Japan and the Environment 2017 – Page 14

Japanese Nature Then and Now

I’m pretty exhausted after spending 6 hours listening to commencement speeches and hearing names belonging to mostly strangers being called, but hopefully my thoughts on today’s readings are coherent. Thanks to Gerlin for sending over some notes from the discussion today!

These were the articles we focused on:

Is There a Japanese Sense of Nature? by D.P. Martinez
The Hidden Face of Disaster: 3.11, the Historical Structure and Future of Japan’s Northeast by Oguma Eiji

Japan is viewed as nature-revering. But how do the Japanese view nature? I doubt that this question can ever really be answered, but Martinez attempts to by noting how nature instills cultural nationalism, which is powerful because it brings people together. What I found interesting was at the end of the first article, the author brings up a hypocrisy of Japanese actions. For example, Martinez mentions the huge recycling effort in Japan happening simultaneously with Japanese companies supporting deforestation in Indonesia. Martinez resolves that by saying Japanese people still have a special relationship with nature even when it’s not in its “purest” form. Generalizing Japan/how Japanese people view something makes me feel uneasy, but I think it’s important especially in preparation for this trip to think about the Japanese sense of nature.

Nuclear power generation is concentrated in grain-producing regions, like Tohoku. The second reading gave a more historical account of Tohoku. He pointed out a dichotomy between the rural and urban sense of nature, with the former being more relevant to Tohoku. -Another super cool thing is that we have been invited into this author’s home!!! Here are some questions to consider: What does it mean to the people of this area to be part of the “rice basket”? How do they move forward from disasters?

It’s been very interesting to read these types of texts. I haven’t taken a humanities class in a while, and I’m definitely more comfortable with reading scientific literature. So I’m glad that we’re given the opportunity to discuss and think critically about this material. Doing these readings helps me realize that while science is important, it needs more to make a difference. What I mean is that science doesn’t exist without social, cultural, and political contexts, and I’m super glad that I have the opportunity to engage more in these contexts.

The Nature of the Nation

Today brought us back into the seminar room in the Asian Studies building to further explore ideas about nature, environment, and environmental issues in Japan. I’ve found over the past three days that our little prep discussions are a unique space — we aren’t taking class; rather, we’re playing with themes across various disciplines including biology, ecology, anthropology, sociology, and history and applying these to our own specific interests. I think that this is why our discussions have been so engaging and dynamic.

Today we confronted an important question: “Is there a Japanese Sense of Nature?” D.P. Martinez, a Marine Anthropologist, poses this question as the title to a chapter which was our guiding reading for discussion. The biggest issue with asking this question is assuming that there is an answer. I’ll try to put that in a less snarky way. It’s nearly impossible to look at each historical era, each region, even each person in Japan and say that there are totally unifying beliefs about nature that are unique to Japan. Another issue is that the question presupposes what nature is and that nature itself is clearly defined. Varying ideas of nature within aspects of Japanese culture including Shintoism and Buddhism show that is not quite clearly defined across the board.

To wrap our heads around this question of nature, we thought about kami in Shintoism. Kami, or Gods, could manifest on the earth in materials of the environment such as a rock. The kami in a Shinto shrine, however, is not just a rock. It is wrapped in cloth and tied or has some similar accoutrements. Okay, so the rock — categorized as natural since it comes from the environment — is nature just with some slight modifications. But put yourself in the shoes of the person who assembled this kami. They handled the rock. They wrapped the cloth around the rock. A conclusion that can be drawn here is that the this aspect of nature does not have meaning to people until after it has been handled and given meaning in human social structures. I realize that I have somewhat departed from the question of a Japanese sense of nature but it’s also useful to dig into the materiality of objects and how their interaction with human hands classifies as natural or not.

A geographic center-periphery struggle also appears in Martinez’s work. Fishermen lamented neglectful practices of urbanite beachgoers who left the seashore dirty and did not respect the environment to the standards of the fishermen. But if there is a Japanese sense of nature, wouldn’t the urbanites share the same values of the environment as the fishermen? Clearly this is not the case and so views of nature must differ between different segments of the population of Japan. Although we challenged the notion that this is a geographic divide. It is probable that geography is not the best measure as rural and coastal areas continually urbanize throughout Japan.

In our time today we also looked at the history of Tohoku leading up to 3/11 in an article by Oguma Eiji — a renowned historical sociologist whom we will have the honor of meeting in Tokyo. Although we didn’t mention the term, I felt that Oguma points out an issue of environmental justice, in which the government puts an unequal environmental burden on a specific population. Although there were no immediate environmental threats to Tohoku during the 20th century (that I know of), I think that this is an issue of environmental justice because of the economic disadvantage put on Tohoku which did not allow them to recover in the wake of a natural disaster. More directly, the unnatural disaster of the nuclear meltdown unfairly harmed Tohoku more than anywhere else in Japan even though Tokyo primarily benefited from the energy from the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant.

