{"id":852,"date":"2017-01-09T11:08:48","date_gmt":"2017-01-09T11:08:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/?p=852"},"modified":"2025-02-26T13:24:15","modified_gmt":"2025-02-26T13:24:15","slug":"convict-labor-and-its-commemoration-the-mitsui-miike-coal-mine-experience","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/2017\/01\/09\/convict-labor-and-its-commemoration-the-mitsui-miike-coal-mine-experience\/","title":{"rendered":"Convict Labor and Its Commemoration: the Mitsui Miike Coal Mine Experience"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Miyamoto Takashi<\/p>\n

Note<\/span>: This article is reprinted with permission from the author. It originally appeared in The Asia-Pacific Journal<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

Introduction<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 1: Entrance of the Miyanohara tunnel, the Miike Coal Mine. [March 1, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

The Mitsui Miike Coal Mine, one of several UNESCO registered Meiji Industrial Revolution Sites since 2015 [Fig. 1]. While the central role of the coal industry in Japan\u2019s industrialisation was stressed through the world heritage registration process, the close relationship between pre-war industrialisation and development of the modern penal system, and the use of prison labor, has been less acknowledged. In Miike, use of convict laborers from the nearby Miike sh\u016bjikan<\/em> (central correctional institution) was indispensable for the operation of the coal mine during the early Meiji period.<\/p>\n

Although the connection between industrialisation and the penal institution was not emphasised during the UNESCO registration discussion<\/a>, it is widely acknowledged in the local community. At the Miyanohara tunnel entrance, one of the UNESCO registered sites, the official displays show the prisoners at work there. Interestingly, the posters made by junior high school students mention the use of prison labor in the mine [Fig. 2]. There have long been local efforts to preserve the history of prisoner labor in the mines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 2: Posters at the remains of the Miyanohara tunnel made by junior high school students from Omuta that touch upon convict labour in the coal mine. [March 1, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

The Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation (\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai) is a local group that has attempted to preserve the memory of prisoners’ experience. Beginning in the 1960s with the goal of preserving the convict laborers\u2019 graves, for nearly half a century the Society has been collecting and preserving prisoner experiences. This paper examine the politico-discursive environment in which the society advanced its campaign. Part 1 briefly outlines the introduction of a \u201cmodern\u201d penal system and convict labour in Japan. Part 2 delineates the history of convict labour in the Miike coal mine. Part 3 describes the activities of the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation. Part 4 examines the practice of active members of the Society. The concluding part assesses the historical and contemporary implications of the Society\u2019s activities on the social life of the coal mining town.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

1. Emergence of Industrial Prisons in Japan<\/strong><\/p>\n

The idea of confinement as punishment, rather than infliction of pain on prisoners\u2019 bodies, rapidly caught the attention of theorists and practitioners of punishment in the West and its colonies during the late 18th century. However, there was almost no uniform model or blueprint for prisons. Theorists in legal studies offered different interpretations on how to justify punishment such as retribution, rehabilitation, deterrence and incapacitation. Those who designed prison architecture proposed various types of prisons. Jeremy Bentham\u2019s famous panopticon was only one among many proposals made in the first half of the 19th century. A number of experiments were made locally in the West and the colonies. Prisons became experimental sites in which new technologies of control and punishment were tested. In short, prisons became laboratories of social engineering during the 19th century. It was not uncommon for citizens to visit prisons to study these new technologies.<\/p>\n

The mid-19th century saw a rapid change in the environment of information transmission. The development of printing, the steam engine, and the telegraph enhanced information circulation. Information on new technologies of governance including those of police, medicine and punishment were exchanged across national boundaries through international conferences, printed texts, and telegraph messages. Circulation of information on prisons through international information networks also began at this time. One of the important sites where such exchanges took place was the International Penitentiary Congress that was held almost every decade since the middle of the century. Thus, local projects for prison development came into contact with those occurring internationally. Thinkers and practitioners of punishment exchanged information on penal practices. Through this robust exchange of information, there emerged a vast archive of penology. Japanese penal practitioners during the Meiji Restoration era started to obtain access to this archive.<\/p>\n

The Tokugawa Shogunate and early Meiji government concluded a series of \u201cunequal\u201d treaties with Western powers between 1858 and 1869. The treaties were considered to be \u201cunequal\u201d because they introduced extraterritoriality and denied tariff autonomy to Japan. Revision of these treaties became one of the most important national policies of the Meiji government. For penal practitioners, extraterritoriality was a paramount concern. People from the countries with which Japan concluded \u201cunequal\u201d treaties were exempted from the jurisdiction of Japanese law and subject to the laws of their consular courts. The rationale for this system was the assumption that penal practice in Japan was not adequately \u201cmodernised\u201d, that is, it did not adhere to European norms. The Meiji government set out to modernise its penal practices so that offenders could be treated in a \u201ccivilised\u201d way. In this discursive game, humanitarian discourse on penology became a political resource in pre- and post-WWII Japan.<\/p>\n

