Chris Perry, Author

Author: Chris Perry

  • Kamakura I – A Good Start

    According to historians, the Kamakura Period (named for the eponymous city in modern Kanagawa Prefecture) began in 1185. You probably know by now that history is never that neat. For starters, Minamoto no Yoritomo, the ‘first’ Shogun of this period, wasn’t actually granted the title until 1192.

    Despite some unclear dates, the reality is that Imperial power had been in decline for centuries. The rising warrior class (Samurai) had had effective control of the provinces for years, and one clan, the Taira, would rise to take effective control of the government, though their leader, Taira no Kiyomori, would not take the title of Shogun and nominally ruled through the Emperor.

    Taira control came to an end at the Battle of Dan-no-Ura in 1185, and they were replaced by the Minamoto. We’ve already discussed them, but in summary, the Minamoto, much like the Taira, were a sprawling extended family whose wealth and power did not come from Imperial prestige or titles, but control of the land and the armed men who protected it.

    After Dan-no-Ura and the end of the Genpei War, the Minamoto were in control, but here’s where history takes a turn. Previously, clans like the Soga, Fujiwara, and Taira had taken control of the capital, and they exerted influence on the court through political appointments, marriages, and the occasional use of force. The clans would sometimes become powerful enough to reduce Imperial rule to a mere concept, but the illusion of Imperial power was always formally maintained.

    The Minamoto were different. Firstly, they didn’t base themselves in the capital, even after their victory over the Taira. The Minamoto base, and centre of their power, was at Kamakura, and that is where they remained. After 1185, Yoritomo would pay lip service to the Emperor, but he began appointing his own provincial administrators, cutting the court out of the process entirely.

    In 1189, Yoritomo undertook an invasion of the northern provinces of Dewa and Mutsu. These provinces were ruled by the remnants of the Northern Fujiwara clan and had been largely independent since the outbreak of the Genpei War in 1180. It was also an area that harboured Minamoto rivals to Yoritomo.

    Before the outbreak of what would become known as the Oshu War, Yoritomo sought the permission of the Imperial Court to lead the army against the ‘rebels’. This was a formality, but technically the Emperor still had the right to select the General of ‘his’ army.

    However, Yoritomo didn’t wait for permission to be granted. Instead, he summoned warriors from across Japan, and they answered the call from as far away as Satsuma Province in southern Kyushu (in modern-day Kagoshima Prefecture). Throughout the summer, the Imperial Court made a lot of noise, trying to dissuade warriors from joining Yoritomo, but it did no good. If Japan had been waiting for a sign that power had definitively shifted, then this was it.

    The Oshu War in 1189 put an end to even the pretence of Imperial authority over the warrior class.

    The Oshu War lasted around 40 days, and Yoritomo achieved a complete victory. The Court, apparently trying to save face, offered its formal congratulations and a retroactive ‘permission’ for the war. Though the formalities had been observed, no one was fooled; Yoritomo was the boss now.

    Yoritomo’s main rival at court was the Emperor Go-Shirakawa, who had abdicated in 1158 and ruled as an insei or cloistered Emperor, influencing events at court for years. Though the two men would cooperate occasionally, especially against the Taira, it wasn’t long before the relationship broke down. Luckily for Yoritomo, and unluckily for Imperial power, Go-Shirakawa died in 1192, and the last real opposition to Minamoto dominance died with him.

    It is debated as to whether or not Go-Shirakawa actually sought to prevent Yoritomo from taking the title of Shogun, but the timing is certainly interesting. Go-Shirakawa died in April 1192, and Yoritomo was raised to Shogun in July, giving some credence to the idea that the only obstacle had been the Emperor.

    The title of Shogun, more appropriately, Seii taishōgun, is literally translated as Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force Against the Barbarians (which is a bit of a mouthful, I agree), and had always been a temporary title before. In the Yamato Period and early Heian, the Emperor would issue a ceremonial sword to a General before sending him against the Empire’s enemies (usually the Emishi Tribes in what is now northern Japan).

    The title seems to have fallen out of use in the 10th century as the Emishi had ceased to be a threat, and there was no longer any need for a Supreme Commander. Yoritomo’s assumption of the title reflected the new reality. His was not a government that was based on divine origins, or the glitz and glamour of Imperial ceremony. He had taken power through military strength, and he would rule Japan in the same way.

    Though Yoritomo was obviously a capable commander and administrator, he also took advantage of powerful alliances in and around his home provinces. His marriage to Hojo Masako (an important figure in her own right) brought him the support of the powerful Hojo Clan, who would go on to play an important role in the Kamakura Government.

    The strength (and, ironically, the eventually fatal weakness) of the Kamakura government was its decentralisation. Japan had been divided into provinces during the Taika Reforms over 500 years earlier, with each province being further divided into districts.

    The system had relied on officials appointed by the Imperial Court to run it, and when Yoritomo took over, he replaced Imperial Officials with Gokenin. This new system was pretty much the same as the one it had replaced, with officials appointed by the Shogun to oversee lands that they didn’t own.

    The home of a Gokenin from later in the period.

    The power of the Shogun came from the exclusive right to appoint these officials, but over time, they become de-facto hereditary, meaning that later Kamakura-based Shoguns would face exactly the same problem as the Emperors had, nominal vassals who were in reality heavily militarised, semi-independent principalities, who were not interested in obeying the government.

    The Great Hunt

    All that was in the future, and Yoritomo was focused on establishing the power of his regime in the short term. In the summer of 1193, Yoritomo called all his retainers to a great hunt in Suruga Province, not far from his capital. The so-called ‘Fuji no Makigari” (Hunt near Mt Fuji) was apparently attended by upwards of 700,000. Though that does seem implausibly high (and probably is), it does go some way to showing how high-profile an event this was. There were also a few incidents that highlight the complexities of power, both within the family and outside it.

    Firstly, when Yoritomo’s son and heir, Yoriie, killed his first deer, Yoritomo stopped the hunt to call for a celebration. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to shoot anything with a bow, let alone a deer, but it’s not easy, and Yoriie was only 12, so good for him, right?

    Well, it turns out, not so much, when Yoritomo sent a message to his wife, and the boy’s mother, Hojo Masako, inviting her to the celebration, she sent a message back stating that the son of a Shogun being able to shoot a deer was no reason to celebrate.

    Hojo Masako, the original Tiger Mum.

    Another incident, which wasn’t political exactly, but still a bit weird, was when Kudo Kagemitsu, a famous archer, shot at a deer and missed three times. He would claim to be baffled, and that the deer must have been the one that the Gods of the mountains rode. Which I’m sure it was. It’s a convenient excuse anyway. Kagemitsu would apparently get sick and collapse that very evening, and Yoritomo even considered calling off the hunt, but he didn’t, and they carried on for another week, so there’s that.

    The third incident is certainly the most serious, and has a name that probably explains itself: The Revenge of the Soga Brothers.

    These Soga aren’t the same as the Soga who had first dominated the Imperial Court in the Yamato Period; instead, they were a clan based in Sagami Province (most of modern-day Kanagawa) near Odawara. The target of the Soga’s vengeance was Kudo Suketsune, who had accidentally killed their father in a dispute over land, or a woman, or something. It’s complicated, but Samurai love a vendetta, and even though Suketsune’s death had been an accident, the Soga Bros, Sukenari and Tokimune, swore revenge.

    Now, the exact details of the attack are recorded in the Soga Monogatari, which is of unknown authorship, and tends to sensationalise quite a lot of what happened, and the Azuma Kagami, which is heavily biased towards the Kamakura government. Both sources share some similarities and some differences, but the basic outline is that the brothers attacked and killed Suketsune either at an inn or in a mansion, where he was attended by one or possibly two prostitutes.

    The Soga Brothers take their revenge.

    The sources agree that the brothers killed Suketsune with their swords, but the Soga Monogatari says they also killed one of the prostitutes, or maybe just cut her legs off, which I guess was fine?

    Both sources agree that the brothers attacked and killed many warriors, with the Azuma Kagami suggesting that this was part of an attack on the Shogun, whilst the Monogatari says it was all about killing as many enemies as possible, to make their mark on history.

    Both sources also agree that Sukenari, the elder brother, was cut down in the melee, but Tokimune was captured, and subject to interrogation, before being put to death.

    This story was romanticised as heck later on, especially during the Edo Period, and why not? After all, what’s more inspiring than a story about a pair of brothers who avenge their murdered father before going on to slaughter a bunch of people who had nothing to do with it?

    Whether or not the Soga Brothers actually attempted to kill the Shogun, this episode highlights the often chaotic and bloody reality of a government run by warriors.

    Yoritomo would become a monk, and then almost immediately die in February 1199, leaving his son Yoriie as the second Shogun. Yoriie would immediately come under the influence of his grandfather, Hojo Tokimasa, and mother, the aforementioned Hojo Masako. Pretty soon, the same problems that had plagued the Imperial Court began affecting the Shogun’s court too, but more on that next time.

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kamakura_shogunate
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_%C5%8Csh%C5%AB
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoritomo
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%BA%90%E9%A0%BC%E6%9C%9D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shogun
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Go-Shirakawa
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C5%8Dj%C5%8D_Masako
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gokenin
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fuji_no_Makigari
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Revenge_of_the_Soga_Brothers
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azuma_Kagami
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soga_Monogatari

  • The Genpei War

    Oh yes, here we go, a good old-fashioned war post! All those posts about economic and social decline are finally paying off! Let’s get into it!

    So, as we’ve discussed, by the mid-12th Century, the Imperial Court was in a bad way. Over the centuries, the throne had been dominated by one powerful clan after another, who would marry into the Imperial family again and again in order to maintain that domination, at the cost of turning their gene pool into more of a muddy puddle. Luckily, Heian Era Japan didn’t have a concept of genetics, so I’m sure it was fine.

    The first of these families had been the Soga, who had been overthrown by the Fujiwara in the Isshi Incident in 645. The Fujiwara had had more or less complete control until the Emperors started abdicating to become insei, that is, cloistered Emperors, or an Emperor with all the power of the throne and none of the restraints that the Fujiwara had taken advantage of.

    With the Fujiwara weakened, their enemies started circling. The Hogen Rebellion in 1156 marked the end of Fujiwara power, as the rival Taira and Minamoto families teamed up to take them down. In a betrayal that will surprise no one, the Taira then shafted the Minamoto in the post-rebellion settlement, taking most of the power and the influence over the Emperor for themselves.

    The Minamoto were understandably a bit put out by that, so they launched a rebellion of their own in 1160. The so-called Heiji Rebellion failed, and the Minamoto were effectively wiped out, their leadership either killed or banished to the provinces.

    For the next 20 years, the Taira ruled as the Fujiwara had, but the problem with a violent takeover is that once one group does it, everyone wants to have a go. The Taira, like the Fujiwara before them, became overly enamoured with court life and neglected the provinces.

    This was unfortunate because, as I mentioned earlier, it was the provinces to which the Minamoto had been banished, and they weren’t in a forgiving mood when it came to the Taira.

    The Heiji Rebellion in 1160 marked the triumph of the Taira over their Minamoto rivals, at least temporarily.

    The leader of the Taira at this point was Kiyomori. He had led the Taira forces that had overthrown the Fujiwara and then seen off the Minamoto, and he was probably feeling pretty pleased with himself. Using his influence (and presumably the implicit threat of force), he rose through the ranks at court, eventually becoming Daijo-Daijin, which was basically the head of the government and second only to the Emperor (in theory).

    Now, there had obviously been Daijo-Daijin before Kiyomori, but he was significant because he was the first from the buke or warrior families to rise to that rank. Previously, the formal ranks of the Imperial Bureaucracy had been held by members or allies of the Fujiwara, and Kiyomori was an outsider who was seen as having used martial strength to gain his position, which was true, to be fair.

    In 1171, Kiyomori cemented his power at court by having his daughter, Tokuko, marry Emperor Takakura. Now, none of this was particularly new; the Fujiwara had been doing it for centuries, after all, but Kiyomori was different; he was a thug.

    The Fujiwara, for all their faults, had always played the game properly. They knew the rules, understood court etiquette, wrote beautiful poems, all that stuff. Kiyomori wasn’t like that. He’d taken power through military strength, and that was how he intended to keep hold of it. He wasn’t afraid to throw his weight around, and it was a risky business to oppose him.

    In 1177, in response to an alleged coup (the Shishigatani incident), Kiyomori ordered the arrest of dozens of conspirators. That these conspirators were all people who had reason to be offended by Kiyomori was convenient, and some sources speculate that the plot never existed at all, as it appears to have relied entirely on the testimony of a single monk, who Kiyomori had tortured and then beheaded.

