Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. The Development of Sapporo

Sapporo, the capital of Hokkaido, was bustling with activity due to an extraordinary construction boom over the past two or three years.
In areas close to the city center, building construction was progressing everywhere, presenting a landscape resembling cities in the developing southern United States.

Regarding Sapporo’s recent development, I recently had a slight surprise.
I believe it was titled something like *Hokkaido Architecture*, but a photo collection primarily featuring buildings in Hokkaido—mainly Sapporo—was published.
As I was casually flipping through the photo collection, I noticed something odd.
That was because I thought a single photo of a foreign medium-sized city had been mistakenly included.
A splendid city laid out in a grid pattern, where tall buildings stood in orderly rows and tree-lined avenues crisscrossed between them.
That is the aerial photograph.

I hadn’t imagined such a splendid medium-sized city could exist in Japan, so it was only natural that I initially suspected a foreign city’s photograph had been mistakenly included.
However, when I looked closely, it turned out to be a photograph of the streets of Sapporo where I had lived for twenty-seven years.
When I realized this was an aerial photograph of central Sapporo spread across a large double-page layout, I couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Admittedly, this was my own oversight—Sapporo’s construction boom over these past few years had apparently ranked first nationwide.
Given that Japan was experiencing an unprecedented economic boom since its founding, and with Sapporo leading in construction activity, it stood to reason that a city of this scale could materialize almost overnight.

Even so, for those who knew the old Sapporo, this was nothing short of miraculous—twenty-seven years ago, when the Faculty of Science building was constructed at Hokkaido University, it had been Sapporo’s first concrete structure. A short walk from the station stood a railroad crossing, which I used daily to commute to the university. But come winter, fish vendors would squat in great numbers along both sides of the road near that crossing. They would arrange fish directly on the snow, and every so often hook larger flounders or cod with a hand hook, hang them up, and show them to customers.

The honor of being Sapporo’s sole concrete building belonged to the Faculty of Science for several years.
After that, the current Grand Hotel was built, two department stores became concrete structures, and what might be called proper buildings also appeared—but they were still few in number.
Given that they entered the war in such a state, the construction of present-day Greater Sapporo is not a recovery from defeat but something newly created after the war.

In prewar Sapporo, there were around two “first-class” movie theaters; when including second- and third-class ones, the total came to seven or eight.
The people of Sapporo were quite fashionable and would often invite Elman and Heifetz to host concerts at these “first-class theaters.”
However, after the war, a boom occurred here as well, causing these “first-class theaters” to fall to second or third class, while splendid new movie theaters began to spring up one after another.
And now, the number of movie theaters has reportedly reached forty.
Having increased fivefold in just four or five years, this too represented an astonishing development.

Speaking of development, the prosperity of ryotei also seemed remarkable.
It may have subsided a bit recently, but a year or two ago, I heard an astonishing story.
It was a story from an old friend who had been assigned as a branch manager of a major bank, and I did not think it was a lie.
In Sapporo’s first-class ryotei, hosting a slightly extravagant banquet with geisha apparently cost no less than ¥10,000 per person.
“It’s the same as Shinbashi or Tsukiji—what an absurd story,” he said.

Buildings, movie theaters, and ryotei had nothing to do with me, so until recently I had little interest in such stories. Of course I didn’t consider it sound development, but to escape the shrunken post-defeat mentality, I vaguely thought there must be some meaning in doing things “boisterously” for now, even if somewhat unsound.

However, I recently came across a report by chance—one that was truly astonishing.
Upon reading it, I was truly astonished and came to fully understand that celebrating Sapporo’s so-called “great development” would have been utterly disastrous.
That refers to the Industrial Planning Council’s Second Recommendation.

II. "How Should Hokkaido Be Developed?"

The Industrial Planning Council was a committee chaired by Mr. Matsuura Yasaburō, being a conference that brought together Japan’s foremost experts across various fields such as development, civil engineering, transportation, and industry.

The council’s primary purpose was to scientifically and comprehensively research how Japan’s industries should be structured moving forward and to issue recommendation reports (リコメンデーション). The term “scientific” here naturally encompassed the humanities as well. Given that it addressed an immense challenge—essentially determining how the Japanese people, soon to reach 100 million while relying on production from their four main islands, would sustain themselves—the council sought to offer a starting point for addressing this critical question.