At the same time, until the late 19th and early 20th centuries, prisoners were expected to provide cheap and productive labor in many regions across the world. Transportation was a mean to mobilise the labor force. A modern transportation system was introduced in Japan during the 1880s. After the Meiji Restoration, prison administration was placed under the Ministry of Justice (Shih\u014dsh\u014d<\/em>), and later transferred to the Home Ministry (Naimush\u014d<\/em>), which was established in 1873. The initial purposes of transporting long-term prisoners were to maintain internal security after the Seinan War (1877) and to solve the issue of lack of space in existing prisons. Okubo Toshimichi (1830-1878), then the Home Minister, proposed sending convicts to frontier islands of Hokkaido in 1877.2<\/sup> Two correctional institutions (sh\u016bjikan<\/em>) were opened in Tokyo and Miyagi in 1879. The Penal Code of 1880 introduced rukei<\/em> (transportation) and tokei<\/em> (transportation with labour). Transportation of prisoners to Hokkaido started in 1881 with the establishment of Kabato prison, and penal facilities at Sorachi (1882), Kushiro (1885), Abashiri (1891) and Tokachi (1895) followed. In Kyushu, Miike sh\u016bjikan<\/em> was inaugurated in 1883.3<\/sup> In Hokkaido, prisoners in Kabato and Abashiri prisons engaged in reclamation and agricultural work. Prisoners who were sent to Sorachi and Kushiro prisons were employed in coal and sulphur mines. In Kyushu, the Miike Coal Mine continuously exploited prisoners as cheap labor during its first 50 years of operation.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2. Convict Labour in Miike Coal Mine and Humanitarian Discourse<\/strong><\/p>\n

Use of convict labor in Miike started before the establishment of Miike prison. In 1873, the Miike coal mine was placed under the central government and the Mizuma prefectural government took care of it in its first few months of operation.4<\/sup> The prefectural government sent 50 prisoners to the mine to transport coal. In the same year, the central government established the Miike Coal Mine Branch Office and the mine was placed under it. Subsequently, Fukuoka prefecture sent 50 convicts there in 1875, and Kumamoto prefecture sent 50 convicts in 1876. Although the Miike Coal Mine Branch Office urged other prefectures in Kyushu to cooperate, other prefectural governments did not send their convicts at the time. After the Seinan War in 1877, Fukuoka and Kumamoto prefectures withdrew their convicts from Miike, but Fukuoka prefecture soon resent them, and Nagasaki, Kumamoto and Saga prefectures subsequently sent prisoners. In 1883, the Home Ministry of the central government inaugurated Miike prison to which life and long-term prisoners were transported. In 1889, the Miike Coal Mine was handed over to Mitsui, one of the largest zaibatsu<\/em> business conglomerates in pre-WWII Japan. In the following years, Omuta city flourished as its company town.<\/p>\n

The Mitsui Miike Coal Mine continued using prisoners as miners. However, there were voices critical of this arrangement. Within the Home Ministry, Ogawa Shigejiro (1864-1925) argued that the prisoner transportation system was harmful to the security and economy of the neighbourhood close to the prisons. According to Ogawa, the import of prisoners for labor adversely affected the region, interrupted the inflow of respectable people, and aided certain private companies without authorization of the national parliament. Ogawa wrote that it impacted negatively on the purpose of punishment.5<\/sup> A number of prison chaplains and medical officers also criticised the harsh conditions in which prisoners worked.<\/p>\n

In 1889, the very year the company started running the mine, Fukuoka prefecture withdrew its prisoners from Miike. According to the resolution of the Fukuoka prefectural assembly, the major reasons for the withdrawal were the deterioration of health conditions and increasing costs associated with the maintenance of prisoners. Dan Takuma (1858-1932), the general manager of the Mitsui Miike Coal Mine, testified that humanitarian discourse within the Home Ministry was a great obstacle to the pursuit of the company\u2019s business. He wrote \u201chuman rights discourse got us in trouble.\u201d6<\/sup> According to him, the reason Mitsui bought the mine was that the company could expect low-cost labor of convicts.7<\/sup> The company eventually gained access to convict labor, but had to engage in prolonged negotiations with the Home Ministry.<\/p>\n

Although convict labor played a crucial role in infrastructure development in remote areas in early Meiji, it gradually diminished at the turn of the century when cheap labor markets evolved. When Mitsui Miike Coal Mine started its operation in 1889, prisoners were used as miners in Hokkaido, Okinawa, Miyagi, Niigata and Fukushima prefectures. By 1902, however, all the prisons apart from Miike prison had stopped using convict labor in mines. Also in Miike, the Mitsui Coal Mine had to make a decision on the continuous use of prisoners. A contract on the lease of convicts was concluded between the company and the Miike sh\u016bjikan<\/em> in 1898, the first such official contract.8<\/sup> In 1900, prison administration was transferred from the Home Ministry to the Ministry of Justice.9<\/sup> Both of the ministries were reluctant to continue exploiting Japanese convict labor in the mine. Although the practice was not terminated at once, the company started seeking labor from the local population and prisoners from Taiwan.10<\/sup><\/p>\n

In Miyanohara tunnel, convicts were physically separated from \u201crespectable\u201d labor by iron bars. According to some testimonies, however, certain communication was secretly maintained among them.11<\/sup> Although the testimonies reveal moments of “everyday resistance” from the convicts, i.e., escape, insurgency, keeping prohibited articles, brewing doburoku<\/em> or unrefined sake from secretly kept rice balls, and forming “marital relationships,”12<\/sup> many stress the harsh conditions under which convicts were forced to work.<\/p>\n

However, there was little public criticism of the company for the \u201cinhuman\u201d treatment of convicts in the coal mine in the early 20th century. Kikuchi Tsuneki (1862-?), a medical officer of Miike prison,<\/em> submitted a written statement in 1900 calling for abolition of prison labor in the mines.13<\/sup> In his statement, Kikuchi criticised the cruel working conditions of the prisoners, providing statistical evidence of the high mortality rate among convicts working at the Miike mine.14<\/sup> His statement might have had a certain impact since it was submitted when the company was negotiating with the Home Ministry over the continuation of convict labor in the mine. However, Kikuchi\u2019s argument was dismissed.15<\/sup> Kikuchi resigned from the prison following the resolution to maintain convict labor in the mine. His criticism had long been forgotten, but it was \u201crediscovered\u201d in the 1960s as discussed below.<\/p>\n