    Regardless of whether it was real or not, Kiyomori had reinforced his power. Those who had ‘opposed’ him were dead or exiled, and he filled the vacant posts with family members and allies, further cementing his power and the fury of the opposition against him.

    In 1178, Tokuko gave birth to a son, Antoku, and Kiyomori decided it’d be a good time to remind everyone at court who was really in charge. The so-called Political Crisis of the Third Year of the Jisho Era (which is a bit easier to say in Japanese, I assure you) was basically a military coup d’etat. Kiyomori brought thousands of his warriors from the provinces to the capital and took over.

    There was no longer any pretence, Kiyomori was dictator in all but name, and shortly after the coup, he had Emperor Takakura abdicate in favour of the two-year-old Antoku, who obviously couldn’t rule himself, at which point Kiyomori kindly stepped in as regent.

    You remember what I said about violent takeovers? Well, Kiyomori was about to learn that lesson. The Taira had driven out the Minamoto, but they hadn’t destroyed them, and for twenty years, Kiyomori had ruled in such a way that he alienated just about everyone.

    In 1180, Prince Mochihito, who had been in line for the throne before Kiyomori raised the infant Antoku in his place, raised his banner in rebellion, calling for the opponents of the Taira to gather an army and march on the capital. Unfortunately, for Mochihito, his plan was discovered, and he was forced to flee, eventually arriving at the temple of Mii-Dera in Nara.

    What follows is largely recorded in The Heike Monogatari, which is a pretty epic read, but is largely a fictionalised account of the war, presenting an idealised version of events, in which heroic warriors do heroic things against impossible (and often implausible) odds.

    What we do know is that Mochihito, outnumbered and overwhelmed, was defeated at the Battle of Uji, just outside modern Kyoto, where he was either killed or executed shortly afterwards. Despite his unsuccessful attempts at raising an army, Mochihito’s call to arms did serve to galvanise the opposition to the Taira.

    Prince Mochihito, whose failed rebellion and death at the Battle of Uji served to inspire the opposition to Taira rule.
    ColBase: 国立博物館所蔵品統合検索システム (Integrated Collections Database of the National Museums, Japan), CC 表示 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=92525963による

    It is at this point that Minamoto no Yoritomo enters the stage, he definitely deserves a post of his own, but the short version is that he was 13 in 1160, and the Taira, perhaps feeling pity over his youth, hadn’t executed him, banishing him to the provinces instead.

    Yoritomo, however, had a long memory, and he had spent the last twenty years gaining strength, first over his own clan, and then the surrounding area. His base was the city of Kamakura, in modern-day Kanagawa Prefecture, and it was a relatively long way from the capital.

    When news of Uji reached him, Yoritomo set off looking for a fight. He called for help from the surrounding clans, and although there seems to have been some support, very few actually showed up to fight. In September 1180, Yoritomo had managed to gather just 300 men, and he was attacked by a force ten times that size at the Battle of Ishibashiyama.

    Despite this defeat, Yoritomo was able to escape by sea to Awa Province (in modern Chiba Prefecture), from where he would continue the fight. Meanwhile, the Taira, under Kiyomori, sought to take revenge against the monks who had hidden Prince Mochihito, and attacked and burned the city of Nara.

    Meanwhile, Yoritomo’s uncle was defeated at the Battle of Sunomatagawa in June 1181. The story goes that the Minamoto tried to sneak across a river at night in order to attack the Taira on the other bank. Apparently, their plan failed because Taira sentries were able to distinguish friend from foe by checking who was wet, or not. That seems like remarkable awareness for a battle in the dark, but regardless, the Minamoto failed to surprise the Taira and were defeated.

    Later that year, Yoritomo’s cousin (and sometimes rival) Yoshinaka raised an army in the north and defeated the Taira army sent to stop him, after which, fighting died down for a while.

    Taira no Kiyomori had died earlier in 1181 (the story goes that his fever was so hot anyone who tried to tend him would be burned), and not long after, a famine broke out that would spread across the nation. You can’t fight if you can’t eat, and so what followed was a two-year lull in the fighting, which I imagine wasn’t much comfort to the starving peasants.

    The fighting would resume in 1183, and the Taira would have some initial success, but at the Battle of Kurikara Pass in June of that year, the Taira were decisively defeated, and the momentum shifted to the Minamoto. It was Yoshinaka (Yoritomo’s cousin) and Yukiie (Yoritomo’s Uncle, but not Yoshinaka’s father, I know, it’s confusing) who actually led the Minamoto to the capital.

    As Kiyomori was dead, it fell to his son Munemori to lead the defence of the city. He did this by taking young Emperor Antoku and fleeing west, as you do. It was at this point that the cloistered Emperor, Go-Shirakawa (yeah, he’s still alive at this point!) threw in his lot with Yoshinaka and the Minamoto, calling on them to pursue and destroy the Taira.

    Unfortunately, Yoshinaka had different plans. Fancying himself the rightful leader of the Minamoto, he engaged in a plot against his cousin, Yoritomo, who was by now marching from the East towards the capital. It seems he was initially joined by Yukiie, who then got cold feet and let details of the plot slip.

    Yoshinaka himself became aware that the plot had been discovered and moved first, setting fire to several parts of the capital and taking Go-Shirakawa hostage. It was at this point that Yoritomo’s brothers, Yoshitsune and Noriyori, arrived with a considerable force. They drove Yoshinaka out of the capital, and then killed him at the Second Battle of Uji , bringing an end to the Minamoto Clan’s feuding (for now.)

    A scene from the Second Battle of Uji. The bridge had been pulled up, hence the need to swim.

    After this, the momentum was decisively on the side of the Minamoto. They pursued the Taira, who had originally set up camp at Dazaifu, in Kyushu, and fortifying their positions around the Inland Sea, which were the lands the Taira had originally held.

    The Minamoto went on the offensive and defeated the Taira at the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani, near modern-day Kobe, followed up by another victory at Kojima. These successes allowed the Minamoto to drive the Taira out of their strongholds along the coast of the Inland Sea.

    The Taira, in possession of what was apparently the only navy in Japan at the time, and certainly the strongest, retreated to Shikoku, knowing that the Minamoto couldn’t follow. The Minamoto weren’t going to just let the Taira get away, however, and although it took time, they built up their naval strength before launching an attack at Yashima, in modern-day Takamatsu, that took the Taira fortress there, which had also been used as a makeshift palace for Emperor Antoku.

    Driven out of yet another stronghold, the Taira took to their ships and fled. The Minamoto would catch up to them at Dan-no-Ura, in the Straits of Shimonoseki. If you believe the Heike Monogatari (which you shouldn’t), then the Minamoto had 3000 ships to the Taira’s 1000. According to the Azuma Kagami, which is a biased by slightly more believable source, the forces were actually around 800 to 500, which are still considerable forces, but a bit more plausible.

    Despite being outnumbered, the Taira had home advantage and knew the tides and currents better than their foes. They also had the Emperor with them, which they assumed would give their side more legitimacy and encourage their men to fight harder.

    It was a good idea in theory, but it didn’t work. Though the tides were initially in the Taira’s favour, they turned, as tides do, and one of the Taira’s commanders turned as well, as men often do. Surrounded and attacked from all sides, the Taira began committing suicide en masse. One of those who died was six-year-old Antoku. The story goes that his grandmother, Taira no Kiyomori’s widow, took the boy in her arms and jumped with him into the sea. Neither was seen again.

    The Taira also tried to get rid of the Imperial Regalia, tossing them overboard. However, they apparently only managed to dump the mythical Kusanagi Sword and the Yasakani Jewel. The Yata no Kagami, a sacred bronze mirror, was apparently saved when the woman who tried to throw it overboard was killed when she accidentally looked at it.

    All three items were apparently recovered, either on the day of the battle or later, by divers. They are supposedly housed at the Ise Shrine in Mie Prefecture. The fact that no one has been allowed to see the artefacts since Dan-no-Ura is apparently just a coincidence.

    A later illustration of the Battle of Dan-no-Ura, which brought an end to Taira control of Japan.

    The result of Dan-no-Ura was the end of the Taira as a serious political force. Later that year, the Emperor Go-Shirakawa gave Minamoto no Yoritomo the right to collect taxes and appoint officials, effectively handing control of the state over to him.

    Though it would be some years before Yoritomo would take the formal title, the Genpei War marks the time at which control of Japan shifted from courtiers and Emperors to warriors under a supreme military commander who took a title that had first been used in the earliest days of Imperial rule in Japan, Sei-i Tai Shōgun.

    Cue dramatic music

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Dan-no-ura
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Uji_(1184)
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azuma_Kagami
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%B1%8B%E5%B3%B6%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Yashima
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%B8%80%E3%83%8E%E8%B0%B7%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E6%88%B8%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%BA%90%E8%A1%8C%E5%AE%B6
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%80%B6%E5%88%A9%E4%BC%BD%E7%BE%85%E5%B3%A0%E3%81%AE%E6%88%A6%E3%81%84
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Kurikara_Pass
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yukiie
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoshinaka
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Sunomata-gawa
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Ishibashiyama
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BB%A5%E4%BB%81%E7%8E%8B
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Mochihito
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Takakura
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Antoku
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taira_no_Kiyomori
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Tale_of_the_Heike
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Uji_(1180)
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%B2%BB%E6%89%BF%E3%83%BB%E5%AF%BF%E6%B0%B8%E3%81%AE%E4%B9%B1
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%B2%BB%E6%89%BF%E4%B8%89%E5%B9%B4%E3%81%AE%E6%94%BF%E5%A4%89
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shishigatani_incident
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%B9%BF%E3%82%B1%E8%B0%B7%E3%81%AE%E9%99%B0%E8%AC%80
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genpei_War
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoritomo

  • Heian VI – This is how it ends.

    The Heian Period is said to have ended in 1185, but, as you surely know by now, historical periods are rarely that neat. The actual end was really just a full stop at the end of a long period of decline.

    We’ve already discussed in detail how the Imperial Court lost control of the country’s economic and military affairs, and how that led to an erosion of political control. By the 11th Century, the writing was on the wall, but no one at the Heian Court was reading it (they had a lot of poems to keep them busy, after all).

    As we’ve talked about before, the dominant family in the latter half of this period was the Fujiwara. They grew so powerful that they could effectively choose the Emperor at will, and even in the provinces, there was no real alternative to Fujiwara power. That changed with Emperor Go-Sanjo, who came to the throne in 1068. He was the first Emperor not born to a Fujiwara mother for a century or more, and that was a problem.

    Emperor Go-Sanjo. The fact that his mother was not Fujiwara changed things considerably.

    Since he had no Fujiwara mother, he didn’t feel beholden to the wider Fujiwara family, and their influence was immediately under threat. Go-Sanjo was a pretty savvy guy; he realised that one of the main reasons why families like the Fujiwara were able to assert such dominance was that the Emperor was bound to myriad traditions and conventions that actually limited how much governing he could do.

    Go-Sanjo hit on a solution to this. He created the In-No-Cho, which basically means “Office of the Cloistered Emperor.” From then on, an Emperor could abdicate, but instead of simply moving aside for the next Fujiwara puppet, he (or she) would become an Insei, a cloistered Emperor, who could wield all the actual power of the throne, without being tied down to all the stuff that got in the way. (Some say it was Go-Sanjo’s son, Shirakawa who was the first Cloistered Emperor, which might be true, but the system is the same.)

    This system essentially meant that the Fujiwara were cut out of all major decisions. Though they kept their rank and titles at court, their dominance had relied on a compliant, or at least, impotent Emperor; now that that was no longer the case, the Fujiwara began to flounder, and the sharks closed in.

    No longer unchallenged, the Fujiwara did what all declining powers do: they turned on each other. Rival factions coalesced around the “Northern” and “Southern” Fujiwara (named because of the location of their houses in the capital in relation to the Imperial palace).

    The reassertion of Imperial authority and the decline of the Fujiwara didn’t solve any of Japan’s ongoing problems; in fact, in many ways, the Fujiwara left a power vacuum that other ambitious families tried to fill. There were soon clashes between rival factions, some of whom supported one Emperor or another, or were simply acting in their own interests, and Imperial power became increasingly illusory.

    By the mid-12th Century, even the illusion was fading, as the newly powerful warrior families (Buke) increasingly took up arms to solve their disputes, ignoring, and sometimes outright attacking Imperial power in ‘their’ lands.

    All this came to a head in 1155. It gets a bit complicated, but basically, two Emperors, Toba and his son and heir, Sutoku, both retired to become Insei, intending to be the power behind the throne during the reign of Konoe, who was also Toba’s son, and Sutoku’s half-brother.

