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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 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 ...

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, ...

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.  

How, and for what, should life be optimised? Is the growing culture of optimisation leading us towards the homogenisation of culture? These days we're using technology to help us write, make decisions, as well as augment, biohack, sculpt and transform our bodies, inside and out, to look and feel younger and fitter. As we seem to optimise virtually every aspect of our everyday lives, do we somehow end up creating more labour and inefficiencies? The pursuit of human development and self-improvement is a perennial subject of fascination and study, from Aristotle's eudaemonia to Confucian ethics, Maslow's theory, and now, in a form familiar to many: self-help. What does it signal though, when the dominant messages of the marketplace today, and the markers of success and progress of experience, are defined by terms like efficiency and maximum engagement? Marking the year-end – and with a new year around the corner – we're examining what it means to optimise life. Hear hot takes from Infinite Scroll 荧屏沉溺 curator and creative technologist Thea-Mai Baumann, philosopher Emily Hulme, comedian and writer Alex Lee and computer scientist Elliot Varoy. Hosted by Steph Harmon, Culture Editor of Guardian Australia. This podcast is a recording of a live public event held on 10 December 2025. For more links and resources, including the transcript, visit Sydney Ideas website: bit.ly/48Rdjg5

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

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/food

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/chinese-studies

Dr. Deborah Savage returns to explore the dignity and holiness of human work through a deeply Catholic lens. Drawing on her years in the corporate world and her research in virtue ethics, she unpacks how Confucian and Aristotelian traditions reveal the spiritual foundations of excellent work. The conversation also examines the feminine genius in professional settings and why women's unique gifts are essential for human flourishing in the workplace. The episode closes with reflections on AI, Catholic social teaching, and the enduring wisdom of Church tradition for modern leadership.   Institute for the Study of Man & Woman: https://franciscan.edu/man-and-woman-institute/  Connect with Dr. Savage: https://drdeborahsavage.com    Subscribe/Rate Never miss out on an episode by subscribing to the podcast on whatever platform you are listening on. Help other people find the show by sharing this episode on your social media. Thanks!   Connect with Brett: Website: https://brettpowell.org Coaching: buildmylifecompass.com/coaching Twitter/X: @BrettPowellorg https://twitter.com/BrettPowellorg   Music "Southern Gothic" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/   Editing by ForteCatholic (https://www.fortecatholic.com)

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/

This episode we look at many of the natural events and talk about those observing and writing things down, and why they may have wanted to do so. For more, check out our podcast blogpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-139   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 139: Observing the "Natural" World. Members of the Onmyou-ryou, dressed in the official robes of their office, sat around in their observation tower, measuring the location of the stars.  They kept their light to a minimum, just enough so that they could write down their observations, but not so much that it would destroy their vision.  As they looked up, suddenly they saw a strange movement: a streak through the sky.  They waited, and observed, and then there was another, and another after that.  It was as if the stars themselves were falling from the heavens.  They watched as it seemed that the constellations themselves were melting and falling apart.  Quickly they scribbled down notes.  Tomorrow, with the light of day, they would consult various sources to see just what it could mean.  For now, their role was simply to observe and record.   Welcome back, everyone.  It is the height of holiday season in the US as I record this, and in our narrative we are in the middle of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, who came to power in 672 and who has been shoring up the Ritsuryo state instigated by his late brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  We have talked in recent episodes about how Ohoama put a lot of the state under the control of members of the royal family, or at least those with claims to royal blood, and how he had also begun work on the Chronicles—the very works that we have been using to try and understand the history of this and earlier periods.   It seems clear that Ohoama and his cohorts were doing their best to solidify their control and, in the process, create what they felt was a modern state, leveraging the continental model, but not without their own local flavor.  After all, they were also investing in the kami based rituals of state and specifically in Ise shrine, which they claimed as an ancestral shrine for their lineage. This episode, let's dig into another thing that was getting reported around this time.  And that is… science!  Or at least observations of the world and indications of how people were interacting with it. Before going into the subject, I want to acknowledge that "science", or "Kagaku" in modern Japanese, may not look like what we think of as "science" today.  The word "Kagaku" itself appears to come about in the late Edo period, and became associated with the western idea of "Science" in the Meiji period.  Today we think of it as observations, yes, but also testing via the scientific method. I think it might be more appropriate to categorize a lot of earlier science under a term like "learning" or "study", and it seems to have encompassed a wide range of topics of study, some of which we would include as "science" and some which we might refer to more as "arts".  There is also a very fine line with religion and philosophy as well. From a modern perspective, I think one could fairly argue that "science"—particularly the so-called "hard" sciences—refers to something that can be empirically tested via the scientific method.  So you can see something, form a hypothesis, create a test, and then that test should produce the same results no matter who conducts it, assuming you account for the variables. And please don't @ me about this… I know I am simplifying things.  This isn't a podcast about science unless we are talking about the social sciences of history and archaeology. In contrast to our modern concept of science, much of what we see in the Asuka era is built around using our reasoning to arrive at the truth of something.  In cases where we are dealing with clearly physical phenomena that have observable causes and effects, this can lead to remarkably reliable results.  One example of this is calendrical science—it isn't that hard to observe the passing of days and seasons.  Even the rotation of the earth and the movements of stars and even something with as large a period as comets could be observed and tracked, especially if you had centuries of data to comb through.  In fact, they often would predict things that it turns out they couldn't, themselves, see.  They could predict that an eclipse would occur, for example, even when that eclipse was only visible somewhere else.  And they didn't have to calculate gravitational pull, mass, or distances between different heavenly bodies for that to occur. Similarly, in the agricultural sphere: you had so many people who observed the seasons and would figure out new ways of doing things.  It doesn't take an understanding of chlorophyl to know that plants generally do better when exposed to sunlight. I believe the leap happens when you get to things that go beyond purely observable means.  Sickness, for example—how do you explain viruses or germs without equipment like microscopes to see what our eyes alone cannot?  And if such "invisible" things could cause so much damage, then why could there not be other "invisible" elements, such as kami and boddhisatvas?  And as humans we are driven to make connections.  It is one of the things that has driven our technological innovation and rise, but it is also something that can easily go awry.  Like when you are sitting in a dark house, alone, and you hear a noise.  Rationally, you might know that houses settle and creak, but that doesn't necessarily stop your brain from connecting it with thoughts that someone must be in the house making that noise. Or even how we make judgments based on nothing more than how someone talks or what they look like, because our brains have made connections with those things, for good or ill. A large part of the rationalization that was accomplished in Asian thought had to do with concepts of Yin and Yang, the negative and the positive, the dark and the light.  This was thought of as a kind of energy—qi or ki—that was embedded in things.  We discussed this somewhat back in episode 127, because yin yang theory, along with the five element theory, known as Wuxing or Gogyou in Japanese, became embedded in the idea of the calendar.  Why was summer hot, except that it was connected with an excess of fire energy?  And the cold, dark days of winter would be associated with an excess of water, naturally. I should note that while this is one of the more comprehensive philosophical systems in use, it was not the only means by which various phenomena and effects were rationalized.  After all, it had to be imposed on a framework of how the world otherwise worked, and descriptions of the world came from a variety of places.  There was, for example, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, or Sanhaijing, which detailed the world as envisioned in the period before the Qin dynasty, although there were occasional updates.  The Sanhaijing  described regular plants and animals in the same breath as gods and monsters.  There were also various buddhist sutras, which brought their own cosmological view of the universe that had to be squared with other visions, including those passed down locally describing the archipelago as the "Reed Plain" and giving particular importance to eight of the islands—though which eight depends on which variant of the creation myth you are referencing. To categorize the study of the natural—and what we would consider the supernatural—world around them, the Ritsuryou set up specific bureaus.  One of these was the Onmyou-ryou, the Bureau of Yin-yang, also known as the Onyo no Tsukasa.  This Bureau oversaw divination, astronomy, time, and calendars.  At its head was the Onmyou-no-kami.  