The number of convicts in the mine decreased throughout the Taisho period, 1912-26. Mitsui discovered a new source of cheap labor from Yoron in the Amami Islands.16<\/sup> Employment of convict labor in the coal mine at Miike was terminated in 1931 following the International Labor Organization\u2019s 1930 Convention on Forced Labor. Miike prison was dissolved and all the prisoners were transferred to Kumamoto.17<\/sup><\/p>\n

Until the turn of the century, for practitioners of penology, there were trade-offs between industrial development and other goals including welfare of the society at large and humanitarian treatment of prisoners. Humanitarian arrangements were important in view of the problem of revision of so-called unequal treaties. Humanitarian discourse provided a common raison d’etre for chaplains and medical officers in the prisons. Images of suffering prisoners were important resources for their efforts to reform prisons . In pre- and post-WWII Japan, technologies and institutions of total war and emergence of the welfare state made possible direct control of individuals in society. In post-war Miike, a new discursive environment emerged including new representations of prisoners.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

3. Excavation of Restless Spirits of Prisoners<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the post-WWII period, under the democritisation policies of GHQ and the Allied Occupation, the Miike Labor Union was formed in 1946. In the late 1940s, young union members were strongly influenced by Sakisaka Itsuro (1897-1985) and leftist thought. Sakisaka was a leading Marxian economist from Kyushu University known for translating Marx\u2019s Capital<\/em> into Japanese. He was born in Omuta city,18<\/sup> and became active in teaching Marxist thought to workers at Miike in his lectures called Sakisaka ky\u014dshitsu<\/em> (classroom).19<\/sup> The young union members who had been exposed to leftist thought played a central role in the Miike Mine Strike in the 1950s.<\/p>\n

In post-war Japan, as the major source of energy shifted from coal to oil, the company tried to reduce the size of the labor force because of financial trouble resulting from the national restructuring of the coal industry. The Miike union resisted the restructuring policy leading to the Miike Mine Strike of 1953. The strike lasted for more than 3 months and eventually Miike withdrew the proposal for mass layoffs. In the following years, business conditions further deteriorated. The Mitsui Coal Mine announced a mass layoff again sending dismissal notices to 1,278 workers in December 1959. On January 25th in the next year, the company locked out workers and the union went on strike. The prolonged strike worsened laborers\u2019 financial situation and the union eventually collapsed. Hostility between the original union (now the First Union) and a new Second Union that adopted a cooperative attitude to the company intensified. This changed the political geography of the Miike area completely. The strike ended in August 1960 and the mine resumed operations in December.20<\/sup><\/p>\n

Another traumatic event followed the union movement\u2019s \u201cdefeat\u201d three years later. An explosition in Mikawa tunnel killed 458 people and carbon monoxide poisoning severely injured many of the survivors. 839 workers were officially recognized as victims of the poisoning and litigation continued for decades. Suffering bodies of the victims became a part of Miike\u2019s political imagery.21<\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 3: Monument constructed in 2013 commemorating forced Chinese laborers. [March 1, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

In addition to these traumatic events, the presence of laborers from minority communities made the local political situation more sensitive. After the closure of the Miike prison, more labourers from outside Kyushu, including those from Korea and Yoron in Kagoshima were brought to Miike. Chinese were also imported and forced to work in the mine during the war, as were Allied POWs. Many died in the mines [Fig. 3].22<\/sup><\/p>\n

Although the miners and the company had conflicting interests, there was a common practice that was almost indispensable in their social life in Omuta and Arao, the commemoration of the deceased. A culture of mourning had emerged in Miike before the war. A number of Buddhist temples were built in Omuta and Arao. Monuments to disasters were constructed and memorial services were practiced in the region. A number of stone monuments and tombstones have remained in Omuta. Acts of commemoration became central to cultural politics of Miike from the 1960s onwards [Fig. 4].<\/p>\n

Deceased prisoners were rediscovered in this context.23<\/sup> In Ichinoura graveyard in Omuta city, there were neglected graves [Fig. 5]. The graves are much smaller than most in the cemetery. They are only inscribed with numbers rather than family names as is common in modern Japanese graves. They were locally believed to be prisoners\u2019 graves, partly because of the proximity to the Miike prison. Inhabitants of the area took care of them, but their condition has been deteriorating. In 1965, the inhabitants petitioned Saruwatari Iwao, then a member of the Omuta city council, for repair of the graves. A few volunteers conducted research and eventually held the first urabon\u2019e<\/em> service24<\/sup> for deceased prisoners on August 10, 1969. Some 30 members formed \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai (Omuta Society for Preservation of Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery). Society, emphasizing the need to appease the deceased prisoners\u2019 souls, started an annual urabon\u2019e<\/em> service with the cooperation of the Omuta Buddhist Association, an inter-temple association of Buddhist monks.25<\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 4: Monument commemorating the victims of the 1963 explosion. [April 2, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Although the number of members of the association has remained under 50, core members were associated with the Miike Labor Union and the Socialist Party. Urakawa Mamoru, one of the founders of the society, served as secretary of the union until 1953 and then became a member of the Fukuoka prefectural assembly. Another founder, Kosaki Fumihito, was also a secretary of the union.26<\/sup> The first president of the Society was Motoyoshi Keiji, an economist from Fukuoka University.<\/p>\n