The approach took up various issues related to Japan’s production individually，examined their contents in detail，pooled their expertise，and issued recommendation reports addressing them．Last year，they had already issued their First Recommendation Report titled *Recommendations on Economic Policy*，and this time，their Second Recommendation Report titled *How Should Hokkaido Be Developed?* was announced．And it was indeed a truly astonishing document．The full text had recently been published in *Diamond* magazine，but this document should not have been limited to economic specialists；it was worthy of garnering nationwide attention．Though titled *Hokkaido Development*，this concerned more than Hokkaido alone．It could be considered a document that pinpointed why Japan’s postwar comprehensive development—despite much fanfare—had stagnated．Therefore，I would briefly outline its contents．Of course，this recommendation report had likely been widely distributed．However，given its official-gazette-like nature，reshaping it into more accessible prose would have held value．

This recommendation report could broadly be divided into two parts.
The first half was an accounting of Hokkaido Development’s First Five-Year Plan, while the latter half consisted of recommendations for the future Second Plan.
The first part proved to be an astonishing accounting document that concluded with finality that the First Five-Year Plan had ended in complete failure.
When we speak of “complete failure,” this must be understood relative to initial objectives—it does not imply inactivity or structural collapse.
Therefore, this text makes no reference to engineers and laborers who actually engaged with this development project while enduring hardships under Hokkaido’s unfavorable geographical conditions.
The tribulations of these individuals could be fully inferred by anyone possessing even cursory knowledge of Hokkaido’s circumstances.
Nevertheless, that this First Five-Year Plan culminated in utter failure revealed everything about Japanese political practice—therein lay precisely what demanded scrutiny.

The first thing to know is that the First Five-Year Plan concluded in March of this year. It had already concluded—it was not still underway. This Five-Year Plan had been launched in fiscal year 1952 and concluded in fiscal year 1956. To quantify how much money was poured into Hokkaido’s development over these five years: the amount actually expended by the central government alone reached ¥80 billion. As part of the national budget, this sum was expended under the category of public works expenses and, through the Hokkaido Development Agency and Hokkaido Prefectural Government, poured into Hokkaido regardless. The ¥80 billion figure referred to funds directly allocated from the national budget. Beyond this, there were many other expenditures—local budgets and investments by power development companies under the Power Development Law—all ultimately derived from taxes. In total, “tax money” far exceeding ¥1 trillion had been used for Hokkaido’s development.

However, here I will proceed with discussing only the ¥80 billion directly from the central government.

III. Settlement of the First Five-Year Plan

Over the past five years, even in national funds alone, ¥80 billion was poured into Hokkaido.
As a nation, it would be unthinkable to expend such an enormous budget without purpose; this had noble objectives.
For Japan—having lost its colonies after defeat—the development of Hokkaido was considered its foremost hope.
And in fact, this was not mistaken.
Or rather, one could say it remains valid even today.

After the war, when Hokkaido came into sharp focus, what first drew attention was its role as a destination for absorbing mainland Japan’s surplus population and secondly increasing food production.
Thus as targets they set 1.6 million for “population absorption” and planned a rice-equivalent increase of 3.5 million koku for food production.
In other words over five years they formulated a colossal plan aimed at accepting 1.6 million people from mainland Japan and increasing production by 3.5 million koku into which they actually poured ¥80 billion in development funds.
That was none other than the Hokkaido Development First Five-Year Plan.

However, now that five years of the plan had passed and ¥80 billion had been spent today, the question was: what percentage of the targets were actually achieved? According to this recommendation report, it resulted in astonishing results. The population increased by 500,000 people over these five years, but 430,000 of that was due to natural growth within Hokkaido. However, of the remaining 70,000 people, nearly 60,000 were related to the Self-Defense Forces, so the original objective of “population absorption” amounted to a mere 10,000 or so. Against a plan for 1.6 million people, 10,000 was utterly inexcusable.

However, while the population figures were still on the better side, food production had rather decreased.
Reproduced below from this recommendation report is a table showing Hokkaido’s major food production quantities over the ten postwar years.

Fiscal Years 1946–1950 Total | Fiscal Years 1951–1955 Total

Rice | 1,251,000 koku | 1,101,000 koku

Wheat | 850,000 koku | 850,000 koku

Soybeans | 232,000 koku | 235,000 koku

Azuki beans | 410,000 koku | 1,060,000 koku

Potatoes | 1,140,000 kan | 1,080,000 kan

Potatoes | 1,140,000 kan | 1,080,000 kan

Though the development plan began in fiscal year 1952 and truly should include data through fiscal year 1956, incorporating that would mean including last year’s poor harvest—thereby making the production decline under the First Five-Year Plan appear even more drastic.
The results in this table cannot be explained by weather patterns.
The period from fiscal year 1946 to 1950 before the development plan’s implementation already included years of cold damage.

The reason for reduced production becomes evident when examining farming household numbers: at the First Plan’s inception in 1952, Hokkaido had 237,000 farming households.
By 1955, this had decreased to 234,000 households.
That promoting development aimed at agricultural settlement resulted in fewer farming households was truly a paradoxical outcome.

They sought to achieve both population absorption and increased food production by heavily promoting agricultural settlement; however, in the ten postwar years, only 6,000 households migrated from outside Hokkaido, of which a mere 3,800 became established. Even before the First Five-Year Plan, there were so-called colonization expenses, with tens of billions of yen flowing into Hokkaido annually. The slogan had been to reclaim and cultivate sixty thousand chō (≈60,000 hectares) or a hundred thousand chō (≈100,000 hectares) of land and resettle tens of thousands of war-affected families. After continuing this for five years and then implementing the First Five-Year Plan, it took ten years to actually settle a mere 3,800 households.

