Showing posts with label farmers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farmers. Show all posts

Jun 9, 2010

Many Thai workers, now out of poverty, are in dissent

Thai FarmerImage by __maurice via Flickr

By Andrew Higgins
Wednesday, June 9, 2010; A10

NONBON, THAILAND -- San Silawat has three dogs, two cows and a parrot. He grows rice and spring onions on a small plot of land. But he's hardly a pauper: He's added a second floor to his house and built a blue-tiled patio. His son plays computer games in the front room. His daughter recently bought a Nissan pickup truck. His granddaughter studies nursing in Bangkok.

For all his relatively good fortune, however, San is certain about one thing: "Life is definitely getting worse," said the 62-year-old farmer, grumbling about the price of gasoline, school fees and a political and economic system he sees as rigged in favor of the rich.

Last month, San and six friends from this village in northeastern Thailand piled into a pickup and drove 14 hours to join "red shirt" protests in Bangkok. During nine weeks of demonstrations, scores of other rural folk from Nonbon and nearby settlements made the same 390-mile trip.

Beneficiaries of an economic boom that, in just three decades, has cut the proportion of Thais living below the poverty line from 42 percent to about 8 percent, San and his family represent both the promise and the peril of Asia's dizzying transformation.

From China in the north to Indonesia in the south, hundreds of millions of people are now living far better than a generation ago. But the gap that separates them from the rich has often grown wider. As their fortunes and expectations have risen, so too has their frustration. And, as recent turmoil in Thailand has shown, this can mean big trouble.

San and his neighbors rallied to the red shirts not because they are hungry, uninformed and desperate but because they are no longer any of those things. Though still very poor compared with Bangkok residents who cheered the red shirts' defeat when government troops moved in on May 19, they are a better-off, better-informed and far more demanding voice in national affairs than their elders. San buys and reads a newspaper every day.

"Farmers in the past didn't ask for anything. They just did their farming," said his daughter, Tasaneeporn Boran, standing next to her brand-new black Nissan, which she bought in February.

"We now know what is going on," she said. "We know what we want and don't want." What she doesn't want most of all is a "government that only looks after the rich, instead of ordinary people."

Continental divide

It is a demand that raises alarming questions not just for Thailand's Eton- and Oxford-educated prime minister, Abhisit Vejjajiva, but for governments across Asia struggling to manage rising expectations amid growing, but unevenly spread, prosperity. Thailand's protests began in March not during a recession, but as the economy recorded first-quarter growth of 12 percent, its strongest performance in 15 years.

China, meanwhile, saw its economy surge by 11.9 percent -- and has since been hit by a wave of labor unrest, including a strike over wages at a Honda factory in Guangdong, one of the country's wealthiest regions. China's Communist Party has staked its future on a bet that economic growth will reinforce, not undermine, stability. But Thailand's experience shows how easily such calculations can come unstuck.

Instead of political calm, growth in Thailand has brought increased tension. When the country set off the 1997 Asian financial crisis and fell into a deep slump, political stability in Thailand actually increased and then plunged as the economy took off again, according to the Worldwide Governance Indicators, compiled by experts from the Brookings Institution and the World Bank.

Over the last four decades, Thailand's economy has grown an average of about 7 percent a year, and average real per-capita income has roughly tripled since the mid-1980s. But, according to a recent report on Thailand last year by the United Nations Development Program, the Southeast Asian nation is beset by "persistent inequality" that defies a widely accepted theory that the gap between rich and poor widens during an initial phase of development but then narrows.

Thailand's income inequality is roughly the same as that of much poorer nations such as Uganda and Cambodia and slightly worse than that of China and the United States, both highly unequal in terms of income distribution, according to data in the United Nations 2009 Human Development Report.

Despite the income gap, the people of Nonbon have unquestionably benefited from their country's rapid development. Tasaneeporn recalled growing up in the 1970s with no electricity, no running water and no paved roads. Only one family had a TV.

The main economic driver in the region at the time was the U.S. Air Force, which used a big airfield in the nearby city of Ubon Ratchathani to launch bombing runs over Vietnam and Cambodia. Now, a recently widened four-lane highway -- dotted with convenience stores and shopping centers -- connects Ubon Ratchathani, the regional capital, to farmland around Nonbon.

Tasaneeporn's brother recently got work in the city at a new luxury hotel. The job gives him a small, steady income -- and puts him in daily contact with people who have far more money.

'Voice of the People'

The most vocal red shirt supporters in these parts are not the destitute -- people like Sritta Sorsrisuk, a 71-year-old farmer who has seen two of his six children die. "I don't care about politics," he said, sitting in a tumbledown shelter next to his tiny plot of land. But others "talk about it all the time: red this, red that."

