#this is all further supported by the social structure of tokugawa japan but

[venticuliao]

why ayaka’s role in inazuma matters

this is only in terms of the narrative of the chapter, not in her literal involvement in the storyline, but there’s a reason why she‘s the featured character in the Teyvat chapter trailer.

you can consider her an abstract parallel of Ei’s own role, she‘s the character who gives you insight into Ei’s motivations and basically what’s upholding the narrative of the chapter.

in Ayaka’s story quest, we learn about her fantasies of a regular life and how isolated she feels because of her noble position in society. people admire her and respect her from a distance, but they don’t allow themselves to get close. she‘s split between her loyalty towards her remaining family, her brother Ayato, and her own (rightfully) selfish desires.

in the quest she finds out that her mother also hid similar desires under the imaginary identity of “Tsubaki”, and never got to fulfill something as simple as attending a festival, which Ayaka decides to do herself alongside the traveler.

as this really cool analysis puts it, traveler acts as the embodiment of Ayaka’s own “Tsubaki”: they’re adventurous, unbounded by responsibilities, free. yet when Ayaka asks them, traveler chooses their sibling as the priority, something she knows she herself has to do as well.

the Farewell Dance she performs is for the desires she has to give up in order to fulfill her duty, both of filial piety and towards Inazuma as a noble part of the political class. she goes back alone afterwards, at peace with her choice.

power comes with duty, and duty comes with a sacrifice of desires.

Ayato was in a similar position when he took over the clan: he never felt genuine loyalty towards the Raiden Shogun, instead, he thought his family should only look out for themselves. however, his family was saved by Yae Miko during the Raiden Gokaden disaster, and she asked for absolute loyalty towards the archon in return, a vow Ayato himself upholds as the current clan leader to honor his family.

both Ayaka and Ayato fulfill their duty through artificial personas, a side of themselves they carefully crafted to show to the public (and the other members of the Tri Comission). Yae Miko does the same to different degrees, sometimes preseting herself as a terrifying yokai that will eat her employees at Yae publishing house if they fail to meet a deadline, sometimes as cold and distant to the shrine maidens and the people who seek her help; but she says they’re all parts of herself.

Ayaka’s Shirasagi Himegimi identity is thus a smaller projection of the allegory of Ei’s Raiden Shogun puppet: to rule, one must abandon personal desires and separate themselves from the role.

Ei’s motivations aren’t based on a personal goal, nor are they a dogmatic pursuit of an ideal; she‘s fulfilling a duty.

“character details”, the first section in a playable character’s profile, usually introduces the character —who they are, what they do, their personality, etc— but Ei’s says nothing about her as an individual. instead, it describes the identity of the people of Inazuma and their worldview in relation to their archon, an entity that comes across more as an idealized concept of a god, almost mythical in nature.

it specifically compares the figure of their archon to natural phenomena, a primordial and permanent fact of life, and specifically to things that are necessary for survival like rain or the sea.

this figure is not Ei, and it was never Makoto either. “Raiden Shogun” is only a role they fulfill, a collective set of expectations and ideals that has taken the title of Inazuma’s god. the people of Inazuma didn’t even know Makoto existed, let alone that she died, but their beliefs of what and who their archon is remains the same whether those behind it change or not.

everything that the Inazuma people believe the Almighty Raiden Shogun to be, is what Makoto and Ei tried to be for them.

the character in question is named “Raiden Shogun”, after all, not "Raiden Ei", so naturally the character details in her profile describe this figure, and not Ei herself.

the figure of the Almighty Raiden Shogun is, in this way, a duty shaped by the beliefs of the people of Inazuma. And Ei defines herself through this duty.

in Ei's second story quest, we meet the memory of some soldiers who fought against the abyssal creatures during Ei and Makoto's absence. They trust their archon will come back to aid them, and the mere sight of her before them is a reassurance that the nation will be saved.

as long as their Almighty Raiden Shogun is by their side, the people have hope for a better future.

if they were ever to find out this symbol of hope was gone, how could they keep fighting? Ei herself felt her world crumble, anguished by the threat of what time would do to her nation, and she's an all powerful god.

she didn’t lock herself in the Plane of Euthymia to mourn the death of her sister or to avoid the reality of it, she did it to ensure Inazuma would never have to confront the death of their archon, like she had to do, and to protect them from the dangers of defying the Heavenly Principles indefinitely.

to uphold the belief of the Almighty Raiden Shogun, Ei gave up everything that made her an individual: her name, her physical body, her relationships, and the possibility to experience anything outside the Plane of Euthymia.

she gives up not just her desires, but everything that makes her a person. Ei is a ruler who has become her artificial persona, sacrificing her own sense of self.

which is why Yae Miko tells her:

Ei is not the idealized concept of a god her people believe their god to be, and condemning herself to eternal suffering isn’t worth preserving Inazuma’s physical permanence.

the change in the nation has to come both ways: ruling is a collaborative effort where both the ruler and the ruled need to intervene to make a better society, and if either party refrains from collaborating they will be stuck.

i think what this chapter explores successfully is precisely authority and power, and how they have to be handled to rule.

we know it’s a necessary means for survival and justice, least someone like Kujou Takayuki use it for their own interests; and we also witness Lady Hiragi in Ayato’s story quest create her own artificial persona to put order in her clan (at the same time desisting on her marriage to Kujou Kamaji). duty should also be left behind when it becomes a burden, like we saw Kazuha do with his clan when he started his life of wandering, or else it might turn into a fruitless pursuit, like the cursed sword from his story quest. characters must find the right balance.