Interestingly, some doubted if the graves were actually those of prisoners. In the Kosaki Collection held in the Omuta City Library, there is a document containing letters from Sato Yukio, then a division chief of the Fukuoka Regional Correction Headquarters, to Motoyoshi sent between 1971 and 1972.27<\/sup> Attached to Sato\u2019s letter dated August 24, 1971 were copied materials for investigation of Ichinoura cemetery. The report concludes that the graves were not likely to be those of deceased prisoners. It speculates that they were probably neglected graves when the cemetery was moved from the previous location in Matsubara to the current site in 1912. Others also criticised the Society for propagating a false belief.28<\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 5: Tombstones at Ichinoura cemetery, Omuta. [April 2, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Nevertheless, the Omuta Society for Preservation of Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery continued to claim that the graves were those of prisoners. In 1971, Asahi Gurafu<\/em> published a special feature article with a few colour photographs.29<\/sup> Local newspapers have periodically published reports on the \u201cprisoners\u2019 cemetery\u201d in Ichinoura and the yearly urabon\u2019e<\/em> service.30<\/sup> In his last publication in 2005, Urakawa expressed ambivalence concerning the authenticity of the graves, but emphasised that \u201cthe cemetery was known as the prisoners\u2019 cemetery, and local citizens took special care of it. I dearly wish that they will be preserved in the future.\u201d31<\/sup> For him, the most important point was to remember the hardship prisoners experienced in the mine.<\/p>\n

The society subsequently discovered monuments commemorating deceased prisoners in other parts of Omuta city. On the premises of an individual in Ryugoze, there was a grave marking prisoners\u2019 group burial. The inscription on the read \u201cTomb of deceased prisoners in Miike kangoku<\/em> from Fukuoka prefecture\u201d [Fig. 6]. It was moved to the premises of a nearby Buddhist temple Junsh\u014d-ji.32<\/sup><\/p>\n

In Katsudachi, there is a monumental stone with an inscription \u201cGedatsu-t\u014d\u201d. In Miike, use of the term \u201cgedatsu\u201d (moksha or nirvana, i.e., liberation from rebirth, in Hindu \/ Buddhist philosophy) in the inscription has been considered important. Next to the monument was a well with a concrete cover. Urakawa believed that deceased prisoners\u2019 bodies were thrown into the well without cremation.33<\/sup> In 1995, the Society repaired the monument and put a statue of Jiz\u014d<\/em> (Kshitigarbha in sanskrit) to appease the restless spirits of prisoners.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 6: \u201cGass\u014d no Hi,\u201d tombstone for prisoners\u2019 group burial, at Junsh\u014d-ji, Ryugoze, Omuta. [July 15, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

The following year, in December 1996, shortly before the closure of the Miike Coal Mine, the bones of more than 70 people were excavated. They were believed to be those of deceased prisoners as the place had been an \u201cabandoned cemetery of Miike prison.\u201d34<\/sup> The Omuta Society for Preservation of Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery led by Urakawa engaged in the excavation and held a Buddhist memorial service inviting Tani Osamu, then the temple master of Junsh\u014d-ji. According to Urakawa, the deceased bodies did not lack body parts and some of the skulls had healthy teeth.35<\/sup> Urakawa and his society cremated the deceased bodies and built a new monumental stone with an inscription \u201cGass\u014d no Hi\u201d (monument of group burial) next to the \u201cGedatsu t\u014d\u201d and the Jiz\u014d<\/em> statue on the hill of Katsudachi [Fig. 7].36<\/sup> In 1996, the Society also constructed a memorial stone for Kikuchi Tsuneki next to them.37<\/sup><\/p>\n

The society\u2019s act of constructing and preserving monumental stones resonated with the contemporary culture of construction of cenotaphs for workers who passed away in the mine. For the society members, both pre-war prisoners and contemporary workers in Miike were fellow-victims in the process of the modernisation of the Japanese state and accumulation of capital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 7: Monuments at Katsudachi constructed by the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation. [April 2, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

 <\/p>\n

4. Recovering the History of Prisoners<\/strong><\/p>\n

Beginning with research on Ichinoura cemetery, active members of the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation continued studying the history of prisons and prisoners in Miike. It was the period when Omuta City compiled its history in four volumes.38<\/sup> Its second volume published in 1966 covers the history of convict labor in the Miike coal mine. As Ohara notes, most of the descriptions of convict labor in the volume are quotes from a three-volume manuscript titled Miike Keimusho Enkaku <\/em>(History of Miike Prison).39<\/sup> Since the manuscripts were not open to the public then, the newly compiled history of Omuta City offered valuable information to the society members. For example, the second volume included the statement of Kikuchi Tsuneki, which had long been forgotten in public memory.40<\/sup><\/p>\n

From the 1960s, the Society started recovering prisoners\u2019 experiences. Most active was Kosaki Fumihito, who worked for the Miike Labour Union for 33 years as an editor of official union journals. He entered the mine after the war, and became a secretary of the labour union of Mitsui Chemicals in 1949. He was the editor of Sankaro<\/em> until he retired in August 1966. In October of that year, he was asked to help the Miike Labour Union for \u201ctwo to three months\u201d as a non-regular staff. The union engaged in negotiations over the termination of medication for patients suffering from carbon monoxide intoxication caused by the 1963 Mikawa tunnel explosion. Thereafter, Kosaki edited the union\u2019s official journal Miike <\/em>until he became 70 in 1981.41<\/sup> When he retired from the editorship, he told a newspaper reporter, \u201cI have to rediscover the history of labour movements in Omuta including that of convict labour.\u201d42<\/sup> By then, recovery of convict labour history had become an important part of his lifework.<\/p>\n

