by Cecilia Luzi

After spending five months conducting fieldwork in Buzen, I moved to my second field site in March: the charming town of Hasami. Located on the border between Nagasaki and Saga prefecture, Hasami is renowned for its lively atmosphere and long tradition of ceramic production. Over the coming months, I will immerse myself in the daily life in Hasami to explore what makes this town such a draw for people from all over Japan and beyond.

The old school building where the event took place.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

On my second weekend in Hasami, I participated in an exciting event at the old Chuo Elementary School. The four-day exhibition and market was called “Thought” and featured crafts and artisans from the Kyūshū region showcasing clothing, accessories and tableware. The first two days were reserved for vendors and investors, while the last two days were open to the public. When I attended the event on a Sunday around 11 a.m., people were eating, drinking and chatting outside while children ran around blowing bubbles. As we walked up the stairs, we passed four food stalls selling bento, coffee and sweets. I couldn’t resist filling my bag with delicious treats, and I took the opportunity to chat with the friendly vendors, who were all young couples between the ages of 35 and 45. They all run restaurants and cafes in the neighboring towns of Hasami and were intrigued by my presence, especially my son’s decision to walk barefoot on the concrete and grass.

The menus from food stands at the market.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

As we entered the building, we were handed tote bags to put our shoes in. A friendly receptionist, who appeared to be in her 20s, asked me where we were from and greeted my son with a smile. I learned she and the other staff were mostly from Fukuoka and had come to Hasami for the four-day event. “Hasami is a fascinating place,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the next few months here!” As we made our way inside, we noticed a large crowd milling around the various booths. With about 40 exhibitors, all younger than 45, there was a lot to see. I was particularly taken with two men from Amami Oshima who were using traditional dyeing techniques with indigo and red mud. Although I was somewhat familiar with ao-zome, indigo-based dyeing, I wasn’t sure I had understood the term “doro-zome” correctly when I heard it. Looking for an explanation, I asked, “You mean mud, as in soil?” They nodded and explained to me that mud dyeing or “doro-zome” (泥染め) is an ancient technique practiced on the island of Ōshima, where a special iron-rich soil makes this type of dyeing possible. The result is really beautiful.

The brochure of the clothing brand from Amami Ōshima.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

As I continued my tour, I came across jewelry reminiscent of twigs and leaves, recycled plastic bags, and modular coasters. Then I stumbled upon a booth with four cheerful boys presenting a children’s board game made of small colorful wooden cubes on a square tray. I was impressed by the inventor’s enthusiasm, and we struck up a conversation. He was about 30 years old, and when he learned that I lived in Berlin, he sighed and told me about his dream to present his game at a famous board game fair in Germany. He had finally managed to get his game produced in Japan, and now he wanted to take it abroad. He was born and raised in Saga Prefecture, and his game is now sold in big stores in Fukuoka. “Since a few months ago, it’s also available in a store in Arita, right next door, if you’re interested,” he added with a smile. I took the brochure and wished him good luck. Across the room, people were trying on clothes, sniffing essential oils, and having their feet measured for custom-made shoes or their fingers for future wedding rings. Although it was already noon on the second day, the atmosphere was lively and cheerful with a throng of people.

The flyer of the colorful wooden board game
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

It was fascinating to chat briefly with the young craftsmen and women from all corners of Kyūshū. On the way home, I couldn’t help but think about how Hasami manages to attract such events and who the key players are behind this movement. I look forward to continuing my fieldwork in Hasami and finding out what makes this city a “very interesting place,” according to everyone I meet.

by Lynn Ng

Maps are not only important for spatial understanding and navigation; they also tell stories across time and serve as memory aids. During my fieldwork in Japan, I arrived in a landscape that offered me no data signal and thus no GPS and no online maps. I was very disturbed. For the first time since my introduction to mobile GPS technology, I had to rely on local maps and signs and my terrible sense of direction to find my way around the countryside. On my third day in the field, I ambitiously attempted to walk to the neighboring village despite the lack of GPS. I walked for over an hour in the direction I thought the village was. I turned off a main road onto a small farm track and then onto a footpath up a hill that I assumed separated the two villages. I followed the ribbons on the trees and the location markers on the path. Finally, I reached a dead end – a sort of plateau where no discernible paths continued. I never found the village. Instead, I took a long nap in the open field until a concerned elderly couple woke me up and pointed me to the closest village – where I had walked from. The couple disappeared into the woods as mysteriously as they had appeared. I often wondered if they had been a figment of an exhaustion-induced lucid dream.