    Konoe was only three when he took the throne (inasmuch as a three-year-old can take a throne), and for a while, things seemed fine. Unfortunately, as often happened, Konoe died young without having fathered an heir. At this point, Toba and Sutoku supported rival candidates. Toba wanted another son, Go-Shirakawa, whilst Sutoku wanted his son Shigehito to be next in line.

    Long story short, Toba got his way, and Go-Shirakawa became Emperor in August 1155. Now, it may come as no surprise that Sutoku wasn’t happy about this, and when Toba died less than a year later, battle lines were drawn.

    Emperor Go-Shirakawa ‘s disputed succession would lead to the Hogen Rebellion.

    Hogen & Heiji

    Now, the simple version of this is that it was a family dispute over who would get to rule. In truth, it was a lot more complicated than that. Whilst both factions supported rival claimants, there were also outstanding issues of influence at court. The Fujiwara wanted back in, whilst other families like the Minamoto and Taira wanted to keep them out and increase their own influence.

    Things get more complicated from here on in, I’m afraid. I mentioned in previous posts that when we talk about great “families”, we’re not actually talking about single families at all, but diverse groups who happen to share a name and some kind of Imperial ancestor.

    As this conflict escalated, these complex divisions came to the fore. Both sides called on the provincial warlords to support them, and by July 1156, both had armies containing Minamoto, Taira, and Fujiwara leaders. Some of these families were actually families too, with Fujiwara no Tadazane fighting for Go-Shirakawa, whilst his brother, Yorinaga, fought for Sutoku. This was also true with the Minamoto and Taira, with fathers fighting against sons, and uncles against nephews, until it becomes such a confusing mess that I swear it’s making me cross-eyed.

    Throughout July, both sides gathered their forces in and around the capital. Then, on July 29th, a night attack led by Taira no Kiyomori and Minamoto no Yoshitomo (on Go-Shirakawa’s side) attacked Sutoku’s forces. At first, the attacks were unsuccessful, but then someone suggested setting fire to the surrounded residences, and when this was done, Sutoku’s men lost heart and fled, leaving the capital in Go-Shirakawa’s hands.

    The immediate outcome of the Hogen Rebellion was the establishment of Go-Shirakawa’s influence (he would abdicate in 1158, and remain Insei until his death in 1192, effectively influencing five succeeding Emperors.) In the longer term, it signalled the end of Fujiwara power at court. They had sided with Sutoku in the hope that he would do away with the Cloistered Emperor system and restore the Fujiwara to power.

    Instead, Sutoku was defeated and banished, with those of his supporters who had survived the battle executed not long after. For the Minamoto and Taira (those branches that had supported Go-Shirakawa anyway), the victory led to increased influence at court, which brought a whole new set of problems.

    The main issue was that the Taira and Minamoto were allies of convenience. They had joined forces in support of Go-Shirakawa, but now that the immediate threat had passed, they quickly fell into squabbling about who would dominate the court next.

    When Go-Shirakawa abdicated in 1158, he was succeeded by his son, Nijo. As we’ve already discussed, real power remained with Go-Shirakawa as Insei, and he favoured the Taira, much to the chagrin of the Minamoto.

    This was further compounded when the Taira and Go-Shirakawa had the head of the Minamoto, Tameyoshi, executed as punishment for siding with Emperor Sutoku. Though Tameyoshi’s son, Yoshitomo, had remained loyal to Go-Shirakawa, his pleas for clemency fell on deaf ears.

    This would set the tone for the immediate post-rebellion situation. The Taira rose to a position of dominance whilst the Minamoto were left in the shade. Now, you might hope that the Minamoto had learned the lesson of the past and tried to find some way to make peace with the new status quo.

    But, of course, they didn’t. In 1160, the Minamoto, under their leader, Yoshitomo, allied themselves with what was left of the Fujiwara, and when the head of the Taira family, Kiyomori, left with his retinue on a pilgrimage, they abducted Go-Shirakawa, and had a member of the Fujiwara family declared Imperial Chancellor, this began the so-called Heiji Rebellion.

    Things unravelled pretty quickly after that. Despite having abducted the Emperor, the Minamoto don’t seem to have had much of a plan about what to do next. Taira no Kiyomori quickly got word of the attempted coup and made haste back to the capital.

    There were some attempts at negotiating, but it was a ruse; the Emperor was freed, and the Taira attacked. Initially, the Minamoto held their ground and drove the Taira forces back, but this was ruse number two; the Minamoto were drawn out of their defences and cut to pieces.

    The Taira Court

    In the aftermath, the newly established Taira dominance at court was confirmed. The leadership of the Minamoto, Yoshitomo, and his sons Tomonaga and Yoshihira, didn’t survive the battle, effective ending the threat. The Taira seized Minamoto lands, before banishing those who remained from the capital.

    One of those, thirteen-year-old Minamoto no Yoritomo, would come back to haunt the Taira and the Imperial court, but more on him later.

    With their rivals crushed, the Taira set about enjoying the fruits of their victory. Taira no Kiyomori became the pre-eminent man in the realm, filling the government with his relatives, and exerting control over the Imperial Throne, before doing what the Fujiwara had done before him, and marrying his daughter to the Emperor, and, when the Emperor in question died young, taking his place as regent for his infant grandson, who happened to be Emperor Antoku.

    Taira no Kiyomori. He became enamored with courtly life, and did nothing to stop the decline of Imperial power in the provinces.

    For twenty years, the Taira had it more or less their own way, but like the Fujiwara before them, they lost sight of what was going on in the provinces. Kiyomori did nothing to reverse the decline of Imperial power outside of the capital. Because of this, they were unable to stop the Minamoto from recovering their strength.

    Their leader, Minamoto no Yoritomo, was the son of the man who had opposed the Taira in the Heiji Rebellion in 1160. The Taira had let him live, and Yoritomo was going to make them pay for their mistake. Establishing himself at Kamakura, in Eastern Japan, and allying with the locally powerful Hojo Clan, Yoritomo set about getting revenge on the Taira.

    He would get his chance in 1180, in what became known as the Genpei War, but that really deserves its own post, so that’s what I’m going to do.

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heiji_rebellion
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taira_no_Kiyomori
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C5%8Dgen_rebellion
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Toba
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Sutoku
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Go-Shirakawa
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Nij%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoshitomo

  • Heian V – Taira, Minamoto, & Tachibana.

    Last time, we talked at length about the Fujiwara family. We looked at how they rose to power and came to dominate the Imperial Court through a combination of violence, intrigue, and incestuous marriages.

    The Minamoto were far from the only noble family, however. Although there were literally dozens of families, cadet branches and noble upstarts, by the beginning of the Heian Era, there were four main houses: the Fujiwara, Taira, Minamoto, and Tachibana families.

    We’ve already talked at length about the Fujiwara and their origins, but what about the other three? First, a bit of background: Emperors generally had more than one consort, though there was technically only supposed to be one “Empress” This was routinely flouted during the Heian Period, especially by the Fujiwara, and besides official wives, the Emperor would take other noble women as concubines.

    In the days before family planning, this meant that any Emperor could have far more children than he knew what to do with. This would frequently lead to instability at court, as rival factions would form around different heirs, but what about the sons who were born to lower ranked women, or otherwise lacked legitimacy and support?

    Well, that’s where the Taira, Minamoto, and Tachibana come in. Technically, these three families didn’t start out as families at all; instead, the names were bestowed on these “extra” Imperial princes, who were excluded from the throne and would then go off and start houses of their own as part of the nobility.

    The Tachibana were the first (708), followed by the Minamoto (814) and the Taira (825), but things get complicated almost immediately. The problem is that one Emperor might bestow the name Minamoto on his grandson, only for another Emperor a generation later to do the same thing, creating two families that share a name.

    Whilst this isn’t uncommon in the modern world (How many Smiths do you know?), it does make it tricky to keep track of who is who when writing up a history blog. For the purposes of keeping things concise, I will be referring to all branches of each clan by the same name unless it’s important to make a distinction.

    It’s honestly not that bad with the Tachibana, as there were only two main branches. Even the Taira only had four, but the Minamoto had twenty-one, and that’s where it gets silly. It’s even worse when you realise that most, if not all, the later Samurai houses claim descent from at least one of the four major Heian Families, but we’ll get to that later.

    Tachibana

    We’ll start, as they say, at the beginning. Though the Fujiwara would emerge in 668, fifty years before the Tachibana, the latter family are the first of these Imperial “offshoots.” (The Fujiwara were pre-eminent but were not founded by the son of an Emperor).

    The Tachibana initially came into being in 708, when court Lady Agatainukai no Michiyo was given the honorary name “Tachibana” by Empress Genmei. The clan’s name was officially changed to Tachibana in 736, when Michiyo’s sons, Katsuragi and Sai, formally adopted the name; both men were direct descendants of Emperor Bidatsu through their father, Prince Minu.

    Initially, the Tachibana seemed to be on course to be one of the main players in Heian Court politics. Though Sai died early, his brother, Katsuragi (who changed his name to Tachibana no Moroe), would rise to high office in the Imperial Government, securing the family’s influence in the short term.

    Tachibana no Moroe, under whom the Tachibana’s star rose considerably.

    Unfortunately, as is so often the case, the son did not prove the equal of the father. Moroe was succeeded by his son, Tachibana no Naramaro. Though Naramaro was granted high office at first when Emperor Shomu retired and was succeeded by his daughter, Empress Koken, Tachibana’s influence was suddenly under threat.

    Koken is another character who deserves an entire post of her own, but the short version is that she favoured and was supported by the Fujiwara under Fujiwara no Nakamoro. Taking advantage of this, Nakamoro acquired lands, wealth, and titles that increased his wealth and power still further.

    Nakamoro’s rise was not without opposition; however, even amongst his own family, jealous cousins and siblings plotted against him, but it was the Tachibana who had the most to lose by his rise and the most to gain from his potential fall.

    In 755, in response to some drunken slander, Tachibana no Naramoro was forced to retire by Fujiwara no Nakamoro and his supporters at court. When Naramoro’s father, Tachibana no Moroe, died in 757, Naramoro, now in control of the Tachibana Clan, made his move.

    Allying themselves with Nakamoro’s disaffected sibling, Fujiwara no Toyonari, the Tachibana planned to raise troops, storm the capital, and overthrow the Fujiwara and their puppet Emperor, replacing them with Tachibana dominance, and putting a more sympathetic Imperial Prince on the throne.

    Unfortunately for the Tachibana, the conspiracy was uncovered, and the conspirators were arrested. Those of Fujiwara blood were sentenced to exile in Kyushu, but Tachibana no Naramoro was sentenced to death. Despite pleas for clemency, they were executed sometime in 757, although the official records of how Naramoro died have been lost.

    The power of the Tachibana at court would never recover, though they would continue to hold positions in the government. The rise of the Fujiwara proved to be inexorable, and the Tachibana were soon eclipsed. The last ‘hurrah’ of the family appears to have been their role in a rebellion in 939 in support of a different Fujiwara.

    The rebellion was crushed, and those involved were severely punished, but one member of the family, Tachibana no Toyasu, remained loyal to the Emperor and even took part in the execution of the rebel leader. As a reward, he received lands and titles in Iyo Province, where a branch of the family would survive a while longer, but the days of Tachibana influence at court were over.

    Iyo Province, where the Iyo-Tachibana family were granted lands and titles.
    By Ash_Crow – Own work, based on Image:Provinces of Japan.svg, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1682518

    A final note: there was a Samurai clan called Tachibana based near modern Fukuoka; however, the name is a coincidence, and the later Tachibana were no relation to the Heian Period family.
    Incidentally, this Tachibana family are still there, and they run a ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) based in their ancestor’s former residence.

    Taira

    Much like their contemporaries, the Taira began with grandsons and great-grandsons of several Emperors, and despite the shared name, there were actually four branches of the Taira family that came into being during the 9th Century, and these branches would often split as well. However, for our purposes, it is the line of Taira no Takamochi, founded in 889, that proved to be the most enduring.

    Unlike the Fujiwara and Tachibana, the Taira’s centre of power was not the court at Heian-Kyo but the provinces, specifically the area of the Kanto plain, which includes the area in and around modern Tokyo, far from the Imperial Capital.

    The Kanto Region, centre of Taira strength, and a long way from the Imperial Court.
    By TUBS – This vector image includes elements that have been taken or adapted from this file:, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16385930

    This distance meant that Taira influence at court was initially weak, but it worked both ways. Whilst the Taira might have been unable to exert much influence on the throne, the throne was equally unable to exert influence on the Taira.

    Consequently, as Imperial control waned in the provinces, the Taira were one of the main beneficiaries, gaining control of vast swathes of farmland and the wealth and power that went along with it. They would also begin to gather large groups of armed men to their service, and by the 10th Century, they were the dominant power in the East.

