and many scholars gathered there as well, the tendency in current Japanese scholarship is to view matters with Tokyo at the center. And when one thinks of the countryside, the portion of Japan that lies east of the center has become the standard. For example, in the postwar period a lot of attention has been paid to the abuse of daughters by their mothers-in-law. Certainly this is a problem that must be considered, and it occurs in places where fathers are particularly dominant [especially in eastern Japan]. On the other hand, it would appear that there is even more tormenting of mothers-in-law by their daughters, but this matter is given little attention, probably because mothers-in-law lack the means or the power to appeal to the media. With regard to marriage as well, before the middle of the Meiji period [the 1890s], how would the number of daughters who married according to their parents’ wishes and those who married on the strength of their own will have compared? It would appear that in western Japan, there were more examples of the latter than of the former.
Even within a single era, various regional differences can be found, but we must not simply divide them into the advanced and the backward. We tend to view people of previous generations and those living in the lower strata of society in a trifling manner. And though we may have a propensity to feel a sort of pathos, I think it is necessary for us to put ourselves in the position of others and to think like they do.
I would like to say something about my intentions and methods in listening to and writing down the words of the old people I have gathered here. First, wanting to see all of Japan, I set out in 1939 and walked the country, going where impulse led me. I traveled in this way until the end of the war, and it was on those travels that I met the elderly men Tosa Genji, Tanaka Umeji, and Takagi Seiichi.
After the war, I returned home and became a farmer, remaining home most of the time until 1952. Prior to that I had returned to help plant and harvest rice and to harvest tangerines. Through such experiences I had developed a deep interest in agricultural methods, and as a farmer I think I am in the possession of above-average skills. So, after the war, at the times of year when there was little farm work to do, I returned to the places I had traveled before the war, visited people I had become close to, and spread information about agricultural methods. I also researched farming communities on the side. Fortunately, wherever I went, I was able at a glance to generally estimate the level of that area’s agricultural methods, the nature of their farm management, the degree to which forestry had evolved, and the like. Thanks to this, I was able to enter a village and talk immediately and intimately with the old and young and to the women there, forgoing uninteresting concerns and anxieties.
Thereafter, I looked as closely and thoroughly as I could at a specific area. For example, I went to all of the villages on the island that is my home. I talked with the people I met along the way and tried to answer whatever questions confronted me. Also, from the mid-1920s until about 1945, I walked most of the villages in the Sennan District of Osaka and in the Ikoma District of Nara Prefecture. In this way, I came to understand how each individual community had come into existence and how the people there had lived over time. In a similar fashion, I walked the islands of the Inland Sea. I also made an effort to return repeatedly to the same areas and to participate in research for academic associations.
I continued in this way until 1952, but fell ill and had to stop traveling for a time. Since 1955, I have put my energy into the study of mountain villages. I have written reports on research for academic associations and, with the help of funding from the Forestry Agency and the Central Depository for Agriculture and Forestry, studied some areas continuously for six years, together with a group of colleagues who formed a research group. We are now writing a report with regard to our study of seventy villages.
My method is to go to the village in question and walk around once to see what kind of village it is. Next, I go to the local government office and look in their storage for documents from the Meiji period and after. Then, making use of these documents, I confirm matters I have questions about with the local officials. Similarly, I visit the Forest Owners Association and the Agricultural Association. If, during the course of this work, I learn of the existence of particularly old documents, I visit the homes of the older families and hand copy whatever is necessary. I also select several farming households and research each of them individually, taking about half a day per household. If I am able to complete three homes—one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and another at night—that is ideal. When I ask my fellow researchers to do this work, they are even more efficient.
With the questions raised by the old family documents and with the local government documents in mind, I then meet with the village elderly and begin by asking these questions. Thereafter I encourage the people to speak as freely as possible. In this way I come to have a good understanding of their concerns. And in the meantime I am taught a wide variety of things. “Nagura Talk” is the record of just such an occasion.
During this time I also create opportunities to meet with housewives and young people in small discussion groups. I listen to what they have to say and I talk as well. On these occasions I am able to deduce a number of problems. But what I most want to know is what in their human relations—what in this environment—gave the producers of this local culture their energy.
A countless number of local people have participated in our studies and cooperated with us. I have almost never been obstructed, objected to, or turned away. Of course, there are times when I have imposed myself on people who were reluctant, but it is rare that nothing can be done and I have been forced to give up. I think this may come from my being a person of the past, of old customs. I am ever grateful that others do not try to accommodate me, but talk in a way that is true to who they are. And I think that one of my tasks is to convey their words to others, doing my best not to alter them. I am pleased that a paper monument is being made to these essentially anonymous people.
When it was decided that The Forgotten Japanese would be included in a collection of my writings, I added “The Story of Kawame,” “The Totsukawa Landslide,” “Birth of the New Totsukawa Village,” and “Wanderers.” Though these are somewhat different in their content from the life histories, I have added them so it will be known that history is not only made by special, famous people, but by a large number of common people, often from worlds that themselves have been forgotten.
While writing these old people’s stories, I too have somehow become old. There were many things I wanted to write down, but my notetaking was inadequate or the materials were lost. My memory has grown faint, and in many cases I have forgotten altogether; and so the history of the people lies in that which is thus buried.
Miyamoto Tsuneichi
February 14, 1971
Part One
Life Stories
An elderly woman in Aomori Prefecture, one among thousands who shared their life stories with Miyamoto. August 1966.
Chronology
Edo period 1603–1868
Meiji period 1868–1912
Taisho period 1912–26
Showa period 1926–89
Chapter 1
Meetings
[Tsushima Island, Nagasaki Prefecture, July–August 1950]
The village of Ina lies on the west coast of Tsushima, near its northern end, and long ago whale was hunted there. I was in the village for three days, and early on the second