More keen on the red shirts is Usasorn Anarat, a neighbor of San's who traveled to Bangkok twice to join the protests. Thanks to her husband, who works in Qatar, and modest profits from a rice farm, Usasorn has a monthly income of about $1,000, far above the local average.

Like San, Tasaneeporn and nearly everyone in the villages around here, she's a huge fan of Thaksin Shinawatra, the self-exiled former prime minister who was ousted by the military in 2006 and is now wanted for "terrorism" under a Thai warrant. Thaksin, Usasorn said, "loves the country, won elections, and they chased him away."

Thaksin, a billionaire, regularly visited the Thai countryside and launched a raft of programs to help rural residents, including cheap health care, easy credit and handouts of about $30,000 to each village head. He even stopped off in the village next to Nonbon.

"Nobody had done that before," said Tasaneeporn. Her father managed to shake Thaksin's hand. He now has a picture of Thaksin pinned on his living room wall, along with photographs of Thailand's king.

After Thaksin and King Bhumibol Adulyadej, now 82 and hospitalized, the most popular person around here is Phichet Thabbudda, a rabble-rousing radio announcer known as "DJ Toy."

He founded and ran the "Voice of the People," a shoestring local radio station that won a big following with fiery denunciations of the government and the well-to-do. He also organized convoys of vehicles bound for Bangkok

Echoing the rhetoric of red shirt leaders in Bangkok, DJ Toy spoke of Thailand as a nation divided between hard-working but impoverished "serfs" and an oppressive, greedy "aristocracy." This played well in Nonbon and in other villages across northern Thailand. But Jamnong Jitnivat, a longtime local campaigner for farmers' rights, said it distorts reality. The real issue, he said, is a government bureaucracy out of touch with an increasingly well-informed and better-off population that now "demands much more than before."

When troops moved in to dislodge protesters in Bangkok on May 19, DJ Toy's radio station thundered against the crackdown and called on listeners to show their anger. Protesters burned down city hall in Ubon Ratchathani. The following day, police and soldiers arrested DJ Toy at his home, raided his studio and hauled away his antenna.

San, the rice farmer, said he misses his broadcasts but still keeps up with events by reading the newspaper and watching TV. "We all know what is happening," he said. "We know who is good and who is bad."

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Jul 21, 2009

In One Afghan Province, Votes for President Could Turn on Loss of Poppy Income

By Pamela Constable
Washington Post Foreign Service
Tuesday, July 21, 2009

FAIZABAD, Afghanistan -- The economic fortunes of Badakhshan province, a remote and wildly beautiful corner of far northeastern Afghanistan, have risen and fallen over the past seven years with the production of opium poppies.

Not long ago, emerald fields with nodding pink poppy flowers were everywhere, and Badakhshan was one of the country's fastest-growing poppy producers. Today, its golden hills are dotted with freshly harvested wheat stacks, and its 95 percent drop in opium production last year has been hailed as a model by international anti-drug officials.

For many communities, however, the loss of poppy income has meant a return to desperate rural poverty. As national elections approach on Aug. 20, with President Hamid Karzai seeking reelection against a field of 40 challengers, the decision among Badakhshan's voters rests partly on whether they give his government and its international backers credit or blame for the end of the poppy boom.

"The authorities promised our people jobs and projects if they stopped growing poppy, but that never happened," said a teacher here in the provincial capital, who gave her name as Aria. "We know that opium is un-Islamic and makes people addicted, but what about the farmers and their families? When we grew poppy, the people were doing well. Now they are suffering."

Aria was one of several thousand people at a recent campaign rally for Karzai's most prominent challenger, former foreign minister Abdullah Abdullah. He spent a weekend this month barnstorming Badakhshan in a battered, Soviet-built military helicopter that crossed the snowcapped Hindu Kush mountains, swooped into narrow valleys and landed in wheat fields across the vertiginous province.

In speeches in village mosques, soccer stadiums and shady groves beside rushing mountain streams, Abdullah made vague promises to bring jobs, economic development and better government. But his major selling point was his role in Afghanistan's "holy war" against the Soviet Union during the 1980s, when he was an aide to the now-deceased mujaheddin leader Ahmed Shah Massoud.

"The people here know me, because I used to come on horseback and bring medical supplies in the early days of jihad," said Abdullah, 50, an ophthalmologist who graduated from medical school in Kabul in 1983 and became an adviser to Massoud two years later. Karzai named him foreign minister in 2002, but he was abruptly removed from the cabinet in 2006. Though fond of finely tailored Western suits during his run as foreign minister, Abdullah dresses in the locally popular salwar-kameez -- a tunic with baggy trousers -- when he is out on the campaign trail.

