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total available water resource) and the steady decline of agriculture meant a natural

reduction in agricultural extractions anyway.

Kawarayu, an ancient hot springs resort on the upper reaches of the Tone River in

Gunma prefecture, was designated as a central site in the bureaucratic plan. Yanba

Dam would submerge the village and the Agatsuma Gorge, serving purposes of tow n

water supply, flood control, and water for irrigation. Issued with a bureaucratic

notification of its demise back in 1952, however, Kawarayu village fought back,

eventually yielding only four decades later, in 1992, as the strain of prolonged

resistance wore down its aging population.

Post-1947 flood control planning for the Tone River system assumed a repetition

of something like the 1947 disaster and postulated a theoretical, maximum, once-in-

200-years peak flow of 22,000 cubic meters per second, more than one-fifth above

the level at the time of typhoon Kathryn.

To cope, they insisted, Yanba (and other

dams) would be necessary. However, it seems clear in retrospect that the 1947

disaster was largely caused by the degradation of the forests due to wartime neglect

and uncontrolled clearing. As the renowned river engineer Takahashi Yutaka put it, it

was due to structural, not natu ral, causes, that is, to policy mistakes.

The bureau-

crats’ confidence in their ‘‘modern’’ high dykes was therefore both bad scienc e and

bad policy. Once the forests began to recover and the dykes were repaired, in the half

century to 2004 the river’s peak flow did not once rise rose above 10,000 cubic

meters per second level. The contradiction between the ends of flood control,

requiring low levels during the summer months of potential storms and typhoons

on the one hand, and water supply, requiring maximum capacity during precisely that

same period, also remained unresolved.

In short, the basic logic of reduced rainfall

necessitating dam constructi on was faulty, the justification in terms of steadily rising

town water demand was proven mistaken by events, and the flood prevention

argument likewise was unconvincing. The experts insisted that even if Yanba had

existed in 1947 it would have done little to mitigate the damage and might actually

have intensified it.

As for cost, the original (1986) estimate of 211 billi on yen blew

out in November 2003 to 460 billion, and with ancillary costs (resettlement of the

villagers, etc.), was expected to rise further to a total of 880 billion, of which residents

of Tokyo and its adjacent districts would bear 420 billion and the national treasury

the remaining 460 billion.

By 2004, only related works, roads, and replacement

village facilities had been built, and work on the main dam itself had yet to com-

mence; the official completion date of 2010 seeme d improbable, an additional decade

quite likely. Already in water surplus, its population by then falling, Tokyo had no

need of Yanba.

By the time it became available, its water might claim to be both the

most expensive and the least needed in the world.

Hagiwara Yoshio, the village inn-ke eper who had struggled for more than forty

years against the plan to inundate his village, wrote of the struggle as one which pitted

local democracy against central bureaucratic despotism, and of modern Japanese

civilization as being based on lowland and downstream (urban) Japan’s exploitation

of mountain and upstream Japan, the sacrifice of the weak for the benefit of the

strong.

He wrote of a village that had lost its will to live. As of 2004, a last-ditch

effort to block the dam was being mounted by more than 5,00 0 residents of Tokyo

metropolis and the five prefectures who were expected to bear about half of the

overall dam cost. Petitions were separately filed with the audit authorities of each of

450 GAVAN MCCORMACK

the six local authorities to have the expenditure declared illegal on grounds that the

water was unnecessary.

Opponents of the project also protest that the soft and

porous limestone karst of the Agatsuma Gorge is dangerous ground on which to

construct an enormous dam. The region is tracered with earthquake fault lines,

renowned for sulfurous hot springs, and is just 20 kilometers from the active volcano

of Mount Asama, which in 2004 was erupting spectacularly, if still on a relatively

gentle scale. Rather than assuring downstream of safe water and flooding control, a

dam in such a site might rather threaten it with catastrophe.

Itsuki Village (Kawabe River Dam)

At the other end of Japan, in Kumamoto prefecture in Kyu

shu

, Itsuki is a ‘‘typical’’

Japanese mountain village, of the kind celebrated in nostalgic memory even as it

disappears from present consciousness.

The Kawabe River, flowing through the

village, is short (61 kilometers) but fast-flowing, and is renowned for havin g the

purest waters in the country (as of 1997),

and very high levels of bio-diversity.

