by Ngo Tu Thanh (Frank Tu)

The venues of policy formulation are a labyrinth of actors, negotiations, calculations, and conflicting interests. Rural revitalization policies are no exception.  Interested in finding out how rural revitalization policies are made, and moreover, how policy actors operate behind the scenes, I knew I would need visit Nagatachō – Japan’s political center.  

On 08 June 2022, I was very fortunate to meet with a veteran who has been navigating politics in Nagatachō for more than 20 years. He is an ideal research participant whom I really wished to interview: after finishing his PhD in Urban Planning at an Ivy League institution, he became a Chief Policy Secretary (kokkai giin seisaku tantō hisho) for several members of the House of Representatives (Shūgiin) and the House of Councilors (Sangiin). In the past, he once ran for the House of Representatives and has considered running for mayor. After losing his parliamentary bid, he decided to work in academia and advocacy. He is now a researcher at a think tank for the LDP, a public policy consultant, and a professor in urban planning. Having had experience in both the Diet, advocacy, and academia, he did not hesitate to speak his mind freely and was able to get down to the nitty-gritty of politics.

I arrived in Nagatachō, where my research participant’s advocacy organization is located. There, I found myself standing in front of a big four-story building. Located within one kilometer from our meeting place are some of the most crucial institutions where rural policies (among others) are made: the National Diet (Kokkai), the Cabinet Office (Naikakufu), the headquarters of the Liberal Democratic Party (Jiyūminshutō), the headquarters of the National Governors’ Association (Zenkoku Chijikai), the headquarters of the National Mayors Association (Zenkoku Shichōkai), the National Association of Chairmen of Prefectural Assemblies (Zenkoku Todōfuken Gikai Gichōkai) and the National Association of the Chairpersons of Town and Village Assemblies (Zenkoku Chōsongikai Gichōkai). The presence of police officers and guards everywhere further evoked my anxiety. After a few seconds of hesitation, I took a deep breath and entered the building.

An employee opened the door and guided me to the couch where my research participant was sitting. After greeting each other, I followed him to a spacious conference room on the top floor, where I conducted the interview. On our way I saw officers in black suits rushing around, people whispering softly to each other in different corners, and some cautiously making phone calls by the window. My interview partner shared with me that his organization accommodates many former national and local politicians, ambassadors and governmental officials. Advocacy organizations like this are part of the intriguingly complicated policymaking process, which involves the national government, the national Diet, local governments, local assemblies, and private organizations.

According to my research participant, first, revitalization policies are drafted by relevant ministries (i.e., Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communication; Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry; Ministry of Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism). Then, the policies are compiled by the Headquarters for Regional Revitalization, which is located in the Cabinet Office. The Headquarters for Regional Revitalization is where officials from relevant ministries meet and discuss their responsibilities and jurisdiction.

At the same time, the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), also has its partisan counterparts of the Cabinet Office and the Headquarters for Regional Revitalization, namely the Policy Research Council (Seimu Chōsakai) and the Headquarters for Overcoming Population Decline and Regional Revitalization (Chihō Sōsei Jikō Tōgō Honbu). Politicians belonging to this LDP’s organ will voice their desires to influence the plans proposed by the Cabinet Office and relevant ministries. They will push for what is beneficial to their constituencies such as IT promotion, or attracting young people to the countryside.

Besides, associations that represent prefectures and municipalities also actively lobby for policies in their favor. The National Governors’ Association, the Headquarters of the National Mayors Association, the National Association of Chairmen of Prefectural Assemblies, and the National Association of the Chairpersons of Town and Village Assemblies. These associations present proposals (teigensho) that favor their localities at large.

Finally, there are also advocacy organizations that work for the interests of private businesses. For instance, the Japan Business Federation (Keidanren) or my research participant’s organization often lobby for clients who want national and/or local governments to adopt favorable policies. Hence, in addition to lobbying activities in Nagatachō, his organization also reaches out to  local governments all over Japan. In particular, such advocacy organizations often formulate their own proposals and meet with relevant politicians. My interview partner asserted that while not always successful, private advocacy organizations do have great sway in policymaking.

