by Sarah Bijlsma

These days, I like to explore the beaches of Miyako Island, a remote island of Okinawa prefecture. I especially like the south-east side of the island; from the Higashi Hennazaki Cape, you can see the sea at both of your sides. There is a white lighthouse at the very end of it. Its straight silhouette rises above the green grass and other vegetation that grows beside the concrete path. A bit earlier, there is an outpost with some tables and planters with tropical sago palms that seem somewhat out of place. The text “wonderful sport island” adorns from the wall – a leftover from the All Japan Triathlon. I can imagine the cape is a well-known tourist attraction, yet, moving towards the end of the road, I only come across two other people. The man and woman wear casual long-sleeves and I guess that they are middle-aged, despite the fact that their faces are blurred. When I arrive at the lighthouse, the sun is already starting to set. The weather is not too great today; at the horizon, there are some slight orange tints coming from behind the dark blue clouds. The sea is equally dark and grey. Looking at the white foam below me, I can imagine how the waves rhythmically break on the rocks. I wonder how many people have walked this digital road before me, visiting Miyako-jima via their screens plugged in at places all over the world.

I was supposed to be physically on Miyako right now, conducting fieldwork for my dissertation. Covid-19 is keeping me in Germany. It took me a while to give up the hope to bypass the Japanese border system and to accept that I would spend the winter at my dinner table in Berlin. It also took some time to accept that if I did not want to run out of time, I had to start planning things differently, rethink my objectives and research questions, and rewrite my initial research design.

Changing plans meant first and foremost changing my research methodologies. Studying human-environment relationships within the community of Japanese emigrants to Miyako Island, my project heavily draws upon participant observation. Rather than explaining me their thoughts, I was hoping to understand how my future interlocutors create performative and conceptual relationships with the territory and inhabitant species of Miyako-jima. As so many anthropologists this year, I turned towards “digital ethnography” as an alternative for being physically present. In my case, I started reading weblogs of young migrants who in recent years moved to the small island from one of the urban centers of Japan. I was initially hesitant to use social media as data source – is discourse analysis edgy enough, am I not compromising myself too much? Yet, looking back on the past few months, the inability to travel has proven to be both a restrictive and a productive force that added to my research in meaningful ways.

One. I learned that human-nature relationships are not bound to the world of flesh and fur but exist also very much in cyberspace. Two. I learned that media representations of places feed into the way how people make sense of their new environments, crossing timescapes when combining previous expectations with future dreams. Three. I learned that the sea of Miyako is not blue, but “emerald green” and that its properties can be transmitted via so-called healing videos. Four. I learned that digital diaries contain much hidden messages, and that also writing is a performative act that materializes links between people, nature, and place. Five. I learned that even during the most unexpected events – what the Corona pandemic certainly is – that one can always find creative ways to tell the stories that matter.

Last weekend, the Olympic Games Committee made the final decision that foreign visitors are not welcome this summer. I know that this means that I might not make it into Japan this year. Pursuing a PhD amidst so much uncertainty is not easy, and in this regard, Covid-19 is for many of us an exercise in flexibility above all. Yet, as I get to know Miyako-jima and its inhabitants better, rethinking the relation between material and virtual (is)landscapes, I do believe this exercise is a valuable one. I have a long list of things I still want to find out, and the entire digital world as a playground.

by Maritchu Durand

Fieldwork in all its varieties and with all its possibilities has been one of the most exciting aspect of research I have been looking forward to when entering a master program in Japanese Studies in October 2019. Because of the unique experience of meeting a newcomer from the urban Yokohama in a remote rural area in Hokkaidō during my previous exchange in Japan, I had planned to focus my master’s thesis on urban-rural migration and to conduct ethnographic fieldwork in Japan. I therefore applied to Kōbe University, because Hyōgo Prefecture hosts many urban-rural migrants and rural revitalization programs, and the university runs several cooperation programs with rural communities. I was happy to be accepted for studying at Kōbe University for one semester from September 2020.