1965, an estimated 1,600 millimeters of rain fell between July 18 and August 6,

including 400 millimeters on the night of July 18.

In the floods that ensued, six

people were killed and over 1,000 houses destroyed. The maximum flow, by the

official estimate (although that estimate has been questioned, on which see below),

reached 7,000 cubic meters per second and 9,000 cubic meters per second at

Hitoyoshi and Yatsushiro respectively; the idea of damming the river, thereby redu-

cing the maximum flow at the above two points to 4,000 and 7,000 meters

per second, was adopted as the remedy to prevent future flooding. In 1976,

with the goals of irrigation water supply and hydro-power generation added, the

design was officially adopted under the ‘‘Special Multi-Purpose Dam Law.’’ The

dam waters would rise behind a 107.5-meter-high wall. The center of the village,

including the school, village office, shops, and some 528 households, would be

swallowed up.

The village was stunned to learn of the plan.

The village assembly protested, and

then local farmers and fishermen launched a series of actions in the courts against the

national and provincial bureaucracy. Over time, however, as in Kawarayu, the villagers

grew old and tired, divided into groups of unconditional opponents and those who

fought just to get the best possible terms of settlement, yielded to the pressure of

promised cash payments, or simply sank into despair under the pressure. In 1982, the

mayor and village assembly withdrew their opposition, followed, two years later, by

the first group of landowners, and eight years after that by the last of them. Thereafter

opposition centered on the fishermen, who fought against the loss of their fishing

rights; farmers, who fought against the imposition of an unwanted irrigation plan;

downstream residents, who feared an expensive and dangerous imposition on their

environment; and the slowly awakening national ecological movement.

All of the dam’s supposed functions – flood prevention, hydro-power generation,

irrigation – were disputed. Opponents of the dam argued that it was the degradation

of the forest, not the quantity of the rain, that had caused the 1960s floods.

Subsequent years had seen a gradual recovery of the ‘‘green dam’’ of the forest,

whose capacity to hold water correspondingly reduced the need for a ‘‘whit e’’ or

MODERNITY, WATER, AND THE ENVIRONMENT 451

concrete dam.

In July 1995, rain substantially above the Ministry of Construction’s

worst case scenario fell, yet no significant flooding damage ensued.

So far as the generation of hydro-electric power was concerned, the post-dam

output from the Kawabe River would be 16,500 kilowatts per second. Since the

four small existing plants in current us e, destined to be submerged by the dam, were

generating 18,900 kilowatts per second, construction would therefore achieve a net

reduction in electric power generation.

So far as irrigation was concerned, the Land

Improvement Law stipulates that state resources be allocated only to projects where

the land area is greater than 3,000 hectares and at least two-thirds of the farmers to

benefit from the project are united in petitioning for it. In this case, an official survey

in 1983 did indeed find 98 percent (of 4,000 designated beneficiaries) in favor of the

plan, but in June 1996, 870 of them launched a court action to have it cancelled,

complaining that they did not want the water and that their original consent had been

extracted by deception, pressure, or bribery.

Others subsequently joined them,

raising the numbers to over 2,000, more than half of the supposed beneficiaries.

Most were dry field farmers, cultivating crops that can cope with occasional dry spells,

and worried about the prospective cost of the irrigation waters. They noted that even

in the ‘‘100 year drought’’ of 1994, when the rainfall was a full 200 millimeters less

than ever previously recorded, they had coped, with little inconvenience, while the

farmers on neighboring Kuma River, who had had the supposed advantage of the

protection of the Ichifusa Dam, had suffered substantial losses.

Fishermen protested at what they saw as the destruction of a major regional and

national resource. T he shaku-ayu of Kawabe are highly prized throughout the coun-

try, and constitute a substantial industry.

Despite the blandishments and induce-

ments of the Tokyo bureaucrats, the Kaw abe River fishing cooperative’s 1,500

members decided at special general meetings in February and Novem ber 2001 to

reject the government’s buy-out offer for their fishing rights. In an unprecedented

move, the government then resorted to the procedure for compulsory purchase under

the Compulsory Purc hase of Land Law, insisting that the dam was necessary ‘‘to

protect the lives and property of residents along the river.’’