[brooke-the-poet]

The Fantasy Adventure Trope and Autistics.

Currently I am fascinated with narrative framing. The structure of a story and how that gives us the meanings that we draw from it.  

What I have noticed is that neurodivergent consciousness isn't taken into consideration very often. In fact many narratives, especially in children's literature and films have a gaslighting affect when it comes to the experiences of neurodivergent children.

Children who are different are portrayed as having an overactive imagination, big emotions or too reserved, shy, afraid, a little adult, low impulse control, not very social, bullied at school and are ignored by adults.

This jumble of traits pretty much fits most neurodivergents. But just enough so that they are endearing and don't seem "too weird".

Unfortunately many children are thought of in the same vein as the biblical prodigal son. Disabilities and difficulties are seen as trials to be fixed, or to fix "us" as if we need some form of chastising.

That our ways are wrong and we choose to bring difficulty on ourselves by not ignoring the things everyone else ignores and doing what everyone else does.

 People expect neurodivergent children to be doormats and when they are shoved into that role they naturally become distressed and hide or rebel.

Such children then go on a magic adventure, where they learn about who they are as a person and then return home better off than when they left, able to cope and function better in their world.

That's a very general idea of the plots of most magic adventures. And there's nothing wrong with that, if indeed that is what is occurring.

But too often it is not.  Most of these narratives portray the child as in need of a rude awakening, again with the prodigal image, spoiled, lack of discipline, bad attitude, needing to burn off energy, needing confidence, needing change over all.

And how this occurs is through what is known as exposure therapy.  A theorized technique where non-biological anxiety is reduced through exposure to the source of the anxiety.

This does not work on neurodivergents nor many with trauma related conditions. It only serves to burn out energy and destroy our nervous systems and peace of mind if we had any to begin with.

The adventure supposedly  leads the child to become used to physical stress, work and decision making. It assumes that the child has had no trauma or stress before this. That their difficulties came from being uncooperative with adults.  What it comes down to is that it is the child that needs to change, not their world.

And what that means for the neurodivergent child whose experience of the world can not change through a change in attitude, is that they are made to feel flawed, that unlike the "good" children in those stories, they are bad.

Which leads them to hiding their difficulties and masking. And if they are autistic, the feeling of being nonhuman increases significantly.  

*On a side note: Fantasy gives neurodivergent traits to majority non-human characters. I really do enjoy fantasy but the characters I related to most were the non-humans or the villain, and both.

There are a lot of non-human characters that should just have been human. When only "make believe" species have your sensitivity and traits, it makes it very hard for people to take you seriously. That's a whole other article though.*

Back to narrative:

Two examples come to mind. The German novel "The Neverending Story"  by Michael Ende and and the Japanese film "Spirited Away" by Hayao Miyazaki.

These were big impact stories, I'm only going to cover 3 items from each.

Someone with more energy can dig in deeper.  Also if the plots sound really similar to you, children going off into fantasy worlds and receiving help from dragons, it is because Michael Ende loved Japan and was inspired by Japanese folklore.

His second wife is Japanese and his stories became huge in Japan where he toured and gave lectures and was honoured with his own museum shortly before he passed away.

First, The Never Ending Story.

Yes, the story with Bastian, Atreyu, the child-like empress and my personal favourite, Falcor the luck dragon. Who doesn't love the ending of the film version where he scares the shit out of those bullies as he chases them  into the dumpster?

There are a lot of very good things in this story,  Bastian fits completely the profile of the neurodivergent child,but for those who have read the book there are some glaring details, and Yes, I know all the other interpretations and cultural symbolism going on.

But I'm looking at these from an autistic perspective, being as personal and  literal as possible. Because that is how I viewed them and many others will, as a kid and teenager.

1. Despite Bastian's trauma from school and his mom's death it is up to him to fix his emotionally shut down father.

There's a new term for this, emotional incest. Google that.  Emotionally Bastian has a lot going on,he and his father should really be seeing a therapist.

This topic can be controversial as it crosses into many cultural expectations of what a family is and the required roles within a family.  There are various levels of toxicity that can occur in parent child relationships that result in anger later on in the child. But a parent relying on a child for emotional support is seen as the most benign.

One could say that is traditionally what children are for.  From the outside pushing back at this role looks like "modern selfishness" but the inside reality is that the stress placed on a child who needs support and understanding themselves is damaging. When suppressing growth for a parent, the child does not learn to become an emotionally healthy adult.

For many neurodivergents this can look like carer abuse, infantalisation, a parent guilt tripping for all the work they do for the child. Expecting full loyalty to a parent with punishments imposed for perceived infractions.

