[17]

THE NATURE OF MINZOKU TAIWAN AND THE CONTEXT IN WHICH IT WAS PUBLISHED

WU MICHA*

Minzoku Taiwan , a journal in ethnology published during the war, has always enjoyed a positive response in both Taiwan and Japan. However, in July 1996, with the publication of The Fiction and Fact of “Greater East Asian Ethnology” , the Japanese literary critic Kawamura Minato contradicted this accepted opinion, generating controversy.

Kawamura picked up the term “Greater East Asian ethnology” for his book title from the transcript of a symposium published in the December 1943 issue of Minzoku Taiwan entitled “The construction of Greater East Asian ethnology and the mission of Minzoku Taiwan.” In his book Kawamura attempts a retrospective survey of prewar ethnological investigation and research conducted by the Japanese in the “Greater East Asia region,” which included Korea , Taiwan, the South Pacific, and Manchuria .

Kawamura’s focus was the written transcript of a symposium convened on October 17, 1943, in Tokyo at the residence of Yanagita Kunio , a leading scholar in the field of Japanese ethnology at the time. The symposium centered on Yanagita Kunio, and the other participants were central figures associated with the journal Minzoku Taiwan (Kanaseki Takeo , Nakamura Akira , and Okada Yuzuru ) and Yanagita Kunio’s disciple, Hashiura Yasuo , the editor of the journal Minkan denshō . Kawamura borrowed the term “Greater East Asian ethnology” from this symposium transcript; he also pointed out what Yanagita Kunio was intending with that wartime symposium:

To create, in the Greater East Asian region, a “discipline of ethnology” that employs the Japanese language to collect, categorize, and analyze [phenomena], which shall become the analytical target for comparison and contrast with “Japanese ethnology.” In other words, what Yanagita Kunio conceptualized was not an “ethnology” established in each of these areas that possessed its own autonomous set of topics and problematiques. On the contrary, it was a vision of a mode of ethnological research that radiated or expanded outward from the center, which was Japan. Or better yet, it resembled the organizational chart of a “Japanese ethnology” with a core-periphery network composed of local researchers, teachers, and interested amateurs in all of Japan’s districts, organized around Yanagita Kunio’s ethnological research center situated in Tokyo.¹

Kawamura argued that the role played by transregional ethnology (i.e., the study of ethnology in each region) within the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” as conceived by Yanagita was that of being the hands and feet of “Japanese ethnology.” None of these regional ethnologies had its own autonomous “head.” If one did not adopt a friendly reading of Yanagita’s comments at the symposium, he could say that Yanagita hoped [local] ethnologies would play a supplementary role. Yanagita did not intend to offer the Taiwanese, Koreans, or Manchurians the means for comprehending the self with regard to Japan (i.e., the meanings of self-affirmation and self-realization that were manifest in Japanese ethnological theories). On the contrary, the ultimate goal of these regional ethnologies was merely to measure “how much (ethnological) distance existed between them and us Japanese,” and thus Yanagita lacked the perspective of a comparative ethnology that would relativize Japanese ethnology.²

Using the phrase “Greater East Asian ethnology” appearing in the symposium proceedings as a lead-in, Kawamura Minato looked back (from a critical and self-reflexive position) on the prewar ethnological investigation and documentation carried out by the Japanese in Korea, Taiwan, the South Seas, and Manchuria, and sketched for us what can be called a “Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere ” in the realm of ethnological study. One might regard Kawamura’s perspective as but one in a series of critical reassessments of Yanagita Kunio’s ethnology that have recently appeared in Japan. His view also reflects a recent fashionable trend of reconsidering the colonial element in prewar academic investigations.³

Kawamura’s critical perspective and analytical context have resulted in an assessment of Minzoku Taiwan that pays particular attention to the tendencies of colonialism and exoticism associated with that journal. Kawamura’s way of interpreting Minzoku Taiwan, which is contrary to previous assessments, attracted the attention of those originally affiliated with Minzoku Taiwan. Professor Kokubu Naoichi ,⁴ one of the chief contributors to that journal, immediately published a rebuttal as a book review, despite his age of more than ninety years.⁵

Kokubu Naoichi’s critical review made three main claims: the first concerned the leader of Minzoku Taiwan, Kanaseki Takeo; the second dealt with the nature of the journal; and the third addressed postwar Taiwanese assessments of the journal. Kokubu cited the postwar respect that Taiwanese had for Kanaseki Takeo, as well as Kanaseki’s involvement in international academic circles and his academic legacy, to prove that Kanaseki was absolutely not a racist. Kokubu made it clear that the reason he and his colleagues from Minzoku Taiwan had conceived of the plan to document and investigate Taiwanese folklore in the early 1940s was because they had observed that older Taiwanese customs and folklore were soon to be destroyed. Minzoku Taiwan did not stoop to the level of becoming an exoticizing, colonialist journal. Furthermore, the fact that postwar Taiwanese assessments of both Minzoku Taiwan and Kanaseki Takeo have been very positive readily demonstrates that there was no racial or ethnic prejudice associated with the Minzoku Taiwan movement.

Kokubu Naoichi’s view is consistent with that found in the postwar memoirs of those formerly related to Minzoku Taiwan (no matter whether they are Taiwanese or Japanese) as well as with the image of Minzoku Taiwan depicted by most postwar scholars of Taiwan’s history. A brief review of that genealogy of postwar Taiwanese judgments concerning Minzoku Taiwan follows below. It begins with the 1960s.

In December 1960, when Professor Kanaseki Takeo visited Taiwan to attend a medical conference, he accepted an invitation to give a lecture for the Department of Archaeology and Anthropology at Taiwan University.⁶ During his visit, Kanaseki reminisced about Minzoku Taiwan in rather general terms at the “Symposium Welcoming Dr. Kanaseki Takeo,” which had been convened for former contributors to Minzoku Taiwan. During the last round of comments made at that gathering, one of the originators of Minzoku Taiwan, Huang Deshi (in 1960 a professor at Taiwan University), had this to say:

Now as I look back on those earlier years, I note that among the Japanese expatriates living in Taipei there were two types of people: One was composed of isolated, self-protecting Japanese, who sought a living only among the Japanese community and who did not wish to develop any connections with the outside world. The other kind had personal interactions with Taiwanese; they entered into the daily lives of the Taiwanese and tried very hard to comprehend that community. Of course, Mr. Kanaseki belonged to that second type.⁷

In 1966 the journal Taiwan fengwu (which modeled itself on Minzoku Taiwan, with the English title “Taiwan Folkways”) convened the symposium “Research trends in the contemporary study of local Taiwan” at its tenth anniversary celebration. Nearly all the participants at that event praised the legacy of Minzoku Taiwan and hoped that Taiwan fengwu would grow like Minzoku Taiwan had. Some speakers also suggested the publication of Chinese-language translations of Minzoku Taiwan in future issues of Taiwan fengwu. Summarizing the specific characteristics of Minzoku Taiwan, Huang Deshi made the following remarks:

Perhaps some suspect that because Minzoku Taiwan was edited by Japanese, it might therefore have manifested a style of racial prejudice or racial condescension. However, as one of the original organizers, I can say (without any reservation whatsoever) that “This kind of tendency absolutely did not exist.” As noted earlier in the symposium, when the journal first appeared, it was subject to severe repression and white-eyed attention on the part of the colonial authorities. Furthermore, the fact that there were more local Taiwanese than Japanese among Professor Kanaseki Takeo’s friends provides additional evidence of my claim. One can get a general sense of this phenomena from Kanaseki’s loving and protective attitude toward his Taiwanese friends, or from Ikeda Toshio ’s (general editor for the journal) preference for wearing native clothing, living in Taiwanese-style housing and later marrying a local woman, Ms. Huang Fengzi .⁸

During the war, Yang Yunping , a literary critic, had taken an attitude of disbelief towards Minzoku Taiwan when it was first published. He wrote an essay demanding that those affiliated with Minzoku Taiwan must possess love for Taiwan, in addition to their scientific attitude, as they began to research Taiwanese folklore and conduct local investigations. However, after the war, Yang (having become a professor at Taiwan University) admitted that he had accused his colleagues at Minzoku Taiwan unfairly, owing to his youthful hotheadedness. Yang wrote that there was evidence to demonstrate that Minzoku Taiwan did indeed address Taiwanese folklore and old customs in a sincere fashion.⁹

In 1982 an article by Ikeda Toshio was published posthumously, nearly forty years after the appearance of Minzoku Taiwan. As a key member of the Minzoku Taiwan circle, Ikeda had taken charge of editing the journal from beginning to end. His article, “A folklore journal of Taiwan under colonial rule,” was a kind of “Master’s own way” piece, and it is now frequently cited by those who analyze Minzoku Taiwan.¹⁰ Immediately following the death of this major figure from the Minzoku Taiwan group in 1981, Taiwan fengwu published a “Special issue commemorating the death of Mr. Ikeda Toshio.” In that publication, Yang Yunping expressed the following words of respect for Minzoku Taiwan and Ikeda Toshio in his eulogy, “Words of grief for the death of Mr. Ikeda Toshio”:

The very existence of the monthly journal Minzoku Taiwan represented the Japanese conscience. Though shameful aspects of Japanese colonial rule are numerous, Japanese people can cite the existence of this publication as something to be proud of. And of those colleagues who planned, edited, and published this journal, the one who devoted the most effort to these affairs was Ikeda Toshio. “Sir, you loved Taiwan and you researched her customs and recorded her folk practices. … The history of Taiwan will give you an evaluation with great care and respect. Rest very peacefully, Mr. Ikeda Toshio.”¹¹

Wang Shilang , who interacted with Ikeda Toshio only after the war, made the following historical assessment of Ikeda Toshio and Minzoku Taiwan:

In Taiwan, the emergence of ethnology as an academic discipline occurred only recently. Or more simply stated, ethnology was one of those things established only at the end of the colonial period. Furthermore, when one is considering that history, Minzoku Taiwan should be cited first as making the greatest contribution. As for Minzoku Taiwan the journal,… the person actually responsible for that publication was the late Ikeda Toshio. … In those times he dared to brave the danger of “opposing the trend of the times,” as well as the military’s displeasure, to carry through the unprecedented act of openly managing this kind of journal. For those acts, we have great respect for Ikeda. Fortunately, his efforts were not in vain; this journal has become a classic. All who research Taiwan must now cite it as a reference. For this alone, the deceased can certainly be very proud. From the perspective of Taiwan ethnology, this is a milestone worthy of commemoration.¹²

These commemorative articles written by intellectuals who were at the center of Minzoku Taiwan established the foundation for the postwar evaluation of Minzoku Taiwan. Beginning in the 1990s, the judgments of the postwar generation of scholars with no personal relationship to the journal also appear to adhere completely to the perspectives of those affiliated with the journal.¹³ Thus, it’s no surprise that Kawamura Minato’s new view of Minzoku Taiwan appeared quite “strange”; it also engendered serious debate.¹⁴

This opposition between the view of Kawamura, on the one hand, and those of Kokubu Naoichi and Ikeda Toshio on the other can be interpreted in several ways. Of the two sides, one acts as researcher, while the other has now become the object of research. From the perspective of an unadorned empiricism, the self-descriptions of those being researched (i.e., Kokubu Naoichi and Ikeda Toshio) have considerable persuasive power. Furthermore, if one recognizes the near unanimous postwar Taiwanese affirmation of Minzoku Taiwan (including the views of those who participated in the activities of Minzoku Taiwan during the war as well as the postwar assessments of a younger generation of scholars), then the perspective of Kokubu Naoichi and Ikeda Toshio could not possibly be false. However, why is it that Kawamura Minato has adopted such a different point of view? Might Kawamura Minato have engaged in a mis-reading of the journal and the historical context in which it was published?

WARTIME CONSCIENCE OR SUPPORTERS OF WAR?

Minzoku Taiwan was a monthly magazine whose front cover made a clear reference to the journal’s goal of “researching and introducing folklore and customs.” It first appeared in July 1941, and despite the scarcity of materials during the war, the journal continued to be published until January 1945, printing forty-three issues all together. (Recently the reprint edition of the journal included the February 1945 issue, which had been readied for publication but not ultimately released; it would have been the 44th issue.¹⁵) The central figures affiliated with the journal were Kanaseki Takeo, a professor of anatomy in the Medical School at Taihoku Imperial University (also known as Taipei Imperial University), and Ikeda Toshio, from the Taiwan government-general’s Information Office. Those who wrote for the journal included scholars teaching at Taihoku Imperial University, such as political scientist Nakamura Akira and sociologist Okada Yuzuru; members of the Japanese cultural circle in Taiwan, such as woodblock printer Tateishi Tetsuomi and photographer Mishima Itaru ; and several Taiwanese intellectuals.

Prior to the establishment of the journal, Okada Yuzuru, Sudō Toshiichi , and Kanaseki Takeo (all professors at Taihoku Imperial University), along with Chen Shaoxin (a Taiwanese research assistant in the Office of Folklore and Anthropology at Taihoku Imperial University), Huang Deshi (a literary critic and Taiwanese graduate from Taihoku Imperial University), and Manzōji Ryu , drafted and released to the public a signed statement of collective intent. The most important part of that public statement is included below:

The imperial subjectification (kōminka ) of the islanders (hontōjin ) must be actively promoted. We must note that when compared with an earlier situation where there were no policies and no results, the recent forceful promotion [of kōminka] is cause for special excitement. One should welcome the rapid destruction of crude customs and corrupt practices of the islanders and be thankful for the grace of modern culture that the islanders will now receive. However, at the same time, old customs devoid of any harm will not escape the fate of being sacrificed and destroyed. Though not perhaps the victim of an active man-made policy, they cannot possibly avoid the fate of being naturally destroyed in the distant months and years to come.

However, civilized citizens who possess the ability to document and study [such customs] have the duty to record and investigate all phenomena. Not only is it the duty of our nation’s citizens to document and research the mean customs as mean customs and the corrupt practices as corrupt practices. Since our citizens will expand the nation’s power toward the south—no matter whether it’s toward south China or toward the South Pacific—the most necessary group and the one with the greatest opportunity for promotion is none other than the Chinese race [Shina minzoku ]. In order to comprehend them, it is essential that we first understand the islanders of Taiwan. Furthermore, our nation’s absolute superiority over any other country comes from the fact that it possesses this convenience.¹⁶

From this statement of intent, as printed in the inaugural issue of the journal, one can ascertain that when Minzoku Taiwan was first published, colleagues affiliated with the journal perceived an impending crisis with regard to the destruction about to be wrought upon Taiwanese folklore and old customs, and for that reason they hoped to investigate and document it. In the discussions recorded in the December 1943 issue of Minzoku Taiwan (i.e., the article specifically cited by Kawamura Minato: “The network surrounding Yanagita Kunio: The construction of the Greater East Asian ethnology and the mission of Minzoku Taiwan”), Kanaseki Takeo provided examples to explain the immediate importance of investigating the old customs of Taiwan:

As for the problem of ancestor worship, originally only a plaque used for sacrifice was placed on the altar in the main hall, but now the plaque has been placed to the side, and in the exact center of the altar are placed the Shinto paper offerings from the Grand Shrine of Ise . Consequently, the former ancestor worship will gradually be diluted and forgotten. Therefore, if we don’t undertake this kind of investigation right now, in no time at all there will be no traces of the practice. With the continual and rapid imperial subjectification of the island, one might say that the investigation of Taiwan folklore is a very pressing matter.¹⁷

This sense of crisis regarding the imminent destruction of Taiwanese folk customs was caused by the imperial subjectification movement (kōminka undō ) being promoted by the government-general of Taiwan. The imperial subjectification movement was an aggressive assimilation movement forcefully promoted during the years in which Kobayashi Seizō served as governor-general (from September 1936 to November 1940). In particular, after the outbreak of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident on July 7, 1937, as the situation between China and Japan became increasingly confrontational, the Taiwan government-general initiated a movement for the “general spiritual mobilization of the nation’s citizens” similar to that being promoted in Japan proper. In addition, because the Taiwanese were still considered to be of the same race as that of Japan’s opponent, the Chinese, the government actively carried out a vigorous mobilization of the Taiwanese to wipe away the Chinese cultural and lifestyle tendencies of the Taiwanese and to encourage or force them to learn Japanese culture and practice a Japanese lifestyle. In Ikeda Toshio’s memoirs, he gives this description of the period:

The colonial government was working hard to destroy (or to cause the Taiwanese to forget) everything that might have aided the development of a Taiwanese ethnic identity [such as] the nostalgic emotions of popular religion, the activities associated with the festival year, as well as life course rituals such as cappings, weddings, and funerals. Amaterasu was substituted for Matsu ; Taiwanese clothing was exchanged for Japanese dress; the flat beds [peculiar to Taiwanese housing] were given over to tatami ; those surnamed Chen or Huang changed their names to Satō or Kobayashi , along with given names such as Tarō or Hanako Japanese-style names. Forcefully carrying out this kind of formalistic imperial subjectification, in the midst of B-24 and B-25 air raids, was none other than forcing “instant” imperial subjectification.¹⁸

Facing such a situation, Kanaseki Takeo and key members of the Minzoku Taiwan circle felt a sense of crisis and collective mission: they ought to document Taiwanese folklore before it disappeared. In the transcript of another roundtable discussion that was printed in the September 1944 issue of the journal, Kanaseki Takeo remarked:

These are some data that will disappear forever if not recorded now. In particular, at a time like the present during what is called the success of kōminka, in a period when this kind of [assimilation] is continually brought to fruition, one becomes very concerned. Being a scholar who documents it for posterity is a [special] type of responsibility for the residents of Taiwan [to accept]. This is hard to comprehend for those who normally don’t rely on data for their academic research. “Data” refers to what I just mentioned. Now for some of it we can know its historical significance, while for other data, its importance is not yet clear. And if we don’t yet understand [its meaning], then in the future perhaps it will become apparent. Furthermore, if we don’t keep [a record] of it, it may disappear. That is what data is.¹⁹

From the statements of contemporaries cited above (whether postwar recollections or wartime opinions printed in the journal), one should be able to confirm that one of the factors that explains the publication of Minzoku Taiwan was the hope of documenting Taiwanese folklore that was about to disappear as a consequence of the kōminka policy. It was this kind of thinking that brought on the criticism of Yang Yunping, the Taiwanese critic. Yang Yunping specifically emphasized his belief that with regard to Taiwanese folklore, one could not be content with mere objective and scientific documentation; one had to love the material. This kind of criticism must have come from Yang’s being uncertain whether Kanaseki Takeo and his colleagues at Minzoku Taiwan were merely interested in strange customs, or whether they possessed a sincere respect for Taiwanese folklore. However, once we recognize that Yang Yunping not only wrote for Minzoku Taiwan but also later admitted the rashness of his earlier criticism, we realize that Minzoku Taiwan, as well as Kanaseki Takeo and his colleagues, did receive the strongest affirmation from this Taiwanese critic famous for his harshness.