Below them were the various scholars studying the core subjects, as well as technical practitioners to carry out the rites and divination. On the continent, priority was generally given to astronomical and calendrical studies, and many of the more magical practices or rituals would fade away, likely because there were local Taoist institutions who could take up much of that work.  In Japan, however, it seems that the calendrical studies tended to ossify, instead, while onmyoji came to fill a role not just for the state but also among the population for divination and other such practices.  Even into the Edo period one could find private onmyoji, and the Bureau itself lasted until the very beginning of the Meiji period. Another important institution of the Ritsuryo government for learning was the Daigakuryou, the Bureau of Great Learning.  Students of Japanese may recognize the term "Daigaku" referring, today, to universities. The original concept for the Daigaku-ryou, or Daigaku no Tsukasa, was focused on the study of those things that were considered perhaps a bit more practical and necessary to anyone who might want a political career.  Since this was founded on concepts of Confucian government, it is little wonder that it was originally designed to focus on Confucian studies, among other things.  This fits into the idea of a supposed meritocracy, where one's education was part of the examination.  You may recall from Episode 115 we talked about the National University in Chang'an, which is likely something that the Daigaku Ryou could only ever dream of becoming. Early arts taught at the Daigaku Ryou included the Confucian classics, mathematics, writing, and Chinese pronunciation.  These were all things that you would need to know to become a part of the bureaucracy The idea of a school may have been born along with the early institution of the government, with mention as early as 671, in the last year of Naka no Oe's reign, but we don't have it clearly established in the code until later.  Full operations may have been somewhat delayed due to the tumultuous events of Ohoama's accession to power in 672, but we do see it explicitly mentioned in the year 675.  On the first day of the year we are told that Students from the Daigaku Ryou, along with students from the Onmyou-Ryou and from the Gaiyaku Ryou, the Bureau of External Medicine; along with the Woman of S'ravasti, the Woman of Tara, Prince Syeonkwang of Baekje, and Silla labourers offered presents of drugs and various rarities. We talked about the first two, the Daigaku-ryou and the Onmyou-ryou, but the Gaiyaku Ryou doesn't seem to have a lot of information out there beyond this mention.  Later there would a "Ten'yaku Ryou", or Bureau of Medicine, established in the code.  Since we don't have any extant codes from this period beyond what was written down in the Nihon Shoki, we don't know for certain what the Gaiyaku-ryou was , and it is possible that the Gaiyaku-Ryou was a precursor to the Ten'yaku Ryou.  "GAI" means "outside" or "external", leading me to wonder if this referred to external medicine in contrast to internal medicine, or if it meant medicine or drugs from outside teh archipeloago. I would point out that these students are found with the Woman of S'ravasti, or Shae; the Woman of Tara; a Baekje prince and Silla labourers.  In other words, they were all people from outside of the archipelago.  This is not entirely surprising as it was from outside that much of the learning was coming into the country. "Yaku" or "Kusuri", which can be translated as either "Drugs" or "medicine", could refer to a number of things.  How effective they were is somewhat questionable. Almost certainly some of them had confirmed medicinal efficacy, but others may have been thought to have been effective due to things like their connection to the five elements, or wuxing, theory. For example, something red might be assumed to have a warming effect because of the presumed presence of the fire element.  And the power of the placebo effect no doubt made them seem at least partially effective.  Consider, for example, how many people will swear by certain remedies for the common cold when all it really does is distract you, or perhaps make you a bit more comfortable, until the symptoms pass on their own. A more certain science was probably that of Astronomy, which we've mentioned a few times.  The passage of the stars through the sky was something that could be easily observed.  There is a theory that some of the first lines in the Yijing, or book of changes, may actually be a description of the changing of seasons as different aspects of a given constellation rise over the horizon, and the placement of certain stars would help in the adjustment of the lunar calendar, since the moon's orbit does not match up exactly with the solar year, and year the solar year was quite important to things like agriculture and even sailing to the mainland. This all makes 675 a seemingly banner year for science, as four days after the presentation of medicine to the throne, the government erected a platform by which to observe the stars.  This wouldn't need to be much—it could have been an earthen mound, or just a tower, from which one could get above the ground, presumably see over any buildings, to the horizon.  Granted, Asuka might not be the best place for such observations, with the nearby mountains meaning that the true horizon is often obstructed.  Nonetheless, it may have been enough to make calculations. Astronomy platforms, or Tenmondai, would continue to be used up until at least the Meiji period.  Without a telescope, observations were somewhat limited—though they also didn't have the same level of light pollution that we have today.  Remember, many woke just before dawn and went to sleep not too long after the sun went down, which only makes sense when you are living in a place where creating light, while doable, also ran the risk of burning your entire house to the ground. It is worth noting that the sky for the ancient Japanese was likely quite different than what most of us see when we look up, unless you are fortunate enough to live in a place with very little light pollution.  For many of those living today in the cities and suburban landscape, go outside at night and you might see the moon and some of the brightest stars, but for most of the ancient Japanese, they would look up and see the heavenly river, the Amakawa, or Milky Way.  They would have looked up at a sky glittering with myriad dots of light, as well as planets and more.  It was both familiar and strange—something one saw regularly and yet something that was also extremely inaccessible. Astronomical observations would have been important for several reasons, as I've mentioned.  They would have been used to keep the calendar in check, but they would also have likely been used to help calibrate the water clock, which helped to tell time.  Of course, going back to the five elements and yin yang theory, it is also believed that the energy, the qi or ki, changed with the seasons and the movements of the stars and planets—planets were not known as such, of course, but their seemingly erratic movements compared to bright lights in the sky meant they were noticed and assigned values within the elemental system. One of the things that came with the changing seasons, the heavenly movements, and the flow of ki was a concept of "kata-imi", literally directional taboos.  There were times when certain directions might be considered favorable or unfavorable for various actions.  This could be something as simple as traveling in a given direction.  In the centuries to come this would spawn an entire practice of kata-tagae, or changing direction.  Is the north blocked, but you need to travel there, anyway?  Well just go northwest to say hello to a friend or visit your local sake brewery, and then travel due east.  Ta-da!  You avoided going directly north!  There were also mantra-like incantations that one might say if they had to travel in an inauspicious direction to counteract the concept of bad influences. This also influenced various other things, and even today you will often see dates where a year and month might be followed by simply the character for "auspicious day" rather than an actual day of the month. So observing the heavens was important, and it was also important that they tostudy the works of those on the continent, whose records could help predict various astronomical phenomena.  Except that there was one tiny problem:  I don't know if you've noticed, but Japan and China are in two different locations.  Not all astronomical phenomena can be observed from all points of the globe.  The Northern Lights, for example, are rarely seen in more southerly latitudes, and while eclipses are not too rare, a total eclipse only impacts certain areas of the earth, along relatively narrow paths. I mention this because it isn't always clear if the records we get in the Nihon Shoki are about phenomena they directly observed or if they are taking reports from elsewhere and incorporating them into the narrative.  One such event is the comet of 676. The entry in the Nihon Shoki tells us that in the 7th lunar month of the 5th year of Temmu Tennou, aka 676 CE, a star appeared in the east that was 7 or 8 shaku in length.  It disappeared two months later. We've mentioned some of this before, but the sky was divided up into "shaku", or "feet", though how exactly it was measured I'm not entirely sure.  It appears to be that one foot was roughly 1.5 degrees of the sky, give or take about a quarter of a degree, with 180 degrees from horizon to horizon.  So it would have been about 10 to 12 degrees in the sky.  Another way to picture it is if you hold out your arm towards the object, and spread your index and little finger, it would probably fit between those two points.  This comet hung around for some time, and a great part about a comet like this is that it was viewable from multiple locations.  After all, as the earth turned, different areas were exposed to the comet as it passed through our part of the solar system.  Thus we have records of it from not just the Nihon Shoki:  We also find it in the Anglo-Saxon chronicles, where it was thought to have foretold the end of Bishop Wilfred's control of Northumbria.  We also see it in Tang, Silla, and Syrian sources. These sources aren't always in complete agreement.  For one thing, they noted when they first saw it, which might have been impacted by local conditions.  And then conversion between lunar and solar calendars can also sometimes get in the way.  Roughtly speaking, we have the Nihon Shoki providing dates of somewhere from about August or September of 676, on the Western calendar, to October or November. Tang sources put it from 4 September to 1 November.  Silla Chronicles claim that it first appeared in the 7th lunar month, so between August and September.  