Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture: An Anthropological Approach to Business Administration 981137192X, 9789811371929

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Translational Systems Sciences 16

Hirochika Nakamaki Koichiro Hioki Noriya Sumihara Izumi Mitsui Editors

Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture An Anthropological Approach to Business Administration

Translational Systems Sciences Volume 16 Editors in Chief Kyoichi Kijima, Tokyo, Japan Hiroshi Deguchi, Yokohama, Japan Editorial Board Shingo Takahashi, Tokyo, Japan Hajime Kita, Kyoto, Japan Toshiyuki Kaneda, Nagoya, Japan Akira Tokuyasu, Tokyo, Japan Koichiro Hioki, Okayama, Japan Yuji Aruka, Hachioiji, Japan Kenneth Bausch, Riverdale, GA, USA Jim Spohrer, San Jose, CA, USA Wolfgang Hofkirchner, Wien, Austria John Pourdehnad, Philadelphia, PA, USA Mike C. Jackson, Hull, UK Gary S. Metcalf, Atlanta, GA, USA Marja Toivonen, Helsinki, Finland Sachihiko Harashina, Ichikawa, Japan

In 1956, Kenneth Boulding explained the concept of General Systems Theory as a skeleton of science. He describes that it hopes to develop something like a “spectrum” of theories—a system of systems which may perform the function of a “gestalt” in theoretical construction. Such “gestalts” in special fields have been of great value in directing research towards the gaps which they reveal. There were, at that time, other important conceptual frameworks and theories, such as cybernetics. Additional theories and applications developed later, including synergetics, cognitive science, complex adaptive systems, and many others. Some focused on principles within specific domains of knowledge and others crossed areas of knowledge and practice, along the spectrum described by Boulding. Also in 1956, the Society for General Systems Research (now the International Society for the Systems Sciences) was founded. One of the concerns of the founders, even then, was the state of the human condition, and what science could do about it. The present Translational Systems Sciences book series aims at cultivating a new frontier of systems sciences for contributing to the need for practical applications that benefit people. The concept of translational research originally comes from medical science for enhancing human health and well-being. Translational medical research is often labeled as “Bench to Bedside.” It places emphasis on translating the findings in basic research (at bench) more quickly and efficiently into medical practice (at bedside). At the same time, needs and demands from practice drive the development of new and innovative ideas and concepts. In this tightly coupled process it is essential to remove barriers to multi-disciplinary collaboration. The present series attempts to bridge and integrate basic research founded in systems concepts, logic, theories and models with systems practices and methodologies, into a process of systems research. Since both bench and bedside involve diverse stakeholder groups, including researchers, practitioners and users, translational systems science works to create common platforms for language to activate the “bench to bedside” cycle. In order to create a resilient and sustainable society in the twenty-first century, we unquestionably need open social innovation through which we create new social values, and realize them in society by connecting diverse ideas and developing new solutions. We assume three types of social values, namely: (1) values relevant to social infrastructure such as safety, security, and amenity; (2) values created by innovation in business, economics, and management practices; and, (3) values necessary for community sustainability brought about by conflict resolution and consensus building. The series will first approach these social values from a systems science perspective by drawing on a range of disciplines in trans-disciplinary and cross-cultural ways. They may include social systems theory, sociology, business administration, management information science, organization science, computational mathematical organization theory, economics, evolutionary economics, international political science, jurisprudence, policy science, socioinformation studies, cognitive science, artificial intelligence, complex adaptive systems theory, philosophy of science, and other related disciplines. In addition, this series will promote translational systems science as a means of scientific research that facilitates the translation of findings from basic science to practical applications, and vice versa. We believe that this book series should advance a new frontier in systems sciences by presenting theoretical and conceptual frameworks, as well as theories for design and application, for twenty-first-century socioeconomic systems in a translational and transdisciplinary context.

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/11213

Hirochika Nakamaki  •  Koichiro Hioki Noriya Sumihara  •  Izumi Mitsui Editors

Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture An Anthropological Approach to Business Administration

Editors Hirochika Nakamaki Suita City Museum Suita, Osaka, Japan Noriya Sumihara Faculty of International Studies Tenri University Tenri, Nara, Japan

Koichiro Hioki Faculty of Business Administration Shujitsu University Okayama, Japan Izumi Mitsui College of Economics Nihon University Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

ISSN 2197-8832     ISSN 2197-8840 (electronic) Translational Systems Sciences ISBN 978-981-13-7192-9    ISBN 978-981-13-7193-6 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6 © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Preface

In 2016 we published our first book on an anthropological approach to business administration under the main title Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization. Koichiro Hioki had originally suggested understanding enterprise as an instrument/ device of civilization under the influence of both Peter Drucker’s view that “[enterprise] determines the individual’s view of his society” and Tadao Umesao’s definition of civilization as a system consisting of instruments/devices and institutions (Nakamaki et al 2016: vii). Thus “instrument of civilization” became a new conceptual tool in business administration, replacing production and economic purpose with an emphasis on social activity and institutional systems. Meanwhile, in business studies many researchers have confined their understanding of culture to, e.g., “organizational culture,” which they have treated as functional, operational, and, therefore, manipulable. In this volume, however, culture is referred to as the basis or the foundation of business activity itself. This volume focuses on the cultural dimensions of enterprise under the challenging title Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture. Rooted in the Umesao’s (2013) definition of culture as a projection of instruments/devices and institutions into the mental/ spiritual dimension, enterprise is here considered a medium of culture, rather than an object of production and management. Inverting the usual pattern, then, our view is that enterprise culture itself is the medium carrying the projected mentality/spirituality of production and management. This perspective carves a new frontier in business administration, especially when combined methodologically with anthropological fieldwork in the world of modern business. In this book cultural dimensions of enterprise are classified in three parts, the first being “religiosity and spirituality,” the second “exhibition, performance and inducement,” and the third “history and story.” In Part I, topics such as Quaker Codes, ex-­ votos, and spiritual leadership are dealt with in relation to management and behavior, and miracles and pilgrimage. In Part II, Chap. 4 describes how the use of nuclear power is explained and justified through exhibitions at nuclear power plant visitor centers in Japan and England. Chapter 5 deals with how family porcelain is exhibited at home in England. Meanwhile, in Chap. 6, performance of orchestral maestros is viewed as myth formation. All of these examples indicate that, through the use of narratives and v

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myths, exhibits and performances overtly and covertly induce visitors or audiences to certain viewpoints and emotions. Finally, in Part III histories and stories of enterprise are both consumed through the products of the enterprise and their display in enterprise museums where the essence of culture and heritage is cherished and emphasized, by and for the community and the enterprise itself. Cultural dimensions of enterprise are thus created or “invented” through representations of history. Though the targets of research in England, Scotland, and in Japan were different, in an effort to shine a new light on business administration through the perspective that enterprise is a carrier of culture, the authors have been conjoined as a team in applying an anthropological approach to the cultural history of enterprise. The anthropological approach to business administration in this volume may also be unique in that, here, outsiders to European culture have investigated the industrial culture of Europe through unusual ideas, concepts, themes, and objects, such as Quaker Codes, ex-voto, orchestras, beer, whisky, and so forth. The fieldwork collaborations of Japanese and American scholars in Scotland and in the Midlands of England are also noteworthy in that we have found common themes across problems of nuclear power plant representation, similarities between ex-voto and ema, stories and histories of beer and whisky, as well as notions of spirituality in business and management philosophy. The joint fieldwork that involved the majority of authors in this volume was conducted in England and Scotland during 2001 and 2003 with the financial support of Japan Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS). Based on this research, we held a workshop at Oxford Brookes University entitled “Comparative Cultures of Association in British and Japanese Organizations” in 2003. Follow-up research has been carried out separately, though reports were presented and discussed in joint-­ research conferences which were consecutively organized by Nakamaki and Hioki at the National Museum of Ethnology (Minpaku) until 2012. Based on fieldwork and inspired by philosophy, we sincerely hope to promote an anthropological approach to business administration. Enterprises are not only created by founders but are nourished by the communal life of their regions and their heritage. Phrased theoretically, enterprises not only function as instruments of civilization but are mediums and, so, carriers of culture, the latter being the major focus of this publication. Suita, Japan Okayama, Japan Chiyoda-ku, Japan Tenri, Japan

Hirochika Nakamaki Koichiro Hioki Izumi Mitsui Noriya Sumihara

References Nakamaki, H., Hioki, K., Mitsui, I., & Takeuchi, Y. (Eds). (2016). Enterprise as an instrument of civilization: An anthropological approach to business administration. Tokyo: Springer. Umesao, T., Befu, H., Kreiner, J., & Nakamaki, H. (Eds). (2013). Japanese civilization in the modern world: An introduction to the comparative study of civilizations (B. Cary, Trans.). Bonn: Bier’sche Verlangsanstalt.

Contents

Part I Religiosity, Spirituality, and Business 1 Corporate Society, the Formation of Order, and “Quaker Codes”: Seeking an Origin of Corporate Governance Principles...................... 3 Izumi Mitsui 1.1 Introduction: Religion and Management.......................................... 3 1.2 Framework of Analysis..................................................................... 5 1.3 The Development of Quaker Entrepreneurs in Britain and Their Philosophical Characteristics............................................ 7 1.4 Twenty-First Century Moral Codes: Adrian Cadbury and Corporate Governance................................................................ 13 1.5 Conclusion: From Taylor in the Twentieth Century to Cadbury in the Twenty-First Century.............................................................. 15 References.................................................................................................. 17 2 Management of Miracles and Pilgrimage: A Comparative Study of Votive Offering in Europe and Japan..................................... 19 Hiroshi Iwai 2.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 19 2.2 Ex-voto in Europe............................................................................. 20 2.3 Ema: Votive Painting in Japan........................................................... 22 2.4 Offering Practices and the Transitions of Religious Systems........... 24 2.5 Conclusion........................................................................................ 27 References.................................................................................................. 28 3 Spiritual Leadership: Background, Theory, and Application to Japanese Business Leaders................................................................. 29 Motomasa Murayama 3.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 29 3.2 Transcendental Leadership Theory................................................... 31 3.3 “Spirituality in the Workplace” Movement: Megatrend of Conscious Capitalism................................................. 32 vii

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3.4 Fairholm’s “Spiritual Leadership Process”....................................... 34 3.5 Fry’s “Organizational Spiritual Leadership Model”......................... 35 3.6 Spirituality of Japanese Business Leaders........................................ 39 3.7 Conclusion: Future of Spirituality and Religion............................... 41 Appendix.................................................................................................... 42 References.................................................................................................. 44 Part II Exhibition, Performance, and Inducement 4 How the “Anomaly” of Nuclear Power Plants Has Been Explained Before and After the 3.11 Disaster in Japan: An Observation Through Power Company Visitor Centers in Japan and England.............................................................................. 49 Noriya Sumihara 4.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 49 4.2 Visitor Centers as a Tool to Explain How and Why Nuclear Power Plants Were Safe Before 3.11................... 51 4.3 Visitor Centers in the UK.................................................................. 59 4.4 How the Account of Nuclear Power Plants Changed After 3.11........................................................................... 62 4.5 Concluding Remarks......................................................................... 66 References.................................................................................................. 67 5 Modelling Museums: The Management Culture of Family Porcelain in England................................................................................ 69 Yuko Shioji 5.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 69 5.2 Porcelain as Cultural Commodity..................................................... 70 5.3 A Case Study of Family Porcelain in the Cotswolds........................ 73 5.4 Parallels with the Heritage Industry.................................................. 88 5.5 Conclusion: The Management Culture of Family Porcelain............ 89 References.................................................................................................. 93 6 An Orchestral Myth: Maestros Are Born and Made............................ 95 Yuko Oki 6.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 95 6.2 Orchestra and Conductor.................................................................. 96 6.3 Conductors Called “Maestros”......................................................... 97 6.4 A New Type of Maestro.................................................................... 102 6.5 Who Created the Myth of These Maestros?..................................... 106 6.6 Conclusion........................................................................................ 109 References.................................................................................................. 109

Contents

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Part III History, Story, and Industry 7 Museum and Visitor Centre in England: Schism and Conflict Over Globalisation................................................ 113 Hirochika Nakamaki 7.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 113 7.2 Museum and Visitor Centre in Stoke-On-Trent................................ 115 7.3 Schism of Museum and Visitor Centre at Wedgwood...................... 115 7.4 Burton-Upon-Trent........................................................................... 119 7.5 From the Bass Museum to the Coors Visitor Centre........................ 120 7.6 Museums and Visitor Centres Reconsidered..................................... 123 References.................................................................................................. 125 8 Brewing Heritage: Issues in the Management of Corporate Heritage in the Brewing Industry in Britain......................................... 127 William H. Kelly 8.1 Introduction....................................................................................... 127 8.2 Parameters in the Presentation of Heritage....................................... 128 8.3 Case Studies...................................................................................... 136 8.4 Analysis and Conclusions................................................................. 146 References.................................................................................................. 149 9 Islay, a Very Tasty Idea: Inventing, Embedding, and Selling Tradition in the Contemporary Scotch Whisky Industry.................... 151 Mitchell W. Sedgwick 9.1 Theoretical Introduction.................................................................... 151 9.2 The Matter of Scotch........................................................................ 152 9.3 The Creation of Distinction: Means of Variation.............................. 154 9.4 Marketing Tradition.......................................................................... 157 9.5 Marketing Difference on Islay.......................................................... 162 9.6 A Moveable Feast............................................................................. 163 9.7 Conclusion........................................................................................ 164 References.................................................................................................. 164 10 One History, Two Narratives: The Company Myths of Japanese Whisky Companies.................................................................................. 167 Yoshiyuki Takeuchi 10.1 Introduction..................................................................................... 167 10.2 Sake Brewage and Its Stories.......................................................... 169 10.3 Whisky Making and Its Stories....................................................... 173 10.4 Narratives on Japanese Whisky: One History, Two Narratives....... 176 10.5 Interpretation of These “Two Narratives”....................................... 181 10.6 Conclusions: Character of the Corporation and Its Narratives....... 184 References.................................................................................................. 186 Index.................................................................................................................. 189

About the Editors and Authors

Koichiro  Hioki is a Professor Emeritus at Kyoto University and Professor of Management at Shujitsu University. He is the author of Ichiba no Gyakushū: Personal Communication no Fukken (Counter Attack of Bazaar: Re-empowerment of Personal Communication) (in Japanese) (2002), Shusse no Mechanism: Ziph Kōzō de Yomu Kyōsō Shakai (Mechanism of Career Advancement: Competitive Society Read by Zipf Structure) (in Japanese) (1998), and Bunmei no Sōchi to shite no Kigyō (Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization) (in Japanese) (1994). He is also a co-editor of Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization (2016).  

Hiroshi  Iwai is Professor of Sociology and Religious Studies at Tezukayama University. His recent research focuses on the management of secrets in religions and in companies. He is the coauthor of Asia-kigyō no Keieirinen: Seisei Denpa Keishō no Dynamism [Management Philosophy of Asian Companies: Dynamism of Creation, Diffusion and Succession] (in Japanese) (2013) and coauthor of Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization: An Anthropological Approach to Business Administration (2016).  

William H. Kelly is Research Affiliate at the School of Anthropology and Museum Ethnography (SAME), University of Oxford. His research interests encompass the production of popular culture, leisure, and entertainment in Japan, the movement and adaptation of leisure and entertainment practices across national and cultural borders, as well as the organizational contexts for the production and distribution of popular culture, leisure, and entertainment practices. Theoretical interests include collective memory, nostalgia, and heritage; globalization theory; and the relationship between technology and society. He has published several articles related to karaoke-singing in Japan and the United Kingdom, the rating and censorship of video games in Japan, and the organizational aspects of the production and consumption of popular culture, leisure, and entertainment practices.  

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Izumi Mitsui is Professor of Business Administration in the College of Economics, Nihon University. Her research interests include management philosophy, history of management thought, and anthropological approaches to business administration. She is the author of Shakaiteki Networking-ron no Genryū: MP Follett no Shisō [An Origin of Social Networking Theory: The Thought of MP Follett] (in Japanese) (2009), the editor of Asia-kigyō no Keieirinen: Seisei Denpa Keishō no Dynamism [Management Philosophy of Asian Companies: Dynamism of Creation, Diffusion and Succession] (in Japanese) (2013), and coeditor of Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization (2016).  

Motomasa Murayama is a Professor at Tokiwa University. He received a double-­ master’s degree in Religious Studies and, in 2015, a Ph.D. in Business History from Hitotsubashi University. In his dissertation, he analyzed the life of Baron Kumakichi Nakashima, who became a spiritual leader for younger business leaders in Japan. His research interests include business ethics, corporate spirituality, and entrepreneurship, and he is the coauthor of Keieirinen: Keisho to Denapa no Keiei Jinruigakuteki Kenkyu [Management Philosophy: An Anthropological Approach] (in Japanese) (2008) and Shukyo to Kieiei: Meta-rinen no Shosou [Religion and Management: Varieties of Meta Philosophy] (in Japanese) (2014). In an effort to clarify Japanese management philosophy based on Japanese thought, he has extensively researched the biographies of Japanese business leaders. His research has assisted the construction of the Entrepreneur Hall of Fame in the Entrepreneur Museum (Company Spirit Museum) in Tokyo.  

Hirochika Nakamaki is Professor Emeritus of the National Museum of Ethnology, Japan, and Director of Suita City Museum. He is the author of Japanese Religions at Home and Abroad: Anthropological Perspectives (2003), editor of The Culture of Association and Associations in Contemporary Japanese Society, Senri Ethnological Studies no.62 (2002), and coeditor of Business and Anthropology: A Focus on Sacred Space, Senri Ethnological Studies no.82 (2013) Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization: An Anthropological Approach to Business Administration (2016).  

Yuko Oki is Professor of Business Administration at Toyo University. After graduating from Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music, she was a viola player in the Tokyo City Philharmonic Orchestra. Specializing in Arts Management, she is author of Orchestra no Management: Geijutsu Soshiki ni okeru Kyousō Kankyō [Orchestra’s Management: A Comparison Between France, the U.S. and Japan] (in Japanese) (2004), Cremona no Violin Kōbō: Kita Italia no Sangyō Cluster ni okeru Gijutsu Keisho to Innovation [Violin Makers in Cremona: Skill Succession and Innovation] (in Japanese) (2009), Piano – Gijutsu Kakushin to Marketing Senryaku [Piano: Technological Innovation and Marketing Strategies] (in Japanese) (2015), and Sangyo Cluster no Dynamism: Gijutsu ni Kansei wo Umekomu Monozukuri [Dynamism of Industrial Clusters: Manufacturing Sophisticated Products Combined with Technology and Artistic Sense] (in Japanese) (2017).  

About the Editors and Authors

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Mitchell W. Sedgwick is Senior Fellow in the Department of Anthropology at the London School of Economics and Political Science, where he engages anthropological theory and methodology in relation to the study of formal organizations. He has conducted fieldwork in Japan among minorities, the aged, and in rural communities. From the early 1990s, however, he has focused ethnographically on Japanese multinational corporations’ headquarters and subsidiary communities in Japan and abroad, including long-term ethnographic fieldwork projects in Thailand and France and on the US-Mexico border. Additional current research addresses “recovery” from Japan’s March 11, 2011, Triple Disaster among members of a Japanese factory and their families in Tohoku. Mitch holds a PhD in Social Anthropology from the University of Cambridge, where he was attached to King’s College, and a BA in Cultural Anthropology from the University of California, Santa Cruz. He also has an MALD in International Relations from The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University. He has held positions at Harvard, University of Tokyo, Thammasat University (Bangkok), University of Cambridge, and Oxford Brookes University, and had an earlier career as an organizational anthropologist at The World Bank.  

Yuko Shioji is Professor at the Faculty of International Tourism, Hannan University. Focusing on English culture from the Japanese point of view, she has a Ph.D. in literature (anthropology), based on ethnographic research on the management of cultural heritage and the promotion of tourism in Britain, and has carried out fieldwork in the English countryside for over 20  years. She is the author of Eikoku Kantorisaido no Minzokushi [The Creation of Englishness: Sensing Boundaries and the Preservation of Cultural Heritage in the Cotswolds of England] (in Japanese) (2003). A recent article is “Who Makes ‘Old England’ Home? Tourism and Migration in the English Countryside” (in Frost N, Selwyn T (eds.) Travelling Towards Home: Mobilities and Homemaking, 2018). She is currently conducting research on the social and cultural construction of footpaths in Britain and Japan.  

Noriya  Sumihara is Professor in the Faculty of International Studies at Tenri University, Nara, where he teaches mainly international students about Japanese culture and society, as well as regional studies of Nara from anthropological perspective. Early work includes long-term fieldwork in a Japanese multinational corporation in North America, while more recently he has been researching the relationship between management philosophy and business practices in Japan, India, and Indonesia. He holds a Ph.D. in Cultural Anthropology from New York University and a B.A. in Literature from Kobe University.  

Yoshiyuki Takeuchi is Associate Professor of Applied Statistics and Econometrics in the Graduate School of Economics, Osaka University. His research interests focus on statistical analyses of economic/business data. In addition, he has been working on the history of statistical thought, in particular the migration of the mathematical statistics into Japan. He is the author of “On a Statistical Method to Detect Discontinuity in the Distribution Function of Reported Earnings” (Mathematics and Computers in Simulation 64(1), 2004) and is coeditor of Enterprise as an Instrument of Civilization (2016).  

Part I

Religiosity, Spirituality, and Business

Chapter 1

Corporate Society, the Formation of Order, and “Quaker Codes”: Seeking an Origin of Corporate Governance Principles Izumi Mitsui

Abstract  The purpose of this paper is to investigate the relation between business and religion by the case of “Quaker codes and business activities.” To clarify, the topic of religion as covered in this paper is not concerned with the personal philosophies or religions of management executives. Instead, this paper conceptualizes the role of religion as a framework or cosmology that exists inside companies and their surrounding communities. On both conscious and unconscious levels, this structure dictates people’s behavior. The paper explores the impact that religion has on management; that is, it attempts to elucidate how an implicit system of belief interacts with and underlies practical behavior in practices of management. In particular, this paper examines the relationship between Quaker thought and management. Even though Quakers are a small, unique Protestant denomination, they played a significant role in the progress of the British Industrial Revolution, mainly in the steelmaking and railway industries. Furthermore, they have continued to play a considerable role in historical turning points in the generations following. This paper will focus on studies in Birmingham and York in the UK, and it will also make use of literature on the history of management

1.1  Introduction: Religion and Management As symbolized by the simultaneous terrorist attacks on the U.S. on September 11, 2001, the twenty-first century has seen the beginning of the war on terror. The situation in the Middle East, in particular Afghanistan and Iraq, drags on even after 17 years after the attacks. It can seem like worldwide, tragic terrorist attacks are in the news almost every day. On one hand, this state of conflict is motivated by the surfacing of ethnic and religious struggles that had once seemed quiet, at least on the surface, in the twentieth century. On the other hand, it could also be considered a radical defiance of democracy. From one viewpoint, democracy is a style of I. Mitsui (*) College of Economics, Nihon University, Tokyo, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_1

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consensus building based on Anglo-Saxon values that was disseminated under the banner of economic globalization and industrial modernization. We have entered into an era where we cannot ignore the influence of religion, set of values, and the cultural frameworks supporting them. Corporations are often seen as means-end rational organizations for pursuing economic gains, and the management that controls the corporate behavior is seen as a mechanism logically structured to pursue the maximization of economic rationality. We have become convinced that this view is almost a shared global consciousness. Is this really the case? As well as being a rational system for the carrying out of business, companies are places where people can coexist, regardless of their social values and cultural backgrounds. We cannot deny the diverse values that have been cultivated from the foundations of this sort of “community”—or in other words, “cultural community”—are having a significant impact on decision-making based on economic rationality. Moreover, decision-making that may seem rational is often emerged from cultural values. The anthropology of business administration attempts to bring this to the surface. The topic of “religion and management” that this paper deals with is a field that has been seen, in a sense, as taboo in management studies. One of the reason of that is dealing with religion, which has subjective values, seems to oppose the research style that scientists should only deal with objective issues because management studies becomes science for some time now. Other reason is academic researchers think someone’s religion and religious faith are inappropriate to study because they are very private issues. Therefore, observed evidence such as interviews and documents on religion and religious faith of a certain theoretical practitioners of management are quite few. To clarify, the topic of religion as covered in this paper is not concerned with the personal philosophies or religions of management executives. Instead, this paper conceptualizes the role of religion as a framework or cosmology that exists inside companies and their surrounding communities. On both conscious and unconscious levels, this structure dictates people’s behavior. The paper explores the impact that religion has on management; that is, it attempts to elucidate how an implicit system of belief interacts with and underlies practical behavior in practices of management. In particular, this paper examines the relationship between Quaker thought and management. Even though Quakers are a small, unique Protestant denomination, they played a significant role in the progress of the British Industrial Revolution, mainly in the steelmaking and railway industries. Furthermore, they have continued to play a considerable role in historical turning points in the generations following. This paper will focus on studies in Birmingham and York in the UK, and it will also make use of literature on the history of management.

1  Corporate Society, the Formation of Order, and “Quaker Codes”: Seeking an Origin…

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1.2  Framework of Analysis This paper builds upon the work of sociologist Robert Bellah (Bellah 1970) as a framework for analyzing the relationship between management studies and religion. Bellah reconsiders conventional approaches to religion in sociology, such as the writings of Max Weber and Emile Durkheim, from the perspectives of rationalism and irrationalism. According to Bellah, Weber was interested in issues of “meaning” unavoidable in human life, such as evil, suffering, and death that cannot be solved only with scientific methods. Bellah argues that Weber’s views showed that the answers religion provides to these issues have a deep impact on individual motivations, and they have an important causal effect on the development of society over the long term. Bellah also asserts that Weber’s focus on the ability of religion to give form and shape to the power arising from intense irrational motivations via his theory of charisma means he sought to position religion as an “irrational factor” in the context of general sociological theory.1 In contrast, Bellah says that Durkheim is said to assert that religious expression exists within human hearts, forbids self-centered impulses, regulates the individual, and allows people to deal objectively with external realities. He states that this shared expression gives orientation to individual motivation and that controlling this is what allows society itself to come into being. As such, he asserts that religion has a rational role—a role in structuring society. According to Bellah, these two men have different approaches but do not deny the centrality and non-reducibility of religion, and they place religion in a logical, rather than descriptive, context. He states that they can be praised for bringing about an awareness of the importance of irrational factors. However, he points out that they were lacking in a “structural understanding” or, in other words, “an explanation of why religion leads to systems of behavior.” According to Bellah, for humans and communities to function efficiently, it is necessary to have a relatively compact, highly general definition for ourselves and our environments. This is his understanding of “identity.” In this age of tension and confusion, this understanding of identity is indispensable to making oneself consistent with one’s acts and to preserve the self. Bellah asserts that the role of religion in behavioral systems is what brings about this “identity” that has meaning higher than our awareness or motivations.2 Bellah says that this is the same as cultural anthropologist Geertz’s view that “A religion is a system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.”3 I argue that religion could be called a symbolic system that ties together meaning and motivation by giving the most general model to individuals and groups  Bellah (1970), pp. 7–8.  Bellah (1970), pp. 11–12. 3  Bellah (1970), p. 12. 1 2

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about themselves and the world. According to classic anthropological theory, religion is a symbolic system that provides humans with meaning and a place that forms the basis of our existence that could also be called a “worldview” or a “cosmology.” As Geertz argues, this symbolic side of religion plays the role of linking ethos and worldviews. This paper will focus on these roles of religion and examine its relationship with management. Next, we will briefly examine the meaning of “management.” Although there are various definitions of “management,” I define it here as the series of practical ­behaviors involved in everything from setting certain specific objectives and targets and cooperating to plan and take action to achieve these objectives to evaluating their results in a certain historical, societal, and cultural context. In other words, management is characterized by being the “practical behaviors” employed to achieve objectives. And I will briefly say about this “practical” aspect of management. A structural anthropologist Masakuni Kitazawa (Kitazawa 2003) explains “practical” from the two perspectives of “praxis” and “pratique.” Praxis is the intermittent, selective behavior that an individual consciously performs. In contrast, pratique is something that has existed in communities since ancient times, taking forms such as mythology and rituals. It is something that we have done continuously and unconsciously with no room for choice. Kitazawa points out that while these two types of behavior used to be linked together in people’s lives, they have been gradually separating alongside modernization’s progress. As a result, the knowledge that existed as pratique has become superstition and discarded. On the other hand, praxis—detached from the unconscious—has left behind a simple formal rationality.4 Based on Kitazawa’s perspectives, the practical behavior known as “management” is carried out on fields of collaboration with cultural and historical backgrounds; “praxis” and “pratique” should supposedly remain unseparated. However, with the progress of modernization, industrialization, and the development of scientific theory, it could be said that management practices emerged in modern society through a similar process as described by Kitazawa wherein praxis detached from pratique. According to the understanding of management argued in this paper, managerial practices, as rational and logic, became a part of civil society. As a result, it seems that only management studies and techniques in the form of the formal, rational systems of praxis are conquering the world as a “global standard.” However, in reality, many problems are occurring between praxis and pratique, such as intercultural conflict in management and problems of management ethics. I argue that the perspectives that have dealt with religion up until now, represented by Weber’s The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, interpret religion as the foundation of individuals’ ethos. Furthermore, according to this view, religion, in the sense of conscious praxis, is positioned as a foundation of practical behavior. In contrast, religion as a cosmology existing within communities would construct a practical basis as pratique. In my framework, Geertz’s view, as described above, emphasizes the pratique aspect of the role of religion, and in turn, I argue this conceptualization of religion exemplifies the stance of the Anthropology of Business  Kitazawa (2003), pp. 48–49.

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Administration toward research on religion. In the remainder of the paper, I will examine the relationship between Quakerism and management practice by the Anthropology of Business Administration.

1.3  T  he Development of Quaker Entrepreneurs in Britain and Their Philosophical Characteristics Quakerism, a denomination of Protestantism, was founded in the mid-seventeenth-­ century England by George Fox. The name Quaker comes from how followers “quaked” when in the throes of an intense spiritual experience. Early Quaker thought was a Holy Spirit-focused doctrine that placed emphasis on the “inner light.” Since the founding of the group, Quakers have rejected all of the rituals, formalities, and legalism seen in other Christian churches, and they have stood firm as pacifists. Started from Quakers’ immigration to the North America in the seventeenth century, Quakerism has been spreading to the world. From the 2017 estimates by Friends World Committee for Consultation (FWCC), the number of Quakers is 377,577 worldwide, 80,092 in the USA, and 23,067 in the UK.5 Quakerism has undergone over 300 years of generational transition, and its religious attitudes have changed considerably. However, they still call their gatherings “meetings” instead of “worship,” their meeting houses do not have crosses or icons, and there are no priests who serve as leaders. There are people who coordinate their organizations, but they are not religious authorities. I observed in my anthropological research of 2001, they do not sing hymns or say prayers together in their meetings.6 Ever since Quakerism was founded, they have been nonconformist: opposed to conscription and the obligation to pay taxes. The ruling classes of society have therefore excluded them, which inevitably led to them directing themselves toward internal economic activities. However, Fox himself laid out strict regulations regarding commercial transactions.7 They are found in Fox’s Epistle entitled The Line of Righteousness and Justice (1661) and are summarized as follows:8 (1) All Friends, govern and order all the creatures that you have, and all exchanges, merchandising, husbandry.  Numbers are from 2017 Finding Quakers Around the World Map (FWCC).  I went to a Quaker meeting in Bournville Village, Birmingham, UK (the place of origin of Cadbury), for the purpose of field research. This was right after the September 11, 2001, terror attacks in the USA, and after a deep silence, people quietly stood up and said sincere messages for world peace one after another. There was no part of it that felt like heretical mysticism. Additionally, at the coffee time at the end of the meeting, they let a variety of outsiders in, which led to friendly exchanges. I got valuable advice about researching documents on Quakers there. 7  For details, see Yamamoto (1994), pp. 93–94. 8   George Fox’s Epistles (200). https://esr.earlham.edu/qbi/gfe/e200-206.htm (accessed at 2018/12/9). 5 6

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(2) Whether merchants or tradesmen, and all sorts of people whatsoever, in all your occasions, and in all your tradings, dealings, and doings, speak the truth, act in the truth, and walk in the truth; and this brings righteousness forth. (3) Keep out of debts. Go not beyond your estates, lest you bring yourselves to trouble and cumber and a snare. No one run into debt, usury, and exaction. (4) Not be negligent in their business, but give an account by words and writings, how things are with them. Keeping their words, keeping within their compass with that which they may answer others, lest any should be lift up. (5) Whosever acts unfaithfully in this outward treasure or mammon is not justified in the sight of God nor man; for they are justified by faith, through faithfulness both to God and man. With these guidelines, Fox is not prohibiting economic activities. He is saying that by serving others with integrity, it is possible to increase the glory of God. In other words, an important characteristic of Quaker belief is considering economic activities as “service.” The regulations Fox indicated above were proposed to the London meeting as the following seven-item moral code for believers at the end of the seventeenth century:9 1. All are given counsel to be careful not to launch out into trade, beyond what they can honourably and punctually answer and without injury to others. 2. Every one is to be careful to pay his debts as soon as they are due. 3. If any one does not do so, he is to be admonished, first by one Friend and then by two or three, and if they do not succeed, the matter is to be brought before the monthly meeting. 4. Accounts should be made up once a year. 5. If any one finds he is almost bankrupt, he should consult two or three faithful Friends of his meeting. 6. A testimony is to be issued against anyone who actually becomes bankrupt. 7. Monthly meetings are to appoint Friends in each meeting to see to these matters.

Fox’s code emphasizing “accountability” and “integrity” in relation to financial matters was common practice and adhered to rigidly in Quaker communities, and it is said that most Quakers whose businesses went bankrupt were excommunicated.10 Guidelines like this were enforced even more strictly in the eighteenth century. As internal governance among believers was strengthened, people outside the church gained an increased sense of trust toward Quakers. Quakers were the first in the world to sell products at fixed prices, and this integrity led many of them to engage in account auditing.11 They updated their regulations over time and created new financial codes for their community. This practice had a significant impact on the formation of social order over the Quaker community. British Quaker entrepreneurs thrived in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Some key examples are Bright, a pioneer in the rail and cotton industry; the Lloyds  Yamamoto (1994), p. 103. Also, Grubb (1930), pp. 88–89.  Yamamoto (1994), p. 104. 11  Yamamoto (1994), pp. 95–96. 9

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Fig. 1.1  The statue of George Cadbury, a son of John Cadbury who was the founder of Cadbury, at the Friends meeting house, Bournville, Birmingham, UK. (Photographed by the author)

Bank; Darby in the metal industry; the accountants Price Waterhouse; biscuit maker Huntley & Palmers; and Cadbury (Fig. 1.1) and Rowntree in the cocoa and chocolate industry. Many of these businesses are still known today. It is quite astounding to think how much the Quakers thrived economically when they only made up approximately 0.05% of the British population at that time. Several factors led to the development of Quaker business.12 First, they belonged to the middle class whose core was craftspeople and merchants in emerging industrial cities, and Quakers’ work ethic was compatible with these groups. Second, until The Test Act was abolished in 1828, nonconformists such as Quakers were excluded from public office and the occupations of the ruling classes, so their activities were limited to the commercial world. In addition, they were not allowed into public schools or universities such as Oxford and Cambridge, so they set up their own secondary education organizations and focused on scientific, technical, and practical education. Third, Quakers’ work ethic comprised of diligence, honesty, prudence, self-examination, frugality, and charity led not only to a standard of behavior among Quakers but also to maintaining and improving the image outsiders had of them. Fourth, Quakers were prohibited from marrying non-Quakers, and this led to strong familial bonds, which had a positive impact on business activities. Fifth, meetings such as the Monthly, Seasonal, and Yearly Meetings provided an opportunity for Quaker entrepreneurs to share information with each other.

12

 Yamamoto (1994), pp. 153–156.

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Fig. 1.2  Photograph of Seebohm Rowntree and his note. (Photographed by the author)

Along with the processes of business development described above, work leaders and thought leaders of the religious organization were born from among these entrepreneurs. In addition, the form of meetings became more organized over time, with businesspeople soon at the center of the gatherings. However, from the late nineteenth century onward, there were many entrepreneurs who wanted to move up the social hierarchy as their businesses grew and renounced Quakerism. The last of these entrepreneurs to remain were the Cadbury family and the Rowntree family.13 From the end of the nineteenth century, Britain’s place as a leading industrial country was taken over by the USA, and Britain began transitioning into a welfare state. Cadbury and Rowntree had emphasized employee welfare. They ran worker residences and factories in rural districts. In these societal circumstances, their management attitudes became highly influential within the British industrial sphere. For example, Seebohm Rowntree (Fig. 1.2) carried out a statistical social study on poverty in York—a first in Britain. He was an industrial leader and opened conferences of Quaker employers. He positioned industry as “the service of the community,”14 and he had a considerable role in the state’s labor and welfare policies. He also invited management researchers from Britain and the USA to his employers’ con Yamamoto (1994), p. 215.  https://www.rowntreesociety.org.uk/rowntree-now/exhibitions-anniversary-events/seebohmrowntree-heritage-lottery-funded-project/ (accessed at 2018/12/9). 13

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ferences and added them to Rowntree’s board of directors.15 In British Management Thought, John Child examines the scope of the influence that Quaker entrepreneurs had on the formation of thought in business management during early twentieth-­ century Britain. He states that they were the first people who emphasized that it is necessary to use ethics of “service” as a method to improve labor-management relations.16 The Quakers’ fundamental stance on the social and economic problems of the time was presented at the Yearly Meeting in 1918 as the “Eight Foundations of a True Social Order.” This declaration indicates the fundamental standards of behavior Quakers had had from that period to the present day. The eight points from the code are summarized as follows:17 ( 1) A brotherhood which knows no restriction of race, sex, or social class. (2) This brotherhood should express itself in a social order which is directed, beyond all material ends, to the growth of personality. (3) The opportunity of full development, physical, moral, and spiritual should be assured to every member of the community, man, woman, and child. (4) Seeking for a way of living that will free us from the bondage of material things and mere conventions that will raise no barrier between man and man and will put no excessive burden of labor upon any by reason of our superfluous demands. (5) The spiritual force of righteousness, loving-kindness, and trust is mighty because of the appeal it makes to the best in every man and when applied to industrial relations achieves great things. (6) Our rejection of the methods of outward domination, and of the appeal to force, applies not only to international affairs but to the whole problem of industrial control through cooperation and goodwill can the best be obtained for each and all. (7) Mutual service should be the principle. Service should be the motive of all work. (8) The ownership of material things, such as land and capital, should be so regulated as best to minister to the need and development of man. Up to here we have been introducing the history of Quakerism starting from George Fox in the seventeenth century with a particular focus on business activity and the existence of behavioral standards or codes in Britain. We have previously considered religion as a fundamental framework that determines the identity of individuals and society that permeates corporations and communities as a kind of symbolic  British management thinkers O. Sheldon and L. Urwick were also Rowntree board members. In addition, M. Follett, management philosopher and a social activist in Boston, was a Quaker herself. She went to Britain upon the invitation of Seebohm Rowntree. She carried out a series of lectures at London School of Economics that would later become the centerpiece of her philosophy. Her thought was considerably influenced by the management of Rowntree. 16  Child (1969), pp. 46–47. 17  Yearly Meeting of the religious society of Friends in Britain (1999), 23.16. 15

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system and directs our behavior and thought. I interpret the characteristics of behavior and thought structured by the Quaker faith with the following three points. First, the internal standard—the “inner light”— that exists within individuals is a shared belief in the Quaker community. Even though each individual may have different interpretations of inner light, if people act based on it, they must be following “God’s will.” Second, ever since Fox’s Epistles, there have been social norms or moral codes of the Quaker community that have adapted along with the changing times. We can see how this codification of behavior was beneficial not just in increasing the relationships of trust between Quakers but also between the Quaker community and external society. Third, the style of consensus building as decision-­ making, in the form of meetings, is common to worship and also to Quakers’ management meetings, which are known as “business meetings.” In addition, one of the characteristics of these meetings is horizontal relationships, where all members are equal. There is no vertical hierarchy between leaders and members, and instead, leaders simply fulfil the role of coordinators.18 Summarizing Quaker business ethics, economic activities and material results are just a means to realize their spirit of service in society. The highest objective is to realize the kingdom of God by growing as humans through service and cooperation. Alongside this approach to society and economic activity, the Quaker’s emphasis on pacifism and conquering conflict through goodwill and cooperation could be thought to be the most significant features of Quaker work ethics. In fact, this perspective defines everything from labor-management relationships in the workplace to international relations. Nowadays, Quaker has been changing their commitment in business as economic globalization progresses. The Rowntree family participated in the management of Rowntree Mackintosh as a shareholder, but the company was bought out by Nestlé in the 1970s, and the family withdrew from corporate management along with this. They currently run three foundations, primarily the Joseph Rowntree Foundation.19 Quakers participate in the administration of this foundation.

 Anthony Bradney and Fiona Cowie performed an observation by ethnography about decisionmaking among present-day Quakers. They point out that Quaker decision-making is not “consensus building” but rather the process of reaching “unity” via the “inner light.” Bradney and Cownie (2000), p. 72. 19  The foundation’s activities are maintenance and real estate management of residential housing in New Earswick that were previously built as residences for workers. The foundation also contributes to urban development and runs a scholarship. In a study I carried out in the area in 2002, there are still some Quakers who are board members. Through their social action, they are steadily carrying down the Quaker spirit to the present day. However, the Rowntree factory that was previously on the outskirts of York is now used as a Nestlé factory, and the only remaining trace of it is a sign saying, “Nestlé Rowntree Division.” In a study I carried out in the area in 2003, the building of the theater that was used as the headquarters of Rowtree and as a welfare facility for employees remained, but it was currently not in use, and it was said that it had already been decided that Nestlé would sell it to another organization. However, the library for employees that was built inside the grounds of the factory still remained as a library open to the general public and was used by Nestlé employees. 18

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The Cadbury family had been lasting their name in the company as Cadbury plc. until 2010. However, on February 2010 Cadbury plc. acquired by Kraft Foods Inc., an U.S. based company. Then, the name ‘Cadbury’ has disappeared from the company. Since October 2012, Cadbury is one brand of Mondelēz International Inc. that is separated from Kraft Foods Inc.20 Sir Adrian Cadbury, descendant of the Cadbury family who worked as chairman of this corporation until the very end, vacated the position in 1991. However, after he left the position under the Thatcher administration, he was designated as chairman of the Cadbury Committee, a pioneer of corporate governance. In 1992, the committee drafted a report often called the “Cadbury Report.” I will go into this report in more detail in the next section.

1.4  T  wenty-First Century Moral Codes: Adrian Cadbury and Corporate Governance Since the 1990s, there has been much discussion about corporate governance motivated, in part, by a series of corporate scandals that shook the world, such as the Enron and WorldCom scandals. The “Report of the Committee on the Financial Aspects of Corporate Governance,” often called the “Cadbury Report,” pushed the button of the discussion. It was written by a committee set up in 1992 by the Financial Reporting Council, the London Stock Exchange, and an organization of accounting professionals to address issues of responsibility of accountants in response to British corporate scandals. Sir George Adrian Hayhurst Cadbury was the committee’s representative, and the organization was informally called the “Cadbury Committee.” In 1926, Adrian Cadbury was born into the Cadbury family. After graduating from Cambridge University, he joined Cadbury in 1952 and became chairman in 1965. Until he left the position in 1989, he was active at the forefront of management, and he always stayed firm to the family’s management philosophy while developing Cadbury into one of the world’s leading conglomerates, Cadbury Schweppes. He also served as a director of the Bank of England (1970–1994) and IBM (1975–1994). His talent as a manager and his management philosophy of integrity were widely praised, which led to him being appointed the representative of the before-mentioned committee.

 In a study I carried out in Bournville Village (the place of origin of Cadbury factories) in 2001, there is a visitor center called Cadbury World run by Cadbury Schweppes in the site of the former rural factory. It is used as an amusement facility for families and exhibits information on the history of chocolate and how it is manufactured. There was only one small exhibition remaining on the history of the Cadbury family, in a corner. Furthermore, the workers’ residences in the vicinity have been restored and are run by the Bournville Village Trust.

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The Cadbury Report laid out a code of regulations on the responsibility of boards of directors and the financial side of corporations. I argue that the Quaker business philosophy described in the previous section is deeply reflected in the section of “Code Principles” in the chapter of “The Code of Best Practice,” the main focus of the Cadbury Report which I will show in the section below.21 Code Principles 3.2 The principles on which the Code is based are those of openness, integrity, and accountability. They go together. Openness on the part of companies, within the limits set by their competitive position, is the basis for the confidence which needs to exist between business and all those who have a stake in its success. An open approach to the disclosure of information contributes to the efficient working of the market economy, prompts boards to take effective action, and allows shareholders and others to scrutinize companies more thoroughly. 3.3 Integrity means both straightforward dealing and completeness. What is required of financial reporting is that it should be honest and that it should present a balanced picture of the state of the company’s affairs. The integrity of reports depends on the integrity of those who prepare and present them. 3.4 Boards of directors are accountable to their shareholders and both have to play their part in making that accountability effective. Boards of directors need to do so through the quality of the information which they provide to shareholders and shareholders through their willingness to exercise their responsibilities as owners. 3.5 The arguments for adhering to the Code are twofold. First, a clear understanding of responsibilities and an open approach to the way in which they have been discharged will assist boards of directors in framing and winning support for their strategies. It will also assist the efficient operation of capital markets and increase confidence in boards, auditors, and financial reporting and hence the general level of confidence in business. 3.6 Second, if standards of financial reporting and of business conduct more generally are not seen to be raised, a greater reliance on regulation may be inevitable. Any further degree of regulation would, in any event, be more likely to be well directed, if it were to enforce what has already been shown to be workable and effective by those setting the standard.

The above excerpt from the Cadbury Code has been carried down into the OECD principles of governance, which later became the world standard. When examined on their own, these regulations seem like modern standards that companies should uphold to obtain public trust. However, when compared with Fox’s Epistles, it is surprising how close in character these two documents are as they both place openness, integrity, and accountability in management at their core. It could even be considered no exaggeration to call the code a “Quaker code of the twenty-first century.” This confluence is one example of the impact of Quakerism on the modern age, and furthermore, I think it is possible to recognize the structural similarities between the texts to identify the underlying Quakerism therein, including the style of “codifying” standards of behavior.

21

 Committee on the Financial Aspects of Corporate Governance (1992), pp. 16–17.

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My arguments above may be supported by an interview to Adrian Cadbury concerning about his business philosophy as a Quaker at 2010.22 The Core of his philosophy said in that interview can be summarized as follows: 1. Trust and high standards of personal integrity were very important. Quakers had them. Again, no oath was required. 2. A central idea for him is the Quaker belief of “the light” in every individual. The sense that everyone has a contribution to make. This makes complete sense in running a business. The absolute importance and value of each individual. 3. Another value he found enormously helpful was the idea that everyone arrived at decisions by gaining a sense of the meeting. It is not consensus. It is something different. Everyone do this by listening. Listening is so important. In Adrian Cadbury’ book Corporate Governance and Chairmanship, he discusses the obligations companies should fulfil based on his own experience as chairman. Again, the concepts of openness, integrity, and responsibility are repeated throughout the text. In addition, he actively praises how companies form standards of behavior and sets of values and how these practices create a unique corporate character, which acts as an adhesive to keep the organization together. However, he also says that executives should take care not to let this cohesion lead to resistance to change. I argue the role of the code mentioned earlier is likely to act as a fundamental supporting pillar in corporate society that is necessary when corporations review their own sets of values. As such, it can be positioned as a moral code for the twenty-­ first-­century corporate society .

1.5  C  onclusion: From Taylor in the Twentieth Century to Cadbury in the Twenty-First Century One of the innovations that transformed world industry in the twentieth century is the development of methods for mass production, as typified by Ford. We should remind that F.W. Taylor’s “scientific management method” supports mass production management method and has become a philosophy of management. He was the father of “scientific management,” which transcended countries, cultures, and political systems to take the world by storm. He was actually born and raised with a devout Quaker father, and he worked as an engineer in a Quaker-funded steel factory in the early twentieth century. He emphasized that it was necessary to raise overall efficiency and achieve both higher wages for workers and lower labor costs for employers by shifting from laissez-faire management to a style of task management based on scientific standards. This was in order to put an end to the “systematic soldiering” of workers that was prevalent in the workplace and to overcome labor-management conflict. His methods led to high efficiency, but labor unions 22

 Kirk-Smith (September 28, 2010).

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targeted him as a proponent of intensification of labor. This reason led to him being summoned for testimony in Congress. However, work ethics and a doctrine of science unique to the early nineteenth-century Quakers are clearly visible in his thought. Taylor states his own beliefs as follows in his book, The Principles of Scientific Management: It is safe to say that no system or scheme of management should be considered which does not in the long run give satisfaction to both employer and employee, which does not make it apparent that their best interests are mutual, and which does not bring about such thorough and hearty cooperation that they can pull together instead of apart. It cannot be said that this condition has as yet been at all generally recognized as the necessary foundation for good management. On the contrary, it is still quite generally regarded as a fact by both sides that in many of the most vital matters the best interests of employers are necessarily opposed to those of the men.23

He says the following about systematic soldiering (when workers group together to decrease productivity). And the most important fact of this whole subject is that any association of men, whether it be a group of workmen or a group of capitalists or manufacturers, a manufacturer’s association, or whatever it may be, any men who deliberately restrict the output in any industry are robbing the people. And they rob the people of the wealth that justly belongs to them, whether they restrict output honestly, believing it to be for the interest of their trade, or dishonestly for any other reason.24

Taylor said that the key to overcoming systematic soldiering was management methods based on scientific standards. He outlines the essence of these methods as follows. Scientific management does not necessarily involve any great invention, nor the discovery of new or startling facts. It does, however, involve a certain combination of elements which have not existed in the past, namely, old knowledge so collected, analyzed, grouped, and classified into laws and rules that it constitutes a science; accompanied by a complete change in the mental attitude of the working men as well as of those on the side of the management, toward each other, and toward their respective duties and responsibilities. Also, a new division of the duties between the two sides and intimate, friendly cooperation to an extent that is impossible under the philosophy of the old management. And even all of this in many cases could not exist without the help of mechanisms which have been gradually developed. It is no single element, but rather this whole combination, that constitutes scientific management, which may be summarized as: Science, not rule of thumb. Harmony, not discord. Cooperation, not individualism. Maximum output, in place of restricted output. The development of each man to his greatest efficiency and prosperity.25

Taylor’s ideas reflect similar values to those in codes such as the before-mentioned 1918 Eight Foundations of a True Social Order and the spirit of diligence common  Taylor (1947), pp. 21–22.  Taylor (1947), pp. 18–19. 25  Taylor (1947), p. 140. 23 24

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to Protestantism. Codes from the Eight Foundations include, for example, cooperation rooted in brotherhood, opportunity of development for every member in the community, and industrial relationship through cooperation and goodwill. Possibly, there was a spread of thought through the network between British and American Quaker entrepreneurs; however, this is unclear at the present moment and requires further study. But given the evidence collected thus far, I infer that Taylor’s theory of scientific management was influenced by Quaker doctrine. Thus, if Taylor’s ideas are said to have led the twentieth-century industrial society, could it not be said that Cadbury’s ideas had a role in opening up the way for twenty-first century corporate society? Both of these ideas seem to be influenced by Quakerism; however, although it is difficult to show a clear line of influence from Quakerism with this evidence alone, I can make conjecture that this reflects some sort of symbolic view or cosmology. It is said that Quakers’ aim is to realize the kingdom of God on the earth. Then, what is important to them is not business activity itself, but how the kingdom of God may be obtained by this activity. The before-mentioned transitioning of the Quaker code in each era could be thought of as carrying out economic activities according to the circumstances of that generation to create a “guide” toward realizing the kingdom of God in this world. However, the fact that this has had a significant influence on the formation of the rules of corporate society around the world is worthy of further study. As I stated earlier, religion provides a general framework that structures behavior and forms social order. In addition, it functions not just as conscious praxis behaviors but also as deeply unconscious pratiques that have permeated communities over the long term. As such, Quaker religious thought and moral codes that have appeared in each generation have transcended individual ethos and function as a symbolic cosmology that exists within society. Note  This article is a revised and updated version of my paper Kigyo Shakai no Chitsujo Keisei to “Quaker Code” (Order Formation of the Corporate Society and the “Quaker Code”) (in Japanese) in Nakamaki and Hioki (2009).