The recommendation report concluded regarding these results: "From the perspective of the objectives themselves, it would not be an exaggeration to say that Hokkaido Development's achievement rate was zero."

The fact that ¥80 billion in national funds had been spent yet none of the original objectives were achieved stood as a truly astonishing reality.
Furthermore, it remained equally puzzling that Japanese public opinion showed near-total indifference to such issues despite these facts being laid bare.
That they demonstrated fervent interest in matters concerning distant foreign nations—those with only tenuous economic ties to Japan—while maintaining relative apathy toward extraordinary domestic failures defied all rational understanding.

If this had occurred in a foreign country, there would have been tremendous uproar.
The only example I know is from the United States—when several years ago the Missouri River Basin development plan failed to achieve its intended results, American newspapers and magazines raised an extraordinary clamor.
Just as in Japan, territorial disputes existed in the United States too, which led to this plan being called the Pick-Thomson Plan.
The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers—officially designated as the technical corps (Corps of Engineers)—undertakes civil engineering projects during peacetime such as dam construction and canal excavation.
Ultimately serving as training exercises for trench-digging and bridge-building, they ensure these units remain active even in non-combat periods.
While large-scale development plans typically fall under the Ministry of Home Affairs' Development Bureau, the Engineer Corps frequently assumes portions of such projects.
In Missouri's case, this evolved into a rivalry between both parties, resulting in the plan being jointly named after Pick—the Engineer Corps' leadership figure—and Thompson from the Development Bureau faction.

This aspect also seems to have been one contributing factor, but during the first four or five years, the outcomes showed little improvement.
At this, newspapers took the lead and sensationalized the issue relentlessly.
Branded as "a venture dumping our taxes into gutters," with public opinion rallying behind this criticism, they eventually reorganized the system—after which implementation progressed smoothly.
Freedom of speech demonstrates striking efficacy when exercised in such fashion.

4. The $220 Million Development Plan

The fact that the reckoning of the First Five-Year Plan has not become much of an issue may be because Japanese people have grown somewhat desensitized to yen valuations.
Even when told ¥80 billion was spent for zero percent achievement rates，they show little surprise.
This likely stems from their failure to perceive ¥80 billion as an extraordinary sum.
Yet this amount translates to $220 million—an astronomical figure.
In America，securing $200 million for development would constitute an exceptional budgetary feat.

Since the beginning of this century, national land development in America advanced with tremendous momentum.
There were over seventy development plans that had been or were being carried out primarily by the Development Bureau, but only four of them exceeded $200 million.
The Missouri River Basin had an estimated budget of $20 billion, but this pertained to a vast region approximately three times the total land area of Japan—a scale that defied comparison.

The most instructive reference was the Boulder Canyon Project.
The flagship of this project, Boulder Dam, completely controlled the raging Colorado River’s floods, generated one million kilowatts of electricity, and transformed part of the desert in the Southern United States into fertile land.
It remains well known in Japan as a twentieth-century miracle.
The total cost of this project was $240 million—roughly equivalent to Hokkaido’s First Five-Year Plan expenditure.

A power output of one million kilowatts was approximately three times that of Sakuma Dam, and through this electricity, 1,800 new large factories emerged in Los Angeles. This occurred because electricity became abundant and the cheapest among America’s fifteen largest cities. Even selling electricity that cheaply, they could repay the dam’s construction costs within fifty years; thus, fifty years later, the dam was projected to become free.

Due to the completion of that dam, the downstream section of the Colorado River became a waterway maintaining a constant level year-round. As a result, they could easily draw water, built the All-American Canal, and irrigated the Imperial Valley. The total construction cost of the canal was 38 million dollars—equivalent to 13.7 billion yen—which was less than one year’s Hokkaido Development expenses. This amount was separate from the previous $240 million and constituted a burden on the beneficiary farmers, though it was to be paid in fifty annual installments without interest. As a result of this irrigation, the Imperial Valley’s agricultural production soared to an annual output of $70 million. When ample water was supplied to a desert that had been baked by the sun year-round, it was hardly surprising. The farmers’ burden for the canal construction costs would be settled by paying one percent of their annual harvest for fifty years. Under these conditions, population absorption could occur naturally.

Construction of Boulder Dam commenced in 1931, though the plan itself had been decided in 1918.
They spent fourteen years conducting foundational surveys to confirm both the dam’s feasibility and effectiveness.
Once construction finally began in 1931, they completed the dam within five years.
In America, even spending $200 million required fourteen years of deliberation.
A nation that could casually expend ¥80 billion in this manner likely existed nowhere in the world but Japan.
For certain individuals, there may have been no country more comfortable to inhabit than Japan.
Yet for citizens burdened with the world’s highest tax rates, another Five-Year Plan ending in zero percent achievement would prove unbearable.
This Second Plan was already poised to launch that April.