As we continue to read and share our thoughts, I am getting excited to experiment and test these ideas in Tokyo. I hope that the experience of directly interacting with places relevant to our projects will inspire clarity or, perhaps more beneficially, allow us to more finely hone our research questions.

5/24 Japanese Sense of Nature

Today we discussed two readings: “Is There a Japanese Sense of Nature” by D. P. Martinez and “The Hidden Face of Disaster” by Oguma Eiji. The first article is a stereotype-breaking journey, while the second is about a region’s struggle in finding its place in Japan’s rapid modernization.

Martinez starts with an assumption that there exists a Japanese sense of nature because the understanding of nature in Japan is tightly connected with Shinto and Buddhism. However, just as other cultures, nature is both worshipped and manipulated/used by human. She discusses an example: kami (the Japanese term for deity), or the forces of nature, is often represented in manmade object and we know a rock is kami “because it has been wrapped in folded white paper hung on twisted straw rope”. This example seemed to me the establishment of human power over nature at first, because it implies the containment of kami. However, in Shinto, it is not human that get to decide what is kami and what is not, but rather that everything is kami, so whenever we encounter the sacred object (maybe chosen by a priest), we know kami stands in there. In Martinez’s argument, it is exactly the lack of explicit knowledge of conquering nature that deludes people that there is a Japanese sense of nature; however, this kami example shows that nature is always expressed as surrounded by human touch, which in other name, may be called manipulation. The sense of nature is so delicately embedded and encapsulated in Shinto and Buddhism that even the Japanese believe the infiltrated stereotype that they have a Japanese sense of nature.

Moreover, not only is the sense of nature not unique in Japan, it is used as a tool by the lower class, in the example of fishery. As considered lower by the urban people, fishermen uses the idea of nature to find meaning of themselves and make up for feeling inferior to people of the higher class. Fishermen disdain urban people as they are not able to take care of the environment and unwilling to venture. Partly characterized by the disdain toward each other, the modern divide of class could be one that is not characterized by income but living environment–“an urban middle and working class and a shrinking rural-based population”. As much as modernization benefit people in rural places, it intensifies the divide between rural and urban.

This reading has been very interesting while complicated, as it is a new way to approach the nature to me–I have never thought about how to understand “the sense of nature”, not to mention a Japanese sense of nature. It has been very inspiring to think about nature in the perspective of religion, sociology and politics.

And then Tohoku is where no respect for nature is shown, as modernization abuses the area and made it extra-vulnerable to disasters, 3/11 as an example. The struggle of Tohoku as “the Tibet of Japan” is the result of modernization, and the Oguma suggested at the end that it requires change in the socio-economic structure of the country in order to deal with the problems Tohoku is facing. The country has enjoyed sweet fruits of modernization; maybe it’s time for Japan and all of us to think about how to deal with the consequences and side effects of modernization.

Beyond Research

While academic research about the environment is the center of the trip, I would like to take an opportunity today to reflect on the more “average” culture differences and preparations regarding the trip. I really appreciate Aridome-sensei and Anna-san for their instruction about Japanese societal expectations and very practical issues. It is very easy and convenient to forget the small things while prepping for a greater project, but we have to constantly take a step back from this big issues to address the more frequently encountered daily life problems.

Back to more philosophical musings…

After taking a class about Orientalism the past semester, I became more aware of inherent bias in any reading I do. Going from that, I find it more difficult to judge the positionality of the author without understanding the specific cultural, social, and geopolitical context they are writing in and from. Additionally, the class taught me to look at power structures through a center-peripheral structure. Many of the problems about urban vs rural or Tokyo (Japan) vs Tohoku seem to stem from the disconnect of the marginalized communities and the decision makers. I do not know how the dialogues can progress to encourage those with power to actually meet the needs and to listen to those affected, but big problems do require creative solutions.

While we can apparently see the connection between governmental policy and environmental conservation, the political forces can even extend to the definitions of nature and how to interact with it. For example, Shinto’s ideas are appropriated to install a specific cultural nationalism for the Japanese as imagined by the government. The reverence of nature is not as simple as the “supernatural” existence of its existing state, but this respect is another manufactured byproduct of humanity. This is also in reaction to Western power dynamics and how those countries interact with their vision of “nature.” The nuances are worth considering, and nature cannot be a “retreat” or “sanctuary” as long as it remains a creation of humanity.