References Bellah, R. N. (1970). Beyond belief: Essays on religion in a post-traditional world. New York: Harper & Row. Bradney, A., & Cownie, F. (2000). Living without law: An ethnography of Quaker decision-­ making, dispute resolution. Aldershot: Dartmouth Publishing. Child, J. (1969). British management thought. London: Allen & Unwin. Committee on the Financial Aspects of Corporate Governance. (1992). Report of the committee on the financial aspects of corporate governance. London: Gee. Grubb, I. (1930). Quakerism and industry before 1800. London: Williams & Norgate. Kirk-Smith, I. (2010, September 28). Working with integrity – an interview with Adrian Cadbury. The Friend: a weekly magazine website. https://thefriend.org/article/working-with-integrityan-interview-with-adrian-cadbury. Accessed 28 January 2019.

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Kitazawa, M. (2003). Datsu-kindai E—Chi/Shakai/Bunmei (Towards postmodernism: Knowledge/ society/civilization) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Fujiwara-shoten. Nakamaki, H., & Hioki, K. (eds) (2009). Kaisha no naka no Syūkyō: Keiei Jinruigaku no Shiten (Religion in the company: A view from business anthropology) (in Japanese). Osaka: Tōhō Shuppan. Taylor, F. W. (1911a, 1947). The principles of scientific management. New York: Harper & Row. Taylor, F. W. (1911b, 1947). Shop management. New York: Harper & Row. Taylor, F.  W. (1912, 1947). A reprint of the public document “Taylor’s Testimony Before the Special House Committee”. New York: Harper & Row. Yamamoto, T. (1994). Kindai Eikoku Jitsugyōkatachi no Sekai—Shihonshugi to Quaker-ha (The world of modern British business peoples: Capitalism and Quakers) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Dōbunkan Shuppan. Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends in Britain. (1999). Quaker faith and practice (2nd ed.). The Yearly Meeting of religious society of Friends (Quakers) in Britain, London.

Chapter 2

Management of Miracles and Pilgrimage: A Comparative Study of Votive Offering in Europe and Japan Hiroshi Iwai

Abstract  The purpose of this chapter is to explore the management of miracles and pilgrimage focusing on votive practices in the West European Catholic societies and Japan. I will pay attention to votive paintings called “ex-voto” in Europe and ema in Japan. Studies on ex-voto and ema have conventionally been conducted in the context of folk religious practices, and little attention has been paid to the management of miracles and pilgrimage. This chapter will attempt to analyze the management of miracles and pilgrimage from the perspective of management studies of religion. To begin with, I will overview the historical development and iconographic expression of votive paintings in Europe and Japan. Then, based on that, I will discuss the relationship between votive practices and the management of miracles and pilgrimage.

2.1  Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to explore the management of miracles and pilgrimage focusing on votive practices in the western European Catholic societies and Japan. I will pay attention to votive paintings called “ex-voto” in Europe and ema in Japan. Studies on ex-voto and ema have conventionally been conducted in the context of folk religious practices. Little attention, however, has been paid to the management of miracles and pilgrimage, which is closely related to votive offerings. Therefore, this chapter will attempt to analyze the management of miracles and pilgrimage from the perspective of management studies of religion. In the study of religion, there has been strong resistance to the use of the word “management” to describe the administration of religious organizations. There are two factors at play here. For one thing, the word “management” instantly brings to mind images of for-profit activities. This is considered an inappropriate expression for religion, which is based on the principle of salvation for mankind. For another, the concept of managing a religious organization is inherently different to that of H. Iwai (*) Tezukayama University, Nara, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_2

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running a business entity. However, we can recognize “management” as the administration and operation of a social system, then administering a religious system can be considered “management.” Here, I will give an additional explanation about the meanings of “religious system” and “management.” By “religious system” I mean the mechanism of religious phenomena rather than a subsystem as a part of a larger social system in the Parsonian sense (Parsons 1951). Regarding “management,” the word, in general, is associated with the existence of manager who administers a certain organization. However, turning our eyes on religions in the world, we can easily find out religions without founders or religious leaders such as Shinto and Hinduism. Therefore, broaden the usage of “management,” I will apply it to religious studies. To investigate religious systems, I pay attention to the interaction among the actors and the unintended consequences of social action. In this chapter, taking up historical examples in Europe and Japan, I investigate how people recognized miracles, how stories of miracles were spread, how pilgrimage sites were established in relation to miracles, and how religious organizations and specialists got involved in these processes. In the following sections, to begin with, I will overview the historical development and iconographic expression of votive paintings in Europe and Japan. Then, based on that, I will discuss the relationship between votive practices and the management of miracles and pilgrimage.

2.2  Ex-voto in Europe 2.2.1  The Origin and Development of Ex-voto In the Catholic culture of western Europe, votive offering as a whole is called “ex-­ voto,” derived from the Latin word ex-voto suscepto for “from the vow made.” In general, ex-votos are dedicated as a sign of gratitude to supernatural beings, such as deities who perform miracles. When illness or disaster threatens, a devotee makes a vow to supernatural beings, saying “I promise that if my prayer is answered, I will offer an ex-voto.” Ex-votos are then dedicated to a church that honors the specific deity supplicants prayed to, as a token of thanks (Weinryb 2016). Here, I focus on votive painting among ex-voto in the broader sense. Freedburg (1989) pointed out that votive painting was a common means of expressing gratitude by the middle of the seventeenth century. Altötting in Bavaria, Germany, is a famous pilgrimage site for its Black Madonna and approximately 2000 pieces of painted ex-votos. The oldest of them all, depicting an ill man lying in bed, is from 1501 and is the oldest existing piece in Europe. Ex-votos could be painted by supplicants themselves or by famed artists, but the majority was painted by votive artists based on pilgrimage sites or anonymous traveling artists (Baer 1976: 14). Most of the pieces are wooden. Small ones, which size anywhere from a

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square foot, were dedicated by the common people, while the larger ones were dedicated by noblemen. Ex-votos derived from votive offerings in the form of terracotta or molds of diseased parts as a means to express gratitude toward supernatural beings. This is evident from painted ex-votos that are reproduction of eyes and limbs, meant as a sign of gratitude for recovery from illness (Jaeger 1979). Since votive offerings modelled after body parts existed before the introduction of Christianity to Europe, it is assumed that Christianity has gradually absorbed indigenous religious practices in the pre-Christian era.

2.2.2  Iconographic Expression of Ex-voto Iconographic expression of ex-votos gives important clues revealing Catholic ways of worship. Kris-Rettenbeck, a pioneer in the study of ex-voto, names the following four components of iconography in ex-voto: 1. Representation of supernatural power, such as sacred places or deities known to perform miracles. 2. Prayer looking up at the sky. 3. Event or situation that links humanity to the supernatural. 4. Inscription describing current hardship or content of prayers. (Kriss-Rettenbeck 1972: 155)

One or more of these elements can be presented in an ex-voto. An ex-voto in general has three of these elements in common: a deity floating on luminous clouds, representation of content of prayers, and inscription explaining the prayer (this is optional) (Fig. 2.1). Most of prayers are personal. Recovery from plagues, fires, or weather disasters experienced by a community is appreciated with ex-votos of public thanks. Inscriptions commonly include words such as “EX VOTO,” “VFGA” or “FGVA”

Fig. 2.1 Basic components of ex-voto

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(votum facit gratiam acceptit), “PGR” or “GR” (per gratia ricervuta), and “MQF” (milagro que fez) in various languages. These all have similar meanings to “my prayer was answered.” Modern and simplified forms of ex-votos include framed newspaper articles or pictures of vehicular accidents (Gallini 1986: 226–235), embroidery of words of gratitude, and marble plaques engraved with words of thanks such as “Danke” or “Merci.” Cousin (1983: 267–272, 305–306) suggests that the marble plaques replaced traditional wooden ex-votes in the nineteenth century. Wilson (1983: 243– 150) names the 1880s and the 1890s the transition era to “ex-votos in modern forms.”

2.2.3  E  x-voto and the Veneration of Saints and the Virgin Mary Iconography of ex-votos also reveals relationships between devotees and deities such as saints and the Virgin Mary. It is an intriguing fact that the figures of saints and the Virgin Mary are often depicted in ex-votos, whereas it is difficult to find the figure of Jesus Christ. The Council of Trent (1545–1563) designated saints and the Virgin Mary as the mediators of the Holy Trinity. According to the Catholic Dogma, peoples’ prayers are delivered to God with the mediation of deities who stand closest to God. Theoretically, the expression of gratitude in ex-votos should be directed toward the act of mediation of deities. However, deities are evidently direct objects of worship in the actual religious practices. In fact, many of ex-votos that exist today are inscribed with “Maria (or names of saints) helped me” not “God helped me.” Ordinary people were unlikely to correctly understand and practice teachings of the Catholic Church after the seventeenth century when the offering of ex-votos became a common practice. Imploring to deities was merely a means of salvation when people faced great hardship. Each deity’s reputation is associated with different types of wishes, for example, St. Florian (averting fires), St. Anthony of Padua (finding lost articles), St. Christopher (averting vehicular accidents), and St. Lucy (healing of eyes). To ordinary people, deities were familiar entities who answer prayers about people’s daily needs, rather than distant and abstract entities.

2.3  Ema: Votive Painting in Japan 2.3.1  The Origin and Development of Ema Ema in general designates wooden votive plaques offered at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, as emblems of wishes or vows or as expression of thanks. The practice of offering ema originated from a ritual of dedicating horses (ema literary

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means “picture of a house”). They have been regarded as the vehicles of gods. The practice of offering horses can be found in the written records in the eighth century. In ancient times, people donated black or dark-colored horses praying for rain and white horses for stopping rain. This is because, in Japanese folk beliefs, the black horse has been associated with dark clouds or rain and the white horse with white clouds in the clear sky. Aside from the offering of horses, clay or wooden horses began to be dedicated as substitutes for horses. The oldest wooden ema plaque in Japan is rendered with vivid red pigments, discovered in the ruins of a palace in the seventh century. Emaki, handscrolls containing illustrated narratives, from the twelfth century to the fourteenth century, illustrate a pair of votive paintings, depicting a black horse on one and a white horse on another. This shows that the practice of offering wooden plaques evidently inherited elements of the original ritual of dedicating horses. An emaki in the Kamakura period illustrates the offering of ema to Buddhist temples, which suggests the syncretism of Buddhism and Shinto. The depiction shows that people dedicated ema to Buddhist temples without any resistance although ema is originally supposed to be dedicated to Shinto shrines. Themes and shapes of ema changed drastically in the mid-Muromachi period. In the beginning all ema were pictures of horses, but pictures featuring other themes began to appear. At the same time, in addition to the traditional rectangle-shaped ema, various shapes of ema began to appear. They became gradually larger in size, and many large-scale ema were produced by famous painters, sponsored by samurai or wealthy merchants. As the numbers of ema increased and the size of ema became larger, shrines and temples constructed ema-do, buildings to store and display ema. Ema-do eventually played a role as galleries by displaying ema. This is important in comparison with Catholic chapels displaying ex-votos. In contrast to large-scale ema, ordinary people produced smaller ema painted by unknown artists or even by the devotees themselves. They deeply reflect the syncretism of Shinto and Buddhism. As people’s objects of worship, regardless of Shinto or Buddhism, increased, themes connected to the objects also varied.

2.3.2  Iconographic Expression of Ema There are two notable differences between ema in Japan and ex-voto in Europe: the occasion of offering and the style of iconographic expression. Ex-votos are dedicated as a token of gratitude toward prayers that have been answered and straightforwardly and very specifically express content of the fulfilled wishes. On the other hand, supplicants dedicate ema to offer their prayers for various needs rather than for a sign of thanks, and the visual expression of ema is not straightforward as ex-­ votos but indirect using riddles and puzzles. Play on words, metaphor, and riddles are all key components of iconographic expression of ema. This means ordinary people generally share a set of rules for decoding the imagery. Interestingly, people often altered meanings of the images

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and used them with new connotations. For example, the imagery of “a lock on the heart,” a Chinese character meaning heart with a lock, has been painted on ema since the end of the Edo period, which was inspired by a song “I have a lock on my heart and no key can open it.” Although the motif represented the prayer for preventing partners from cheating, devotees transposed it into various situations when they wished to quit something. A goblet (quit drinking), a cigar (quit smoking), and a die (quit gambling) were the common objects to be paired with a lock.

2.4  O  ffering Practices and the Transitions of Religious Systems 2.4.1  Ex-votos and Miracle Books Ex-votos in Europe and ema in Japan have similarities and differences in their historical development and iconographic expression. In each case, however, these practices of offering remarkably influenced transitions of religious systems. The offering of ex-votos originally co-occurred with pilgrimage to churches associated with deities who were thought to perform miracles. Eventually, the more the performance of miracles by deities became plausible, the more pilgrimages churches gathered. To understand the establishment of pilgrimage sites, I will take up an example of ex-voto, which narrated a miracle story, dedicated to the chapel of grace at Altötting. In the town of Altötting touched upon earlier, there is an ex-voto from the seventeenth century depicting a miracle of Thomas Hans, a man who survived the breaking wheel punishment. The following is the story (Baer 1976: 9–13): After graduating university, Thomas was living a profligate life. Eventually, he committed a murder and assaulted a priest with a knife. While on the run, he felt the grace of the Virgin Mary and swore to give himself up to save his soul. Later in the jail, he obtained a copy of “miracle book (Mirakelbücher),” which gathered stories of miracles the Our Lady of Altötting had performed. In the collection was a tale of a man who survived capital ­punishment. Thomas, influenced by the story, swore to make a pilgrimage to Altötting and fast every Saturday for the rest of his life if he was alive. He was sentenced to death in June of 1663 and the breaking wheel was carried out on the July 27th. The last rites were administered by priests and clergymen in the vicinity. Among them was the priest previously assaulted and seriously injured by Thomas. According to his account, he could survive the injury for his prayer to St. Anthony of Padua. Despite the brutal torture that usually tears a convict’s body to pieces, Thomas survived the torture with just a broken bone in the left thigh. The priests and the ministry left the site, convinced that Thomas had died, but he was rescued by a clergyman after an hour and a half. Few months later, he was pardoned. The story immediately spread as a miracle of the Our Lady of Altötting. The church ministry in Altötting showed a great interest and ordered a large-scale ex-voto depicting the “miracle.” Thomas lived in Altötting for some time as a living witness of a Madonna’s miracle, with rewards provided by the ministry. In 1664, a year after this “miracle,” a miracle book including reports and interviews of the miracle were published.

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In this episode, the existence of the miracle book and the ex-voto played significant roles in establishing a pilgrimage site. There was a sequence beginning with the miracle book Thomas obtained in the jail, leading to the miracle upon himself, which then lead to the publication on a new miracle. Miracle books were used as promotional media to spread miraculous stories by clergymen traveling around lands. The collections are organized by themes such as healed body parts and recorded details of miracles performed by deities and which churches they belong to. It was as though they were “the catalogue of divine favor” or “the guidebook for pilgrims.” Ex-votos also played a role as promotional media along with miracle books. The church ministry in Altötting produced a large-scale ex-voto themed of the Thomas Hans’ miracle, because it promoted the church just by being hung in the chapel. Since 1693, the church administrators of Altötting picked and chose thousands of preexisting ex-votos, replacing old pieces with new ones and retaining ones with high values as art (Baer 1976: 13). The ministry recognized the significance of promotional effects that iconographic expression of ex-votos had on pilgrims. In this sense, churches functioned as “galleries.” The above can be summarized in the following sequence: a mysterious event - > recognition as a “miracle” - > publication of miracle books and offering of ex-­votos - > increase in pilgrimage. What should be noted here is the circulation mechanism of the sequence. Pilgrims to the churches of miracle-performing deities are inspired by ex-votos and miracle books and led to believe in further miracles. Then, they began recognizing mysterious events heard or experienced in daily life as “miracles” by the deities, thus creating another chain of miracles.

2.4.2  Ema and Miracle Stories As mentioned earlier, ema in the early modern times reflected the folk beliefs among ordinary people, and its syncretic tendency promoted the diversity in theme of ema. It is noteworthy that similar “guidebooks of divine favor” to miracle books in Europe were published. In 1814, Gankake Chōhōki (literally, Convenient Guidebook for Prayers) was published, which listed blessings of shrines and temples in Edo (today’s Tokyo) and the correct procedures for prayers. Two years later, a similar guidebook, Jinja Bukkaku Gankake Chōhōki (literally, Convenient Guidebook of Shrines and Temples) was published, covering temples and shrines in Osaka. Both guidebooks list significantly more wishes regarding healing illnesses than those related to success in business or better fortune and reveal the correct procedure for depositing ema varied according to the contents of prayer. The books, interestingly, contain many wayside and minor shrines or temples rather than main ones. People’s beliefs in minor wayside shrines and temples may closely be related to the beliefs in hayari-gami. This is a term for gods who gather sudden and temporary popularity, usually following a spread of miracle stories implying that they bring divine favors to worshippers. Miyata (1972) points out that the spread of hayari-­

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gami necessitated religious specialists who promoted the gods. The Edo government, as a ruling means of people, forced people to belong to certain Buddhist temples as recorded members. However, those who were independent of temples did not follow the regime and acted as the promotional agents to spread miracle stories of hayari-gami among ordinary people.

2.4.3  S  pread of the Madonna Worship and Multiplication of Idols In Japan, the beliefs in hayari-gami allowed people to worship various gods, which led to more variation of themes in ema. In Europe, the rise in the worship of the Madonna led to increased production of the idols. In other words, the beliefs in hayari-gami multiplicated the objects of worship in Japan, whereas the spread of the Madonna worship multiplicated her idols across different areas in Europe. Madonna is well acknowledged as an existence who performs miracles. Stories of her apparition are told all over the world, most of which involve her performance of miracles and conveyance of messages. Beginning with Paris in 1930, the witness of Madonna’s apparition was frequently reported between the nineteenth and the twentieth century, leading the time to be designated “the century of Madonna” or “the era of Madonna” (Seki 1983). However, stories of Madonna’s apparition existed long before the nineteenth century (Barney 1992). Along with the publication of miracle books, stories of Madonna’s apparition kindled worshippers’ expectation of miracles upon themselves and deepened their beliefs. In Europe, Madonna with dark skin, or the Black Madonna, gathered popularity and many idols and paintings of the image were duplicated. The famous idol housed in the chapel of grace at Altötting is a Black Madonna as well. The dark skin is assumed to have derived from the indigenous worship of mother goddess before the introduction of Christianity. Begg (1985) meticulously investigated the idols of Black Madonna spread across Europe and summarized the data in maps. The maps mark the whereabouts of such idols and indicate whether they were modelled after other idols in different churches. His research reveals the gradual spread of the worship of Black Madonna across the wide geographical areas. The frequent reports of Madonna’s apparition and duplication of the idols reveal the widespread of the Madonna worship, and the development of the worship was profoundly influenced by publication of miracle books and the offering practices of ex-votos.

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2.5  Conclusion In the preceding sections, I compared iconographic expression and offering practice of votive paintings in the western European Catholic societies (ex-vote) and in Japan (ema). The main difference in iconographic expression of ex-voto and ema is that the former places importance on realistic and straightforward expression, while the latter uses riddles, puzzles, and analogy in most cases. Despite the difference, the two types of votive paintings influenced religious systems in their areas in a similar fashion (Fig. 2.2). Churches and ema-do where ex-votos and ema were deposited functioned as galleries. They effectively promoted miracles and spiritual stories. People then began interpreting doctrines on their own, deviating from the official teachings of Christianity, Shinto, and Buddhism. Stories of miracles and spiritual experiences were gathered and recorded in printed miracle books and guidebooks for pilgrims. Clergymen and religious specialists widely spread those stories while traveling. In the Catholic culture of Western Europe, stories of Madonna’s apparition and duplication of her idols (particularly Black Madonna) play a significant role in promulgating the veneration of the Virgin Mary. In Japan, instead of spreading a single object of worship, people were led to worship many different gods as hayari-gami. All the above created the flow as follows: offering of ex-votos and ema  -  >  Churches and ema-do functioned as galleries -  >  publication of miracle books and guidebooks - > establishment of pilgrimage sites. Various elements interact with each other in a complex way and establish phenomena such as the Madonna Worship and the hayari-gami Worship. As the display of votive paintings and the publication of miracle books and guidebooks gathered many new worshipers, ordinary people reinterpreted official teachings of Catholic, Shinto, and Buddhism according to their daily needs. In response to this, religious specialists strategically utilized miracle books, spiritual stories, and votive offerings for gathering believers. In these processes, different intentions of different parties intertwined and brought about unofficial dogmas as “unanticipated consequences.”

Establishment of pilgrimage sites Multiplication of idols and hayari-gami

Formation of the Madonna Worship and the Hayari-gami Worship

Publication of miracle books and guidebooks Multiplication of miracle stories Churches and ema-do functioned as galleries Interpretation of official dogmas Offering of ex-votos and ema

Fig. 2.2  Influence of votive practices on the transitions of religious systems

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References Baer, F. (1976). Votivetafel-Geschichten. Augs-Burg: Rosenheimer Verlagshaus. Barney, S. (1992). Les Apparitions de la Vierge. Paris: Cerf. Begg, E. (1985). The cult of black virgin. New York: Arkana. Cousin, B. (1983). Le Miracle de la Quotidien: Le Ex-voto Provençaux Images d’une Société. Aix-­ en-­Province: Université de Provence. Freedburg, D. (1989). The power of images: Studies in the history and theory of response. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Gallini, C. (1986). Photographische Riten: Popular Religion im Modern Italien. In M. N. Eberz & F. Schultheis (Eds.), Volksfrömigkeit in Europe: Beiträge zur Soziologie popularer Religiosität aus 14 Ländern. Chr. München: Kaiser. Jaeger, W. (1979). Augenvotiv. Heidelberg: Jan Theodor Verlag. Kriss-Rettenbeck, L. (1972). Ex Voto: Zeichen Bild und Abbild im christlichen Votivbrauchtum. Zürich: Atlantis. Miyata, N. (1972). Kinsei no Hayari-Gami (The faddish gods in the early modern period) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Hyōronsha. Parsons, T. (1951). Social system. London: Routledge & Keagan Paul. Seki, K. (1983). Seibo no Shutsugen: Kindai Folk Catholicism Kō (Apparition of the Virgin Mary: A study of folk Catholicism in the early modern period) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Nihon Editor’s School Shuppansha. Weinryb, I. (Ed.). (2016). Ex Voto: Votive giving across cultures. New York: Bard Graduate Center. Wilson, S. (Ed.). (1983). Saints and their cults: Studies in religious sociology, folklore and history. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chapter 3

Spiritual Leadership: Background, Theory, and Application to Japanese Business Leaders Motomasa Murayama

Abstract  This chapter briefly surveys how the theory of spiritual leadership has developed out of previous leadership theories. The author gives a general account of business trends that unite spirituality and management as well as the research on this theme in North America. The author introduces the spiritual leadership theory put forward by Gilbert W.  Fairholm and Louis W.  Fry and Sadler Nisiewicz. Referring to Mother Teresa’s advice, the author states that we have borrowed things from God and God has lent them to us. This thought is well established in Tenrikyo, one of the powerful new religious movements in Japan. This type of idea that all resources are loaned to us may well become the key concept for a management paradigm shift. He further evaluates several famous Japanese business leaders both past and present from a spiritual perspective. The author hopes that Japanese business leaders may play an important role as spiritual leaders. The Japanese traditional religions of Buddhism and Shintoism as well as Tenrikyo are discussed as the source for spirituality. In conclusion, the author implies that since spirituality is so vague a term for the Japanese, religious reform is needed for seekers of real spirituality.

3.1  Introduction The education philosophy of US business schools that forms future business leaders is said to be changing. In an article in The Economist, Starkey of the Nottingham University Business School referred to the words of Nitin Nohria, new dean of Harvard Business School, where she argues that leaders who demonstrate moral humility are needed (Starkey 2012). Business schools often reflect their usual philosophy that aims at being omniscient. Instead, students should be aware that they know next to nothing of how to build a sustainable system for both business and society. Moreover, they need to reflect on and think critically about such an M. Murayama (*) Department of Management and Administration, Tokiwa University, Ibaraki, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_3

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approach. Business schools should strive to help students realize that the self-­ centered business mind is harmful to our global village. It is important to consider the meaning of “the leader with moral humility.” Leadership is one of the main topics of organizational behavior studies. Transformational leadership was developed to correspond to the prevailing situation after the1980s. In this approach, attention was paid to those who practiced models of servant leadership. In this article, we will focus on the spiritual leadership that is closely associated with these two leadership theories. It is believed to be a new leadership paradigm that was generated from the need to integrate spirituality into management (Barnett 2006). We will further the relationship between spiritual leadership and the conventional leadership theory in the next section. To begin with, let us examine the definition of leadership? Leadership is the attitude by which a business leader changes his or her organization in order to cope with harsh competition or a changing environment. Kotter makes the distinction between management and leadership and observed the following: Management controls people by pushing them in the right direction; leadership motivates them by satisfying basic human needs. Management is about coping with complexity. Leadership, by contrast, is about coping with change. The Leadership activity is aligning people. This means communicating the new direction to those who can create coalitions that understand the vision and are committed to its achievement. For leadership, achieving a vision requires motivating and inspiring – keeping people moving in the right direction, despite major obstacles to change, by appealing to basic but often untapped human needs, values, and emotions. Leadership is different (from management). Achieving grand visions always requires an occasional burst of energy. Motivation and inspiration energize people, not by pushing them in the right direction as control mechanisms do but by satisfying basic human needs for achievement, a sense of belonging, recognition, self-esteem, a feeling of control over one’s life, and the ability to live up to one’s ideals. Such feelings touch us deeply and elicit a powerful response. (Kotter 1990: 104–107)

Global business is rife with competition and fierce environmental change, needless to say, business leadership is critical to the success of an organization. What is the meaning of “basic human needs”? Kotter further emphasizes that in transformational leadership, appealing to the emotions rather than reason is essential. At the core of transformation is the idea of inspiring change in followers. Kotter elucidates the eight steps of transformation in “seeing, feeling and changing” by offering ample stories. For example, the first step is to create a sense of urgency. By watching the video of an angry customer, employees were surprised and felt urgency. They realized that they needed to change behaviors (Kotter and Dean (2002 [2003])). Therein, we can ascertain that the emotional aspect is very important in transformational leadership. This issue is related to “basic human needs.” After the 1990s, there was a growing tendency of integrating spirituality into management in the USA.  The concept of spiritual leadership originated in some excellent examples. At Interstate Batteries, Norm Miller, the chairman, and workers

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do not hide their faith (predominantly Christian). There is a corporate chaplaincy program that is available for ministry to employees. The company sponsors prayer breakfasts and other spiritual studies ((Fry and Nisiewicz 2013: 50). Max DePree of Herman Miller followed a servant leadership style, for his human-centered approach is close to spirituality (DePree 1989). I believe that it will further the meaning of conventional theory by adding spiritual needs to the definition.

3.2  Transcendental Leadership Theory Sanders et al. proposed that the traditional leadership theory had limits in depth and scope and what a leader’s inner growth and elements of spirituality were missing (Sanders et al. 2003). Therefore, let us ask ourselves what is the spirituality lacking in the conventional leadership theory. The transcendental leadership theory (put forward by Sanders et al.) will be explained in greater detail below. Sanders et al. conclude that spirituality is the gestalt of all manifestations of individual essence.1 Spirituality mobilizes the individual toward meaningful or “transcendental” accomplishment (Sanders et al. 2003: 21). The transcendental leadership theory was initially suggested by Cardona (2000). It is his view that a “transcendental leader is concerned with his or her followers and tries to contribute to their personal development.” Sanders et al., however, focused on the spiritual development of the leader. Cardona’s treatment of transcendental leadership hints at the spiritual dimension of leadership by regarding the transcendental leader as a “servant-leader.” Although Cardona views transcendental leadership as incorporating aspects of transactional and transformational leadership, the relationship between these two theories is not clearly constructed. Sanders et al. clarify the relationship between these three leadership theories as shown in Fig. 3.1. Sanders et al. focused on three core dimensions of spirituality in order to capture the essence of transcendental leadership development. The three aspects are consciousness, moral character, and faith. Leaders can experience meaning and transcendental fulfilment by developing three dimensions of spirituality

1  By referring to psychologists, Sanders et al. define spirituality as “a core component of internal development.” According to Emmons’ treatise on “ultimate concern,” spirituality is that aspect concerned with ultimate purpose and meaning in life, which translates into a commitment to God or a higher power, recognition of the transcendent in everyday experience, a selfless focus, and a set of beliefs and practices that facilitates a relationship with the transcendent. Karakas (2010) gives some definitions of spirituality and defines it as the journey to find a sustainable, meaningful, holistic, and profound understanding of the existential self and its relationship/interconnectedness with the sacred and the transcendent. Spirituality is distinguished from organized religion in that there is no strict definition of spirituality. My understanding of spirituality is an inner path based on the belief of a higher power or supernatural existence. Higher power includes God, Nature, the Great Spirit, and so on.

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Fig. 3.1  Integration of the transcendental leadership theory. (Source: Sanders et al. 2003: 23)

(consciousness, moral character, and faith). As the spiritual dimension deepens, effective leadership can be realized at the same time.

3.3  “ Spirituality in the Workplace” Movement: Megatrend of Conscious Capitalism In this section, we would like to review when, why, and how the workplace spirituality movement occurred in the USA. After the 1990s, the introduction of globalization and IT spread, and people were forced to survive under severe business competition. Massive downsizing ensued, and those left in the workplace needed to work several jobs at the same place. Even intellectual were not spared and also went offshore. Reengineering and introduction of IT lead to downsizing in the big company. Terror and fear spread in the workplace, and people were depressed in the workplace. People became eager to search for spiritual fulfillment and meaning in the workplace. The baby boomer generation in the 1950s asked themselves about their legacy in life. Their searches for meaning in life would greatly influence society in general, thereafter (Rutte 1996). Aburdene observed that this meant a shift to “conscious capitalism” (Aburdene 2005). Some researchers have pointed that there was an increased interest in Eastern philosophy and religion like Tibetan Buddhism and Buddhist practices (Marques 2010). Other reasons for searching spirituality in the workplace lie in an increase of women entering the workforce, workplace diversity, diffusion of the Internet, cross-­ cultural exchange, longer work as well as a greater number of divorces, and so on.

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Among others, popular books on spirituality in the workplace are those by Bolman and Deal (1995) and Jaworski and Flowers (1996). The latter was written about the spiritual journey of leaders and translated into Japanese.2 The general introduction of spirituality in business was empirically studied for the first time by Mitroff and Denton(1999).3 They made it clear that both executive and employees have been longing for spirituality in business and gave practical advice. In the year 2000, Management, Spirituality and Religion (MSR) came into existence in the Academy of Management (AOM) in the USA. This working group still continues to the present day and holds a retreat program after the AOM conference. MSR is becoming one of the main topics in management studies. In Fortune, an article by Gunther appears to have made a great impact (Gunther 2001). Anita Roddick’s CSR philosophy on spiritual belief and Tom’s of Maine aiming at common goods are good examples (Karakas 2010). In the past two decades, many researchers and practitioners have pointed out a paradigm shift in management science and management theories, expressing it as follows (Karakas 2010): *Researchers • A shift from an economic focus to a balance of profit, quality of life, spirituality, and social responsibility concerns (DeFoore and Renesch 1995; Walsh et  al. 2003) • A shift from self-centeredness to interconnectedness (Capra 1993) • A shift from self-interest to service and stewardship (Block 1993; Neck and Milliman 1994) • ・A change from materialistic to a spiritual orientation (DeFoore and Renesch 1995; Fox 1994; Neal 1997) *Practioners • For work and family balance – flexible work arrangements (Gottlieb et al. 1998), telecommuting (Kugelmass 1995) • Strategies of empowerment (Byman 1991; Conger and Kanungo 1988) to enable and increase employee involvement and participation (Cotton 1993; Hyman and Mason 1995) These innovations and new ways of working aim to be mind-enriching, heart-­ fulfilling, and spirit-growing for employees, and still be financially rewarding at the same time (Karakas 2010: 89–90). This new paradigm emerging in organizations is also called the “spirituality movement.” Ashmos and Duchon (2000) have described the spirituality movement as “a major transformation” where organizations make  The translation was supervised by Dr. Toshihiro Kanai at Kobe University.  The author came across Mitorff’s name in an article in Business Week wherein Michelle Conlin wrote about “Religion in the Workplace  – The growing presence of spirituality in Corporate America” in 1999. The author personally met Ian Mitroff at the University of Southern California in 2001. The latter suggested that the Japanese are more spiritual as there are books such as Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel. Although right, there has been little research conducted on spirituality in the workplace in Japan. 2 3

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room for the spiritual dimension, which involves meaning, purpose, and a sense of community (Karakas 2010:90). This new spiritual dimension embodies employees’ search for simplicity, meaning, self-expression, and interconnectedness to something higher (Marques et al. 2007). In the following sections, two concepts of spiritual leadership will be discussed as well as its applicability to Japan.

3.4  Fairholm’s “Spiritual Leadership Process” Fairholm proposed an ideal leadership theory by referring to many resources,4 in that a new human-centered leadership theory was hoped for due to severe business conditions in the USA in the 1990s (Fairholm 1997). His “spiritual leadership process” is shown in Fig.  3.2. The eight elements in spiritual leadership include three spiritual leadership tasks, four spiritual leadership processes, and a single goal of leadership: continuous improvement (Fairholm 1997:113–117).5 Fairholm briefly summarized his new spiritual approach to leadership as follows: Spiritual leaders have the task of becoming expert in vison-setting and servanthood and, in addition, teaching their followers to be competent in traditional work tasks unique to a given corporation. Spiritual leader task competence involves leaders in helping followers

Fig. 3.2  Model of the spiritual leadership process. (Source: Fairholm (1997: 113))

4  Based on the works of many authors, Fairholm listed in alphabetical order what leadership deals with (Fairholm 1997: 106–107). See 3.8 Appendix. 5  Fairholm states that leadership is by nature developmental. Leaders seek to liberate the best in people, and we link the best to our higher selves. They focus on creating and maintaining organizationally healthy people. Leaders seek a state of mind of inner peace for self and others (Fairholm 1997: 117–118).

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grow, develop, and continually learn. Indeed, the key task in spiritual leadership is building and operating a continuous learning organization. Spiritual leaders also focus their attention on the process of building a sense of community among their stakeholders. They build wholeness, integrity, and completeness into their relationships with followers. They seek to follow a higher moral standard in what they do. They build team stewardships. The goal sought by these tasks and these process technologies is continuous improvement for the leaders, their followers, and other stakeholders (Fairholm 1997: 118).

Fairholm is unique in that he is one of the first researchers to propose a spiritual leadership theory that was totally different from previous ones.

3.5  Fry’s “Organizational Spiritual Leadership Model” 3.5.1  M  odel and the Idea of All Resources Loaned to Us by God Louis W. Fry has written many works on spiritual leadership and is the leading theorist who has constructed the principal spiritual leadership concept as well as having established the Institute of International Spiritual Leadership (IISL) based on many North America’s cases. His studies have substantiated the spiritual leadership casual model via reliability and validity measures. Results thus far have confirmed a significant positive influence of spiritual leadership on employees’ life satisfaction, organizational commitment and productivity, and sales growth (Fry and Cohen 2008). The “Organizational Spiritual Leadership Model” is shown on the website of IISL as Fig.  3.3.6 Spiritual leaders can create intrinsically motivated, learning organizations. IISL explains the model in this way: Spiritual leadership comprises the values, attitudes, and behaviors necessary to intrinsically motivate one’s self and satisfy fundamental needs for spiritual well-being through calling and membership, which positively influences employee well-being, sustainability and corporate social responsibility, and financial performance – the Triple Bottom Line.

Essential to spiritual leadership is: 1. Creating a vision wherein leaders and followers experience a sense of calling so that their lives have purpose, meaning and make a difference, and 2. Establishing an organizational culture based on the values of altruistic love whereby leaders and followers have a sense of membership, feel understood and appreciated, and have genuine care, concern, and appreciation for BOTH self and others.7  The IISL website.  The IISL website.

6 7

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Fig. 3.3  The organizational spiritual leadership model. (Source: the IISL Website)

Hope/faith in a clear, compelling vision produces a sense of calling – that aspect of spiritual well-being that gives one a sense of making a difference and, therefore, that one’s life has meaning.8 A distinction can be made between personal and organizational spiritual leadership model. Leading (personal spiritual leadership) and leadership (organizational spiritual leadership) are different. The leader’s spiritual journey will be explained in the next section. Fry points out an interesting example of one leader who modified spiritual leadership. Canadian Robert Ouimet transformed one of his companies, Cordon BleuTomasso (CBT), spiritually and wrote a doctoral thesis based on his career. Through his spiritual leadership, CBT had great productivity, sales, and profits in the competitive industry thanks to quality development and innovation. In addition, it has shown proof of social responsibility (triple bottom line): company absentee rate is low, and more remarkably, there are no unions, no strikes, and no lockouts. Mother Teresa inspired Ouimet’s philosophy, and he actually sought her advice. He asked just one question: “Should I give away everything I have, Mother?” She immediately replied: “You cannot give it, it has never been yours. It has been loaned to you by God. If you want, you can try to manage it...with Him...which is very different than ‘for Him.’ And if you want to manage ‘with Him,’ you have to follow His hierarchy of Love... So, for you, His hierarchy of love is: First Him; Second, your wife; third, your four children; forth, the four hundred employees and their families; and in that order. Not first the employees, and last the wife” (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:2).

 The IISL website

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He realized that his business was his ministry. God had loaned everything to him. That means that all the resources have been loaned to us by God. We have borrowed things from God, and God has lent them to us. This thought is well established in Tenrikyo, one of the powerful new religious movements in Japan. This type of idea that all resources are loaned to us may well become the key concept for a management paradigm shift. Moving from “Having” and “Doing” to “Being” is a spiritual journey that will be further explored in the next section.

3.5.2  Spiritual Journey The source of the spiritual leadership model is inner life. At the heart of inner life is the quest for a spirituality that reflects a common human pursuit to draw strength from a higher power. Inner power is also a central aspect of the spiritual journey, which is about self-transcendence – the transformation from ego-centered to othercentered while striving to attain a state of being or consciousness from moment to moment. One way to depict the spiritual journey is shown in Fig. 3.4. The model depends on five religious traditions. The model consists of five levels of knowing and being that place development of an inner-life practice as central for spiritual development (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:60–62). In the spiritual journey, each higher level of knowing and being transcends and includes each of the lower levels. Moreover, each lower level can be activated or reactivated as individuals progress and then fall back to a lower level (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:63). The fifth level of being is comprised of the physical, observable world that is based on the five senses, in which a leader creates and transfers knowledge through active engagement in worldly affairs. Effective leadership takes on a regular role at this level. The fourth level of being is where reality is socially and personally constructed through the creation and maintenance of vision, cultural values, and images. A good example is that of Nelson Mandela’s vision for South Africa. However, there is the possibility that leaders may possess ego-centeredness which could lead to ruin (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:64). The fifth and fourth levels are centered on “Having” and “Doing,” whereas the third, second, and first levels are centered on “Being.” At level III, individual awareness occurs, and self-transcendence begins to emerge. It is here that leaders cultivate such inner-life practices as contemplation, prayer, and meditation, which serve to refine the leader’s individual and social identity as other-centered (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:66).

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Fig. 3.4  The spiritual journey and levels of knowing and being. (Source: Adapted and modified from Fry L, Kriger M (2009) Towards a theory of being-centered leadership: multiple levels of being as context for effective leadership. Human Relations 62 (11) 2009:1667–1734). (See Fry and Nisiewicz (2013: 62))

The second level of being seeks self-transcendence and the deepening of connectedness with all things in the universe. At Level II, the focus is on leadership through love and service to others. Outstanding examples of Level II include Mother Theresa, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013: 66). Level I is the most inclusive level of being, in which there is only transcendent unity. Underlying this level is the central theme: the goal of this world is to know the Absolute through the transcendence of all opposites and the realization of self-­ actualization. Leaders from Level I that have inspired people include the Buddha, Jesus Christ, and Mohammad. Ramana Maharshi, an Indian sage of the twentieth century, emphasized in his teachings that the point where all religions converge is in the realization that God is everything and everything is God. This is the essence of the nondual (Fry and Nisiewicz 2013:67).

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3.6  Spirituality of Japanese Business Leaders How has spirituality movement in the workplace influenced Japanese business so far? Some Japanese researchers in religious studies focus on spirituality as an alternative concept to religion. However, to date, there are no business researchers who have centered their studies on spirituality in Japan. The word “spirituality” is still not a popular term in Japanese business nor for researchers.9 In spite of this, it does not signify that there are no spiritual leaders in Japan. I personally know a business consultant who has based his philosophy on Shugendo, or Mountain Buddhism in Japan.10 It is a well-known fact that some top business leaders like Kazuo Inamori are very spiritual. Inamori has also been ordained as a Buddhist priest. As space is limited to thoroughly explore spiritual leadership in Japan, I would like to refer to some of the more important business leaders who have been spiritual from a historical business perspective. Eiichi Shibusawa [1841–1930] is believed to be the supreme leader of Japanese capitalism. He proposed a doctrine to unite morality and economy and based his philosophy on the Analects of Confucius. He established the Unification Society (Ki-Itsu-Kyokai) but failed in unifying all religions and moral creeds. He himself had indeed selflessly contributed to the economic development of Japan and was admired by a great many followers as a Grand Old Man. However, he disliked Buddhism and was a rational person. We cannot call him spiritual, since he lacked the belief in transcendence. Baron Kumakichi Nakashima [1873–1960], one of the Zaikai11 leaders of the post-Shibusawa generation, was involved in the Teijin Scandal while he was a Minister of Commerce in the Saito Makoto cabinet. After losing the position, every day, he commuted to Engakuji Temple in Kamakura where he led an ascetic life for over 3 years. He offered Soshukai, a study group of Buddhist texts, for younger business leaders and gave Zen meditation sessions at his house. He was raised in a Christian missionary middle school and was inspired by spiritual beliefs in his youth. Mixing Buddhism and Christian beliefs, he was truly a spiritual person. He was said to be a high Buddhist priest. There can be no doubt that he was certainly a spiritual leader among future business leaders of Japan after WWII (Murayama 2015). Konosuke Matsushita [1894–1989], the founder of Matsushita Electric (Panasonic) and legendary business leader, is called the “God of Management” (Keiei no Kamisama) in Japan. He was a great example of entrepreneurship and was  In Japan, the term “spiritual” implies psychical.  Rev. Kakuho Ichikawa, who had finished the Thousand-Day Circumambulation Practice, presides over Nihon Keiei-do Kyokai (the Japan Management Path Association) in Tokyo. He proposes the recovery of the Japanese spirit among executives and the use of Mountain Buddhist ascetic practices for spiritual training. This professional has created a company philosophy for various firms. See http://keieido.jp/ (Japanese). 11  Zaikai means business world, but it implies the circle of the top leaders of an economic organization who can exert influence on politics. 9

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good at human relations. He realized his business philosophy later calling it the Water Supply Philosophy, after visiting the sacred place, Jiba of Tenrikyo. The act of religious devotion inspired Matsushita, and later he also became active in the PHP movement. PHP means peace, happiness, and prosperity. In Kyoto, PHP is now a famous publishing company promoting the Matsushita philosophy. He built a shrine called “The Source of Everything Shrine” (Banbutsu no Kongen sha). Throughout his life, he demonstrated diligence and patience and formed his own world view which seemed religious. Although he never practiced any particular religious faith, he became very spiritual in later life. Kazuo Inamori [1932–] is another supreme business leader in Japan. After founding two major companies (Kyocera and KDDI), he became a Buddhist priest at the age of 65. Seiwajuku, a private management school, belongs to him. There are more than ten thousand business owners and managers who have become members of Seiwajuku. He has created his own altruistic philosophy during the development of his career as an entrepreneur. He is also a great philanthropist. As he overcame many of life’s challenges, Inamori deeply reflected on questions such as “What is the right thing to do as a human being?” and “What is the purpose of life?” He developed a series of guiding principles for work and life, which comprise the management philosophy that has guided Kyocera’s progress to this day.12 He often uses the word, Kokoro (mind) and Tamashi (soul) to express business as a way of life. In 2010, The Japanese government asked him to become the chairman of JAL (Japan Airlines) to restore the Japanese national flag. Although he received no salary, he was quite successful in making the bureaucratic system of JAL into a self-­ sustaining one by Amoeba Management.13 He is truly a spiritual leader, and followers admire him in the same way they would a religious leader. His life and philosophy will be studied and reproduced like the Matsushita philosophy above. One of his books, “Passion for Success” is very inspirational and spiritual. In the Japanese context, he seldom uses the word “spirituality,” but his insight is understood to be spiritual by Americans. Masao Ogura [1924–2005] was an entrepreneur of an express home delivery service. He was very famous for protesting against regulations made by the Ministry of Transport and the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications. He became a devout Christian after he contracted tuberculosis. Although he never publicly announced his religious beliefs, he himself was a highly moral person. Referring to the ten conditions of being a leader, he included “paying out of his own pocket” and  About the Inamori Philosophy (Official Website of Kazuo Inamori)  Amoeba Management is a unique management method that Inamori created while striving to uphold Kyocera’s management rationale. Amoeba Management begins with dividing an organization into small units called “amoebas.” Each amoeba leader is responsible for drafting plans and goals for the unit. Amoebas achieve their goals through collaboration and the hard efforts of all their amoeba members. In this system, every employee plays a major role and voluntarily participates in managing the unit, achieving what is known as “Management by All.” The Amoeba Management System has been implemented at approximately 600 companies, including Kyocera, KDDI, and JAL, where Inamori led the successful turnaround initiative. Source: Amoeba Management (Official Website of Kazuo Inamori)

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having “high ethical views.” He also became a philanthropist like Inamori and created workplaces for handicapped people out of his own pocket to the tune of more than four billion Yen. Takeshi Mori investigated the personal family life of Ogura and explained the reasons why Ogura contributed a great amount of his fortune to social welfare services (Mori 2016). In sum, he was a calm philosopher and very spiritual. Kunio Egashira [1937–2008] was the chairman of Ajinomoto, a leading Japanese food company. His leadership theory has been heavily inspired by Zen Buddhism. He practiced Zen meditation as a student at Hitotsubashi University. He drastically changed the family-owned company and cut relationships with racketeers. He realigned the company to focus globally on areas of growth within the food industry, with an emphasis on the amino acid technology. “To be master everywhere” is a phrase from Zen Buddhism. Based on this thought, he searched for the meaning of work for employees and created a community within the company. He supported the “Kyushu factory restoration” to sustain employment. Egashira was a spiritual leader in the sense that he used spiritual practices like Zen meditation. Nobuyuki Kondo [1944–] is the president of Japan Laser Corp (JLC). The Tokyo Chamber of Commerce gave a Brave Management Award in 2012 to JLC for their management philosophy that encourages spiritual growth in employees to help the company grow. To motivate employees’ spirits, Kondo withdrew from his position in the parent company. This small company has accomplished MEBO (management and employee buyout). Kondo’s positive thinking brings luck to the company. The insolvent company has been saved through his spiritual leadership. An executive meeting starts with morning prayer, and participative management is done thereafter. Working hours and work style are accommodated to suit employees’ needs. Kondo is one of the few Japanese business leaders who understands the meaning of spiritual leadership. As his lecture at Komazawa University showed, he is truly a spiritual leader who also values ancestor worship.14 Finally, there is no spiritual leader who has attained Level I. Although the concept of spiritual leadership is well developed in North America, I believe Japan will be a good location to nurture such a leader because Japan has always had a spiritual tradition.

3.7  Conclusion: Future of Spirituality and Religion At the present time, more study is needed on spiritual practices in Japan and the applicability of the spiritual leadership model created by IISL.  However, an authentic and spiritual leader is indeed expected.

 The author presented this paper after Kondo’s presentation at the 73rd national convention of the Nippon Academy of Management held at Komazawa University on June 19, 2016. He understood my presentation and confessed doing Morning Prayer before an executive meeting.

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As IISL stated, personal spiritual leadership has its source in inner life enriched by spiritual practices. In North America, spiritual practices are deeply related with Western Christian religions. Many researchers of spirituality in the workplace distinguish between religion and spirituality, saying that religion implies doctrine, institution, and formalized organization, while spirituality is more related with personal belief of higher being. If the leader and followers share the same Christian religion like those in CBT or Interstate Batteries, it will be easier to share the same calling and create a feeling of membership in the team. Faith-based organizations like nonprofit organizations are prevalent in North America. Even though Christian religions are secularized, their religious impact is still strong. Japan is not a Christian country, nor is China and India in the Orient. The Japanese traditional religions are twofold universes of Shintoism and Mahayana Buddhism. As Nakashima and Inamori follow Buddhism, Buddhist philosophy may be one source of spirituality in Japan. Shintoism is centered on ritual at each shrine and is imbedded in Japanese culture. It has no sacred texts that guide moral duty. It is very weaker as a source of spirituality. Tenrikyo used to have great impact through its coherent teachings of the things lent and things borrowed. It is too institutionalized as a religious organization. The Japanese really need eternal religious teachings that will become a source of spirituality. There is spiritual hunger in Japan, too. Since spirituality is so vague a term for the Japanese, religious reform is needed for seekers of real spirituality.

Appendix Affirmation. Leaders Acknowledge a Basic Optimism Balance. Leaders strive for balance between work, family, and professional areas of life. Capacity. Leaders tap into worker capabilities and resources. Ceremony. Leaders define new ceremonies and rituals that bring people together. Community. Leaders relate to the organization as a community. Continuous improvement. Leaders help others express their highest potential in ways that generate fulfillment in work-related activities. Corporate spirit. Leaders create a spiritual force that honors high performance, compassion, empathy for others, and individual contributions. Credibility. Leaders are more likely to feel a strong sense of team spirit and see their personal values as consistent with the group’s and thus be seen as creditable by members. Culture. Leaders build a sense of community, of oneness by creating cultures consonant with the shared values of the group. Emotions. The leader is a mood setter. Leaders deal with contentment, capacity, equanimity, detachment, and connectedness. Ethics. Leaders set the moral tone of the group.