After all these behind-the-scenes constant interactions, negotiations, lobbying and pressuring between myriads of actors, the official rural revitalization policies are decided on. As complicated as it sounds, this interview has intrigued me greatly and prompted me to proceed to the next stage of my research – the prefectural and municipal levels, which I am now very much looking forward to.

by Cornelia Reiher

Although I could not go to Japan during the Covid-19 pandemic, I came across and learned about rural Japan in unexpected places. When interviewing Midori (pseudonym), a Japanese chef in Berlin for my project on Berlin’s Japanese foodscapes in summer 2021, she introduced herself as Yusuhara Future Design Ambassador (Yusuhara mirai taishi) and gave me a name card with her name and that title on one side (in English) and some basic information about Yusuhara, a small town in Kochi Prefecture in Shikoku on the back (in Japanese). The name card also stated that with this meishi I could receive a 500 JPY discount when entering the hot springs in Yusuhara. I was surprised about this coincidence and also because I had never heard about Future Design Ambassadors.

Midori was born in Kochi in Shikoku, but she has never lived in Yusuhara. Her best friend is from Yusuhara and the first time she went there was for her friend’s grandmother’s funeral. She was surprised and moved by the warm welcome and cordial atmosphere at the funeral that was unlike all the other funerals she had attended to this point. Everybody was nice to her although she did not know anyone except her friend. After this event she regularly returned to Yusuhara and got to know many people. She made many friends and was impressed by their kindness and the beautiful nature. After she had moved to Germany, she brought friends from abroad to Yusuhara whenever she returned to Shikoku.

As Yusuhara’s slogan is “Seikai to tsunagarou!” (connect with the world) and because Midori had become acquainted with the mayor, in 2020, the townhall contacted her and asked her if she wanted to promote Yusuhara in Germany as a mirai taishi. She submitted her CV and received the meishi she gave me when we first met. And she is not the only mirai taishi. Many volunteers like her were asked to spread information about Yusuhara in other parts of the world. The activities are not defined and due to the Corona-19 pandemic Midori mainly distributed tourism and information brochures to people interested in Japan. Once a year, Yusuhara’s town hall sends cookies and other small presents, mainly food products, she gives to people interested in Yusuhara. In the future, Midori plans onsite events to introduce Yusuhara to a larger audience and wants to invite young people from Yusuhara to Berlin.

I received a tourist map in English promoting Yusuhara as “the town above the clouds”, postcards with pictures of beautiful scenery and a Japanese brochure for people interested in moving to Yusuhara. This brochure was strikingly similar to others I have picked up in other places in Japan. It showed pictures of happy children and families enjoying outdoor activities in beautiful scenery, images of the four seasons and local festivals. It also introduced U and I turn migrants and their experiences. The brochure also presents support schemes for child rearing, finding housing and for the renovation of vacant houses (akiya). It also promotes the medical infrastructure in Yusuhara. The target groups for in-migration into Yusuhara, according to the information material I received, are young people and families with children. Migrants under the age of 40 receive financial support for building or renovating a house and families receive all sorts of discounts for education, housing and child care.

Yusuhara is known as a rather successful example of rural revitalization and as particularly environmentally friendly [1]. The famous architect Kuma Kengo designed several buildings in the town, including the library, a welfare center, a hotel, a gallery and the town hall. Thus, Yusuhara has become a destination for fans of architecture [2] and an eco-model city that launched a low carbon initiative, uses renewable energies like wind and biomass and stresses the coexistence with the surrounding forests [3]. This does not only become visible in Kuma Kengo’s wood architecture, but also in the promotion of forest therapy. Several therapy roads promise relaxing effects of forests in Yusuhara for “people living in the modern times”. This has not only attracted tourists and newcomers, but also shows how small rural communities in Japan can be innovative, sustainable and transnational, all at the same time.

