The foundations of Japan

by J. W. Robertson Scott

THE PROBLEMS OF JAPAN

Concerning these things, they are not to be delivered but from much intercourse and discussion.—Plato

Emigrants do not willingly seek a climate worse than their own. This is one of the reasons why the development of Hokkaido has not been swifter. The island is not much farther from the mainland than Shikoku, but it is near, not the richest and warmest part of the mainland, but the poorest and the coldest. If we imagine another Scotland lying off Cape Wrath, at the distance of Ireland from Scotland, and with a climate corresponding to the northerly situation of such a supposititious island, we may realise how remoteness and climatic limitations have hindered the progress of Hokkaido.

"Our mode of living is not suited to the colder climate," an agricultural professor said to me. "Poor emigrants do not have money enough to build houses with stoves and properly fitting windows."

To what extent the modified farming methods rendered necessary by the Hokkaido climate have had a deterring effect on would-be settlers I do not know. It has never been demonstrated that the Japanese farmer prefers arduous amphibious labour to the dry-land farming in which most of the world's land workers are engaged; but the cultivation of paddy or a large proportion of paddy is his traditional way of farming. Rice culture also means to him the production of the crop which, when weather conditions favour, is more profitable than any other. In Hokkaido, as we have seen, the remunerative kind of agriculture is mixed farming, and, in a large part of the country, rice cannot be grown at all. Against objections to Hokkaido on the ground of the strangeness of its farming may probably be set, however, the cheapness of land there.

An undoubted hindrance to the colonisation of Hokkaido has been land scandals and land grabbing. Many of what the late Lord Salisbury called the "best bits" are in the hands of big proprietors or proprietaries. Some large landowners no doubt show public spirit. But their class has contrived to keep farmers from getting access to a great deal of land which, because of its quality and nearness to practicable roads and the railway, might have been worked to the best advantage. In various parts of Japan I heard complaints. "The land system in Hokkaido," one man in Aichi said to me, "is so queer that land cannot be got by the families needing it, I mean good land." Again in Shikoku I was assured that "the most desirable parts of the Hokkaido are in the hands of capitalists who welcome tenants only." In more than one part of northern Japan I was told of emigrants to Hokkaido who had "returned dissatisfied." A charge made against the large holder of Hokkaido land is that he is an absentee and a city man who lacks the knowledge and the inclination to devote the necessary capital to the development of his estate. Of late the rise in the value of timber has induced not a few proprietors to interest themselves much more in stripping their land of trees than in developing its agricultural possibilities.

The development of Hokkaido may also have been slowed down to some extent by a lower level of education among the people than is customary on most of the mainland, by a rougher and less skilful farming than is common in Old Japan and by the existence of a residuum which would rather "deal" or "let George do it" or cheat the Ainu than follow the laborious colonial life. But no cause has been more potent than a lack of money in the public treasury. I was told that for five years in succession Tokyo had cut down the Hokkaido budget. Necessary public work and schemes for development have been repeatedly stopped. At a time when the interests of Hokkaido demand more farmers and there is a general complaint of lack of labour, at a time when there are persistent pleas for oversea expansion, there are in Japan twice or thrice as many people applying for land in the island as are granted entry. The blunt truth is that the State has felt itself compelled to spend so much on military and naval expansion that the claims of Hokkaido for the wherewithal for better roads, more railway line and better credit have often been put aside. [^[273]]

One thing is certain, that slow progress in the development of Hokkaido gives an opening to the critics of Japan who doubt whether her need for expansion beyond her own territory is as pressing as is represented by some writers. However this may be, Hokkaido is stated to take only a tenth of the overplus of the population of Old Japan. The number of emigrants in 1913 was no larger than the number in 1906. A usual view in Hokkaido is that the island can hold twice as many people as it now contains. "When 3,625,000 acres are brought into cultivation," says an official publication, "Hokkaido will be able easily to maintain 5,000,000 inhabitants on her own products."