    The Taira would put this wealth and power to good use, engaging in local feuds without landholders and growing their already considerable resources through the application of force; though some of their opponents would appeal to the Emperor, there was little the Imperial Court could actually do about it, and as long as the Taira focused their efforts on their neighbours, the Court seemed content to turn a blind eye.

    Enter Taira no Masakado. Masakado’s life has been the subject of a lot of dramatisation over the years, so it’s not always possible to figure out exactly who he was or what he did. However, he appears to have gone to Heian-kyo in his late teens, hoping to gain an official position.

    He was out of luck on this score and returned home. There, if the stories are to be believed, he got into a dispute with his uncle over a woman, who may have been his daughter (Masakado’s cousin) or maybe not; again, the sources don’t agree. Another source says that there was a woman, but she was instead the daughter of Minamoto no Mamoru, a powerful local rival to the Taira.

    Still, more sources don’t mention a woman at all, stating that the conflict began as a result of a land dispute, with Masakado’s supposed inheritance being taken by another member of the family.

    While the background reasons are likely to never be known for certain, in early 935, Masakado was ambushed somewhere in Hitachi Province, modern Ibaraki Prefecture, by the sons of Minamoto no Mamoru. Masakado survived the attack, fighting off and killing his attackers, and responded by going on a rampage throughout Hitachi Province, burning the homes of his enemies, including the Uncle who he was in dispute with (either about land or his cousin.)

    Hitachi Province, where Masakado’s rebellion began.
    By Ash_Crow – Own work, based on Image:Provinces of Japan.svg, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1682357

    The situation spiralled out of control from there, and there was a series of battles in which Masakado generally prevailed. His enemies called in support from nearby provinces, and though they outnumbered Masakado considerably, he won a series of victories and drove his foes back to their residences.

    At this point, Masakado seems to have been worried about official consequences (because the bloodshed so far was fine, I guess.) At this point, Masakado limited himself to lodging a formal complaint, and when he was summoned to the Imperial Court to explain himself, it was declared to have been a local matter, and all involved were pardoned.

    A later illustration depicting Masakado in battle.

    Now, you might think that official censure would be enough to put the matter to rest, but you’d be wrong. It turns out that if you let powerful local landowners build up their own private armies, they tend to be less keen on obeying central authority.

    Almost as soon as Masakado returned to his province, the fighting resumed. Those who Masakado had defeated now sought revenge and attacked him. This time, it seems Masakado was defeated, and several of his holdings were burned.

    Exactly what led up to the events that followed isn’t clear, but by the end of 939, Masakado had gotten into further disputes with local officials, and he went as far as attacking the provincial headquarters, burning it to the ground, and looting the official storehouses.

    Now, the Imperial Court was pretty ineffectual by this point, but this was a direct attack on their authority, and even the decadent Heian Court couldn’t ignore that. The problem was, what to do about it? There was no Imperial Army, so the court had to rely on the very same local landowners that Masakado had been feuding with in the first place.

    Masakado was declared to be in rebellion, and a coalition army led by Fujiwara no Hidesato, Minamoto no Tsunemoto, and Taira no Sadamori (Masakado’s cousin) crushed the rebels in 59 days.

    Despite dealing with the rebellion relatively easily, the outcome was actually highly problematic for the Court. Although the Rebels had been beaten, it had been local leaders who had done the actual fighting, and even though Masakado had been a Taira, it had been Taira who had played a major role in his defeat.

    It would be some years before the full consequences of this would be felt, but the Taira would remain in place in the East, now with the added assurances that their military strength was not only secure but necessary.

    Minamoto

    So, we move on to the third part of our story today. The Minamoto are last, but most certainly not least, when it comes to discussing the major powers of the Heian Court.

    Like the other great families, the Minamoto got their start when sons and grandsons of Emperors were granted their own houses as a way to compensate them for never being able to sit on the throne. Whilst the Fujiwara, Taira, and Tachibana would spread across the Japan, the Minamoto were the proverbial weeds.

    No fewer than 21 separate branches of the family were created, and although a few would die out within a generation or two, others became central to the history of Japan, with one, the Seiwa Branch, proving to be truly significant indeed.

    Given the sheer number of branches of the Minamoto Family, it isn’t possible to write a history of them that would be concise enough to be readable. Given that I don’t expect you to sit there and read for the next three or four months, we’re going to condense a lot of this information, as a lot of overlaps with events we’ve already discussed, and, as you’ll see, the Minamoto will become extremely important in the latter days of the Heian Period.

    Generally, the Minamoto were a family that is closely identified with the decline of Imperial authority in the provinces. Whereas the Fujiwara and Tachibana concerned themselves with court politics, the Minamoto, like the Taira, focused on building their powerbase away from the capital.

    In many ways, the Minamoto best represents the growing shift in the power dynamic. Although the Fujiwara were largely unchallenged at court during this period, they would be forced to call on the Minamoto to use their military resources to deal with problems in the provinces. Indeed, during Masakado’s rebellion that we mentioned earlier, it was Minamoto forces that played a large role in his defeat.

    Later, it was the Minamoto brothers, Yorinobu and Yorimitsu, who were in the service of the Fujiwara, acting as their enforcers in the provinces. Yorinobu’s son, Yoriyoshi, would lead ‘Imperial’ forces against the rebel Abe Clan in northern Japan during the so-called “Nine Years War”, so named despite lasting Eleven Years.

    Such was the prowess of the Yorinobu’s grandson, Yoshiie, that he was nicknamed “Son of the God of War”, and the martial reputation of the Minamoto was secured.

    By the 11th Century, Japan was divided between rival warlords whose power no longer derived from the Imperial court. They would settle their own matters, often with steel, and the 11th Century would see the nadir and eventual end of the Heian Court’s dominance.

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_clan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yorinobu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yorimitsu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoriyoshi
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yoshiie
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Former_Nine_Years%27_War

  • Heian IV – The Fujiwara & The beginning of the end.

    The formation of the Heian Court was not the story of one family (the Imperial family) asserting its dominance over everyone else. Instead, the Court was made up of several clans, who rose and fell according to the vagaries of fate. You may recall that when the Yamato brought the idea of “Emperor” over from China, they switched the concept of a Mandate of Heaven with that of a literal Son of Heaven. This had the double effect of meaning that the Emperor’s rule was now divinely ordained (handy), and he couldn’t be overthrown and replaced by a new dynasty, as happened relatively frequently in China.

    Since the noble families couldn’t take the throne itself, it was controlling the man (or woman) sitting on it that became their objective. There were usually several powerful families at a time, and their rivalries often turned violent, with plots, counter-plots, rebellions, coups, and assassinations all part of the early Imperial political landscape.

    By the mid-7th Century, the dominant family were the Soga. Their path to power was fairly typical of the time. Daughters of the clan were married to sons of the Imperial family, and more than one Emperor had a Soga mother. Through these close family ties, the Soga Clan rose to an almost insurmountable position of influence, but it didn’t last.

    In 645, during the Isshi Incident, the head of the Soga Clan was quite literally cut off. One of the conspirators was Nakatomi no Kamatari, a close friend of Prince Naka no Oe, who would eventually become Emperor Tenji.

    Kamatari would use his close relationship with the future Emperor to amass enormous wealth and influence, and shortly before he died, the newly enthroned Tenji bestowed a new family name on him, Fujiwara, and thus, one of the most influential families in Japanese history got its name.

    Fujiwara no Kamatari, the founder of the Fujiwara Clan.

    The Fujiwara

    The exact origins of the Fujiwara Clan are unclear, but they were originally known as the Nakatomi and claimed descent from the God Ame-no-Koyane, giving them divine origins, although, importantly, of a lesser rank than the Imperial Line.

    The Nakatomi appear to have been largely responsible for religious ceremonies in the early Yamato Court, but after the Isshi Incident, the renamed Fujiwara gradually adopted the same position that the Soga had before them.

    It was the second head of the clan, Fuhito, who really laid the groundwork for Fujiwara dominance, though. Already the scion of a prominent house, he made one daughter the consort of Emperor Monmu and the other the consort of the next Emperor, Shomu. And no, you’re not imagining it; that second daughter would have been Emperor Shomu’s half-aunt. I guess it was ok because both women had different mothers? Maybe?

    Consanguinity notwithstanding, Empress Komyo, as she became known later, was significant; not only was she Fujiwara, but she was the first Empress who was not an offspring of the Imperial house.

    Fuhito would further expand his family’s dominance by having four sons, who would go on to each head a cadet branch of the Fujiwara. When we speak of the “Fujiwara”, we’re actually going to be talking about these four houses. To keep things simple, I’ll just refer to them as “Fujiwara” unless it’s important to make the distinction, but for reference, the four cadet branches were:

    The Kyoke Fujiwara (Capital Fujiwara)
    The Shikike Fujiwara (Ceremonial Fujiwara)
    The Hokke Fujiwara (Northern Fujiwara)
    The Nanke Fujiwara (Southern Fujiwara)

    These four houses would work together, and sometimes in opposition to each other, and the Northern and Southern Fujiwara would eventually split into even more Noble Houses that would continue to influence Japanese politics into the modern era, but more on that later.

    With their power secured by sometimes incestuous marriage, the Fujiwara moved into position to dominate the throne. By the end of the 10th Century, Fujiwara control of the position of regent had become effectively hereditary, and through other advantageous marriages, Fujiwara influence was felt in the provinces too, with lower-ranking members of the main families taking up positions as administrators and local governors (that will become really important later.)

    The Fujiwara wouldn’t have it all their own way. There were several rival families, the most powerful being the Taira and Minamoto, both descended from sons and grandsons of Emperors, and who will get their own post later. There was also the issue of relatively strong Emperors. Political control of the throne depended on controlling the man sitting on it. Some Emperors, like Daigo, who reigned from 897 to 930, proved to be more than a match for the Fujiwara and retained significant control for themselves.

    Despite this, Daigo had Fujiwara consorts, and the clan itself would retain its positions at court. When Daigo died in 930, it wasn’t long before things were back to normal, as far as the Fujiwara and their dominance at court was concerned.

    In 986, Emperor Kazan was pressured by Fujiwara no Kaneie into abdicating under somewhat dubious circumstances. The story goes that Kaneie convinced Kazan to become a monk alongside his son Fujiwara no Michikane. However, when Kazan entered the temple, Michikane said he would like to visit his family one more time before taking the tonsure. Kazan agreed and became a monk while he waited, but Michikane never came back, which is a ballsy move.

    Fujiwara dominance reached its peak in the late 10th and early 11th century under Fujiwara no Michinaga. Michinaga was the third son of Fujiwara no Kaneie, who was succeeded by his son, Michitaka, and then his second son, Michikane, who was regent for only a week before dying; maybe karma for that stunt with former Emperor Kazan?

    A later illustration of Fujiwara no Michinaga.

    Michikane’s son, Korechika, had been named heir to the position of regent, but he was opposed by Michinaga and his supporters. Michinaga was already a man of considerable influence and was favoured by the infant Emperor Ichijo’s mother, who happened to be Michinaga’s sister.

    Michinaga is said to have played on Korechika’s bad relationship with Emperor Kazan and played a ruse that convinced Korechika that Kazan had been visiting the same mistress as him. The story goes that an enraged Korechika then attempted to shoot Kazan with an arrow, which passed through the former Emperor’s sleeve before the man himself fled.

    Korechika was arrested, and though the blame for the attempted shooting fell on servants, he was convicted of having placed a curse on Senshi, Michinaga’s sister and primary supporter. Korechika was exiled to Dazaifu in modern-day Fukuoka, and even though he was pardoned less than a year later and returned to a position in government, his influence was broken, and he was no longer a rival to Michinaga.

    Though Michinaga never officially took the title of regent (Kampaku), his position in the government and influence over successive Emperors meant that he effectively ruled the country in all but name. He continued the policy of marrying his daughters to Emperors and the sons of Emperors, and in 1016, he forced Emperor Sanjo (his nephew and son-in-law) to abdicate in favour of his grandson, Go-Ichijo.

    Michinaga also made an alliance with the Minamoto Clan and made use of the brothers Yorinobu and Yorimitsu as his chief enforcers, particularly in eastern Japan. Under the pair, the Minamoto would deal with enemies of the court (which meant enemies of the Fujiwara) and were rewarded with significant lands of their own, which would eventually lead to the creation of a Minamoto power base far from Imperial control, but more on that later.

    Michinaga would be succeeded by his son, Yorimichi, in 1019, and though they didn’t know it at the time, the Fujiwara were in decline from then on.