However, when the pandemic hit, everything changed. Although Kōbe University initially planned to continue the exchange program, in May 2020, it became clear that I would not be able to go to Japan in September. The beginning of the exchange was postponed to April 2021, but Japan closed its borders in January of this year again and the exchange was finally out of the picture. Even if prospects would have been favorable enough for me to study in Japan, I could not have expected to conduct my fieldwork as planned due to all sorts of restrictions. So, I needed to rethink my research topic and research methods. Although online interviews were an option, without initial access to a community, I could not hope to engage in in-depth conversations. I especially worried about how I could reach out to a local community only by digital means. I had to face reality: I had to change the subject of my thesis in order to adapt to my new research field, which would be digital for the most part.

Luckily, not only the academic world extended digital communication, but the increased amount of online content produced during the pandemic enriched the digital sphere, diversified its content, and enabled more direct connections. So, on the bright side, I could turn the missed opportunity to travel to Japan into an advantage: I was not locally bound to Hyōgo Prefecture anymore and could therefore freely choose the area to focus my research on. The choice was easy. Since I am a student assistant in the urban-rural migration project that is focusing on Kyūshū, my “fieldsite” was easily found. But I also thought about a way to contribute to the three-year project by focusing on an aspect related to urban-rural migration an thereby, giving additional meaning to my MA thesis.

The project’s PI, Prof. Reiher, drew my attention to the issue of akiya as a potential interesting field for exploration. The vacant properties are often seen as a problem by the municipalities. But they have also been rethought as a potential new home for newcomers or as community spaces, guesthouses or cafés and become spaces of exchange and innovation. Although I have not yet decided which aspect of the akiya phenomenon I want to study, a whole array of data is available: national and local government reports, policy documents and online reports on various initiatives to promote, sell and restore vacant houses in Japan’s countryside. Stories on rifōmu and repurposing can be found on blogs, in articles and videos. Since newly renovated cafés and guesthouses aim at online visibility, their websites and blogs offer a first point of access to discover the world of renovating old houses. Finally the akiya banks run by the local governments offer a comprehensive overview of what properties are available in different areas. To sum up, the Covid-19 pandemic forced me to be flexible and to adjust my research focus, but also offered a chance to learn about new research possibilities. I think this flexibility is crucial during this pandemic that will probably change the way we conduct fieldwork in the future, even when physical fieldwork as we know it will be possible again.

by Tu Thanh Ngo (Frank Tu)

Qualitative researchers always remind us to “expect the unexpected” in the field. However, the coronavirus pandemic is probably beyond our wildest imagination. Currently, I am working in a research group called “Urban-rural migration and rural revitalization in Japan”. As out-migrant of young people from rural to urban areas is argued to be one of the root causes of the myriad rural problems [1], my individual tasks and PhD project focus on Japan’s revitalization policies through migration, across four different municipalities in Kyūshū, Specifically, I want to analyze the two policies that concern tourism and youth mobility [2].

Ironically, the biggest enemy for a young student hoping to travel to Japan to research migration-based policies is the immobility caused by Covid-19. Having gone to high school in Kyūshū, the prospect of going back and doing fieldwork there is what I most look forward to. Besides, it is also crucial to personally witness the impact of revitalization policies for policy analysis. Although the original plan is to start doing fieldwork in Japan this October, the anxieties cast by the pandemic are multifold: How to access the field when Japan still has not allowed new visa applications? How to conduct qualitative interviews with strangers when we are still sometimes wary of a cough in the metro? How to stay motivated if I cannot work in my favorite environments, be it in the library, or sometimes, at the airport…?

That said, I am aware that immobility calls for flexibility, and anxiety nurtures positivity. Under the current situation, I have been reaching out to friends in Kyūshū via social networks to “digitally” access the field and prepare for the fieldwork. This is a greatly motivating activity, thanks to both the excitement when I get introduced to a fitting informant, and the jubilation gained from staying in touch with my “old” friends. Besides, I also miss working in the library, where I used to get lots of inspiration from studying with friends until dark. Yet, on a bright note, the university’s digital library has been useful, allowing me to research rural development theories in the park when the weather permits. Most importantly, the regular virtual meetings with my project colleagues are highly encouraging, as we can share our new findings and get “hyped up” over an interesting revitalization scheme. The meetings also help me reorganize my fuzzy thoughts before discussing with my colleagues. Another activity that keeps me motivated is practicing a research method – “Qualitative Comparative Analysis” (QCA), by taking online courses and reading textbooks. Doing short exercises gives me a sense of progress, which balances the often-frustrating feeling that the more I read the less I know.