In each community where the green helicopter touched down -- it was provided by the central government in accord with official election policy -- crowds hoisted posters of Abdullah with Massoud, who was killed in 2001. His remarks included tributes to local martyred comrades and sentimental stories from the long-ago war, and he was constantly interrupted by impassioned shouts of "Long live jihad!" from men and boys in the crowd.

"We believe in jihad, and we do not want our Islamic values to be destroyed by the foreigners," said an elder named Rahim in the town of Jurm, who introduced the candidate and referred to his wool cap, traditionally worn by northern Islamic fighters. "As long as the pakul is on his head, he will follow the way of jihad and stand up for all the mujaheddin."

Yet despite their emotional identification with Abdullah, many people interviewed after or outside the rallies said they planned to vote for Karzai, who has ruled the country with strong international backing since early 2002. They said that the president has not visited their province in a long time but that he is a proven national leader with access to large amounts of foreign assistance.

"I would say 80 percent of the people in this district support Karzai," said Mohammed Issah, 36, a mullah in Baharak, a town surrounded by wheat fields and fruit orchards. "His government has brought us roads and security. Our people are living in harmony, and there is no more poppy, which we know is the enemy of our religion. It is our tradition to be hospitable to all guests, but that does not say how we will vote."

In Faizabad, a sleepy town that is largely inaccessible in winter, opinions were mixed. Some inhabitants bitterly blamed Karzai's government for the lack of economic development, noting that the local airstrip is still a Soviet-made metal platform, the main road is only now being paved and donkeys remain the principal form of transportation.

Several women here said that the state of provincial health care is a disgrace and that many pregnant patients die in childbirth because it is so difficult to reach hospitals. For years, according to U.N. reports, the levels of infant and maternal mortality in Badakhshan have been the highest in Afghanistan and on a par with those in many sub-Saharan African countries.

Other residents disputed the criticisms, saying that conditions have improved noticeably during the Karzai era and that international charities have been able to operate safely because the region is more secure than many other parts of the country.

"In the past, we had no roads or cars, and now we have a lot of them. In the past, we had a lot of poppy, and now it's gone," said Abdul Haq, 43, a shopkeeper who had pasted a campaign poster of Karzai to his wooden shutters. "We hear there is fighting in other places, but here we have 100 percent security. That is enough for me."

In some ways, Badakhshan's unusual geography has created a political anomaly. Its remoteness has made it both virtually impervious to the predations of Taliban insurgents based in the distant south and exceptionally devoted to its local leaders.

The governor, a Badakhshan tribal elder named Abdul Majid, has been credited with spearheading the anti-poppy drive by personally appealing to farmers across the province. The campaign in Badakhshan has proved more successful than in many other parts of Afghanistan, a country that produces more than 90 percent of the world's illicit opium.

Although Majid was appointed by Karzai, he has said he received little help from the central government in fighting drugs. Roadside signs in several towns touted the U.S. government's "alternative livelihoods" program for poppy farmers, but community elders complained that they had received scant assistance to develop legal crops.

"We have no work here, and all our young men go to Iran to find jobs," said Abdul Samad, an elder in Kesham district who hosted a picnic for Abdullah in a thriving grove of poplar, pear and pine trees. But Samad said that the grove had been funded by a Norwegian charity and that local farmers had neither the seeds nor the irrigation to replicate it. "We need a strong Muslim leader, a real mujahed, to bring us jobs and justice," he said.

Jul 14, 2009

Can the DPJ Bring Democracy to Japan?

by Tobias Harris and Colum Murphy

Posted July 3, 2009

On a sweltering afternoon in June, the rice fields outside the small town of Omagari in Japan's northern Akita prefecture are eerily deserted. Only the voice of Kimiko Kyono belting out from the speakers atop her orange Nissan breaks the silence. "Konnichiwa!" she exclaims to the open fields. "This is Kimiko Kyono of the Democratic Party of Japan!" Finally she spots a farmer: "Over there!" A campaign aide drives the car through the field in hot pursuit of the lone voter.

Ms. Kyono, one of the DPJ's potential candidates in parliamentary elections likely to be called at the beginning of August, has an unenviable task. She is trying to win over risk-averse voters person by person to the opposition party formed in 1998. Yet this youthful looking mother of four is not fazed. "Last time I lost by 30,000 votes," she says. "This time I hope to win or at least close the gap."

HatoyamaA confluence of factors means Ms. Kyono might get her wish. While Kazuyasu Kurokawa, the 52-year-old farmer she managed to corner, is noncommittal about his voting plans, others are forthrightly supportive. Teruko Sasaki, 70, is fed up with the status quo. "Things have not gotten better around here," she says. "I think it is time for a change."