Demanding all of a child's time. Not allowing friends, becoming jealous of online friends, hobbies, and anything that takes their attention away from the parent.

Given that as adults many disabled neurodivergents rely on their parents for support, these relationships remain complex and complicated.

2. Spending too much time in your inner world makes you less human.

For those not familiar with the second half of this book, for every wish and fantasy  Bastian lives out he loses his memory and humanity. WTH?

As someone who has memory and dissociation issues this really freaked me out and made me question whether or not my dissociation, frequent need to retreat and loss of self at times was due to me being a bad, selfish person like the townspeople in the book.

Autistics and other neurodivergents have rich inner worlds that are just as real as what is going on outside them.

They are a part of this world as nature, and it is there that we often find and preserve our sense of self instead of getting lost in a sea of others.

Without them we would lose ourselves. Our humanity should never be equated with how much we outwardly participate.

3.  Bastian wasn't capable of being loved before his journey.

When Bastian loses his humanity he nearly kills Atreyu but is stopped. He repents by working hard in a mountain, as a miner where he loses the last of himself, including his name in order to learn selfless love.

Hard stare. Really? Neurodivergents tend to be born selfless it seems, and we have really hard times creating boundaries for ourselves in how much we will give others and are much too open to manipulation because of it.

In my mind Bastian is already doing far too much emotional labour for a child to sustain and shouldn't be required to have to work on top of that  for love to be given him.

More messages towards us about being selfless only harms us and makes us feel guilty for not draining ourselves dry for others.

Reiterating again, that Esoterica and symbolism, metaphors etc...are my special interest, I know what the esoteric symbolism of all this is but most children will not and Will take this aspect literally.

Overall none of his physical issues such as Body positivity, the school and bully situation nor any other issues were addressed. His real fear was part of his "overactive imagination" that he had to overcome.

This gaslights many neurological disabilities and experiences with the world, where synesthesia, sensory processing differences and executive Dysfunction are labelled imaginary and trauma around them is exasperated.

Spirited Away

This is the film that inspired this. Because I loved this. Miyazaki truly knows how to capture the soul of nature.

Some back story about anime you truly need to know before we move on.

If you're autistic, and fan of Anno Hideki creator of Evangelion, also a fellow autistic, who also worked with studio Ghibli, then you probably know what he means when he stated that anime and manga are an inherently autistic medium.  

Paraphrasing Anno: 

Your goal is to reach out and connect with others deeply and emotionally.  

The main way this is achieved is having the emotional interior of people reversed, showing every emotion externally.

In anime all the huge feelings, trauma and anxiety that usually go on inside someone are shown on the outside. This makes it really relatable and easy to connect emotionally to the characters.

Big secret though, non-neurodivergents assume a lot of the emotions are exaggerated and the trials and stages the characters go through are metaphors.

If you are neurodivergent, you know they are not. Many things are literally what is happening to us on the inside, how certain things feel.

I'll give examples when I talk about Spirited Away, but if you are further curious, Google Newtypes from the Mobile Suit Gundam saga and Evangelion.

This unique feature and style, of emotions began in the Tokugawa Era as a form of non-violent rebellion against the imposed socially rigid caste system and militarism of the era that saw creativity as superfluous.

Anything different, mysterious, unknown, imaginative and emotional did not meet the new "social norms" of the shogunate era and were rejected.  

Artists and writers, the creative castes, started making woodblock prints of fantasy scenes and stories in a style now known as manga.

They kept Non-linear, neurodivergent thought and ways of being alive during that violent time period when many creators were imprisoned.  

     Ok, with that on to Spirited Away.  I'm going to focus on Autistic masking. Masking plays a huge role in this story.

Briefly, the plot is: 10 year old Chihiro, on the way to her new home is spirited away with her parents. Going against her instincts she follows them into what turns out to be the holiday and pleasure district of the gods.

Her parents eat the god's food, turn into pigs and Chihiro must then sell herself to the onsen ( bath house) in order to work off the debts of her parents and save them.  

The main characters that I personally relate with in this piece are Haku, the dragon boy/river god,  the Faceless Spirit/Noh Face and the witch Zeneba.

So again, 3 things.

1. Masking, Chihiro is The Mask.

Chihiro, the cool, collected,lovely mixture of innocence and maturity is the mask that many autistic women grew up wearing in order to handle trauma. Be strong, brave and stoic for the sake of others. This is one set of strong messages that the film puts out.     

In the bridge scene where Haku and Chihiro, under an invisibility spell, cross the bridge to the bathhouse; in order to cross without being seen Chihiro must hold her breath.

That is what Autistic masking literally feels like, the fear of being seen, caught and punished for who we are and the sharp pain of inhaled breath held, for too long, and slow suffocation.

             Chihiro's journey  will feel familiar to many young autistics who are learning about themselves and the people around them and how they fit into the social structures here. Chihiro is a foreigner and awkwardly trying to stay out of trouble.

There isn't a structure that fits her.  She's scolded and hindered for simply existing in that space not meant for her. But she has a task to complete, so she has to figure out a way to make things work.