Very much of what has been achieved in Hokkaido has been done under the stimulating influence of the Agricultural College, now the University. The northern climate seems to be conducive to mental vigour in both professors and students. If in moving about Hokkaido one is conscious of a somewhat materialistic view of progress it may be remembered that an absorption in "getting on" is characteristic of colonists and their advisers everywhere. It is not high ideals of life but bitter experience of inability to make a living on the mainland which has brought immigrants to Hokkaido. As time goes on, the rural and industrial development may have a less sordid look.[^[274]] At present the visitor who lacks time to penetrate into the fastnesses of Hokkaido and enjoy its natural beauties brings away the unhappy impression which is presented by a view of man's first assault on the wild.

But he must still be glad to have seen this distant part of Japan. He finds there something stimulating and free which seems to be absent from the older mainland. It is possible that when Hokkaido shall have worked out her destiny she may not be without her influence on the development of Old Japan. Those of the settlers who are reasonably well equipped in character, wits and health are not only making the living which they failed to obtain at home; they are testing some national canons of agriculture. Face to face with strangers and with new conditions, these immigrants are also examining some ideals of social life and conduct which, old though they are, may not be perfectly adapted to the new age into which Japan has forced herself. One evening in Hokkaido I saw a lone cottage in the hills. At its door was the tall pole on which at the Bon season the lantern is hung to guide the hovering soul of that member of the family who has died during the year. The settler's lantern, steadily burning high above his hut, was an emblem of faith that man does not live by gain alone which the hardest toil cannot quench. In whatever guise it may express itself, it is the best hope for Hokkaido and Japan.

During my stay in the island I had an opportunity of meeting some of the most influential men from the Governor downwards; also several interesting visitors from the mainland. We often found ourselves getting away from Hokkaido's problems to the general problems of rural life.

Of the good influences at work in the village, the first I was once more assured, was "popular education and school ethics, a real influence and blessing." The second was "the disciplinary training of the army for regularity of conduct." ("The influence of officers on their young soldiers is good, and they give them or provide them with lectures on agricultural subjects and allow them time to go in companies to experimental farms.")

Someone spoke of "the influence of the religion of the past." "The religion of the past!" exclaimed an elderly man; "in half a dozen prefectures it may be that religion is a rural force, but elsewhere in the Empire there is a lack of any moral code that takes deep root in the head. After all Christians are more trustworthy than people drinking and playing with geisha."

On the other hand a prominent Christian said: "There is a weakness in our Christians, generally speaking. There is an absence of a sound faith. The native churches have no strong influence on rural life. There is often a certain priggishness and pride in things foreign in saying, 'I am a Christian.'"

Another man spoke in this wise: "I have been impressed by some of the following of Uchimura. They seem ardent and real. But I have also been attracted by strength of character in members of various sects of Christians. The theology and phraseology of these men may be curious, may be in many respects behind the times, but their religion had a beautiful aspect.[ ^[275]] Many of our people have got something of Christian ethics, but are no church-goers. Some Japanese try to combine Christian principles with old Japanese virtues; others with some soul supporting Buddhistic ideas. We must have Christianity if only to supply a great lack in our conception of personality. People who have accepted Christianity show so much more personality and so much more interest in social reform."

When we returned to agricultural conditions, one who spoke with authority said: "In Old Japan the agricultural system has become dwarfed. The individual cannot raise the standard of living nor can crops be substantially increased. The whole economy is too small. [^[276]] The people are too close on the ground. They must spread out to north-eastern Japan, to Hokkaido, Korea and Manchuria. The population of Korea could be greatly increased. There is an immense opening in Manchuria, which is four or five times the area of the Japanese Empire and sparsely populated. There is also Mongolia."[^[277]]