    Rise of the Samurai

    As we’ve talked about previously, until the late 8th Century, the Imperial court relied on a system of conscription in order to supply its army with manpower. By the dawn of the 9th Century, however, that system had almost entirely broken down and been gradually replaced with private armies under the control of regional landowners.

    The loss of military power went hand in hand with a decline in economic resources as well. Under the Taika reforms, the land had all technically belonged to the Emperor and was held in his name in return for a percentage of the harvest as tax.

    By the Heian period, however, that system had broken down to. Noble families and powerful temples were able to negotiate tax exemptions for themselves, and local peasants came to avoid tax (and the attached military service) by signing their lands over the local lord in exchange for protection and potentially a better deal tax-wise.

    The private armies that sprung up in the wake of this Imperial decline were made up of men who either had land of their own or else were rewarded with it. These men used their resources to purchase horses, training, and weapons (mostly bows at this point), clearly setting themselves apart from the poorly armed masses of peasant conscripts that had come before.

    We’ve spoken about how families like the Fujiwara would marry into the Imperial line in order to enhance their own prestige and influence, and these newly minted provincial elites would adopt the same strategy on a more local scale.

    The Fujiwara, Minamoto, and Taira families had, by the 11th Century, grown into sprawling clans that would require several dedicated posts to make sense of, but the short version is that most of the members of these clans weren’t the ones playing Game of Thrones in Heian-Kyo. They were dispatched to the provinces by their families to take up positions as governors and other administrators and spread their respective clan’s influence.

    These new administrators may not have had the wealth of their capital-based cousins, but they still carried the illustrious names, and marrying into these families would, in turn, bestow aristocratic status. These new nobles, born far from the throne, had little reason to be loyal to it.

    Initially, military service was on an ‘as needed’ basis, but by the end of the 10th century, as family ties to local districts deepened, the status of this new warrior class would become hereditary. These warriors were not called Samurai at first; the proper term was Bushi (which literally means Warrior), and their families became Buke or warrior families.

    The modern word Bushi is generally applied to all warriors, but it originally applied specifically to men for whom war was their profession, especially those who possessed the expensive armour, weapons, and horse required, meaning the business of making war became limited to a specific class.

    Despite being known for their famous swords, the earliest Samurai were more associated with bows and horse archery.

    By the 10th and 11th Century, the threat of the Emishi had long since passed, and now the powerful regional nobility found themselves with large private armies with no external enemies to fight. So, they asked themselves, what next?

    Luckily for them, population growth and diminishing resources gave them the perfect excuse to start fighting amongst themselves. Outbreaks of violence became common, and the Imperial court proved to be incapable of putting a stop to it.

    Finding that they could attack their neighbours without any kind of consequences meant that the tenuous loyalty of the regional nobility became no loyalty at all. By the mid-11th Century, even the illusion of Imperial authority was fading, and the Fujiwara, who had seemed unassailable a generation earlier, began to feel the walls closing in.

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Kamatari
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_clan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Michinaga
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E5%AC%89%E5%AD%90
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E9%81%93%E9%95%B7#%E5%9B%BD%E5%AE%9D%E3%83%BB%E5%BE%A1%E5%A0%82%E9%96%A2%E7%99%BD%E8%A8%98
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%97%A4%E5%8E%9F%E9%81%93%E9%95%B7
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Kazan
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E4%BE%8D

  • Heian III – Life, Literature, and Ludicrous Eyebrows

    So, in our last two looks at Heian Japan, we discussed the decline of Imperial power in the provinces, as the regional nobility gained control of the military and then economic power, leaving the Imperial court effectively impotent.

    So, what was actually going on at court while the power was slipping away? Well, what usually happens when you have an isolated mini-community of hyper-privileged, completely out of touch, trust fund babies?

    While trust funds obviously didn’t exist in 9th-century Japan, generational wealth absolutely did. The nobility at court was mostly made up of the descendants of the original Yamato families, those who had been the first to come to power in the area around modern Nara.

    After the capital moved permanently to Heian-kyo, the noble families moved permanently, too. Some of these families had direct connections to the Imperial Family itself (real or fictional), which created a fairly insular community of people who busied themselves with court life at the expense of the rest of the nation.

    We’ve already discussed the consequences of that, so we’re not going to focus too much on military or economic decline today, but needless to say, by the mid to late Heian Period, the court was completely out of touch with what was going on in the provinces, which eventually led to disaster.

    Religion

    Buddhism arrived in Japan in the 7th Century, brought in by Chinese and Korean scholars. Like most things imported at that time, Buddhism was largely just a copy of how things were done in China. However, by the Heian Period, a distinct “Japanese” culture was beginning to develop that had an impact on religion too.

    Two influential sects emerged around this time, Tendai and Shingon. Though founded by monks who had visited China, both branches integrated aspects of traditional Japanese religion into their philosophy. By the mid-Heian period, these sects had become politically influential, particularly the Tendai Sect, based at Mt Hiei, just outside Heian-kyo. There, monks were trained for up to 12 years, with the most promising being retained by the order and others taking up positions in the government, blurring the lines between religious and political power.

    On a cultural level, Buddhism played a role not too dissimilar to that of the Catholic Church in Europe. Fantastic temples were constructed, and art, both in the form of painting and sculpture, flourished, sponsored by courtiers looking to curry favour with the increasingly powerful priesthood.

    The Great Lecture Hall at Enryaku-ji, the headquarters of the Tendai Sect. Though this building dates from the 17th Century, it gives some idea of the splendour that the Buddhist sects were capable of.By 663highland – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8450046

    The Imperial Family and the aristocracy became tightly linked to the Buddhist Sects, with members of noble families often becoming high-ranking members of religious orders, and in turn, Monks, Priests, and Abbots became influential within the government. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, with the two sides so closely linked, that the temples would often preach in support of the Emperor and the status quo.

    Over time, Buddhist Temples would become powerful political players in their own right, and their close association with the Imperial Court led to the image of Buddhism, or at least the organised Buddhist sects to be the religion of the aristocracy, whilst out in the provinces, more traditional Japanese beliefs held sway, further deepening the divide between the Emperor and his people.

    A Novel Idea

    Prior to the Heian Period, writing had been the preserve of noblemen and educated priests. The complex Chinese symbols (Kanji) took years to learn, and most people didn’t have access to education anyway. That began to change during this period. Firstly, the rise of wealthy, and more importantly, large temples, increased the number of people (men) with access to learning. Though still limited, these men would become a key part of the Imperial Bureaucracy.

    The real trailblazers of Heian Literature weren’t priests and nobles, however, but women. As anyone who has ever tried to learn Japanese can tell you, Kanji are awful. There’s about six million of them, and they all have different pronunciations depend on context, mood, or the position of the stars, or something. The point is, Kanji are hard to learn now, and they were hard to learn back then, too, more so given how few people even had access to a textbook, let alone DuoLingo.

    Fortunately, Kanji aren’t the only option when it comes to writing Japanese. Early on, Japanese scholars developed kana, a native script that made it easier to translate certain things into Japanese. As we’ve said, Kanji are hard enough to learn even with dedicated study, and given that women didn’t have dedicated study, the kana (divided into Hiragana and Katakana) were adopted instead.

    Like most places before the 20th century, literacy in Heian Japan was extremely limited. Whilst this obviously meant there wasn’t a wide audience for poems and stories and such, it did lead to a highly specialised type of ‘courtly’ writing. Poetry, in particular, was a mark of good breeding, as was the quality of your handwriting.

    This probably shouldn’t come as a surprise to us; after all, how often do we see politicians and celebrities mocked for their poor spelling and grammar? And don’t get me started on handwriting. Mine is ok now, in my mid-30s, but you’d have needed a scholar of ancient languages to decipher my writing when I was at school.

    I digress; poetry and handwriting were important, is the point.

    Poetry was probably the most common form of literature at the time. Poems would be written for all sorts of occasions, and it was said that a person’s poetry skills could make or break their reputation, which seems a bit extreme, but there you are.

    Poetry was not the only form of literature available to the Heian Court. Stories in a form we would recognise as novels also appeared at this time, perhaps most famously the Tale of Genji, written sometime in the early 11th Century and attributed to Murasaki Shikibu (not her real name), a lady-in-waiting at the court.

    She deserves a post of her own, but the short version is that she is generally accepted as the author of the story, although some scholars also suggest that the last ten chapters or so were written by someone else, possibly her daughter.

    A 17th-century depiction of Murasaki Shikibu writing the Tale of Genji. Though scholars agree she is the author, there is some debate about the last few chapters.

    Heian Period literature can be a bit impenetrable by today’s standards; courtly culture at the time placed grade emphasis on innuendo, allusion, and almost obtuse vagueness. A great example of this is the fact that the Tale of Genji rarely, if ever, refers to characters by name. Although scholars agree that most of the characters are probably based on real people, it would have been unthinkable for a writer at the time to do something as crass as using a person’s name, even in fiction.

    This, and a highly stylised form of writing, means that works like the Tale are often viewed by modern Japanese in the same way that a modern English-speaking person might see the works of Shakespeare, something that is fundamentally intelligible but is full of language that has long since fallen out of use, leaving us with metaphors that are open to interpretation, to say the least.

    12 Layers

    Fashion and Beauty were as central to the Heian Court as they are to the rich and famous today. Whilst at its core, fashion was about showing off wealth and status (as it is today), the Heian Court had some very unique ideas about what constituted beauty.

    First, the clothes. Now, I’m no one’s idea of fashionable, I dress practically and comfortably. This is probably true of most people and has been for as long as we’ve had clothes. High fashion, however, isn’t about being practical or even comfortable, apparently, and the Heian Court is a great example of this.

    Men and Women were expected to dress differently but with equal flamboyance and impracticality. For men, there were the Sokutai and Ikan, outfits made up of multiple layers that would vary depending on rank, season, and occupation. For example, military officials would dress differently to civilian ones, and versions with fewer layers and shorter sleeves would be worn during the summer months and visa versa.

    Formal wear of a Heian Period military official, photographed in 1990, at the Enthronement Ceremony of Emperor Akihito.
    首相官邸 – https://www.kantei.go.jp/jp/singi/gishikitou_iinkai/dai6/siryou1-1.pdf, CC 表示 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80965200による

    Generally, Sokutai was the more formal wear, and Ikan was more of a “work” uniform for courtly officials, although the distinction is not always a clear one, as both sets of clothing were highly elaborate by today’s standards.

    Marquis Yoshimaro Yamashina, photographed in 1920, wearing the Ikan style of dress.

    Despite its flamboyance, Sokutai is still seen in Japan today. Whilst you’re not likely to catch the average Salaryman wearing it on the morning commute, the Imperial Family still wear it, although usually only at ceremonial functions, like Coronations and Royal Weddings.

    The current Emperor, Naruhito, wearing Sokutai at his enthronement ceremony in 2019.
    By 内閣府ホームページ, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=89645372

    Sokutai and Ikan are heavy, impractical clothing options, but that’s kind of the point. Wearing a metric tonne of silk and ornaments is a great way to demonstrate that you’re a world apart from the peasantry who are, by the nature of their lives, required to wear cheaper, more practical and (I suspect) more comfortable clothing.

    It was worse for women (surprise, surprise). Whilst male clothing was cumbersome, there were certain practical considerations. Men at the court were generally expected to have some kind of job, which limited how impractical their clothing could be. Court Women, however, unburdened by the expectation of actually doing anything, were consequently expected to dress accordingly.

    Introducing the Junihitoe, or Twelve-Layer Robe. Yeah, the name isn’t a red herring; while it is true that there may not have been exactly Twelve Layers, the complexity of the Junihitoe was matched only by the need for appropriate colour coordination.

    Heian Court Ladies wearing Junihitoe in a later illustration.

    The sheer weight of a Junihitoe ensemble is reflective of attitudes towards women at the time. They weren’t expected to do very much except sit around, being attractive and writing poetry. If you think I’m over-generalising, consider that the full weight of all the robes together could be upwards of 20kgs (44lbs) at a time and place where most people averaged about 5ft tall (152.4cm) and rarely weighed in at heavier than 50 kgs (110lbs). Heian Court Ladies could find themselves wearing half their own body weight in silk and accessories. If you can still manage to look pretty under all that, then you’re a better man than me. Or a better Heian Court Lady, but you get the idea.

    If the weight of all that fanciness wasn’t bad enough, fashion dictated that the multiple layers be colour-coordinated according to the season or to other special events. These colours were meant to match the “spirit” of the season, leaning into the Heian Court’s love of symbolism, metaphor, and fancy nonsense.

    The layers were supposed to compliment each other, but given the nature of clothing at court, the layers themselves were generally only visible at the sleeves. This might raise the question, why go to all that trouble for multi-coloured sleeves? But when they were done with all that poetry and story writing, what else was there to do but coordinate your sleeves?