The incumbent Liberal Democratic Party has been in power for almost six decades, apart from a 10-month period in the early 1990s, and discontent with its performance is at an all-time high. Chronic disillusionment with LDP's ineptitude and the increasingly severe economic conditions of recent years mean that, even here in the conservative heartland and LDP stronghold, more voters like Ms. Sasaki are contemplating giving the DPJ a shot at ruling the country.

The DPJ under current leader Yukio Hatoyama promises that it would use an election mandate to bring sweeping changes to Japan. The party has devised a set of policies aimed at cushioning citizens from harsh economic realities. Of greater long-term significance, the DPJ has ambitions to overhaul the country's governing structure, which under the LDP has rested on opaque internal party decision-making processes and underhanded cooperation between the party and the bureaucracy. Instead, the DPJ promises government that is more efficient, transparent and accountable. In short, policy making in Asia's oldest democracy would finally move out of the proverbial smoke-filled back rooms.

Political transformation is already underway. Japan now has, for the first time in decades, a viable opposition party in the DPJ, which earned the trust of the public when it became the largest party in the upper house in 2007. A strong mandate at the polls could bring an end to the political paralysis that has hampered the revitalization of Japan's economy and society.

Japanese dietDown and Out

Ms. Kyono's home prefecture, Akita, is in many ways at the front line of Japan's decline, a microcosm of many of the problems that bedevil the country. It is an appropriate laboratory for DPJ's policies related to demographic issues, including the elderly and farmers. Across a host of indicators, the prefecture—together with neighboring Aomori prefecture and the southern island prefecture of Okinawa—finds itself at the bottom of the rankings. Michael Lacktorin, professor of economics at Akita International University, says the No. 1 problem facing the prefecture is demographics. There are around 1.1 million people in Akita, but this is declining by 12,000 people, or around 1%, per year. Half of the decline is from death, half from "social movement" by job seekers.

Japan's aging society is on full display in Akita. On a recent morning in June, most customers at a large supermarket in Omagari were elderly. In October 2007, 28% of Akita's population was over the age of 65, close to six percentage points higher than the national average. Average per capita income in the prefecture for fiscal year 2005 was around 2.3 million yen ($24,100), well below the national level of 3 million yen. Agriculture plays an important role in the prefecture's economy, and here, as in other parts of Japan, farmers are struggling. The percentage of those engaged in full-time farming is dwindling, and more and more rural dwellers are relying on the government sector for employment.

Of course, the latest economic crisis has exacerbated these long-standing social problems. While there are some signs of a recovery, demand for Japanese exports fell sharply in late 2008 and in the first quarter of 2009, causing a sharp economic contraction—gdp fell 3.5% in the fiscal year that ended March 31, a record fall since records began in 1955. The contraction has put pressure on the Japanese workforce, as unemployment rose to 5.2% in May. There are few signs that foreign demand will recover quickly, reinforcing the need for measures to stimulate domestic demand, despite having already budgeted roughly 2% of Japan's gdp for economic stimulus since autumn 2008. Meanwhile, Japan's colossal national debt continues to grow and the goal of a balanced budget pushed back due to the Aso government's antirecession stimulus measures, while social-security spending is soaring as the population ages.

In short, the economic crisis has exposed just how illusory the Koizumi boom years were, based as they were on healthy demand for Japanese goods in the United States and China and on the growing use of temporary and other irregular workers by Japanese businesses. The challenge for Japan's government remains finding the right balance between public demands for social protection, and the need for structural reform and fiscal restraint. The DPJ believes it can strike that balance.

Exit LDP, Enter DPJ

The litany of problems facing Japan has given the DPJ plenty of fodder for devising policies with a clear appeal to the much suffering Japanese, and even given some of the most diehard supporters of the LDP cause to stop and reconsider. That said, it is hard to differentiate between the LDP and the DPJ on the basis of policies alone, especially since many measures seem to pander to the same constituencies, for example the farmers. Perhaps this should not surprise us— Mr. Hatoyama and former party leader and party founder Ichiro Ozawa are both former LDP members.

Even so, the DPJ has done a better job at shaping its policies into a somewhat coherent "manifesto." At the party's modest headquarters in Tokyo's Nagatacho district, former DPJ policy chief Yukio Edano explained that the most important goal of the party is to expand Japan's social-safety net, and many of these policies are specifically aimed at alleviating the two main problems facing the rural areas—the aging population and declining agriculture. That includes addressing Japan's faulty pensions system—antiquated in its management, Byzantine in its organization, and underfunded given growing liabilities—by creating a model based on Sweden's and supported by the whole of consumption-tax revenue at the current rate of 5%. Mr. Edano says the DPJ also plans to increase spending on health and nursing care. The party plans to introduce an individual household income-support system to make Japanese farmers feel more secure about engaging in agriculture. Another sweetener is the launch of a per capita child allowance of 26,000 yen per child per month.