Nevertheless, in the statement of intent published in Minzoku Taiwan, and cited above, as well as in some of the published articles, it’s not difficult to detect traces of an imperialist policy within the journal or at least a move toward following some wartime trends. In his posthumous article, Ikeda Toshio said that these words and opinions, whose tone was similar to imperialist policies, had been employed only to protect the journal.

It was simply that because Minzoku Taiwan was not in harmony with the drift of the authorities, it could not have avoided being shut down if it did not occasionally chant this type of incantation.

Today I still recall that to defend Minzoku Taiwan we would occasionally quote in the editor’s comments at the end of an issue the instructions of the governor-general or the head of the Civil Administration, or perhaps quote from their prefaces to published monographs and the like. Or we would collect together some appropriate old customs and show that people from an earlier era did indeed say that these practices were of an elevated style.²⁰

It’s not difficult to imagine that during the war, editors and writers for the journal had to write texts appropriate to the current situation, in a manner in which their hearts and mouths revealed a substantial degree of inconsistency. Ikeda Toshio used a considerable amount of space in his postwar memoirs to explain the censorship that Minzoku Taiwan experienced. The pressure coming from unbending promoters of kōminka that was experienced by Minzoku Taiwan during the time it remained in existence was evidently quite heavy. One can get a general picture from the transcript of a discussion of “public sacrifice and the study of Taiwanese folklore” that was written up in the September 1944 issue. In this discussion, Kanaseki Takeo pointed out that some circles had expressed a lack of confidence in Minzoku Taiwan.

Particularly in Taiwan, this kind of research has been considered to manifest some sort of “nationalistic political odor,” or at least the danger of this kind of result. It seems as though there really are those good-for-nothings who for some strange reason want to prevent us [from doing our work]. As for the inane misunderstanding of these people and their uninteresting motives, we hope to express a bit more clearly our real support of the current situation.²¹

Without doubt, the goal of that September 1944 discussion was to respond to the doubts coming from the hard-liners and to be quite frank about the matter by clearly showing that Minzoku Taiwan’s activities were not in violation of any kōminka policies—on the contrary, this work embodied the meaning of public service. Furthermore, at this roundtable the participants discussed how popular folklore investigations could make an even greater concrete contribution to the national policy of kōminka. Granted, the very nature of this type of discussion allows for the possibility of a number of different (or even directly opposing) interpretations. However, if one carefully digests the statements made during the roundtable discussion, it’s not difficult to see just how strong the pressure placed on Minzoku Taiwan really was. During that session, Kanaseki Takeo reviewed the objectives and achievements of the journal and pointed out that given the present situation and the difficult conditions associated with it, if Minzoku Taiwan had to be discontinued, then they would just have to accept that decision. However, if the journal could remain in circulation, then they would do their best to complete their original mission and respond as much as they could to the demands of the current situation and contribute to national policy. Kanaseki Takeo’s statement reveals that he and his colleagues from Minzoku Taiwan were already mentally prepared for the journal to be discontinued at any moment, even though they still hoped to stubbornly continue their work if at all possible. The opinions of Nakai Tadashi , professor at Taihoku Imperial University, as given in this roundtable discussion, permit one to see even more clearly how Minzoku Taiwan struggled to survive despite being accused of being “incompatible with the times”:

Although I’m not very clear on this matter, I certainly have heard rumors to the effect that the work of Minzoku Taiwan needs to be altered. But I have also heard Tateishi and Ikeda say that what the authorities actually notice is not the fundamentals or the basics, but the superficial or the trivial; besides this, there’s not really anything [to be worried about]. For someone like myself (who knows little about the field), I don’t believe there’s anything that needs to be changed. If there is, then it’s only that [authors] haven’t clearly stated whether some phrase is still being used [in daily speech]. Besides that, when [authors] have mentioned traditional practices, perhaps they haven’t explained how such practices would be changed, what their present situation was, or how they ought to be changed. As for suggestions for revising the content of the journal, I suppose that a bit more concrete evidence of the public service movement might be good. However, I remind you that an ethnologist is surely not a politician. Those who are involved in the promotion of the imperial subjectification and public sacrifice movements should make better use of the journal. If this can be done, then that’s probably enough.²²

These statements made by Nakai indicate that Kanaseki Takeo had arranged for him, situated as he was in a position on the outside, to provide camouflage against surprise attacks on Minzoku Taiwan. From Nakai’s discussion, one can see just what doubts were being expressed concerning Minzoku Taiwan: This kind of journal, whose stated purpose was the investigation and documentation of Taiwanese folklore, not only made no contribution to the kōminka national policy being demanded by the current situation, but was actually harmful to the kōminka movement. This type of doubt and accusation had certainly always come from the outside, especially from the hard-liners in the colonial bureaucracy.

These various sources—Kanaseki Takeo’s remarks at a roundtable discussion while Minzoku Taiwan was still being published, or Ikeda Toshio’s postwar memoirs, or the like—help us apprehend that the central figures affiliated with Minzoku Taiwan, such as Kanaseki Takeo, Ikeda Toshio, and Kokubu Naoichi, without a doubt constantly felt a sense of imminent crisis regarding the likelihood that traditional Taiwanese customs and folklore would disappear as a result of the kōminka policies. Furthermore, each of them possessed a sense of mission concerning the need to generate documentation of this Taiwanese folklore before it disappeared. Second, during the period in which Minzoku Taiwan remained in circulation, it continued to be the target of accusations that it not only provided little support for official kōminka policies but actually ran in opposition to those policies. One could say this, then, of the central members of the Minzoku Taiwan group: During that period when they experienced formidable pressures from enemies on all sides, they still maintained the existence of the journal despite untold hardships. Consequently, it is not surprising that even though these events happened fifty years ago, as soon as Kawamura Minato’s criticism was published, the ninety-year-old Kokubu Naoichi had to step up and defend himself or, better yet, defend Kanaseki Takeo.

THE PERIOD IN WHICH MINZOKU TAIWAN WAS DISCONTINUED

During the war, Kanaseki Takeo and Ikeda Toshio faced pressure from the colonial state’s radical kōminka policies. Fifty years later, however, the accusations and questioning that they face comes from the opposite direction: the anticolonialism camp. How do we ultimately interpret the Minzoku Taiwan movement of Kanaseki Takeo and his colleagues? I believe that we must return to the historical context to answer this question.

Most scholars believe that the active promotion of the kōminka movement by the colonial government in Taiwan began in 1936 when Kobayashi Seizo was governor-general. The kōminka movement that Governor-General Kobayashi promoted was a program of social mobilization under the general name of the “movement for national spiritual mobilization.” The specific content of this movement included banning Chinese-language newspaper columns, promoting the daily use of the “national language” (i.e., Japanese), enforcing worship at Shinto shrines, “rearranging” local monasteries and temples, promoting the redesigning of central rooms in residential homes, banning Chinese-style customs and practices, enacting Japanese-style living, and changing personal and family names into accepted Japanese formats.²³ However, similar to the “national spiritual mobilization ()” in Japan proper, this social mobilization movement had few concrete results, and the reactions of citizens in the colony was not as expected. In Taiwan in particular, where the authorities demanded that Taiwanese give up or at least alter their traditional beliefs, customs, lifestyle, and culture, it was highly unlikely that the movement would be accepted by the islanders. Although Taiwanese may have responded superficially when pressured by the police or local officials, such responses are not to be confused with any real or effective results of the campaigns.²⁴

In 1941 the radical kōminka policies of Governor-General Kobayashi’s administration were altered. Konoe Fumimaro ) organized his second cabinet in July 1940, and under the name “New structure” (shin taisei ), his government promoted the slogan “national unity” (kyokoku-itchi ) and implemented the adjustment of all types of government policies. In particular, with the formation of the “Association for the Support of Imperial Rule” (Taisei yokusankai ) in October of that year, the Konoe administration possessed a nationwide mobilization system alongside the extant national-provincial government. Complementing this personnel reorganization and policy adjustment at the central government level in Tokyo, Hasegawa Kiyoshi took over as governor-general of Taiwan in November 1940.