The dam is widely seen

in Kyu

shu

as a bureaucratic project, foisted on the village and accepted with extreme

reluctance as something determined by ‘‘the authorities’’ against which until very

recent times there would never have been any appeal. Money was spent lavishly to

ensure the bureaucratic will would be implemented, both in the form of the strictly

‘‘legal’’ payments, usually in the order of three times the estimated annual income,

for the land acquired, and of the much more dubious sums by which the negotiating

process was facilitated whenever necessary.

The cost, originally estimated (in 1976) at 35 billion yen, blew out in 1998 to 265

billion, and in 2004 to 330 billion. By 2004, work on the actual dam site itself had

still not commenced, although the project was said to be 70 percent complete. As

other economic activities in and around the village gradually shrank or ceased, the

Ministry of Construction became the major employer in the village. However,

support for the dam steadily shrank. By 2001, only one in five voters supported,

while between two and three opposed, the project.

Throughout the long struggle,

Tokyo officials would countenance no future for the village other than that based on

the dam. In May 2003, the Fukuoka district court issued a dramatic judgment,

reversing a previous decision three years earlier and holding that the government

452 GAVAN MCCORMACK

had indeed acted illegally in pursuing the project without the necessary two-thirds

consent.

However, though initially shaken, the government persisted in its com-

mitment, simply redoubling its efforts at persuasion.

A second front was opened,

under the title of a ‘‘new irrigation plan’’ and with the slogan of ‘‘farmers as masters,’’

to ensure the project would go ahead.

Super Dykes and Neo-Nature

In the late twentieth century, Japan’s rivers, lakes, and forests were all under pressure.

The struggles over development issues grew from relatively small and local to

large events that captured national attention. Japan’s civil society began to realize

that the twenty-first century was opening to the inundation of the mountain villages

of Kawarayu and Itsuki, just as the twentieth had opened with the inundation of

the mountain village of Yanaka. Yet the climate of opinion was changing. Sakakibara

Eisuke, Vice-Minister for International Finance (known in the 1990s as ‘‘Mr Yen’’

in recognition of his position at the center of Japan’s financial policy-making), spoke

of ‘‘the progressivist domination of nature, or anthropocentrism,’’ and called for

harmony and cohabitation to be substituted for conquest and development.

Criti-

cizing the ‘‘public works state,’’ he called for Japan to be turned instead into a

‘‘pastoral urban state.’’

Bureaucratic plans and statements, shifting slowly from

‘‘growth-at-all-costs-ism,’’ began to express concern for nature, conservation, and

the need for a new philosophy of water. The Fifth Comprehensive National Plan,

adopted by the Obuchi government in 1997, entitled ‘‘Grand Design for the Twenty-

First Century’’ had the subtitle ‘‘The Creation of Beautiful National Land.’’ It was rich

in expressions about the preservation and restoration of nature and the creation of a

pleasant lifestyle.

The Mini stry of Construction began to represent itself as environ-

mentally sensitive. Nature itself might be profoundly, perhaps even irrevocably mod i-

fied or damaged, but with the right techniques something closely resembling it could

be put back in its place. ‘‘Neo-nature’’ engineering (literally, ‘‘multi-natur e-mode,’’

or tashizengata) became a key part of the prescription for Japan’s rivers, lakes, and

sea coast.

By 1993 there were 1,600 pilot works on Japane se rivers.

‘‘Neonatural river

reconstruction’’ would create ‘‘a new ecosystem which protects the surviving inhab-

itants, restores ecolo gical balance and improves the living situation of animal and

plant life.’’

The beds and banks of the rivers and lakes would be treated with a range

of materials, including pebbles, stones, logs, lattice brushwood, turf, shrubs, and

flowers, and the furnishing of fish paths and fish hides, in such a way that concrete is

hidden from view ‘‘and a harmonious relationship between nature and man’’ would

flourish.

Nature would be contained, but in a neat and tidy ‘‘neo-nature,’’ or

‘‘bonsai,’’ way. Large budgets would be required for many years to come, as this

process costs at least 10 to 20 percent more than for ‘‘standard’’ river engineering. At

best, however, neo-naturing amounted to an attempt to construct artificially by

extremely complex human-engineered interventions a kind of virtual reality in place

of the nature that has gon e.

While even Construction White Papers began to refer to the ‘‘spiritual affluence

that exists not only in human-centred activities but also in symbiosis with nature,’’

MODERNITY, WATER, AND THE ENVIRONMENT 453

nevertheless the possibility that there might have been a flaw in the blueprint of

development was ruled out.