    It’s all in the eyebrows

    So, we’ve already established that Men and Women at the Heian Court were religious, literate, and dressed to impress, but what did they actually look like? More accurately, what did they aspire to look like?

    Even today, beauty standards are more about what people think they should look like rather than what they do, and in the era before photographs, most art presented a highly stylised idea of what people actually looked like. (Yes, we still do that with Photoshop, I know.)

    Much like the beauty of someone’s handwriting and the sheer weight of silk they could handle, someone’s beauty informed what kind of person they were. Basically, being pretty meant you were a good person, but what did being ‘pretty’ actually mean?

    As you can see in the images above, women grew their hair long and typically kept it loose, with dark, shiny hair being preferred. Men, on the other hand, wore their hair up and sported thin moustaches and beards.

    A later illustration of a Heian Period court official.

    Well, both genders seem to have made use of make-up, usually in the form of skin-whitening powders. This is something that’s come up pretty frequently throughout history: paler skin typically suggests that a person doesn’t spend much time outside. In the pre-modern era, a tan meant working outside, which meant you were a commoner, and if there was one thing the people at the Heian Court would not stand for, is was being thought of as common.

    In addition to whitening powders, women also painted their mouths to look red and small. They also practised a grooming technique called Hikimayu in which the eyebrows were shaved and then drawn way up the forehead, and it’s quite the look.

    An 1850 photograph of Mikako Tokugawa, wife of the last Shogun, showing Hikimayu in all its glory.

    If shaved eyebrows aren’t your thing, how about blackened teeth? Don’t worry, they’re not rotting. Actually, some people speculate that the teeth blackening (Ohaguro) actually contributed to healthy teeth by acting as a kind of sealant, so beauty aside, there’s that.

    The exact reasons for the start of Ohaguro aren’t clear, but one theory holds that, in combination with the whitening powder, painted mouths, and shaved eyebrows, blackened teeth contributed to a “mask-like” appearance that made it easier to hide emotion.

    Heian style fashion would remain in vogue at court for centuries (as seen by traditional dress at Imperial Family events), and this was partly due to the increasing and eventual near total isolation of the Imperial Court in the years that followed the Heian Period.

    We’ve discussed how the rot set in previously, but there is one family who might be more to blame than any other, the Fujiwara, who we’ll talk about next time.

    Sources
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C5%ABnihitoe
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%89%B2%E7%9B%AE
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%A5%B2%E3%81%AE%E8%89%B2%E7%9B%AE
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hikimayu
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%A1%A3%E5%86%A0
    https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%AE%BF%E7%9B%B4
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enryaku-ji
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohaguro

  • Heian Japan II – Mo’ Shoen, Mo’ Problems.

    Last time, we talked about how the Heian Period began in 794 when Emperor Kanmu moved the capital to Heian-Kyo, where it would remain for the next thousand years.

    We also looked at how the Heian court abdicated its military power to the regional nobility, who, facing a long-term war against the Emishi tribes of Northern and Eastern Japan, no longer put their faith in the large, pretty ineffective conscript armies of the Imperial court, instead establishing private armies of their own, adopting the horse archery tactics of their enemies. Although the days in which the warrior class would dominate the Emperor are still far in the future at this point, the origins of the Samurai can be found here.

    The problems didn’t end with the army, either. Although conscription had been brought in with the Taika reforms of the mid to late 7th century, by the end of the 8th century, the system had largely broken down. This was because it relied on another of the reform’s offspring, control of land.

    Like pretty much everything else in the Taika Reforms, land reform was modelled on the Chinese system. Officially, land was under the control of the state, and every free man was entitled to a certain amount, which would then be taxed. There was no national currency at the time, so taxation was usually a percentage of the harvest.

    A map of fields near Nara in the 8th Century.

    Now, in theory, this meant that everyone had land to support themselves and a regular tax income for the court. However, the system quickly ran into problems. Firstly, unlike the Chinese system, people in Japan couldn’t claim wasteland, even if they farmed it. Additionally, land couldn’t be inherited by someone’s heir. This had the double blow of meaning that there was little reason to expand or enhance holdings, which would have been fine if it had not been for population growth.

    It’s ironic, looking at Japan in 2025, that population growth turned out to be a problem, but there you are.

    As the population grew, so did the demand for food (obviously). The land system couldn’t keep up with demand, so the government eventually changed the law to allow anyone to claim wasteland as long as they farmed it.

    Now, you’d think that’d be problem solved, more land means more food. But no, and the reason is because of taxation.

    Now, as we said, taxation was based on percentages of the harvest, but there were a lot of exemptions. Land owned by temples and powerful noble families was exempt from taxation, which meant a concentration of wealth and resources in the hands of relatively few.

    This meant that when the government relaxed controls on claiming land, the ones who benefited weren’t the farmers but those with the manpower to claim land faster than anyone else. Consequently, the rich got richer, but none of that wealth made it into the Imperial coffers because, as we said, it was all tax-exempt.

    So, you now had a situation where a small portion of the population owned most of the wealth, and this further eroded the government’s ability to function. They’d already lost control of the military, and now they’d lost control of the food supply. That’s 2-0 to the nobility, in case any of you have been keeping score.

    Now, you might ask, if land couldn’t be inherited, then surely the government would regain control of it on the landowner’s death, right? Sorry, nope. Not only did the government change the rules on land reclamation, but also on inheritance. This meant that, after the Temples and Nobles had gobbled up all the good land, they were then able to keep it within their family, creating generational wealth and power.

    Wealth means Power.

    So, what about the peasants who owned their land but weren’t part of the nobility? They’d have a reason to want things to stay as they are and support the status quo, right? Well, no, not exactly.

    As we’ve mentioned, the estates (Shoen in Japanese) of the nobility and temples were tax-exempt. The peasants who owned their own land still had to pay a percentage of each harvest to the Emperor since he technically owned their land.

    Your average Heian-era farmer had probably never even been to Heian-kyo, let alone actually seen the Emperor, so when the tax collectors came, they were the very embodiment of the faceless bureaucracy.

    Now, this might not seem so strange to us, after all, we all pay tax, and how many of us ever meet our head of state? But the world was smaller back then; the rise of the local aristocracy, many of whom had positions of local authority, meant that, as far as the peasantry were concerned, the government wasn’t the Emperor, who might have been hundreds of miles away, but the local magistrate, who was often also the wealthiest landowner.

    This breakdown in authority benefited the nobility politically in the same way as it had economically and militarily, but there was another twist to come. With local political and military control already falling into their hands, the local aristocracy was able to exert considerable pressure on the nominally free peasants around them.

    The exact process isn’t well documented, but we do know that the peasants who controlled their own fields would often sign the ownership of that field over to a powerful local magnate, whether than be a Temple or a noble. In effect, this granted the field tax-exempt status, and instead of tax, the peasant would then pay “rent” to the new owner for the right to keep working the field.

    There are other examples of this happening in a more direct way, with local nobles demanding tribute from free peasants and then confiscating their fields if they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) pay.

    Now, as we’ve said previously, taxation was in the form of harvest or conscription, either into the army or as labour. This didn’t really change that much; harvests were still taxed, and peasants, instead of doing service to the Emperor, were now obliged to serve their local lord.

    It should be pointed out that, under the original system, peasants weren’t tied to the land. They held it in their own name, technically as direct “vassals” of the Emperor. (They weren’t legally vassals in the Feudal sense, mind you.)

    As the Heian period went on, and more and more land was taken by the nobility, the status of peasants also changed. Instead of holding their own land, they were often bound to those same fields, but now in the service of someone else. At first, it was economic necessity; as much as the fields may have been ‘free’, the peasantry still needed to eat, and if that meant working for the lord, then so be it.

    Later, though, economic necessity gave way to legal reality. Everyone was technically subject to the Emperor, but the situation on the ground increasingly disadvantaged the peasants. What had been an economic arrangement became effectively a feudal one as landowners began to deal with local legal matters themselves.

    A peasant (Shomin in Japanese) could now be kicked out of the Shoen (estate) if the Lord didn’t like him, and matters of justice, which had formerly been the reserve of Imperial officials, now became the domain of local lords as well. Where a peasant might have once had the right to petition the Emperor directly, now, the final arbiter of justice was his Lord, and you will probably not be surprised to find out that these Lords often interpreted the ‘law’ in ways that most benefited them.

    Imperial Irrelevance

    So what did the Emperor do about this?

    The answer is simply, nothing really. It’s not that they didn’t know it was happening, but there was precious little they could do. There was no effective means to impose Imperial will on the increasingly independent nobility, and they knew it.

    The Imperial Army, formerly conscripted from the fields, no longer existed, and, lacking any formal currency, the economy had begun to be based almost entirely on rice, which had also long since slipped from Imperial hands.

    There were legal attempts to turn things around. In 1040, a law was passed that officially banned any new lands from being granted tax-exempt status, but it was too little, too late.

    Not that the Imperial Court minded all that much; they kept themselves busy with books, paintings, and some of the most ridiculous eyebrows you’ve ever seen, but we’ll cover that next time.

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sh%C5%8Den
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritsury%C5%8D

  • Heian Japan I – War & Peace

    Due to the sheer volume of information I want to share about the Heian Period, these next few posts are going to be a mix of different things; today, we’re going to talk about some of the military aspects of the early Heian Period, which will be important for later, so pay attention.

    Last time, we looked at the Yamato Period, where a recognisable Imperial system emerged from myriad proto-kingdoms and tribal states. By the late 8th century, following a period of extensive reform, power had been (theoretically) centralised in the hands of the reigning Emperor but was, in reality, in the hands of various noble factions who had no qualms about committing acts of violence in the defence of their interests.

    The Isshi Incident, proving that when you play the Game of Thrones, you win, or some guy cuts your head off.

    After the Isshi Incident in 645, which saw the leadership of the formerly dominant Soga Clan eliminated, the Imperial Throne was able to reassert its independence. One of the co-conspirators in the incident was Nakatomi no Kamatari, who was one of the initiators of the Taika Reforms we looked at last time. He was also a close supporter of Prince Naka no Oe, who had also taken a leading role in the Isshi Incident.

    Now, this isn’t some random tangent; when Prince Naka no Oe became Emperor Tenji in 668, Nakatomi rose still higher. On the latter’s deathbed in 669, the Emperor bestowed a new family name on him. From then on, Nakatomi no Kamatari and his descendants would be known as the Fujiwara.

    New Capital, Old Problems

    The Heian Period is named after and started in the new Imperial Capital, Heian-Kyo, which means City of Peace (or tranquillity, if you’re feeling poetic). It was the 50th Emperor, Kanmu, who moved the capital there in 794, and it remained the seat of the Emperors until 1868. It is better known today as Kyoto.

    Although 794 officially marks the beginning of the Heian Period, the seeds for what would come had already been sown in the years prior. Since the arrival of Buddhism in Japan and the victory of the pro-Buddhist factions that we looked at last time, the Buddhist Clergy had become politically powerful, leading to problems between them, the nobility, and the Emperor.

    In 784, Kanmu initially moved the capital from Heijo-kyo (near modern Nara) to Nagaoka-kyo (confusingly, located mostly in modern Muko, Kyoto Prefecture, not the nearby city of Nagaokakyo).

    The move was, at least in part, motivated by a desire to separate the Imperial Capital from the influence of powerful Buddhist temples that had emerged near Nara. However, the move would prove unsuccessful. Political intrigue followed the court, and less than a year after the move was formalised, the primary architect, Fujiwara no Tanetsugu, was assassinated by a rival faction. (There’s that Fujiwara name again.)

    In the aftermath of the killing, numerous court officials and even members of the Imperial Family were arrested. Some were executed, whilst others were exiled, including the Emperor’s brother, Prince Sawara. Unfortunately, Sawara died en route, and in the years that followed, Nagaoka-kyo suffered several disasters, floods, famines, fires, and the deaths of many important people.

    Now, these days, we might put that down to bad luck or to deliberate attempts to undermine the Emperor, but the people back then were a superstitious lot, and when, in 792, the disasters were blamed on Prince Sawara’s vengeful spirit (Onryo in Japanese) the decision was taken to move the capital once again.

    The Emperor would learn, however, that freeing himself from the influence of powerful priests wasn’t going to be the great liberation he had hoped for, but more on that later.

    The Imperial Army

    We’ve not looked at military stuff very much so far, mostly because there is going to be a lot of that later, but a quick look at the Imperial Army and the war with the Emishi is important for what’s coming.

    Decades before the move to Heian-kyo, the Taika Reforms had led to a restructuring of the young nation’s military. Prior to the reforms, military power was in the hands of regional strongmen (politely called ‘nobility’), whose power was usually based around fortified settlements and the surrounding lands.