"But in Korea," one who had been there said, "there are the Koreans, an able if backward people, to be considered—they will increase with the spread of our sanitary methods among a population which was reduced by a primitive hygiene and by maladministration. And as to our people going to the mainland of Asia, we do not really like to go where rice is not the agricultural staple, and we prefer a warm country. In Formosa, where it is warm, we are faced by the competition of the Chinese at a lower standard of life. [^[278]] The perfect places for Japanese are California, New Zealand and Australia, but the Americans and Australasians won't have us. I do not complain; we do not allow Chinese labour in Japan. But we think that we might have had Australasia or New Zealand if we had not been secluded from the world by the Tokugawa régime, and so allowed you British to get there first. It is not strange that some of our dreamers should grudge you your place there, should cherish ideas of expansion by walking in your footsteps. But it is wisdom to realise that we cannot do to-day what might have been done centuries ago or make history repeat itself for our benefit. It is wiser to seek to reduce the amount of misapprehension, prejudice and—shall I say?—national feeling in Japan and America and Australasia, and try to procure ultimate accommodation for us all in that way. But not too much reduce, perhaps, for, in the present posture of the world, nationalist feeling and—we do not want premature inter-marriage—racial feeling are still valuable to mankind."

A speaker who followed said: "Remember to our credit how our area under cultivation in Old Japan continually increases. [^[279]] Bear in mind, too, what good use we have made of the land we have been able to get under cultivation—so many thousand more chō of crops than there are chō of land, due, of course, to the two or three crops a year system in many areas."[ ^[280]]

"As for the situation the emigrants [^[281]] leave behind them in Old Japan," resumed the first speaker, "the experiment should be tried of putting ten or so of tiny holdings [^[282]] under one control, and an attempt should be made to see what improved implements and further co-operation[ ^[283]] can effect. I suppose the thing most needed on the mainland is working capital at a moderate rate. Think of 900 million yen of farmers' debt, much of it at 12 per cent. and some of it at 20 per cent.! I do not reckon the millions of prefectural, county and village debt. Of what value is it to raise the rice crop to 3 or 4 koku per tan (60 or 80 bushels per acre)[^[284]] if the moneylender profits most? The farmers of Old Japan are undoubtedly losing land to the moneyed people.[ ^[285]] Every year the number of farmers owning their own land decreases[ ^[286]] and the number of tenants increases and more country people go to the towns.[ ^[287]] And, as an official statement says, 'the physical condition of the army conscripts from the rural districts is always superior to that of the conscripts of the urban districts.'"

Some Western criticism of Japanese agriculture cannot be overlooked.[ ^[288]] Criticism is naturally invited by (1) Japanese devotion to what is in Western eyes an exotic crop—but owing to exceptional water supplies, favourable climatic conditions and acquired skill in cultivation, the best crop for all but the extreme north-east of Japan;[ ^[289]] (2) the small portions in which much of that crop is grown—of necessity; (3) the primitive implements—not ill-adapted, however, to a primitive cultural system; (4) the non-utilisation of animal or mechanical power in a large part of the country—due as much to physical conditions as to lack of cheap capital; (5) what is spoken of as "the never-ending toil"—against which must be set the figures I have quoted showing the number of farmers who do not work on an average more than 4 or 5 days a week; and (6) the moderate total production compared with the number of producers—which must be considered in reference to the object of Japanese agriculture and in relation to a lower standard of living. Japanese agriculture, as we have seen, has shortcomings, many of which are being steadily met; but with all its shortcomings it does succeed in providing, for a vast population per square ri, subsistence in conditions which are in the main endurable and might be easily made better.

Paddy adjustment has clearly shown that paddies above the average size are more economically worked than small ones, but these adjusted paddies are on the plains and a large proportion of Japanese paddies have had to be made on uneven or hilly ground where physical conditions make it impossible for these rice fields to be anything else than small and irregular. Japanese agriculture is what it is and must largely remain what it is because Japan is geologically and climatically what it is, and because the social development of a large part of Japan is what it is. Comparisons with rice culture in Texas, California and Italy are usually made in forgetfulness of the fact that the rice fields there are generally on level fertile areas, in America sometimes on virgin soil. In Japan rice culture extends to poor unfavourable land because the people want to have rice everywhere.[ ^[290]] The Japanese have cultivated the same paddies for centuries, Some American rice land is thrown out of cultivation after a few years. In fertile localities the Japanese get twice the average crop. It must also be remembered that Japanese paddies often produce two crops, a crop of rice and an after-crop. Japanese technicians are well acquainted with Texan, Californian and Italian rice culture, and Japanese have tried rice production both in California and Texas.