References

[1]
Beyer, Vicky L. (2020), Yusuhara: the eco-friendly traditional mountain town, https://jigsaw-japan.com/2020/02/12/yusuhara-the-eco-friendly-traditional-mountain-town/

[2]
Presser, Brandon (2019), This Japanese Town Has Become a Secret Destination for Architecture Buffs, https://www.cntraveler.com/story/this-japanese-town-has-become-a-secret-destination-for-architecture-buffs

[3]
Yusuhara-chō (2022), Kankyō e no torikumi, http://www.town.yusuhara.kochi.jp/town/

by Maritchu Durand

This year in early May, I took a few days off to visit my family in the south-western French countryside and to enjoy the mild and sunny spring. The region’s nickname “the French Toscana” suits the hilly region with small fields of cereal grain or sunflowers well. A few kettle farms spread over the country and small quiet villages with old stone farmhouses, vegetable gardens and the obligatory area for playing pétanque [1] on the village square right next to the small church and a one-room city hall can be found here and there.

Traditionally an agrarian region, most of the farmers are now either close to retirement or do other jobs on the side. They are usually part of a cooperative that sell their crops to bigger firms. However, amid this rather industrial production chain, there are exceptions that started in the 1968’s back-to-the-land movement that seek alternative and more direct ways to connect farmers and consumers.

One such example is the “Poppy Cabin”, a 30 minutes walk from my grandparents’ village. You can enter the bright red cabin from the small countryside road. Although it is in the courtyard of the farmer who manages it, I never meet anyone. Depending on the season, there are different products for sale, all either certified organic or from the so-called “reasoned agriculture” [2]. The farmer sells mostly cereals and pulses in various forms that he produces: dried lentils and chick peas, rye, spelt, wheat or chick pea flour are almost always available. You can also find honey, sunflower oil, onions, garlic or different root vegetables and a local artisan’s hand-made soap.

Once you have filled your basked, you simply write down your name a well as what you bought and how much you paid on the ledger and put the money in the small wooden box on the table. It is a system based on trust and a strong network: there are no signs on the cabin, it merely works by word of mouth. At the same time, by writing down your name, you lose the anonymity usually linked to consumption.

While browsing through the home-made packages of flour, I was strongly reminded of a very similar system in Japan: the mujin hanbai stalls – mujin stands for “without anyone”, and hanbai for “sale”. When I travelled through the Japanese countryside, I frequently encountered small stalls on the side of the road. Usually very rustic and simple shelves that are filled with produce packaged by locals: mikan, umeboshi, daikon and many other local and seasonal products for an astonishingly cheap price. I was very surprised when I first saw an umeboshi stall. It was so cheap that I thought I was mistaken, I therefore hesitated, afraid of paying the wrong price, and I passed by without buying anything. I regret it until this day.

Although different in its interpretation, the core of both systems is the same in Japan and in France. It is a system based on trust within a small community. First, the seller trusts the consumer to pay the right price, take only what he or she paid for and leave the place unharmed. In return, the customer trusts the producer with the quality and safety of the product. Since it is locally grown in a place the customer sees and values, he or she might find a meaning in buying the produce beyond the mere fact of consuming. This is at least what my grandmother told me when she first brought me to the Poppy Cabin: she wanted to support the local farmer, a young passionate return migrant who had taken up his grandfather’s farm. She praised the quality and unique taste of the products she regularly bought and appreciated the ‘no-fuss’ aspect of the system.

The Poppy Cabin and the mujin hanbai stalls share the principles of mutual trust, attachment to a  community, appreciation of the soil and its produce and connecting producers and consumers. All are aspects that are often associated with an ideal countryside. In the interviews and articles by urban-rural migrants I encountered while working on this project, they mention these aspects very often as the very reasons for moving to the countryside. Although the Poppy Cabin and the mujin hanbai stalls are only small and rare realizations of those principles, they might prove that the ideal images prospective migrants express about the countryside might be more than mere imagination.

[1] Pétanque or boules is a popular game in France where players through heavy metal balls towards a smaller wooden target ball. It is played on village squares and enjoys great popularity in southern France.

