Podcasts about confucian

What do we know about the Chinese philosopher and teacher Confucius? Although people have written biographies of Confucius for over 2,000 years, a recent discovery of a Chinese tomb containing the oldest written account of his life gives us a chance to look at Confucius afresh. In this episode, after some reflections on his experiences as a young teacher in Taiwan, Jacke talks to Confucian scholar Mark Csikszentmihalyi about his book Confucius: A New Tradition. PLUS a conversation with Rachel Pastan about her role as literary director of the recently opened independent bookstore Celia Bookshop in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. On Sale Now! For more information and to order ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Great Detective! An Adventure for Two People [2-Book Boxed Set]⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ by Jacke Wilson, visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠press.historyofliterature.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. SPECIAL OFFER! For a limited time, enter promotion code LOVE26 to get 20% off! And if you help us get the word out by posting two people enjoying the book on social media (plus a link to our website), we will refund money to your account. Learn more at ⁠press.historyofliterature.com⁠! The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠gabrielruizbernal.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Help support the show at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/literature⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠historyofliterature.com/donate⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

During the decline of the Zhou Dynasty, warfare and clan violence escalated, threatening the stability of civilization and igniting the Warring States Period.  Out of the chaos emerged a prolific itinerant teacher offering a path away from bloodshed and political ruin—teachings that would sustain Chinese culture for more than 2,500 years. His name was Confucius. Learn more about the enduring power of Confucian philosophy on this episode of Everything Everywhere Daily. Shop the store at Shop.Everything-Everywhere.com Sponsors Hexclad Get 10% off your order at hexclad.com/DAILY Mint Mobile Save 50% on Unlimited premium wireless plans starting at $15/month at MintMobile.com/EED Quince Go to quince.com/daily for 365-day returns, plus free shipping on your order! DripDrop Go to dripdrop.com and use promo code EVERYTHING for 20% off your first order! Square Get up to $200 off Square hardware when you sign up at square.com/go/daily Horizon3 Go to horizon3.ai/everything and request your free NodeZero demo Babbel Go to babbel.com/daily for up to 60% off Subscribe to the podcast!  https://everything-everywhere.com/everything-everywhere-daily-podcast/ -------------------------------- Executive Producer: Charles Daniel Associate Producers: Austin Oetken & Cameron Kieffer   Become a supporter on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/everythingeverywhere Discord Server: https://discord.gg/Ds7Rx7jvPJ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/everythingeverywhere/ Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/everythingeverywheredaily Twitter: https://twitter.com/everywheretrip Website: https://everything-everywhere.com/  Disce aliquid novi cotidie Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

東亞文化圈 Dōng Yǎ wén huà quān - East Asian cultural sphere根深蒂固 gēn shēn dì gù - deeply rooted; firmly entrenched觀念 guān niàn - concept; belief; mindset重男輕女 zhòng nán qīng nǚ - preference for sons over daughters; gender bias favoring males輕視 qīng shì - to look down on; to undervalue來源 lái yuán - origin; source以農業為主 yǐ nóng yè wéi zhǔ - to be primarily based on agriculture大量 dà liàng - a large amount; a great quantity體力 tǐ lì - physical strength; stamina勞動 láo dòng - labor; physical work男性 nán xìng - male; man體力 tǐ lì - physical strength; stamina具有 jù yǒu - to possess; to have天然 tiān rán - natural; innate優勢 yōu shì - advantage; strength核心 hé xīn - core; central經濟支柱 jīng jì zhī zhù - economic pillar; financial backbone儒家思想 Rú jiā sī xiǎng - Confucian thought; Confucianism孔子 Kǒng Zǐ - Confucius不孝有三，無後為大 bú xiào yǒu sān, wú hòu wéi dà - “Among the greatest forms of unfilial conduct, having no descendants is the worst.”孝順 xiào shùn - filial; respectful and dutiful to one's parents農耕 nóng gēng - farming; agricultural cultivation族譜 zú pǔ - family genealogy; ancestral record繼承 jì chéng - to inherit; to succeed to祖先牌位 zǔ xiān pái wèi - ancestral tablet社會輿論壓力 shè huì yú lùn yā lì - social pressure from public opinion出嫁 chū jià - for a woman to get married生育 shēng yù - childbirth; reproduction歸…所有 guī … suǒ yǒu - to belong to; to be owned by原生家庭 yuán shēng jiā tíng - family of origin養 yǎng - to raise; to bring up嫁出去的女兒，潑出去的水 jià chū qù de nǚ ér, pō chū qù de shuǐ - “A married daughter is like water that has been poured away” (traditional saying implying she no longer belongs to her birth family)資源 zī yuán - resources舅舅 jiù jiu - maternal uncle把…送走 bǎ … sòng zǒu - to send … away; to give … away財產 cái chǎn - property; assets; inheritance翻轉 fān zhuǎn - to reverse; to transform女兒奴 nǚ ér nú - a parent (usually a father) who dotes on his daughter現象 xiàn xiàng - phenomenon貼心 tiē xīn - thoughtful; caring; considerate民法 mín fǎ - civil law; civil code修正 xiū zhèng - to revise; to amend同等 tóng děng - equal; equivalent財產繼承權 cái chǎn jì chéng quán - inheritance rights; right to inherit property姓 xìng - family name; surname雙方約定 shuāng fāng yuē dìng - mutual agreement by both parties社經地位 shè jīng dì wèi - socioeconomic status職場 zhí chǎng - workplace; professional environment政界 zhèng jiè - political circles; political arena

In this episode of Behaviour Speak, Ben welcomes Mei-Hua Li, BCBA-D and speech-language pathology clinical fellow, for a discussion that sits at the intersection of behaviour analysis, communication, and cultural responsiveness. Drawing from her unique dual training in applied behaviour analysis and speech-language pathology, Mei-Hua explores how collaboration between BCBAs and SLPs can improve outcomes for autistic individuals and others with communication needs. The conversation examines AAC and speech-generating devices, language development, aphasia, apraxia, and verbal behaviour, and highlights the importance of interdisciplinary practice. Mei-Hua shares practical examples of how behavioural assessment and intervention can complement speech and language expertise to create more effective, individualized support plans. A major focus of the episode is culturally responsive care. Mei-Hua discusses her work with Chinese and Chinese-American families, the influence of Confucian values such as filial piety, and the importance of cultural humility when delivering services. She offers concrete strategies for working effectively with interpreters, understanding family perspectives, addressing stigma surrounding autism, and building trust through meaningful collaboration.  The episode concludes with a look at Mei-Hua's work with Chinatown Child Respite Care, a nonprofit supporting Chinese-speaking immigrant families of neurodivergent children through respite services, community building, education, and advocacy. Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/msdfio-VbuA Continuing Education Credits (https://www.cbiconsultants.com/shop) BACB: 1.0 Ethics IBAO:  1.0 Cultural QABA: 1.0 Ethics CBA/CPD: 1.0 Cultural Diversity Follow us! Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/behaviourspeak/ LinkedIn:  https://www.linkedin.com/in/behaviourspeak TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@behaviorspeak Links Chinatown Respite Care https://www.chinatownrespite.com/ https://www.instagram.com/chinatown.respite/ Articles Referenced Masters, C., Robinson, D., Faulkner, S., Patterson, E., McIlraith, T., & Ansari, A. (2019). Addressing Biases in Patient Care with The 5Rs of Cultural Humility, a Clinician Coaching Tool. Journal of General Internal Medicine, 34(4), 627–630. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11606-018-4814-y Moreno, G., Wong-Lo, M., Short, M., & Bullock, L. M. (2014). Implementing a culturally attuned functional behavioural assessment to understand and address challenging behaviours demonstrated by students from diverse backgrounds. Emotional & Behavioural Difficulties, 19(4), 343–355. https://doi.org/10.1080/13632752.2013.860682 Related Episodes: Culturally Responsive Family-Centred PBS for Chinese Immigrant Famiies with Chloe Wang https://www.behaviourspeak.com/e/building-culturally-responsive-family-centred-pbs-for-chinese-immigrant-families-chloe-wang/ Supporting Children Across Cultures with ABA and PBS with Dianna Yip https://www.behaviourspeak.com/e/episode-270-beyond-compliance-supporting-children-across-cultures-with-aba-and-pbs-with-dianna-yip-med-bcba/   Empowering The Chinese Autism Community with Hazel Lim https://www.behaviourspeak.com/e/episode-212-empowering-the-chinese-autism-community-with-hazel-lim/   Collaboration and Mentorship with Landria Seals-Green https://www.behaviourspeak.com/e/episode-57-huddle-up-collaboration-and-mentorship-with-landria-seals-green-ccc-slp-bcba/    

Last time we spoke about the beginning of the Pacific War. In late 1941, the Second Battle of Changsha ended with Chinese forces claiming victory despite suffering nearly 100,000 casualties against roughly 1,670 Japanese losses. Chiang Kai-shek's government launched an aggressive propaganda campaign, flooding international press with fabricated triumph narratives to sustain national morale. Behind closed doors, Chiang was furious at his generals' tactical failures, executing commanders and dismantling units. Meanwhile, geopolitical forces threatened China's survival. Japan's 1939 defeat at Nomonhan crushed hopes for a Soviet alliance against Tokyo. Germany's pact with the Soviet Union left China isolated, while Western powers remained reluctant to commit meaningful support. Britain offered little; the US provided only modest loans. By 1941, facing potential collapse, Chiang desperately searched for allies while Wang Jingwei's Japanese-backed rival government beckoned as an alternative. China's exhausted people endured horror—including a 1941 bombing massacre in Chongqing that killed over 400 trapped civilians. Then Japan unleashed a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor.   #215 An Implosion in the East Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War.   In the early morning of December 7, 1941, the US Pacific Fleet was anchored at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. Two waves of Japanese bomber aircraft, launched from six aircraft carriers, attacked the vessels and their sleeping crews, destroying the battleship Arizona outright and damaging seventeen others, as well as most of the military aircraft parked nearby. Some 2,400 Americans died, and another 1,100 were wounded. Within a day Japanese invasion forces had attacked Siam, Malaya, and the Philippines. Chiang Kai-shek heard the news at one o'clock in the morning and immediately dictated a letter of support to President Roosevelt, pledging commitment to a new "common battle." The news reached Zhou Fohai in Shanghai as well. On December 8 across the international date line from Hawaii he had heard the sounds of firing as the Japanese took over the rest of the city, and then received reports that Japan had declared war on the Western powers. "I heard they'd bombed Honolulu, Manila, Singapore, and Hong Kong. From now on, the Pacific becomes a killing ground."   When Japanese carrier planes descended on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, they were executing far more than a tactical strike. They were unleashing the culmination of a strategic vision that had shaped Japanese military planning since the 1920s: the Nanshin-ron, or "Southern Advance" doctrine.    The Nanshin-ron represented a critical strategic choice that emerged from internal Japanese debates during the 1920s and 1930s. Japan faced an inescapable vulnerability: it was an island nation with virtually no natural resources of its own. The nation's population had doubled since the Meiji Restoration, growing to over 70 million by 1941. An industrial economy of tremendous sophistication, capable of producing world-class warships, aircraft, and military equipment, depended entirely on imported raw materials. Oil, rubber, tin, iron ore, bauxite, copper, and manganese all had to be acquired through foreign trade or conquest. This resource dependency was not a luxury problem; it was an existential one. A nation that could not feed itself or fuel its economy was a nation vulnerable to strangulation by enemies who controlled the resources it needed. Japanese strategic thinkers divided into two camps on how to resolve this vulnerability. The Hokushin-ron advocates, primarily within the Army, pushed for expansion northward into Siberia and Mongolia, seeking to conquer Soviet territory and resources. The Soviet Union possessed vast tracts of land, mineral wealth, timber, and agricultural output. From a purely materialist perspective, the Northern Advance made geographic sense—it was contiguous with Manchuria, which Japan had already secured in 1931. Yet by the late 1930s, the Hokushin-ron strategy had suffered a catastrophic blow. In 1938 and 1939, Japanese and Soviet forces clashed at Khalkhin Gol in Mongolia in what the Japanese called the Nomonhan Incident. The battles revealed a terrifying truth: the Soviet Red Army, under General Georgy Zhukov, was far more formidable than Japanese military planners had anticipated. Soviet armor, air power, and coordinated tactics annihilated Japanese forces. Japan suffered over 60,000 casualties while inflicting perhaps 10,000 on the Soviets. The defeat was concealed from the Japanese public, but it was unmistakable to military planners. A direct clash with Soviet power could end catastrophically. The Northern Advance, it became clear, would almost certainly provoke war with a nation capable of destroying the Japanese Army. This strategic defeat tilted the balance decisively toward the Nanshin-ron. If Japan could not safely expand northward, it must expand southward, toward Southeast Asia, the Dutch East Indies, Indochina, and the western Pacific. The appeal of the Nanshin-ron was immediately apparent to the Navy, which had always been more oriented toward maritime commerce and expansion across the ocean. The territories to the south were not militarily formidable. The colonial powers, Britain, the Netherlands, France, were either already defeated in 1940 or distracted by their own desperate struggles leaving Britain fighting alone against Germany. The United States, though potentially a formidable adversary, was not yet at war, and there was a chance, however slender, that a decisive blow against American naval power might convince America to negotiate rather than fight. But beyond strategic opportunity, the Nanshin-ron offered something that the Hokushin-ron did not: it offered resources of staggering abundance. The Dutch East Indies possessed oil reserves that could dwarf Japan's consumption for years. Malaya produced the world's rubber. Thailand offered agricultural bounty and geographic position. Burma's timber and agricultural products could feed Japan's growing empire. The Philippines possessed harbors, airfields, and economic output. These were not marginal additions to Japan's economy—they were transformative. Together, they would convert Japan from a resource-hungry island nation into the master of an imperial domain encompassing hundreds of millions of people and containing most of the strategic materials necessary for sustained industrial warfare. In the last episode I explained the western sanctions and embargoes that drained Japan's military of the resources they required to continue the China War. By 1941, Japan faced a civilization crisis. Japan imported roughly 90 percent of its petroleum, and the bulk of that came from the Dutch East Indies and the United States. Suddenly, the American supply was cut off entirely. Reserves would last perhaps 18 months if Japan's military and industrial consumption continued at existing rates. After that, the military machine would sputter and die. The industrial economy would collapse. Even civilian life would become impossible to sustain. Japan was facing not merely economic inconvenience but literal strangulation by the Western powers.   Yet it would be a mistake to reduce Japanese motivation to just materialism. Japanese military leaders wrapped their conquests in an ideological framework, one that many of them genuinely believed, or wanted to believe, served a higher historical purpose. The concept of the Daitoa Kyoeiken, the "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere," posited a new regional order in which Japan would play the leading role in liberating Asian peoples from Western colonial domination and creating an Asian-centered political and economic system. This ideology drew on genuine anti-colonial sentiment. For a century, Western powers had dominated Asia, treating Asian peoples and nations as subordinate, colonized territories existing to serve Western economic interests. Japan, which had modernized and Westernized enough to avoid colonization, saw itself as the natural leader of an Asian renaissance—a civilizing force that would restore Asian dignity and independence even as it established Japanese hegemony. Of course, this was propagandistic. Japanese conquest represented a substitution of one imperial master for another, and often a harsher and more brutal one at that. But for understanding Japanese decision-making, the ideology mattered profoundly. It provided Japanese leaders with a moral narrative for conquest. It allowed them to understand themselves as liberators rather than mere conquerors. It provided a rationale for extracting resources from occupied territories and for mobilizing subject populations to support the Japanese war effort. And it resonated with anti-Western sentiment throughout Asia, making Japanese occupation seem, in some quarters, preferable to continued Western colonial rule. The slogan Hakko ichiu—"eight corners under one roof", captured this ideological vision: a unified Asia and eventually world under Japanese guidance. Whether Japanese leaders truly believed this vision or cynically deployed it as propaganda, it shaped how they understood their actions and justified them to their subjects. Now I know this is a podcast dedicated to the century of humiliation, ie: China's experience. But I thought it was necessary just to have one episode explain what Dan Carlin titled "a supernova in the east" and I have titled an implosion in the east. I won't go into depth into the campaigns as some of them have a lot of Chinese involvement and we will be covering them in depth, but rather I will explain the rationale for Japan's numerous invasions following the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor.   Japan's assault on Malaya began within hours of the Pearl Harbor attack, indeed, Japanese troops were already landing on the Kota Bharu beachhead on the Malaysian peninsula before dawn on December 8, 1941 local time. Malaya was one of the world's largest rubber producers, and Singapore, at the tip of the peninsula, was the linchpin of British naval power in the Far East.The Japanese interest in Malaya was straightforward but crucial: rubber. The Japanese military consumed vast quantities of rubber for tires, gaskets, hoses, and countless other applications. American and Dutch rubber supplies were now cut off by embargo. Malaya's rubber plantations represented perhaps the world's richest reservoir of this strategic material. Beyond rubber, Malaya and the surrounding region were major tin producers—essential for alloys and manufacturing. For Japan to conduct prolonged warfare, Malaya was not a luxury target; it was a necessity. Singapore represented something different: a symbol of Western power in Asia and a strategic chokepoint. As the major British naval base in the region, Singapore served as the anchor of British imperial authority across the South China Sea. By seizing Singapore, Japan would not only capture crucial resources and port facilities but would also deliver a psychological blow to the entire edifice of Western dominance in Asia. The fortress city that the British considered nearly impregnable fell within seventy days, a stunning demonstration of Japanese military capability and the vulnerability of overextended Western empires. If Malaya was critical for rubber, the Dutch East Indies was essential for oil. The region, comprising present-day Indonesia, was the world's third-largest oil producer and had reserves that could sustain Japanese military operations for years. This was the jewel of the resource-conquest strategy. Japanese planners had long eyed the East Indies, but direct conquest had seemed risky while Britain and America remained neutral or opposed. With both now at war, the window of opportunity had opened. Japan needed the oil so desperately that when the Dutch East Indies Petroleum Company initially agreed to some Japanese oil purchases before the war, Tokyo was already planning its takeover. The conquest of the Dutch East Indies would provide not just oil but also tin, nickel, bauxite, and other materials essential to an industrial war machine. The islands would also provide air and naval bases from which Japan could defend its new empire and potentially threaten Australia. The Japanese invasion of the Dutch East Indies, which began in late December 1941 and accelerated through January and February 1942, was methodical and comprehensive. Various island groups were targeted systematically: Java, Borneo, Celebes, and the Moluccas. Dutch military forces, though brave, were overwhelmed. By March 1942, Japan had secured the entire archipelago,a stunning logistical and military achievement that delivered vast resources into Japanese hands. Thailand presented a fundamentally different case from Japan's other targets. Rather than conquest, Japan pursued alliance with military strongman Plaek Phibunsongkhram, who had seized power in a 1938 coup as a nationalist ideologue determined to reassert Thai sovereignty and recover territory lost to French colonialism in the nineteenth century. Thailand was the last independent state in mainland Southeast Asia, hemmed in by British-controlled Burma and Malaya to the west, and French Indochina to the east. For a century, Thailand had survived by playing European imperial powers against each other. But by the late 1930s, this strategy was becoming obsolete. Europe was distracted by Hitler's Germany. Colonial powers were weakening. Japanese power was visibly ascending. Phibunsongkhram recognized both danger and opportunity. He could resist Japan and invite invasion, or he could ally with Japan and profit from rising Asian power. Japanese diplomats approached Thailand with sophistication: they offered military alliance and support for Thai territorial expansion at French expense. This addressed Thailand's deepest national wound, the humiliation of nineteenth-century territorial losses to France. The Franco-Thai War of 1940-1941 became transformative. With Japan providing military support, advisors, tanks, aircraft, Thai forces defeated the French for the first time in history. By May 1941, Thailand had recovered 54,000 square kilometers of Cambodian territory and portions of Laos. For Phibunsongkhram, this was extraordinary: he had achieved what Thai leaders could not in a century, reclaiming territory from a Western imperial power. Domestically, his position was dramatically strengthened. The parallel to China's century of humiliation—the foundation of your podcast is striking: Thailand too was reversing colonial diminishment through association with rising Asian power. The Thai-Japanese relationship was unique. Unlike the Philippines, Malaya, or the Dutch East Indies, Thailand would retain nominal independence. Phibunsongkhram remained in power. Japanese occupation was light. Thai forces maintained their own command structure. Most importantly, Thailand's territorial gains from the Franco-Thai War were recognized and secured. Japan valued Thai cooperation more than conquest. Burma, controlled by the British, was the next target in Japan's southwestward advance. Japanese planners had multiple motivations for invading Burma. First, it was strategically positioned on India's eastern frontier, and Japan harbored ambitions of eventually striking toward India and linking up with Germany in the Middle East or at least destabilizing the British position in South Asia. Second, Burma was a significant producer of timber and agricultural products. Third, and perhaps most importantly, the invasion of Burma was meant to cut the Burma Road, the crucial supply line that allowed American aid to reach Nationalist China. The invasion of Burma began in late 1941 and accelerated through early 1942.  The invasion of the Philippines, which began on December 10, 1941, just days after Pearl Harbor, served multiple strategic purposes. Like the assault on Pearl Harbor itself, it was meant to neutralize American military power in the region, in this case, the American garrison under General Douglas MacArthur and the American colonial administration. But the Philippines were also valuable in their own right. The islands sat directly in the path of what Japan envisioned as its defensive perimeter. By controlling the Philippines, Japan would make it extraordinarily difficult for American forces to project power westward into Southeast Asia. The territory would provide naval and air bases critical to defending Japan's new empire. Additionally, the Philippines possessed some agricultural and industrial resources valuable to the war effort, and their conquest delivered a psychological victory, defeating American forces and ending American colonial rule in Asia, which appealed to anti-Western sentiment that Japan tried to cultivate. Beyond Southeast Asia and the Philippines, Japan rapidly invaded Guam and Wake island to extend Japan's defensive perimeter further into the Pacific and eliminate American air and naval bases that could threaten Japanese operations. Guam, seized on December 10, 1941, fell within two days, the American garrison was small and the island's strategic value lay primarily in denying the United States a forward staging ground for any counteroffensive. Wake Island, attacked the same day and finally captured on December 23 after a brief but heroic American defense, served similar purposes: cutting off American reconnaissance and interdicting potential supply lines to the Philippines.  Now I believe that's enough of the implosion in the east, let's get back to the situation in China. After Chiang Kai-shek sent his letter of support to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, pledging Chinese commitment to what he termed a new "common battle." he did something most revealing about his mood towards the global war. He played "Ave Maria" on his gramophone, celebrating with an almost spiritual gratitude the implications of what had just transpired in the American Pacific. This moment crystallized the profound difference Pearl Harbor would mean to different members of the emerging Allied coalition. For the United States, the attack was pure shock, a violation of the sanctity of American soil and the complacency of American isolationism. For Britain, it was like the pricking of a large, painful blister—painful but perhaps not entirely unexpected given Japan's regional ambitions. But for China, the relief that surged through the government and the consciousness of the Chinese people surpassed even Britain's response. For four long years, China had fought Japan almost alone, watching as Western nations remained neutral or limited their commitment to rhetorical support and modest material assistance. Now, suddenly, the trajectory of the entire conflict had shifted with breathtaking speed. Chiang's emotional state at this moment could scarcely be contained, and those close to him understood that beneath his carefully maintained Confucian composure burned an intoxicating sensation of vindication. These Western powers who had been so impatient with Chinese strategy, who had mocked the retreats of the Nationalist Army and spoken scornfully of Japanese capabilities, were now themselves in headlong retreat from those very islanders. In Hong Kong, Singapore, and Manila, British and American forces would be fighting desperately for their lives against the Japanese military that China had been contending with for years. Chiang could not have failed to perceive the irony: the Japanese had conquered vast stretches of China through relentless campaigns, yet Westerners had dismissed Chinese resistance as inadequate. Now the Japanese were proving that they posed a formidable challenge to Western military power as well. There was a bitter satisfaction in this vindication, even as Chiang understood that the strategic implications of American entry far outweighed any emotional satisfaction. What was pragmatic and strategically clear to Chiang, however, was far more important than any emotional satisfaction. The United States was now at war, and it was on China's side. This represented the transformation for which Chiang had labored for years, bringing the full weight of American industrial capacity and military might to bear against the Japanese enemy. The diplomatic foundations for this alliance had already been laid in the months preceding Pearl Harbor. Beginning in the spring of 1941, the United States had begun to commit significant resources to supporting China. In April 1941, following the conclusion of the Soviet-Japanese neutrality agreement, which had devastated Chinese morale by suggesting that Japan might attack the Soviet Union rather than move southward, the Roosevelt administration had determined to provide $45 million worth of militarily useful commodities to China as an immediate gesture of support. Then, on May 6, 1941, President Roosevelt had made a more formal commitment by announcing that the munitions provisions of the Lend-Lease Act applied to China, declaring a phrase that captured the strategic logic of American assistance: "defending China is the key to defending America." This declaration represented a significant shift in American policy, elevating China from a regional concern to a central element of American grand strategy in Asia. Subsequently, in July 1941, Roosevelt had sent Owen Lattimore to China to serve as political adviser to the Chinese government, a position that signaled deepening American engagement with Chinese affairs. In August, the administration appointed John Magruder as military attaché and head of the American Military Mission to China (AMMISCA), with the primary responsibility of overseeing the delivery of Lend-Lease material to the Chinese armed forces. On the diplomatic front, Chiang moved with remarkable alacrity. He had already severed relations with Germany on July 2, 1941, the very day after Hitler had formally recognized the Wang Jingwei puppet government in an attempt to appease Japan and encourage it to finally implement the Southern Advance. Now, on December 8, 1941, just one day after the Pearl Harbor attack, Chiang took the decisive step of formally declaring war against the Axis powers, Germany, Italy, and Japan. This declaration transformed China's position from a beleaguered nation fighting a war of survival into a formal member of the Allied coalition. Chiang had seized the opportunity that Pearl Harbor presented to ally China with a genuinely strong power against Japan, a gambit that fundamentally altered the diplomatic weight and international legitimacy of both the Chinese government and the Chinese cause. From a strategic perspective, the Japanese had committed what Chiang and others immediately recognized as a catastrophic blunder. On the operational level, Pearl Harbor was indeed a devastating tactical success, the American Pacific Fleet was crippled, and Japanese forces now enjoyed temporary naval superiority throughout much of the Pacific and Southeast Asia. Yet strategically, Pearl Harbor represented a failure of epic proportions, a miscalculation rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of the intangibles of warfare: what motivated the Chinese people and what motivated the Americans. The Chinese had understood, through four years of brutal conflict, that warfare was about more than territorial conquest and resource acquisition. It was about will, about endurance, about the capacity to absorb punishment and continue fighting. The Japanese had learned this lesson imperfectly in China, where despite overwhelming military advantages they had been unable to force a decisive conclusion or compel Chinese surrender. The Americans would teach the Japanese this lesson even more emphatically. The attack on American sailors in Hawaii instantly galvanized the American population to prosecute an unlimited war, with Tokyo itself as the ultimate destination of American counterattack. While Americans would remember the "date that will live in infamy" primarily because of the assault on Pearl Harbor itself, the strategic consequence was that Japanese actions in Hawaii had introduced numerous new adversaries into the Pacific conflict: not only the United States, but also Britain, Australia, New Zealand, and the Netherlands. These additions transformed what had been, from the Japanese perspective, a regional conflict with manageable parameters into a global war that Japan could not possibly win through any conceivable means. What made this particularly disastrous for Japan was the context in which the new theater had been opened. Japan was already deeply mired in a quagmire in China—a "malignant quagmire," as one observer would later characterize it, that had consumed vast resources, inflicted enormous casualties, and failed to produce decisive victory. In military strategy, it is sometimes wise to open a new theater in order to attack an enemy from an additional and unexpected direction, thereby dispersing their forces and creating new challenges for them to manage. But opening a new theater that introduces an entirely new, powerful adversary, and doing so when one is already overextended in an existing theater is a prescription for strategic catastrophe. This was precisely what Japan had done at Pearl Harbor. Chiang Kai-shek understood the magnitude of Japan's miscalculation with crystalline clarity. He understood that whatever the military complexities that lay ahead, whatever the challenges of coordinating with Western allies, and whatever the limitations of Western military assistance to China might be, the fundamental equation had changed. The United States would ultimately defeat Japan. The Chinese did not need to defeat Japan by themselves; they merely needed to survive long enough for American industrial and military capacity to grind the Japanese military into defeat. In the immediate aftermath of Pearl Harbor, Chinese and American officials moved swiftly to formalize the alliance and establish the mechanisms of wartime cooperation. Roosevelt asked Chiang Kai-shek to serve as commander in chief of the Allied forces in the China theater, a designation that recognized China's central role in the Pacific War and elevated Chiang's international standing to something he had long sought: a position as an equal partner in the Allied coalition, a seat at the "top table of global decision-making" alongside Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin. To support this expanded role and to ensure effective coordination of the military effort, Roosevelt dispatched Lieutenant General Joseph W. Stilwell to China. Stilwell was not chosen randomly; he brought fifteen years of experience in China, a deep familiarity with the country, its military, and its complexities that few American officers possessed. Stilwell was appointed to serve simultaneously as the U.S. government's military representative in China, as chief of staff of the China Theater, and as commander in chief of the American forces in the China-Burma-India (CBI) theater. This appointment established the framework for joint Chinese-American military cooperation and represented an American commitment to the Asian theater that, while never receiving the resources devoted to the European theater, nonetheless signified recognition of China's strategic importance. Trust me, going forward we will be having a lot of time dedicated to the hilarious bromance / bro hatred of Vinegar Joe and Peanut.  Yet the formation of an alliance and the establishment of command structures was easier than the practical implementation of military cooperation. The fundamental challenge that would plague Chinese-American relations throughout the war emerged almost immediately: the problem of delivering military assistance to China. Before Pearl Harbor, the United States and China had reached agreement on three major points regarding military assistance. First, the United States would provide training and technical support to assist China in establishing a modern air force. Second, the United States would provide training and equipment for a ground army consisting of thirty divisions. Third, the United States would assist China in constructing railways and highways from Yunnan to Burma, along with the provision of rolling stock and vehicles to support these new transportation routes. These were ambitious plans, reflecting the extent of Chinese need and American willingness to support the Chinese war effort. However, the outbreak of the Pacific War threw American plans into disarray. The fundamental strategic doctrine guiding American policy was the "Europe first" strategy, which meant that the European theater and the defeat of Nazi Germany received priority over the Pacific theater. Additionally, China's geography made it extraordinarily difficult to supply. China could only be reached through supply lines of extraordinary length and complexity, either through the port of Rangoon in Burma and then overland via the treacherous Yunnan-Burma Road, or through the port of Hong Kong, which immediately fell into Japanese hands after Pearl Harbor. The first Sino-American loan agreement had specified that the United States would deliver commodities worth $45 million to China in 1941. However, shipping shortages meant that only $26 million worth of commodities actually left the United States. These commodities were shipped to the transit port of Rangoon, where a massive traffic jam developed as supplies accumulated faster than they could be distributed onward to China. Along the Yunnan-Burma Road, that "much-contested life line" as it came to be known, conditions were chaotic. The road had always been a source of trouble: it was long, extraordinarily difficult to keep in repair, fantastically dangerous to travel, and too narrow to permit much volume of traffic at any one time. Due to mismanagement and pilfering, the commodities that were shipped out of Burma suffered heavy losses in transit, and only one-third of them eventually arrived in Chongqing. Yet the United States had already established one valuable asset in China that could be deployed relatively quickly: an air force nucleus. Just before Pearl Harbor, a group of American aviators had been formally organized in Chongqing who worked on volunteer status for China under the command of Colonel Claire Chennault, an American aviation officer who served as instructor at the Chinese Air Force Cadet School. Some of these men had been flying in China since the Kuomintang first began purchasing American aircraft, having come to demonstrate the aircraft and remaining to pilot and teach. Others had hurried to China after being released from their volunteer service in Spain, where they had gained combat experience during the Spanish Civil War. It was a familiar joke that pilots from both sides of the Spanish conflict were likely to meet and work side by side in China, but political convictions proved immaterial to these professional aviators, they got on well enough with each other, mercenaries of the twentieth century united by their expertise and their willingness to fight. When American traffic on the Burma Road swelled in volume and became chaotic, with cargo lost to pilfering and trucks breaking down from mishandling, the air freight service into Chongqing became increasingly vital to maintaining Chinese military capabilities. The backbone of this organization was American, and it had been in operation for months before the Japanese attack. Halfway down the Burma Road, over the border in Burma, was a plane factory backed by American and Chinese capital, providing some degree of repair and maintenance capacity for the aircraft operating out of China. Recognizing the strategic value of these experienced aviators and the need to formalize and expand their operations, American and Chinese officials moved quickly to incorporate this volunteer group, formally known as the American Volunteer Group or "Flying Tigers," into the U.S. Army Air Force. This transformation of volunteer aviators into official American military personnel represented a commitment to providing air support to Chinese operations, recognizing that air power could compensate to some degree for Chinese numerical disadvantages in ground combat. In Chongqing, it was clear that among the United Nations fighting Japan, America was the only one taking China seriously, the only one prepared to invest significant resources in Chinese military capabilities and the Chinese war effort. Yet Pearl Harbor brought consequences that extended far beyond the strategic and diplomatic spheres. For Western civilians living in China,missionaries, teachers, doctors, businessmen, and journalists, the attack represented a catastrophic change in their status and their fate. Until December 8, 1941, Westerners residing in China had maintained a curious protected status as foreign neutrals, even in areas nominally controlled by the Japanese. This status had provided them with a measure of distance from, and protection against, the grinding reality of the war that had devastated Chinese populations. For a century, Americans had been part of an imperial presence in China, sometimes benevolent, sometimes violent, but always ultimately under Western control. That world came to an abrupt end on December 8, 1941. All across eastern China, Americans and Britons were rounded up and interned. The International Settlement of Shanghai—that remarkable oasis of neutrality that had persisted in the midst of a war-torn city—was now reunified under Japanese control. Thousands of foreigners with Allied nationality were sent to holding camps scattered throughout occupied China. Some, like the eleven-year-old British boy Jim Ballard, would remain imprisoned for the remainder of the war, enduring hunger, cold, and disease in camps like Longhua, which housed approximately 2,000 detainees. Forty years later, as the novelist J. G. Ballard, he would memorialized this experience in his semi-autobiographical novel Empire of the Sun. For missionaries like Velva Brown, the evacuation process was degrading and final. The missionary staff were permitted to pack no more than three suitcases with their belongings. As they prepared to leave, Japanese and Taiwanese "sightseeing" parties arrived to decide which houses they might want to occupy. The journey home aboard crowded Japanese ships offered no concessions to status or dignity; ambassadors, consuls, merchants, and missionaries alike were given "bed-sized strips of Chinese matting which we spread side by side on the iron floor of the hold," as Brown recorded. The humiliation was compounded by the finality of it all. For many, their decades-long presence in China was ending not in orderly retreat but in hasty evacuation, leaving behind "servants, many of whom had been with us for fifteen or twenty years." Despite these immediate human tragedies, the strategic transformation that Pearl Harbor wrought for China was undeniable. Chiang Kai-shek now embarked on an entirely new sort of life, heavily involved with the leaders and generals of the Western powers. He held diplomatic discussions with the leaders of the United Nations and military planning sessions with Western generals. In these unfamiliar circumstances, he did his best to live up to the Confucian ideal of the gentleman, seldom permitting the mask to slip—though the pressure of these new responsibilities and the intoxicating combination of vindication and anxiety would occasionally prove too much even for his considerable self-control. Within weeks of Pearl Harbor, Chiang demonstrated the value he could bring to the new alliance. He visited India and spoke with the leaders of the Indian independence struggle as an ally and friend, as a fellow non-European speaking to others seeking to escape from colonialism and imperial domination. He joined the Allies in their first joint campaign, not in China but in the jungles of neighboring Burma, committing Chinese forces to operations outside China's borders in support of the broader Allied military strategy. Yet the price that Chiang would pay for China's belated entry into the global alliance against the Axis powers would prove to be a heavy one. Chiang desperately needed his new American and British partners, but accepting this alliance would unleash forces within Chinese society that would threaten the very basis of his political control. The complexities of this bargain would become most visible in the four-year struggle between Chiang and General Joseph Warren Stilwell, the American officer who would become simultaneously his chief of staff and the administrator of American military assistance to China. This relationship, shaped by mutual suspicion, different strategic visions, and incompatible political agendas, would define Chinese-American military cooperation during the Pacific War and would have profound implications extending far beyond the battlefields of Asia. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. Pearl Harbor's shock reverberated through Asia. Japan's assault on Hawaii, combined with invasions of Burma, the Philippines, Guam, and Wake Island, inadvertently transformed regional conflict into global war. Chiang Kai-shek, vindicated after four years of isolation fighting Japan, embraced American alliance with profound relief. The U.S. committed military aid, appointed General Stilwell as chief of staff, and recognized China as a co-belligerent. For Chiang, this partnership brought diplomatic status but also internal tensions that would define the Pacific War's final chapter.