Regarding the First Plan, such excuses might emerge.
Attempting population absorption and increased production through agricultural settlement was indeed misguided.
However, given the postwar chaos and food shortages of that era, it had been unavoidable.
They fully recognized the necessity of research and surveys but found themselves in no position to conduct them.
It is easy now, with hindsight, to criticize the results—but I ask you to reconsider those circumstances as they existed then.
Such arguments will undoubtedly surface.

However, that does not constitute a valid excuse.
The First Five-Year Plan began in fiscal year 1952, a time when seven years had already passed since the immediate postwar period and a certain level of stability had been restored.
Moreover, that this agricultural settlement plan was mistaken was so glaringly obvious that it required no investigation or research.
This is not some belated assertion; it had already been thoroughly discussed five years prior to the First Five-Year Plan—around 1946 to 1947.

Since other literature was not currently at hand, I would cite two or three examples from my own articles—primarily written in *Bungeishunju* during that period—in the next section.

5. The Failure of the First Five-Year Plan Was Inevitable

In the autumn of 1946, about a hundred new tractors were lined up in the courtyard of the Hokkaido Government Office.
That was my reaction upon seeing them.

Reclamation may also be necessary, but the most perplexing thing was that in Hokkaido—at least according to statistics—there were 220,000 hectares of uncultivated farmland recorded in fiscal year 1945.
According to statistics appearing in the Hokkaido Government Office’s agricultural production plan, fiscal year 1937 had been the year with the most cultivated farmland.
After that, it gradually decreased until by fiscal year 1945, the cultivated farmland area had diminished by 220,000 hectares compared to fiscal year 1937.
The statistics themselves were not entirely reliable, and since those reporting them adjusted their figures with leniency depending on purpose, this value remained uncertain; however, experts in the field all acknowledged there were at least 100,000 hectares of uncultivated land.

They left land they had painstakingly reclaimed uncultivated and abandoned, only to begin reclaiming new land.
The meaning of this would have been beyond anyone’s comprehension.
In Fiscal Year 1937, despite having a combined total of 980,000 hectares of rice paddies and fields under cultivation, why had this decreased to less than 800,000 hectares? The answer was exceedingly clear.
It was because land that yielded no crops—or land that produced too little to justify the effort—had been abandoned.
When one looked at the foothills of high mountains, it became evident: despite having once pushed reclamation efforts up to around 400 meters out of necessity, many areas had been abandoned as unprofitable and reverted to elevations around 300 meters.

However, the land now being newly reclaimed was in even worse conditions than those uncultivated lands. Since only poor-quality lands remained unreclaimed, there was nothing to be done about it. No matter how many tractors were utilized, agricultural operations after reclamation could not be sustained in such areas. Management was a secondary issue; in this case, arguments insisting that they had to increase the absolute volume of food production at all costs were meaningless. Even if they ignored management because food was needed then, during that very period they engaged in reclamation that actually reduced food production; then, when management became an absolute requirement, they tried to force agriculture that could not be managed.

Thus, they ended up straining themselves in haste to mass-produce tractors, only to sweat profusely conducting emergency reclamation to obtain food precisely when it was no longer needed.

The above is quoted from what I wrote in June 1947, but for matters as self-evident as this, neither research nor investigation was necessary.
Moreover, given that even an amateur like me went so far as to write about this, those in positions of power at the time must have certainly understood.
Nevertheless, in reality, despite establishing the First Five-Year Plan with its current objectives and advancing reclamation efforts, arable land further decreased, falling to 744,000 hectares by fiscal year 1954.
What remained as a result of reclamation were wastelands left after trees had been cut down and wildfires.
In post-war wildfires, cases where controlled burns accompanying reclamation served as the cause were extremely numerous.
I do not have time to obtain the materials, but according to a former classmate of mine who served as head of the Asahikawa Forestry Bureau, that was indeed the case.

In its recommendation report, the Industrial Planning Council attributed the failure of the First Five-Year Plan to errors in approach (methodology).

"What path Hokkaido could truly take to contribute to the Japanese economy was in fact a problem requiring deep study; nevertheless, at that time they hastily decided on both objectives and methods."
"There was an error in this approach."
And preceding this statement, they had added: "While this was a reasonable approach given the simplistic thinking of the time,"

In that case, there was little need for concern.
If the First Five-Year Plan failed because "they hadn't known," then in the Second Five-Year Plan, they would not repeat that mistake.
However, if they had proceeded with full awareness, there was ample risk that even in the Second Five-Year Plan, similar results would emerge in a different form.
Upon rereading what I had written in 1947, I found myself harboring considerable doubts regarding this point.

6. Current State of the First Five-Year Plan

The report next provided a detailed yet concise explanation of the First Five-Year Plan's current status. Having already discussed agricultural matters extensively in its objectives section, it omitted them here. For other categories—transportation, ports, forestry, rivers, power development, mineral resources, urban planning, and housing—the report precisely described their present conditions while pinpointing existing shortcomings where applicable. Reading this material revealed numerous facts previously unknown to me and offered many enlightening perspectives.