Exhausted, lost and defeated, I took a long nap under these beautiful skies.
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2022

In my next field site, I tried to walk to a distant monument near the reconstruction zone. Even though my GPS was now working, many parts of the Fukushima coastal region have not yet been updated on digital maps. I asked a bus driver about the region – whether it was already walkable or whether it was dominated by construction vehicles. He looked at me, frowned, and asked me for paper and pencil to explain the route. He drew me a map and explained the individual landmarks to look out for. It was drizzling that day. The bus driver asked me why I wanted to visit this place. I explained my research and he told me his story. I was the only passenger on the bus, and during the almost fifteen minutes after the scheduled departure of the bus, the driver described the city – his hometown – to me. I commented on the beautiful reconstructed coastlines. He expressed deep disgust, “You don’t know how it used to be.” He complained about regional politics and about the intended preservation of the monument. I chuckled nervously and he started the bus. After just five minutes of turns around barricaded roads and empty fields, I alighted the bus into increasingly heavier rain. He sighed at my insistence on visiting the monument and wished me luck. I never reached the monument. The rain had become immensely heavy and the roads were occupied by large construction trucks. Before I had even reached the first turn, I was drenched and my shoes soaked despite the umbrella I had in hand. Instead, I sought shelter in a facility nearby, where I, coincidentally, bumped into one of my research participants who was also seeking shelter from the rain.

The map the bus driver drew for me.
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2023

Maps are also often especially important in times of crisis, i.e., evacuation. “Look how silly this is,” one research participant laughed excitedly, pointing to an evacuation sign. From the main train station (Ono) in the city of Okuma, the nearest evacuation point at city hall is five kilometers (or a 70-minute walk) away. She pointed to the distance and joked that we would all die instantly if something happened. I chuckled nervously, not because of the distance and the potential danger we were in, but because of the somberness of her joke and whether it was appropriate for me to make fun of it. She explained to me that City Hall was the first to be reopened, and that subsequently important facilities and plants were built in the region. She showed me her hometown, the barricaded streets, and the upcoming new construction near the train station. People working near the station would have to evacuate five kilometers away in an emergency. I wondered if the Ono Station evacuation map would be updated in the future, and if so, when.

The evacuation map at Ono station.
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2023

Indeed, maps are critical to my understanding and memory of Fukushima and events during fieldwork. I watched as maps were drawn and redrawn at Fukushima to reflect new facilities and new reopenings. Looking back now at Ono’s evacuation map, I recall the emptiness of the immediate area around the station and the isolation of City Hall. I would look back at the bus driver’s hand-drawn map and remember his scowl and concerned eyes for a small explorer traveling in the pouring rain. I would look at the online maps of the mountainous village and realize that all along I had been heading southwest instead of north.

by Ngo Tu Thanh (Frank Tu)

In my previous blog post, I have shown that the lack of resources and politicians’ attention to elections creates room for other policy actors to step in. A group of actors that carries sway in making rural revitalization policies is external experts who advise the government. In Japan, there are two types of external advisors who advise the government: officially recognized government advisors and informal government advisors. In this blog post, I will explore the roles and profiles of officially recognized government advisors.

Officially recognized government advisors are experts acknowledged by the Japanese government to advise on rural revitalization among many other policy fields. In the field of rural revitalization policies, these experts specialize in various fields such as tourism promotion, transportation, attracting young people to the countryside, marketing or digital transformation. As of April 2023, there were 531 officially recognized Advisors for Regional Vitality (Chiiki ryokusōzō adobaizā) at the Japanese Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (MIC 2023). They are compensated with public funds and play a critical role in providing valuable insights and recommendations to the government.

Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (MIC) – the patron of MIC Advisors for Regional Vitality
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

During my fieldwork, I had the chance to talk to several officially recognized government advisors. They have diverse educational backgrounds and professional experiences. The majority of advisors hold at least an undergraduate degree. Most of the advisors have extensive leadership experience. All advisors I have talked to are leaders within their respective organizations, some serving as directors and/or presidents of their companies, others holding top leadership roles in several NPOs. These leadership roles provide advisors with the necessary skills and experience to make sound recommendations to the government. However, this raises concerns about conflicts of interest, as advisors might push for policies that benefit their businesses. Advisors also have extensive experience working with various government ministries and agencies at both national and local levels, as well as hands-on experience in regional revitalization projects. One advisor I talked to has served as the Chief Digital Officer in a prefectural government and advised government agencies such as the Cabinet Office and the Digital Agency on various issues, including regional revitalization, gender equality, immigration and depopulation. Another advisor previously worked as a policy bureau member of a large municipal government and was a member in the Tourism Strategy Implementation Task Force of the Cabinet Office. She has also been involved in various theater planning and art policy promotion initiatives. Yet another advisor has created promotional videos for government organizations such as the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries (MAFF) and MIC.

This is the office of an NPO where an advisor works as leader
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

Testimonies from the government advisors show that they have a rather limited influence on policy agendas but may have sway in providing technical advice. This finding supports the similar argument made by Romann (2020) that advisory committees and advisors (shingikai) might have limited influence. However, one advisor who specialized in digital transformation provided an anecdote about how he proposed ideas to eliminate fax machines to Digital Minister Konō Tarō in a meeting; the Minister agreed, and his ministry actually implemented a similar strategy a few months later. This particular advisor has been known as a proactive leader who also wants to reform rigid administrative procedures in Japan. This indicates that when there is less conflict over the political nature of policies with key decision-makers, advisors’ technical advice may be quite influential.

In summary, government advisors offer diverse experiences and extensive knowledge of rural revitalization. Advisors can also work on policy implementation at the local level. Besides, while their influence over policy agendas may be limited, their technical advice may provide great value for policymaking at the national level, if political conditions are met.