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Heart. Leaders are a guide to spiritual awareness, through a sense of their inner core self. Higher standard. Leaders set the standards for excellence for the group. The standards are the basis of their ethics. Holistic. Leaders see the organization both as an economic enterprise and as a human system. Both are equally important and equally controlling of individual and group action. Integrity. Leaders are moral architects, truth clarifiers. They model moral truth in their actions. Liberation. Leaders seek to liberate the best in people. The best is linked to one’s higher self. Love. Leaders love their followers, the common work, and the people served. They care for, respect, and honor followers. Meaning. Leadership is about sharing intentions. Nonsectarian spirit. Leaders expand work-life concerns and relate inner spirit in business to the “soft” topics of meaning, fidelity, and caring. Oneness. Leaders bring unity to organizations. Organizational health. Leaders strive to help stakeholders make choices about the care of their body, mind, heart, and spirit. Power. Leaders are models of inner power. They maintain an attitude of unbending intent. Presence. Leaders reflect inner strength. Relationships. Leaders create bonds that fulfill the deep needs of employees and the purposes of the organization. Sacred. Leaders help followers find the sacred everywhere, including in the self. Servant. The leader is first servant, then a boss. Spirituality. Leaders recognize the process of living out deeply held personal values, of honoring forces or a presence greater than self. State of mind. Leaders seek inner peace for self and others. Stewardship. Leaders hold work resources in trust for a temporary period. Stewardship is a collective idea. It is by sharing equally all power that we become one, united. Team. Leaders use their power to help accomplish the group’s ends, not only the leader’s ends. Trust. Leaders rely on the integrity, truth, justice, and fairness of others in trusting them. Trusteeship. Leaders hold work resources in trust for a temporary period. Truth. Leaders apply the truth. The application of truth calls up the innermost secrets of the soul. Values. The leader is a value steward, a steward of virtues. Visioning. Leadership is sense-making, covenant-making. Wholeness. The leader is a whole-maker, a creator of oneness within the group. (Fairholm 1997 106-107)

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References Aburdene, P. (2005). Megatrends 2000: The rise of conscious capitalism. Charlottesville: Hampton Roads Publishing. Japanese edition: Aburdene, P. (2006). Megatorendo 2010 (trans: Tsunezawa K). Tokyo: Goma Books. Ashmos, D.  P., & Duchon, D. (2000). Spirituality at work: A conceptualization and measure. Journal of Management Inquiry, 9(2), 134–145. Barnett, T. (2006). Spirituality in leadership. In M. M. Helms (Ed.), Encyclopedia of management (5th ed.). Detroit: Thomson Gale. Block, P. (1993). Stewardship: Choosing service over self-interest. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler. Bolman, L. G., & Deal, T. E. (1995). Leading with soul: An uncommon journey of the spirit. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Byman, W. (1991). Zapp! the lightning of empowerment. London: Century Business. Capra, F. (1993). A systems approach to the emerging paradigm. In M. Ray & C. A. Rinzler (Eds.), The new paradigm in business (pp. 230–237). New York: Tarcher Books. Cardona, P. (2000). Transcendental leadership. Leadership and Organizational Development Journal, 21(4), 201–206. Conger, J., & Kanungo, R. (1988). The empowerment process: Integrating theory and practice. The Academy of Management Review, 13(3), 471–482. Cotton, J. (1993). Employee involvement. Newbury Park: Sage. DeFoore, B., & Renesch, I. (1995). Rediscovering the soul of business. San Francisco: New Leader Press. Depree, M. (1989). Leadership is an art. New York: Dell Publishing. Fairholm, G. W. (1997). Capturing the heart of leadership – Spirituality and community in the new American workplace. Westport: Prager Publisher. Fox, M. (1994). The reinvention of work: A new vision of livelihood for our time. San Francisco: Harper Collins. Fry, L. W., & Cohen, M. L. (2008). Spiritual leadership as a paradigm for organizational transformation and recovery from extended work hours cultures. Journal of Business Ethics, 84, 265–278. Fry, L. W., & Nisiewicz, M. S. (2013). Maximizing the triple bottom line – Through spiritual leadership. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Gottlieb, B. H., Kelloway, E. K., & Barham, E. (1998). Flexible work arrangements: Managing the work–family boundary. Chichester: Wiley. Gunther, M. (2001). God and business: The surprising quest for spiritual renewal in the American workplace. Fortune, 144(1), 58–80. Hyman, J., & Mason, B. (1995). Managing employee involvement and participation. London: Sage. Jaworski, J., & Flowers, B. S. (1996). Synchronicity: The inner path of leadership. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers. Japanese edition: (2007) Synchronicity – Mirai wo tsukuru leadership (trans: Nozu T). Tokyo: Eiji Press. Karakas, F. (2010). Spirituality and performance in organizations: A literature review. Journal of Business Ethics, 94, 89–106. Kugelmass, J.  (1995). Telecommuting: A manager’s guide to flexible work arrangements. New York: Lexington. Kotter, J. P. (1990). What leaders really do. Harvard Business Review May-June (pp. 103–111). Japanese edition: Kotter, J.  P. (2012). Leadership to management no chigai. In: Dainihan Leadership Ron (trans: Kuroda Y, Aruga Y et al., pp.41–74). Tokyo: Diamond-sha. Kotter, J. P., & Dean, S. C. (2002). The heart of change. Soundview Executive View Summaries, Concordville, Pennsylvania. Japanese edition: Kotter, J. P., & Dean, S. C. (2003). John Kotter no Kigyo Henkaku note (trans: Takato H). Tokyo: Nikkei BP Press. Marques, J., Dhiman, S., & King, R. (2007). Spirituality in the workplace: What it is, why it matters, how to make it work for you. Fawnskin: Personhood Press.

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Marques, J. (2010). Toward greater consciousness in the 21st century workplace: How buddhist practices fit in. Journal of Business Ethics, 92, 211–225. Mitroff, I. I., & Denton, E. A. (1999). A spiritual audit of corporate America, a hard look at spirituality, religion, and values. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Mori, T. (2016). Ogura Masao – Inori to Keiei (prayer and management) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Shogakukan. Murayama, M. (2015). Nakashima kumakichi to teijin jiken  – zaikaijin kara seishin-teki shidosha-e (Kumakichi Nakashima and tejin scandal – from zaikiai leader to spiritual leader ) (in Japanese). Ph.D. dissertation submitted to Hitotsubashi University. Neal, J. (1997). Spirituality in management education: A guide to resources. Journal of Management Education, 21, 121–140. Neck, C.  P., & Milliman, J.  F. (1994). Thought self-leadership: Finding spiritual fulfillment in organizational life. Journal of Managerial Psychology, 9(6), 9–16. Rutte, M. (1996). Spirituality in the workplace. In: Biberman J, Whitty MD (eds) (2010) Work and spirit: A reader of new spiritual paradigm for organizations. Scranton: The University of Scranton Press. Sanders, J. E., III, Hopkins, W. E., & Geroy, G. D. (2003). From transactional to transcendental: toward an integrated theory of leadership. Journal of Leadership and Organizational Studies, 9(4), 21–31. Walsh, J. P., Weber, K., & Margolis, J. D. (2003). Social issues and management: Our lost cause found. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Business School.

Websites About the Inamori Philosophy (Official Website of Kazuo Inamori). http://global.kyocera.com/ inamori/philosophy/philosophy01.html. Accessed 5 Jan 2019. Official Website of Kazuo Inamori. https://global.kyocera.com/inamori/index.html. Accessed 5 Jan 2019. Keirido-kyokai. http://keieido.jp/ (Japanese). Accessed 5 Jan 2019 Starkey, K. (2012). Academic view: A new philosophy of leadership. The Economist. http://www. economist.com/whichmba/academic-view-new-philosophy-leadership. Accessed 5 Jan 2019. What is Amoeba Management? (Official Website of Kazuo Inamori). http://global.kyocera.com/ inamori/management/amoeba/. Accessed 5 Jan 2019. What is Spiritual Leadership? (the Institute of International Spiritual Leadership). http:// iispiritualleadership.com/spiritual-leadership/. Accessed 5 Jan 2019.

Part II

Exhibition, Performance, and Inducement

Chapter 4

How the “Anomaly” of Nuclear Power Plants Has Been Explained Before and After the 3.11 Disaster in Japan: An Observation Through Power Company Visitor Centers in Japan and England Noriya Sumihara

Abstract  Nuclear power plants can be interpreted as a modern-day “anomaly” in the sense that opinions about them vary widely between pros and cons. The very fact that nuclear power uses radioactive fuel divides public opinion. Japan is the only nation that experienced atomic bomb attacks during World War II and a nuclear power plant accident in 2011, both of which still affect many lives in different ways. At the same time, nuclear power has been regarded and utilized as a modern convenience in Japan, as well as in many other countries. This short paper deals with how this “anomalous” creation has been interpreted and explained in Japan as compared with England, especially before and after March 11, 2011, the date of the Fukushima accident. A classical anthropological perspective is drawn upon as a tool of theoretical analysis, because in all human societies, primitive or modern, “anomalous” things have confused people’s thinking, thereby forcing them to take measures to organize their thoughts. Anthropology has a rich collection of such measures in many different societies, and yet such anthropological perspectives have not previously been applied to understanding the issues of nuclear power.

4.1  Introduction Nuclear power plants are some of the largest and most complex machinery made by man with over a million parts serving the single purpose of creating energy. There have also been conflicting arguments on the use and existence of this machinery throughout the world. Japan is the only nation which experienced the dreadful power of nuclear energy, both by two atomic bombs during World War II and also N. Sumihara (*) Faculty of International Studies, Tenri University, Tenri, Nara, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_4

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by one of the worst nuclear power plant accidents in the world in 2011, but the nation has depended heavily on nuclear power as an energy source since the “oil shock” of the mid-1970s. Since the general evaluation of nuclear power has been indecisive or contradictory, it can be considered an “anomalous” or “ambiguous” thing. A British social and cultural anthropologist, Mary Douglas, drew attention to “anomalous” things and events in “primitive” societies in her classical study, Purity and Danger (1978, first published in 1966). Douglas says, “Any given system of classification must give rise to anomalies, and any given culture must confront events which seem to defy its assumptions” (1978: 39). Any culture is composed of infinite classifications of things, values, and even humans to make life orderly and meaningful, but because of the classifications, some things and events, whether natural or social, appear “anomalous” or fit into no particular existing category, in the eyes of society. I view nuclear power as such a modern anomaly. It is declared to be safe, as well as dangerous. It is civilized, as well as uncivilized, in the sense that it efficiently creates a great amount of energy but can also destroy human life on a large scale. It is regarded as clean energy, since it is not a fossil fuel which emits carbon dioxide, but it is also considered unclean as it can contaminate the environment with radioactivity. It may be an economically efficient source of power as it operates safely, but it is also highly costly in the case of a serious accident and so on. Any modern scientific technology may have contradictory evaluations to some extent, but the evaluation of nuclear power is considerably divided. I want to demonstrate in this paper how nuclear power as an anomaly has been understood and explained by proponents of the energy source in Japan, as compared with England. I chose to observe nuclear power plants through the lens of their visitor centers located all over Japan, which I had visited for several years between 1996 and 2002 (Sumihara 2003a). These centers not only provided easy access for research, but, more importantly, they explicitly proposed supporting opinions for the use of nuclear power to persuade visitors. In this paper, I also rely on documents published by the government and government-affiliated organizations. I also had the opportunity to do research at a couple of nuclear power plant visitor centers in England and Scotland during the summers of 2002 and 2003 and subsequently discussed the research results at a workshop in England (Sumihara 2003c) and also at a symposium in Japan (Sumihara 2004). Before the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant accident of March 11, 2011, referred to hereafter as the 3.11 accident, each visitor center was given a mission to profess the safety of the nuclear power plant along with a general explanation of how the power plants are operated. It is hard to determine how the visitor center as a PR facility was influential in wider society, but during my research, over 2 million visitors a year toured more than 20 such PR or visitor centers located throughout Japan, from Hokkaido to Kyushu Islands. Thus, the influence of the visitor center within the community of power plant sites should not be underestimated (see Sumihara 2003a for details). Mary Douglas also drew attention to how anomalies were dealt with in “primitive” societies. She found five provisions for dealing with anomalous or ambiguous things or events as described below (see details in Douglas 1978: 39–40). First, “by

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settling for one or other interpretation, ambiguity is often reduced.” When an anomalous thing appears, a new interpretation is created by society, so that it may be much less, or no longer, anomalous. Second, “the existence of anomaly can be physically controlled.” That is to say, an anomalous thing is destroyed or thrown away to be hidden from society. Third, there is “a rule of avoiding anomalous things.” For instance, by establishing a rule to avoid consuming certain animals as food, a society can affirm the pattern of things it does not approve. Fourth, “anomalous events may be labelled dangerous.” If the anomaly is defined a “danger” to human life, it is no longer necessary for individuals holding different opinions about it to discuss the issue. Douglas also says defining something as dangerous “helps to enforce conformity….” The fifth provision says that anomalous symbols are used in rituals, so that, just like poetry and mythology, which enrich meaning or call attention to other levels of existence, dichotomies like evil and goodness or death and life are incorporated into a single, grand pattern. Opponents of nuclear power are most likely to employ the second and fourth provisions. That is to say, they are highly likely to assert that since nuclear power is “dangerous,” as proven by the 3.11 accident, closing and abandoning nuclear power plants is the best and only choice. Although Douglas’s ideas are based on “primitive” societies alone, if nuclear power can be seen as a modern-day anomaly, her ideas may help us better understand how nuclear power plants have been justified, whether before or after 3.11. This is because many interpretations and explanations presented in visitor centers are, in a way, attempts to place and re-place “anomalous” meanings of nuclear power to various existing and newly emerging categories or classifications. This paper’s purpose is to present various arguments or interpretations, which support nuclear power in Japan, but not to examine the validity of each argument. After 3.11, I revisited several visitor centers in Japan, such as Miyagi Prefecture in Tohoku in 2013, Chubu Denryoku power company of Shizuoka Prefecture in 2017, and several visitor centers in Fukui, Ishikawa, and Niigata Prefectures in 2018. Those visitor centers represented five different power companies: Tohoku Denryoku, Tokyo Denryoku, Chubu Denryoku, Kansai Denryoku, and Hokuriku Denryoku. Tokyo Denryoku and Kansai Denryoku are the two top electricity companies among ten total companies in Japan.

4.2  V  isitor Centers as a Tool to Explain How and Why Nuclear Power Plants Were Safe Before 3.11 Before 3.11, the most obvious characteristic of visitor centers all over Japan was the affirmation that Japan’s nuclear power plants were absolutely safe with no possibility of serious accidents. The visitor centers’ main purpose was to show why their power plants were safe. For example, the plants were not located on an active fault; therefore, no earthquakes could occur. The reactor itself has an extremely high

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seismic threshold. The nuclear fuel is covered with five layers of capsules, such as 15-cm-thick steel pressure vessels within a 3-cm-thick large-scale steel container vessel, covered by a large building made of 1-m-thick reinforced concrete, all of which completely intercept radioactivity leakage. Even in the case of an accident, according to the explanation, safety is guaranteed by following three processes: first, the “shutdown” of the nuclear fission chain reaction; second, the “cooling” of the reactor; and, third, the “containment” of radioactive material within the reactor. Nevertheless, the latter two processes did not actually work at Fukushima in 2011. Also, hundreds of monitoring posts are in operation 24 h a day to monitor radioactive leakage in the surrounding areas of the plants. It is also important to note that every visitor center in Japan explained how the structure of Japan’s nuclear reactor was different from that of Chernobyl. It was also explained that a nuclear power plant was absolutely different from a nuclear bomb, in that the latter comprises almost 100% uranium or plutonium fuel, whereas the former is only 4% uranium. It is safe to say that the myth of safety was successfully created before 3.11, although many people in Japan still opposed the use of nuclear power plants. According to this assertion of safety, nuclear power is kept out of the “danger” category. With the myth of safety prevailing, I observed an interesting phenomenon during my research in the 1990s. As far as I knew, there had been no evacuation drills for local residents anywhere in Japan before 3.11, although I did not thoroughly research this subject at the time. In a town in Fukui Prefecture, where nuclear power plants were located, I asked a local government officer why there were no evacuation drills. He confessed that if such drills were practiced, power plant opponents would most likely say that the plants were not safe. This is an irony or paradox when certain opinion is asserted to be definitely true. As Mary Douglas (1978: 162) says, “The final paradox of the search for purity is that it is an attempt to force experience into logical categories of non-contradiction. … those who make the attempt find themselves led into contradiction.” In the case of nuclear power, the claim that nuclear plants are absolutely safe could have deprived the local people of a chance to evacuate safely when actually confronted with an accident. On March 11, 2011, Tokyo Denryoku’s announcement, broadcast over TV, that the accident was “souteigai,” or beyond comprehension, astounded the Japanese general public, as well as the local residents. It had been known that, over the past centuries, large and small tsunamis affected the very area where the plants were located. By contrast, Tohoku Denryoku, a different power company, had assumed the possibility of such tsunamis when building their first nuclear power stations in the 1970s. Therefore, their plants in the small town of Onagawa, Miyagi Prefecture, which were affected by a tsunami of the same scale as Fukushima, were safe with very little damage (see Sumihara 2013 for details). Whereas, the Tokyo Denryoku power plants in Fukushima were not prepared for the tsunami. It is certain that Tokyo Denryoku was captive to their own myth of safety.

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The tsunami may have destroyed the myth of safety, but, as we will see later, even one of the worst tsunamis in Japan’s history has not ruled out the use of nuclear power in Japan.

4.2.1  F  our Characteristics of the Visitor Centers and Their Meanings1 First of all, it is important to note that the meaning of the visitor center for the power company differed before and after the two major accidents outside of Japan, i.e., the 1979 Three Mile Island accident in the USA and, especially, the 1986 Chernobyl accident in the USSR. These two infamous accidents made Japanese people, as well as everyone else, feel anxious about the use of nuclear power, even for “peaceful” purposes. Many of those I interviewed at visitor centers, and some power company headquarters, agreed that it was very important now to bring a sense of security to the population in general, particularly women with small children, because they now had so much influence over their husbands’ opinions on nuclear issues. All of the interviewees also agreed that it was important to familiarize people with nuclear power plants beginning in childhood, as children are the future decision-makers (see Sumihara 2003a, b for details). These historical changes took place in parallel with the introduction of a slogan, “Chiiki Kyosei,” meaning a symbiotic relationship with the locals, which was shared by all electric power suppliers in Japan. This slogan appeared in the late 1980s. The corporations’ appeal to local people was not solely based on the visitor centers, but the latter seemed to play a significant role. The first obvious change to the visitor centers after the late 1980s was to the building structure. The early versions of the visitor centers in the 1970s were small, usually flat-roofed, one-story, square buildings. They were also typically situated at the edge of the power plant premises, which were located in remote and somewhat inaccessible areas. In contrast, most of the visitor centers built after the late 1980s were costly, ranging from a minimum of ¥0.9 billion to a maximum of ¥10 billion. Both the land area usage and total floor space of the buildings have also been dramatically enlarged, with a few exceptions. The buildings have become taller and multistoried with an observatory on top. The increase in size has been accompanied by an increase in the number of visitors. Particularly in the 1990s, visitors consistently numbered in the hundreds of thousands each year, and in some instances, over 300,000 visitors a year were recorded. The new visitor centers also tended to be built outside the plant premises, reflecting a search for larger available space, a more accessible location, and/or an area with a good view.

 Much of this section is based on Sumihara (2003a).

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The second characteristic of the new visitor centers was that many of the new buildings were now conscious of aesthetics. The visitor center in Shimane Prefecture is located on the top of a hill overlooking the Japan Sea and the famous Okinoshima Islands. The building is a pyramid shape, 26 m high, and the design is said to come from the famous Izumo-taisha Shrine in the prefecture, one of the oldest shrines in Japan. The only nuclear power plant visitor center in Hokkaido, nicknamed Tomarinkan, is 40 m high and is a modern, five-story, large-scale building, which stands on a vast flat area in the middle of an otherwise uninhabited area. The second Tokyo Denryoku visitor center in Fukushima Prefecture is located in a town next to a large supermarket 4 miles from the power plant site. The facades of the three connected buildings were modeled on the houses where Albert Einstein and Marie Curie were born and on Thomas Edison’s laboratory building. The western design stands out among the typical Japanese scenery of a small town in Tomioka (see Fig. 4.1). The visitor center in Shizuoka Prefecture stands near the plant site just off the Pacific Ocean. The building is 62 m above sea level. With no other tall buildings nearby, its observatory has an unobstructed view in all directions. The Hokuriku Denryoku visitor center in Ishikawa Prefecture, nicknamed Alice-kan, is located a few miles from the plant site. It stands in the middle of a vast lot and is a large, fancy, and modern dome-shaped building, 20 m high, with an observatory on top. Another new visitor center, completed in 2000 in a small town in Kyushu with a population of 7400, has two main large-scale halls, which both have a futuristic appearance. This center cost ¥10 billion to complete, and at the time of my visit in 2002, it had approximately 400,000 visitors a year. Visitor centers comprising large-­ scale buildings could not be found before the mid-1980s. The third characteristic is the fact that after the late 1980s, there was a growing trend to install exhibits and facilities which have virtually nothing to do with the nuclear power aspect of the plant. Notable examples of such exhibits and facilities include a video game corner for children, an outdoor open grass space with a small

Fig. 4.1  The façade of the 2nd Tokyo Denryoku visitor center, Fukushima. Photo taken by author

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swimming pool, and field athletic facilities where special entertainment events for children are occasionally held on weekends and during long vacations. There are also many additional examples of special features installed by specific visitor centers. The visitor center in Hokkaido, a part of Japan which experiences heavy snowfall in winter, has a 25-m-long indoor heated swimming pool available throughout the year, as well as a museum of archaeological findings of the ancient Jomon Period from the area. The visitor center in Shimane has a baseball stadium with lighting facilities, which is used more than 300 times a year for a small admission charge, and also has tennis courts open to the public. The new visitor center in Kyushu also has a baseball stadium, tennis courts, and a large greenhouse, which cost billions of yen for the building alone. All of these exhibits, facilities, and services were a new trend. The indoor swimming pool in Hokkaido was opened in June 1991. During the 5 years that it was open, nearly 150,000 people used it, although this number is not included in the calculations of visitors to the center. Special events, such as swimming classes and underwater aerobics classes, were also held there. Events organized specifically to entertain children were another trend. In Alice-­ kan in Ishikawa Prefecture, for example, the staff plan and hold special events nearly 30 times a year: these include film shows for children, a doll-making class, a painting class, and a small athletic competition. When I visited on a Sunday in May during the late 1990s, a large number of families were enjoying picnics and events organized by the staff on the grass area surrounding the visitor center building. Within the visitor center, I found many children enjoying video games. This was not unique to the Alice-kan, as a variety of events were held in many other visitor centers throughout Japan. Modern buildings with high-tech facilities did not seem to fit well with traditional, local products, but the local government and public commercial organizations expected the visitor centers to accommodate them. A notable example can be found in Kyushu. As already mentioned above, a new large-scale visitor center was completed in 2000 in Northern Kyushu. Since there was little to attract tourists, the town had very few tourists. As part of the visitor center, a large museum was built named Kyūshū Furusato-kan, or homeland or birthplace pavilion, which exhibits traditional crafts and products from all over Kyushu Island. The projected cost of this hall alone was estimated at about ¥2 billion or 20% of the whole project. The fourth characteristic of the new visitor centers is that they utilized a variety of high-tech media to explain nuclear power plants. In the old visitor centers built during the 1970s, the two major points of the exhibitions were the plant’s operation and the special concern for safety. The primary exhibits were panel explanations and models, such as a reduced or full-scale reactor model, and in some cases, an audio-visual explanation would also be used in a small theater. These exhibits were so modest and unattractive that they were unable to draw the attention of children, much less those who were indifferent to nuclear power. Although I think the contents have changed very little in the new visitor centers, the means for conveying the message have been diversified to attract more people of all generations but especially the younger ones. Panel explanations are now only

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minimally used. The overall interior is elaborate and more colorful. High-tech displays are common. At the visitor center in Shizuoka, explanations, such as the way in which nuclear fission works in the reactor, where the water runs, and how the reactor ceases operation in an emergency, are given through the use of a full-scale reactor model, colorful lights, and an audio-visual monitor, as if the visitor were watching a performance. This is an overwhelming and unforgettable experience, even though it is difficult to recall the detailed contents. It can be assumed that it is not the content, but how it is exhibited, that matters in terms of the visitor’s impression. The elaborate visitor center for the second nuclear plant site in Fukushima Prefecture features great scientists and inventors, such as Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, and Thomas Edison, as mentioned earlier. In the theater on the second floor, larger than life-size models of these figures appear. They move and speak about their great findings and inventions in a manner that makes the viewer feel close to the great world of science. Einstein, for example, confides that he attended the same grade for 2 years in elementary school, because he was not so smart. This kind of self-abasement seems not only to encourage children but also to increase intimacy with the audience. In many other visitor centers, both old and new, photos or illustrations of the main scientists related to nuclear energy are shown on panels. However, none are more impressive to me than this visitor center in Fukushima in terms of presenting nuclear power as a scientific achievement. As the name indicates, the Alice-kan at the Hokuriku Denryoku visitor center in Ishikawa Prefecture uses the cartoon characters from “Alice in Wonderland” as a medium to explain the nuclear plant. In contrast with the general gloomy image of nuclear power, the whole building and the displays are designed and decorated to convey an atmosphere of fantasy. For example, to explain the “Merits of Nuclear Power,” a dodo bird figure about 1 m in height directs a large white egg to break, revealing a large TV monitor, after which the explanation proceeds. Regardless of the content, the visitor center staff said that children enjoy this show-like presentation. Within the same center, a 1/25 scale model of the whole nuclear plant is set on a 7.5-m-wide stage, called “Fantasia Theater.” When a visitor presses a button to start the show, a high-tech system called “magic vision” begins: cartoon rabbits appear and escort the viewers to show them how the plant produces electricity. Also, to explain how to control nuclear fission in the reactor, Alice and the cartoon animals play music using a pipe organ, which is likened to the nuclear fuel core; the control rods go up and down, as the music is played. The inside of the reactor, where water is boiling at nearly 300° C, looks like a fantasy playground. Another important aspect of using the diversified media is that the visitor no longer simply listens passively to the explanation. With a variety of participative and interactive machines and facilities, the visitor can experience, even if to a minimal degree, such operations as the actual handling of nuclear fission control, by pressing buttons and turning knobs and wheels. Such facilities not only help visitors understand the mechanisms of the power plant but, more importantly, also seem to make visitors feel that the nuclear plant is fully controlled by human hands.

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The visitor center in Shimane features a box with sound and visual effects in which a seated visitor feels as though they are transported into space and exposed to space radiation. In almost all visitor centers, there is a box called the “Spark Chamber” in which sparks appear as the radiation from space shoots through the ceiling of the building and travels through the box. Such exhibits are meant to demonstrate that a small amount of radiation is present everywhere in nature and we are constantly exposed to radiation even from space. It is also explained that radiation comes from the earth, as well as from our daily food and drink. All of these explanations convey that it is not just the nuclear power plant that contains radiation, but rather radiation is part of nature wherever we live on earth. In addition to these new media, such visual technology as a 3D Theater (in Shimane) and a Max Theater (in Shizuoka) also deliver spectacular, surprising, and fun experiences. These theaters give a vivid impression because of the 3D view and/ or, as in the Max Theater, because the viewer’s whole visual range is occupied by the big screen covering the dome-shaped ceiling. What is shown in the 3D Theater is, for example, an original film on the natural beauty of the area and the traditional events and rituals of the whole Chugoku region to which the power company provides electricity. The film is so beautifully made that it seems to communicate the love of the local people for their birthplace, or furusato. I myself, not being a local person, felt that the Chugoku region had many attractive places and traditional events for tourism. Almost all of the visitor centers feature such a film, which reminds the viewers of their love of their birthplace. The films are designed to have an emotional impact, and use music, as well as imagery. As one of my informants said, such a film is expected to make local residents proud of their home when visitors watch the film. In old visitor centers, such films also exist, but the 3D and Max theaters in the new centers seem to have a more powerful effect. The visitor centers’ association with the concept of furusato seems very important. The center represents not only the plant but also the whole local area to outsiders by displaying its nature and traditions in all their beauty and splendor. Such films and displays seem to conceal the fact that the nuclear plant itself is not part of the everyday life of the local residents who consume very little of the electricity that the plant produces.

4.2.2  A  Summary of the Nature of the Visitor Centers in Japan Before 3.11 It is my view that many of the newly built visitor centers presented information far beyond the nuclear power plants themselves by drawing upon a number of “catalysts” or “media,” whereby connecting the visitors or the audience with nuclear power. In the visitor centers, catalysts, such as the grandeur of the building, the greatness of scientific achievement, the attractiveness of animation film, the charms of the fantasy of popular tales, the fun of recreation, and the love of furusato, or

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birthplace, were/are used beyond just the explanation about the nuclear power. Following Mary Douglas’s fifth provision to deal with “anomaly” mentioned above, nuclear power plants are “ritualistically” introduced with such “catalysts” that “call attention to other levels of existence,” so that a dichotomy, such as safety and danger, is “incorporated into a single, grand pattern,” or the dichotomy is no longer the issue in the visitors’ consciousness. 4.2.2.1  C  ontrol of the Meanings of Power Plant and Nuclear Fuel by Both Clarification and Obfuscation It is important to note that in the ways nuclear power plants were explained, borders dividing different categories or classifications were either clarified or obfuscated to control the image of nuclear power. For instance, after the Chernobyl accident, it was explained in the visitor centers that power plants in Japan were vastly different from that of Chernobyl in both structure and safety system, so a similar accident would never take place in Japan. Also, as observed in every visitor center, the absolute difference between nuclear power plants and atomic bombs was emphasized by stating the enormous difference in uranium content. On the other hand, when it comes to radioactivity, they tried to show that we are constantly exposed to radiation in nature, our food/drink, and even from space. By making this point, essentially dangerous radiation from nuclear power, which is a man-made product, was made to look like something not unnatural. This explanation seems an attempt to blur the border between natural and artificial objects.

4.2.3  A Background of the Flamboyant Visitor Centers In order to understand the characteristics of nuclear power station visitor centers in Japan, it is helpful to describe the historical and social context of the expectations that electricity companies have of visitor centers and also to explain the benefits that local towns/cities receive by having nuclear power plants in their neighborhoods. On June 6, 1974, a set of three interrelated laws, known as Dengen Sanpo, was passed. These laws provided a large grant to the local government via the electric power corporation and collected from consumers’ electricity payments. The fixed property tax on the plant is also a major source of income, but the amount decreases each year as the property depreciates. The law prescribes that the grant be used to improve the public infrastructure of the town. Therefore, in each town and city, such public facilities as roads, school buildings, gyms, hospitals, welfare facilities for the aged, and so forth tend to be large and disproportionately elaborate. On top of these benefits, the local residents benefit from job opportunities affiliated with power plants. For example, in a very small town within Fukui Prefecture, I heard that about 70% of the local families are in some way engaged in work related to the power company.

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According to my interviewees (i.e., officers at visitor centers and representatives from the department of nuclear issues at the headquarters of the electric power companies), the initial sense of benefits derived from nuclear plants was fading in locals’ minds. Now the local governments seemed to share an idea that residents should continue receiving benefits permanently, though not necessarily monetary ones. In this context, visitor centers became a useful tool for delivering benefits to the local community, as the electricity companies could totally control the centers.

4.3  Visitor Centers in the UK The UK has also depended on nuclear power as a significant energy source. Unlike in Japan, there are only a very few large-scale visitor centers in the UK. Through my research during the summers of 2002 and 2003, I could only identify two centers. One is a small facility of the UKAEA (the UK Atomic Energy Authority) located in Dounreay, a town on the northern tip of Scotland. The nuclear power station in Dounreay was built in 1954 as one of the first instances of the peaceful use of atomic power. The test reactor of the fast breeder reactor was also developed here. The other is BNFL’s (British Nuclear Fuels) visitor center located at Sellafield, in the western part of the lake district in England. Although both visitor centers are significantly different from their Japanese counterparts, the one at Sellafield shows a particularly notable contrast.

4.3.1  Messages Conveyed by the Sellafield Visitor Center In September 2002, when I visited Sellafield for the first time, I was surprised to see the visitor center’s basic policy. I had assumed that visitor centers of this sort would be more or less the same everywhere in the sense that they show how power is generated and they justify the use of nuclear power. Unlike its Japanese counterparts, the Sellafield visitor center seemed to have no intention of persuading the visitors to agree to the use of nuclear fuel. Rather, the message conveyed was something like “It is you who decides which energy source should be used.” I was not the only person surprised by this approach. A long-serving guide at the center confided to me that she was surprised when the center was reopened after a massive renovation the year before (i.e., 2001), because the basic stance was formerly “pronuclear” like in Japan. However, now the stance was neutral, although the contents of the former visitor center were not as flamboyant or luxurious as their Japanese counterparts. I was not able to enquire into why the center underwent such a dramatic change. However, I did learn that although BNFL was the owner and sponsor of the visitor center, the company delegated the design and management of the new center’s

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d­ isplay contents to the national Science Museum in London. In 2003, I also visited the museum in London and confirmed the relationship with the visitor center. The two-story building of the Sellafield visitor center looks modern both inside and out. The center received about 100,000 visitors a year when I visited. Stepping inside the center, as you enter the front door, you see a fine-looking reception counter on the left side. Admission is free, as in Japan. As you proceed through the entrance hall and make a right turn, you find yourself in a dark hall named “Earth, Live and Neutral,” where a silent film of a real nuclear power plant is projected on the curved wall screen. The film is a live view of a power plant sent via satellite. Continuing on, you enter a large space, which is the main exhibition hall. At the entrance to this hall, the “Editorial policy” is displayed. The second paragraph in the document of the “Editorial policy” as below deserves attention: It is not our role to say whether nuclear power—nor any other scientific development, for that matter—is good or bad but to present information that enables visitors to understand better the range of issues and views and to allow them to draw their own conclusions. Our role is to try to engage you and give you more to think about, not to tell you what to think. (excerpt from a bulletin board of the visitor center)

The main exhibition hall constitutes five zones: “Powering your future,” “The core,” “Weighing the risks,” “Think on,” and an enclosed theater “Immersion cinema.” In the zone entitled “Powering your future,” basic facts, such as the source of electrical energy and the advantages and disadvantages of each source, are shown. More importantly, this area tries to convey the message that the energy issue is not just a concern for politicians, industrialists, or engineers but a concern for everybody. Posters used for citizen movements, such as antinuclear, anti-dams, and anti-­ fossil fuels which make carbon dioxide, are displayed. This sort of display is very unusual in Japan. “The core” zone adjacent to “Powering your future” is an empty space with three large, high fences on which opinions supporting and opposing nuclear power are projected one after another for visitors to read. Those opinions are collected constantly from ordinary people as well as experts and journalists all over the UK. The name, “core,” as I understood, is also the name of a large antinuclear organization in the district. Next to “The core” zone is “Weighing the risks,” which explains the advantages but also the worst possible risks that nuclear power plants may bring to human beings. The display panel says: Major nuclear accidents such as that at Chernobyl in the Ukraine in 1986 and health studies suggesting higher than average incidences of cancer around nuclear sites have made us suspicious of nuclear power. Not to mention the terrorist threat to nuclear plants and uncertainty about what to do with radioactive waste. But nuclear power contributes much less to climate change than coal and gas generation, and alternative sources such as wind and solar power have not been tried on such a large scale. Do you think the benefits of nuclear power outweigh the risks? (excerpt from a bulletin board of the visitor center)

In all three zones shown so far, the advantages and disadvantages of nuclear and other energy sources are explained repeatedly in different forms, followed by the question: “What do you choose?”

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In the “Think on” zone, visitors can read articles from newspaper and magazines on energy issues, with the help of electronic equipment. In this zone, ordinary people appear on a TV display and present their own opinions, followed by a suggestion that the visitor expresses his/her own opinion. A film made exclusively for the center is shown every 30 min in the “Immersion cinema.” The film is not only well-made, but it is also interactive, so that the audience, whether adults or children, watch it closely until the end, although, unlike in Japan, the whole content of the film is about energy, above all nuclear power. The cinema is said to be Europe’s first interactive cinema. In the film, the would-be minister for energy says, “Your country is in peril from energy shortages and power cuts.” She puts you in charge of solving the problem. Each member of the audience answers the minister’s question and makes suggestions by pressing the touch-panel placed in front of each seat. The audience answers are shown instantly in statistical form on the large screen. One of the many questions presented by the minister concerns how to deal with high-level nuclear waste. Before the audience is asked to respond, the following explanation is given: Although no perfect method of treating high-level nuclear waste has yet been found, there are currently two methods available: one is to store the waste temporarily on the surface of the ground while waiting for the development of disposal technology, and the other is to bury the waste deep under the ground forever. The disadvantage of the first means is that the store house could be a target for a terrorist attack, but on the other hand deeply buried waste may leak. Both methods have advantages and disadvantages. (excerpt from a bulletin board of the visitor center)

Another question presented is: “which energy technology would you spend the money on to power our future?” The film contents and the way it approaches the audience show a number of parallels with the displays in other zones of the visitor center. Everything exhibited in the center aims to heighten awareness of the argument that it is not the government or the energy company but every one of us that should consider energy seriously and feel responsible for future generations. In fact, in 2003 I visited this center with an American living in England who was against the use of nuclear power. He said that after visiting the center, he was more convinced that nuclear power should not be used, but he had a favorable view of the center’s design. I also contacted some British visitors, all of whom had a good impression of the center, whether they were for or against the use of nuclear power.

4.3.2  Summary Observed as above, the visitor center does not attempt to persuade visitors to adopt a pronuclear stance. Rather, the center tries to lead visitors to closely examine the contrasting qualities of nuclear power, i.e., it is both safe and dangerous or useful and potentially harmful. There, the anomalous nature of nuclear power is explicitly presented. After helping visitors understand the contradictory nature of nuclear

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power, the center asks if they would choose a society with or without nuclear power plants. Thus, the issue transcends to a different dimension: from knowledge of whether nuclear power is a good or bad energy source to the decision of every concerned citizen as to whether it should be used in the country. This may be also one way of dealing with an “anomalous” thing. By introducing nuclear power as it is, or as an anomaly, the center asks whether “we” accept it or not for future generations. This way of treating an anomaly has not previously been considered in Japan.

4.4  H  ow the Account of Nuclear Power Plants Changed After 3.11 After 3.11, visitor centers in Japan no longer claim that nuclear power plants are safe. On the contrary, they openly admit that accidents can happen at the plants. However, they now stress that their nuclear power plants have significantly improved safety measures, especially against earthquakes and tsunamis. For example, they want to show the addition of new facilities, such as much higher fences to protect against tsunamis, based on careful historical research of the largest tsunami to affect that area. They also added many large vehicles to provide electricity in the case of a station black out as occurred during the Fukushima accident. The visitor centers’ main role is now to affirm that their power plants have made all possible preparations to meet the “world’s most strict rules for safety” established in 2013 by the Nuclear Regulation Authority of Japan to reflect lessons learned following the Fukushima accident. By the summer of 2018, nine nuclear power plants resumed operations in Japan after passing the regulatory requirements and also gaining permission from local governments. Other power plants under suspension want to follow suit. It is important to note that every nuclear power plant ceased operation in May 2012. For about 2 years, Japan functioned without nuclear power energy, which represented the first interruption in 42 years of continuous service.

4.4.1  New Interpretations to Justify the Use of Nuclear Power Although serious nuclear power plant accidents did occur in 2011, power companies and the central government did not decide to abandon all nuclear plants in Japan. To understand why they still believe that nuclear power plants are necessary in Japan, I want to show where the power companies and the government located and relocated nuclear power in the classifications of energy resources.

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First, with increasingly universal consciousness of global warming since the early 1990s, natural resources for energy were divided into two categories: “natural renewable resources,” such as water, solar, wind, and geothermal power, which are believed to be environmentally “clean,” and “natural carbon, unrenewable resources,” such as oil, coal, natural gas, and shale gas, which are also “natural” resources but produce carbon dioxide as by-product and will be exhausted in the near future. It is important to note that according to power companies, the nuclear power resource, or uranium, was not categorized into either category or as an “anomalous” thing. Although uranium used for nuclear power is not itself a “clean” natural resource because it can harm living creatures, it is also not a carbon resource that contributes to global warming. Thus, power companies try to create an image that nuclear power is “clean,” as it is not a carbon resource. This is an example of a new “interpretation” to deal with an anomalous resource for energy. As mentioned earlier, even before 3.11, power companies would also explain in their visitor centers that radioactivity exists everywhere in nature, so humans are exposed to radioactivity on average up to about 1.5 mSv a year in Japan. Obviously, this explanation will never help the public accept radioactivity from nuclear power plants as “safe,” but at least radioactivity from nuclear fuel, or uranium, is affirmed as belonging to the “nature” category in the dichotomy of natural vs unnatural or artificial things.

4.4.2  Japan’s Basic Energy Policy After 3.11 This kind of reinterpretation seems to reflect on Enerugi Kihon Keikaku, or Japan’s basic energy policy, which the government has issued every few years since 2003. This basic policy is created by the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry of Japan, and after being approved by the Cabinet, it is reported as valid in the Diet. According to the latest basic energy policy, issued July 3, 2018, nuclear power continues to be an energy source in Japan, although the percentage of nuclear power is expected to decrease from 25% preceding the 3.11 disaster to 20 to 22% as of 2030. On the other hand, the policy targets much higher dependence on natural renewable energy resources from 10% preceding 3.11 to 22 to 24% as of 2030. According to the policy, even by 2050, nuclear power is still planned to be a part of the national power source of Japan, even if dependence is minimized as much as possible. In the meantime, according to the 2010 basic energy policy, nuclear power was expected to produce as much as 53% of all electricity generated in Japan in 2030, up from 29% in 2009, along with the addition of 14 nuclear power plants to be built by 2030. The 2010 policy explicitly pointed out that nuclear power and natural renewable energy together belong to the same category of energy sources which does not produce CO2. Thus, even after 3.11, nuclear energy is far from being abandoned in Japan.

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4.4.3  What Was “Destroyed” by 3.11? Obviously, the myth of safety about nuclear power plants was destroyed on March 11, 2011, but it did not lead the government to abandon nuclear power in Japan. To explore the logic behind this reasoning, it is necessary to consider the 3Es, which form the basis for Japan’s basic energy policy: “Energy Security,” “Economic Efficiency,” and “Environment.” “Energy Security” means that the stability of industry, as well as the daily life of Japanese citizens, should be secured by a stable energy supply. “Economic Efficiency” means that the energy supply should be as efficient as possible. Finally, “Environment” means that the global environment must be considered even when creating energy for human use. All three represent a reasonable and undeniable set of values for the future of Japan, as well as the world. The 3Es were established in 2003 by the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry of Japan and then approved by the Cabinet in the same year. Since 2003, based on the key criteria of the 3Es, Japan’s basic energy policy has been issued in 2003, 2007, 2010, 2014, and 2018. It is also important to note that after the 3.11 disaster, an “S” representing “safety” was added to the 3Es to reaffirm that safety comes first. So it is now referred to as S + 3E. Before 3.11, it was not necessary to stress safety, because safety had been taken for granted, according to the logic of the power companies and government. The concept of the 3Es is also interesting when analyzing how anomalous nuclear power is dealt with both before and after 3.11, because the 3Es provide new interpretations for reevaluating the characteristics of nuclear power beyond its intrinsic nature as a radioactive object. Roughly speaking, the logic of “Energy Security” to justify the use of nuclear power seems to indicate the information below. I assembled the information based on official homepages from organizations, such as the Agency for National Resources and Energy of Japanese government, and those of several electricity companies, especially the Federation of Electric Power Companies of Japan. Additionally, I relied upon the publications of the Japan Atomic Energy Relations Organization established in 1969 to “enlighten people on the peaceful use of nuclear energy,” as its homepage says. Unlike many other developed nations, Japan is poor in natural resources. Japan’s energy resource self-sufficiency is about 6%, which is ranked the second lowest among 34 OECD nations as of 2017. Natural resources, such as coal, oil, and natural gas used for thermal power generation in Japan, come from politically unstable nations. Much of the oil is transported by ship through such “dangerous waters” as the Strait of Hormuz and Strait of Malacca. By contrast, Japan imports uranium from not only politically stable nations but also amicable nations, such as Australia and Canada. Prices of these fossil fuels tend to fluctuate based on world economic and political situations. Japan is an island nation located far from the nearest continent, so it is not possible to directly import electricity from other countries, unlike European nations, such as Germany and Italy, which can trade electricity flexibly with other nations. Natural renewable energy resources are growing, but as of today,

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it is still hard to say that energy can be generated in a stable manner, as it depends heavily on changing climate conditions. Hydroelectric power is also a natural resource, but it is already very difficult to develop a new place to build large-scale dams in Japan. Thus, the criteria of “Energy Security” provides a new category of energy resources, that is, a “stable source of energy vs unstable source of energy,” in which nuclear power is claimed to fit into the category of a stable source of energy, with a very low chance of being influenced by climate or political/economic situations. According to “Economic Sufficiency,” a low cost and sufficient use of fuels for energy are preferable. Although the calculation of the cost of making electricity appears complex, the government shows that nuclear power costs less, compared with fossil fuels and even natural renewable energy. I summarize the comparative studies of the costs of energy sources in Japan based on the report posted on the website of the Agency for National Resources and Energy of Japan, October 31, 2017 (http://www.enecho.meti.go.jp/about/special/tokushu/nuclear/nuclearcost. htm). According to their explanation, the cost was calculated as the total of “power generation raw cost” plus so-called social cost. The “power generation raw cost” indicates constructing, running, and maintaining power plants, including safety measures. In the case of nuclear power, the nuclear cycle cost is also included. Whereas, the “social cost” refers to all costs which are indirectly related to the operation of the plants, such as compensation cost in the case of an accident. A trial calculation, which included the two kinds of costs, was performed within the Agency in 2015. According to the estimation, the cost of producing every 1 kilowatt (kW) is \12.3 if produced by coal, \13.7 by natural gas, and \30.6~\43.4 by oil, whereas the cost is \10.1 by nuclear fuel. In the case of a nuclear power plant, the calculation was done assuming a plant capacity of 1.2 million kilowatts with a 70% capacity factor. The estimated cost also includes the cost in case of a serious accident of one such nuclear plant, which is \910  billion, according to the Agency. Likewise, the Agency also shows that the cost is \11 by hydroelectric power, \21.5 by wind power, and \24.2 by solar power. In conclusion, nuclear power provides energy at the lowest cost as of 2015, although they also show that the price of solar power in Europe is about half that of Japan’s 2014 prices. As for the comparison of the “efficiency” of fuels, they show that to make every 1 million kilowatt of power, 0.9 million tons of natural gas, 1.55 million tons of oil, and 2.35 tons of coals are, respectively, necessary, whereas, if uranium is used, only 0.21  million tons is necessary. Concerning the land area required for different energy sources, to produce the same amount of electricity generated by a nuclear power plant in 1 year, solar panels must occupy 58 km2, and wind power systems must occupy 214 km2, whereas a nuclear power plant occupies only 0.6 km2. Thus in the case of “Economic Sufficiency” as a whole, nuclear power is claimed to be superior to any other source of energy. Although whether the cost estimations are valid is beyond the scope of this paper, what I call the “emotional cost” for the hundreds of thousands of local residents who were evacuated and semipermanently

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lost their hometowns due to the Fukushima accident is not taken into consideration (see Aoki 2018 for some recent examples). This sense of loss of their home communities is unique with nuclear power. Monetary calculations as shown above thus tend to flatten or pay little attention to such human values. Finally, as for “Environment,” it is safe to say that natural renewable energy is the most preferable as it is CO2-free energy, whereas fossil fuels like oil, coal, and natural gas generate CO2, contributing to global warming. When it comes to nuclear fuel, the power companies explain that it also does not produce CO2. Thus, a new category is introduced, “harmful source of energy contributing to global warming vs less or not harmful source,” where nuclear power is claimed to belong to the latter. The 3Es have thus been explained in favor of nuclear power by controlling the borders of various categories established by the criteria of the 3Es. On the other hand, the “S” of S + 3E, or “safety,” is no longer guaranteed after 3.11, so the most important category of “safety vs danger” is now beyond the logical control of power companies and even the government. So I think it can be said that discussion about the category of “safety vs danger” tends to be “avoided.” Instead, power companies try to show an endless effort toward operating power plants safely by following the very strict new rules established after 3.11 by the Nuclear Regulation Authority of Ministry of Environment of Japan. They do not claim that nuclear power is the best and only choice; rather, they say that the ideal situation includes a good mix of different energy resources, in which nuclear is still indispensable at least for the time being. The government claims that the 3Es are also supported by further development of energy-saving technology and systems and by further competition within the electricity industry through the introduction of new power companies to lower the prices of production and sales, according to the basic energy policy issued in 2018. Obviously, there have been differing opinions attempting to dispute the logic presented above, although there is no guarantee that disputing opinions are true or reliable. However, it is far beyond the scope of this short paper to examine the validity of numerous opinions stating the pros and cons. What we have seen is how the power companies and government have dealt with the “anomalous” nature of nuclear power in their explanations.

4.5  Concluding Remarks Before 3.11, power companies guaranteed the safety of nuclear power plants by explaining their technical aspects. Additionally, by adding “extrinsic” functions to their visitor centers, such as recreation and tourism, which have nothing to do with nuclear power plants, the anomalous nature of nuclear power was obfuscated. After 3.11, as the myth of safety was destroyed, power companies now admit that serious accidents can happen. However, they also claim that after 3.11, they have done everything possible to strengthen plant safety. They also assert that nuclear power is still a very important source of energy in Japan by presenting and ­examining the basic criteria of the 3Es, which also constitute “extrinsic” elements of nuclear

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power, such as contributing to the stable supply of energy at a relatively low cost, but also not contributing to global warming. By the “intrinsic” nature of nuclear power, as opposed to “extrinsic,” I mean that nuclear power is generated using a radioactive fuel, which is an unfavorable and unchangeable fact. So, to justify the use of nuclear fuel, its “extrinsic” elements, or values which are only contextually determined, had to be strategically drawn upon both before and after 3.11. Thus, by so doing, at least logically, the anomalous nature of nuclear power could be blurred. Both before and after 3.11, nuclear power was explained or represented as something closely related to external elements beyond the intrinsic nature of what nuclear power meant in Japan. By contrast, the visitor center in England clearly illustrated the many differing opinions surrounding nuclear power, including those radically opposed; the center asserts that it is you, visitor and citizen, who must decide whether nuclear power should be used now and in the future of the nation.