"They talk of Texan and Italian rice culture," said one man who had been abroad on a mission of agricultural investigation, "but I found the comparative cost of rice production greater in Texas than in Japan. Some Japanese farmers who went to Texas were overcome by weeds because of dear labour. In Italian paddies, also, I saw many more weeds than in ours. It is rational, of course, for Americans and Italians to use improved machinery, for they have expensive labour conditions, but we have cheap labour. The Texans have large paddies because their land is cheap, but ours is dear. In these big paddies the water cannot be kept at two or three inches, as with us. It is necessarily five inches or so, too deep, and the soil temperature falls and they lose on the crops what they gain by the use of machinery. Further, it must be remembered that we are not producing our rice for export. It is a special kind for ourselves, which we like;[ ^[291]] but foreigners would just as soon have any other sort. We have no call, therefore, to develop our rice culture in the same degree as our sericulture, which rests mainly on a valuable oversea trade."

"On this general question of improvement of implements and methods," said another member of our company, "we must use machinery and combine farming management when industrial progress drives us to it; but why try to do it before we are compelled? Concerning horses, the difficulty which some farmers have in using them is the difficulty of feeding them economically. Concerning cereals, our consumption is not less than that of Germany, but Germany imports more than twice the cereals we do, so there would seem to be something to be said for our system."

CUTTING GRASS

"Some revolutionising of Japanese farming is necessary, in combined threshing, for instance," the expert who had opened our discussion said. "This combined threshing is now seen in several districts, and combined threshing will be extended. But there is the objection to the threshing machine that it breaks the straw and thus spoils it for farmers' secondary industries. It should not be impossible to invent some way of avoiding this, but the threshing machine is also too heavy for narrow roads between paddies. It is difficult to deliver the crops to the machine in sufficient bulk. Necessity may show us ways, but small threshing machines are not so economical. Of course we must have much more co-operative buying of rural requirements, and certainly there is room in some places for the Western scythe made smaller, but our people, as you have seen, are dexterous with their extremely sharp, short sickle, and fodder is often cut on rather difficult slopes, from which it is not easy to descend loaded, with a scythe. Some foreigners who speak so positively about machinery for paddies, and for, I suppose, the sloping uplands to which our arable farming is relegated, do not really grasp the physical conditions of our agriculture. And they are always forgetting the warm dankness of our climate. They forget, too, that implements for hand use are more efficient than machinery, and, if labour be cheap, more economical. They forget above all that we are of necessity a small-holdings country."

Is it such a bad thing to be a small-holdings country? Does the rural life of countries which are pre-eminently small-holding, like Denmark and Holland, compare so unfavourably with that of England? I wonder how much money has been sunk—most of it lost—during the past quarter of a century in attempts to increase small holdings in England.

"Because we have much remote, wild, uncultivated land," the speaker I have interrupted continued, "that is not to say that most of it, often at a high elevation, or sloping, or poor in quality, as well as remote, can be profitably broken up for paddies. Much of this land can be and ought to be utilised in one fashion or another, but we have found some experiments in this direction unprofitable, even when rice was dear. But it may be said, Why break up this wild land into paddies? Why not have nice grassy slopes for cattle as in Switzerland? But our experts have tried in vain to get grass established. The heavy rains and the heat enable the bamboo grass to overcome the new fodder grass we have sown. The first year the fodder grass grows nicely, but the second year the bamboo grass conquers. In Hokkaido and Saghalien we are conquering bamboo grass with fodder grass. The advice to go in largely for fruit ignores the fact of our steamy damp climate, which encourages sappy growth, disease and those insects which are so numerous in Japan. We cannot do much more than grow for home consumption."