[2] The French Ministry of Agriculture defines reasoned agriculture (l’agriculture raisonnée) as a type of farm management that aims at reinforcing the positive impacts of agricultural practices on the environment and at reducing their negative effects. Closely linked to organic farming, it does not however require any certification.

by Sebastian Polak-Rottmann

I visited the Aso region in Kumamoto Prefecture several times between 2018 and 2020 to conduct research for my PhD project. I talked to local people who engage in local activities about their views on happiness. Here, I will concentrate on different patterns of participation that I encountered during my research. I observed several ways in which people try to influence their local communities. Most people emphasised that they like to make others happy or share the local natural landscape with others and therefore collectively make significant effort to preserve it. However, when arriving in Aso for the first time in 2018, I came across an exceptional case of local activism aimed at preserving the local scenery. A local livestock farmer decided to build a cattle barn close to a train station in Aso-city. While regional organisations and the regional administration initially supported the project financially, local inhabitants opposed the location of the facility, as they feared a deterioration of the hamlet’s quality of life. I met two representatives of the so-called Movement for the Relocation of the Construction Site of the Big Cattle Barn (Ōgata gyūsha kensetsuchi no iten o motomeru kai) that used a number of strategies of political participation to channel residents’ voices. The movement consisted of a number of local people and former bureaucrats who collected signatures from about 8,000 people for a petition, contacted local as well as prefectural politicians, and even organised a demonstration on a cold winter’s day [1].

The demonstration was a quite unusual event for the rural Aso region where many people usually use informal ways to influence local politics, as Mariko, a woman in her 60s emphasises: “I usually go directly to the mayor, if I have a proposal. The mayor went to the same school as my brother, so I just go to him and say: ‘This is what I want to do’. He even visited us once and I think he recognises my face by now and so things will be easier next time”. Protesting against a cattle barn is also a controversial matter in another sense: Aso is famous for its akaushi-beef, which is served in a number of restaurants for tourists around the whole region. Cows are an integral part of the distinctive grassland (sōgen) of the Aso caldera and some of the farmers engage in the local grassland associations (bokuya kumiai) and the traditional burning of the grass (noyaki) in February and March.

Due to the importance of livestock farming in Aso, the protest challenging the local farming industry needed to be done in a careful manner: The name of the movement emphasises that the protesters do not oppose the construction of a cattle barn per se but rather wish for another site for the building. It is not surprising that those, who criticise the whole funding and construction process in a more encompassing way, soon left the movement, which did not seek open confrontation with local policy makers. In the end, the cattle barn was built and the movement did not reach its goal of relocating the barn. Also, the municipality that – due to pressure from civil society – tried to withdraw the financial aid for its construction ultimately had to pay compensation to the facility’s owner.

This example shows that people link their activities to their local community and that some forms of political participation are more acceptable and feasible than others. The protest for the relocation of the cattle barn is a rather exceptional case, as it is elite-challenging in its nature. One of my research participants illustrated the otherwise cooperative mode of participation dominant in the region: “When I think, that something good should be done, I’ll do it with my friends (nakama). Then, little by little, the scope will increase. We are not doing an opposition movement (hantai undō), that’s not what I imagine [as shimin undō]”.

Political participation in rural Aso takes place in the context of local decision-making processes that are linked to dominant perceptions of what “Aso” should be like. Oppositional movements are rare and are not viewed as an option of political participation by many of my respondents. Nevertheless, the municipalities are vibrant and show numerous small changes often taking place in the informal everyday lives of the local community. Subjective goals and ideas have to be carefully adjusted to the dominant power structures in rural Japan, sometimes making expressive activities hard to perform, as the example of the movement for the relocation of the cattle barn suggests.

Sebastian Polak-Rottmann is a PhD candidate at the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Vienna. He is part of an interdisciplinary research project funded by the Austrian Academy of Sciences on subjective well-being and social capital in rural Japan. For his dissertation, he conducted semi-structured interviews in the Aso region to understand the relationship of political participation and subjective well-being.

References

[1]
Gotō, Tazuko. 2017. ‘Gyūsha kensetsuchi ‚iten o‘, Aso-shi ni jūmin ga seigansho, shomeibo, kankeisha no taiō kamiawazu, Kumamoto-ken’. In Asahi Shinbun, 16.12.2017: 28.