References Aoki, M. (2018). Chizukara Kesareru Machi: 3.11 go no “itteha ikenai shinjitsu” (Towns erased on the map—“facts that should not be mentioned” after 3.11) (in Japanese). Kodansha Gendai Shinsho, Tokyo. Douglas, M. (1978). Purity and danger: An analysis of the concepts of pollution and taboo. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Limited. Sumihara, N. (2003a). Flamboyant nuclear power station visitor centers as a hegemonic tool in Japan: Are they revealing or concealing, or concealing by revealing? Agora: Journal of International Center for Regional Studies, 1, 11–29. Sumihara, N. (2003b). Nihon no Genshiryoku Hatsudensho Tenjikan: Genpatsu ninchi no shimei wo ninau myujiamu (Nuclear power plants visitor centers in Japan—a museum which is loaded with the mission to have nuclear power accepted) (in Japanese). In H. Nakamaki & K. Hioki (Eds.), Kigyo Hakubutsukan no Keiei Jinruigaku (An anthropological study of corporate museums) (pp. 65–95). Osaka: Tōhō Shuppan. Sumihara N (2003c, September 1) Comparative studies of nuclear power visitor centers in UK and Japan, at workshop: Comparative cultures of association in British and Japanese organization. Oxford Brooks University. Sumihara, N. (2004). Cultural and educational facility as a hegemonic tool: Political roles vested to the flamboyant nuclear power station visitor centers in Japan at the Symposium: The social use of anthropology in the contemporary world, National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka, October 29, 2004. Sumihara, N. (2013). Onagawa Genshiryoku Hatudensho Saihou (Re-visiting onagawa nuclear power plants) (in Japanese). Cosmos 22: Newsletter of International Center for Regional Studies, Tenri University, (pp 1–2).

Websites Shigen Enerygi Cho (Agency for Natural Resources and Energy). Genpatsu no Kosuto wo Kangaeru (Thinking the cost of nuclear power energy). October 31, 2017. http://www.enecho. meti.go.jp/about/special/tokushu/nuclear/nuclearcost.htm. Accessed 8 Aug 2018.

Chapter 5

Modelling Museums: The Management Culture of Family Porcelain in England Yuko Shioji

Abstract  This chapter aims to show how people treat family porcelain and what the management of family porcelain means in today’s Britain. Nowadays, family porcelain handed down among people was originally given as a present in rituals of passage or inheritance. It tends to be inherited from paternal grandmother, mother and maternal side of family. Most of family porcelain is not used but displayed or kept. By displaying family porcelain, family memories of the past members and rituals are embodied in a space as a living room in people’s house. By using family porcelain daily or in special occasion, family memories are reviving more vividly in people’s life and are connecting each generation to the lineage. The management culture of family porcelain in England can be described as “modelling museums” in maintaining objects regarded as family heirlooms and the values embodied by those objects: aesthetic, remembrance, informative, educational and symbolic as well as prestige and monetary worth. It is now a flexible modern means of identifying and expressing oneself through the continuity of the family and a sense of family corporate connections.

5.1  Introduction Porcelain is breakable. Traditionally, it is not handed down within the family in Japan, people even used to break dishes if a person died, especially in Western Japan. Japanese people treat daily dishes as breakable and consumable objects. In contrast, in Britain and probably in Europe as a whole, generally and historically, porcelain is considered as something of value, to be passed on from generation to generation. Fine porcelain was originally brought from the Far East, for example, China and Japan, to Europe and was treated as precious imported goods for the aristocracy in Britain. The management culture of porcelain itself has a long historical background which has influenced the present management of family porY. Shioji (*) Faculty of International Tourism, Hannan University, Osaka, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_5

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celain in England in various ways. Approaching this topic from an anthropological perspective, I have investigated people’s management of “family porcelain”, which is handed down from generation to generation within families (Shioji 2004).1 I have concentrated on the Cotswolds of South West England, where I have been researching since 1996 and found an English identity created through the preservation of heritage (Shioji 2003). This chapter aims to show how people treat family porcelain and what the management of family porcelain means in today’s Britain. In the first section, I discuss three possible anthropological approaches to family porcelain by considering why this kind of inheritance takes place. I refer to some anthropological views of objects: objects as cultural commodities, objects as having their own biographies and the idea of “curatorial consumption” (e.g. Appadurai 1986; Kopytoff 1986; McCracken 1988). The second section presents data on how, and from whom, people inherit porcelain, and what the actual items are, based on the results of fieldwork carried out over several visits during the summer from 2001 to 2003. Finally, I would like to consider the modern meaning of family porcelain by comparing the management of family porcelain with the roles of museums and by considering the relations of family porcelain to the “heritage industry”, which has been on the rise since the late 1980s in Britain.

5.2  Porcelain as Cultural Commodity As Appadurai has suggested, commodities can be defined not only as objects of economic value but also as objects of cultural value which create social relations through their circulation (Appadurai 1986). This is because value is embodied in commodities that are exchanged, and what creates the link between exchange and value is “politics”, broadly construed (Appadurai 1986: 3). In this first section, I adopt Appadurai’s perspective for my discussion of porcelain as a cultural commodity. Before moving on to a discussion of family porcelain in Britain, the ethnography of the Kodi society of Sumba island in east Indonesia (Hoskins 1993) provides a good example of the analysis of commodities from a cultural perspective which can also be applied to porcelain in Britain. Although Sumba island is geographically isolated from the main routes of trading in east Indonesia, it has been affected politically and socially by the world outside the island. A number of commodities came to this island through trade with the island of Java, the cultural centre of the area, first through Portuguese and Dutch traders and then through the Dutch colonial administration. Most foreign commodities, such as urns, plates, gold jewellery, swords and gongs, have been handed down and owned for generations in Kodi society as family heirlooms or village property (Hoskins 1993: 118–141). These family heirlooms and village property act as certificates of age and legitimacy for families and villages in Kodi. There is even sometimes controversy about the ownership or  This chapter is based on the author’s report of Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research (Shioji 2004).

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pedigree of these commodities, which are called “history objects” or “possessions of the ancestors” (Hoskins 1993: 119). In particular, ritual chiefs of Kodi as the authorities concerned with time, who decide the dates of the seasonal agricultural rituals, need to have these “history objects” in order to prove their authority. The memory and rituals of their ancestors are embodied in these objects. Hoskins describes these objects as acquiring a status apparently almost equivalent to that of persons by this process. This example of Kodi society demonstrates the process through which commodities which were traded between different cultures and adopted into Kodi society have acquired the meaning and value of scarce assets in the cultural context of notions of time and authority within that society. Turning to porcelain in Britain, similar elements to the Kodi process of attributing value to foreign objects can be seen. Historically, fine porcelain had been brought from the Far East to Europe. It was a new, foreign commodity of fine quality, and with scarcity value, and therefore became expensive in eighteenth-century England. A symbol of wealth, porcelain became a prestige item, which also had aesthetic value. From the anthropological perspective of the inheritance of family property, Lévi-Strauss also comments on European family heirlooms and social relations in comparison with those of Kwakiutl. In Europe, family heirlooms, “coats of arms” and “house names” such as Bourbon, Orange or Hanover act as certificates of an honourable pedigree and convey values of power, authority and prestige (Lévi-­ Strauss 1982: 176–180). Family portraits were one concrete example of such a certificate in Tudor England. But, several centuries later, not only family portraits but porcelain became family heirlooms in this sense. Interestingly enough, it seems that aristocratic styles of consumption were adopted by the lower social classes after the eighteenth century and throughout the nineteenth century. McKendrick claims that this “trickle-down effect” also covers family porcelain (McKendrick et al. 1982). In the case of middle-class and working-class households, however, it seems that the role of family porcelain as a certificate of an “honourable pedigree” lost its power and came to be interpreted more popularly as “family memory”. Thus, the social value of porcelain in England has a history of adaptation: from imported objects to family heirlooms which convey family memories in ordinary households. Another anthropological approach to family porcelain is that of cultural biography. This biographical approach was first suggested by Kopytoff in his discussion of the process of commoditization and exchange (Kopytoff 1986). As an example of small-scale societies, Kopytoff described three spheres of exchange among the Tiv of central Nigeria: the sphere of subsistence items (yams, cereals, condiments, chickens, etc.), the sphere of prestige items (cattle, slaves, ritual offices, special cloth, medicines, brass rods) and the sphere of rights in people (wives, wards, offspring). In the Tiv system, items within each sphere were exchangeable, and each was ruled by its own kind of morality, with the prestige sphere being less commoditized than the subsistence sphere (Kopytoff 1986: 71–74). In comparison with small-scale societies, he pointed out the peculiarity of complex societies, in which commoditization operates with innumerable schemes of valuation and singularization devised by individuals, social categories and groups, with these schemes standing in unresolvable conflict with public commoditization as well as one another

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(Kopytoff 1986: 79). In addition to the above characteristics, he noted that reference to the passage of time helps the collective process of singularization. For instance, 30-year-old cars move into the category of antiques and rise in value with every receding year, and old furniture accomplishes the same process of sacralization at a more sedate pace in the period that separates one from one’s grandparents’ generation (Kopytoff 1986: 80). Then, what is the biography of family porcelain? Family porcelain obviously falls into the prestige sphere of exchange and has strong connection with the rites of passage of the family group. For example, in the case of somebody’s death, before or after his death, porcelain as one of his possessions must be passed on to one or more family members. Porcelain as wedding presents can also be the starting point for the creation of a collection of family porcelain. During its life as a family heirloom, porcelain basically does not have a price, even though there is some willingness to overestimate its commodity value. But after changing owners, in another words, undergoing a process of singularization and sacralization among individuals, it will go into a second-hand, antique market as a form of “terminal commoditization” (Kopytoff 1986: 75). Another possible and important approach to family porcelain is to write an ethnography of individual attitudes towards family porcelain. McCracken tried to demonstrate the meanings of objects inherited from the past generations of a family in an ethnographic way by describing the style of consumption of Lois Roget, an old woman from a North American farming family, who maintains her family’s possessions (McCracken 1988: 44–53). Lois is bound by familial duty to store, display and conserve the objects that have been passed on in her family and her husband’s family for seven generations. The family has a very strong sense of its own continuity. Lois’s heirlooms consist of a wide range of furnishings which have been passed on from a number of relatives and which act as a kind of archive. McCracken commented on how she remembered her relatives precisely with the objects, remarking that “the relatives are so well represented I felt that she was reading me the family tree instead of showing me her living room” (McCracken 1988: 46). For instance, an English aunt is recalled by some “pretty little plates”, Lois’s great-grandmother by a chair in the hall. Other objects concern important rituals in the past of the family and of her own household. The wedding of Lois’s mother is recalled by “that little green cookie jar”, and there are objects commemorating her wedding, her children’s graduation, her husband’s retirement, her wedding anniversary and so on. They have also strong ties to the locality, represented by the farm house in which they have been living for seven generations and which was made by local craftsmen of wood from local forests. Therefore, McCracken pointed out that the family’s longevity, the strength of its corporate connections and its ties to this locality are expressed in her possessions (McCracken 1988: 46). One of the reasons why McCracken called Lois a “curatorial consumer” is her “interactive exhibit” of the collection. For example, she has an oil lamp which is similar to the one that she used to take to bed every night in her childhood when they had no electric power. She puts it at the centre of the table at Christmas time and when her grandchildren come to visit, and the children have a special meal around

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the lamp, turning off the lights of the room. McCracken analysed this as similar to a participatory contact with a museum piece and as putting an otherwise distant generation in touch with its lineage by creating a living exhibit. The small lamp is one of the items in her collection, but she uses it as a symbol of family continuity. Another reason he describes Lois as a curatorial consumer is her approach to making purchases. Lois buys old objects only in order to add to the collection, and she is keen to restore a decayed family piece in order to bring out its essence. For example, she needs to find a chair that will complete a set of chairs that have descended from an aunt. Similarly, curators must continually cultivate and tend to their collections. McCracken called this pattern of consumption “curatorial consumption” and defined it as “a pattern of consumption in which an individual treats his or her possessions as having strong mnemonic value, and entertains a sense of responsibility to these possessions that enjoins their conservation, display, and safe transmission” (McCracken 1988: 49). Lois’s consumption is rare and almost eccentric, but McCracken suggests a contrast between curatorial and modern consumption. In contemporary society, each family is free to choose its consumer goods for itself and to express its character or even to transform itself. McCracken found that even the few exceptions that can be identified, such as cutlery, plates, certain items of art and furniture having moved from one generation to another, are highly unlikely to make the transition to a third generation. On the other hand, Lois in the old curatorial system has her choices strictly constrained, and, for her, the individual is submerged within the family as corporation, through family continuity combined with a powerful sense of belonging. McCracken concluded that “the old system of family and inheritance, the movement of goods from one generation to the next was an important method of preserving the corporation, insuring its continuity, relaying its values, and of bringing each successive generation into the lineage” (McCracken 1988: 52). In this first section, I have discussed three possible anthropological approaches to family porcelain as cultural commodity. The approach focusing on the adaptation of foreign objects requires an examination of the past and present meanings of family porcelain in England. The biographical approach focuses on the process by which family porcelain becomes identified as a family heirloom. The ethnographic approach reveals the deep relations between objects and human beings. I will combine these approaches in the following sections to consider the meanings of family porcelain, the process by which it becomes identified as family porcelain and the relationships between human beings and family porcelain.

5.3  A Case Study of Family Porcelain in the Cotswolds In this section, I will analyse the results of my fieldwork on family porcelain in the Cotswolds. The fieldwork data in this section is based on interviews with 15 people in their own homes.

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5.3.1  Individual Possession of Family Porcelain First of all, Table 5.1 “Individual Possession of Family Porcelain” shows 15 individual cases, with ages ranging from 50 to over 80 (with one 35  year old), and illustrates in tabular form which member of the family gave or handed down the porcelain and how the porcelain is treated by each person who inherited and owns it. The symbols used show people’s treatment of the porcelain. The diamond symbol represents porcelain put on display on the wall or in a cabinet; the heart symbol represents porcelain kept inside a cupboard and not used; the club symbol represents porcelain in daily use; and the sharp represents porcelain used for special occasions such as Christmas, or some celebrations, or Sundays. The spade symbol represents porcelain that has been sold. The following four cases provide concrete examples of individual possessions of family porcelain, including the history of each family as represented by the porcelain and informants’ attitudes towards the porcelain. 5.3.1.1  A Couple in Their 60s Informants number 8 in Table 5.1, the DE family, are a husband and wife. The wife is in her 60s and has four items from her paternal grandmother (for details see Table 5.2). Of these four, two items are prominently on display above the fireplace in their living room. One of these is a big Christmas plate with a “Mr. Holly” face, which was used for Christmas pudding once a year when her children were small. Another is a big Imari plate, which as far back as she could remember had been used for decoration and used to be displayed on a wooden rack near the ceiling of her parents’ and grandparents’ house. Another item, a tea set of Grosvenor China, which was a wedding present to her grandparents in 1900, is kept inside a cupboard, while another tea set of Limoges from her paternal grandmother is often used. She also has five items which came from her mother (for details see Table 5.3): one on display (a big 1920s Royal Doulton plate put up on the wall above the fireplace which, like the big Imari plate, has always been used for decoration), two kept in cupboards (a Copeland dessert set which was a wedding present to her parents’ in 1936 and a plate of Spode) and two which are in daily use (plates of Copeland and Spode). She told me that she especially liked the bubbly orange and flower patterns of the Copeland dessert set, which always reminds her of her parents. She bought one further item herself to add to her dinner plates for daily use. Her husband, aged 69, has an item for special occasions not from his grandparents or parents, but from his other relatives. It is a dinner service (Royal Doulton, “Chateau Rose”) given as a wedding present by his paternal aunt. He also has another dinner service for special occasions, which was given to him as a retirement present from his company. He also pointed out and explained three items on display in his house, which were bought from the last owner of his house before she died.

Table 5.1  Individual possession of family porcelain (in 2002)

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Table 5.2  Porcelain from grandmother Name (a) Display 1 DE 2 DS 3 MF

Age Sex Item

Display place

88 88 84

Shelf Shelf Above the fireplace

4

CW

70s

5

VR

70s

6

AJ

74

8

DE

60s

9

DB

68

10 PT

68

F F F

Staffordshire figurines (dogs) Staffordshire figurines (boy and girl, house) Rockingham figurines (birds) Staffordshire figurines (cow) F Ginger jar 2 Japanese vases F Cup and saucer and plate Flower vase Irish jug F Tea set (Minton); 2 cups+saucers, sandwich plate, 4 plates F Big Christmas plate (earthenware) Big Imari plate F Figurine Tea pot and stand F Tea set (Sandon); 6 cups+saucers, 6 cake plates, 2 sandwich plates, milk jug sugar bowl F 2 Cups without handles (Worcester 1755–90) Sex Item

13 CJ 60s Name Age (b) Stored 6 FJ 75 M 9

DE

60s F

13 CJ

60s F

Dessert dish (Booths, willow pattern “Real Old Willow”) Tea set (Grosvenor China)

Window sill Glass cabinet Table in entrance hall Window sill in kitchen Table in sitting room Cupboard Wall above fireplace Wall above fireplace Glass cabinet Glass cabinet

Bay window at entrance Notes

Wedding present to grandparents in 1900 Danish grandmother

Tea set (Royal Copenhagen); 4 cups+saucers Tea set (Aynsley) 15 GJ 50 F Tea and coffee set (Adderley) 6 cups and saucers (Booths, willow pattern “Real Old Willow”) Coffee set (Midwinter modern) A cup and saucer attached (Royal Albert, ”Gossamer”) Coffee set (British Anchor, “Impact”) Claris Cliff (designer’s cups and saucers in the 1950s) 3 tea cups and 8 saucers Name Age Sex Item Notes (c) Daily use 8 DE 60s F Tea set (Limoges); 12 plates, milk jug, sugar Often used bowl 10 PT 68 F Tea set (ABJ Grafton China, “Woodlands”); 6 Given as her engagement present for everyday use cups+saucers, 2 tea pots, milk jug, sugar basin, mini-milk jug and sugar basin, 2 early morning tea cups+saucers (continued)

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Table 5.2 (continued) Name Age Sex Item (d) Special occasions 6 AJ 74 F Meat dish (Johnson Bro., “Old Britain Castle”, painted Stafford Castle of 1792) 10 PT 68 F Tea set (Sandon); 6 cups+saucers, 6 cake plates, 2 sandwich plates, milk jug, sugar bowl

Notes Used for turkey at Christmas Displayed in cabinet, used at her grandson’s christening 19 years ago

This couple had lived in London for a long time until the husband retired from his work as an executive in a famous department store and came to live in a north Cotswold town. He has family connections with this small town and used to visit there with his parents on holiday in his childhood. The last owner of the house was a friend of his parents, and had no relatives to succeed to her property. In a sense, they preserve the memory of the last owner of the house as well as the memory of their own families and rituals such as weddings and retirement. It is also important to note that they have room for storing all the items in their house. 5.3.1.2  A 68-Year-Old Woman Informant number 10, PT, is a 68-year-old woman who worked as a librarian in a Cotswold town for 27 years. She has one item inherited from her maternal grandmother, who was given it as a wedding present over 100 years ago (for details see Table 5.2). It is a tea set which she usually puts on display in a glass cabinet and uses for special occasions, such as her grandson’s christening 19  years ago. She has another tea set for daily use given to her as an engagement present by her paternal grandmother. Another tea set of hers came from her aunt and is displayed in a glass cabinet also given by her aunt (for details see Table 5.4). She purchased four other items herself (for details see Table 5.5): a dressing set (it includes cosmetic pieces such as a powder and puff basin for makeup and toiletry items such as a bowl and a jug for washing the face) which is displayed on her dressing table; some Copeland figurines and a Royal Worcester bird figurine which are kept on top of the glass cabinet; and a foreign-made coffee set which is kept inside the glass cabinet. She compared porcelain and silver ware in the following way: “People do not hand down silverware. Some do, but people tend to sell it because it is silver. Silver hasn’t got much decoration. You’ve got to use it. You can’t keep it in the cabinet like this (the porcelain she has). Porcelain has a more decorative and ornamental character than silver. Silver is unbreakable, so it is easy to handle, but different from what people think of china”.

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Table 5.3  Porcelain from mother Name Age Sex Item (a) Display 2 DS 88 F Sardine dish Small plate (Minton) Moustache cup Shaving cup Feeding cup Coffee set (Coalport); 2 cups+saucers, pot Toby jugs (Royal Doulton) Meat dishes (willow pattern) 3 MF 84 F Tea set (Georgian) 5 VR 70s F Bowl (Devonware, Fieldings) Royal commemorative plate (Paragon, Silver Jubilee of King George V) Plate (Royal Doulton) Dolls (Royal Doulton) 6

7

AJ

RS

8 DE 12 DH

13 CJ Name (b) Stored 5 VR 8

DE

74

F

Cup and saucer (Barratts of Staffordshire, “York”) Plate (Johnson Bros., “Mill Stream”) 71 M Tea set (Foley, “Ming Rose”); 12 cups + saucers, plates, tea pot, hot water pot 60s F Big plate (Royal Doulton 1920s) 64 M 2 jugs (T Knight Hampton. S. Birmingham, Hops, Crown Granite F. P. B.) Big dish Staffordshire figurine (cow and boy) 60s F Jasperware cheese dish (Dudson) Age Sex Item 70s F 60s F

Tea plate (Melbourne) Coffee set (Paragon) Dessert set (Copeland) Spode plate (Copeland and Garrett, “Italian Spode”, eighteenth–nineteenth century)

Display place Top of cabinet Top of cabinet Top of cabinet Top of cabinet Top of cabinet Glass cabinet Shelf Shelf Glass cabinet Table Wall (from husband’s mother)

Wall (from husband’s mother) Window sill (from husband’s mother) Cupboard Cupboard Glass cabinet

Wall above fireplace Window sill

Window sill Top of cupboard Window sill Notes — Given by husband’s mother Wedding present to her parents in 1936

(continued)

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Table 5.3 (continued) Age Sex Item 68 F Child’s tea set (EPC. Empire Works) 6 cups and saucers (Colclough China) 11 BG 67 F Tea set (ABJ Grafton China); 10 cups+saucers, 10 cake plates, 1 big plate Tea set (Royal Crown Trentham) 13 CJ 60s F Tea and coffee sets (Copenhagen) Tea set (Copenhagen) Tea set (Czech) Name Age Sex Item (c) Daily use 2 DS’s 58 F Dinner service (Royal Worcester, child “Evesham”) 5 70s F Dinner service (Noritake China)

9

8

Name DB

DE

Plates (Copeland, “Italian Spode”) Plates (Spodes, 1930s, different sizes of the same pattern) 14 CW 55 F Plates (Wedgwood, “Patrician”, big and middle size plates) Name Age Sex Item (d) Special occasions 3 MF’s 60 F Dinner service (Minton, child “Brocade”) Dinner service (Minton, “Milford”) 11 BG 67 F Tea set (ABJ Grafton China); 10 cups+saucers, 10 cake plates, 1 big plate Tea set (Royal Crown Trentham) Name (e) Sold 1 DE

Notes — Wedding present to her mother in the 1920s Also specially used at her grandchildren’s christenings and the funeral of her husband’s father Wedding present to her mother — Given by husband’s mother Notes Given as wedding present Given by husband’s mother, bought in Singapore

60s F

Age Sex Item 88

F

Set of pottery; tea pot, milk jug, sugar basin, hot water jug , Toby jug (Royal Doulton)

Notes Given as wedding present Inherited from mother Usually stored, but used at grandchildren’s christening and the funeral of husband’s father Given as her twenty-first birthday present Notes Mother’s wedding present from her cousin in 1907. Sold for 80 pounds in 2000

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Table 5.4  Porcelain from other relatives Name (a) Display 1 DE

Age Sex Item

2

DS

88

5

VR

70s

4

AW

70s

7

RS

71

9

DB

68

10 PT

68

13 CJ

60s

Name (b) Stored 9 DB

Age

Shelf, given by mother’s family F Jug (lustre) Top of cabinet, given by aunt before her death F Tea pot and jug (Royal Winton) Window sill in entrance hall, given by husband’s aunt M Big milk jug (Copeland Spode, Glass cabinet, given by “Italian”) paternal uncle Brown Jasper Jug (Copeland) Glass cabinet, given by father’s family M Tea set (Wedgwood, “Yellow Rose”) Glass cabinet, given as his wedding present by uncle and aunt in 1957 F Pot with a lid Fireplace, given by maternal aunt F Tea set (Wedgwood, “Devon Glass cabinet, given by aunt Sprays”) F Cups without handles (Worcester Bay window at entrance, 1755–90) given by aunt Sex Item Notes

68

F

88

F

AW

Dessert plates

Coffee pot (Royal Doulton, “Watteau”) Figurine (“Uncle Tom Cobley”) Age Sex Item

Name (c) Daily use 2 DS’s 35 F grandchild 4 CW 70s F

70s M

Display place

Vegetable dish (Royal Worcester, “Evesham”) Fruit set (handmade); 4 bowls and 1 big bowl Jug (handmade)

Name Age Sex Item (d) Special Occasions 8 DE 69 M Dinner service (Royal Doulton, “Chateau Rose”) 6 of each piece, 2 tureens, 2 big plates

Left by aunt when she died Given by paternal aunt Notes Given as wedding present Given by uncle and aunt Given as wedding present by maternal cousin Notes Given as wedding present by paternal aunt

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Table 5.5  Purchased porcelain Name Age Sex Item (a) Display 1 DE 88 F Staffordshire figurines (dogs) 2 DS 88 F Tea set; 6 cups+saucers, 6 plates Commemorative mugs and plates 5 VR 70s F Dinner service (Royal Worcester, “Evesham”) Toby jug (Royal Doulton) Toby jug (Wood of Burslem) 10 PT 68 F Dressing set Figurines (Copeland) Figurine (Royal Worcester, bird) Coffee set (foreign) 11 BG 67 F Toby jug (Royal Doulton) Commemorative mugs Name Age Sex Item (b) Stored 9 DB 68 F Dinner service (Royal Worcester, “Balmoral”); 12 of each piece Name Age (c) Daily use 1 DE 88 3 MF 84 Child 60

Sex Item F F F

5

VR

70s F

6

AJ FJ

74 75

8

DE DE 12 DH

F M

69 M 60s F 64 M

Dinner service (Mason, “Fruit Basket”) Dinner service (Minton, “Milford”) Dinner service (Spode, “Gainsborough Spode”) Dinner service (Royal Worcester, “Evesham”) Dinner service (Rosenthal, Studio Line, Germany); 6 pieces of each, 2 tureen, 1 gravy boat and saucer, 1 meat dish 4 soup bowls (Davenport) Dinner service (Royal Doulton, “Rose Elegans”)

Name Age Sex Item (d) Special occasions 4 CW 70s F Tea set (“Queen Anne”)

Display place Window sill Glass cabinet Shelf Glass cabinet Top of cupboard in kitchen Shelf Dressing table Top of glass cabinet Top of glass cabinet Glass cabinet On a shelf above the curtain pelmet On a shelf above the curtain pelmet Notes Bought 23 years ago, wrapped up and kept in cupboard for handing down two sons Notes

Inherited by daughter Dishwasher and microwave safe

Bought in the 1970s to 1980s for handing down to one of the children

Cups are displayed in a dresser, others are kept in different cupboards. Notes Saturdays and Sundays for the best use

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She not only preserves her grandmother’s memory through her tea set but also hands down family memories to the generation of her grandchildren by using it for her family’s ritual celebrations as well as putting it on display. 5.3.1.3  Three Generations of One Family Informant number 2, DS, an 88-year-old woman living by herself, likes to display her porcelain as much as she can. Three Staffordshire figurines from her maternal grandmother are kept on a shelf with her family photographs. She also has eight items from her mother on display, together with one from a paternal aunt and two items which she purchased. The eight items from her mother include a sardine dish, moustache cup, shaving cup, feeding cup and Toby jugs, most of which are rare pieces to see in people’s houses now (for details see Table 5.3). One from her paternal aunt is a lustre jug, which is also unusual to see now. Her purchased items are a tea set and a large collection of royal commemorative porcelain (mugs and plates), also displayed on a shelf. She also told me about the porcelain her daughter and her granddaughter have and explained how people’s way of using dishes has changed. Her daughter, aged 58, has part of a dinner service given by her (DS) with the idea that the daughter could add to it herself. The daughter also has a dinner service of Royal Worcester “Evesham” which she was given as a wedding present. “Evesham” is the name of a local place where there used to be many fruit trees such as plums and pears, and these local fruits are depicted in the pattern. Because of this, local people in this area are familiar with and fond of this pattern. DS, however, added that her daughter’s plates were not dishwasher-proof (they predated dishwashers), so most of the patterns on the plates were faded by being washed in the dishwasher. Her granddaughter, aged 35, who has been married for 10 years, was given a vegetable dish as a wedding present which is also part of a Royal Worcester “Evesham” dinner service, but which is dishwasher safe. DS recalled the past when talking of how dinner services were formerly used. “People had Sunday lunch on the best dinner service which was used only for special occasions, and all members of the family sat at the table to eat the special Sunday lunch which nowadays we do not have so often”. She explained what a dinner service used to consist of and commented that she felt how much times had changed, seeing people who hardly ever use a full dinner service but just use big dishwasher and microwave safe plates to put everything on. DS is interested in displaying rare pieces of family porcelain. She is also creating her own family porcelain by collecting royal commemorative porcelain herself and dividing her own dinner service among her daughters. Similar cases can be found among the other informants. For example, BG, a 67-year-old housewife, has been collecting Royal Doulton Toby jugs and royal commemorative mugs and displaying them on a shelf above the curtain pelmet as if some of the faces pictured on this porcelain are looking down on the room from the ceiling. Other informants (see Table  5.1) such as a couple in their 70s (AJ and FJ) and DB, a widow aged 68,

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p­ urchased brand-new dinner services in order to give to or divide among their children after their death as their own family porcelain. 5.3.1.4  An Aristocratic Family Informant number 3, MF, an 84-year-old woman, is the descendant of local aristocratic family in the Cotswolds town where she lives. She is actually living in a small part of the grand mansion house which one of her ancestors built 300 years ago, most of which was burned down in the Civil War. Her eldest brother is the main successor to the family line, and does not live in the town but in another bigger property further north. She has three items from her paternal grandmother: two Rockingham figures of birds and a Staffordshire figurine of a cow, which are displayed above the fireplace. A Georgian tea set, handed down from her mother-in-law’s family, is in a showcase in her living room. She explained, “It is valuable, so I have to keep it in a glass-­ fronted cabinet”. She also has a Copeland dinner service with the family coat of arms from her father-in-law. She uses it very occasionally for anniversaries and special celebrations for members of the family, for example, when she had her birthday celebration at the age of 80. She also has her own dinner service of Minton which she is passing on to her daughter. She explained the porcelain with her family coat of arms by saying, “Only for the dinner service. We won’t have tea cups and saucers with the coat of arms”. As for the porcelain in general, she said, “We didn’t buy them”. Her family is used to inheriting family porcelain and being given it by other relatives, and they do not have as much interest in handing down cups and saucers as people from outside the aristocracy or landed gentry. In relation to the family porcelain, she talked about the history of her family line which started from a wealthy wool merchant who built the mansion house in the seventeenth century and continues with her grandchildren. Her daughter, aged 60, who will inherit her property and is now living with her (MF), has two sets of dinner service for special occasions. One is from her mother (MF) (mentioned above), and another is a Minton dinner service given to her as her own wedding present. She also bought her own dinner service of Spode for daily use which is dishwasher and microwave safe. As she said that she went to a boarding school in London and had been living away from her mother’s house, she didn’t know much detail about any objects in the house which carried a long family history connected to the family line and property. However, she has been learning about them since she came to live with her mother and has begun to take over some property from her. This case of an aristocratic family is different from other three cases. It shows the history of the management culture of family porcelain in which families belonging to the landed gentry or the aristocracy used to hand down their family porcelain, such as dinner services with a coat of arms from the paternal side. These were not bought, but inherited, along with the history of the family line. The successor from the next generation of the family is learning about the family history by living in the symbolic mansion house surrounded by a wide range of objects.

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Table 5.6  Number of family porcelain (in 2002) From mother From grandmother Own purchase From other relatives From grandfather Other (from friends, etc.) From father Total (%)

Display 22 16 14 9 6 4 3 74 (58)

Stored 11 11 1 2 0 1 0 26 (20)

Daily use 5 2 7 3 0 0 0 17 (13)

Special occasions 4 2 1 1 0 1 1 10 (7)

Sold 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 (0.7)

Total (%) 43 (34) 31 (24) 23 (18) 15 (12) 6 (5) 6 (5) 4 (3) 128

Notes: Numbers counted in each treatment, when one item has more than one treatment.

5.3.2  Family Porcelain: “Maternal” Porcelain and “Display” Table 5.6 “Number of family porcelain” shows the aggregate number of pieces of porcelain categorized by its source (from whom it is inherited) and people’s treatment of it. We can see that about 34% of the family porcelain is from mothers and about 24% is from grandmothers. Altogether, nearly 60% of family porcelain is from mothers and grandmothers, that is, the women in the families. In the case of the porcelain from grandmothers, there are 10 items from maternal grandmothers and 21 items from paternal grandmothers (see Table 5.1). To be exact, the “maternal” family porcelain, found in my research, is the porcelain from mothers (34%) and maternal grandmothers (8%), which is about 42% of the total numbers of family porcelain. On the other hand, the “paternal” family porcelain is the porcelain from fathers (3%), paternal grandmothers (16%) and paternal grandfather (2%), which is about 21% of the family porcelain (see Table 5.1) or half the number of the “maternal” family porcelain. Thus, family porcelain tends to be inherited from the women in the family and the “maternal” family. Some of the informants said that this was because people inherited bigger items of property such as houses and furniture from the paternal side and smaller objects such as porcelain and jewellery from the maternal side. Another reason, they pointed out, is that women have always been closely involved with the use of porcelain through cooking and housekeeping, so that people tend to relate porcelain to the memory of their mothers and grandmothers and then think of it as coming from the maternal side, even though the actual owners of porcelain were fathers and grandfathers. This is also clearly reflected in the fact that it was women who were introduced to me and actually gave explanations when I conducted interviews about family porcelain. However, family porcelain from mothers is handed down not only to daughters but also to sons. In fact, the male informants such as RS, aged 71, and DH, aged 64, (Table 5.1) were given porcelain by their mothers, but they are the eldest sons. This porcelain will be inherited by their children but is described as coming from their mothers, who are “paternal grandmothers” to their children. It can be also assumed from the history of patrilineality in English inheritance that mothers tend to give

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things to their son’s children. The result is that there was twice as much porcelain inherited from paternal grandmothers as from maternal grandmothers, perhaps indicating that patrilineal inheritance still takes place but skips a generation. As for the treatment of the porcelain, about 58% of it is put on display and about 20% is kept, but not put on display or used regularly. It can be said that nearly 80% of the whole family porcelain is not used but is maintained by being displayed or kept safely. The display of family porcelain both makes visible and transmits the memories of family members and ritual celebrations, that is, the family history, to the next generation. If family porcelain is used everyday, or even just on special occasions, the family history carried by the porcelain will be more actively maintained as a part of daily life within the family although there are few cases of this in the results of my research. On the whole, over half of the pieces of porcelain from informants’ mothers are put on display and 25% of them are kept, but put away. Half of the pieces of porcelain from grandmothers are put on display and one third of them are stored away. Maternal memories carried by porcelain are inherited more visibly within families. If family porcelain is mostly stored and displayed in people’s houses, what sort of porcelain have people handed down for generations? And what sort of porcelain do people store, display or use in their houses? The next section will analyse the actual items and investigate the various values they embody.

5.3.3  Different Values of Family Porcelain Tables 5.2, 5.3, 5.4 and 5.5 and Tables 5.7, 5.8 and 5.9 give a description of the actual items of porcelain, categorized according to provenance – from which relative they were acquired or if they were purchased. These tables also show where the porcelain is displayed and other detailed information. For instance, some were given as a wedding present from the husband’s mother, and some are kept because they were wedding presents to parents or grandparents. Among the porcelain from grandparents (Tables 5.2 and 5.7), figurines, jugs, vases and big plates are displayed on walls, tables, shelves or window sills. These include Staffordshire figurines, an Irish jug, a jug picturing Africa, Japanese vases and some oriental big plates and are displayed in order to emphasize the aesthetic value of the objects. Some tea sets are displayed inside a glass cabinet because they are “fragile and valuable”. “Valuable” also means “prestigious”. As in the case of the Kodi in Sumba Island, in England foreign objects such as old Japanese and Chinese porcelain are valuable, and this is related to their history of importation and adaptation into English society. Examples of such items are CW’s Japanese vases and Chinese ginger jar and DE’s big Imari plate, all of which were inherited from their respective grandmothers (Table  5.2); AW’s Japanese stand from his father (Table 5.9), all of which are put on display; and VR’s Noritake China dinner service from her mother-in-law which is in daily use. English porcelain makers’ oriental designs and patterns related to Chinese porcelain include “blue and white” plates

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Table 5.7  Porcelain from grandfather Name Age Sex Item (a) Display 5 VR 70s F Cup and saucer and plate Flower vase

6 FJ 14 CW

75 55

M F

Display place

Irish jug Jug (Doulton, “South Africa in 1900”) Big plate (Wilkinsons, “Ko-shan”, oriental design) Blue and white plate

Table in entrance hall Window sill in kitchen Table in sitting room Window sill Top of the shelf

Table 5.8  Porcelain from other (friends, etc.) Name Age Sex Item (a) Display 8 DE 69 M Plates (Wedgwood, “Pheasants”) 2 jugs (Wedgwood) Toiletry set (Ridgway, “Venice”)

9

DB

68

F

Tea pot (Royal Doulton, “Wolsey”) Name Age Sex Item (b) Stored 13 CJ 60s F Tea set (Susie Cooper, designer’s 1930s) Name Age Sex Item (c) Special occasions 8 DE 69 M Dinner service (Royal Doulton, “Biltmore”)

Display place Wall and shelf Window sill Top of cupboard  All bought from the last owner of his house Shelf, given by her 90-year-old friend Notes Left by friend when she died. Similar to one her mother used to use Notes Given as retirement present from his company

Table 5.9  Porcelain from father Name Age Sex Item (a) Display 4 AW 70s M Japanese stand 13 CJ 60s F Tea pot and stand (Tillson Ware in Burslem) Big Bowl Name Age Sex Item (b) Special occasions 3 MF 84 F Dinner service (Copeland, family coat of arms)

Notes Glass cabinet Given by husband’s father Given by husband’s father Notes Given by husband’s father

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such as Spode’s or Copeland’s “Italian Spode” pattern (Table 5.3 stored items from mother) and “willow pattern” porcelain such as Booths’ dessert dish and cups and saucers (Table 5.2 stored items from grandmother). There are also no-brand “blue and white” plates and a big plate of an English maker’s oriental design which are on display (Table 5.7). Interestingly, among the items from grandmothers and mothers (Tables 5.2 and 5.3) that people keep inside cabinets or cupboards are grandparents’ or parents’ wedding presents or some remembrance of them. These items of remembrance are often some sort of set such as tea or coffee sets or dessert sets or even cups and saucers. If we consider porcelain that is actually used, whether for “daily use” or “special occasions” throughout these tables, there are more tea and coffee sets and dinner services than other types of porcelain. In particular, most dinner services can be found in the “daily use” or “special occasions” categories of porcelain passed on from informants’ mothers or porcelain purchased by informants themselves. People also collect items which they like and add them to what they have been given. Some examples are Staffordshire figurines inherited from grandmothers, as well as Toby jugs and royal commemorative plates and mugs, some inherited from informants’ mothers and some purchased by informants themselves. Commemorative porcelain is related to a public memory which contemporary people can share, while specific members of the royal family remind a person of his or her own life at the time (Ozeki 1999:8). Personal relationships as an informative aspect of family porcelain can be seen here. Lastly, there is the educational value of family porcelain: to pass on memories of past family members to the next generation of the family. Family porcelain is not only an object, but it also tells the history of the family when people look at it in glass cabinets or on shelves and use it daily or for special occasions. Moreover, as in the case of the daughter of the aristocratic family, discussed above, after a person inherits porcelain, the person may come to know and experience the history of his or her family. Thus, the actual items of family porcelain contain various values: aesthetic, remembrance, utility, informative, educational and prestige and monetary worth. Each item may combine various values. In terms of their value as commodities, the brand is also important for all the items of family porcelain. Most of what people showed was brand-name porcelain, and I made a note of any brand names found on the bottom of any items. Famous English brand names such as Minton, Spode, Royal Doulton, Royal Worcester, Wedgwood, Copeland, Coalport and so on were found in all types of items, from Toby jugs to dinner services. The power of the brand name makes family porcelain more valuable and prestigious and makes owners willing to hand it down within families. However, it is also true to say that there are items of no-brand family porcelain which carry a strong memory of family members for their owners. In this sense, even without a brand name, family porcelain is still a symbolic object for the family.

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5.4  Parallels with the Heritage Industry Family porcelain expresses the heritage of family memory and lineage. As discussed above, most family porcelain is stored or put on display in people’s houses, in a similar way to the case of Lois Roget described by McCracken (1988). To keep and display objects is also the work performed by curators in museums. Having family porcelain is now becoming more similar to the work of museums. Moreover, family porcelain carries very similar values to those of objects in museums: informative, educational, remembrance, aesthetic and symbolic, as well as prestige and monetary worth. Museums, of course, have a professional interest in the conservation of things for these values. As shown by the tables presented here, some aspects of museums’ interest in things can be found in people’s treatment of family porcelain. It can be asserted that family porcelain is “modelling museums”. Museums were first formed with collections of art, furniture and furnishing donated by wealthy families. But, now the style of museums has returned to people’s houses. Since the late 1980s, the heritage industry as exemplified by museums and heritage centres has been flourishing in Britain. This social and cultural tendency is related to the phenomenon of “modelling museums” shown by family porcelain. It is said that a new museum opens every week or so somewhere in Britain and even that Britain is now producing not industrial products, but “heritage” (Hewison 1987). “Heritage” has become a well-known and important way of expressing personal, local and even national identity and has been discussed by many academics in different fields, who have examined issues ranging from its definition to an analysis of heritage-related institutions (Lowenthal 1985; Wright 1985; Hewison 1987, 1989; Millar 1989; Uzzell 1989a, b; Urry 1990; Merriman 1991; Prentice 1993). This has taken place against the background of making the most of heritage in order to revitalize economy of the countryside and local areas by preserving historical buildings and places, villages in rural landscapes and even industrial ruins and redeveloping them into tourist attractions. People have become more aware of identifying and preserving their heritage, whether individual possessions or country properties. Family porcelain in contemporary Britain has also been influenced by the flourishing heritage industry. It has a direct connection with the informal side of heritage industry in that if it stops being family porcelain, it usually goes into antique markets, thus undergoing “terminal commoditization” in Kopytoff’s words. Some people sell their family porcelain to antique dealers if they cannot find space to keep it or do not like its style. In fact, a number of part or full dinner services and tea sets are on sale in antique markets and shops, not only in London but also in the Cotswolds. Thus, family porcelain now shows a number of parallels with the heritage industry in Britain.

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5.5  C  onclusion: The Management Culture of Family Porcelain In the first section of this chapter, I discussed three possible approaches to family porcelain from an anthropological perspective: the historical approach which considers the process of adaptation (e.g. Hoskins 1993; Lévi-Strauss 1982 and McKendrick et al. 1982), the social biographical approach of Kopytoff (1986) and the ethnographic approach of McCracken (1988). In the light of these theoretical approaches, I presented the results of my research into family porcelain under the following headings: (1) the past and present meanings of family porcelain, (2) the process of identification as family porcelain and (3) the relationships between family porcelain and human beings. In this concluding section, first, I sum up the results and analysis of this chapter under the above three headings and then consider the management culture of family porcelain in England.

5.5.1  The Past and Present Meanings of Family Porcelain Present meanings of family porcelain are not newly formed but show continuity with past meanings. In this section I point out some aspects of the social history of porcelain and English inheritance patterns found in family porcelain which I have discussed in this paper. The beginning of its social history, in which porcelain came to England as imported foreign objects, can still be observed in a few old Japanese, Chinese and “blue and white” plates displayed in glass cabinets or walls or shelves. These plates now combine the meanings of special, valuable and prestigious with memories of one’s grandparents or parents. The case of the aristocratic family shows that the aristocracy used to have full dinner services featuring their coat of arms handed down within the family. This style had a “trickle-down effect” to the lower social classes so that the middle class and the working class started to have dinner services and tea sets. As shown by the case of DS, an 88-year-old woman (Table 5.1), who recalls the scene of Sunday lunch in the past with the best dinner service, porcelain also embodies the family life of the past, which has been lost nowadays in many households. Her own daughter and granddaughter have dinner services for daily use which are dishwasher and microwave safe. Also, dinner services tend to be divided up after a few generations. The sets of family porcelain which my informants often have are not dinner services, but tea sets, reflecting the change in people’s lifestyle and problems of storage space experienced by younger generations in the early twenty-first century.

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Next, as for the English inheritance patterns, the result is that over 60% of family porcelain is passed on from mothers and grandmothers and 42% is the “maternal” family porcelain (inherited from mothers and maternal grandmothers) as shown in Tables 5.1 and 5.6. In short, family porcelain is handed down from the women in the family. One of the reasons for this is based on the old English inheritance patterns that the bigger types of property such as houses and furniture are passed on from the paternal family and the smaller types of property such as porcelain and jewellery are from the maternal family. Another reason is that people tend to relate their memory of the women in the family to the porcelain because they have always looked after porcelain as part of housekeeping. In any reason, it is certain that the memory of mothers and grandmothers carried by the family porcelain is vividly transmitted by putting it on display in people’s houses. Furthermore, the history of patrilineality in English inheritance is demonstrated in the case of the aristocratic family discussed above, and in the results of Table 5.6, which showed that porcelain inherited from paternal grandmothers is twice as common as that inherited from maternal grandmothers. It seems that patrilineal inheritance still survives in the passing on of family porcelain from grandparents to grandchildren in England. As discussed in the last section, the contemporary meanings of family porcelain are diversified. People tend not to use family porcelain but to maintain it by displaying it or storing it in their houses. Objects presented in their houses embody values of aesthetics, remembrance, information, education, prestige and monetary worth and symbolic value, all depending on the object and the people who own the object. One item can have several values. People’s treatment of family porcelain and the values embodied by the porcelain are similar to curators’ work and the values embodied by objects in museums. This is one of the reasons why I describe the management of family porcelain in England as “modelling museums”.

5.5.2  The Process of Identification as Family Porcelain As Kopytoff argues, family porcelain also has its own social biography. Writing the biography of object is an investigation not of the identity of the object but of social relations. According to the results of my research shown in Tables 5.2, 5.3, 5.4 and 5.5 and Tables 5.7, 5.8 and 5.9, people are given porcelain for their 21st birthday, as an engagement or wedding present, on retirement and on the death of relatives. The birth of family porcelain is thus often related to family rituals or ceremonies. It may include tea sets, cups and saucers, dinner services, plates and figurines. Some informants purchased royal commemorative mugs and plates or Staffordshire figurines themselves in order to make their own collections, and some purchased new dinner services to hand down to their children in the future. This is also a way of beginning a collection of family porcelain. Family porcelain continues its existence for several generations within one family. Although McCracken claims that each family is free to choose its consumer

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goods and that items like plates rarely survive for three generations nowadays, there were quite a number of items of family porcelain in this case study which were described as being passed on from grandparents. Family porcelain has participated in important rituals in the past of the family and also concerns the present owner’s household. A tea set, for example, given to PT, a 68-year-old woman, by her grandmother (Table 5.2), was originally given to PT’s grandmother as her wedding present over 100 years ago. It is now on display in a glass cabinet and was used for PT’s grandchildren’s christening by PT. This shows that the tea set has survived for at least three generations and has links with five generations in the family. At the end of its life, unless it is broken, lost or stolen, family porcelain is sold into antique markets as a “terminal commodity” or is again given to another person who is not a member of the family. Then, it may or may not have an afterlife as family porcelain in a different family.

5.5.3  T  he Relationships Between Family Porcelain and Human Beings Surprisingly, there are some similarities between the case study of the Cotswolds and Lois Roget’s treatment of her family heirlooms, as described by McCracken (1988). Firstly, the way in which family porcelain is kept and displayed is quite similar to Lois’s treatment of objects as a curatorial conservationist of her family possessions. Some informants recalled their memories of the past family members by objects such as a dessert set, a big Christmas plate and Staffordshire figurines, although they were not as precise as Lois who recounts the relationship of each person to each object in her living room. As discussed above, a number of informants talked about their memories of important family rituals in the past, and also in their own households, with reference to family porcelain. Several informants, who also were born and bred in the area, are even using Royal Worcester’s “Evesham” dinner service which is named after the local town and the pattern of which shows local fruits. They have a sense of the family’s continuity, corporate connections and its tie to the locality to some extent, although not as strongly as Lois. Secondly, some do use their family porcelain for special occasions such as their grandchildren’s christenings, relatives’ funerals or an 80th birthday celebration with their family, in a similar way to Lois’s “interactive exhibit” of her collection. So, subsequent generations can make contact with their own lineage through the family porcelain by taking part in these rituals. Another similar aspect is the curatorial purchase of items to complete the collection. DE, for example, tried to complete her “blue and white” Spode plates for dinner, and some others added some plates to complete their dinner services. Considerations of utility – having a certain number of plates  – as well as a curatorial purpose were probably a factor in this type of practice.

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However, the case study discussed in this chapter does not show the “old system” which McCracken pointed out in Lois’s style of consumption. If we compare the old system with the modern consumption, the former is a strictly restricted system of consumption, while in modern consumption, the individual is free to choose the family’s consumer goods for itself, as a means of expressing character and even transformation of the family’s concept. In contrast, in the old system, there is no individual autonomy: the emphasis instead is on family continuity and a powerful sense of belonging. If modern consumption can be compared to a blank sheet of paper, the old system is a heavily painted paper, on which people are not free to make their own mark. This type of restricted system cannot be found in this case study, although the people interviewed do have some sense of belonging and of family continuity. People seem to enjoy buying their own collections of porcelain in the modern system, for example, royal commemorative items, Staffordshire figurines or dinner services, as well as maintaining the heirlooms handed down in the family in the old system. By using both systems, people express quite freely their own taste and style, and the character of their own household, as well as family continuity and a sense of belonging. It is difficult to find a sharp difference between the old and modern systems in the treatment of family porcelain by the people discussed in this study. In other words, this study shows that family porcelain is a flexible commodity which can be adapted to both old and modern systems of consumption in order to express the past and present of the family. The above three points reveal some aspects of the management culture of family porcelain in England. Continuity with the past can be seen from the historical background of the adaptation of porcelain into English society and the English inheritance system. At present, the management culture of family porcelain in England resembles that of museums, in maintaining objects regarded as family heirlooms and the values embodied by those objects: aesthetic, remembrance, informative, educational and symbolic as well as prestige and monetary worth. I therefore describe this management culture as “modelling museums”. It is also similar to Lois Roget’s style of curatorial consumption and her relationship with objects, not only in their conservation and display but also in the “interactive exhibit” of objects and the cultivation of the collection in order to hand down her sense of family. This tendency to model museums in the inheritance of family porcelain has also been affected to some extent by the flourishing heritage industry since the 1980s. It is not completely free from the old system of inheritance, but it is flexible and allows individual choice in purchasing and creating one’s own family porcelain through the modern system of consumption. In England, “modelling museums”, as the management culture of family porcelain, is now a flexible modern means of identifying and expressing oneself through the continuity of the family and a sense of family corporate connections.