Being survival, task and mission oriented is a strong point of being Autistic. It's part of our ability to be perseverant.

It can be so strong that your mind creates different ways of being to hide and protect the most sensitive parts of itself, to protect the parts that are different.

Chihiro's final line in the film is:

"Don't worry, I think I can handle it."

She's resolute in her maintaining a stoic mask, which is implied as part of growing up.  This message is toxic to Autistics

For a lot of us Autistics this line recalls childhood trauma and masking. The exact phrase we would say to "make things work" for ourselves. Suppressing our needs in order to appear mature and keep our parents and those around us comfortable.

If the bathhouse is supposed to represent life and the social- economic reality, then it's the same reality so many face, forced to change and pretend they fit into society.  This message about masking feels at odds with the "re-discovering your true self" message that we get with Haku.

   The river dragon spirit, Haku literally represents what masking your true self can look like. Under Yubaba he loses sense of his true nature, physically grows pale and steely eyed. He isn't conscious of the spell Yubaba has placed in him. Masking isn't conscious to a lot of Autistics either.

     As an apprentice Haku carries out orders no matter what the danger is to himself. Putting ourselves in harm's way and being abused without us knowing is an outcome of masking. When masking we are in the position of copying others feeling very much like "apprentice non-autistics".

We want to please in order to survive and feel adequate with others. In the scene when Haku is bleeding to death and Yubaba kicks him into the incinerator to be disposed of, that unfortunately is a real emotional outcome to many abusive relationships built through masking. Relationships fail once we burn out.

In order to show his true nature, Haku actively fights inside himself when helping Chihiro. He plays double agent throughout the film. And then has to be saved from himself by Chihiro.

Do I need to be saved from myself?

Do I seem as cold and distant as Haku?

Am I and my masking setting a bad example, a burden to seemingly purer people like Chihiro who haven't quite learned to mask yet?

These questions flitter and linger for a long time. There's a pang of sadness in them.

    It's an extremely complicated issue which is further complicated when navigating personal  boundaries and what is felt to be personally owed to others, it changes with each situation.  

During the train scene when Chihiro is given time to process her predicament you can literally see her mentally forming her mask, the mask that's prepared to take responsibility for others mistakes.

It's the same mask we create to carry the burden of being social and appropriate when no one else is, the mask that self blames and takes up energy.  Chihiro takes responsibility for everything.

There is again that message of sacrificing your well being for others that is pushed. She is the only one actively trying to save both her parents and Haku.

    Being a heroine doesn't have to be about saving others, or being responsible for them, especially when they are capable of finding their own solutions. There are so many different ways to show love and support.  

It isn't about being selfish and just taking care of yourself, for many Autistics and those with multiple disabilities, caring for others in this manner isn't an option but feeling guilty for not doing this is a constant to many.    

   Who this message is being directed to, needs to change. It should not be directed at vulnerable girls or any children who will worry and have anxiety about themselves.

The reality of many situations where change is needed from someone in authority, parent or any other institution is that it fails to occur. Children or other exploited parties are made responsible for that failure.  

If an Autistic fails to fit in, it's never societies fault, the burden of change and guilt is always put on the autistic. And in order to shoulder it, masking occurs.  How long is she going to be able to keep up that tough girl facade?

      2. Home   

     In the opening of the film Chihiro is  upset at what would honestly be devastating for someone who relies on "their world" to make sense of who they are.  Moving, no home to return to. This concept literally is played out with Haku and Noh Face.

Haku's river is destroyed, because of this he loses his identity and falls prey to those who would enslave him.  An identity that changes with physical environment is common. Some autistics, like myself, unconsciously build an identity or mask that fits specifically to our environment.

     Environment becomes routine along with all of the sensory stimulus and sensitivity, our bodies physically bond to what is comfortable to us.  And when that changes, so does a whole persona or personality mask.

When it is an unexpected and forced change, it is traumatizing. In my own experience, I've moved 10 times in a single year at the age of 14. Only 4 years older than Chihiro.

That caused a shutdown that I'm still experiencing the effects of 20 years later. Losing those connections is never a matter of letting go and moving on. They are grieved and must be processed at length.  

    On the way out of the forest Chihiro's father notices how quiet she is, both parents finally are paying attention to the emotional reality of their child. If they had listened and paid attention to her intuition, warnings and signs of trauma, in the beginning, their predicament would not have occurred. They might not have even moved in the first place.

"A new home and school, it is a bit scary," her father says. To which Chihiro replies that she can now handle it.

Chihiro, suppressing her original concern and the trauma of her experience, now gaslights herself, after she's gone through the process of learning how to perform emotional and mental labour for others through masking as an act of love.

An act of love, that's how mainstream society positions suppressing the needs of the disabled. You're told if you love your parents, your family, don't cause problems, don't cause trouble.

Oh, your having trouble at school, at work, at home? Disabilities are framed as trouble in this manner, the same way one speaks of a misdemeanor or crime. It subtlety shifts feelings of fault and blame onto the disabled.  When it comes to Autistics the way we understand our self and our experience of the environment is often blamed as the cause of troubles.

