My personal memories in 1980s of the Nakagawa Yonezo Schule, Osaka, Japan
I began to study medical history,
including its history of ideas,
sociology, economics, ethics, and anthropology. On collecting these
sub-disciplines Prof. Nakagawa invented a neologism, “medical
humanities”, for which he contrasted with biomedicine. In his sense
there were two cultures in the studies of medicine, medical humanities
and biomedicine. He used biological medicine to refer to the “narrow”
scientific medicine. These terms were like C.P. Snow’s book, The Two
Cultures (1959), he used to divide two categories, the sciences and the
humanities. I think Nakagawa-sensei’s idea of the dichotomy between
medical humanities and biomedicine seems to be sui generis because the
Japanese medical authorities used the completely different dichotomies
between basic and clinical medicine, and/or between clinical and social
medicine. All these dichotomies, though, belonged among just one side
of scientific medicine; biomedicine or natural sciences (SEIBUTSU-IGAKU
or SHIZEN-KAGAKU). We never had medical humanities as an integrated
discipline. The only exception was medical historiography, e.g. the
works of Yū Fijikawa (1865-1940), but I think that this academic work,
budded from amateur science, was not an integrated discipline to
university curriculum.
(Now I will back to Nakagawa-sensei’s personal history relating with
ethos that we have shared).
Dr. Nakagawa and his disciples share a similar “ethos” (the distinctive
spirit of a “sub-culture”) against “social control by medical
establishment.” We thought that all the social institutions could be
erroneous in their treatment of patients. We remembered that Nakagawa
sensei used to say, “All types of medical treatments have attributes of
experiment, e.g. having a trial & error aspect, while the object of
medicine is a human being, therefore we can say that all medical
treatments are human experiments.”
Dr. Nakagawa was born in Seoul of Korean peninsula, the colonial town
of the Japanese Empire in 1926. He was fostered as a pro-militarism
boy, he said after 60 years later. But he was shocked when that
undefeated imperial army was finally defeated. After 1945, during his
medical student period in Kyoto Imperial University, until 1947, then
in Kyoto University he had drastically converted into something
liberalist. After his graduation, he participated in a voluntary party,
called “SEINEN-KAGAKUSHIKA-SHŪDAN” (Young Group of Historians of
Science) in the 1960s. This was after the political movement against
“NICHIBEI-ANPO” (the US-Japan military alliance) conflict of
1960. In the period of “young radicals in campuses” during the
conflicts at the end of 1960s and the beginning of 1970s, our elder
colleagues among the MAOists had radical experiences as university
undergraduate students. But I was one of parts of later generations
fallen behind the time. So to say it simply, I was in part of the post
fēstum (after the feast) generation, because I was born in 1956. As a
four years old boy, I was too young to understand the politics in 1960
of the first renovation of NICHIBEI AMPO. Even 10 years later, I was
still too young, as a fourteen years old kid, to participate in the
“struggle” of university students in 1970. In this sense the fēstum
means political disturbance. So I was in an in-between generation of
two big political fēsta.
Why did a dozen of students, sharing the same ethos against “social
control by establishment”, gather around prof. Nakagawa who was part of
an older generation? Because there were no other social spaces where
young students could talk freely about of this topic. This was true not
only in Kansai (western Japan) but also throughout Japan.
There were two major academic currents for studying medical history at
the beginning of 1970s: one was Thomas Kuhn’s, and the other was
orthodox Marxism. His old friend, Dr. Shigeru Nakayama translated
Thomas Kuhn’s book, “The Structure of Scientific Revolutions” into
Japanese in 1971, nine years after of original edition published in
1962. We could not accept fundamentally the Marxist theories,
especially one of the Japanese Communist Party’s localized version,
because they were too dogmatic in their analysis of medical practice,
which always used the framework of labor processes. But at the same
time, we had a tolerance for the framework of Marxist theory,
especially in the case of Western Marxism, which could be used to
analyze how patients were alienated. The Kuhnian model of “revolution
”, conversely, was attractive to us because we pursued a kind of
paradigm change by inventing the medical humanities as opposed to the
biology-dominant medicine, “biomedicine”.