For example, regarding ports: they spent ¥2.3 billion on fishing port improvements, but the number of ports being worked on amounted to a staggering seventy-seven.
By then only four ports were completed, and completing the remaining ports was said to require an average of twenty more years.
The fishing villages of Hokkaido at that time, plunged into destitution no less severe than that of cold-damaged areas, faced a doubtful future as to whether they could endure another twenty years.

Regarding commercial ports, there existed something called the "Tomakomai Industrial Port Construction Plan."
This plan was divided into the construction of an outer port and the creation of an inner port for the industrial city.
The very necessity of this plan was questionable, but even accepting it, at the current rate of progress, completing the outer port would require another eighteen years, while the inner port would take over a hundred.
The fact that such investments of national funds were being made with such nonchalance was truly perplexing.

Regarding transportation issues, what the Five-Year Plan addressed was roads; however, apart from the Sapporo-Otaru National Highway and the road between Sapporo and Chitose, there were no particularly notable ones.
Of these, the latter was the M.S.A. Road.
As for other roads, even major ones, many had only just begun to be developed two years ago.
The achievement rate for the plan was 68%, which was relatively high in terms of implementation rate, but this figure included roads constructed from a national defense perspective.
The construction of roads to increase Hokkaido’s production or utilize its products remained a distant prospect.

Forestry was not so much important for Hokkaido as it was a critical issue for securing Japan’s forest resources, which were being depleted by annual overlogging.
However, its current state had come to present a frightening spectacle known as “the decline in forest quality.”
Coniferous trees were overlogged, while for broadleaf trees, only high-quality ones had been selectively cut, leaving only inferior trees behind.
Of Hokkaido’s forest resources, 85% were national forests under the jurisdiction of the Forestry Bureau.
The report stated that this was due to the Forestry Bureau focusing on logging to increase its revenue budget while neglecting reforestation.
This logging was not being conducted from the perspective of Hokkaido’s comprehensive development.

Whether it be roads, ports, or forestry, though termed a Five-Year Plan, it was in fact no plan at all.

Of course, as I had previously noted, since this First Five-Year Plan had been formulated with flawed objectives from the outset, there likely existed no viable way to establish a proper plan.
In the end, one might say it assumed the guise of brandishing topics palatable to public sentiment at the time to secure budgets, only to allocate and expend them without clear objectives.

On top of lacking clear objectives lay another critical flaw: the inherent inefficiency of bureaucratic organizations. Among initiatives under the First Five-Year Plan, power development alone achieved a 100% implementation rate—a stark contrast to other projects that managed only 30% at worst or below 70% at best. This power development had been executed by the Power Development Company and Hokkaido Electric Power Company. Though relying indirectly on national funds through government investments and loans, it was not legally classified as public works. “Projects unshackled from organizational and budgetary constraints can expand in this manner,” noted the report. Similar patterns manifested in forestry. Even regarding afforestation—Hokkaido’s pressing issue—private forests demonstrated growth rates far surpassing those of national forests.

Regarding power development, setting aside the implementation rate, when viewed strictly as an electricity issue itself, there existed the drawback that Hokkaido’s power costs were excessively high. The report stated that the high cost of electricity was due to having been harmed by an overemphasis on hydroelectric power. American hydroelectric power is very cheap, but this stems not only from geographical conditions but also because electricity constitutes a byproduct of dam construction. In America’s comprehensive development, dam construction prioritizes flood defense as its primary purpose, with irrigation and water transport being integrally considered afterward.

If Hokkaido were to adopt this same approach, hydroelectric power costs would decrease.
However, this required complete surveys and an integrated comprehensive plan.
A plan that consisted of first securing the budget and only then thinking things through was utterly unfeasible.

In short, beyond having set erroneous objectives, the First Five-Year Plan appeared to have had considerable aspects where—to exaggerate slightly—one might as well say there had been no comprehensive plan at all.

7. Where to Set the New Objectives

If we accept that the First Five-Year Plan was a failure, then what should truly be done about the Second Five-Year Plan that follows?
That constitutes the more critical issue.
The latter half of this report focuses precisely on this point and appears to contain numerous opinions deserving earnest attention.
First regarding objectives: it advocates an "approach uncompromisingly grounded in economic effects."
This is precisely correct—indeed, one must lament that Japan's present circumstances compel us to raise such matters only now.
The reason why something so self-evident remained unimplemented lies at the core of Japanese politics' hidden nature.

In comprehensive development, America was likely regarded as the world's most successful nation.
The Soviet Union probably ranked next—while excelling in heavy industry, its agriculture appeared to lag one step behind.
In America, development had been fundamentally structured as a "government-operated profit-making enterprise" from its inception.
Of course, this concept of a "profit-making enterprise" meant achieving sufficient economic impact whether viewed nationally or individually.
Fifty-five years prior in 1902 when President Theodore Roosevelt signed the Reclamation Act into law, this "approach uncompromisingly grounded in economic effects" had already become axiomatic—so self-evident that none thought to remark upon it.