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References Appadurai, A. (Ed.). (1986). The social life of things. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hewison, R. (1987). The heritage industry: Britain in a climate of decline. London: Methuen. Hewison, R. (1989). Heritage: An interpretation. In D. Uzzell (Ed.), Heritage interpretation (Vol. 1, pp. 15–23). London: Belhaven Press. Hoskins, J.  (1993). The play of time: Kodi perspectives on calendars, history, and exchange. California: University of California Press. Kopytoff, I. (1986). The cultural biography of things: Commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (Ed.), The social life of things (pp. 64–91). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lévi-Strauss C (1982) The way of the masks (S.  Modelski, Trans.). Seattle: University of Washington Press. Lowenthal, D. (1985). The past is a foreign country. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McCracken, G. (1988). Culture and consumption: New approaches to the symbolic character of consumer goods and activities. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. McKendrick, N., Brewer, J., & Pumb, J. (1982). The birth of a consumer society: The commercialization of eighteenth century England. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Merriman, N. (1991). Beyond the glass case: The past, the heritage and the public in Britain. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Millar, S. (1989). Heritage Management for Heritage Tourism. Tourism Management, 10(1), 9–14. Ozeki, T. (1999). Komemoreishon no Bunkashi no tameni (For the cultural history of commemoration) (in Japanese). In Y. Abe (Ed.), Kioku no Katachi: Komemoreishon no Bunkashi (Figure of memory: The cultural history of commemoration) (in Japanese) (pp. 5–22). Tokyo: Kashiwa Shobō. Prentice, R. (1993). Tourism and heritage attractions. London: Routledge. Shioji, Y. (2003). Eikoku Kantorīsaido no Minzokushi: Ingurishunesu no Souzou to Bunka Isan (The creation of englishness: Sensing boundaries and the preservation of cultural heritage in the Cotswolds of England) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Akashi Shoten. Shioji, Y. (2004). Modelling museums: The management culture of family porcelain in England. An unpuplished report of Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research, Category (B)(1)(PI: Prof. Hirochika Nakamaki), A Comparison of Management Culture in Japan and the UK: Focusing on Religion and Museum. Urry, J. (1990). The tourist gaze. London: Routledge. Uzzell, D. (1989a). Heritage interpretation volume 1: The natural and built environment. London: Belhaven Press. Uzzell, D. (1989b). Heritage interpretation volume 2: The visitor experience. London: Belhaven Press. Wright, P. (1985). On living in an old country: The national past in contemporary Britain. London: Verso.

Chapter 6

An Orchestral Myth: Maestros Are Born and Made Yuko Oki

Abstract  The profession of a conductor was acknowledged in the middle of the nineteenth century. This chapter shows how myths of conductors have been created through anecdotes of maestros, Toscanini, Furtwängler, and Karajan, as well as through what they said. There are two types of conductors: a craftsman and a maestro. A conductor called a “maestro” tends to force his own interpretation and playing style to the orchestra and tries to make them play as he desires. A lot of anecdotes have been handed down regarding these types of conductors with strong personalities. Although conductors do not play any instruments and produce any sounds, they take the applause away from the orchestra members who unarguably actually perform the music, and they just pretend to create sound by gestures. Orchestra members constantly observe their conductors attentively and tell other musicians and family members in everyday conversation about what happened or how they felt in rehearsals and concerts. Furthermore, many anecdotes of maestros have been plausibly inherited because the conductor was a hero of the elites, rather than the public. From circumstances relating to the ruling class and journalism, together with the business intentions of music agencies and record companies, myths of maestros were born, and conductors became stars in the world.

6.1  Introduction Gustav Mahler1 said that “there are no bad orchestras, only bad conductors.” However, what a conductor actually does or how he takes part in an orchestra is generally not well known to those who do not usually work with an orchestra. Myths of famous conductors, which disclose all their qualities such as charisma, soft 1  Gustav Mahler (1860–1911), a composer who flourished in Vienna and also famous as a conductor of the New York Philharmonic.

Y. Oki (*) Faculty of Human Life Design, Toyo University, Asaka, Saitama, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_6

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power, sharp acoustic sense, organizing ability, having a vigorous body and mind, ambition, reason, brain, and dream, are spread by orchestra members who acknowledge them as a maestro and are accepted by the public as a fact through criticism by critics. This chapter investigates how myths of conductors have been made through anecdotes of maestros Toscanini, Furtwängler, and Karajan as well as through what they said.

6.2  Orchestra and Conductor 6.2.1  Conductor’s Job The profession of a conductor was recognized in the middle of the nineteenth century. Baroque music in the seventeenth century developed instrumental music and created a profession called “musician.” An early small-scale instrumental ensemble did not need a conductor, but as it became larger and started to be called an “orchestra” in the eighteenth century, a demand arose for a conductor to synchronize the timing of musicians or to give various instructions, and composers took charge as conductors. In the nineteenth century, the place for performance moved from court salons to concert halls, and orchestras grew larger. Also, as musical compositions became more complicated, it became difficult for composers to act as conductors, and a new profession of the conductor was born. Then the conductor became indispensable for an orchestra to understand the composer’s intention in his work and to communicate it to the musicians. A conductor may organize his own orchestra, but his capability is judged by how he can influence an existing orchestra. Just as Sir Simon Rattle was received by Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra as the artistic director for the achievement of developing the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, a conductor will gain an admirable reputation if he can improve an orchestra’s artistic level significantly. As the father of Richard Strauss (a hornist) said “When a new man faces the orchestra, we know whether he is the master or we, from the way he walks up the steps to the podium and opens the score—before he even picks up his baton,”2 orchestra members have the professional ability to judge a conductor’s capability at a glance. As Richard Hall pointed out (1968), a professional can be characterized by five attitudinal components of professionalism: (1) use of the professional organization as a major referent, (2) belief in public service, (3) belief in self-­ regulation, (4) sense of calling to the field, and (5) sense of autonomy. It is not easy to lead professional musicians who have been professionally educated over a long period of time, are proud, and have a strong need for self-actualization. In a firm, employees may complain behind their boss’s backs, but they often follow the company’s policy under a common purpose of pursuing profits. On the  Lebrecht (1991), p. 8.

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contrary, orchestra members take pride in having their own music style. So, they usually receive a new conductor with hostility, and the conductor and orchestra members often fight a keen battle to seize the initiative for a while at rehearsal. However, once the orchestra accepts the new conductor, just like stubborn people relaxed by the swing of a magic wand, they start blindly obeying him. Orchestra members also desire to meet an outstanding conductor who can draw out their capabilities more as professionals. They would say “Arthur Nikisch3 had merely enter the room for an orchestra to sound better”4 and “Leonard Bernstein makes me remember why I wanted to become a musician.”5

6.2.2  Types of Conductors There are two types of conductors: a craftsman and a maestro. A craftsman-type conductor creates an orthodox sound. This type of conductor does not push his own interpretation or personality, but he creates a sound which matches the personality and skill of the orchestra. His rehearsal is calm, and he gently gives rational instructions which are simple to understand; for example, “Violas should sound stronger” or “Longer tone, oboe.” Such a conductor is suitable for creating a “great common measure” sound and is not likely to be disapproved by orchestra members. On the other hand, a conductor called a “maestro” tends to assert his own interpretation and playing style to the orchestra and tries to make them play as he desires. Maestros can be classified into roar types, poetaster types, ironic-despair types, theoretical-lecture types, tuning-dedicated types, and complementary-­ falsehood types. A lot of anecdotes have been handed down regarding these types of conductors with strong personalities. The following introduces some of them and the words of some maestros6.

6.3  Conductors Called “Maestros” First, two maestros who are said to have especially strong personalities and often compared, Toscanini and Furtwängler, are introduced.

3  They feel blissful for being a musician when they play with a great conductor since 1895; he acted as the regular conductor at the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and also acted as the music director of the Leipzig Opera House. 4  Lebrecht (1991), p. 2. 5  Lebrecht (1991), p. 2. 6  Not all anecdotes have clear sources.

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6.3.1  Arturo Toscanini Toscanini (Arturo Toscanini, 1867–1957) was born into a poor family in Parma, Italy, and learned the cello and composition at the Conservatory of Parma (Conservatorio di musica di Parma) on a scholarship from when he was 9 years old. After graduating with the highest grade, he became the regular conductor of the Milano Scala Orchestra (l’Orchestra della Scala di Milano) in 1898 but after 1922 left for the USA to reject fascism and became the conductor of the Metropolitan Opera House Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic. In later life, Toscanini was selected by a media giant as its status symbol at the age of 70, and the NBC Symphony Orchestra was organized with 92 elite players. Toscanini was well known for his “precise performance like a machine” based on objective analysis of musical pieces and the endeavor to perform by strictly abiding the scores. 6.3.1.1  Usic: Sticking to Precise Tempo and Score • Toscanini listened to a record of his performance and pointed out that performance time was different from his actual performance for a single rotation of the record. • The difference in performing time of Beethoven Symphony No. 9 recorded in the early 1930s and immediately before his death was just 30 s. • When Toscanini played as a cellist in Milano Scala Orchestra, the great composer Verdi criticized his playing at the rehearsal. “Play louder, said Verdi. Toscanini bit back a retort that the passage was marked piano in the score.”7 • Puccini’s posthumous opera “Turandot” was incomplete, and the final part was composed by another composer. The first performance of the completed piece was organized at La Scala as a national event, and Mussolini invited many important guests. However, when Toscanini reached the point where Puccini had stopped composing, he put down his baton, turned to the audience, and said “Puccini passed away before composing the remainder.” Then he did not continue the performance. 6.3.1.2  Character: Short-Tempered • When something unpleasant happened during a rehearsal, Toscanini ranted and raved indiscriminately and even flung his pocket watch on the floor. • When he shouted “Out!” and pointed to someone, it meant that the member indicated was to be fired immediately.  Lebrecht (1991), p. 69.

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• He sometimes broke his baton or music stand or tore up his score book with anger. But after acting violently, he innocently said “Let’s start the rehearsal.” His granddaughter once asked Toscanini, “Why do orchestra players say nothing to Grandpa?” 6.3.1.3  Rehearsal: Despotic but Accurate • Toscanini was a “despotic” conductor who put orchestra members through the mill. His harsh practice also covered opera singers. One day, a famous female singer complained to Toscanini, “Maestro, don’t you know that I am a star!” Toscanini calmly responded, “A star should be in the sky, Madam.” • “Tones must be born separately but linked with the following tones. Every tone must allow the air to pass around it.” 6.3.1.4  Concert: Conducted Relying on Memory • Toscanini’s conducting impressed the audience who felt that he invoked the music from the bottom of his heart, and he was more than just a messenger from the composer. He was actually very shortsighted so he had to memorize the entire score, but his way of conducting without reading the score appealed strongly to the audiences. He caused the daughter of one of his singers to comment “Music never sounded before…as it did when Arturo Toscanini conducted it.”8 Toscanini launched himself as an embodiment of completeness and a sole judge of musical correctness.

6.3.2  Wilhelm Furtwängler Furtwängler (Wilhelm Furtwängler, 1886–1954) was a conductor and composer born in Berlin, Germany. His father was an archaeologist, and Furtwängler was known to be philosophic and meditative. In 1922, he succeeded Nikisch as the conductor of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra (Gewandhausorchester Leipzig) and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (Berliner Philharmoniker). After that, he mainly conducted classic to romantic German musical pieces and gave great performances with deep spirituality. His interpretation of music was subjective, and his baton handling technique was ineffective; hence he was poor at conducting opera. Popularity was shared by Bruno Walter of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra (Wiener Philharmoniker) and Furtwängler. He is now apotheosized as the greatest maestro of the twentieth century.  Lebrecht (1991), p. 66.

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6.3.2.1  Music: Sticking to Music Itself Rather Than the Scores • Furtwängler changed the tempo of music more frequently than other conductors. However, since the transitions in the tempos were smooth, the audiences were naturally moved by waves of his music. • Significant changes in tempo and dynamics were not impromptu or inherited from the performance style of the romanticism of the late nineteenth century but resulted from thorough study of each musical piece and assimilations with the composers. • “The meaning of music exists in its performance.” • “No symphony can exit on paper.” • “I conduct what exists behind the score.”9 6.3.2.2  Characteristic: Reticent but Had a Strong Sense of Rivalry • Furtwängler was very shy around strangers and disliked the fashionable society. His introverted character was not necessarily suitable for a conductor. He also did not have an excellent conducting technique and was somewhat careless. For example, he sometimes appeared at rehearsals with the buttons on his shirt misaligned by one. • “Half of conductors should go to the museum and the other half to the circus.”10 6.3.2.3  Rehearsal: Ambiguous Movement of Baton11 • Furtwängler is famous for moving his baton very ambiguously. But what is surprising is that players and orchestra members with certain skills could understand the timing of his conducting. • It is not possible to objectively explain why they could understand the movement of Furtwängler’s conducting. It was truly mysterious for outsiders. As orchestra members were asked the same question over and over, they created a lot of funny stories to explain how “Einsatz”12 is given. • When Furtwängler just appeared at the rehearsal room, members changed their attitudes, and an atmosphere of tension pervaded. 6.3.2.4  Concert: Production of Solemnity • When a shaking movement started, the orchestra started sounding accurately.  Furtwängler (1982), p. 37.  Furtwängler (1982), p. 33. 11  Episode extracted from Furtwängler (1982). 12  Timing of his performance. 9

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• “When Furtwängler appeared on the stage through the orchestra members, he seemed like a human in the prehistoric age climbing toward the rostrum out of the bush.” He always started performance without resting. He rested after finishing the performance instead. After the music finished, he did not prompt the orchestra members to stand up nor shake hands with them, while many of the other conductors did. Instead, throughout performance, he made every member have a feeling that what he or she was doing contributed to the success of the concert13. • Furtwängler memorized the score and conducted with his eyes shut as if he was worshiping. Furtwängler was also a great conductor but was not good at conducting operas. In the orchestra pit, he gazed at the score in a position where he was not visible to the audience. Willy Shoe, a musicologist, said “Every concert of Furtwängler was full of a spiritual and incorporeal atmosphere which was produced from the mysterious connection and exchange between the conductor and audience. It was far alike the atmosphere of any other concert and we will grieve for loss of it from now on.” Members of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra say “Karajan is the father of the Berlin Philharmonic and the Berlin Philharmonic is the father of Furtwängler.” The artistry of Furtwängler was often expressed as “New art was born each time he conducted,” and was absolutely supported by the orchestra members allowing him to establish his firm popularity with the audience as a maestro.

6.3.3  Summary As mentioned above, Toscanini and Furtwängler had completely opposite personalities, but they both had indispensable attributes: a pure and simple musical attribute to make orchestra members comply and a human attribute to control orchestra members as desired. While each orchestra member usually starts practicing his or her instrument in childhood and continues it over a long period of time, many conductors start their career after entering or after graduating from music college. There is a big difference in time spent practicing between a conductor and instrument player. Furthermore, players are veterans with a rich experience of orchestra. Therefore, a new (especially young) conductor appears in front of an orchestra as if he is an infant. When a new conductor stands on the rostrum, he is filled with tension and his ears keep buzzing with musical sounds. He often loses track of where to start and it takes a while until he can successfully control the orchestra. What matters under such circumstances is a human attribute concerning how to lead the orchestra members, for example, by words or by gestures. “If he is a man with a warm heart and of sincerity, the musicians—even those who are far superior with regard to 13

 Furtwängler (1982), pp. 41–42.

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routine—will listen to him and accept what he says. Then, the moral qualities of this man are very much decisive,”14says Bruno Walter; however, the battle for the initiative in the rehearsal room is actually very competitive.

6.4  A New Type of Maestro This section introduces the personality of Karajan, who created a new image of the contemporary conductor.

6.4.1  Herbert von Karajan Karajan (Herbert von Karajan, 1908–1989) was born in Salzburg, Austria. The forefathers on his father’s side were Greek and immigrated to Germany in the late eighteenth century, making their fortune in the textile business. The noble title “von” was given for this achievement. He went to the Vienna University of Technology (Technische Universität Wien) and then studied at the Vienna Music Academy (Universität für Musik und darstellende Kunst, Wien). After graduation, Karajan became the regular conductor at the Theater Ulm. In 1955, he succeeded Furtwängler as the regular conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and became artistic director for life the next year. From 1956 to 1964, Karajan also served as the artistic director at the Vienna State Opera (Wiener Staatsoper). Karajan was a new-type conductor who pursued perfect precision, dynamism, and sophistication of ensemble. 6.4.1.1  Music: Serious Approach • “Karajan turned a blind eye to girls. While his classmates were making efforts to learn how to conduct, he was already able to conduct Brahms from memory. No playing, but strict learning only.”15 • “In those days, I repeatedly told myself to learn and learn, say nothing about what I see or hear, just shut my mouth and do my job, and learn more.”16 • Karajan once conducted Wagner’s 15-hour-long music drama “The Ring of the Nibelung” (Der Ring des Nibelungen) at a stretch without reading the score.

 Chesterman (1976), p. 22.  Testimony of a classmate of the music college. 16  Karajan and Endler (1989), pp. 39–40. 14 15

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6.4.1.2  Character: Calm • I spend much more time in planning, preparation, and organizing than most people do. Sometimes I spend several months just making a schedule. Otherwise I cannot be prepared, and I cannot stand a situation where I cannot be fully prepared. • “Young people following Lully get inspired to jump and hop, but I’m afraid they might stick the batons into their own chests while doing that. It is not a dance at an Indian temple, you know.” • Karajan only associated with people he trusted. He avoided many other people, sometimes violently as if he harmed them. • Karajan also avoided audiences who respected him as God. 6.4.1.3  Rehearsal: Rational • Karajan attended a rehearsal calmly and rationally and never spoke loudly or used authoritative words. • Karajan was a genius in finding the abilities of people he first met, whether they were orchestra members or chorus members. Furthermore, he was like a magician who could see other people’s intrinsic personalities, forces, and characteristics, making something of them and drawing them out to the maximum extent. • Karajan’s art in rehearsal which no one could copy was accurate and efficient wording: “Too fast, too slow, too loud, too quiet” or “Play tremolo at a speed which makes your bowing invisible,” etc. • He seemed to have consideration for orchestra members, for example, asking a member who made a mistake “Should you suffer any hurt?” or offering a word of caution to a member who was too enthusiastic “Be careful not to have your hands slip.” • “When the second hornist played out of tune, for instance, Karajan kept conducting the first violins and winked at the principal hornist. As the hornist showed no response, Karajan stopped the performance and gave him another suggestive wink while advising the first violinists. The hornist still did not notice Karajan’s intention. Karajan started the performance again and then gazed at the principal hornist’s eye with a telling look while advising the second violinists. The hornist finally realized and told the second hornist next to him to adjust the tuning.”17 • When a member showed a sign of anxiety or atrophy, Karajan casually invited him or her to his room and gave advice. • Karajan was good at evading defense or blame from an angry member. When he practiced “Lohengrin” with a famous tenor singer, the singer angrily replied to Karajan’s request to sing again “There are hundreds of conductors who can conduct Lohengrin, but there are only five or less singers who can sing it.” Then

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 Iwaki (1990), p. 56.

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Karajan said “I know I am just one of those hundreds, but I’m sure you are not one of the five.” “All I need for you is to perform just as you have done so far.”18 “Do not drive an orchestra, but carry it.”19 “Conducting is just like horse riding. When a horse doesn’t want to run, flicking a whip at it does not work well. Flick a whip or spur depending on the situation. When turning to the right, a good jockey will make a horse feel like turning to the right.” “Karajan always made orchestra members feel like they were not conducted but were carrying the ball. He was good at doing so. Players felt like as if they had been playing chamber music. But Karajan wholly grasped the point. He controlled the entire flow but left details to the orchestra. It was completely different from the classic way of conducting by goading the orchestra into synchronization. That is, while the players were creating sounds like chamber music, their performance was naturally representing Brahms or Mahler as the maestro imagined.”20 Karajan knew that orchestra members tended to do the job easily. When conducting a relatively long general rehearsal, he conducted in a terribly detailed and annoying way so that “the members can do the job more easily later.”

6.4.1.4  Concert: Creation of Image • Karajan wore shoes with high heels, made of the same fabric as his tailcoat. • Karajan thoroughly controlled and hid information which could destroy the image of music he created or his solemnity as a maestro. • Karajan only allowed certain cameramen he recognized to take his photos. He still checked all photos before publication and chose just one photo from hundreds. • Karajan was much concerned with his lifestyle. He was a speed demon who drove a fast sports car and piloted his own private plane as well as a sportsman who skied professionally. His lifestyle gave an image of a “contemporary” conductor and as a star to people all over the globe. • Karajan conducted with his eyes shut. Karajan said “I shut my eyes to increase my concentration on sounds” and “I have nothing to see because I do not read the score.” When a conductor shuts his eyes, “concentration of the orchestra members” increases. • “Furtwängler watched with begging eyes. At the moment of emotional climax, not only his gesture but also his pupils spoke to us. On the contrary, Karajan did

 First speech when assuming the regular conductor at the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.  Hosono (1996), p. 106. 20  Yomiuri Shimbun 1987. 8. Essay by Seiji Ozawa in the evening paper of Yomiuri Shimbun, 31 August 1987. 18 19

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not give us even a single glance. A standoffish atmosphere pervaded between the conductor and orchestra21.” When hand movement is excessive, the orchestra players get accustomed to seeing it and become inattentive of it. However a discerning conductor is the exact opposite. Karajan even dared to move his hands only very slightly at a climax, partly to attract the attention and focus from his orchestra members to increase their concentration, resulting in a perfectly synchronized performance22. Since Karajan’s baton movement was conservative, the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra produced a wonderful sound just by moving his baton a little. This contrast resulted in increasing his reputation with the audience. “Karajan gave the impression that sophisticated sound is created easily.” “If someone can make the orchestra produce a desired sound, it is due to the power of the conductor’s personality which radiates like the sun. In German, this is called ‘Ausstrahlung’ – charisma. There is this charisma in Karajan.”23 When Karajan conducted Mozart’s “Requiem,” one of the two hornists made a mistake. Karajan made every effort to modify the misalignment, but he couldn’t. Before the uncomfortable sound became apparent to the audience, he rudely shook his hands to stop performance. Then he turned to the audience and stared around at them with angry eyes. The audience thought that someone in the auditorium made him stop. And then Karajan restarted the performance of “Requiem” from the beginning, but no one lost face due to it.

Karajan is said to have the “fantasy of Furtwängler and strictness of Toscanini” and is a symbol of contemporary conductors. He also considered music as a business. One of his clever business strategies was to use rehearsals to record the source of an album. He doubled the rehearsal allowance for the orchestra members while reducing the production cost of the album to satisfy musicians. A hornist of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra said “Karajan kept this orchestra in a condition where every member followed him for decades.” Karajan’s inheritance was estimated to be £200 million with 900 albums24 recorded and 115,500,000 records sold from Deutsche Grammophon. Karajan had by far and away the largest share in the classical music market and was a shining idol. Contrary to his created image, he was a bundle of complexes. While keeping away from other people with an aristocratic and standoffish air, he was very quick on the uptake with good intuition and captivated people with true sympathy. He was significantly respected by almost every orchestra member, and was apotheosized25 for several years after death. Our image of a great maestro is a collection of information made of various anecdotes which have been heard through the grapevine, and now no one can tell whether these anecdotes are true or not.  Thärichen (1988), p. 45.  Yasunaga et al. (1990), p.138. 23  Vaughan (1987), pp. 349–350. 24  Lebrecht (2008) 25  Schöttle (2004), p. 63 21 22

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Table 6.1  Comparison between conductors Nationality Build Music Conducting method Character Rehearsal Life

Toscanini Italian Small and dark Faithful to tempo and score Gawky movement

Furtwängler German Tall and fair Frequent changes in tempo, solemnity Ambiguous

Karajan Austrian Small and muscular Orderly

Glib-tongued and cruel Decisive without mercy Strategist

Reticent but bitter

Sophisticated movement Calm

Meditative

Deliberate

Theoretician

Idealist

6.4.2  Comparison Between Conductors Table 6.1 compares the three conductors mentioned above. They had different personalities and dominated the world of classical music as maestros, engraving their names in glory.

6.5  Who Created the Myth of These Maestros? As the conductor Barenboim pointed out, “Orchestral conducting as a full-time occupation is an invention—a sociological not an artistic one—of the 20th Century,”26 and it can be said that the image of the conductor has not been created from a musical intention, but it has been artificially created for a commercial reason. The violinist Carl Flesch once referred to the conductor as “an occupation most suitable for a fraud.” His words can be read as jealousy from a player to a conductor that although conductors do not play any instruments and produce any sounds, they take the applause away from the orchestra members who unarguably actually perform the music, and they just pretend to create sound by gestures. In fact, the same orchestra, singer, and soloist produce completely different sounds depending on who conducts them, and musicians always desire to play with an excellent conductor who can draw out their talents. Orchestra members constantly observe their conductors perseveringly and tell other musicians and family members in everyday conversation about what happened or how they felt in rehearsals and concerts. Attributes common to maestros are a keen ear, charisma to attract musicians they have never met before, a strong will for them to behave as desired, an excellent

26

 Lebrecht (1991), p. 1.

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organizing ability, good physical and mental health, endless ambition, a superior brain, and a sense of natural law to reach the depth of art. The reason why many anecdotes of maestros have been plausibly inherited is that the conductor was a hero of the elites, rather than the public. In a concert hall which is an extraordinary space, listening to the performance of an orchestra was a double escape from reality for the audience. As it is said, “Every move of the conductor in public shows the essence of power. By carefully observing the conductor, a man who does not know about power at all can find its characteristics one after another,” the conductor controlling the orchestra at will is an embodiment of power. In particular, people in the ruling class projected the conductor on themselves to reconfirm their own social positions and power and were willing to offer gifts to them. For example, the ruling class of England has granted peerages to many conductors, the University of Oxford honored Karajan with a doctorate degree, Leonard Bernstein received the National Order of the Legion of Honour (L’ordre national de la légion d’honneur) from the French government, and Lorin Maazel was appointed as the goodwill ambassador by the Secretary-General of the United Nations. In addition, conductors were represented as if they owned keys to eternal life and vitality, for example, “Pierre Monteux signed a 25-year contract with the London Symphony Orchestra when he was 80  years old,” “Leopold Stokowski signed a 10-year exclusive record contract with RCA Victor at the age of 91,” and “Toscanini and Otto Klemperer continued to flourish until their mid- eighties.” As the position of the conductor had been established, its role also changed along with development of the recording technology. The initial purpose of achieving complete performance shifted to engraving a concept of how music should be performed onto a record. Conductors were required to be always sensitive to the capricious public and to adapt and accommodate to them to survive, and the conductor’s job was aligned with the business line. “Great maestros” were artificially created according to a non-musical intention and supported by a commercial need to sell records, and a lot of star conductors were born. Journalism also contributed to improving the social position of conductors by establishing the term “maestro” (= conductor) and using such expressions as “accept invitation” (= go find a job) or “resign from the post due to a private reason” (= cancel the contract due to insufficient payment). In this way, myths of conductors were created by orchestra members, the ruling class, record companies, and journalism closely related to conductors (see Fig. 6.1). Every orchestra has a regular conductor (often called a “music director”), but their role has been changing. Recently, few conductors spend a long time developing a single orchestra. While the music directors declare that they are completely dedicated to the orchestras that they are in charge of, however, sometimes they do not meet the orchestra members for nearly 9 months and do not even remember the names of their staff. The social position of maestros was raised along with the advent of Karajan, and the economical structure of the entire music word changed. Music directors became part-time workers, and people started to believe erroneously that travelling around the world or working in New  York today and London tomorrow, for example, was the proof of first-class conductors.

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Fig. 6.1  Who makes myth of maestro?

These changes in conductors were greatly influenced by the emergence of music agencies. The Columbia Artists Management Inc. (CAMI), based in New York, is the biggest music agency in the world and has more than 800 musicians and more than 100 active conductors registered all over the world. Only a few conductors were or are not contracted to Columbia, including Maazel, Sir Georg Solti, Barenboim, Pierre Boulez, Sir Simon Rattle, Riccardo Chailly, and Esa-Pekka Salonen, and most active conductors belong to this agency. Although the list of contracted conductors is not disclosed, it is said that about one-fifth of registered conductors changes every year. Columbia has contracts with famous opera houses and orchestras all over the world including the New York Philharmonic, Metropolitan Opera House, orchestras in London, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, and Vienna State Opera and collects information about talents in the world of music as the agent. Columbia has absolute rights concerning employment and dismissal and gains 20% of the conducting fee and contract fee, which is twice the fee of ordinary European agents. CAMI was founded in 1930 by Arthur Judson. He insisted “Now is the time to develop the occupation of artists efficiently by using an enterprise approach like one cultivated in supplying refrigerators” and integrated seven existing agents to create a brand which appealed to the public in the USA first and then advanced to Europe. Columbia mass-produced music and artists and controlled journalism to efficiently produce conductors and orchestras. In 1972, Ronald Wilford assumed the post of president and took control of the company. He had never studied music and could not even read the score, but he was said to be “the sole person who tackled music purely as a business issue” and modeled many conductors in his image of liking. As the result, it is said that many of the recent conductors lost their personalities. In the current world of music where occupational conductors, fresh features, and light conducting are mainstream, the absence of maestros is a serious issue (see Fig. 6.2). The current crisis with conductors is the product of society creating maestros and their myths.

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Fig. 6.2  Current situation

6.6  Conclusion This chapter described how myths of orchestras, particularly myths of conductors, were created by introducing anecdotes of conductors. For the performance of classical music, it is hard to quantify achievements, and the quality of orchestras and conductors is determined intuitively. Not all musicians fairly judge the value of conductors. From circumstances relating to the ruling class and journalism, together with the business intentions of music agencies and record companies, myths of maestros were born, and conductors became stars. Political power and diplomatic power are required for current conductors, as if they were the presidents of leading enterprises. They have good communication skills but do not produce impressive performances. Great performances which move people and are passed down the generations are not produced by the standardized maestros. In this sense, the anecdotes of the past great maestros are further apotheosized with nostalgia.

References Chesterman, R. (1976). Conversations with conductors. Chichester: Robson Books. Furtwängler, E. (1982). Kaisō no Furtwängler (Memoire of Furtwängler) (in Japanese) (K.  Senbokuya, Trans.). Tokyo: Hakusuisha. Germany edition: Furtwängler E (1979) Über Wilhelm Furtwängler. Brockhaus, Wiesbaden. Hall, R.  H. (1968). Professionalization and bureaucratization. American Sociological Review, 33(1), 92–104. Hosono, T. (1996). Bravo! NHK Symphony Orchestra: Anokoro no N-kyou: Kokusaibutai ni Odorideta Syōwa 30 nendai (NHK Symphony Orchestra of the Shōwa 30’s) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Sanseidō Kyōiku Kaihatsu. Iwaki, H. (1990). Philharmonie no Fūkei (The scenes of philharmonic) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Karajan, H., & Endler, F. (1989). Karajan Jiden o Kataru (Herbert von Karajan: My Life Story) (in Japanese) (S. Yoshida, Trans.). Tokyo: Hakusuisya. Germany edition: Karajan H, Endler F (1988) Herbert von Karajan: Mein Lebensbericht. J & V Edition, Wien.

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Lebrecht, N. (1991). The maestro myth: Great conductors in pursuit of power. London: Simon & Schuster. Lebrecht, N. (2008). The monster and his myth (30 Jan 2008). http://www.scena.org/columns/ lebrecht/080130-NL-Monster.html. Accessed 20 Jan 2019. Schöttle, R. (2004). Butai-ura no Kami-gami (Offstage Gods) (in Japanese) (M. Kitao, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongaku-no-tomo-sha. Germany edition: Schöttle R (2001) Spötter im Frack. Bibliophile Ed, Wien. Thärichen, W. (1988). Furtwängler ka Karajan ka (Furtwängler or Karajan) (in Japanese) (T.  Takatsuji, Trans.). Tokyo: Ongaku-no-tomo-sya. Germany edition: Thärichen W (1987) Paukenschläge. Furtwängler oder Karajan. M&T Verlag, Berlin. Vaughan, R. (1987). Karajan Teiou no Hikari to Kage (Karajan: Light and shadow) (Horiuchi, Trans.). Tokyo: Jiji Tsūshin. English edition: Vaughan R (1986) Herbert von Karajan. W.W. Norton & Company, New York. Yasunaga, T., Miyoshi, A., Yasunaga, T., Ishii, M., & Tokunaga, J. (1990). Ongaku-tte Nandarou (What is music?) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Shinchōsya.

Part III

History, Story, and Industry

Chapter 7

Museum and Visitor Centre in England: Schism and Conflict Over Globalisation Hirochika Nakamaki

Abstract  The purpose of this chapter is to discuss the relationship between museums and visitor centres, focusing on Wedgwood in Stoke-on-Trent and the Bass Brewery in Burton-upon-Trent in the Midlands, UK.  Display facilities such as museums and visitor centres of industrial companies have been affected tremendously by globalisation since the 1990s. At the same time, ‘heritage’ became a key term in order to revive the traditional values of industries. Museums and visitor centres have struggled for their survival and existence, while their companies were facing M&A in the global market. In the early 2000s, schism and conflict between museum and visitor centre were found in companies such as Wedgwood and Bass Brewery, along the process of globalisation.

7.1  Introduction ‘Globalisation’ is increasingly becoming one of the key terms of our time. In general terms, on the macro level, globalisation refers to the reorganisation and integration of the economy, finance, information and communication on a global scale, that is, in the world as a whole. On the micro level, we can also observe the phenomenon of ‘glocalisation’. More recently, streams of anti-globalism are becoming conspicuous as exemplified by the Great Britain’s withdrawal from the EU and the birth of Trump Administration in the USA. This paper tries to examine at the micro level the process of reorganisation of display facilities managed by companies – company museums and visitor centres – at a time when traditional local industries have faced globalisation through mergers and acquisitions. Company museums display company history, products, technology, culture and so forth, in a way which is useful for the management of the company concerned. They are ‘temple-like’ facilities which enshrine sacred objects, documents and company culture (Nakamaki 2003: 21–23). As corporate management globalises, H. Nakamaki (*) Suita City Museum, Suita, Osaka, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_7

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have any changes occurred to the ‘temple’? This paper focuses on the ongoing process of corporate reorganisation which has affected company museums since the 1990s, when globalisation accelerated. This chapter is based on the research which was conducted with W.H. Kelly (see Chap. 8) in summers during 2001–2003. A follow-up research was done in 2013. The field of research is the Midlands, in the central part of England. Cities such as Manchester and Birmingham which led Britain’s Industrial Revolution are located in the Midlands. The canal system on the River Trent played an important role in the Midlands, especially for the transportation of raw materials and industrial merchandise. The Trent and Mersey Canal connected Liverpool on the Irish Sea with Hull on the North Sea. It was in the Midlands that the rail system first developed, preceding the other regions. Since the late 1980s, the heritage industry as exemplified by museums and heritage centres has been flourishing in Britain (Shioji Chap. 5). It is said that a museum is opened every week. The term ‘heritage’ became an important theme which expresses identity of individuals, regions and nation, and it is widely discussed from many perspectives starting from Eric Hobsbawm’s ‘invention of tradition’. Industrialisation of heritage is the reverse side of economic revitalisation. It tries to revive declining traditional industry and also to create new industry. Exhibition facilities such as heritage centres, museums and visitor centres became ubiquitous throughout the nation. At the same time, urban renaissance projects were promoted in Manchester and Birmingham where museums of industry and technology were renovated completely. As industrialisation itself turned to be heritage, it is natural that company museums and visitor centres flourished. In Scotland quite a lot of single malt Scotch whisky distilleries have built visitor centres which sell their regional characteristics by showing their production methods and providing tasting experiences (Sumihara 2004). In the Midlands, which functioned as the cradle of the industrial revolution, many exhibit facilities were established. Two cities in the Midlands with museums and visitor centres are considered here: Stoke-on-Trent, famous for its potteries, in particular Wedgwood, and Burton-­ upon-­Trent, the centre of beer brewing in the UK. Both cities are located along the river Trent, separated by 50 km, and have prospered through their traditional local industries. The symbolic figures of Stoke-on-Trent and Burton-upon-Trent are the ‘potter’ and the ‘cooper’, respectively. In front of the train station of Stoke-on-Trent, there stands a bronze statue of Josiah Wedgwood I holding a pot in his left hand, which was erected in 1863 by the local group. A replica of this statue can also be found in the front yard of the Wedgwood Visitor Centre (now, World of Wedgwood). The cooper, on the other hand, is represented by a bronze statue of ‘The Burton Cooper’ in the shopping centre of Burton-upon-Trent. It was created in 1977 and was presented to East Staffordshire Borough Council by Pensman Nominees Ltd. in 1994. The statue depicts a cooper hammering down trusses on the cask so that iron hoops can be fitted. A replica of this statue is situated in front of the entrance to the Bass Museum (now, The National Brewery Centre) which is the company museum of

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Bass beer (now, Molson Coors). The industries represented by the ‘potter’ and the ‘cooper’ have made these two cities prosperous. How do the exhibitions tell the story of this progress? Let us look at Stoke-on-Trent first.

7.2  Museum and Visitor Centre in Stoke-On-Trent Stoke-on-Trent is situated in between Manchester and Birmingham and consists of six towns: from the north, Tunstall, Burslem, Hanley, Stoke, Fenton and Longton. This was the model for Arnold Bennett’s The Five Towns. Hanley is the commercial centre and is also referred to as the city centre. ‘The Potteries’ shopping centre is the largest in Stoke-on-Trent and is located adjacent to the Tourist Information Centre. The train station and the civic centre are in Stoke. Museums and visitor centres are scattered throughout the six towns. According to the leaflet issued by the Tourist Information Centre, there are 5 ceramic museums, 3 visitor centres and 35 factory shops. The ceramic museums are as follows: 1 . The Potteries Museum & Art Gallery 2. Gladstone Pottery Museum 3. Etruria Industrial Museum 4. The Dudson Museum 5. Ceramica The visitor centres are as follows: 1. Royal Doulton 2. The World of Spode 3. The Wedgwood Story I have visited all of these museums and visitor centres. In this paper, however, I will focus on the Wedgwood Museum and the Wedgwood Visitor Centre.

7.3  Schism of Museum and Visitor Centre at Wedgwood It is not an exaggeration to say that Wedgwood is the most renowned brand of English pottery. Josiah Wedgwood I, ‘The Father of English Potters’ or ‘Potter to his Majesty’, was born into a potter family at Burslem in 1730, the youngest of 12 children. He commenced an apprenticeship under his elder brother and set up on his own in 1759. Wedgwood thus has a long-standing business which has continued for almost 260 years. The present factory is located in Barlaston, south of Stoke-on-­ Trent, and separated from the six towns. The Museum (a new building to be constructed) and Visitor Centre are in the factory compound.

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In the Visitor Centre, ‘The Wedgwood Story’ has been open to the public since Easter, 2000. The official opening ceremony was held in September of the same year and was attended by the Duchess of York. However, the Museum has been closed to the public since September 1999, due to the Company’s decision to enlarge the ‘Visitor Experience’. A plan to relocate the Museum adjacent to the Visitor Centre was in progress in early 2000s, as will be explained in more detail below. The Wedgwood Museum has a long history as a company museum, dating back to 7 May 1906. It was established in the Etruria factory near Stoke, but during the Second World War, it was closed, and the collection was put into storage. The factory moved from Etruria to Barlaston in 1940, and the Museum was reopened in 1952. The collection was exhibited in the ‘Long Gallery’, which was over 100 yards in length with showcases on both sides. A factory tour was also provided. In 1975, a new Museum and Visitor Centre was created with a display space of 380 square metres, including a small art gallery. In 1985, the Museum was rebuilt in the style of a ‘living museum’. The display space was increased to 580 square metres, and a historical tour was introduced, showing three centuries of invention and innovation as well as design development. The demonstration space was also refurbished. When the old Wedgwood Museum and Visitor Centre were closed, the separation of the Museum and the Visitor Centre took place as mentioned above. Even though they appear similar as display facilities, there are considerable differences between the two, as a more detailed examination will show. Firstly, the Museum had a collection owned by the Wedgwood Museum Trust. The Trust was formalised in 1962 and was given charitable status in 1998. In 2003, the trustees consisted of seven members and one secretary. There was a curatorial staff of six: one curator, one information officer, one research assistant, one collection manager, one secretary to the curator and one Museum secretary. The head of the curatorial staff was the Director-Curator who was responsible to the Trust, not to the company, although the salary of curatorial staff comes from the Company. The Museum collection includes over 8000 historical pieces, nearly 75,000 documents and a collection of paintings, as well as collections from Wedgwood’s subsidiary companies. Only a small portion of the collection was displayed in the Visitor Centre. There were also artefacts loaned for travelling exhibitions abroad. For example, ‘The Great Wedgwood Exhibition’ was held in Shizuoka City, Ibaraki Prefecture, Yokohama, Nara, Osaka and Tokyo in 2000/2001. The majority of some 500 pieces on display were loaned by the Wedgwood Museum Trust for that exhibition. On 28 January 2004, it was officially announced that the Wedgwood Museum Trust had won a £5.85 million grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, after 4 years of unsuccessful applications (The Wedgwood official website). The museum launched an international appeal aimed at raising an additional sum of almost £1.8 million to complete the proposed new museum via their website. Adding this to the Lottery grant and a further £2.0 million already accumulated by the Trust, the total cost of the new museum will come to around £9.5 million. It was constructed adjacent to the Visitor Centre and was partly a new building and partly conversion of former factory space. A major exhibition gallery of almost 1300 square metres is

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split into three chronological display areas, namely, eighteenth century, nineteenth century and twentieth century, and archive space, an education area and seminar rooms were also included in the plan. The Visitor Centre, on the other hand, emphasises the ‘visitor experience’ and aims at increasing visitors and income. ‘The Wedgwood Story’, opened in a £5 million redevelopment plan, strives to strengthen the brand and increase sales revenue at the museum shop. A number of new strategies have been adopted in order to enhance the ‘visitor experience’. Firstly, an audio-guided tour has been introduced. ‘The Wedgwood Story’ consists of three sections: ‘Exhibition’, ‘The Factory Tour’ and ‘Hands-on Demonstration’. The first two are accompanied by audio-guided explanations. Visitors pick up receivers at the entrance and start listening in ‘A Living History’. This presents Josiah Wedgwood I as a person who ‘raised the potter’s craft to the status of an art’ and is evaluated as ‘one of the greatest pioneers of Britain’s Industrial Revolution’. Exhibits include his own ‘Black Basalt’ and ‘Queen’s Ware’ as well as rare pieces of a Greco-Roman type of bas-relief ware and a light blue ‘Jasper’. A pyrometer used to measure the kiln temperature, which was created by him, is also displayed. After appreciating the skilful artefacts of Wedgwood dating back to the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, visitors are guided into a factory. This factory, or production line, was created especially for the visitors. Formerly, Wedgwood offered a guided tour in the actual factory, as was still the case at Royal Doulton and Spode. There are advantages and disadvantages to this: visitors have chances to ask questions to a guide in person, but the number of tours is limited. Also, although visitors are able to see the workplace in action, they have to walk a long way and often go up and down between floors. Wedgwood tried to solve this dilemma by facilitating a compact space of production on the same floor with audio guide apparatus. The first section is allotted to the decoration work of Jasper. Manual work continues without pause, and the finished products are put on sale. Visitors are able to enjoy the tour on their own pace, usually in half an hour, while walking slowly and listening to the audio guide explanation. They return to the original Jasper corner after the factory tour and leave the receivers at the exit. Then visitors enter the ‘Hands-on Demonstration’ area, where they are able to talk to the workers and even experience doing the moulding themselves. The factory tour enables participants to appreciate more deeply the techniques of the potters and the complicated process of producing pottery by hand. In so far as the Visitor Centre succeeds in inspiring the impression that Wedgwood goods are worth the rather high price that is charged for them, this branding strategy appears to be successful. Adjacent to the demonstration space is a display corner of modern products. After going through a corridor of tableware of contemporary design, a brightly lit museum shop comes into view. We can surmise that the ‘visitor experience’ provided by ‘The Wedgwood Story’ may prompt or stimulate visitors to want to buy something at this point and may contribute to loosening their purse strings.

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I have briefly summarised the different characteristics of the museum and the visitor centre, the former being more academic and the latter more profit oriented. While the other museum-like facilities of potteries in Stoke-on-Trent are undifferentiated, Wedgwood has taken the step of separating its museum and visitor centre. Why and how did this happen? Although Wedgwood is a manufacturer of long standing with a history going back almost 260 years, it is also a modern enterprise developed through mergers and acquisitions. Its history may be summarised as follows. Josiah Wedgwood and Sons Ltd. was established in 1895. In 1966, Wedgwood acquired the pottery manufacturers William Adams, Royal Tuscan and Susie Cooper and formed the new Wedgwood Group. The Group merged with Waterford Glass of Ireland to form Waterford Wedgwood Group in 1986 and acquired the English crystal manufacturer Stuart Crystal in 1995 and the German porcelain brand Rosenthal in 1997. But in 2009, Waterford Wedgwood was purchased by KPS Capital Partners and became part of WWRD Holdings Ltd., which was acquired by Fiskars Corporation in 2015. The Waterford Wedgwood Group was a multinational enterprise, having its headquarters in the UK and Ireland and branches in France, Italy, Germany, the USA, Canada, Australia, Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Tokyo, Japan. The Wedgwood Group had 2000 employees in 1966, and at the time of writing, nearly 6000 were employed at 7 factories at home and abroad. In the UK, the Wedgwood Group accounts for 25% of the ceramic tableware industry’s output and for 25% of its exports. The main overseas market used to be the USA, Canada and Australia, but after joining the then EEC (now the EU), European markets also opened up. Since 1983, the Japanese market has also grown tremendously and has now virtually drawn level with the USA as an importer of fine bone china tableware. The continued prosperity of Wedgwood has been attributed to skilled craftsmanship allied to advanced technology and imaginative design, supported by energetic marketing. Design has been considered as a key to future growth, and emphasis has also been placed on branding. The Wedgwood Group has gained 11 Queen’s Awards to industry for export achievement. It aims to be a brand leader of British pottery. According to the then General Manager of the Visitor Centre, big changes took place in branding policy in 1997. In the 1980s, conservative designs and products such as Jasper were dominant, but in the 1990s, innovations were introduced in the designs used in order to modernise the brand. Designs became more contemporary and less formal. The marketing department was reinforced, and many consultants were recruited. Consumer researchers were also employed. £4.5  million was invested in order to diversify the product range and to create a modern and bright image ‘like the Daimaru or Mitsukoshi department stores’. The same manager regards the Visitor Centre as a ‘brand ambassador’. The Visitor Centre represents the brand, and a heightened brand image is connected to the sale of products at the Wedgwood shop, where sales are estimated at around £30 per visitor. Two thirds of the whole income of the Visitor Centre is generated from the shop revenue. The number of visitors per year reached a peak of 175,000 in 1995 with 20% of these coming from Japan. In recent years there have been about 100,000 visitors

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annually, and the number of Japanese has decreased to 10% of the total. Altogether, overseas visitors comprise 35% of the total, of whom 20% come from the USA and 6% from Australia and New Zealand. There are fewer European visitors. The General Manager explained that the Visitor Centre was refurbished in order to compete with its rivals at other potteries, as a visitor usually goes to only one visitor centre. Stoke-on-Trent is proud of its pottery industry, and competition is quite fierce among the manufacturers. There are many museums, visitor centres, factory tours as well as factory shops, all scrambling for customers and tourists. According to an officer of the Tourist Information Centre, an attempt to organise a general bus tour encompassing various rival facilities proved unsuccessful. This may be partly attributable to the competition between different potteries, although another important factor is that most visitors come by car. Wedgwood is the only company which operates its own local bus tour, as it is located at some distance from the six towns. There are two other features worthy of attention, which Wedgwood introduced in order to attract more tourists. One is the employment of new technology, that is, the audio guide system, along with the refurbishment of the Visitor Centre, discussed above. Another is the separation of the museum and visitor centre. The strategy of the Wedgwood Visitor Centre is obviously profit driven as already examined. It uses the overall concept of the Wedgwood story in order to encourage sales, both through the shop located in the visitor centre and more generally through the promotion of the Wedgwood brand. In contrast, the museum, although temporarily closed, places the emphasis on the transmission of cultural heritage and its availability to the general public. These are features which are likely to ensure its continued popularity among people who respect cultural heritage. The Wedgwood Museum was finally reopened in 2008. In 2009, however, the company went bankrupt, and the museum collection faced the prospect of having to be sold off. Urgent support was arranged mainly by the Art Fund to save the collection which was mediated by the V&A Museum. In 2013, I had a chance to visit the Wedgwood Museum and Visitor Centre where an old potter complained in the Hands-on Demonstration corner saying something like this: ‘Do you know apprenticeships? Due to the woman who was a nation’s leader, apprenticeships are fading away. The company went bankrupt. Factories were diminished here and now mainly operate in China and Indonesia’.

7.4  Burton-Upon-Trent Burton-upon-Trent is located 20 km south-west of Derby, famous worldwide for its horse race. From the eleventh to the sixteenth century, the town was dominated by the Benedictine monastery, where the monks engaged in ale brewing, as explained further below. The mediaeval bridge over the River Trent sustained the prosperity of the town, but because of the strategic importance of the bridge, Burton suffered from frequent battles during the Civil War. By the eighteenth century, new industries

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emerged, taking advantage of the Trent. Brewing beer (ale) was to become predominant in the late eighteenth century. By 1900, there were 30 breweries, which flourished with the developing export trade to India, and the town had become the acknowledged brewing capital of the UK. In September 2003 when I visited last, there was one museum, the Bass Museum, and one visitor centre, Marston’s Visitor’s Centre. The Bass Museum was the company museum of Bass Brewers, world-renowned for its trademark of a red triangle. It inherited some of its collection from the former city museum which closed in 1981. Marston’s Visitor’s Centre offers a unique factory tour which shows the Burton Union System in action. Marston’s is the only brewery which still maintains this system of brewing.