A Syrian Chronicle notes a comet from about 28 August to 26 October in the following year, 677, but this is thought to have been a mistake.  European sources generally seem to claim it was seen in August and lasted for three months.  All of these sightings put it at roughly the same time. Working with that and with known comets, we think we actually know which comet this is:  The Comet de Cheseaux also known as the Comet Klinkenberg-Cheseaux.  And I should mention this is all thanks to a research paper by M. Meyer and G. W. Kronk.  In that paper they propose that this is the comet with the designation of C/1743 X1, or the common names I just mentioned.  If so, based on its trajectory, this comet would have been visible in 336, 676, 1032, 1402, 1744, and is next predicted to show up in 2097.  And no, those aren't all exactly the same amount of time.  It is roughly every 350 years or so, but with the movements of the solar system, the planets, and various gravitational forces that likely slow or speed up its movement, it doesn't show up on exactly regular intervals.  Still, it is pretty incredible to think that we have a record of a comet that was seen the world over at this time, by people looking up from some very different places. Comets were something interesting for early astronomers.  They may have originally been seen as particularly ominous—after all, in the early eras, they were hardly predictable, and it would take years to get enough data to see that they were actually a somewhat regular occurrence.  In fact, it is likely that early astronomers were able to figure out eclipse schedules before comets.  Still, they seem to have come to the realization that comets were in fact another type of natural and reoccurring phenomenon.  That isn't to say that they didn't have any oracular meaning, but it did mean they were less of an obvious disturbance of the heavenly order. We have another comet mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 681, but that one seems to have had less attention focused on it, and we don't have the same details.  Then in the 8th lunar month of 682 we have an entry about a Great Star passing from East to West—which was probably a shooting star, rather than a comet.  Comets, for all that they appear to be streaking across the sky thanks to their long tails, are often relatively stable from an earthbound perspective, taking months to appear and then disappear again. Then, on the 23rd day of the 7th month of 684 we get another comet in the northwest.  This one was more than 10 shaku in length—about 15 degrees, total, give or take.  Given the date, we can be fairly confident about this one, as well: it was the famous Halley's comet.  Halley's comet is fascinating for several reasons.  For one, it has a relatively short period of about 72 to 80 years, though mostly closer to 75 to 77 years in between sightings.  The last time it visited the earth was in 1986, and it is expected back in 2061.  Halley's comet has been recorded since the 3rd century BCE, and, likely because of its short period, it was the first periodic comet to be recognized as such.  There are other periodic comets with short periods, but many of them are not visible with the naked eye.  Halley's comet is perhaps the most studied comet, given its regular and relatively short periodicity.  It is also connected to the famous writer, humorist, and essayist, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain.  He was born only a few days after the comet reached perihelion in 1835 and died a day after it reached the same point again in 1910, and while he may not have visited Japan in his lifetime, it was a period of great change both in his home country of America and in Japan.  America, of course, would undergo a Civil War over the issue of slavery in the early 1860s, and shortly after that Japan would have its own civil war in the form of the Meiji Revolution.  And while he never visited—and translation could only do so much to capture the art of his prose—Mark Twain's works were apparently quite influential in Japan in the early 20th century. Of course, comets were just one of the celestial phenomena to be observed.  The astronomers were interested in just about anything happening in the sky.  We have accounts of both solar and lunar eclipses, and not necessarily full eclipses either.  We even have notice of the movement of some planets, such as in 681, when they noted that the planet mars "entered" the moon. Obviously the astronomers weren't recording every raincloud that came through—at least not in the main chronicles—but they did capture a fair number of events.  They did record particularly memorable storms.  For instances, in the 8th lunar month of 675 there was a storm that is said to have caused sand to fly and which then damaged houses.  This sounds like a wind storm without rain—after all, if there was rain, you would expect that the sand would have been wet and tamped down.  It is possible to have hurricane level winds without the rain.  While typhoons typically bring rain, especially as they usually build up their strength at sea, it is possible to have the winds alone, as I've experienced, myself, in Tokyo.  This most likely happens in an isolated area—there is water and rain somewhere, but the typhoon can be large, so parts of it may only get the wind and little or no rain.  I wonder if something like that happened in this instance.  It is also possible that this record refers to actual sand being brought across from the continent.  In some instances, sand can be lifted up from as far away as Mongolia and carried all the way to Japan, though it is pretty rare. And it wasn't just wind and sand.  We get accounts of hail coming down as large as peaches, torrential rainstorms, and even ash, likely from a volcanic eruption that was otherwise unrecorded.  There are also accounts of snow, though typically recorded in times where you wouldn't expect to see it, such as the third lunar month, which would mean snow in late April or early May. Mostly these storms are mentioned in terms of how they affected the immediate fortunes of the living, but sometimes storms did even more damage.  In 682, for example, a hoar-frost was reported in both Shinano and Kibi in the 7th lunar month.  On its own, this probably wouldn't have been worth mentioning, but the chroniclers add that because of storms the "five grains had not formed".  So storms had diminished the crops and the hoar-frost was apparently the killing blow.  The harvest that year would be lean, and it would not be a happy time for many that winter. And then, just as important as what was happening was what was not.  There are several mentions of droughts, particularly towards the end of Spring, early Summer.  This is traditionally a drier period, and if it is too dry it could harm the harvest.  And so the government was expected to find a way to bring the rain—a tall order, the general resolution to which seems to be prayers and rituals designed to bring rain.  In a place like Japan, I suspect that it was usually just a matter of time before the prayers were "successful", thus reinforcing their presumed efficacy. Some of the things that they recorded were a bit more mysterious.  For example, in the second lunar month of 680 we are told that a sound like drums was heard from the East.  There are many things this could theoretically be, from rumbles of thunder to some other phenomenon, though the following year we have a note about thunder in the West, so theoretically they knew the difference between thunder and drums.  Later that same year, 680, we are told that there was a "brightness" in the East from the hour of the dog to the hour of the rat—about 8pm to midnight.  Was this some kind of aurora?  But wouldn't that have been in the north, rather than the east?    Could it have been some kind of lightning?  But that is a long time for a lightning storm to hang around.  And there are other strange things, some of which seem impossible and we have to doubt.  For example, in 684 they said that, at dusk, the seven stars of the Big Dipper drifted together to the northeast and sank.  Unless they are just recording the natural setting of the stars of the big dipper.  Certainly, over time the constellation appears to rotate around the north star, and it dips down to or below the horizon in the autumn months.  So were they just talking about the natural, yearly setting of the stars, or something else? There may be some clues in that the 11th lunar month, when that was recorded, we see several other heavenly phenomena recorded.  Two days after the Big Dipper set, at sunset, a star fell in the eastern quarter of the sky that we are told was as large as a jar.  Later, the constellations were wholly disordered and stars fell like rain.  That same month, a star shot up in the zenith and proceeded along with the Pleiades until the end of the month.  While this sounds like shooting stars and a possible meteor shower, a later commenter suggested that this was all a heavenly omen for the state of the court, showing the "disordered" state of the nobility at this time.  Of course, this was also a year and change before the sovereign's eventual passing, so there is also the possibility that the Chroniclers were looking at events later and ascribing meaning and importance after the fact. In another account of something seemingly wonderous: in 682 we are told that something shaped like a Buddhist flag, colored like flame, was seen by all of the provinces and then sank into the Japan sea north of Koshi.  A white mist is also said to have risen up from the Eastern mountains. There are various things that could be going on here.  It strikes me that the white mist could be a cloud, but could also be something volcanic.  And the flame colored prayer flag makes me think about how a high cloud can catch the light of the rising or setting sun.  That could look like a flag, and can seem extremely odd depending on the other conditions in the sky. Or maybe it was aliens. Okay, it is unlikely that it was aliens, but I think that these do give an idea of the kinds of records that were being made about the observed phenomena.  Obviously the Nihon Shoki is recording those things that were considered particularly significant for whatever reason.  This could just be because it was something odd and unexplained, or perhaps it was more well known but rare.  It may have even had religious connotations based on some aspect, like evoking the image of Buddhist flags.  And it is possible that it was thought to have had significant impact on events—perhaps even an impact that isn't clear to us today, many centuries removed from the events. Some things were clear, however.  Lightning strikes are often mentioned specifically when they strike something of note.  In 678, we are told that a pillar of the Western Hall of the New Palace was struck by lightning, though apparently the building itself survived.  