Those in control of policy in Konoe Fumimaro’s “New structure” in 1940 came primarily from Konoe’s private national policy think tank, the Shōwa Kenkyūkai , or from the national mobilization organization “Association for the Support of Imperial Rule.” The cultural policy designed by the Shōwa Kenkyūkai during this period was articulated in the “Outline of cultural policy” that was drafted by the Cultural Research Association lead by Miki Kiyoshi , the famous literary figure. This policy outline revealed the liberal tendencies of those intellectuals affiliated with the Shōwa Kenkyūkai:

Although previously the emphasis has been placed solely on prohibitionary policies, in the future it won’t be limited to this. Instead we intend to put more effort into active guidance. We will try hard to encourage the creative energies of the citizenry toward the direction of cultural creativity. Even though the concept of kokutai has been strengthened, it should not just be conceptual in nature; rather, it is necessary to thoroughly implement this concept via the popular experience of cooperative living. As for ideological issues, we will not dwell on them as abstract ideological problems but rather relate them to the new organization of the citizenry and solve them in that manner.²⁵

More directly relevant to the topic at hand, though, are the suggestions detailed in the policy outline for enriching local culture, highlighting nonurban areas, and revising the mode of propagation. Let me cite a few relevant quotes.

Reform the undesirable flaws of the urban-centeredness of culture, and put all efforts into achieving the balanced development of local culture in each region. For example, change the current situation whereby higher educational institutions are concentrated in large cities. In order to strengthen and uplift local culture, we should make a careful study of ways to ensure the dispersed development of schools, libraries, art museums, research institutes, meeting centers, and entertainment facilities. In addition, we need to make a careful study of the means for encouraging talented specialists and leaders of all kinds to remain in local areas. … In order to cultivate clear and bright popular lives and healthy spirits, we should strengthen healthy and bright entertainment facilities, in addition to prohibiting low-class or mean forms of entertainment. Improve the content of radio, motion picture, and drama programs. In particular, we need to increase and improve the entertainment facilities in farming and fishing villages. This will result in the spread of superior cultural resources to localities, as well as the revival of traditional festivals that manifest local flavor.

An extremely important foundation of the new governmental structure consists of stimulating the citizenry and propagandizing in their midst. Aware that all previous official or official-civilian collaborative publications have been dull and boring, we should employ those in cultural circles who are especially able to carry out this propaganda and stimulation work. Furthermore, we need to integrate and reorganize all propaganda institutions, strengthen and enrich the mid-level institutions, while inducing nongovernmental cultural organizations to support official propaganda efforts from a perspective derived from their own special characteristics. We oppose propaganda that seeks culture only for the purposes of propaganda. Instead we should make a careful study of appropriate ways to ensure that propaganda is at the same time a means of enhancing the culture of the citizenry.²⁶

These views of the Shōwa Kenkyūkai were generally accepted and continued by the “Association for the Support of Imperial Rule” (Taisei yokusankai). For example, in order to generate enthusiasm for local cultural activities, Sakai Saburo , the central member of both the Shōwa Kenkyūkai and the Taisei yokusankai, along with his colleagues in the Taisei yokusankai, made a tour of numerous localities throughout the nation, inciting much enthusiasm. In a small booklet that Sakai distributed throughout Japan, The strategies for and significance of reviving local culture, he had this to say:

Central culture has consuming and entertainment tendencies, and is increasingly distant from our individual lives. Local culture is healthy, and it possesses qualities of being directly related to our lives as well as connected to production. The traditions of Japanese culture are rooted in everyday lives in this way; they thrive amidst healthy local culture. We must trace out these traditions to use them as a fertilizer for the cultural resources of the front lines at the center. Mutually interacting with each other is the only way that we can construct a new culture.²⁷

During this period, the director of the cultural department of the “Association for the Support of Imperial Rule” was the famous playwright and specialist of French literature, Kishida Kunio , and the assistant director was Kamiizumi Hidenobu , a writer of peasant literature. In January 1941 the cultural department released its first policy statement, “Ideals and current directions for the new construction of local culture.” In that document, the cultural department emphasized the notion that the cultural construction of the “New structure” meant the creation of new culture that would stand firmly upon the foundation of the entire nation and be integrated with production needs. For this reason, its key goal was the revitalization of local culture in order to produce national culture anew. The department’s immediate tasks included the following:

1)   Respect native traditions as well as the particular characteristics of local areas, in order that local culture can manifest its unique essence to the greatest possible extent. At all times take the new creative development of the entire nation as our goal in order to avoid repeating the former situation of being satisfied with the expansion of metropolitan culture into peripheral areas.

Reform the old culture of individualism. Continue to maintain and increase the intensity of the interrelationships among social groups, which is the unique trademark of agricultural villages. Promote love for the homeland and increase the sense of public spirit; affirm the living cooperative community in local areas, which is [the source of] the basic unity of our national family.

3)   Correct regional imbalances in culture, production, politics, and administration. Promote the healthy development of central culture as well as the enrichment of local culture, and attain a balanced cultural development from the close interaction of the two.²⁸

Kishida Kunio emphasized the “cultural nature of politics”; he argued, in other words, that politics should promote a society that reflected the actual nature of culture. Therefore, he criticized the earlier “movement for the total mobilization of the national spirit” for lacking any cultural content:

As is the case with the language of all propaganda, it is unrealistic to expect that the revitalization of morality can actually adjust and improve the daily lives of the populace. … Customs themselves are the root of morality. To use the force of morality to improve customs is to mistake the root for the branch.

Kishida felt that the original character of culture was expressed in the daily lives of the nation’s citizens and that therefore the culture of daily life had to be emphasized. However, Kishida did not reaffirm all extant popular culture across the board. He argued that there were three standards for assessing the value of culture: a) its scientific nature (or efficiency); b) its moral quality (or being healthy); and c) its artistic value. These three had to be harmonized. Likewise, a commodity’s cultural value depended upon its reasonableness (scientific nature) or utilitarian value, its unadorned nature (moral quality), and the beauty of its form (or artistic value). Kishida’s views are similar in some respects to the critical assessment of industrial crafts found in the folk art movement of Yanagi Muneyoshi .²⁹

While the “Association for the Support of Imperial Rule” trumpeted this promotion of culture, cultural activists from all areas of the nation were organizing their own cultural organizations. In November 1941 there were 120 cultural organizations nationwide; by June of 1943 they numbered 250; and in January 1944 the total had reached 407. Although these local cultural associations were established in response to a campaign organized by the cultural department of the association, and although each such organization had had to obtain official permission to establish itself, these entities did not resemble other national movement organizations with an identical and unified organization all across the nation. Consequently, in this instance, the force of a strong system emerging from within government was comparatively less; there was also no financial support from the state for these local organizations. Local leaders had to establish the organization themselves, which meant gaining support from interested persons from their native areas.

Although the activities of the movements organized by these local cultural associations were therefore quite different from each other, in terms of the overall structure, the revival of traditional culture was their most salient characteristic. This work included the observation of local festivals; the collection and documentation of local legends, dialects, and popular songs; the study of folk and local art, historical markers, and famous sights; the exhibition of folk art and native materials; the organization of local folk dances, folk song fests, and native drama presentations; the compilation of local histories; and the formal recognition of local heroes. Because of these cultural activities, local nativism reached a high level for a brief period.³⁰

Once we become aware of the nationwide situation in Japan proper, we can have a better understanding of the moment when Minzoku Taiwan came into being. Although there were no immediate changes of personnel in the Taiwan government-general’s office when the Konoe government was established, after the “Association for the Support of Imperial Government” was created in Japan proper, authorities in Taiwan did prepare to establish a local equivalent of that association.³¹ Then, in November 1940, Hasegawa Kiyoshi took over the position of governor-general of Taiwan, replacing Kobayashi Seizo. After Governor-General Hasegawa took office, he signaled a clear intent to adjust the radical kōminka policies of Governor-General Kobayashi Seizo’s era. This can be seen through an examination of the contents of a special issue of the government-general’s official publication, Taiwan jihō , published in January 1941: “Special issue on the guiding principles of kōminka.”³² This issue began with the “New Year’s greetings” of the governor-general and the director of the civil administration and was followed by an introductory article by Nakamura Akira entitled “Kōminka issues as cultural policies.” There were articles by others discussing several kōminka programs: name-changing, economical lifestyles, language, family residences, monasteries and temples, agricultural villages and peasants’ problems. The majority of the contributors to the special issue were professors at Taihoku Imperial University; all were considered experts in their own fields.