Downstream of Boulder Dam on a tributary of the Colorado River lies a river called the Salt River.
They built a small dam on this river to generate electricity while diverting water to irrigate nearby desert areas.
This was tentatively completed with $20 million in national funds.
As the results proved exceptionally favorable, the farmers’ union later invested an additional $23 million to expand the project further.
At a total public-private cost of $43 million, they generated 70,000 kilowatts of electricity and irrigated 150,000 *chōbu* of land.

43 million dollars was equivalent to approximately 15 billion yen, about one year’s worth of Hokkaido Development expenses. To demonstrate these effects, a table had been prepared comparing economic conditions before the investment in 1910 and thirty-seven years later in 1947. According to this table, both population and farm income rose approximately tenfold over those thirty-seven years. Bank deposits soared from five million dollars to nearly 1.8 billion dollars—an increase exceeding three hundredfold.

What was interesting was how they had incorporated tax considerations.
Before development, this entire area of Maricopa County had been a complete desert with virtually no tax revenue.
Yet by 1947, national tax revenue from this single county alone reached $66 million.
The government had initially invested $20 million, but during this period $14 million of that sum had already been repaid to the national treasury.
For the government then—having invested $20 million, recovered most of it through repayments, and now receiving $60 million annually in tax revenue—there could be no more profitable enterprise.
American tax rates, excepting those for the wealthy, remained incomparably lower for ordinary citizens than Japan's.
They could generally be considered about one-third.
With low tax rates yet increased total tax revenues, personal incomes had naturally grown substantially.
The Development Bureau's pamphlet serving as this data's foundation concluded by declaring: "In this manner, development projects constitute the most advantageous investments."

Since geographical conditions differ between America and Japan, there was no need to imitate America’s approach.
However, the principle that once using national taxes they must benefit the entire populace was one worth emulating.
Even had they injected into Hokkaido—year after year for five years—funds equivalent to the Salt River Project’s total cost, by the final fiscal winter some Hokkaido farmers would still have lacked tomorrow’s food.
While newspapers did not trumpet it as stridently as cold-weather crop damage, Hokkaido’s fishing villages endured hardships no less severe—perhaps worse—than those of blighted farms.

Meanwhile, the city of Sapporo bustled with the nation’s foremost building boom: over thirty splendid movie theaters newly constructed, its restaurants elevated to rival Tokyo’s first-class establishments. They conducted an experiment on the world’s largest scale to demonstrate what happens when enormous sums of money are poured into erroneous objectives or no objectives at all. The mindset that development can be achieved simply by pouring in money, or the attitude of immediately resorting to “Japan is poor” as a refrain—this experiment should have made clear just how mistaken it was.

It was truly regrettable that recommendations such as an “approach resolutely based on economic effects” had to be issued at this late stage; nevertheless, I earnestly hoped that even now, this recommendation would be seriously considered by those in positions of influence.

8. How Should the Second Plan Be Implemented?

Assuming the objectives were set，then how should the Second Five-Year Plan be structured? Regarding this point，the report proposed new principles and concrete measures for each of eight items：agriculture，forestry，ports… Among the principles，a fundamental problem that had previously gone largely unnoticed was brought to the forefront first and foremost．It was the question of “Is it better to transport Hokkaido’s resources to mainland Japan for use，or to utilize them locally?” From Hokkaido’s perspective，it would undoubtedly prefer to establish industries within Hokkaido and utilize its resources locally．However，from the premise that Hokkaido contributed most effectively to Japan’s economy，it was necessary to research which approach was better．If producing products could be made cheaper by sending raw materials to mainland Japan rather than using them in Hokkaido，then they should be produced on the mainland．Being able to produce cheaply meant that fewer materials，resources，and labor were required．From the perspective of Japan as a whole，that was more advantageous．

Traditionally, Hokkaido’s resources had been sent to mainland Japan to sustain its industrial sector because that approach was more economical.
One of the causes lay in the National Railways’ peculiar freight pricing policy.
At that time, freight rates for materials such as coal and timber from Hokkaido were set extremely low—below cost prices.
This meant the more they transported, the more the National Railways lost money.
Ultimately, that loss fell on passengers.
This freight policy sustained mainland Japan’s industry and became one reason why Hokkaido remained in a colonial existence indefinitely.
However, rectifying these freight rates proved difficult.
Just two or three days prior, a Hokkaido newspaper had fiercely attacked how this latest fare increase would make Kishu oranges—consumed by Hokkaido residents—cost thirteen yen(?) more per box than in Tokyo.
Yet as long as such statements were made, the majority of Hokkaido residents expressed satisfaction.
By that logic, pineapples consumed in Sapporo being more expensive than those in Hawaii would have been deemed outrageous.
While residents happily ate mandarins thirteen yen cheaper, mainland industrialists kept transporting Hokkaido’s resources ever more cheaply at passengers’ expense.
Thus Hokkaido had to forever resign itself to being a colonial entity.