References
Michalowitz, Irina. 2007. “What Determines Influence? Assessing Conditions for Decision-Making Influence of Interest Groups in the EU.” Journal of European Public Policy 14 (1).
MIC (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications). 2023. “Chiiki Jinzai Netto (Chiikiryoku Sōzō Adobaizā),” https://www.soumu.go.jp/ganbaru/jinzai/.Accessed April 20, 2023.
Romann, Eric. 2020. Nonmarket Strategy in Japan: How Foreign Firms Lobby “Inside the Castle.” Singapore: Springer Nature Singapore.

by Cornelia Reiher

In March and April, I again had the opportunity to travel to Japan for field research. Spring is not only the most beautiful season with its cherry blossoms, but also a time of festivals to celebrate them. As the number of covid infections has been declining for some time, many of these local festivals were held for the first time since the pandemic began. I attended cherry blossom festivals (sakura matsuri) and markets, and although most people were still wearing masks, it was wonderful to see people once again doing hanami, enjoying food and drink, listening to live music, watching plays, and taking photos of the most beautiful cherry trees in the area.

Cherry tree in full bloom
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

Most of the festivals I attended were rather small matsuri organized by individual villages and usually attended by locals. At one of the sakura matsuri, there was not only food and drink, but also kagura, a ceremonial dance theater that recounts the myths of ancient Japan. In the play we watched, the hero had to fight two dragons and planned to get them drunk on sake so they would fall asleep. He put a big barrel of sake on the stage, and when the dragons drank it, they fell asleep. The hero came back to kill them in their sleep, but they woke up and started a fight. In the end, the hero succeeded in cutting off both of their heads and celebrated himself quite a bit. The performance was characterized by great costumes, pyrotechnics and colored smoke. The dragon actors really enjoyed suddenly running from the stage into the audience to scare the few small children watching with their parents and grandparents. Although most of the festival attendees were older, the actors were quite young. I enjoyed the kagura, the music, and the relaxed atmosphere while eating strawberries and drinking sake with the locals very much.

Kagura at a local cherry blossom festival
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

While literally everyone wore a mask at this sakura matsuri, another festival I attended was a mask-free area. The Deera Matsuri was a small market-like festival in a beautiful private garden in the mountains owned by ijūsha. It was idyllically situated on a mountain overlooking fields with flowers everywhere. When we arrived, live guitar music was playing on stage, and before we could enter, we were asked to exchange Japanese yen for a local currency (chiiki tsūka) called deera, which inspired the name of the event. Equipped with deera, we walked around and met many friends and acquaintances, most of them ijūsha. There were about ten stalls selling pastries, tea, knickknacks and bread. I bought tea from a young couple who had just moved to Taketa from Tokyo. The tea was picked during the full moon. Coffee and chai were served in the house where many children were running around screaming happily. There was a boisterous and relaxed atmosphere in the beautiful surroundings and with guitar music playing. At the end of the event, we looked at the organizers’ artwork in the gallery they run in a former warehouse next to the building where they live.

The Deera Festival in an idyllic garden in the mountains
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

One of the larger festivals I attended was the Okajo sakura matsuri, which features a parade of residents dressed in Edo period costumes. In the morning, all the participants gathered in their robes at the ruins of Oka Castle in Taketa. The parking lots nearby were crowded, and the city government staff had to show the visitors, who had traveled from all over Kyūshū, a place to park. We joined the crowd and walked up the hill to arrive just as the parade was to begin with a taiko performance. The parade then moved from the castle ruins down to the old castle town, where it was enthusiastically greeted by residents, tourists and friends of the participants. The colorful customs and music were very impressive.

Before the parade: Gathering for the Okajo Sakura Matsuri
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

When I returned to Arita at the end of my fieldwork, I was very surprised to see that preparations for the Ceramic Fair (tōki ichi), the biggest festival of the year, were already underway, even though it did not begin for another two weeks. We already saw tents selling porcelain at a discount. In the parking lot in front of the guest house where we were staying, there was a tent and the staff from the kiln across the street was setting up shelves and racks. Everyone told me that this was only the second tōki ichi after the two-year hiatus due to the pandemic, and that everyone was very excited to enjoy the Ceramic Fair. Since there was no food and drink sold last year due to the pandemic-related restrictions, it was not as much fun as usual. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend the tōki ichi this year due to teaching obligations, but I hope it will be as nice as it has been in the past.

Getting ready for the Ceramic Fair during Golden Week
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

Visiting festivals and talking with people who were preparing for and looking forward to future events made me aware of the importance of these festivals for communities, social relations and cohesion, local businesses, tourism and local identity. The excitement about the festival’s return showed how much people had missed working together to prepare the food, organize the program, and set up the stage and booths. But even more important was the opportunity to meet people they hadn’t seen in a long time. I heard so many people shouting: “O hisashiburi!” (Long time no see!) and catching up on the last three years. On the other hand, I also heard of villages where the pandemic served as an excuse to abandon festivals because of the aging of the population, which made it very difficult to find people to organize local events. Since local festivals are important for rural areas and their residents, I hope they will survive, and I am very much looking forward to participating in more festivals next year.