For us the Non-autistic world is assaulting both physically and emotionally. It's a mess of social and psychological mind games and head traps that make us chronically ill.  We have to create our own environments to dwell and recover in each night.

For a large proportion of us, we experience time and space Non-linearly. Which means events are not chronological, they don't neatly line up in our minds.

Our experience of the world is like the concepts of Ukiyo and Yugen. Transience, ethereal and profound depth of feeling. Events, people, places float in and out with moments of deep joy and sadness to help us make sense of time.

Miyazaki makes full use of this narrative tradition in his storytelling with vast spaces and characters who on the surface are only loosely associated with each other yet deeply connected.

In our world connection is not linear, nor emotions. Associative thinking leads us to make broad connections in ways that branch out and lead us to discoveries that seem impossible or were unknown to many because the right associations couldn't be made in their linear minds.

Non-linear emotions mean that we don't process events as they happen. It's too much to take in, emotions float in us, incubating until they are ready to be understood. The moment this happens is usually triggered by seemingly unconnected events but to which our minds have made connections to, enough to bring us to full circle. Different mental processing times mean reactions and effects come later, long after expected.

3. Noh face.  Portraying other as grotesque.

The best for last.

Noh face as in the Noh theatre, because the mask they wear, delights and troubles in it's accurate yet disturbing qualities. The spirit does not speak except to make pleading utterances. The faceless spirit  is sad, mysterious, interesting,terrifying and revolting all at once.

When it is invited into the bathhouse it begins to eat several of the workers and gains the ability to speak and their personality traits.

It is one of the most grotesque and extreme moments in the film. It can make you squirm. But it's also the most literal example of what it can be like to mask.

There is a certain type of masking that occurs for autistics who also experience dissociation, derealisation and depersonalisation.

It's the least understood and most vital to  understand; this is how the brain involuntarily forces command or auto-pilot, for survival in situations it deems life threatening.

 When around other people these autistics physically feel themselves absorb the energy, the personalities, emotions and desires of other people, so much so that it overwhelms their mind/ soul, their identity and sense of who they are.

They can lose track of where they are and what they say and do ; literally becoming "drunk" on other people, acting erratically or hyper with a loss of inhibition.  

They may do and say things they wouldn't have before and never would alone, when caught in the energy of the crowd or moment. And often they can't quite remember what occurred until afterwards. It's an uncomfortable and frightening experience to not be in control, to feel like a slave to others wills .

 With this type of masking the autistic may be aware of it or might not be, but they are not in control of when it happens or with who. It occurs on a daily basis this absorption of personas and others traits. It's chaotic inside, an ever changing kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings that are almost never your own.

Physically, after socialising, especially if it's from a party, when this type of  autistic is alone, people hangover sets in.

People hangovers, even though I don't drink that's the best definition I have of it, you feel ill enough that you vomit; as you would expect with all of this swirling chaos.

The only way to end it is to sleep it off as you psychologically purge all the fragments of others out. This is another  physical sensation as you feel yourself emptying and regaining control. This process can feel like being scrubbed raw, internally.

This masking isn't done out of "loneliness" as is the reason given by the Noh Face. But having no one to understand and going through this alone, does build up and can increase the feelings of desperation to have a stable self.

In the scene when Chihiro gives the Noh face the expectorant, and they vomit just as Haku did, as all the people they consumed left, they returned to their original small form, no longer able to speak.

Chihiro, in that scene is the only one with boundaries, she masks her fear and listens, using her knowledge to give the Noh Face what they really need. She presents a kind, calm and stable force that counters chaos.

It's no wonder the Noh Face wants to absorb her. She's the ultimate mask that it can then have to feel whole and interact with others finally.

But it still would not be their own.

On a side note, it is for this very reason that Noh Face is finally paired with the witch Zaneba, whose line "hmmm, what else can we mess with?" is my favourite. Zaneba sees the structure of the bathhouse and wants to disrupt it.

Due to the chaos occurring inside these type of autistics, instead of trying to order life in a structured or "tidy" way, they impose chaos externally. As long as it is their chaos, this ordered chaos approach is effective in coping with life.

Roles, duties and tasks bring about more structure than superficial order as in the bathhouse. If there's a specific function and purpose that is clear, it makes it easier to not mask, which is why the noh face is able to remain calm.

At the end of the day Zaneba and Noh Face retreat to their quiet home, where function and roles are simple. Personally that's where I'd like to stay, if I were Chihiro I wouldn't have returned.

That's a final point, the "fantasy" world is always made out to be lesser than our shared reality. But is it really? Our inner worlds are what make it possible to survive in the outer world. It's where we process and draw strength to combat the hostility we encounter daily.

They aren't something you abandon in childhood, but a necessary life skill that develops further with age. The fantasy retreat is vital for rest and reclamation of self from society. Not something to be left behind.

So there you have it. My rough autistic sense on what messages an autistic/neurodivergent might take away from popular story narratives and elements in children's fiction and film.  

[gravitascivics]

IS IT BETTER TO ASK WHO OR WHAT?