Next, another of Hokkaido’s underappreciated assets was noted.
These were its abundant industrial water and its vast land with low prices.
In Honshu, both of these had reached an impasse, and they were struggling tremendously to find suitable sites for establishing large-scale industries.
In this regard, Hokkaido was in an advantageous position.

In summary, the main thrust of this report lay in advocating that Hokkaido be liberated from its traditional agriculture-centric mindset and steered toward population absorption through industry. Colonial elements needed to be excised from Hokkaido while reorienting it as "a place to live." To achieve this, making Hokkaido a livable environment took absolute priority—for work is ultimately performed by people, rendering this imperative self-evident.

From this viewpoint, concrete measures were proposed for each of the eight items.
And while each of these seemed to be an opinion worthy of careful consideration, since the purpose of this text did not lie in discussing Hokkaido development itself, the concrete measures were omitted.
Taking the results of the First Five-Year Plan as an example, this text’s main purpose lay in examining why many development plans in Japan failed to achieve their intended effects.

For comprehensive development, the most important element was the objective.
As for what resulted from erring in this regard, there remained no need for further elaboration.
When an objective believed accurate had been established, the next step became thorough planning—this required investigation and research.
Yet in Hokkaido’s case, these had been sorely lacking.
And even today, with the First Five-Year Plan completed, they remained deficient.
For example, regarding Hokkaido’s most crucial underground resources, even the fundamental surveys—the 1:50,000 geological maps—had still hardly been completed.
Of the geological maps divided into 284 areas across Hokkaido, among the 247 survey targets excluding 37 pre-war publications, only 35 sheets—a mere 14%—had been finished.

Superficially, impressive survey reports were produced, and thick planning documents had been printed based on them. Of course, without such things, the budget would never have been approved. However, while this was a nationwide tendency in Japan, these types of survey reports were generally those created at desks. Due to the scarcity of data grounded in local conditions, they often proved surprisingly ineffective when actually implemented. There was an absolute need to place greater emphasis on research and surveys responsive to local conditions. This report represented an aggregation of Japan’s foremost intellects, and at present, it would have been difficult to expect anything surpassing it. However, even this report did not seem entirely free from aspects where its responsiveness to local conditions appeared somewhat lacking. After all, this conference was a private one, and I believe government funds were probably not involved. Therefore, it was unreasonable to demand investigations requiring large sums of money.

9. The Rice Cultivation Issue

Among the conclusions of this report, one that raises questions is the issue of rice cultivation.
It advocates rejecting a rice-centered approach and introducing agriculture suited to Hokkaido’s unique character.
Of course, this is correct, and there is absolutely no disagreement about the need to focus more on dairy farming.
However, the problem lies in why rice cultivation continues to be embraced by Hokkaido farmers.

To state the conclusion first, rice cultivation proves more advantageous and stable.
Growing tropical rice in Hokkaido remains impossible; yet they persist in its cultivation despite knowing it cannot withstand even a single cold snap—a phenomenon rooted in what might be called the Japanese people’s misguided fixation on rice.
This perspective has solidified into conventional wisdom, yet we must press one step further in examining its premises.

The first puzzling fact was that when one actually traveled around Hokkaido, villages in rice-growing regions such as Kamikawa, Sorachi, and Ishikari were generally more prosperous than those in field crop regions.
While rice cultivation naturally suffered from cold damage, beans and adzuki beans incurred even more severe losses.
Last year’s cold damage—the worst disaster in a decade—resulted in rice yields of only forty percent.
However, beans and adzuki beans fared even worse, yielding only thirty percent.
At that time, those struggling for tomorrow’s food were the farmers in field crop regions, while those in rice-growing regions faced comparatively less hardship.
In fact, rural areas of the Kamikawa region saw so many refusals of relief rice that it became a significant issue.

At the Hokkaido Branch of the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry’s Agricultural Comprehensive Research Institute, researchers investigated the average deviation in annual production values for Hokkaido’s major agricultural products.
Though only five years of statistics had been compiled at that point, the figures showed 27% for rice compared to 37% for soybeans, 36% for adzuki beans, and 20% for sugar beets.
The higher this percentage indicated greater crop instability.
From this data alone, it became evident that rice was not uniquely unstable among these crops.
Potatoes showed a mere 6% deviation—remarkably stable—though farms could not subsist on potato cultivation alone.
This 27% figure for rice arose because farmers selected unstable high-yield varieties focused solely on maximizing production.
Had they used stable varieties instead, this deviation would have been significantly reduced.
While exclusive use of stable varieties risked losses during exceptionally bountiful years, unstable high-yield types could still produce at least 80% of their potential harvest.
It was precisely this gamble for an extra 20% yield that left farmers devastated during years of cold damage.

At present, rice farmers are indeed at an advantage; however, this can also be attributed to substantial government investments in land improvement and irrigation/drainage systems.