Then, in 686, Lighting appeared in the southern sky with a large roar of thunder.  A fire broke out and caught the tax cloth storehouse of the Ministry of Popular affairs, which immediately exploded in flames.  After all, a thatched roofed, wooden building filled with kindling in the form of cloth—and likely a  fair amount of paper and writing supplies to keep track of it all—sounds like a bonfire waiting to happen.  There were reports that the fire had actually started in Prince Osakabe's palace and then spread to the Ministry of Popular Affairs from there. It is also worth noting that recording of such events was still somewhat new to the archipelago as a whole. They were learning from the continent, but also defining their own traditions. Observations of natural phenomena weren't just relegated to celestial occurrences or weather.  After all, there was something else that one could observe in the sky:  birds.  Now this wasn't your average bird-watching—though I'm not saying that there weren't casual birders in ancient Japan, and if we ever find someone's birding diary from that era I think that would be so cool.  But there were some things that were significant enough to be mentioned. For example, in 678 we get a report of "atori", or bramblings.  Bramblings are small songbirds which are found across Eurasia.  Notably they are migratory, and are known to migrate in huge flocks especially in the winter time, and sure enough on the 27th day of the 12th month we are told that the bramblings flew from the southwest to the northeast, covering the entire sky.  This makes me think about some of the other mass migrations that used to occur that have largely been reduced significantly due to habitat loss, disruption to traditional migratory routes, and other population pressures on various bird species.  Still, having so many birds that it blocked out the sky certainly seems a significant event to report on.  We later see a similar account in 680, with the flock moving from southeast to northwest.  Given the location of Asuka it sounds like they were flocking in the mountains and heading out over the Nara Basin, perhaps seeking food in another mountainous area. In 682, the birders were at it again.  This time, around midday on the 11th day of the 9th lunar month, several hundreds of cranes appeared around the Palace and soared up into the sky.  They were there for about two hours before they dispersed.  Once again, cranes are migratory and known to flock.  Cranes are also known as a symbol of long life and joy—and I can understand it.  Have you ever seen a flock of cranes?  They are not small birds, and they can be really an incredible sight.  Flocks of cranes themselves were probably not that rare, and it was no doubt more about so many gathering around the palace which made it particularly special. It wasn't just birds in the sky that were considered important symbols, though.  Birds often are noted as auspicious omens.  Usually strange birds, plants, or other such things are found in various provinces and presented to the throne.    So in 675, Yamato presented auspicious "barn-door fowl", likely meaning a fancy chicken.  Meanwhile, the Eastern provinces presented a white falcon and the province of Afumi presented a white kite.  Chickens are associated with the sun and thus with the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and albino versions of animals were always considered auspicious, often being mentioned in Buddhist sources.  Later, in 680, we see a small songbird, a "Shitodo", also described as white, and probably albino, sent to the court from nearby Settsu. Then, in 681 there is mention of a red sparrow.  Red coloration is not quite the same as albinism, though it is something that does occur at times, when the brownish coloration comes out more red than brown, and I suspect this is what we are talking about.  This is most likely just a recessed gene or genetic mutation, similar to causes for albinism, but just in a different place in the DNA.  As for why it was important:  I'd first and foremost note that anything out of the ordinary (and even some ordinary things) could be considered a sign.   Red was also seen as an auspicious color, so that may have had something to do with it as well.  And then there is the concept of Suzaku, the red bird of the south.  Suzaku is usually depicted as an exotic bird species of some kind, like how we might depict a phoenix.  But it was also just a "red bird", so there is that, and perhaps that was enough.  Not that this red sparrow was "Suzaku", but evoked the idea of the southern guardian animal.  A year prior, in 680, a red bird—we aren't told what kind—had perched on a southern gate, which even more clearly screams of the Suzaku aesthetic. It is probably worth noting here that in 686, towards the end of the reign, not that anyone knew it at the time, Ohoama decided to institute a new nengo, or regnal period.  It was called Shuuchou—red or vermillion bird—and it likely referred to Suzaku.  This nengo was cut short, however, with Ohoama's death that same year.  Nengo were often chosen with auspicious names as a kind of hope for the nation, so clearly "red bird" was considered a good thing. A month after the red sparrow, Ise sent a white owl, and then a month after that, the province of Suwou sent a red turtle, which they let loose in the pond at the Shima palace.  Again, these were probably just examples of animals seen as auspicious, though they would have likely been recorded by the Onmyou-ryou, who would have likely combed through various sources and precedents to determine what kind of meaning might be attached to them. Color wasn't the only thing that was important.  In 682, the Viceroy of Tsukushi reported that they had found a sparrow with three legs.  There are numerous reasons why this could be, but there is particular significance in Japan and Asia more generally.  A three legged bird is often associated with the sun Andusually depicted as a black outline of a three legged bird inside of a red sun.  In Japan this was often conflated with the Yata-garasu, the Great Crow, which is said to have led the first mythical sovereign, Iware Biko, to victory in his conquest of Yamato.  Thus we often see a three legged crow depicted in the sun, which was an object of particular veneration for the Wa people from centuries before.  And I suspect that the little three-legged sparrow from Tsukushi  I suspect that this had particular significance because of that image. Animals were not the only auspicious things presented to the throne.  In 678, Oshinomi no Miyatsuko no Yoshimaro presented the sovereign with five auspicious stalks of rice.  Each stalk, itself, had other branches.  Rice, of course, was extremely important in Japan, both from a ritual and economic sense, so presenting rice seems appropriate.  Five stalks recalls things like the five elemental theory—and in general five was consider a good number.  Three and five are both good, prime numbers, while four, pronounced "Shi", sounds like death and is considered inauspicious.  Three, or "San" is sometimes associated with life, and five is associated with the five elements, but also just the fact that it is half of ten, and we have five fingers on one hand and in so many other ways, five is regarded as a good number in much of Asia. That the stalks had multiple branches likely referred to them bearing more than the usual amount of rice on them, which seems particularly hopeful.  Certainly the court thought so.  In light of the auspicious gift, all sentences of penal servitude and lower were remitted.  In 680, Officials of the Department of Law gave tribute of auspicious stalks of grain, themselves.  I'm not sure, in this case, that it was all that they hoped, however, as that began three days straight of rain and flooding. A year earlier, in 679, we are told that the district of Ito, in Kii, immediately south of Yamato, sent as tribute the "herb of long life".  We are told that it "resembled" a mushroom—probably meaning it was a mushroom, or maybe something formed into a mushroom shape.  But the stem was about a foot long and the crown was two spans, about 6 feet in diameter.  This is pretty incredible, and I have to wonder if there is a bit of exaggeration going on here. Another tribute was a horn found on Mt. Katsuraki.  It branched into two at the base, was united at the end, and had some flesh and hair still attached, about an inch in length.  They claimed it must be horn or a Lin, or Kirin, sometimes referred to as an Asian unicorn—a mythical creature considered to be quite auspicious and benevolent.  This was on the 26th day in the 2nd lunar month of the year 680, probably around March or April.  I highly suspect that what they found was an oddly shaped bit of antler from  a buck whose antlers had begun to come in and which might have been taken out by wolves or bears or something else altogether.  The fact that the ends were said to be fused together could just be referring to some kind of malformation of the antlers.  The fur and flesh could mean that the antlers were still growing—antlers would probably just be coming in around early spring time.  Still, there is no telling how long it was there, so it could have been from the previous year as well.  Attributing it to a kirin seems a bit of a stretch, but it was clearly something unusual. Animals and plants were recorded in tribute, but also when something odd happened.  Fruiting out of season was one such occurrence, which we've seen elsewhere in the chronicles as well.  There was even a record when the famous Tsuki tree outside of Asukadera had a branch fall down.  Presumably it was a large and noticeable branch, and by now this appears to have been a tree with a bit of age to it that had seen a lot, so it makes sense it got a mention. Finally, we go from the heavens to the earth.    Perhaps the most numerous observations in the Chronicles were the earthquakes.  We've noted in the past that Japan is extremely active, volcanically speaking, so it makes sense that there are multiple accounts of earthquakes each year, especially if they were compiling reports from around the country.  Most of these are little more than just a note that there was an earthquake, but a few stand out. The first is the 12th lunar month of 678.  We are told that there was a large earthquake in Tsukushi—modern Kyushu. The ground split open to the width of about 20 feet for more than 30,000 feet.  Many of the commoners' houses in the area were torn down.  In one place there was a house atop a hill, and though the hill crumbled down the house somehow remained intact.  The inhabitants had apparently been home and must have been oblivious, as they didn't realize anything had happened until they woke up the next morning. Again, probably a bit of hyperbole in here, but if we think back to things like the 2016 Kumamoto earthquake, where large areas of land shifted noticeably along the fault lines, it is likely that this was a similar or even more catastrophic event.  