Although Kosaki worked for the union, he did not have access to internal company records. As Ohara shows, most of the official records of Miike prison, including its annual reports, statistical records and rulebooks, have been lost.43<\/sup> Mitsui Coal Mine started compiling its 50-year history in 1944, but in the end it was not published, and the manuscripts became internal records of the company.44<\/sup> Without access to the archives, Kosaki collected fragmentary records including articles published on journals, including Dainippon Kangoku Kyokai Zasshi<\/em> \/ Kangoku Kyokai Zasshi <\/em>(Bulletin of the Penitentiary Society of the Empire of Japan), and oral history told by former jail staff and local inhabitants. When collecting records, his connection with the union and the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation was helpful. Urakawa, as a member of the Fukuoka prefectural assembly, collected materials using his socialist party network. Thus, Urakawa and Kosaki created a private collection of historical resources, which provided a base for studies of the history of convict labor in this area. Kosaki enthusiastically wrote articles for newspapers45<\/sup> and journals.46<\/sup> In his 1988 lecture,47<\/sup> he emphasised that convict labor was \u201cindispensable in primary accumulation of capital in this country.\u201d48<\/sup> He detailed the cruel working conditions of the convicts drawing on episodes from a book written by a former prisoner who served his term in Miike.49<\/sup><\/p>\n

Urakawa developed another means of conveying his message to wider audiences. He did not write many articles in newspapers or journals but self-published a number of pamphlets on the occasions of annual urabon\u2019e<\/em> service. In the pamphlets, he reproduced historical sources and other materials. For example, his 1995 pamphlet featured the statement of Kikuchi Tsuneki and criticised the cruelty of the state and capital.50<\/sup> He had a unique editing style not necessarily following academic conventions. In most of his editing, he did not provide bibliographic information. When he quotes texts, he changes typeface freely in order to emphasise some parts. He remixes the original text with other texts, including his own comments, photographs, newspaper and journal articles that are not always closely related to the text. His mashup editing style culminated in his last pamphlet in which he even quoted the calligraphy of the Zen poet Aida Mitsuo (1924-1991).51<\/sup> Rather than revealing his name as the author or editor of the pamphlets, Urakawa listed the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation as the creator. In later writings, he displayed a clearly critical attitude toward the unchecked capitalism and regarded the deaths of prisoners as human sacrifice.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Conclusion<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the Meiji period, prisons were expected to serve industrial sites. Prisoners were regarded as laborers who could be required to work under harsh conditions. This scheme was intertwined with the idea of \u201creform\u201d of criminals and humanitarian goals. The trade-off between productivity and humanitarianism defined the discursive framework in which theorists and practitioners of penology produced massive numbers of texts on prison management.<\/p>\n

In the post-war period, most of the industrial sites built by the Meiji government no longer played a central role in the national economy. Manufacturing in prisons was no longer a significant source of profit. Convict labor continues to this day, but it is considered a means of moral education for the convicts, rather than an engine of economic growth. At the same time, prisons have become remote places in the imagined geography of Japanese people. The season of politics of the 1960s and \u201970s is over. Today prisons are places only for \u201ccriminals\u201d and inmates\u2019 lives are invisible from society.<\/p>\n

Now representations of prisoners as politico-cultural resources can be used in different ways. For socialist activists like Urakawa and Kosaki, the silent prisoners of past times, with no contemporary counterpart in the region (there has been no prison in Miike since 1931), could be represented as \u201cpure\u201d victims. Through its representation of the prisoners, the Omuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation could criticize the state and capitalism without touching upon contemporary local politics among workers during and after the 1960s.<\/p>\n

The \u201carchives\u201d Urakawa and Kosaki developed through their activities on behalf of prisoners\u2019 cemetery preservation have been donated to the Omuta City Library.52<\/sup> Ohara Toshihide, who played an important role in the donation process as a librarian and bibliographer, compiled a bibliography. The fragmented history collected by Urakawa and Kosaki has entered the archival network of the 21st century and it will provide intellectual resources for future historians. However, the fragments remain as fragments, as most of the official documents of Miike prison have not yet become available. The Mitsui Coal Mine once compiled its 50-years history with a view to publication, but the manuscripts have been kept within the company following Japan\u2019s defeat in the world war.53<\/sup> It is likely that the company was and remains sensitive about the effects that the 50-years history could have in post-war Miike and beyond. If the manuscripts had been made public, they could provide valuable sources for Urakawa and Kosaki, for whom writing and editing the history of convict labour and mourning for the deceased convicts were political acts to appeal to workers\u2019 consciousness as victims. The absence of the historical official records and the fragmented nature of Urakawa and Kosaki collections itself are reflections of the post-war political history of Omuta.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 8: Commemoration service for deceased prisoners held on July 15, 2016. [July 15, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

At this time, it appears that Urakawa, Kosaki and their society somehow succeeded in a cultural war of position by donating their collections to the city library. The existence of the collections is institutionally secure. Their society\u2019s annual commemoration service and other activities continue to remind local inhabitants of the experiences of convict victims. As we have seen, the society has imagined Ichinoura cemetery as a symbol of the restless spirits of convicts even though there were doubtful views. Later in Katsudachi, they finally discovered physical bodies of deceased prisoners. The annual commemoration service, now held at Katsudachi and Ryugoze, is carried on by their successors even after the founders of the Society passed away [Fig. 8].<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Figure 9: Omuta City removed bus timetable boards after round-trip bus service for visitors to the UNESCO-registered Meiji Industrial Revolution sites was terminated on March 1, 2016. [March 1, 2016]<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

At the same time, it seems that the meaning of the commemoration has been changing in the social life of Omuta. The Mitsui Coal Mine was dissolved in 1997 and the population of Omuta city has decreased by half. Indeed, the \u201csuccess\u201d of the Society coincided with the de-industrialisation of the town. Registration of the coal mine as one UNESCO\u2019s Meiji Industrial Sites was expected to boost tourism industry in the region. However, its effect has not been dee[;u felt by the local population thus far [Fig. 9]. If memory of industrialisation starts to lose appreciation as valuable cultural capital, there may be little chance for memories of the dark side of industrialisation to be appreciated. In the years ahead, we will witness how the \u201crecovered\u201d memories of convict labour will adapt to the new discursive environment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Acknowledgements<\/strong><\/p>\n