In the coming months until October, I will collect and analyse data regarding the two chosen schemes based on six dimensions: Effectiveness, Unintended effects, Equity, Cost, Feasibility, and Acceptability. To do so, I will look at official documents issued by the four municipalities and the central government, as well as news articles or blog posts. If possible, I will also conduct virtual interviews with municipal officials.

While there is no telling as to when the pandemic will end, and matters such as visa or vaccines are beyond my control. what I can do is to remain physically and mentally healthy by exercising (and/or having a glass of wine) everyday, meeting friends in compliance with the law. Most importantly, I try to maintain my positivity, and hopefully… sense of humor.

by Cornelia Reiher

I am a Berlin-based Japan scholar who has studied rural Japan and food-related issues for more than 15 years. I have worked and lived in Arita, Saga Prefecture from 2004 to 2006 and later wrote my PhD thesis on local identity and rural revitalization based on this experience. But due to teaching and family obligations I never had the chance to return for a longer period of time. Therefore, I was very happy, when the German Research Foundation (DFG) granted me the funding for this research project in March 2020, because it has been a long time dream to go back to rural Japan for longer than just a few weeks during the semester break to conduct fieldwork.

However, in March 2020, Berlin was already in its first Covid-related lockdown. Nevertheless, I started hiring people and found two great PhD researchers, Cecilia from Italy, and Frank from Vietnam, to work on the project with me. We were lucky to get them to Berlin before borders were closed. In the beginning of October 2020, we could meet in person a few times, but joint lunches and onsite meetings ended in November. We had to return to our home offices and restaurants closed for indoor dining. A long period of online-meetings and online classes began and continues to this date.

The challenge was (and still is) to build a team remotely and prepare this team for fieldwork in Japan although it is uncertain when this fieldwork can actually take place. Frank and Cecilia joined the Graduate School of East Asian Studies (GEAS) in order to meet other PhD students who work on East Asia and participated in courses and currently work on their literature reviews. In addition, we regularly meet for video conferences with our student assistant, Maritchu, who is a student in our Japanese studies MA program and currently plans her MA thesis about urban-rural migration in Japan. Our small study group is also joined by Sarah who is a PhD student at GEAS and works on urbanites from Japan’s main islands relocating to the Yaeyama Islands (Okinawa).

We started with reading and discussing the most recent publications on urban-rural migration and rural Japan and started a shared bibliography, defined and discussed terms we all deal with in our individual research projects and presented our progress to each other. Frank presented a different policy scheme from Japan’s national government’s Regional Revitalization Comprehensive Strategy every week and Cecilia introduced debates on and beyond the urban-rural dichotomy. Sarah gave insights into her analysis of blogs published by urban-rural migrants to the Yaeyama Islands, while Maritchu collected various data on abandoned houses (akiya) and presented stories of urban-rural migrants who renovated such houses in Kyūshū.

This approach enabled the group to identify tasks that can be done while in Berlin and to create shared knowledge about rural Japan from different disciplinary perspectives (political science and anthropology) by inspiring discussions. We also got to know each other better, but nothing can make up for the shared meals and discussions in the hallways we are missing out in the Covid-19 situation. We had to cancel our joint exploratory field trip to Kyūshū in April, but we hope that we can go to Japan in October. Meanwhile, we contact researchers at Japanese universities and gatekeepers in the four municipalities we will study in Kyūshū, collect information, analyze documents and blogs. The regular meetings, however, help(ed) us to stay fascinated with our joint research project and to keep up hope to conduct fieldwork in Japan in the near future.

Welcome to the blog of the research project “Urban-rural migration and rural revitalization in Japan”. This project is funded by the German Research Foundation (DFG) and started in October 2020. Professor Cornelia Reiher (PI) and her team from the Institute of Japanese Studies at Freie Universität Berlin investigate the impacts of urban-rural migration on rural revitalization in Kyūshū, Japan’s most southern main island. In this blog, our group will give insights into the research process and progress, present first results, share information about our field sites and on related projects and publications. It also features guest contributions by students, PhD students, colleagues and practitioners from Freie Universität Berlin, Japan and universities around the world who work on related projects focusing on urban to rural migration and rural Japan. The editor of this blog is Professor Cornelia Reiher.