This is an expensive shopping list, but can be financed partially by the DPJ's plan to eliminate wasteful government spending, says Mr. Edano. The party has identified savings of around $104 billion that it plans to redirect to other areas, including into the country's pension system. An increase in consumption tax from the current 5% will happen, but not for "another five or 10 years," says Mr. Edano.

When it comes to economic policies, however, details are vague. While there are references to revitalizing small- and medium-sized enterprises through a "SME Charter," the party falls short on specifics. It, like the LDP, has been unable to outline a plan to fix Japan's finances and it seems that it doesn't quite know how to revitalize regional economies such as Akita's. The DPJ's manifesto contains a lot of little ideas animated by the vision of a "secure society," but nothing terribly concrete on how to restore corporate Japan back to its former glory. By appealing to anxiety about the country's mismanaged pension schemes and inadequate health-care system for the elderly, especially in remote areas, the DPJ is hoping to expand its support base. But it could still botch the campaign. "If a golfer reaches the green, then he should be able to putt his shot," Mr. Edano says. "But the DPJ is still at the tee and is using a driver. At this stage, even top professionals can hit a shot out of bounds."

Should the DPJ manage to come to power, it will not be on the strength of its policies alone. The party's success so far is clearly due to the LDP's unpopularity. The ruling party has been on the decline ever since it won a historic victory in the 2005 general election. Under the leadership of then-Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, the LDP, with the help of Komeito, its coalition partner, secured an unprecedented supermajority in Japan's House of Representatives on the basis of Mr. Koizumi's personal popularity and his campaign to privatize Japan Post.

The 2005 election seemed like a turning point for Japanese politics, the apotheosis of Mr. Koizumi's crusade to destroy the "old" LDP, smash the bureaucracy and institute reforms to liberalize the economy. But within a year Mr. Koizumi was out of office and his successor, Shinzo Abe, was less interested in economic reform than pursuing his dream of making Japan a "normal" country through revision of the Constitution and reform of education curricula—issues that did not resonate with the public.

What followed is all too familiar: the readmission of ousted postal rebels to the LDP, the Abe government's mishandling of the 2007 pensions crisis followed by the DPJ's victory in that year's upper house elections, the substitution of Yasuo Fukuda for Mr. Abe, and then a year later, the substitution of the incumbent Prime Minister Taro Aso for Mr. Fukuda. It has been four years of scandals, of policy decisions avoided, of reforms watered down or scrapped entirely—and of persistently low public approval numbers. Add the failures of the past four years to the LDP's record over its nearly unbroken run of 55 years in power and it seems reasonable that the upcoming general election will result in a historic defeat for the LDP and the birth of a DPJ-led government.

Of course until the election is held it is possible that the LDP—with a history of pulling out miraculous victories—will survive. A scandal involving former DPJ leader Mr. Ozawa in the spring led to a slight uptick in the Aso government's approval ratings, but Mr. Ozawa's resignation halted the DPJ's decline and has effectively triggered a terminal crisis in the LDP.

As of early July, Mr. Aso continues to face plummeting poll results, open calls for his resignation, and demands that he move up the party leadership election scheduled for September to give the party a chance to choose a new leader in advance of the general election. Meanwhile, Mr. Ozawa is still a driving force in the DPJ. "If the election were held today, we would win," a party strategist said in an interview with the review in June. The polls, though frequently unreliable, point to DPJ carrying the day. "Barring some cataclysmic event" the DPJ should win a plurality in the coming election, says political analyst Jun Okumura.

Consolidating Power

Getting elected is only the beginning of the party's challenges. If it is going to deliver on its promises, the DPJ will need to redefine how government works in Japan. If a change of government is to have lasting significance, the DPJ must revolutionize Japanese democracy. If the DPJ merely replicates the LDP's bad practices, not only will it be ineffective as a ruling party but it will likely deepen the public's disillusionment with the political system. A DPJ government's task will be to transform what academic Aurelia George Mulgan has called Japan's "Un-Westminster" system into a proper Westminster parliamentary democracy, with power concentrated in the cabinet.

LDP rule has long been characterized by a sharp division between cabinet and ruling party, with the LDP's formal and informal policy-making organs having an established role in the policy-making process that enable LDP politicians outside government to wield a veto over the sitting government's agenda. At the same time, the bureaucracy has had an outsized role in policy making and as a whole wields political power unmatched among developed democracies. It has been a full-fledged player in a "triangular" struggle for power with the LDP and the cabinet.