I would like to express my grateful thanks to Irie Yujiro, Ito Masahiro and Ito Miku for introducing me to the community of Omuta. I am especially grateful to Ohara Toshihide, Yamada Motoki and Kajihara Shinsuke for sharing their knowledge with me. I wish to thank Yoshinaga Shinji of \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozonkai for sharing invaluable documents and inviting me to the Society’s annual urabon’e<\/em> service. I owe a debt to Pan Mengfei for reading my manuscript and giving me suggestions and inspiration.<\/p>\n

<\/h2>\n

Notes<\/h2>\n
1<\/sup>The research leading to these results has received funding from the European Research Council under the European Union’s Seventh Framework Programme (FP\/2007-2013) \/ ERC Grant Agreement 312542 and Japan Society for the Promotion of Science KAKENHI Grant Number 15H06192.<\/div>\n
2<\/sup>Rutokei wo Okoshi Hokkaid\u014d ni Hakken no Gi J\u014dchin. Naimush\u014d Ukagai 5, K<\/em>\u014dbunroku<\/em> 1877, No. 24 (February). National Archives of Japan.<\/div>\n
3<\/sup>Clare Anderson, Carrie M. Crockett, Christian G. De Vito, Takashi Miyamoto, Kellie Moss, Katherine Roscoe, Minako Sakata. 2015. Locating Penal Transportation: Punishment, Space, and Place c. 1750 to 1900. In Karen M. Morin and Dominique Moran eds. Historical Geographies of Prisons: Unlocking the Usable Carceral Past.<\/em> New York: Routledge, pp. 152-153.<\/div>\n
4<\/sup>Mizuma prefecture was established in 1871 covering the Chikugo region. The prefecture was dissolved in 1876. Part of it was transferred to Nagasaki prefecture and the remaining was transferred to Fukuoka prefecture.<\/div>\n
5<\/sup>Tokyo Asahi Shinbun<\/em> (newspaper) dated March 3, 1897 (quoted in Dainippon Kangoku Kky\u014dkai Zasshi<\/em> No. 106 (10-3), March 20, 1897, p. 60.<\/div>\n
6<\/sup>Miike K\u014dzan Goj\u016b-nen Shi K\u014d <\/em>(vol. 16, no. 10). 1944. Mitsui Bunko: Goj\u016b-nen Shi K\u014d 18, p. 13.<\/div>\n
7<\/sup>Ko Dan Danshaku Denki Hensan Iinkai. 1938. Danshaku Dan Takuma Den<\/em> 1. Tokyo: Ko Dan Danshaku Denki Hensan Iinkai, p. 239.<\/div>\n
8<\/sup>Sh\u016bto Saitan Shieki ni Kansuru Keiyaku Teiketsu. Miike Keimusho Enkaku, sono 2<\/em>. Mitsui Bunko: K\u014dzan 831-57, pp. 303-306.<\/div>\n
9<\/sup>Ono Yoshihide. Kangoku (Keimusho) Un\u2019ei 120 nen no Rekishi<\/em>. Tokyo: Ky\u014dsei Ky\u014dkai, p. 129. Subsequently, in 1903, all the sh\u016bjikans<\/em> and prefectural prisons were designated as kangoku<\/em>.<\/div>\n
10<\/sup>The latter attempt was not successful. Sh\u016bto tai Ry\u014dmin K\u014dfu Shieki ni H\u014dshin Tenkan. Miike Keimusho Enkaku, sono 2<\/em>. Mitsui Bunko: K\u014dzan 831-57, pp. 234-240. See also Tanaka Naoki. 1976. Miike Tank\u014d ni Okeru Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d no Yakuwari. Enerug\u012b-shi Kenky\u016b N\u014dto<\/em>. 6: 152\u2013173.<\/div>\n
11<\/sup> Kosaki Fumihito (recorded). n.d. Oral Testimonies on Convict Labor 1 & 2. Rare Collections, \u014cmuta City Library.<\/div>\n
12<\/sup>Ibid<\/em>. See also, Kosaki Fumihito. 1990. Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d to Ningen (manuscript of Lecture at Tenchi Seiky\u014d).<\/div>\n
13<\/sup>Mitsui Coal Mine dismissed Kikuchi\u2019s statement arguing that his opinion was based on misinformation. Subsequently, Kikuchi resigned from his position as prison medical officer.<\/div>\n
14<\/sup>\u014cmuta-shi Shi Hensh\u016b Iinkai. 1966. \u014cmuta-shi Shi <\/em>2. \u014cmuta: \u014cmuta-shi, pp. 598 -609.<\/div>\n
15<\/sup>Abe Tadakichi, Secretary of Miike Coal Mine, to Dan Takuma, Director of Miike Coal Mine. May 5, 1902. Miike Keimusho Enkaku<\/em>. Mitsui Bunko: K\u014dzan 831-57.<\/div>\n
16<\/sup>Tanaka Tomoko. 2009. Changes in Labor Policy in the Pre-War Miike Coal Mine and the Resistance of the Workers. The Bukkyo University Graduate School Review<\/em>. 37: 37-53. [in Japanese<\/div>\n
17<\/sup>On the termination of lease of convicts in Miike, see Miyanohara K\u014d to Sh\u016bto Shieki Keiyaku Kaijo no Keika. Miike Keimusho Enkaku, sono 3<\/em>. Mitsui Bunko: K\u014dzan 831-57, pp. 563-597.<\/div>\n
18<\/sup>By the later 19th century, the Miike coal mine extended across Omuta, Fukuoka prefecture, and Arao, Kumamoto prefecture.<\/div>\n
19<\/sup>He recorded his experience at Miike in his book. Sakisaka Itsuro. 1961. Miike Nikki: Tatakai no Riron to S\u014dkatsu<\/em>. Tokyo: Shiseid\u014d.<\/div>\n
20<\/sup>On Miike Mine Strike in the 1950s, see Hirai Yoichi. 2000. Miike Sougi: Sengo R\u014dd\u014d Und\u014d no Bunsuirei. Tokyo: Mineruva Shob\u014d; Tanaka Tomoko. 2010. Sengo no Miike Tank\u014d ni Okeru R\u014dmu Kanri to R\u014dd\u014dsha no Teik\u014d ni kansuru Kenky\u016b: Miike Tank\u014d ga Naih\u014d shita Mondai ni Chakumoku shite. The Bukkyo University Graduate School Review<\/em>. 38: 55-71.<\/div>\n