And here I'll give a quick plug for Kumamoto, which is still working to rebuild from the earthquake, and if you ever get a chance, I recommend a visit to the Kumamoto Earthquake Memorial Museum or Kioku, where you can see for yourself just how powerful mother nature can be. Another powerful earthquake was mentioned in the 10th lunar month of 684.  If the earthquake in Tsukushi had hit mostly agricultural areas, based on the description, this seems to have hit more populated regions.  We are told that it started in the dark of night, the hour of the boar, so about 10pm, give or take an hour.  The shaking was so bad that throughout the country men and women cried out and were disoriented—they could not tell east from west, a condition no doubt further hindered by the dark night sky.  There were mountain slides and rivers changed course, breaking their banks and flooding nearby areas.  Official buildings of the provinces and districts, the barns and houses of the common people, and the temples, pagodas, and shrines were all destroyed in huge numbers.  Many people and domestic animals were killed or injured.  The hot springs of Iyo were dried up and ceased to flow.  In the province of Tosa, more than 500,000 shiro of cultivated land sank below sea level.  Old men said that they had never seen such an earthquake.  On that night there was a rumbling noise like that of drums heard in the east—possibly similar to what we had mentioned earlier.  Some say that the island of Idzu, aka Vries Island, the volcanic island at the entrance of Edo Bay, increased on the north side by more than 3,000 feet and that a new island had been formed.  The noise of the drums was attributed to the gods creating that island. So here we have a catastrophic quake that impacted from Iyo, on the western end of Shikoku, all the way to the head of Edo Bay, modern Tokyo.  This appears to be what seismologists have labelled a "Nankai Trough Megathrust Earthquake".  Similar quakes have occurred and are predicted to occur in the future., along a region of Japan from the east coast of Kyushu, through the Seto Inland Sea, including Shikoku, through the Kii peninsula and all the way to Mt. Fuji.  The Nankai Trough, or Southern Sea Trough, is the area where the continental shelf drops down, and where the Philippine tectonic plate slips underneath the Eurasian—or more specifically the Amuric—plate.  As these plates move it can cause multiple events all along the trough at the same time.  Since being regularly recorded, these quakes have been noted every 100 to 150 years, with the last one being the Showa Nankai quakes of 1944 and 1946. For all of the destruction that it brought, however, apparently it didn't stop the court.  Two days after this devastating quake we are told that Presents were made to the Princes and Ministers.  Either they weren't so affected in the capital, or perhaps the date given for one of the two records is not quite reliable.  Personally, I find it hard to believe that there would be presents given out two days later unless they were some form of financial aid.  But what do I know?  It is possible that the court itself was not as affected as other areas, and they may not have fully even grasped the epic scale of the destruction that would later be described in the Chronicles, given the length of time it took to communicate messages across the country. Which brings us back to the "science" of the time, or at least the observation, hoping to learn from precedence or piece out what messages the world might have for the sovereign and those who could read the signs.  While many of the court's and Chronicler's conclusions may give us pause, today, we should nonetheless be thankful that they at least decided to keep notes and jot down their observations.  That record keeping means that we don't have to only rely on modern records to see patterns that could take centuries to reveal themselves.  Sure, at this time, those records were  still a bit spotty, but it was the start of something that would be remarkably important, and even though these Chronicles may have been focused on propaganda, the fact that they include so many other references are an incalculable boon to us, today, if we can just see to make the connections.  And with that, I think I've rambled enough for this episode.  We still have a couple more to fully cover this period. 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.  

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

This episode we cover the first silver mine in Japan, as well as the way that this sovereign is approaching offerings to the kami and handling family matters. For more check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-138   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 138: Offerings and Covenants   A gentle summer breeze blew through the cherry-tree-covered hills of Yoshino valley.  The royal residence, a kind of summer home for the royal family, normally somewhat quiet, was suddenly abuzz with activity.  The regular groundskeepers and those who tended the site throughout the year mingled with servants sent from the capital to make it ready for a royal visit.  Rooms were aired out and swept. Metal fixtures were polished.  The kitchen was stocked and ready to go. It had been some years since the prince—now sovereign—had resided in the valley as an attempt to proclaim he had retired from the world.  Now he was sitting at the top of the state government, but as such, he was more often than not living in the grand palace in Asuka, which he had renovated at the start of his reign. This, the Yoshino palace, was left as more of a vacation home—though "home" hardly did it justice given its majesty compared to the meager dwellings that otherwise surrounded it. And now there was a massive royal procession on their way.  Sure, it was the sovereign and his queen, and only a handful of princes, but they would each need their own quarters and likely have their own household staff that would no doubt need to be fed and housed.  In such a way a "simple" outing for the royal family was so often anything but for those who had to make it happen. And yet, such labor was much preferred to toiling in the fields, especially as the heat of the day started to rise, and the height of summer loomed large in the all-too-immediate future.   Alright, so we are in the midst of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, the brother of Naka no Ohoe, who came to power through the use of military force—purportedly used in self-defense—and the sovereign who would have a profound effect on solidifying the Ritsuryo state, as well as the Chronicles and the history of the archipelago as we know it.  We've talked about Ohoama's ascension to the throne, and even his first year.  We mentioned how, during his reign, he rewarded those who helped him, tweaked the rank system, and we talked a bit about what we know of the clothing and the material culture of the period. This episode, we continue looking at what occurred during Ohoama's reign.  Specifically we'll be covering some of the ways in which Ohoama and his court were shaping the government and the structures of power to serve him and his family.  This includes everything from ritual, such as making offerings to various kami, to the way that he seems to have centralized power to himself and his family, which would have lasting impacts through the Asuka and Nara periods. First, though, a tiny little digression about silver.  We start in the 3rd lunar month of the second year since Ohoama ascended the throne, or the year 674 by the western calendar.  We are told that Woshiumi no Miyatsuko no Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the island that formed the main border between the archipelago and the mainland, reported that silver had been produced there for the first time, and sent in some as tribute.  This is the first recorded instance of silver being produced in Japan. At this time, silver mining was mostly limited to finding a vein of silver on the surface and digging it out as far as one could possibly go into the rock and stone.  Still, silver would eventually become an important resource for the archipelago.  Tsushima would continue to produce silver through modern times.  Granted, production was limited until new refining techniques were introduced from Joseon Korea in the 16th century.  This was just as Ming dynasty deposits were declining, and as such, silver would become a major export from the archipelago to the mainland.  Indeed, by the 17th century, it is said that Japan accounted for one quarter to one third of the entire world's silver production. For now, however, the discovery of native silver was certainly a good start, but the Yamato court wasn't switching to a silver coin currency just yet—rice and cloth were still the major currencies for tax and trade purposes.  Still this find seems not insignificant, and clearly the chroniclers thought so as well -- as did the court.  They granted Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the rank of Lower Shoukin.  The silver produced by the mine was offered to the various kami of heaven and earth, and presents were made to the high ministers and others of the rank of Shoukin and above. Now back to the Chronicles, and to the meat of what I'll be talking about this episode. On the 3rd day of the 8th lunar month of 674, we are told that the Royal Prince Wosakabe was sent to Isonokami shrine to polish up the divine treasures, at which point the sovereign made a rather spectacular decree:  he declared that all of the precious things originally deposited in the sacred treasuries by the various houses should be returned to their descendants. This appears to be a reference to the long-standing practice by Yamato of demanding that those they had gained some level of hegemony over turn over their sacred objects for Yamato's keeping.    We talked about this back in episodes 19 and 29, for example, when we talked about how Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tenno, and Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tenno, had both requested treasures from Izumo and elsewhere, to be stored in the treasure house of Isonokami. We aren't told what all of these treasures were, but we can deduce that these were sacred treasures of the different houses and localities, much as the mirror, jewel, and sword were sacred treasures of Yamato.  These were items that early on distinguished the elite class in the archipelago, and had come to be gathered in the divine store houses.  You may recall how, early on, we saw mentions in the Chroncles that ships sent out to meet with others from different lands would place such treasures on a makeshift tree on the deck as a way of depicting who they were—who they represented. It would seem that these sacred objects came to represent the divine ancestors of the elites, and so eventually were associated with the idea of power and authority.  