7.5  From the Bass Museum to the Coors Visitor Centre I found that Britain’s biggest beer company, Bass Brewing, was acquired by an American beer brewer, Coors, on 2 February 2002. Nearly 2  years later, on 31 October 2003, the Bass Museum was officially closed, re-opening as the Coors Visitor Centre on 1 November 2003. The Museum of Brewing became a department within Coors Visitor Centre. The Bass Museum was one of the most famous company museums in the UK. It was established in 1977 in commemoration of the company’s bicentenary, and in 2002, the Museum celebrated its 25th anniversary. This also coincided with the millennium of ale brewing in Burton and the golden jubilee of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II.  The Queen visited the Bass Museum in July 2002, when a special celebratory ceremony was held. The layout of the museum was roughly as follows. The main exhibition building was a former joiners’ shop which was in use until the 1960s. It is a three storied brick building which housed a display space showing the beer brewing typical to the company and to the town. On the ground floor, the pumping system of Burton water was exhibited. On the first floor, visitors learned about ale brewing in Burton, the company history of the brewery started by William Bass, the Baltic trade using the Trent and Mersey Canal, the thriving export business of India pale ale and so forth. On the second floor, there was a miniature model of the town of Burton at 10:30 a.m. on 10 October 1921 and a reproduction of a public house in the Edwardian era, as well as a recent installation showing ‘Virtual Burton’ in 1881. Another gallery, called ‘The Brewing Story Gallery’, was located near the entrance. It showed the process of brewing from harvesting the barley and hops, with the help of an audio guide. In a building in front of the gallery, visitors were able to see shire horses used for the transportation of beer casks, and waggons and harnesses were also displayed. Another attractive room was the cooperage, and vintage cars for transport were laid out in other buildings. The most popular vehicle was a Daimler Bottle car purchased by Worthington in the 1920s for promotional purposes. Locomotive train is also displayed.

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The Burton Union System was exhibited in the corner of the visitors’ car park. Union is a unit of 150 gallons (682 litres). The set preserved by the Museum had 52 casks, or ‘unions’, with a capacity of 7800 gallons. This is a type of fermentation equipment favoured by mid-nineteenth-century brewers in Burton. Beer brewing in Burton has its roots in the ale made by the Benedictine monastery in 1002. Ale is an alcoholic beverage made from barley at room temperature and top fermentation and was seen as supplementary nourishment rather than a drink. According to the museum guide book, the Benedictine monks would each drink up to 2 gallons a day, thus absorbing extra carbohydrates, minerals and vitamins (the Bass Museum). What made Burton’s ale famous was the water. Well water found by St Modwen (or Modwena) in the seventh century was thought to have miraculous properties and to be especially good for skin and eye disorders. Burton water is filtered through gypsum rock which makes it rich in calcium sulphate. St Modwen died in Scotland, but her bones were brought to the Andressey Island, and her shrine there began to attract many pilgrims. The reason that a monastery was built at Burton was twofold: the protection of the shrine and the comfort of those pilgrims. Although Henry VII dissolved Burton’s monastery in 1549, ale brewing continued. It is recorded that there were 46 brewers in 1604. The majority of them were brew houses attached to inns located along the street. In 1712, the Trent Navigation Act enabled the transportation of beer and other goods to be exported from Burton to Hull. This brought the merchant brewer, a new type of entrepreneur, to Burton. William Bass purchased a house with a small brewery in 1777. He was engaged in the business of transportation between Manchester and London. Records show that he was supplying beer to local customers and to inn keepers in Manchester and London. In 1777, the Trent and Mersey Canal system, which Josiah Wedgwood also helped to establish, was fully open. Beer at that time was very dark, sweet and heavily hopped. When William Bass passed away in 1787, his sons inherited his businesses. William took over the transportation business and Michael the brewery. Michael Bass established a partnership with John Ratcliff, and the business continued as Bass & Ratcliff, which became one of the largest in the beginning of the nineteenth century in Burton, competing with Wilson and Worthington. But a new type of beer brought a dramatic change to Burton. It was India pale ale (IPA) first brewed in London in the 1820s. As it was suitable for shipment over a long distance, for example, to India, the name India was taken. It was also pale, compared with the dark stout. It was heavily hopped and thus bitter, which comes from antibacterial measures taken for the long journey (Watanabe 2001: 97). Burton well-water rich in calcium ions was found to be particularly suitable for brewing IPA, and IPA made in Burton gained popularity in subsequent years. Attempts to make the same quality of Burton water were made by many brewers, and this process was called ‘Burtonisation’. It was Michael Thomas Bass, the eldest son of Michael Bass, who made Bass beer a world-renowned brand. In 1835, he took another partner, John Gretton. Bass, Ratcliff & Gretton produced one million barrels per year in the 1880s. What is worthy

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of note is the establishment of a brand image using a trademark. When the Trade Marks Registration Acts was enacted on New Year’s Day 1876, it is said that an employee of Bass’ London agency slept on the steps of the registration office to gain the first entry. No. 1 registration was for the Bass Red Triangle (pale ale) and No. 2 for the Red Diamond (strong ale). In the late nineteenth century, the beer industry was under attack from prohibitionist and temperance movements, and as a response to this, brewing companies bought public houses in order to protect their market share. In 1888, Bass, Ratcliff & Gretton became a public company and continued to grow, entering into the retail outlet business through public houses. In the first half of the twentieth century, the beer industry was constrained by war and became more dependent on public houses than on the wholesale business. Bass, Ratcliff & Gretton merged with Worthington in 1926. In 1961 Bass Worthington merged with the Birmingham-based Mitchells & Butlers, and in 1967, Bass M&B merged with Charrington United Breweries. Bass Charrington had complete national coverage. In 1998 Bass Brewer’s Burton brewery became Britain’s biggest production site. In the 1990s, the Beer Orders were enacted to reduce the retail hold of large breweries. A certain limit was imposed on the number of pubs that a brewery could own, and tenants were to be able to stock other companies’ beer. Breweries were sometimes forced to opt for brewing or retailing. Bass has decided to remain committed to both. In this connection, the number of pubs owned by Bass was reduced to 2900 from 6500. In 2002 Bass produced 5.5 million barrels, making it the second largest beer brewery business in Europe, following Dutch Heineken. Bass was merged with the Danish company Carlsberg for some time but later separated. In 2000 it was acquired by Belgian Interbrew. But a suit was filed against Interbrew, for it was judged by the British government that this acquisition violated the antitrust law (Watanabe 2001: 100). In 2002, Coors, which has its headquarters in Boulder, Colorado, USA, took it over. The Bass Museum was a company-owned corporate museum. It earned around £500,000 per year, although it was also partly subsidised by the company. Its main sources of income came from admission fees, sales at the museum shop, and its bar and restaurant. The number of visitors was around 100,000 per year. It is also noteworthy that there was a considerable amount of additional revenue from seminars, conferences and banquets. The word ‘bridal’ is a composition of ‘bride’ and ‘ale’, and wedding receptions have a long tradition associated with ale. The micro-­ brewery is popular for such an occasion. The museum staff consists of 7, 1 curator, 1 keeper of documentation, 1 keeper of collection, 1 construction engineer, 2 educational officers, as well as some 50 volunteers. In June 2008, Coors (now Molson Coors) took the decision to close the centre. In November 2009, Molson Coors reached an agreement with the leisure company Planning Solutions to reopen the museum and visitor centre. In April 2010, The

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National Brewery Centre was opened, with the support of the National Brewery Heritage Trust, following some refurbishment work.

7.6  Museums and Visitor Centres Reconsidered As these contrasting descriptions of museums and visitor centres show, the characteristics of these two types of facility are quite different. Even though actual facilities include mixed functions, the museum and visitor centre of a company can be typologically defined as follows. 1. Museums are academically and educationally oriented, while visitor centres are more profit driven. 2. Museum trusts are rather detached from the company, while visitor centres are more closely connected to the company. 3. The coordination of museums and visitor centres is an important issue for those concerned. As to the first point, a curator of the Bass Museum once defined the functions of museums as ‘to collect, preserve, and interpret’ the collections. To interpret was then classified into three categories: to research, to exhibit and to educate. On the other hand, visitor centres are not mainly engaged in collecting and doing research. Rather, to attract and satisfy the visitors is their central concern. The second point is crucial in management and is particularly related to financial support. While the Wedgwood Museum Trust won a grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, the Bass Museum as a company museum was not qualified to apply to the same fund. A trust is able to apply for public funding on the condition that it is detached from the company’s interests. The Wedgwood Museum Trust thus emphasises the construction of a new museum of ‘international significance’ as a ‘prestigious home to Britain’s designated collection of Wedgwood artefacts’ (Wedgwood official website). The last point is exemplified in the 26th Annual Conference of the Association of Independent Museums (AIM), which was held on 8–10 May 2003 at the Bass Museum. For the theme was ‘Margin and Mission: Balancing commerce and curatorship’. ‘Margin’ means profit in economic activities. ‘Mission’ is duty in academic and educational activities. Three case studies were presented in the conference, namely, Bass Museum, Wedgwood Museum and National Tramway Museum. Although I have not had a chance to read the summaries in the AIM Bulletin in summer/autumn 2003, the contrast of museum and visitor centre is decisively related to margin and mission or commerce and curatorship. It is common, however, that heritage became a key strategy for management, whether it is a museum or a visitor centre. Kelly proposes parameters in the presentation of heritage as follows: (a) the person of the founder and corporate lineage, (b) the relationship with locality, (c) heritage and nation and (d) orientation towards

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‘tradition’, ‘modernisation’ and progress (Kelly Chap. 8). His cases are also taken from Wedgwood and Bass Brewery. In my view, Wedgwood chose to separate its museum and visitor centre, each taking a different direction while cooperating in various ways. Coors selected a visitor centre rather than a museum as its business strategy. These were the recent options of global enterprises on the River Trent, and it is worth comparing them from a global perspective. Industrialisation was led by England, especially the inventors and entrepreneurs of the Midlands. At present, the initiative of globalisation seems to be taken by multinational enterprises. The museums on the Trent have collected, preserved and interpreted items embodying the glories of industrialisation. Globalisation, however, demands a new type of display facility where ‘heritage’ is no longer a key concept. In the value system of globalisation, such terms as ‘innovation’ and ‘brand’ seem to be preferred rather than ‘invention’ and ‘trademark’. According to Masahiko Sawano, knowledge of goods used to be kept mostly by the company, and the study of merchandise was taught in the universities. In the case of the automobile, merchandise studies gradually disappeared, first in the USA in the early twentieth century, followed by Europe in the 1960s and early 1970s and in Japan a little later. This corresponds to the period when company or other types of automobile museums were established (Sawano 2003: 428). Sawano also predicts that the importance of company museums in general, not only of automobiles, will increase as a place for distributing information and connecting manufacturers and consumers (Sawano 2003: 429). In this context, the consumer-oriented visitor centre seems to be more suitable than the traditional type of company museum. On the Trent, the ‘potter’, as a multinational enterprise still maintaining its identity as a leader of Britain’s Industrial Revolution, chose the separation of museum and visitor centre. The ‘Cooper’, on the other hand, chose the path of globalisation, indicated by the transference from museum to visitor centre, while de-emphasising the importance of local industrialisation. Growing ‘heritage’ consciousness is one aspect of globalisation led by the multinational enterprises. Globalisation, however, brought forth anti-globalisation phenomena in recent years. ‘Heritage’ may be replaced by another key concept, which is not yet obvious, in the years to come. Note This article is a revised and updated version of my paper “Globalisation on Trent: ‘Potter’ and ‘Cooper’” in Nakamaki H (ed) (2004) A Comparison of Management Culture in Japan and the UK: Focusing on Religion and Museum, JSPS Report, National Museum of Ethnology, Osaka.

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References Kelly, W. (2019). Chapter 8 (This volume) Brewing heritage: Issues in the management of corporate heritage in the Brewing Industry in Britain. Nakamaki, H. (2003). Kaisha no shinden toshite no kigyō hakubutsukan: Joron wo kanete (Company museum as company’s temple: serving as introduction) (in Japanese). In H.  Nakamaki & K. Hioki (Eds.), Kigyō Hakubutsukan no Keiei Jinruigaku (Anthropology of administration on company museum). Osaka: Tōhō Shuppan. Sawano, M. (2003). Europe no jidōsha hakubutukan (Company museums of automobile in Europe) (in Japanese). In H. Nakamaki & K. Hioki (Eds.), Kigyō Hakubutsukan no Keiei Jinruigaku (Anthropology of administration on company museum). Osaka: Tōhō Shuppan. Shioji, Y. (2019). Chapter 5 (This volume) Modelling museums: The management culture of family porcelain in England. Sumihara, N. (2004). Scotch Whisky no Visitor Centre ni yoru Bunka Marketing-Global Appeal no Konkyo toshite no Chiikisei (Cultural Marketing of Scotch Whisky by Visitor Centre) (in Japanese) In H. Nakamaki (Ed.), A comparison of management culture in Japan and the UK: Focusing on religion and museum. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology. The Bass Museum. The Bass Museum. Burton-upon-Trent: Jarrold Publishing. The Wedgwood Visitor Centre. The Wedgwood Story: Visitor Centre Souvenir Guide. Stoke-on-­ Trent: The Wedgwood Visitor Centre. Watanabe, J. (2001). Beer Taizen (All about beer) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Bungei Shunjū.

Chapter 8

Brewing Heritage: Issues in the Management of Corporate Heritage in the Brewing Industry in Britain William H. Kelly

Abstract  It has been suggested that the commercial aspects of the museum business are coming to dominate how ‘the past’ is presented. (Lumley R (ed). The museum time machine: putting cultures on display. Routledge, London, 1988; Cameron CM. Emergent industrial heritage: the politics of selection. Mus Anthropol 23(3):58–73, 2000). Within the context of corporate museums and visitor centres, this trend may be particularly intense, with the past being constructed with specific reference to present commercial interests and activities. Drawing from recent research conducted in the British brewing industry, this paper examines strategies in the management of company heritage in the wake of changing patterns of corporate ownership and brand management which are becoming increasingly global in scope. In such an environment, company heritage may be either preserved, completely dispensed with or, as demonstrated with reference to the transition from the Bass Visitor Centre to the Coors Visitor Centre in Burton upon Trent, radically reconstructed in ways which, whilst harmonising the presentation of the past with the commercial conditions of the present, threaten local and regional identities articulated in terms of local industrial heritage.

8.1  Introduction The research upon which this paper is based was conducted within both the pottery industry in Stoke-on-Trent and the brewing industry in Burton-on-Trent (and elsewhere) and focused in particular on the ways in which heritage is preserved, packaged and presented in the context of museums and visitor centres. Both industries have a long and complicated developmental history characterised by more-or-less continuous amalgamation of companies into larger entities, a process that has been accelerated and intensified since the 1960s. More recent consolidation within these W. H. Kelly (*) School of Anthropology and Museum Ethnography (SAME), University of Oxford, Oxford, UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_8

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industries has occurred within the context of mergers and acquisitions, in many cases involving large, UK-based or multi-national business conglomerates with diversified business interests, of which brewing (or the production and distribution of pottery) may be only one.1 From the perspective of the preservation and presentation of corporate heritage, this long history of amalgamation has been unproblematic in the sense that normally, the heritage of the  subordinate firm is simply amalgamated into that to the larger firm, becoming part (albeit sometimes a very small part) of the larger firm’s construction of its past. Materially, this often involves the amalgamation of the subordinate firm’s corporate archive as well, and in the case of Whitbread, until a few years ago one of Britain’s oldest and most prominent brewers and one of the companies considered in this paper, only 10% of its archive was directly concerned with Whitbread, and the other 90% are firms which it had taken over during the course of its history. Up until the 1960s, the history of consolidation in the British brewing and pottery industries occurred on a local, regional or, less frequently, national stage and involved mostly the merging of like firms – the takeover of one brewer or potter by another or the buying and selling of pubs by breweries, for example. However, in more recent years, driven by the changing dynamics of global capital flows and increasing pressure within this context to sustain profitability and shareholder value, several of Britain’s best known names in the brewery industry have been radically transformed, either through corporate takeover or by complete divestiture of their traditional business activities. Focusing on three cases in particular, this paper examines the implications of this corporate restructuring on the management of company heritage. Drawing on interviews with museum curators and archivists at Bass, Courage and Whitbread, it considers the different strategies adopted with respect to the preservation and presentation of corporate heritage and the changing orientation of companies with respect to their past in response to radical transformations in corporate ownership and business activities.

8.2  Parameters in the Presentation of Heritage Focusing principally on the brewing industry, this first section considers some of the ways in which corporate heritage is articulated and presented for public consumption in museum displays, company literature and websites. In particular, it examines the ways in which corporate heritage and company identity is constructed with reference to different parameters, including the person of the founder and the founder’s 1  Ronald Dore has cited orientation towards mergers and acquisitions as one of the traits which distinguish Japan’s ‘welfare capitalism’ from the ‘stock market capitalism’ which is dominant in the USA and the UK, whereas in the latter, M&A is described as ‘common… a major agenda item of Boards, a major preoccupation of top managers, and a key item of news in the financial press’; Japanese firms by contrast are characterised by ‘low concern with M&A by Boards, CEOs, press’ which are likely to be ‘…inhibited by explicit concerns as to whether the “cultures” of the merged entities will meld’ (Dore 2000: 26).

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lineage, the relationship with locality and a historical sense of symbiosis between the company and the local region, the production process which may be either unique to the company or a unique contribution of the company and, finally, the orientation of the company vis-à-vis tradition and modernisation, the suggestion normally being that the company incorporates the best of both!

8.2.1  The Person of the Founder and Corporate Lineage As in any corporate organisation – company, tribe or new religion – the person of the founder and the genealogy they establish serve as a central axis along the history, and identity of the company is orientated. The person of the founder is also a source for the defining values and characteristics of the company which, in the contemporary constructions of corporate heritage and identity, serve as a touchstone of continuity through time.2 In both the pottery companies and breweries visited, the person of the founder and genealogy of the company figured prominently. In the cases considered here, founders were not only leading industrialists on the vanguard of the industrial revolution, but as landowners and men of considerable wealth, many were also active in national politics and philanthropy.3 Philanthropy also seems to have served as an avenue for enhancing social status, as it was linked with the granting of honorary titles.4 Thus in the context of their times, many leading industrialists were ‘renaissance men’; leaders in business, politics and philanthropy; and towering figures in British life. As such, many were also commemorated (and immortalised) through portraiture. Portraits of brewers Worthington and Michael Bass (First Lord Burton) hang in the civic offices at Burton-on-Trent and in the Bass Museum as well. Samuel Whitbread had his portrait painted at least twice, once by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and even several of his ‘loyal clerks’, including the head brewer at Whitbread, were painted by leading portrait artists such as George Romney and Thomas Gainsborough (Ritchie 1992). From the perspective of presentation of heritage, the figure of the founder and the enduring values which he embodies and 2  In her working paper, ‘Multinational Enterprises and the Internationalisation of the Alcoholic Beverages Industry’, Teresa Da Silva Lopes notes, ‘…family members are an important factor in supporting the company brand image, given that they are the living icon of their brand names and success in the industry is strictly linked to tradition and heritage’ (1999:4). 3  Both philanthropy and politics seem to have been considered by at least some leading industrialists as their ‘public duty’. Samuel Whitbread served as Tory MP, a seat inherited by his son Samuel Whitbread II, whose two sons also served as members in the House of Commons (Ritchie 1992). Michael Bass, Lord Burton and grandson of founder William Bass served as liberal MP from Derby for 35 years in the nineteenth century. 4  One woman I recently spoke to, the manageress at a dormitory for women in London called Queen Alexandra’s House, mentioned that Henry Dalton, founder of Royal Dalton potter in Stokeon-Trent, had donated an extremely rare series of ceramic tiles which hung in the basement dining room and all of the ceramic tiling with which the interior lobbies had been finished as part of his efforts to gain a title.

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with which the company continues to identify are almost always invoked, even in the case of Whitbread which, since 2001, has been completely divested of all its interests in breweries and pubs: The reinvention of Whitbread as the UK’s leading leisure business naturally coincided with the end of the brewing and pub-owning tradition which Samuel Whitbread had begun over 250  years earlier. Yet although the events of 2001 differ so markedly in substance from those of 1750, the desire for business focus and the recognition that progress is only possible through innovation, remain true to Whitbread’s founding spirit.5

8.2.2  The Relationship with Locality The construction of heritage in almost all of the companies visited, both potteries and breweries, was frequently cast with reference to locality and, more particularly, with reference to the symbiosis between the company and the local environment. In towns such as Stoke-on-Trent and Burton-on-Trent, it is virtually impossible to conceive of the locality without reference to its dominant industry and vice versa, such is the extent to which one has shaped the character and identity of the other and ‘locality’ figures prominently in both visual and written representations of heritage. One manifestation of this relationship is articulated in terms of the character of the natural environment as a justification for the location of development of the industry. In Burton, it is the water, which is seen as particularly well suited to brewing in general and to certain varieties of brews in particular such as pale ales. So appropriate are the characteristics of Burton’s natural groundwater that it has been artificially reproduced as the global standard for the production of pale ales though a process which has come to be known as ‘Burtonisation’.6 Similarly, the development of the potteries in Staffordshire is linked with the rich clay deposits in the area.

5  Posted on an earlier version of the website for Whitbread PLC [http://www.whitbread.co.uk/ about/index.cfm?id=114], the description of the company’s history has since been revised to read as follows:

WHITBREAD PLC REINVENTING FOR THE 21st CENTURY In 2001 we became the company we are today. We sold our breweries and left the pub and bar business, refocusing on the growth areas of hotels and restaurants. Our reinvention as the UK’s leading hospitality business naturally coincided with the ending of this country’s brewing and pub-owning tradition, started by Samuel Whitbread over 250 years earlier. TRUE TO OUR FOUNDING SPIRIT Although our core businesses have changed over the years, we remain true to Samuel Whitbread’s founding spirit to put our people first and customers at the heart of everything we do, all the while looking at ways to innovate to stay ahead. [Source: http://www.whitbread.co.uk/about-us/history-of-whitbread.html] 6  The location of the Hook Norton Brewery Co. near Oxford, a small independent brewery also visited, is justified in similar terms: ‘The all important water supply on which all good brewing depends was available on the site and is the same as used in the brewery today, drawn from wells underneath the present buildings.’ (Eddershaw :6)

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A second manifestation of the relationship between company or industry and locality is linked more directly with the social landscape of the locality. In the case of both Stoke-on-Trent and Burton-on-Trent, the pottery and brewing industries, respectively, were major employers of local labour, often spanning several ­generations. Much of the employment was skilled – cooper or malter in brewing and kiln operator or packing in the potteries, for example – and the preservation and showcasing of these skills remains an important function of museums and visitor centres. The barrel shop at the Bass Museum in Burton invites visitors to see a demonstration by ‘England’s youngest cooper’ whose wares are also available for purchase. Similar live demonstrations of ‘traditional’ skills now rendered obsolete can also be seen in the potteries. This nexus between the economy of the local industry and the social landscape of those working within it was manifested in at least two heritage-­related initiatives. One was ‘Virtual 1881’ at the (former) Bass Museum, an interactive multimedia exhibit which, according the facility’s website at the time, ‘combines the real history and real life characters with a painstakingly created highly accurate image of life in Burton in 1881 – the heyday of the brewing industry’. Produced by a company said to have ‘…worked extensively with the British Museum and English Heritage’, it is described as providing ‘…a unique journey into brewing history and the people behind it’. In the potteries, an initiative sponsored by the Stoke-on-Trent Museum aims to create a video record of those who have spent their lives working in the potteries in order to document their experiences. Such examples seem to confirm Urry’s observation that there has been a ‘… remarkable increase in interest in the real lives of industrial/mining workers…’, a fascination which Urry suggests is ‘…bound up with the post-modern breaking down of boundaries, particularly between the front and the backstage of people’s lives’ (1990: 107). Finally, the relationship between company or industry and locality is not only manifested through representations of locality in museum and visitor centre displays but also through representations of industrial heritage throughout the locality. One of the first sights upon arrival at the train station at Stoke-on-Trent is the towering bronze figure of Josiah Wedgwood, the so-called Father of English Potters. The preservation and presentation of local industrial heritage is also one of the main functions of the city museum, which not only houses an extensive collection of pottery pieces dating to at least the eighteenth century but is also actively involved in more innovative initiatives to preserve industrial heritage such as the video project mentioned above. In Burton-on-Trent, the statue of Michael Arthur Bass, Lord Burton, stands in front of Burton’s civic buildings, one wing of which was funded through Lord Burton’s patronage, as were neighbouring St. Margaret’s Church and St. Paul’s. The brewing legacy is invoked throughout Burton, from the sign along the canal opposite Marston’s Brewery, which reads ‘Welcome to Burton upon Trent: Britain’s Brewing Capital and the Ale centre of the World’,7 to the numerous symbolic representations of brewing heritage which are dotted around Burton  – the mosaic of a cooper and monk which adorns the side of a commercial building along  The sign also advertises the Bass Museum as ‘Burton’s biggest attraction’.

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one of Burton’s main roads; the bronze statue of a cooper at work which, commissioned in association with ‘The Burton Brewers, the Burton Civic Society and Local Traders’, stands in the central shopping mall; and the towering malters-shovel-in-­ chrome which stands on a city corner just outside the central mall upon a cement base decorated with depictions of grains of malt and inscribed with the formula for fermentation: C6H12O6  =  2C2H5OH  +  2CO2. Cut into the middle of the shovel’s blade is a passage in the shape of a beer (or ale) bottle, through which local pedestrians nonchalantly pass. So thorough is the integration between locality and industry in places like Burton-on-Trent and Stoke-on-Trent that a distinction between the two is rendered virtually meaningless in representations of heritage, whether in the context of company museums and visitor centres or civic space (Fig. 8.1).

8.2.3  Heritage and the Nation In both the pottery and brewing industries, the construction of heritage is juxtaposed with the heritage and symbolism of the nation and the national polity. Within the brewing industry, the long tradition of direct participation in national politics has already been mentioned, with many of the founders and their heirs serving as Members of Parliament, including at least three successive generations (four individuals) in the case of Whitbread. However, symbolically, the association between company heritage and the nation has been most potently manifested in both these industries through a long history of royal patronage, which has included periodic

Fig. 8.1  Statue of cooper or barrel maker outside the National Brewery Centre, Burton upon Trent, Staffordshire

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visits by members of the royal family, the production of commemorative pieces of pottery or special brews marking significant events in the royal calendar and, in some cases, permission to use the word ‘Royal’ in the company name, as in the case of Royal Doulton pottery, for example.8 Visits by members of royalty to important British companies and industrial facilities are a long-established practice, and all of the brewers considered here have been visited at least once in the course of their history. In 1787, a visit to Whitbread by a royal entourage which included the King, Queen and Princess Royal, amongst others, is described as ‘…one of the high points of Sam Whitbread’s career’, providing ‘…a formal recognition that he was the country’s leading brewer’ (Ritchie 1992: 32). Similarly, in the visitor’s book at the Anchor Brewery (Courage Group) in London, ‘…signatures included Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, Napoleon III, the Emperor of Russia, Prince Osman Pacha, Comte de Paris, Garibaldi and Don Carlos’ (Pudney 1971:69). More recent visits include the opening of the Visitor Centre at Hook Norton Brewery by HRH The Princess Royal in 1999 and the well-publicised visit of the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh to the Coors Visitor Centre in Burton as part of her national tour marking her golden jubilee in 2002. As the visit also coincided with the twenty-fifth anniversary (silver jubilee) of the Bass Museum and the millennium of brewing in Burton, the occasion was mobilised to symbolically represent a coalescence of local, national and company identities as expressed by museum director Mike Maryon, ‘Our brewing partners have united in what will be a significant year for the museum, the town and the country as a whole’.9 In addition to royal visits, patronage of industry is also exercised through the honours system and the granting of titles to those deemed to have made exceptional contributions to society. Sir Henry Doulton’s philanthropic activities have already been mentioned, and his knighthood by Queen Victoria during the golden jubilee celebrations of 1887 marked the beginning of a sequence of Royal Doulton executives who have been honoured, including a former CEO who received a CBE (Commander of the British Empire) in the Queen’s birthday honours list in 1993. Royal patronage in both the brewing and pottery industry is not unreciprocated, and there is a long tradition, particularly pronounced in some of the pottery companies of speciality products commemorating royal personages and events such as coronations and jubilee celebrations. Royal Doulton, which has a particularly strong tradition of producing commemorative pieces, often in limited edition for its collectors world-wide, produced one or more items marking the Queen’s coronation; the twentieth, twenty-fifth (silver jubilee), thirtieth and fortieth anniversaries of her coronation; and, in 2002, the golden jubilee. In the brewing industry, companies such as Bass (Coors) have established a tradition of marking royal occasions with the production of special commemorative brews. During the recent golden jubilee celebrations, the Queen and Prince Philip initiated the brewing process of two specially commissioned jubilee royal ales by ‘mashing the malt’ in what was described as ‘a time-honoured tradition’.  Royal Doulton was granted this privilege by HM King Edward VII.  From Coors Newsletter, Jubilee Visit Commemorative Edition (p. 4)

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Following in the footsteps of her great-grandfather King Edward VII exactly 100  years earlier, the Queen and Prince Philip ‘mashed the malt’ to create the Queen’s Ale and the Duke’s Ale.

This linkage between royal and brewing heritage is crystallised in a description of the special brew’s planned journey to London: …the Royal Ales will be transported by Heritage Barge, courtesy of British Waterways, from Horninglow Wharf by canal to Little Venice in London from where they will be taken by the Coors shire horses and dray to Buckingham Palace.

Royal pageantry and brewing heritage perfectly combined! (Fig. 8.2)

8.2.4  I ndustrial/Technological Heritage or Heritage as Production Process Tradition and heritage in both the brewing and pottery industries are commonly articulated with reference to the industrial and technological aspects of the production process. The fact that both industries rely on quite basic and natural processes Fig. 8.2  The caption to this picture, displayed in the Coors Visitor Centre (2003), reads, ‘King Edward VII mashes the King’s Ale, watched by Lord and Lady Burton on the left and Cornelius O’Sullivan, Brewing Director, on his immediate right’

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which have remained essentially unchanged over time  – the mixing of earth and water and formation and firing of pottery in one and the fermentation of ‘wort’ made by mixing water and barleycorn in the other – provides broad scope for the articulation of tradition and heritage in terms of general processes which have remained essentially unchanged over time, but also in terms of particular aspects of production which are deemed to be characteristic, if not unique to the particular company. For example, the use of ‘double’ Burton union in the fermentation process was a particular characteristic of Burton’s brewers.

8.2.5  O  rientation Towards ‘Tradition’, ‘Modernisation’ and Progress A final, but significant axis along which company heritage in the brewing and pottery industries is constructed is in terms of orientation towards modernisation and progress. In the brewing industry, this is often articulated in terms of striking a balance between the tried and tested methods and age-old principles of brewing and the benefits of modern technology: The principles of brewing beer may have remained unchanged from 250 years ago, but the process is no longer a mystery. Instead, Whitbread’s present-day breweries make beer with scientific precision in hygenic conditions…. (Ritchie 1992: 126) Today, the industry is technologically more sophisticated, but the principles remain the same. (Ritchie 1992: 16)

In general, maintaining an orientation towards traditional ways of doing things, whilst at the same time remaining innovative, seems quite important, although different companies orient themselves differently with reference to ‘tradition’ and ‘progress’. Amongst the breweries visited, Hook Norton Brewery Co. Ltd. near Oxford presented itself most strongly in terms of tradition. Located in the village of Hook Norton on the edge of the Cotswolds, the Hook Norton Brewery is 1 of 33 independent owned breweries in Britain and the finest example of a Victorian tower brewery still in operation. As a tower brewery, the brewing process relies on the principle of gravity, with water being pumped up to the top of the building from the well beneath and then gradually descending through the vertically structured brewing process, emerging eventually for final fermentation and casking at ground level. Hook Norton prides itself on its healthy scepticism of ‘progress’, claiming as its uncompromising philosophy, ‘…when you have the right tool for the job, don’t tamper with it until something significantly better comes along’. The philosophy is manifested throughout the production and distribution process, perhaps most prominently in the brewery’s reliance on a 150-year-old steam engine which has been supplying the required water and power since it was first installed in 1899. Claiming to have become ‘adept at keeping a restless world at arm’s length’ in the face of ‘awesome commercial pressures’ (Hook Norton Brewery Co. handbook), Hook

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Norton describes itself as having resisted other modernising trends, such as the popularisation of keg beers: The brewers at Hook Norton took one look and these bland, fizzy concoctions and decided to have nothing to do with them… To this day Hook Norton is one of the only breweries – if not the only one – never to have kegged its beers. (Hook Norton Brewery Co. handbook)

A number of ‘traditional’ methods continue to be maintained in the production process including ‘dry-hopping’ of cask-conditioned beers by adding a plug of dry hops to the cask just before it is filled with beer, a laborious process which ‘very few brewers do…’ (Hook Norton Brewery Co. Handbook). Finally, like Bass (now Coors) in Burton, Hook Norton continues to maintain a horse-drawn dray and horses, whereas their use at Coors (nee Bass) has been relegated to the purely ceremonial  – for showcasing heritage on special occasions  – at Hook Norton, they continue to be actively employed for all deliveries within a 5-mile radius of the brewery. Similarly, although the Bass Visitor’s Centre operates a microbrewery for the purpose of producing special commemorative brews or for reproducing its ales from yesteryear for sale in its gift shop, such as its India pale ale which was originally produced for export to its colonies in South Asia, such production is primarily a matter of the preservation, showcasing and commodification of its heritage, whereas in the case of Hook Norton, production of ‘real ales’ for mostly local and regional niche markets represents the company’s core business. Thus, much of what represents the cultivation and display of heritage for larger breweries is, for a small brewery like Hook Norton, part of the living business, a kind of living heritage.

8.3  Case Studies Having discussed some of the axes along which heritage is constructed for public consumption in the brewing industry, this section examines issues related to the management of company heritage in the face of changing ownership and/or business activities. Drawing on interviews with curators and/or archivists from what, in historical terms, have been three of Britain’s largest and most enduring brewers, all of which have experienced dramatic changes to their businesses in recent years; the section examines the various strategies adopted towards the management and presentation of heritage.

8.3.1  Whitbread In Britain today, Whitbread is probably better known as the name of a prestigious annual literary prize, the Whitbread Award, for best book of the year, but for more than 250 years, Whitbread had been one of Britain’s leading brewers. In 2001, the company sold its brewery operations which had been located on the same site in

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London since 1750 and all of its interest in pubs and bars, transforming itself into leisure, hotel and restaurant brand management company whose brands, which include Travel Inn and Marriott hotels, restaurants Pizza Hut and TGI Friday’s, Costa Coffee and a leisure company, amongst others, are almost certainly more recognisable than their parent company. Whitbread was founded by Samuel Whitbread, who opened his first brewery in 1742, moving to Chiswell Street, London, in 1750, where he established the first purpose-built mass production brewery in Britain. By 1796, the year of the founder’s death, Whitbread had become the first brewer to exceed annual production of 200,000 barrels. In 1868, bottling was introduced, making Whitbread a national brand. Whitbread became a limited company in 1889 and a public company in 1948. Beginning in 1960, the company entered a decade of rapid expansion through the merger and acquisition of businesses and, from the 1970s, began acquiring the hotel, restaurant and leisure company brands which have now become Whitbread’s flagship businesses. In May 2000, the Whitbread Beer Company was sold to Interbrew in Belgium, followed in the same year by the sale of its interests in off-­ licences. With the sale of its pub and bar company in 2001, Whitbread became completely divested of all of its alcohol-related interests. The story of the management of Whitbread’s heritage really begins in the mid-­ 1980s, a period during which the preservation of company archives and company heritage in Britain came into fashion. Fuelled by a British Archive Council initiative in the late 1970s and early 1980s to ‘save company records’, the decade beginning in the mid-1980s was described by one interviewee as ‘an archivist’s heyday’.10 Whitbread’s archive was first set up in 1985, and a full-time archivist was employed to collect, catalogue and store all documentation, records and artefacts pertaining to Whitbread’s history and business activities. Material, including a colossal number of records, more than 10,000 ledgers (weighing 50 tonnes), framed posters and various items, including seventeenth- and eighteenth-century brewing utensils, bottles, ashtrays and other items, were amassed from local record offices, private collections and various locations within Whitbread’s buildings. Originally stored in the basement of the company’s London offices, the archive was eventually moved to a separate warehouse. Although never developed for public display in the form of a museum of visitor’s centre, the archive was publicised through a variety of public relations exercises, including temporary displays and articles in the press. The collection eventually grew to become largest of its kind in the brewing industry. According to archivist Nick Redmond, up until the early 1970s, Whitbread had been run like a family business, with the bulk of business activity relating to beer, wine and spirits. Having been located on the same premises since the mid-­eighteenth century, many of its staff were third- or fourth-generation Whitbread employees, some with 30–40 years of service. As a result of changing market conditions in the 1970s which led to a diversification of business interests, by the 1980s, 40% of the company’s profit was derived from non-brewing activities. The trend intensified throughout the 1980s and 1990s, culminating in the sale of the breweries which 10

 Ken Thomas, former archivist at Courage Ltd., personal interview

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archivist Redmond described as traumatic, particularly from the perspective of the old guard of Whitbread employees. Following Whitbread’s exit from the brewing business, it was decided that the expense of a full-time company archivist could no longer be justified and the decision was taken to dissolve the archive collection which had been so painstakingly amassed, as it no longer had any direct relevance to the reinvented Whitbread, other than as esoteric ‘heritage’. The company set Christmas of 2001 as the deadline for the dissolution of the Whitbread archive, the contents of which met one of four fates: 1. Kept – A very few selected items were kept as ‘souvenirs’, such as a microscope used by Louis Pasteur during a period of research he conducted in collaboration with Whitbread. 2. Sold – Much of the collection was put up for auction with Phillips the auctioneers, raising £100,000. 3. Redistribution of records  – Whitbread-related records (including ledgers and photographs), many of which had originally been collected by Nick Redmond from local record as part of the consolidation of the archive, were redistributed to 49 record offices and archives throughout the UK. 4. Disposal  – More than 13 skips were filled with accounting ledgers from Whitbread and its affiliated companies. By the end of 2001, the dissolution was complete. The institutional memory of the old Whitbread had all but been erased in a climate of rapidly changing business interests, largely through the gradual displacement of the old guard of Whitbread management by a new cadre of professional managers, many of whom knew Whitbread more as a hotelier, restaurateur or leisure provider than as a brewer and for whom the preservation of an archive represented first and foremost a cost to the business. Redmond suggested that the pace of change at Whitbread had occurred in proportion with the dwindling links between the present and the past, as an older generation of management and employees inevitably gave way to a younger and much transformed company, concluding that it was ‘history which had defeated the historical collection’.

8.3.2  Bass (Now Part of Interbrew) As the history of Bass is discussed in some detail by Nakamaki (Chap. 7, this volume), the starting point for the discussion here will be the establishment of the Bass Museum, reopened as the Coors Visitor Centre & The Museum of Brewing on November 1, 2003 (Fig. 8.3). The museum originally started as a joint initiative of Burton Breweries and the Burton-on-Trent Local Council. Bass moved the initiative along, providing the site, and the company-owned Bass Museum was opened in 1977, the bicentenary of Bass and the year of the Queen’s silver jubilee. From the start, the project was developed as first and foremost a museum with the aim of collecting, preserving and interpreting the heritage brewing and the brewing industry

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Fig. 8.3  Coors Visitor Centre, Burton upon Trent, Staffordshire

and Bass in particular through a variety of museum displays and educational programmes. Items collected included those associated with Bass and related companies, the British brewing industry as a whole and related trades and artefacts related to the locality and to the history and heritage of Burton-on-Trent.11 As a company museum, capital for the project was provided by Bass, but as a museum showcasing local heritage, it was also eligible for regional development funding from the European Union, which had proved a generous source of funding for Burton since the mid-1980s. Since its beginning the museum has operated with an annual deficit which has been written off as a tax loss by Bass (and, latterly, Coors). The main museum collection is housed in what was formerly the brewery’s joinery building, a three-story structure showcasing a variety of exhibitions.12 Originally dedicated to ‘all things Bass’, the collection expanded during the 1990s to include items from other breweries. According to the description on the Bass Museum website in 2002, ‘it now comprises historic brewing equipment, a vintage transport collection, pub memorabilia, original advertising material, company archives, photographs of brewing and Burton on Trent and an extensive library of brewing books and journals’ (Bass Visitor Attraction fact file, p. 2). Exhibits encompass the brewing process, company history, the history of brewing in Burton-on-Trent as well several ‘slice-of-life’ exhibits, including ‘Virtual Burton 1881’, described as the closest ‘…anyone in 2002 will get to sampling life in 1881 at the epicentre of  In 1984, the town museum in Burton closed, bequeathing its collection on loan to the Bass Museum. 12  See Nakamaki (Chap. 7, this volume) for details. 11

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the Brewing Industry’.13 Other attractions include the Shire horses (formerly Bass Shire Horses, now Coors Shire Horses) which are regular entrants in  local and county shows where they continue to fulfil an important publicity and public relations function for the company, a working cooperage featuring Britain’s youngest cooper, the Museum Brewing Company, described as ‘England’s oldest microbrewery’ (built in 1920), and the museum gift shop which sells a variety of souvenirs – small pewter figurines of coopers, toby jugs and other china figurines such as Shire horse paperweights specially produced by Royal Crown Derby, various ‘branded’ merchandise (some Bass and some Coors at the time of our visit) speciality brews from the microbrewery, postcards, books and a wide variety of other goods. The Museum also stages a number of special events such as an annual Oktoberfest; Umpah nights; 999  Day, a ‘…rally of historic Emergency vehicles with real life demonstrations…’; and Christmas party nights. The recently rechristened visitor centre is both a commercial and educational facility. On the commercial side, the shop, restaurant, pub and microbrewery are all franchised, but, despite an annual turnover of about £3.5 million, the museum has had an annual deficit since its opening and is dependent upon subsidisation from the parent company which covers all maintenance expenses, for example. As regards its educational role, the museum galleries and temporary exhibitions are described in Bass Visitor Attraction factfile as ‘…powerful providers of life-long learning’. The museum had over 7000 student visitors annually, a figure which it was seeking to increase to 100,000, in part through the development of programmes and materials which tie in with the national curriculum for schools: There is a wide range of visit packages, including brewery tours for children aged 13 and over. Schools can be provided with National Curriculum teachers’ packs, activity sheets, CD-ROMs and web resources. (Bass Visitor Attraction factfile, p. 4)

The ‘Virtual Burton 1881’ was mentioned as an exhibit which dovetails particularly well with certain aspects of national curriculum. The emphasis on developing the museum’s educational programmes was part of Bass’s and is now part of Coors’ corporate citizenship role but is also linked to the museum’s continuing ability to attract EU regional development funds which are contingent on increasing visitor numbers by at least 10% every year. One of the major issues facing the Museum during the period of our research was related more to its commercial than to its educational role. Following a series of changes related to corporate ownership,14 culminating in the purchase of Bass by Coors in February 2002, the museum found itself in the position of having to renegotiate its presentation of heritage in order to reflect its present business interests. Given the long association between brewing in Burton-on-Trent and the name of Bass, the museum faced the dilemma of how to preserve a brewing heritage so intimately linked with Bass whilst, at the same time, continuing to promote the brands and business interests of the new owners to the visiting public. One option explored 13 14

 From the former website (now defunct) of the Bass Museum.  See Nakamaki (Chap. 7, this volume)

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was to establish the museum as a trust and, in so doing, to disestablish it as a company entity. Another option was to remain a company museum but to reorient the presentation to better reflect changes in corporate governance and brand management (Fig. 8.4). Briefly, an outline of the commercial background to these changes is as follows. Since the development of large-scale commercial brewing in the eighteenth century, a key business strategy of brewers has been to purchase pubs in order to facilitate distribution of their products and to stabilise their markets, and most large brewers in Britain have had considerable holdings of pubs and pub chains. Following a public inquiry into the ownership of pubs by breweries in 1989, a ceiling was set on the number of pubs a brewery could own at around 2700. Large breweries, which owned many more pubs than this, including Bass, Whitbread and Scottish & Newcastle (owners of the Courage Group), were required to sell off their surplus holdings. Forced to scale down and reorganise their beer-related businesses in this way, several companies, which had already been diversifying their business activities for some years anyway, chose to exit the brewing business altogether. Both Bass and Whitbread put their brewing operations up for sale, and both found a purchaser in Interbrew, the Belgian multi-national company with global brewing interests. However, the sale of Bass was blocked by the government who intervened, forcing Fig. 8.4  Old signboard for Bass’ Special Stout. The small sign to the left reads, ‘This item is on display courtesy of Interbrew UK Ltd.’ (photograph taken by the author, Coors Visitor Centre, 2003)

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Fig. 8.5  Ground floor exhibit, emphasizing the ‘naturalness’ of the brewing process. (Coors Visitor Centre 2003)

Interbrew to sell off half of its newly acquired interest in Bass, including a number of Bass brands and locations. As a result, the original Bass brand (i.e. ‘Bass’, as signified by the characteristic red triangle) remained with Interbrew, whereas Worthington’s remained a Bass brand.15 When Coors assumed control of Bass in February 2002, it acquired (amongst others) the Worthington brand, but not the Bass brand which now belonged to Interbrew. Such changes in corporate governance are being reflected in the construction and presentation of heritage museum galleries, corporate literature and company websites. One example has been a shift in emphasis from exhibits which might have focused on Bass company history and the Bass brand to those which are either more diversified or even brand neutral such as the ground floor exhibit on the brewing process focusing on the ‘naturalness’ of the brewing process, highlighting the importance of high-quality ingredients and a good source of pure water (Fig. 8.5). By focusing on the universals of brewing, the exhibit taps into the values shared in common by both the old Bass and the new parent company Coors, a brand which is very strongly promoted in the United States in terms of its associations with Mother Nature, especially pure Rocky Mountain water.

 Established in Burton-on-Trent in 1744 by William Worthington, Worthington’s had been a prominent Burton brewery until its merger with Bass in 1926. Popular Worthington brands include ‘White Shield’, an India pale ale brewed by the Museum Brewery Company, and ‘1744’, a homage to Worthington’s founding.

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Secondly, the entire museum complex, encompassing the galleries, pub, restaurant, gift shop and even the Shire horses, is gradually being rebranded, either as Coors or one of its affiliated brands such as Worthington’s. The most obvious ­examples are the reopening of the Bass Museum as the Coors Visitor Centre and the renaming of the Bass Shire Horses as Coors Shire Horses, but, more subtly, in a shift from Bass-branded merchandise and artefacts to those carrying the Worthington label. Commercially, this is consistent with the Visitor Centre’s role in promoting its own brands, but it also provides a means of emphasising local brewing heritage (i.e. not Coors) whilst at the same time promoting contemporary commercial interests. For example, whereas local brewing heritage was previously articulated with reference to the history of Bass, the Coors website subsequently traced its local history in Burton to Worthington, ‘Our first links to the area can be traced to the 1740s when William Worthington, a trained cooper, left Leicestershire to seek his fortune…’.16 This shift is also being visually and symbolically manifested throughout the visitor centre through the gradual displacement of décor and artefacts associated with Bass with those associated with Worthington. Examples include a recently resurrected sign bearing the picture of an old steam delivery wagon and the words, ‘Worthington’s Brewers: Local Deliveries by Modern Steam Lorry’, the renaming of the Shire Horses, one of which is now called ‘Worthington’, and the appearance of several portraits of Worthington ‘ancestors’. Although a number of bass items still remained as of our visit in September 2003 – a framed print of William Bass, headed with the encomium, ‘The Burton Brewer’ and a large framed advertisement with a giant red triangle, symbol of the Bass brand, as its centrepiece, which read, ‘“Bass”: The only Pale Ale sold in the Tower’ – their longer-term fate was unclear. What seemed to have been occurring in response to the commercial changes involving Bass, Interbrew and Coors was the gradual rebranding of space within the Coors Visitor Centre and a reconstruction in the presentation of local brewing heritage in order to realign the story of the past with the commercial realities of the present. It represented a reconstruction of an already constructed past in the sense that whereas the heritage of Worthington, a major Burton brewery which predated Bass, had been arguably somewhat eclipsed in the presentation of heritage in the former Bass Museum, he had re-emerged in the new Coors Visitor Centre as the centrepiece in a more contemporary narrative of Burton’s brewing past (Figs. 8.6, 8.7, and 8.8).

8.3.3  Courage The Courage Group, which was acquired by Scottish & Newcastle in 1995, was formed through the amalgamation of at least four major brewery companies, all established in the eighteenth century. The one which eventually lent its name to the  The content has since been removed from the relevant webpage [http://www.coorsbrewers.com/ Default.asp?Page_ID=300&Parent_ID=249], which now reflects Coors new status as Molson Coors, with the message, ‘A lot has changed: But sharing a beer with friends remains one of life’s simple pleasures’.

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Fig. 8.6  The Burton Brewer

Fig. 8.7  Worthington’s delivery vehicle

Courage Group was founded by Scotsman John Courage in 1787 at the Anchor Brewhouse in Horsleydown, Bermondsley, just down the River Thames from Barclay, Perkins and Company (formerly the Anchor Brewery) in Southwark, London. The site of the latter is historically significant in part through its connections with Dr. Samuel Johnson and the Thrale family between 1759 and 1781 when it occasionally served as a venue for entertaining members of Johnson’s circle,17 but  Nicknamed ‘Dictionary Johnson’ and perhaps best known in his day as the author of the first English language dictionary (published 1755), Samuel Johnson (1709–1784) was also a great wit

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Fig. 8.8  Juxtaposition of Bass- and Coors-branded items in the Coors Visitor Centre (2003)

it also served as a showcase for industrial production, attracting royal visitors from the UK and around Europe throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. During the Great Exhibition in London, the brewery had more than 50,000 visitors over a 5-month period. It also made its mark in engineering. Prior to the introduction of the steam engine for pumping well water from below ground, the pump had been powered by a ‘horse wheel’ – horses drawn around and circular track – and it was at the Anchor Brewery that a calculation of the rate at which the average horse worked became the established definition of one horsepower. In 1955, Courage & Co. Ltd. and Barclay, Perkins and Company, merged, forming Courage, Barclay & Co. Other breweries that became amalgamated into what would eventually become the Courage Group included Simonds in Reading, George’s of Bristol and John Smith’s of Tadcaster, the latter still surviving as a well-known brand name. Following its acquisition by Scottish & Newcastle in 1995, which doubled Scottish & and bon vivant whose gatherings with his literary contemporaries, most notably members of the Club (founded 1764 and later renamed the ‘Literary Club’), were recorded and immortalised by his friend and biographer, James Boswell (1740–1795), in Boswell’s The Life of Samuel Johnson (1791). Johnson first met the Thrales, who owned and operated the Anchor Brewery for two generations between 1729 and 1781, in January 1765, eventually becoming almost a part of their family.

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Newcastle’s share of the UK market and made it the number one brewing company in Britain, the Courage Group was incorporated as Scottish Courage, the brewing arm of Scottish & Newcastle. The case is mentioned in the context of this paper, mainly to provide a contrasting approach to that of Whitbread with regard to the management of its heritage. Although Courage Ltd. once operated a museum and visitor centre called ‘World of Brewing’ at the old brewery on the south bank of the Thames, this was closed down in 1983. Around the same time, Courage hired an archivist part-time to catalogue and manage its archival heritage, a post which was quickly converted to full-­ time. Since Courage’s acquisition by Scottish & Newcastle, the archive has continued to be maintained as an ‘information bank’, with the now part-time archivist serving as a funnel for all enquiries. As regards the managing of the archive, the archivist suggested that the orientation of the company towards its documented heritage has been more a function of individual influence than company policy. Mentioned as an example was the sharp decline in interest in the archive following the sudden death of one of the company directors.