    With the Taika Reforms, however, the Imperial Government, inspired by Tang Dynasty China, instituted a system of conscription. The idea was that military power would pass from the hands of the nobles into the hands of the Emperor.

    It didn’t really work out that way, though. Firstly, the burden, as it so often does, fell on the poor, as those with sufficient resources could buy or trade their way out of service (corruption may also have been an issue). Since the poor are generally tied to the land, this led to people fleeing their home regions to avoid the army, with the knock-on effect being fewer people in the fields.

    Another issue was that conscription, by its nature, relies on men who don’t actually want to be there. There are examples throughout history of military service being a way out of economic hardship, but that doesn’t seem to have been so here. Men assigned to the frontier were expected to pay for their own equipment and provisions, meaning that the little money they might earn in the army was quickly spent simply being in the army.

    It is perhaps unsurprising then that the Imperial Army was poorly equipped and badly motivated. This wouldn’t have been much of a problem had their role simply been to keep the peace, but the early Emperors were expansionists, so their poorly motivated army was kept busy.

    The Emishi

    Who were the Emishi? Well, as is often the case, there isn’t a definitive answer. The earliest records we have for them are Chinese and date to the 5th Century, where there is mention of “55 Kingdoms” of “Hairy People of the East”. Exactly who these people were isn’t clear, but they are distinct from the “Japanese” kingdoms that are also recorded.

    It is generally believed that the Emishi were linked to the Jomon, who inhabited Japan before the Yayoi (who became the Yamato and so on). It is also accepted that the Ainu are also connected to the Emishi, but the exact relationship is unclear and may never be known for certain.

    What is certain is that the Emishi proved to be an opponent that the Yamato initially struggled to overcome. Whilst the independent peoples in Kyushu were subjugated fairly early on (either through force or diplomacy), the Emishi remained largely independent into the 8th Century.

    The Yamato State in the 4th Century. Although the Kumaso and Hayato people would be absorbed, the Emishi would prove far more durable.
    By Samhanin – Own work, source: Yamato ja.png, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=121731575

    The Emishi would prove to be resistant to traditional military strategy. They relied on horse archery, using speed and guerilla tactics to defy the Yamato. For most of the 7th and 8th centuries, the Yamato would advance slowly, building forts as they went and dealing with individual Emishi tribes, some of whom would agree to enter Imperial service.

    In 774, the so-called Thirty-eight Years War began when the Emishi launched a series of attacks on Yamato forts in Northern Japan. The Emishi would prove to be successful at first; imperial armies were gathered quickly and sent against the Emishi, only for the Emishi themselves to melt away and reappear somewhere else. Forts, Towns, and Villages were burned, and through the 780’s, the situation spiralled out of control.

    The war would go on for 38 years (hence the name), and it would be a combination of diplomacy and a change in strategy that eventually led to Yamato’s victory and dominance of the North.

    Militarily, the Yamato adopted the mounted archery tactics of their enemy. This couldn’t be done with conscripts from the back end of nowhere, but the local nobility, who had been dealing with the Emishi for years already, were quicker to catch on, and these “Emishi-busting” armies were often smaller, faster moving, and, most importantly, loyal to their local communities over the Imperial Court.

    By the 790s, the strain of constant campaigns against the Emishi had led to a breakdown in the system of conscription. The people didn’t want to be sent to fight, and the Imperial Court couldn’t afford to send them, meaning that military strength now rested entirely in the hands of local nobility, but I’m sure that’ll be fine.

    On the diplomatic front, the Yamato reached out to the tribes who might agree to switch sides, and unsurprisingly, many would. The leaders of these tribes were quickly integrated into local nobility, and it is said that several later Clans could trace their ancestry to Emishi progenitors.

    By the dawn of the 9th century, the Emishi were largely dealt with. Those who had submitted were subsumed by Yamato culture, and over the years, they would become indistinguishable from other Japanese. Those who refused to submit, however, were either destroyed or driven north to Hokkaido, where they would play no further part in the Heian story.

    Now what?

    So, the Emishi are beaten, the Empire has won, and all is right in the world. I’m sure that the fact that military power has fallen completely out of imperial hands into the lap of a regionally powerful nobility that controls not only the military but the economic levers of power after the collapse of central taxation led to a system that relies almost entirely on agricultural output to support itself won’t lead to any problems, will it?

    There’s that foreshadowing again.

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian-ky%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Kanmu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagaoka-ky%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emishi
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fujiwara_no_Kamatari
    https://fee.org/articles/were-japans-taika-reforms-a-good-idea/

  • Ritsuryo – Empire & Reform.

    “The bureaucracy is expanding to meet the needs of the expanding bureaucracy.” – Oscar Wilde

    By the mid-6th century, the Yamato state had undergone a period of extensive centralisation, and although they didn’t rule the entirety of what we now call Japan, they came to control the largest state the land had yet seen.

    The Yamato State at its greatest extent.
    By Samhanin – Own work, source: Yamato ja.png, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=121731575

    We briefly discussed the emergence of monarchy last time, but to recap, during the early Yayoi Period, settlements became larger and more sophisticated, leading to the rise of formal power structures. Chinese sources from the time also make mention of specific Kings and Queens from the lands of “Wa” (their name for Japan).

    Traditional Japanese historiography tells us that the first ‘Emperor’ of Japan was Jimmu, who is supposed to have ruled from 660-585 BC. Jimmu was the great-great-grandson of the sun goddess Amaterasu and lived for about 126 years, which isn’t all that impressive if you consider his divine origins.

    Most scholars agree that Jimmu and the following 28 Emperors were legendary figures. However, there is evidence to suggest that the 21st Yuryaku (r. 456-479) really existed, though it isn’t until Emperor Kinmei, who took the throne in 540, that we have a ruler who is considered genuinely historical.

    The other issue is that we shouldn’t really call these early rulers ‘Emperor’ at all. The title Tenno (literally meaning Heavenly Sovereign) wasn’t used until the 7th century when it was also applied retroactively. Before that, the rulers of the Yamato state were referred to as Okimi (translated as Great King).

    Heavenly Origins

    So why the change? Well, like almost everything else at that time, it was because of China. Since around 1000 BC, the Chinese Emperor was referred to as the Son of Heaven, and each Dynasty drew legitimacy by having the Mandate of Heaven. Even though Chinese Dynasties rose and fell all the time, each new ruler would take the title of Son of Heaven and claim the mandate for himself.

    The early Yamato rulers saw this and thought they’d get in on the act. After all, if claiming divine origins worked for China, why not for Japan? So, the Great King became the Heavenly Sovereign. The difference (which will become important later) was that the newly dubbed “Emperor” of Yamato didn’t rule by Divine Mandate; he was said to be a literal son of heaven, descended from Amaterasu, with his rule legitimised by his divine bloodline.

    As settlements grew and powerful families emerged, they would join together with others (willingly or not), leading to proto-states that centred around one or a small number of powerful local families, which would, in turn, be absorbed or conquered by more powerful neighbours.

    While the exact details of this process of conquest and consolidation aren’t entirely clear, later (often legendary) sources make reference to military campaigns uniting the lands around modern-day Nara, which would become the centre of the later Yamato state.

    Emperor Jimmu casts down his enemies with his legendary bow, and bird companion (the three-legged Yatagarasu).

    Although these sources (the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki) aren’t reliable histories in the academic sense, they do suggest a cultural memory of war and conquest, which means it isn’t too much of a stretch to imagine that the original rulers were highly successful militarily.

    Game of Thrones

    The rule of Emperor Kinmei (the first historical Emperor) coincided with the arrival and gradual spread of Buddhism in Japan. Now, we’ll discuss the ‘Buddhaisation’ of Japan at a later date, but the short version is that Buddhism is said to have officially arrived in Japan in 552 when the King of Baekje (a Korean kingdom) sent a statue of the Buddha to the Yamato Court.

    Other sources say that Buddhism actually arrived in Japan in 538, but either way, this new religion caused a deep rift to form between the two most powerful families at court, the Soga and the Mononobe.

    The Soga were supporters of Buddhism, and they had the advantage at court. The Emperor had two Soga wives, and his father-in-law, Soga no Iname, was the first Omi, a title which suggests power second only to the King (Okimi). However, when Emperor Kinmei died, his non-Soga son, Bidatsu, was selected to succeed him. Bidatsu’s rule would be marked by the ongoing conflict around Buddhism, as the Soga were violently opposed by the Mononobe, advocates of Japan’s traditional religion (Shinto).

    Bidatsu died in 585 (maybe of Smallpox), and another power struggle broke out. The Soga, now led by Imane’s son, Umako, were victorious, and their candidate was enthroned as Emperor Yomei.

    That might have been the end of it, but Yomei ruled for less than two years, and upon his death, both sides went at it again. The resulting conflict took place in early July 587, and the Mononobe were initially successful, driving the Soga back in a series of minor battles until they were caught in the area around Mt Shigi.

    At this point, the leader of the Soga forces, Prince Shotoku, is supposed to have promised to build a temple on the site of the battle if they were victorious. This apparently did it, and the Soga turned things around, defeating the Mononobe. The resulting defeat led to the deaths of most of the Mononobe leadership, and their power at court was broken.

    Prince Shotoku kills the leader of the Mononobe (Mononobe no Moriya) at the Battle of Mt Shigi.

    The Soga spent the next 60 years effectively unchallenged as the power behind the throne. They controlled the court through political acumen and intimidation and secured their influence over the Throne by ensuring the reigning monarch was either a member of the Soga Clan or a descendant of one.

    It’s tough at the top, though, and Soga dominance generated deep resentment amongst the other noble clans, and members of the Imperial Family itself. In July 645, a conspiracy, set into motion by Prince Naka no Oe (later Emperor Tenji) and Nakatomi no Kamatari (the founder of the Fujiwara Clan, who will become really important later), ended with the assassination of Soga no Iruka, and the suicide of his father, Soga no Emishi. The so-called Isshi Incident (named for the year it happened) broke the power of the Soga and led to the re-establishment of royal power.

    The Isshi incident. Prince Naka no Oe lops off Soga no Iruka’s head. The Empress Kogyoku can be seen fleeing the scene on the top left. She would abdicate shortly afterwards, and can you blame her?

    Imperial Reform

    In the immediate aftermath of the Isshi Incident, Empress Kogyoku abdicated, and Emperor Kotoku (not her son) ascended the throne on the insistence of the conspirators. Kotoku and his supporters set about reforming the royal government with the intention of centralising and enhancing the power of the throne.

    Given that China had been the source of culture and religion, it is perhaps no surprise to find out that reformers looked there for inspiration; in fact, most of the new systems put in place in Japan at that time were direct copies of those already in use in China.

    Now, when we speak of ‘reform,’ we should remember that we’re not talking about a single reform but actually a series of laws, proclamations, and modifications over many years, leading to the system of administration known as Ritsuryo.

    Ritsuryo as a term is made up of two words, Ritsu, meaning a criminal code, and Ryo, meaning an administrative one, and there was no single Ritsuryo ‘Code’. Rather, the system was defined by a series of law codes issued between 669 and 757, which followed on from and built on each other over time.

    The actual law codes unfortunately no longer exist (and they’d likely make for fairly dull reading besides), so below is a broad summary of what the reforms actually were.

    Land Reform

    As we mentioned earlier, the power of the nobility came from their control of fortified settlements and the lands that surrounded them. So, how do you deal with that? Simple, take control of all the land. Some of the earliest reforms dealt with land reform, dividing Japan into provinces, and organising surveys (supposed to take place every six years) for the purposes of taxation and conscription.

    Land was also nationalised, but before you get the idea that this was some egalitarian attempt at land redistribution, ‘nationalised’ in this context means ‘belongs to the King’. It was the Court that decided who got what land, and each province was ruled by a governor appointed by and answerable only to the King.

    Taxation and Conscription (for both labour and military service) were formalised based on the Chinese model, with everyone expected to either pay their share or serve their time in the army or on royal construction projects.

    The royal capital was established at Nara, and a new city, based on the Chinese capital at Xian, was built (previously, the capital had been wherever the King was.)

    The provinces of Yamato Japan. The areas in northern Japan and Hokkaido remained outside their control for now.

    New Government

    As for the word ‘King’, from now on, the King would be an Emperor, and the previous system of government was now to be based on the Chinese model, too, with some notable exceptions.

    Firstly, there was the division of government into different departments. The two major offices were the Jingi-kan, which was responsible for religious matters, and the Daijo-kan, which was further subdivided into eight departments that dealt with actually running the state.