This is a special episode talking about the newest UNESCO World Heritage cultural site: The Asuka and Fujiwara Ancient Capitals. This is particularly relevant as it is directly related to the history we are currently examining in this podcast. For more information, check out the blogpost at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-unesco  Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is a special episode on Japan's newest UNESCO world heritage site: the Ancient Capitals of Asuka and Fujiwara. Rarely do I focus too much on current events in this podcast.  After all, we are still dealing with the events of the 7th century, and that is hardly "current" in any sense.  However, just last month, at the end of July 2026, the UNESCO World Heritage Convention met and made a ruling on inducting the Ancient Capitals of Asuka and Fujiwara as one of the newest World Heritage sites. Given the obvious relevance of this to this podcast, I thought it was worth talking about. As such we'll go into a little history of the UNESCO world heritage convention, what it means, and how sites get added—or even removed—from the list.  And then we'll talk about the addition of the Ancient Capitals of Asuka and Fujiwara, what is included in that description, and what part those various locations play in the story of Japan's history, which we've been laying out for the past several years.  Warning up front:  This is probably going to be a longer episode than usual, as there is a lot to cover, but it still didn't seem to make sense to break it up into two parts. Before we get into the background of UNESCO more generally, let's talk briefly about the news.  The Ancient Capitals of Asuka and Fuijwara had been on UNESCO's tentative list since 2007, and following an on-site evaluation in September of 2025, the International Council on Monuments and Sites, or ICOMOS, made a recommendation in June 2026 that the property be inscribed on the World Heritage list. On 26 July, 2026, the UNESCO World Heritage Committee met in Busan, South Korea and accepted the recommendation.  This becomes Japan's 22nd cultural World Heritage site, and the 27th World Heritage property in Japan, since the World Heritage program is also inclusive of natural heritage sites, such as Yakushima, Amami-Ohoshima, the Ogasawara islands, and the mountainous regions of Shirakami-Sanchi, and Shiretoko, in Hokkaido. The recommendation for Asuka and Fujiwara was not just for a single site, but includes 19 individual sites and over 1,100 hectares of "buffer zone".  The individual sites are listed on the UNSECO World Heritage website as follows: •             Asuka Palace Site •             Asuka Pond Garden Site •             Asuka Water Clock Site •             Sakafuneishi Ritual Site •             Asuka-dera Temple Site •             Tachibana-dera Temple Site •             Yamada-dera Temple Site •             Kawara-dera Temple Site •             Hinokuma-dera Temple Site •             Ishibutai Mounded Tomb •             Shobuike Mounded Tomb •             Kengoshizuka Mounded Tomb •             Fujiwara Palace Site •             Daikandaiji Temple Site •             Motoyakushiji Temple Site •             Mounded Tomb of Emperor Temmu and Empress Jito •             Nakaoyama Mounded Tomb •             Kitora Mounded Tomb •             Takamatsuzuka Mounded Tomb So these are the specific locations, that were included in the single designation.   And these are how they are officially listed on the UNESCO World Heritage site in English, so for anyone who is going to comment that saying Asuka-dera Temple is redundant, because "Tera" already means "Temple", let's just not, shall we?  They are all in the Asuka and Kashihara area, and easily accessible, one from the other, so you can go and visit them if you would like.  I suspect that there is going to be a bit of push for that area in the coming tourist season as they now put up official UNESCO world heritage site markers.  And you may have noticed that a lot of these site names may sound very familiar, because the majority of them are places we've already mentioned on the podcast – but more on that later. But first, what does it mean to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site? UNESCO is the "United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization".  It was founded in 1945, with the stand-up of the UN itself, as a successor to the League of Nations' International Committee on Intellectual Cooperation.  That said, the idea of a "World Heritage Site" didn't come about until 1975, with the Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage, with the first sites being designated in 1978. Prior to this, UNESCO had been involved in various attempts to help preserve various monuments of historical significance.  They begin working with various museums and other organizations, and in 1965 UNESCO created ICOMOS, an international professional association to work towards the conservation and protection of cultural heritage.  A site designated as a World Heritage Site must be considered to be of "outstanding universal value" and can fall under one of two categories.  The first, and perhaps the one that most often comes to mind, are the cultural sites.  The second are natural sites considered of outstanding value.   With the 1975 convention, UNESCO had leaned heavily on ICOMOS as an advisory body regarding sites of particular cultural significance.  A similar body, the World Conservation Union, provides input on sites of natural significance. To be determined a World Heritage site, there is a set of ten criteria, and a site must meet at least one of the ten.  This means that a site must: i.            Represent a masterpiece of human creative genius ii.           Exhibit an important interchange of human values iii.          Bear a unique or at least exceptional testimony to a cultural tradition or to a civilization iv.           Illustrate a significant stage in human history v.            Be an outstanding example of a traditional human settlement, land-use, or sea-use vi.          Be directly or tangibly associated with events or living traditions, with ideas, or with beliefs, with artistic and literary works of outstanding universal significance; or it must vii.         Contain superlative natural phenomena viii.        Be an outstanding example representing major stages of earth's history ix.          Be an outstanding example representing significant on-going ecological and biological processes in the evolution and development of ecosystems and communities of plants and animals; or it must x.           Contain the most important and significant natural habitats for conservation of biological diversity. I abbreviated that list, but it gives you an idea of what the committee is looking for. To be placed on the list, a site must first be nominated.  Nominations are made by UN member countries and placed on a Tentative List.  From there, they can be selected into a Nomination File, which is then evaluated by the advisory organizations as appropriate.  The World Heritage committee meets once a year, at which time they may determine whether a nominated site will be added to the World Heritage list or if more information is needed. Having a site listed as an UNESCO world heritage site carries prestige and can drive tourism and revenue to help protect the site.  Members can request financial assistance with some conservation projects, and signatory nations are expected to contribute to the conservation of world heritage sites.  At the same time, the host country is expected to provide regular reports on the conditions of the site and efforts being undertaken to conserve it.  Should the situation change so that key aspects of the site's intrinsic value are lost, the World Heritage Committee may choose to revoke a designation.  This has only been done a few times, but it is always a possibility. All of this means that the Asuka and Fujiwara capital sites are now eligible for certain types of financial assistance and international aid to help further preserve and even restore certain aspects, such as the tomb murals in the Takamatsuzuka and Kitora kofun.  But let's talk about the sites that have actually been included, and to do that, we'll go through in roughly chronological order, based on the timeline that was given by Japan in the nomination documents, and what makes the most sense for narrative cohesion.   That said, it is important to note that the dates on the timeline in the UNESCO nominating document are where we first see mentions of the monuments, not necessarily when the temples were first constructed or anything like that.  If you want to learn more, check out the documentation submitted on the UNESCO world heritage website. And speaking of learning more, many of the sites we are about to discuss we have covered in previous episodes—though some more than others.  We'll call out relevant episodes as we can, but you can also find out more by searching on our website, sengokudaimyo.com, for more information about any of these topics. Let's start with Asukadera, or Asuka Temple.  The nominating document notes that it was completed in 596, though it had been started quite a bit earlier.  We discussed Askua-dera and many of the other temples back in episode 142, though Asuka-dera itself has been a part of the story since at least Episode 92, with the rise of Soga no Umako.  Asuka-dera, as you may recall, started off as a private temple for the Soga family, though they were so intertwined with the royal family that it almost didn't make a difference.  For the longest time it was the primary temple site at least in the Asuka region, and defined what Buddhism looked like early on.  Later it would be included as one of the Four Great Temples, and it would eventually move to Nara, though a temple would continue to operate on the site until the modern day.  That said, through fires and reduced patronage, the current temple is much reduced from its former glory.  Still, archeologies have found indications at the site demonstrating the true extent of the temple at the height of its power and influence, and how it truly played a key role in numerous events surrounding the building of a continental style state government. Speaking of the Soga family, the next site on the list, dated to 626, is Ishibutai kofun.  Ishibutai kofun was originally a square kofun, or Houfun, thought to be the resting place of Soga no Umako, the Grand Minister and head of the Soga family who led it to prominence in the age of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno.  We talked about his passing in episode 103.  Excavations have suggested that the tomb took up an area about 85 meters to a side.  This included an outer moat and an inner, platform, about 50 meters square.  The burial chamber is a horizontal stone chamber created with impressive megaliths—a fancy word that just means "big stones".  In this case we are talking about stones that rival or even dwarf those at monuments like the famous Stonehenge, in England.  The stones are part of what give it its name, Ishibutai, or Stone Stage, because unlike in other kofun, these ones are exposed.  There is a theory that after the fall of the Soga family, and the deaths of Soga no Iruka and Soga no Emishi, the tomb was deliberately uncovered as a form of posthumous punishment. Because it is not a tomb under the care of the Imperial Household Agency, Ishibutai kofun has seen extensive excavation from 1933 to 1975.  That said, most of the funerary goods were likely stolen a long time ago.  There were some various bits and pieces found here and there—gilt and bronze implements and earthenware shards, but otherwise nothing truly significant.  They did find evidence of other tombs, nearby.  Perhaps ironically it seems that these other tombs were leveled to make room for Ishibutai kofun, making its own uncovering feel somewhat karmic, in a way. The next site, if we were to follow the timeline, is the Asuka Palace site.  This actually encompasses the site of at least four different palaces, which we discussed back in episode 134, with a blogpost showing the various palace remains, if you want to compare them.  In 630 we have the construction of the Okamoto Palace of Kashikiya Hime.  Then, in 643, we have the Itabuki Palace built for Takara Hime during her first reign as Kogyoku Tenno.  This was the location of the famous Isshi Incident, when Takara Hime's son, Naka no Oe, instituted the coup against Soga no Iruka and his father, killing Iruka in court in front of his mother.  For more on that, check out episode 106.  It was later used when she and Naka no Oe left the Toyosaki Naniwa Palace and returned to Asuka.  It may be during the time of the Itabuki Palace that another one of the monuments was built.  This is the Shobuike Kofun.  The nomination document doesn't give a precise date for this one, and we really only know for certain that it was built in the 7th century, but they place it on the timeline shortly after the events of 643.  Like Ishibutai kofun, it is a hofun, or square kofun, surrounded by a moat with a horizontal burial chamber.  At only 30 meters long, it is not as large or as prominent as Ishibutai Kofun, possibly indicating that the occupants were not as prominent or that kofun building as a whole was falling out of fashion.  Inside, there were two stone coffins, in the "house shape", meaning the lid had a peaked roof appearance.  In addition, the interior of the coffins was lacquered, making these unique in the archipelago.  Finally, perhaps as is the case with Ishibutai kofun, the mound appears to have been deliberately dismantled at some point in the early 8th century, when Fujiwara-kyo was still the capital. We do not know who was buried at Shobuike Kofun, but there are two theories.  One theory proposes that, given the unique features, it may have been a member of the royal family.  Another theory suggests that it may be a tomb for members of the Soga family.  This theory is connected to the idea that Ishibutai is the tomb of Soga no Umako.  Given its shape and similarities, perhaps this tomb is for a relative?  In addition, though not part of the World Heritage Site nomination, there is a nearby square kofun known as Koyamada Kofun.  There is a theory that this other tomb might also have been a royal tomb—perhaps even a first burial for Tamura no Ohokimi, aka Jomei Tenno.  However, there is another theory that these two tombs, together, make up the tombs of Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka.  That would explain them both being of similar shapes, and similar to the kofun thought to be that of Soga no Umako.  It could also explain why Shobuike kofun was later destroyed, like with Ishibutai Kofun. Shortly after Shobuike Kofun was thought to have been built, the court moved to Naniwa for a time, before eventually returning to the Itabuki Palace.  Then, in 656, we have the Nochi-no-Okamoto Palace, aka the Later Okamoto Palace, built after the Itabuki palace burned down.  It was repurposed by Ohoama when he brought the court back from Ohotsu, and then expanded with the Ebinoko Enclosure, among other changes, turning it into the Kiyomihara palace, where Ohoama and then Uno no Sarara ruled until the completion of the Fujiwara Palace around 694. Around the same time as the Later Okamoto Palace was the construction of the Sakafuneishi Ritual Site.  This site is located on a hill on the east side of the Asuka valley, overlooking the Asuka palace site.  There they have found stone walls, a strange carved stone with channels for what appears to be water or liquid for some kind of ritual purpose, and, towards the bottom of the hill, a stone turtle basin and water spout that appears to have once been connected to a spring.  Of all of the included sites, this is perhaps the most enigmatic in terms of how it was used and what was going on there.  It is likely that this is what is referred to in the Chronicle as the Tou no Mine site, where it is said that they built an enclosure encircling two tsuki trees, calling the site the Futatsuki Palace.  That said, today the name "tou-no-mine" is applied to a peak some distance further up the valley and into the mountains, and I do not believe that any concrete evidence of a "palace" has been found at either location.  Still, it demonstrates that there was something going on that was important enough to build walls and create intricate stone carvings—not something we necessarily find everywhere, though they are particularly prolific in the Asuka region once you consider all the various stone carvings that have been located there.  Current thinking seems to suggest that it was a site where sovereigns from Kashikiya Hime through Uno no Sarara conducted rites associated with ascension to the throne.  The walls show evidence of being built earlier in the 7th century, which we discussed in Episode 118, and then damaged during the incredibly powerful Nankai earthquake during the Hakuho era.  We talked about this earthquake back in episode 139, along with other natural disasters.  This was an earthquake of immense power, known as a Nankai Megathrust Earthquake, that caused destruction across the archipelago, from Shikoku up through the Kanto region.  Walls show evidence of being repaired in Temmu's time and the site appears to have been in use up through the 9th century.  This means it was still being used in some capacity even after the court had moved up to Heian-kyo, in modern Kyoto, but who knows by whom. By the way, I feel like I should address something here.  Often times there is a bit of an archaeological joke that if you don't know what something is it gets termed a "ritual site" or a "ritual implement".  And, granted, "ritual" does not necessarily mean "religious".  Brushing your teeth each day could be considered a ritual.  So is the inauguration of a new president or prime minister.  It just refers to something that we do regularly, usually as part of a societal tradition.  Often it is symbolic, though sometimes it can have a greater function.  So in all likelihood whatever was happening at the Sakafuneishi site probably was a kind of "ritual", whether it was religious or not, but we just don't have enough info to know what that might have looked like.  The physical evidence does not conform to any other well known practice, so we are left guessing. Compare this to another "ritual" site, the next on our list:  The Mizuochi site.  When it was first discovered in 1972, it was clear that it was important.  There was a large building foundation, in the shape of a square podium, faced with paving stones.  It was also near to Asukadera and the location where various stone figures had been found at the turn of the century.  It would take several more years to discern enough features to come to the realization of what it was for.  This was due to the discovery of highly unusual features and artifacts. For instance, there is the central building, designated SB200.  It had pillars set on base stones, forming a grid pattern in a square—four spans long on each side.  This is unusual compared to other buildings on the site, which had more conventional pillars embedded in the ground.  Each span of the pillars at SB200 was a uniform distance.  The podium on which the building was placed was just under 11 meters on each side, and a little more than a meter in height.  The pillar bases were further strengthened under the floor level, meaning that the resulting structure would have been remarkably sturdy.  In the center of the building was a stone platform, set about a meter below the surface, where they found the remains of a large and small lacquered wooden boxes.  Around the platform were buried wooden culverts and copper pipes, which would have been able to carry water to and from the site. There was nothing else like this discovered anywhere else, but given the nature of everything, it seemed to make sense that this was the site of the clepsydra, the water clock, which Naka no Oe is said to have built.  Pottery shards from around the 650s and 660s seem to back up this identification, and simulations have demonstrated how the water clock may have actually worked.  As such, the site seems to have been fairly well identified, which is really remarkable, and provides an incredible link to that era.  Not only that, but the technology demonstrated was incredibly advanced for its time.  As such, it truly is a remarkable site.  For more, check out Episode 127, where we talked more in depth about the importance of time and direction in Ancient Yamato. The next site on the list is the Kengoshizuka Kofun.  This mounded tomb is said to have been built around 667 CE—around the time that Yamato was supporting Baekje in a failed attempt to stave off that country's destruction at the hands of the Silla-Tang alliance.  This is an octagonal shaped kofun—a shape which is thought to have only been used by members of the royal family.  The academic position is that this is the tomb of Takara Hime—aka Saimei Tennou—who had died just as Yamato was starting to send troops to the Korean peninsula.  This theory is at odds with the Imperial Household Agency, which has designated a different tomb—Kurumaki-Kenno Kofun—as Saimei Tennou's mausoleum The story as it is recounted in the Nihon Shoki goes something like this.  As Yamato was gathering forces to defend Baekje—see episodes 123 and 124 for what happened—Takara Hime passed away at the temporary court set up in Asakura, in modern Kyushu.   With Yamato just about to launch a military campaign, they couldn't also hold a royal funeral, so they had her body taken back to the Nara basin..  Takara Hime's remains were temporarily interred at the plain of the Asuka River—Asuka-gawara.  It wouldn't be until after the conflict was over—a little more than 5 years later—that she would be buried.  At that time, we are told that she was buried together with Royal Princess Hashibito, her sister-in-law, at Wochi Hill—little market hill—and that the royal granddaughter, Princess Ohota, was buried in front.  And indeed, the layout of Kengoshizuka Kofun  has space for two coffins, and the archeologists found evidence of another burial in "front" of the kofun.  So in all ways this  seems to accord with the Chronicles, though the Imperial Household Agency has not chosen to change its designation.  I suspect that if they did it might cause some issues due to the limits of what archaeologists are allowed to do with tombs designated as royal mausoleums. Kengoshizuka Kofun has been remarkably reconstructed, so that you can go and see what it probably looked like when it was first built.  Since it was not designated as an imperial mausoleum by the Imperial Household Agency, archaeologists were able to excavate Kengoshizuka, and they found some remarkable finds, including a particularly spectacular coffin fitting made of cloisonne hexagonal plates with images of flowers that were connected to each other.  There also appears to have been a coffin made with lacquered linen, rather than the stone or tuff coffins found elsewhere.  So that's Kengoshizuka Kofun.  That's #7 on our list.  Moving on to #8, on the timeline at 673, it is Kawara-dera, and I'm going to lump this in with Tachibana-dera, which is noted on the timeline at 680.  In fact, the nominating document proposes a much earlier timeline for the start of Tachibana-dera, starting in the 640s, with Kawara-dera in the 660s, about two decades later. These two temples sit across from one another, and at one time they appear to have been coupled together as a monastery and a nunnery.  In fact, the nominating documents call out Tachibana-dera as Japan's oldest nunnery. The actual founding of these two temples is somewhat in dispute.  Let me start with Tachibana-dera.  Tachibana-dera claims to have been founded by none other than the legendary Shotoku Taishi.  It is said that the land of Tachibana-dera was the area of the palace where Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, was born, and that in 606 he had the property turned into a temple.  As such, it claims to be one of seven major temples built by the Prince.  However, we don't have any actual documentation for the temple until it shows up in 680, due to the report of a fire.  We do see it in numerous poems in the Man'yoshu, which is one of the ways we can also tell that it was a nunnery. More information can be gleaned from the archaeological excavations at the site.  The original temple was clearly built on the same Baekje designs as others of that period.  In an interesting twist, it appears as though the temple was not oriented north to south, as others were, but rather it was oriented west to east.  This would have had it facing the royal palace, initially, in a configuration very similar to that of Shitennoji, in Osaka, or Yamadadera, which is also one of the sites included in UNESCO World Heritage designation. The original temple had a middle gate, a pagoda, a main hall—or kondo—and a lecture hall (Koudou).  It was surrounded by a walled corridor.  Some of the roof tiles that have been found appear to be from the first quarter of the 7th century, but there are many more from the mid-7th century, suggesting that full-scale construction wasn't carried out until that period.  None of the original buildings appear to have survived, though there is an Asuka era stone statue, as well as various important cultural properties that have been preserved, and excavations have given us an idea of what it looked like, originally. Compare that to Kawara-dera, which sits to the north of Tachibana-dera.  We've talked about Kawara-dera before, as it was eventually designated one of the four national temples.  It was clearly built at a later date than Tachibana-dera, though when, exactly, is still unclear. There is mention of a Kawara-dera in an entry for 653, but even then, the Chronicles note that may have actually been at Yamada-dera, on the other side of Asuka, indicating that even the Chroniclers weren't entirely sure.  That leaves the first clean mention of the temple at 673, in the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno.  There is a note, prior to this, in about 656, which talks about "Kawara no Miya", or the Kawara Palace. This is where Takara Hime briefly moved after the fires damaged the Itabuki Palace, which was rebuilt into the Later Okamoto Palace.  It is thought that Kawara-dera is on the site of that temporary palace, and it is possible that the building of that palace lent something to the eventual creation of Kawara-dera. Kawara-dera has a unique layout, known specifically as the Kawara-dera style temple layout.  Although the overall temple is built on a north-south axis, the west main hall faces east, towards the pagoda, in the southern courtyard.  There was then a central main hall, and then the northern courtyard, with the koudou, or lecture hall, facing south.  There is also evidence that the east gate was sizeable—possibly larger than the south gate.  If so, it may be that this temple, like Tachibana-dera, was also facing east—facing the palace—but it was, at the same time, also on the same north-south access as other buildings and facilities.  This almost seems like they were perhaps compromising between facing the palace and utilizing the continental idea of a north-south alignment.  I almost wonder if the pagoda and western kondou weren't first built and then someone decided to change the orientation mid-way through the building process.  Either way, it is definitely unique. Although Kawara-dera was designated as one of the four national temples, it is the only temple that was not eventually moved up to Heijo-kyo, or Nara, when the capital eventually moved up there.  There are numerous theories as to why, but regardless of that, it stayed in Asuka and was no longer considered a national temple.  Over time it declined, and repairs could not be maintained across the entire complex.  Today, a successor temple, Gufuku-ji, sits on the site, but it is much reduced.  Fortunately, you can still see many of the exposed footings and get an idea for just what this temple was like back in its heyday. Now since we've mentioned it, it is probably worth talking about Yamada-dera, which is also on the list.  Like the others, there is a small successor temple to the north, but most of the ancient Yamada-dera grounds are visible, and if you go out there you can clearly see where all the buildings were.  There are signs and raised platforms depicting where the various buildings were at, so you can easily see what was there.  Furthermore, if you check out the Asuka Historical Museum, they have a remarkably well-preserved section of one of the walls of the gallery from the temple, including some roof elements.  It appears to have fallen down during a fire, and other material must have fallen on top of it so that the fire could not consume that section, leaving it in incredible shape. Yamada-dera is part of the Hosso sect—that is the sect following the teachings of the monk Xuanzang.  We talked about Xuanzang, and the monks who studied with him, back in episodes 120 to 122.  It is said to have been founded by Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro.  He was a relative of Soga no Emishi who supported Prince Naka no Oe in his coup in 645.  Soga no Kurayamada eventually became Udaijin, or Minister of the Right, and he was essential in implementing the Taika reforms.  Long story short, he was slandered, and fled to Yamada-dera, which was still under construction.  Rather than being taken by government forces, he took his own life, as well as that of his wife and eight children.  You can listen to the whole story back in Episode 112.  All of that is said to have happened here at that temple, in the year 649.  Perhaps because of the stain of that incident, the temple construction appears to have been halted for a time.  It wouldn't be completed until 685, when Ohoama and his wife, Uno no Sarara, a direct descendant of Soga no Kurayamada, were on the throne. Finally, there is one more temple from this early period that is mentioned, and that is Hinokuma-dera.  Of all of the temples so far, this one we probably have mentioned the least in the main podcast.  Hinokuma-dera is located to the southwest of the main Asuka valley, south of the famous Takamatsuzuka kofun.  It is first mentioned in a record dated to 686.  That indicates it must have been built some time prior, and archaeological excavations seem to place it at the second half of the 7th century, with the pagoda and main hall being completed in the late 7th century.   The temple continued to be maintained through the 8th century, but declined after the Heian period when the pagoda and lecture hall collapsed.  In the early 20th century a local Shinto shrine was relocated here, and remains, today. Hinokuma-dera was built as a private temple by the Yamato no Aya.  The Yamato no Aya are an intriguing group of people.  The name "Aya" implies a group that was originally employed as weavers, a technology brought over from the continent.  Indeed, they are said to have been largely immigrants who came and brought the technology with them.  The Aya were broken into different groups, with the Yamato no Aya being one of the more powerful.  The name appears again and again in the Chronicles, though in the time of Ohoama they were put on notice as a clan.  We aren't told what they did, exactly.  They seem to have made their way back into the court's good graces over time, however. Hinokuma-dera is interesting in that it is much smaller than the other temples we have discussed, and the form is quite different.  It isn't organized along cardinal directions, but rather with the koudou, or lecture hall, in the northwest and the kondou, or main hall, in the southeast.  The pagoda was between the two, slightly off-center to the northeast, directly across from the main gate, which faced southwest.  This means that you would enter from the southwest into a large, rectangular courtyard.  You could be facing a pagoda near the rear wall, with a lecture hall to your left and the main image hall to your right.  This is compared to Baekje temples that were on the periphery of the Baekje capital, and this may have been in a similar situation.  Based on the surrounding geography, it appears that some of the choices may have been made to conform with local geologic features, such as the ridge that it is on. It is interesting, however, for its uniqueness, especially as a private temple that did not have the resources of the court.  There were probably quite a few of these kinds of temples that we just don't see or hear about in the record.  When the court moved, first up to Heijo-kyo, but later on to Heian-kyo, in modern Kyoto, the head of the Yamato no Aya no doubt moved as well, and that probably led to the temple's decline, over time. Speaking of the court, there is one more part of the Asuka court that we should touch on before we leave the era of the Asuka palace.  At some point, probably related to the Later Okamoto Palace, the court created a pond and garden.  This Asuka Pond Garden site is first mentioned in 685, though it likely existed for some time.  Evidence suggests that it was built around the same time as the later Okamoto Palace, so sometime around 656, and based on excavations, we know that there was a south and north pond, divided by a middle bank.  Water flowed from the south pond to the north pond through a wooden pipe in that middle bank.  The south pond had a pentagonal shape, about 65 meters long, east to west, and 55 meters wide, north to south.  It was only 30 cm at its deepest point, with two islands in the pond itself.  The north pond was 36 meters east to west and 52 meters north to south, and it was up to 4 meters deep.  There was a stone overflow channel that was built for water to flow back into the Asuka river.  There was also a stone fountain, like that found at the Sakafuneishi site, and evidence of buildings and a wall around the site.  There has also been analysis of seed pollen, indicating what kinds of vegetation might have been grown in the garden. This was a lavish area that was purpose-built for entertainments of various kinds.  This is the area that the royal family and various nobles likely adjourned to at the end of the day for relaxation and for various banquets and other such gatherings. Of course, not all the court proceedings were so joyful.  In 686, Ohoama died, and for the next couple of years the court business was taken up with eulogies and memorials.  This is also when they built the next site included in the list: The mounded tomb of Temmu Tennou and, eventually, Jitou Tennou.  The tomb is an octagonal kofun, similar to the Kengoshizuka kofun for Takara Hime.  It is built to the southwest of the Asuka basin, a fair distance from the palace.  However, this positioning also puts it directly south of the site of the new Fujiwara Palace.  As the Fujiwara capital and palace site had already been selected, they would have been able to build this tomb in relation to the future palace, creating a direct north-south link between the two.  It is also along the same ridgeline as the tomb of Kengoshizuka and the tomb attributed to Kinmei Tennou and Princess Kibi no Himemiko. The octagonal tomb was built in five tiers.  It is about 42 meters on a side, built with rammed earth and then covered, originally, with dressed stones, while the surrounding area was paved.  Ohoama was buried in a sealed stone burial chamber in a dry-lacquered linen-made coffin, similar to what was found, again, at Kengoshizuka.  Later, when Uno no Sarara passed away, her urn was added to the tomb. Speaking of that, I cannot believe I didn't mention this in the last episode on Queen Uno no Sarara, but yes, she was cremated.  In fact, she is the first Yamato sovereign to have been cremated in the Buddhist style, rather than to have her body buried intact.  Today, almost cremation is the default in Japan—to the point that it actually has caused some issues with people who, for religious reasons, request a different type of burial.  However, at this point, it was still somewhat new.   Prior to Buddhism, all indications are that bodies were simply buried.  Buddhism brought in the concept of at least four different types of funerary rites.  There is dosou, or earth burial, but there was also suisou, water burial; fuusou, wind—or "air"—burial; and then kasou, fire burial.  Suisou would be committing a body to water, and fuusou generally means leaving the body on a stand, out in the open, to allow the body to decompose while birds, ideally vultures, come and do their work.  Of these, "kasou", fire burial or cremation, is linked to the historical Buddha, whose physical body is said to have been cremated, with the bones and teeth left behind considered holy relics.  That Uno no Sarara requested cremation would seem to indicate her own support of Buddhism and Buddhist institutions. The tomb of Temmu and Jitou has remained largely intact—at least compared to some that we have discussed this episode-- but not inviolate.  Over time, the site was allowed to become overgrown with trees and other vegetation.  In 1235 the tomb was robbed and in 1881 it was officially designated as an Imperial Mausoleum by the Imperial Household Agency, which now manages the site.  You can approach up to a point, but the tomb itself is largely off-limits to the public. Speaking of Uno no Sarara's support of Buddhism, we've already talked about her connections to Yakushi-ji, the next site on our list.  This temple was commissioned by Ohoama when his wife, Uno no Sarara, grew unexpectedly ill in 680.  She did recover, and the temple would eventually be considered one of the four National temples of the Yamato state.  It appears to have been built—possibly shifted slightly—specifically in line with the new avenues being laid out for Fujiwara-kyo, the new capital, and it fits neatly into place, taking up an entire city block.  When the capital moved, the temple was also moved.  The new temple sits up near modern Nara, in the area known as Nishi-no-kyou—the West (side of the) capital.  For the new site, the court may have used some of the materials from the original temple, though there does seem to have been a continued presence at the Fujiwara capital site until the 11th century.  To avoid confusion, the temple in the old Fujiwara capital site is referred to as "Moto-Yakushiji", meaning the Real or Original Yakushi Temple. Yakushiji was commissioned in 680, but work on the temple wasn't completed until 698, four years after the move to the new Fujiwara Palace.  Key features at this time were its size and its double pagodas, rather than just the single pagoda common in earlier temples.  This mimicked temple innovations happening on the continent, and was later adopted by several temples in the new capital of Heijo-kyo. Another national temple from around this time, also included in the nomination letter, is Daikandaiji.  Like Yakushiji, this temple was a grand statement of the Yamato state's ambitions.  Both were large temples that would have stood out, and as national temples they were symbols of state power and authority in matters both secular and spiritual. We discussed all of this in a previous episode, Episode 142, where we covered the four national temples, so I don't want to belabor it too much other than to give a brief overview.  In summary, what we know as Daikandaiji today is very likely the old Kudara Ohodera,  Kudara, in this instance, being spelled with the same kanji as for "Baekje".  Kudara Ohodera was the largest of the Asuka and Fujiwara era temples.  Its pagoda was over 80 meters tall, one of the tallest in Yamato at that time, and the main hall rivaled that of the Daigokuden, the main hall of the Fujiwara palace.   It also appears to have been moved twice.  First it was moved from its original location closer to the Asuka palace.  And then it appears to have been shifted to align with the avenues of the new Fujiwara capital.  The name was also changed.  "Kudara Ohodera" likely referred to the location where the temple was first founded by Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou.  It was then moved to Asuka and took on the name "Takechi Ohodera", given its new location, but then was renamed to Ohotsukasa no Ohodera, the Great Temple of the High Officials, or something like that.  This same name, read with the on'yomi reading, becomes "Daikandaiji". The temple was later moved to Heijo-kyo, where it was renamed to "Daianji", which means something like the Temple of Great Safety or Protection.   There is another story that says that the temple actually originated in the Kumagori dojo created by the legendary Shotoku Taishi, but, like so many such stories, that may have been added later to increase the temple's prestige.  As with so many of these temples, when the move was made to Heijo-kyo, the temple lost its national status, but remained active.  Without the upkeep by the court, it eventually declined, finally disappearing almost entirely.  Remains were rediscovered in the Edo and Meiji period, with major excavations in the 1970s and 80s.  From this, there is evidence of fire, even before construction was completed.  Indeed, there is a record of fire in 711.  The temple was likely under construction for much of the period of the Fujiwara capital's existence. This is probably as good a point as any to talk about the Fujiwara Palace itself.  I would note that the World Heritage site designation only includes the palace site, and not the entire capital city of Fujiwara-kyo.  That is probably for the best, as findings have suggested that the ancient capital was built on a plan far grander that previously thought. Initially, it was believed that the Fujiwara capital was built similar to Heijo-kyo and Heian-kyo, which is to say that it was modeled after the Tang capital of Chang'an.  This model creates a rectangular city with the main palace complex at the far north of the city.  Lower classes are typically housed in the southern regions while upper classes and nobility are provided land in the northern areas of the city.  Part of the reason to believe that the city was laid out like this has to do with the three mountains:  Mt. Unebi, Mt. Miminashi, and Mt. Kagu.  If the palace were located at the northern end of the city, then the city would fit rather nicely in the plains between these three mountains.  However, it appears that the plans for Fujiwara-kyo were much grander, and it appears that the Fujiwara palace sat not at the northern top of the capital, but instead it was in the middle.  This more closely approximates the ideal Confucian model, which created a square city divided into nine districts with the palace in the center.  However, it also means that the city grid is interrupted by the mountains, particularly by Mt. Miminashi, in the north.  To cover all of that land would be untenable, and much of it has been built up or under cultivation for centuries.  Furthermore, it is unclear how built up Fujiwara-kyo ever was.  Imagine trying to just create a city from scratch.  Not only was it about building the temples and the palace, but about all of the other houses, which would have been organized by the individual owners.  One also has to wonder just how many workers there were, and materials, to do all of this.  If much of this was done as traditional wooden buildings, then many of the blocks may not have left any significant remains, though new construction in the area does perform exploratory archaeology just in case.  There are a lot of interesting features that have been found. However, let's focus just on the Fujiwara Palace.  As I've previously pointed out—just back in Episode 152, for example, the Fujiwara Palace was, in many ways, getting back to the type of palace that the Toyosaki Naniwa Palace had tried to be.  This was a massive State complex.  The overall property appears to have been a square, with nine gates—once again, mimicking the geometric perfection suggested in ancient sources.  That wall, which was defined by post-holes in the ground, was also surrounded by a moat.  The south central gate was known as the Suzaku-mon, or Suzaku gate, named for Suzaku, the crimson bird of the south.  This was at the north end of Suzaku Oji, or Suzaku Avenue, the central road of the Fujiwara capital. This road was 24 meters wide, with 4 meter ditches on either side.  The ditches would have carried water throughout the city, while also allowing the city to drain water during large rains.  From the Suzaku gate to the north the palace opened up to the first courtyard, with two building where officials could prepare for the day.  Originally this would have been the place for officials to change into their formal robes, though later they were commanded to show up to work already dressed.  From there, once it opened, they would pass through another gate into the Choudouin, or State Hall.  Here, the 8 bureaus, or ministries, each had a Choudou, or court hall, where they would perform their work.  There were also four other halls for other governmental work. Besides the southern gate, there were gates on the east and west, which led to further government offices to the west and east of the court.  A fourth gate, at the north end of the Choudouin enclosure, would lead to the Daigokuden, the Great Audience Hall.  This was part of a reduced enclosure.  Two buildings have been discovered to the east and west of the enclosure, and north of the enclosure would have led to the private quarters of the sovereign and their family. The government buildings are more obvious than some others—many of the buildings were built in the continental style, meaning with stone footings, leaving a lot of evidence of their existence.  Meanwhile, the buildings of the sovereign's private residence were likely still in the indigenous style—plain wood with posts sunk directly into the ground, and thatched roof.  That would all leave a lot fewer traces, not to say that they haven't ever found anything. Today, the Fujiwara Palace site is a large open area where many of the features that have been found are indicated with modern crimson colored pillars, demonstrating where the various pillars were found.  At the same time, any above-ground reconstructions would have be conjectural, as we don't have enough remaining to know exactly what the palace looked like beyond the pillar locations. This palace and the city was ambitious.  It was huge and clearly meant as a permanent capital.  The fact that it was only occupied until about 710, when the capital moved north, to Heijou-kyou, is something we'll talk about in a later episode.  But still, it was absolutely an incredible move.  Think of how much labor this took and what kind of costs were involved?  This was truly a flex of the state's ability to mobilize labor to be able to do all of this, and generally marks the moment where the Yamato government really came into its own.  It also marks the period where the name "Yamato" is thought to have been officially changed to refer to "Nihon", the "Origin of the Sun", the name by which Japan would be known ever since.  It really is a symbol of Japan's changing state. There are only three more monuments included in the World Heritage Site designation, and they are all tombs. The first is Nakaoyama Kofun.  This is another octagonal kofun, approximately 19.5 meters from one side to the other.  It is only three tiers, as opposed to the five tiers of the tomb of Temmu and Jitou, and similarly covered in stone and surrounded by stone pavement.  The sealed burial chamber is narrow—designed for an urn rather than for a full-body coffin.  This is the first such mound clearly built to accommodate Buddhist style cremation, rather than a coffin.  While the keyhole shaped kofun had stopped being utilized for some time, this appears to put the final seal on the coffin, as it were, of the kofun building period, which had started back in the mid-3rd century.  Certainly, royal tombs continued to be built in the form of mountains, but they would stop having the same kind of artificial mound. It is unclear who was buried in the mound.  It was plundered around the 13th century, and there was considerable damage noted in the Edo period.  However, given Kengoshizuka Kofun and the kofun of Temmu and Jitou Tennou, it seems hard to deny the general consensus that this is the tomb of none other than Karu—that is to say Monmu Tennou.  However, as with Kengoshizuka Kofun, the Imperial Household Agency has named a different kofun, that of Kurihara-tsuka'ana Kofun, slightly to the south of Nakaoyama.  I would note that while this is an octagonal kofun, similar to the others we have seen, the Kurihara kofun, aka the Hinokuma Anko Misasagi, is a round kofun, which, in the consideration of modern scholarship, is not generally thought to have been a shape used for a royal tomb. There are two other tombs on the world heritage list that are round tombs, however—though they are not thought to have been royal tombs.  These are the Takamatsuzuka and Kitora kofun, and both of them have incredible features that are considered of particular importance to the indication of the development of the state.  This is because in both tombs elaborate tomb mural paintings were discovered. The murals of the Kitora kofun are perhaps the simpler between the two.  The Kitora murals have the four directional guardians on the walls of the tomb.  Again, we talked about this back in episode 127.  It was the idea that there was a directional guardian for each of the four cardinal directions.  This includes Genbu, the black tortoise of the north; Byakkou, the White Tiger of the West; Seiryuu, the Blue (or green) Dragon of the East; and Suzaku, the Red Bird of the South.  These descriptions were heavily tied in with various continental ideas of what would be known as "feng shui", including different ideas of color, direction, and concepts of yin and yang.  The Kitora kofun clearly shows these four guardians.  Based on the style of the tomb and the paintings, it is assumed that this tomb was built in the very beginning of the 8th century.  Combined with tomb goods found, while we don't know who was buried there it is very likely that it was either a royal prince or high ranking noble.  It has been suggested that this could have been the tomb for the Minister of the Right, others have suggested that it could be Royal Prince Takechi, who died in the late 7th century, or possibly even a high ranking member of the Baekje nobility living in the archipelago since the fall of their country, given some of the continental features of the tomb and its murals. In addition to the spectacular directional guardians, on the ceiling of Kitora Kofun is a depiction of the stars.  This star chart has been the focus of considerable study, as it depicts the stars in the sky as they might have been seen from the ground.  Though there are some errors, it is remarkably accurate, and it has been heralded as the oldest such star chart in the world.  There are earlier depictions of the sky, like the Nebra Sky Disc, from modern Nebra, in Germany, which dates to about 1800-1600 BCE, but those are more like an astronomical rule, rather than a chart.  It is also interesting that the positions of the stars don't exactly correspond with the sky over the Fujiwara capital: instead, it seems that the latitude better fits with the capital of Pyongyang in Goguryeo.  This opens up lots of intriguing possibilities about how this star chart came to be, and who created it.  It may be that some of the errors we see in the star positions come from taking a star chart possibly from the Tang court, and then localizing it to the Goguryeo capital in Pyongyang.  That chart then appears to have made its way to Japan where it was used in the Kitora kofun.  That means that the artist  wasn't necessarily directly looking at the sky at the time, but rather looking at a depiction, probably drawn on paper which has since been lost.  All of this points to the availability of, and importance placed on, astronomical information at the time.  In the Takamatsuzuka Kofun we similarly have directional animals, although in that case Suzaku, in the south, has been lost.  There is also a depiction of the stars, though it is more based on the zodiac, with constellations depicted in the various "houses" of the sky, rather than a true chart of the sky.  Most significantly in this tomb, however, are depictions of courtiers – groups of male and female attendance - in what appears to be court clothing, and indeed this is the best depiction we have of what court clothing may have looked like at this time.  It very much is in keeping with the clothing we see on the continent.  It is possible that the clothing depicted is not actually what was in use in the court, but possibly clothing from the continent as it was depicted in drawings and the like.   However, the style of clothing does seem to match the continental style clothing we see later in the Nara period, and so it does seem to be our best source for the clothing of the time barring us finding actual garments or further depictions. Both of these tombs are stunning, and have greatly increased our knowledge of the world of the court of 8th century Japan.  However, they are also both extremely fragile and in need of conservation.  Since being opened, humidity levels in the tombs have risen, which has led to the deterioration of the paintings themselves.  Japanese historians and conservators have gone to great lengths to preserve what they could before any more was lost, and there are depictions of what they looked like when they were originally found.  One of the goals of the World Heritage determination appears to be the conservation of these incredible paintings for future generations to be able to see. And there you have it.  Those are the sites  that were recently listed together on the UNESCO World Heritage list as the Ancient Capitals of Asuka and Fujiwara.  I hope that everyone gets a chance to go see them in person some day—it really is a beautiful and rather bucolic area with history strewn all about.  It isn't difficult to walk most of it, either, though to see everything you probably want at least a couple of days, not including various museums and other institutions.  And, of course, the rest of the Nara basin is full of even more treasures, such as Horyuji temple, the Makimuku Palace site, Mt. Miwa, and then the ancient capital of Nara, just to name a few. But that will have to be for another day.  For now, I think I've gone on long enough.  This has been a bit longer than most episodes, so I hope that you enjoyed it.  We'll be back with our regularly scheduled episodes in a couple of weeks. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through either our Ko-Fi or BuyMeACoffee sites—just look up SengokuDaimyo. For all of that, you can also find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, you may have noticed that there are advertisements running on the podcast—that is so that we can keep this free to everyone, but if you want an ad-free version, we have uploaded our entire back-catalog to Patreon, where we will be releasing early and ad-free episodes for anyone who wants to sign up. Finally, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Comment on this episode by going to KDramaChat.com Today, we'll be discussing Episode 2 of Hospital Playlist, starring Jo Jung-suk as Lee Ik-jun, Yoo Yeon-seok as Ahn Jeong-won, Jung Kyung-ho as Kim Jun-wan, Kim Dae-myung as Yang Seok-hyeong, and Jeon Mi-do as Chae Song-hwa. We discuss: The songs featured during the recap: Introduce Me a Good Person by JOY I Knew I Love by Jeon Mi-do How Hospital Playlist shines by focusing on the humanity of medicine rather than just medical procedures. The importance of doctor-patient communication, informed consent, and why empathy is just as essential as technical skill. Ahn Jeong-won's memorable lesson that doctors can only promise one thing with certainty: “We will do our best.” The ethical dilemma surrounding Professor Min's surgical competence and Chae Song-hwa's masterful navigation of hospital hierarchy to protect her patient. How real-life medical conferences, tumor boards, overnight call schedules, and marathon surgeries compare with what we see in the drama. Whether Korean dramas accurately portray family consent for surgery and how Confucian values influence these storytelling choices. Kim Jun-wan's difficult decision to force Song-hwa's cheating boyfriend to confess rather than exposing the affair himself. Jang Gyeo-ul's surprising compassion beneath her blunt exterior, highlighted by the unforgettable scene treating the homeless patient with severe frostbite and gangrene. The remarkable career of Yoo Yeon-seok, who plays Ahn Jeong-won, from Oldboy and Reply 1994 to Mr. Sunshine, When the Phone Rings, and beyond. What we're watching now, including Agent Kim, The East Palace, and The Husband. References Vinh Giang website Vinh Giang on YouTube American Medical Association opinion on Treating Self or Family What to do when your friend seeks medical help Enhancing Professional Awareness of Informed Consent : Safeguarding the Rights of Patients and Practitioners Probing the issue of informed consent in health care in Korea-concept analysis and guideline development

What does the history of human innovation tell us about the current moment we're in? It tells us that, despite the computational and AI gains of the last few decades, the world's progress is a bit flat. Why?  Carl Benedikt Frey is an associate professor of AI & Work at the University of Oxford and directs the Future of Work Programme at Oxford. His latest book, How Progress Ends: Technology, Innovation, and the Fate of Nations, examines the world's start and stall relationship with progress over the last thousand years.  In this episode, Carl and Greg dive into the history of how centralized and decentralized systems have impacted the world's technological innovation. They contrast China's earlier technological lead and bureaucratic state-building with Europe's decentralized politics that enabled the Scientific and Industrial Revolutions, Prussia's critical role in advancing progress, and why despite the breakthroughs with AI, the world could be facing an era of less progress and more stagnation. *unSILOed Podcast is produced by University FM.* Episode Quotes: The real driver of progress [49:28] Most progress comes from doing new and previously inconceivable things. And if we begin seeing more entry in the AI applied to entirely new products and industries, then I think it can be a much more sustained productivity growth. And so how progress ends refers to the pattern that what we've seen globally for the past two decades is productivity stagnation. And the point is not that that trend cannot be reversed, but doesn't look too encouraging at the moment, I would say.  Is US innovation actually paying off? [47:16] I think even if you look at space innovation, the, sort of, real upsurge comes in the 1990s with privatization. And so since then if you look at patenting we haven't seen anything similar. And I don't want to diminish the compliments of SpaceX, but I think it's a continuation of what happened in the '90s, not the new pattern. And clearly there's innovation happening in the United States, but it's not yet showing up in the productivity statistics. And so, you can have exponential technologies without exponential growth.  How historical incentives created the meritocratic state capacity behind East Asia's successful industrial policy. [14:00] To study for the civil service examination, you had to memorize the Confucian classics. There was no emphasis on science, technology, and engineering. And it was the way that you could move up in the social hierarchy. It was the best escalator for social mobility there was. And so if Galileo had been born in China, he would probably have been a bureaucrat rather than a scientist, and such were the incentives. And I think it's interesting, and I think it's a point worthwhile making, that really long-lasting legacy of a meritocratic civil service is still there in China today, and it's still there in East Asia more broadly, and it's still there in the countries that we think of as being the most successful in industrial policy, right? Show Links: Recommended Resources: Alexander Gerschenkron Escape from Rome: The Failure of Empire and the Road to Prosperity by Walter Scheidel Voltaire René Descartes Huguenots Prussian Reform Movement Crédit Mobilier scandal Losing the War with Japan | PBS Frontline Manhattan Project MIT Radiation Laboratory (Rad Lab) Guest Profile: Faculty Profile at University of Oxford Professional Website Professional Profile on LinkedIn Guest Work: How Progress Ends: Technology, Innovation, and the Fate of Nations The Technology Trap: Capital, Labor, and Power in the Age of Automation If you enjoyed this show, here are some other unSILOed episodes you may like: Economic Growth in the Age of Automation with Carl Benedikt Frey Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

英语美文：有限游戏正在撕裂世界，无限游戏才是人类的出路面对全球性危机，纽约大学宗教史教授詹姆斯·卡斯区分了“有限游戏”与“无限游戏”：前者旨在赢家通吃，后者追求共同繁荣。著名汉学家安乐哲据此指出，儒家“关系为本”的角色伦理学——把人视为“生成中的人”（human becomings）而非孤立的个体——正是实现“无限游戏”的文化资源。当西方个人主义将世界拖入零和博弈，儒家智慧或能为人类命运共同体提供出路。今天我们来分享安乐哲教授在《Human Becomings》这本书中对于“有限游戏”的论述。人物介绍James P. Carse（詹姆斯·P·卡斯）詹姆斯·卡斯（James P. Carse，1932-2020）是美国纽约大学宗教历史系教授、当代宗教史学家和哲学家。他以《有限与无限的游戏：一个哲学家眼中的竞技世界》（Finite and Infinite Games）一书闻名于世，该书被译为多国语言，影响跨越哲学、管理学、教育学等多个领域。Roger T. Ames（安乐哲）安乐哲（Roger T. Ames，1947- ）是世界著名中西比较哲学家、汉学家，出生于加拿大多伦多。他曾任夏威夷大学哲学系教授，现任北京大学人文讲席教授、孔子研究院特聘专家、国际儒学联合会副会长。安乐哲是儒家哲学在当代英语世界最重要的翻译者和阐释者之一。他翻译了《论语》《大学》《中庸》《道德经》《孝经》《淮南子》《孙子兵法》等多部中国经典，蜚声海内外。他倡导“一多不分”的学术方法，强调中国哲学“焦点-场域”式的关系性思维。他的核心贡献是提出“儒家角色伦理学”（Confucian Role Ethics），主张将人理解为“生成中的人”（human becomings）——人是关系性、过程性的存在，在家庭与社会角色中不断“成人”“成仁”，而非西方个人主义范式下的孤立的“存在者”（human being）。contemporary /kənˈtemprəri/ adj. 当代的，现代的historian /hɪˈstɔːriən/ n. 历史学家，史学家distinction /dɪˈstɪŋkʃn/ n. 区分，差别；卓越infinite /ˈɪnfɪnət/ adj. 无限的，无穷的Confucian /kənˈfjuːʃən/ adj. 儒家的，孔子的emerging /ɪˈmɜːdʒɪŋ/ adj. 新兴的，显现的Contemporary historian of religion James P. Carse provides us with a distinction between "finite" and "infinite" games that might be useful in beginning to think through how Confucian values might make an important difference in a newly emerging cultural order.当代宗教史学家詹姆斯・P・卡斯为我们区分了 “有限游戏” 与 “无限游戏”，这一划分有助于我们探讨儒家价值观如何能在新兴文化秩序中发挥关键作用。语法拆解主干：James P. Carse provides us with a distinction固定搭配：provide sb. with sth. = provide sth. for sb. 为某人提供某物后置定语 1：Contemporary historian of religion（同位语，修饰主语人名）介词短语定语：between "finite" and "infinite" games 修饰 distinction固定：distinction between A and B A 与 B 的区分定语从句：that might be useful… 先行词 a distinction介词 in + 动名词：in beginning to think through…think through 短语：透彻思考、梳理清楚宾语从句嵌套：how Confucian values might make an important difference…make a difference 起作用、产生影响形容词复合定语：newly emerging 新兴的（副词 + 现在分词作前置定语）formulate /ˈfɔːmjuleɪt/ v. 系统阐述，制定，构想analogy /əˈnælədʒi/ n. 类比，比拟，类推constitute /ˈkɒnstɪtjuːt/ v. 构成，组成，被视为broadly /ˈbrɔːdli/ adv. 广泛地，大体上，概括地military /ˈmɪlətri/ adj. 军事的，军用的security /sɪˈkjʊərəti/ n. 安全，保障，防卫In formulating this finite and infinite distinction, Carse uses "games" as an analogy for the many activities that constitute the human experience broadly—for the many things human beings "do" such as business, sports, politics, military security, international relations, and so on.在阐释这套有限 / 无限二分框架时，卡斯以 “游戏” 作为类比，指代构成广义人类经验的各类活动，即人类所有实践活动：商业、体育、政治、国防安全、国际关系等。语法拆解句首分词状语：In formulating… = When he formulates…介词 in 后动词必须用 doing 形式；formulate v. 系统阐释、构建（理论）主干：Carse uses "games" as an analogy固定：use A as an analogy for B 用 A 类比 B定语从句：that constitute the human experience broadly 修饰 activitiesconstitute vt. 构成、组成（正式学术用词）破折号并列补充：for the many things… 与前文 for the many activities 并列省略关系词定语从句：(that) human beings "do"，先行词 things，关系代词 that 作宾语可省略列举结构：such as + 并列名词短语，句尾 and so on 等等agency /ˈeɪdʒənsi/ n. 能动性，主体作用；机构，代理actor /ˈæktə(r)/ n. 参与者，行动者（非“演员”）engage /ɪnˈɡeɪdʒ/ v. 参与，从事；吸引，雇佣accordance /əˈkɔːdns/ n. 一致，符合，依照guarantee /ˌɡærənˈtiː/ v. 保证，确保，担保finite /ˈfaɪnaɪt/ adj. 有限的，限定的With such finite games the focus is on the agency of single actors engaging in a game played over a finite period in accordance with a finite set of rules that guarantee a winner and a loser.有限游戏的核心是个体参与者的主观能动性：参与者在固定时限内，遵循一套固定规则开展游戏，而这套规则注定分出胜负双方。语法拆解状语前置：With such finite games 对于这类有限游戏而言主干：the focus is on the agency of single actorsagency 学术名词：主体能动性、自主行动权；actor 此处指参与者（非演员）现在分词后置定语：engaging in a game 修饰 actorsengage in 参与、从事两层过去分词定语：played over a finite period 修饰 gameover a finite period 在有限时长内介词短语后置定语：in accordance with a finite set of rules 依照一套有限规则in accordance with = according to（正式书面）定语从句：that guarantee a winner and a loser 先行词 rulesdefined /dɪˈfaɪnd/ adj. 明确的，清晰的，限定的agent /ˈeɪdʒənt/ n. 行动者，行为主体；代理人express /ɪkˈspres/ adj. 明确的，清楚的，特意的（非“表达”）purpose /ˈpɜːpəs/ n. 目的，意图，目标winning /ˈwɪnɪŋ/ n. 获胜，赢得，胜利thus /ðʌs/ adv. 因此，因而，这样Finite games thus have a defined beginning and end and are played by individual agents with the express purpose of winning.因此有限游戏拥有明确的起点与终点，参与者参与游戏的明确目标就是取胜。语法拆解并列谓语：have… and are played…（主动谓语 + 被动谓语共用主语 finite games）前置分词形容词：defined beginning and end 明确的起止点被动语态：are played by individual agents 由个体参与者开展介词短语作后置定语：with the express purpose of winningexpress adj. 明确的、刻意的；the purpose of doing sth. 做某事的目的immediately /ɪˈmiːdiətli/ adv. 直接地，立即；紧密地relevant /ˈreləvənt/ adj. 相关的，切题的，有意义的competitive /kəmˈpetətɪv/ adj. 竞争的，竞赛的means /miːnz/ n. 手段，方法，工具（单复数同形）direct /dəˈrekt/ v. 指向，对准，引导（be directed at 旨在）success /səkˈses/ n. 成功，胜利，成就This understanding of game playing seems most immediately relevant to those competitive human activities we think of in terms of means and ends and that are directed at the success of one player over another.这种对游戏的理解，最贴合我们以手段 — 目的框架审视的竞争性人类活动，这类活动的目标都是一方战胜另一方。语法拆解主干：This understanding… seems relevant to…be relevant to 与…… 相关；most immediately 直接、高度双重并列定语从句（先行词 activities）① (that) we think of in terms of means and ends（that 作宾语省略）in terms of 从…… 角度、以…… 框架；means and ends 手段与目的② and that are directed at the success…（that 作主语不可省略）be directed at 旨在、以…… 为目标名词所有格对比：the success of A over B A 胜过 B 的胜出individualism /ˌɪndɪˈvɪdʒuəlɪzəm/ n. 个人主义，个体本位pervasiveness /pəˈveɪsɪvnəs/ n. 普遍性，无处不在，渗透性liberal /ˈlɪbərəl/ adj. 自由主义的，开放的，自由的attend /əˈtend/ v. 伴随，随同，照料（此处为“伴随”）transaction /trænˈzækʃn/ n. 交往，互动，交易，事务sovereign /ˈsɒvrɪn/ adj. 主权的，独立的；n. 君主Our individualism's pervasiveness and the liberal values that attend this self-understanding of who we are as human beings has made finite games a familiar model of the way we often think about human transactions at every level of scale: as particular persons, as corporations, and as sovereign states.个人主义的普遍渗透，加之伴随这种 “何为人” 自我认知的自由主义价值观，让有限游戏成为我们思考各类人际互动的通用范式，覆盖全部层级：个人、企业、主权国家。语法拆解主语并列：A and B 并列主语A = Our individualism's pervasiveness（名词所有格：个人主义的普遍性）B = the liberal values + 定语从句 that attend this self-understanding…attend vt. 伴随、相随（正式文本）定语嵌套宾语从句：self-understanding of who we are as human beingsof 后接宾语从句 who we are主谓一致补充：本句谓语 has made（学术写作中，A and B 视作单一整体概念时可用单数谓语）make 复合宾语结构：make + 宾语 (finite games) + 宾语补足语 (a familiar model)省略关系词定语从句：the way (that/in which) we often think about…the way 作先行词，关系词可省略固定短语：human transactions 人际往来、社会交互；at every level of scale 所有规模层级冒号并列举例：as A, as B, and as C 三层并列核心学术短语汇总（背诵）provide sb. with a distinction between A and B 为某人区分 A 与 Bmake an important difference 产生关键影响、发挥作用formulate a distinction 构建 / 阐释二分框架use A as an analogy for B 以 A 类比 Bconstitute human experience 构成人类经验engage in activities 参与活动in accordance with rules 依照规则express purpose of doing sth. 做某事的明确目的in terms of means and ends 以手段 — 目的为框架be directed at 旨在、目标是at every level of scale 所有层级、各类规模human transactions 人际 / 社会互动更多卡卡老师分享公众号：卡卡课堂 卡卡老师微信：kakayingyu002送你一份卡卡老师学习大礼包，帮助你在英文学习路上少走弯路

Nathan reports from two weeks in China, including WAIC in Shanghai and an AI safety hub launch at Tsinghua, to examine the American policy argument that any safety obligation is futile because China will not care. He finds that Chinese models and services currently have weaker safeguards than OpenAI and Anthropic, but argues the gap is often overstated once those two leaders are separated from the broader American field. The episode traces China's “45-degree line” idea that capability and safety should rise together, the university-centered structure of Chinese AI safety work, and the rapid growth of Chinese research on topics like self-replication, deception, evaluation faking, and interpretability. The stakes are whether US policy should be built around a simplified “but China” assumption, or around a more accurate picture of a rival ecosystem that is behind in some ways, converging in others, and paying closer attention to Western AI safety than many Americans realize. For full show notes, links, and references, read the episode page:https://www.cognitiverevolution.ai/nathan-goes-to-china-part-2-ai-safety-with-chinese-characteristics/ Sponsor: Claude: Claude by Anthropic is an AI collaborator that understands your workflow and helps you tackle research, writing, coding, and organization with deep context. Get started with Claude and explore Claude Pro at https://claude.ai/tcr CHAPTERS: (00:01) China safety framing (05:37) Safeguards and benchmarks (Part 1) (15:04) Sponsor: Claude (16:33) Safeguards and benchmarks (Part 2) (21:39) Company safety incentives (28:17) Research cross pollination (36:07) Nonprofits versus academia (45:13) Xi safety rhetoric (52:00) Tsinghua safety hub (01:00:28) Research paper boom (01:18:32) Governance track record (01:31:37) LLM regulatory process (01:42:57) Monitoring and enforcement (01:57:45) Risk framework gaps (02:05:08) Confucian alignment questions (02:11:49) Episode Outro (02:15:36) Outro PRODUCED BY: https://aipodcast.ing SOCIAL LINKS: Website: https://www.cognitiverevolution.ai Twitter (Podcast): https://x.com/cogrev_podcast Twitter (Nathan): https://x.com/labenz LinkedIn: https://linkedin.com/in/nathanlabenz/ Youtube: https://youtube.com/@CognitiveRevolutionPodcast Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/de/podcast/the-cognitive-revolution-ai-builders-researchers-and/id1669813431 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/6yHyok3M3BjqzR0VB5MSyk

"Musings of a Chinese Mystic: Selections from the Philosophy of Chuang Tzu" explores the profound teachings of Chuang Tzu, a disciple of Lao Tzu, who sought to counter the growing artificiality and materialism of his time. As he witnessed the rise of Confucian ethics overshadowing the pure Taoism of his master, Chuang Tzu passionately revived the call to return to nature and simplicity. His reflections resonate with timeless themes of authenticity and the critique of societal norms, making this work relevant today as we navigate the complexities of modern civilization. The depth of Chuang Tzu's insights into human nature and the Tao continues to inspire those seeking wisdom and a deeper understanding of life.

Patty and Brian share some ideas about Emotional Intelligence with a twist of Confucian theory.

This is the Art Life Faith Podcast, and I’m your host, Roger Lowther. I’m excited to announce to you that we just released a new book, Consolations of a Christian by Japanese writer Kanzo Uchimura. Written in 1893, it has never before been translated into English, which is surprising because this is the book that made Uchimura famous, instantly becoming a bestseller and launching his career as a writer. Here’s some backstory for this book. In 1890, the Emperor of Japan issued an Imperial Rescript on Education. Kanzo Uchimura was at that time a teacher in one of the top schools in the country, but he did not bow deeply enough to the Emperor’s signature on the document, for as a Christian, he saw this as a kind of idolatry. However, his fellow faculty members saw this as a huge sign of disrespect, and the press saw it as an act of treason. His name and face were plastered on newspapers across the country. He was fired from his job. His friends distanced themselves from him. He fell into deep poverty. And from all the stress, he got really, really sick, even to the point of death. While his wife was caring for him, she too got very sick, and then she died. This was especially crushing because they were newlyweds, having been married little more than a year. Uchimura hit rock bottom in his life, but rather than giving up, he cried out to God in ink, brush, and paper, capturing the minds and hearts of so many with his uniquely Japanese understanding of the Bible. And his book came out during a time when Christian books were mostly just translated Western authors. This book is fascinating for many reasons, but I can tell you from personal experience that I was greatly encouraged working on this project, and so I know it can be a great consolation and comfort to you as well, and anyone going through a difficult time in their life. Let me say a quick word about the translator. Chris Born is a longtime friend of our Grace City Church community here in Tokyo. First, he came for a year to work on his doctoral thesis on Uchimura, and during that time he and his family poured into the church community, helping with many of the ministries. Then he returned to the States, where he’s the Associate Professor of Japanese and Asian Studies at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee. But he recently came back to Japan for post-doctoral research and to write a number of books including this one. Again, he and his family poured into the community, and even his oldest daughter worked with us as an intern, giving piano concerts, leading worship with her playing and singing, and helping out in so many ways. They go back to America this month, and we’re very sorry to see them go. They will be missed. Let me also say a word about the cover designer, created by the immensely talented Emma Grace von Fange, one of the interns who worked with us this summer. She did such a beautiful job getting inspiration from the text and making it appealing while also giving a sense of what we find inside. It’s a very attractive cover and really a work of art. I’m so grateful for her hard work on this project. Recently we had the launch day, and one of the church members threw a dinner party for the event. So I took a few minutes to sit down with a translator just before the party to invite all of you into the celebration. Here’s our conversation. Roger So today is the launch day of Consolations of a Christian by Kanzo Uchimura, translated by Christopher Born, who is sitting right next to me. Thank you so much for being with us tonight. Chris Thanks for having me, Roger. This is awesome. Roger Yeah, so we are meeting in a friend’s home downtown Tokyo. We’re going to have a launch party tonight. Some of us are already here preparing the food, and others are going to be arriving soon. You’re probably going to hear some doorbell ringing… Chris So pull up a chair and hang out with us. Roger I’m just so thankful that it’s finally out in the world as of today, July 13, 2026. Chris Wow. Unbelievable. Roger A lot of time has gone into this, hasn’t it? Chris Yes, from your own kind encouragement for me to follow through and get it done from about 10 years ago when I started it to bringing it to completion just now. It’s been quite a journey, but exciting to be part of it and also be working so closely with an amazing team. Really, you assembled a wonderful cover designer, and you’ve done so much of the editing. Roger She was great. Chris She was fantastic, and you put it together so quickly. I mean, you really have a lot of talent behind this project. You just made it pop and shine. I’m grateful. Roger I really like that about putting out books. It’s not just about the writer writing solo in a solitary room somewhere, but there are a lot of people who are part of the whole project and are excited for it when it comes out. Chris That’s right. It’s a big production team. Roger Yeah. So, how did you get into this project? Why did you translate this book? Chris So that’s a great story for me. I’ve been studying Uchimura since about 2009. When I was working at a seminary, and I was able to take courses while I was working there as like staff. I took a course called Christianity in East Asia because that was always interesting to me. And when I did my master’s in East Asian studies, we covered some tangential aspects about Christianity in the Meiji period and how it influenced social movements, how there was a big missions movement that helped grow women’s education and the YMCA, things like that, but we never focused on Japanese Christian thinkers. So this course was the first time I was exposed to an actual Japanese Christian thinker who not only originated a number of writings but also had his own theological perceptions from a Japanese perspective that he wanted to add to sort of global Christianity. And he really thought that if Japan learned about Jesus and became more Christian, it would be a light to the world. So I thought that was an interesting entryway. Roger Okay, so using Western years, when are we talking about? Chris Uchimura lived from 1861 to 1930. He became a Christian around 1873 when he went off to Sapporo Agricultural College, which is now University of Hokkaido, one of the larger state schools. And when he became a Christian, he realized monotheism was the answer to a lot of his problems because he had such a strong religiosity as a kid and would bow to every shrine and every temple. And as he got older as a student, he really still held on to those beliefs. But when monotheism was presented to him, he really didn’t want to become a Christian. He was sort of pressured into it, but he went along with it primarily because he said, well, there’s only one God I need to worship, then I don’t need to worry about all the other gods. So that I thought was interesting because Japanese are famously known for having 8 million gods or something like that. Roger Okay, so for those who don’t know their Japanese history, this is like the very beginnings of Protestant church planting in Japan. Chris Yes. Roger So he’s one of the first of modern Christians. Chris That’s right. Christianity was banned from about 1609 to 1872. In the interim, in 1859, there was some missions activity but it was kind of underground. Uchimura was a part of the early generation of the different bands. There’s the Sapporo Band and the Yokohama Band and the Kumamoto Band in Kyushu. So these were sort of early Christian groupings. Uchimura was from up north. But yeah, he was active in the 1890s when he came back to Japan. He had studied abroad in America in the 1880s and sort of grew. He was always good at English, but he went to, Amherst College and then went off to Hartford Seminary before realizing— Roger Near Boston. Chris Near Boston, yes. Northeast. In the book, you’ll see a lot of references to northeastern literature and sort of abolitionist thinkers. He loved them. Roger Yeah, actually that was fun for me because I grew up near Boston, so a lot of the things he’s mentioning only people in Boston know. Like Mount Monadnock, a mountain I climbed with my dad. Chris Does it look like Fuji? Roger Well, it stands on its own and it is kind of conical, but it’s really short. It’s not a very tall mountain at all. It’s more like a tall hill. Chris There you go. So even better comparison to how much more grandeur Fuji has, which he keeps referring to. But yeah, he loved the northeast. In his other book that was written in English called How I Became a Christian, or Diary of a Japanese Convert, he talks about his experiences in the northeast. Roger How can you explain why Uchimura is important? Why should we care? That was a long time ago. Chris As one of Japan's earliest modern Christians—I mean, his collected works are 40 volumes. He was an important thinker for the time period. Not only did he write in a Christian vernacular of the time, he attracted a number of future authors who would become aware of Christianity, at least in terms of their own understanding of the world. Even if they didn’t become Christians, they embraced a partially Christian worldview or romantic worldview. So from a literary perspective, which is what my main focus of my academic work was on how he’s an important literary figure, but I knew that he was an important Christian figure. And for Japanese theologians in general, anybody who’s going to seminary knows who Uchimura is and has read him. Now, the reason this book is important is everyone suffers, right? Everyone has a hard time. We get sick. Our wives get sick. People die. People we love are gone in an instant. We don’t know what tomorrow is going to look like. We can lose our job. We can get canceled because of the things we say and do. Even if we’re speaking the truth, we get punished for it. Roger Mm-hmm. Chris Uchimura suffered for telling the truth as he saw it, and he was willing to take that on and be that lightning rod in a society that was quickly becoming anti-Western and anti-Christian. And especially in the mid-1880s when he was still in America, there was a big turn toward emperor worship and connecting the state to religion in a very strong way, and in the 1890s when the Imperial Rescript on Education came out and later the 1891 Constitution, they really pointed to the emperor as the Confucian father of the nation that everyone must worship and obey. And Uchimura’s like, “Look, I respect the emperor as much as the next guy. He is my sovereign, but I’m not going to bow down and worship him in that way.” And as a result, that made him become persona non grata. That turned him into an anti-patriot to like the worst of the worst, the most disloyal of the disloyal, and of course in a Confucian samurai heritage worldview, that’s terrible. Disloyalty is the worst thing, right? So Uchimura suffered as a result of his own public intellectual beliefs, and then as a result, he lost everything, and part of losing everything meant he had to reinvent himself, and so he became an author as part of that process. Roger One of my favorite parts of the book is in the afterword where he’s talking about when he was writing the book and an American missionary, came in and said, so Mr. Uchimura, what are you working on? And he’s like, well, I’m writing this book. And he’s like, oh, what are you translating? He’s like, no, I’m not translating. I’m writing it, my own words. And the missionary was, was surprised and like, how can you be doing that? I mean, because Christianity came from the West, what right do you have as a Japanese to write? That was the attitude of the time. Chris Yeah, it was a very culturally bound enterprise, reproducing Western culture, civilizing the world, so to speak. And many Westerners didn’t think Japan was civilized. They had no idea how civilized it was. Roger Yeah. And you were explaining to me earlier how he was trying to figure out what it means to be Japanese and be Christian because there wasn’t— Chris It’s an identity issue. Roger There wasn’t any literature at that time. They were only looking at translated Western literature. And so he was kind of delving into this to try to figure it out, right? Chris That’s right. When he did become a Christian, the amount of stuff they had at Hokkaido University or Sapporo Agricultural College was so small. The amount of things they had to work with were so small. They were just some tracts, a few— they had a Western Bible, they had some parts of the Bible translated that was still in process, and they had things from many different denominations, so they didn’t know what was what and which one to ally with. And he became a Christian through the Methodists, but in Sapporo you had a Methodist church and an Episcopal church, and he wanted to work with both, and sort of create an independent Japanese church in Sapporo, but there was really no way to do that. They had to make it up themselves. And when the Western missionaries who they borrowed money from got wind of this, they were like, “You have to give us all our money back because you’re not part of us anymore.” So they scrimped and saved and did everything they could to pay it back. So there is this sense that independence, Japanese theology from a Japanese perspective became his life’s work. Roger So Uchimura is part of the birth of the church in Japan. So to me, as a missionary here, it’s especiallyinteresting. This is the first time ever that this book is in English. Chris That’s right. Roger I mean, it was published in 1893. Chris Yes. Roger And it’s incredibly important to missionaries today, and yet there’s never been an English version. And you translated it from classical Japanese. Chris That’s right. Roger So it’s really difficult Japanese. Chris It’s really difficult. It’s a long process of learning to be able to parse all that out. There is a modern translation now, but the original I thought was best to go from and take it from Uchimura’s own words. Roger It uses a lot of characters that aren’t used anymore. You showed me your manuscript, which is a work of art, by the way, all your notes around all of his, all the earlier published version, but like, I don’t even know what to call that. I mean, just various characters that are… Chris Yeah, kyujitai. Most Japanese don’t read it. I was talking to some students earlier today at a campus here, just kind of explaining that this book’s coming out and what it’s about, and I think maybe one or two knew who Uchimura was, and they knew about this fukeijiken or this incident of disloyalty to the emperor, or lesè-majesté as they call it, but they said they’d never read him, and when I mentioned it’s all written in this kind of really classical style Japanese, they’re like, “Yeah, we don’t really read that.” Yeah, I imagine not. He’s still unknown, so we can also help people understand that you can get a modern Japanese translation too, but I think Americans especially who want to know more about Japan at that time and about sort of authentic Japanese Christians and just from the perspective of a very sensitive soul who loves God and is searching for answers to his pain. Roger Right, that’s what I love about this book. He’s not afraid to basically be cry out to God, Why are you allowing these things things? And trying to search for the answers as a Japanese person, not trying to look for pat answers, but asking in his context, really what’s going on, how can I apply to it? And it’s just so interesting? Chris Right? Because one of the most important questions any human being will ever ask is, who is Jesus Christ and why does he matter? Roger Right. Chris And Uchimura knew who he was and why he mattered, but in the midst of this sort of dark doldrums of the soul why Jesus really mattered wasn’t just a nice, you know, it’ll all be okay someday, and just being a Christian makes everything all right. No, it’s like, Lord, you are my God, and I’m imploring you to give me an answer and give me strength and understanding to get through this situation. Roger Okay, so now you touched on this briefly. It’s called Consolations of a Christian. Why is this book important to people who may have little interest in Japan? Chris Sure, well, it certainly is full of what we call classical allusions to both Japanese literature, nature, history, and culture that are written for a Japanese audience. So he wasn’t writing it for us. So as a foreigner looking in on that, we can get a glimpse on the conversation which Uchimura is having with his own people about Christianity. Roger And with himself. Chris And of course with himself, and with God, and all the other little demonic voices that are harassing him. Roger You know, one of the things I thought was really interesting about the book, you’ve mentioned to me in conversation just how there’s a number of places where he lists scripture verses, but he doesn’t print it out. Chris That’s right. Roger And you said it was your idea that perhaps it was because he was wanting people to open the Bible for the first time. Most of the people who read this book were not Christians. Chris That’s right. Roger Because he wanted people who didn’t know anything about Christianity, very few did at that time, to read this and become interested in the God of the Bible. And he really makes that clear at the end of the book, right? Especially on the last two pages. “We looked at different answers throughout this book, but it’s clear the Bible is going to offer these answers that you really are searching for. God has those answers. Don’t stop until you find those answers.” That kind of thing. Chris That’s right. All of his literature points back to that. He doesn’t waver on that one bit. And in fact, he devoted his life to becoming a journalist for a while. He wrote for the Yorozu Choho for about 5 years, which was kind of like a New York Post or a LA Times kind of magazine, a little bit sensationalist but very political. He was the English language editor of that for a number of years until he decided to quit that and start his own work, which was called Seisho no Kenkyu (the Study of the Bible). And it was a magazine that he put out, which was all his own reading, parsing, interpreting the Bible and applying it to daily life. Roger To the general public, right? Not only to churches or Christians, but to everybody? Chris A lot of people were reading this even if they weren’t Christian. They were curious. Consolations of a Christian was a bestseller. And then as a result, he became hired as a journalist, then those copies of Yorozu Joho were also circulating, and then Seishun no Kinkyu as well. So, he really did use the words that he wrote as a way of reaching people in an evangelical way and pushing them to look at the Bible. That’s what all his life was about. Roger Well, this book was very meaningful for me. The fact that he, in the lowest point in his life, that he would turn to writing, crying to God, and trying to bring the nation along with him to cry out to God. He didn’t fall into despair, but he gave that anguish to God. Chris Yes. Roger And that's just such an important message for all of humanity. Chris Yes. Roger You know, anywhere in the world, we all suffer. Chris That’s right. Roger And the fact that he writes a whole book addressing that and trying to help us turn to God through that is so important. Chris Yeah, because the Bible says God draws near to those who are suffering, and we suffer with Christ. But Christ was there with him in that suffering. In that moment, he knew it, but he had to put that anguish towards and use it for something. And that’s what’s really cool. He never wasted the experiences he had. He says it’s not my autobiography, but it’s a record of an authentic person who’s trying to struggle with being Christian. I think that’s gorgeous. Roger So I hope many of you who are listening to this will download this book, either buy the paperback, buy the hardcover, buy the ebook, go get the Kindle. It’s such a blessing that you’ve done this. Thank you so much. Chris Thank you so much for working with me and giving me the opportunity. Roger Yeah, so I guess we better get this party started. Chris Let’s enjoy this gathering around this table in many ways similar to what Uchimura would have done. Roger All right, so thank you for talking with us now. Chris Thank you. Thanks so much. Roger You’ve been listening to the Art Life Faith Podcast. You can pick up a copy of Consolations of a Christian by Kanzo Uchimura wherever you buy your books online. As we say in Japan, “Ja, mata ne!” We’ll see you next time. BUY “CONSOLATIONS OF A CHRISTIAN”