8.4  Analysis and Conclusions As this paper has suggested, the management of company heritage in the British brewing sector has been greatly complicated by the effects of the global consolidation of the industry on company ownership and patterns of business activity. In the three cases considered  – Bass (then Coors, now Molson Coors), Courage (now Scottish & Newcastle) and Whitbread (divested of brewing interests since 2001) – the strategy adopted for the management of heritage has varied significantly. Whereas the renamed Scottish Courage division of Scottish & Newcastle has maintained its company archive in ‘dry storage’, making available to researchers and other interested parties by special arrangement, Whitbread opted to completely dissolve an archive and collection which had once been dubbed the most comprehensive in the brewing industry, divesting itself of a heritage deemed irrelevant to the company which Whitbread had become since disposing of its brewing and related interests in 2001, a date described on its website as its second renaissance. Aside from a few prized material artefacts, the only remnant of its brewing heritage which Whitbread continues to invoke is its founder’s belief in progress and innovation, values which preserve, at least rhetorically, a thread of continuity with a long and distinctive history as one of Britain’s most prominent and enduring breweries but also, somewhat ironically, sanction the company’s departure from the business activities upon which its name was originally built. From the perspective of heritage management, the case of Whitbread illustrates an interesting transformation between heritage as ‘local’ and heritage as ‘corporate’ (and vice versa). Thus, whereas in the 1970s and 1980s, a prevailing ethos emphasising preservation of company heritage resulted in the collation of archival documentation from local records offices (and other sources) and in a sense their redefinition as company (rather than local)

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Fig. 8.9  Banner reflecting the new reality at the Coors Visitor Centre (2003) following the sale of the Bass brand to Interbrew and purchase by Coors of the Bass site, along with several, formerly Bass-owned brands. The quotation, attributed to economist Alfred Marshall, reads, ‘The past lives on… even when… no longer represented by… old names’

heritage, the rather sudden change of climate 20 years later has resulted in a redefinition of this archival material as once again ‘local heritage’. In this sense, the significance of the archival heritage seems to have been determined by the company agenda. The transformation of the Bass Museum into the Coors Visitor Centre and the complicated changes in company and brand ownership underlying this transformation highlights at least two significant aspects in the management of heritage. First, it not only provides confirmation of the commonplace observation that heritage is indeed constructed but also that such constructions of the past are selective and negotiated (Cameron 2000, Edwards 1998)  with reference to present requirements which, in the case of the Coors Visitor Centre, was at least in part the promotion of its flagship brands through the content of its exhibits, the symbolism of its décor and the artefacts on display and the branded merchandise sold in the gift shop. In this sense, the transformation in the items and information displayed represents a rebranding of the museum space in accordance with contemporary commercial realities (Fig. 8.9).18  This is consistent with Anne Mager’s recognition, in her account of heritage in South African Breweries (SAB), of the principle that ‘…a brand required a past with meaning for the present’ (2006:161). See also Mager (2005) on branding and heritage in SAB.

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Most of the brewery (and pottery) companies considered in this research are the result of a history of amalgamation stretching over more than two centuries and encompassing in some cases dozens of companies. In the case of the breweries, the legacy of many of these companies is preserved only through brand names such as Worthington which was formerly a Bass brand, subsequently managed by parent company Coors (now Molson Coors) or John Smith, one time brewery turned Scottish & Newcastle brand. These brands have become the principle currency of exchange in the global beer marketplace, each with their own particular histories and heritage which, as illustrated through the case of Worthington, can be resurrected and mobilised in reconstructions of heritage. Within the context of the commercially orientated visitor centre, the presentation of local history and company heritage seems, in this sense, to be brand-led, thus confirming West’s observation that ‘Increasingly the commodity side of this museum business comes to dominate how “the past” is made available to us’ (1988: 46).19 However, the degree to which this rebranding of Bass as Coors and associated gradual displacement of Bass by Worthington in the presentation of local brewing heritage had been successful amongst local residents and potential visitors in Britain is by no means clear, as illustrated in a sceptical letter posted on the (former) 24 Hour Museum website suggests. Titled ‘Mine’s a Bass – Or a Coors?’, the letter expresses concern that the rebranding of Bass as Coors represents the erosion of local heritage: [Dear Editor,] As someone how was born in Burton-on-Trent and who is a Museum professional I feel quite saddened that Coors have felt the need to change the name of a popular, long-­ established heritage attraction. On recent trips back to my home town it seems that Coors have tried their best to eradicate all traces of the existence of Bass in the town – the brewing towers have been relabelled with the Coors title and buildings that have long had Bass inscribed on them have seen the inscriptions covered up with Coors signs. Bass is a name which is identified with the town as well as the brewing industry and its traditions and as such the Museum has always been seen as a place in which you can explore this heritage. Changing the name to Coors Visitor Centre will not, in my opinion, reflect this heritage and draw in visitors who are visiting not just to see the history of brewing but also the history of an area, which has long been connected with this industry.20

Heritage may always be constructed, but whether constructions of heritage can be convincingly rebranded in response to the dictates of global capital markets is a question which poses a challenge for company museums and visitor centres seeking  From the point perspective of archivists and curators, it also raises a wider question regarding the nature of the relationship between commerce and curatorship, discussed at a recent conference of the Association of Independent Museums (AIM) hosted at the Bass Museum in May 2003 and entitled Margin and Mission: balancing commerce and curatorship. 20  http://www.culture24.org.uk/history-and-heritage/art18619 [formerly: http:// www.24hourmuseum.org.uk/let_gfx_en/LET8621.html]. Accessed at 30 January 2019 19

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to strike a balance between commerce and curatorship. The divestiture of Coors from responsibility for what was formerly the Coors Visitor Centre and its subsequent rebranding as the National Brewery Centre may have had a liberating effect on the presentation of heritage with reference to brand ownership, as suggested in the rhetoric of the facility’s current website, which reflects a reintegration of both Bass and Worthington brands and brand histories in the narrative of the heritage of brewing in Burton-on-Trent: The National Brewery Centre Museum incorporates large elements of the original Bass Collection. Learn about the legendary Bass family and their role in the development of brewing… The William Worthington microbrewery brings the tour up to the present day – with the chance to sample some great local ales brewed on site!21

References Cameron, C. M. (2000). Emergent industrial heritage: The politics of selection. Museum Anthropology, 23(3), 58–73. Da Silva Lopes, T. (1999). MNEs and the internationalisation of the alcoholic beverages industry. Discussion Papers in International Investment & Management, The University of Reading Department of Economics, No.277. Dore, R. (2000). Stock market capitalism: Welfare capitalism: Japan and Germany versus the Anglo-Saxons. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Eddershaw, D. (1999). A country brewery: Hook Norton 1849–1999. Hook Norton: Hook Norton Brewery Company (Oxuprint, OUP). Edwards, J. (1998). The need for a ‘bit of history’: Place and past in English identity. In N. Lovell (Ed.), Locality and belonging (pp. 147–167). London: Routledge. Lumley, R. (Ed.). (1988). The museum time machine: Putting cultures on display. London: Routledge. Mager, A. (2005). ‘One Beer, One Nation, One Soul’: South African breweries, heritage, Masculintiy and nationalism 1960–1999. Past and Present, 188, 163–194. Mager, A. (2006). Trafficking in liquor, trafficking in heritage: Beer branding as heritage in post-­ apartheid South Africa. International Journal of Heritage Studies, 12(2), 159–175. Nakamaki, H. (this volume). Museum and visitor Centre in England: Schism and conflict over globalisation, chapter 7 (this volume). In H. Nakamaki, K. Hioki, N. Sumihara, & I. Mitsui (Eds.), Enterprise as a carrier of culture. Singapore: Springer. Pudney, J.  (1971). A draught of contentment: The story of the courage group. London: New English Library. Ritchie, B. (1992). An uncommon brewer: The story of Whitbread 1742–1992. London: James & James. Urry, J. (1990). The tourist gaze: Leisure and travel in contemporary societies. London: Sage. West, B. (1988). The making of the English working past: A critical view of the Ironbridge gorge museum. In R. Lumley (Ed.), The museum time machine: Putting cultures on display (pp. 36–62). London: Routledge.

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Chapter 9

Islay, a Very Tasty Idea: Inventing, Embedding, and Selling Tradition in the Contemporary Scotch Whisky Industry Mitchell W. Sedgwick

Abstract  In this chapter, I examine the articulation of Scottish traditions as a medium for the production, marketing, and consumption of Scotch single malt whisky. While on the surface they may seem quite separate, my goal is to link up nationhood, geography, tourism, and industrial production through the interests of contemporary market capitalism. I am particularly interested in how “traditions” or “history” regarding “Scotch” unfold at drinks corporations in relation to inherent tensions between local activities and the global political economy into which they place their products. The chapter is based empirically on long-term, if periodic, fieldwork in Scotland, with visits to Scottish whisky distilleries and their local communities. Here I particularly emphasize the whisky industry on the beautiful island of Islay, in the Inner Hebrides, home to eight distilleries that, between them, arguably produce the greatest Scotch whiskies in the world.

9.1  Theoretical Introduction The central innovation of Hobsbaum and his colleagues’ pathbreaking work on the “invention of tradition” was to bring together history and the contemporary (Hobsbaum and Ranger 1983). That is, they substantively demonstrate that “history” is an act taking place in the present, at the service of current needs. Those needs may be political, intellectual, economic-/market-oriented, aesthetic, etc., with these attributes, more often than not, variously combined. In questioning foundationally the possibility and, thus, the intellectual productivity of the idea of historical “facts,” history-making focusses our attention on the inventiveness of persons (and their institutions) in constructing their linkages to the past in the present. History-making is, therefore, a political act. Such acts often involve attaching claims M. W. Sedgwick (*) Department of Anthropology, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_9

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about the present to “tradition” and, so, relations characterized by timelessness. That is, where tradition is concerned, timelessness helps carry the weight of continuity between the past and the present. The key point is that the intent of our inventive acts of creating linkages with the past serves to authenticate the reproduction of our current desires, our interests, and, thus, our political practices.

9.2  The Matter of Scotch As a tangible example of the theoretical phenomenon outlined above, in this chapter I discuss the invention of tradition in the contemporary Scotch whisky industry. “Scotch” – made within a particular geographic boundary – “whisky” – requiring specific production techniques and raw materials – is, by any definition, particular: produced in a particular place by particular methods. Its production requires a particular time frame: storage in casks for a minimum period of 3 years before it may be labelled “Scotch whisky.” As an industrialized good, therefore, it runs contrary to our common sense understandings of mass production, e.g., of, say, consumer electronic goods or automobiles, where the premium is on newness. With Scotch whisky the premium is on age, which, by definition, puts this product into the conceptual territory of tradition. Another particular feature of Scotch whisky is that, while slightly variable in shape, due to the chemical parameters of the copper required in their construction, the pot stills at the core of whisky production are necessarily limited in scale. While in order to increase production, a distillery will usually have several pot stills running side by side, and calibrations may be improved and other processes automated, the fundamental physical limits of the pot still cannot be expanded. And this technological constraint in the distilling process has of course been consistent across the hundreds of years of whisky production. Dealing with this slowly produced product, tightly identified with Scotland, leads to particular problems for the global-scale, transnational corporations that increasingly own and manage Scotch whisky production. In general it might be suggested that, for convenience and profit, most of the products of, say, Diageo, and other giant drinks conglomerates, cater to and attempt to reproduce homogeneous “taste” on a global scale. Where involved with Scotch whisky, however, the very specificities of local/Scottish production must be turned to the company’s favor and so justify the high cost of Scotch. In fact, the particularities of these constraints are turned to their advantage, guiding the sales, marketing, and distribution of Scotch whisky. It is in this contemporary process that we observe global, transnational enterprises taking hold of or “inventing” tradition in ways that even Hobsbaum, who envisioned such work at its largest scale to be the domain of the reproduction of nation-states, could not imagine.1 1  The most celebrated chapter in Hobsbaum and Ranger’s edited volume is Trevor-Roper’s (1983) unpacking of Scottish nationalism itself. His “The invention of tradition: The Highland tradition of Scotland” specifically discusses early industrial era (late eighteenth and early nineteenth century)

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An industry “on its knees” within living memory, Scotch whisky has seen an enormous recent rise as an elite item of consumption: a matter of elite “taste” that makes for “distinction” among consumers and producers alike (Bourdieu 1984 [1979]). If never discussed openly among industry members and whisky aficionados, the model in the sector is the development of elite tastes associated with wine. However, while the modern wine industry relied initially on imagery associated with its erstwhile French roots, by now it is a major global industry with production in every part of the world with a climate that can accommodate the growing of grapes. In specific contrast to wine, “Scotch” has an overwhelming geographic, richly historically endowed, and, so, easily mineable identity. De facto “Scotch” whisky is produced in other parts of the world – most notably with world-class quality in Japan – but its association with Scotland is unassailable, both in terms of the generic name itself – at a drinking establishment we request “a Scotch” – and with specific reference to the study and emulation of Scotch whisky production methods among members of what-was-to-become the Japanese whisky industry from the 1920s onward (Checkland 1998). Encouraged by large- and small-scale producers alike, the overarching brand of “Scotch whisky” has exploded internationally, especially since the new millennium, the period during which my fieldwork has taken place.

9.2.1  Islay Matters The Scottish island of Islay boasts a remarkable, not easily accessed location, where peat-engrossed underground waters feed its eight whisky distilleries, each poised beautifully along stretches of tidal seascape. Through nature and the alchemies of science, here exceptionally complex and, it is generally agreed, the highest quality and most highly valued Scotch whiskies are produced. While I personally agree that Islay produces the best Scotch whisky, it is, of course, also in the interest of Islay’s distillers to encourage that generalized view, even as their distilleries, at both local/ island level and in global markets, are ferocious competitors. In most cases, the resources dedicated to particular distilleries have, in some cases for decades, reached to the very top of the global drinks industry. (On Islay, Diageo owns the Lagavulin, Caol Ila, and Port Ellen distilleries; Suntory owns Laphroaig and Bowmore; Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy owns Ardbeg; and Distell owns Bunnahabhain.) As I will expand upon below, at other distilleries, wealthy investor-entrepreneur aficionados, often retired from the drinks industry itself, are, ostensibly, “not in it for the money.” In any case, in combination with the local identity and traditions associated with Scotch whisky production, this “boutique” strategy and the comparatively low

lowland Scot co-optation of the tartans and the lore of colorful Highland tribes who, in previous centuries, they had subjugated. The relationship of (historic) Scottish Romanticism with the contemporary Scotch whisky industry, as well as Scottish tourism generally, is obvious.

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volume of production at most of these distilleries make for extremely successful marketing.2 And further suggestive of the relevance of scale, at the end of the day, this “product” comes in a single bottle, or in a single glass, and it is here, in the mouths and on the palates of consumers, that it succeeds or fails: is adjudged to be worthy, or not, of its premium price. Like other “elite” products that demonstrate “distinction,” production and consumption come together at this point of defining “taste” which, it must be acknowledged, is subject to change and, therefore, susceptible to the manipulations of imagery, such as the “invention of tradition” that interests us here.

9.3  The Creation of Distinction: Means of Variation Based on the chemical processing of water and barley, malt whisky is an agricultural product, its raw materials vulnerable to the vicissitudes and moods of nature, and its forms controlled by the vicissitudes and moods of mankind. In emphasizing this latter point, in background material on Scotch whisky production made available at the Laphroaig Distillery on Islay, it is pointed out that “[i]n one part of Scotland there are two malt [whisky] distilleries, seperated [sic] only by a road; they get their water from the same source but the whiskies they make have entirely different characteristics” (Laphroaig Distillery n.d.: 2). The point here is that the combination of the natural and social worlds will create distinctiveness, one whisky to the next. Charles Maclean, a doyen of the whisky industry, “chair of the nosing panel of the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.…Editor at Large of Whisky Magazine… elected Keeper of the Quaish – the highest honour the industry can bestow – for ‘his services to the whisky industry over many years’,” notes that the “flavours and aromas – the character – [of a malt whisky] are imparted at each stage, and by each ingredient” (Maclean 1996: 6). According to Maclean those “flavours and aromas” are influenced: By the barley, and how it is ground; By the water (distillers maintain that the best water is soft, “rising through peat and flowing over granite”); By the mix of yeasts (part distiller’s yeast, part brewer’s yeast); By the amount of peat burned in the fire that malts the barley; By the nature and strength of the wash, and the cycle of filling and emptying of stills; By the shape and size of the stills; By the way the stills are operated, slowly or quickly, and in particular by the amount of alcohol saved by the stillman, known as “the cut;” 2  For further discussion of the linkages of economic and regional cultural capital in the Scotch whisky industry, see the work (in Japanese) of my friend and colleague Professor Noriya Sumihara (2007), co-fieldworker on original trips to Scotland in 2002 and 2003. See, also, Sedgwick (2004).

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By the nature of the cask into which the whisky is poured – all are made from oak, but each has its own character, which profoundly influences the whisky it contains; By the location of the bonded warehouse in which the whisky matures, also by the style of the whereabouts in the building the cask lies; By the length of time the whisky is left to mature; By the micro-climate of the distillery and the warehouse (Maclean 1996: 6) Whisky, unlike wine, will not change flavor once bottled.3 (Its flavor will change once a bottle is opened, if far more slowly than wine.) Thus, for distillers, the de facto “unit of production” is the (wooden) cask, which “breaths” and is aged at least 3 years in a bonded warehouse. (The quantity of liquid in a whisky cask reduces substantially over time: the evaporation (mainly of alcohol) described as “the Angels’ share.”) As the ingredients making up whisky are agricultural, including the wood in the casks, and, as outlined above, the processes involved in production will vary, even if a particular distillery wanted to produce whisky in casks the same way each time, simply stated, this cannot be done. As a result it is here that the management of consumer “taste,” aligned with costs, comes into play, and this work is fundamental to distilleries and their controlling organizations. It is expected that blended Scotch whiskies, which by volume is consumed to the far largest extent worldwide, will always taste the same. (Familiar names among “premium” blends are The Famous Grouse, Cutty Sark, Dewar’s, Grant’s, and Johnnie Walker.) A “master blender” will make them up from the combination of the whisky from 15 to 50 different “malt whisky” casks – made with malted barley – of different ages (though each must be at least 3 years old) and 3 to 4 “grain whiskies,” made with a mixture of unmalted barley and other cereals mashed with malted barley. The goal is to produce blends of consistent taste across every batch of whisky produced, and it is this consistency that is, in turn, promoted as the “style” of a particular blended Scotch whisky. While the nose of the master blender is, therefore, essential to the production of blends, the various casks are “bought in” from distilleries all over Scotland, though the firms making blended Scotch whisky tend to have ongoing relations with particular distillers from whom they buy casks. Blends are, effectively, generic Scotch whiskies. The stakes in the Scotch whisky “taste” game are raised considerably in the world of “single malts.” Single malt whiskies, e.g., with no grain whisky content, come not only from particular regions of Scotland but also from particular distilleries. These confining features mean that, compared with blended whiskies, it is far more difficult to produce single malts of consistent flavor. That said, our intuition regarding “taste,” based, no doubt, on knowledge of fine wine, suggests that the single malts of a particular distillery would be produced in a particular year and 3  In principle, should the bottling process be somehow flawed, or the bottle be poorly sealed, such that oxygen is in contact with the whisky, the whisky will of course change flavor. Unlike wine, however, I have never heard anyone claim that a bottle of whisky was “corked,” where oxygen has come into contact with a bottled wine over an extended period of time, thus making it unpleasant, at best, to drink. Corked wine is usually discarded.

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perhaps come from a particular cask. If so, like wines from a particular chateau, or, indeed, wines made from grapes raised on particular tracts of land of a particular chateau, they would be different, and so unique, year on year. This is not the case for the vast majority of single malts, however. While there are exceptions, to be examined below, the vast majority of single malts are also, in practice, blends, but, as above, blended from the casks of a single distillery. The key point is that, as they are derived from the same distillery, they are far more refined or, e.g., difficult to produce, than are generic “blends,” but the taste sought out in this blending process is consistent year on year. Thus, for instance, the flagship “Lagavulin 16-year-old” should taste the same whether the bottle was purchased in 1994 or 2019. The age designation here – 16 years – is the age of the youngest cask of malt whisky used in the blend, not a date to be counted backwards from the present, as with wine: a 1989 Château Lafite Rothschild has aged 30 years by 2019. Recall that for whisky, unlike wine, there are no changes in flavor once the whisky is bottled. In order to achieve this consistency of output, it would be very unusual for the casks from which a single malt is blended to not be of different ages. Therefore, if consistency of taste is the goal of production of a single malt, which generally is the case, in practical terms this requires stocks of casks going back many years, even decades, i.e., it involves a very long-term production and storage operation. Thus, older casks, aging in warehouses at the distillery, located in a particular geography, and therefore within a specific natural environment, are, along with the pot stills at the core of production itself, the major assets of a distillery. Therefore, even if a particular distillery may no longer be “in production,” even perhaps if its machinery has been dismantled or sold off, its casks of aging whisky are extremely valuable and highly guarded. Over the long run, however, the possible dynamic of lack of production and storage will have considerable effect on the possibility of producing a single malt. As above, stocks of new casks of whisky need to be continuously produced in order to generate consistency of output or, in other words, consistent taste. By contrast, and more closely mimicking the fine wine industry, at the very highest and most expensive end of the Scotch whisky consumption spectrum, specialist distributors will purchase from distilleries  – or, in some cases, as I will outline below, distilleries will themselves make available – specialist bottles from a particular distillery’s particular casks, warehoused in particular years. The quality here varies radically, while quantities are small by definition. Obviously, there is considerable caché in purchasing and consuming such specialized Scotch whisky, and the motivations toward “distinction” here are precisely what drive the bottling, promotion, and the usually-highly-elevated prices of such “special offerings.” Guided by connoisseurship, an example of the aligning of “special offerings” bottles with elite tastes more generally may be found in this quotation: “The Exclusive World launch of ‘SIRIUS’ – a super premium luxury whisky collection – was held in association with the Diamond Jubilee celebrations for the sixty years of the Mercedes-Benz Club on July 13th, 2012 at the [sic] ‘Mercedes-Benz World’ in Surrey, England (Whisky Intelligence 2012).”

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In most forms of mass production, industrial firms begin afresh – on a “greenfield” site – where they build and open a new factory. Large investors in the single malt Scotch whisky industry, however, who want to produce relatively large quantities of output year on year, as soon as possible, cannot start afresh. They must purchase extant distilleries and their stock of casks with it.4 As such, investors are purchasing “tradition” in terms of (a) the larger physical environment in which a distillery’s particular facilities and, crucially, (b) its pot stills might be found, as well as (c) the work of the community of employees which generates a particular style of production, which will be present in the results of their work in the past, e.g., in casks of whisky themselves, and, possibly, if an ongoing operation, embodied in their work practices today. It is important that these traditions be converted into imagery associated with the particularities of that place and the human relations at work in it. As such we are here entering the realm of marketing.

9.4  Marketing Tradition As Bourdieu (1984 [1979]) informs us, “distinction,” and, so, difference from and superiority over others, is the premium asset of refined taste. Tempered by generalized knowledge of wine, it is important to large drinks companies such as Diageo that differences across their single malt distilleries are also maintained. That is, if the general consumer knew that what is marketed as the “Six Classic Malts” – a set of six different bottles, lined up in a perhaps-elegant wooden rack with metal embossments and launched in 1988 in drinking establishments across the globe – were in fact all owned by Diageo, consumers might be suspicious that there was nothing particularly distinctive about each one: as if they were bottles of Coca-Cola bottled in different places. An experienced drinker would, of course, recognize the taste differences between the six malts, but distinctiveness is further cued for the general consumer by statements on the “Classic Malt” racks that indicate that they come from “the four Scotch whisky regions: Speyside, Lowlands, Highlands, and the Western Highlands.” Each of the six bottles of course has a different label, even if three of them actually use bottles of identical shape and color. (These bottles are obviously purchased by Diageo from the same supplier.) I have visited four of the original six distilleries and visitors centers of Diageo’s Classic Malt line. While, in order to emphasize distinctiveness, the presentations were different depending on the distillery, the tour guides appear to have been trained in a central location. In all cases they wore (male or female) uniforms, different for each distillery, each of which had various “Scottish” cues, especially the use of particular tartans attributed, as Trevor-Roper’s (1983) analysis would suggest to us, with considerable inventiveness regarding the traditions of their respective regions.

4  Investors in the Scotch whisky industry may also purchase the warehouses containing aging casks from distilleries that are no longer in production.

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My discussion so far has emphasized that, due to variations in location, water, pot stills (size, time, and temperature), and barrelling (wood, time, and location), each distillery produces different whisky, technically speaking, and that, indeed, each cask of whisky within each distillery is unique. In contrast to giant producers like Diageo, the sought-after “problem” of establishing “distinction” is more easily managed among small independent producers, e.g., single distilleries. The idea of uniqueness and difference is already present in the notion of an “independent producer,” and, naturally, this emphasis is especially pronounced in their marketing. That is, where the marketing of “taste” is concerned, big is bad: quality is, by the definition of “distinction,” scarce, or rare. Think here of a Rolls-Royce versus a Ford. It is no surprise that, in 1990, Ford, in seeking to come into the fine and necessarily low-production, automobile market, purchased the already established, high-­ end British brand, Jaguar, its Royal Warrants intact. (Jaguar supplies Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Charles, as well as British Prime Ministers.) That is, rather than generate a new brand from scratch, or build up its own brand name and, thus, perhaps risk alienating its mass car market, Ford found safety in the “tradition” of a brand famous for producing the highest-quality cars. (Interestingly, at risk of devaluing Jaguar’s brand, Jaguar’s marketing materials never indicated that it was owned by Ford.5) A similar process to Ford’s is precisely what Diageo has undertaken in purchasing the distilleries and marketing its “Six Classic Malts” collection which, by including interchangeably other Scotch whisky brands owned by Diageo, has gradually morphed into the “Classic Malts Collection.” Diageo’s pattern of attempting to celebrate the unique geographic and “human-­ like” attributes of particular distilleries, while increasing the repertoire of Diageo-­ owned distilleries among its “Classic Malts,” was extended significantly in its “Rare Malts Selection,” launched in 1995. While ostensibly increasing the quality, and commendably making unusual whiskies available, the launch definitely increased the prices of Diageo’s finest malt whiskies. In practice this was also a means of coping on the marketing front with the fact that Diageo now owns 28 Scotch distilleries, some of them defunct, e.g., what remains are stocks of filled casks aging in ex-­ distillery storehouses. “Rare Malts” public relations material announces, for instance, “A collection of limited cask strength bottlings of scarce and unique whiskies from Scotland’s finest distilleries.” “Each malt selected comes from the private stocks of the original distillers. Cared for undisturbed by these same hands since birth, they have been nurtured to perfection (The Rare Malts Selection n.d.).” Such branding machinations are not required where individual entrepreneurs who purchase individual distilleries are concerned. They are made out to be heroes 5  The marketing impact of Ford’s purchase of Land Rover (from BMW), in 2000, was similarly low-key. (In 2008, Ford sold Jaguar/Land Rover to Tata, a huge Mumbai-based conglomerate.) Meanwhile, Rolls-Royce and Bentley, iconic British high-end brands, are owned, respectively, by BMW and Volkswagen. While, especially in the West, given complex shareholding arrangements, the nationality of large, “global” corporations is often very difficult to pin down, in fact there are no “British” automobile brands that are majority-owned by British persons or corporations, including in the high-end sports car market, e.g., Aston Martin, McLaren, etc. Significant automobile production in the UK does, however, remain.

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of fine Scotch whisky production, maintaining its small-scale, traditional roots. Often these are individuals who were very successful managers at larger Scotch whisky companies, who claim a passion for whisky making and, of course, Scotch whisky. Others are connoisseurs who invest with such persons: wealthy individuals who have “made it.” Harking back to the days of private stills,6 these are mavericks competing head-to-head with vast multinational corporations that, these mavericks are inclined to suggest, threaten to homogenize the industry and, so, work against the “art” of Scotch whisky making. And, as above, the model in the high-end, high-­ quality Scotch whisky industry is the wine trade. Mimicking perhaps the aristocratic roots of fine wine production in France, especially in the Bordeaux region, in the United States, for instance, an ostentatious display of distinction is ownership of a house with a vineyard on it, e.g., with grape vines replacing the lawn, and, among the super-wealthy, the actual production of wine. A prominent example here is the famous movie director Francis Ford Coppola, who owns a house and a vineyard in California’s Napa Valley that produces highly regarded wines.

9.4.1  Bruichladdich: The Real Thing In the world of single malt Scotch whisky, a good case in point where distinction is concerned is the Bruichladdich distillery on Islay. Originally established in 1881 and rebuilt in 1886, despite an extension in 1975, the distillery was little changed until it was mothballed in 1994 by the Whyte and Mackay Corporation, a producer of several blended whiskies. It was purchased from the company in 2000 by five investors, including “Master Distiller” Jim McEwan, who, after 37 years in the whisky industry, left Bowmore, an Islay distillery owned by Japanese drinks giant, Suntory, directly across Islay’s Loch Indaal and in sight of Bruichladdich. With the assistance of Duncan McGillivray, who had already worked there for 22 years (until 1994), e.g., until Whyte and Mackay shut it down, Bruichladdich was back in production within six months of its purchase in 2000. On an island where distilleries represent an important source of employment, it was evidently a source of strong civic pride when “that beauty across the loch” (Jackson 1999: 83) reopened. (I will return to Bruichladdich’s current ownership below.) From my several visits to Bruichladdich, the first in 2002, I can attest to the dynamism about the place and a sense of combining the old with the new, that is, wielding “tradition” to the purposes of contemporary high taste and, especially, personalization. One of the “wash backs” – a 42,000 liter fermentation vessel made of Oregon pine  – has been given a proper name, and so anthropomorphized, in honor of a former employee. Employees guiding the tour were clearly enthusiastic about the provenance and the supposed personality of the Victorian age (nineteenth century) distilling machinery still in use. Between my first two visits, the visitors 6  With little regard for tax authorities, “kitchen” or “bath” stills throughout the world have, across time, always provided for local, usually unrefined, alcoholic imbibement.

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center was moved into a larger, refurbished room, and a bottling machine had been purchased, thus also establishing Bruichladdich as the only distillery bottling its own whisky on Islay. The two staff members in the visitors center at this time were a German who was extremely knowledgeable about malt whisky and a young Scottish woman in rather trendy clothes who, when asked if she came from Islay, was clearly stretching to establish a connection through a distant relative. Output from the early 2000s at Bruichladdich was small, only 300,000 bottles per year, or one-sixth the output of another small producer on Islay, Ardbeg. While ostensibly adjusted according to the desire of customers, Bruichladdich’s output was fine-tuned to the taste of the aforementioned Master Distiller, Jim McEwan, “three time distiller of the year,” who retired from Bruichladdich in 2015 after 52 years in the whisky distilling business. As above, Duncan McGillivray, who had a reputation as an excellent marketer (Banks 2003: 60), managed the distillery dayto-­day until his retirement in 2014. (According to Bruichladdich, “Allan Logan, Distillery Manager, and Adam Hannett, known for his extraordinary nose and palate, will carry the great traditions of their spirits forward into the next generation (Bruichladdich Distillery 2014).”) Starting from its small production base in the early 2000s, by 2012, when Bruichladdich was purchased by major French drinks conglomerate, Rémy Cointreau, for £58 million, its annual production had more than doubled to 750,000 bottles. And it was under pressure to double production to 1.5 million bottles as soon as possible (The Drinks Business 2013). I will admit that by the time of my most recent visit, in 2015, the greatly expanded visitors center, with a large number of employees, and the distillery in general had more of a corporate feel. The uniqueness of the place, natural to its provenance, seemed far more self-consciously reproduced as a marketing tool at this point. Bruichladdich’s standard line of malts – which consumers can expect to taste the same, year in and year out – is large, including 10, 15, and 17 year versions. The distillery also, however, has shifted directly into “wine-like” offerings, e.g., where the year of production and casking is in the foreground. For example, the “1970” is advertised as “[a] truly exceptional bottling, selected and hand-crafted by Jim McEwan, from outstanding casks distilled in 1970.” There is also a “1966 Legacy” “edition.” Based on 1966 casks, this is advertised as aged 36 years. In other words it was blended and bottled in 2002. Meanwhile, for purchase only at the distillery itself, Bruichladdich makes available, on a “first come, first served basis,” bottles drawn directly from individual casks of whisky distilled in various years, constructed of various wood. The “wood” making up the casks in which whisky is aged is important at every distillery, of course, for it has a fundamental effect on the flavor and color of the whisky. (All whisky casks formerly held other types of alcoholic beverage. Typically, these are bourbon, a sweet American whisky; port, fortified red wine from Portugal; or sherry, a white wine-based aperitif from Spain. The casks may be “fresh,” meaning they were previously used to store bourbon, port, or sherry, or “refills,” meaning they have had one period of storing malt whisky after the bourbon, port, or sherry. (All casks are discarded after a refill so, in effect, a “whisky” cask’s life course is made of three periods of storage.))

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Also, much to the delight of its dedicated customers, Bruichladdich has taken the variations possible at this cask stage one step further. Rather than the distiller, customers themselves can request, for a fee, that a particular cask of whisky produced in that year be kept for them in a particular “wood” of their choice, held in their name, and stored for an agreed number of years. (For a fee, storage time can be increased, but a cask must be stored for at least 3 years in order for it to be called Scotch whisky.) Once the cask is released from the storehouse, Bruichladdich will bottle all the malt whisky from the cask and ship it to the owner. (Or, better yet, the patient owner will come retrieve his bottles of malt whisky personally.) Thus, in Bruichladdich’s “bonded storehouse,” the names of individual customers can be found stencilled onto the tops of row after row of casks of whisky distilled in particular years. The most extraordinary cask I noted was originally from Château d’Yquem: the premier maker of Sauternes, the finest sweet white wines in France. This “one-off” cask will be an entirely unusual malt whisky. Bruichladdich has made a public relations coup in taking individual choice to such an exaggerated level. Of course, there is no telling if the whisky coming from these individual casks will be any good (according to most tasters): the only thing for sure is that it will be unique. Like Bruichladdich, the Ardbeg distillery, originally established in 1794, has offered wine-like “vintages” from 1963, 1967, 1974, 1975, and 1978 alongside its standard 10- and 17-year-olds. Also available are 18-, 21-, 28-, and 30-year-olds. The distillery closed in the early 1980s, but sporadic production began again at the end of that decade. It was purchased in 1997 by Glenmorangie, an important producer from the Northern Highlands that has successfully pioneered innovative “wood finishes” that, as above, through the previous “fills” in the casks, give particular flavors to the whisky. Glenmorangie invested some £10 million in buying and restoring Ardbeg, including opening a restaurant on the distillery grounds (Jackson 1999 [1989]: 10). Ardbeg apparently spends 35% of its budget on promotion, versus 16% by most companies (Banks 2003: 64). This may be an artifact of relaunching Ardbeg as an international brand, to compete with its, by now, very well-known immediate neighbors on the southeast coast of Islay: Lagavulin and Laphroaig. The situations at Bruichladdich and Ardbeg fit perfectly the image of distinctiveness. Both effectively mothballed, these distilleries were revived, respectively, by (wealthy) enthusiasts, and a “class” whisky company dedicated to interesting styles, who hired well-known personages, already working on Islay, with extensive experience of whisky production. That said, as indicated above, and evidence of the level of financial stakes involved at the high end of this most elite arena of the Scotch whisky industry, both Bruichladdich and Ardbeg have been purchased by major (French) drinks companies. As discussed, if still producing exceptional whiskies, the purchase of Bruichladdich by Rémy Cointreau has precipitated increased production pressures that, at a minimum, have diminished its distinctive ethos. As we know, meanwhile, in 1997, Ardbeg was bought and reopened by Glenmorangie. Glenmorangie, in turn, was taken over in 2004 by Moët Hennessy, which is 66%

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owned by the French luxury goods conglomerate, Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy (LVMH). Moët Hennessy’s remaining 34% is held by Diageo.

9.5  Marketing Difference on Islay Consistent with the maintenance of “distinction” in association with tradition, each of the eight exceptionally successful distilleries on Islay has an interest in maintaining their styles of production, different from one another, and, as an overarching statement, their comparatively small-scale “boutique” qualities. Meanwhile the drinks industry is increasingly financially consolidated and so requires extra and ever-more expensive branding. Thus, in a situation that is structurally different from those of Bruichladdich and Ardbeg, the global drinks industry giant, Diageo, with huge marketing reach, must differentiate its three distilleries on Islay from one another. Admittedly, this is not a particularly onerous task as the vast majority of Scotch whisky drinkers have no idea that the three distilleries I am about to discuss are all owned by Diageo. Lagavulin’s distillery dates back officially to 1816. My latest 2015 visit to its distillery and elegant wood-panelled visitors’ rooms included, after a tour of the distillery, a tasting where six different Lagavulins were paired with six different fine chocolates. This contrasts very much with Caol Ila where, during my visit in 2015, the distillery itself was closed for cleaning and so we could not have a tour. Instead, on the ground floor of a giant warehouse, where around us thousands of casks of Caol Ila whisky were “breathing,” we sat in the cold at a roughhewn table and were treated to ten different Caol Ilas, many of them “cask strength” (57–63% alcohol by volume7). The local, middle-aged woman who was hosting us was unable, however, to loosen the large plastic peg of an additional large (double) cask that sat nearby and that had apparently been holding its whisky for 25 years. As we were willing and able to offer assistance, she soon ladled out glasses of what was, by far, the most delicious Scotch whisky I have ever tasted. Though originating in the mid-­nineteenth century, the Caol Ila distillery was almost entirely demolished in 1972, and, in the rebuild soon thereafter, it integrated state-of-the-art computerized production. The distillery of course shows off its gorgeous and unusually large copper pot stills, but built in the 1970s, the distillery building has a modernist feel assisted by a giant wall of glass windows that look out on a perfect scene from the enormous stills room itself: the core of production. That view is across the Sound of Jura to the sparsely populated island of Jura and its compelling “Paps”: an Old Norse word for rounded conical mountains that are said to resemble a woman’s breasts. The association of the contemporary with the romance of an ancient landscape is unassailable here. Also owned by Diageo, Port Ellen, meanwhile, does not have visits at all: it has been supplying treated barley and distilling whisky for Diageo’s (and its precursors’) blended malt whiskies for decades. (Ardbeg also buys its treated malt from  Diluted with water when bottled, whiskies are normally sold at 40–47% alcohol.

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Port Ellen.) More recently, Port Ellen “Rare Malts,” from its large supply of old casks, have become highly sought-after, drawing extremely high prices.

9.6  A Moveable Feast The geography of Scotland is commonly understood to be divided into three areas: the Lowlands, the Highlands, and the Islands (of the Inner and Outer Hebrides). The vast majority of the Scottish population, indeed, lives in the lowland industrial strip that includes Edinburgh and Glasgow. For the interests of whisky connoisseurs, however, the Scotch whisky map was “traditionally” divided into the four producing districts of Highland, Lowland, Islay, and Campbeltown. Campbeltown, however, which used to have 30 distilleries, now only has two. In a recent iteration, Maclean (1996) has now divided the whisky map of Scotland into eight regions, according to their tastes. In addition to Lowland, Islay, and Campbeltown, his “Highlands” have four districts, Central, North, West, and East, while he has added Speyside – traditionally thought of as part of the Highlands – which has over half of Scotland’s near 100 operating distilleries. Tourism is a crucial part of the Scottish economy, so, in coordination of activities between the Scottish tourism authority, county councils, transport authorities, and distilleries, “Whisky Trails” have been launched in Speyside, as well as in the West Highlands and Islay. In touring the latter area, for instance, cut rate prices on ferries, which are partially owned by the Argyll and Bute County Council, are available, as one would need to take several ferries to visit all the designated distilleries. “Island Hopscotch” and “Island Rover” tickets, for designated numbers of crossings, are also available on these ferry lines, though they are advertised to attract general interest in the natural wonders of Scotland. Meanwhile, the Argyll and Bute County Council also offers a guide to its own “Islay and Jura Whisky Trail,” which effectively competes with tour offers suggested by, say, Diageo to visit all its “Classic Malt” distilleries, scattered across Scotland. The various whisky tour pamphlets share company on the shelves of Scottish tourism centers with the “Victorian Heritage Trail,” the “Coastal Trail,” a vast array of prehistoric sites, regional circuits of the enormous number of castles found throughout Scotland, as well as rides centers, zoos, and so on, that would occupy children during vacations. Seen as a whole, there is clearly a loose network of tourism in Scotland, seeking to capitalize on various features of the Scottish nation and, importantly, drawing on its “natural” features, its long and colorful history, and its “traditional” culture: including the culture of Scotch whisky.

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9.7  Conclusion In this chapter I have examined how “tradition” and “history” unfold as activities of the present in relation to inherent tensions between the contemporary global political economy and local activities in the Scotch whisky industry. My intention has been to clarify the articulation of Scottish traditions as a medium for the marketing of Scotch single malt whisky, with the goal of linking up the interests of contemporary market capitalism, nationhood, tourism, geography, and industrial production. Based on long-term, if periodic, fieldwork, I have particularly emphasized the recent resurgence of Scotch whisky on the beautiful island of Islay, in the Inner Hebrides, home to eight distilleries that, between them, arguably produce the greatest Scotch whiskies in the world. Scotch whisky drinking is obviously a traditional activity in Scotland, or, anyway, an activity that (also) took place abundantly in the past. What this chapter has demonstrated is that, overwhelmingly, Scotch whisky and other traditions are manipulated by the global drinks industry in order to generate and appeal to an audience of contemporary consumers willing to pay premium prices for distinctive bottles of single malt Scotch whisky. I will assume that, along with myself, many readers of this chapter are among them. Cheers.

References Banks, I. (2003). Raw spirit: In search of the perfect dram. London: Century Books. Bourdieu, P. (1984 [1979]). Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste (trans: Nice R). London: Routledge/Kegan Paul. Checkland, O. (1998). Japanese whisky, scotch blend: Masataka Taketsuru, the Japanese whisky king and Rita, his Scotch wife. Dalkeith: Scottish Cultural Press. Hobsbaum, E., & Ranger, T. (Eds.). (1983). The invention of tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jackson, M. (1999 [1989]). Michael Jackson’s malt whisky companion. London: Dorling Kindersley, Laphroaig Distillery. (n.d.). Scotch whisky. Pamphlet, Islay, Argyll, Scotland. Maclean, C. (1996). Charles Maclean’s Scotch whisky. Hampshire: Pitkin Guides. Sedgwick, M. (2004). Distilling tradition: Re-inventing single malts in Scotland. In H. Nakamaki (Ed.), A Comparison of management culture in Japan and the UK (pp.  216–224). Osaka: Japanese National Museum of Ethnology. Sumihara, N. (2007). Scotch whisky no bunka marketing: Chiiki-sei to iu shihon (Culture marketing of Scotch Whisky: Regionality for capital) (in Japanese). In H. Nakamaki & K. Hioki (Eds.), Kaisha bunka no glōbal-ka : Keiei jinruigaku-teki Kōsatsu (The globalization of company culture: Studies by business anthropology) (in Japanese) (pp. 131–160). Osaka: Tōhō-shuppan. The Rare Malts Selection. (n.d.). Discover the rare malts selection. Edinburgh: Pamphlet. Trevor-Roper, H. (1983). The Invention of tradition: The highland tradition of Scotland. In E.  Hobsbaum & T.  Ranger (Eds.), The invention of tradition (pp.  15–42). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Websites Bruichladdich Distillery. (2014). Duncan McGillivray Retires. https://www.bruichladdich.com/ article/duncan-mcgillivray-retires. Accessed 9 Jan 2018. The Drinks Business. (2013). https://www.thedrinksbusiness.com/2013/02/bruichladdich-set-todouble-production. Accessed 9 Jan 2018. Whisky Intelligence. (2012). http://www.whiskyintelligence.com/2012/09/sirius-a-glowing-collection-of-super-nova-whiskies-shared-by-mahesh-patel-scotch-whisky-news. Accessed 8 Jan 2018.

Chapter 10

One History, Two Narratives: The Company Myths of Japanese Whisky Companies Yoshiyuki Takeuchi

Abstract  In this chapter, by examining narratives on making liquor, we will explain how modern myth-like stories contribute to the branding strategies of liquor companies and their products. We focus on “whisky,” which has been drunk in Japan since the Meiji era, and deal with the “myths” created by two large whisky companies about the birth of Japanese whisky. To evaluate these company “myths,” we first introduce modern Japanese sake brewage and secondly give a brief overview of whisky making. We also introduce stories relating to Scotch whisky for reference. After providing historical evidence regarding the birth of Japanese whisky, we introduce how two large Japanese whisky companies created narratives of the aforementioned history. We try to interpret these two narratives according to two perspectives: one is mythological metaphor and another is globalism. From the perspective of mythological metaphor, we find that these stories can be classified as hero myths. With respect to globalism, these narratives can be understood as realizations of “authenticity” and “localization.” Finally, we consider the relationship between the character of the corporation and its narratives.

10.1  Introduction Liquors are alcoholic beverages made by fermenting sugary liquid made from cereal worts and fruit juice. Before the fermentation mechanism was scientifically analyzed, liquors and their production were viewed as mysterious processes. For such mysteriousness, we have plenty of stories on brewing methods and brewers. The invention story of bottom-fermented beer in Bavaria, Germany, is a classic example of this type of story. Most stories relate to some kind of activity at a specific time and pace by a certain person who existed at some point in the distant past; these are defined as “legends.” These stories are classified by their contents as inventor (or

Y. Takeuchi (*) Graduate School of Economics, Osaka University, Toyonaka, Osaka, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 H. Nakamaki et al. (eds.), Enterprise as a Carrier of Culture, Translational Systems Sciences 16, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-7193-6_10

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invention) legends, founder legends, legends regarding the making process, product legends, and so on. Some of these legends have a similar structure and function to those of myths. For instance, founder’s legends often emphasize the outstanding ability of the founder. If this reaches a supernatural level, then it sometimes converts to sacredness. Such legends often contain three out of the five characteristics of myth highlighted by M. Eliade: “(1) constitutes the history of the acts of supernaturals; (2) that this history is considered to be absolutely true (because it is concerned with realities) and sacred (because it is the work of the supernaturals); (3) that myth is always related to a ‘creation,’ it tells how something came into existence, or how a pattern of behavior, an institution, a manner of working were established.”1 Although these legends are not myth as defined by religion, science, and/or anthropology, they have been accepted as mythological legends. As liquors have changed from homemade products to those commercially produced by professional brewers, these legends have become stories that are consumed at the same time as liquors. To look at it from another perspective, these “stories” have a mechanism of adding the value to the liquor. Nowadays, liquor producers and retailers aggressively use mythological stories to enhance the branding of their products. Before ending this chapter, we give definitions of “story” and “narrative.”2 We define “story” as an (already) written description of a sequence of events. On the other hand, “narrative” is defined as a combination of “story” and discourse, which is represented by the actor. In this definition, “narrative” is allowed to change/inflate the “story” by the actor. In this chapter, we will explain how modern myth-like stories contribute to the branding strategies of liquor companies and their products by inspecting narratives on making liquor. In particular, we focus on “whisky” which has been drunk in Japan since the Meiji era and deal with “myths” created by two large whisky companies about the birth of Japanese whisky. In the next section, we explain modern Japanese sake brewage and its related stories for reference. In Sect. 10.3, we firstly give a brief overview of whisky making and then introduce stories relating to Scotch whisky. In Sect. 10.4, after showing historical evidence of the birth of Japanese whisky, we introduce how two large Japanese whisky companies created narratives of that history. In Sect. 10.5, we give two interpretations of these narratives. Finally, we consider the relationship between the character of the corporation and its narratives.

1  Eliade (1963) pp. 18–19. The two other functions are (4) “that by knowing the myth one knows the ‘origin’ of things and hence can control and manipulate them at will…” and (5) “…that in one way or another one ‘lives’ the myth, in the sense that one is seized by the scared, exalting power of the events recollected or re-enacted.” 2  We have a hint of this definition from Abbott (2008).

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Fig. 10.1  Process of sake making

10.2  Sake Brewage and Its Stories 10.2.1  Modern Japanese Sake Brewage Before we introduce stories about Japanese sake, we provide a brief outline of the process of making Japanese sake. Sake is brewed from rice. The making process of sake3 is complicated as indicated in Fig.  10.1. Rice has to be polished, washed, soaked in water, and steamed. Part of the steamed rice is used to make kōji (Aspergillus) which converts the rice starch into sugar. A different part of the steamed rice is used to make shubo (fermentation starter) by adding yeast, kōji, and water. When the shubo has been made, the rest of steamed rice, kōji, shubo, and water are put into a fermentation tank, and a fermentation mash is made. Sake is extracted by pressing this fermentation mash. When making sake the biggest issues are failure of fermentation and hiochi or spoilage of the sake by hiochi bacteria during the storing stage. The scientific process of brewing sake was only made known in the twentieth century, and the custom praying to deities for the success of brewing continues today. Every November, shrines dedicated to brewing deities hold festivals to pray for the safety and success of brewing. Such festivals are held by the Ōmiwa shrine (Sakurai, Nara), the Matsunoo Taisha shrine (Kyoto), and the Umemiya Taisha shrine (Kyoto) and attract not only sake breweries from all over Japan but also large beer brewing companies.

 For more detailed explanation, see NRIB (2014, 2017), and Chaps. 3 and 4 of Parker (2006).

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Stories about the production of sake can be classified into two categories: stories on the production process and stories about the existence of sake itself and sake breweries. Turning to the sake making process, we can use four factors to determine the characteristics of sake, the water, rice, yeast, and technique of making shubo. As well as rice, water has been viewed as an important factor that determines the character of sake. Sake brewers in Nada (Kobe City, Nishinomiya City), which has been a major production center of sake since the Edo era, have emphasized the excellence of the water used in their sake. Sake breweries in other areas have also told stories that their excellent water causes good sake. There are two types of rice used in sake making: one is table rice (e.g., Nihon Bare) and another is special sake rice. A 2015 report4 by Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries (MAFF) indicated that there are 105 varieties of sake rice. However, only each of three varieties, Yamada Nishiki, Gohyakumangoku, and Miyama Nishiki, accounts for over 5% share of the total yields of sake rice (107,797 t). The sum of these three varieties of rice accounts for 68% share of the total sake rice yields. Yamada Nishiki rice is preferred in the production of Ginjō sake (which we will mention later), and therefore the view that this rice is necessary to make excellent sake has become a legend or a myth-like narrative. It accounts for 36% of total sake rice yield in Japan and in Hyogo Prefecture Yamada Nishiki rice accounts for 23% of total sake rice yields. Different from the wine law of the European Union, the geographical indication of Japanese sake does not require the growing area of the rice to be the same as the area in which the sake is brewed. Therefore, many sake breweries in Japan tend to demand Yamada Nishiki rice grown in Hyogo Prefecture. Recently, like wine producers in Europe, some breweries have started to use rice that is grown in their local area. In opposition to the oligopolistic situation of sake rice, some sake breweries and farmers have undertaken joint projects to grow older or ancient varieties of rice. One example of these projects has become the subject of a manga series, Natsuko no Sake (The Sake brewed by Natsuko), by Akira Oze. Originally, the wild yeasts in each sake brewery, called kuratsuki kōbo, were used for sake fermentation. However, since the end of the Meiji era, the Brewing Society of Japan (BSJ) has been supplying cultured kuratsuki kōbo sake yeasts. Nowadays it is common for sake breweries to use Kyōkai sake yeasts. There are several sake yeasts available, which produce different tastes and characteristics. By using Kyōkai sake yeasts, the fermentation process has become standardized to some degree, and therefore control of fermentation has become easier. On the other hand, the fact that several sake breweries use the same yeast for sake production creates effect reducing the individual characteristics of each sake brewery and its sake products. The average sake consumer cannot identify the original brewery of Kyōkai sake yeasts because these are named and classified by numbers such as “k-x.” Even though a brewery has supplied its wild yeast to BSJ, it might not directly enhance the reputation of the brewery.

