes.
During a hunt, the Kaska pay close attention to animal signs and observe the Kaska
norm (code). The hunting practice of one of my informants showed this pattern quite well.
He was always attentive to messages he received from the animals, especially in deciding
when to go hunting and which animals to seek. He received messages both directly fromanimals in the bush and through his dreams. He told me that as people develop their own
sixth sense, the voice from the animals becomes clearer and clearer. Moreover, according to
the Kaska norm, he intentionally avoided shooting female moose accompanied by theircalves.
After succeeding at the moose hunt and dissecting the moose’s body, my informant
always performed a ritual that would include hanging the moose’s windpipe on a tree. I
wondered why and asked him. He answered, “This will allow the moose’s spirit to breathe
again. And then the moose’s spirit will return with meat in the future.” After harvesting themoose, he carefully followed the Kaska norms and taboos in cutting the meat; he separated
all the sinew, bone, and internal organ portions for human consumption and for the dogs.
The hide and brain were saved for tanning, and the hind leg bone was kept for a scraper.
Generally he shared the moose’s remains with his relatives and friends after hunting. Whenhe ate dinner at his sister’s home, his sister usually cooked moose meat from the moose he
had hunted. She would always take out the moose eyes before skinning the moose head forcooking because it was believed that all moose were watching people through the eyes ofevery moose. She did not want the moose to see her cutting. The Kaska people care verymuch about what the animals think of them and make a point of showing respect to theanimals.
It is important to understand the nature of hunting as both a physical and spiritual
process for the Kaska. It begins by making contact with the animals (physically andspiritually), seeking and following them, killing the prey in the bush, cutting the animal
carcass, leaving some parts as part of a ritual, taking home as many other parts as possible,
and eating them or using them up completely. Hunting thus appears to exist as an endlessloop based on the Kaska view of reciprocal relationships between humans and animals. In
this sense, bush resources, as represented by the meat of the moose, play an important rolein maintaining the Kaska culture by creating continuity between the Kaska people andnature.

7. Conclusion
In conclusion, for animals that do not eat other animals, specifically when thoseanimals are hunted for food, a ritual is always required. For animals that eat other animals,
especially for those that are killed in order to sell their fur, no ritual is needed. The Kaska
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people perform their rituals to maintain their reciprocal relationship with the animals, but
not for every animal. The Kaska people, for example, perform rituals for beaver if they eat
the meat, but typically don’t perform the ritual if they simply sell the fur. There is a strong
correlation between the utilization of the animal (that is, the purpose of the kill) and theperformance of a ritual.
People use various animals for various purposes. There are some correlations between
the performance of rituals and species, method, and utilization. The Kaska perform rituals
to maintain continuity with the animals by showing respect and promoting the rebirth of
the animal’s’ spirit. But not for all animals. They perform rituals almost exclusively foranimals that don’t eat other animals and that they themselves consume as food.
As background, it might be this way because “selling” is a relatively new phenomenon
for the Kaska. The modern monetary economy may well have influenced community
norms. If the Kaska people do not cut into the body of an animal that has been killed for its
fur, that is, if they do not put a knife into the body of the animal, and do not use the animal’s
remains for themselves, but rather sell to others, the implication is that the relationshipbetween the animal and the people is not direct.
Hunting for food, however, is still conducted according to traditional Kaska norms andthe Kaska people’s relationships with animals. Hunting for food is governed by these norms
even today. The Kaska people want to maintain their connection with the animals aroundthem and the land they inhabit. Through the traditional practice of hunting and eating theanimals they hunt, they feel an endless, unbroken connection, similar to the how wolves eat
moose, moose eat willows, and willows draw water from the land.
The Kaska view of animals is composed of two general concepts. One is the reciprocity
between human beings and animals; the other is “original oneness.” Many of the indigenous
peoples of North America believe in this reciprocity with animals (Nadasdy, 2007; Sharp,
1994; Ridington, 1994; Irimoto, 1991). Under this concept, animals give their bodies topeople. Anthropologist Nadasdy, who studied the Kluane First Nation describes thisphenomenon as “The Gift in the Animal” (2007). Sharp names this “inverted sacrifice” andexplains it as follows:
Inverted sacrifice occurs wherever and whenever a Chipewyan male who isprepared to take the life of an animal encounters an animal that is willing to die forhim (Sharp 1994).
Such reciprocity between man and animal is based on the idea that animals havepersonality. The Kaskapeople also perceive animals as targets with whom negotiation ispossible. I consider the concept of “original oneness” as enabling people to negotiate withanimals and to form a reciprocity between them. Irimoto (1994, 336-337) described it asfollows:
The concept of “original oneness” as defined here means the human
explanation for the contradictory conceptions of dualism and oneness. “Dualism” isa result of categorization, but “oneness” results from non-categorization. Thus, the“original oneness” is a mythological settlement between “dualism” and “oneness,”
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in which the dual opposites present in the world now are assumed to have beenoriginally one.
Irimoto also suggests that:
The concept of “original oneness” represents a fusion of these different
perceptions of the world. It justifies both the oneness and the dual opposition of
man and nature. Myth or ritual is the expression of the “original oneness.”
However, even though modern northern hunter-gathers continue to adhere to theconcept of original oneness, it does not represent a mere synthesis which
reconciles the problem of contradiction, either by the logic of mythology or the
logic of reciprocity. Rather, the concept of oneness and dualism continue to coexist.
Thus, despite the use of dual classification and the various explanations andjustification of the man-game relationship, man constantly experiences a different
perception of the world in everyday hunting life. The discrepancy between onenessand dualism will continue to be subject for reconciliation, which will make forunique worldviews among northern hunter- gathers, as long as human beings
must remain human being.

Performing rituals for animals that do not eat other animals is an expression of the
Kaska people’s desire to maintain a close and ongoing relationship with the animals. I
believe that the activity of hunting and the full use of the animals they hunt build a strong
feeling of continuity. In his well-known book about Yukon First Nations, McClellan (1987)
described the old people he found there as “part of the land, part of the water.” Quoting
these words, my informant always told me that:
For us, we are part of the animals. You should only go hunting when you needmoose for food. Don’t hunt any animals for just fun or trophy. If you do so, theanimals will recognize your behavior and change your luck, sometimes for weeks.
You have to pay respect and listen to the animal’s voice.
I do not doubt his statement. When we see a moose’s stomach full with willow, weknow that thick willow trees grow in the place we hunt the moose, and the willows standon the land near the water. From this perspective, it is easy to understand that humanbeings are not special; they are just part of the moose, part of the cycle of nature.

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