However, between fiscal years 1952 and 1956, the total funds invested in this area—combining national and prefectural expenditures—amounted to ¥14 billion.
Even if we consider the entire amount as dedicated solely to rice paddies, dividing it among the 110,000 rice-farming households yields approximately ¥120,000 per household.
That equals the price of a single higher-grade cow.
Given these subsidy levels over four years, one cannot claim the government invested particularly large sums in rice paddies.

On the other hand, dairy farming should be greatly encouraged both for maintaining soil fertility and improving the physical constitution of the Japanese people; however, operating a stable dairy farm requires at least six or seven dairy cows, and when including housing, barns, silos, and so on, a minimum capital of approximately three million yen becomes necessary.
The 6% interest rate on long-term agricultural loans was currently the lowest available; even so, it amounted to 180,000 yen annually.
Paying that much interest while attempting to repay even a portion of the principal would render management extremely difficult.

"The concept of 'agriculture befitting Hokkaido' was correct as an objective, but its realization demanded enormous investment. While expanding rice paddies into areas with conditions worse than current ones would be ill-advised, one could not conclusively declare Hokkaido's rice cultivation a failure."

I, too, initially thought growing rice in Hokkaido was unthinkable; however, after the war, when I began researching agricultural physics and spent time living in Hokkaido's farming villages, my thinking gradually changed.
In short, Hokkaido's field crop agriculture was utterly wretched.

This issue was of an extremely complex nature with potentially multiple valid perspectives.
I did not presume to offer definitive conclusions but rather presented this case to demonstrate the necessity for surveys and research more deeply rooted in local conditions than previous efforts.

10. Conclusion

Not limited to development projects, it seems that most undertakings by the Japanese government fail to achieve their intended effects.
The case of Hokkaido this time was somewhat excessively severe, but other development plans were also not proceeding smoothly by any means.
In dam construction and similar projects, it was not uncommon for design changes to occur five or six times during the process.

As for the cause, what had been conventionally stated was that it stemmed from insufficient investigation and research. By then this explanation had hardened into cliché—even budget petitioners now submitted impressive-looking research materials. These were weighty printed volumes whose opened pages brimmed with statistics. They gave every appearance of meticulous investigation yet were largely desk-bound creations in most cases. Their fundamental weakness lay in how few studies drew substance from actual field conditions. To state it uncharitably, one could not deny many survey reports existed primarily to justify budget requests.

Of course, those who assess are not gods, so it is generally impossible to determine the validity of the materials solely at desks in Tokyo’s central government agencies. If that is the case, then what should be done? First and foremost, establishing responsible persons is the primary issue. Even though the First Five-Year Plan has ended in such results, because multiple directors have been replaced during that period, no one bears responsibility. It is a truly mysterious and ingenious political organization.

Once responsible persons were appointed, the next crucial matter was for them to reside locally.
If the Director of the Hokkaido Development Agency had been living near Obihiro and witnessed a farmer's child crying nearby because they couldn't go to school without a lunchbox, he might have given more thought to how those eighty billion yen were used.

When I say such things, they might be taken as a joke—yet there are indeed countries that have actually implemented such practices.
Many likely still remember when America's TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) success was fervently celebrated in Japan, an era when "TVA fever" swept across the nation.
In that very TVA, they literally carried out what I have just described.
And behind the TVA's success—though relatively overlooked—this very point appears to have exerted significant influence.

Projects were carried out by people; they could not be accomplished by organization and money alone.
The primary key to the TVA’s success lay in entrusting full authority to Lilienthal and two other directors, allowing them to work as they saw fit while simultaneously holding them accountable.
It was structured as a public corporation, enabling the use of national funds without being bound by accounting regulations.
The exemption from accounting regulations prioritized achieving tangible results above all else; of course, this required strict enforcement against misconduct.
For this purpose, two trusted auditors appointed by the Diet were permanently stationed at TVA headquarters.
In Japan, as long as fund usage did not violate accounting regulations, that settled everything.
Accounting books existed solely to pass through the Board of Audit; whether any results had been achieved was not a concern.
Even if concrete was poured in midwinter or business trips were taken at fiscal year-end, it was deemed acceptable as long as no laws were broken.

If they aimed for actual results, that would be problematic, so they adopted the form of a public corporation.
However, since they allowed the use of massive national funds with considerable freedom, they imposed two conditions on the responsible persons.
The first was to reside locally; the second was to abandon all other concurrent positions.
Thus, the three directors lived in Tennessee—a state with the lowest level of civic development even in America—abandoned all concurrent positions, and devoted themselves entirely to the work of the TVA.
I believe this was the greatest cause of the TVA’s success.
If the Director of the Development Agency were to reside in Tokyo while holding twenty or thirty different titles, Hokkaido’s development would simply not succeed.

Of course, it would be most fortunate if this were to end up being nothing more than my groundless worry.

(April 1957 [Showa 32], *Bungei Shunju*)