As Yamato spread its influence, possibly as much through the spiritual authority of Mt. Miwa as through its economic and military capability, it seems to have demanded that the various lands that came under its sway place their sacred treasures in Yamato's storehouse—a powerful image of Yamato's authority.  In a sense, this was a kind of hostage situation: recognize our authority, or your most sacred treasures, representing your ancestors, will be at risk .  One wonders if this isn't part of the reason that we find buried caches of bronze ritual items, including weapons, bells, and other such things, perhaps as a means of keeping them safe from those who would steal them away. However, in the new era of the Ritsuryo system, those objects, while still considered divine and sacred, did not hold the same value as they once had.  Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but this really seems to me to be particularly illustrative of the idea that the cultural imaginary of state power and authority had shifted.  Yamato's power and authority was no longer based on its role as a spiritual powerhouse as much as it was centered on the continental framework of a heavenly mandate and a system of laws and punishments.   And so, the sovereign could return the sacred items back to their descendants, because to do so did not cost him anything, and at the same time would no doubt earn him goodwill.  He could appear magnanimous and, in so doing, solidify his position as the supreme hegemon of this new state.  In many ways this acknowledged the importance of the divine treasures to the people and to the kami while also no doubt reinforcing Confucian stereotypes of the benevolent ruler. More importantly, this shows how Ohoama was restructuring the rituals of the state.  After all, he had the Jingikan, an entire governmental department dedicated to administering the various shrines and sacred rituals; so even if the sacred treasures were returned, they were still technically under the control of the state apparatus.  We've already talked about the Daijosai, the Feast of First Fruits for a new reign, a central ritual to which Ohoama had added further pomp and circumstance.  But as no less a scholar than Herman Ooms has written about, Ohoama also initiated the practice of ordering regular centralized offerings to not just one particular kami, but to several or even a number of kami, or shrines, at any given time.  We see this in the following year, on the 23rd day of the first lunar month of 675, in an almost off-hand remark. Later, in the 10th month of 676 offerings were made to all of the "Ahimbe" kami of Heaven and Earth—that is all of kami that were part of the festival of first fruits held on the first day of the rabbit on the 11th lunar month.  Offerings were also made to all of the Heavenly and Earthly kami on the second day of the year in 681. Of course, these offerings would not just be enriching the shrines of these various kami, but it would also reflect on the various uji connected to each of those shrines, as well. Another example of the court's involvement in these ritual innovations appears to be the worship of the deities at Tatsuta and Hirose.  The first example of that is also in 675, in the 4th month of that year.  Prince Mino and Saheki no Muraji no Hirotari were sent to the Wind-gods at Tateno, in Tatsuta.  Aston notes that there is a litany to the Wind-gods mentioned in the Engishiki, a 10th century collection of information on various rituals of the time, so this practice seems to have taken hold, at least enough to persist over 3 centuries later.  Also in the 4th month of 675, Hashibito no Muraji no Ohobuta and Sone no Muraji no Karainu were sent to worship the Oho-imi deity at Kahawa, in Hirose. The Oho-imi appears to be a "big abstinence" deity, whom Aston identifies with Waka'ukahime, responsible for food.  Worship is again paid twice in the year 676, once in 677, then twice again in 679, continuing twice a year, almost exclusively in the 4th and 7th lunar months, through the end of the reign.  Why were these particular deities chosen for special worship by the court?  Ooms notes that these shrines were built downstream along the Yamato river, which, along with its tributaries, was responsible for the irrigation of the crops in the Nara basin.  This mirrors, in some ways, the responsibility of rulers in the Yellow River and Yangzi river regions to help ensure the flow of the rivers while preventing devastating flooding – a very continental idea of the responsibilities of the sovereign, though expressed here with a particularly Japanese style. Indeed, Aston associates the deity at Hirose, with the deity of food.   Likewise, the Wind-deities at Tatsuta were also related to helping to grow crops.  After all, Tatsuta would have been situated near the break in the mountains that surrounds the Nara basin, where the Yamato River flows out towards the Kawachi plain.  As anyone who lives near a mountain gap is no doubt familiar, those areas are notorious for channeling weather phenomena, including storms, which can bring rain, but could also bring terrible winds.  So it does seem a natural point to pray for good weather for your harvest or otherwise, given the geography that made up the sovereign's world. We also have, in this reign, considerably more discussion of Ise than we've seen, previously.  In 673 we have the Royal Princess Ohoku no Himemiko entering the Saigu, the Abstinence, or Purification, Palace, where she was to be purified before going to Ise, which she did in the 10th lunar month of 674.  Ohoku is said to have been the first official Saiou, the unmarried royal princess sent to oversee shrine operations, of Ise Shrine.  This is a practice we see at multiple shrines, although it's most prominent at Ise. The term for the position in general is Saiou, although at Ise the royal princess would also be known as the Saiguu, after the purification palace.  Although Ohoku is said to have been the first Saiguu at Ise, this is muddied somewhat by some earlier mentions in the Chronicles.  There are those who are said to have been sent as Shrine Princesses to Ise back in the time of Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko, but the process was largely discontinued—or at least rarely mentioned—until this period.  There are certainly several named individuals who are said to have served the Deity of Ise previously, starting with the presumably mythical Yamato Hime, who is credited with founding the shrine.  There are also various royal princesses are noted as either having served or as having been made ineligible due to their indiscretions. However, those earlier mentions rarely go into the detail we see here —starting with the abstinence hall, where the would-be Shrine Princess must purify herself prior to approaching the shrine, a process that took some time.  Certainly we first really see this put into action with Ohoku, and from that time the position of Saiguu or Saiou at Ise does appear to have been regularly filled.  That Ohoku was actually the first "Saiguu" shrine princess appears to be confirmed by the "Fusou Ryakki", which states that the first Saiou was appointed when then Prince Ohoama, in the midst of the Jinshin war, made a prayer to Ise and offered the royal princess Ohoku no Himemiko in exchange for victory.  In fact, a lot of the focus on Ise seems to stem from its apparent involvement, at the behest of either Ohoama or his consort, Uno no Sarara Hime, in the conflict. The following year we are told that the Royal Princesses Towochi and Abe proceeded to Ise Shrine as well, though presumably just for a brief visit.  Towochi, you may recall, was Ohoama's daughter who had been married to Ohotomo, aka Koubun Tennou, whom Ohoama had defeated to take the throne.  Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, half-sister to Ohoama's queen, Uno, and would eventually go on to marry the Crown Prince, Kusakabe.  That gives you some idea of the position of those were going to the shrine. Princess Towochi herself would fall ill a few years later in 678.  In fact, it was just as the sovereign himself was preparing to go pay a visit to the abstinence palace, perhaps so that he could also head out to Ise.  The court had a divination to figure out when he would leave, officers had cleared the roads, and the public functionaries were in a line of procession when word came that Princess Towochi, suddenly took ill and died within the palace.  This stopped everything in its tracks, and in that year there was no sacrifice made to the kami of heaven and earth.  I suspect that this was in part due to mourning and in part due to the pollution more generally associated with death. Two weeks later, she was buried at Akaho, and Ohoama raised a lament for her. Later, in 686, we are told that the Royal Princess Taki, the Princess Yamashiro no Hime, and the Lady Ishikawa were all sent to Ise Shrine, though Princess Taki returned in less than a fortnight. Why all this focus on Ise?  Remember that the Chronicles were begun in this era, and so the "truth" they would tell would be the truth that Ohoama and his immediate successors orchestrated. The focus on Amaterasu, her shrine at Ise, and the role of the sovereign as Heavenly Descendant was thus part of the overarching narrative that the Chroniclers tried to promote.  Still, hints that the focus on Ise shrine may have been something largely created in this era, however, are scattered throughout the existing literature, despite the Chroniclers' best efforts. For one thing, it is fairly clear that early on, the focus in the Chronicles is on  Mt. Miwa and the deity  Ohomononushi, rather than Amaterasu.  We also see the fingerprints of deities like Takami no Musubi, who in one story is the one who is actually responsible for sending the Heavenly Grandchild down to earth in the first place. It also seems telling that Amaterasu is not mentioned in earlier court rituals.  Worship of Amaterasu by the royal family takes place at Ise shrine.  Meanwhile, there are various rituals preserved within the traditions of the palace that include many other, seemingly older deities. I have also noted in the past how Ise shrine isn't even the primary shrine of Ise no Kuni.  In fact, that is claimed by Tsubaki shrine, the shrine to Saruta Hiko no Ohokami, with a separate shrine to Ame no Uzume, who are both said to have met the heavenly grandchild on his descent. None of this is to say that Ise Jingu was brand new at the time of the Chronicles' writing —there does seem to have been a shrine on that spot for some time, though even the Chronicles suggest that it might have been moved from a shrine originally housed in the Nara basin.  