 MAFF (2017) pp.26–29

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At the end of Meiji era, two modern techniques for creating the fermentation starter, shubo, were invented by researchers of the National Research Institute of Brewing (NRIB): one is yamabai-moto created by Kin-ichiro Kagi and the other is sokujō-moto by Kamajiro Eda5. The institute promoted these new techniques to sake breweries. Nowadays, most sake breweries employ the sokujō-moto technique, and traditional kimoto and bodai-moto techniques were disregarded. However, to make an impact on the characteristics of their sake, some sake breweries have dared to employ traditional techniques. Traditionally, sake making has been conducted by a team of kurabito (brewers) led by a tōji (master brewer). During the Edo era, the brewing of sake was moved to the winter months. As a master brewer, the tōji is responsible for all aspects of sake making including organization of the kurabito. The brewery owner hires a tōji and provides the preferred characteristics of sake, but the owner does not interfere with the brewing itself. These kinds of division of roles are established and maintained. Local guilds are responsible for the organization and education of tōjis. The guild assigns a tōji to a sake brewery and provides technical workshops. Although the division of roles between the tōji and the brewery owner has continued, this relationship has gradually begun to change. Since the latter half of the Meiji era, some brewery owners have sent their children to technical colleges (higher technical schools) and universities to study the science of brewing. Some of those children have promoted scientific thinking and the modernization of sake making.6 Nowadays, owners of some breweries also work as tōjis due to the difficulty in finding a tōji successor.

10.2.2  Stories on Modern Sake Brewage Next, we shall consider stories of a social nature relating to sake and sake breweries. In this subsection, we deal with rituals and sake contests such as the Annual Japan Sake Awards (AJSA), which began in 1911. In Shintō shrine rituals, sake is used or placed on the altar. Some shrines still brew their own sake for their rituals, though most entrust this process to breweries. This implies entrusted sake breweries are approved for some legitimacy on sake making by the shrine. The AJSA have encouraged improvements in brewing techniques. Nowadays, Ginjō sake is considered to be the premium Japanese sake, brewed specifically to win awards. Although sake that is awarded gold at the AJSA is seldom directly released on the market, the awards is a good place for sake breweries to display their technical ability to brew “excellent sake.”  Yoshida (2013) pp.70–73  Usaburo Sato (Aramasa brewery where the Kyōkai yeast “k-6” is separated) was one of such persons. He graduated from the department of brewage, Osaka Higher Technical School. He and Masakata Taketsuru (will be mentioned in Sect.10.3) were excellent students in the same year and were called “Taketsuru from western (Japan) and Usaburo from eastern (Japan) (are distinct).” 5 6

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Next, we focus on stories about sake brewage that relate to the people involved. Many of these stories are about tōji or technical brewers. The oldest person written about is Ikuhi Takahashi in the Nihon Shoki (The Chronicles of Japan), which was edited and compiled in the eighth century. Here we find a description of him brewing sake to offer to deities. As a result of this, he was enshrined as the deity of the Ikuhi Shrine that is an auxiliary shrine of the Ōmiwa Shrine. The Ikuhi Shrine has been worshiped by the people involved in (sake) brewing including tōji. Since the Meiji era, in addition to the two people who invented new shubo making techniques mentioned in Sect. 10.2.1, other technical brewers and brewery scientists have been recognized for their contributions to sake making. Examples of these people include Senzaburo Miura who contributed to improvements in the quality of sake made in Hiroshima, Masatsune Hanaoka who contributed to the improvement of Akita-made sake, and Kin-ichi Nojiro who contributed to the improvement of the quality of Kumamoto-made sake, and such people are referred to as “Deities of Sake.”7 Recently, some of tōjis have attracted the attention of sake lovers, for example, Naohiko Noguchi, who is one of the Noto-school tōji and was featured in a TV documentary for his excellent Ginjō sake making,8 Philip Harper, who is the first foreign tōji to win the gold award of the AJSA and featured in newspapers9 and magazines, etc. However, the spread of these stories has been limited to within the sake industry and to sake lovers. There are two possible reasons for this: One is the fact that new technical brewing inventions have mainly been made by researchers of the National Research Institute of Brewing (NRIB) and other prefectural research institutes and have been diffused to sake breweries. Therefore, employing new techniques does not lead to a sales point or characteristic of a specific sake brewery. Another reason is the structure of the sake industry. The survey10 of the sake industry conducted by the National Tax Agency found that in 2015 there were 1433 brewing companies. Only 1.0% of them produced over 5000kl of sake, and their share of total production was 50.1%. On the contrary, 92.4% of them were small companies, each of which made less than 500kl sake in 2015, and their total share of all production was 21.9%. For small breweries, the tōji’s contribution to breweries business would be larger. Even though tōji’s stories are told, it is difficult for these stories to become “big stories” because the breweries where the tōji work have a tiny market share.

 Yoshida (2013) pp.84–97  NHK TV program “#139, Professional; shigoto no ryūgi (Professionals; their style of work) (in Japanese)” on air at March 9, 2010 9  Glionna (2009) is one of them. 10  Table 4-(1) and Table 6 of NTA (2017b). 7 8

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Fig. 10.2  Making process of malt whisky

10.3  Whisky Making and Its Stories11 10.3.1  Overview of Whisky Making Whisky is a distilled spirit made from malted barley and grain such as corn and rye and has a particular feature that it should be aged for a certain number of years in oak barrels. Most of the famous Scotch whiskies such as Ballantine’s and the Johnnie Walker are blended whiskies, which are blended with malt whisky from malted barley and grain whisky from corn and so on. Both malt whisky and grain whisky are also released as single whisky, though they are drunk by fewer people and made small in batches. From the 2015 consumption data on the United Kingdom12, 85.5% of all whisky consumed is blended, whereas 14.5% of the total consumed is single malt. Before discussing stories about whisky, we briefly explain the process of whisky manufacturing. Malt whisky is made from two-row barley. An overview of making malt whisky is shown in Fig.  10.2. At the beginning of the process, barley must germinate. When the barley begins to sprout, the sprouting is stopped by drying the barley, sometimes by burning peat in a process known as malting. Next, the malted barley is ground and mixed with hot water in a mash tun to create sugary liquid called a wort. Then the wort is fed into a large vessel called a washback and is

11 12

 Sections below are a modified and updated version of Takeuchi (2012).  SWA (2017) p.6

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Fig. 10.3  Pot stills of Nikka Yoichi Distillery. (Photographed by the author)

Fig. 10.4  Making process of grain whisky

f­ ermented by adding yeast. In this fermentation, the wort turns into a wash, an alcohol liquid of 5–8% ABV.  The wash is distilled twice in copper pot stills (see Fig. 10.3). The distilled spirit called a new pot is poured into oak casks and matured. These are the basic manufacturing processes of malt whisky. The manufacturing process of grain whisky is different from that of malt whisky in the following ways (see Fig. 10.4): (1) Steamed unmalted cereals such as corn

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and wheat are used in addition to malted barley. (2) The wash is distilled using a continuous or patent still. By using the continuous still, the resulting new pot has a characteristic high proof but less flavor and aroma. These manufacturing processes were established in the mid-nineteenth century. Although there have been some technical innovations since then, the foundation of the manufacturing process remains unaltered. However, it is also true that whisky making is not completely scientific13. For these reasons, some malt whisky distilleries rigidly adhere to traditional manufacturing processes to maintain the characteristics of their whiskies. As a result, stories that connect tradition and characteristics have developed. Some of these have become mythological stories. There are traditions relating to each part of the process of whisky making. For the malting process, many distilleries nowadays buy malted barley from malting companies, whereas a small number of distilleries still undertake their own malting using the traditional floor malting method. In the fermentation process, some distilleries have switched to using stainless steel washbacks, whereas a few distilleries cling to the use of wooden washbacks. In the distillation process, many distilleries are characterized by the shape of their pot stills and heating methods (direct heating by coal and gas or indirect heating by steam). In the maturation process, various traditions and characteristics are seen in the size and type of casks (classified as new/reuse first fill or second fill), by the type of liquor previously stored in the aging barrels (sherry, bourbon), and in relation to the storing of casks. Each of these traditions is believed to reflect the unique characteristics of each whisky and is communicated through stories.

10.3.2  Stories about Scotch Whisky Stories about Scotch whisky that are told at the visitor centers of distilleries and on the web pages of (whisky) brands are roughly classified into the following two types: “stories about peoples” and “stories about production processes.” The way in which stories are told varies between single malt distilleries and distilleries that supply malt whisky for blending 14. To begin with, we discuss “stories about peoples.” For official single malt whisky releasing distilleries, stories about the manufacturers and/or founders are the most commonly told. The Glenlivet distillery, established in 1824, has an excellent reputation due to its age. The distillery filed the first legal action against other distilleries to prevent them from taking advantage of the reputation and of the name Glenlivet. The Glenfiddich Distillery emphasizes the fact that their business is a family-run business. By highlighting the remarkable contributions made by some of their family members, they are showing that the family’s tradition and spirits are successful. On the other hand, malt whisky distilleries that supply whisky to be blended use 13 14

 Buxton and Hughes (2014) provide a scientific analysis of whisky.  For a study of visitor tours of whisky distilleries, see Sumihara (2007).

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stories that honor whisky blenders, who contribute to establishing whisky brands. In addition, stories honoring advertising/marketing individuals who developed domestic and foreign markets are also told. Next, we discuss “stories about production processes.” Distilleries that produce single malts emphasize stories about the “continuation” of traditional production methods. For example, the Macallan distillery repeatedly screened a video clip that showed their continued use of a specific variety of barley and sherry casks used for the maturation of whisky15. Most of these distilleries also create showing that the natural environment around each distillery is partially responsible for “excellent” malt whisky. In contrast, distilleries supplying malt whisky for blended whisky use stories that show their whisky is used as the key malt of famous blended whisky. In addition, during a visitor tour of one distillery, presentations on blending malt and grain whiskies are given so that visitors are able to experience the richer flavor and taste than malt whisky alone. Even though such distilleries have a wonderful natural environment, they do not tell stories that emphasize the surrounding “nature.”16 These facts are quite interesting. It seems that stories from many famous distilleries about Scotland’s natural environment producing “excellent” whisky are widely accepted. We have to keep in mind that such stories help to establish “distilleries tour” as one of the main sources of tourism in Scotland and that these tours in turn enrich the stories.

10.4  N  arratives on Japanese Whisky: One History, Two Narratives 10.4.1  Historical Evidences Nowadays, Japan is counted as one of the five great whisky-producing nations: Scotland, Ireland, America (United States), Canada, and Japan. The production volume of Japanese whisky is 72,984 KLPA (2015 Japanese fiscal year). This is relatively small in volume compared to the production of Scotch whisky (517,922 KLPA for malt and grain whisky in 2011 and 277,730 KLPA for malt whisky in 2015) and that of the American whisky (278,061 KLPA in 2015)17. However, the size of Japanese distilleries is not small relative to that of Scottish and American

 In September 2002 when the author visited there  A malt whisky distillery for blending whisky that is surrounded by a good natural environment, visited by the author in 2007, sends all their distilling whisky to the warehouse in Glasgow. When the author asked a guide of the distillery the reason for this, he answered “It is a myth that the natural environment greatly affects the whisky. The effect of cask woods is considerably greater.” 17  KLPA (kiloliter pure alcohol). The Scotch data is from the Scotch Whisky Association (SWA) (2017), the US data is from the ATTTB (2016), and the Japanese data is from Table 8–3 of the NTA (2017a). 15 16

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distilleries18. In addition, excluding micro-distilleries, distilleries in Japan are limited to the following five: Yamazaki, Hakushu (Suntory), Yoichi, Miyagikyo (Nikka), and Fuji Gotemba (Kirin). Japanese whisky is classified as Scotch-type for both the making process and final products. This is based on the fact that the distilling of the top two companies, Suntory and Nikka, was started by one technical whisky distiller, Masataka Taketsuru (1894–1979). Taketsuru was born into the collateral family of “Ozasaya Taketsuru” who has run family businesses to brew Japanese sake since 1733 in Takehara city, Hiroshima Prefecture. To join the family business, he entered the department of brewage, Osaka Higher Technical School (currently the School of Engineering, Osaka University). As he was interested in foreign-origin liquors, he joined Settsu Shuzō, which was a large foreign-origin liquor company, just after graduation in 1916. Settsu Shuzō, which had been making also imitation whisky at that time, planned to distill and produce its own whisky. In 1918, the company sent him to Scotland to obtain enough knowledge to make whisky. He had studied applied chemistry at the University of Glasgow and the Royal Technical College (currently the University of Strathclyde). He also trained at the Hazelburn distillery (closed in 1925), Cambeltown, and the Longmorn distillery19 in Rothes. Taketsuru returned to Japan in 1921. As the whisky production plan was cancelled due to the economic depression after the WWI, he quit Settsu Shuzō. Meanwhile, Kotobuki-ya (currently Suntory) was enjoying a boom in sales after the release of “Akadama Port Wine”20 in 1907. Its president, Shinjiro Torii, had pushed forward with the plan to distill the company’s own whisky. He had a plan to invite a distiller from Scotland, but his advisor Dr. Moore, who was a Scottish zymurgist, recommended Taketsuru instead. In June 1923, Taketsuru signed a 10-year contract with Kotobuki-ya on an annual salary of 4000 JPYen. In October 1924, Kotobuki-ya bought land in the village of Yamazaki, Shimamoto, Osaka Prefecture, and the groundbreaking ceremony for the new distillery was held in April 1925. After the inauguration of the distillery in November of the same year, the first (malt) whisky distilling in Japan took place. The first whisky to include Japanese malt whisky was “Suntory Whisky White Label” released in 1929. After his contract expired in March 1934, Taketsuru left Kotobuki-ya, and he established the Dai-Nippon-Kajū Co. (Japan Fruit Juice) in July 1934, which produces fruit juice. The company built a factory in Yoichi, Hokkaido. While the  Annual production capacity of malt distilleries in Japan is estimated as follows: 2000 KLPA for Yoichi, 5000 KLPA for Miyagikyo, 7000 KLPA for Yamazaki, 4000 KLPA for Hakushu, and 2000 KLPA for Fuji Gotemba. Ronde (2017) reported that the largest malt distillery in Scotland is the Glenfiddich distillery, which has a capacity of 13,700 KLPA. The median of annual production capacity of working malt distilleries (116 distilleries) in Scotland is 2800 KLPA. Only 25 distilleries have capacity of over 5000 KLPA. 19  In documents by Taketsuru, he refers to the Longmorn distillery as the Glenlivet distillery because the Longmorn distillery was called Longmorn-Glenlivet distillery when Taketsuru stayed in Scotland. 20  Now called Akadama Sweet Wine 18

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c­ ompany originally began producing apple juice, it started distilling whisky in the autumn of 1936 and released their own “Nikka Whisky.” As previously mentioned, the two leading whisky makers in Japan owe their origins to one technical whisky distiller. The common evidence that pot stills of only these whisky makers are hung with “shimenawa” (sacred straw ropes) show this fact.21 This might be related that Taketsuru called a tōji and kurabito from his hometown Takehara for fermentation and distilling when he started up the Yamazaki distillery. How have Suntory and Nikka narrated these creation histories of Japanese whisky? We will examine descriptions of exhibitions at distillery’s visitor centers, corporate histories, and web pages.

10.4.2  Narratives of Suntory In the Yamazaki Whisky House attached to the Yamazaki distillery, there is an “Exhibition on the history of Japanese whisky.”22 The history of whisky making by Suntory from its beginning up to the present day is introduced in the exhibition. On the exhibition panels, Shinjiro Torii’s passion for whisky and his fruits is explained. However, there is no information on Masataka Taketsuru. Moreover, in the section of the exhibition entitled “Prologue to Japanese Whisky,” there is a description that suggests failure by the technical distiller: Unfortunately the first distilled malt whisky in Japan destroyed Shinjiro’s hope. Then, through ingenious blending and continuous improvement of the brewing method “Suntory Whisky Shirofuda (white label),” was released at 1929, the first Japanese distilled whisky product.

In the section of the exhibition entitled “The flowering of Japanese whisky culture,” stories that praise Torii’s talent as a blender are narrated as follows: In 1937, Shinjiro who blessed with exceptional blending skills released his masterpiece “Suntory Whisky Kakubin (square bottle).” “Kakubin,” which reflects Japanese taste, gained popularity and began to sell in large quantities.

How are these historical steps presented in the corporate history, which would be seen as representative of the official history of the corporation? In the Suntory’s corporate history “70 years of Suntory Co.” published in 1969, the writer Hitomi Yamaguchi23 wrote:  See Fig 10.3.  Quoted expressions below come from the web page of the Yamazaki Distillery that shows a brief summary of the exhibition panels. (http://www.suntory.co.jp/factory/yamazaki/guide/facilities/80aniv/index.html. Accessed 25 January 2010.) 23  Hitomi Yamaguchi (1926–1995) was a novelist and ex-employee in the advertising department of Kotobuki-ya (Suntory). In 1963, while he was an employee of the company, he won the 48th Naoki prize (a literary award). 21 22

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Shinjiro came up with a plan to invite Dr. Moore from Scotland and asked Mitsui & Co. to arrange this. At the same time, he was informed that a young technical distiller, who had trained in the art of whisky making in Scotland, had returned to Japan. That distiller was Masataka Taketsuru. Shinjiro hired Taketsuru in his twenties for 4,000 JPYen a year. … Thus, on April 1st, 1929 a Suntory whisky came onto the market. Before the release, when a sample whisky was made, if Shinjiro yelled out, “This’s it!,” the biographer could describe easily. Shinjiro made a sour face. It was far from Scotch whisky, it smelled burnt. In accordance with the process directly imported from Scotland, sherry casks are used to mature only high quality whisky The warehouse is located in Yamazaki, which has a similar environment to Rothes valley in Scotland. The use of faultless ingredients, golden-­ melon barley and water received the approval of Dr. Moore. Shinjiro sent Taketsuru, the distillery manager, to Scotland again. And he went to whisky experts with distilled malt whisky to get their opinion. It seems that the burnt came from heavy peating during the malting process. There was a problem with the type of yeast used. The Yamazaki distillery was initially given beer yeast by the Dai-Nippon Brewery in Suita, which is close to the Yamazaki distillery. … “It is fortunate that Suntory (whisky) remains unsold.” Every senior employee who joined the company in the Taishō era or the early Shōwa era says so. It sounds like sour grapes to me. “Domestically distilled whisky did not give bad impressions due to leaving unsold at that time. Leaving the unsold whisky allowed it to mature into 12-year-old malt whisky. We owe everything to the whisky being unsold.” It was the end of 1937 that Kakubin (Square Bottle), the 12-year-old Suntory whisky, could be produced. (Yamaguchi 1969: 99–102)24

A couple of decades later, Hitomi Yamaguchi looked back and said, “To write the corporate history of Suntory Ltd. is to write a biography of Shinjiro Torii. I wrote it, as much as possible, in the style of a novel” (Yamaguchi 2003: 168). Since his narrative was objective and fair from the viewpoint of the history of whisky distilling in Japan, he suggested that the “burnt smell” was caused not only by production problems but also by too short a period of maturation. Thirty years later, the 100th anniversary corporate history “Hibi-ni Arata-ni (Fresh Every Day)” also mentioned the story about Torii hired Taketsuru as a technical distiller of whisky. However, there is difference in the perception: …the market reputation of “Suntory whisky Shirofuda (white Label)” on which Kotobuki-ya bet its future was poor. The bad reputation such as “burnt smell” and “smoky” are in the majority… …Against the bad market reputation and the company crisis, Shinjiro did not cross his arms. When he sent the technical distiller to Scotland. Shinjiro had slept in Yamazaki distillery and devoted himself to improving the malt whisky and blending (whisky). (Suntory 1999: 84)25

24 25

 Translated by the author  Translated by the author

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In that (corporate) history, the narrative emphasizes the role of Torii as a master blender.

10.4.3  Narratives of Nikka In the Yoichi distillery, the whisky museum is housed in a couple of buildings. The Nikka building houses exhibitions honoring the founder, Masataka Taketsuru. Using a guide to the distillery, they describe the life of “the father of Japanese whisky.” It should be noted that the life history of Taketsuru’s wife Rita (Jessie Roberta), whom Taketsuru married when he was in Scotland, is also an integral part of the development of Nikka whisky. The exhibition describes his wife as a Scottish woman who had supported “the father” and raised their “child,” whisky, in Japan. Although the Nikka Whisky Distilling Co. has no complete record of its company history, its website shows the life history of Masataka Taketsuru and the development of the company. We can treat this instead as the official company history. In the web pages, how Taketsuru distilled the first Japanese whisky in Kotobuki-ya is described as follows: …Building the distillery for authentic whisky had been entrusted to Taketsuru. However, he had to compromise on only one issue, the location of the distillery. At first, Taketsuru recommended Hokkaido, but the proposal abandoned for various reasons. It was then decided that the distillery would be constructed at Yamazaki. This was due to easy access and fulfillment of the necessary requirements, such as water quality. Taketsuru was in charge of all aspects of the distillery. The notebook full of skills he learned during his training in Scotland and his experience of cleaning stills were useful when he needed to make pot stills. In this manner, the first whisky distillery in Japan, the Yamazaki distillery, was born26.

The website goes on to describe the reputation of “Shirofuda (white label)” as follows: …However, “Suntory Shirofuda” would not sell. Smoky flavor which is a characteristic of the peated Scotch whisky was seen as a “burnt smell”. In addition to the high price, this created its unfavorable reputation for it. Torii demanded that Masataka (Taketsuru) change the taste of the whisky to suit Japanese tastes. However, Masataka stuck to authentic whisky making using the same methods as used in Scotland. After his ten-year contract expired, Masataka decided to leave the company27.

Narratives like this show a picture of Taketsuru as a technical distiller who took pride in his work and stuck to his ideals. It is quite interesting to note that the positions of Torii and Taketsuru are not described as “the first business person in Japan” vs “the first Japanese technical  “Taketsuru no Seishin (The spirit of Taketsuru)” (in Japanese), http://www.nikka.com/world/sticking/Taketsuru/history/spirit/index3.html. Accessed 25 January 2010 (translated by the author) 27  The web page (https://www.nikka.com/80th/story/rin/page4.html. Accessed 19 January 2018) is a reproduction of Takubo (2004) (translated by the author). 26

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distiller of whisky,” respectively, but as “whisky blender” vs “whisky distilling expert.” In the next section, we will examine why Torii is viewed as a “whisky blender.”

10.5  Interpretation of These “Two Narratives” In this section, we will show what kinds of interpretation are possible for the “two narratives” that we presented in the previous sections. If we apply the relationship between Torii and Taketsuru to Japanese sake making, they correspond to owner of sake brewery and tōji, respectively. As argued in Sect. 10.2.2, stories about tōji and/ or technical brewers have been told in relation to Japanese sake making. Thus, Taketsuru’s story can be interpreted using the framework of traditional Japanese sake. However, we have to seek other frameworks to interpret Torii’s story. Here we propose interpretations using two frameworks. One is the interpretation based on mythological metaphor. As already argued, the structure of some legends is close to that of “myth.” Both narratives, Suntory and Nikka, are classified as narratives of “foundation.” Their stories describe the adventure of jumping into the unexplored world of “making whisky” and returning home having survived some kind of test or challenge. Given this feature, the structure of the narrative is similar to a “Hero’s myth”28 as classified by Campbell (1988). Therefore, we are able to interpret these narratives as a mythological metaphor. If so, the “founders” who feature heavily in stories of foundation play the same role as that of “Heroes” in “myths.” Let us analyze the “Hero’s Myth” of Japanese whisky. Since Taketsuru was not only a technical distiller who got directly involved in whisky making but had also learned the craft in Scotland, he is a true “hero,” who went off on adventures into the unknown world, in this case Scotland. In addition, he got married to a Scottish woman and brought her back to Japan. This fact can be viewed as the “hero” coming home with the “princess” he met in a far off land. This story shows Taketsuru to be the father of Japanese whisky. If this interpretation is true, Shinjiro Torii is no longer a “hero” because he was not a technical distiller. Consequently, Suntory, without its “hero” Taketsuru, cannot claim to be the orthodox producer of Japanese whisky. To support the narrative that the Suntory is the orthodox producer of Japanese whisky, it is necessary to have another “hero” who surpasses the technical distiller. Such a “hero” is the master blender29. As we mentioned before, most famous blended Scotch whiskies are released by reputable whisky merchants known for their  For discussion on the structure of hero’s stories as part of a hero myth, see Chap. V of Campbell (1988), for instance. 29  Suntory’s second master blender was Keizo Saji, who is the second son of Shinjiro Torii and was the second president of Suntory Ltd. Its third master blender is Singo Torii, who is a grandson of Shinjiro and the Vice Chairman of Suntory Holdings Ltd. The position of master blender has been passed down from father to son. 28

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e­ xcellent blending techniques. Therefore, there is no doubt that blenders are treated as “heroes.” In the field of blended whisky, it is often said that a master blender has a superman-like talent. Jack Goudy, the third master blender at the Ballantine’s distillery, left the following anecdote30. When Goudy was tasting some whisky samples, he could taste iron, which is absolutely impossible, in a malt whisky sample. After that, when the distillery where the sample was created cleaned out a vat, the distillery worker discovered wooden stepladders inside. Iron nails used in the steps were the cause of him being able to taste iron. Suntory’s corporate history says that the birth of “Akadama Port Wine” was the outcome of Torii’s excellent blending ability. It also demonstrates that his superman-­ like ability makes him eligible to be a “hero” master blender. Then, the ordeal imposed to Torii as a master blender was “whisky making accepted to Japanese.” Another is an interpretation from the viewpoint of globalism (in wider sense). It has been often pointed out that reinterpretation of the meaning of migrated foods from foreign countries, such as whisky to Japan, is made  by localization and/or creolization. Although globalization can be used to refer to concepts such as localization and/or creolization, we refer to the concept of “authenticity” in this article. Pratt (2007) says that authenticity represents a qualitative attribute of foods and dishes and focuses on two factors: location and making process. Nikka’s story tells the processes to realize “authenticity.” Whisky making to Taketsuru is to produce “authentic” whisky “made in Japan,” i.e., Scotch whisky equivalence. Therefore, he chose Yoichi where the climate is similar to Scotland as the location of the distillery and persisted in peat-malting, which he said produced the unwelcome “burnt smell”: One of characteristics of the Glenlivet distillery is the heavy-peated malting. Therefore, the burnt smell is a little bit stronger when its malt whisky is young. But as it ages, it transforms into an excellent whisky. That is the reason why aged Glenlivet is sold at a higher price. …It is difficult to create such a good aroma. I think I ought to create this aroma in Japan. (Nikkei Inc. 1980, 168–169)31

This shows Taketsuru had confidence in making heavy-peated whisky. Even now, the Yoichi distillery still employs the coal-fired direct heating distillation method to some products. Taketsuru rejected the steam-heating distillation method, even though it is an excellent method, because it causes a loss of “authenticity.” Since 1964, Nikka has distilled grain whisky. Nikka installed the Coffey still, an old type of continuous still. The slogan “Nikka with Quality (Hin-shitsu no Nikka),” used in publicity and advertising, implies high-quality whisky to rival or surpass authentic Scotch whisky and emphasizes Nikka’s authenticity. On the other hand, Suntory’s story emphasizes that “Japanese” whisky is localized or creolized for Japanese tastes. It is not certain how Torii decided to start producing “Japanese whisky.” But his son Keizo Saji, who was the second president of Suntory (Kotobuki-ya), told the footstep of Shinjiro Torii as: 30 31

 Nown (1996) p.70  Translated by the author

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While the whisky was developed by sacrificing everything, my father was dissatisfied with the ways of developing. He had deeply questioned the policy of the Yamazaki Distillery that had been learned from and copied Scotch whisky. Something was wrong. Something was mad. It was in those days that whisky from the Yamazaki Distillery abandoned trying to imitate Scotch whisky. Mr. Taketsuru left Kotobuki-ya. … Since then32, it has appeared that radical improvement in the quality of Suntory whisky has occurred. A while later, my father’s masterpiece, the square bottled Kakubin was born at 1937. Looking back, it was a long-long path filled with many challenges. We have to accept without reservation the fact that Suntory whisky is a descendant of Scotch whisky. However, from the moment my father gained control of everything, Suntory whisky escaped from imitating Scotch whisky and began to head in a unique direction. Suntory whisky is Japanese whisky. Wherever it may sell, it is Japanese Suntory whisky. Suntory does not graciously accept that Suntory whisky is classified as a Scotch type. … An original coordinate axis or scale should be prepared for the Suntory whisky. I believe that my father had the same opinion. Suntory whisky is Japanese whisky. Therefore, we can insist on its position in the world of whisky. (Saji (1969) 197–198)33

Saji placed great emphasis on the fact that “(it is) Japanese whisky suited for Japanese taste.” In the meantime, as represented by the PR magazine Yōshu Tengoku (Western Liquor Paradise) (1956–1963), Suntory has worked to install whisky into Japanese drinking culture34. At the same time, by making products that are suited to Japanese drinking culture, Suntory has created mutual interactions between products and culture and therefore strengthened its position in the whisky market. Suntory has relied heavily on expressions emphasizing Japanese nature in its publicity and promotions35. Phrases like “The place of famous water Sen-Rikyu used his tea ceremony” (Radio ad. for Yamazaki) and “The whisky that chooses a forest as a manufacturer” (Japanese web page of Hakushu) are examples of this. Since Japanese whisky, unlike American whisky, is almost the same as Scotch whisky in terms of ingredients and basic production methods, the only points emphasizing the difference from Scotch whisky are “water” and “a place of aging.” For “aging,” Japanese oak (Quercus crispula) is used to give a different character from that of Scotch whisky. In this century, the reputation of Japanese whisky has spread worldwide so that it is now more popular than ever. The first indication came when the Yoichi shingle cask 10 years won Whisky Magazine’s “Best of the Best” in 2001. Michael Jackson,

 “then” means days around 1930–1931. (This footnote is annotated by the author.)  Translated by the author 34  Suntory has revived “highball (whisky and soda)” as a drinking style of whisky for young generations. As a result of the “Kakubin (Square Bottle) highball” campaign, which has run since 2008, the shipping volume of Kakubin has increased almost twofold in 2 years. (Nikkei Sangyō Shimbun (The Nikkei Business Daily) 2009, March 18, p.18 and 2010, July 5, p.16.) 35  This reflects Suntory’s corporate mission of “In Harmony with People and Nature (Follow Your Nature).” 32 33

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a journalist on beer and whisky, says that, similar to “Judgment in Paris” of 197636 for wine business, this had a significant impact on the whisky business (Jackson 2004, 11). Since then, not only Nikka but also Suntory and other makers’ whiskies have been awarded as high ranking in other whisky competitions. However, the significance of the win is considerably different between Nikka and Suntory. Whereas winning the award for Nikka implies their whisky has the same “authenticity” as Scotch whisky, for Suntory it implies their localized or creolized Japanese whisky is accepted and gaining an excellent worldwide reputation. If we explain these differences by taking “sushi” as an analogy, which has only relatively recently become a global phenomenon, they correspond to the differences between traditional sushi made by a highly acclaimed foreign sushi chef who trained in Japan and a new inside-out sushi roll37 invented by a foreign sushi chef which is recognized as sushi and becomes popular even in Japan38.

10.6  C  onclusions: Character of the Corporation and Its Narratives In this study, we have seen stories and narratives about liquor brewing and distilling in Japan. In particular, we analyzed the narratives of two major Japanese whisky-­ producing companies, Suntory and Nikka, by using the concepts of the mythological metaphor and the globalism. Before closing this chapter, we would like to mention the relationship between the narrative and the character, such as policies of business activity and management, of a company. The differences in the narratives of Suntory and Nikka are caused by the different personalities and characteristics of the founders, Torii and Taketsuru. These narrative differences also appear to be caused by how each company was founded. The origin of Suntory is the “Torii Store (Torii Shōten),” which was established in 1899 by Torii to sell wines and imported foods. At that time, the Japanese were not familiar with wine, and therefore the acidity of imported wine did not match their tastes. Then, wine retailers did not sell imported wines as they were but sold them with added sweetness and flavorings. One of the most popular sweetened wines was the Bee mark Kōzan wine (Hachi-jirushi Kōzan Budō-shu), which was released in 1881 by Denbei Kamiya. “Akadama port wine” by Kotobuki-ya is a  A blind tasting contest of French and the US wines, Chardonnay (white) and Cabernet Sauvignon (red), which was held in 1976. Contrary to expectations that French wine will win by a big margin, we had the result that the US wine win both white and red. It has been believed that this result had a significant impact worldwide. 37  A sushi roll is opposite to traditional ones in that the filling is covered by two layers, seaweed inside and vinegared rice on the outside. 38  The California roll was invented by a sushi chef at the Tokyo Kaikan restaurant in Los Angeles in the 1960s. (Issenberg 2007: 89–91). 36

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f­ollower product. For imported food stores such as the Torii Store, it is important that their products are marketable. Then, it is natural to modify their imported products. For Torii, products to be stocked were determined not by producers but by consumers. Thus, even though the products are “authentic,” they should not be stocked if they do not suit Japanese tastes. At the same time, it was necessary for Torii to develop the market so that consumers choose such unfamiliar products. This seems to be the reason why Suntory have placed great emphasis on publicity and educational campaigns since the age of the Kotobuki-ya. It also should be noted that whisky is one of their products. On the other hand, Nikka was established mainly to make whisky. Taketsuru assumed that high-quality liquor or sake would sell well. That is partly because he was a technical distiller and partly because his family ran a sake-brewing business. Taketsuru remembered the third-rate whisky, which contained malt whisky less than 5% that was introduced after the 1949 revision of the liquor tax law. He said: …Even when the boom in third-rate whisky after the WWII, it went against my principles to release a third-rate whisky. I am confident that liquor containing a small ratio of malt whisky should not be called whisky even if it contains 5% malt whisky. Therefore, I had intentionally chosen to be a malt whisky distillery. Small Japanese sake breweries often sell their brewing tanks to large sake manufacturers. In the same manner, I sold our whisky casks to a whisky manufacturer. Then, Nikka had no way of releasing a finished whisky. It is true that this policy caused many problems for Nikka. I will allow myself to say that yes this policy caused Nikka to develop more slowly as a whisky brand. However, my conscience and pride as a technical whisky distiller did not allow me to release a third-rate whisky … (Diamond 1966, P.24)39

In addition, it seems that the business structure of Scottish malt whisky distilleries that supply malt whisky to blended whisky makers beyond capital-owning groups40 supported Taketsuru’s business decision to become a malt distiller. As a result, Suntory Holdings Ltd. as a corporate body has grown into a large beverage product conglomerate, with 42,081 employees and consolidated sales of 2687 billion JPYen in 2015. Although Suntory is the number one Japanese whisky maker, the fraction of sales from its whisky business to consolidated sales is relatively small, around 9% in 2015. The 2015 sales of Suntory Spirits Ltd., which operates whisky and spirit distilleries, was 236 billion JPY. It should be noted that, as part of their overseas whisky operations, Suntory acquired a famous Scotch distillery the Morrison Bowmore Distillers in 1994 and made it a 100% subsidiary. In 2014, Suntory also acquired a famous Bourbon whisky brand, Beam Inc. for 19 billion USD.  Through such an acquisition, Suntory gained access to well-known whisky brands such as Bowmore, Laphroaig, Jim Beam, Maker’s Mark, and so on. In addition, Suntory plays the role of a trading house to be an import sales agent of globally recognized whisky including Macallan, Glenfiddich, and Ballantine’s.  Translated by the author. Their malt whisky was supplied to the Daikoku Wine Company that released their whisky as Ocean Whisky. (San-raku Co., Sha-shi Hensan-sitsu 1986: 272). 40  Although most blended whiskies use their own malt whiskies for the key malt, they also use malt whiskies from other distilleries for dressing. 39

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Suntory Holdings Ltd. has spent significant sums on advertising, with total advertising expenses in 2015 ranking ninth among all Japanese companies. The total expenditure was 117 billion JPYen, which is 1.7 times that of the advertising expenditure of Kirin Holdings, which is next ranked in the foods segment. These facts may show they come into their business policy at the establishment days. On the other hand, Nikka has continued as a company that distills whisky, brandy, and other sprits with 305 employees and sales of 55 billion JPYen in 2015. During the twentieth century, Nikka Co. was listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange. However, in 2001 they were acquired by Asahi Breweries, which had been the largest shareholder, and become a 100% subsidiary of Asahi Breweries (currently Asahi Group Holdings). As previously stated by the “malt distiller” Masataka Taketsuru, the company continued as one major brand for a large liquor conglomerate in a similar fashion to Scotch whisky distillers with a long and dedicated history. It is no exaggeration for Nikka to say that not only whisky products but also a distiller company has attained to the Scotch. A “story” of a company is often interpreted as being only for product marketing. However, we should note the possibility that narratives play a role in strengthening the directionality of business and/or management. To interpret “narratives” using the mythological metaphor has also its advantages. As M. Eliade pointed out, “the foremost function of myth is to reveal the exemplary models for all human rites and all significant human activities.41” As “narratives” of a company, which become myth-like by being repeatedly told, they indicate a timeless ideal-type company activity. Then, they also define future company activities and the form of a company. The company “myths,” which are examined in this chapter, may suggest such possibilities.

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Jackson, M. (2004). Michael Jackson’s malt whisky companion (5th ed.). London: Dorling Kindersley Ltd. MAFF (Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, Japan). (2017). Heisei 27 Nendo-san Mai no Nōsanbutsu Kensa Kekka (Kakutei-chi) (Final report on inspection of agricultural products for Rice yielded at 2015) (in Japanese). http://www.maff.go.jp/j/seisan/syoryu/kensa/kome/ attach/pdf/index-11.pdf. Accessed 25 Aug 2017. Nikkei (Nihon Keizai Shimbun-sha). (Ed.). (1980). Taketsuru Masataka. In: Watashi no Rireki-­ sho: Keizai-jin 11 (My personal history: Business persons 11) (in Japanese). Nihon Keizai Shimbun-sha (pp. 141–218). Tokoyo: Nikkei Inc. Nown, G. (1996). The scotch: The story of Ballantine’s 17 years old. Tokyo: TBS-Britanica. NRIB (National Research Institute of Brewing). (2014). The story of sake, No. 1. http://www.nrib. go.jp/English/sake/pdf/SakeNo01_en.pdf. Accessed 9 Nov 2017. NRIB. (2017). The story of sake, No. 2. http://www.nrib.go.jp/English/sake/pdf/SakeNo02_en.pdf. Accessed 9 Nov 2017. NTA (National Tax Agency, Japan). (2017a). The 141st National Tax Agency Statistics Report (FY 2015). https://www.nta.go.jp/kohyo/tokei/kokuzeicho/h27/h27.pdf. Accessed 21 July 2017. NTA (National Tax Agency, Japan). (2017b). Seishu Seizōgyō no Gaikyō (Heisei 28 Nendo Chōsa-­ bun) (Overview of sake production industry (2016 survey)) (in Japanese). http://www.nta.go.jp/ shiraberu/senmonjoho/sake/shiori-gaikyo/seishu/2016/pdf/all.pdf. Accessed 27 Feb 2018. Parker, P. (2006). The book of sake: A connoisseur’s guide. Tokyo: Kodansha International. Pratt, J.  (2007). Food values: The local and the Authentic. Critique of Anthropology, 27(3), 285–300. Ronde, I. (Ed.). (2017). Malt Whisky Yearbook 2018. Shrewsbury: Magdig Media. Saji, K. (1969). Ko no Michi Hito-suji ni (Go Straight along This Way). In Sun-ad (Ed.), Suntory no 70 nen I (70 Years of Suntory Co., Vol. 1) (in Japanese) (pp. 191–209). Osaka: Suntory Co. San-raku Co., Sha-shi Hensan-shitsu. (Ed.). (1986). San-raku 50 nen shi (50 years history of San-­ raku Co.) (in Japanese). Tokyo: San-raku. Sumihara, N. (2007). Scotch Whisky no Bunka Marketing: Chiiki-sei to iu Shihon (Culture marketing of the Scotch Whisky: Regionality for Capital) (in Japanese). In H. Nakamaki & K. Hioki (Eds.), Kaisha Bunka no Global-ka: Keiei Jinruigaku-teki Kōsatsu (Globalization of Company Culture: A Study by Business Anthropology) (in Japanese) (pp. 131–160). Osaka: Tōhō-shuppan. Suntory Co. (1999). Hibi-ni Arata-ni: Suntory 100 Nen-shi (Afresh every day: 100 years History of Suntory) (in Japanese). Osaka: Suntory Co. SWA (the Scotch Whisky Association). (2017). Scotch Whisky Statistical Report 2015. http:// www.scotch-whisky.org.uk/media/89273/statistical_report_2015.pdf. Accessed 21 July 2017. Takeuchi, Y. (2012). Kokusan Whisky wo meguru Kaisha ‘Shinwa’ (Company ‘Myth’ on Japan Made Whisky) (in Japanese). In: H.  Nakamaki & K.  Hioki (Eds.), Kaisha Shinwa no Keiei Jinruigaku (Business Anthropology on Company Myth) (in Japanese) (pp. 147–171). Osaka: Tōhō-shuppan. Takubo, S. (2004, October 15). Rin-to Shite: Whisky no Chichi Taketsuru Masakata 4 (Be dignified: Masakata Taketsuru, the father of whisky Vol. 4 (in Japanese). Sankei Shimbun (Sankei Newspaper), p 12. Yamaguchi, H. (1969). Yatte Mina-hare: I Sen-zen Hen (Try it: Part 1 Pre WWII) (in Japanese). In: Sun-ad (Ed.), Suntory no 70 nen I (70 years of Suntory Co., Vol. 1) (in Japanese) (pp. 11–111). Osaka: Suntory Co. Yamaguchi, H. (2003). Seishun no Kokorozashi ni Tsuite: Shōsetsu Torii Shinjiro (About a mind of youth: Novel Shinjiro Torii) (in Japanese). In: H.  Yamaguchi & T.  Kaiko (Eds.), Yatte Mina-hare, Mito Kun-nahare (Try it and see it).(pp. 7–168). Tokyo: Shincho-sha (reprint of Yamaguchi (1969)). Yoshida, H. (2013). Kindai nihon no sake zukuri (Sake making in modern Japan) (in Japanese). Tokyo: Iwanami-shoten.

Index

A Anomaly, 49–67 Archives, 72, 117, 128, 137–139, 146 Authenticity, 182, 184 B Bass beer, 115, 121 Baton, 96, 98–100, 103, 105 Beer brewery, 120, 122 Bellah, R., 5 Bourdieu, P.F., 153, 157 Branding, 117, 118, 158, 162, 168 Bruichladdich, 159–162 Buddhism, 23, 27, 32, 39, 41, 42 Burtonisation, 121, 130 Burton-on-Trent, 127, 129–132, 138–140, 142, 148 Business, v, vi, 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 15, 17, 20, 25, 29–42, 102, 105, 107–109, 115, 120–122, 124, 128, 129, 136–138, 141, 146, 148, 160, 175, 177, 180, 183–186 C Cadbury, A., 13–17 Cadbury family, 10, 13 Cadbury Report, 13, 14 Catholicism, 19–23, 27 Commoditization, 71, 72, 88 Company myth, 167–186 Composer, 95, 96, 98–100 Conflict, 3, 6, 12, 15, 71, 113–124 Consumption, 70–73, 92, 128, 136, 153, 154, 156, 173 Cooper, 114, 115, 124, 131, 140

Coors, 120–124, 133, 136, 138–140, 142, 143, 146, 148 Corporate governance, 13–15, 141, 142 Corporate myth, see Company myth Corporate society, 3–17 Courage, 128, 133, 137, 141, 143–146 Cultural commodity, 70–73 D Dengen Sanpo, 58 Diageo, 152, 153, 157, 158, 162, 163 Display, vi, 27, 56, 57, 60, 61, 72–74, 76–78, 80–82, 84–86, 88, 90–92, 113, 116, 117, 120, 124, 128, 131, 136, 137, 139, 147, 159, 171 Distilleries, 114, 153–159, 161–164, 175–180, 182, 183, 185 Distinction, 30, 36, 132, 153–159, 162 Douglas, M., 50–52, 58 E Eliade, M., 168, 186 Elitism, 98, 107, 153, 154, 156, 161 Ema, 19, 22–27 Europe, vi, 61, 64, 65, 69, 71, 108, 118, 119, 122, 124, 139, 145, 170 Ex-voto, v, vi, 19–27 F Faith, 4, 8, 12, 31, 36, 40, 42 Family, v, 10, 12, 13, 33, 41, 69–92, 98, 106, 115, 129, 133, 137, 144, 145, 149, 175, 177, 185

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190 Fox, G., 7, 8, 11, 12, 14 Fukushima, 50, 52, 54, 56, 62, 66 Furtwängler, W., 96, 97, 99–102, 104–106 Furusato, 57

Index K Karajan, H. von, 96, 101–107 L Localization, 182

G Geography, 26, 70, 152, 153, 156, 158, 163, 164 Global drinks industry, 153, 162, 164 Globalism, 182, 184 Globalization, 4, 12, 32, 113–124, 182 Global political economy, 164 God, 8, 12, 17, 22, 23, 25, 27, 31, 36–39, 103 H Heirlooms, 70–73, 91, 92 Heritage and branding, 124 and corporate lineage, 123, 129–130 and founder, 123, 129–130 and industry, 70, 88, 92, 114 and locality, 123, 130–132, 139 and modernization, 124, 135–136 and nation, 88, 114, 123, 132–134 and royalty, 132, 134 and tradition, 114, 124, 135–136 Heritage industry, 70, 88, 92, 114 Hero’s myth, 181 History, v, vi, 4, 11, 13, 53, 62, 71, 74, 83–85, 87, 89, 90, 113, 116–118, 120, 127–129, 131, 132, 137–139, 142, 146, 148, 149, 163, 164, 167–186 Hobsbaum, E.J., 114, 151, 152 Hook Norton (Brewery), 130, 133, 135, 136 Hope, 34, 36

M Management, v, vi, 3–7, 10–17, 30, 33, 37, 39–41, 59, 69–92, 108, 113, 123, 127–149, 155, 184, 186 Management culture, 69–92 Marketing, 118, 152, 154, 157–164, 186 Master blender, 155, 180–182 Maternal, 77, 82, 84–85, 90 Meaning, 5, 6, 20, 24, 30–32, 34–36, 41, 51, 53–57, 70–73, 89–90, 100, 160, 182 Memory, 71, 77, 82, 84, 85, 87–91, 99, 101, 102, 138, 153 Miracles, v Moral code, 8, 12–15, 17 Movements, 32–33, 37, 39, 40, 60, 73, 100, 105, 122 Museum, vi, 55, 60, 69–92, 100, 113–124, 127–129, 131–133, 137–143, 146–149, 180 Musicians, 96, 97, 101, 105, 106, 108, 109 Myth of safety, 52, 64, 66 N Nationhood, 164 Nikka, 174, 177, 178, 180–182, 184–186 North America, 7, 35, 41, 42 Nuclear power plants, vi, 54

I Industrial production, 145, 164 Inheritance, 70, 71, 73, 84, 89, 90, 92, 105 Invention of tradition, 114, 151, 152, 154 Islay, 151–164

O Onagawa, 52 Opera, 97–99, 102, 108 Organization, v, vi, 4, 7, 9, 10, 13, 15, 19, 20, 30, 33, 35–40, 42, 43, 50, 55, 60, 64, 96, 129, 155, 171

J Japan, vi, 33, 34, 37, 39–42, 49–67, 69, 118, 124, 168–171, 176–180, 182, 184 Japanese, vi, 23, 29–42, 52–54, 59, 64, 69, 85, 89, 118, 119, 128, 153, 159, 167–186 Japanese whisky, 167–186

P Paternal, 74, 77, 82–84, 90 Patronage, 131–133 Performance, v, 24, 26, 35, 42, 96, 98–101, 103–105, 107, 109 Philanthropy, 129 Pilgrimage, v

Index Porcelain, v, 69–92, 118 Pottery, 79, 114, 115, 117–119, 127–135, 148 Professional, 13, 39, 42, 88, 96, 97, 138, 168 Purpose, 7, 19, 31, 34, 35, 40, 51, 53, 91, 107, 120, 136, 137, 159 Q Quaker Codes, v, vi, 3–17 Quaker entrepreneur, 7–13, 17 Quakerism, 7, 10, 11, 14, 17 R Ranger, T.O., 151, 152 Religion, 3–6, 11, 17, 19, 20, 31, 39, 41–42, 168 Religion and business, 33, 34, 39 Religious system, 20, 24–27 Rituals, 6, 7, 22, 23, 42, 51, 57, 71, 72, 77, 82, 85, 90, 91, 171 Rowntree family, 10, 12 S Saints, 22 Sake brewage, 168–172 Schism, 113–124 Score, 96, 98–102, 104, 106, 108 Scotch whisky, 151–164, 168, 173, 175–176, 180–186 Scotland, vi, 50, 59, 114, 121, 152–155, 158, 163, 164, 176, 177, 179–182 Sellafield, 59–61 Shintoism, 42 Single malt whisky, 114, 155–157, 159, 164, 173, 175 Spirituality, v, vi, 30–34, 37, 39–43, 99

191 Spiritual leadership, v, 29–42 Suntory, 153, 159, 177–185 Symphony, 96, 98, 107 T Taketsuru, M., 171, 177–186 Taste, 92, 152–160, 163, 170, 176, 178, 180, 182–185 Taylor, F.W., 15–17 Tenrikyo, 37, 40, 42 3Es (energy security, economic efficiency, environment), 64, 66 Torii, S., 178–182, 184, 185 Toscanini, A., 96–99, 101, 105–107 Tourism, 57, 66, 153, 163, 164 Tradition, 22, 23, 31, 34, 37, 41, 42, 55, 57, 113, 114, 122, 124, 128–136, 148, 151–164, 171, 175, 181, 184 Trevor-Roper, H.R., 157 Trust, 8, 11–15, 103, 116, 123, 141 V Virgin Mary, the, 22, 24, 27 Visitor centre (center), 113–124, 127, 131–133, 138, 140, 143, 146–148, 160 Votive offering, 19–27 W Wedgwood, 87, 114–119, 123, 124 Whisky, 114, 151–164, 167–186 Whitbread, 128–130, 132, 133, 136–138, 141, 146 Wine, 153, 155–157, 159–161, 170, 177, 182, 184, 185 Workplace, 12, 15, 32–34, 39, 41, 42, 117 Worthington, 120–122, 142–144, 148, 149