Waiting for Snow on Mount Fuji, the US Election, and Why Stories Matter

While flipping through channels on the eve of November 4, 2024, it was impossible to avoid coverage of the impending US election. But I’d heard more than enough predicting and opining. Therefore, I was relieved to come across a news segment about a very different topic: Mount Fuji.

Unfortunately, the Fuji story, like the election, was grim.

Mount Fuji is Japan’s tallest mountain. One of its most remarkable attributes is its snowy peak. This year, however, Fuji’s snowcap was noticeably absent. In fact, Fuji went without its snowcap for the longest period since records began 130 years ago. Typically, snow starts to accumulate on Fuji in early October. But this year, the mountain remained conspicuously bare well into the month of November. According to scientists, this is due to climate change. Indeed, global temperatures have hit record levels, and climatologists are virtually certain that 2024 will be declared the hottest year on record.

So the absence of snow, while unsettling, was not altogether surprising.

Finally, on November 5, after much anticipation, Americans headed to the polls. And on the other side of the globe, snow was observed on the top of Mount Fuji.

As a reader, writer, and editor, I spend a lot of time thinking about stories. What makes some stories compelling and other stories forgettable? Why do some stories resonate, while others bore? These questions are interesting, but I’d like to take a step back and consider a deeper issue: why do stories matter altogether? In a world where the climate is in peril and politics are more divisive than ever, stories might be regarded as unimportant or frivolous.

But this perspective, in my opinion, is mistaken.  

Despite all the problems we face, stories remain hugely consequential. They shape the world around us, imbuing it with colour and texture. Stories are fundamental to the human experience. And the world as we know it is largely a product of the stories we tell. The better the story, the greater its impact. Therefore, the act of storytelling—far from trivial—is one of the most powerful tools at our disposal.

There are certain undeniable facts about the magnificent Mount Fuji. It is, for example, an active volcano. It’s located at the junction of three plates: the Amurian Plate, Okhotsk Plate, and Philippine Sea Plate. Its elevation is 3,776.24 metres and its summit has a tundra climate.

But above and beyond these objective realities, Fuji has a mystical status. It’s been imbued with meaning by all the communities that have lived in its midst, and is the subject of myriad stories.

Throughout the ages, the Japanese have drawn inspiration from Fuji. Japanese poets, in particular, have been captured by its awesomeness. The following is a three-line traditional haiku by the poet Koboyashi Issa that was originally written in Japanese:

O snail,

climb Mt. Fuji,

but slowly, slowly.

This sparse yet tender poem about Mount Fuji highlights the virtues of hope and perseverance.

Fuji has also been depicted in countless paintings and other forms of art. Below is “The Great Wave off Kanagawa,” a masterpiece by Japanese artist Hokusai Katsushika. This iconic print is part of a series of landscape images that depicts Mount Fuji in various locations and seasons.

The Great Wave off Kanagawa

Fuji is also famous for its religious and cultural significance. The mountain is widely regarded as a source of immortality. It is distinguished as one of Japan’s “Three Holy Mountains” (along with Mount Tate and Mount Haku). In Shinto mythology, it’s revered as a sacred kamo (spirit), and climbing its slopes is viewed as an act of pilgrimage for Shintoists. Fuji is also holy to the Ainu people (the indigenous inhabitants of ancient Japan) and to some Buddhists.

Arguably, Trump won the 2024 election because he told a better story. Harris’ story, by contrast, failed to resonate with enough of the electorate. Both candidates were faced with the same set of facts about the economy, global affairs, immigration, etc. But they crafted vastly different narratives to explain these issues. And Trump’s narrative prevailed.

In a similar vein, Mount Fuji illustrates the massive and persistent impact of stories. It is a natural phenomenon, grounded in time and space, that’s been infused with rich symbolism and endless wonder. The art, prose, and mythology that it’s spurred have transformed a stunning physical entity into something even grander and more profound.

If you find yourself wondering how Trump managed to win, consider the power of stories, and look no further than Mount Fuji for proof that stories matter.