The result of this ongoing struggle has been paralysis, particularly after the bursting of the economic "bubble" in the early 1990s, as politicians and bureaucrats struggled to defend their prerogatives and budget shares while various prime ministers attempted to use a newly empowered cabinet office to undermine both LDP and bureaucracy and impose a vision for governing. The Koizumi government was at once a high water mark for this struggle and for the strength of the prime minister and the cabinet in the conflict; the three years since Mr. Koizumi left office have witnessed a steady decline in the ability of the prime minister to corral party members and bureaucrats. Rather than building a Westminster system, Mr. Koizumi strengthened the position of the cabinet within the tripartite governing system without fundamentally transforming the system.

The DPJ seems aware that in order to implement policy it must transform the policy-making process. Naoto Kan, the DPJ's acting president, visited the United Kingdom in early June to study the relationships between cabinet and ruling party and cabinet and bureaucracy in the British system of government. After meeting with senior Labour and Conservative politicians, Mr. Kan returned to Japan impressed by how Britain has enforced the political neutrality of the bureaucracy, ensuring the supremacy of cabinet over ruling party and civil service. In an article in the July issue of the monthly Chuo Koron, Mr. Kan outlines a model for what the DPJ hopes to achieve in constructing a "parliamentary cabinet system" (in contrast to the LDP's "bureaucratic cabinet system").

Describing LDP rule, Mr. Kan argues that the LDP, due to the perpetual gap between cabinet and party, delegated far too much to the bureaucracy, and as a result the government has struggled to resolve the cluster of social and economic problems that have ensnared Japan. According to Mr. Kan, the DPJ will unify ruling party and government to avoid the acrimony that has often characterized the relationship between the LDP and LDP-supported cabinets. To prevent party leaders from being in a position to undermine the government, the DPJ plans to include the party's secretary-general and policy research council chair in the cabinet, with the former responsible for legislative affairs and the latter assuming the critical post of chief cabinet secretary. The DPJ will prevent backbenchers from sidestepping the cabinet to work with bureaucrats through the ruling party's policy research council to draft legislation, and will deny the party's senior leaders outside of government a veto over policy, a right currently possessed by the LDP's general council, which has the power to decide whether a policy will go to a cabinet vote. Indeed, the DPJ abandoned the model of a general council early in its existence and replaced it with a shadow cabinet.

Second, the DPJ aims to strip the bureaucracy of its budgeting authority. Mieko Nakabayashi, a DPJ candidate from Kanagawa prefecture, says Japan's current opaque budgeting process is "undemocratic." "You cannot hide Japan's budget and economic situation forever," says Ms. Nakabayashi, who worked for an extended period in the U.S. Senate Budget Committee. "Hiding things from people has reached saturation point." Here too, the DPJ will not be starting from scratch: A round of administrative reforms early in the decade created the Council for Economic and Fiscal Policy, an advisory council attached to the cabinet that has played an important role in macrobudgeting. But as with many reforms undertaken under LDP rule, the creation of the council was inadequate for shifting responsibility for budgeting from the finance ministry's budget bureau, and the requesting bureaus in the government's ministries and agencies, to elected cabinet officials.

In effect, the DPJ aspires to restore the Japanese Constitution, which designates the cabinet as the supreme executive body responsible for administering the law and preparing budgets, and the Diet as the "sole law-making organ." The goal of these proposals is to create a policy-making process that starts at the top, with the prime minister and the cabinet, and flows down to line bureaucrats. The government, supported by its parliamentary majority, will establish policy-making priorities and compile budgets, the Diet in cooperation with the cabinet will prepare and pass legislation, and the bureaucracy will implement the decisions of its political masters.

Staying in Power

This model is clearly an ideal type: The degree to which a DPJ-led government realizes it will depend on the political abilities of the prime minister and his cabinet ministers. Whether the DPJ's leaders are sufficiently capable remains to be seen.

One factor working in the party's favor is that it should have a mandate for political reform. A poll conducted in March by the Yomiuri Shimbun, Japan's largest daily, found that 74% of respondents did not trust bureaucrats in Tokyo, suggesting that the DPJ will have the public on its side in implementing its plans. At the same time, however, the DPJ must not allow populist, antibureaucrat enthusiasm lead it to promise more reform than it can deliver. Already some of its policies smack of populism. The party's policies for protecting farmer income, for example, will do nothing to promote competitiveness of the sector against foreign producers.

The DPJ will be operating in an environment shaped by an active news media, a public quick to voice its disapproval, an opposition party that will use every tool at its disposal to stymie the government and a bureaucracy reluctant to surrender its privileges. These obstacles do not mean reform is impossible, but they mean the DPJ must pick its battles carefully, seek allies wherever possible and moderate its rhetoric in order to maximize its freedom of action.