Nakamura Akira’s introductory article, “Kōminka issues as cultural policies,” especially caught the attention of readers. If one carefully examines the content of this article, he can see not only that Nakamura criticized the previous radical kōminka policies for not taking into consideration the special conditions of Taiwan—his article was, in essence, a promotion piece for the Taiwan equivalent of the local cultural movement of the “Cultural Department of the Association for the Support of Imperial Government” in Japan proper. Let me give some sample quotes from Nakamura’s article:

There is a natural connection between politics and culture. … There is a natural connection between politics and the cultural world of the daily realm of activities. … Cultural policies do not infer that politics guide culture, but rather that a culture will guide other cultures in moving toward a political direction. … That element of politics that guides culture is not politics per se, but rather it should be a politics that possesses a cultural nature and a politics that manifests cultural content. … The problem of kōminka in Taiwan is a problem of cultural policies; it’s a question of how the culture of one country can guide a different culture via politics. … Amidst the new politics of the “New structure,” there is an opportunity to reconsider the cultural policies of our country, and of course, we must reassess the problems of kōminka. … Broadly speaking, for a policy to manifest the significance of a policy, it must be able to get results. Therefore, an ineffective policy is necessarily meaningless. … In order for the kōminka problem as a cultural policy to be effective, officials must pay particular attention to responses toward kōminka policies at all times, and use this knowledge to consider methods for the next stage of kōminka policy-making. … The key issue for kōminka in Taiwan is changing Han Chinese culture into Japanese-style [culture], so that the islanders are incorporated into the Japanese national community. … The kōminka problem entails acknowledging that in actuality Han Chinese culture exists in a part of Japanese national territory, as well as determining how to incorporate it. … The nature of an ethnos is determined by its history. Thus, the assimilation of an ethnos is a long-term historical process; there is no alternative. The essence of an ethnos will be found in its personality and its ambition, as well as in the style of its actions, ideology, and feelings. Consequently, it is very difficult to alter an ethnos overnight. … Even if an ethnic cultural assimilation policy were capable of changing the cultural content of an ethnos, it would still be difficult to change the mode of thinking and feeling of the culture of that ethnos. … If one wishes to get rid of shrines and temples, then you must first determine which previous religio-psychological needs of the islanders were met by shrines and temples, and then provide a substitute that can compensate for these psychological needs. … If one does not provide a substitute to compensate but merely bans extant religious rituals, he will not be able to satisfy the psychological needs of the islanders, and that can only result in empty policies. … If you are determined to destroy even that type of dispersed local deities, then the policy has become too extreme. To preserve in an appropriate fashion the unique songs, dances, and music of the islanders is a necessary step in relieving and calming the daily lives of the islanders. Otherwise, if politics interferes to such a degree, then all tendencies toward intimacy will be lost from politics. …

An ethnos is a religious and linguistic collectivity, and therefore the next problem after the religious problem is a linguistic one. … One must first implement compulsory education for the islanders before he can realize the expansion of the national language in Taiwan. … The implementation of compulsory education is one point that must be given even more attention. … If there is a need to employ the national language in one’s daily life, then the frequent use of the national language will be attained in a natural fashion. On the contrary, if it is not necessary to use the national language in one’s daily life, it will not be easy to implement the policy promoting the frequent use of the national language. Therefore, the first step toward solving this problem is to cause them to feel the need of the national language. If this language is necessary, as well as convenient, then naturally they will be inclined toward that direction. If it is inconvenient, then even if you enforce a national language policy, in the end there naturally will be no concrete results. … The matter of clothing is the same. Even if you reward the wearing of the kimono, it will not be easy to induce people to give up clothing worn by the islanders that is convenient for wearing during daily activities. … Convenient things are naturally used. Even if you force them under the name of the kōminka policy to use inconvenient things from ancient Japan, these policies will have no results. Therefore, kōminka as a cultural policy requires the popularization of a Japanese lifestyle, and this lifestyle must at least be more convenient and reasonable than the islanders’ own counterpart.³³

Although the above quote is quite long, this material is too important to be omitted here. Nakamura’s article not only criticized previous kōminka policy, it also expressed the notion that in the future the principle for implementing kōminka policies was the necessity of paying careful attention to Taiwanese responses and to policy results in order to provide convenient and reasonable policy content to induce the Taiwanese to change, while avoiding the one-sided tactic of forcing Taiwanese to practice Japanese lifestyle and culture. When he wrote this article, Nakamura Akira was an assistant professor at Taihoku Imperial University, and he was responsible for the lectureship in constitutional law at that institution. Even more critical to our story is the fact that he was the student of Tokyo Imperial University professor Yabe Teiji , who was an important member of the Shōwa Research Association, the think tank for Prime Minister Konoe Fumimaro.³⁴ We are reminded again that Nakamura Akira had personal connections to central government figures in Japan while holding a lectureship in the colony. This article of his was positioned as the centerpiece for the “Special issue to reconsider kōminka policies” of the government-general’s official journal. And the new governor-general of Taiwan wrote a preface for that issue not long after taking his new position. Given all of this, we have reason to believe that Nakamura’s article was the announcement of the new governor-general’s change in the kōminka policies applicable to Taiwan. Furthermore, this adjustment was a response to the cultural policies of the central government in Japan proper.

THE LOCAL CULTURE MOVEMENT IN COLONIAL TAIWAN

Another article appearing in this special issue of Taiwan Jihō, one written by Kanaseki Takeo, on the other hand, did not stray far from his academic specialty—he was a professor of anatomy in the School of Medicine at Taihoku Imperial University. Kanaseki’s article was entitled “Kōminka and racial questions.”³⁵ Though Kanaseki discussed the topics of eugenics and the offspring of interracial marriages from the perspective of his own field of study, he was very careful to express the opinion that these issues of research would require much time to fully apprehend. As for the other articles in the special issue, with the exception of Nakamura Akira’s piece that clearly expressed his critical views toward previous radical kōminka policies, none of the other writers expressed particularly clear opinions. Perhaps this is explained by the fact that of the contributors to the special issue, Nakamura was the most knowledgeable concerning changes in colonial government policy; perhaps he was the very person in charge of making this change!

However, because of the government-general’s policy adjustments, in May 1941, Kanaseki Takeo and his colleagues released their signed statement of intent to publish Minzoku Taiwan. In comparison with the colonial government’s new policies, their statement of intent appeared rather conservative, as it only emphasized the point that Taiwanese traditional customs and practices were about to be destroyed, and that before they were destroyed it was necessary to quickly document them. It seems quite natural that such an ambition concerned only with “documenting” Taiwanese customs about to be destroyed would stimulate the dissatisfaction of a critically-minded and self-aware Taiwanese intellectual like Yang Yunping. In particular, although the published statement of intent did contain language that called for the documentation of Taiwanese customs, the authors of the text were careful to include remarks that appeared not to oppose the destruction of Taiwanese practices, such as this sentence: “We are not anxious about the destruction of Taiwanese traditional customs, but documenting and researching these customs is our duty.” Consequently, Yang Yunping published his critical response, “Research and love,” in Taiwan nichinichi shinpō , from which I quote:

“Taiwan studies,” until now generally shunned or treated with a cold shoulder, has quite recently experienced a new bit of luck—take for example [the new interest in] “literature” and “folklore.” That’s not to say I don’t feel secretly pleased by this. However, it’s hard to avoid feeling a little uneasy, for while they are getting their hands dirty in this new research, they still maintain that cold and high-level, even mechanical, attitude and method. Though they don’t even understand “vernacular texts” or the “Taiwanese language,” they still [have the audacity to] claim that “vernacular” works are “mostly imitations”! Or when they say they plan to study “Taiwanese traditional practices” in the future yet already note they are “not worried if they get destroyed.” … I hope that in the years to come these “scholars” and “researchers” will have just a little more warm understanding and love [for their subject], as well as a bit more modesty.³⁶

In this critical piece, Yang Yunping expressed confidence in his own learning and his dissatisfaction with those who took the position of “documenting” Taiwanese customs and folklore. And it seems that he was also expressing his resistance toward any radical kōminka policy that seldom undertook any actual investigation of Taiwanese folklore³⁷ while contributing to its destruction. Although Kanaseki Takeo did publish a response to Yang Yunping’s criticism, creating a very small debate between them, this battle gradually became but a debate over words. However, not long after Minzoku Taiwan appeared in print, Yang Yunping also became a contributor to that journal, despite originally having expressed some doubt about its mission.

In July 1941 Minzoku Taiwan officially came out in print. The preface to the inaugural issue, which was written by Kanaseki Takeo, was a short piece but pitched at a high level. In content, it still emphasized documenting ethnic memorabilia that would soon be destroyed, but in the column on miscellaneous topics, “Noisy notes,” two of the journal’s most important members chastised the radical kōminka movement with a clear and shrill voice:

“Imperial subjectification,” “imperial subjectification,” but without love can you really transform others? From ancient times till the present, I’m afraid there’s not an example of such a thing. The success of love is probably the most common whether in ancient times or the present, and it will forever be a central issue in life and in literature. If artists and writers in Taiwan who have a self awareness of the duty of their profession chant [the need for] “Imperial subjectification!” shouldn’t they need to call up their feelings for the islanders? A strategy that is satisfied with merely shouting out slogans and considering one’s work finished is useless. (Kanaseki Takeo)³⁸

Whether considering kōminka programs such as the frequent usage of the national language or the redesigning of central dining rooms in private residences, relying only on statistical figures to judge a program’s success or failure is especially dangerous. It’s terribly disappointing to see those who don’t know where they should worship stuff the paper offerings from the sacred shrine into a flower vase that’s full of ashes, or even those who keep the paper offerings in a desk drawer. [Or those who] in the evening place the Shinto god shelf inside a filthy bird cage, or the [unbelievable case] of a bare-footed man using a carrying pole to carry them around for others to see, shouting all the way. Who is responsible for these mistakes? … Those people who stand in the front lines of the kōminka movement should deeply reflect on this kind of phenomenon. (Ikeda Toshio)³⁹

There was hardly any issue after the first that did not carry this kind of spicy-hot criticism of the implementation of kōminka. Thus we can confirm that despite the fact that the initial issue of Minzoku Taiwan took a rather careful stance—calling only for documenting Taiwanese customs that were soon to disappear—those involved with the journal were in fact quite dissatisfied with the policies of the aggressive kōminka movement. The public expression of this dissatisfaction apparently had to wait until the colonial government had clearly expressed the readjustment of its policies before it could emerge from hiding and come out into the open.

