somewhere
he got hold of a considerable amount of cash that was needed to establish
the commune. They used the money to buy farm machinery and building materials,
and to set up a reserve fund. They repaired the old houses by themselves and built
facilities that would enable their thirty members to live. This was in 1974. They called
their new commune “Sakigake,” or “Forerunner.”
Sakigake? The name sounded familiar to Tengo, but he couldn’t remember where
he might have heard it before. When his attempt to trace the memory back ended in
failure, he felt unusually frustrated.
116
The Professor continued, “Fukada was resigned to the likelihood that the operation
of the commune would be tough for the first several years until they became
accustomed to the area, but things went more smoothly than he had expected. They
were blessed with good weather and helpful neighbors. People readily took to Fukada
as leader, given his sincere personality, and they admired the hardworking young
members they saw sweating in the fields. The locals offered useful advice. In this
way, the members were able to absorb practical knowledge about farming techniques
and learn how to live off the land.
“While they continued to practice what they had learned in Takashima, Sakigake
also came up with several of their own innovations. For example, they switched to
organic farming, eschewing chemical pesticides and growing their vegetables entirely
with organic fertilizers. They also started a mail-order food service pitched directly to
affluent urbanites. That way they could charge more per unit. They were the first of
the so-called ecological farmers, and they knew how to make the most of it. Having
been raised in the city, the commune’s members knew that city people would be glad
to pay high prices for fresh, tasty vegetables free of pollutants. They created their own
distribution system by contracting with delivery companies and simplifying their
routes. They were also the first to make a virtue of the fact that they were selling ‘un-
uniform vegetables with the soil still clinging to them.’ ”
The professor went on. “I visited Fukada on his farm any number of times. He seemed
invigorated by his new surroundings and the chance to try new possibilities there. It
was probably the most peaceful, hope-filled time of his life, and his family also
appeared to have adapted well to this new way of living.
“More and more people would hear about Sakigake farm and show up there
wanting to become members. The name had gradually become more widely known
through the mail order business, and the mass media had reported on it as an example
of a successful commune. More than a few people were eager to escape from the real
world’s mad pursuit of money and its flood of information, instead earning their
living by the sweat of their brow. Sakigake appealed to them. When these people
showed up, Sakigake would interview and investigate them, and give the promising
ones membership. They couldn’t admit everyone who came. They had to preserve the
members’ high quality and ethics. They were looking for people with strong farming
skills and healthy physiques who could tolerate hard physical labor. They also
welcomed women in hopes of keeping something close to a fifty-fifty male-female
ratio. Increasing the numbers would mean enlarging the scale of the farm, but there
were plenty of extra fields and houses nearby, so that was no problem. Young
bachelors made up the core of the farm’s membership at first, but the number of
people joining with families gradually increased. Among the newcomers were well-
educated professionals—doctors, engineers, teachers, accountants, and the like. Such
people were heartily welcomed by the community since their professional skills could
be put to good use.”
Tengo asked, “Did the commune adopt Takashima’s type of primitive communist
system?”
117
The Professor shook his head. “No, Fukada avoided the communal ownership of
property. Politically, he was a radical, but he was also a coolheaded realist. What he
was aiming for was a more flexible community, not a society like an ant colony. His
approach was to divide the whole into a number of units, each leading its own flexible
communal life. They recognized private property and apportioned out compensation
to some extent. If you weren’t satisfied with your unit, you could switch to another
one, and you were free to leave Sakigake itself anytime you liked. There was full
access to the outside world, too, and there was virtually no ideological inculcation or
brainwashing. He had learned when they were in Takashima that a natural, open
system would increase productivity.”
Under Fukada’s leadership, the operation of Sakigake farm remained on track, but
eventually the commune split into two distinct factions. Such a split was inevitable as
long as they kept Fukada’s flexible unit system. On one side was a militant faction, a
revolutionary group based on the Red Guard unit that Fukada had originally
organized. For them, the farming commune was strictly preparatory for the
revolution. Farming was just a cover for them until the time came for them to take up
arms. That was their unshakable stance.
On the other side was the moderate faction. As the majority, they shared the
militant faction’s opposition to capitalism, but they kept some distance from politics,
instead preferring the creation of a self-sufficient communal life in nature. Insofar as
farming was concerned, each faction shared the same goals, but whenever it became
necessary to make decisions regarding operational policy of the commune as a whole,
their opinions split. Often they could find no room for rapprochement, and this would
give rise to violent arguments. The breakup of the commune was just a matter of time.
Maintaining a neutral stance became increasingly difficult with each passing day.
Eventually, Fukada found himself trapped between the two factions. He was generally
aware that 1970s Japan was not the place or time for mounting a revolution. What he
had always had in mind was the potential of a revolution—revolution as a metaphor
or hypothesis. He believed that exercising that kind of antiestablishment, subversive
will was indispensable for a healthy society. But his students wanted a real revolution
with real bloodshed. Of course Fukada bore some responsibility for this. He was the
one who had planted such baseless myths in their heads. But he never told them that
his “revolution” had quotation marks around it.
And so the two factions of the Sakigake commune parted ways. The moderate
faction continued to call itself “Sakigake” and remained in the original village, while
the militant faction moved to a different, abandoned village a few miles away and
made it the base of their revolutionary movement. The Fukada family remained in
Sakigake with all the other families. The split was a friendly one. It appears that
Fukada obtained the funds for the new commune from his usual unspecified source.
Even after their separation, the two farms maintained a cooperative relationship. They
traded necessary materials and, for economic reasons, used the same distribution
routes for their products. The two small communities had to help each other if they
were to survive.
118
One thing did change, however, shortly after the split: the effective cessation of
visits between the old Sakigake members and the new commune. Only Fukada
himself continued to correspond with his former radical students. Fukada felt a strong
sense of responsibility for them, as the one who had originally organized and led them
into the mountains of Yamanashi. In addition, the new commune needed the secret
funds that Fukada controlled.
“Fukada was probably in a kind of schizoid state by then,” the Professor said. “He no
longer believed with his whole heart in the possibility or the romance of the
revolution. Neither, however, could he completely disavow it. To do so would mean
disavowing his life and confessing his mistakes for all to see. This was something he
could not do. He had too much pride, and he worried about the confusion that would
surely arise among his students as a result. At that stage, he still wielded a certain
degree of control over them.
“This is how he found himself living a life that had him running back and forth
between Sakigake and the new commune. He took upon himself the simultaneous
duties of leader of one and adviser to the other. So a person who no longer truly
believed in the revolution continued to preach revolutionary theory. The members of
the new commune carried on with their farm work while they submitted to the harsh
discipline of military training and ideological indoctrination. And politically, in
contrast to Fukada, they became increasingly radicalized. They adopted a policy of
obsessive secrecy, and they no longer allowed outsiders to enter. Aware of their calls
for armed revolution, the security police identified them as a group that needed to be
watched and placed them under surveillance, though not at a high level of alert.”
The Professor stared at his knees again, and then looked up.
“Sakigake split in two in 1976,” he went on. “Eri escaped from Sakigake and came
to live with us the following year. Around that time the new commune began calling
itself ‘Akebono.’ ”
Tengo looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute,” he said.
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