The DPJ may already be backing away from more extreme criticism of the bureaucracy, with Mr. Kan's acknowledging that there are many talented bureaucrats and that the party recognizes it will need their cooperation if it is to govern effectively. "The DPJ is unlikely to depart from dependence on the bureaucracy," Takao Toshikawa, editor-in-chief of the biweekly Tokyo Insideline, says, describing the party's plan to appoint 100 political appointees as "unrealistic." "The DPJ has no such manpower." Given these constraints, the DPJ is right to focus on how to concentrate power in the cabinet. Such reforms will require less in the way of legislation and allow more effective use of power by the DPJ's leaders.

More challenging will be the DPJ's desire to redistribute power from Tokyo to prefectures and localities. In his article, Mr. Kan lists decentralizing Japan as the complement to consolidating power in the cabinet, but it is unclear what decentralization means to the DPJ and how it will go about achieving it. There is more than an echo of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair's push for devolution to Scotland and Wales during his first term. Whatever form devolution Japanese-style takes, expect a protracted fight among prefectural and local governments, the ruling and opposition parties in Tokyo, the bureaucracy (which is the target of decentralization), interest groups, and at some level the public at large. In an interview, Aomori governor Shingo Mimura told the review that, in his view, any decentralization of political power must be accompanied with decentralization of budgeting power.

Considering that any sort of radical decentralization can only proceed after the DPJ has effectively concentrated power in the cabinet, stressing decentralization offers more than any government could achieve for the foreseeable future. And given the policy challenges that will face the new government, it is questionable that the first thing that it should do upon realizing administrative centralization is transfer power and money to local governments.

If the DPJ can implement its plans for administrative reform—and it's a big if—it could succeed in regime change. It will have created a "normal" parliamentary system, having transformed Japanese governance from what political scientist Jun Iio has called the LDP's "purposeless" government to a government that can set clear policy goals and be judged by its success in achieving those goals. But regime change will have little meaning for the Japanese people until the government uses its new authority to fix economic and social problems. And that will ultimately depend on the ability of the leaders of the DPJ to make hard decisions about how to fix the budget while putting society and economy on sounder footing, decisions that the LDP has been unable to make. If the new government fails to deliver despite administrative reform, it will have no excuses for inaction-and will risk falling from power.

Another element influencing the longevity of a DPJ-led government is the degree of unity the party exhibits. Critics say the party is deeply divided in many policy areas, for example foreign policy, causing some to predict the DPJ eventually will crumble. In its place, a new party that combines elements of DPJ and LDP could form. "In four or five years, you could get a reconstituted one-party system," says Malcolm Cook, program director for East Asia at the Lowy Institute for International Policy in Sydney. In the meantime, Mr. Cook expects to see even more "political paralysis" in Japan. "It's not an optimistic view."

As Japan's general election approaches, it is increasingly clear that the public is willing to take a chance on the DPJ. Shigeji Sasaki, a 58-year-old hotel worker in Omagari, Akita, says he plans to change his vote to the DPJ from the LDP so that power can be transferred over smoothly "like the American system." He says he has many demands he would like to see the DPJ government fulfill. "But in general," he said, "I want a party that can lead Japan."

The LDP has progressively lost the ability to govern its own members, has made far too little progress addressing public-policy concerns, and has failed to provide even an outline of a policy vision. If the 2009 election is a referendum on LDP rule, the LDP will be toppled. Even if the LDP wins, however, it will still be a monumental election, because an LDP government would be even more ineffective than before the election, as it would likely be deprived of the supermajority in the lower house that is its trump card in battle with the DPJ-controlled upper house. A LDP victory would likely lead to a grand coalition or a political realignment, significant outcomes in their own right.

The long-term importance of the 2009 general election will be whether a DPJ victory marks the beginning of a new parliamentary democracy in Japan and whether DPJ politicians such as Ms. Kyono and Ms. Nakabayashi—if elected—can build a new system of power that lays the foundations for future prosperity.

This article is the cover story of the REVIEW's upcoming July/August issue.

Tobias Harris is a doctoral candidate in political science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He is the author of Observing Japan (www.observingjapan.com), a blog on Japanese politics. Colum Murphy is deputy editor of the REVIEW.

Jun 28, 2009

Female Farmers Sprouting: More Md., Va. Women Lead Farms

By Lori Aratani
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, June 28, 2009

Julie Stinar once worked with some of the top names in fashion: Donna Karan, Giorgio Armani, Tracy Reese.

Now she works with some completely different brand names: Cornish and Poulet Rouge chickens and Red Devon cattle.

Stinar is the owner of Evensong Farm in Sharpsburg, Md., and an example of the changing face of American farming.

Women always played important roles on the family farm. They kept the books, milked the cows and fed the children, often juggling another part-time job while the men worked the fields. Sometimes, they ran the farm after their husbands or fathers died.