This episode we are taking a quick break from our overall story of Uno no Sarara (aka Jito Tenno) and we are focusing on Ise Shrine and Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess. There is a lot, for a bit more, check out our podcast blogpost at:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-153   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 153:  Ise and the Sun Goddess.   In the newly built hall of the Fujiwara Palace, the nobles of the court were gathered for a grand banquet.  Snow-white walls were off-set by bright crimson pillars and trim, highlighted by bright green windows.   The nobles themselves were a rainbow of colors, arranged as they were by rank.   At the head of it all, on a dais, sat the Queen herself, Uno no Sarara.  However, the attention was no longer on her.  Instead, it was on another figure, standing in front of the assembled audience.  A quiet spread throughout the hall, the court listening as Hieda no Are began to tell the story of the Sun Goddess in the Plain of High Heaven.  They listened to the story of her and Susano'o, and of the backward flayed horse.  They heard the tale of the Heavenly Rock Cave, and of all that came after, including the sending of the August Grandchild, Ninigi.  They listened to the story—the story of Yamato.   Last episode, we talked in more detail about Uno No Sarara—starting from her early years as the daughter of Naka no Ohoe, granddaughter of Soga no Kurayamada, and child-bride to her uncle, Ohoama.  I'll admit we didn't look too hard at that last bit, and I don't have enough information to confirm what exactly "marriage" entailed in that context, but it is still something that I find tremendously creepy and, unfortunately, anything but unique.  So I'm not going to dive too much further into it right now but… ew. We talked about how she gave birth to her son, Kusakabe, in Kyushu, during the war on the continent, and how she eventually left for Yoshino with her husband when he retired from court, presumably to outsmart his court rivals, who were positioning him to be taken out.  She also is said to have played a part in the planning and execution of the resulting Jinshin no Ran, later helping her husband govern the realm.  And now, she was on the throne, overseeing the completion of many of the projects started in the reign of her husband.  This included the completion of the Kiyomihara code, the Fujiwara palace, and the support given to the institution of Ise Grand Shrine. This episode, I want to dive into that last topic: the emphasis in Uno no Sarara's reign on  Ise Shrine and its focus, the Great God, Amaterasu no Ohokami.  Although the Chronicles talk about Amaterasu as one of the founding deities of the Yamato royal line, there is plenty of evidence that this story was grafted into the tales at a later date, and that worship of Amaterasu, at least as anything more than a minor deity, likely also started relatively late.  Some have even suggested that Ise Shrine itself wasn't even built until the late 7th century.  So, all of this focus on Ise and Amaterasu appears to be part of the larger effort to structure the physical, cultural, and spiritual landscape of the new Yamato state. Last episode we mentioned how, according to the Nihon Shoki,   Ohoama turned to worship towards Ise.  Well, specifically, he worshipped Amaterasu Ohokami.  So let's take a moment and talk about what we know of the history of this Great God of Heavenly Brightness. Unfortunately, most of that history is based on what we know of the kami from works like the Nihon Shoki, the Kojiki, and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, all of which came out in the 8th century or so.  As such, it can be hard to know what things were actually like, earlier on, as opposed to what was added or removed later. Much of what I'm going to be talking about, today, I'm going to be pulling from a book written in 2017 by Mark Teeuvwen [Tayvin?] and John Breen titled "A Social History of the Ise Shrines", as well as Michael Como's work "Weaving and Binding: Immigrant Gods and Female Immortals in Ancient Japan", published in 2009, along with other sources.  In their book, Breen and Teeuwen point out that for those who do not take the events of the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki at face value, there are two primary theories for the origin of the worship of Amaterasu: an early theory and  a late theory.  The early theory places the development of the worship of Amaterasu in the 5th and 6th centuries, during the reigns of such figures as Wakatakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tennou.  The Late Theory places the development in the 7th century, largely at the feet of such figures as Ohoama and Uno no Sarara herself.  We'll take a look at the evidence and see what it says. I would note that compared to the official history, both of these would be very late theories.  According to Ise Grand Shrine even today, Amaterasu arrived in Ise in the 26th year of Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, as stated in the Nihon Shoki, which corresponds to 4 BCE if you take the dating of the Nihon Shoki to be accurate. Of course, we've already spent plenty of time talking about the problems with the Nihon Shoki prior to the 6th century CE, as well as how the political nature of the text affected what it contained. So to kick things off, let's address the biggest question of all: why don't we believe that Amaterasu no Ohokami was always the primary deity of the pantheon of Yamato, at the very least, if not all of the Wa people of the archipelago?  After all, isn't she a sun goddess, and isn't sun worship fairly well documented among the ancient Japanese?  Just take a look at words like "Hiko" and "Hime", referring to rulers as sun man and sun woman.  Also note that early on, worship seems to have centered around places such as mountaintops, which focused worship towards the sky and the highest point.  In fact, as wet rice paddy agriculture became the dominant economic factor driving the engine of the archipelago in the Yayoi and early kofun period, early shrines were very likely about bringing the spirit of the mountain from the mountaintop and giving them a home amongst the rice fields.. And then we have the stories.  Don't the ancient stories all tell about Amaterasu as the ruler of Takama no Hara, the Heavenly Plain?  And isn't it her grandchild that then descends to the earth to pacify the Land of the Reed Plains—aka the Japanese archipelago? Well let's take a look at those same stories, which we've covered in earlier episodes of the podcast.  The first deities mentioned in the Chronicles are deities like Ama no Minaka Nushi, Lord of the August Middle of Heaven; Takami Musubi, High August Growth; and Kami Musubi, Divine August Growth.  There are other deities, like Kuni Toko Tachi, but they are barely mentioned again. Later we get Izanagi and Izanami, the masculine and feminine, who create the world and give birth to numerous deities from that point on.  Among the children of Izanagi are said to be Amaterasu, Tsukiyomi, and Susano'o.  Amaterasu, Heaven's Brightness, represents the sun while Tsukiyomi represents the dark of the moon.  Susano'o is then the god of the storms and seas, and was sent to the Nether Land, the Ne no Kuni. Right away we see that there are numerous different stories listed in the Nihon Shoki for just about everything.  Only the Kojiki gives everything as a single, coherent narrative, but surely the readers in the 8th century would have known some of these other stories, and thus the Nihon Shoki gives the alternates as well. Now the main narrative of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki tells us that Ama-terasu no Oho-kami was born to rule over everything.  In the Nihon Shoki, Izanagi and Izanami specifically mention that divine destiny in Amaterasu's creation—although actually, in that part of the text, the deity they are creating is named Oho-hiru-me no Muchi; the Great Sun Female Holder.  And in the next entry they call Amaterasu: Ama-terasu Oho-hiru-me.  Tsukiyomi, the deity of the moon, is made to be her consort, and they are supposedly sent to rule the plain of Heaven, Takama no Hara. The problem is that there are other entries that suggest that Takama no Hara already had a ruler:  Taka-mi-Musubi.  Reading the sections on Taka-mi-Musubi, we see a deity who is said to have produced 1500 children, himself—no mention of Izanagi and Izanami.  Some of his children are mentioned as Omohi-kane:  the Thought-Combining deity, and Sukuna-bikona: the Little-Prince-Named deity. Amatsu Hiko Hiko Ho Ninigi no Mikoto, the August Heavenly Prince, Prince Ho-ninigi, is not just a grandson of Amaterasu no Ohokami, but also a grandchild of Taka-mi Musubi.  In at least one story, Takami Musubi is the one who wants Ninigi no Mikoto to become the ruler of the Central Land of the Reed Plains.  Towards that end, he gathers the various kami and chooses someone to go down and prepare the way—Ama-ho-hi no Mikoto—who was to quote-unquote "expel and subdue" the evil gods of that land.  We covered this story in episode 21 and 22.  When that doesn't work, he gathers them again, sending others to try and do the same.  Eventually he sends Takemikazuchi and Futsunushi down.  All of this sounds like Taka-mi Musubi, whose name appears to refer to being the "high" deity, was the one in charge. In addition, we have the court ritual from sources like the Engi Shiki, which illustrates the deities that were invoked for the protection of the palace and the royal family.  These were:  Kami-musubi, Takami-musubi, Iku-musubi, Taru-musubi, Tamatsume-musubi, Oomiya-no-me, Oomiketsu-no-kami and Kotoshironushi.  One might notice a lot of the "musubi" names among the deities, and a distinct lack of appeal to Amaterasu.  If Amaterasu were the central deity and ancestral deity of the royal family, why is she not invoked in the rituals of the court itself? The thought, here, is that these rituals are likely much older than the worship of Amaterasu, and while Amaterasu would come to prominence in the stories that the court would tell, it was much more difficult for them to rearrange the traditional rituals to put her front and center.  Those rituals were maintained by ritualist families like the Nakatomi, and they weren't likely to change the rituals willy-nilly, even for a sovereign.  That was playing with supernatural fire, after all—if you changed the rituals, would they still even be effective?  Granted, rituals do change, so it isn't a perfect argument; perhaps it was just not considered to be important enough to make the change since it was not something that anyone except the court ritualists needed to worry themselves over.  Either way, it appears that we do have a list of deities that may have been the deities of the ruling elite prior to the rise of Amaterasu and Ise shrine more generally. We have a few other clues of what was going on in the narrative.  For instance, we see the story from the reign of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennou, also called the First Sovereign of Yamato, despite the legendary figures inserted prior to his reign.  It is in this chapter that we see a note that Ama-terasu no Oho-kami and Yamato no Oho-kuni-dama, which is to say the Spirit of the Country of Yamato, were both worshipped together in the hall—that is in the royal palace itself.  And yet apparently Mimaki Iribiko feared these deities residing with him in the palace, and he had their worship moved to locations outside of the palace.  Amaterasu's worship was given to Toyosuki-iri-bime, one of Mimaki Iribiko's daughters, and established in the district of Shiki, in Yamato.  Yamato no Ohokunidama, on the other hand, was given over to Nunaki-iri-bime no Mikoto, another daughter through a different wife. but we are told that she was lean, and her hair was falling out, and so she couldn't perform the rites.  Turning our attention back to Ama-terasu—in the reign of Ikume-Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, son and heir of Mimaki Iribiko, the worship of Ama-terasu would pass from Mimaki Iribiko's daughter, Nunaki Iri Bime to Ikume Iribiko's daughter, Yamato Hime.  She would move the worship site from Shiki to Uda, in the shadow of Mt. Miwa, and then proceed over to the upper banks, or Kawakami, of Isuzu, in the district of Watarai.  Here, in one of the alternate stories about this episode, we get the Great God of Yamato—Ohoyamato no Ohokami—speaking through a medium to warn the sovereign that he had better be careful.  Mimaki Iribiko had not been quite thorough enough in his worship, so he had not had a long life, and if Ikume Iribiko didn't do the same, he would suffer a similar fate. And so, in a record eerily similar to what we see in the previous reign, the worship of the "Great God of Yamato", the Oho-Yamato no Oho-kami, is given to Nunaki-waka-hime—as opposed to Nunaki-Iri-bime—who also fails in the task because of her emaciated body.  This also introduces Fukayu nushi, an ancestor of the Nakatomi, who was the one who divined what should be done. There is so much to unpack in these stories.  For one, the kami bring power, but also danger.  One can try to placate the kami, but it isn't like a ritual will always work, and the story is of the sovereign being actively afraid of what they might do, so they were removed from the palace.  Then there is the fact that we see two seemingly similar names—Ohoyamato no Ohokami and Yamato no Kunidama both seem like we are talking about the same spirit of Yamato, though some would point out that one is the spirit of the country and one is the great kami of the country, so, clearly different. Both are also being given to someone named "Nunaki—something-something—Hime", and in both cases Nunaki seems to fail in her task because she is apparently not hot enough for the kami.  She's described as too thin and emaciated or balding.  We aren't given the lineage of Nunaki Waka Hime, but Nunaki Iri Bime is connected with the land of Owari.  Nunaki Iri-bime is said to be the daughter of Mimaki Iribiko and Ohoama Hime, ancestor of the Owari no Muraji.  Owari was the land that supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran. Finally, in both cases, we see the worship of the spirit of Yamato being given over to someone name "Nagochi", later identified as Nagochi no Sukune, ancestor of the Yamato no Atahe. One more note—closely on the heels of moving these two kami out of the palace, we see that the court brings in the worship of Oho-mono-nushi, the god of Mt. Miwa, under Ohotataneko, the ancestor of the Miwa clan. So the stories here account for Ama-terasu being moved to Watarai and why she isn't worshipped in the palace.  It also places Oho-mono-nushi at the center of worship in Yamato.  Oho-mono-nushi and Miwa continue to dominate the narrative from here on out, with a few notable exceptions, such as with Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Tennou and her mythical conquest of the Korean peninsula.  I'm sure that had no political implications at all given everything that had happened with Baekje, Silla, and the Tang dynasty in the latter half of the 7th century.  Other than scenes like that, however, the Miwa clan and worship of the Miwa deity appear frequently in the narrative.  It is clear that Mt. Miwa, and its deity, were important, and when Breen and Teeuwen hypothesize that when Naka no Ohoe, which is to say Tenji Tennou, took the drastic step of moving the capital up to Ohotsu, in the land of Afumi, he also brought the Miwa deity with him.  Those Afumi court rituals were conducted under the auspices of the Nakatomi, and particularly the auspices of Nakatomi no Kane, who would become one of the chief opponents of Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran in 672.  After that conflict, Ohoama and his wife, Uno no Sarara, were building new traditions using Ise and constructing new legends.  Legends that would be under their control and influence and which would further bolster their rule from the city that they had designed to fit inside of this newly constructed cosmological framework. And yet this also brings up what seems like an obvious question.  If Ise Shrine and the worship of Amaterasu were so central to Ohoama and Uno's plans, then why would they put it so far away?  Proponents of the "early" theory of the development of Amaterasu and Ise Shrine suggest that the answer lies in the text of the Chronicles.  That there is some truth to the idea that there was worship in Yamato and that, for various reasons, it moved out to Watarai district early on and developed into Ise Shrine.  Those who hold to the "late" theory of development see all of those stories as later inserts meant to explain away why Ise Shrine was so far away—and perhaps why Amaterasu was not included in the cool-kami club of court ritual.   Teeuwen and Breen mention a few of the theories, from Naoki Koujiro stressing Ise as a strategic gateway between Yamato and Eastern Japan to Tanaka Takashi proposing that the movement of Amaterasu to Ise is actually a stand-in for one or more military campaigns to that area to bring it under Yamato control. And before we move too much further in the narrative, let's talk about how Ise is physically and geographically situated.  Ise is part of modern Mie prefecture, on the eastern edge of the Ki peninsula.  It is at the southern end of a series of adjoining alluvial plains that follow the coastline north to the modern prefectures of Aichi and Gifu—the ancient provinces of Owari and Mino.  The capital of Ise Province used to be in Suzuka, near the the two Tsubaki shrines which both lay claim to the title of Ise no Ichinomiya, the First shrine of the land of Ise, and the pass that served as one of three major routes from eastern Japan into the Home Provinces and beyond.  This puts Ise about as far away as you can get from the capital of the province without going over the mountains, themselves.  It also puts it a good deal south of most major travel routes.  If you are going to Ise shrine then it is pretty clear you were going to Ise shrine, as there isn't a lot of evidence for anything else in the area. The Shrine itself is actually made up of two primary shrine complexes.  There is the Naiku, the inner shrine, and the Geku, or outer shrine.  The Naiku, or inner shrine, is probably the area most people think about.  It is at the foot of the mountains where the Shimamichi River joins the Isuzu River and both flow out of the mountains.  The Naiku contains the shrine to Amaterasu no Ohokami, and is famous for its layout, where there are actually two shrine enclosures, one next to the other.  The main shrine is then rebuilt in the empty enclosure every 20 years, at which point the worship is moved to the new shrine, the old shrine is torn down, and the cycle is started once again. The Outer Shrine, or Geku, is further north, and probably not as well known to foreigners.  The Geku is said to enshrine the spirit of Toyouke-bime, a kami dedicated to food.  According to the traditions of the Geku itself, Toyouke-bime was enshrined in the Geku at the command of Wakatakiru no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, based on a dream. Regarding the history of why the Shrines—both Inner and Outer—are located here, archaeological evidence doesn't give us a lot to suggest that these might be the case.  Despite the presence of the Miya River near Ise Shrine, we haven't found evidence of a large harbor or port, like we might expect if it was the jumping off point for crossing Ise Bay—or even the center of another large polity.  Instead, the areas to the north—around Fujikata and Matokata inlets, for instance—show much more evidence of occupation and, presumably, use.  Heck, the modern district of Fujikata is in the town of "Tsu", which literally means "port".  And the capital area of Suzuaka and the Ichinomiya of Tsubaki Grand Shrine is even farther north, still.  So who, if anybody, was living down in the area of Ise Shrine?  If we look at the progression of tomb mounds in the area in previous centuries, we see that they start in the Matokata region in the 5th century and work their way down towards the south, with late 5th century tombs found in the district of Taki, the district bordering on Watarai and modern Ise City to the northwest.  It is also where you can find the Saikuu, the site of the old purification palace for the Shrine Princesses.  Grave goods seem to show close ties with Yamato, in the Nara basin.  While the tombs expanded to the south through the 5th century, they appear to have stopped altogether in the 6th century—or at least we haven't found any.  This may indicate that the political situation had changed and there was no group in the area that could organize the labor for such an undertaking.  Whether that was because Yamato was taking it as corvee labor or just that population had dwindled due to war, famine, or something else, I don't know that we could say. Around the year 600, at the opening of the 7th century, we do see a large grave mound erected in the core area of what would later become Ise Shrine, on the east side of the Miya River, overlooking what would become the Geku, the Outer Shrine of the Ise complex.  For those who aren't aware, Ise Grand Shrine is a large complex of shrines, and it is divided into two main areas.  The "inner shrine", or Naiku, is where most people go, and it is the site of the famous shrine building that is supposed to be rebuilt every 20 years.  The Geku is the "outer shrine" complex, technically dedicated to Toyouke hime, a kami of agriculture.  The kofun overlooking the outer shrine is known as the Takakurayama kofun.  This is a round kofun, about 35 to 40 meters in diameter, with a horizontal stone chamber.  It is the largest in the Ise region.  It has been mentioned in records going back to at least the Kamakura era, and even though most of the grave goods are gone, there is evidence that it was richly appointed.  Given its shape and location, there were even those in later centuries who connected it with the Heavenly Rock Cave in which Amaterasu hid according to the ancient stories. The fact that there was nothing around this area and suddenly we see a giant tomb mound is pretty puzzling.  Why was it built here?  Is it connected to the founding of the Outer Shrine in some way, or is that just coincidental?  Teeuwen and Breen point out that it is pretty rare for a large tomb mound to be build in the precincts of an active shrine, which suggests that whatever was happening there, that area was not part of the shrine grounds.  That said, I have to wonder if the ritual worship at the kofun might not have later been transformed or coopted into something else.  There also is no other indication that the Outer Shrine area was used for ritual purposes any earlier than the kofun would have been built.  In contrast, around the Inner Shrine area, several kilometers away, there are caches of beads dated to the 5th, 6th, and 7th centuries in a small valley where a brook runs down from Mt. Asama, not too far from the current shrine complex.  Teeuwen and Breen suggest that this may relate to the "upper reaches of the Isuzu River", mentioned in the Chronicles, and that it may have had to do with rituals related to water supply—hence being found at the point where the water was coming down from the mountains.  And yet, despite these finds, there really aren't any large scale archaeological remains that have been discovered east of the Miya river, though there are modest signs of dwelling and habitation, and some minor burials mounds. Compare this to Tsubaki shrine, the home of Saruta Hiko no Kami, and the main shrine of Ise, situated in the ancient capital of Ise no Kuni.  Downstream from there are numerous tomb mounds and indications of habitation.  So this was probably the center for early sun worship in the region. Teeuwen and Breen conclude that all of this indicates that the region of Taki and areas east of the Miya river were probably more of an outpost—no major powerful chieftains or large polity had set up in the region.  In the late 6th century, some power had to move in to build Takakurayama kofun, but that was an outlier.  Maybe this area just largely fell under Yamato hegemony.  And perhaps that was the key.  Perhaps initially this wasn't a place to center power and authority, but rather it was more like a prison.  It was a place far away from the court, where a deity that was more of a threat could be kept away from the palace and the sovereign.  Perhaps Amaterasu, or whoever the kami was at the time, was placed out here because of the threat they posed, much as the Chronicle seems to suggest—just not necessarily at the time that is suggested. One of the aspects of the mythmaking that we see in the Chronicles appears to be the stress on the Amatsu kami and Kunitsu Kami—the Heavenly deities and the Earthly deities.  The Heavenly deities are those in Takama no Hara, and they are the progenitors of the royal line.  On the other hand are the earthly kami, the Kunitsu Kami, those dwelling on the earthly plane.  In the stories that were recorded in the Nihon Shoki, before the August Grandchild of Takami Musubi and Ama Terasu descended to take control of the Central Land of the Reed Plain, they sent down heavenly kami as warriors to subdue the earthly kami.  On the one hand, this may have been driven by some kind of deep memory of early conquests of the archipelago by various forces.  However, these legends also served another purpose, in that they set up the royal family's right to rule, and appear to establish a de facto hierarchy between those families descended from the Heavenly Kami and those descended from the earthly Kami. Another thing that Teeuwen and Breen point out and that is that Amaterasu is not necessarily a female deity, to start with.  In fact, Amaterasu was probably easily overlain atop the worship of Oho-mono-nushi of Mt. Miwa, at least early on.  To that point, they note stories where Oho-mono-nushi and other deities were commonly depicted as arrows, snakes, or similarly phallic imagery finding or even penetrating women who were thought to have a connection with them.   This suggests a context of these priestesses being married to the kami, and even fits in with early descriptions of individuals like the famous Queen Himiko being a spiritual leader as well as a political one.  If the original Amaterasu was conceived of as a male deity, then this could also explain the tradition of the Saigu, the consecrated shrine princess.  We only see a few royal princesses designated to the position up to this point in the narrative, and, beyond Tokosuki Iri bime and Yamato hime, we don't necessarily learn much more.  One wonders if there weren't other royal princesses likewise sent elsewhere to serve other deities.  We know about Nunaki Iri Hime, and presumably Nunaki Waka Hime.  There was also Yamato Totohi Momoso Hime, who was married to Oho-mono-nushi.  Presumably there were others who just never ended up in the stories that were passed down. The idea of a kami taking a "wife" and connecting that to the idea of women holding these priestly positions seems to fall in line with much of what we see, though, as I said, we only hear occasionally about the appointment of royal princesses to the position until the reign of Ohoama.  That's when we see specifics about appointments, the purification palace in Hase, and other arrangements.  It makes you wonder more than a little bit if Royal Princess Ohoku was, perhaps, the first royal princess to actually be appointed.  It would have been easy enough to add in previous "shrine princesses" into the lineage, especially far enough back that nobody could really fact check it.  We also see Royal Princess Taki journey to Ise with her companions, Princess Yamashiro no Hime and Lady Ishikawa. It is intriguing that this practice was temporarily interrupted during the reign of Uno no Sarara, as I mentioned last episode.  Could this have something to do with a female ruler on the throne and a corresponding lack of urgency about having a female representative at Ise? And in stories about Amaterasu, she is frequently shown with certain masculine qualities.  When she confronts her younger brother, Susano'wo, she is concerned that he might try to take her authority from her, so she meets him decked out in armor, her hair tied up in a typical male fashion, with a bow, ready for a fight.  It would be just as easy to imagine that Amaterasu and Susano'wo were brothers, contending over rulership.  Add to all of that the idea that kami were often personifications of various natural phenomena or ideas, and Japanese is not a naturally gendered language, and there are those that believe that the stories of Amaterasu were not necessarily about a female deity in the beginning, but a male deity, similar to Ohomono Nushi and others, who then took on a feminine persona.  On the other hand there are passages in the old stories recounted in the Chronicles that clearly make Amaterasu out to be a woman. To start with the activities she is associated with, such as weaving, are often associated with women as something they do in the home.  This is a tradition carried over from the continent, along with silk and the techniques to weave it.  In the lands where silk production started, there are silkworm goddesses and the gendered nature of silk production and weaving appears to have come over to Japan as well.  There is also the fact that Amaterasu is said to have another name:  Oho-hiru-me no muchi.  In this case, it would seem to mean something like Great Noontime Female Possessor.  And in the weaving hall it is sometimes Amaterasu that is weaving and sometimes Waka Hirume.  "Hirume" certainly feels like a feminine name. There is the distinct possibility that the stories of Amaterasu as recorded were actually about two or more different kami, so Amaterasu and Ohohirume could have been separate deities having to do with the sun that were rolled into a single kami.  As mentioned before, it is also possible that Amaterasu ended up with some stolen valor taken from the other Ise deity worshiped at Tsubaki, Saruta-hiko no Kami.   Teeuwen and Breen also note that the name "Amaterasu" is hardly unique, noting at least ten other shrines with a kami called "Amateru" or "Amaterasu", mostly in Yamato, but some as far away as Kyushu and Tsushima.  Nine of those shrines were dedicated to Ame no Hoakari, an ancestor deity of the Owari lineage who was also closely tied to metalworking.  It is worth remembering that it was Owari who helped support Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, and who may have even fostered Ohoama for a while when he was just a young prince.  All that to say there may have been several different traditions that were all contributing different elements to the story. And then there is the connection between Amaterasu and Uno no Sarara. Herman Ooms, in his book: "Imperial Politics and Sybmolics in Ancient Japan", notes the similarities between Amaterasu and Uno no Sarara, talking about the differences between the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, both of which had events that mirrored Uno no Sarara's own life.  According to Ooms, "The Kojiki's Amaterasu is a transparent double of the female tennou Jitou".  He points out that Uno no Sarara, besides her posthumous title of Jitou Tennou, also had a title making reference to Takamanohara:  Takama no Hara Hirono no Hime—the Princess High-Heaven-Plain.  But beyond that, we also see other linkages between the stories.  For instance, it isn't Amaterasu's son, Ame no Oshihomimi who is given the realm, but rather her grandchild, Ninigi.  This parallels the way that Uno no Sarara's son, Kusakabe, didn't ascend to the throne, but instead Uno no Sarara was holding the seat for his son, her grandson.  So one sees how Uno no Sarara could be seen as Amaterasu, and her grandson, Prince Karu, could be seen as Ninigi, the August grandchild.  Teeuwen and Breen also note that during this same time, we see the rise of a new institution: the Jingikan.  Again, we touched on this last episode, so just a quick recap:  The Jingikan was a government organization set up specifically to oversee the shrines, rituals, ceremonies, and other such things pertaining to the kami matters.  It does not appear in the initial stand-up of the new, bureaucratic government, wherein is created the bureaus, ministries, or departments, depending on your chosen vernacular, which make up the Dajokan, the Great Council of State.  Instead, the Jingikan is a separate organization, specifically organized around kami matters. The term "Jingi" is also a shorthand for "Ama-tsu-kami, Kuni-tsu-kami", or the kami of Heaven and the Kami of the earth.  "Ama-tsu-kami", meaning Kami of Heaven, was written with two characters meaning "Heaven" and "Kami", pronounced "Tenjin".  "Kuni-tsu-kami", or the Kami of the Earth, was written as "Earth" and "Earth Spirit", which was then pronounced "Chigi".  By taking the last character of each compound Tenjin-Chigi becomes just Jingi, for short.  Throughout the Chronicles, this term, "Jingi" is thrown around when they want to quickly note all the kami, together, though sometimes it is fully written out as "Tenjin Chigi", as well.  Interestingly, "Tenjin" or "Ama tsu Kami", sometimes appears alone, especially in the chapters on the Age of the Gods.  However, "Chigi" seems to only be used in the whole phrase.  There are a few instances, however, of "Chijin" being used, but they are few. That said, the term "Jingikan", also read as "Kami Tsukasa" or even "Kan Zukasa",  doesn't appear until 690, in the reign of Uno no Sarara.  This probably means that it was part of the reforms encompassed by the Kiyomihara codes.  The head of the Jingikan is known as the Jingihaku or "Kan-zukasa no Kami".  This term actually shows up well in advance of the Jingikan itself, initially referring to an unnamed official or officials in charge of kami worship at the court.  Nakatomi no Kamatari is said to have been offered the position in the first reign of Takara, aka Kougyoku Tennou, though the first confirmed individual appears to be Nakatomi no Ohoshima, during the reign of Uno no Sarara. This appears to be a distinctly Yamato invention in the bureaucratic system.  It leverages the language and structure of the Tang dynasty, but in its own way.  There was a Tang department of shrines, but it was described differently, as befits a different spiritual environment focused on ancestor worship and Confucian and Taoist ideas.  The Jingikan system  seems to have been a deliberate re-organization of the indigenous kami worship, incorporating what was probably traditional roles into the new bureaucratic system.  In so doing, however, it also gave the court greater control, and given that this was happening at the same time as the establishment of various stories and myths around Ise and the foundation more generally, it appears to be part of a concerted and deliberate effort to construct a new narrative. All of this points to them architecting much of what was going on, from the stories to the landscape.  Ohoama likely built the inner shrine as we know it.  If it really was an obscure, out-of-the-way shrine, perhaps that also meant that there weren't any other powerful court factions that were enhanced by it.  And then, over time, the Ise shrine and the deity there could be better incorporated into the overall myths and stories that surrounded the formation of Yamato.  A new Yamato, one that would soon enough be referring to itself as the origin of the Sun:  Nippon, a name often attributed to Ohoama and Uno no Sarara, though not found in the record of their reigns in the Chronicles. Another aspect to all of this, however, is what happened immediately after Uno no Sarara's reign, and into the 8th and early 9th centuries.  In the 8th century—the Nara period—Buddhism started to merge with a lot of the local practices.  This was not uncommon.  Buddhism had been born in a land with myriad deities and styles of worship, and it had the means to incorporate local deities into its cosmological worldview.  Kami were just other beings, stuck in the cycle of rebirth, who, as sentient beings, could equally benefit from the Buddha's teachings.  They became guardians of Buddhist institutions, and the lines between shrines and temples were often blurred.  At the same time, kami worship was also taking on various concepts from continental worship, such that even today we find a lot of what we might consider Taoist practices influencing Shinto worship. Had this continued, worship of the kami may have been completely subsumed into the Buddhist ritual practices, but there were areas where kami worship remained distinct.  One of these was at Ise. Early on, there was an attempt to build a temple at Ise, but it didn't last long.  The temple was eventually moved out of the shrine complex, and then eventually it was removed altogether.  Later writings from the Shrine would include certain Buddhist terms among the things that were taboo within the shrine grounds, considering Buddhism as something of a corrupting or polluting influence.  Shrine Princeses, during their tenure, had to devote themselves to the kami, and though they might retire as nuns, later in life, during their appointment they were to be free of any Buddhist influences.  In many ways this would make Ise a prime example of what would eventually be termed "Shinto", which gave it, and the worship of Amaterasu, a certain pride of place.  Of course, it didn't hurt that it was also intertwined with the State and the founding myths of the nation.  As such, Ise Shrine and its worship would become a template for many others to follow, helping to shape what we know as "Shinto" today. There are still a lot of questions.  We don't exactly know what Uno no Sarara did on her trip to Ise Shrine, and we don't know how things surrounding the worship at Ise and of Amaterasu herself changed in the intervening years between when these events happened and when, about two to three decades later, the Chronicles were finalized and published.  Certainly some of this seems tied to the Fujiwara capital, which was no longer populated at that point, the move to Heijo-kyo, in Nara, occurring between 708 and 710, two years before the Kojiki and a decade before the Nihon Shoki would come out.  And yet, the three sacred mountains that were incorporated into the plan of the Fujiwara Capital, Mt. Kagu, Mt. Miminashi, and Mt. Unebi, seem to continue to be important.  This is especially true of  Mt. Kagu, whose heavenly counterpart, Ame no Kaguyama—literally Heavenly Mt. Kagu— continues to play a major role in the stories surrounding Amaterasu and the Heavenly Rock Cave.  In addition,Mt. Unebi is closely tied to the story of Iware-biko, aka Jimmu, conquering and settling the land—perhaps to draw attention away from the stories about Mimaki and Ikume iribiko, aka Sujin and Suinin, who were both associated more with Mt. Mimoro, aka Mt. Miwa.  So even though the physical presence was moved, by that point we know that foundation of many of these stories were likely laid down around the time that the Fujiwara capital was in operation.  What does seem clear is that, just as there were clear efforts to set up the new State government, including the new capital, the court were also taking control of other levers of power and influence.  We previously talked about how they had created National Temples and included government positions to oversee Buddhist affairs more generally.  With Ise and the creation of the Jingikan, it appears as though that trend continued with the traditional kami worship. Many of the elite families still had connections to their own shrines, with their own kami.  Through the stories collected and written down—with a few editorial additions to help place them in an approved context—they were able to construct a narrative from separate or divergent traditions.  These traditions had already accreted to themselves various stories and culture-ways, some of them with clear links to the continent and others with overlapping portfolios.  The kami, and the ability to intercede with them for their blessings or to avert their wrath, were a form of power that was being structured for the purpose of supporting the new State.  A state now under the control of one Uno no Sarara. And we don't exactly have to wonder about this… the preface of the Kojiki all but says it.  They put the words in the mouth of Ohoama, or, as they call him, the Sovereign of the Kiyomihara Palace.  But the words are pretty clear: "I hear that the Imperial Records and Ancient Writing handed down by the various houses have come to differ from the truth and that many false hoods have been added to them. If these errors are not remedied at this time, their meaning will be lost before many years have passed. This is the framework of the state, the great foundation of the imperial influence. Therefore, recording the Imperial Records and examining the Old Writings, discarding the mistaken and establishing the true, I desire to hand them on to later generations." With that, 28 year old Hieda no Are was given the command to learn all the stories and presumably to recite them for the court.  And several decades later, Oho no Yasumaro was given the task to take Are's stories and write them down.  I imagine that Hieda no Are, or perhaps someone else who had learned the stories well enough, would be called into court or banquets to present some of the stories, or would be asked questions if there was any need for precedence.  Thus creating a single source for truth, according to the administration.  At the same time, the court had a problem.  They couldn't control all of the sources of written material, with all of the various contradictions, so we also would eventually get the more comprehensive—but also less narratively direct—Nihon Shoki as well.  After all, the game of propaganda was being played at many levels, and while the royal household had their motivations—primarily to support the legitimacy of their claim to power and the system within which that claim was validated— other families wanted to ensure that they were properly recorded as having connections to traditional nexuses of power—be that the ancient kami of Heaven or Earth, or their relationship to the royal family.  This is because precedence was important, even as new traditions were being created.  Like the way that the Mononobe and the Nakatomi played important roles in Uno no Sarara's ascension ceremony despite the actual individuals using new or different names, like Isonokami or Fujiwara.  See Episode 151 for the explanation, there.  And new traditions were much easier to justify if you could connect them with older traditions—whether those older traditions were truly ancient or newly made inventions. And all of this suggests that this was not an accident and it wasn't simply being imposed from the top down.  One could be charitable and suggest that those involved felt that this got them closest to what the truth actually was, given that they had now been inculcated in a new worldview and they were trying to view the ancient stories through the interpretive lens of that worldview.  On the other hand, they were ultimately doing it to structure power and authority that favored them and the government they had created.  A government that they hoped would outlast them, and be passed on to their descendants. Next episode, we will continue our discussion of Uno no Sarara's life and reign and the incredible steps she took to ensure that her line would continue to rule Yamato for decades. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Special Episode – An Introduction to K Dramas Comment on this episode by going to KDramaChat.com Today, we're joined by our friend Malcolm for a special episode introducing the world of K Dramas to beginners. Whether you're a longtime fan or have never watched a Korean drama before, this episode is designed to help you understand what makes K Dramas so compelling, why they've become a global phenomenon, and where to begin your own K Drama journey. We discuss: What defines a K Drama, how Korean television has evolved since the Korean War, and how the Korean Wave (Hallyu) transformed these shows into worldwide hits. Where to watch K Dramas today, including Netflix, Disney+/Hulu, Amazon Prime, Viki, and Kocowa, plus why Viki remains a favorite for translations. How Joanna, Sung Hee, and Malcolm each discovered K Dramas and the shows that turned them into lifelong fans. Why K Dramas stand apart through heartfelt storytelling, unforgettable characters, gorgeous cinematography, and beautiful original soundtracks. Our recommendations for the best K Dramas for beginners, with picks ranging from Crash Landing on You, Hotel Del Luna, Mr. Queen, Queen of Tears, Kingdom, Hospital Playlist, Business Proposal, 25 21, My Name, and more. The importance of understanding Korean culture, including Confucian values, filial piety, personal morality, social harmony, and how these shape the stories and characters we love. The influence of Korea's chaebol system, Korean history, and the country's hierarchical society on modern and historical K Dramas. Why Korean language, honorifics, and forms of address matter, and why subtitles often cannot perfectly capture the original dialogue. Some of our favorite K Drama elements, including the White Truck of Death, piggyback rides, product placement, holding hands, quirky best friends, the trip-and-catch, and so many more recurring moments. Why food and alcohol play such an important role in K Dramas, from ramyeon and Korean fried chicken to Korean barbecue, banchan, and the famous "come up for ramyeon" invitation. How and why OSTs are so important to K Dramas, and we mention some of our favorite songs, including Love Maybe, Day and Night, The Way Home, and memorable soundtracks from Hotel Del Luna, Crash Landing on You, Business Proposal, Hospital Playlist, Lovely Runner, Queen of Tears, Start-Up, and many more. The many genres within K Dramas—including romance, fantasy, historical dramas, slice of life, thrillers, action, zombie stories, and makjang revenge dramas—and our personal favorites. Why we strongly recommend watching with subtitles instead of dubbed audio to fully appreciate the actors' original performances. Malcolm's advice for introducing friends and family to K Dramas by choosing shows that match their interests rather than assuming everyone wants to watch a romance. Our encouragement to new viewers: give a K Drama four episodes before deciding whether it's for you—you just might discover your next favorite television obsession.