    There was also the establishment of a formal system of ranks for the nobility. Divided into nine ranks, which were then subdivided into four (with the exception of the top three, which only had two sub-divisions). Each rank carried an increased prestige and a larger salary, another novelty which was supposed to tie the nobility closer to the throne, as it was the monarch who now dispensed wealth and title.

    Although practically a direct copy of Chinese law, there were exceptions or adaptations to Ritsuryo. There were two that would prove to be significant in the long term. First, as we mentioned earlier, the newly dubbed Emperor did not hold the Mandate of Heaven as his Chinese counterpart did. Instead, he was the literal son of heaven, a status that could not be transferred or lost. This had the convenient side effect of meaning that a Japanese Emperor could not be overthrown and replaced by a ‘new’ dynasty.

    Secondly, the Imperial Rank system in China was (at least in theory) based on merit, with the famous Imperial Examinations ensuring that only the best and brightest could gain prestigious positions. The Japanese, however, limited access to formal rank to offspring of noble families, ensuring that the same clans would, over time, come to dominate certain departments of the government and eventually, the throne itself.

    Law & Order

    As the reforms sought to centralise control of land and title, so to did they seek to impose rigid control on wider Yamato society. The new provinces were now to be overseen by governors appointed by the court, taking the application of law out of the hands of powerful local families (at least in theory.) The new Imperial Court also reserved the right of appeal for itself; now (also in theory), anyone could petition the Emperor about injustice in their local area.

    Along with the ‘nationalisation’ of land, the common people, too, became the direct subjects of the Emperor. Whilst technically removing them from the local dominance of the nobility, the system was no liberation of the people.

    On the one hand, the land reform directly benefited common people, as every citizen was now entitled to a certain amount of land, which they could own for their lifetime, and would be taxed according to crop yield. However, upon their death, the land would return to the ownership of the state and couldn’t be passed on to children. Additionally, women were only entitled to 2/3 the land of men.

    There was also the matter of the caste system. Everyone was divided into one of two castes, the Ryomin or the Senmin. Each caste was further divided (four for Ryomin, Five for Senmin), and there were clear distinctions. Ryomin were made up of the ruling class, the wealthy, and those involved in court functions. The Senmin, very broadly, were subservient to the Ryomin, with the bottom two levels, the Kunuhi and Shinuhi being slaves. It was perhaps slightly better to be a Kunuhi since they were slaves at court instead of out in the countryside, but I imagine the distinction was pretty meaningless to the slaves themselves.

    There was some mobility within the caste system, with slaves being able to earn freedom and Ryomin being reduced to Senmin status for certain crimes, but overall, it was a fairly rigid system, at least at first.

    On the subject of crime, the reforms established a five-tier system of punishment, with caning being the most minor, escalating to execution (either by hanging or beheading) for serious crimes, and speaking of really serious crimes, the reform took the Ten Abominations of the Chinese legal code and reduced them to eight.

    So, while things like Rebellion, Murder, and a lack of filial piety (respect for your parents) could get you beheaded, the Japanese dropped the rules about familiar discord and, for some reason, incest.

    Trouble ahead.

    The reforms were intended to centralise and formalise Imperial rule in Japan on the same basis as the Chinese system, and in the short term, it was pretty successful. Land distribution meant a steady tax base, and conscription meant that military power was focused in the hands of the Emperor rather than regional strongmen.

    But the reforms had unwittingly sowed the seeds of the eventual downfall of Imperial authority. By concentrating political power in the hands of the nobility rather than a merit-based bureaucracy, powerful families would come to dominate the levers of power and the Emperor himself.

    Land reform, too, would backfire. Initially, citizens were forbidden from bringing new land into cultivation, but as the population expanded, the agricultural base failed to keep up. Changes were made, and the people were permitted to claim new land for themselves as long as they cultivated it themselves.

    Although a well-meanimg attempt to grow the food supply, what actually happened was powerful local families, with resources and manpower, snapped up the good land, and when the law was changed to allow for land to be inherited by three generations (and eventually without limit) the seeds were literally sown for a powerful, land-based aristocracy, far from, and no longer under the control of the Imperial Court.

    Ooooh, foreshadowing…

    Sources

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taika_Reform
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_emperors_of_Japan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Jimmu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_of_Japan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yatagarasu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asuka_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isshi_incident
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Kinmei
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soga_no_Iname
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soga%E2%80%93Mononobe_conflict
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Bidatsu
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Y%C5%8Dmei
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taih%C5%8D_Code
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritsury%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Department_of_Divinities
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daij%C5%8D-kan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Provinces_of_Japan
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_castes_under_the_Ritsury%C5%8D
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritsury%C5%8D

  • Yamato – So it Begins.

    The Wa dwell on mountainous islands southeast of Han [Korea] in the middle of the ocean, forming more than one hundred communities. From the time of the overthrow of Chaoxian [northern Korea] by Emperor Wu (BC 140–87), nearly thirty of these communities have held intercourse with the Han [dynasty] court by envoys or scribes. Each community has its king, whose office is hereditary. The King of Great Wa [Yamato] resides in the country of Yamadai.

    Goodrich, Carrington C, ed. (1951). Japan in the Chinese Dynastic Histories: Later Han Through Ming Dynasties. Translated by Tsunoda, Ryusaku. South Pasadena: PD and Ione Perkins. Taken from Wikipedia.

    At the back end of the Yayoi Period (c. 300 BC to 300 AD), the first petty kingdoms began to emerge. These communities initially started out based on agriculture and shared culture (cemeteries and other ritual sites, for example), but by the late Yayoi period, we begin to see evidence of defences being constructed.

    The reconstructed defences at Yoshinogari. Evidence of the changing situation in the Late Yayoi Period.
    By Flamebroil at the English-language Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4443146

    Now, it may seem obvious, but you don’t need defences unless you think someone is going to attack you, and you can’t typically organise coordinated attacks against defended places without someone calling the shots.

    So now, the age-old question, which came first, the Kings or the Wars? Humans have never needed much of an excuse to start killing each other, and evidence for violent deaths reaches back to the Jomon period.

    Violence, however, is not the same thing as war. The marshalling of resources, and the building of defences require organisation, and organisation in those days meant monarchy.

    These days, we tend to associate Monarchs with pomp and ceremony but usually (at least in Europe) very little actual power. In the ancient world, however, you didn’t get to be King or Queen without power, and that power usually came from one of two places.

    Either you were the biggest and the strongest, and you simply killed anyone who got in your way, or you relied on more spiritual power, either magic or religion.

    Now, the late Yayoi people didn’t have writing, so we don’t know very much about how they saw themselves, but the Chinese sources suggest that monarchy and magic were tightly linked.

    When speaking of Himiko, the legendary Queen of Yamatai, the sources speak of a Queen who:

    occupied herself with magic and sorcery, bewitching the people. Though mature in age, she remained unmarried. She had a younger brother who assisted her in ruling the country. After she became the ruler, there were few who saw her. She had one thousand women as attendants, but only one man. He served her food and drink and acted as a medium of communication. She resided in a palace surrounded by towers and stockades, with armed guards in a state of constant vigilance.

    Goodrich, Carrington C, ed. (1951). Japan in the Chinese Dynastic Histories: Later Han Through Ming Dynasties. Translated by Tsunoda, Ryusaku. South Pasadena: PD and Ione Perkins. Taken from Wikipedia.

    If we ignore the trope of any woman in power obviously being a witch, this source tells us that Himiko was viewed as being a user of magic who remained aloof from her people, surrounded by towers, stockades, and armed guards. It is often difficult to separate fact from fiction when it comes to such ancient sources, but the mention of elaborate defences tallies with the archaeological evidence.

    Even if Himiko herself is mythical, the fact that Late Yayoi settlements were being defended by armed guards seems to support the idea that Japan was becoming a more centralised but also more violent place.

    Monumental Tombs

    Another example of centralisation is the emergence of monumental tombs called Kofun. Like the Pyramids of Egypt, Kofun started out as burial chambers of important, presumably royal figures, and they represent significant investments of time and resources.

    The Daisenryo Kofun in Sakai. The largest kofun, it is believed to be the burial place of the semi-legendary Emperor Nintoku, who is said to have died in 399 AD. By Copyright © National Land Image Information (Color Aerial Photographs), Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120737378

    Kofun can be found across Japan (about 160,000 of them!) with the densest concentration being in modern day Hyogo Prefecture. While these tombs vary widely in their construction the basic idea remains the same, a tomb, grave goods (often looted, unfortunately) and a mound.

    Burial mounds aren’t unique to Japan, but it is a general rule that the more elaborate the grave, the more resources the one who built it has. Now, this sounds obvious: rich people are rich, but being able to marshall sufficient manpower at a time when communication relied entirely on word of mouth demonstrates just how wealthy these kingdoms were becoming.

    It is also important to note that they only started as tombs for important figures. By the later Yamato Period, there is evidence of (admittedly smaller) Kofun being built for relatively low status people, suggesting that wealth and resources had ceased to be the sole domain of monarchs.

    It was modern-day Nara Prefecture, however, where the most powerful and longest-lasting Kingdom got its start.

    Modern Nara Prefecture, centre of the Yamato Kingdom.

    Difficult beginnings

    The actual rise of the Yamato Kingdom is obscure (sorry, I know this keeps happening.) Since we rely almost entirely on Chinese sources to tell us what was going on in the earlier parts of this era, it is perhaps telling that they have relatively little to say about the origins of Yamato.

    Although we don’t know for certain, it is suggested by some that this period was one of violence as rival kingdoms sought to assert dominance over their neighbours. Whilst we may never know for sure, by the early 5th Century, the Yamato Kingdom had risen to dominate most of central Japan.

    Although the first power to dominate a significant part of Japan, the Yamato didn’t have it all their own way. On Kyushu, the Azumi and Hayato peoples were in control. The Azumi were apparently peerless seafarers and seem to have served as the first naval force of the Yamato. The Hayato, though also listed as loyal to the Yamato, were apparently a more tempestuous people, and there are records of several rebellions/wars between the Yamato and Hayato, with the Hayato eventually being subjugated and their population scattered throughout Japan.

    These people may have been related to or be the basis for the mythical Kumaso. Also, natives of Kyushu, the Kumaso, are supposed to have been implacable and dangerous foes of the Yamato, described as ‘bear-like’ (the word ‘Kuma’ means bear in Japanese) and monstrous. The story goes that the Kumaso were eventually defeated by the legendary Yamato Takeru, who killed their last leader by disguising himself as a woman at a feast, which is quite a way to go about it.

    Yamato Takeru ruins the last Kumaso leader’s dinner.

    Chinese Influence

    The Yamato State was heavily influenced by contemporary Chinese culture. This arrived in Japan through trade, cultural exchange, and waves of immigrants. For much of pre-modern history, China was viewed as the centre of the world, especially in Asia, and during these formative years, the Yamato people looked to China as the source of culture and learning.

    Japan maintained direct maritime links with the Chinese Song Dynasty (possibly facilitated by the aforementioned Azumi), but also had close ties to the Kingdoms of Korea. Some sources even go so far as to suggest that hundreds of the noble families of this period actually originated in Korea. In fact, it is speculated (somewhat controversially) that, if the genealogy of the Imperial Family can be believed, they are of Korean origin as well.

    How much we can believe ancient, often conflicting sources is a matter of debate, but we know for certain that Chinese and Korean culture was hugely influential in early Japan. Grave goods uncovered in Kofun show either direct Chinese and Korean origin or are heavily inspired by the same.

    We also know that the early Yamato Kingdom based itself politically on China. It is known that early Yamato rulers petitioned the Chinese Emperors for royal titles, and the Chinese seem to have been happy to oblige.

    In turn, the Yamato Kings bestowed titles of nobility on their subjects, including those in Kyushu, far from the centre of Yamato Power.

    These clans varied in power, but drew legitimacy from the King. Each clan seems to have been ruled by a patriarch, who was responsible for keeping the Clan in line, but also took on a religious role, making sure the Gods (or Kami) of their Clan were kept happy. This is the role of the King in miniature and shows how formalised Yamato society had become. The King was at the top, responsible for the well being of the nation, and he would intercede with the Gods on the Kingdoms behalf.

    Other Chinese innovations taken to by the Japanese were Buddhism (which I know is actually from India, but it arrived in Japan in its Chinese form) and, much to the lamentation of anyone who has ever tried to study Japanese, a written language, the origins of Kanji, Chinese written characters adapted to Japanese speech.

    We’re actually going to continue this look at the deeper impact of Chinese culture next time, as the introduction of new religious and political ideas led to the Taika Reforms, which really deserves its own post.

    Sources
    https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rsbl.2016.0028
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himiko
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yamato_period
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azumi_people
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yamato_Kingship
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hayato_people
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumaso
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_kings_of_Wa
    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asuka_period