"Manifesto" is the buzzword of Japan's political season. Each party must have one. Newspaper headlines squeeze it in.
Policies and ideas, the lofty sounding foreign word implies, will now determine the outcome of elections, instead of pork-barrel politics.
But in this corner of rural Japan, where public works and the heavily protected konnyaku yam are the main motors of the economy, the manifesto is as alien a concept as its promise of political transformation.
"The word manifesto has already been used around here for a long time," said Toru Ikehara, 70, the president of a construction company bearing his name and that of a construction association. He took a form out of a drawer. "Here," he said, "this is the manifesto for construction scrap disposal. You pull down a house, state in detail what waste went where, so as to take responsibility for the disposal."
As Japan prepares to hold a general election on Sunday, there is breathless talk here of moving toward an American-style two-party system. The main opposition Democratic Party, strengthened by its recent merger with another party, is expected to continue making gains in the cities, where voters are younger and work in the private sector.
But the Liberal Democratic Party of Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, which has governed almost uninterrupted since 1955, still dominates rural Japan. Its grip on the area around Nakanojo, as well as on other aging rural areas dependent on the government, suggests that there may not be a change in government this time around, and perhaps not for a few more years.
Postwar Japan has been essentially a one-party state, in part because the Liberal Democratic Party, which is actually conservative, has always enjoyed rock-solid rural support.
To ensure that, the party funneled money from the cities into the countryside, which it pampered with lavish public works projects and agricultural subsidies. Moreover, electoral laws gave more weight to rural votes. The cities remained uninterested in politics as long as Japan's economy kept growing.
For rural areas like Nakanojo, the spigot from Tokyo has tightened in recent years, because of Japan's long economic slump and Koizumi's drive to slash public spending.
But backing the opposition, which promises even steeper cuts, would be committing suicide. So places like Nakanojo continue to back the Liberal Democratic Party, if only because there is no alternative.
Here in this town in the 5th Election District of Gumma province, some 120km north of Tokyo, the main opposition is not even bothering to field a candidate for the lower house of parliament. The Liberal Democratic Party incumbent, Yuko Obuchi, 29, won the seat after its previous occupant -- Keizo Obuchi, a former prime minister who also happened to be her father -- died in 2000.
Obuchi's campaign manager, Kentaro Iwai, felt comfortable enough to say that her re-election on Sunday was assured, though there are candidates from minor parties.
"The point is how many votes she can get," said Iwai, 61, who is also vice chairman of the Liberal Democratic Party's provincial chapter.
That money is no longer flowing down here as it used to is easily visible in Nakanojo, a town of 18,000 inhabitants. There are few young people to be seen; most have left for the cities.
The main street is referred to as Shuttered Street because of the number of closed shops. On weekdays the train pulls up at the small station packed almost exclusively with elderly tourists on their way to nearby hot springs.
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