The aim of this posting is to shift gears.  This account wishes to turn its attention to an international concern and an associated theory.  It is a concern that has lost some of its virulence over the last decade or so, but there is still a noted interest among leftist scholars.  Those who study this concern have summarily named the theory, dependency theory.  This writer cites this theory to point out a distinction; that is, how one defines a problem area has a significant effect on what solutions that person finds viable.

         Since World War II, an array of interests has extended significant amount of analysis as to why what used to be called the Third World countries and are referred to today as lesser developed countries (LDCs) are not as developed or wealthy as industrial or post-industrial nations.  One set of explanations or theories are known as modernization theories.  Another approach is the aforementioned dependency theory.  Modernization is generally supported by capitalist defenders and dependency theory by Marxist or Marxist leaning challengers.

         A third view is a cultural view.  Simply stated, one can attribute advancement to cultural traits that bolster functional behaviors.  These behaviors are defined as those modes of action that actually achieve development. That is, they are not only helpful, but essential in achieving economic parity with the advanced countries.  This posting looks at comparing dependency theory with culturally based views.

         One writer who has addressed this comparison directly is David Landes.[1]  He is partial to the cultural view, but he presents a nuanced argument.  He does not dismiss the concerns of dependencists that captured quite a bit of attention or follow-ship in Latin America.  His offering attempts to be more practical and less ideological.  In doing so, he offers some insights that this account presents as a set of ideas worth considering.

         He begins his cited article as follows:

Max Weber was right.  If we learn anything from the history of economic development, it is that culture makes almost all the difference … Yet culture, in the sense of inner values and attitudes that guide a population, frightens scholars.  It has a sulfuric odor of race and inheritance, an air of immutability.  In thoughtful moments, economists and other social scientists recognize that this is not true, and indeed they salute examples of cultural change for the better while deploring changes for the worse … [C]riticisms of culture cut close to the ego [of those being studied] and injure identity and self-esteem. Coming from outsiders, such animadversions, however tactful and indirect, stink of condescension.  Benevolent improvers have learned to steer clear.[2]

This writer agrees with Landes overall warning.  Cultural approaches step on toes and any advancement of culturally based arguments, to be considered, needs to be not only mindful of this, but be presented honestly with humility and empathy.

         This account’s blogger writes of this sensitivity from first-hand experience.  He was born into a Latin family – with a father from Cuba and a mother from Honduras. He started in a mostly Irish American neighborhood in New York City.  He likes to tell people that English is his second language in that he learned Spanish first.  But through the effects of TV and mostly English-speaking neighborhood friends, he made the Anglo language not only his dominant language, but almost his only language.

         Along with language, there was his assimilation into the “Americanism” of the 1950s.  This was further enforced by pre-Cuban “invasion” Miami influences, since his family moved there in 1958.  Often, he can remember consciously making decisions to adopt American ways over Latin ways.  To this day, he feels he is a cultural American with some insight into the Latino life. He does love his black beans and rice.

         But this digresses a bit.  As for Landes’ treatment, that writer readily admits that LDCs have been exploited and that exploitation has played a role in their fate. And, therefore (in part), the challenges that LDCs represent are complex and caused by various factors that are not only numerous, but interrelated.  Surely, any set of solutions cannot be totally oblivious to the realities this overall reality poses.  But as a guiding sense of how to approach those challenges – and here is the tie this posting wants to make – an emphasis of one factor or a set of factors at the definitional level can have rippling effects.

         Dependency theory is usually based on a view of global politics.  That view identifies exploitive relationships between advanced nations (referred to as core or center nations) and LDCs (referred to as peripheral nations).  

Simply summarized, that global arrangement has LDCs divided among the core nations into monopolistic arrangements.  In these set ups, one can readily see why this general explanation is called dependency theory in that these nations’ relationships are meant to further the benefits of the core nations at the expense of the peripheral nations.

How? Natural resources are extracted from peripheral nations at less than market prices – since the nations are divided within monopolistic markets of a single buyer.  A peripheral nation then becomes a consumer nation of a core nation’s products – again with limited options that, in turn, bolster prices.  That is, peripheral nations are limited with whom they can trade.  All this is supported by exploitive relationships between workers and entrepreneurs within both types of nations.  The “haves” of the peripheral nations do just as well as those of the core nations.[3]

From this overall description one can readily see how dependency theory reflects Marxian arguments.  While Landes does not disprove dependency theory, he does find fault with it from a practical perspective.  He writes:

Cynics might say that dependency doctrines have been Latin America’s most successful export.  But they have been bad for effort and morale.  By fostering a morbid propensity to find fault with everyone but oneself, they promote economic impotence.  Even if they were true, it would have been better to stow them.[4]

So, critics of dependency theory would state, it leads one to ask:  “Who did this to us?”  This perspective, given the challenges involved with development, can be seriously counterproductive.  Culturalists would ask:  “How do we put it right?”  Landes demonstrates this latter approach with the example Japan offers in the years after the overthrow of the Tokugawa shogun (1868).