If one can argue that Minzoku Taiwan was itself a type of local cultural movement in Taiwan, then exactly what kind of movement (in terms of content) did it implement there? First, with the publication of the inaugural issue, Minzoku Taiwan declared that it was not the kind of research journal common in the academic world, but that it rather hoped to be an ethnology journal that incorporated reports and records of interviews carried out in all areas. For example, in the first issue, under the “editors’ afterthoughts” column, they had this to say:

As for research magazines, or in other words academic folklore journals, the island already has Nampō minzoku . Our journal will not attempt to become that kind of magazine. Rather we intend that ours is the product of a different type of mission. And that’s the hope that it has emerged from an atmosphere of more easygoing, intimate discussions on the evening porch or verandah, and that these conversations unconsciously increase people’s concern for islander folklore. We welcome manuscripts with this kind of easygoing character. Perhaps the kind of articles in the present issue that are the best pieces may not, on the contrary, be able to fully reveal our interests. … We have special expectations for [the future contributions of] those with ambitions who still are hiding out in local areas; we hope you will stand up and say, “We have this in our area!” and then follow through to submit a manuscript that documents that phenomenon. … With the journal’s unique mission in mind, we certainly do hope to see those from all areas with such ambitions contribute manuscripts to our journal. We hope that there will be people from every part of the island—no matter whether it be agricultural towns or fishing villages—who will present their such reports for publication.⁴⁰

Those affiliated with Minzoku Taiwan also held folklore discussions and workshops throughout the island, and in 1942 they organized a series of ten folklore-collection meetings. In general, this type of data-gathering meeting was limited to visits to famous scenic or historical sites in a single area, supplemented by a simple discussion afterward. The process and accomplishments of these collecting meetings were printed up and reported in subsequent issues of the journal. Furthermore, as a result of these local activities, a group of participants with a strong interest in such activities was formed. These individuals, along with local folklore reporters and historians throughout the island, formed a cultural network that included both Japanese and Taiwanese (with the journal serving as the main organ of communication).

At this point, let me cite another example of the cultural development promoted by Minzoku Taiwan that was perhaps even more regional in nature. The December 1941 issue (volume 1, issue 6) of Minzoku Taiwan was a “Special issue devoted to Shirin.” Shirin [Shilin ] was a small town on the outskirts of Taihoku [Taipei]; in northern Taiwan, people took pride in the strong literary atmosphere associated with Shirin that had existed for a very long time. (It was also the hometown of Yang Yunping.) In August 1941 a group of young people in their twenties in Shirin organized (under the direction of a Christian minister who had studied in Tokyo) a cultural organization called the “Association of like-minded Shirinites .” The association came together as a reading and discussion group, inviting famous individuals to attend their meetings and introduce (in workshop fashion) new world trends in literature and philosophy or to spread common knowledge from the fields of medicine and hygiene. They also organized a choir.

For August 23–25, 1941, however, this Shirin Association of Like-minded Shirinites organized a comparatively bigger activity: a “culture exhibition,” which included an “exhibition of local materials,” a “photography exhibition,” a “hygiene exhibition,” and a choral concert. Cao Yonghe , who was employed in the Shirin cooperative, was responsible for the history component of the “exhibition of local materials,” while Pan Naizhen , a student in the medical school at Taihoku Imperial University, was in charge of the folklore and traditional customs section of the exhibition.⁴¹ Using this exhibition as a foundation, Minzoku Taiwan editors invited Yang Yunping to design a “special issue on Shirin” as the December issue of the journal for that year. For this special issue, Yang Yunping, Cao Yonghe, and Pan Naizhen individually conducted the planning and the collection of materials on Shirin’s historical heroes, historical writings, shrines, yearly festivals, legends, and stela, while Kanaseki Takeo, Tateishi Tetsuomi, Mishima Itaru, and Matsuyama Kenzō , the Japanese contributors to Minzoku Taiwan, wrote articles that introduced the folk art and interesting phenomena of the city of Shirin that they were acquainted with. The special issue mobilized the cultured intellectuals of the locality—Yang Yunping, Cao Yonghe, and Pan Naizhen all came from well-known lineages in the area—and assisted in the compilation and documentation (in a substantive form) of local history and popular customs. In addition, it assisted substantively in establishing a sense of pride in local culture. To cite but one piece of evidence to support this claim, an important member of Minzoku Taiwan, the woodblock printer Tateishi Tetsuomi, noted in his article that the editor and designer for this special issue, Yang Yunping, used the phrase “rivers and mountains extremely beautiful—that is my hometown” to describe his hometown of Shirin.⁴²

Historical market towns like Tainan , Rokukō , Manka , and Shirin were naturally important cites for initiating the collection of data on local popular customs. However, it is important to note here that in the journal Minzoku Taiwan there were a lot of reports concerning a place called Hokumon [Beimen ]. Hokumon was a very poor coastal area on the southwestern part of the island of Taiwan, a place where the residents farmed, fished, or manufactured salt to make ends meet. In this area in the mid-1930s, a group of younger-generation intellectuals, who had received new-style colonial education or who had experienced study abroad in Japan, just happened to join together. In their midst was a medical doctor who had studied in Japan, Wu Xinrong , who was especially active. Though he was a practicing physician, when studying in Japan he had had some contact with contemporary trends in literature and the arts, as well as the new social thought being propagated at the time. In 1932, when he returned to Taiwan, he set up a clinic in his hometown while also undertaking some creative writing. Not long after establishing his professional office in his hometown, Wu became one of the new local men with a high social visibility. Surrounding him were a group of new youth of about the same age, and all of these people were capable of writing. Thus, in the mid-1930s they joined the Taiwan new literature movement in the form of a local corps of writers, and in Taiwan literary circles of the time, they were rather special. Not only did they participate in literary activities, they were also an active force in this local area in the kōminka movement instigated by the colonial government in the late 1930s. In fact, some of the individuals in this group stepped up to take on the role of local assembly members.⁴³ The July and August issues of Minzoku Taiwan for the year 1942 were written by some of the members of this group: Wu Xinrong, Wang Bijiao , Guo Shuitan , and Kokubu Naoichi. The content of the two issues included articles on historical geography, legends, and historical relics. Of these articles, the ethnological investigation of an “ethnic group that worshiped vases,” which was written by Kokubu Naoichi and Wu Xinrong, left the most striking impression. After this, both Wu Xinrong and Wu Xiuqi , who was also from Hokumon, continued to write articles on local folklore for Minzoku Taiwan.

RETURN TO THE INITIAL QUESTION

At this point in our discussion, let us return to the question with which we began: Can Minzoku Taiwan be considered a component of the so-called Greater East Asia ethnology? Although Kawamura Minato picked up the term “Greater East Asian ethnology” from a roundtable discussion that centered around Yanagita Kunio, had he carefully read and analyzed the transcript of that discussion, he still might have seen that the Yanagita Kunio, who proposed a “national ethnology,” had a rather hesitant attitude toward comparative ethnology across such an expansive region as “Greater East Asia”; this was a Yanagita Kunio who finally only reluctantly agreed that perhaps scholars could use the medium of a shared Japanese language to accomplish some comparison. In contrast to the reluctant attitude of Yanagita Kunio, however, Kanaseki Takeo appears to have been more enthusiastic.