The Rivers Law, revis ed in May 1997, gave legislative

recognition to the principle of consultation and declared for the first time a ‘‘river

environment’’ value, to be adjusted and preserved in tandem with the traditional river

policy ends of flood control and irrigation/power generation. As the advisory com-

mittees were set up, however, grass roots, local, and environmental movements were

given minimal voice or influence.

Conclusion

In all the advanced capitalist counties a significant paradigm shift in attitudes to water

is under way, but in no country has the political and economic system been so deeply

embedded in a public works or ‘‘construction state’’ as Japan, and consequently none

experiences such entrenched bureaucratic and corporate resistance to change. Rivers,

lakes, and wetlands in late nineteenth- and twentieth-century Japan were transformed

into components of an elaborate plumbing system. The human capacity, or right, to

control and subjugate nature was rarely doubted.

The once water-rich Edo realm became during the twentieth century the world’s

greatest water importer, in the sense of being an importer of foods which concen-

trated the water of other countries, such as the United States, Australia, Canada,

Brazil, and China. It imports in this way the equivalent of 74.4 billion tons of

water, as against a total Japanese domestic water use in 2002 of 87.8 billion tons

(agriculture 57.9, household 16.4, and industrial 13.5).

The once green archipel-

ago ranks with semi-desert Algeria, frozen Iceland, and jungle Congo in its inability

to feed itself.

Counter-intuitively, modern Japan in the twentieth century accom plished a steady,

policy-driven attrition in its agriculture and forestry and a diminution of its water

resource, since the white dams of the twentieth century were never able to match the

water retention, flood prevention, and environmental amenity qualities of the green

dams of the eighteenth century. While all Japan’s dams together have a capacity of

320 million cubic meters, that pales into insignificance before the forests’ capacity to

retain 4,270 million.

In the twenty-first century, the modern network of dams, the

nation’s pride just two generations ago, approaches the end of its utility because of

the accumulation of silt and muck and the degradation of the concrete. Demolition is

destined in the years ahead to become for Japan a huge, continuing, and unplanned

expense, a problem akin to that of demolishing worn-out nuclear reactors. The

elaborate modern system of flood prevention by dyke and dam, whether designed

to resist once-in-30-, 50-, 100-, or 200-year probability flood levels, could not mat ch

that of 200 years ago, since properly tended forest, nature’s ‘‘green dam,’’ absorbs

percolating water at 100 to 150 millimeters per hour while a forest which has

degenerated, due to fire, grazing, and deforestation, can cope, at best , with only up

to 1 millimeter.

‘‘Modern’’ waters therefore, straightened and reinforced with

concrete and less and less regulated by the forests, pour in a torrent down the

concrete reinforced floodways to the sea. They tend to alternate between drying up

and flooding, and thus to require damming. The modern triumph over the environ-

ment was at best ambiguous.

454 GAVAN MCCORMACK

By the dawn o f the twenty-first century, the hubris, fiscal irresponsibility, and

collusive structural corruption of the public works state, and its social, economic,

and political costs, were plain, but the bureaucratic response to mounting criticism,

and to the demand for decentralization, bureaucratic accountability, and fiscal re-

straint, was to consolidate public works power under a giant ‘‘super-ministry,’’ the

70,000 strong Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, and Transport.

The entrenched,

centralized, bureaucratic systems of water supply, sewerage, and flood control, with

their complex of huge dams, aqueducts, and tunnels, remaine d unscathed.

National

plans lacked long-term (century and beyond) perspective and ignored fiscal principles

or env ironmental impact.

The prevalent philosophical assumption in Japan for over a century has been that

nature subjected to control, seibi, is preferable to nature in the raw. Many, perhaps

most, Japanese, feeling deep in their bones the insecurity of life in an archipelago

subject to typhoon, earthquake, and volcano, came to believe uncritically in seibi,in

technology, for the regulation and control of nature rather than in adaptation to it.

Rivers, mountains, and sea were therefore straightened and ‘‘fixed’’ without limit.

Japan’s construction state thrived on that mentality, with devastating fiscal

and ecological consequences.

For all the talk about sensitivity to nature and

‘‘farmers as masters,’’ early twenty-first-century society was increasingly structured

around massive centralized institutions of water, power, and defense, with its popu-

lation concen trated in standardized, mass-consuming, and mass-waste-generating

megalopolises.

