There is a discourse that the Buraku is the genkyō (the primitive source) of Japanese culture. There have also been attempts to study “Buraku songs” and “Buraku performing arts.” Mainly this trend was introduced by the historian Kazuteru Okiura (1927-2015). He gave a “scientific basis” to the vulgar discourse that the former performers and artists were modern-day Burakumin. We should notice that there were nōson kabuki (the rural kabuki) and ningyō-jōruri (like puppet plays) performed as entertainment during the agricultural off-season or at New Year’s. Certainly, Buraku were included in those performances. However, Okiura underlined them by calling them hisabetsu no bunka (the discriminated culture). Even if Okiura’s meant well, the Japanese term genkyō is not necessarily a positive Japanese expression in the sense of a primitive Japanese cultural generating place. His argument defended cultural essentialism.

The concept of the hisabetsu no bunka was introduced because a previous movement that has intended to achieve equality between the Burakumin and non-Burakumin lost its vista. Despite there being no essential difference between them, the concept of the hisabetsu no bunka suddenly became mainstream in an attempt to socially recognize the existence of the Burakumin by making them aware of a ‘fictional difference.’ The genkyō of Japanese culture, such as the performing arts, is in the Buraku, and therefore it is to be respected. The hisabetsu no bunka is often linked to the miserable life of the Burakumin. In a moment, the argument fell into cultural essentialism. In this essay, I am addressing the folly and danger of cultural essentialism by focusing on the relationship between the Buraku and songs. Three songs are discussed, each of which has been a popular hit: “Tegami (Letter),” “Hoshikage no Waltz (Melancholy Waltz in the Starlight)” and “Takeda no Komori-uta (Lullaby of Takeda).”

In the boom of American folk music, the song “Tegami” became popular among young people pretending to be left-wingers around 1968. It is a tragic love story that begins with the following words: “Mitsuru, whom I love, is told by his uncle he will not give his shop to Mitsuru if Mitsuru marries me.” This Buraku woman decides to leave her true love for the sake of his happiness. She then laments, “What is wrong with being born as a Burakumin?” The song seemed sound the seriousness of Buraku discrimination, but it actually endorsed it. Even if I understand it as a song with pity for the Burakumin, it did not sublimate pity to solidarity out of the category of cultural essentialism. I detest this defeatist lyric. And I could not have foreseen that the flimsy pity would lead to an outrageous situation combined with an essentialist narrative that sees the Buraku as genkyō of tragedy.

Around the same time as “Tegami” became a hit, a song called “Hoshikage no Waltz” came out. Singer name Masao Sen sold 2.5 million records. The song has the signature dialogue “Breaking up is hard, but I can’t help it, it's for your sake.” The theme of that song was ‘tragic love,’ where breaking up was for the good of the lover. However, the lyrics did not give the reason for the break-up. There was no ‘reason’ about Buraku as in the “Tegami”. And no one recognized the song as having anything to do with the Buraku.

An incident that I could not have foreseen occurred some 40 years later. Suddenly, the discourse that the “Hoshikage no Waltz” had been produced by a Burakumin went viral. A poet, Mr. A, a member of the BLL lied to a media person, Mr. C, saying that he had produced the work but for some reason had sold the copyright to a person Mr. B. Mr. C, who was highly interested in Buraku issues, was skeptical, but Mr. A’s statement made in a bar in Kyoto soon circulated throughout the country. It overlapped with “Tegami,” the song about a tragic love caused by Buraku discrimination, and was associated with marriage discrimination. The history of the Buraku suffering was combined with the suffering of “Hoshikage no Waltz” through fiction, and passed off as “truth.”

In the same period, “Takeda no Komori-uta,” which is said to have its origins in a Buraku in Kyoto, became popular when sung by a folk band. The interpretation of the song is that a Buraku girl who, due to poverty, went to the neighboring honson to babysit. The honson is the dominant village to which the Buraku belonged subordinately. The Buraku was edamura (branch community to the honson). This girl laments the hardship of her babysitting job and sings that she wants to return to her parents’ home, which can be seen beyond this zaisho (place) as soon as possible. Intellectuals, representing episteme of Buraku issue who have explained that this is a song of Buraku say that the term zaisho is the Buraku. The Japanese word ‘over’ means to pass over, from the front to the other side. If so, the meaning does not make sense spatially. This is because the girl’s Buraku was beyond the zaisho. In this case, zaisho does not mean Buraku. The term the zaisho is where little girl is now present. As far as this is concerned, I do not know whether this girl is Burakumin or not.

According to a testimony of an individual from the Buraku Takeda, it is not accurate to say that the song “originated in Buraku.” It was a traditional lullaby sung throughout the region, including in his Buraku. The lullaby was earlier used as the theme tune for a stage play, Hashi no Nai Kawa (A River without a Bridge,) performed by the Tokyo Geijutsuza (Tokyo Art Theater) in 1964. Cmposer Kazuhiko Onoue arranged this traditional song as the theme and “Takeda no Komori-uta” was born. Only after 1970 the folk version labelled a Buraku song. The song was subsequently banned. It was unfounded media self-regulation because of a taboo. This circumstance of cultural essentialism is still unchanged.

What I think is that there is no such thing as a Buraku song. This is because the Buraku is an imagined community. Very ordinary people constructed its entity. It is sad that they are discriminated against. It is also sad that young people experience tragic love, and that children have to work. Indeed, whatever the background of “Takeda no Komori-uta”, I believe that, as a whole, the song provides clues to understanding the children who went to work as babysitters and their feelings. That said, it is not legitimate to link tragedies that have nothing to do with Buraku discrimination to Buraku. Many Burakumin, even though they are in poverty, have been able to overcome such sorrows, and go to live happy, failing lives. For myself, I would rather sing cheerful song, like this one that a friend created for me.

There is a man in Fukuyama 
His name is Doctor Kobayakawa 
He fights discrimination 
And he fights against alienation 

He fights the state and capital 
His mission is implacable 
You'll find him very unflappable 
His arguments are unattackable 
And very trackable 

He always defends the weak 
He lets the voiceless people speak 
He makes Mark Ramseyer shriek 
His only weapon is the critique