If Minzoku Taiwan did take advantage of the adjustments made to the national policies of the Japanese imperial government in the early 1940s to begin publication, and if it manipulated the loopholes in these policies to criticize national policy, then its fate could certainly be tied to further revisions in policy or changes in wartime conditions. It’s impossible for us to completely deny the possibility, as Ikeda Toshio noted after the war, that the rhetoric in the journal that followed closely the demands of the wartime situation served as a defensive shield. For example, with regard to the following quote from Minzoku Taiwan, though a completely different interpretation is possible, it may not hurt to interpret this passage as Ikeda Toshio suggested:

With the outbreak of war with Great Britain and America, the anxious situation on the home front became even more intense. Those of us who edited the journal doubled our efforts with the renewed sense of purpose of sacrificing for the nation. We also believed that this publishing was by no means a leisurely activity. From the perspective of the raw breadth of the victories obtained by the imperial army—more territories than the eye could see—it was impossible not to imagine that the day was not far off when this new region of greater southeast Asia would be brought under the sphere of Japanese influence. Of course, the social and economic center of this new region was the overseas Chinese born in southern China, and therefore, our interaction and collaboration with the overseas Chinese was already a fate that could not be avoided. In order to make this cooperation smooth and intimate, it was necessary to understand the overseas Chinese. In order to comprehend the overseas Chinese, understanding the islanders in Taiwan was the shortest route. … Studying and understanding the Taiwanese ethnic group was a very important factor in explaining why Taiwan became the base for southern expansion and development. To not use Taiwan in any attempt to investigate the southern areas would without any doubt be seen as proof that our nation was incapable of expanding southward. With regard to this point, investigating and comprehending the Taiwanese ethnic group was the most immediate work for the moment. We colleagues hoped to grasp the significance of this fact as a means of contributing to the wartime situation.⁴⁴

On the other hand, we can also find opinions that more clearly and concretely emphasized the necessity of an East Asian ethnology. Those were the words of Kanaseki Takeo. In the July 1942 issue of the journal, when reviewing Yanagita Kunio’s book, Notes on Dialects , Kanaseki made the following remarks:

I have full respect for Yanagita Kunio’s position of [implementing] a national ethnology. However, in addition to this, might it be possible to establish the perspective of an East Asian ethnology? In the present wartime situation, I feel even more strongly that it is essential. Even those as simple as myself also believe that the time for this perspective has arrived. Taiwan will surely make its contribution to this East Asian ethnology that is soon to emerge.⁴⁵

In order to complement the establishment of the “Greater East Asia Ministry,” the title on the front cover of the October 1942 issue of Minzoku Taiwan was changed from “Introducing and investigating customs and practices” to the phrase “Introducing and investigating the customs of the South.” An individual with the initials T.K.—surely this was Kanaseki Takeo—left the following quote in the editors’ notes at the end of the journal:

Hearing the news of the establishment of the Ministry for Greater East Asia causes one to feel that our faith in the notion that “Greater East Asia is but one body” has already become a stable thing. … As of today it is no longer necessary to explain the fact that researching the ethnology of Taiwan is definitely not limited to questions specific to Taiwan. Investigating the ethnology of Taiwan has provided us with material with which to contribute to completing a Greater East Asian ethnology. Previously it was not the case that there were none who thought that studying the ethnology of the island conflicted somewhat with the imperial subjectification of the islanders. However, as the leader of the Greater East Asian alliance, we Japanese must elucidate not only Taiwan ethnology. We must—and we have the duty to—elucidate the folklore of China, the South Pacific, India, and Australia, i.e., all the areas within the Co-prosperity Sphere. Taking the research on Taiwan ethnology as one essential aspect of this greater whole, to complete one component of this important duty is the task for us residents of the island of Taiwan.⁴⁶

This kind of rhetoric was not unique to Kanaseki Takeo; Mori Oto (son of the famous modern Japanese author Mori Ōgai and also professor in the medical school at Taihoku Imperial University), Utsushikawa Nenozo (professor of ethnology and anthropology at Taihoku Imperial University), and Nakamura Akira all published articles with a similar tone in the pages of Minzoku Taiwan.

The proposal of an “East Asian ethnology” that emerged in closer step with the changing wartime situation was, in fact, manifested in a conceptualization with clearer content and strategy at the roundtable discussion that centered around Yanagita Kunio in October 1943. That proposal consisted of the enumeration of specific items necessary to ethnological investigation, the preparations for separate data collection in areas of East Asia, and then the comparative analysis of these investigation results. And during the meeting, Yanagita Kunio proposed three potential topics for investigation: a) the treatment of different surroundings, b) concepts toward ancestors, and c) marriage ethics. Of course, these three topics proposed by Yanagita Kunio contained aspects that would meet the needs of the wartime situation. In January 1944 at the nation-wide “Festschrift for Mr. Yanagita Kunio,” where Kanaseki Takeo was also one of the participants, the “International cooperative research topics proposal” was finally made public, and the specific content of that proposal was but an enumeration of sixteen research items within the scope of the three major topics that Yanagita Kunio had originally proposed in 1943.⁴⁷

Thus we can say that the appearance of Minzoku Taiwan was related to the changes in politics, in particular the “local culture movement,” that accompanied the establishment of the second Konoe cabinet. For example, the director of the Cultural Department of the Association to Support Imperial Rule, Kishida Kunio, expressed in definite terms the view that the problem of the culture of outlying territories [gaichi ] was also part of the problem of local culture. Furthermore, he said that with regard to this problem of the culture of outlying territories, Japan proper and the outlying territories would be grasped without any difference whatsoever. “Use this principle: let Taiwan stand in Taiwan’s own special character, and let Korea stand in Korea’s own special essence.”⁴⁸ In the colony of Taiwan, it was manifested concretely when Governor-General Hasegawa Kiyoshi made adjustments to the radical kōminka policies implemented by Kobayashi Seizo, by “allowing Taiwanese traditional religion, worship, customs, local popular entertainment, and lifestyle to exist as long as they do not conflict with the goals of colonial rule.”⁴⁹

Minzoku Taiwan did, in fact, appear at just that opportune moment when the extreme kōminka policies were being adjusted. And it was not only the ethnological research of Kanaseki Takeo and his colleagues that came into being in the historical context that produced the second Konoe cabinet and the governor-generalship of Hasegawa Kiyoshi. Even in the realm of literature and drama, ambiguous phenomena were also quite evident.⁵⁰ Minzoku Taiwan did indeed develop the concept of “East Asian ethnology,” and of the major figures responsible for the journal, Kanaseki Takeo’s promotion of this idea was most clear and certain. Furthermore, this concept of “East Asian ethnology” had its own particular national policy and wartime context.

If Minzoku Taiwan was able to publish by taking advantage of policy changes, then it was also possible that it would move in accordance with the changes made to those policies. In another of his articles, Kawamura Minato has articulated even further criticisms of this inherent nature of Minzoku Taiwan, whereby it “came all together with the birth,” and would ultimately float or sink in accordance with the wartime situation. In essence, then, all Japanese scholars who taught in imperial universities in outlying territories before the end of the war manifest some “colonialist” tendencies. Therefore, that these ethnologists and anthropologists follow “colonial policies” is not just related to a scholar’s own inherent qualities or personality but rather is caused by the “original sin” of “colonialism” that is necessarily manifested in these kinds of “modern knowledge” such as ethnology or folklore studies.⁵¹ Since Kawamura Minato has taken such a superior position, then according to his terms, Minzoku Taiwan must therefore be reassessed as a component of “Great East Asian ethnology.”

NOTES

*Translated by Douglas Fix, Reed College.

1.  Kawamura Minato , “Dai Tōa minzokugaku” no kyojitsu (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1996), 9–10.

2.  Kawamura, “Dai Tōa minzokugaku” no kyojitsu, 10.

3.  In recent years, the more important work in the field of Yanagita Kunio ethnological studies is the following: Murai Osamu , Nantō ideorogi no hassei: Yanagita Kunio to shokuminchi shugi (Tokyo: Ota Shuppan, 1995).

4.  Before the war Kokubu had taught at Tainan Girls Middle School and at Taihoku Normal School . In the years immediately following the end of the war, Kokubu was retained as a professor at Taiwan University. He has conducted important pioneering research in the fields of Taiwanese ethnology and archaeology.

5.  Kokubu Naoichi , “Minzoku Taiwan no undō wa nande atta ka ” Sinica? 8.2 (February 1997): 122–127.

6.  Kokubu Naoichi, a younger scholar with a lectureship in native ethnology in the History Department at Taihoku Imperial University and a very close associate of Professor Kanaseki Takeo before the war—also an important writer for Minzoku Taiwan—had remained for a short period of time, specifically as a retained professor, at this university after the end of World War II.

7.  “Taiwan minsu yanjiu de huigu (Kanaseki Takeo boshi huanying zuotanhui) ,” Taipei Wenwu 10.1 (March 1963): 60.

8.  “Dangqian Taiwan xiangtu yanjiu de fangxiang ,” Taiwan fengwu 17.1 (February 1967): 10–11.