We've looked at several different members of the court during the reign of Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.  Today we start to look at her life, who she was, and what she did.  In this first part we'll touch on some of her big accomplishments, including building the Fujiwara capital, patronage of Ise Shrine, and even the publication of the Kiyomihara law code.   For more, check out the podcast blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-152   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 152: Queen Uno no Sarara, Part 1 It was rare that something would pull people from the fields at the height of the season, but it wasn't every day that people of Iga had the opportunity to watch a true royal procession.  They gathered on either side of the street as the parade passed through town.  There were horses and carts, but also just numerous men carrying various bags and provisions.  There were also military guards, decked out in their finest—just in case anyone got any ideas.  There were also various nobles and government officials, riding with her.  The outfits and color would have been striking, particular to those who had little business with the court.  And at the height of it all was a covered palanquin.  Nobody could see the royal presence inside through the screens, though later they would talk about getting a peek of her hair or her robes.  It didn't matter, the procession itself was enough of a spectacle for all to see. Not everyone was pleased.  A few of the more dour elders complained about how much of a disruption and a distraction it was.  They would at least be somewhat mollified by the news that, for enduring the disruption, they would at least get a break on their taxes that year.  The procession was headed east, to the land of Ise.  Apparently they were going to pay their respects at the shrine there.  Did you know that it was dedicated to the ancestor of the royal family itself?  The actual sun goddess herself, Amaterasu.  Some of the elders shook their heads.  They remembered when everyone had been focused on Mt. Miwa, to the west.  And what about this Buddha that had shown up from overseas?  There were temples to him popping up all over the place.  They weren't so sure about all of this, but they knew their local kami and their local priests, who helped with the local harvests, and that was enough for them.  The court and their fancy learning could figure out what the country needed, but they were going to stay focused on the day to day, instead. Here we are, in the reign of Uno no Sarara, widow of Ohoama and mother to the late Prince Kusakabe, known to history as Jitou Tennou.  We've actually been in Uno's reign for several episodes now, but while we've talked about how that reign began and the roles a lot of other people played in that beginning, this episode I would finally like to start focusing on her—who she was, where she came from, and what she did.  Since that covers a lot of ground, we are going to cover some of her history up to this reign, and we'll be mostly focusing on two major updates—the creation of the new capital of Fujiwara, aka Fujiwara-kyou, and the increased royal patronage of Ise, which is thought to have been responsible for the ascendancy of Amaterasu as the paramount kami of the pantheon of Shinto kami. So let's start at the very beginning. It is traditionally held that Uno no Sarara was born around 645 to Naka no Oe and Soga no Ochi no Iratsume.  Ochi was the daughter of Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, cousin to the powerful Soga no Iruka.  Naka no Oe's marriage to Ochi no Iratsume and her sister, Mehi no Iratsume, had been part of a strategic alliance with Ishikawa no Maro, who helped him overthrow his cousins and institute the Taika Reforms.  We talked about all of that back in Episode 106, as well as subsequent podcasts after that covering the next several reigns. So 645 is about the earliest Uno no Sarara may have been born, the very start of the Taika era, when her father began instituting a lot of changes based on continental practices. She would have grown up in the inner buildings of the Asuka court during this  time of immense change.  She was probably a bit young when the Toyosaki palace was first built, though she may have remembered when the court abandoned it and moved back to Asuka.  Unfortunately, when she was only five years old, tragedy struck.  Ishikawa no Maro, who had been made the Udaijin, or Minister of the Right, was slandered by his own brother, Soga no Himuka, and in return, Naka no Oe sent a force to have him punished.  When he saw he could not get away, Uno no Sarara's grandfather, Ishikawa no Maro, took his own life.  The Nihon Shoki—written, I should note, at least partly under the direction of Maro's granddaughter—claims that evidence came to light demonstrating his innocence, and he was posthumously exonerated.  Maro's daughter, Miyatsuko no Iratsume, was so saddened by all of this that we are told she died of a broken heart. Miyatsuko no Iratsume appears to be another name for Ochi no Iratsume, and if so, it would mean that Uno no Sarara lost both her mother and grandfather when she was only five years old due to the actions of her own father.  This sounds to me like it should be some kind of villain origin story. From there, she was likely taken care of by her aunts and other women in the palace, at least until 657.  It was about that time, at the age of 13, that she was married off to her uncle, Prince Ohoama. We don't have a precise age for Ohoama, but he was likely no more than 5 years younger than Uno's father, Naka no Oe, and some estimates suggest he was in his late 20s or early 30s, taking to wife his 13 year old niece. I can't help but think, here, of the Heian period novel, the Tale of Genji, where the titular character, Genji, finds Lady Murasaki and marries her at the age of 10.  Uno no Sarara would have grown up in her uncle-husband's home, and she was still young when the entire realm was placed on a war footing.When the court moved to Kyushu in 661 for the prosecution of the war on the continent, Uno no Sarara went with her husband, and a year later gave birth to their son, Prince Kusakabe.  She was probably about 18 years old at the time.   I suspect that means She  probably knew about her grandmother, Takara Hime, passing away, something that the inner circle of the royal family had attempted to keep relatively quiet for fear of disrupting the war effort.   Soon after her own son was born, news came back that the forces on the continent had lost.  Baekje had fallen, and Yamato could be next.  She would have traveled with her husband and the rest of the court back to Asuka and, eventually, up to Ohotsu, where her father now ruled with his brother as his right-hand man and heir to the throne. At this time, Uno no Sarara was no stranger to politics.  While her husband was in line for the throne, she knew that her brothers were also potential claimants, once they came of age. The Nihon Shoki disqualifies them through their parentage, but we see that didn't stop the Afumi court from rallying behind Prince Ohotomo.  There was also the royal princes Kawashima and Shiki.  Prince Takeru would have technically been a potential threat as well, had he not died, tragically, at only eight years of age. Now, technically, some may have been more in line than others, but Uno no Sarara knew how her own father had jumped the line, displacing her late uncle, Furubito no Oe, and it was clear something similar might happen this time around.  There were also likely a few indications that not everything was great between her father and her husband, although you would hardly know it from the number of her siblings that were also residing in the north chambers of his residence. Things came to a head in 671.  At this point, Uno no Sarara was in her late 20s with a 10 year old son, and it was looking, for a moment, like her father, despite his illness, might have Ohoama killed to pave the way for Naka no Oe's own son, Uno's brother, Ohotomo.  When Ohoama surprised everyone and stepped down, taking the tonsure, she was the only one to follow him.  We don't know if this is because she was that loyal to her husband, or because she had no other options.  If her mother had taken her own life after her grandfather's death, she may have had nobody but her father, Naka no Oe, to turn to, and he was clearly doing poorly.  If she stayed, then she would be relying on the goodwill of Prince Ohotomo and others while looking after the nine year old son and heir of Ohoama, who was clearly persona non grata at court. In contrast, one of Ohoama's other consorts, Munakata no Amago no Iratsume would have had the Munakata family to fall back on, should she need it, and her son, Prince Takechi, was a bit older.  In addition, Uno's  sister, Ohota no Himemiko had passed away earlier, in 667, and it is unclear who cared for her son, Prince Ohotsu, who was only a year younger than Uno's son, Kusakabe.  However, he, too, appears to have remained at the Afumi court with his caretakers. So Uno no Sarara went to Yoshino with her husband.  From this point on, Yoshino would become an important place for her, and during her own reign she would frequently make visits to the palace there, sometimes just for a couple of days at a time. After Naka no Oe's death, and the entire conflict of the Jinshin no Ran that kicked off in 672, Uno stayed by her husband's side.  She and Kusakabe made the incredible overnight journey from Yoshino to the other side of the Kii Peninsula, eventually setting up in Mie.  Ohoama would continue on towards Fuwa pass, where his son Takechi was already stationed with loyal soldiers.  Before that, however, he is mentioned as turning towards Ise—towards Amaterasu.  The implication seems to be that he was praying for victory.  It is also notable that a large part of his support was coming from the East and from areas around Ise. Little is mentioned of Uno's role in the record of the Jinshin no Ran, but in the opening to her reign there is a mention that she addressed the troops and mingled with the throng, until at last they formed a plan.  This seems to indicate that she was involved in the planning, at least, for the prosecution of the war.  On the one hand she was placed well behind the front lines.  On the other hand, she was well positioned to assist with logistics.  Troops and supplies from the north could come down and be redirected to the south depending on what was needed, and communications would likely be more secure through that area fully controlled by Ohoama's troops.  It is easy enough to imagine Uno no Sarara taking a role, even if it isn't explicitly mentioned.  The fact that she is mentioned as much as she is suggests to me that she had plenty to contribute to the war effort. As the war of 672 came to a close, Ohoama had to move from a war footing to one of peacetime governance.  As he ascended to the throne in 673, Uno no Sarara was made his queen.  And in light of the recent issues, Ohoama appears to have leaned heavily on her and other members of the royal family for support. And so Uno no Sarara was not just a delicate flower sitting in the hinter palace, waiting on her husband.  She was an active participant in the government.  When Ohoama called the various princes down to Yoshino and had them swear to uphold and support each other, she was included in their number.  And the Chronicles explicitly mention that when the princes swore to uphold each other, Ohoama swore he would also support them, and then Uno no Sarara made her oath like his.  That is interesting in that she isn't included in the five princes, but rather with the sovereign, her husband.  It appears she approached this from the point of view of a ruler already.  Or perhaps she was not considered to be in the line of succession, and the focus was on upholding the various princes.  Either way, we see how that eventually turned out. Later, when starting the project for what is believed to be the Kiyomihara codes, she was seated on the dais with her husband, indicating that she certainly was involved in various matters of state.  She also gave and received presents from the various nobles, including suits of clothing, gold, and more.  When Ohoama grew ill, and could not carry out the functions of the government alone, he deferred matters to her and to the Crown Prince, presumably meaning her son, Prince Kusakabe. Now Kusakabe is recorded as being made Crown Prince, and thus heir to the throne, however, it has also been suggested that this might not have been the case.  Some have suggested that Prince Ohotsu may have been the actual Crown Prince, and that he wasn't plotting against Kusakabe and his mother, but rather it was the other way around, with Uno no Sarara clearing him off the field to make room for her son. Ohotsu, remember, was the son of Ohoama by way of Ohota-hime, who was a full sister to Uno no Sarara.  That meant that, from a strict bloodline perspective, Ohotsu had just as much of a claim to the throne as did Kusakabe, but Kusakabe was a year older—or so the Nihon Shoki, compiled under the reign of Uno and her successors, would have us believe.  We are also told that Uno was formally designated as Ohoama's queen—but again we have that from the Nihon Shoki, which is more than a little bit biased.   Personally, I feel this theory that Uno no Sarara plotted to have Ohotsu removed without anything else stretches some of what we know, but it does illustrate that Uno no Sarara had a vested interest in ensuring that the crown went to her own progeny.  I'd be more inclined to believe that there was some movement a foot, even if it was perhaps not quite as treasonous as the response to it would warrant. And this catches us up with much of what we know.  Ohotsu was executed, but then Kusakabe passed away, and so Queen Uno no Sarara became Tennou in her own right.  Things hadn't gone exactly to plan, but she still had her grandson, Prince Karu, the late Kusakabe's son, whose mother, Princess Abe, was a younger-half sister to Uno no Sarara.  Abe was the daughter of Naka no Oe and Mehi no Iratsume, making Abe another grand-daughter of Soga no Kuramayada no Ishikawa no Maro.  She was also 17 years Sarara's junior and only a year older than the late Kusakabe.  By all accounts, it seems that Abe and Sarara got on well together, though she is not as prominent in the narrative that we have in the Nihon Shoki.  Still, she had an important role, not in terms of governance, but in terms of ensuring that the line continued.  She was in charge or protecting and raising young Prince Karu until he was ready to take the throne.  In so doing, she would no doubt have had a front row seat to Queen Uno's own efforts. Since Uno no Sarara had already been so involved with the government, it should come as no surprise that she continued many of the efforts attributed to her husband.  In fact, you'll often find references to Temmu and Jitou side-by-side to describe what happened because very few things can be attributed to just one of the two, especially given how long some of these projects seem to have taken.  That said, there were some differences.  While Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, had relied primarily on members of the royal family following the Jinshin no Ran, Uno was much more likely to rely on trusted nobles, whose position at court was largely held thanks to the patronage of the royal family.  Having nobles running things again, rather than handing over power to those of the Princely class, may have provided opportunities for those noble houses to once again flex and grow their political muscle, but it was either that or hand that same power over to other princes with claims to royal descent—princes who might encourage the court that it would better if they, themselves, were to succeed the Queen, rather than the young prince, her own actual bloodline.  Even the loyal Prince Takechi, who seems to have supported her and Prince Karu as best he could, could easily have become a threat.  This could be one of the reasons she held on to power as long she did.  It was, after all, a deliberate choice on her part.  She could have had someone else step in as regent, but she chose not to. We've talked about Uno's dealings with Silla and the continent at this time. That was back in Episode 148, when we talked about how Ohoama was mourned and how Yamato dealt with the early missions.  We discussed, thenhow she berated the Silla envoys for not adhering to protocol and turning them away.  She also met with Emishi and Hayato embassies, which only helped to cement Yamato's place as the central hegemony over the archipelago and all those living on the islands.  At first, this was just an extension of what she and Kusakabe had been doing since Ohoama had first grown ill and handed over the reins of government.  But then Kusakabe died—and life went on.  Later, Kusakabe would be remembered as Okanomiya Tennou and the Nagaoka Tennou.  While not counted in the formal lineage, he was still granted the title "Tennou" posthumously, likely to help legitimize his son and that lineage.  And yet, despite this, there is no report of a eulogy or anything similar upon his death.  Even Royal Prince Ohotsu, when he was killed for threatening Kusakabe's own ascendance, is given a fairly wordy entry full of praise for his virtues and how he was remember.  For Kusakabe we get silence.  Things just move on. Indeed, just two weeks after the Crown Prince's death, we get orders talking about given people four holidays each month.  It seems a rather banal announcement coming the same week that the Crown Prince passed away. And banal it may be, but I do want to pick at it a bit.  I think it helps us understand even more the life at that time.  In most of the world, today, we have become accustomed to the western concept of a week with seven days, including two holidays every week—though we just refer to it as the weekend.  Saturday and Sunday began as holy days—the Sabbath in Jewish and then Christian tradition.  Even Judaism only had a single day of rest every seven days.  Many cultures did not have the concept of a weekend.  After all, there wasn't anything particularly special about one day or the other.  A lunar month is just under 30 days—alternating between 29 and 30 days depending on various factors.  Five would fit into that much better than four seven day weeks and two more days.  Or divide it into two 15 day periods, more or less.  Or three weeks of ten days each.  In fact, that is what was popular in the Tang dynasty at the time—though a seven day week had crept in through Buddhism, which had been picked up on the Indian subcontinent thanks to Hellenic influences.  This seven day week, which is now used in modern times, was originally used more by astronomers.  The days corresponded to the Sun, the Moon, and the visible planets. The point is, there's no such thing as a natural weekend.  At some point, the Tang court introduced a rest period every five days for court officials.  In Yamato, it seems that they introduced four holidays.  Specifically, the local governors were to give laborers—those conscripted as corvee labor—four days every month.  It doesn't mention if they are spaced out, or at what intervals, and it was specifically for laborers.  I should probably also mention that, at this time, there wasn't a concept of a "9-to-5" job.  Sure, the court operated on a schedule that may have fit fairly well in our modern life, other than its extremely early start due to the lack of cheap, safe artificial light sources.  Most people, however, especially in the agricultural sectors, were likely working from sunrise to sunset, when necessary.  There was no concept of overtime or a forty hour work week.  You worked when you needed to work, and that was it.  No time cards, just life, punctuated by holidays, festivals, market days, and whatever else needed to happen.  Oddly, in our modern, more regular work schedule we work both more and less, in some ways, than our ancestors did.   Our labor often goes into things beyond our job—everything from taking care of our home to various hobbies that we enjoy. Giving laborers time off from their endeavors was no doubt something they appreciated, but I don't know how much of an impact it had on things long term.  A more interesting endeavor comes a few months later.  That is when Uno had a royal commission come together as commissioners of "good words".  We mentioned this before, especially when talking about Kose no Tayasu, who had been part of this commission, though he was the lowest ranked of the bunch.  At the top it was headed by Prince Shiki, a half-brother to Uno, and one of those who had pledged his loyalty with other members of the royal family down in Yoshino, though at the time Shiki was only about 11 years old.  He was the son of Koshi no Michi no Kimi no Iratsume, and a brother to Prince Osakabe.  In 689, when he took charge of this commission from his half-sister, he would have been in his 22nd year, so this was probably one of his first major assignments. We don't have a finished product that we can point to from this project, so there isn't a clear idea of exactly what the commission did.  Aston believed that they were attempting to determine auspicious words to be used by the court.  By this one could infer that they were looking into the way to draw up formal language for edicts, or how to formally address the sovereign and members of the court.  However, others have suggested that this was more about finding stories and other such things and writing them down.  If that is the case, this may have been a continuation of—or perhaps an addendum to—the history project started during the reign of Ohoama.  The words, or stories, that the commission wrote down were likely used by later Chroniclers, though there is no specific work that is clearly attributed to their efforts.  So in the end we can't exactly know for sure.  What we can see is that Uno no Sarara was continuing to make tweaks and changes to things—and in particular in how things were stated, remembered, and passed down to posterity, one way or another.  This is also part of what we see later that same month, when the 22 books of what we now call the Kiyomihara Law Codes were also published.  Like the history project, this was also begun during the reign of Ohoama, and Uno had continued to see it through.  It appears to have been just the law itself, not necessarily the punishments which made up the other half of the Ritsuryou, but it is still significant.  Unfortunately, we don't know exactly what was in it—the earliest law code that we have good evidence for is the Taihou code, which would come over a decade later—but we have seen some of the edicts and orders and we can make some assumptions based on later law codes as well as the language used to even define the court and how things ran.  Much of what was written had likely been promulgated, previously, and a lot of this may have been more documenting the changes they had already put in place. There is also the Afumi law code, but there are even more questions about that one.  This is possibly the first one written down to this level of detail.  Though it would be superseded, later, it was still an impressive work. As in past reigns, we see things both monumental and mundane.  A month after the law codes were finished, we see about orders to the Mayors of the Left and Right to set up places for Archery—literally glossed as "Ikusa", or "war", but likely because the two had a common root and archery and war were closely intertwined.  As for the Mayors of the Left and Right, this is the first time we are seeing those terms, and I suspect they are also part of the reforms that Uno no Sarara and her late husband had been implementing. The Mayors of the Left and Right of the Capital are known as Kyoushiki or, alternatively, as Misato-zukasa.  They were like kokushi, or governors, except they oversaw the capital city.  Now remember, the quote-unquote "capital city" in use at this point is Asuka—it is the Kiyomihara palace and environs.  There were other streets, buildings, and such around, but nothing terribly organized.  Most family estates were off in their own lands or strongholds.  At the same time, the court was building out a new, permanent capital.  It was taking time—and likely had been put on hold during the three year mourning period for the late Ohoama Ohokimi.  It required that they survey and transform an immense and populated area into a new and impressive capital in the area known today as Kashihara.  This work took years—they likely had to divert labor to build the late sovereign's mausoleum, or misasagi, and there were droughts and other reasons why they may have had to pause work.  And yet, it continued, nonetheless. The main ideal for a capital city was based off of continental models.  While Luoyang may have been the more active capital, the western capital of the Tang dynasty, at Chang'an—modern Xi'an—appears to have been a more quintessential capital city layout, and may have been what the Yamato capital was attempting to mimic—though they may have also been relying on the theoretical Confucian model, as well.  In fact, I tend to think that the Confucian model was closer to this first attempt at a permanent capital.  Early on, excavations assumed that the palace structures were towards the northern end of the city, but further investigations have suggested that the scale of Fujiwara-kyo was much more ambitious, and some maps of the area place the palace towards the center of the city.  Either way, there were several key things about the capital and how it mimicked the continental models.  One of the primary things that Yamato had appropriated from across the strait was the north-south orientation of the palace, with the main audience hall facing south, so as to get the sun.  This meant that, from the point of view of the sovereign in that hall, the left side would be the east and the right side would be to the west.  And so the capital city was divided into a left and right, east and west, and each half had its own administrator responsible for taxation, public safety, and general law and order.  They were, as I said, similar to the governors of the various provinces in the scope of their powers, except that they oversaw the capital city. The building of the Fujiwara capital is perhaps one of the most obvious changes that Uno no Sarara was overseeing.  As I've mentioned before, it was a physical manifestation of court.  The three sacred mountains which were included within the boundaries of the capital were woven into the myths and legends that would find their way into the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.  The size and scale of the earthworks and the stones laid as foundation demonstrate that this was clearly meant to be a permanent capital, overturning the idea that there would be a huge change every time a sovereign passed away.  Instead, there would be consistency.  The order of the state would go on. Later we'll talk about reasons why the Fujiwara capital was abandoned.  For now, though, let's look at what we see about its construction. In 690, the same year that Uno ascended to the throne, Royal Prince Takechi, Ohoama's oldest son, inspected the site where the new Fujiwara palace was to be placed.  Two months later, Uno no Sarara came out to see it for herself.  I imagine this as being the point where the land had been cleared, and they could see the mountains and the placement and get an idea of the overall size of what they were looking for.  With royal approval, the project continued. A year later, in 691, officials were sent to perform the Chin-sai, the pacification ceremony, for the new capital.  Today, this is a common ceremony, known as a Jichin-sai, or Earth Pacification Ceremony, done before undertaking a construction project.  Theoretically it is before breaking ground on the project, though there is often some amount of preparation that has to be done in preparation.  The idea for the Jichin-sai is to effectively negotiate with the spirits of the land before disturbing the area, a recognition that the process of construction is going to alter the natural landscape.  As such, one wants to propitiate the spirits and the kami that are on the land to ensure that the construction is successful.  This was likely a much older ritual, but this is the first mention we have of it in the record.  This ceremony was also apparently directed at the new capital as a whole, while a year later another ceremony was held specifically for the new palace complex.  In the intervening time we see the court laying out the roads and giving land for the various mansions of court nobles, like Tajihi no Shima's four chou of land—roughly ten acres.  Those of Jikikwoni rank and above were given two chou, and those from Jikidaisan down were given one chou.  Those of Gon rank on down would get land dependant on the number of inhabitants in their fiefs.  First class fiefs would get one chou, while second class would warrant a half chou and at the bottom they would get one quarter chou.  This was apparently the land that they were being given in the capital to build their personal residences.  Other land was given out for markets, temples, and other necessary facilities, but this whole city really was being built from scratch. Shortly after the pacification ceremony for the palace, officials were sent out to the major shrines of the time.  This included the great gods, the Ohokami, of Ise, Yamato, Sumiyoshi, and Kii.  So not just the local kami, but also the larger kami who were seen as the kami of the archipelago more generally. It would still take another year to build the palace.  Uno visited the site a few times during the construction, with her last visit just a quick outing on the 8th month of 693.  At that point it was likely ready, though she wouldn't formally move into the new palace until the first month of 694.  Before that, though, there was one other thing that had to happen.  In the 2nd month of 693 they had to rebury the bodies. That's right.  The Fujiwara capital occupied a huge swath of the plain of what is now known as Kashihara.  And that plain had been settled for centuries—all through the kofun period.  And those kofun, and possibly even older funkyubo, the older mixed-use burial mounds—would have been destroyed in the making of the new capital.  There also may have been plain pit burials that were dug up while laying out roads and foundations.  I don't know that there was anything approaching the size of the larger, keyhole shaped mounds, but we have no way to know for certain how many were there that had to be destroyed or moved.  I also have not seen any indications of any mass reburial site—whether they opened an existing tomb or simply dug a pit in the ground somewhere.  I imagine that such a find would be incredible, but unless archaeologists stumble upon it, I guess we'll never know.  Still, it is interesting, and almost poetic as we move further and further from the kofun period, this feels like the final nail in the proverbial coffin, if you'll forgive the pun.  Indeed, when Uno no Sarara finally passes away, she will become one of the first sovereigns to be cremated, with her ashes and burnt remains then deposited in the existing tomb with her husband, Ohoama, rather than having a new mounded tomb built.  Buddhist style cremation would eventually become commonplace throughout the archipelago, though sovereigns would still have special mausoleums built for their memory, it really was a change from the ancient practices. From 694 onward, the court would meet at the new Fujiwara Palace.  Compared to previous palaces, I can only imagine how impressive this one must have seemed.  Based on what we can tell, it was likely built much more in the continental style.  Previous palaces had largely been in the style of the archipelago, with what we believe was plain wood and a thatched roof.  The Fujiwara palace was likely a mix, but with more of the continental style than the previous Kiyomihara place.  It also dwarfed its predecessor, at over twice the size.  It was actually much closer in size and shape to the Toyosaki palace, in Naniwa.  At the southern end of the palace was the Suzaku mon, the Suzaku gate, followed by the choshu-den'in, a courtyard with two buildings, one in the east and one in the west, where officials could wait and prepare for the day.  From there they would be let into the Chodoin, a large court yard with four buildings on the east and west, and four more at the southernmost point.  These would be where the various departments, or bureaus, would operate.  There were also gates in the east and west of the Chodoin for easier access.  To the north was another gate, leading to the Daigokuden, the main audience hall.  This would have been quite the impressive and imposing structure—the main focus of the palace.  It was in its own walled enclosure, and would have been the seat of the sumera Mikoto, or Tennou.  It was both inside and apart from the Dairi, the inner palace.  This was the actual residence of the sovereign and the royal family.  The dairi itself occupied more land than the entire Kiyomihara palace.  None of the buildings exist, but we can see their footprint from the large foundation stones and there are numerous rooftiles and other architectural features that fell off or were removed and then buried, purposefully or not, allowing us to get some idea of the size and scale of the project. And yet, it appears that this palace may not have been completed when they moved in.  The entire city was likely still under construction, in fact.  The main pieces were in place, but to build an entire city from scratch took a lot of work.  Most of the buildings would have been built with more traditional—and less labor intensive—practices.  You didn't need a false second story gallery some thirty feet off the ground, even if you were the Minister of the Right.  It was enough to have a relatively simple mansion with gardens, servants quarters, and everything else needed to keep you comfortable.  That in and of itself was going to put a strain on labor and other resources. And so it looks like some parts of the galleries and other features may not have been finished even while Uno no Sarara was there.  In fact, it may not have been fully finished by the time they moved again.  The Fujiwara capital, the first permanent capital city, was only occupied from 694 until about 710—less than two decades.  This massive project, taking multiple years and how many people to create, would be abandoned several years later.  The buildings would be torn down and moved to the new site—Heijou-kyou, in modern Nara city.  And yet, the impact of Fujiwara kyou would remain. Besides making changes to the physical landscape, Uno no Sarara was also focused on the spiritual landscape as well.  Both Ohoama and Uno not only supported the Buddhist temples, building new temples and leveraging the ceremonies, but they also supported the traditional kami.  During the Jinshin no Ran, Ohoama turned and addressed the kami of Ise before heading to the Fuwa barrier.  Later we see a greater focus on Ise Shrine, with Saigu, the royal princesses sent to Ise Shrine as the Shrine priestess, being heavily reported.  In fact, the position seems to have not been commented on much until this reign, and there is some thought that Ohoama and Uno actually instituted the practice—or at least made it a formal part of the court and the royal household.  This is combined with their support of the Jingikan, the state governmental body responsible for dealing with kami matters.  At this time it appears to have been even more powerful, in many ways, than the other bureaus or departments of the Great Council of State, the Dajokan. There are plenty who argue that the preeminence of Ise was born in this period.  Early Yamato worship focused more on the deity of Mt. Miwa:  Ohomononushi.  Sun worship seems to have also been baked into the rituals of the ethnic Wa people, but that wasn't necessarily focused on Amaterasu—and Amaterasu was not necessarily seen as a feminine goddess.  Early worship appears to focus on the deities such as Takabi Musubi, and similarly named deities.  These are deities that show up in court ritual, and presumably date back to well before this period.  Thanks to the fact that we get alternate stories in the Nihon Shoki, we occasionally see them take a more central role in events, such as the descent of the Heavenly Grandson, but at the same time we also see that the main throughline of the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki has placed Amaterasu more front and center in the narrative.  Ama Terasu effectively translates to something like "The Shining of Heaven".  In neither the Japanese nor Sinitic language is she particularly gendered most of the time, and this may have been a more generic name for the concept of a sun deity.   I believe it is also somewhat telling that the Ichi-no-miya, the First Shrine, or primary shrine, of Ise is not Ise Shrine, but rather Tsubaki Grand Shrine, which is the home of Sarutahiko Ohokami.  Even in the Nihon Shoki, there is a narrative regarding the yata no kagami, the great mirror, that it was moved from its original location in the Nara Basin over to Ise and the shrine was then established there, marking the shrine as a relative late-comer to the region rather than marking a particularly ancient spot.  The Great Kami of Ise then appears to have taken on some of the shine, pun intended, of Sarutahiko, who is no longer seen as a sun-deity, and is even placed in the way of the Heavenly Grandchild's descent—perhaps a subtle nod to some of the tensions between the worship of one over the other. Besides sending the Shrine Princess, the Saigu, to Ise, the sovereigns themselves made plans to go, in person.  Ohoama made preparations, including purifying himself, but his trip was cancelled due to a sudden death in the palace.  He is never recorded as making the trip, after that.  Uno no Sarara, however, did make the trip, in 692. This was clearly quite the production, and requires several entries in the Nihon Shoki.  The first entry is in the 2nd month of the year, when she makes her intentions clear.  The Court officials were set to task to prepare all the necessary clothing for the trip, which was about 3 weeks out.  This likely also meant preparing the road, ensuring that there would be food, and a place for Uno no Sarara and her entourage to stay when they reached Ise.  The preparations clearly had an impact, as Miwa no Ason no Takechimaro, a Chunagon, or Middle Counselor, presented a memorial to remonstrate with her majesty on the trip.  He noted that they were in the middle of the agricultural season—roughly April or May by modern standards—and a royal trip would have an outsized impact on the areas where she would be traveling through.  His remonstration was heard, and overruled.  Uno no Sarara was determined to go.  As she delegated the Prince Hirose, Tahema no Mabito no Chitoko, and Ki no Ason no Yumibari to all look after the palace while she was away, Miwa no Takechimaro reiterated his remonstration and then took a drastic step:  He offered to her his cap—basically he offered to resign his rank.  This was quite the step, and not from nobody. Miwa no Takechimaro was from a prominent family.  As their name suggests, they were connected to Mt. Miwa, and the worship, there.  Based on what evidence we have, he was probably born around 657 CE, and when he was about 16 years old he was fighting on the side of Ohoama in the Jinshin no Ran.  In particular, he was involved in the fighting near Hashihaka kofun, and then moved over to attack the Afumi forces on the Middle Road.  There is evidence after that of him making his way up through the ranks, and was even one of those who offered a eulogy for Ohoama.  As Chunagon, he was in a fairly powerful position in court, and giving up his court rank would mean not just a loss in status, but also giving up the income associated with that rank. And this remonstration may be why we are told that the court commuted taxes, including forced labor, for the lands that she passed through, and she recognized the local Kuni no Miyatsuko with cap-rank.  She also remitted taxes for those who had been conscripted to help from elsewhere, such as her baggage handlers, the people who built the temporary palace for her to stay in, in Ise, etc.  So even if the procession to Ise had an impact, she seems to have done her best to lessen the blow. As for Takechimaro, we don't see him again in the Nihon Shoki, but he does show up later.  He would become the governor of Nagato, and then later he is given positions such as the Mayor of the Sakyou, or Left Capital.  So it would seem that either his resignation wasn't accepted, or that he was re-hired at some later point.  He would pass away in 706 CE. By the way, there is one other notable feature about him, and you may have caught it as I went over all of this.  That was the name of his uji, or clan:  Miwa, or Ohomiwa.    This means he had a connection to—and possibly a vested interest in—promoting the worship at Mt. Miwa, the traditional Yamato cultic center.  Nothing is outright stated, but it makes sense that someone from Miwa might be a little bit concerned with the extra attention being given to the shrine at Ise around this time—so there is that, as well. Regardless of his intentions, it certainly seems that from that point on Ise Shrine and the deity worshipped there, Amaterasu Ohokami, would be tied to the imperial line from the late 7th century onward.  Clearly the royal patronage of the shrine stepped up, and for the most part we do see a fairly regular stream of Saigu, with one slight exception:  There doesn't appear to have been one during Uno no Sarara's reign.  Ohoku no Himemiko had been sent down during the reign of Ohoama, but she was the sister to Prince Ohotsu, and appears to have returned after his death.  The position appears to have remained vacant until after Uno no Sarara's reign.  It makes me wonder if she wasn't "filling in" for the Saigu, in a way.  That could, in part, explain her travels there. There also may not have been a good candidate at the time, but I find that less believable—perhaps there was no candidate that Uno trusted given the precarious position her own bloodline was in at the moment.  Still, after her reign, the position of Saigu would be regularly filled by a member of the royal family through the end of the Heian period.  It was interrupted by the Genpei wars, and then the practice fell into decline during the period of the Kamakura bakufu.  Late Edo period pro-imperialists tried to restore the practice, but it didn't catch back on. Despite the apparent importance of the shrine to the royal family, it would also remain somewhat aloof.  The priests of the shrine would provide the sacred mirror for ascension ceremonies, but it would be very rare for any sitting sovereign to actually pay a visit to the shrine, and, as I mentioned before, Amaterasu was not one of the deities reflected in the inner court rituals.  Still, she would come to be seen as the dominant kami of the Shinto pantheon, and even today, many shrines will hold space for her as well as the primary deity; home shrines, or kamidana, will often include ofuda for Amaterasu as a central point of worship, with kami associated with one's local shrines as well. So there you have just a little taste of what Uno no Sarara was up to.  Whether she had intended to be in this position or had it thrust onto her, she was no shrinking violet.  She took control of the ship of state and set a course that would continue to influence the archipelago down to the modern day.  The reforms that started with her father and husband she continued and made manifest in the physical and spiritual world.  And this is only the beginning.  There is more to talk about regarding Uno no Sarara's reign, and her eventual abdication, but for that, we will have to wait until Part 2. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Finally pooled and stilled at Nanjing, in the afterglow of victory, the Taiping reflect on what they've become, and what they've yet to accomplish. In the cold light of the morning after, though, dreams do not equal result, nor clouds a working constitution. And as the world begins to take note and come knocking, the question hanging over it all remains: what will come next? Time Period Covered: Spring–Summer 1853 CE Major Historical Figures:Taiping Heavenly Kingdom: Hong Xiuquan, Heavenly King, Second Son of God [1814–1864]Yang Xiuqing, East King, Voice of God the Father [d. 1856]Xiao Chaogui, West King, signing from beyond the grave [d. 1852]Fu Shanxiang, first & only female zhuangyuan of the examination [fl. 1853; dates uncertain]Lin Fengxiang, general of the Northern Expedition [d. 1855]; The Women's Army of the Heavenly Kingdom [org. 1851]Qing Dynasty: Zeng Guofan, Confucian official, founder of the Xiang (Hunan) Army [1811–1872]Great Britain:Sir George Bonham, Governor of Hong Kong & plenipotentiary to China [1803–1863]Thomas Taylor Meadows, consular interpreter [1815–1868]Cmdr. Edmund Gardiner Fishbourne, HMS Hermes [1811–1887]Abroad: Karl Marx, correspondent, New-York Daily Tribune [1818–1883] Major Sources Cited:Michael, Franz, and Chang Chung-li. The Taiping Rebellion: History and Documents, Vol. I. Platt, Stephen R. Autumn in the Heavenly Kingdom. Spence, Jonathan D. God's Chinese Son: The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom of Hong Xiuquan. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tell me your favorite episode for the 6th anniversary show! For thousands of years, Korea has stood at the crossroads of East Asia, shaped by powerful neighbors but never defined by them.  It has been home to ancient kingdoms, Buddhist temples, Confucian scholars, devastating invasions, colonial rule, war, division, and one of the most remarkable economic and cultural transformations in modern history.  Despite everything, they find themselves in the 21st century, independent but divided.  Learn more about the history of Korea on this episode of Everything Everywhere Daily. Sponsors Saily Get an exclusive 15% discount on Saily data plans! Use code everythingeverywhere at checkout. Download Saily app or go to https://saily.com/everythingeverywhere ButcherBox Get your choice between chicken breast or top sirloin for a year OR ground beef for life, PLUS $20 off when you go to ButcherBox.com/everything Quince Go to quince.com/daily for 365-day returns, plus free shipping on your order! Mint Mobile Save 50% on Unlimited premium wireless plans starting at $15/month at MintMobile.com/EED TrueWerk Get 15% off your first order at truewerk.com with code everything DripDrop Go to dripdrop.com and use promo code everything for 20% off your first order! Subscribe to the podcast!  https://everything-everywhere.com/everything-everywhere-daily-podcast/ -------------------------------- Executive Producer: Charles Daniel Associate Producers: Austin Oetken & Cameron Kieffer   Become a supporter on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/everythingeverywhere Discord Server: https://discord.gg/Ds7Rx7jvPJ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/everythingeverywhere/ Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/everythingeverywheredaily Twitter: https://twitter.com/everywheretrip Website: https://everything-everywhere.com/  Disce aliquid novi cotidie Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A big part of the court are the actual court nobles, so this episode we are taking a look at some of the ones mentioned in the Chronicles for this reign. For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-150 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 150: Nobles of Jitou Tennou's Court   Maro donned his light blue robes and made his way to the court.  As he arrived, the sun was just peaking over the horizon, and as it bathed the court in the golden morning light the dark shadows were dispelled, leaving in their wake a colorful scene, as various court officials headed this way and that, gathering in their offices to pick up on the work that they had left unfinished the day before. As an ohotoneri, Maro was often sent to and fro between the offices of the different departments. As such, he was able to see how they worked, and he wondered to himself which department would have the best opportunity for advancement.  His family had connections over at the Department of Prisons, and it was definitely a place he could make a name for himself, especially if he attached himself to one of the newly minted magistrates.  On the other hand, the Jingikan, the Ministry for Kami Matters, had some of the most important and sought after positions.  After all, no matter what the secular administration did, when there was no rain for the fields, it was the kami to whom the court turned.  And the members of the Jingikan who helped make those ceremonies happen were known to be well rewarded for their troubles. Perhaps he would be better off taking a more modest position, such as with the Jibu-sho, the Department of Civil Administration.  It was mostly focused on the maintenance and execution of the bureaucracy, and wasn't necessarily a place to seek the limelight, but perhaps that also offered some opportunity.  Do well in one position, and who knows what that could open up to you in the long run?  Maybe one day Maro could make it up to become a Nagon, a Counsellor, or even one of the Daijin, the great ministers at the very head of the council of state.Maro almost laughed at the thought, but he didn't put it aside entirely.  After all, as impossible as it might seem now, the world was still changing, and who knew what opportunities might be waiting just around the corner?   This episode continues our look at the reign of Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.  I would note that we have now reached the last chapter of the Nihon Shoki, which ends with the end of Uno no Sarara's reign in 697.  In this chapter, we have not quite 11 years to cover, and we've already talked about the first three of those years, which featured succession issues and a long mourning time for Uno's husband Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, culminating in the sudden death of her only son, the Crown Prince and heir apparent, Prince Kusakabe, in 689.  We also went over what was happening on the continent, with powerful women like Uno no Sarara either on or behind the throne in Silla and the Tang dynasty.  To quickly recap the succession issues: When Kusakabe died, tthat left the throne in a somewhat tenuous position.  There were two other male heirs that would seem to have a claim on the throne as well.  The first was Prince Takechi, who was technically Ohoama's eldest son, but the Chroniclers claim that his late mother was not sufficiently royal for him to have a serious claim.  Then there was Prince Karu, the only known son of the late Crown Prince Kusakabe, and had been born 6 years earlier, in 683, to the Crown Prince and his wife, Princess Abe.  Princess Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, and a half-sister to Uno no Sarara.  She was actually a year older than Kusakabe, and would continue to look after the young Prince Karu.  So, Prince Karu was only about 7 years old when his father passed away: much too young to be taking the throne, let alone a firm hand in the politics of the time.  And given the mortality statistics of the time, there is so much that could happen to him before he reached the age of majority.  And remember, there were already some questions about legitimacy, and we already discussed the fact that about 30 nobles had gathered in support of Prince Ohotsu right after Ohoama's death.  Uno no Sarara had that whole issue quashed and Prince Ohotsu had died, but it was nonetheless a stark reminder that things could change quickly. So at this point in Uno no Sarara's reign, there is a great deal of uncertainty afoot, and there are quite a few individuals named in the Chronicles who stand to benefit from sticking their fingers into politics in one way or another.  This episode, we're going to look at some of those individuals, their roles in the court, and the effect they had on Yamato.  Some of those people named are particularly interesting in that they were involved in the conspiracy with Prince Ohotsu, and would continue to be highly influential in the government.  For example, Iki no Hakatoko, Nakatomi no Omimaro, and Kose no Tayasu, and Yakuchi no Wotokashi are all name-dropped, which we'll get into more later.  It feels significant, however, that there were some 30 nobles all told, and beyond these four and the apparent ringleaders, we don't learn anyone else's names.   The importance of prominent individuals in the court has been a constant theme in the Chronicles and in this podcast, so getting to know the court is definitely important. Moreover, during this time period as we get more and more written sources from which to work from we will see more and more information on individuals.  Some of that will come from the Nihon Shoki and the records that come after—the Shoku Nihongi.  Others, however, are from sources like the Man'yoshu, where bits of biographical data are found about the authors that they mention.  There are also family diaries and later genealogies.  Some of these sources are a bit more trusted than others, especially when they were compiled centuries later and we don't exactly know what sources they, themselves, were working on.  Still, even if it isn't 100% accurate, it does give us a picture of what was going on beyond just the royal family. I think it is also helpful to understand some of the overall court dynamics.  If you are familiar with the Heian period, especially around the time of things like the Tale of Genji, you are probably well acquainted with the Fujiwara family—I'll probably need to do an entire episode just on them at some point.  Essentially, there would come a time where almost the entire court was made up either of royals or of members of the Fujiwara clan, or uji.  In fact, even that distinction wasn't really accurate as the Fujiwara family had so intermarried with the Royal family that every sovereign—every Tennou and even most of their consorts—were directly related to members of the Fujiwara.  Not only that, but members of the Fujiwara family held the position of regent—whether the sovereign was of age or not—and effectively ruled the country, with the Tennou being largely relegated to a mouthpiece with ceremonial duties.  It would get so bad that we would see the splitting of the Fujiwara uji into smaller households, and the political fights were often between members of the different households of the same family.  There is a reason that a good portion of the Heian period is sometimes called the Fujiwara period. However, now during the late Asuka period, we see something a little different.  The marriage politics of the Soga had been violently suppressed about a half century earlier, and a lot of different names flourished in the Yamato court, as youmay have noticed any time I've rattled off a bunch of names and your eyes started crossing because of it.  But that's the reality we see: there were a lot of different families, and individuals, all jockeying for influence.  And they were in a period of disruption, where lots of change was happening.  That change meant there was also a lot of potential. And I hope you don't mind if I take a quick time-out here, but so often we read history and we forget to learn lessons from it, and one overarching lesson is:  if you are a part of an organization—a company, a club, government, school, or anything like that—one thing you are going to have to deal with is change.  It comes in many forms and happens whether or not you personally agree with it. It can be destructive and it can be frightening, because we often don't know what is on the other side of it, but it also presents opportunities.  After all, if you don't know what comes next it probably means other people don't, either.  And if you can be the one to provide direction you can have a huge influence on what comes next.  And change has been a constant theme in this period of Yamato history, in so many ways.  Take the reorganization of the government as one example: they had introduced these 8 departments, which had names and were set up in various ways, but it wasn't like you had experienced people to run them as they had been on the continent.  So you had names and the forms of things, but there were a lot of people figuring out just how to actually put this new structure into practice, and leverage them to do what they were supposed to do.  In the process, there were a lot of opportunities to innovate and figure out how to do it within the cultural milieu of the archipelago.  So all of these individuals, from these various families, all had opportunities staring them in the face.  They just had to figure out how to make the best of it. Now, don't get me wrong:  Those with the money, the connections, and the influence still had a leg up, and this was still a hierarchical society, where your family dictated, to some extent, your position in society.  The introduction of individual court rank, as opposed to just the kabane that ranked uji, was pushing against that, and had already caused a reformation that flattened a lot of the previous kabane into just eight distinctions, but those distinctions still existed.  Even had they not, simple matters of inherited wealth and the value of goods produced in a family's home territory would still have provided tremendous advantages.  But there isn't an indication of the kind of large-scale consolidation of resources that we will see in later periods, such as the Fujiwara example that we were just discussing.  Oh, sure, we aren't going to see a farmer suddenly make it big at court in some kind of rags-to-riches story, but at the upper end of society we still have a lot of apparent diversity. And so, let's get to know some of these individuals that the Chronicles tell us about.  Before we do that, though, let's recap a little bit about how the court worked. Every member of the court was effectively employed by the State.  They had an official job with duties they were supposed to oversee.  In the case of lower level functionaries, they were likely expected to actually do most of the work, while at the top of the hierarchy you had nobles who were more likely decision-makers, who would approve or disapprove of the work and direct strategic resources. Those working in the court had official uniforms—the round-necked garments of the continent.  What would be called a "caftan" farther west.  These were based on the foreign garments popular in the Tang court and elsewhere. The color and pattern of official clothing appears to be something that goes back to early in this new continental style government, and we see suggestions of color schemes from a relatively early age.  However, in 690 we see the clearest such outline of just what everyone was wearing. As a reminder, the court rank system of the day was made up of a Princely and a Commoner system.  Princely ranks originally included two ranks of the Myo class, and four of the Jou class, each rank divided into either "Great" or "Broad", for twelve Princely ranks, though honestly we only ever really see the four Jou class of ranks in use. Below that were the ranks for the common nobles—those with family names who did not have any kind of royal claim.    For them there were six classes of rank—Shou, Jiki, Gon, Mu, Tsui, and Shin, in that order.  Each class was made up of four ranks, which were further divided into upper and broad categories, creating 48 total ranks. Your rank determined your precedence at court—where you were sat, what jobs you were allowed to take on and, most importantly, the amount of money that you could expect to receive as part of a stipend.  Naka no Oe had previously consolidated the land-holdings and asserted claim over all of it.  The taxes from the households on the land went to the government to pay the stipends of the nobles in the court, who were, ostensibly, employees of that same government.  Your rank determined what you were owed, though this could also be augmented by various edicts. So there you go: rank in the court was tied to many of the things that the elites wanted, from wealth to status and access to various opportunities. The color of official clothing followed the rank system.  So Princes of the first two ranks of the Jou class were given robes of dark purple, and the third and four ranks were given robes of bright purple, which they shared with highest class of rank of the common nobles, the Shou rank class. Below that, nobles of the Jiki class would wear robes of dark red, and those of Gon would wear dark green.  The Mu rank class, the next down, was Light Green, and then Tsui was Deep Blue and Shin was Light blue. So in order you would see robes of Dark Purple, Bright Purple, Dark Red, Dark Green, Light Green, Deep Blue, and Light Blue.  The color gave you a certain indication of where the person sat in the overall hierarchy of the court, and provided you clues as to how you should address them, who would give deference, etc.  In later centuries, we are even told that deference was given in meetings, which is to say that once a person of higher rank provided input on a topic, nobody of lower rank was able to contradict them for fear of the consequences.  So it also told you who got the last word. This then was the world that the nobles of the court inhabited.  As we've seen in previous episodes it wasn't just bureaucratic work, but also banquets, archery contests, and Buddhist congregations and sutra readings.  There were rituals, dances, and diplomatic embassies—not to mention all of the ceremonies around the death or ascension of the sovereign.  In this world, one's reputation was everything.  You wanted to be seen as good at your job, but also, just like today, people were more likely to promote and support those they knew, and so it helped to have friends.  However, there were also a limited number of top spots, and so every promotion would have likewise meant plenty of disappointed nobles who didn't get the job.  But that is enough background.  Let's take a look at some of the nobles themselves, starting with the four from the Prince Ohotsu conspiracy.   The first name in the list is perhaps the least interesting.  His name is Yakuchi no Wotokashi.  Although he was the highest ranking of the four, he is also the least mentioned in the Chronicles and elsewhere, and we know very little about him.  So we'll talk about him later on, for completeness, but for now it may be best to skip him until we have a better handle on others in the court. In contrast, we know a bit more about his co-conspirators.  In fact, we've already talked about one of them at length:  Iki no Hakatoko.  We first heard about Iki no Hakatoko when talking about the Tang dynasty, and discussed him at length in Episode 123.  He was one of the members of the embassy to the Tang dynasty back in the early 660s that got delayed on account of Tang Gaozong initiating the war against Yamato's ally Baekje.  The fact that the Nihon Shoki directly pulls from Hakatoko's work, known to us, today, as the Iki no Hakatoko Sho, makes it one of the few early named written works that we know about.  Unfortunately, it is no longer extant except for what is preserved in the Chronicles, but it is still incredible that we have essentially an eyewitness account of what happened.  He would later be one of the escort envoys for one of the Tang embassies during the reign of Naka no Oe.  That he was then embroiled in the conspiracy with Prince Ohotsu would seem to be at odds with his standing, and yet after his pardon he eventually got back into the court's good graces.  In 695, about 9 years after the incident, he was assigned as an assistant envoy to Silla.  By that point he was of Mudaini rank, which was only about 35th in the overall scheme of things.  Later on we know he would work on the famous Taiho code, which was published in 701, and enacted a couple of years later.  It was here that he worked with the famous Fujiwara no Fubito—about whom we will discuss more, later—and although he would pass away in 703, this may be how his own writings came to find their way into the Chronicles, since Fubito is said to have had a large influence on them—as he had on many of the court's projects. Overall, Iki no Hakatoko may not have been the one in charge, but we see in his life an incredible career, much of it spent on multiple voyages across the ocean, whether on an embassy or as an escort.  He likely was highly proficient in the language of the Tang court—what we typically refer to, broadly, as Middle Chinese.  He also had direct experience with the Tang court and system, and so it makes sense that he was one of those helping to build an administrative state based on that system. If we were to imagine Hakatoko in the court of the day, at least in 695, he would have likely had light green colored robes, indicating that he was of the "Mu" class of ranks.  He would have worn the black gauze cap of the court and worn white hakama, or trousers, underneath.  His long, continental style, round-necked robes—likely relatively slim, with overly long, but narrow, sleeves—would have been tied closed in the front with a braided silk cord.  He likely worn black leather boots, covered in a light lacquer to protect them from the elements, with cloth insoles and perhaps a hint of brocade along the top.  He likely kept with him a ruler, and perhaps a few slips of paper or even just wood on which to take occasional notes.  A mid-level functionary of the court. We can compare and contrast Hakatoko to two other co-conspirators:  Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu. We are given neither Omimaro's rank nor Tayasu's at this time.  It is interesting that they listed after Hakatoko, who is actually listed as having "Lower Shousen" rank—an older rank that was no longer in use at this point in time.  Also, both Nakatomi and Kose were Ason level families while Iki no Hakatoko is listed as being merely "Muraji".  So it seems that the Chroniclers were probably pulling from what they could find elsewhere, although where they found that Wotokashi had Jikikwoshi rank I have no idea, as we don't have any other record for him.  And it is possible that deference to Wotokashi and Hakatoko are as much a nod to their age as anything else, though probably not by much. Of four co-conspirators mentioned here—and I'm leaving out the two who were exiled or banished, as they were clearly not hanging around the court later—Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu were probably from the most established families.  Indeed, we see both of their names show up multiple times in the record, giving us a better idea of who they might have been. Of the two, the name Nakatomi probably is more likely to ring a bell, as that as the surname of the famous Nakatomi no Kamatari—as well as the later Nakatomi no Kane.   Nakatomi no Kamatari was the head of court ritual when he and Naka no Oe kicked things off with the Isshi Incident and the Taika reforms, at which point he became the "Inner Prime Minister", or Naidaijin. Much of what we know of Omimaro comes from outside of the Chronicles themselves.  For instance, we are told that he was the son of Nakatomi no Kunitari, a cousin to the famous Kamatari, at least according to the 10th century Engi Shiki.  However, we have no other records of Kunitari, and so there is more than a little doubt cast as to whether or not that was actually the case.  Similarly, we are told that Omimaro married one of Kamatari's daughters, and was eventually adopted by Kamatari. Once again, the evidence for this is pretty thin, and it is unclear to me just how adoption worked at this point.  Certainly in later periods, adoption was often a way to ensure that a family had a male heir to ensure the family's continuity, and marrying someone's daughter and being adopted into the family is an age old tradition in the archipelago and Japan more generally.  At the same time, give some thought to what we know about this period: male primogeniture was not exactly the norm, although Confucian values had definitely made inroads into court.   The family headship often went to the eldest—or most prominent—family member.  This wasn't necessarily a son and often was a brother, a nephew, or even a cousin.  We have a few famous Nakatomi at this point in time, and all I can say for certain is that they were part of the same family.  Later traditions would make things a bit more clear. Whatever his parentage, our first encounter with Omimaro appears to be in the Ohotsu conspiracy, when he was arrested and then pardoned.  He shows up again in the record just three years later, along with Kose no Tayasu, as both were made judges, along with Fujiwara no Fubito—Nakatomi no Kamatari's biological son and eventual heir. In fact, there were nine judges, or magistrates, made that year, and they are listed in rank order.  The first is Prince Takeda, said to be a great-grandson of Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  He was Joukwoshi rank, meaning he wore bright purple court robes, sitting in the lower half of the princely ranks.  He had been quite prolific ever since 681, when he was one of the Princes called to help bring together the Chronicles.  After being made a judge, he would continue in that position, it seems, and by 708 he would become the head of the Ministry of Prisons. After him we have Haji no Nemaro, in the dark red robes of the Jiki rank class.  Though someone of rank, less is known about Nemaro.  His father is said to be Haji no Mi, who was part of the forces that set out to Yamada-dera to capture—and likely kill—Soga no Kurayamadera.  Haji no Nemaro's son is Haji no Oi, who was sent to the Tang court but returned in 684, along with several repatriated soldiers.  Oi would assist with the Taihou code, but little more is said about him or his father. Other judges were Ohoyake no Maro, Fujiwara no Fubito—also of the Jiki class rank. Maro would go on to take a job as a jusenshi, responsible for minting coins, and Fubito would go on to reach the highest levels of government. Then there was Tahema no Sakurawi, Hodzumi no Yamamori, Nakatomi no Omimaro, Kose no Tayasu, and Ohomiwa no Yasumaro.  They were all Mudaishi rank at this point, wearing dark green.  Sakurai would go on to become the governor of Ise in 705, and then the governor of Musashi in 708.  Hodzumi no Yamamori we don't have as much information on, other than that he kept climbing the ranks, by 704 he had made Junior 5th rank, lower grade in the system that replaced the cap-ranks, and by 712 he made it to the senior fifth rank, lower grade. Ohomiwa no Yasumaro, on the other hand, would make it to the Senior 5th rank, lower grade by 707, and the upper grade by 708, when he was made the Dayu—the high minister in charge—of Settsu.  He would eventually make it into the Junior Fourth rank, upper grade, as the Minister of the Military Department, or Hyobu-sho. So this gives you an idea of the people with whom Nakatomi no Omimaro and Kose no Tayasu were rubbing elbows.  That they were made judges, responsible for justice, seems to say something as that would seem to be a powerful position.  At the same time, they are both lower ranked than the much younger Fujiwara no Fubito—but once again, he was the direct son of Nakatomi no Kamatari.  He also seems to have avoided any unpleasantness from the Jinshin no Ran as he was only 14 at the time, and though it does seem that the Nakatomi were generally knocked down a peg or two in court—thanks in large part  to the fact that Nakatomi no Kane had been one of the leaders of the Afumi court.  That and the whole thing with Prince Ohotsu may be why Omimaro was not exactly in the top ranks, but his appointments weren't nothing, either.  By 693, Omimaro would be granted the rank of Jikikwoshi, the lower fourth rank of the Jiki class.  In that entry he is recorded as Fujiwara no Omimaro.  I believe we discussed this a few episodes back, but the Fujiwara name was still new.  It had been granted to Nakatomi no Kamatari on his deathbed—or possibly even posthumously—by Naka no Oe, and to his family.  So technically that would seem to extend to the entire Nakatomi family.  And with Nakatomi no Kane having been one of the main figures on the losing side of the Jinshin no Ran, it was no doubt a savvy political move for Nakatomi courtiers to lean into the Fujiwara name, and they seem to have done just that.  It wouldn't be until later, in the reign just following this, that a new decree would straighten everything out, such that only the actual descendants of Fujiwara no Kamatari, such as Fujiwara no Fubito, would be allowed to use the Fujiwara name. Throughout this, I have focused mostly on Omimaro, but Kose no Tayasu was in the mix as well.  He, too, was made a judge and in 693 he would also be awarded the same Jikikwoshi rank.  In addition, in 689, he was made a "commissioner of good words", along with the Royal Prince Shiki and others.  This seems to be a singular position, and Aston suggests that it was their job to figure out the kind of auspicious language that should be used in the court.  What kind of language should be used by the sovereign and the courtiers in drawing up official edicts.  I imagine that they were figuring out the form to give to formal court documents as well as the kinds of titles and honorifics to use for the sovereign and the state more generally.  Of course, that is just an assumption based on Aston's understanding of what is, ultimately, a single line.  Still, it is clear that Tayasu was helping to make things happen. Tayasu would eventually go on to become the Minister of the Department of Ceremonies, the Shikibu-sho, and would later serve as a secretary to the Viceroy in Tsukushi—the Dazai Daini.  He would pass away in 710, one year before Omimaro. Before leaving Tayasu behind completely, I would like to point out his family name:  Kose.  The Kose family were one of the families granted the kabane of Ason, or Asaomi.  They had previously been known as the Kose no Omi, and had a long history in the court, claiming descent from the famous Takeuchi no Sukune, legendarily known as the first Oho-omi of Yamato.  Kose no Tokuda had been a supporter of Soga no Iruka, but after the Isshi Incident he supported Naka no Oe and eventually replace Abe no Uchimaro as Sadaijin—Minister of the Left.  Another Kose, Kose no Hito, would also rise in the government, becoming one of two Goshi-daibu made when Prince Ohotomo was appointed Dajodaijin.  The other was Ki no Ushi.  They were both in attendance and counted among the six who swore to protect and support Ohotomo, along with Nakatomi no Kane and others.  So they, too, found themselves on the wrong side of the Jinshin no Ran. In this case, however, it is unclear how much Tayasu was impacted by that.  He may have been the son of Kose no Shitano, brother to Kose no Hito, but the Kose were prolific in the court, with many people of the name.  The family would continue going through the Heian period.  Their fortunes ebbed and flowed, as did so many families, but they would eventually find themselves as Hatamoto to the Tokugawa shogun, so they never actually disappeared. Finally, let's talk about Yakuchi no Wotokashi.  As I mentioned earlier, he is actually one of the first names mentioned in the list of co-conspirators with Prince Ohotsu, suggesting that he outranked others in the group.  Indeed, he is noted as being of Jikikwoshi rank—fourth lower Jiki rank.  The bottom of the Jiki class, but that was still the third class from the top.  However, despite this, very little is actually said about him.  In fact, this is the only instance I could find of the name Yakuchi in the Nihon Shoki, at least in that spelling—there is also a Yakuchi no Uneme, but it is spelled differently and is probably not related.  It is also the only evidence of the name Wotokashi.  That means we don't even see him in the list of names being granted Ason in the first place. It is quite possible that Yakuchi was a name he took later and that he was from another family.  Indeed, there are a couple of traditions around Wotokashi that suggest he was the founder of the Yakuchi family in Shinano.  Indeed, there is a Yakuchi family that comes out of Shinano, near Adzumino.  And Shinano was one of the places that Ohoama had sent people to examine as another site for an alternative capital, and Prince Mino and others had gone to check it out.  So maybe Wotokashi headed out there—or his descendants, anyway—and decided to try and make a go of it.  Proponents of this theory also connect Wotokashi to a line descended from the Soga family, which would certainly explain his prominence.  There are others, however, who claim that the Yakuchi family out of Shinano is actually descended from the Otomo, suggesting that the similarities in the name are just coincidental, which is also possible.  Ultimately, our sources fail us here, and so we just have speculation.  It is possible that even with the pardon, Wotokashi was just never able to regain the trust of the sovereign or his position in court, and so whether he took a hike for the hinterlands or just faded from the picture it is hard to say. With that, let's take a look at just two more courtiers, and what kinds of lives and careers they had at court, at least from what we can see.  These two we've also mentioned in passing:  Fuse no Miushi—whom Aston transliterates as Miaruji—and Ohotomo no Miyuki. Fuse no Miushi and Ohotomo no Miyuki were both mentioned as performing eulogies for Ohoama, though there is more to them than just that.  We'll start with Fuse no Miushi, who is said to have been the son of none other than the Taika era Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, Abe no Uchimaro.  You may recall that Abe no Uchimaro was the Sadaijin under Karu no Ohokimi, aka Koutoku Tennou, along with the Udaijin, Soga no Kurayamadera.  They were both supporters of Naka no Oe, though much of the Chronicles focus appeared to be more on Kurayamadera than on Uchimaro. We don't know when Miushi was born, nor when he received the name "Fuse", the name by which he is known when we first meet him in the Chronicles.  That family name only shows up two other times in the Chronicles.  Based on other sources, it seems that the Abe family was divided at some point into the Fuse and the Hikida, likely because it became too large and they needed to distinguish the different parts of the family.  It is said that Fuse no Miushi served as a retainer to Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran.  That, along with his family connections, helped secure him a good place in the government.  By 686, we see him pronouncing the eulogy for Ohoama's funeral on behalf of the Dajokan, the Counil of State.  He was already Jikidaishi, one rank above the standard Jikikwoshi, but still clothed in the same dark red robes.  In 687, he is again pronouncing the eulogy, but this time we are told that his a Nagon, or councilor, a rather prestigious posting that would later get broken up into three different levels:  Dainagon, Chunagon, and Shonagon.  For my Heian fans out there, that last is the same Shonagon as in the name of the famous poet, author, diary-keeper, and all around queen of snark, Sei Shonagon.  By 688, pronouncing the Eulogy seems to have become an annual event for Miushi, only this time he teamed up with Ohotomo no Miyuki.  The two of them seem to have had similar careers, and would, for a time, come up together through the ranks. Ohotomo no Miyuki is said to have been born in 646, though that isn't recorded in the Nihon Shoki and comes from other sources.  The Ohotomo family goes back quite a ways, and we are told that his father was Ohotomo no Nagatoko, who served as Minister of the Right under Naka no Oe.  However, in 672, the Ohotomo, including Miyuki, sided with Ohoama in the Jinshin no ran.  In 675 he was made Tayu while Prince Kurikuma was made Director of Military Affairs.  He then drops out of the narrative until 688, when he is pronouncing the eulogy with Fuse no Miushi. Miushi would go on, two years later, to present the formal congratulations from the court to the Queen upon her ascencion to the throne, and then the following year, 691, both Miushi and Miyuki were granted the rank of Jikidaiichi, the highest rank in the Jiki class, along with 80 households to support them and their families.  This brought both of their stipends up to roughly 300 households each.  Then, in 694, they were both raised in rank again, this time to Shoukwoushi.  Only one rank up, yet they went from the top of the Jiki class to the bottom of the Shou class.  They would have gotten new robes of Bright Purple to indicate their new status, and they each had their stipends increased by the taxes of 200 households each.  At the same time, they were also acknowledged as senior members of their houses.  That means that Miushi was considered the head of the Fuse branch of the Abe family and Miyuki was now acknowledged as the head of the entire Ohotomo family. Two years after that, in 696, they were each given 80 retainers to support them.  Fuse no Miushi is actually mentioned at that time as Abe no Miushi.  That same year, we again see Fujiwara no Fubito show up, but with only 50 retainers.  Fubito would eventually rise to the top of the court food chain, but at this point, it was still in the hands of courtiers like Fuse no Abe no Miushi and Ohotomo no Miyuki. Fuse no Miushi would go on to have an incredible career.  He would become Dainagon and eventually he would become the Udaijin, the Minister of the Right, one of the highest positions anyone could hope to achieve at court. Ohotomo no Miyuki would not make it quite so far.  Like Miushi, he made it to Dainagon, but he died in the first month of 701, just 55 years old.  He had made it to the third rank, and he was posthumously granted the title of Udaijin—the position was vacant at the time—and granted second rank.  His colleague, Abe no Miushi, would go on to take the position only four months later and serve for a couple of years before passing away himself. These two would have worked closely together throughout their careers, and the fact that they were raised in rank and position on similar timelines suggests to me that they ran together in very close circles.  They would have been working in similar positions, at the same levels of the government.  They would have been going to the same parties and partaking in the same banquets and entertainments.   They were no doubt rivals, in a sense, but also equals.  Both families would go on, even as the Fujiwara clan came to dominate the politics of the era, the Ohotomo and Abe would continue to hold power in the court during the Nara period, though eventually it would decline.  The Ohotomo would eventually become just the Tomo, to avoid conflicting with the name of a slater sovereign, and the main house would eventually decline, though branch families would continue to claim descent from the Ohotomo into to the Edo period. The Abe would continue, similarly pushing against the Fujiwara.  The most famous Abe was probably Abe no Seimei, who became known for his skills as an Onmyouji, or master of Yin-yang divination and magic.  The Tsuchimikado branch of the Abe family would continue that tradition, and it would come to largely define the main branch of the family. I hope that gives a bit of an idea of what was going on in the court and the kinds of careers that people were looking at and what was happening.  We cannot get into every single person, but I'm going to try and note some of the more prominent courtiers and what they were doing.  It isn't always clear from the Chronicles what was going on between the various houses, but one can largely assume that the court was highly political.  Different factions were vying for power and position.  Sitting atop all of it, Uno no Sarara would have to perform her own kind of balancing act, doling out rewards and punishments as necessary, and ensuring to place the right people in positions of power and authority.  On the one hand, that ambition was a motivating factor, keeping the people of the court focused on the tasks at hand and ensuring that the court was running smoothly.  On the other hand, too much power in the hands of any one individual could cause them to get ideas that they should have even more.  The main bulwark against this was everyone else in the system—the checks and balances were literally the other court nobles, who weren't going to just let someone  take power unless there was something in it for them as well.  More on that as we watch this reign unfold. But for now, thank you so much for listening and downloading the podcast.  If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Does Han Feizi's focus on “standards” allow him to provide a more realistic political theory than the Confucian focus on moral cultivation?

In this episode of Living the Tao, Master Steenrod explores the ancient myth of the Fusang tree, the ten suns, and the mysterious three-legged crow that became one of the great symbolic images of East Asian spirituality. Beginning with the ancient legend itself, the episode examines how the Sun Crow myth evolved from early shamanic and mythological roots into Taoist cosmology, esoteric symbolism, and qi theory. Along the way, the discussion explores the meaning of the sun as a source of yang, the symbolic role of the black crow within the blazing sun, and why Taoist traditions viewed excess yang as dangerous rather than desirable. Topics include: the origins of the three-legged crow the Fusang world tree yin within yang and “true yang” excess stimulation and energetic imbalance Hou Yi and the celestial archer Taoist vs Confucian interpretations of myth the crow as purifier and transformer the evolution of mythology through time Blending mythology, Taoist philosophy, symbolism, and cosmology, this episode examines how ancient stories became tools for understanding balance, transformation, and the energetic structure of life itself.   Unlock the full episode now on Supercast.  Subscribe now at  https://living-the-tao.supercast.com

This Postmodern Realities episode is a conversation with JOURNAL author Lindsey Medenwaldt about her article, “The Truth About Confucian Harmony and Self-Cultivation: A Christian Critique of Confucian Virtue'”. Coming Soon!This is also part of Lindsey's ongoing Fringe Files Column. https://www.equip.org/articles/the-truth-about-confucian-harmony-and-self-cultivation-a-christian-critique-of-confucian-virtue/One way you can support our online articles and podcasts is by leaving us a tip. A tip is just a small amount, like $3, $5, or $10, which is the cost of a latte, lunch out, or coffee drink. To leave a tip, click here. Related Podcasts and Articles by this author: Episode 491: Taoism: The Way to Ultimate Reality? A Christian ResponseTaoism: The Way to Ultimate Reality? A Christian ResponseEpisode 483: The Lunar New Year Animals: A Christian Examination of the Chinese ZodiacThe Lunar New Year Animals: A Christian Examination of the Chinese ZodiacEpisode 468: Channeling the Dead—A Christian Response to MediumsChanneling the Dead—A Christian Response to Mediums.Behind the Crystal Ball: The Spiritual Risks of Seeing PsychicsEpisode 467: Behind the Crystal Ball: The Spiritual Risks of Seeing Psychic Don't miss an episode; please subscribe to the Postmodern Realities podcast wherever you get your favorite podcasts. Please help spread the word about Postmodern Realities by giving us a rating and review when you subscribe to the podcast. The more ratings and reviews we have, the more new listeners can discover our content.

Learn more about Michael Wenderoth, Executive Coach: www.changwenderoth.comWhat happens when China, AI, and Western coaching collide? Dr. Ruohao Chen, leadership researcher at Columbia University, believes we have an unprecedented opportunity before us. In this episode of 97% Effective, host Michael Wenderoth speaks with Dr. Chen what Americans and Chinese can learn from each other— and why the future of coaching and leadership may depend on blending ancient wisdom, human presence, and AI-enabled scale. Drawing on Dr. Chen's research and work with 300 Chinese coaches, this conversation goes beyond the U.S.-China rivalry to ask a better question: what if the next leadership edge comes from learning across the divide?SHOW NOTESDr. Chen's pathHow a high school teacher in China rose to start an edtech company and become professor at Columbia UniversityGloom? Two reasons why Dr. Chen is optimistic about the the US and China relationshipOn American vs Chinese thinking: “In terms of culture we're quite different, but in terms of nature we're actually quite close to each other” Dr. Chen's early researchWhat China's education entrepreneurs do different: reserving money--and tapping into ancient philosophy and relational learning.How his research makes him a cross-cultural bridge, and offers valuable insight from China and the US in the era of AI The growth of coaching in ChinaInner creativity, giving space, and deep reflection to come up with the “aha moment”: How Buddhist and Confucian teaching mirror the core tenets of Co-active coachingThe “coaching club” that provides weekly seminars and workshops to 300 coaches in China“The care for human dignity” – what most surprises Chinese about Western coachesWhat China's coaches find most valuable from their US peers: “the care for human dignity,” a systematic approach to coaching, and how to commercialize one's practice Insights from his current research“Not skill improvement, but a change in perspective”: The surprising insight from what most helped unemployed Chinese return to the workforceWill AI replace human beings and be more effective coaches?Situations where people prefer human coaches – and where AI has the biggest advantageWhere his latest research on AI entrepreneurs is leading himBIO AND LINKSDr. Ruohao Chen, is a leadership researcher and Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Adult Learning & Leadership program at Teachers College, Columbia University. He holds an Ed.D. in Adult Learning & Leadership, and his work focuses on strategic thinking, transformative learning, and leadership development that integrates Eastern and Western wisdom. Dr. Chen designs and leads leadership development programs through the Huber Institute for Organizational Learning at Columbia University, attracting talented and experienced leaders from China and across Asia. He is a certified coach through the Columbia Coaching Program and served as the Paper Track Chair for the International Columbia Coaching Conference 2025. He previously worked as a postdoctoral researcher at the Center on Chinese Education at Teachers College, consulted with Harvard Business Publishing, and founded Education for Growth, a global learning community of over 10,000 educators and practitioners. In 2023, he completed his doctorate and was selected as Teachers College's commencement speaker, becoming the first Chinese graduate to deliver the address in the institution's 136-year history. Outside of work, Dr. Chen is also a certified fitness trainer and an amateur cello player. Connect with Dr. Ruohao ChenReach out directly on -mail: rc3035 [at] tc.columbia.eduLinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/chenruohao/Academic profile: https://tc.academia.edu/LancerChan Organizations, People and Resources ReferencedThe Columbia Adult Learning & Leadership Program: https://www.tc.columbia.edu/organization-and-leadership/adult-learning-and-leadership/IShowSpeed, American influencer: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IShowSpeedResources on US vs China and cross-cultural thinking: Hofstede (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geert_Hofstede ), Gelfland (https://www.michelegelfand.com ), Meyer (https://erinmeyer.com ), Dan Wong's book Breakneck (https://amzn.eu/d/09Wr3Adj)Chen, R. (2024). How Chinese business leaders in the tutoring industry learned to think strategically in a time of crisis. New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, 2024, 53–65. https://tc.academia.edu/LancerChanChen, R. Pathways Toward Transformative Learning: Middle-aged Adults' Job Loss and Re-employment in Urban China. Adult Education Quarterly. https://journals.sagepub.com/home/aeqChen, R. Transformative Learning in Isolation: A Phenomenological Study of Chinese Adults Navigating Uncertainty https://tc.academia.edu/LancerChanChen, R. Could AI Coaching Platforms Really Work? A Systemic Analysis of Services, Design Patterns, and Effectiveness of AI Coaching Platforms https://tc.academia.edu/LancerChan More from 97% EffectiveMichael's Award-winning Book: Get Promoted: What You're Really Missing at Work That's Holding You Back: https://tinyurl.com/453txk74Watch this episode on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@97PercentEffectiveAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

What does it mean to teach ‘leadership'? For most of human history, education and leadership formation were essentially the same thing. Only future leaders were formally educated. To educate someone was to form them - morally, civically, intellectually - for the responsibility of leading others. The classical traditions, whether Aristotelian, Stoic, or Confucian, did not aim to develop a leadership skill set, remaining agnostic to its ends. They aimed at wisdom, attempting to form a person who would be able to be a ‘good' leader.Then education became universal and at roughly the same moment, the shared moral and philosophical frameworks that had given classical formation its content were fragmenting under the weight of Enlightenment pluralism. In response, modern leadership development largely abandoned the project of forming the person in favour of helping individuals discover themselves and acquire tools to pursue whatever ends they chose. We exchanged formation for self-discovery, from becoming-before-doing, to becoming-through-doing. We have gained a great deal in that exchange — leadership development became accessible, personal, directly applicable to real dilemmas, and less paternalistic. But did the trade come with costs we don't always name?One cost may be that we have shifted the psychological burden onto the individual leader and assume they arrive in our classrooms with their own developed moral and ethical codes. This episode explores that tension. We discuss how we got here and what the most sophisticated modern responses to the problem look like – in the case of HEC Paris's Leadership Signature. We close with a question I find myself increasingly focused on: whether modern leadership development, in its emphasis on personalised insight and emotional resonance, may be optimising for the experience of insight rather than the slower, harder, more humbling work of insight formation — and whether AI is making that question newly urgent rather than answering it.I cannot think of anyone better to talk about all this than Emmanuel Coblence. Emmanuel is Associate Professor at HEC Paris and Academic Director of the school's Leadership programs in Executive Education — an architect, in other words, of one of the most thoughtful modern answers to the question we are asking. His "Leadership Signature" approach refuses the prescriptive recipe: rather than telling executives what kind of leader to be, it gives them a method for discovering and refining a leadership style that is genuinely their own, scaffolded by mentors, mirrors, and sponsors rather than by a fixed doctrine. I have had the pleasure of seeing him in the classroom – a masterclass in the art and science of executive education.Apart from his academic life, he has been a municipal councillor in Paris since 2014, with a focus on educational policy. This gives him a practitioner's eye on the civic dimensions of formation that pure academics often miss. And he is currently building an AI Leadership Mentor at HEC — which makes him one of the very few people qualified to think honestly about both the promise and the limits of what AI can give us in this domain.It is always a pleasure to speak to Emmanuel. He is generous, rigorous and is willing to engage with genuinely uncomfortable questions - including questions at the heart of both of our work. I learned a great deal. I hope you do too.Citations· Bojovic, N., Sabatier, V., & Coblence, E. (2019). Becoming through doing: How experimental spaces enable organizational identity work. Strategic Organization, 18(1), 147–167.· Rosa, H. (2016). Resonance: A sociology of our relationship to the world. Polity Press.· Rosa, H. (2013). Social acceleration: A new theory of modernity. Columbia University Press.· Sardais, C., Lortie, J., & Coblence, E. (2019). Inside the “Panacousticon”: How orchestra conductors play with discipline to produce art. International Journal of Arts Management, 22. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

How did ancient China plunge into 261 years of chaos, and how did that turmoil forge an empire?Tristan Hughes is joined by Professor Andrew Seth Meyer to explore the Warring States period, from collapsing Zhou power and ruthless coups to mass armies, crossbows, and battlefield slaughter. They trace the rise of Confucian ideas, the seven great states, and the brutal climb of Qin toward China's first emperorTo find out more about Andrew's new book To Rule All Under Heaven, head to his website: https://www.andrewsethmeyer.com/MOREThe Romans and ChinaListen on AppleListen on SpotifyThe Terracotta Army:Listen on AppleListen on Spotify Presented by Tristan Hughes. The producer and audio editor is Joseph Knight. The senior producer is Anne-Marie Luff.All music courtesy of Epidemic SoundsThe Ancients is a History Hit podcast.Sign up to History Hit for hundreds of hours of original documentaries, with a new release every week and ad-free podcasts. Sign up at https://www.historyhit.com/subscribe.  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I Ching · Book of Changes · Part 1 of 2 (Hexagrams 1-45) The Book of Changes (Traditional: 易經; Simplified: 易经; Legge: Yî King, Wade-Giles: I Ching; Pīnyīn: Yìjīng; Bopomofo: ㄧˋㄐㄧㄥ; Korean: 역경; Japanese: 易経; Vietnamese: Kinh Dịch) Fúxī (伏羲), King Tāng of Shāng (商湯), King Wén of Zhōu (周文王), his son the Duke of Zhōu (周公旦), and Confucius (孔子) have traditionally been credited as the originators of the trigrams (八卦 bāguà), hexagrams (卦 guà), hexagram statements (彖 tuàn), line statements (爻辭 yáocí), and Ten Wings (十翼) commentaries. "The I Ching does not offer itself with proofs and results; it does not vaunt itself, nor is it easy to approach. Like a part of nature, it waits until it is discovered." — Carl Jung Different combinations of three yang (⚊) and yin (⚋) lines create the eight trigrams, namely: ☰ (乾 Qián Heaven, the sky. S. Untiring strength; power.) or (Father. NW) ☱ (兌 Duì Lake, or marsh. Collected water. SE. Pleasure; complacent satisfaction.) or (Youngest daughter. W) ☲ (離 Lí Fire, as in lightning; the sun. E. Brightness; elegance.) or (Second daughter. S) ☳ (震 Zhèn Thunder. NE. Moving, exciting power.) or (Oldest son. E) ☴ (巽 Xùn Wind; wood. SW. Flexibility; penetration.) or (Oldest daughter. SE) ☵ (坎 Kǎn Water, as in rain, clouds, springs, streams, and defiles. The moon. NW. Peril; difficulty.) or (Second son. N) ☶ (艮 Gèn Hills, or mountains. NW. Resting; the act of arresting.) or (Youngest son. NE) ☷ (坤 Kūn The Earth. N. Capaciousness; submission.) or (Mother. SW) When three lines are added to a trigram the resultant pairs of trigrams constitute the sixty-four hexagrams. The lower trigram is called 'the inner,' and the one above 'the outer.' The lines are numbered from one to six, commencing with the lowest. To denote the number of it and of the sixth line, the terms for 'commencing' and 'topmost' are used. The intermediate lines are simply 'second,' 'third,' &c. As the lines must be either whole or divided, technically called strong and weak, yang and yin, this distinction is indicated by the application to them of the numbers nine and six. All whole lines are nine, all divided lines, six. The Book of Changes is included as one of the Five Classics (五經) of the Confucian canon and Confucius said, "If some years were added to my life, I would give fifty to the study of the Yì, and might then escape falling into great errors." (Analects, VII.16) Scottish translator James Legge was a Hong Kong missionary, Non-Conformist Pastor of the English Union Church, and the first professor of Chinese studies at Oxford University. The original manuscript of his translation was nearly destroyed after being soaked in the Red Sea for a month. Cover: Leftmost Guardian of the Yî by cartoonist Robin Bougie (2024), released by him into the public domain. Special thanks to Lancy (王欣兰), a graduate student at Guangdong University of Foreign Studies, for her help with Chinese pronunciation.