NOTES

1 Flannery, The Future Eaters.

2 Takahashi, Kasen ni motto jiyu

o, p. 217.

3 For a comprehensive discussion, see Kalland and Asquith, ‘‘Japanese Perceptions of

Nature.’’

4 Totman, The Green Archipelago,p.1.

5 Kawakatsu, ‘‘Toward a Country of Wealth and Virtue.’’

6 Kawano, ‘‘Nihon no shinrin ni nani ga okite iru ka,’’ p. 136.

7 Tomiyama, Nihon no kome, p. 184.

8 This point is central to the writings of Tomiyama.

9 Tomiyama, Mizu to midori, p. 27.

10 Watabe, Nihon kara suiden ga kieru hi, p. 48.

11 Udagawa, ‘‘Development and Transfer of Environment-Friendly Agriculture,’’ p. 92.

12 Mitsubishi Research Institute survey, quoted in Tashiro, ‘‘An Environmental Mandate,’’

p. 43.

13 See table reproduced in McCormack, The Emptiness of Japanese Affluence, p. 140.

14 Totman, The Green Archipelago, p. 173.

15 Goodman, Sorj, and Wilkinson, From Farming to Biotechnology, p. 101.

16 Totman, The Green Archipelago, pp. 4–5; Fukuoka, Mori to mizu no keizaigaku, pp. 2–3;

Tanaka, ‘‘The Cyclical Sensibility of Edo-Period Japan.’’

17 Muto

, ‘‘Ecological Perspectives on Alternative Development,’’ p. 5.

18 Tomiyama, Mizu to midori, p. 92.

19 Tomiyama, Nihon no kome, pp. 164, 184.

20 Tomiyama, ‘‘No

wa bunka to kankyo

o sodamu.’’

MODERNITY, WATER, AND THE ENVIRONMENT 455

21 McCormack, The Emptiness of Japanese Affluence; Kerr, Dogs and Demons.

22 Details in Ui, Industrial Pollution in Japan, pp. 27, 41, 46, 61.

23 Here I am following the analysis of Tomiyama, Nihon no kome.

24 Tomiyama, Mizu to midori, pp. 93–6, 99–100.

25 Ibid., p. 14.

26 Takahashi, Kasen ni motto jiyu

o, p. 205.

27 Tomiyama, Mizu to midori, pp. 17–18.

28 Ministry of Construction estimate.

29 Takahashi, Kasen ni motto jiyu

o, p. 205.

30 McCormack, ‘‘Breaking the Iron Triangle,’’ pp. 11–12.

31 Kuwahara, ‘‘Kawa kaihatsu no shiso

,’’ pp. 33–45.

32 Ui, Nihon no mizu wa yomigaeru ka, pp. 278–9.

33 Shimazu, ‘‘Damu kensetsu kono so

dai na muda,’’ p. 56.

34 Shimazu, Mizu mondai genron. Tables at pp. 16, 18, 100.

35 ‘‘Ministry Rules Out New Dam Drojects,’’ Asahi shinbun (Apr. 7, 2004).

36 Takahashi, Kasen ni motto jiyu

o, p. 167.

37 Shimazu, ‘‘Shutoken no jumin ni totte.’’

38 Shimazu, Mizu mondai genron, p. 111 (citing National Land Agency’s 1987 estimates).

39 Ibid., p. 130.

40 Thirteen trillion according to Ueno, ‘‘Damu ni mirai wa nai,’’ and 20 trillion according to

Fukuoka, Kuni ga kawa o kowasu wake.

41 Igarashi, ‘‘ ‘Mayaku no ronri’,’’ p. 63.

42 ‘‘Kansei made 1000-nen nan te – Kensetsusho

‘supa

teibo

’ suishin chu

,’’ Asahi shinbun,

evening edn. (Dec. 15, 1998).

43 Shimazu, Mizu mondai genron, p. 55.

44 Shimazu, ‘‘Damu kensetsu kono so

dai na muda,’’ p. 56.

45 Shimazu, Mizu mondai genron, p. 21.

46 Okuma, ‘‘Datsu damu o habamu,’’ p. 125.

47 Takahashi, Kasen ni motto jiyu

o, p. 205.

