The Three Little Pigs Would Be Wiped Out on the Japanese Archipelago. [A Meteorologist Knows Less About the Japanese Summer Than the Jomon People.]
On a civilization that has lost the ability to read the wind
1. The annihilation of the three little pigs
Since childhood, we have lived with our brains naturally infused with the values of the strangely unsettling fable of "The Three Little Pigs," which teaches that houses of straw and wood are symbols of laziness, while brick is the pinnacle of civilization.
However, I believe that this story has a fatal flaw. It does not account for the summer on the Japanese archipelago.
What if the three little pigs were dropped into Japan in August of the Reiwa era, or perhaps onto the Kanto Plain during the Jomon transgression? What would have happened?
In conclusion, the diligent third pig, who shut himself inside a brick house, would likely have died of heatstroke in a very civilized manner—
being steamed to death by the humidity and heat trapped indoors
—long before the wolf ever attacked.
Bringing the architectural philosophy of
“heavy, enclosed, and heat-retaining”
structures, which originated in the arid regions of Europe, directly to the Japanese archipelago is like
wearing winter clothes inside a sauna
and proudly declaring,
“This is the most efficient way to sweat in the shortest amount of time.”
It is a suicidal act.
The ancestors of Japan ran in the opposite direction.
Even while fearing being blown away, they still let the wind pass through.
Accepting the risk of destruction by typhoons, they lived in houses made of wood, grass, and gaps.
At first glance, this philosophy might look like defeatism.
But in reality, it is the opposite.
They did not prioritize “conquering nature,” but rather
“not dying within nature.”
Kenko Hoshi wrote in his 'Tsurezuregusa' (Essays in Idleness):
“In building a house, one should prioritize the summer.”
This is not merely an aesthetic preference.
It is a survival manual disguised as literature.
The cold of a Japanese winter can somehow be endured by layering clothes, except in Hokkaido and northern Tohoku.
However, Japan's humidity rots humans from the inside out.
The Japanese knew this long before they had writing.
2. Why the Jomon people of Kawagoe are superior to meteorologists
Modern meteorologists stand in front of giant monitors and explain,
“The westerlies are...”
“The combined factors of El Niño are...”
“The relative humidity is...”
Of course, I have no intention of mocking them.
Their work is the crystallization of vast knowledge and effort.
But the problem lies elsewhere.
They are “explaining the climate,” not solving the question of
“How can we improve our survival strategy in a hot and humid summer climate?”
Long before modern science analyzed oxygen isotope ratios and wrote papers 6,000 years later stating,
“The Jomon transgression period may have been hotter than it is today,”
the ancestors in Kawagoe already understood everything.
At that time, the sea reached as far as the current Shingashi River, shell mounds piled up in the area, and plenty of fish could be caught.
In other words, even by modern standards, that region was
“a region of extreme heat that broke limits every year,”
but it was also a
“favorable land with guaranteed harvests”
that surpassed that heat.
It was precisely because of that environment that... many burial mounds were built, and the area prospered economically.
They did not know about atmospheric pressure patterns.
They did not know about jet streams.
Of course, they had no weather apps.
However, they were the only ones who knew the conditions that would cause their own bodies to rot.
When the wind stops, it is dangerous.
If humidity gets trapped, you get sick.
Insects and mold are more resilient to summer than humans are.
They knew no way to accumulate knowledge as data other than oral tradition.
Instead, they passed down the very "structure that allows wind to pass through" as a culture to future generations.
This is important.
Modern civilization can store information, but the Jomon people stored "adaptation."
It was neither writing nor academic papers.
The spacing of pillars, deep eaves, raised floors, thatched roofs, and open spaces.
In other words, they made architecture itself a storage medium.
This is more sophisticated than modern people think.
Because wisdom that has truly taken root is "automatically reproduced" by the body without the need to think.
3. The real reason why meteorological science has evolved
Here, we must reach a somewhat unpleasant conclusion.
Why did meteorological science evolve?
It is usually explained that it evolved
so that "humanity could understand and overcome nature."
But I think that is only half the truth.
Perhaps the causal relationship is actually the reverse.
Modern people have almost lost the abilities that the Japanese once possessed.
The ability to look at the sky.
The ability to sense humidity.
The ability to read the paths of the wind.
That is nothing less than the loss of the "ability to live normally in nature."
That is probably why training wheels became necessary.
Since we have devolved from Japanese people who could ride bicycles, we are left with only training wheels or tricycles as options.
Weather forecasts, air conditioning, insulation, dehumidifiers, meteorological AI.
Of course, these are great technologies, and there is no need to deny civilization.
The problem lies in the fact that "technological progress" and "human progress"
are completely different things.
In the past, the predecessors in Kawagoe were well-versed in building houses to let humidity escape.
However, modern people keep windows closed to escape humidity,
have machines tell them "today's danger index is 94,"
and control indoor temperature and humidity with the magical power of electricity.
Indeed, civilization has developed.
But what if that civilization is just a "giant pair of crutches to compensate for lost adaptive abilities"?
We have likely been losing our ability to read nature
while simultaneously increasing our knowledge.
What we should really be listening to
is not just the long-term forecasts updated monthly by the Japan Meteorological Agency.
Standing on the banks of the Shingashi River,
isn't it about understanding with our bodies
"why old houses had deep eaves"
and "why the Japanese were obsessed with houses that allowed the wind to pass through"?
Although... unfortunately, as a modern person,
I sleep in an air-conditioned room.
I read articles written by AI saying "this summer is the most dangerous in recorded history"
and enjoy the benefits of civilization.
It is very rational.
Even though I am a devolved human compared to the Jomon people...

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