Last episode we briefly talked about what happened when Ōama passed away, including the apparent conspiracy around the Royal Prince Ōtsu, and then the question as to why his son, Crown Prince Kusakabe, didn't then succeed him to the throne. This episode we are taking a look at that period, but more focused on the rituals and what went into a royal funeral, and then take a look all the way to the eventual ascension to the throne of not Crown Prince Kusakabe, but instead his mother, Ōama's queen, Uno no Sarara. She would eventually be known as Jitō Tennō. For photos and links to other episodes, check out our blog post: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-148   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 148: A Nation Mourns Crown Prince Kusakabe approached the temporary palace structure that had been hastily assembled in the courtyard in front of the Kiyomihara Palace.   Solemnly arrayed around him, dressed in their court garments, were the ministers and government officials.  Together, they approached the palace building, where the Crown Prince's father, Ohoama, also known as Ame no Nunahara oki no Mabito, lay in state.  He had passed away, and according to the imported Confucian values of filial piety, Kusakabe was now expected to mourn in ritual fashion. The court ritualists had seen to every detail of what should be done and even said, to the extent that the crown prince's actions almost felt like a performance of grief, rather than a heartfelt tribute.  And yet, Kusakabe could not help but feel some emotion at the sight of his father, once the most powerful man under heaven, now laid out in this place of temporary interment.  There would be many more ceremonies and rituals before the final mausoleum would be built and the former sovereign's body finally laid to rest.  Until then, even though Ohoama's spirit had left, his body would remain as a symbol to the people, and as the centerpiece of an elaborate ritual, designed, in part, to continue to bolster the state he had helped to create.   Last episode we went into some of the shenanigans around the death of Ohoama and the succession to the throne.  As we saw, not everyone was apparently on board with the idea that Crown Prince Kusakabe would take the throne, leading to the arrest and execution of Prince Ohotsu.  However, we noted that Crown Prince Kusakabe didn't end up on the throne after all: for whatever reason, he never ascended to the honor, and died in 689 – not even three years after the death of his father.  And so we saw Uno no Sarara, Ohoama's wife and queen and mother of Crown Prince Kusakabe, formally take the reins of state and go on to reign as the sovereign, the Sumera Mikoto, or Tennou, until 697.  From there she would become the first ever Retired Sovereign, keeping her hand in government until her death in 703. This episode we are going to look a little more in depth regarding everything that went on around Ohoama's death and the various rites accompanying his passing. Ohoama's was obviously not the first royal death that we have seen in the Chronicles.  It is perhaps, however, one of the best documented in terms of the funerary arrangements and the various rituals that accompanied his passing.  Some of those arrangements are mentioned previously in the Chronicles, but not to the same extent as we see for Ohoama.  This leaves me wondering: are we seeing something novel—new rites for a new type of sovereign, perhaps?  Or was this just the first time the ritual had been documented to this level of detail?. Before jumping into what we see this time around, we should probably look back at what we have seen around the death of previous sovereigns, and which are still going on here.  First and foremost is the creation—or at least the designation—of a "Palace of Temporary Interment".    This is the Mogari no Miya, with "mogari" being the term for the period between an individual's death and their eventual burial.  In the Nihon Shoki we see this practice go back to the earliest times.  After all, most deaths do not occur on a set schedule, and once someone has passed away, funerary arrangements would need to be made.  Now, if all you are doing is putting a body into a box and lowering it into the ground, you can probably bring it all together rather quickly. However, for centuries the burial practices on the archipelago had been significantly more elaborate.  Even those without royal blood might be afforded a special mound, or kofun.  There would be giant stones selected to create the chamber, and then tons of earth and pebbles placed on top.  There might also be haniwa—clay cylinders—which then might even be topped with special figures.  All of this had to be planned out and taken care of, and in some cases, such as the creation of haniwa, it appears as there was a major industry involved in funerary preparations. In the case of royal family members things got even more elaborate, and based on the size of many of the kofun that we see one can assume that their construction took time.  In fact, I would not be surprised if the construction of a new tomb mound might not have kicked off on or near the ascension of the sovereign just to make sure it would be ready, but even still it would take time for all of the rites associated with a royal burial to be ready to go. And so it was common practice that one would have to wait before a burial could actually take place.  Since you couldn't just leave a body out in the open in the community, the corpse would be deposited, instead, in a temporary building.  These are sometimes referred to as mogari huts,  which would likely be placed well away from others.  Here we should also take into account the general pollution associated with death in its various forms.  So you would want to have the body kept out of sight and away from people as best you could while you prepared for the actual burial at some later date.  For sovereigns, this mogari hut, or hut of temporary interment, was eventually referred to as a "miya", or "palace".  In some cases it seems as if one of the buildings of the sovereign's old palace was used for this purpose, while a new palace was then also built for the new reign. In addition to the place of temporary interment, one of the common traditions we see in funerals in the Chronicles is the role of the eulogy.  While a person lay in state during their temporary interment, we are told that people could come to eulogize and lament.  In the case of a sovereign, the high ministers and politically connected would come together and deliver speeches.  This served multiple purposes.  On the one hand, these rituals reinforced concepts of the State and the central authority in the body of the sovereign.  On the other hand, they also served as markers of status for those delivering the speeches, and provided opportunities to be seen and heard, signaling their support of the system that provided them their own power and authority. So all of this  process and ritual that we see for Ohoama is familiar, from previous royal deaths.  However, it's interesting to note that in the most recent years before Ohoama's funeral, a lot of these traditions seem to have been scaled back.  For one thing, there was the decline of large, keyhole shaped kofun, ever since the introduction of Buddhism in the 6th century and the move to memorial temples over large tombs. Furthermore, as part of the Taika era reforms we see regulations on how long temporary interment may last for those of princely rank and below—though nothing is clearly stated for the sovereign themselves.    Let's look at the most recent royal death's before Ohoama's, but since the beginning of the Taika era.  There are at least three we've talked about.  First off is the death of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou.  Karu's death is barely remarked upon—he was buried about two months after he passed away, and very little fanfare is given.  One can't help but wonder if this was, in part at least, due to the fact that Naka no Oe was actually in charge and running things at the Crown Prince. Takara hime, aka Saimei Tennou, would pass away in the middle of the Baekje war against the Silla-Tang alliance.  Her body was sent back to Yamato, but the Crown Prince and many of the elites established themselves in Tsukushi—modern Kyushu—to better conduct the war on the peninsula.  Not only was her interment thus delayed, but Naka no Oe's own ascension wouldn't take place for several more years, possibly because of the new capital he was building in Ohotsu.  Naka no Oe's own funerary arrangements were interrupted by the events of the Jinshin no Ran.  In fact, the building of his tumulus was used by the government as a cover to bring in soldiers to prepare for the conflict.  There may have been various funerary rituals planned or even carried out by the Afumi court, but if so they were overshadowed by the civil war that broke out between the two claimants to the throne. As such, Ohoama's appears to be the first royal funeral of this magnitude in a while, and in this case they really pulled out all the stops.  There were various activities and rituals associated with Ohoama's passing up through the 11th month of 688, over two years later, when he was finally buried.  So let's go over what happened and maybe what dragged it out so much longer. First off were the immediate lamentations and eulogies.  Ohoama passed away on the 9th day of the 9th month, according to the Nihon Shoki.  It was the year 686 according to the western calendar.  Two months later the erection of the temporary palace of interment began in the southern courtyard—presumably the area south of the Asuka Kiyomihara palace, where they had previously held the various archery competitions. This took a couple of weeks, and Ohoama's body was finally placed in the temporary palace as of the 24th of that month. While ritual lamentations were raised at the start of the building of the mogari palace and when the sovereign's body was interred, the major rites appear to have started three days after he was laid to rest, on the 27th day,  proceeding for the next three days, from the 27th until the 30th. The rites started with Buddhist monks and nuns who arrived before sunrise and began to perform lamentations in the courtyard of the mogari.  Later that day, we see food offerings, apparently for the first time in the Chronicles. Offering food to the dead is not unique to Japan.  Some in Japan will offer food to their ancestors, especially during the Obon festival.  People will also offer food to kami.  In the case of Obon, a bowl of rice is often served with two chopsticks sticking straight out of it.  This has actually led to a social taboo on leaving your chopsticks "stuck" in food, as it looks as though you are offering the food up to the dead.  Instead, chopsticks will be placed on a chopstick rest, on the table, or even across the top of a dish, just not sticking up out of the food, especially the rice. In this case it isn't clear exactly how the food offering was done, nor what happened to the food afterwards.  In the case of food offered to the kami, it is often the case that once the kami have had enough time to partake of the aura of the food—its spiritual essence—the food will then be removed and often consumed by people.  So for Ohoama's funerary offerings, something similar may have happened—possibly with a feast of some kind to which the various nobles were also invited. Along with the offering of food, we are told of a whole list of individuals who gave eulogies—though we aren't told what the content was.  It is likely that these eulogies were largely ritual utterances—stock phrasing by the participant to demonstrate their active performance of the rituals, rather than a deeply thought sermon about the sovereign.  After all, this seems to have gone on at a rather constant pace for the next several days.  The ritual order seems to have stayed the same, with priests and nuns kicking things off with lamentations in the courtyard, and various nobles presenting their eulogy.  The third day, the 29th, was the same. On the fourth day, the 30th, the last day of the month, the priests and nuns raised lament, and the eulogies were given by a Baekje prince in exile, on behalf of his father, as well as the various Miyatsuko of the various provinces.  In addition there were all performances of all manner of singing and dancing—which makes it sound more like a wake than anything else. With the close of the 9th month, we have a break in the tale of Ohoama's funeral, as the narrative switches over to the next part of the Chronicles covering the reign of Uno no Sarara, aka Jitou Tennou.  The first order of business—other than telling us who Uno no Sarara was and covering some of her history—was to deal with the Prince Ohotsu conspiracy.  So we see Prince Ohotsu arrested, along with 30 conspirators.  Prince Ohotsu was killed at his residence, where his wife and consort ran to him and took her own life as well.  That all happened the 2nd and 3rd days of the 10th month.  The 30 co-conspirators were apparently held for about twenty-seven days while the court debated what to do with them.  Finally, the decree was made to pardon all except Toki no MIchidzukuri, who was only banished instead of executed, and the monk Heng-sin, who was exiled to a temple in Hida, over on Kyushu.  The month after that, Ohotsu's sister, Royal Princess Ohoku, returned to the capital from Ise Shrine where she had been serving as the Shrine Princess—though we aren't told who replaced her. And so it isn't until the twelfth month that we see what appears to be the rites for Ohoama's passing seem to resume.  This takes the form of a universal great assembly held in Ohoama's name at the Five temples, listed as Daikandaiji, Asukadera, Kawaradera, Toyoradera in Woharida, and Sakadadera.  This is an interesting list, as one would have expected that the rites would have occurred at the National Temples established previously—for more on the National temples, we talked about that back in Episode 142.. Daikandaiji, Asukadera, and Kawaradera were, of course, national temples.  Yakushiji is not mentioned, probably because it was still under construction.  At this date it's only been dedicated, and we won't see it show up in the Chronicles until 688—a year and change from the current gathering.  Toyoradera was the nunnery of Toyoura temple, and Sakada temple appears to be another nunnery, formerly known as Kongoji.  It is said to have been in MInabuchi, and ruins of a temple are found in the southeast of Asuka, in an area known today as, funnily enough, Sakada.  There is also a modern temple known as Kongoji nearby, though I can't tell if there is any connection between the two other than the name— whether its a true successor temple or just given that name because of the proximity of the ruins. Either way, in this phase of the funerary rites, we have a combination of temples and nunneries involved.  I wonder if that was so that men and women could gather in spaces for them.  Either way, it is clear that these rites  were held specifically to build merit for Ohoama.  This was probably also the intent behind the actions of the court a week later, when presents of cloth and silk were made to orphans, as well as childless, widowed, and elderly men and women of the capital—those who didn't have someone else to look after them or who were assumed to not have a stable income. Come the first day of the new year of 687, we see a return to the palace of temporary interment, and this time it is in a new and different fashion.  We are told that the Crown Prince, accompanied by ministers and public functionaries, proceeded to the Palace of Temporary Interments and made lament.  We are told that it was the Nagon, Fuwe no Ason no Miaruji, who performed the eulogy, after which everyone once again raised a lament.  Then the common people raised a lament.  Then Ki no Ason and others of the High Stewards of the Palace made food offerings.  After this, the Uneme of the Steward's department raised a lament and then music was performed by the officials of the Department of Music. This clearly indicates an involved ceremony, with set roles and functions.  It is being headed by Ohoama's son, Crown Prince Kusakabe, and attended by all the high ministers, and it is being held on the first of the year in place of other festivities for that day.  Other than the timing, the basic pattern of events is similar to the other rituals of lamentation.  .  The contents of the ceremony might be different, and it was always someone new who was chosen to give the formal eulogy, but there does seem to be some ritual and pattern to the rites performed.  For major ceremonies, we are told of the Crown Prince, the ministers, and the various public functionaries who are there, in attendance, but in other instances we are just told of who is providing the lamentations or the eulogy.  For example, on the 5th day of the first month—four months after the big ceremony, we are told that everyone—Crown Prince down to the common people—proceeded to the Palace of temporary interment and made lamentations. Either way, the period for the next year and change is filled with various ceremonies either at the palace of temporary interment, where Ohoama's body lay in state, or elsewhere in the capital, such as at various temples.  There were also various gifts from the court.  All of this was as much political spectacle as it was grieving.  There are some suggestions that, according to Confucian tradition, a son was expected to mourn the loss of his father for up to three years.  So perhaps that is part of what was happening—the royal family was participating in some costly signaling to both raise Ohoama—and thus, themselves—up on a pedestal and to try to demonstrate the virtue of Crown Prince Kusakabe.  After all, the Queen and her son had been effectively running the government before Ohoama had passed, so it wasn't like there was any actual change and only minor risk.  The timeframe also allowed the court time to send messengers out to inform the far reaches of the archipelago of Ohoama's passing and give them time to come and do homage.  They even sent messengers to Silla, no doubt to both let them know about what had happened and possibly to solicit a condolence embassy.  All of that would also play into the pageantry and mythmaking of the moment, further strengthening the position of the Yamato court, which was, of course, under the control of Uno no Sarara and her son. And so we see numerous, and quite public, displays.  Besides the lamentations and the eulogies, we see repeated gifts to the underprivileged, like giving gifts of coarse and floss silk to those residents of the Capital who were at least 80 years old, as well as to invalids with little hope as well as to the poor people who had no other means to support themselves.  All of it being done in Ohoama's name, even though the reputation no doubt was actually accruing to his son and widow. In the third month we see a special mention: an ornamental chaplet of flowers, known as a mikage, was offered at the Palace of Temporary Interment.  Today, flowers are often found in abundance at Japanese funerals.  Certain flowers may be "gifted" to the deceased as a last gift from mourners, and large, elaborate flower constructions are often used to decorate the funeral parlor where the corpse is laid out.  Groups and individuals may pay exorbitant sums to place flowers with a name card indicating who donated it, and some flowers may be for the grieving family to take home.  There are meanings behind the type of flowers, and often white flowers are preferred, as white is often seen as the color of death.  Some of this appears to be influenced by the West, but flowers have long been symbols and used in various ceremonies and rites.  It is possible that some of this was influenced by Buddhist and Tang court rituals.  Or maybe they just wanted something that was sweet smelling to help cover up the inevitable odor that no doubt resulted from leaving a body out for about six months at that point. Whatever the purpose, we aren't given too many details on just what this floral display was.  Aston calls the "mikage" a "chaplet" and Bentley simply describes it as decorative flowers placed at the mogari palace—the palace of temporary interment.  Once the flowers were placed, then Taji no Mabito no Maro performed the ceremony of the eulogy. Next, in the 5th month, we see the Crown Prince and various government officials once again involved.  This time they were accompanied by the chiefs of the Hayato and the Ata of Ohosumi, accompanied by their people, advancing and providing a eulogy.  The Hayato and the Ata were both indigenous groups of people from southern Kyushu, who were considered to be outside of the Yamato polity, with distinct cultural differences.  It is unclear if they were ethnically Wa people.  Evidence from that area suggests that the people there, whatever their ethnicity, had adopted many of the Yayoi and Kofun cultural life-ways.  This was not without some differences, such as distinct burial practices, such as underground burial chambers.  Hayato were also known in Yamato for their shields, which are often depicted as long, thin pentagonal shapes with red, white, and black figural paintings. The propaganda-slash-merit making continued over the next few months.  In the 6th month we see an amnesty, where criminals were pardoned, and in the 7th month the court unilaterally cancelled out any interest on debts contracted in the year 685 or earlier.  In cases where the debtors already owed service to their creditors, for some reason, they made it so that the creditors could not demand that they provide additional service.  People still had to pay back the balance, but they didn't have to pay back anything extra. The next ceremony at the palace of temporary interment wasn't for about three months later, in the 8th month of 687.  We are told that offerings of food were made, and that only awokimono—green things—were offered.  Bentley translates this passage to say that it was the feast of first fruits, the Niinamesai, and they do use the character for "namé", but not the full name.  As for "Awokimono" – Aston translates this as plain, boiled rice, and says it is meant that it was without meat of any kind.  Indeed, the characters appear to be for blue or green cooked rice.  There is another reading for "Awokimono" as "Hijikioono", and Aston suggests that there may have been some hijiki, or seaweed, involved.  Regardless this appears to have been specifically a funerary tradition. A day after the food was offered—and we aren't told who did that—the elderly people of the capital, both men and women—some possibly with new duds thanks to the silk they had received earlier—came and made lamentation west of the bridge.  I suspect that this means they didn't enter the actual courtyard where the palace of temporary interment was set up, but simply gathered on the west side of the Asuka River, which flowed past the west side of the courtyard.  Later that month, we see another Buddhist ceremony.  Fujiwara no Ason no Ohoshima and Kibumi no Muraji no Ohotomo invited 300 Buddhist dignitaries, known as Ryuuzou and Daitoku, to Asukadera.  There they gave each one of them the present of a kesa—a Buddhist sash worn as part of their vestments.   Kesa were typically stitched together from cloth donated by Buddhist laypersons, and we are told that these kesa were made from the garments of the late sovereign.  The language of the decree itself was apparently so painful—Aston translates it as pathetic—that it couldn't be fully set forth.  That sounds to me like someone forgot to write it down. Eleven days after the assembly at Asukadera, a national Buddhist feast was sponsored at all of the Temples in the capital.  The day after that, a feast was sponsored at the mogari palace. Later that same month, Silla ambassadors arrived at the archipelago.  The Dazai, the viceroy of Tsukushi, met with them and informed them of what had happened.  It is likely that they had left before any word had reached the peninsula, so this was the first they heard of it.  Nonetheless, they all put on mourning clothes, turned to face the East, and bowed three times and raised lamentations.  This was all being done in Kyushu, but nonetheless it was clearly important to the people who were recording these interactions. A similar note in the record appears on the 23rd day of the first month of the following year, where we are told that Ohoama's death was announced to the Silla ambassador, Gim Sangnim, and his colleagues.  They, in turn, made their lament three times.  It is possible that these are records of the same event, and I even wonder if one was recorded on the date they arrived and the other was recorded on the date that they were formally told what was happening.  Either that, or the events of the 9th month of 687 were an informal notice, so that they could get ready, after which they traveled the three months and change to Asuka, where they then were given the formal notification. Moving on to finish out the year 687: on the 22nd day of the 10th month, the Crown Prince and government officials, along with all of the governors and Kuni no MIyatsuko—and not forgetting the common people—all began work on the sovereign's tomb.  This is one of the few tombs that we have some confidence in, though it isn't a keyhole shaped kofun like many others from previous eras.  Today it looks mostly like a round hill, but originally it seems to have been an eight-sided tomb with five distinct levels.  Eight sides suggests a Buddhist influence, as eight is an auspicious number, such as in the 8-fold path.  I can't help but wonder if the five levels were connected to concepts of five in Confucian and Daoist teachings.  For instance, there was the idea of five Confucian virtues as well as the Wuxing, or Gogyou, where we have five specific elements.  Given the importance and influence of continental thinking at the time, neither one would surprise me. The tomb would take almost a year to complete, which almost doesn't seem like enough time given everything that they did.  It is possible that they had already prepped much of what they needed and that the 10th month of 687 was simply the date they broke ground, but either way it was an impressive feat. Meanwhile, as the construction was ongoing, the public displays of mourning continued.  Once again, new year's day celebrations of 688 were postponed in favor of public mourning, with the Crown Prince and all of the ministers making their lamentations on the first day of the year, followed by a company of priests the following day. On the 8th day of the first month of the year we are told that there was a public great congregation of priests held at Yakushiji.  This is the first official event held at Yakushiji, and so presumably the temple was now finished—or at least finished enough.  Since Ohoama isn't mentioned, it is certainly possible that this wasn't directly connected to the ceremonies around the official mourning of Ohoama.  On the other hand, Yakushiji was commissioned by Ohoama for the health of his wife, Uno no Sarara, so I have a hard time thinking that there weren't any connections at all. In the second month of 688, we get a decree that has a few different interpretations.  The decree states that, "in the future, on all days of national mourning, it is absolutely necessary that abstinence be practiced."  Bentley translates this to mean that there would be a feast on the day of national mourning every year after.  The key contention appears to be whether or not the day of mourning was a monthly or annual thing.  The court appears to have been creating a national holiday around the memory of Ohoama, and it may have chosen the second month for that day of mourning and remembrance.  Alternatively, this was for a day of mourning each month of the current year.  The wording is vague.  It is like the question of whether or not "Bi-weekly" means twice a week or once every two weeks, and I don't know that there is any consensus.  Still, it is interesting that they created their own holiday to remember Ohoama, and as far as I can tell this is the first such example of a holiday being used to remember a person in this way. Once again on the 22nd day of the third month, flowers were again presented at the palace of temporary interment.  This was only two days different from when the mikage had been set up in the previous year, so it would seem that the timing was significant—possibly because it was spring and the flowers were blooming.  Fujiwara no Ason no Ohoshima, the same individual who had helped gather the various priests together at Asukadera to hand out kesa made of the sovereign's own garments, presented the eulogy. The ceremonies are then put on hold for a bit.  There is an account from the 11th day of the 6th month where prisoners guilty of capital crimes would have their punishment mitigated one degree while those in prison for lighter offenses would be pardoned altogether.  In addition, only half of the commuted taxes were to be levied.  This might have been more merit-working for Ohoama or it may have been because the nation itself was undergoing a drought and they were seeking the Buddha's favor to bring the rains. Once again in the 8th month we see offerings of food are made, and a lament raised inside the palace of temporary interment.  This time the eulogy was performed by Ohotomo no Sukune no Yasumaro.  The day after that, Prince Ise was given commands regarding how the upcoming funeral was to be handled, which was to happen three months later. The 11th month kicked off with the Crown prince and the ministers once more going to the palace of temporary interment, this time on the 4th day of the month.  They had with them guests from the "frontier lands" as Aston notes—Bentley says foreign countries.  Offerings of food were made, and the Tatefushi dance was performed.  This was a dance with shields and swords, according to later records.  It seems that the dancers also wore armor, or something to approximate armor.  All of the ministers then advanced, each in turn, and pronounced a eulogy, with each recounting the services that their ancestors had rendered to the throne. The following day, there was further ceremony as over 190 Emishi brought tribute in on their backs, and pronounced a eulogy for the departed sovereign. Six days later, on the 11th day of the 11th month, Fuse no Ason no Miaruji and Ohotomo no Sukune no Mimiyuki both pronounced eulogies, and then Tahema no Mabito no Chitoko recited, as a eulogy, the succession to the throne of the royal ancestors.  And when that was finished, Ohoama's body was finally placed in the Ohouchi tomb and the tomb was sealed. And with that, the sovereign was put to rest, after over two years of mourning and ceremony, specifically designed to put on display the court's apparent grief.  Whether they were actually grieved or not, the importance was the performance of grief through the rituals set forth by the state.  Individuals and groups demonstrated their loyalty through their participation.  Noble families used the platform to recount their service and thus demonstrate their own history and pedigree and thus why they were deserving of their status in the court. Furthermore, during all this ceremony around the funerary arrangements, to try to  also have an ascension ceremony for the new sovereign was probably a little too much to try and push through.  It would have also meant that they would been holding a ceremony that should be joyful and august under the pall of the mourning period.  For the Crown Prince to don the robes of office while his father's body lay in the courtyard was probably, as they say, a bad look.  And, as I mentioned earlier, it wasn't like it was making any real, practical difference.  The ship of state was hardly rudderless, with Kusakabe and his mother both guiding it through the various ceremonies. Sure enough, in the following year, 689, the new year ceremonies were no longer about mourning and lamentation.  The queen gave an audience to all the lands in the Front Hall, and the following day the Ministry of Education presented 80 wooden staves, presumably for an old form of the Setsubun festival.  Today, Setsubun, the day before Spring, is celebrated with soybeans, which are tossed at characters in oni masks, and then inside the house.  The cries ring out "Oni ga soto" – "Demons Out" and then again, "Fuku ga uchi" – "Good luck inside!"  Thus evil spirits are kept at bay and good fortune is welcomed into the home.  In the older version of a similar ritual, it seems that wooden staves were used to symbolically drive the demons out, rather than just a handful of auspicious beans. The first month of year 689 continued to look a lot like previous years, prior to Ohoama's death.  There was a banquet given to the Ministers, and gifts of clothing were handed out to them.  And then, halfway through the month, the various officials brought presents of firewood to the palace.  And then a meal was given to the various public functionaries. A few days after that, Queen Uno left to visit the Yoshino palace for a few days, returning two days later. There is something that is not mentioned in all of this that I suspect was happening.  First of all, they had no doubt torn down the palace of Temporary Interment, and they were likely preparing for Crown Prince Kusakabe's ascension.  There are some that suspect Prince Kusakabe was waiting until three years had passed before taking the throne, mimicking a tradition sometimes observed on the continent, but nothing is explicitly said. Instead, we see that on the 24th day of the 3rd month there was another amnesty across the realm,  and we are explicitly told that crimes that hadn't been pardoned in ordinary amnesties were also excepted in this amnesty.  Amnesties typically seem to be part of merit-making to either prevent disaster or to celebrate something auspicious.  Was this clearing the way for the ascension ceremony to take place?  Or had something befallen the royal family? We aren't given many details, but on the 13th day of the 4th month, we are simply told that Crown Prince Kusakabe died.  We aren't told that he had previously been ill, or that anything in particular had happened.  It is just a simple line in the text.  And yet, this must have had tremendously serious consequences.  I think we can fairly safely assume that he was prepared to ascend the throne—unless he was thinking of pulling something like Naka no Oe and running things from behind the scenes.  However, there is plenty of evidence that Uno no Sarara was more likely to be the one to step back and be the power in the shadow.  She had operated from that position before. Whatever the plan was, clearly that plan was no more.  Crown Prince Kusakabe was dead, and his only heir was still a young child.  He also had no brothers to take the throne.  The Chronicles don't mention it, but this must have been a moment of incredible weakness for the court and the Queen.  History as we know it could have turned out very differently from this point. Also, sidebar—Prince Kusakabe's death is recorded on the 13th day of the 4th month.  While 13 would not necessarily be an inauspicious day until the Western superstition was introduced in recent times, the number 4 has long been associated with death because the pronunciation, "Shi" is the same as—or at least very similar to—the pronunciation of the character for death.  This is also the case in Chinese, and so the number four is often avoided and seen as unlucky.  Sometimes hotels will skip both the 4th and 13th floors in Asia to avoid any inauspicious vibes.  In Japanese, the numbers 4—"Shi" and seven—"Shichi"—will often be pronounced with their kun'yomi readings, so "yon" and "nana" respectively.  So I just find it rather an unfortunate coincidence that Crown Prince Kusakabe died on the 13th day of the 4th month.  Yikes. Anyway, if there was any wavering or grief by Uno no Sarara, it isn't mentioned in the Chronicles.  They continue to march on.  Later that same month, Prince Kasuga passed away.  Prince Kasuga was a non-royal prince, and the death of Prince Kasuga and the Crown Prince were met with an equal lack of fanfare or explanation.  Compare to the death of Prince Ohotsu, who was given an entire eulogy about how he was really well liked. Instead, the Chronicle simply moves on.  The rest of the year passes by as though nothing had happened.  The government continued with Uno no Sarara at its head.  In the first day of the first month of the following year, Uno no Sarara formally ascended to the royal dignity in a ceremony where Mononobe no Maro set up the shields, Nakatomi no Ohoshima recited a prayer for the blessings of Heaven, and Imbe no Shikofuchi delivered the divine seal, sword, and mirror to her majesty.  At that point all of the ministers and government officials made their obeisance in turn, clapping their hands as  they did so. One has to wonder if this ceremony wasn't a little bittersweet, given everything that had happened. A few things about the ceremony to note.  First are the three families mentioned:  Despite the fact that the Mononobe house had been defeated by the Soga centuries back, here they stand in their traditional role as soldiers, raising up the shield.  Then we see Nakatomi no Ohoshima—earlier mentioned as Fujiwara no Ohoshima—as the director of the Ministry of Kami matters, handling the ceremony.  And then there is the Imbe, in some ways the rival to the Nakatomi and their descendants, the Fujiwara, who is handling the regalia. Also of note is that the three regalia here are not the jewel, sword, and mirror, but the seal, sword, and mirror.  We mentioned this many episodes back when we had seen these same three used for the ascension ceremony, and noted then that a royal seal appears to be used, rather than mention of a jewel.  The character used, on the continent, referred to the imperial seal of the dynasty, which itself would have been carved into jade, or a jewel.  And in Japan the character is also said to refer to the "Yasakani-magatama", the sacred jewel.  So was it the jewel, and they just called it the seal?  Or is that a later attribution to try and maintain the concept that the three regalia remained the same?  I couldn't honestly say, but either way we see the concept of these three regalia as central to the ceremony. And with that, Uno no Sarara, known to us as Jitou Tennou, ascended the throne.  She would continue the process of making updates to the court and to the laws and regulations.  She would also see the creation of the Fujiwara palace and accompanying city—designed as the first permanent capital city in all of Japan.  She would also take a hard line with Silla and make her mark on the world stage, as well.  But we'll talk about that in future episodes. And so, until next time, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Every high achiever I've worked with says he wants deeper connection. Almost none of them understand what it actually costs. In this episode, I show you the one move most achievers unconsciously resist making. The move that changes how every close relationship in their life works — their oldest friends, the family they came from, the family they have not yet built, and the one they have with themselves. What I'm about to describe is not a technique, but a reorientation. A technique is something you add to the list of things you already do. A reorientation asks you to stop doing something you have built your whole life around. So let me say this up front. Nothing in this episode is hard to understand. Everything in it is hard to do. We cover the hidden ledger most achievers carry into every relationship without knowing it. The Confucian discipline of compassion, which is very different from softness. The young part of you that was sent away around seven years old. And what courage actually looks like in an intimate conversation, which has almost nothing to do with what you think. If the people you want closest to you feel like they're actually far away, this is the episode for you. Show Highlights Include: The sneaky way your professional success starves your most important relationships (1:08)  The #1 deathbed regret achievers have (and how to prevent this lonely reality from ruining your final moments) (3:06)  3 myths about connection that, if left unaddressed, will cause you to be isolated and alone for the vast majority of your life (3:45)  The "love as a salary" mistake you're making in your personal life (and why it's difficult, if not impossible, to realize you're doing this) (8:47)  Why sitting in pain without rushing to a solution is the single hardest (and most important) thing you'll ever learn to do (10:43)  How your rushing to a solution your partner has is a classic case of avoidance (even though it doesn't feel like it) (12:16)  Why it feels like every relationship you build has a false floor in its foundation (15:44)  The insidious "Inner Burden" trap that forces you to pass on your biggest shortcomings to those around you and make them pay the cost you refused to pay (17:44)  3 characteristics of intimate courage and why they look like anything but courageous from the outside looking in (18:29)  A real life example of how romantic partners get the ick when they feel like you're optimizing your dating life (and how one of my private clients broke through this charade) (20:53)  For more about David Tian, go here: https://www.davidtianphd.com/about/  Feeling like success in one area of life has come at the expense of another? Maybe you've crushed it in your career, but your relationships feel strained. Or you've built the life you thought you wanted, yet there's still something important missing. I've put together a free 3-minute assessment to help you see what's really holding you back. Answer a few simple questions, and you'll get instant access to a personalized masterclass that speaks directly to where you are right now. It's fast. It's practical. And it could change the way you approach leadership, love, and fulfillment. Take the first step here → https://dtphd.com/quiz

In this episode, Jacinta speaks with Jennifer Wang, Associate Professor of Philosophy at Simon Fraser University, about her recent published work on the intersection between Confucian role ethics and contemporary analytic metaphysics. Associate Professor Wang explains Confucius's historical context, before distinguishing between his teachings and how they're interpreted by scholars of classical Chinese philosophy today. She talks about Confucius' resources for understanding personhood, and how the novel approach of engaging with his teachings within an analytic framework not only opens up new philosophical possibilities, but makes Confucius' thought accessible for a modern audience. Associate Professor Wang wraps up the episode by sharing available resources for getting into classical Chinese philosophy, and advice for researchers who are considering breaking new ground in philosophy.

What does it really mean to step into a Japanese rope bar - and how do you do it without getting it wrong? In this episode, Mya and Fox speak with Nuit de Tokyo, whose engagement with Japanese rope spans more than three decades. His learning has come through formal training, deep cultural immersion, and proximity to source: watching over a thousand SM performances, performing publicly, and absorbing the unspoken knowledge that circulates in bars, backstage spaces, and long-standing communities. This is a conversation about time, continuity, and lineage - and what Western practitioners often miss. We explore: • Nuit de Tokyo's journey from Paris to Tokyo via martial arts • Discovering SM and rope in the pre-internet era, through rare publications and bondage books • Key differences between European and Japanese rope scenes • What a Japanese rope bar actually is, and why bar culture matters in Tokyo • How rope bars work, event etiquette, and how to attend respectfully • The biggest cultural missteps Westerners make - and how to avoid them • How poetry, Confucian social structures, morality, and Japanese banquet culture inform modern shibari • Dispelling the persistent myth that shibari originates from Hojojutsu Insightful, grounded, and essential listening for anyone curious about rope culture beyond the surface. Nuit de Tokyo first traveled to Japan in 1989 and began collecting kinbaku books the following year, an archive that has since grown into the thousands. By the early 2000s, during a second extended stay, his Japanese language skills allowed him to move beyond observation and into lived experience within the Tokyo SM scene, where studio time, late nights, and long conversations became part of his education. His training is rooted in long-term study rather than brief encounters. A formative lesson with Akechi Kanna in 2005 marked a turning point, and when Kanna came out of retirement in 2010, NdT undertook several years of structured training across the full cursus under him. In parallel, he studied continuously for nine years with Yukimura Haruki, an extended apprenticeship that profoundly shaped his technical approach and his understanding of lineage, transmission, and responsibility within rope.

Another episode, another new reign--same old problems.  This episode we talk about what happened after Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno, passed away.  We'll touch on the fact that it wasn't entirely a smooth transition, and there are certainly hints that not everyone was in agreement as to what should happen.  And then there were other problems, such that the heir apparent never actually took the throne.  So what happened? For more information on the main characters in this episode, check out the blogpost at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-147  (Also apologies ahead of time--my voice was not in great shape, and that may come through on the audio) Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 147: Here We Go Again   Iki no Hakatoko looked around the spacious room and recognized many of the faces he saw there.  There were various nobles from around the court present.  All of them were familiar, even if they were not the closest of acquaintances—they ran in similar circles and were connected to each other over various political positions.  Some were connected by marriage, some were just allies, and others were almost rivals—but they were all there for a common cause. The open chamber had been buzzing as all of those elites of Yamato talked about why they might have gathered.  Of course, the big news was the death of the sovereign.  Ohoama had passed away, and the court was formally in mourning. And yet the government seemed stable.    The Queen was at the helm, guiding t he government, and her son was beside her as the Crown Prince.  So what was everyone doing here, gathering for what they could only assume were… other options? Finally, the buzzing started to die down as the doors to the chamber were closed and guards posted.  And then, the host for the discussion arrived, as Royal Prince Ohotsu stepped out and greeted all of his soon-to-be co-conspirators….     This episode, at long last, we are about to dive into a new reign.  And if you haven't picked up by now, this, the end of the 7th century, was a turbulent time.  Although the court had been instituting reforms to be more like the courts on the continent—and it wasn't like Ohoama died without any heir whatsoever—things were still unstable.  I know, shocker, right? So what happened? Let's go over the history some, and the main players, and then we can see what happened and the aftermath. Before that, however, let's talk about what we might expect to have happened, if everything had worked like clockwork. While Ohoama passed away in 686, it wasn't as if he hadn't made any plans.  His wife and Queen, Uno no Sarara, was deeply entrenched in governmental affairs, and their son, Prince Kusakabe, had been named Crown Prince in 681.  This meant that both were in positions of significant power within the current government.  All things being equal, and assuming a Confucian model, one would expect that upon Ohoama's passing, Kusakabe would step up and take the reins of the government, ascending to the throne as the new ruler.  Uno would oversee the transition and take her place as the Queen Mother, remaining in the palace and helping to shepherd the new rule, while one of Kusakabe's wives—probably Abe-hime, who, like her half-sister Uno, was also a daughter of Naka no Oe—would become his queen. And yet that is not what happened.  Prince Kusakabe does not show up in our list of sovereigns, and we are told he never ascended the throne.  Instead, his mother, Uno no Sarara, came to power.  So what exactly happened?  Why would she not have handed over power to her only son and set him up on the throne?  To understand all of that, I think there are several things we need to discuss, first of them being just how tenuous and fragile transitions like this were. If you've been listening to the podcast for a while, you might be nodding in agreement with this statement: for more than a century, at this point, whatever high-minded ideals the rulers of Yamato may have espoused, their path to the throne had been covered in blood.  Let's roll back to the events of 587.  We talked about this in Episode 91, when the Soga and Mononobe families had each lined up behind different aspirants to the royal throne.  The Mononobe were a powerful family, known to be warriors for the throne, and the head of the Mononobe, the Ohomuraji, Moriya, was one of the most influential people at court.  However, in recent years, the Soga family had been on the rise.  Soga no Iname had married his daughters to members of the royal family, and he and his son, Umako, were known as the Ohoomi.  The Mononobe were not having it with these uppity newcomers, but the Soga seem to have built their power, anyway, likely using their connections to the continent to do so.  In a series of succession disputes, the Soga came out on top, defeating the Mononobe and eventually killing Moriya.  It was a bloody fight, but eventually the Soga's royal relatives won out. This brought Hasebe Wakasasagi, aka Sushun Tennou, to the throne.  For a time, Wakasasagi and Soga no Umako ruled the land, but eventually Wakasasagi grew suspicious of Umako—perhaps jealous of his power.  He considered taking him out, but Umako caught wind and had the sovereign assassinated, instead.  Umako then put his own niece, Kashikiya Hime, on the throne, where most know her as Suiko Tennou. Kashikiya was no stranger to the court, having served as the wife of her own half-brother, Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  Kashikya is thought to have been a compromise candidate, chosen specifically to avert any further power struggles.  Certainly, Umako did not want a repeat performance of what had just happened with Wakasasagi.  And though she reigned, power was apparently shared between Soga no Umako, Kashikiya Hime, and Kashikiya Hime's nephew—Umako's grandnephew—Crown Prince Umayado, aka the legendary Shotoku Taishi.   By all rights, it seemed like things should have gone smoothly.  Umako, the eldest, would pass away to be succeeded by his niece, and it would make sense that after Kashikiya Hime's passing, Umayado would assume the throne.  Instead, Umayado would be the first to pass, creating uncertainty as to the future of the throne.  Then Umako would follow several years later.  Finally, Suiko would pass away soon thereafter. So, in about six years the three most powerful people in court all passed away.  Soga no Umako's son, Soga no Emishi, was still coming out from under his father's shadow.  Furthermore, it was not clear who should sit the throne—should it be Prince Yamashiro no Oe, the son of the Crown Prince, Umayado?  After all, his father would have likely inherited the throne and then it would have no doubt been passed to him.  And yet, there was another contender: Prince Tamura.  Ultimately Soga no Emishi backed Prince Tamura, a man with ties to Nunakura through both his father and mother, and yet who was not truly a royal prince in that his own parents had never held the throne.  Then again, neither had Umayado.  Eventually, Prince Yamashiro no Oe would back down from his claim to avoid bloodshed—and yet blood would be shed anyway.  When Prince Tamura died,  in an apparent bid to keep Soga power and quash any resistance before it started up, Soga no Emishi had Tamura's wife, Takara hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou, installed—but Prince Yamashiro no Ohoe was still alive, and his heirs were still out there.  Soga no Emishi appeared to be content, but his son and heir, Soga no Iruka, was not. And when his father was ill and Iruka had a free hand, he ordered the destruction of Prince Yamashiro no Oe, presumably to avoid a future challenge to the throne and thus to the Soga family's hold on power. This move shocked many, and rather than preventing conflict, it seems to have stirred up ill feelings against the Soga for their heavy hand in the politics of the period.  This would lead Prince Naka no Ohoe and several co-conspirators to rise up, killing Soga no Iruka in court, and then attacking his father, Soga no Emishi, in their home.  See episode 106 for more on that, known as the Isshi Incident.  Naka no Ohoe and his supporters would take their place in the court, but Naka no Ohoe would not ascend to the throne, himself – at least not yet.  Instead, he took the position of Crown Prince, and his uncle, Prince Karu,aka Kotoku Tennou,  took the throne.  However, that still left a loose end.  Prince Furubito no Oe, who had appeared to be the favorite for the throne under the Soga, was still alive.  Furubito no Oe was the son of Tamura and a Soga consort—Hotei no Iratsume, the daughter of Soga no Umako.  Although the Chronicles do not mention it, he seems to have been well placed to be Crown Prince in place of Naka no Oe, especially in a Soga dominated court.  Without that backing, however, his claim may not have been quite so strong.  He had gone into exile in Yoshino, but opponents of Naka no Oe's faction and their bloody coup began to use him as a rallying point.  It is unclear if Prince Furubito himself had any ambitions, but the fact remained that he was a threat, nonetheless, and Prince Naka no Oe had him taken out. By controlling things from behind the throne, Prince Naka no Oe seems to have been able to keep things fairly stable.  When his uncle Karu  passed away, the throne went back to his mother, who is known as Saimei Tennou in her second reign, but Naka no Oe was still in a place of considerable power, and the continuity likely helped keep things on track.  Then Takara Hime passed away in the midst of a national crisis—the mobilization to support Baekje against the Silla-Tang alliance.  That military effort turned out to be less than successful, but by that point, there does not seem to have been much question over who was in charge – it was finally Naka no Oe's turn to take the throne, and he did, as Tenji Tennou. And so it wasn't until Naka no Oe's own death that we again see major violence.  Naka no Oe's brother, Ohoama, is said to have been the Crown Prince, but then Naka no Oe's son, Ohotomo, came of age.  He was made the Dajo Daijin and supported by the most powerful nobles in court.   It is clear that there were divergent factions within the court itself, though, with some supporting Ohotomo and others supporting Ohoama.  In the midst of this, Ohoama chose to bow out, at least while his brother Naka no Oe was still on the throne.  However, Ohotomo and his supporters could not leave Ohoama out there as a loose end.  They knew that he still had a claim and supporters, and they started to make plans to move against him after Naka no Oe's death.  They were too slow, however—Ohoama caught word and moved against the court, instead.  In a bloody struggle that upended the politics of the court one more time, Ohoama came to the throne.  That struggle, the Jinshin no Ran, was covered in detail in episodes 129 to 132. So if we look back we can see that for all of the thoughts of inheritance and legitimacy, most of those who had ascended the throne had done so by eliminating their rivals—either before or just after they assumed the royal mantle.  As such, this is something that Ohoama was, himself, quite concerned about, and he took several steps to try to avoid a repeat of this scenario. First, and perhaps somewhat confusingly, he ensured that those in positions of authority in the government were largely tied by blood to the royal family.  The royal and non-royal princes were all nominally related in one way, shape, or form.  If nothing else this meant that the nobility— those elites without direct blood ties to the throne—were not, themselves, gaining the kind of power and authority that had previously been given out to families like the Ohotomo, the Mononobe, and the Soga.  We don't even hear that much about the relatives of Nakatomi no Kamatari, who had achieved such heights under Naka no Oe that he had become the Naidaijin, the great minister of the interior. One might think that this system still had issues, however.  After all, each princely line had their own tie to a previous sovereign, and we've certainly seen times where a sovereign came in out of left field, with a nominal, but hardly convincing, connection to the throne.  This is particularly true in a time when succession was still not necessarily a strictly patrilineal custom; where it was not unusual for a senior family member to take up the mantle of leadership, rather than just the first-born son of the current ruler. And that seems to be why Ohoama also held the Yoshino conference with his immediate family members in 679.  This included his Queen Consort, Uno; the Royal Prince Kusakabe, the Royal Prince Ohotsu, the Royal Prince Takechi, the Royal Prince Kawashima, the Royal Prince Osakabe, and the Royal Prince Shiki.  These were sons of both Ohoama and Naka no Oe, but they were all considered to be loyal insiders of the royal family.  Ohoama had them swear to work together and to protect one another.  And yet, as we shall see, that promise does not seem to have survived Ohoama himself. So let's talk about some of these characters, now that we are here at another question of succession.  We'll start with the Queen herself, Uno no Sarara. Uno was born in 645, the daughter of Naka no Oe and a consort, Wochi no Iratsume, daughter of Soga no Yamada no Ishikawa no Maro.  Ishikawa no Maro had been a powerful ally of Naka no Oe, assisting with the overthrow of his own uncle and cousin, Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka.  In turn, he seems to have become the head of the Soga family.  Despite the rhetoric that the Soga family was destroyed, it was more that the power of Emishi and Iruka was broken.  Ishikawa no Maro had parlayed his assistance into another means to access power at the court, and married his own daughter to Naka no Oe.  That worked until it didn't—enemies in court slandered Ishikawa no Maro and Naka no Oe had him killed in 649. Wochi no Iratsume would have three children with Naka no Oe.  The eldest was Princess Ota, followed by Princess Uno, and finally Prince Takeru.  There is a theory that she died in 651, giving birth to Prince Takeru.  Prince Takeru himself would only survive a short while passing away in 658.  He was only seven years old. Both Princess Ohota and Princess Uno were married off to their uncle, Prince Ohoama.  Princess Ohota was the elder of the two, and bore Princess Ohoku and Prince Ohotsu, whom we'll discuss in a bit.  However, Princess Ohota passed away in 667, during the reign of Naka no Oe, and so did not play as big a role in the politics of the day as her younger sister. Uno, on the other hand, appears to have been Ohoama's ride-or-die.  They were married when she was only thirteen years old, and she followed him when he and Naka no Oe went to Kyushu to oversee the war on the peninsula.  It was there that she gave birth to her first and only son in 662.  She left the court behind to follow Ohoama to Yoshino, along with their son, Prince Kusakabe.  She then followed Ohoama on his lightning blitz through the mountains over to the east.  It is said that while he went on to the front, she maintained a place in the relative safety of the land of Mie.  From there she likely organized the rearguard and would have been involved with the back-end logistics.  She is also said to have made particular entreaties to the deities of Ise shrine, and may have had a hand in raising the Shrine to greater prominence during the reign of Ohoama and later. A key note is the fact that, when Ohoama became ill, and could not effectively manage the affairs of state, Uno stepped in and made sure that things continued to operate.  And so, when Ohoama finally passed away, his projects were not simply left hanging—his queen and consort, Uno no Sarara, was there to see that everything remained on track. As queen, Uno's son, Prince Kusakabe, was the favorite to succeed his father.  In fact, in 681, he was named Crown Prince at the age of 19.  Kusakabe had even married his own aunt, Princess Abe—his mother's half-sister.  Princess Abe was another daughter of Naka no Oe and a Soga related consort; in this case it was Wochi no Iratsume's younger sister, Mehi no Iratsume—sometimes called Sakurai no Iratsume.  I should note that Princess Abe was only about 20 years old in 681, only a year older than the Crown Prince, so it isn't like there was a huge age gap between them, even if he was technically marrying his own aunt.  Still, they had already had a child between them the year before, in 680—this was Princess Hidaka or Niimi.  Two years later, in 683, they had another child, Prince Karu, and later we know that they had a third child, Princess Kibi.  This is all a pretty good start for a future sovereign, and Kusakabe seems to have been on track to succeed his father. By all rights, it seems that Kusakabe should have stepped up in 686 to take the throne, but that was not to be.  Instead, his mother, Queen Uno no Sarara, would retain her place at the head of the government.  It is possible that this was meant to be merely temporary —there were still many things to be taken care of.  With Ohoama's death there were numerous rituals having to do with his interment, and the Crown Prince, Kusakabe, appears to have been integral to those events.  Whereas we may have previously seen powerful nobles step up, with the increased influence of Confucianism, it makes sense that a son would be responsible for ensuring that things were taken care of.   There was also the issue of a new palace that would need to be built, and the court would need to prepare for the various enthronement ceremonies.  After all, Naka no Oe himself wasn't formally enthroned for three years into his supposed reign. And just like his grandfather, as Crown Prince, Kusakabe maintained a powerful portfolio at the court that would still allow him to have a heavy hand on the rudder of the ship of state.  In fact, had things gone differently, then the Chroniclers may have simply counted these early years as part of Kusakabe's reign, as they had done with Naka no Oe. And all that would have been great—except that, despite all those nice family agreements at Yoshino, there were others who seem to have had designs on the throne. The first claim that likely could have been made was by Prince Takechi.  Prince Takechi—written as Takaichi, like the district of the same name—was technically the eldest son of Ohoama.  He had been called to Ohoama's side during the Jinshin no Ran, and given nominal control over the troops waiting to cross the pass from Ohowari into Afumi.  This was likely more of a sinecure, however; Prince Takechi was still quite young, and while the position would no doubt teach him much about organization and leadership, I certainly hope that there were more experienced individuals assisting him. However, for all of that, Prince Takechi had a major strike against him In the form of his parentage.  Although he was Ohoama's eldest son, his mother was not a royal princess.  Instead she was Amago no Iratsume, the daughter of the powerful head of the Munakata family, Munakata no Tokusen. Munakata was a powerful area on the northwest coast of Tsukushi—modern Kyushu.  It is famous for the three Munakata shrines.  The outer, or Hetsu, shrine is on the land, but the middle shrine is on the island of Ohoshima, 11 kilometers from the Hetsu shrine.  Then the Oki, or deep sea, shrine is on the aptly named Okinoshima, another 49 kilometers past that, out in the middle of the Genkai Sea, the body of water between Kyushu, Tsushima, and the Korean peninsula.  Even today, Okinoshima is considered a sacred place, and has never been developed: even today, only those closely associated with the shrine are allowed to set foot there.  Because of that we can see something remarkable, as Okinoshima was held as sacred for hundreds of years, during which time, offerings were regularly made to the kami there, presumably for safe passage across the waters.  These offerings have accumulated over the centuries and serve as a fascinating glimpse back into the history of the shrine and of the relations between the archipelago and the peninsula. The land of Munakata—and by extension the rulers, or Kimi—appear to have had not inconsiderable influence over the trade back and forth across the ocean to the continent.  This is further corroborated by the wealth left at Okinoshima and elsewhere, as well as by large kofun nearby, thought to be those of the ruling family of the area.  This would have no doubt been a powerful and prestigious family to be allied with, especially in Ohoama's role as a Prince.  However, despite all of that, they were not, ultimately, a royal family.   That would seem to have made Prince Takechi ineligible to take the throne—at least without some serious backing and perhaps a little re-working of his parentage. And this brings us to the third eldest son of Ohoama:  Prince Ohotsu.  Unlike Prince Takechi, Prince Ohotsu was the son of a royal princess—Princess Ohota.  In fact, not only was she a royal princess, but she was the sister to Queen Uno.  And Prince Ohotsu was born only a year later than Prince Kusakabe.  Furthermore, during the Jinshin no Ran, Prince Ohotsu was called to Ohoama's side, along with his half-brother, Prince Takechi, and he is specifically mentioned in that role, despite the fact that he was still too young to have played much of a role.  Like Prince Kusakabe, Prince Ohotsu was in his early twenties. So if we put Kusakabe and Ohotsu side-by-side, we can see that they have a lot of similar qualifications. Both were the sons of Ohoama by daughters of Naka no Oe, giving them double-royal lineages.  Their mothers were even full sisters, so they were both great-grandsons of Soga no Ishikawa no Maro, for whatever that means.  Kusakabe was older by a day, but Ohotsu's mother was the eldest of the two sisters.  But for the fact that his mother had passed away, she could possibly have been declared Queen, and Ohotsu might have ended up as Crown Prince, instead of Kusakabe.  Even if something had simply befallen Kusakabe, Ohotsu likely would have been able to step in, especially since Kusakabe had no full-blooded siblings, himself. The reign of Ohoama is replete with examples of Kusakabe, Ohotsu, and Takechi often acting together or being given honors together.  While it is always clear to rank them in that order, it is also clear that all three seemed to hold a place of high esteem.   What we don't seem to see is any ill will between them—but then again, the Chronicles rarely give much attention to anyone who is not the sovereign except to mention them in passing.  As such, we get only a simple sentence in the record, dated barely two weeks after Ohoama's passing, that Prince Ohotsu conspired against the Crown Prince, which is to say, Prince Kusakabe. As is so frustratingly often the case we aren't told how he was conspiring.  Clearly, it refers to succession and we can see that it wouldn't take much for Ohotsu to gather support and place himself on the throne—had that occurred, we likely would see some differences in the Chronicles as well.  However, as it stood, the conspiracy came to naught.  We are told that about one more week later, after the temporary interment of Ohoama's body and the many, many days spent eulogizing him and those around him—seriously, the Chronicles go into way too much detail, which is great for giving us a lot of details on people in the court and their court ranks, but otherwise is mostly paragraphs of names of individuals who were likely important enough for the Chroniclers to ensure that they got at least a mention. It was after that was finished that we are told that Prince Ohotsu's conspiracy was discovered.  He had the support of some thirty nobles, including a priest from Silla and the famous Iki no Muraji no Hakatoko—the one who had written the detailed account of the embassy that had been held under arrest by the Tang court, which we talked about back in Episode 123.  The point is these were people with some amount of clout and who moved in important circles, and for thirty of them to be in Ohotsu's camp might not seem like much, but that doesn't begin to illuminate all of the people that they would have brought with them to the party.  Furthermore, once they went public, who knows how many others might have joined them.  Fortunately for Kusakabe—and unfortunately for Ohotsu—the would-be conspiracy was quashed and quashed hard.  We are told that it was discovered on the second day of the tenth month of 686—less than 30 days after Ohoama's death—and the Queen herself, Uno no Sarara, stepped in and had Ohotsu executed at his own mansion in Wosada.  She then issued a royal decree, stating to everyone that Ohotsu had committed treason, and that the punishment for treason was death.  She also stated that those who had assisted him were also guilty, and should likewise receive the same sentence, except that she was going to be merciful.  And so she ended up pardoning Prince Ohotsu's co-conspirators.  The only exceptions were Toki no Michidzukuri, who was banished to Idzu, and the Silla priest, who was exiled to a temple in Hida.  While we aren't told what roles they played, those two apparently were considered more complicit than the others. A few days later, Prince Ohotsu's sister, Princess Oku, was recalled from her position as the shrine princess of Ise.  It is unclear if this is related, but it seems relevant given the proximity of the two events. There is one other thing I should likely mention, and that seems to come from the Kaifuso.  The Kaifuso is a collection of continental style poetry from the 8th century, similar to the Man'yoshu, but with a different focus.  In both works they often given some description of the authors of the poems, which provide us more information on the people of the time.  For instance, the Kaifuso speaks favorably of Prince Ohotomo, Ohoama's rival in the Jinshin no Ran, and seems more than a little sympathetic towards him and his cause, compared to the way he is treated in the Nihon Shoki's main narrative.  In regards to our current point in the narrative and the treason of Prince Ohotsu the Kaifuso tells us that Prince Ohotsu was ratted out to the Queen by none other than his best friend, Prince Kawashima.  Prince Kawashima was another one of the princes who had been called to Yoshino and who had pledged to work together.  He was not Ohotsu's brother or even half-brother, however, as Kawashima was the son of Naka no Oe.  He was actually a good deal older than Ohoama's actual sons, but apparently trusted by Ohoama at the same time.  The Kaifuso also seems to tell us that Kawashima was rewarded for his efforts by the court. The only problem is that the Nihon Shoki, our primary source, tells us none of this.  Not only is Prince Kawashima not mentioned in regards to the plot, neither is he mentioned as having received any kind of reward or gift by the court.  That doesn't mean the Kaifuso is wrong, but it does raise the question. Similarly, it is just as easy to suggest that the Nihon Shoki itself may be covering up what actually happened.  After all, we only have one side of the story.  What if there wasn't a conspiracy?  Or what if the conspiracy were of the Queen's making, instead.  Prince Ohotsu was clearly popular, and had a reasonable claim to the throne.  That was a threat to her own son's eventual ascension.  It is possible that the Queen, Uno no Sarara, saw a threat and decided to do away with it, herself, keeping her own son's hands relatively clean in the process. Whatever the truth, we likely will never know, and so this is all we have to go on.  Whether it was an actual conspiracy or just the paranoid  concerns of a queen and mother, it is clear that it was not yet enough to have an heir named—there was always the possibility for these things to go sideways and for someone else to jump in with a claim of their own. For all of that, while it seems that Prince Kusakabe was intended to ascend to the throne, for one reason or another, that was delayed.  For some three years, as we've mentioned, Kusakabe and his mother ruled as Queen and Crown Prince, perhaps just because they were handling Ohoama's burial and the creation of a new palace from which Kusakabe himself could then reign.  Unfortunately, it seems that time accomplished what Prince Ohotsu and his conspirators could not, and in 689, Prince Kusakabe passed away.  Shortly thereafter, the Queen, Uno no Sarara, ascended to the throne herself.  This appears to have been because Kusakabe's own son and heir, Royal Prince Karu, was only about 6 years old, having been born in 683, and his daughter was only 9.  So rather than giving up the throne to some other woman's child, Uno no Sarara took the throne for herself.  She is remembered, today, as Jitou Tennou. Jitou Tennou continued to work the initiatives that had been pushed forward during the reign of her husband.  These were projects that she herself was quite familiar with, and in fact, many of the projects are sometimes thought to have been hers, with attribution given to her husband just to give it a greater air of legitimacy.  Ultimately, however, she would oversee some quite formidable changes, even if many of them started in the previous reign or not. And so begins the last reign of the Nihon Shoki, covering the years 686 to 697.  The Nihon Shoki itself wouldn't be complete and presented to the court for another 23 years or so, and yet this is where they chose to leave off.  Perhaps that is because of when it was started, or they just didn't have all the records ready for anything beyond.  They clearly had to end somewhere, after all.  And given that both Ohoama and Uno had such a hand in many of the changes, perhaps it just made sense to end here.  Much of what would come would set the tone for centuries to come. There is one more thing that I want to address in all of this.  We've talked about the lineages of the various individuals, who trace their lineages back to either powerful noble families, like the Soga, or to specific sovereigns.  There is a tendancy by some to talk about Ohoama having started what some would call the Temmu Dynasty.  The idea being that Ohoama's offspring would continue to reign for a time, displacing the offspring of his brother, Naka no Oe.  Then, at a later date, Naka no Oe's line would reassert itself. This seems to be pretty clear cut from a strictly patrilineal viewpoint of royal succession, but I think it ignores a lot about the cultural aspects of the time.  For one thing, descent was about both the father AND the mother, and too often people discount the mother's influence, when, in fact, the mother most likely had more influence in the raising of children than did a royal father.  After all, we don't exactly get a lot of anecdotes about sovereigns spending quality time with their children—and I don't think calling them to help you on campaign counts.  To be fair we get hardly any anecdotes about children.  But we also see that sovereigns were having multiple children with multiple consorts.  Naka no Oe is said to have had about 14 children—possibly more.  I count 17 children for Ohoama.  And we see the ages spread out across the sovereigns' lifetimes, with some children being born at a point that they had not even attained the age of majority by the time their father passed away.  Put another way, look at how Prince Kusakabe was able to marry his own aunt, who was only a year older than he was.  Clearly there was a bit of an age difference between siblings.  I don't imagine that they were being raised by their father, necessarily, but probably by their mothers and the servants at the palace, generally. I would also point out that Ohoama included both his own children as well as children of his brother in the Yoshino conference, further indicating that he did not have any specific intention to entirely shut out the his brother's line. And then there is Uno no Sarara.  She was Ohoama's spouse, but also the daughter of Naka no Oe.  Are we to think that she stopped being her father's daughter because she married someone? That doesn't mean that labels might not be helpful in some ways, but I just don't want to over emphasize the familial or dynastic connections.  Brothers regularly turned on each other, and blood ties were no guarantee of cordial relations.  In fact, only maternal siblings—those with the same mother—were actually considered true siblings in most cases.  That's how they justified so much of what we would consider incest in the royal family in the first place. So while I do think that Ohoama and Uno tweaked the system set up by Naka no Oe and made their own impression on Yamato and, by extension, Japanese culture, I just don't want to read too much into the lineages.  The stories of politics and royal succession are often much more involved and complex. And hopefully, we'll get to see how complex as we continue on down this path.  For now, I think I'm going to leave it here, and so, until next time, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Misogyny and patriarchy are a later misreading of The Analects, argues the author of a new translation of the Confucian classic.The China Books Podcast is a companion of China Books Review, a project of Asia Society's Center on U.S.-China Relations and The Wire China. For any queries or comments, please write to info@chinabooksreview.com.