It is also possible, and even likely, that the rise of Ise and Amaterasu coincided with other trends at the time.  Even if the Sun Goddess had not always been centered in Yamato ritual, she was not a new deity, and it may have been the case that her prominence, and that of her shrine in Ise had been growing in prominence before this time, and so the court was now adopting that popularity for themselves.  Of course, Ohoama and Uno don't exactly spell out what they were attempting to achieve, beyond the unification of the archipelago, more broadly.  How, exactly, their focus on Ise Shrine was meant to play into that I don't know that I could fully state, but it certainly seems to have allowed the sovereign to create a new cultic focus for kami worship with a story that touched on regions from Kyushu all the way to the eastern shore of the Kii peninsula. Given the decentralized nature of kami worship, I don't believe it was possible to completely rewrite all of the stories—hence the numerous and conflicting accounts given in the Chronicles.  However, that is also what would have made it easier to hide newly fabricated—or perhaps simply exaggerated—stories in the mix.  And of course, it wasn't necessarily that the Chroniclers were creating things out of whole cloth, but they were able to choose those things that people would remember and what would be lost and forgotten over time.  They had to make the decision, for instance, which story they told was the "main" storyline, and which were listed as coming from "other books", implying a degree of separation from the truth. Through all of this, it certainly seems that propping up the royal family and its lineage was a central focus—even if that lineage was largely something that had recently been created.  As a reminder, we see a lot heavier reliance at this point on royal princes as opposed to other elite families, and an actual or implied reliance, in particular, on the royal family, as that is where Ohoama was consolidating most of the power and authority. Kitayama Shigeo coined the term "Koushin Seiji" to refer to this idea of a consolidated royal—or imperial—family managing the affairs of state.  Literally it is something like "Imperial Family Government".   In Shigeo's concept this was specifically an autocratic authority executed by the sovereign, and those of his immediate family.  Of course, writing in the post-war era, it is more than a little likely that Shigeo and others were looking at the concept of Tennou in the 20th century compared with many other world monarchs.  In that vein, the Asuka and Nara periods do seem to have been one of the rare times—perhaps even the last time—that the sovereigns had such a direct hand in the government and the making and establishment of law and tradition. That said, not everyone ascribes entirely to the idea that Ohoama was a completely autocratic despot—after all, it was clear that there were still plenty of powerful families in the archipelago, and the Ritsuryo state itself was also being strengthened.  Still, it does seem that Ohoama had brought his queen, Uno no Sarara, and his descendants into government.  And they would not only assist him, but continue his work for the next generations, such that even though the histories would not be finished until well after Ohoama's death, they would still show his influence on events. The dedication of the royal family to work as one is perhaps most clearly demonstrated in the events of the 5th lunar month of 679.  It was then that the sovereign, and his family, proceeded to the Yoshino Palace.  Now Ohoama had plenty of offspring—among them 10 sons.  And as long as he was around, there would be a certain amount of civility, but he knew all too well how things could break down after a sovereign's death.  And so he brought them together and he made them enter into a pact, which we know as the Yoshino Covenant, or Yoshino no Meiyaku.  Besides Ohoama himself, there were several others in attendance, presumably those who might stand to one day inherit the realm.  These included his partner and queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, as well as her son, Prince Kusakabe, who would be named Crown Prince, only a couple of years later.  It also included the Royal princes Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki.  All of these individuals were made to swear an oath to support each other, even though they were all from different mothers, and they agreed. But so what?  Why does it matter?  It is all well and good that Ohoama brought them together for a bit of kumbaya in his old digs away from the capital, but was there anything really to this covenant. This covenant is significant in several ways.  First off, it is clear that Ohoama was pulling in his family and trying to ensure they were onboard with what he was doing and what was planned.  Furthermore, it set out a clear line of succession, something that had not really been done up to this point. We have ideas on what would have made a candidate eligible, but other than naming a particular crown prince there hasn't exactly been any clear process or rules of precedence for who would assume the throne.  Here, though, we have a list that appears to be in order of precedence, since it otherwise may not seem to make sense, at least from a modern perspective. A key clue in the Chronicles is often the order of the names.  The most important or highest ranking person is usually given first, and then names are typically given in descending order of precedence.  There are clues that this is the case, but it becomes even more stark when we actually see reference to an individual's court rank or the size of their fief.  Since this period brings about court rank even for royal princes, we have some of that, at least in later records.  As such, there is the idea that this order was actually providing for a line of succession.   As I mentioned, up to this point, the contest for the throne was a toss up with each monarch's death.  Claims from competing princes were often considered equally valid until one proved their claim through a political or military victory.  Ohoama appears to have been trying to add greater structure to this.  Specifically, we see that Uno no Sarara's son, Kusakabe, is given pride of place.  In fact, throughout the Chronicle it is typical that we see the Chroniclers designate a queen—a Kougou—that is considered the primary wife.  This queen is almost always found to be the descendant of previous royalty, granting their child a doubly royal lineage, through both the maternal and paternal lines.   There has been plenty of reason to doubt that this was actually the case, and it often seems like the Chroniclers stretched things more than a bit to make it all work out.  However, now we are almost more concerned with the very *truth* that the Chroniclers were attempting to burn into the social consciousness rather than the historical facts, because that gives us direct insight into how the court of the day viewed succession and legitimacy.And that does lead to another possible thought:  since the Chroniclers knew how things turned out it is possible that they were the ones ensuring that the order was as we have it.  So we cannot definitively say that this exactly mirrors's Ohoama's idea, but it certainly seems in line with his history and intentions and helps set the stage for us, at least, regarding what would later transpire in regards to succession.. Getting back to the covenant, as I noted, the first person listed, after Ohoama and Uno no Sarara Hime, is Prince Kusakabe.  He would be about 17 or 18 years old at this time, which is probably why he wasn't formally named Crown Prince until a couple of years later.  He isn't the eldest son, however.  Rather he was the second son.  Ohoama's eldest son, Prince Takechi, was actually third in line. Takechihad been with his father helping to lead the troops during the Jinshin War. While he was some 8 years senior to Kusakabe, he was nonetheless a son of Amago no Musume, one of Ohoama's consorts from a powerful clan, but not a royal princess like Uno no Sarara, Kusakabe's mother. Between Kusakabe and Takechi, in the second place spot for succession, was actually Prince Ohotsu, whom we also mentioned during the Jinshin War.  Ohotsu was likely 16-17 years old around this time.  While he was the third eldest child, he, like Kusakabe, was the son of a Royal Princess, Princess Ota, daughter of Naka no Oe, giving him greater bonafides than Takechi, apparently. So, in the top three slots, we have: Ohoama's eldest son by a royal mother, Ohoama's second eldest son by a royal mother, and finally Ohoama's eldest son by a non-royal mother. Fourth in line, and the 4th eldest, presumably, though I don't know that we have an actual age for him, is Prince Wosakabe.  He likely wasn't too young, however, as he had been given the task, previously, to polish the divine treasures in Isonokami's storehouse. It would appear that six of Ohoama's other sons didn't even get a mention.  That includes Princes Naga and Yuge, born to another daughter of Naka no Ohoe, Ohoye no Himemiko.  Then there is Prince Toneri, son of Royal Princess Nittabe, not to be confused with Royal Prince Nittabe, Ohoama's son by way of a daughter of Fujiwara no Kamatari.  Finally there was Royal Prince Hodzumi, a maternal grandson of Soga no Akaye, and Prince Shiki, a full brother to Prince Wosakabe. Prince Toneri is particularly conspicuous in his absence.  We know that he held the 5th rank, and two positions in government—that of Nagon, or Councillor, as well as the Minister of the Household, our Kunaikyou.  This may be because he was not doing so well.  We aren't told the story until the following year, on the 2nd day of the 7th lunar month of 680, when we are told that Prince Toneri took ill and was on the point of death.  His half-brother, Prince Takechi, went to check on him, and a day later Toneri passed away.  The way these are written it would be easy to believe that it all happened in a pretty short timeframe, but it is also just as likely that illness lingered, especially without modern medicine.  So it is possible that Prince Toneri was too sick at the time of the original covenant, though there could be some other reason we weren't told. This doesn't necessarily hold for all of the others, though.  For instance, we have the Princes Naga and Yuge mentioned in 693, well over a decade later, being granted the 2nd Broader Pure Rank at the same time that Prince Takechi is granted the 1st Broader Pure Rank.  So we can at least see that they were ranked below Takechi.   Similarly we see Prince Hodzumi likewise attained 2nd Broader Pure Rank at some point, and was still around to have his own fief and to receive houses to it in the following reign.  Hozumi even ranked above some of the others were in Yoshino, and yet was not present. It is possible that the princes not mentioned, assuming they had not met with an untimely end that was not mentioned in the record somewhere, could have been too young or too junior at the time of the meeting.  