Published on December 22, 2021
Job titles and other details are as of the time of publication.
(The interview was conducted in Japanese and was thereafter translated into English.)

Exploring challenges faced by minority communities in preserving their languages and cultures

My research focuses on minority studies and linguistic diversity, particularly in regions where Spanish and Portuguese are spoken.

I have studied the history of movements to preserve minority languages in Europe, Latin America, and southern Africa as well as their future. I plan to continue tracking changes in these fields over time while exploring the challenges minority communities face in passing down their languages and cultures as human mobility increases.

My relationship with language began while struggling with an articulation disorder

I became involved with language not because I excelled at it, but because I struggled with it. As a child I suffered from a severe articulation disorder (grouped together with other disorders and disparagingly referred to as a “language disorder”) that made it difficult to pronounce words correctly. I struggled to speak clearly and faced significant challenges in communicating. I would say that my relationship with language began with this handicap. Growing up in Kakogawa City in the Banshu region (also known as the Harima region) in the western part of Hyogo Prefecture, I attended a speech therapy class at the local community center during my early elementary school years. Speech therapy finally allowed me to speak in a way that others could understand. The language I learned to speak was the Banshu-ben (the Banshu language, “ben” means “local orality system”), often considered a rough Kansai-ben.

By the time I attended a junior and senior high school in Himeji, also in the Banshu region, I no longer had problems communicating. However, the popular perception of the Banshu-ben was derisive, and having struggled with an articulation disorder, I lacked confidence both in my speech and the local language I had worked so hard to master. I believe these experiences sparked my deep interest in language.

My strong affinity for Portuguese led me to pursue language studies at university

As a child I was absorbed in looking at encyclopedias and maps at home, which nurtured my curiosity about the geography, history, and cultures of foreign countries. With no internet at that time, my curiosity was fueled even further.

The sister-city relationship between my hometown of Kakogawa City and Maringá in the Brazilian state of Paraná was also instrumental in shaping my interest in the Portuguese language. As a second-year junior high student, I attended a Portuguese language class held as part of a sister-city exchange and found that Portuguese was easier for me to pronounce than English, triggering my affinity for the language. From that point forward I cultivated a fascination with the Portuguese-speaking world by reading travel essays, including Ryotaro Shiba’s Kaido wo Yuku: Nanban no Michi (“On the Highways – Streets in Basque and Portugal”) and works by Natsuo Sekikawa. This ultimately led me to enroll in the Department of Portuguese and Brazilian Studies in the Faculty of Foreign Studies at Tokyo University of Foreign Studies.

Attending a university specializing in language studies, I delved deeply into language as well as geography, history, sociology, philosophy, and other fields that had long interested me. These studies also provided the opportunity to explore the relationship between language and the mind, including stigma (discrimination based on certain traits) and trauma (psychological wounds).

I studied in Brazil while enrolled at Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, and wanted to maintain my connection with the Portuguese-speaking world after entering the workforce. After spending a year working for a financial institution, I transitioned to Mitsubishi Corporation in Portugal by drawing on my language skills and study abroad experience. I worked in Lisbon for seven years as a local employee before moving on to Mitsubishi España S.A., where I worked near Bilbao, in Basque Country, as an expert superintending the construction of a local factory and the installation of production facilities for a Japanese company. My nearly decade-long experience in the Iberian Peninsula opened the path to my academic career.

Discovering the city of Miranda do Douro during my working life in Portugal

Frankly, the suburban landscape of Portuguese cities didn’t interest me much. The landscape was predominately forests of non-native eucalyptus and acacia trees, which gave the scenery a monotonous feel. The people who once lived there emigrated to other European countries, Canada, Australia, etc., and the intensive agricultural practices lost their competitiveness as they were integrated into the EU, resulting in the simplification of land use.

Just as I was starting to feel disappointed, I heard a song that had just caught on. The pronunciation didn’t sound like it came from Lisbon. When I asked a local acquaintance, I learned that the song originated from a remote area far from the capital and had been rearranged in a folk music style. This remote locale turned out to be the city of Miranda do Douro (hereinafter Miranda), located on Portugal’s northeastern border with Spain.

After a 14-hour overnight bus ride over rough roads from Lisbon, I arrived in Miranda to find a city blessed with natural splendor, where an ancestral European rural landscape spread out before me. Small fields of barley, olives, and grapes were scattered among groves of needle juniper, ash, and alder trees. Along paths between the fields, donkeys and cattle used for farming grazed leisurely. This city, where people live cultivating various crops despite the harsh climate, perfectly represented the southern European rural landscape I had imagined. After taking many weekend bus trips to Miranda during which I interacted with the local people, I began to notice a similarity between Miranda and Banshu.

Finding my career path from the similarity between Miranda and Banshu

I found Miranda and Banshu similar in that they both have been treated as remote regions subject to unjust stigma. To people from Lisbon, the local language spoken in Miranda was incomprehensible and the residents faced discrimination because of it. But this discrimination wasn’t just about language. In the past, Miranda boasted a thriving industry of processing animal hides, a livelihood that Jewish migrants fleeing oppression in Spain and Portugal were forced to choose out of necessity. Because their hands turned black from handling tannins, they were derisively mocked as “tainted.”

Banshu (Harima) had a similar history. During and after the time when Kyoto was a political center, Banshu, a remote region in the Kinki area, was often forced into a marginalized position, including taking on industries shunned for religious and historical reasons. After overcoming my articulation disorder, I faced prejudice against the Banshu-ben. When I encountered the language and culture of Miranda in the distant West, which seemed to parallel those of Banshu in the East, I felt as though I had found a sense of direction for the path I should take.

The person who gave me the impetus to become a researcher was a local priest named Belarmino Afonso, who led efforts to promote the region’s culture. He said to me, “Don’t just listen; write something as well.” Feeling it would be disrespectful to the people of Miranda if I didn’t write, I decided to return to university and pursue a research career.

It is important to decide for ourselves how to express the voice and language that come from our body

After returning to university, I conducted fieldwork not only in Miranda but also in the Aragon region at the southern foot of the Pyrenees near the French border, where I had frequently visited as a Sunday fieldworker during my time as a company employee. I also carried out fieldwork in Bolivia and Paraguay in Latin America, and in Angola and Equatorial Guinea in Africa, among other places. Throughout this long journey, I came to realize that language is something that comes from a person’s body and is part of their very being.

If language is part of our body, then just like any other part, we must reject any attempts by others to control or mock our language. It is important to decide for ourselves how we shape and express the language that comes from our body. The right to decide how we communicate and build relationships with others should be our own and not dictated by where we were born or raised. Doesn’t this align with the very principles of human rights? As I engage in research and education with Hitotsubashi University students who may one day become leaders in society, I hope they will reflect on these thoughts from time to time. Even people living in marginalized communities have the right to communicate and be treated with respect, and even if their language is not recognized as the standard language by the majority, we should engage sincerely with their words.