by Marius Palz

When riding your car along the east coast of Nago City you will pass several small villages that lie north of Cape Henoko, a place that became mostly known for the ongoing construction of a new military facility, yet another one of many American bases that are cramped together on the small island of Okinawa. The small villages north of Henoko are what I consider my field site. While Henoko has been the focus of many academic and newspaper articles, not much attention has been paid to these small villages in the north, although they are also affected by the controversial base construction. They are also interesting to look at from the perspective of urban-rural migration.

Passing through these villages, you will see the turquoise waters of the inō (inner reef section) on the one side and the green mountains of the yanbaru (forested area of northern Okinawa Main Island) on the other. It is a truly idyllic place, but you will also see many abandoned houses similar to those in other parts of Japan. There are several reasons for the population decline over the last decades, some of which I want to address here.

The area of Nago’s east coast is called Kushi, which invites a play on words in the local language: “Kushi wa kushi ni natteiru”. The first kushi in the sentence refers to the area while the second one means “last” or “behind” in Uchināguchi (the language of Okinawa Main Island). “Kushi comes last” is a common saying among those who live here, referring to the late introduction and poor maintenance of what is considered essential infrastructures like water, roads, coastal armouring and internet. Compared to the urban southern part of Okinawa Island, Nago City is already considered underdeveloped, especially with regard to the availability of jobs for young people. The villages of Kushi, however, could be seen as the periphery of the periphery. The number of schools along Nago’s east coast declined drastically over the last decades leaving the villages north of Cape Henoko with one facility that combines elementary and junior high school as well as one senior high school. With only a couple of job options, such as local schools, roadside shops or the local fisheries association, many young people decided to leave their home villages to build up a life in the urban south or in major cities of mainland Japan.

Many have left this beautiful place, but they did not give up on their inherited property, which poses another problem for the villages: even though there are multiple abandoned houses, newcomers that would like to live in this remote place cannot move in. My interlocutors explained to me the reasons for this: Okinawa has a strong tradition of ancestral worship, which is represented by the family altar, normally located in the house of the oldest son. Moving the family altar is extremely costly because ritual specialists have to get involved. Moving it would also break the connection between the family and the ground passed on over generations. Therefor most people leave the family altar behind when moving to the city and visit it during days of worship. The presence of the family altar makes it impossible to sell the property or rent it out to strangers. To be able to do so consent within the family must be obtained, which is difficult since Okinawan families tend to be very big. Instead of renting or selling, some families prefer to tear down the house and construct little concrete huts to house the family altar.  

Among those who stay in the villages of Kushi, some decided to work on the base construction site. Despite massive protests against the project that have been going on for over two decades now, the Japanese government insists on Henoko being the only possible location to host the base. Of course, the construction generates jobs, but it also comes with severe environmental consequences as well as noise pollution and possible accidents in the future, leaving those who depend on an income from base construction with mixed feelings.

Meanwhile, some of the villages still manage to attract urban migrants despite all the problems mentioned above. The combination of clear waters and forested hills make Kushi an attractive area for those in search of an alternative to Naha, Tokyo or Osaka and collective village activities create a sense of belonging. Especially those places that emphasize communal work and festivities attract new people. The Covid-19 pandemic, however, made these activities more difficult. Formerly harvest festivals, communal dances, sports events, collective village maintenance and barbecues on the neighbour’s porch were good occasions for newcomers and long-time residents to mingle. It is hard to build up ties when all of these events get cancelled year after year.

Marius Palz is a member of the ERC-funded “Whales of Power” research project and a PhD candidate at the Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages (IKOS) at the University of Oslo. After having worked with members of the Ainu community in Hokkaidō and Tōkyō for his Masters, he is currently writing his dissertation on “Human-Dugong Relations and Environmental Activism in the Ryūkyū Archipelago.” As an anthropologist of Japan, he is not only interested in minority-state relations, but also multispecies and extinction studies. He conducted eight months of fieldwork in Okinawa during 2021, most of which he stayed in the Kushi area.