48 Shimazu, ‘‘Damu kensetsu kono so

dai na muda,’’ p. 56.

49 Details in Shimazu, ‘‘Shutokuken no jumin.’’

50 Ibid.

51 Ibid.

52 Hagiwara, Yanba damu no arasoi.

53 ‘‘Petitions Submitted against Yanba Dam,’’ Japan Times (Sept. 11, 2004).

54 Kuji, Anata wa Yanba damu no mizu o nomenmasu ka

55 For general details of the village, see Itsuki-Mura Minzoku, Itsuki no minzoku

56 Environment Agency, Dec. 8, 1998, quoted in Seiryu

Kawabegawa o mirai ni tewatasu

kai, Kawauso 22 (Kumamoto-ken: Hitoyoshi, n.d.).

57 Fukuoka, Kuni ga kawa o, pp. 20 ff.

58 Takasugi, Nihon no damu, p. 65.

59 Momoi Kazuma, ‘‘Mokushiroku,’’ Sapio (Mar. 24, 1999), pp. 60–3.

60 The village assembly adopted a resolution on July 23, 1966, nine days after the announce-

ment.

61 Takasugi, Nihon no damu, p. 194.

62 447.1 millimeters in two days, leading to a flow of 3,800 cubic meters per second at

Hitoyoshi and 5,700 at Yatsushiro, well below the figures used by the Ministry to justify

the dam (Fukuoka, Kuni ga kawa o, p. 231).

63 Fukuoka, ‘‘Meibun naki kensetsu,’’ pp. 44–7.

64 Fukuoka, Kuni ga kawa o, pp. 168–76.

456 GAVAN MCCORMACK

65 Takashi Nakayama, ‘‘Stop Kawabe River Dam Before It’s Too Late,’’ Asahi shinbun (July

30, 1999).

66 Takahashi, ‘‘Kawabegawa damu,’’ p. 51.

67 ‘‘Ministry Hardens Stance on Dam,’’ asahi.com (Dec. 12, 2001) <http://

www.asahi.com>

68 Fukuoka, Kuni ga kawa o, pp. 185–6, 182–214.

69 Kawabegawa Damu Mondai Shuzaihan, ‘‘Kawabegawa damu hontai chakko

e no sei-

nenba,’’ Asahi shinbun (Nov. 14, 2001). In November 2001, a Kumamoto nichinichi

shinbun survey found 17.4 percent for and 54 percent against the dam (Takahashi,

‘‘Fukaikan o hyo

mei shita,’’ pp. 52–3).

70 ‘‘Hantai no

ka gyakuten sho

so,’’ Kumamoto nichinichi shinbun (May 17, 2003).

71 Mori Norikazu, ‘‘Gyakuten sho

so hanketsu kara shin risui keikaku sakutei e,’’ Kawabe-

gawa mondai shiryo

shu

, no. 68, Kawabegawa (Aug. 2004): 8–13.

72 Sakakibara, ‘‘The End of Progressivism,’’ p. 13.

73 Yasumasa Inoue, ‘‘Nurturing ‘Pastoral Urban State’,’’ Daily Yomiuri Online (Sept. 2,

1998) <http://www.yomiuri.co.jp/dy/>

74 Kawakatsu, ‘‘Towards a Country of Wealth and Virtue.’’

75 Kensetsusho

, Tashizengata kawazukuri.

76 Aso, ‘‘Bio-diversity Reconstruction.’’

77 Ibid.

78 Kensetsusho

, Kensetsu hakusho.

79 Ui, Nihon no mizu, p. 202.

80 Takahashi, Chikyu

no mizu, pp. 108–9.

81 In global terms, Japan ranks approximately at number 150 in grain self-sufficiency

(Tomiyama, Kankyo

mondai, p. 149).

82 ‘‘Nihon chizan chisui kyo

kai shiryo

’’ materials quoted in Tomiyama, Mizu to midori,

p. 47.

83 Tomiyama, Mizu to midori, p. 30.

84 Hobo Takehiko, ‘‘Go zenso

rosen no tenkan to chiho

no bunken,’’ Kankyo

to ko

gai 29:1

(Summer 1999): 5–10.

85 Murota, Genpatsu no keizaigaku, pp. 196–7.

86 McCormack,

The Emptiness of Japanese Affluence, pp. 93–113, and ‘‘Breaking the Iron

Triangle.’’

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