21<\/sup>On the explosion, see Mori Kota and Harada Masazumi. 1999. Miike Tank\u014d: 1963 nen Tanjin Bakuhatsu wo Ou<\/em>. Tokyo: Nihon H\u014ds\u014d-shuppan Ky\u014dkai; Tanaka Tomoko. 2012. Miike Tank\u014d Tanjin Bakuhatsu Jiko ni Miru Saigai Fukushi no Shiza<\/em>. Bukky\u014d Daigaku.<\/div>\n
22<\/sup>William Underwood. 2015. History in a Box: UNESCO and the Framing of Japan\u2019s Meiji Era.<\/a> The Asia-Pacific Journal<\/em>. Vol. 13, Issue 26, No. 1 (June 29, 2015).<\/div>\n
23<\/sup>Commemoration of prisoners who lost their lives in the mine was performed in the Meiji period as well. However, the commemoration discontinued following the closure of the Miike prison. Sugai Masami. 1895. Miike Sh\u016bjikan Zaikan-nin Shib\u014dsha Tsuich\u014d Kai. In Sh\u016bjin Bochi ni Kansuru Shiry\u014d: Sat\u014d Yukio shi Shokan sonota: \u014cmuta Ichinoura Bochi Ch\u014dsa Shiry\u014d<\/em>. Kosaki Fumihito Collection. \u014cmuta City Library.<\/div>\n
24<\/sup>Urabon\u2019e<\/em> is a Buddhist \/ Taoist festival held on the 15th night of the seventh month of Chinese lunar calendar.<\/div>\n
25<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai. 2005. Chinkon: Rekishi Tanb\u014d – Fu no Isan<\/em>. \u014cmuta: \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, pp. 95-96.<\/div>\n
26<\/sup>Ohara Toshihide. 2015. Shiry\u014d Sh\u014dkai: \u014cmuta Shiritsu Toshokan ga Sh\u014dz\u014d suru Miike Tank\u014d Kankei Shiry\u014d to sono Mokuroku ni tsuite. Enerug\u012b-shi Kenky\u016b<\/em>. 30: 99-100.<\/div>\n
27<\/sup>Sh\u016bjin Bochi ni Kansuru Shiry\u014d, op. cit<\/em>.<\/div>\n
28<\/sup>Urakawa was aware of the criticisms made by Takeda and Shigematsu in 1972. Takeda Takehisa. 1972. Miike Kangoku wo Saguru 5. Keisei<\/em>. 83-12: 26-27; Shigematsu Kazuyoshi. 1972 (2001). Miike Sh\u016bjikan Sh\u014d-shi<\/em>. Privately Printed (reprinted by \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai), p. 27. Copies of the articles are included in Urakawa Collection, the \u014cmuta City Library.<\/div>\n
29<\/sup>Asahi Gurafu. 1871. Kikoku Sh\u016bsh\u016b: Sh\u016btobaka. Asahi Gurafu<\/em>. 8 October: 59-66.<\/div>\n
30<\/sup>For example, R\u014djin-kai ga Seis\u014d Houshi: Ichinoura-machi no Sh\u016bjin Bochi wo, 6 August 1981, Ariake<\/em>.<\/div>\n
31<\/sup>Urakawa, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 97.<\/div>\n
32<\/sup>Motoyoshi Keiji. 1971. Ch\u014dji: H\u014dy\u014d, Ry\u016bgoze Bochi, Gass\u014d no Hi, Isetsu<\/em>. Quoted in Urakawa, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 45.<\/div>\n
33<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai (ed.), 1995, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 38.<\/div>\n
34<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai. 1997. Miike Sh\u016bjikan: Sh\u016bjin Ikotsu Sh\u014dgeki no Hakkutsu, Ikitemo Jigoku Shindemo Jigoku, Shibotsu Sh\u016bjin no Matsuro wa Amari nimo Mijime<\/em>. \u014cmuta: Privately Printed Pamphlet.<\/div>\n
35<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 2.<\/div>\n
36<\/sup>Urakawa recorded the excavation process with photographs. The photographs are kept in Urakawa Collection, \u014cmuta City Library. Permission letters from the \u014cmuta City to cremate the bones are included in the collection as well.<\/div>\n
37<\/sup>Ishikawa, 1997, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 41<\/div>\n
38<\/sup>\u014cmuta-shi Shi Hensh\u016b Iinkai. 1965-69. \u014cmuta-shi Shi<\/em> (j\u014d, ch\u016b, ge, ho). \u014cmuta: \u014cmuta City.<\/div>\n
39<\/sup>Ohara Toshihide. 2016. Shiry\u014d Shokai: Miike Tank\u014d no Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d. Liberation<\/em>. 163: 81-101. Miike Keimusho Enkaku<\/em> was kept by the Mitsui Coal Mine, and was later deposited to the Mitsui Bunko in Tokyo. After the dissolution of the Miike Coal Mine, the deposited records including Miike Keimusho Enkaku<\/em> were endowed to the Mitsui Bunko.<\/div>\n
40<\/sup>\u014cmuta-shi Shi Hensh\u016b Iinkai. 1966. \u014cmuta-shi Shi<\/em> (chu). \u014cmuta: \u014cmuta City, pp. 599-608. Quoted in \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozonai (ed.), 1995, Miike Tanzan no Sh\u016bto Shieki wo Haishi seyo: Kangoku-i Kikuchi Tsuneki no Otakebi<\/em>, \u014cmuta: \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, p. 15. Also quoted in Ishikawa Tamotsu, 1997, Miike Sh\u016bjikan Monogatari: Miike Tank\u014d Hatten no Kiso<\/em>, \u014cmuta: Ishikawa Tamotsu (privately printed), p. 39. The letter is frequently referred to in writings of those who are associated with the \u014cmuta Association for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation.<\/div>\n