"The advice to draw the cultivation of our small farms under group control has not always been profitable when followed by landlords," one who had not yet spoken remarked. "They have not always made more when they farmed themselves than when they let their land. All the world over, land workers do better for themselves than for others. Proposals further to capitalise farming which, with a rural exodus already going on, would have the effect of driving people off the land who are employed on it healthily and with benefit to the social organism, do not seem to offer a more satisfactory situation for Japan. No country has shown itself less afraid of business combination than Japan, and the world owes as much to industry as to agriculture, and I am not in the least afraid of machinery and capital; but production is not our final aim. Production is to serve us; we are not to serve production. If people can live in self-respect on the land they are better off in many ways than if they are engaged in industry in some of its modern developments."

"The world is also better off," my interpreter in his notes records me as saying when I was pressed to state my opinion. "The day will come when the uselessness and waste of a certain proportion of industry and commerce will be realised, when the saving power of an export and import trade in unnecessary things will be questioned and when the cultivator of the ground will be restored to the place in social precedence he held in Old Japan. With him will rank the other real producers in art, literature and science, industry and commerce. The industrialisation of the West and its capitalistic system have not been so perfectly successful in their social results for it to be certain that Japan should be hurried more quickly in the industrial and capitalistic direction than she is travelling already.[^[292]] If she takes time over her development, the final results may be better for her and for the world. I have not noticed that Japanese rural people who have departed from a simple way of life through the acquirement of many farms or the receipt of factory dividends have become worthier. On the question of the alleged over-population of rural Japan, one Japanese investigator has suggested to me that as many as 20 per cent. could be advantageously spared from agricultural labour. But he was not himself an agriculturist or an ex-agriculturist. He was not even a rural resident. Further, he conceived his 20 per cent. as entering rural rather than urban industry.

"A great deal of afforestation and better use of a large proportion of forest land, much more co-operation for borrowing and buying, improved implements where improved implements can be profitably used, animal and mechanical power where they can be employed to advantage, paddy adjustment to the limit of the practical, more intelligent manuring, a wider use of better seeds,[ ^[293]] the bringing in of new land which is capable of yielding a profit when an adequate expenditure is made upon it, a mental and physical education which is ever improving—all these, joined to better ways of life generally, are obvious avenues of improvement, in Northern Japan particularly, not to speak of Hokkaido.[ ^[294]] But it is not so much the details of improvement that seem urgently to need attention. It is the general principles. I have been assured again and again by prefectural governors and agricultural experts—and in talking to a foreigner they would hardly be likely to exaggerate—that considered plans for the prevention of disastrous floods, for the breaking up of new land, for the provision of loans and for the development of public intelligence and well-being were hindered in their areas by lack of money alone. The degree to which rural improvements, with which the best interests of Japan now and in the future are bound up, may have been arrested and may still be arrested by erroneous conceptions of national progress and of the ends to which public energy and public funds [^[295]] may be wisely devoted is a matter for patriotic reflection. [^[296]] No impression I have gained in Japan is sharper than an impression of ardent patriotism. For good or ill, patriotism is the outstanding Japanese virtue. What some patriots here and elsewhere do not seem to realise, however, is what a quiet, homely, everyday thing true patriotism is. The Japanese, with so many talents, so many natural and fortuitous advantages, and with opportunities, such as no other nation has enjoyed, of being able to profit by the social, economic and international experience of States that have bought their experience dearly and have much to rue, cannot fairly expect to be lightly judged by contemporaries or by history. If the course taken by Japan towards national greatness is at times uncertain, it is due no doubt to the fascinations of many will-o'-the-wisps. There can be one basis only for the enlightened judgment of the world on the Japanese people: the degree to which they are able to distinguish the true from the mediocre and the resolution and common-sense with which they take their own way."

"Our rural problems," a sober-minded young professor added, after one of those pauses which are usual in conversations in Japan, "is not a technical problem, not even an economic problem. It is, as you have realised, a sociological problem. It is bound up with the mental attitude of our people—and with the mental attitude of the whole world."