Until 1980, Dr. Nakagawa was an associate professor that had no chance
of being promoted above this position. When he was finally promoted to
the professorship, he was 54 years old – I am now three years older
than him. He had the charisma to be our spiritual guru and best
theorist for medical humanities, like our western heroes that I
mentioned before. His personal character was that of a good
egalitarian, unlike any other professor in the faculty of medicine. He
had great tolerance and never to directed in a magisterial style when
he would comment on our research presentations.
A senior student, who was a medical doctor, proposed to us his creative
concept of “HIHANTEKI-IRYŌ,” the Critical Medicine . We welcomed this
conception of him. It helps us develop our position that would take us
away from social control by medical establishments and towards the
liberation of oppressed people. We were charmed easily by this dogma of
critical medicine. At that time, there were a dozen of key concepts for
constructing a medical “theology for liberation” in the western
medicine e.g., anti-psychiatry, illness labeling theory, a series of
negative aspects of modern medicine; total institution, involuntary
hospitalization, professional dominance, medicalization, iatrogenesis,
victim blaming, and also, Foucauldian concepts of panopticon,
anatomopolitique, and biopower, et cetera. But today I regret that we
had very naïve political thinking, and believed that all medical
institution would be simply oppressive. Anyway we were too idealistic
to make a concrete plan to reform the “conservative” medical system.
At that time we encountered prof. Margaret Lock’s paper in Japanese,
entitled “RYŌSAI-KENBO NO TEIKŌ” (Resisting against becoming good wife
and wise mother) published in “KIKAN-JINRUIGAKU” (Anthropology
Quarterly), Vol.15, No.1, Pp.36-60, 1984. At least for me, it was
amazing article because she wrote a sophisticated argument that took a
critical approach to both the grand theory of Japanese women’s
somatization and the newly emerging neologism of pseudo-disease, e.g.
“BOGEN-BYŌ” and “DAIDOKORO-SHŌKŌGUN.” “BOGEN-BYŌ” can be translated
into “Child illness induced by deficiency of mother’s social
responsibility” on one side, and “DAIDOKORO-SHŌKŌGUN” can be translated
into “House wife “kitchen” syndrome,” both were very curious
pseudo-disease terminologies even for Japanese. Her argument is very
clear that the concept of somatization could not only be necessary to
know one of universal types of psychopathology but also should be
understood as a certain cultural representation of personal distress. I
had just apprehended that her style of writing could be needed to
create “our” medical anthropology, as HIHANTEKI-IRYŌ (critical
medicine).
Unfortunately I had no time to do so because I should leave from Japan
to Honduras, Central America, for volunteer work in a rural public
health program, from 1984 to 87. In Honduras, during the first year I
worked in a malaria prevention program, and for the final two years in
a rural health program in western Honduras. After arriving in Central
America under the political atmosphere of Cold War, I wanted seriously
to preach the importance of medical anthropology for Honduran health
workers. Needles to say that was a losing battle. Although I was
serious, they felt that my ideas were bizarre because they thought that
it was useless to introduce my cultural sensitive approach to a rural
public health program. They were satisfied with their own work. They
did not have a comparative perspective to need a better good life for
rural people. They did not even care if rural people achieved good
health; the public health work was only work for minimum wage (Ikeda
2001). So I abandoned my preaching and my plan to introduce medical
anthropology to them. And then I started myself to do fieldwork on
traditional folk medicine, commoditization of rural health, and
medicalization processes, for the purpose writing academic papers.
After returning to Japan, I began publishing a series of papers on
medical anthropology based on my rural fieldwork experience. But it
took more than 14 years before published my first book of ethnography, “JISSEN NO IRYŌ JINRUIGAKU” (Medical
Anthropology of Health Practice in Rural Honduras) in 2001.
Original Paper: MMAJ-mikeda0305-RM.pdf
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