But increasingly, women such as Stinar are turning to farming on their own. According to the 2007 U.S. Census of Agriculture released this year, more than one in every 10 U.S. farms is run by a woman. In Maryland, the number of farms in which a woman is the principal operator jumped 16 percent between 2002 and 2007. In Virginia, female-run farms also grew by 16 percent.

"Just as we've seen the numbers of women increasing in the workplace, we are seeing more women" in farming, said Stefphanie Gambrell, a domestic policy economist with the American Farm Bureau.

Some say that the statistics simply reflect better outreach efforts by census takers, but others point to the growing number of female-focused farming organizations as proof that the number of female farmers is on the rise.

Women's agricultural associations have popped up in Vermont, Connecticut and Maine. In Pennsylvania, membership in the Women's Agricultural Network, which is affiliated with Penn State's College of Agricultural Sciences, grew from 100 members in 2005 to 1,000 in 2008, said Linda Stewart Moist, a senior extension associate at the college.

While men tend to run larger farms focused on such commodity crops as soybeans and wheat, women tend to run smaller, more specialized enterprises selling heirloom tomatoes and grass-fed beef to well-heeled, eco-conscious consumers.

These smaller enterprises have gotten a boost from the popularity of farmers markets and programs in which people pay in advance to receive weekly produce baskets, as well as renewed consumer interest in buying locally.

The lavender Deborah Williamson and her mother, Edith, grow on their farm, Seven Oaks Lavender Farm in Fauquier County, is sold locally at Whole Foods Markets. Stinar built her heirloom vegetable business by selling to her husband's office colleagues. The Internet has also made it easier for farmers to sell directly to consumers without heavy start-up costs, experts say.

Women say they are drawn to farming for a number of reasons. Many like the independence and flexibility that comes with running a farm. Many younger women choose farming to do something positive for the environment by employing sustainable farming techniques, said Amy Trauger, an assistant professor of geography at the University of Georgia who has studied women in agriculture.

Eight years ago, Jeanne Dietz-Band made a deal with her husband: She'd quit her job at a local biotechnology firm if they would buy a home in the country. Now Dietz-Band, who has a PhD in molecular biology and genetics, heads her own start-up, Many Rocks Farm in Keedysville, Md., where she raises about 200 Kiko goats. She sells meat, sausage, goat milk soap and lotions at farmers markets across the area.

Dietz-Band, who grew up in Kansas, had no farming background. And her husband, born and raised in Boston, had no idea what he was getting into when the family moved to the 40-acre spread in Washington County, she said. Like many farming spouses, he kept his outside job as an electrical engineer to guarantee income and health coverage. He leaves the farm work to Dietz-Band -- with some exceptions.

"If it involves the tractor, he's there," she said.

Dietz-Band chose goats because they were small and she figured she could handle them. Her background in genetics has come in handy.

"Even though I walked out of one career into a totally different one, everything came together," she said.

Others follow a more traditional route: inheriting their farm. Martha Clark's farming roots go back to 1797, when her family first settled in Howard County. Her father, former Maryland state senator James Clark Jr., thought Clark's brother would inherit the family farm. Instead, her father started his dairy farm and Martha took over more than 420 acres along a stretch of Route 108 in Ellicott City, where she raises livestock, corn, tomatoes and other crops. Her daughter Nora Crist, 21, recently graduated from the University of Delaware's College of Agriculture and Natural Resources and might be the next generation to run the family farm.

For her part, Stinar always loved the country. After the birth of her son, she and her husband bought the 132-acre spread in rural Washington County that would eventually become Evensong Farm. She started with a vegetable garden and some mail-order chickens. Then came the cow, who had the calf they dubbed "Dinner." Those were followed by the homeless three-legged pig, who was recently joined by five piglets.

Once a week, she drives to the Saturday farmers market in Silver Spring, where she sells an assortment of vegetables, herbs and eggs. Stinar chats easily with customers, and her passion for her work is evident as she bags fresh kale and offers samples of the spicy greens. ("Isn't that great?" she says to one woman. "I love them on sandwiches.")

She breaks into a smile when one of her regulars pulls a bulbous green vegetable out of his weekly vegetable basket and looks at it, puzzled.

"It's kohlrabi," she says. She points at the bulb portion. "You peel it and eat it. You can even combine it with apples. The flavor is mild."

The man takes it all in and with a nod says he's game for something new.

By 11 a.m., the fresh eggs are sold out, as is the last bunch of bok choy. Customers are already asking about the Poulet Rouge chickens, which Stinar says will be ready in July.

"It's a great feeling to be able to grow food and to be able to share it with people," she said. "Being outside, growing food -- it's just a great way to live."