9.  Yang Yunping, “Kanaseki Takeo sensei no omoide ,” Esunosu 21 (July 1983).

10.  Ikeda Toshio, “Shokuminchika to minzoku zasshi ,” Taiwan Kin Gendaishi Kenkyū 4 (1982): 109–145.

11.  Yang Yunping, “Ikeda Toshio xiansheng zhuidao ci ,” Taiwan fengwu 31.2 (June 1981): 1.

12.  Wang Shilang , “Taiwan minsuxue de kaituozhe Ikeda Toshio ,” Taiwan fengwu 31.2 (June 1981): 6.

13.  For example, Wang Zhaowen , in his M.A. thesis, “Rizhi moqi Taiwan de zhishi shequn , (1940–1945)—Bungei Taiwan, Taiwan bungaku ji Minzoku Taiwan san zazhi de lishi yanjiu ,” (Qinghua University [Taiwan], 1991), argues that the topics of ethnology and history became issues of concern for Taiwanese intellectuals because they had wanted to avoid the fascist coercion and depression of war. At the same time, since discussion of history and ethnology was quite distant from reality, one could avoid the contemporary situation. Furthermore, they were worried that with the deepening of the wartime imperial subjectification movement, the folk customs and older traditions of Taiwan were threatened with extinction and thus they needed to document them for posterity. In contrast, Dai Wenfeng , in his 1999 Ph.D. dissertation, “Taiwan ethnology and the issue of late colonial period folklore, with an analytical focus on Minzoku Taiwan ,” (Chungcheng University, Graduate Institute of History), seems to replicate the views of those directly related with Minzoku Taiwan, i.e., that Kanaseki Takeo and Ikeda Toshio risked the dangers of wartime and its limited resources in order to hasten the delivery of an infant Taiwan ethnology. According to this view, Dr. Kanaseki created anthropology, archaeology, and historiography to give life to Taiwanese ethnology, while Ikeda was the “Manka authority” who took Taiwan as his new homeland; he paid particular attention to grassroots Taiwanese culture; he wore Taiwanese clothing, spoke Taiwanese, learned to sing Taiwan folk songs; and he even married a Taiwanese woman. This sufficiently demonstrated his deep love for the native life of Taiwan. In addition, Chen Yanhong ’s “Japan and Taiwanese culture during the colonial period: Centering on Minzoku Taiwan ” (Ph.D. dissertation, Graduate Institute of Japan Studies, Soochow University, 1997) provides the same type of assessment.

14.  Kawamura Minato’s harshest critic is probably Suzuki Mitsuo ; see Suzuki Mitsuo, “Teikoku no chi” no soshitsu: Sengo Nihon saiko—Higashi Ajia no genchi kara (Tokyo: Tentensha, 1999), 317–323.

15.  The reprint edition published by Nantian Shuju (SMC Publishing) in 1998 included issue 44, which was not able to be published during the war.

16.  This “statement of intent” was only a single sheet, and at the time it was distributed everywhere. After being criticized by Yang Yunping at the end of May, Kanaseki Takeo compiled this “statement of intent” and the articles from both sides in the pen war and published them in volume 1, numbers 2 and 3 of Minzoku Taiwan (August and September 1941).

17.  “Zadankai: Yanagita Kunio o kakomite: Dai Tōa minzokugaku no kenssetsu to Minzoku Taiwan no shimei ,” Minzoku Taiwan 3.12 (December 1943): 9–10.

18.  Ikeda, “Shokuminchika no minzoku zasshi,” 122.

19.  “Zadankai: Hōkō undō to Taiwan no minzoku Kenkyū ,” Minzoku Taiwan 4.9 (September 1944): 18.

20.  Ikeda, “Shokuminchika no minzoku zasshi,” 141–142.

21.  “Zadankai,” 9.

22.  “Zadankai,” 11.

23.  For a clear and concise description of the content of the kōminka movement, see Washinosu Atsuya, Taiwan Hōkō kōminka tokuhon (Taihoku: Taiwan Keisatsu Kyokai, 1941).

24.  Assessments of the effects of the kōminka movement seem to vary with each individual author. Currently, research that has paid particular attention to the ways in which Taiwanese responded to the policies of the colonial government include: Chou Wan-yao , “Cong bijiao de guandian kan Taiwan yu Hanguo de huangminhua yundong (1937–1945),” Xin shixue 5.2 (June 1944) and Cai Jintang , “Riju moqi Taiwanren zongjiao xinyang zhi bianqian: Yi ‘zhengting gaishan yundong’ wei zhongxin ,” Si Yu Yan 29.2 (December 1991).

25.  Sakai Saburo , Shōwa Kenkyūkai: Aru chishikijin shūdan no kiseki (Tokyo: Kodansha, 1985), 155–156.

26.  Sakai, Shōwa Kenkyūkai, 156–158.

27.  Sakai, Shōwa Kenkyûkai, 220.

28.  “Chihō bunka shin kensetsu no kompon rinen oyobi tōmen no kadai ,” in Shiryō Nihon gendaishi 13: Taiheiyō Sensō ka no kokumin seikatsu, ed. Akazawa Shiro, Kitagawa Kenzo, Yui Masaomi (Tokyo: Otsuki Shoten, 1985), 248–250.

29.  Kitagawa Kenzo, “Senjika no chihō bunka undō: Hoppō bunka renmei o chūshin to shite ,” in Bunka to fashizumu: Senjiki Nihon ni okeru bunka no kobo, ed. Akazawa Shiro, Kitagawa Kenzo (Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Hyoronsha, 1993), 210–211.

30.  Kitagawa Kenzo, “Senjika no bunga undō ,” Rekishi horon (January 1989): 57.

31.  Later it was given the formal name of “Association to Promote the Public Service of Imperial Subjects” (Kōmin hōkōkai ).

32.  Though the table of contents for this issue gave the title “Special issue to reconsider kōminka,” the title given at the beginning of the main article was “The guiding spirit for kōminka.”

33.  Nakamura Akira , “Bunka seisaku to shite no kōminka mondai ,” Taiwan jihō (January 1941), 6–12.

34.  For a concise description of Nakamura Akira’s activities during his years at Taihoku Teikoku Daigaku , see “Nakamura sensei o kakomite,” Okinawa bunka kenkyû 16 (1990). In addition, in 1997, accompanied by Professor Hika Minoru (Okinawa Research Center, Hosei University), I visited Professor Nakamura at his home, and at that time, Professor Nakamura said that during the war he frequently had to travel between Taihoku and Tokyo because he was helping Professor Yabe with his work.

35.  Taiwan jihō (January 1941), 24–29.

36.  Yang Yunping, “Kenkyū to ai ,” Taiwan nichinichi shinpō (May 29, 1941). Kanaseki Takeo later included this article and his own written response together in Minzoku Taiwan 1.2 (August 1941).

37.  In “Taida to Taiwan Kenkyū ,” published in Taiwan nichinichi shinpō (February 15–17, 1939), Yang Yunping criticized Taihoku Teikoku Daigaku for not conducting research on Taiwan; he strongly promoted establishing a chair in “Taiwan history,” “Taiwan literature,” and “Xiamen language ” at the colony’s imperial university.

38.  “Randan ,” Minzoku Taiwan 1.1 (July 1941): 32.

39.  “Randan,” 33.

40.  “Henshū kōki ,” Minzoku Taiwan 1.1 (July 1941): 48.

41.  Cao Mingzong , Zixue dianfan: Taiwanshi yanjiu xianqu Cao Yonghe (Taipei: Lianjing, 1999), 53–56.

42.  Tateishi Tetsuomi , “Shirin no getsu ,” Minzoku Taiwan 1.6 (December 1941): 26–27.

43.  For information on Wu Xinrong and the local politics of the Beimen and Jiali area, see Wu Xinrong, Wu Xinrong huiyilu , ed. Lin Hengzhe et al. (Taipei: Qianwei, 1989) or Kondo Masami , Soryokusen to Taiwan: Nihon shokuminchi hōkai no Kenkyū (Tokyo: Tosui Shobo, 1996).

44.  See the editor’s comments for issue 2.7.

45.  Minzoku Taiwan 2.7 (July 1942): 46.

46.  T.K., “Henshu koki,” Minzoku Taiwan 2.10 (October 1942): 48.

47.  The international collective investigation designed under the auspices of celebrating Yanagita Kunio ’s seventieth birthday had begun to be planned in 1943. The introductory comments in volume 4, issue 4 (April 1944) of Minzoku Taiwan included an article entitled “Making plans for the construction of the items for folklore collection and investigation,” and the fifth issue of that volume listed the specific items that were to be collectively investigated.

48.  “Gaichi bunka no shomondai, Yokusankai Bunkabucho Kishida shi: to no Ichimon itto ,” Taiwan nichinichi shinpō (August 28, 1941).

49.  Hasegawa Kiyoshi den , compiled by Hasegawa Kiyoshiden Kankokai (Tokyo: Hasegawa Kiyoshiden Kankokai, 1972), 128.

50.  For information on the vibrant activities of drama and literary circles in Taiwan during this period, see the following: Liu Shuqin , “Zhanzheng yu wentan: Riju moqi Taiwan de wenxue huodong ” (M.A. thesis, Graduate Institute of History, Taiwan University, 1994); Liu Shuqin, “Sensō to bundan: Rokokyō jihen go no Taiwan bungaku katsudō no fukkō ,” in Yomigaeru Taiwan bungaku: Nihon tochiki no sakka to sakuhin, ed. Shimomura Sakujiro et al. (Tokyo: Toho Shoten, 1995); and Shi Wanshun , “1943-nian Taiwan ‘Housheng Yanju Yanjiuhui’ yanjiu ” (M.A. thesis, Drama Department, Taiwan University, 2002).

51.  Kawamura Minato, “Shokuminchi shugi to minzokugaku / minzokugaku ,” in Minzokugaku ga wakaru, AERA Mook 32 (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha, 1997), 139.