This episode we close out discussion of this reign with a bit of a grab bag.  There is the minting of new coins, new letters to write Japanese, board games, and more. For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-146 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 146: Coins, Letters, Games, and More   The large audience hall was filled with nobles, sitting in pairs across from each other.  Throughout the hall, the roof and walls reverberated with the sounds of numerous stone markers being placed on painted wooden tables—or more appropriately, game boards.   It was accompanied by the sound of dice clattering.  At the far end of the hall was the royal presence, where his majesty could likewise join in the entertainment—with someone of sufficient standing, of course. Throughout the day there were bursts of joy and frustration throughout the hall.  In some instances, one could see two players sharing in the joy and love of the game.  In other cases, political rivals stared each other down, neither one willing to give away any strategic advantage.  Any smiles there were merely a mask.  And yet, no matter how hard one tried, there was only so much you could do.  Ultimately, your fate was in the hands of the dice, though you could certainly do your best to nudge it here and there. And so they continued.  As they played, small wagers were made between players.  At the conclusion of their match, each player could find another opponent, and see if their luck held out.  Victory was desired, but at the very least one didn't want to be embarrassed.  As such, losing gracefully was just as important as winning with humility.  Sure, there were  the petty stakes that were gambled here and there, but the real stakes were embedded in the politics of the court.  That was a game  that everyone was playing, except that there was no board, and the rules were often merely suggestions, at best.     This episode we are going to close out the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno.  It has been a while getting here—but then again, Ohoama's reign is the best documented so far, almost like the entire Chronicle has built up to this point.  We have spent about a dozen episodes on this reign—not including the four before that discussing the Jinshin no Ran. During that time we've talked about how Ohoama continued the Ritsuryou experiment, while  at the same time shaping it into something that was even more directly under his control.  A lot of this appears to have been done with the mostly willing consent of a good part of the archipelago. That may have been because of a few different things.  For one, all of this was justified through the philosophical underpinnings of the continent.  This is the new knowledge that the court had been devouring for over a century, and so I suspect that none of it seemed particularly surprising or out of place.  Furthermore, it seems that Ohoama's actions may have appealed to some of the more middle-tier elites; those for whom the idea of a government stipend was quite appealing. There was also the external threat of Silla and Tang.  Though in reality, Silla was in conflict with the Tang dynasty, up until the conclusion of the Silla-Tang War, around 676.  In truth, the Tang court wouldn't recognize Sillan sovereignty south of the Taedong river until 736, so there were still tensions.  However, early on in the reign there was at least the thought that hostilities could spill over onto the archipelago. And then there are all of the projects.  The designation of national temples, the beginning of a national history project, the founding of a permanent capital city, and the creation of a formal code—the Asuka Kiyomihara Code. Compared to all of that, the topics of this episode really are some miscellaneous stuff that I didn't have anywhere else to put, but wanted to bring to light anyway.  First, we'll talk about the minting of coins, and what that meant.  Once again, this is really neat because we actually have some coins that appear to be from this time frame, providing what might be a direct relationship between what is written down and what we have in the archaeological record.  Then we'll touch on another project of Ohoama's—this one less successful than some of the others we've discussed.  This was an attempt to create a new writing system specific to the Japanese language.  Remember, at this point literate people in the archipelago were using kanji to write everything down, and for the most part they were using kanbun—so Sinitic characters and grammar, with occasional use of characters purely for their phonetic qualities when they absolutely had to spell something out.  Eventually this would evolve into the syllabaries of katakana and hiragana, but there were several false starts before that, and we'll talk about what was being attempted during Ohoama's reign. Beyond those court projects we'll talk about some of the kami and Buddhist related rituals, especially as they related to growing merit and attempting to protect the state and its people from disasters—natural or otherwise.  And then there are various omens, and just a few edicts that were more geared towards the court but are still fun, like when Ohoama forced the entire court to join him for a day of… board games.  I guess when you are the sovereign and trying to set up a game day, scheduling is suddenly not so big of a problem. So that's what we are going to cover.  We are skipping around throughout the reign, and so while I'll mention dates here and there, I'll try not to get too bogged down with the exact dates unless it really matters. First off: coins.  We are going to start somewhere in the middle, on the 15th day of the 4th month of 683.  It is here that we see a note that Ohoama decreed that copper coins would be used, and not silver.  Remember that a silver mine had been discovered in Tsushima back in 674.  At that time we know that there were silver coins being made, but in 683 it looks like they were changing from silver to copper.  But three days later, they reversed the decision to completely cancel the silver coins, so they presumably had both silver and copper coins. Coins are interesting for several reasons.  For one, coins often help us to date various collections—if they are distinctive enough.  They can be quite helpful in telling us that a particular archaeological assemblage is almost certainly from sometime after the coins had begun to be circulated.  After all, if you unearth a stratum of an archeological dig and you find a penny dated to 1912, you can be reasonably confident that that layer was last exposed on or after 1912, unless time travel was at play. There are some exceptions where animals or tree roots or other forces can disturb the layering, but that's why archeologists carefully pay attention to soil features.  That isn't to say that all coins of the time had clear dates on them.  In fact, the oldest coins we have in the archipelago are something called "Mumon Ginsen"—literally unmarked silver coins.  They are found in various assemblages and thought to have originated under Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  The silver from Tsushima would have likely been used for this.  For many reasons it is unclear if these were minted by the state or if they were privately minted and circulated. The copper coin mentioned in Ohoama's record in the Nihon Shoki would appear to be what is known as a Fuhonsen coin, which we also have extant examples of.  These are round copper coins with a square hole in the middle, as was common on the continent.  The previous unmarked silver coins were just small circles of solid silver.  In contrast, the Fuhonsen bear the characters "FU-HON":  FU, or "Tomi", means wealth, and HON, or "moto", means something like base or basis.  "SEN" just refers to the fact that it is a coin.  So the coin represents the basis of wealth. They are just under an inch in diameter, and 1.5 millimeters thick.  While primarily copper, they do have traces of antimony, silver, and bismuth.  The use of copper was likely because of its lower melting point, which would have been easier to cast with. So it seems that these were the new copper coins mentioned in the Chronicles, and the intent was originally to completely replace any silver currency.  I suspect that they quickly realized that they could not easily replace all of the silver, and so the older silver coins were probably still in circulation—though I don't know if any new ones were being minted. We don't exactly know how the coins were used.  They weren't being used to pay taxes or similar things—that was still all being handled in rice, silk, cloth, and labor.  They might have been used by the government to pay individuals, who would then exchange them for goods, but they were probably not used very often between individuals.  There is even some suggestion that they had a more ritual meaning.  Coins of a similar shape—round with a square hole in the center—go back to at least 350 BCE on the continent, and were quite common by the  time of the Han dynasty.  The round hole allowed them to be placed on strings—you'll often see references to strings of cash.  In the Qin dynasty, a string was meant to be a superunit, made up of 1000 coins.  Merchants and others operating at some scale could then just pay in "strings" of cash rather than counting out each and every coin.  It also provided a way of transporting them.  Anyone doing business in east Asia would have encountered coinage from one of the dynasties on the mainland, and we certainly see various coins making their way over to the archipelago, though how exactly they were used and valued isn't certain.  It may have been more important to just have them on hand for trips to the continent so that an embassy or trading vessel could participate in the economy, there. The next coin to be minted in the archipelago itself wasn't until 708, and that was the Wadokaichin, or Wado coins, named for the four characters around the square hole, which included the era name that they were created, "Wado".  This seems to have kicked off an actual national currency that would only last for a couple hundred years before it was debased and lost its value.  For centuries after that, rice was once again the primary currency, and would continue to be so, even though the Tokugawa shogunate would begin to mint and issue coins again through much of their rule.  Still, coins were often outside the grasp of most of the common people. While coins may not have fully caught on, they did better than our next project.  This was a task that was given to Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwashiki who compiled, by royal command, a new set of characters, which were recorded in a book of 44 volumes.  Though this book  is no longer extant, we do have later sources that claim it was once in the royal library.  It describes the characters as similar to Sanskrit characters.  This appears to be an attempt to create an alphabet, or syllabary, for the Japanese language. While Yamato had adopted the Sinitic systems of logographic writing, it wasn't exactly up to the task of directly writing in Japanese.  For one thing, the languages had different sounds that they used, and in different combinations.  Furthermore, grammatically, the two were quite different.  Many Sinitic languages are Subject, Verb, Object, similar to English, while Japanese is Subject, Object, Verb, meaning the verb goes at the end.  But beyond that, Japanese relies extensively on conjugation of verbs, with verbs and adjectives changing to express tense and other such things that Sinitic languages, such as modern Putonghua and languages such as Middle Chinese handle in other ways.  To give an English speaking person a similar experience, imagine writing sentences as "The bird in the tree sat"  or "the man the bread at the store bought".  Now remove many of the articles and prepositions, so you get things like "bird tree sit" and "man bread store buy".  You can imagine how that can really get unwieldy if you want to convey more nuanced concepts. Japanese would either need to add a phonetic writing system—which it did—or it would need to come up with new characters to use in place of the special qualities of the language.  Or they would need to continue to write in Sinitic grammatical order and  continue to do the translation to Japanese on the fly.   One can imagine that this was hardly efficient—in order to learn how to write you would basically have to learn a whole new language. That these new symbols were similar to characters associated with Sanskrit also makes sense, and we even see similar attempts on the continent, though they had other writing systems to compare to as well.  For example, we see the Persian Sogdian, written with a variation of Syriac script, and the Ghandari language written with its own Ghandari or Kharosthi script, but the influence of Buddhism likely explains why scripts associated with Sanskrit likely had a greater influence than other languages.  I should note here that Sanskrit itself does not have a single script—today, people probably think of the Devanagari script, commonly used in India, but that doesn't seem to have been developed until the 8th century.  The work of Iwashiki was likely based on something like the Siddham, or Kutila, script.  This is an abudgida, where consonants and vowels are connected together when written.  This would have worked well for the Japanese language as phonemes are often grouped together as consonant-vowel clusters known as morae.  Siddham evolved in the late 6th century and many Buddhist scripts that were making their way along the Silk Road would have used it.  However, it is said that Siddham proper—or at least as we know it today—was introduced to Japan by the famous monk Kuukai in the early 9th century.  If that is the case, then what script was Iwashiki using as his inspiration? Regardless of the details, this new script doesn't seem to have taken off.  It may have just been too much to ask someone to learn the various kanji AND another system on top of that.  Instead, the Japanese would adopt certain kanji over time, and simplify them into what we know, today, as kana.  Our earliest example is what we know of as Man'yogana, named for the Man'yoshu, an 8th century collection of poems attributed to various contemporary and historical figures.  Because the poetic structure of Japanese required specific counts of syllables or, more specifically, morae, it was important to capture the actual pronunciation of the language.  Certain characters were chosen and used over and over again purely for their phonetic value, rather than any other inherent meaning.  Over time, those characters were simplified and standardized, developing into the katakana and hiragana still used today.  While it was these organically-evolving systems that would eventually be most popular and fill the gap, but it is still incredible to see someone deliberately tackling the problem at this early date. Moving on from money and writing, let's turn now to matters of the kami and the Buddha.   Yamato existed in a world that saw itself as being caught between forces both seen and unseen.  Besides the natural world there was the spiritual world, and to many it was just as real as anything else. We've talked all along about the interplay between the court, the kami and the Buddha, and some of the evidence we see is relatively simple.  For instance, in 675, the Ohokami, the great god, of Tosa presented a divine sword to the sovereign.  I doubt that a kami was showing up in person to the court—this would have been priests from the shrine.   Aston suggests that the kami in question was probably either Hitokotonushi no Mikoto or Misukitakahikone no Mikoto, quoting "authorities" which he does not otherwise name.  We get more serious, though, when it comes to major events.  And the drought and famine of 676 seems to fit that description.  As you may recall from episode 144, the governor of Shimotsukeno reported a bad harvest in the 5th month, and by the 6th month we see more reports coming in of a great drought.  Clothing was collected for the Buddhist temples to help build merit.  Later, there was a comet in the sky, and then, in the 8th month, we see that the court compelled the Kuni no Miyatsuko and the governors to all contribute to an Ohoharae, or Great Purification.  Eventually, the Ohoharae would become a regular ceremony held on the 30th day of the 6th and 12th months of the year, with royal princes down to the high ministers gathering at the southern gate—the Suzaku-mon. Members of the Urabe, the Diviners, would read the various norito, the ritual prayers, to disperse evil influences.  It was, and is,also used when there is a royal visit to the Ise or Kamo shrines, as well as at the Dajosai festival at the start of a new reign.  It can also be done if there is thought to have been some kind of offense that was committed. "Harae", or "purification", is a common part of Shinto ritual today.  From the simple washing of the hands and mouth before entering the shrine grounds to pray to spiritual purification performed by a priest who waves a large stick with paper streamers—the ohonusa or haraegushi—while chanting prayers to ward off evil influences, purification is a key component in Shinto, which often concerns itself with aspects of spiritual pollution.  And so the Oho-harae, the Great Purification, is that, but turned up to eleven. The litany used for the Ohoharae, today, is also known as the Nakatomi no Ohoharae, indicating the importance of the Nakatomi in the ritual.  This Ohoharae, however, was taking place in the 8th month, and may not have had all of the traditions of the later rituals we know today.  Rather, we are told what was required:  The Kuni no Miyatsuko of the provinces were instructed to send one horse and a piece of cloth to specific shrines of purification.  In addition, the governors of the various districts were each told to supply one sword, one deerskin, one mattock, one smaller sword, one sickle, one set of arrows, and one sheaf of rice.  In addition, each household had to supply a bundle of hemp cloth.  These may not have been used in the ritual as much as they were offerings to the kami and their shrine. We'll see this in various cases where the State places rather onerous financial requirements on the population in order to perform rituals.  Of course, by the logic of the time, whatever was donated would make the ritual more effective—it would be more pleasing to the kami.  Still this seems remarkably costly in a year where we are told that the peasants were starving just a few months prior. I'll also take this moment to point out a link here to something that anyone who has been to a shrine may be familiar with, and that is the donation of horses. Horses were common enough a donation—if people of status rode horses, then how much more so the kami themselves?  Sacred or votive horses could be used to carry the kami, and even today some shrines keep sacred horses for the kami.  However, not everyone has horses to donate, and I suspect that the shrine probably didn't need an entire herd of horses.  And so some would pay money for an image of a horse, instead, to be hung in the shrine, likely indicating the donor.  Of course, this wasn't just a picture, but an official record of some kind of donation, which could theoretically go to purchase horses and other such things that the shrine might need.  These pictures of horses were known as "e-ma", literally "picture horse", and we still see them today: The most common type of e-ma will be small wooden placards sold at the shrine, and people will write their desires on the back, with their name and information.  They will often be found hanging in groups on specially designated racks meant for that purpose.  Today, e-ma might have horses on them, but more often have other pictures, associated with the particular shrine and kami.  Speaking of horses, we have a couple more references to them this year.  At some point, Ohoama had issued an edict seeking horses, not just for riding, but other good horses so that the givernment would have them when needed, distributed to the various post-stations.  So when he was returning from a banquet by the Todoroki pool in Hatsuse—modern Hase--Ohoama made a diversion to the post-station of Tomi and had the horses demonstrate their speed.  Presumably this was just a horse race, which seems to be popular around the world, in any place with horses. We see something similar when we are told that Ohoama went to Asatsuma to inspect the horses of the officials there.  At his request, the officials organized a competition of horseback archery.  This appears to reference the famous art of Yabusame—though it may not have been recognized as such just yet, there is some thought that the idea of a horsed archer shooting at three targets while galloping past may have originated in the 6th century, with ties to Usa Jingu.  Still, horseback archery would remain important, and later it would become the primary art of the warrior class from about the 12th to the 13th century or so—and arguably even up until the Sengoku period, with its spear formations and foreign guns. Later, in the 10th lunar month of 681, Ohoama and the court were prepared to go hunting on the Hirose plain.  A temporary palace was prepared and all of the bags were packed, but ultimately, Ohoama didn't go.  Instead, those from the rank of Prince to high ministers stayed at Karunoichi—a market at a cross-roads in the Nara basin that likely was the location of a government stable.  There, they inspected the horses and saddle equipment.  Those from the rank of Shokin up sat under the trees while those of Daisen and below mounted up and passed along from south to north.  Not quite as exciting as horse racing or horsed archery, but who doesn't like a parade. One wonders what happened to call off the hunt.  Perhaps Ohoama, while not bedridden, was not in the best of health.  If he was having some kind of recurring problems then that could explain some of the merit-making as well.  You may recall we discussed how much merit the state seemed to be trying to make in support of the sovereign's health, which we discussed in episode 142. Getting back to the Ohoharae—the great purification.  That was followed up by a general amnesty, which we talked about last episode, as well as a command to let loose living things.  This is a Buddhist practice that one still sees today in various places, usually in the form of letting loose animals like fish and birds that were kept by individuals.  I don't think they were just opening up the paddocks and letting the horses, cattle, and other animals go.  As fascinating as that might be to contemplate, with horses just running wild and cattle trampling the rice fields, I doubt they took it that far.  Still, this practice was clearly an attempt to make more merit for the State.   This edict was repeated only a few months later, in the 11th lunar month, but then it was confined to those provinces that were considered to be "near" to the capital, so a little more focused.  The day after that second release of animals, men were dispatched to all parts to expound the Konkwoumyou and Ninou sutras.  This was the Sutra of Golden Light and the Sutra of the Benevolent King—both sutras focused on concepts of good rulership and protection of the State.  In fact, together with the Lotus Sutra, they would come to be considered the Gokoku Sanbukyou—the Three sutras for Protection of the State.  They were read for the purpose of averting disaster, but they also helped to prop up the image of a righteous and benevolent ruler—what might be termed a golden-wheel turning sovereign, or Chakravarti. So all of this would seem to simultaneously reflect an intention to protect the State while also demonstrating performative regnal righteousness.  It was, after all, what a good ruler was supposed to do, which also conveniently told people what a good ruler was supposed to do. It is unclear whether or not the court actually felt this did anything.  I would note that a month later they were asking Princes and Ministers to gather up weapons, so it is possible that they were concerned about more than just natural disasters— such as a concern that the people were getting restless.  A few days later, we see more largess, as the court made presents to public functionaries and men of the frontier states.  It is unclear to me if this is a reward of some sort or perhaps an attempt to boost their morale and support. Later in that month we see preparations for the upcoming Feast of First Fruits, or Niinamesai, two months later.  We are told that the Jingikan, the Office of Kami Matters, had made the divination that the Yuki, the ceremonially pure rice for the ritual would come from the District of Yamada, in Owari.  For the Sugi, the "next" lower quality of rice, that would come from the district of Kasa, in Tamba.  The feast went off as usual in the 11th month, pre-empting the normal announcement of the first of the month. Later in the record we see that preparations were started for another Ohoharae, or Great Purification, and a general amnesty was issued.  This time, instead of sending horses for the kami, the Miyatsuko of each province were to supply one male and one female servant to the shrines, instead.  Fifteen days later, in the intercalary 7th lunar month—an extra month inserted to keep the lunar and solar calendars in synch—we see the queen, Uno, hosting a feast after ritual fasting.  She then had sutras expounded throughout the capital.  I find it particularly interesting that this was apparently instigated by the queen, but along with the Ohoharae, this all speaks towards the feeling that the State needed to be purified and supplied with good merit. The Ohoharae was not the only way to curry favor with the kami.  For example, in one record we see Ohoama designating sacred rice-tax for the shrines of Heaven and Earth—shrines for the Amatsu kami and Kunitsu kami.  One third of the rice was to go to the kami directly, while two thirds of the rice was to go to the priests who kept the shrines going. This same year, 677, we aren't told where the rice for the Niiname-sai came from, but we are told that those who donated as well as members of the Jingikan, who were involved in the divination and ritual more generally, were all compensated for their troubles with various presents. The Jingikan is one of those aspects of the new, bureaucratic state, that feels extremely tied to the archipelago.  It literally is the Bureau of Kami Matters, or the Bureau of Kami Affairs—the Kami no Tsukasa.  It would even come to be ranked above the Council of State in the official org chart of the government.  While the government had national temples and appointed members of the clergy who were responsible for keeping the Buddhist institutions in line with the State, the Jingikan was that entity for court ritual, and even for interfacing with various shrines around the country.   In the 10th century, all of the official shrines across the archipelago would be catalogued and assessed a rank and position, with Ise Shrine and the royal court at the top of the list. Speaking of the national temples, the fourth month of 680 was when Ohoama designated the national temples—which we also covered in Episode 142.  On the first day of month after that, we are told that he bestowed gifts of silk and cloth to 24 temples around the capital; and if there really were 24 temples just around the capital itself, one can imagine why they had to put a stop to publicly funding all of them.  That must have been quite the upkeep.  That same day, the Golden Light Sutra was expounded in the palace and at select temples as well.  As we've seen, the court relied just as heavily—or more—on Buddhism for certain rituals and providing spiritual power. While both Kami-based rituals and Buddhism were revered for their ability to affect the supernatural, Buddhist priests seem to have had a particularly revered place in—or perhaps more rightly outside—of society.  One is more likely to hear about someone who was a Buddhist priest or a novice being revered than a kannushi, or shrine priest.  For example, in the 7th month of 680, the priest Kouchou, of Asukadera, passed away. The royal princes Ohotsu and Takechi were sent to express royal condolence.  Later that same year we would see something similar, with Royal—later Crown—Prince Kusakabe visiting the eminent priest (Y)emyou on his death bed.  Yemyou died the next day, and three royal princes were sent to offer the condolences on behalf of the royal family. Towards the end of 680, Ohoama fell ill. One hundred individuals were made to take holy orders on his behalf, after which he appears to have recovered—or at least recovered enough for the time.  Earlier in the month his queen, Uno no Sarara, had taken ill, for which Ohoama had pledged to build Yakushiji, a temple of the Medicine Buddha, as we talked about in Episode 142. Although Ohoama temporarily recovered, we have mentioned how there are plenty of suggestions that he may not have been entirely better.  It could just be that time and numerous diseases were taking a toll, or perhaps he had an ailment that came and went.  I get that impression from things like in the 10th month of 685, as autumn changed to winter,  several nobles were sent to Shinano to build a temporary palace in preparation for a royal progress.  It seems that Ohoama wanted to visit the hot springs at Tsukama.  Tsukama may have been located on the outskirts of modern Matsumoto city, in Nagano, which is known for its hot springs, today.  Bentley implies  that the court was not entirely thrilled with Ohoama taking this journey.  I have to wonder whether or not this was all about Ohoama's health—hot springs were often seen as restorative.  At the same time, this sounds like a fairly long journey into the mountains as the weather was growing colder.  That also may have been part of the draw, however, allowing them to travel and see the changing leaves, a very common pastime in successive centuries, and even today. I can't help but imagine that Ohoama was seeking the restorative properties, while his court may have been apprehensive about the journey there and back as the days were getting colder.  Compare this to his actions at the start of the Jinshin no Ran, when he made that incredible dash from Yoshino, through the mountains, over to Owari.  But that was well over a decade ago, at this point, and he seems not quite so spry as he once had been. Another popular record that we find in this reign were various oddities and omens.  We've covered quite a few, but I did want to cover a few more before we pull the curtain closed on this era. First off, early in the reign, we see a record in the 10th month of 675 for a woman in the district of Takakura, in the province of Sagami, giving birth to triplets.  A quick Internet search suggests that natural triplets occur in about 1 in every 8000 or 10,000 births.  However, there is another thing to consider at this time:  giving birth to a single child was already a risky business, and death during or just after childbirth was a constant threat.  So now consider the issues with giving birth to twins or even triplets.  The odds that there is a complication just go up at that point.  So I suspect this was a very rare occurrence.  The fact that it was three sons was probably also seen as particularly auspicious, at least for any who were studying traditional Confucian scholarship. Moving on to the 4th day of the 4th lunar month of that same year, we get an omen for the court.  First is a cock sent to the court by Wanitsumi no Yogoto, from the Lower Sofu district in Yamato province.  This cock is said to have had a comb like a camelia flower, which was apparently quite auspicious.  On the other hand, a report came in from Akunami, also in Yamato province, about a hen that had turned into a cock.  Aston, of course, considers that this would have been an ominous sign—a disruption of the natural order.  To be honest, I don't see any particular judgment placed on it one way or the other.  It is just listed as a wondrous or miraculous occurrence. The year 678 has remarkably few events, in total, with nothing recorded between the 4th and 9th months.  And the 9th month was just a note about the death of one, Prince Wakasa, of the third princely rank.  The month after that we have another one of those strange occurrences.  This time it is a report of something falling from the sky like silk floss, except that it was 5 or 6 feet long and 7 or 8 inches wide.  It supposedly floated on the wind and waved from the fir woods and the reed plains.  People who saw it called it kanro, or "sweet nectar". This is really just a crazy entry.  I've wracked my brains to think of a natural event that could cause something like this, but this seems like something that was more like a rumor that got written down.  "Kanro" is thought to be something that Buddhist texts refer to as "Amrita", an exlixir of immortality.  In continental lore, it is said to be a sweet nectar that forms when yin and yang are in harmony—such as during a benevolent reign.  So whatever the truth of any natural event, to the Chroniclers the entry is clearly a chance to hype up Ohoama's reign. And then, towards the end of the 8th month, we see Katsura no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu presenting auspicious stalks of grain.  Reportedly they all came from different plots and yet had very similar ears of grain.  Auspicious stalks of rice weren't uncommon, but Aston suggests that this was possibly an allegory for all of the royal princes who were brought together in Yoshino to swear to support each other.  The 8th month may have been when the grain was harvested—because it wasn't until the final month of the year that we see the court reacting.  At that point presents were made to the Royal and non-Royal Princes, the Ministers, and the public functionaries, all according to rank, in consequence of the auspicious stalks of grain.  In addition there was an amnesty for all offences from capital crimes on down. Now on top of all of that, there were a few edicts that touched on various topics that we just haven't gotten to, elsewhere. For instance, in the 8th month of 681, on the 10th day, we see a notification to all of the people in the archipelago who claimed descent from those from the continent—specifically those from the Korean peninsula, or the Samhan.  They were told that the taxes, which had previously been remitted for 10 years, so starting in 671, had come to an end.  However, corvee labor was still remitted for ten years to them and their children and grandchildren who had been with them when they first arrived. There are some questions about this passage, but in general it seems that those refugees who had escaped to the archipelago from Baekje and Goguryeo had previously been given 10 years from the time they arrived during which they did not owe taxes.  This included corvee labor—which also extended to any children that had been with them at the time.  Children that were born after that… well they wouldn't be of age to be used as corvee labor in 10 years so this would only apply to those who were with them at the  time and who would be of age within that 10 year timeframe. This exemption from taxes appears several times in different forms, and appears to be a grace period, during which people were expected to establish themselves, open fields, and begin to thrive.  At the end of 10 years, then they would start paying taxes, with the assumption that they had more than enough time to prepare and work the land. Moving on to one of my favorite entries, on the 18th day of the 9th lunar month in 685, Ohoama declared a game day.  He had the Princes and Ministers gather at the Ohoandono, the Great Audience Hall, and had them play a game called "Pakugi" or "Bakugi".  We aren't quite sure what the rules were—it probably wasn't Settlers of Catan, but you never know.  It was likely a game with dice, possibly a version of backgammon, which is quite old and commonly known as a game for gambling.  That same day, Ohoama gave out gifts of robes and trousers to ten princes and others—perhaps related to the gaming session? The history of games and gaming is particularly fascinating.  For one thing, many of the games that were played in the archipelago had come from the continent, and many had variants that had traversed the entirety of Eurasia.  Backgammon and Chess were both games that had variants that would be known in Japan.  Backgammon was known as sugoroku, and in Japan they played a game similar to chess known as Shogi.  They would also play go—or more appropriately igo—from at least the Nara period, though that game, invented in what is now China, does not seem to have spread quite as much as either backgammon or chess variants.  And while chess was a game that was often highly localized—with different pieces representing different things and often moving in different ways depending on the variant—backgammon seems to have been quite similar everywhere, and could probably be played by two people with wildly different cultural backgrounds with very little interpretation needed. The day after Ohoama had the court join his game day, there were more presents.  This time it was brown bear hides given to the royal and non-royal princes.  In total there were 48 hides given out, which is really pretty incredible.  I have this image in my mind of a very Asuka era wooden mansion, with wood and bronze and silk, and then a large bear hide sprawled out on the floor.  I'm not sure exactly how they were used, but I suspect that they were mostly used as floor coverings for people to sit or lay on, though I could also see them being used as sleeping mats.  It seems they were clearly elite status goods, but hardly what we think about in this period. And that is where we are going to come to a close.  There are only a few more things that we'll get to, but they are all related to what happened with the events surrounding Ohoama's death and the succession that followed, so we'll touch on those when we kick off the next reign. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Last time we spoke about the Chiang Kai-Shek-Wang Jingwei divide. In the late 1930s, amid the Second Sino-Japanese War, tensions escalated between Chiang Kai-shek and Wang Jingwei. Following the Nomonhan Incident and Soviet-Japanese neutrality pact, Japan intensified its invasion of China. At the 1937 Mount Lu Conference, Chiang delivered a speech committing to resistance against Japanese aggression, though both leaders initially hoped for peace. However, Japan's advances, including the fall of Shanghai and the brutal Rape of Nanjing, displaced millions and relocated the government to Chongqing. Wang, disillusioned by Chiang's scorched-earth tactics—such as the devastating Yellow River flood and Changsha fire, which caused immense civilian suffering, joined a "peace faction" of intellectuals favoring negotiation. In December 1938, Wang defected from Chongqing, fleeing to Hanoi via Kunming to broker peace with Japan. An assassination attempt, likely ordered by Chiang, killed Wang's secretary Zeng Zhongming instead, deepening the rift.    #194 The Wang Jingwei Regime Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. The assassination of Zeng Zhongming struck a severe blow to Wang Jingwei. Although Lin Baisheng had been stabbed in Hong Kong in January, Wang apparently did not foresee himself becoming a target. To him, Zeng's death signified that Chiang Kai-shek would no longer tolerate a potential rival to power. In mourning, on April 1, Wang Jingwei published a defiant piece titled "An Example" (Ju yige li) in the South China Daily News. Drawing on Zeng's final words, he argued that a peaceful settlement was not something Wang proposed alone, but a result of a consensus reached at the highest levels of the national government. He referenced the December Hankou minutes in which Trautmann's mediation was discussed. He asserted that the minutes were only one of many covert negotiation instances and, for the sake of national interests, he would reveal no further details. He contended that Konoe's conditions could similarly underpin peace, especially now that a larger portion of China had fallen. He argued that a Sino-Japanese total war would be mutually destructive and must end for both nations to survive. He hoped Zeng's blood would become a bright torch for the "peace movement."   This article proved deeply embarrassing for Chiang Kai-shek. Wu Zhihui quickly wrote a rebuttal, accusing Wang of leaking government secrets and falsifying the minutes. However, the original minutes were not released to support Wu's claim. Henceforth, any pretence of civility or understanding between the two camps was lost. This hostility meant that Chongqing's path to peace through negotiation was closed. If Wang ever sought to broker peace between Chongqing and Tokyo, the publication of this article burned that bridge, making his course of action increasingly irreversible. On the Japanese side, the Hiramuma Cabinet, previously uncertain about how to handle Wang, now felt compelled to protect their new asset. Two days after the incident, the Five Ministers Conference decided to send Kagesa Sadaaki and Inukai Takeru to Hanoi immediately. Inukai, a congressman and the son of assassinated prime minister Inukai Tsuyoshi, carried with him the grim memory of a frenzied public cheering for his father's killers, serving as a sobering counterweight to militant nationalism. Zeng's death also inaugurated a bloody cycle of killings and retaliation. Shen Song, Wang Jingwei's nephew, was assassinated in August in Hong Kong. Wang and his followers felt compelled to protect themselves. Lacking military backing, they turned to the secret police, establishing the notorious spy agency known as "No. 76," named after its Shanghai headquarters at 76 Jessfield Road. It recruited the city's worst elements and was led by the defected BIS agent Ding Mocun and Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics agent Li Shiqun. Both men had defected to the Japanese and were handed over to Wang's faction, which thus wielded limited control over them. Spy violence in Shanghai persisted throughout the war, infamous for its brutality and shifting allegiances. Wang Jingwei attempted to erect a martyr's cult around Zeng Zhongming within the RNG. Beginning in 1942, the propaganda ministry in Nanjing held annual memorials on the anniversary of Zeng's death. This date sat between Sun Yat-sen's death (March 12) and the RNG's founding (March 30), and it became part of the RNG's foundational narrative that the Wang regime promoted. Yet the Zeng cult seemed to matter most to Wang Jingwei himself. After Wang's death in November 1944, the propaganda ministry quietly discontinued the Zeng anniversary service, though Sun Yat-sen's death continued to be mourned and the RNG's founding was still celebrated in March 1945, five months before the regime fell. The journey from Hanoi to Nanjing was long and winding, and Wang Jingwei eventually emerged at the far end as both an emblem and an enigma. To his followers and sympathizers, he was a cult figure who single-handedly saved half of China from total subjugation, likened to a bodhisattva who descended into Hell to rescue tortured souls. To others, his name became a byword for treason. The resistance ultimately gained unity through its hatred of traitors. For the Japanese government, Wang's role and value evolved with the war's shifting dynamics, at times seeming to be an asset, a puppet, an enemy, and a partner all at once. After months of courtship, Kagesa Sadaaki and Inukai Takeru became the first Japanese agents to meet Wang in person. On April 16, they arrived in French Indochina with forged passports aboard a rented civilian vessel, the Hikkōmaru. They found Wang entangled in a fresh scandal. Eleven days earlier, Chongqing's Dagongbao published an alleged secret agreement that Gao Zongwu claimed Wang had brokered in late February. In this plan, Wang proposed forming a GMD collaborationist organization with branches in key Japanese-occupied cities. When the Japanese army moved toward Xi'an, Yichang, and Nanning, Wang would make a statement to "take responsibility for peace," while Long Yun and other local warlords would respond to the call. A new national government under Wang would be established in Nanjing on October 10, 1939, creating a unified government over all of China (excluding Manchukuo) and making Japan its ally in East Asia. All of these activities would be funded by the Japanese government. The plan provoked an uproar, with critics accusing Wang of "selling the nation." Gao Zongwu was suspected of leaking the plan, and Wang denied that the agreement existed. Gao accused the Japanese of leaking a forged plan to sow further division between Chongqing and Wang. Wang's supporters were deeply divided. Gao later claimed he came to prefer the French option, citing Japan's insincerity. Chen Gongbo suggested Wang remain in Hong Kong first to recover from Zeng Zhongming's death before going overseas. Zhou Fohai and Mei Siping favored international concessions in Shanghai. Kagesa and Inukai's mission was to bring Wang into Japan's grasp. On April 18, through Wang's Japanese-language secretary Zhou Longxiang, the Japanese agents met him for the first time. Wang Jingwei, dressed in a traditional Chinese-style long white robe, impressed them with his characteristic poise and sincerity, as he often did with visitors. It was not the first time his personal charm helped him escape danger. If in 1910 he avoided death as a byproduct of Prince Su's favor, in the following decades he weaponized his intimate charisma. These agents, moved by Wang's apparent altruism and sincerity, eventually played a peculiar role as intermediaries between the Japanese government and Chinese collaborators. The Umē Kikan "Plum Agency" was founded on August 22, 1939, in Shanghai under Kagesa's leadership and was seen as a puppet master guiding the RNG's fate. Yet it often fought on behalf of the collaborators with the Japanese cabinet to secure better terms. Kagesa Sadaaki, initially an advocate of aggressive strategy, especially in Manchuria, was removed from his post as supreme military advisor at Nanjing in May 1942 by the new prime minister, Tojo Hideki, who deemed him "too soft toward China." He was reassigned to Manchuria and eventually to Rabaul. In the shadow of illness and death, he produced a memoir in December 1943 to atone for having failed Wang's trust. In truth, perhaps because of Kagesa's sympathy, Wang remained cautiously optimistic about Japan's intentions, unable to disengage from negotiations even as conditions deteriorated. Wang Jingwei chose Shanghai as the destination, but he refused to board a Japanese ship or reside in the Hongkou concession, preferring other autonomous international concessions to avoid appearances of patronage. Unfortunately, the 750-ton vessel rented from the Indochina government nearly foundered in a storm. In Hainan, Wang and his entourage were rescued by the 5,000-ton Hikkōmaru. On May 6, they finally arrived in Shanghai aboard a Japanese ship. For security reasons, Wang had to stay in the Hongkou District for three weeks before moving to 1136 Lane Yúyuan Road, a site within the expanded, unofficial French concession. This episode became another public relations setback. After reaching Shanghai, on May 28 the Wang group presented the Japanese government with a "Concrete Plan to Solve the Current Situation." Key proposals included: convening a GMD national congress to preserve orthodoxy; calling a multiparty central political conference to legitimize a reorganization of the national government and approve personnel choices; founding a national government in Nanjing and dissolving existing collaborationist regimes to signal national unity. Three days later, Wang flew to Japan by navy plane to meet Hiranuma in person, accompanied by eleven followers including Zhou Fohai, Mei Siping, and Gao Zongwu. It was his first visit to Japan in three decades, aside from occasional stopovers. When he left Japan in 1910, many Japanese intellectuals and politicians supported China's modernization and backed its Nationalist revolution morally and financially. Now, with such goodwill scarce, he hoped to appeal to Japan's rational self-interest. In Tokyo, a June 6 cabinet meeting concluded that the new Chinese government would comprise Wang, the retired strongman Wu Peifu, established collaborationist regimes, and a reformed Chongqing regime; the foundation date would be set by Japan. The plan called for collaboration under a divided governance framework, and the GMD could continue only if it pledged friendship to Japan, recognized Manchukuo, and committed to anti-communism. The document's tone suggested trouble for Wang's visit, and the gap between each side's demands seemed insurmountable. Over the next ten days, Wang held marathon meetings with Hiranuma, cabinet members, and Prince Konoe. He briefed his followers daily, appearing increasingly despondent. He suggested Japan's best option was to strike a peace deal with Chiang Kai-shek; the second option was peace via a new national government under Wang, for which he demanded: an army of about half a million, immediate withdrawal of Japanese forces after his government's foundation, non-interference in China's internal affairs, immediate recognition of his government by Japan, Germany, and Italy, a three-hundred-million-yen loan, and administrative control over North China. Japanese officials listened politely but added numerous conditions. Frustrated, Wang began to walk away. Alarmed, the Japanese cabinet made some concessions on June 16, and the "Concrete Plan" was approved, though it still insisted on divided governance and did not address the crucial issue of a military withdrawal. On June 18, Wang departed Japan for Tianjin. This negotiation round was only the prelude. Beyond questions of jurisdiction, military occupation, and economic renationalization, Wang insisted on preserving an ostensibly unified "national government," including its official doctrine (the Three Principles) and the nationalist flag, and he pressed for annexation of existing collaborationist regimes in Beiping and Nanjing. This was a daunting task, as each regime had a different patron. After the fall of Nanjing, the North China Area Army instructed Wang Kemin to establish a provisional government in Beiping. Liang Hongzhi was recruited by the Central China Area Army to lead the Reformed Government in Nanjing, founded on March 28, 1938. Both were Beiyang loyalists, and their regimes used the Five-Color Beiyang flag, an anti-GMD symbol. Asking them to subordinate themselves to a "latecomer" and old rival proved difficult. Wang's aim was thus to reassert GMD political authority over occupied territories. However, the idea of creating a client government that would conflict with Chongqing split Wang's followers and even some Japanese sympathizers. Gao Zongwu, Nishi Yoshiaki, and Matsumoto Shigeharu opposed the plan. Given Gao Zongwu's growing pessimism, Japan's eventual negotiating partner leaned more toward the optimistic Zhou Fohai. Wang sought legitimacy to give his future government the appearance of autonomy, despite Japan's backing. As historian David Serfass observed, aligned with Sun Yat-sen's concept of "political tutelage," a state-formation process must be initiated by the ruling party. Thus, reorganizing an "orthodox" GMD in occupied China became a prerequisite for reconstituting the state's legal framework in Nanjing, enabling the new regime to claim legitimate authority vis-à-vis Chongqing. On August 28, 1939, the Sixth National Congress of the GMD was held in Shanghai. With most Reorganization Clique members declining to join, CC Clique members within Wang's circle recruited locally, and thirty-six CC Clique members in Shanghai endorsed Wang, giving his faction dominance at the congress. This foreshadowed a future RNG split between the Mansion Clique (gongguan pai) around the Wang couple and the CC Clique around Zhou Fohai. The communique did not reject resistance outright but criticized Chiang's methods, arguing that Wang's negotiations had already achieved the goal of national resistance—peace. Among other resolutions, the congress revised the GMD charter, abolished the authoritarian zongcai system, elected Wang as chairman of the Central Executive Committee, and redefined the highest principles as the Three Principles, anticontainment of communism, and friendship with Japan and Manchukuo. Civil liberties, such as freedom of speech and assembly, were protected, though communists were excluded. The congress promised to convene a national assembly and promulgate a constitution once peace was achieved. Importantly, it opened the door for other parties to join the Central Political Committee, signaling Wang's attempt not only to create a rival "peace" government to Chongqing but also to establish a competing, if imperfect, democratic framework. For the next year and a half, constitutionalism became a central objective in the Wang faction's political program. Wang's communique proposed a remedy for the separatist client regimes. On September 20 in Nanjing, an agreement was announced that nominally ended GMD single-party rule and established a multiparty coalition government. A Central Political Conference (a semi-parliament) would be formed, comprising one-third GMD members, one-third former Beiyang collaborators, and one-third small parties or independents. In practice, this tripartite power sharing was never fully realized in the RNG. The negotiations with Japan stretched into a lengthy verbal marathon that persisted for months. As Gerald Bunker noted, the Wang peace movement depended on convincing both sides to accept a conciliatory posture from the other, a plan doomed from the start. During the Shanghai negotiations, Wang sought an agreement with Japan that would give real substance to his "Peace Government." But Japan's demands were excessive. To address the chaos Japan's China policy had created, Konoe established the Kōain (Asia Development Board) to coordinate all government activities and economic initiatives in China, reporting directly to the prime minister. Its staff came from across ministries—Foreign Affairs, Finance, Army, and Navy, making it a natural battlefield for power struggles. Following changes at the General Staff Office, Kagesa, then an Army officer, found himself suddenly in charge of the entire "peace movement," a coveted position. When he and Inukai were shown the secret Kōain draft that would form the basis for future talks with Wang, they were stunned by its strict demands. The draft was presented to the Wang camp on November 1 in Shanghai, provoking astonishment and confusion by imposing harsher terms than Gao Zongwu's deal a year earlier, or even than Konoe's latest statement. Kagesa adopted a duplicitous stance: each night, Inukai privately met with Zhou Fohai to seek more lenient terms, and the next morning Kagesa would propose those terms for the next round. Tao Xisheng warned that Japan planned to slice China into thin rings, each attached to Japan's core interests. According to Tao, Wang broke into tears, declaring, "If Japan can conquer China, let it try. It cannot, so it wants me to sign its plan. This document cannot be an indenture to sell China. China is not something I can sell. At most, my signature would be an indenture to sell myself." The Wang couple considered halting talks and seeking refuge in France. Hearing this, Kagesa hurried to see Wang. Tears stained the page where Wang was taking notes, and his words moved Wang, who privately admitted that Kagesa might be sincere after all. The next day, Kagesa returned to Tokyo to report Wang's discontent, and the France option was again shelved. Just as Wang weaponized his sincerity, Kagesa's genuine wish to end the war through Wang Jingwei was instrumentalized by the Kōain. The latter appeared torn between reason and greed. Moreover, who claimed the war in China was unwinnable? Like Wang, the Japanese believed in the neo-Confucian ideal of a thoroughly cultivated, invincible self, a conviction echoed in their wartime sacrifices. Similarly, Wang viewed the negotiations as a contest of moral principles. Tao Xisheng described it as "drinking poisoned wine." He took a sip, found it poison, and nearly died; Wang concluded he might as well finish the cup. Kagesa's plea to improve terms was rejected by Tokyo. He returned a changed man, stiff, overbearing, and determined to ram the demands down his counterpart's throat. But just as talks reached another breaking point, Kagesa abruptly altered course, overstepped his authority, and made a few quick concessions on key issues, ending the discussion. Compared with the original plan, the December 30, 1939 agreement, titled "Principles of Adjusting the New Sino-Japan Relationship," introduced changes on eleven points, spanning from substantive to symbolic matters. The Great Wall line separating the Mongolian Autonomous Zone from North China was placed under the Wang regime's jurisdiction; Chinese administrative rights over Japanese military areas were reaffirmed; a two-year timeline for total troop withdrawal from occupied Chinese territories after peace was achieved was established; and Manchukuo was not listed as a separate entity. The future Wang regime was granted greater latitude in economic policy and personnel appointments, provided it guaranteed Japan's wartime supply. The dispute over a naval base in Hainan became a focal point of contention. Japan's navy representative, General Sugahiko Jirō, clashed with Chen Gongbo in a contentious exchange. This time, Wang Jingwei compelled Chen to concede. Even Inukai lamented that Wang made concessions too readily, since the Hainan base symbolized a failure of Japan's restraint in venturing into the Southern Pacific. The concession jeopardized not only Wang's cause but also Japan's fate. According to Inukai, even if the conditions needed to reach a credibility threshold of 60 points to avoid rendering Wang a traitor, Kōain's original draft scored at best 30; through coordinated efforts with Kagesa, they improved it to 57 or 58, still short of the credibility gap Gao Zongwu called crucial, between saving the nation and selling it. Gao Zongwu and Tao Xisheng declined to participate in the signing ceremony. Gao felt alienated from the movement he had helped initiate and his ties with the Japanese had become strained. Thinking he faced mortal danger, he persuaded Tao to flee Shanghai together. In mid-November, Gao secretly copied Kōain's terms in negotiation. The photocopies were published in the Hong Kong Dagongbao on January 22, 1940, fueling the impression that the final signed agreement had been reached and undermining the Wang faction's public narrative of securing genuine peace and national independence. An editorial decried it as "the ultimate fulfillment of the Japanese militarists' pipe-dreams! The greatest betrayal in the history of China and the world!" A national uproar ensued. The Wang camp, while moving toward Qingdao to build consensus with established collaborators, was blindsided. Zhou Fohai swore to "kill these two animals." For the embryonic Wang regime, appearances mattered as much as substance. But with the leak of this damning document, the illusion of sovereignty was irreparably shattered. Nevertheless, Wang resisted his followers' urge to publish the final secret terms containing the Japanese concessions, a restraint that impressed Imai. There was a hopeful note amid the media backlash. The Japanese cabinet was forced to approve the limited concessions that Kagesa had secured, particularly regarding troop deployments and railroad rights. Yet Tokyo remained stubborn in insisting that a yellow triangle pennant bearing the words "peace, anticommunism, nation-building" be appended to the flagpole beneath the national flag. The yellow pennant became a powerful emotional flashpoint for the Wang camp. For them, this unsightly symbol embodied the future character of their regime. On March 4, less than three weeks before the RNG's founding, Zhou Fohai threatened to delay the process indefinitely unless the pennant was removed. In the end, they capitulated on that point as well. On March 30, the Blue Sky White Sun flag reappeared over the occupied, ruined city of Nanjing, with a yellow triangle pennant affixed to the pole. Whenever possible, the RNG tried to display the national flag without the pennant, making such images rare in surviving visual records. Inukai observed that Wang may have faced such harsh terms because many in the cabinet and in Kōain were reluctant to negotiate with him. They regarded the RNG as a temporary fix, reserving the most favorable peace terms for Chiang Kai-shek. Konoe's remark that he would never negotiate with Chiang was an unfortunate misstep that his successors struggled to correct. Wang took that stance to heart, wasting political capital and ultimately his life. Inukai noted that in 1941, when Konoe negotiated with the United States to avert war in the Pacific, the conditions offered regarding China bore a striking similarity to what he had promised Gao Zongwu in 1938. Yet this time, Japan refused to accept them. Konoe resigned again; Tojo Hideki succeeded him, and the Pacific War erupted. Had Konoe kept his promises, the bloodshed of the war might have been avoided. Wang Jingwei returned to a changed Nanjing, a provincial city never fully modernized, ravaged by war and burdened by occupation. On March 19, 1940, Wang led a future cabinet faction to pay respects at Sun Yat-sen's Mausoleum. It was a desolate spring day. Through cutting wind and rain, a small, solemn group climbed the 392 steps to the hall. Wang stood in the main hall, raised his eyes to the 4.6-meter marble statue, and tears streamed down his cheeks. As he read Sun's testament, the hall echoed with hushed sobs. It was a sorrowful prelude to the Wang regime. Optimistic Zhou Fohai saw a brighter sign as they exited the mausoleum, noting that the sun appeared. On the same day, however, he learned that the RNG's foundation would be delayed: the Japanese cabinet was eager to push another peace initiative with Chiang, and Imai had gone to Hong Kong to meet a Chongqing representative. Zhou was annoyed, but Wang agreed to proceed. Imai's contact, who presented himself as Song Ziwen's brother turned out to be a BIS agent whose sole aim was to obstruct the Wang faction. The negotiations stalled, and the RNG's founding finally took place on March 30, 1940. An exhilarated Zhou proclaimed the day the happiest of his life, claiming nothing felt more fulfilling than realizing one's ideals. With Wang's growing passivity, Zhou effectively became the RNG's most powerful figure, controlling administration, finances, military, and policing. This fostered resentment within the Wang faction and helped spawn the Mansion Clique around Chen Bijun, Mei Siping, and Lin Baisheng. The RNG was founded on a veneer of legitimacy. Lin Sen, the GMD elder, was elected president, but since he remained in Chongqing and was unlikely to join the RNG soon, Wang Jingwei served as acting president, in addition to his roles as head of the Executive Yuan and the Military Council. The regime claimed nominal sovereignty over border regions and imagined sovereignty over parts of the interior. Nanjing's influence over North China was minimal, with that area administered by the semiautonomous North China Political Council under Wang Yitang, a Beiyang bureaucrat. Although established as China's rival national regime to Chongqing, the RNG did not receive formal recognition from Japan. Japan did, however, agree to send an ambassador to present credentials to Wang, though the implications remained vague. On this and other issues, Japan neither denied nor endorsed the RNG's sovereignty. The collaborators noticed Japan's duplicity. Rather than appoint a Japanologist as foreign minister, Wang named Chu Minyi, whose foreign language skills were French, a choice France refused to recognize, making the appointment rather provocative. From late 1940 into 1941, the United States grew more involved as the war intensified. Chongqing stood firm, while Japan found itself bogged down. Eventually, Japan abandoned hopes of peace with Chongqing. Despite his reluctance, Wang formally assumed the RNG presidency on November 29, 1940. The next day, he and the Japanese ambassador Abe Nobuyuki exchanged a "Basic Treaty" that formally recognized the RNG as China's national government. Zhou Fohai regarded this as a fresh start: previously, their aim had been to persuade Chongqing to negotiate for peace; now, he hoped Wang and Chiang would reach a tacit understanding of a dual approach—one regime aligned with the Axis, the other with the Allies—so that China would emerge victorious. Chongqing, however, did not share Zhou's optimism; on the same day, it placed a bounty on Wang's head. A consistent thread in Wang's political vision was constitutional democracy, pursued both as an ideal and as a pragmatic method to distinguish himself from rivals, chiefly Chiang Kai-shek. In the Return to the Capital Manifesto (March 30, 1940), Wang declared the regime's core aims as peace and constitutionalism. Peace followed Konoe's December 1938 "Adjustment of the Sino-Japanese Relationship" blueprint—neighborliness, joint anti-communism, and economic cooperation. Constitutionalism drew on the RNG's Sixth National Congress in Shanghai (1939). The RNG presented itself as both a peacemaker and a champion of constitutional democracy, opposing dictatorship (Chiang) and opposing the CCP's class warfare doctrine. A Constitutionalism Implementation Committee was founded on June 27, 1940, and by September adopted a plan to convene a national assembly on January 1, 1941. Yet actual liberal democracy would undermine Wang's and the GMD's leadership, and by August 1940 Wang declared that neither direct nor representative democracy suited China's current conditions, advocating instead for "democratic centralism" under a GMD-led coalition with smaller parties. That year, urgent tasks, ratifying the Basic Treaty with Japan, establishing a charter for the East Asian League Movement, and creating a Central Reserve Bank, pushed constitutional reform onto the back burner, delaying the national assembly indefinitely and shelving the constitutional program. Another source of legitimacy for the RNG was Sun Yat-sen's cult, which it continued to promote as a civil religion. Although Wang recognized Sun's fallibility and disagreed with him at times, Sun's deification aided both Wang and Chiang. The Three Principles of the People were reintroduced in schools; Sun's portrait appeared on office walls and currency; a bronze statue was erected in Nanjing; his testament was read at meetings; and memorial observances were held on Sun's birthday and death. The rivalry between Wang and Chiang over legitimacy through piety was evident in Chongqing's conferment of the title "Father of the Nation" on Sun on March 21, 1940, just before the RNG's founding. In terms of diplomatic relations, the RNG received recognition from Nazi Germany (reluctantly), fascist Italy (enthusiastically), and Franco's Spain. France, by contrast, declined to follow suit, mainly because of its delicate position balancing interests in China and Indochina, and secondly because its China-diplomatic corps was split between officials loyal to Vichy and supporters of Free France. Among the RNG's foreign relations, Manchukuo proved the most thorny. Despite the RNG's hesitant acknowledgment of Manchukuo's statehood, cautious rhetoric was used to avoid public outrage. On May 4, 1942, Wang left Nanjing for a state visit to Manchukuo, accompanied by Zhou Zuoren. On May 8, he finally met Puyi, who likely did not forget that the man before him once sought to murder his father. Regardless of sentiment, the arrangements had been set in advance with Japanese approval, leaving little to chance. The Basic Treaty, effective at the end of 1940, limited Japanese military zones to Mongolia and parts of North China, ceding central and southern China largely to the RNG. It agreed to rescind Japanese extraterritorial rights and settlements, effective immediately. The two-year grace period before total Japanese evacuation would begin immediately upon the war's end, rather than after a vaguely defined "recovery of peace." The cap on RNG troop numbers was lifted, granting the RNG more freedom to build its own police and army. Japanese advisers were confined to technical and military roles, with functions defined by the Chinese authorities. Although this fell far short of true independence that Wang Jingwei sought, concessions were made to strengthen the RNG and to help Japan as a wartime partner. The RNG's forces were not deployed in frontline combat against Chongqing or in Japan's Pacific war, but primarily to suppress growing communist influence in occupied areas. Under the RNG, economic activity in the occupied areas appeared to some extent normal, at least until early 1943, when a "command economy" was introduced to monopolize commodities as Japan's Pacific venture grew desperate. Life in occupied China, however, remained noticeably more comfortable than in "free China," fueling resentment when resistance fighters returned. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. Wang established the Reorganized National Government (RNG) in Nanjing in 1940, after grueling talks yielding harsh Japanese terms, including limited sovereignty and a yellow pennant on the national flag. The RNG sought legitimacy through a GMD congress, constitutional promises, and Sun Yat-sen's cult, but gained only Axis recognition and faced Chongqing's hostility, ultimately serving as Japan's wartime puppet.