Natural Places, Hidden Faces, Built Spaces, and Acidic Hazes

I think it really speaks to the interdisciplinary nature (contested word choice intentional) that echoes of our previous discussions return in subsequent ones. Case in point: today’s discussion–on topics ranging from a Japanese sense of nature, to the history and path-dependence behind Touhoku, to Tokyo’s “built environment,” to acid rain–returned us to ideas of nature, Buddhism, and fisheries from the past two days. And if you’ll allow me, dear reader, a moment of mid-afternoon meta thinking on this project before I launch into today’s discussion, I think that any relevant environmentally-related question or concern or solution is going to be and must be interdisciplinary by (and here’s that word again) nature. To delve into such complex issues with anything less than an interdisciplinary, open-minded approach is to risk oversimplification.

I’ll have to ask you to also excuse my rather wordy, rambling style of writing these past few days and especially today. I tend to be wordy as a default, but I’ve been battling a sore throat these last several days and last night I didn’t sleep too well. I tend to get more rambling when I’m exhausted…

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Our very own Professors Selinger and Christmas of this trip led the discussions today on “Is there a Japanese Sense of Nature?” by D. P. Martinez (apparently an anthropologist turned film scholar) and “The Hidden Face of Disaster” by Eiji Oguma. Our discussion on the Japanese sense of nature led us on a wonderfully wide-ranging exploration of topics such as Buddhism and Shinto, and how they’ve played into this stereotype of a Japanese reverence or “sense” of nature. That is, that there is a certain “privileged” and “unique” Japanese relationship or understanding of nature derived from these two religions. Here, we saw echoes of Gerlin’s presentation on Buddhism, especially as Buddhist ideology would suggest transcending the natural, transcending dualities, and that there is no privileged relationship with nature. Shinto, meanwhile, is also a major source of these “Japanese sense of nature” stereotypes, owing to the kami that inhabit manufactured and natural objects (a tree, for instance, around which someone has tied a braided paper cord). And yes, it certainly caught my attention when Miyazaki was mentioned; nature seems to abound in his films, filled with magical creatures and a certain awe or nostalgia for the rural and natural. It brought me back to my first year seminar on Japanese Animation (speaking of nostalgia…).

I think “The Hidden Face of Disaster” was much more a historical account than I was expecting. I found out today that Eiji Oguma is or describes himself as a “historical sociologist,” so I suppose that makes sense. It was definitely informative, learning the seemingly path-dependent history of Touhoku as it transitioned from “pristine, untouched wilderness” to rice fields or rice basin to industrial modernization to nuclear proliferation–the latter three evidently at the hands of the Tokyo urban center. It made me wonder to what extent a parallel can be drawn between Touhoku/Tokyo and the American colonies/Great Britain. Put simply, Touhoku and its people were subject to the whims of people in Tokyo (who may or may not know or care what went on in Touhoku). Even as the nuclear disaster unfolded, Touhoku was deadlocked. Yet again, echoes of the (very recent) past returned to our discussion; we asked among ourselves, “Was the Touhoku earthquake and nuclear reactor meltdown a natural disaster according to Oguma?”, much as we did with Satsuki Takahashi’s “Four-fold Disaster” reading. Oguma arrived at a similar conclusion: that the earthquake and tsunami were by all accounts “natural,” while the nuclear reactor meltdown, radiation fears, and Touhoku’s path-dependent history leading up to it were “manmade.”

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We closed the day with presentations by Ethan and Nan on Tokyo’s “built-environments” (i.e. places and things made by people; infrastructure, roads, etc.) and acid rain in Japan, respectively, followed by packing and safety tips courtesy of Aridome-sensei and his wife, Anna-san. This is starting to get real long (it was quite a long day), so I’ll try to wrap up shortly. Overall, I thought today’s discussions were really quite fascinating in the way the intermixed and meshed with each other and previous discussions. As a (marine) biologist at heart, anthropological and historical discussions on “the Japanese sense of nature” and the history behind Touhoku were relatively new ground to me. I also thought that it was especially interesting that Shinjuku is one of the “built-environments” of Tokyo, noted in “Tokyo’s Third Rebuilding” as a built environment that takes you out of the city. We’ll be staying in Shinjuku, near Waseda University, so this was particularly relevant for us, geographically; it’ll be interesting to see firsthand what that author was describing.

I’ll close out, I suppose, with a question posed to you, the reader, to consider as you follow our journey: What kinds of built-environments do you find yourself in and on what temporal and spatial scales? What meanings do they and how you interact with them hold for you?