Photo/Illutration Samurai Japan members celebrate their victory at the World Baseball Classic final on March 21. (Asahi Shimbun file photo)

I spoke with Ryuichi Sakamoto a couple of times and met him at a music festival held in Fukushima after the accident at the Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant.

Although he was to perform at the event, the world-class musician took the lead in setting up the venue without the slightest sign of arrogance.

I recall an episode from 1983 when I was a university student and Nagisa Oshima’s “Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence,” for which Sakamoto provided the score and played a role, created quite a buzz.

I was an avid listener of a radio show hosted by Sakamoto, and one night he shared some behind-the-scenes stories about the filming of “Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.”

Sakamoto, who played an Imperial Japanese Army officer, talked about how he was told to practice a quick-draw sword technique to prepare for the role. He abruptly said he couldn’t learn to like the sword because it was a tool for killing.

I was stunned by that memorable remark.

Both the movie and the score were becoming hits, and Sakamoto’s star was rising internationally.

I would expect someone in that situation to try to please the media and say something like, “I was impressed when I was exposed to the spirit of samurai through the quick-draw technique.”

That aside, it’s my style to talk about something when it’s way outdated—it’s more like long-forgotten, actually--but I want to bring up Japan’s World Baseball Classic victory.

It was so thrilling. I really enjoyed watching the feel-good performances of Samurai Japan when it came to hitting, fielding and base running.

However, there were two things I couldn’t stand.
One was the sound of trumpets and drums played by cheering squads.

When Roki Sasaki and Yoshinobu Yamamoto threw fastballs, the ball would slam into the catcher’s mitt with a thud, echoing throughout the silent ballpark and drawing a loud roar from spectators.

But after hearing that sound, why dont they notice that musical ensemble is nothing but annoying noise?

And another thing: Why is the team called “Samurai Japan”?

I don’t know whether it’s their nickname or if it has become the official name of the national team. But even newspapers shamelessly played up Samurai Japan in their stories.

Why is Japan considered synonymous with samurai?

I’m currently extremely busy as I prepare to plant rice in my terraced paddies. I’m in my 10th year of growing rice, but it doesn’t get any easier.

I’m faced with new challenges every year, but that’s what also makes it creative.

I grow rice, taking pride in our land and tradition. That’s why I can say, “What’s wrong with calling the baseball team ‘Farmers’ Japan?”

I don’t know the exact demographic makeup of Japanese society during the Edo Period (1603-1867), but samurai were a dominant minority, accounting for less than 10 percent of the population.

Most of them were farmers.

Originally, “tsuwamono,” or warriors in the late Heian Period (794-1185), were also half-farmer, half-soldier.

They were owners of reclaimed farmlands, and their retainers were worthy of representing Japan.

At any rate, I don’t really understand why some people are fascinated by samurai. They killed people, as the late Sakamoto might have put it.

Farmers are far superior because they grow food and let people live.

Soon after the 1868 Meiji Restoration brought an end to the samurai age, the government introduced a conscription system amid fierce opposition.

An official notice issued by the government was sprinkled with sweet words like “free rights” and “equality,” as if to say that conscription was meant to achieve freedom and equality.

It was a declaration of so-called universal conscription.

When we turn our eyes toward the world’s future, there are growing concerns about food shortages.

It wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that we could be thrown into a hell on Earth, where people kill each other for food.

It is particularly true for Japan, when the country’s food self-sufficiency is low.

If that’s the case, we should be calling them Farmers’ Japan, instead of Samurai Japan. Let’s aim to make everyone a farmer.

I harvest rice, hunt in winter, make rum from sugar cane and sometimes work as a news reporter, so I have so much to do all the time.

I’m too busy to grow vegetables.

After all, it’s difficult to grow vegetables for one family because I’d end up growing too much in most cases.

So, I suggest we all cultivate a small amount of something and share crops with each other in the neighborhood.

I can provide rice and meat, so I hope someone can give me vegetables.

This is my declaration of “Peasants’ Japan” as I intend to persistently write about these things from this year on in a series of stories running in The Asahi Shimbun.