CW: Suicide This episode we are talking about Law and Order--where Ritsuryo system gets its name.  We are going to look at some of the underlying theory of how the government was set up and then some of the new laws people were expected to follow and examples of punishment--as well as pardons and general amnesties. For the blogpost, check out:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-145 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 145:  Law and Order in the Reign of Temmu     The sound of struggle could be heard, as a man, hands bound behind him, was roughly brought into the courtyard by several sturdy men.  They thrust him roughly to the bare ground in front of the pavilion.  The man's clothes were disheveled, his hair was unkempt, and his right eye was swollen shut.  He was a stark contrast from the four officials standing over him, and even more from those who stood in the pavilion, above, prepared to dole out judgment.  A clerk was handling the paperwork at a nearby desk, but the court official already knew this case.  He had read the reports, heard the testimony of the witnesses and, to top it all off, he had read the confession.  It seems it had taken some coercion, but in the end, the criminal before him had admitted to his wrongdoing. And thus the official was able to pronounce the sentence with some sense of moral clarity.  After all, if this man was innocent, why would he confess?  On the other hand, if he were truly innocent, how would he even have come to their attention?  Even if he was not guilty of this crime, if he had been such an upstanding citizen, why would his neighbors have accused him in the first place?  One way or another, justice was being done.     We remain—for at least the next couple of episodes—firmly in the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  There is a lot more in this reign, and we are reaching a period where we won't be able to cover nearly as much as previously, so we'll have to summarize some things, but there is still a lot here to discuss.  Last episode we looked at what was happening outside of the court.  This episode we turn our attention back to the center, and specifically, what law and order meant in Ohoama's time. This period is called the Ritsuryo period, and as the name indicates, it is characterized by the set of laws and accompanying penal codes, the ritsu and the ryo.  Most of these codes are no longer extant, only known to us by other sources which contain only fragments of the originals.  But it was this adoption of a continental style of law that seems to most characterize this period.  So this episode, we are going to look at the project Ohoama kicked off to establish  one such law code —possibly even the first actual—for Yamato, as well as some of the examples of how law and order were enforced. In Episode 143 we talked about Ohoama's  historiographical project, which kicked off in the third month of 681 and culminated in the very chronicles we have been poring over.  However, a month before that, we see the start of a different and likely more immediate project, as the sovereign ordered work to begin on a new legal code.  This task was decreed from the Daigokuden to all of the Princes and Ministers -- who were then cautioned to divide it up and take it in shifts, since after all, they still needed to administer the government.  And so this division of labor began. The code would take years to compile, so, like so many of the ambitious projects of this reign, it was not quite ready by the time of Ohoama's death in 686.  In fact, it wouldn't be promulgated until 689, and even then that was only the "Ryou" part of the "Ritsuryou"—that is to say it contained the laws, the "ryou", but no the penal code, or "ritsu".  Still, we are told that the total body of laws was some 22 volumes and is known today as the Asuka Kiyomihara Code.  It is unfortunately no longer extant—we only have evidence of the laws based on those edicts and references we see in the Nihon Shoki, but it is thought by some to be the first such deliberate attempt to create a law code for Yamato.  We do have an earlier reference to Naka no Ohoye putting together a collection of laws during his reign, known as the Afumi Code, but there is some question as to whether that was actually a deliberate code or just a compilation of edicts that had been made up to that point.  These various codes are where the "Ritsuryo" period gets its name, and the Asuka Kiyomihara Code would eventually be supplanted in 701 by the Taihou code—which is one of the reasons why copies of previous codes haven't been kept around.  After all, why would you need the old law code when you now have the new and improved version? This also means that often, when we don't have other evidence, we look to later codes and histories to understand what might be happening when we get hints or fragments of legal matters.  The Chronicles often make note of various laws or customs, but they can be sparse on details.  After all, the main audience, in the 8th century, would be living the current law codes and likely understood the references in ways we may have to work out through other sources. As for the Kiyomihara Code, there are further notes in the Chronicles that seem to be referencing this project.  Besides the obvious—the new laws that were promulgated through various edicts—we see a few entries sprinkled throughout that appear to be related to this project.  First, I would note that in the 10th month of the same year that they started the project, 681, there was issued an edict that all those of the rank of Daisen on down should offer up their admonitions to the government.   Bentley notes that Article 65 of the Statutes on Official Documents provides a kind of feedback mechanism via this admonitions, where anyone who saw a problem with the government could submit it to the Council of the State.  If they had a fear of reprisals they could submit anonymously. This entry for the 10th month of 681 could just refer to a similar request that all those who had a problem should report it so it could be fixed, but in light of several other things, I would also suggest that it was at least in line with the ongoing efforts to figure out what needed to be figured out vis a vis the laws of the land.  Later, in the 8th month of 682 we see a similar type of request, where everyone from the Princes to the Ministers were instructed to bring forward matters suitable for framing new regulations.   So it looks like that first year or so there were, in a sense, a lot of "listening sessions" and other efforts going on to give deliberate thought to how the government should operate.  A few days later in 682 the Chronicles tell us that the court were working on drawing up the new laws, and as they did so they noticed a great rainbow.  Bentley suggests that this was an auspicious sign—even Heaven was smiling on the operation. So we know that there was lawmaking going on.  But what did these laws actually look like? This episode we are going to look at both criminal law – crimes and punishments, and gow they could be mitigated as well as those laws that were less about criminal activities and more about how the state itself was to be run. As I just stated, a lot of the laws and edicts are not necessarily about criminal activities.  Many of them are about the government and how it works—or at least how it is supposed to work.  Some of this helps to reveal a bit about the theoretical and philosophical underpinnings of this project.  That said, I'm not always sure that Ohoama and his officials were necessarily adherents to those philosophies or if they saw them more as justifications fro their actions.  And, in the end, does it matter?  Even if they weren't strict Confucianists, it is hard to argue that Confucian theory didn't loom large in their project, given its impact on the systems they were cribbing from.  Furthermore, if we need to extrapolate things that go unsaid, we could do worse than using Confucianism and similar continental philosophies as our guide, given what we see in the record.  A particularly intriguing record for understanding how that government was supposed to work is a declaration that civil and military officials of the central and provincial governments should, every year, consider their subordinates and determine what promotions, if any, they should receive.  They were to send in their recommendations within the first ten days to the judges, or "houkan".  The judges would compare the reports and make their recommendations up to the Daibenkan—the executive department of the Dajokan, the Council of State.  In addition, officers who refused orders to go on various missions for the court were ineligible for promotion, unless their refusal was specifically for genuine illness or bereavement following the loss of a parent. This feels like an important note on how the whole bureaucratic appointment and promotion system worked.  It actually follows early ideas of the meritocratic bureaucracy that was at the heart of how the government was supposed to work.  It isn't quite the same as magistrates roaming the land and seeking out talented individuals, but it still demonstrates a promotion system that is at least nominally about the merit of the individual and not solely based on personal patronage—though I'm sure the sovereign, the sumera no mikoto, or tennou, could still issue promotions whenever he so wished. And as cool as I find all that to be, I think the piece that I find particularly fun is the fact that they had to specify that only a "genuine" illness was a valid excuse.  That suggests to me that there were people who would feign illness to get out of work.  In other words, faking a sick day is nothing new and you could totally have a ritsuryo version of "Ferris Buehler's Day Off". This meritocratic idea seems to be tempered a bit a few years later, in 682.  We see an edict that not only describes the language and character of the court ritual, but also talking about verifying the lineage and character of anyone who applies for office.  Anyone whose lineage was found to be less than sufficient would be declared ineligible, regardless of whatever else they had done. And this is the tension of trying to overlay a theoretical system, based on the idea of merit, on a hereditary aristocracy.  In a meritocracy, one wouldn't blink twice at a person from a "lesser" ranked family making their way up and above those of "superior" families.  Then again, you probably wouldn't have families ranked in a hierarchy, anyway.  I feel like we've touched on this in a past episode, somewhere, but it isn't the last time we'll be talking about this.  After initially adopting the system as it theoretically should be, the cultural pressures of the elite nobles would start to shape the government into something that was not quite so threatening to the power of those elite families.  After all, those families held a lot of power—economic, political, and otherwise—and, as elites throughout history have done, they would do whatever they could to hold onto that power. This is actually something we see on the continent.  Whatever sense of justice or equality may have lay at the heart of the theory behind good governance, it was always going to be impacted by those with resources and the familial connections that bind people together.  For instance, it was the wealthy who would have the money and leisure time to be able to hire tutors, acquire books, and spend time studying and learning—something that is hard to do if you have to help your family work in the fields.  And the court would always be a place of politics, which was fueled by wealth and connections.  No doubt, if you asked someone of the time, they would say that the "correct" thing to do would be to work your way up from the bottom, starting from a low ranked position and climbing up based on their good deeds.  That's all well and good, but then we see preference given to the highest nobles, with their own progeny getting a jump on things by being automatically placed higher in rank.  With only a finite number of positions in the government, this meant  that climbing through the ranks would be almost impossible at some point, as there just weren't enough positions for those qualified to take them. This is an all-too-common problem, regardless of the actual system of government.  The powerful and wealthy have always had a leg up—though sometimes more than others. That isn't to say that those less fortunate were always ignored.  For instance, early in his reign, Ohoama made a decree to divide the common people—those who were not members of the royal family, so not princes or princesses—into three different classes, Upper, Middle, and Lower, all based on their wealth or financial status.  Only the two lower groups were eligible for loans of seed rice, should they need it.  That isn't so different than a lot of modern, means-tested government assistance programs, when you think about it.  The idea of breaking up groups into an "Upper", "Middle", and "Lower" category is found elsewhere—Bentley notes Article 16 of the Statutes of Arable Land dividing up families who planted mulberry.  "Ryou no Shuuge", a 9th century commentary on the Yoro law-code, notes that, at least by that time, the three categories were based on the number of people in a given household, not just the total wealth, it would seem.     Other decrees help us understand the make-up of the court, such as decree in the 8th month of 679, with the sovereign requesting that various houses send women to work in the court.  Bentley notes that this is very similar wording to Article 18 of the statutes of the Rear Palace, where the sovereign's consorts lived.  He also mentions a note in Ryou no Shuuge stating it was specifically women from noble families in the capital city and nearby who were employed for low-level tasks in the palace.     Continuing with the ordering of the government, in the third month of 681, Ohoama went to the well of the New Palace—the Nihi no Miya—and he ordered the military drums and other instruments to be played.  In the continental style, music was an important part of the military, with certain instruments and tunes that would be played for a variety of purposes.  It is unclear that the archipelago had such a detailed history of military music, and so it seems that this is in emulation of the continental practice. Then, in the 5th month, Ohoama had to crack down on another practice that was apparently taking off with the various public functionaries.  As we noted, earlier, public functionaries were reliant on their superiors, the judges, and then the Council of State for their promotion.  However, some appear to have found another way to garner favor, and that was through female palace officials—those working in the private quarters.  Those palace officials would have access to the sovereign and his families—his queen and various consorts.  And of course, if Ohoama heard good things about a person, then perhaps he would put them forward for promotion.  At the very least, if that person's name came forward, it might be well thought of.  And so public functionaries had taken to paying their respects to the women working in the palace.  Sometimes they would go to their doors and make their case directly.  Other times they would offer presents to them and their families.  This was clearly not how the system was intended to work.  As such, Ohoama told everyone to knock it off—should he hear about anyone trying this in the future, then the offenders would be punished according to their circumstances. Of course, I would note that this only would be a problem if the individuals were caught.  If the rest of Japanese history—heck, world history—is anything to go on, then humans are going to human and the court was no doubt deeply steeped in political maneuvering of all kinds.  I imagine that this practice never fully stopped, but it probably stopped being quite as blatant—for now. Continuing with the development of how the government operated, we get the entry for the 28th day of the 3rd lunar month of 682.  It starts with various sumptuary laws, with Princes down to public functionaries no longer wearing specialized caps of office—effectively getting rid of the idea of "cap-rank".  They also would no longer wear the aprons, sashes, or leggings that were part of the previous outfit.  Likewise the Uneme and female palace officials would no longer wear the elbow-straps or shoulder-scarves.  This appears to have moved the court closer to what the continent was wearing at the time, with belted garments based on clothing not too dissimilar from what was found across the Silk Road, to be honest.  They also discontinued all sustenance-fiefs for Princes and Ministers.  Those had to be returned to the State.  Presumably their salaries would then come from any stipends associated with their rank, instead.  This doesn't seem all that connected with the other edict, focused on clothing and rank, except that is part of the further centralization of power and authority—all taxes were to go to the central government and then get parceled out, and everyone—or at least those in the court—were to conform to a standard uniform.  That said, for all that it may have been the intent, as we shall see, the court would never fully get rid of the idea of privately held tax land—it would just take different forms over time. Later, we get more sumptuary laws, some about what the people of the court would wear, but others that were more general.  Sumptuary laws are laws specifically focused on controlling things such as expenditures or personal behavior—including what one wore and how they expressed themselves--and they are generally made to help order society in some way.  There were a lot of cultures where purple, for instance, was reserved for royalty—often because of how expensive it was and difficult to make.  Wearing an expensive purple fabric could be seen as an expression of wealth—and thus power—and that could feel like a challenge to those in power themselves.  It probably also meant that there was enough dye for the royal robes and it was not nearly so scarce. In other instances, we see sumptuary laws to call out people of certain groups.  Some laws are to distinguish an in-group, and others to call out a group to be set apart from society.  Other such laws were made to distinguish between social constructs such as caste or gender.  Even today we have a concept of "cross-dressing" as we have determined that certain clothing or styles are seen as either more masculine or feminine, and there are those who call out such things as somehow perverting society.  And yet, the clothing is simply pieces of fabric, and what may have been considered masculine or feminine in one time or place may not bee seen as such in another. In this case, the sumptuary laws in question focused on hairstyles.  Ohoama decreed that all persons, male or female, must tie up their hair—they couldn't leave it hanging down. This was to be done no later than the last day of the year—the 30th day of the 12th lunar month, though it could be required even before that.  We are also told that women were expected to ride horses in the saddle similar to the way men did. This appears to mean they would sit astride a saddle, with their legs on either side, and not in something akin to side saddle.  This also likely meant that women riding horses would want trousers, similar to what men wore, at least for that part of it.  Trying to wear a long skirt with your legs on either side of a horse does not strike me as the most comfortable position to put yourself in, not that people haven't figured it out over the centuries in various ways.  Indeed, in some Tang statuary, women are often depicted riding horseback with trousers.   In the 9th month of 682 we get a fun entry.  Well, I find it amusing.  We are told that the practice of ceremonial crawling and kneeling was to be abolished and that they would adopt the ceremonial custom of standing, as had been practiced in the Naniwa court.  And a part of me thinks of some old courtier who was having trouble with all of the kneeling who was suddenly very happy with this new ordinance.  On the other hand, it is fascinating to think of the other implications. First, we are being told that there was a custom of standing at the Naniwa court, while in Asuka there was a tradition of ceremonial crawling and kneeling.  Bentley's translation makes it apparent that this was specifically as you entered through the gates: that you would bow and then crawl through the entranceway. I'm assuming that the standing custom was based on continental tradition, since that seemed to be what the Naniwa palace was built to emulate, and that in returning to Asuka they were partaking in a more local ritual—though I'm not entirely certain as I just don't have enough information to know at this point.  Aston does claim that it was custom in the Tang court, though I'm not sure of his source for that. In 683 we get more information on how the court functioned.  We are told that there was a decree that all persons of rank in the Home Provinces were expected to present themselves at Court at some point in the first month of each quarter.  You were only excused if you were sick, at which point an official would need to send a report up to the judicial authorities.  So every noble in the Home Provinces had to travel to the court once every four months.  And if they couldn't, they need to be able to produce the equivalent of a doctor's note, saysing so. We aren't told why this was implemented.  I suspect that there had to be some compromise between nobles being at and working at the court and going back to their hometown to also keep an eye on things there.  It is possible that there were plenty of people who just weren't coming to the court unless they had to—living off their stipend, but not necessarily doing the work.  So this may have been a "return to office" type order to make sure that people were there, in the "office" of the court at least once every four months. This brings to mind the Edo period practice of alternate attendance, or Sankin-koutai, where daimyo would have to attend on the Shogun for a time and then could return home.  Of course, that was also done as a means to drain their coffers, and I don't believe this was meant in quite so punishing a manner. Having a permanent city, where the nobles had houses in the city, would likely fix these issues, allowing the court to be more regularly staffed.  Sure enough, that same decree included the decree that there would be a Capital City at Naniwa as well as other places, while the work at Nihiki, on what would become the Fujiwara capital, was already underway. Speaking of the capital, that work would require labor and people to oversee it.  In 10th month of 684, we see a note that gives us a glimpse into the management of corvee labor, as Prince Hatsuse and Kose no Asomi no Umakahi, as well as officials down to facilities managers, 20 people in all, were set up as corvee labor managers for the royal region.      Next, let's talk criminal matters.  What kinds of things were people being accused of or what laws were being set up to constraing the activities of individuals.   We'll start by looking at how justices was handled, generally speaking.  Some of it seems almost obvious, like in 675, when we are told that the sovereign ordered that nobody—whether a minister, a functionary, or a citizen—should commit an offense lest they be punished accordingly.  'But what was happening previously to make such a proclamation necessary? On the one hand, I suspect that this was a warning to the elites of the archipelago more than anything else, especially those who might not have been in direct fealty to the Yamato sovereign previously.  Those elites farther out in the provinces were probably used to a looser hand, and fewer consequences for their actions.  Back in Taika years, in the late 640s, just as everything was kicking off, the court had had to bring the hammer down on the governors and various kuni no miyatsuko, local elites who had been doing things their own way.  I suspect this was just a similar attempt to bring people into line and a reminder of who actually wore the hakama in this administration.  It also seems to be a straightforward statement that the law applied to every person—or at least every person outside of the sovereign, himself. That was likely a novel idea for many people, where those in positions of power were likely able to get away with murder, quite literally, because who was going to stop them?  We've seen how many of the more powerful families controlled what were essentially private armies. At the same time, 675 is before these new formal law codes and punishments were in place.  Presumably there was tradition in place and some understanding that the sovereign could declare laws and punishment, but I also wonder if this isn't part of the reason that they felt that centralized, authoritative, written law codes were required in the first place.  After all, communicating laws and punishments verbally across the archipelago, even with the potential for written edicts, likely relied a lot on local administrators to interpret the edicts and figure out what was going on. This seems to align with an edict from the 10th month of 679, which decried that there were many people guilty of crimes and violence hanging around the capital.  This was blamed on the Princes and Ministers, since the edict claimed that these high officials heard about it but didn't do anything, instead treating it like a nuisance that was too much trouble—or perhaps too personally expensive—to do anything about.  Alternatively, those same princes and ministers would see people that they knew were guilty, but they didn't want to go through the trouble of actually reporting them, and so the offenders could get away with it.  The proposed solution was to exhort those in higher stations to punish the offenses of those beneath them, while those of lower stations were expected to remonstrate with their superiors when those superiors were rude or violent.  In other words, if everyone just held everyone else accountable, then things would work out. This seems like a great sentiment, but I have to imagine that there was something more beyond the high-minded ideals. Again,  I suspect that it was probably as much Ohoama putting people on notice.  Still, this seems aspirational rather than definitive.      A clear example of the kind of thing that was being prohibited is likelye the decree about fishermen and hunters, who were forbidden from making pitfalls or using spear traps or similar devices.  Also, from the beginning of the 4th month until the 13th day of the 9th month, no one was to set fish-weirs, or himasakiri—an unknown device, but probably another type of fish trap.  Ohoama also prohibited the eating of cattle, horses, dogs, monkeys, or chickens.  Other animals, including boar, deer, fish, etc., were all fair game, as it were. The prohibition on traps is likely because they were a hazard to anyone walking through the area.  In the Tang dynasty they did something similar, but they did make exceptions for hunters in the deep mountains, who were supposed to put up signs warning any travelers.  As for the weirs and himasakiri, whatever that might be, I have less context, but likely it did have some reasoning—possibly similar to our modern concepts of having certain seasons for various types of fishing.  Fish weirs do create obstructions, and between the 4th and 9th lunar months Japan does see the summer monsoon rains—could that be the reason?  Tsuyu, or rainy season, is often around July to mid-June, today.  Or perhaps there is another motivation for that particular prohibition. As for the eating of various animals—of the animals listed, all but the monkeys are domesticated animals who generally weren't considered as food animals.  Cattle were used for working the fields, horses were ridden, and dogs were used for hunting.  I wonder if monkeys were just too close to people. The chicken prohibition may seem odd to us, today.  The word for chicken, "niwatori", literally means garden bird, though the Nihon Shoki uses something more like "barn door bird".  We know that cock-fighting was a thing in later periods, and that chickens were associated with Amaterasu, possibly for their legendary habit of crowing as the sun comes up.  We can also note the lack of some animals, like cats, from the list.  Perhaps cats were never in danger of being seen as a food source, or perhaps cats just weren't as prevalent at the time—we know cats were around from at least the Nara period, but there isn't much evidence before that.  There are examples of bones thought to be from a cat from the Yayoi period found on Iki island, but it is hard to say from that if they were fully established across the archipelago. Still,  I do find it curious they are not on the list.Continuing on, we later see where see the court issued an edict that prohibited the cutting of grass or firewood on Mt. Minabuchi and Mt. Hosokawa.  Furthermore they prevented any indiscriminate burning or cutting on all of the mountains in the Home Provinces.  This feels somewhat religious—after all, the mountains were often considered the domain of the kami.  Perhaps there were some religious restrictions.  On the other hand, some of it sounds like they were trying to just ensure that with a growing population they didn't denude the mountains around the capital. This whole incident brings to mind problems that occurred in and around Chang'an, the western Tang capital.  The palace itself—not to mention all of the houses and temples—took so much wood that it was a drain on the nearby forests.  And that is without taking into account the simple harvesting of wood for cooking fires, tools, etc.  In fact, the logging industry of that time devastated the local environment, meaning that they had to travel farther and farther to find suitable wood for the monumental buildings they wished to create.  It is also thought to have contributed to various natural disasters in and around the capital.  Perhaps Yamato was worried that unrestricted logging in the Home Provinces could likewise cause problems?  Or was that simply an added benefit gained from the idea that mountains were sacred spaces?   Later in the 10th month of 679, there was an edict determining sumptuary rules for monks clothing, as well as what kind of retinue could accompany them when they went out.  We talked about this back in Episode 142.  That same month, there was an edict that, while monks and nuns might normally be expected to stay at a temple—such as in the quarters identified in the ruins of Kawaradera—that it became a problem when older monks became bed-ridden.  After all, if they couldn't leave their bed, then one can only imagine how it must have been.  Not to get overly graphic, but they couldn't exactly make it out to the latrine at that point, either.  So it was determined that if an elderly monk were to reach the stage that they were bed-ridden, and unlikely to recover, then the temple would seek out relatives or laypersons to help build a hut or two in vacant spaces on the temple grounds.  There, the sick and bed-ridden monks could be cared for in a more sanitary manner. Now the way this is written, on the one hand it seems they were worried about ritual purification as much as anything, but I imagine that this was also practical.  After all, as you get all of those monks living together, one can only imagine that disease and illness could easily spread in those close quarters.  So separating those who were quite sick only makes sense, like an early form of quarantine. A lot of these prohibitions seem to be fairly practical.  Don't put traps where people could accidentally fall into them.  Don't chop down the nearby forest—we may need that later.  And even: don't leave a sick or elderly monk in a crowded dormitory situation.But what about the penal codes? If you lived in the latter part of Temmu's reign and you did violate one of the rules mentioned above, or one of the many others at play, what would happen to you, and how did that vary based on your place in society? Unfortunately, most of what we get on this is kind of bare bones.  We often see the punishment, but not t he crime.  We are just told that someone was found guilty, or condemned.  Take, for example, the Buddhist Priest, Fukuyou, of Asukadera, who was condemned and thrown into prison.  We aren't told what he did to deserve confinement, but it wouldn't last long.  Apparently Fukuyou cut his own throat, ending his life, rather than face other consequences or live with the shame of whatever crime he had committed. By the way, the term "prison" here is interesting.  We certainly see people being imprisoned in some way, shape, or form—locked up and unable to freely travel.  That isn't exactly the same, however, as a prison complex or system.  There may have been buildings used a jail—a temporary holding facility while the actual punishment was determined.  And we also see the equivalent of house arrest.  Later, there would be formal "prisons" set up for the detention of individuals, who were often then forced to labor as part of their punishment.  However, they had many other forms of punishment, many of which required much fewer staff.  After all, a prison requires that you have guards constantly watching the prisoners to make sure nothing gets out of hand.  Instead, you could just exile them to an island or even just another province, with a lot less manpower. A less drastic punishment was handed out back in the 4th month of 675, when we are told that Tahema no Kimi no Hiromaro and Kunu no Omi no Maro were both forbidden from attending the court—for what purpose we aren't immediately told.  However, six days later, Kunu no Maro was held accountable for offering resistance to a royal messenger—maybe the one who communicated that he was banished from the court.  As a punishment, he was stripped of all of his offices and dignities.  Both Tahema no Hiromaro and Kunu no Maro appear to have been pardoned at a later date, though we aren't sure when.  It could have been one of the various general amnesties—and we'll talk about that in a moment.  Hiromaro passed away in 685, but he was provided a posthumous promotion in rank and is noted for his efforts supporting Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran.  Meanwhile, Kunu no Maro—also known as Abe no Kunu no Maro is seen delivering a eulogy in 686.  Perhaps somewhat ironically, he did so on behalf of the Office of Punishments—later the Keimu-shou, or Ministry of Punishment.  These actions certainly seem to be at odds with them being punished, let alone banished from the court. We also see an example where  Prince Womi, who was of the 3rd princely ranks—even higher than Prince Kurikuma, whom we discussed last episode—was guilty of some kind of offense and banished to Inaba.  One of his children was also banished to Izushima and the other to Chikashima.  Aston suggests that this means Ohoshima and Chikashima may be in Hizen.  Again, very little to go on as to what was happening, though it seems that all three were punished together and sent away from each other, perhaps so that they could not plot or scheme together.  Later amnesties would probably have resulted in pardons for them.   Speaking of pardons—the punishments that we are speaking about all appear to be permanent, other than imprisonment, which may have been more of a temporary situation.  It wasn't like being sent away for so many years.  However, on the other side of the coin was the option for a pardon or amnesty.  While I imagine that the sovereign could always provide a pardon directly, we more regularly see general amnesties declared, sometimes with very specific guidelines. One of the most illuminating such instances, and possibly where Kunu no Maro and Tahema no Hiromaro were pardoned, came in the 7th month of 676.  That month the court issued a general amnesty, likely to increase the merit accrued to the State through an act of mercy and forgiveness, given the drought and famine that had been reported earlier that summer.  Perhaps paradoxically, this act of leniency gives us an interesting view into the types of punishments that were made, as well as how severe each was considered.    The amnesty mitigated all sentences of death, enforced servitude, or the three classes of banishment, and they would all be mitigated by one degree.  So anyone sentenced to death would instead just become enslaved.  Those who were sentenced to enslavement would be banished to a distant province.  Those banished to a distant province would only be banished to a province at a medium distance.  Banishment to a medium province would be downgraded to a nearer province.  And Banishment to a nearer province would be downgraded to banishment—or removal—to a place in the same province.  For anyone who committed a crime for which they would be removed to a place in the same province—or for any lesser crime—would be completely pardoned, whether or not the crime was actually known.  So you couldn't be held responsible, retroactively. This gives us a kind of hierarchy to use as far as the kinds of punishment that might be handed out.  Of course, there are also a few others, which I generally assume were considered lesser.  For instance: banishment from the court, or being stripped of government rank, that sort of thing. There was a caveat that this amnesty would not apply to those who had already left for their place of banishment—nor, obviously, to those who had already been executed.  So if you had already settled in to your new life, this amnesty didn't exactly matter.  This could be where Tahema no Hiromaro and Kunu no Maro were pardoned and thus allowed to find their way back into the court's good graces.  On the other hand, others probably wish that this amnesty happened a bit later—one month later, to be exact.  We are told that Prince Yagaki, the current viceroy of the Dazaifu, was accused of some offense and banished to Tosa, in Shikoku.  As usual, the record does not feel the need to tell us what the offense was or try to justify it anyway.   This is all well and good, but what exactly did the justice system look like?  How were criminals accused, and how would they investigate and prove your guilt?  In the 11th month of 682, we see a rather detailed description of how trials and punishment were to be carried out.  For any offense against the law, whether it was in the palace or the court, it would be immediately examined, and nobody was allowed to conceal information about it.  If the offense was grave enough, then the next step would depend on the rank of the individual.  For individuals of high birth, their guilt would be reported to the court, presumably for whatever punishment they deemed appropriate from there.  For others, they would be arrested.  If they resisted arrest, then the palace guards would be sent after them.  A typical punishment was flogging, which was not to go beyond 100 blows.  Finally, if the individual were clearly guilty, but yet continued to profess their innocence, then that would be considered perjury and added to their sentence. It should be noted that in East Asia at this time, there was no concept of innocent until proven guilty.  If you were accused of a crime, then it was up to you to prove that you were innocent.  It was not uncommon for an arrest to occur, and then for the authorities to then torture a confession out of the individual.  Since they already had assumed the individual's guilt, this was just meant to get them to admit it.  Even into modern times, Japan has had a high conviction rate, but there are accusations that this is simply because of the presence of coerced confessions.  A coerced confession helps to demonstrate that the system is correct, and working as designed, whilst protestations of innocence call into question the validity of the system. There is another type of guilt and punishment—and leniency, for that matter—mentioned in the 6th month of 677: We are told that the Yamato no Aya no Atahe were considered guilty of the "seven misdemeanors", which seems like it is more an indictment of their moral failings rather than any kind of direct criminal behavior.  Furthermore, they were accused of pushing back against the rightful sovereigns from the time of Kashikiya Hime down to the time of the Afumi court.  This would seem to indicate that they had been supporting the Soga and the Afumi court, but if so, I wouldn't say that the Chronicles help to clarify it in any way.  Perhaps they just were willful and not showing the right amount of loyalty to the throne.  Whatever they did, Ohoama was none too pleased, but he also didn't want to completely destroy the uji.  Instead, as a compromise, he offered them clemency for any past actions, pardoning them, but also claiming that if they stepped out of line again, then their offense would be unpardonable.  This whole entry is a vibe.  It is less of a punishment and more of a sword of Damocles being set up above them. Several years later, in 682, we see the Yamato no Aya being granted the title of Muraji.  In consequence of the appointment, the entire household—all the men and women alike, presented themselves to the court.  They rejoiced and praised Ohoama, thanking him for raising them in status.  This doesn't feel like a normal entry—it isn't like every family was coming into court and giving thanks every time that a promotion was handed out.  This feels like classic "kissing the ring" to get back into good graces with someone who was, effectively, an autocratic ruler.  While there was a bureaucracy, based on everything we've seen Ohoama had bent it largely to his will by appointing family members and other members of the elite princely class—those with at least nominal familial connections—to positions of power and authority.   And with that, I think we will bring this episode to a close.  Next episode we'll finish out this reign with a few projects and various other miscellaneous events. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

What do Taiwan, China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam have in common? Chopsticks. In the second Formosa Files Snack, Eryk and John explore the cultural story behind one of East Asia's most iconic everyday objects. Why did chopsticks replace spoons in China? What role did noodles, rice, and Confucian philosophy play in their adoption? And how did superstitious Ming-dynasty boatmen turn the ancient word for chopsticks into “kuàizi” (literally “quick little boys”)? The origins of the English word “chopsticks” are pretty interesting too. Enjoy this quick, fun cultural and historical detour through the Greater Asian Chopsticks Sphere.

Is it better to become highly specialized… or to remain adaptable? Modern society often pushes us toward specialization. We are encouraged to develop a narrow skill, become highly useful, and build our lives around productivity. But Taoist philosophy has long offered a different perspective. In this episode of Living the Tao (1-170), Master Mikel Steenrod explores an ancient debate that mirrors a surprisingly modern question: the tension between specialization and adaptability. Beginning with a simple evolutionary example of specialist and generalist species, the discussion moves into classical Taoist ideas drawn from the Zhuangzi, including the story of Ding the Butcher and the famous warning of the “useless tree.” These teachings challenge the assumption that usefulness alone defines value. Through this exploration, the episode examines how Confucian and Taoist thinkers approached the role of individuals within society—and why Taoist philosophy ultimately emphasizes balance rather than rigid answers. At different times in life, we may need the discipline of specialization. At other times, we need the freedom and adaptability of the generalist. The real skill lies in knowing when to turn the dial. Listen to the trailer for Episode 170 — Part of One or Part of Many. Join the community to unlock full access to this episode and the complete archive.

00:00 Well, today, Jake Tapper started his program off with a little bit of a monologue. We're in a press conference this morning. Democratic governor of Michigan, Gretchen Whitmer, laid out what she saw as the clear motive. 00:17 Yesterday's attack was anti-Semitism. It was hate. Plain and simple. Temple Israel, as have many synagogues in this country, uh had prepared for the worst. There were armed security guards, multiple armed security guards already on site. Employees had taken an active shooter prevention class just a few weeks earlier. Their own caution prevented a far more horrible outcome in Michigan yesterday. 00:44 We should note that attack was just the latest in a long string of anti-Semitic violence in the United States and around the world in recent months. So why is it that so many public officials are still reluctant to call it out by name? In Dearborn, Michigan, police last night increased patrols around schools and mosques all across the city as a precautionary measure. Wait a minute. Hold on. Just a second. 01:16 You had an attack? 01:19 at a Jewish synagogue. 01:25 and they increased patrols at mosques? 01:30 Is that what you're trying to tell me? Jake Tapper? 01:35 Yes, Islamic, so an Islamic individual, Eman Mohammed Ghazali, 01:44 drives his truck into uh a Jewish temple and you increase patrols at mosques? Is that what you're telling me, Jake Tapper? 01:57 uh I am just, you would have thought, no, I'm no law enforcement expert. But if I've got an attack at a Jewish temple, I think I might be increasing security at Jewish temples. see, not the places of worship of the ideology that just attacked the Jewish temple. You see how weird that is? 02:28 But all during that monologue, Jay Tapper... 02:34 did not mention. 02:37 Islam did not mention Muslim, oh my gosh, was a joke told one time that said. 02:48 that said could you imagine 02:54 A Muslim got ahold of a dirty bomb and exploded it over a city and hundreds of thousands of Americans were killed. That would be horrible because of the backlash against the Muslim community. that was one of those jokes where people go, yeah, would be bad. But they didn't realize it. Hundreds of thousands of people are just killed by a Muslim terrorist attack and you're worried about 03:23 The backlash against the Muslim community? I think you got your priorities kind of mixed up there. Extremely mixed up. 03:34 This is a problem that's not only going on here, it's going on around the world. I want you to listen to this. 03:53 Do you know what that is? That is the Islamic call to prayer at the largest soccer stadium in England. 04:07 The biggest. Home of Manchester United. 04:14 and they allowed the Muslim call to prayer. I want to know, I want to go back and check. If I went to... 04:24 Old Trafford Stadium and I said, Hello, love, like to go in there and sing some hymns about the Lord. No, you wouldn't be able to do that. It wouldn't allow that. Can I just go in here and read some Psalms? No, can't do that. No, can't do that. Can I go in here and just read a few passages out of the Bible? No, no, no, Can I go do the Islamic call to prayer? Come on in. Everything's fine. Yes, you can. 04:53 England has been colonized. 100%. So last night over on, um over on X, which by the way, if you're not following me over on X, I would love if you were to do that at Charlie on air. That's at Charlie on air. also streamed the show live over there. um One person says, a hundred bucks says you never tweet when a good old American white dude kills anyone. 05:24 Okay, well, you see there's a difference here, and I'll explain that difference to you. um Here in the United States, sociologists group Americans into about 10 to 12 major religious families, so to speak. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Taoism, Confucian traditions, Baha'i faith, 05:53 Native American religions and others. Okay, of that list, ...

00:00 Well, today, Jake Tapper started his program off with a little bit of a monologue. We're in a press conference this morning. Democratic governor of Michigan, Gretchen Whitmer, laid out what she saw as the clear motive. 00:17 Yesterday's attack was anti-Semitism. It was hate. Plain and simple. Temple Israel, as have many synagogues in this country, uh had prepared for the worst. There were armed security guards, multiple armed security guards already on site. Employees had taken an active shooter prevention class just a few weeks earlier. Their own caution prevented a far more horrible outcome in Michigan yesterday. 00:44 We should note that attack was just the latest in a long string of anti-Semitic violence in the United States and around the world in recent months. So why is it that so many public officials are still reluctant to call it out by name? In Dearborn, Michigan, police last night increased patrols around schools and mosques all across the city as a precautionary measure. Wait a minute. Hold on. Just a second. 01:16 You had an attack? 01:19 at a Jewish synagogue. 01:25 and they increased patrols at mosques? 01:30 Is that what you're trying to tell me? Jake Tapper? 01:35 Yes, Islamic, so an Islamic individual, Eman Mohammed Ghazali, 01:44 drives his truck into uh a Jewish temple and you increase patrols at mosques? Is that what you're telling me, Jake Tapper? 01:57 uh I am just, you would have thought, no, I'm no law enforcement expert. But if I've got an attack at a Jewish temple, I think I might be increasing security at Jewish temples. see, not the places of worship of the ideology that just attacked the Jewish temple. You see how weird that is? 02:28 But all during that monologue, Jay Tapper... 02:34 did not mention. 02:37 Islam did not mention Muslim, oh my gosh, was a joke told one time that said. 02:48 that said could you imagine 02:54 A Muslim got ahold of a dirty bomb and exploded it over a city and hundreds of thousands of Americans were killed. That would be horrible because of the backlash against the Muslim community. that was one of those jokes where people go, yeah, would be bad. But they didn't realize it. Hundreds of thousands of people are just killed by a Muslim terrorist attack and you're worried about 03:23 The backlash against the Muslim community? I think you got your priorities kind of mixed up there. Extremely mixed up. 03:34 This is a problem that's not only going on here, it's going on around the world. I want you to listen to this. 03:53 Do you know what that is? That is the Islamic call to prayer at the largest soccer stadium in England. 04:07 The biggest. Home of Manchester United. 04:14 and they allowed the Muslim call to prayer. I want to go back and check. If I went to... 04:24 Old Trafford Stadium and I said, Hello, love, like to go in there and sing some hymns about the Lord. No, you wouldn't be able to do that. It wouldn't allow that. Can I just go in here and read some Psalms? No, can't do that. No, can't do that. Can I go in here and just read a few passages out of the Bible? No, no, no, Can I go do the Islamic call to prayer? Come on in. Everything's fine. Yes, you can. 04:53 England has been colonized. 100%. So last night over on, um over on X, which by the way, if you're not following me over on X, I would love if you were to do that at Charlie on air. That's at Charlie on air. also streamed the show live over there. um One person says, a hundred bucks says you never tweet when a good old American white dude kills anyone. 05:24 Okay, well, you see there's a difference here, and I'll explain that difference to you. um Here in the United States, sociologists group Americans into about 10 to 12 major religious families, so to speak. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Taoism, Confucian traditions, Baha'i faith, 05:53 Native American religions and others. Okay, of that list, of that list of re ...