Of course, Japan provides a una-cultural case study.  How that example relates to Latin America, where a Latin culture dominates but has had the influx of many other traditions, or other LDCs can be questioned.   Yet Japan, to the extent its experience can be generalized, does provide relevant information.   Perhaps this can be a topic for a future posting.  

But, for the purposes of this blog, its writer feels that a more proactive view, one that does not go around ascribing blame to all other factors or parties and, instead, takes on directly the challenges is a more beneficial outlook. This is true not only in confronting the challenges of LDCs, but to address any social/political/economic dysfunctionality.

[1] David Landes, “Culture Makes Almost All the Difference,” in Culture Matters:  How Values Shape Human Progress, eds. Lawrence E. Harrison and Samuel P. Huntington (New York, NY:  Basic Books), 2-13.

[2] Ibid., 2. Emphasis added.

[3] Johan Galtung, “A Structural Theory of Imperialism,” Journal of Peace Research 8, 2 (1971):  81-117.  (See http://bev.berkeley.edu/ipe/readings/galtung.pdf .)

[4] David Landes, “Culture Makes Almost All the Difference,” 5 (emphasis in original).

[afishtrap]

This article explores the shifting social and ecological conditions of northern Japan in the mid-nineteenth century and the impact these changes were having on one group of Ainu. I draw on the history of the region to show how political instability, changes in cultural proscriptions, and ecological change aifecting the fishing grounds on the east coast of Hokkaido were presenting the Ainu working the Chashikotsu fishing grounds with a new array of choices in terms of cultural traditions, norms of behavior, and modes of subsistence. I highlight the case study of Chaemon, an Ainu headman who, along with his followers, decided to take up large-scale agriculture to better cope with declining catches in the area. I read Chaemon's project of agricultural development as a "serious game" of navigating the ecological, political, and economic impacts of Japan's extractive industries and the political and cultural policies that furthered the consolidation of its northern frontier.

Christopher Loy. "Cultivating Ezo: Indigenous Innovation and Ecological Change during Japan's Bakumatsu Era." Asian Ethnology, Vol. 74, No. 1 (2015), pp. 63-85.

The issue of redrawing and policing social boundaries during the Tokugawa Period (1603-1868) has been addressed in detail in the literature (Howell 2005; Morris-Suzuki 1998; Siddle 1996; Yonemoto 2003). A system of status categories ( mibunsei ) structured relationships within the emergent Japanese polity and impacted how people beyond the margins of the status system were viewed and treated. The feudal status hierarchy coalesced in the early seventeenth century as the bakufu consolidated political power and sought to disarm a nation emerging from centuries of internecine strife. David Howell writes that Tokugawa society underwent a "taxonomie revolution" in which occupational categories came to influence the life trajectories of entire families, often for generations (Howell 2005, 33)This occurred gradually and in a piecemeal fashion through successive edicts impacting patterns of consumption, location of residence, occupation, and the body itself. The four broad social categories that constituted the status system were (in order of status): samurai, peasants, craftsmen, and merchants. As these social categories were based primarily on occupation, the boundary between, for example, a peasant and a craftsman was somewhat permeable.11 Framing the status system, and perhaps stabilizing its political coherence, were the eta (outcastes) at one end and the imperial household at the other. Between the symbolic opposites of the profane and the sacred, the more quotidian status hierarchy was arrayed. Defining the geographic borders of this social universe included the Ainu to the north and the Ryûkyûan people to the south.

In early modern Japan, status categories clarified social roles and defined relationships between individuals. Outward appearance marked individuals as bearers of one status or another. Clothing, hairstyle, weapons, names, dialect, and residential location all served to position individuals along the social hierarchy. These norms of presentation were enforced by the authorities to some extent, but, importantly, participants themselves had a vested interest in belonging to an identifiable group. Membership defined an array of rights and responsibilities and protected members from the transgressions of other individuals as well as from capricious officials. Moreover, status rendered one legible to others and locatable within a social field that, between shogunal edict and Buddhist norms of conduct, was well delineated. Individuals that attempted to exist outside the status system, unregistered transients ( mushuku ) for example, would often find themselves sought out by state officials and provided with a provisional status identity. The governmentality of the Tokugawa regime operated through delineating and stabilizing social categories for the smooth functioning of the economy, thus facilitating the expropriation of agricultural surplus to support the military and bureaucratic elements of the emerging state. As the economic system did not function smoothly across the polity, novel social arrangements could be conjured to transcend the mibunsei and its system of rights (Howell 2005).

