第１６６０堀：教えるだけでなく考えることも大事 (Part2)
"First, the essence of 'kuchiberashi'—reducing the number of mouths to feed—is, at its core, an economic necessity. If a family of five reduces their number to four, they decrease their expenses. The same logic applies to villages and towns; by reducing the population, they create economic breathing room. Now, why would such a reduction be necessary in the first place?"
"Because, quite literally, they cannot afford to feed that many people. If they don't, they’ll physically run out of food..."
"Exactly. A very straightforward example. When there isn't enough food to go around for five people—or for an entire village or town—and there is no way to increase the supply, you reduce the number of people eating. It is a choice to sacrifice one person, or a select few, rather than letting everyone in the family, village, or town starve to death. Now, what is the alternative to this practice of population reduction?"
As I asked this, everyone’s faces lit up with realization.
"Produce more food!" they answered in unison.
In reality, there are other factors—improving the economy, or deeply investigating the root of the problem—but while their sharpness is commendable, for now...
"Indeed. There were other insightful points raised, but we shall delve into those in future lessons. For now, let us proceed with the premise that it is possible to produce more food. How do you think we should go about that?"
"Make more fields."
"Hunt more beasts."
"Gather wild vegetables."
"Catch more fish."
The suggestions poured in. Amidst them, I posed another question:
"Now, is the culture of 'kuchiberashi' necessary for people who no longer struggle to find food?"
"No, it wouldn't be necessary."
"Precisely. 'Kuchiberashi' is a culture born out of desperate necessity. If there is an abundance of food, it is no longer required. Though, it isn't as simple as just 'making more food,' if we can reduce the need for such practices, what lies beyond that?"
Come now, young ones. Use your imaginations. What lies beyond the disappearance of such a sad, painful culture?
"Beyond it, sir?"
"Yes. If there is no longer a need to reduce the population, what happens?"
"Well... fewer people will have to suffer."
"Fewer people will go hungry."
I couldn't help but smile at their honest answers. Narjia and Wazfi, who were observing, offered wry smiles, while Schans wore a gentler expression than usual.
"Exactly. Fewer people suffering and fewer people going hungry means fewer people harboring resentment toward their village or town."
"Oh, so it leads to better public order."
"Correct. As I mentioned earlier, the life and death of people easily turns into bitterness and grudges. Hunger, too, is a fundamental struggle for survival. If those are removed—if people are happy and their bellies are full—trouble will naturally decrease. That said, you are the ones who will carry the future of this nation. Let’s take it one step further."
When I pressed them, two students spoke up.
"The population will grow. We can use that increased population to further boost production. The national power will increase."
"Indeed. And increased national power means we can better prepare for invasions from monsters or other nations. It’s not quite that simple, of course, but that would be the ideal."
One listed terms like Cleena might, while the other explained it as logically and methodically as Kagura. Yes, these were the same students who had been so sharp earlier.
"Exactly. As you said, it is not a simple matter, and that is indeed the ideal. That is why every nation works hard, with many people cooperating to reach that goal. That is what a family is, what a village is, what a town is, and what a nation is."
A nation will often have to make cold, heartless decisions. However, there are few who actually *want* to invite resentment. It is always better to have none at all.
"One person alone can only manage a small field at best. But what happens if many people help? You can cultivate vast fields, perhaps discover new, high-yield crops. Someone might teach you a better way to grow them. Or perhaps you’ll find a way to defeat the pests and monsters that devour the harvest. Now, how much do you all know about these things? For our next lesson, let’s think about how we can create the best possible fields together."
With that, the lesson concluded, but...
"I’ve made a mistake."
"Eh?"
My words surprised not only Prol, but also Schans and Eupia, who had been listening to the report with admiration. What was the mistake, you ask?
"If we’re talking about agriculture, I should have brought Kaya along. No, is there still time?"
"Ah..."
Everyone nodded in agreement, and we began discussing how we might be able to drag Kaya back to Weed to consult with her.
They say it to students these days, don't they? That it's not just about what you're taught, but about developing the power to think for yourself. I don't think we had much of that when I was a child.