A revolutionary hero or a brutal despot? Mao Zedong has one of the most recognisable portraits on Earth. How did he rise to become the founder of the People's Republic of China?  ** Binge all six episodes of the series on Chairman Mao by joining the Empire Club today at empirepoduk.com. ** A child born in a rural village, Mao hated the Confucian traditions he grew up with. He read profusely and rebelled against his father. But how did his early life shape him into the dictator he would become? William and Anita are joined by the brilliant Rana Mitter, author of A Bitter Revolution: China's Struggle with the Modern World, Modern China: A Very Short Introduction and China's War with Japan 1937-1945, The Struggle for Survival (or Forgotten Ally, China's World War II) to discuss the origin story of Mao Zedong.  Join the Empire Club: Unlock the full Empire experience – with bonus episodes, ad-free listening, early access to miniseries and live show tickets, exclusive book discounts, a members-only newsletter, and access to our private Discord chatroom. Sign up directly at empirepoduk.com  For more Goalhanger Podcasts, head to www.goalhanger.com. Email: empire@goalhanger.com Instagram: @empirepoduk Blue Sky: @empirepoduk X: @empirepoduk Editor: James Clayden Researcher: Imogen Marriott Assistant Producer: Alfie Norris Producer: Anouska Lewis Executive Producer: Dom Johnson Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Send a textA minor concert rule violation at a Day6 show in Kuala Lumpur ignites a much larger confrontation between Southeast Asian K-pop fans, known online as SEAblings, and Korean netizens, or K-netz.What began as frustration over DSLR camera use quickly escalated into accusations of racism, ingratitude, and cultural superiority. In this episode, Joe and Shawn explore what this clash reveals about Korean hierarchy, Confucian social order, ethnic “pure blood” nationalism, development pride, and the uneasy place of Southeast Asia within Korea's mental map of the world.From migrant labor and marriage migration to multicultural children and the politics of gratitude, this episode examines how fandom became a mirror reflecting deeper regional tensions. Korea's #1 ghost and dark history walking tour. Book at DarkSideOfSeoul.com Get your comic at DarkSideOfSeoul.comSupport the showJoin our Patreon to get more stuff https://patreon.com/darksideofseoul Book a tour of The Dark Side of Seoul Ghost Walk at https://darksideofseoul.com Pitch your idea here. https://www.darksideofseoul.com/expats-of-the-wild-east/ Credits Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey Music by Soraksan Top tier Patrons Angel EarlJoel BonominiDevon HiphnerGabi PalominoSteve MarshEva SikoraRon ChangMackenzie MooreHunter WinterCecilia Löfgren DumasJosephine RydbergDevin BuchananAshley WrightGeorge Irion Facebook Page | Instagram

A conversation with Prof. Moeller (Carefree Wandering). We discuss the political implications of Daoist philosophy, the Daoist critique of Confucian family roles and anthropocentrism, the comparison to Nietzsche's critique of modernist theories of truth, the differences between the two regarding their respective past and future orientations in philosophy, the difference in "vibe", and the parallel between the two as focused on achieving "great health". Butcher Ding Story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGtgGz5SsY0Happy Fish Story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nMCrj3soDUProf. Moeller's new book: https://cup.columbia.edu/book/the-enigma-of-gender/9780231221276/

This episode, we talk about two monumental projects that were started in this reign.  One was the historiographical project that likely led to the creation of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki.  And then there was the start of the first permanent capital city:  the Fujiwara Capital. Listen to the episode and find more on our website:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-143   Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 143: Temmu's Monumental Projects     Ohoama sat astride his horse and looked out at the land in front of him.   He could still see the image of the rice fields, now long fallow, spreading out on the plain.  To the north, east, and west, he could see the mountains that would frame his vision.  As his ministers started to rattle off information about the next steps of the plan, Ohoama began to smile.  He thought of the reports his embassies to the Great Tang had brought back, about the great walled cities of the continent.  In his mind's eye, Ohoama envisioned something similar, rising up on the plain in front of him. There would be an earth and stone wall, surrounding the great city.  The gates would be grand, much like the temples, but on an even greater scale.  Houses would be packed in tight, each within their own walled compounds.  In the center painted red and white, with green accents, would be a palace to rival any other structure in the archipelago.  The people would stream in, and the city would be bustling with traffic. This was a new center, from which the power of Yamato would be projected across the islands and even to the continent.   Greetings everyone, and welcome back.  This episode we are still focused on the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, between the years 672 and 686. Last episode we talked about the Four Great Temples—or the Four National Temples.  Much of this episode was focused on the rise and spread of Buddhism as we see in the building of these national temples, but also on the changes that occurred as the relationship between Buddhism and the State evolved.  This was part of Ohoama's work to build up the State into something beyond what it had been in the past—or perhaps into something comparable to what they believed it to have been in the past.  After all, based on the size of the tomb mounds in the kofun period, it does seem that there was a peak of prosperity in the 5th century, around the time of Wakatakeru, aka Yuryaku Tennou, and then a decline, to the point that the lineage from Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, seemed to have come in during a time when they were rebuilding Yamato power and authority. This episode we are going to talk about two projects that Ohoama kicked off during his reign.  He wouldn't see the completion of either one, since both took multiple decades to complete, but both focused on linking the past and the future.  The first we'll talk about is a new attempt to gather historical documents and records—the last time that was done was in the time of Kashikiya Hime, over 50 years ago.  That was during the height of Soga power.  Since then a lot had changed, and presumably there were even more stories and records that had been written down.  Plus the tide had changed.  So they needed to update—and maybe even correct—the historical record. But beyond that, there was a greater goal: Ohoama and his court also needed to make sure that the past was something that they wanted to go back to, among other things. The other thing we are going to discuss is the start of a project to build a brand new capital city.  And when we talk a bout city, we really mean a city.  This was a massive undertaking, likely unlike anything that we've seen so far.  Sure, there had been monumental building projects, but this was something that was going to take a lot more work - how much more monumental could you get than a new city?  And it would create a physical environment that would be the embodiment of the new centralization of power and authority, and the new state that Ohoama was building, with his administration—and Yamato—at the center.   Let's start with the big ones.  First and foremost, we have the entry from the 17th day of the 3rd month of the 681.  Ohoama gave a decree from the Daigokuden to commit to writing a Chronicle of the sovereigns and various matters of high antiquity.  Bentley translates this as saying that they were to record and confirm the Teiki, which Aston translated as the Chronicle of the Sovereigns, and various accounts of ancient times.  This task was given out to a slew of individuals, including the Royal Princes Kawashima and Osakabe; the Princes Hirose, Takeda, Kuwada, and Mino; as well as Kamitsukenu no Kimi no Michichi, Imbe no Muraji no Kobito, Adzumi no Muraji no Inashiki, Naniwa no Muraji no Ohogata, Nakatomi no Muraji no Ohoshima, and Heguri no Omi no Kobito.  Ohoshima and Kobito were specifically chosen as the scribes for this effort.  We aren't told what work was started at this time.  Aston, in his translation of the Nihon Shoki, assumes that this is the start of the Kojiki.  Bentley notes that this is the first in a variety of records about gathering the various records, including gathering records from the various families, and eventually even records from the various provinces.  And I think we can see why.  Legitimizing a new state and a new way of doing things often means ensuring that you have control of the narrative.  Today, that often means doing what you can to control media and the stories that are in the national consciousness.  In Ohoama's day, I'd argue that narrative was more about the various written sources, and how they were presented.  After all, many of the rituals and evidence that we are looking at would rely on the past to understand the present.  The various family records would not only tell of how those families came to be, but would have important information about what else was going on, and how that was presented could determine whether something was going to be seen as auspicious, or otherwise.  Even without getting rid of those records, it would be important to have the official, State narrative conform to the Truth that the state was attempting to implement. Ultimately, there is no way to know, exactly, how everything happened.  If the Nihon Shoki had a preface, it has been lost.  The Kojiki, for its part, does have a preface, and it points to an origin in the reign of Ohoama—known as the sovereign of Kiyomihara.  In there we are told that the sovereign had a complaint—that the Teiki and Honji, that is the chronicles of the sovereigns and the various other stories and legends, that had been handed down by various houses had come to differ from the truth.  They said they had many falsehoods, which likely meant that they just didn't match the Truth that the State was trying to push.  Thus  they wanted to create a so-called "true" version to pass down. This task was given to 28 year old Hieda no Are.  It says they were intelligent and had an incredible memory.  They studied all of the sources, and the work continued beyond the reign of Ohoama.  Later, in 711 CE, during the reign of Abe, aka Genmei Tennou, Oho no Yasumaro was given the task of writing down everything that Hieda no Are had learned.  The astute amongst you may have noticed that this mentions none of the individuals mentioned in the Nihon Shoki.  Nor does the Nihon Shoki mention anything about Hieda no Are.  So was this a separate effort, or all part of the same thing?  Was Are using the materials collected by  the project? As you may recall, we left the Kojiki behind some time ago, since it formally ends with the reign of Kashikiya hime, aka Suiko Tennou, but realistically it ended with Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou—after that point there are just lists of the various heirs.  As such, there is some speculation that this was originally built off of earlier histories, perhaps arranged during the Soga era. The general explanation for all of this is that Hieda no Are memorized the poems and stories, and then Yasumaro wrote them down.  Furthermore, though the language in the Kojiki does not express a particular gender, in the Edo period there was a theory that Hieda no Are was a woman, which is still a popular theory. Compare all of that to the Nihon Shoki.  Where the Kojiki was often light on details and ends with Suiko Tennou, the Nihon Shoki often includes different sources, specifically mentions some of them by name, and continues up through the year 697.  Furthermore, textual analysis of the Nihon Shoki suggests that it was a team effort, with multiple Chroniclers, and likely multiple teams of Chroniclers.   I have to admit, that sounds a lot more like the kind of thing that Ohoama was kicking off. We have an entry in the Shoku Nihongi, the work that follows the Nihon Shoki, that suggests 720 for the finished compilation of the Nihon Shoki.  So did it take from 681 to 720 to put together?  That is a really long project, with what were probably several generations of individuals working on it. Or should this be read in a broader sense?  Was this a historiographical project, as Bentley calls it, but one that did not, immediately, know the form it would take?  It isn't the first such project—we have histories of the royal lineage and other stories that were compiled previously—much of that attributed to Shotoku Taishi, but likely part of an earlier attempt by the court.  In fact, given that the Kojiki and Sendai Hongi both functionally end around the time of Kashikiya hime, that is probably because the official histories covered those periods.  Obviously, though, a lot had happened, and some of what was written might not fit the current narrative.  And so we see a project to gather and compile various sources.  While this project likely culminated in the projects of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, I doubt that either work was necessarily part of the original vision.  Rather, it looks like the original vision was to collect what they could and then figure things out. It would have been after they started pulling the accounts together, reading them, and noticing the discrepancies that they would have needed to then edit them in such a way that they could tell a cohesive story.  That there are two separate compilations is definitely interesting.  I do suspect that Oho no Yasumaro was working from the efforts of Hieda no Are, either writing down something that had been largely captured in memory or perhaps finishing a project that Are had never completed.  The Nihon Shoki feels like it was a different set of teams, working together, but likely drawing from many of the same sources. And as to why we don't have the earlier sources?  I once heard it said that for books to be forgotten they didn't need to be banned—they just needed to fall out of circulation and no longer be copied anymore.  As new, presumably more detailed, works arose, it makes sense that older sources would not also be copied, as that information was presumably in the updated texts, and any information that wasn't brought over had been deemed counterfactual.  Even the Nihon Shoki risked falling into oblivion; the smaller and more digestible Kojiki was often more sought after.  The Kojiki generally presents a single story, and often uses characters phonetically, demonstrating how to read names and places.  And it just has a more story-like narrative to it.  The Nihon Shoki, comparatively, is dense, written in an old form of kanbun, often relying more on kanbun than on phonetic interpretations.  It was modeled on continental works, but as such it was never going to be as easy to read.  And so for a long time the Kojiki seems to have held pride of place for all but the most ardent scholars of history. Either way, I think that it is still fair to say that the record of 681 was key to the fact that we have this history, today, even if there was no way for Ohoama, at the time, to know just what form it would take. Another ambitious project that got started under Ohoama was the development of a new and permanent capital city. Up to this point we've talked about the various capitals of Yamato, but really it was more that we were talking about the palace compounds where the sovereign lived.  From the Makimuku Palace, where either Mimaki Iribiko or possibly even Himiko herself once held sway, to the latest palace, that of Kiyomihara, the sovereigns of Yamato were known by their palaces.  This is, in part, because for the longest time each successive sovereign would build a new palace after the previous sovereign passed away.  There are various reasons why this may have been the case, often connected to insular concepts of spiritual pollution brought on by the death of an individual, but also the practical consideration that the buildings, from what we can tell, were largely made of untreated wood.  That made them easier to erect, but also made them vulnerable to the elements, over time, and is probably one of the reasons that certain shrines, like the Shrine at Ise, similarly reconstitute themselves every 20 years or so. Furthermore, we talk about palaces, but we don't really talk about cities.  There were certainly large settlements—even going back to the Wei chronicles we see the mention of some 70 thousand households in the area of Yamateg.  It is likely that the Nara basin was filled with cultivated fields and many households.  Princes and noble households had their own compounds—remember that both Soga no Umako and Prince Umayado had compounds large enough that they could build temples on the compounds and have enough left over for their own palatial residences, as well.  However, these compounds were usually distributed in various areas, where those individuals presumably held some level of local control. It is unclear to me how exactly the early court functioned as far as housing individuals, and how often the court was "in session", as it were, with the noble houses.  Presumably they had local accommodations and weren't constantly traveling back and forth to the palace all the time.  We know that some houses sent individuals, men and women, to be palace attendants, even though they lived some distance away.  This was also likely a constraint on the Yamato court's influence in the early days. We do see the sovereign traveling, and various "temporary" palaces being provided.  I highly doubt that these were all built on the spot, and were likely conversions of existing residences, and similar lodging may have been available for elites when they traveled, though perhaps without such pomp and circumstance. What we don't really see in all of this, are anything resembling cities.  Now, the term "city" doesn't exactly have a single definition, but as I'm using it, I would note that we don't see large, permanent settlements of significant size that demonstrate the kind of larger civil planning that we would expect of such a settlement.  We certainly don't have cities in the way of the large settlements along the Yangzi and Yellow rivers. We talked some time back about the evolution of capital city layouts on the continent.  We mentioned that the early theoretical plan for a capital city was based on a square plan, itself divided into 9 square districts, with the central district constituting the palace.  This design works great on paper, but not so much in practice, especially with other considerations, such as the north-south orientation of most royal buildings.  And then there are geographic considerations.  In a place like Luoyang, this square concept was interrupted by the river and local topography.  Meanwhile, in Chang'an, they were able to attain a much more regular rectangular appearance.  Here, the court and the palace were placed in the center of the northernmost wall.  As such, most of the city was laid out to the south of the palace. In each case, however, these were large, planned cities with a grid of streets that defined the neighborhoods.  On each block were various private compounds, as well as the defined markets, temples, et cetera. The first possible attempt at anything like this may have been with the Toyosaki palace, in Naniwa.  There is some consideration that, given the size of the palace, there may have been streets and avenues that were built alongside it, with the intention of having a similar city layout.  If so, it isn't at all clear that it was ever implemented, and any evidence may have been destroyed by later construction on the site.  Then we have the Ohotsu palace, but that doesn't seem to be at the same scale as the Toyosaki palace—though it is possible that, again, we are missing some key evidence.  Nonetheless, the records don't really give us anything to suggest that these were large cities rather than just palaces. There is also the timeline.  While both the Toyosaki palace and the Ohotsu palace took years to build, they did not take the time and amount of manpower that would be needed to create a true capital city.  We can judge this based on what it took to build the new capital at Nihiki. This project gets kicked off in the 11th month of 676.  We are told that there was an intent to make the capital at Nihiki, so all of the rice-fields and gardens within the precincts, public and private property alike, were left fallow and became totally overgrown. This likely took some time.  The next time we see Nihiki is in the 3rd month of 682, when Prince Mino, a minister of the Household Department, and others, went there to examine the grounds.  At that point they apparently made the final decision to build the capital there.  Ohoama came out to visit later that same month. However, a year later, in the 12th month of 683, we are told that there was a decree for there to be multiple capitals and palaces in multiple sites, and they were going to make the Capital at Naniwa one of those places.  And so public functionaries were to go figure out places for houses.  So it wasn't just that they wanted to build one new, grand capital.  It sounds like they were planning to build two or three, so not just the one at Nihiki.  This is also where I have to wonder if the Toyosaki Palace was still being used as an administrative center, at the very least.  Or was it repurposed, as we saw that the Asuka palaces had been when the court moved to Ohotsu? This is further emphasized a few months later, when Prince Hirose and Ohotomo Yasumaro, at the head of a group of clerks, officials, artisans, and yin yang diviners were sent around the Home Provinces to try and divine sites suitable for a capital.  In addition, Prince Mino, Uneme no Oni no Tsukura, and others were sent to Shinano to see about setting up a capital there as well.  Perhaps this was inspired by the relationship between the two Tang capitals of Chang'an and Luoyang.  Or perhaps it was so that if one didn't work out another one might. Regardless, Nihiki seemed to be the primary target for this project, and in the third lunar month of 684 Ohoama visited the now barren grounds and decided on a place for the new palace.  A month later, Prince Mino and others returned with a map of Shinano, but there is no indication of where they might want to build another capital. After that, we don't hear anything more of Shinano or of a site in the Home Provinces.  We do hear one more thing about Naniwa, which we mentioned a couple of episodes back, and that is that in 686 there was a fire that burned down the palace at Naniwa, after which they seem to have abandoned that as a palace site.  And so we are left with the area of Nihiki. This project would take until the very end of 694 before it was ready.  In total, we are looking at a total of about 18 years—almost two decades, to build a new capital.  Some of this may have been the time spent researching other sites, but there also would have been significant time taken to clear and level.  This wasn't just fields—based on what we know, they were even taking down old kofun; we are later told about how they had to bury the bodies that were uncovered.  There was also probably a pause of some kind during the mourning period when Ohoama passed away.  And on top of it, this really was a big project.  It wasn't just building the palace, it was the roads, the infrastructure, and then all of the other construction—the city gates, the various private compounds, and more.  One can only imagine how much was being invested, especially if they were also looking at other sites and preparing them at the same time.  I suspect that they eventually abandoned the other sites when they realized just how big a project it really was that they were undertaking. Today we know that capital as Fujiwara-kyo, based on the name of the royal palace that was built there, and remarkably, we know where it was.  Excavations have revealed the site of the palace, and have given us an idea of the extent of the city:  It was designed as a square, roughly 5.3 kilometers, or 10 ri, on each side.  The square itself was interrupted by various terrain features, including the three holy mountains.  Based on archaeological evidence, the street grid was the first thing they laid out, and from what we can tell they were using the ideal Confucian layout as first dictated in the Zhouli, or Rites of Zhou.  This meant a square grid, with the palace in the center. Indeed, the palace was centered, due south of Mt. Miminashi, and you can still go and see the palace site, today.  When they went to build the palace, they actually had to effectively erase, or bury, the roads they had laid out.  They did the same thing for Yakushi-ji, or Yakushi-temple, when they built it as part of the city; one of the reasons we know it had to have been built after the roads were laid out.  We will definitely talk about this more when we get to that point of the Chronicles, but for now, know that the Fujiwara palace itself, based on excavations of the site, was massive.  The city itself would surpass both Heijo-kyo, at Nara, and Heian-kyo, in modern Kyoto.  And the palace was like the Toyosaki Naniwa palace on steroids.  It included all of the formal features of the Toyosaki Palace for running the government, but then enclosed that all in a larger compound with various buildings surrounding the court itself.  Overall, the entire site is massive.  This was meant as a capital to last for the ages. And yet, we have evidence that it was never completed.  For one thing, there is no evidence that a wall was ever erected around it—perhaps there was just no need, as relations with the mainland had calmed down, greatly.  But there is also evidence that parts of the palace, even, were not finished at the time that they abandoned it.  Fujiwara-kyo would only be occupied for about 16 years before a new capital was built—Heijo-kyo, in Nara.  There are various reasons as to why they abandoned what was clearly meant to be the first permanent capital city, and even with the move to a new city in Nara it would be clear that it was going to take the court a bit of time before they were ready to permanently settle down—at least a century or so. Based on all the evidence we have, and assuming this was the site of the eventual capital, Nihiki was the area of modern Kashihara just north of Asuka, between—and around—the mountains of Unebi, Miminashi, and Kagu.  If these mountains are familiar, they popped up several times much earlier in the Chronicles--Mostly in the Age of the Gods and in the reign of the mythical Iware-biko, aka Jimmu Tennou.  Yet these three mountains help to set out the boundaries of the capital city that was being built at this time. There is definitely some consideration that they were emphasized in the early parts  of the Chronicles—the mythical sections, which were bolstering the story of Amaterasu and the Heavenly Grandchild, setting up the founding myths for the dynasty.  Even though the Chronicles  were not completed until well after the court had moved out, the Fujiwara capital is the climax of the Nihon Shoki, which ends in 697, three years into life at the new palace.  And so we can assume that much of the early, critical editing of the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki were done with the idea that this would be the new capital, and so it was woven into the histories, and had it continued as the capital, the very landscape would have recalled the stories of the divine origins of the Royal family and the state of Yamato itself.  This was the stage on which Ohoama's state was built.  He, and his successors, didn't just change the future path of the Yamato government.  They rearranged the physical and temporal environment, creating a world that centered them and their government.  I suspect that Ohoama didn't originally consider that these wouldn't be finished during his reign.  That said, he came to power in his 40s, only slightly younger than his brother, who had just died.  He would live to be 56 years old—a respectable age for male sovereigns, around that time.  From a quick glance, Naka no Oe was about 45 or 46 years old, while Karu lived to about 57 or 58.  Tamura only made it to 48.  The female sovereigns seem to have lasted longer, with Ohoama's mother surviving until she was 66 or 67 years old, and Kashikiya Hime made it to the ripe old age of 74.  That said, it is quite likely that he thought he would make it longer.  After all, look at all the merit he was accruing!  Still, he passed away before he could see these projects fully accomplished.  That would have to be left for the next reign—and even that wasn't enough.  The Fujiwara Capital would only be occupied for a short time before being abandoned about two reigns later, and the histories as we know them wouldn't be complete for three more reigns.  So given all of this, let's take another quick look at Ohoama himself and where he stands at this pivotal moment of Yamato history.When we look at how he is portrayed, Ohoama is generally lionized for the work he is said to have accomplished.  I would argue that he is the last of three major figures to whom are attributed most of the changes that resulted in the sinification of the Yamato government.  The first is prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, who is said to have written the 17 article constitution, the first rank system, and the introduction of Buddhism.  To be fair, these things—which may not have been exactly as recorded in the Chronicles—were likely products of the court as a whole.  Many people attribute more to Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, as well as Soga no Umako.  Of course, Soga no Umako wasn't a sovereign, or even a member of the royal family, and Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, seems to have likewise been discounted, at least later, possibly due to the fact that she is thought to have come to power more as a compromise candidate than anything else—she was the wife of a previous sovereign and niece to Soga no Umako.  Many modern scholars seem to focus more on the agency of Kashikiya Hime and suggest that she had more say than people tend to give her credit for.  That said, Shotoku Taishi seems to have been the legendary figure that was just real enough to ascribe success to.  That he died before he could assume the throne just meant that he didn't have too many problematic decisions of his own to apparently work around. The next major figure seems to be Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  Naka no Oe kicks off the period of Great Change, the Taika era, and is credited with a lot of the changes—though I can't help but notice that the formal sovereign, Naka no Oe's uncle, Karu, seems to have stuck with the new vision of the Toyosaki Palace and the administrative state while Naka no Oe and his mother moved back to the traditional capital.  And when Naka no Oe moved the capital to Ohotsu, he once again built a palace more closely aligned to what we see in Asuka than the one in Naniwa, which brings some questions about how the new court was operating.  But many of his reforms clearly were implemented, leveraging the new concepts of continental rulership to solidify the court's hegemony over the rest of the archipelago. Ohoama, as represented in the Chronicles, appears to be the culmination of these three.  He is building on top of what his brother had implemented through the last three reigns.  Some of what he did was consolidate what Naka no Oe had done, but there were also new creations, for which Ohoama is credited, even if most of the work was done outside of Ohoama's reign, but they were attributed to Ohoama, nonetheless.  Much of this was started later in Ohoama's reign, and even today there seem to be some questions about who did what.  Nonetheless, we can at least see how the Chroniclers were putting the story together. There are a lot of scholars that point to the fact that the bulk of the work of these projects would actually be laid out in the following reigns, and who suggest that individuals like the influential Uno no Sarara, who held the control of the government in Ohoama's final days, may have had a good deal more impact on how things turned out, ultimately.  In fact, they might even have been more properly termed her projects—there are some that wonder if some of the attributions to Ohoama were meant to bolster the authority of later decrees, but I don't really see a need for that, and it seems that there is enough evidence to suggest that these projects were begun in this period. All of this makes it somewhat ironic that by the time the narrative was consolidated and published to the court, things were in a much different place—literally.  The Fujiwara capital had been abandoned.  The court, temples, and the aristocracy had picked up stakes and moved north.  Fujiwara no Fuhito had come on the scene, and now his family was really taking off.  This was not the same world that the Chronicles had been designed around. And yet, that is what was produced.  Perhaps there is a reason that they ended where they did. From that point on, though, there were plenty of other projects to record what was happening.  Attempts to control the narrative would need to do a lot more.  We see things like the Sendai Kuji Hongi, with its alternative, and perhaps even subversive, focus on the Mononobe family.  And then later works like the Kogoshui, recording for all time the grievances of the Imbe against their rivals—for all the good that it would do.  With more people learning to write, it was no longer up to the State what did or did not get written down. But that has taken us well beyond the scope of this reign—and this episode, which we should probably be bringing to a close.  There are still some things here and there that I want to discuss about this reign—so the next episode may be more of a miscellany of various records that we haven't otherwise covered, so far.  Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Adam creates a hypnosis session to help a client lose weight by using Japanese concepts related to eating only to 80% full - Hara Hachi Bu or Hara Hachi Bun Me. It's a 300-year-old Japanese, Confucian-inspired philosophy meaning "belly 80 percent full". It is a mindfulness practice used to prevent overeating and promote longevity, particularly in Okinawa, by encouraging people to stop eating when they feel satisfied rather than stuffed. This habit helps manage weight, aids digestion, and allows 15–20 minutes for the brain to register fullness.To access a subscriber-only version with no intro, outro, explanation, or ad breaks and 24 hours earlier than everyone else, tap 'Subscribe' nearby or click the following link.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creators.spotify.com/pod/profile/adam-cox858/subscribe⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

Send us a textWinter is cemetery season in Korea.With the grass dead, snakes gone, and sightlines open, this is when Korea's hillside cemeteries quietly reveal their stories. In this episode, Joe and Shawn talk about what they see every year while wandering through Korean burial grounds: traditional mounds and stone guardians, Christian symbols mixed with Confucian motifs, rare Western-style graves, pet burials, collective graves, and the occasional unsettling sign of vandalism.This isn't a guide to death rituals. It's an exploration of how memory, belief, class, and modern pressure quietly reshape how Koreans remember the dead. Korea's #1 ghost and dark history walking tour. Book at DarkSideOfSeoul.com Get your comic at DarkSideOfSeoul.comSupport the showJoin our Patreon to get more stuff https://patreon.com/darksideofseoul Book a tour of The Dark Side of Seoul Ghost Walk at https://darksideofseoul.com Pitch your idea here. https://www.darksideofseoul.com/expats-of-the-wild-east/ Credits Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey Music by Soraksan Top tier Patrons Angel EarlJoel BonominiDevon HiphnerGabi PalominoSteve MarshEva SikoraRon ChangMackenzie MooreHunter WinterCecilia Löfgren DumasJosephine RydbergDevin BuchananAshley WrightGeorge Irion Facebook Page | Instagram

For the first regular episode of the year (excepting our New Year's recap) we take a look at the New Year Traditions at Temmu's court.  How did the court celebrate the New Year in the late 7th century? For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-141 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 141: Temmu's New Year's Traditions   The chill winter air meant that most of the assembled crowd had donned multiple layers of robes.  Men and women had assembled together, upon the open, rock-covered courtyard, both to see and be seen.  To the north and east of the courtyard were the walls and gates of the buildings that made up the royal palace, the rooves of the buildings just visible beyond the gates. The onlookers stood arrayed around the open lanes that had been created for the event—at one end of the rocky field were targets, while at the other were archers, also arrayed in their finest outfits.  While technically they wore hunting robes, cut to allow greater movement in the arm, many of these fabrics had no business being anywhere near a moor or the dirt of open fields.  After all, this wasn't just some hunt:  They were demonstrating their skills in the center of the State.  At the officials' command, the archers let loose their arrows.  The crowd murmured at the soft crack of the bowstring, the faint whisper of arrow as the fletchings cut through the air, and the thud as the arrows struck their targets.  Looking downrange, approval bubbled through the crowd: the targets were well-struck.  Behind the archers on the field, another group awaited their turn. The events of the day would be the talk of the court, from the lowest clerk to the highest prince , for days to come.   Not just the well-placed shot, but also the grace and poise of the one who had let loose an arrow of particular note.  And heaven forbid an arrow miss its target.  Even kicking up stones or scraping the earth could have negative social consequences.  A particularly good showing could inspire poetry, and beyond the prizes being offered to the winner, could also bring notice to those from more obscure backgrounds. The new year had just started, and a good performance might be just what was needed to help put the rest of the year on a good footing.     Welcome back!  This is the first episode of the new year, 2026, and we are still going through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno, covering the period from 672 to 686. Before we get started, though, a quick shout out to Suzuki for supporting us on Patreon.  It means a lot and helps us keep this thing going.  If you would like to support us or our efforts to maintain the website, where we also have the Armor manual, clothing, and a miscellany on various topics, we have information at Sengokudaimyo.com and we will have more information at the end of this and every episode.  Support is appreciated as I really do want to try and minimize ads—I don't put any into the podcast myself, though some platforms may place ads around the podcast, which I cannot always control.  Now we've covered a lot this reign, but this episode we are going to cover three things in particular.  First off, and perhaps a bit of a tangent, we'll talk about some of the issues with the Chronicles when it comes to reading it,especially in translation.  It seems quite clear to me that even the sources that the Chroniclers were using weren't always in agreement with each other on how they spelled certain things or even in properly recording when things happened. After that we'll cover the major topics of this episode, focusing primarily on the New Year traditions of the court—we'll look at the major events of the first month for each year in the reign, allowing us to see some of the similarities, and differences. Finally, we'll look at the last year of Ohoama's reign, particularly as he grew ill, because it can be a fascinating question:  What did people do when disease struck before we had modern medicine?  Here the Chronicles reveal a lot about not only the beliefs of the time, but of their syncretism: how people were willing to reach out to whatever power they could in order to cure disease.  Whether it was Yin-yang divination, beseeching the local kami, or attempting to make merit, all of these things were on the table when it came to illness and mortality. And so, let's get into it. One of the first things I want to talk about is the problem that we have in trying to read the Chronicles, both in the way they are written and then the translation issue on top of that.  Even in Japanese the Chronicles have to be translated out of an ancient form of kanbun—basically a Japanese version of Chinese, using Sinitic characters.  Like any document written by non-native speakers, the Chronicles have their idiosyncrasies that make it different from what someone in Chang'an might be writing at the same time.  There are times and places where it is clear that something is meant to be read in the Japanese pronunciation, which itself was different from modern Japanese.  Add to this the fact that there are many times that different Sinitic characters sound alike in Japanese—especially in modern Japanese.  So any English translation of the Chronicles which doesn't give the actual characters in the source text can add to the confusion.  This is why I like to consult either the Japanese Historical Text Initiative or an electronic version of the National History series text—though even those have issues at times when the characters used in the text don't exist in modern character sets, though that seems to be less and less of a problem. One example I want to give of the complexities of reading the Chronicles, and the need to dive deeper into the original language and consult multiple versions, is a set of records for Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others.  He is our first mention of a member of the Ki family: on the 9th day of the 8th month of 673, the first year since Ohoama's ascension and one year after the Jinshin no Ran, we are told that Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others were given favors and rewards for their service during the war in Iga province.  Indeed, Ki no Omi no Abemaro is listed prominently in the records of the Jinshin no Ran and appears to have been one of the generals for Ohoama and the Yoshino faction in general.  Less than a year later, on the 28th day of the 2nd month, Ki no Omi no Abemaro died and was posthumously awarded the rank of Daishi, which was 5th from the top in the old system of 26 ranks.  A rather respectable rank, to be sure. Later that same year we get a note that Ki no Omi no KATAmaro—another member of the family, apparently--was appointed, along with a "Prince Mino" as a commissioner for the erection of the Great Temple of Takechi. Two years later, however, we get a record on the 22nd day of the 4th month of 676 that the sovereign, Ohoama, sent an order to the Governor of Mino telling him to let the children of Ki no Omi no Abemaro, resident in the district of Toki, be removed to the East country and become peasants in that country.  On the face of it, this appears to be an incredible fall from grace.  Ki no Omi no Abemaro is basically one of the top generals and heroes of the Jinshin no Ran, but his children are so unruly that they are banished to the East and stripped of their noble status?  There has to be a story there, right? Then in 679, on the 3rd day of the 2nd month, we are told that Ki no Omi no Katamaro died.  For his service in the Jinshin War he received the posthumous rank of Upper Daikin.  That would have been roughly the 7th rank—two below Ki no Abemaro.  So was the Ki family back in the good graces of the court?  What is going on? First off, when we go to the original text, we see that Aston, whose translation of the Nihon Shoki we've been working on Ihas made an apparent error in translation.  Remember, Aston was translating the Chronicles back in 1896, without the aid of modern computers, along with a lot of other research that has happened since then, and I can hardly fault him for missing things here and there.  This is why, if you cannot check the original, you may want to also look at the new translation from John Bentley.  Here we can see that he translates the name not as "Ki no Omi no Abemaro", but rather that of "Ki no Omi no KASAmaro".  And if we compare Ki no Omi no KaSAmaro with the previous entry on Ki no Omi no KaTAmaro we can see that these are actually the exact same names except for a single character.  Which leads us to the question:  Are these the same person, and the scribes simply miswrote one of the characters in the name?  It may not even be on the Chroniclers so much as whatever texts they were, themselves, working on.  This isn't helped by the fact that we later on see another entry for Ki no KATAmaro, but that one uses character for "KATA", meaning "hard", using the kun'yomi, or Japanese reading, rather than using two phonetic characters in the on'yomi reading.  So is this just another way to write "KATAmaro" or is this a different person altogether? Ultimately, we cannot be entirely sure.  It does seem wild that there would be two "Ki no Omi no Katamaro" at court at the same time and nobody otherwise distinguished the two.  The question about KaSAmaro and KaTAmaro, and whose kids were sent into exile, is a bit harder to untangle. And, truth be told, it is ultimately a minor point.  We have only a couple of lines here, and maybe these passages will help illuminate something later in the histories, but for now, they are just fragments of the story of what was happening.  Parts of the tattered tapestry from which the royal history was ripped out and restitched together, the rest of the story largely discarded, unless it made its way to us through other means. The Chronicles may be flawed, but they are still our main source for the period, and while we might challenge individual items, we still get a glimpse at how things operated back at this time.  For instance, if we look at the events happening around the New Year, we can see some common threads. The New Year is an important tradition in many cultures.  Whether it was a solar or lunar cycle—or some combination—the new year indicated a new cycle, and was often accompanied by associated symbols and rituals.  Today in the US it is often celebrated with fireworks and champagne, followed by making resolutions for the new year.  In Japan, people will often go to their local shrine or temple for an important first visit, and temple bells will ring out 108 times. Another tradition is the osechi-ryori, the  traditional new years foods.  This has grown over time from a tradition of eating a large bowl of rice to various other foods that are seen as auspicious or having special properties, such as the hardening of teeth—a major concern before the era of modern dental hygiene!  Then there are traditions such as the Kagami Biraki, or opening of the mirror, and the creation of special mochi, or rice cakes for the purpose.  Of course all of these traditions started somewhere and have evolved over time, so what do we know about the New Year celebrations during the late 7th century? One caveat: in the Chronicles, we only really see what was happening in the court, and the Yamato court at that.  There may have been local traditions that others were following that, unless we find documentation about them, we likely would never know.  But many of the court traditions were passed down to later generations. These traditions appear to include the giving of gifts; large, celebratory banquets; and the annual archery tournament. Banquets are some of the first and most common things we see.  We see a banquet as Ohoama assumed the throne in 673—which probably was the event that overshadowed anything else they might have done that year.  The following year, 674, there doesn't seem to have been much recorded, and I wonder if they were still pulling everything together after the turmoil of Ohoama's ascension.  And so it is that in the first month of 675 we really get to see the annual new year's events in their full form.  On the second day of that year, from the Royal Princes on down, all of the public functionaries presented their respects to the sovereign.  I suspect that this was a large ceremony, where everyone gathered in the courtyard of the palace together or something similar, not that each person individually went up and presented their respects—I doubt Ohoama would have wanted to sit through all of that.  Also, as we've already seen, there were limits on what parts of the palace different functionaries were allowed to enter.  So some of these well-wishers may have been "outside", others in the courtyard, and others in the palace building itself, depending on their rank and importance in the bureaucratic hierarchy. On the following day, all public functionaries, from the initial rank upwards, presented firewood.  Aston notes that this is the first mention of what would become a yearly practice.  Firewood may not seem like much, but it would have likely been important to keeping things running, especially given how early people were supposed to arrive at the palace and administrative complex each day.  This wasn't firewood for a fireplace—they didn't have those—but probably would have been used either for cooking or, I suspect, for the large braziers that burned with wood and pitch to light the darkness, particularly in the winter months.  Firewood could also be processed into smaller pieces of coal for other uses.  It is interesting that for the first ceremony, the Chronicles describe the court from the Royal Princes on down, while for the giving of firewood the order is from the initial—which is to say the lowest—ranks upwards.  This could indicate the order in which things progressed in these cases. Several days after that, on the 7th day of the first month, a banquet was given at court for the Ministers—so only the higher ranking functionaries.  But ten days later, on the 17th, everyone of rank—the Ministers of State; the Daibu, or high officials; and all of the public functionaries from the initial rank upwards had an archery meeting in the Court of the Western Gate. Archery and archery contests had been important to the Yamato people for ages—and the same on the continent.  Confucius, in his day, suggested that archery was a martial skill that even nobles should cultivate.  I believe we've noted before how archery could be used both for warfare and for just feeding your family.  As such, it was considered a particularly useful skill for just about everyone to have.  It probably also helped that it was a martial skill that noblemen and others could use to show off without actually risking any injury to themselves in the process.  I'm just saying.  And as we described at the top of the episode, this particular archery contest would, for both participants and spectators, likely have been a chance to show off the top of their game, whether in martial prowess, clothing, or behavior. And since we are looking at the new year's celebrations, let's keep this going and look at later years in Ohoama's reign. As I go through these you'll start to see the patterns, where the events I've just described will generally recur year after year, but not identically, sometimes with a shuffle in the schedule. In 676, we see that the Ministers and public functionaries pay their respects on the first day of the new year.  On the 4th day, the sovereign granted gifts to the higher level officials, from Royal Prince Takechi, down to the high officials, or Daibu, of Shoukin rank.  Their not so secret Santa gifts included robes, hakama, lined garments, obi for their waist, leg straps, and staves, or walking sticks.  We are also told that everyone above the rank of Shoukin also got an armrest thrown in, as well.  Further gifts or grants were given out several days later, on the 7th, to everyone from Shoukin on up, based on their individual circumstances.  Then, on the 15th, we again see all of the functionaries present firewood and then they were all entertained at a court banquet. The following day they held the annual new year's archery contest, with prizes, at the court of the western gate.  Those who hit the target received prizes of different values.  In his recent translation of the Nihon Shoki, Bentley references Kuroita on Article 41 of Miscellaneous Statutes, saying that this archery event was apparently a regular new year's occurrence, and even the prizes were noted as varying over time. The same day they held the archery contest, that year, Ohoama held a banquet at the Shima Palace.  Shima was the name given to the Soga Prime Minister, back in the day, so I assume that this was at or near the site of the old Soga residence? In 677, by comparison, we don't see nearly as much referenced.  There is archery at the South Gate, vice the west gate, but that is it.  The festivities in 678 similarly only talk about the archery at the south gate.  There is also mention of a preparation for worshipping the kami of heaven and earth, for which a purification was held throughout the state.  In addition, an abstinence palace, or saiguu, was erected on the bank of the Kurahashi river.  Kurahashi appears to refer to a tributary of the Ohara river, in Sakurai.  This feels less like a New Year's celebration, however, and more like a sign of merit-making.  The Saiguu would have likely been to prepare for a trip to Ise shrine, and three months later Ohoama was preparing to go to the Saiguu, but that is when Princess Towochi suddenly died, and they scuttled the plans. In 679, the court greeted the New Year with a new decree.  Ohoama declared that Princes, Ministers, and public functionaries—anyone in service to the government, basically, were to refrain from paying respects during New Years or other ceremonies to anyone except relatives of the grade of elder brother, elder sister, and above, or to the senior members of the Houses.  Princes weren't even to pay respects to their own mothers unless they were, themselves, princesses.  Ministers were likewise not to pay respects to their mothers if they were of "mean" rank.  In other words, if they were commoners. These kinds of statutes are interesting.  First of all, you ask yourself why?  In all likelihood, there were various local traditions and individuals paid respects to their parents as well as to others to whom they owed respect for one reason or another.  Here the State is ordering society such that there is a clear hierarchy, at least among the members of the court.   Since women often found advancement by marrying up, it was usual for one's mother to have been born a lower rank in society than oneself.  And so we see them enforcing the social order. That new order was based on Confucian concepts of hierarchy, and this seems to go along with those same ideas. What we don't really see is how this was enforced—if at all.  The day after that, the yearly archery competition took place at the West Gate of the palace. The next year, 680, we see a New Year's Banquet at the Court of the Great Hall.  Ohoama himself occupied the Mukai-kodono, which appears to refer to one of the smaller wings.  Based on the palace layout that we see in the posthole remains, this probably means that he was set up in the smaller wing, likely in a more intimate space, while most of the other guests were in the large hall, maintaining that crucial separation of sovereign and subjects. This New Year's archery event included Princes of the Blood all the way down to the rank of Shouken—the very lowest rank in the court—and it was held at the South Gate. You may be noticing a pattern, that the archery competition is listed as being held at either the south or west gates.  The south gate probably refers to the main gate of the later Okamoto—aka the Kiyomihara—palace.  The West gate refers to the west gate of the Ebinoko enclosure.   We talked about these and the general layout of the palace back in Episode 134, and you can check out that podcast blog post for some images of what things looked like, as well.  These gates were on the north and east sides of a large, rectangular courtyard, which was likely the actual event location.  So it isn't as if these were separate areas, just a difference of where things were set up in what was otherwise the same relative space. The following year, 681, we see similar ceremonies.  We see offerings made to the kami of Heaven and Earth, and we once again see a note about various functionaries paying their respects at court.  Even though this wasn't mentioned every year, it could have been an annual thing and just wasn't always recorded so the Chroniclers just wrote down what they had records for.  There are certainly other things we don't necessarily witness in the records, such as the annual promotions and promulgations.  We see irregular promotions, of course, such as on someone's passing, but the regular administration of the government and promotions of people to new positions is not something we really see regularly documented, since it doesn't really shed much light on the sovereign and the royal household.  And so we sometimes see things if they get mentioned, but otherwise we only see glimpses.  That would change as records became more administrative and the histories were more about simply recording what was happening—though still from a particular angle.  At this point, however, we aren't dealing with a single court record, but rather with numerous records, stories, and recollections.  That same year, 681, we also see another banquet, with Ohoama situated in the Mukai no Kodono, while the Princes of the Blood and non-royal Princes were both introduced into the inner reception chamber.  Ministers attended in the outer reception chamber.  They all received sake and musical performances, and rank advancements were given out.  Kusakabe no Kihi no Ohogata was graduated from the rank of Upper Daisen to Lower Daikin, and given the title of Naniwa no Muraji.  A few days later, Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwazumi was granted a fief with 60 horses and received presents of coarse silk, floss silk, cloth, and one hundred mattocks—the last one being a rather interesting gift, I have to admit.  Of course, in true Chronicles fashion, we have no idea why these gifts were made—we don't even have another reference to Iwazumi around there, but he must have done something. We are later told that there was the annual archery shoot, and then a decree, possibly unrelated to New Years, that the various provinces were ordered to repair the shrines to the kami of heaven and earth. The year 682 is an anomaly.  There is no mention of a banquet, nor of an archery tournament.  I wonder if this may have to do with some of the sad events of that first month.  While it started fine—Toneri no Miyatsuko no Nukamushi was raised from Daisen to Lower Shoukin—we are told that on the 18th, Lady Higami, one of Ohoama's consorts, died in the palace.  The next day there was an earthquake, and she was buried on the 27th.  A prominent illness and death may have put a pall on the ceremonies, and could explain why we don't see any mention of them for that year. It is also possible that some of this New Year tradition had become so routine that people were no longer commenting on it, and therefore the Chroniclers weren't including references to it. The following year, in 683, we again see the functionaries paying their respects.  We also see the presentation of a three legged sparrow by the Viceroy of Tsukushi, Tajihi no Mabito no Shima, along with others.  A three legged sparrow would have been something: it is reminiscent of the three legged crow, often depicted in the sun.  It is unclear if it was still alive, but that wasn't the point.  They invited the Princes of the Blood down to the Ministers to great hall, the Daigokuden, for a banquet, where the three legged sparrow was displayed. .  Later that month, Ohoama issued a decree in regards to all of the auspicious omens and made presents to everyone, from Shouken rank upwards.  There was also a general amnesty—all crimes were pardoned, from capital offenses on down, and all forced labor was remitted, so that people didn't have to provide the normal service.  The phrasing for this particular entry is intriguing.  Ohoama is mentioned as Yamato Neko Sumera no Mikoto and is specifically called a "God Incarnate".  This is one of the rare times that we see the Chronicles explicitly call out the sovereign as a living deity.  Of course, they trace the royal lineage back to Amaterasu, but there isn't a lot suggesting that the sovereign is necessarily a deity. And in reality, this was probably something that was more honorific than anything else.  Heck, at times in Japanese history we would see sovereigns selling their calligraphy to help keep the royal palace funded while warriors went around actually being in charge of things.  However, this divine language did show up in the 19th and 20th century, especially as the Tennou, now called Emperor in English terminology, once again was recognized as the Head of State, and people would actually pray to him.  Not necessarily like praying at a shrine, but out of respect.  And remember, a lot of time the Tennou was kept out of sight of regular people and hidden, much like the way that the kami were treated.  The concept of the Emperor's divinity was very much tied up in the elevation of the State and the general sense of Nationalism that had gripped Japan in the early half of the 20th century.  And so the allies quite explicitly had Emperor Showa renounce his divinity after Japan  World War II. Those studying Japanese history have probably heard of this concept, and so it is interesting to see evidence of it here, as well as the nature of the royal house, where the sovereign is kept at a distance from those of lower rank, unless they are directly serving him.  But it was not as though the sovereign was a god in the sense of being all powerful.  Even if he were considered a living, visible kami, the kami were not omnipotent, and there was no getting over the fact that our particular sovereign, Ohoama, was getting older.  Only a year or so earlier, he had suffered a rather bad illness, so he clearly was not invincible.  And it is of course possible that this language was simply royal exaggeration, rather than any attempt to define the sovereign as something more than he was.  Still, that concept would continue to play a part throughout Japanese history. The same day in 683 that Ohoama issued the pardons, we are told that there was a special performance at the Woharida Court of dance and music from Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla—the "Three Countries" of the Korean peninsula, even if only one of them was still going strong.  The Woharida palace is thought to have been north, along the banks of the Asuka River.  It may have been moved over time—there appears to have been a palace in the Furumiya area, near Toyoura, but there is also evidence of a palace by a shared name over by Ikazuchi-no-oka, on the other side of the river.  Excavations at Ikazuchi no oka revealed pottery with the name of the palace, suggesting that this was the site, but even then, that pottery was from the later Tempyo era.  Regardless, it seems that the Asuka valley was just chock full of palaces, new and old, though the older ones were not as regularly used for government functions, one assumes. The following year, 684, we again get told about the annual archery shoot.  It took place in the Eastern court this time, with Ministers in attendance.  Apparently they had men skilled in archery shooting alongside palace attendants and little people—the word used in Japanese is "Shuju" or "Hikihito".  This word is often translated as "dwarf"; it appears to be a derogatory term for anyone considered short of stature, though it is also used to refer more generally to those seen as either lacking wit or to actors and performers. This isn't the first time we see the term.  Back in 675, about 9 years prior, Ohoama had sent orders to a number of regions near the capital, from Awaji to Tamba, to Afumi and to Mino and Wohari, among others, to send as tribute common people who could sing, shuju—or dwarfs—and jugglers.  More generally they seem to be referring to entertainers, and it strikes me that could be what is meant here.  Either way, the entertainment industry was hardly a lucrative one, and we can see that performers are almost more of a commodity, to be "paid" as tribute, rather than a professional who is "hired" to work.  I suspect that, as in many other times and places, individuals who were shorter than average often found work as entertainers in this sense—whether they wished it or not. The year 685 we don't see any mention of archery, though it probably still happened.  Instead the Chronicles focus on the various government officials paying their respects to their sovereign.  The rest of the entries for the month are largely concerned with changes to the rank system as of that year. The year 686, we get the last records of various new years festivals—four months later, the sovereign would grow terribly ill, and he would eventually pass away later that year.  However, for those still celebrating the new year in 686, that was all in the future. The last year of Ohoama's reign started out relatively like others. Ohoama went to the Daigokuden, the Great Hall of Audience, and gave a banquet to the Princes and High Officials.  There he decided to have something of a riddle challenge.  He would ask riddles, and then offer prizes for the correct answer. And no, unfortunately we don't have any of the riddles, at least that I have seen.  Aston calls these "conundrums" and notes that they are specifically nonsensical questions, and provides examples such as "Why does a horse, after a rapid run, listen to the earth? Why does a dog, when he goes slowly, raise his leg?"  Ohoama's son, Prince Takechi, answered correctly, and so did Prince Ise.  Their prizes differed in content, but in both cases were pretty extensive.  The winners received ceremonial robes, brocade or purple hakama, numerous bolts of coarse silk, many pounds of thread, hundreds of pounds of flossed Silk, and hundreds of bolts of cloth. I think that makes it quite a bit more lucrative than any of the quiz nights I've ever been to. Later that month, there was another banquet, this time for nine Buddhist monks of Daikan-daiji. Besides its status as a national temple, this may have also been related to the year before, when Ohoama had fallen ill, and prayers had been offered at Daikandaiji for his recovery.  The courthad likewise provided gifts to the temple in the last month of the previous year, and then, at the banquet, gave to the attending monks silk and cloth, based on their rank. But that wasn't the end of the gifts.  The following day the Princes and High Officials all received upper garments and hakama—likely referring to official garments—each getting one suit, each. Then, on the 13th day of the new year, the court invited 20 exceptional individuals to a banquet.  These were talented people, professors, divination specialists, and physicians.  They were also wined and dined and presented various gifts. On the 16th day, the Princes and High Officials were then invited to a banquet in the Daigokuden.  They were given gifts of silk and cloth, based on their rank.  Then they held another riddle competition, with correct answers rewarded with gifts of coarse and flossed silk. This was only a short time after disaster had struck, though a bit removed—two days earlier, in the evening, the royal storehouse at Naniwa had caught fire, eventually burning the entire Toyosaki palace complex to the ground.  Some claimed that it was actually started at a private residence,  that of Ato no Muraji no Kusuri, and then spread to the Palace.  In the end, only the military storehouse was spared. This would have been quite the tragedy for the government, but it did not halt the festivities happening down in Asuka.  The Naniwa Palace appears to have been a major government center for the administration of the state, but it was not the royal court which had been in Asuka for over a decade.  Indeed, I imagine that the news probably reached Asuka around the time of the Banquet itself. And yet, rather than putting a damper on the festivities, they continued another couple of days – presumably everything was already prepared and there was no point in canceling.  On the 17th, the court sponsored a banquet in the rear palace, presumably for the Queen and members of the imperial family.  Then the following day there was a great revel at the palace.  Ohoama took his place in front of the royal muro and made presents to performers, as well as to the singers.  As before everything varied according to rank. Asuka wasn't the only place to get in on the festivities.  The same month, the court also sponsored a banquet for the Silla envoys in Tsukushi, sending Prince Kawachi and others. Regrettably, that would be the last new year that Ohoama would see.  In the fifth month, he grew ill, and what we see in the Chronicles after that is an interesting look into how people of the time dealt with sickness. First, the court had the Sutra of Yakushi expounded at Kawaradera and held a Buddhist retreat in the palace, inviting monks to come and expound Buddhist teachings.  Yakushi, or Yakushi Nyorai—Bhaisajyaguru in Sanskrit—was known as the Medicine Buddha, and his name in Sinitic characters was basically "Master of Medicine".  It is said that he was responsible for the Eastern Pure Land, and that, as a Bodhisattva, he had made 12 great vows to cure the illnesses of all living beings in the world.  For that reason, Yakushi Nyorai was often called upon to cure illness.  In fact, six years earlier, when the Queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, had taken ill, Ohoama erected an entire temple to Yakushi Nyorai, known as Yakushiji.  He then had 100 people take vows as priests, and they attributed her recovery to this effort. In this case, however, it seems that it didn't have quite such an effect, and Ohoama remained under the weather.  We are also told that the court sent Palace Attendants, the Oho-toneri, to clean the pagodas of various temples and that a general amnesty was announced for all under heaven, emptying the prisons.  All of this points to the idea of making merit in the hope of bringing good karma, and thus healing. But the following month, Ohoama was still ill.  Divination was performed by the Onmyoji, the court diviners, and they claimed that there was a curse from Kusanagi, the sword that is considered one of the three main royal symbols.  This is the sword that was said to have been found by Susanowo in the tale of Yamata no Worochi, and which gained its name, Kusanagi, when used by Yamato Takeru, cutting down the grass to save him when his enemies tried to catch him by setting fire to the field where he was hunting.  For more on that, check out Episodes 34 and 35. Given the importance of Kusanagi, I suspect that the idea of destroying it to remove the curse was out of the question, and so it was sent to Atsuta Shrine, where it was enshrined and would largely stay except when needed for enthronement ceremonies.  And yet, even after the sword was taken away, the illness remained.  Six days later, on the 16th day of the 6th month, the court sent Prince Ise and officials to Asukadera and asked the monks there to make and oath with the Buddha to make Ohoama whole through the power of the Three Treasures of Buddhism.   For their work, the three Buddhist Officers, the Master of the Law, and the Upadhyaya and temple directors, as well as those monks with the rank of "master" each received a donation of one robe and one cover, or "Ohi". Three days later, the court ordered the hundred officials to go to Kawaradera and perfom the ceremony of lighting lanterns and giving offerings to Buddha.  Then they held a great feast and offered repentance for their transgressions.  All of this sounds like a continued attempt to make merit for the state, and thus for Ohoama. We then see the court granting the monks Hounin and Gishou 30 stipend-households to provide for them in their old age, which may be more merit-making, or possibly was related to some of the many other activities so far.  There are a few issues with this entry, and Aston and Bentley don't seem to agree on the actual date.  Bentley has it on the 28th, but that seems odd as it comes before the entry for the 22nd of the same month.  Aston has it as the 20th, but then claimes that there is something odd about the date of the 22nd. On the 22nd, we are simply told that the district kitchen of Nabari caught fire.  Aston notes that this would have been the official government arm in the district gathering food to supply the royal household—rather than being a kitchen in terms of a place to prepare food. Merit-making continued into the 7th month.  We see the Soujou and Soudzu, the primary and secondary prelates of the Asukadera, performing ritual repentance.  The following day there is another general amnesty, and Aston specifically mentions performing a Oho-harai, or cleansing. The day after taxes were halved from the provinces and corvee labor with local conscripted labor was exempted for the year.  Then we see the court presenting paper offerings to the Kunikasu Kami in Ki provinces, as well as the four shrines in Asuka and the Great Suminoe—aka Sumiyoshi—shrine. On the 8th day of the 7th month, 100 monks were invited to the court to read the Golden Light Sutra—Konkoymyou kyou.  And on the 15th there was another court issued amnesty. Despite all of these attempts to make merit and intercede with the Buddha or with various kami, Ohoama's illness continued.  We see that the court issued a decree that all things that should occur, great or small, should be reported to the queen and the crown prince—presumably because Ohoama was no longer in a state to be able to do so. Continuing with their efforts, the court declared that destitute commoners who had been forced to borrow rice seed or money before the 12th month of the previous year would be exempted from repayment.  And then the court changed the name of the year to Akami-tori, or Shuuchou.  They also renamed the palace in Asuka to "Kiyomihara"—again, go check Episode 134 for more on the palace.  "Shuuchou" is the Red Bird, likely referring to Suzaku, though Aston also points out that "Asuka" here is given as "flying bird", as well, and there had been numerous bird-related omens reported throughout the reign. Although these names would not have been used prior to this point—the 7th month of the final year of the reign—the Chroniclers applied the nengo, Shuuchou, to all of the entries for this year, and the name of the palace is often given as "Kiyomihara" is given to distinguish it from the Later Okamoto Palace, even though it was simply the latter palace with the addition of the Ebinoko enclosure. The changing of the era name was likely another attempt to change the seemingly inauspicious year, along with all of the merit-making that the court had been undergoing. And yet they kept going. The court selected 70 people who were diligent in keeping Buddhist laws and had them take the tonsure, and they sponsored a feast—or festival—in the Royal Muro of the Palace. At the same time the various princes had a statue of the Boddhisatva of Compassion, Kannon, made for the sovereign and had the Lotus sutra—the sutra where Kannon is first mentioned—read out at Daikandaiji. Kannon, or Avalokitesvara, was originally seen as a male Boddhisatva, but is often depicted as a woman.  They are also known as Guanyin, from which we get Kannon in Japanese.  Guanyin is also seen as Goddess of Mercy, and is one of the most popular figures across multiple sects of Buddhism and even outside of the Buddhist faith, where she is still seen as a goddess.  In this case, however, it seems clear that the princes were seeking compassion to relieve the sovereign of his affliction. And yet it persisted. They had 80 more people take the tonsure, and then 100 more men and women, placed 100 statues of the Boddhisatva, Kannon, in the palace, and then read out 200 volumes of the Lotus Sutra. And then they made prayers to the kami of Heaven and Earth.  And they dispatched Hata no Imiki no Iwakatsu to present paper offerings to the Tosa great shrine.  Nothing seemed to be working. In the 9th month, we see the royal princes and others, down to the various ministers, all gathered at Kawaradera making oaths for the health of the sovereigns.  This last ditch effort would go unrewarded.  Five days later, and Ohoama would pass away.  Of course, they couldn't just say that he died:  The Chronicles actually say that he divinely departed.  After all, didn't they call him an incarnate kami? Two days later, the court began the ritual of mourning, raising voices in lamentation, and setting up a temporary palace of interment in the courtyard, south of the palace.  Ohoama's body was placed there some thirteen days later, and people mourned his passing. For the rituals, we see monks and nuns performing ritual lamentation in the courtyard between 3 and 5 am, around the time that court officials would normally be waiting at the gates.  Over the next several days, various ceremonies were held and eulogies given.  We are told that the court presented offerings of food for the dead for the first time, and over the next several days monks and nuns would offer their laments and then various individuals would provide their eulogies.  Finally, on the last day of the ninth month, the eulogies concluded with Nyang-u, a Baekje prince, who pronounced a eulogy on behalf of his father, and then the Miyatsuko of various provinces came and did likewise.  There were also performances of all manner of singing and dancing. With that, the reign of Ohoama would come to an end.  The government would continue under his wife, the Queen, and Crown Prince.  We'll get into the succession in a later episode.  For now I'll just say that he was eventually buried in a large tomb in the modern Noguchi area of Asuka, and you can still go see it. And while that does bring us to the end of the reign, we still have a few more things that I want to discuss.   This episode just seemed a good time to talk about all of the various new years ceremonies, and that seemed to lead naturally into the very last year, but there is still more to discuss.  For one thing, we still haven't quite covered the spread of Buddhism and the changes in the structure.  There are also various laws and punishments that are worth covering.  Finally, there are the Chronicles themselves: we've talked about it all along, but the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki are attributed to this era, as is the start of what would become the capital of Fujiwara-kyo—many works that Ohoama would not live to see to the end, but is largely held responsible for starting. But until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

In this episode of New Books Network, Laura Goldberg speaks with Thomas David DuBois, Professor at Beijing Normal University, about his book China in Seven Banquets, which traces Chinese history through seven extraordinary meals. Gastronomy and dining rituals offer a revealing historical framework: they make visible social order, ethical values, and political power, expressed through ingredients, preparation, display, and etiquette. DuBois shares stories of early ritual feasts shaped by Confucian thought and of vast imperial banquets with hundreds of dishes – diving into fermented meat sauces, courtly excess, and the arrival of new foods via the Silk Road. Conversation also turns to the modern period, considering the globalization of Chinese cuisine and the circulation of foreign foods within China. A feast from film – in the opening sequence of cult classic Eat, Drink, Man, Woman – is explored, as is the potential of food security impacting China's culinary future. In addition, DuBois shares how he recreated dozens of traditional recipes using modern kitchen techniques – all of which he includes in the book for the intrepid home cook. Thoughtful and engaging, the discussion invites listeners to see meals not simply as nourishment, but as moments where culture, power, and history come together. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In this episode of New Books Network, Laura Goldberg speaks with Thomas David DuBois, Professor at Beijing Normal University, about his book China in Seven Banquets, which traces Chinese history through seven extraordinary meals. Gastronomy and dining rituals offer a revealing historical framework: they make visible social order, ethical values, and political power, expressed through ingredients, preparation, display, and etiquette. DuBois shares stories of early ritual feasts shaped by Confucian thought and of vast imperial banquets with hundreds of dishes – diving into fermented meat sauces, courtly excess, and the arrival of new foods via the Silk Road. Conversation also turns to the modern period, considering the globalization of Chinese cuisine and the circulation of foreign foods within China. A feast from film – in the opening sequence of cult classic Eat, Drink, Man, Woman – is explored, as is the potential of food security impacting China's culinary future. In addition, DuBois shares how he recreated dozens of traditional recipes using modern kitchen techniques – all of which he includes in the book for the intrepid home cook. Thoughtful and engaging, the discussion invites listeners to see meals not simply as nourishment, but as moments where culture, power, and history come together. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/east-asian-studies

What does it really mean to speak of "socialism with Chinese characteristics"? Is it simply a matter of policy and political economy, or does it require grappling with thousands of years of civilizational history, philosophy, and culture? In this episode, Breht is joined by Zhao, the mind behind Goods for the People and author of Chinese Characteristics of Socialism: Civilizational Factors in CPC Governance to explore a bold and provocative argument: that while class struggle and material conditions must remain primary, China's socialist path cannot be understood without its deep Confucian, Daoist, and Buddhist inheritance. From Yu the Great's flood control and the origins of infrastructural legitimacy, to the Mandate of Heaven, Da Tong, and the tributary system, we examine how ancient ideas of harmony, moral legitimacy, and collective responsibility continue to shape contemporary Chinese governance and foreign policy. This is a wide-ranging conversation for Marxists, socialists, and anti-imperialists interested in China beyond caricature, reductionism, and Cold War myths -- one that asks how history, philosophy, and material struggle converge in the making of a socialist future, and what China's trajectory might mean for the global path toward communism. Other episodes mentioned in this episode: Check out our 7 hour episode on the last 250 years of Chinese History HERE Check out our episode on Italy's Years of Lead HERE Check out our episode on the German Revolution HERE Check out our episode on the Spanish Civil War HERE   ---------------------------------------------------- Support Rev Left and get access to bonus episodes: www.patreon.com/revleftradio Make a one-time donation to Rev Left at BuyMeACoffee.com/revleftradio Follow, Subscribe, & Learn more about Rev Left Radio https://revleftradio.com/

Xi Zhongxun's Radical Youth and Peasant Roots. Joseph Turigian introduces Xi Zhongxun's biography, emphasizing the Confucian view that a father explains the son. Xi Zhongxun was born into a poor peasant family in Shaanxi province in 1913, an area marked by violence and poverty. At age 15, he poisoned a school administrator on orders from the local Communist Party, leading to his imprisonment, where he formally joined the Chinese Communist Party in 1928, an early mark of prestige. Xi was motivated by radicalism and a belief that only force could save China. Guest: Joseph Turigian. 1906