To the south 250,000 Ryûkyûans, subjects of the Ryûkyû Kingdom, maintained a system of dual patronage ( ryõzoku kankei) with both China and the Satsuma domain (hereafter I use the Japanese term han to denote administrative domains) in southern Kyushu. In 1609, Satsuma-han sent a military expedition into the Ryûkyû Kingdom and forced the king and his councilors to sign a series of trade agreements that allowed Satsuma to monopolize trade with the island nation. In this way Japan could discreetly trade with China via the Ryûkyùs despite the prohibitions set by the Ming government in the mid-sixteenth century. To effect this subterfuge, Satsuma arranged to ban the use of Japanese language, dress, and hairstyle in the Ryûkyùs (Sakai 1964, 392). In addition, Ryûkyû tribute missions to Edo were prohibited from appearing in Japanese-style dress and were instructed to wield only Chinese-styled weapons so as not to be mistaken for Japanese (Kamiya 1990). 12 By 1683 the Ming Dynasty in China had fallen and Japan had entered into its era of relative seclusion (sakoku jiàaï)}* yet despite the political upheaval the Ryûkyû Kingdom via Satsuma remained integral to Japanese trade with much of East Asia. Throughout the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, economic and cultural integration with Japan was increasingly promoted; the Ryükyü archipelago was annexed in 1879 (Furuki 2003).

The northern frontier was more problematic for the bakufu. Ezo was a vast island populated by the Ainu, a people so different in appearance, custom, and language that the idea of assimilation with the rest of Japan was initially unthinkable. Oft-cited examples of ethnic differences between Ainu and wajin included observations that Ainu men wore their beards and hair long and Ainu women practiced piercing and wore tattoos around their mouths and on their arms. In addition, the men wore short swords and hunted with poison arrows. These observations were often accompanied by the dehumanizing speculation that the Ainu were somehow part animal (Siddle 1996, 37). The interior of the northern island was itself a mystery, as indicated by Japanese maps of Ezo that, notwithstanding their inaccuracy, were relatively blank until the mid-nineteenth century (Takagi 2003, 49). 14

In Ezo, there existed no such institutionalization of status groups beyond the Matsumae-han that occupied the southern portion of the island. The early shogunal decree of 1604 identified the Ainu as categorically distinct from wajin and thus not subject to the same legal regime that regulated the actions of the wajin (Tabata 2010, 74). Morris-Suzuki argues that wajin cultural notions of civilization/ barbarism (ka/i) map closely to the spatiality of the polity's core and its periphery (Morris-Suzuki 1998). Peripheral populations like the Ainu were crucial in defining the boundaries of Japanese national identity by framing the degree of variation that could be reasonably contained in the concept "the Japanese" (Howell 1994). Within the ka/i framework, frontier peoples tended to occupy an ambiguous position in this scheme Ainu and Ryûkyûans were not Japanese in terms of language or custom, yet due to longstanding systems of trade with Matsumae-han in the north and Satsuma-han to the south, these peoples, marginal to the emerging Japanese state, became increasingly vital for the Japanese economy during approximately 220 years of relative national seclusion.

[...]

These material connections between Ainu and wajin suggest that a kind of mutual dependency had grown between the Japanese merchants who contracted fishing grounds from the Matsumae-han and the Ainu who supplied the labor necessary to catch, process, and package the salmon, herring, and konbu extracted from the coastal regions of Ezo and sent to markets from Honshu to China. The Ainu, however, were further constrained by the threat of starvation. Once drawn into the emergent market economy in which labor is exchanged for wages, the Ainu lost recourse to their traditional mode of subsistence: hunting, gardening, gathering, and, crucially, fishing. In fact, exploiting the annual salmon run was the central subsistence strategy that sustained traditional Ainu villages. Settlements were situated adjacent to spawning grounds and relied heavily on the autumn arrival of thousands of kamui chep or "divine fish" (Watanabe 1973; IwasakiGoodman and Nomoto 2001). So, the time spent working in the basho was time not spent catching, preparing, and storing surplus salmon for the long northern winter. Ainu living in villages adjacent to the growing commercial fishing outposts found themselves with little free time to engage in their traditional subsistence and cultural activities. According to one observer, "The Ainu no longer wear their traditional robes ( attush ). In Shari basho they wear woven clothes because they do not know how to use the loom it is said that they have no free time to devote to it as they are busy working in the fishing areas" (Ichinoseki in Kaga-ke Monjokan 2001, 1 7). Unlike the seasonal cycles of earlier times, Ainu labor was now in demand year-round: in spring for herring season, in summer for trout, and in autumn for the salmon runs; in the winter the Ainu were required to cut specified amounts of firewood for the local magistrate and his retainers.

Trading houses, the Matsumae-han, and, by implication, the bakufu's presence in the north all required a functioning northern economy. To keep Ainu engaged in wage labor in the approximately seventy basho around the island of Ezo, Matsumae officials promulgated edicts to keep them from engaging in other subsistence strategies that might have competed with the labor needs of the fishing grounds. In 1786, the shogunal official Matsumoto Hidemochi wrote that Fukuyama Castle (the administrative center for the Matsumae-han in southern Ezo later renamed Matsumae Castle) forbade the Ainu from engaging in grain cultivation due, in part, to Matsumae's financial circumstances. Around the same time, an official, Satõ Genrokurõ, recorded that men sent by Matsumae destroyed an Ainu man's attempt to cultivate rice in the Ishikari region. On another occasion, Satõ Genrokurõ refused a request for rice seed and instruction regarding its cultivation from an Ainu chieftain in Eastern Ezo due to regulations against the Ainu engaging in rice farming (Walker 2006b, 55).