41<\/sup>Na mo Nai Hikage no Shiorebana, Ky\u014dsei R\u014dd\u014d ni Hateta Sh\u016bjin, Miike Tank\u014d. December 25, 1981. Mainichi Shimbun<\/em> (Chikugo edition).<\/div>\n
42<\/sup>R\u014dso Kikanshi Tsukutte 33-nen Miike R\u014dso no Kosaki-san Y\u016btai. December 25, 1981. Yomiuri Shimbun<\/em> (Chikugo edition).<\/div>\n
43<\/sup>Some of them have been discovered thanks to the efforts of Kosaka, Urakawa, Ohara and others who were associated with the \u014cmuta Society for Prisoners\u2019 Cemetery Preservation. See Ohara, 2016, op. cit.<\/em><\/div>\n
44<\/sup>Hand copied draft 50 years history is now kept in Mitsui Bunko and \u014cmuta City Library. Mitsui K\u014dzan Goj\u016b-nen Shi K\u014d<\/em>. 1944. Mitsui Bunko. The copy kept in \u014cmuta City Library is likely to be a hand copy of the one kept in Mitsui Bunko. Ohara, 2016, op. cit<\/em>., p. 97.<\/div>\n
45<\/sup>For example, He published serial articles on convict labor on Ariake Shimpo<\/em> in 1976. Kosaki Fumihito. 1976. Miike Tank\u014d Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d no Hanashi 1-14. Ariake Shimpo<\/em>. He wrote similar serial articles from time to time mainly on Ariake Shimpo<\/em>. For example, Kosaki Fumihito. 1982. Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d Iseki wo Tazuneru 1-11. Ariake Shimpo<\/em>; 1987. Kangoku-i Kikuchi Ishi no Koto 1-5. Ariake Shimpo<\/em>.<\/div>\n
46<\/sup>One of his early articles on convict labour was co-authored with Motoyoshi. Motoyoshi Keiji and Kosaki Fumihito. 1978. Miike Tank\u014d no Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d: Chitei ni Umoreta Hitotsu no Rekishi. Fukuoka Daigaku Kenky\u016bjo H\u014d<\/em>. 39: 79-156. Later, he kept writing for journals related to convict labor as well as the CO poisoning issue. Kosaki Fumihito. 1982. Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d no Rekishi: Miike Tank\u014d wo Ch\u016bshin ni 1-5. R\u014dd\u014d Keizai Junp\u014d<\/em>. 36-1226: 30-33, 36-1227: 32-34, 1229: 26-28, 1230: 22-27, 1232: 23-24; Kosaki Fumihito. 1983. Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d no Jittai to Kon’nichi teki Igi 1-4. Gekkan S\u014dhyo<\/em>. 305: 58-64, 306: 77-83, 307: 86-94, 308: 88-94.<\/div>\n
47<\/sup>Manuscript of the lecture and other related memoranda and papers are kept in the Kosaki Colletion of the \u014cmuta City Library. Kosaki Fumihito. 1988-07-16. Miike Tank\u014d Sh\u016bjin R\u014dd\u014d wo Oitsuzukete. 13th Study Camp for Students of National Universities in Kyushu (\u014cita).<\/div>\n
48<\/sup>Ibid.<\/em>, p. 3.<\/div>\n
49<\/sup>Takahashi Ch\u014dz\u014d. 1924. Inochi no Sentaku<\/em>. Tokyo: Kirisutoky\u014d Shorui Gaisha.<\/div>\n
50<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, 1995, op. cit.<\/em><\/div>\n
51<\/sup>\u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, 2005, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 107.<\/div>\n
52<\/sup>The Kosaki collection was donated to the library in 1997 and the Urakawa collection was donated around 2005. Ohara, 2015, op. cit<\/em>., p. 100; \u014cmuta Sh\u016bjin Bochi Hozon Kai, 2005, op. cit.<\/em>, p. 109.<\/div>\n
53<\/sup>Manuscripts are accessible at the Mitsui Bunko and the Omuta City Library. See note 39.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Miyamoto Takashi Note: This article is reprinted with permission from the author. It originally appeared in The Asia-Pacific Journal. Introduction Figure 1: Entrance of the Miyanohara tunnel, the Miike Coal Mine. [March 1, 2016] The Mitsui Miike Coal Mine, one of several UNESCO registered Meiji Industrial Revolution Sites since 2015 [Fig. 1]. While the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":264,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[95,31],"tags":[111,114,112,113],"class_list":["post-852","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-free-and-unfree-labour","category-japan","tag-japan","tag-memory-and-memorial","tag-mitsui-miike-coal-mine","tag-prison-labour"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/264"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=852"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":853,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/852\/revisions\/853"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=852"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=852"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staffblogs.le.ac.uk\/carchipelago\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=852"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}