After all, when we look at the known ages of those who were there, we see that Prince Takechi may have been 25 years old, but Prince Kusakabe and Prince Otsu were just under 20, and it is unclear if others were older or younger than they were. There are two other princes who were part of the covenant who were not, perhaps surprisingly, sons of Ohoama.  Rather they were his nephews, sons of Ohoama's brother, Naka no Ohoe.  They were the princes Kawashima and Shiki. Kawashima is mentioned several times throughout the record.  Kawashima's mother was from a high ranking noble family, but given that Kawashima was married to his cousin, one of Ohoama's daughters, that may have brought him closer to the family.  He was about 22 years old at the time, too.  We see him often teaming up with Prince Osakabe on various projects, including the project to compile together the history of the royal household.  In fact, Prince Kawashima always precedes Prince Osakabe when they are mentioned together.  That said, we have evidence of Kawashima only being awarded up to 3rd Greater Pure rank, below even that of some who were not present, such as Prince Hodzumi.  His importance and impact, however, is noted through his numerous appearances in the record. In contrast, Prince Shiki has almost no mentions in the record.  It doesn't help that there are two Princes Shiki, one born to Naka no Ohoye and one born to Ohoama.  Their names are spelled differently, however, and although the first character of "Shiki" used in the Yoshino record matches neither name, the second character suggests that this was the son of Naka no Ohoye and not the Shiki that was brother to Prince Osakabe—though given that one followed the other in the record, there may have been some confusion on this point. And with all of that we have our apparent line of succession, as well as an idea of who the movers and shakers might be within the royal family.  From Ohoama and Uno no Sarara, we have Princes Kusakabe, Ohotsu, Takechi, Kawashima, Osakabe, and Shiki.  Six princes, four directly descended from the current sovereign, Ohoama, and two from the Naka no Ohoe lineage. Obviously, promoting the idea of a strictly patrilineal succession of father to son would have caused some problems for Ohoama's own legitimacy, not that anyone was going to gainsay him while he was on the throne.  However, with Kusakabe they seem to have established that in a de facto format, at least.  Furthermore it provided a blueprint for succession might fall to the other lines should the main line not work out.  This put Prince Ohotsu as next in line, should anything happen to Kusakabe, followed by Takechi.  That Kawashima may have had a shot over Osakabe and then Shiki is interesting as it suggests that it wasn't strictly about who descended from whom. We'll have to wait for Ohoama's death before we can fully appreciate how well this worked, of course.  Throughout history, agreements and covenants amongst powerful interests are often only as permanent as long as all of the interests remain aligned with one another, whether through mutual benefit or threat of consequences.  Once the power shifts, as it always does, those promises and treaties are almost always up for renegotiation, unless they are supported by some higher authority, whatever that might be. Following the royal family's off-site, they returned to the palace in Asuka.  There they had a formal ceremony in the Great Hall, the Ohodono, where the six princes all demonstrated their allegiance and paid respects to Ohoama.  Given the timing of this event, one can likely assume that it was a kind of public acknowledgement of the covenant and the agreement that they would all be working together as a united front on the project of the government. And with that, I think we can bring it to  a close for now.  There is plenty more about this reign to discuss before we move on, but we'll get there. 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.  

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This episode we start to get more into the material culture of the period with court fashion, as we look at the court robes that went along with the updated court ranks.  Granted, we only have a few resources, but from those it does seem like we can construct at least a plausible idea of what the court may have looked like at this time. For more discussion, check out the blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-137   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 137:  Courtly Fashion. In the New Year's ceremony, the court officials lined up in front of the Kiyomihara Palace, arranged by their relative court rank, dressed in their assigned court robes.  The effect was impressive—the rows of officials painting the courtyard like the bands of color in a rainbow, albeit one with only a couple of hues.  The fact that they were all wearing the same style of dress and black, stiffened gauze hats only added to the effect.  The individual officers were all but lost in what was, at least in outward form, a single, homogenous machine of government, just waiting for the command of their monarch to attend to the important matters of state. We are covering the reign of Ohoama no Ohokimi, aka Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito no Sumera no Mikoto, aka Temmu Tennou.  Last episode we went over the changes he had made to the family titles—the kabane—as well as to the courtly rank system.  For the former, he had consolidated the myriad kabane and traditional titles across Yamato into a series of eight—the Yakusa no Kabane.   These were, from highest to lowest: Mabito, Asomi, Sukune, Imiki, Michinoshi, Omi, Muraji, and Inaki.  By the way, you might notice that "Mabito" actually occurs in Ohoama's posthumous name:  Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito, which lends more credence to the idea that that kabane was for those with a special connection to the royal lineage. Besides simplifying and restructuring the kabane, Ohoama also reformed the court rank system.  He divided the Princely ranks into two categories:  Myou, or Bright, and Jou, or Pure.  For the court nobles the categories were:                Shou – Upright                Jiki – Straight                Gon – Diligent                Mu – Earnest                Tsui – Pursue                Shin – Advancement Each category was further divided into four grades (except for the very first princely category, Myou, which was only two).  Each grade was then further divided into large, "dai", or broad, "kou". And this brings us to our topic today. Along with this new rank system, Ohoama's administration also instituted a new set of court sumptuary laws. Some are vague in the record—we can just make assumptions for what is going on based on what we know from later fashion choices.  Others are a little more clear.  We'll take a look at those sumptuary laws, particularly those that were directly associated with the new court rank system, but we'll also look at the clothing styles more generally. To start with, let's talk about what we know about clothing in the archipelago in general.  Unfortunately, fabric doesn't tend to survive very well in the generally acidic soils of the Japanese archipelago.  Cloth tends to break down pretty quickly.  That said, we have fragments here and there and impressions in pottery, so we have some idea that there was some kind of woven fabric from which to make clothing out of. And before I go too far I want to give a shout out to the amazing people at the Kyoto Costume Museum.  They have a tremendous website and I will link to it in the comments.  While there may be some debate over particular interpretations of historical clothing, it is an excellent resource to get a feel for what we know of the fashion of the various periods.  I'll also plug our own website, SengokuDaimyo.com, which has a "Clothing and Accessory" section that, while more geared towards Heian and later periods, may still be of some use in looking up particular terms and getting to know the clothing and outfits. At the farthest reaches of pre-history, we really don't have a lot of information for clothing.  There is evidence of woven goods in the Jomon period, and we have Yayoi burials with bits of cloth here and there, but these are all scraps.  So at best we have some conjecture as to what people were wearing, and possibly some ability to look across the Korean peninsula and see what people had, there. There are scant to no reliable records from early on in Japanese history, and most of those don't really do a great job of describing the clothing.  Even where we do get something, like the Weizhi, one has to wonder given how they tended to crib notes from other entries. There is at least one picture scroll of interest: Portraits of Periodical Offering of Liang, or Liáng -Zhígòngtú.  It is said to have been painted by Xiao Yi in the early 6th century, and while the original no longer exists there is an 11th century copy from the time of the Song Dynasty.  The scroll shows  various ambassadors to the Liang court, including one from Wa.  The Wa ambassador is shown with what appears to be a wide piece of cloth around his hips and legs, tied in front.  His lower legs are covered in what we might call kyahan today: a rather simple wrap around leg from below the knee to the foot.  He has another, blue piece of cloth around his shoulders, almost like a shawl, and it is also tied in front.  Then there is a cloth wrapped and tied around his head. It's hard to know how much of this depiction is accurate and how much the artist was drawing on memory and descriptions from things like the Weizhi or Wei Chronicles, which stated that the Wa people wore wide cloths wrapped around and seamlessly tied As such, it may be more helpful to look at depictions actually from the archipelago: specifically, some of the human-figured haniwa, those clay cylinders and statues that adorned the burial mounds which gave the kofun period its name.  Some of these haniwa are fairly detailed, and we can see ties, collars, and similar features of clothing. These haniwa primarily seem to cluster towards the end of the Kofun period, in the later 6th century, so it is hard to say how much they can be used for earlier periods, though that is exactly what you will typically see for periods where we have little to know evidence.  I'm also not sure how regional certain fashions might have been, and we could very much be suffering from survivorship bias—that is we only know what survived and assume that was everything, or even the majority. Still, it is something. Much of what we see in these figures is some kind of upper garment that has relatively tight sleeves, like a modern shirt or jacket might have, with the front pieces overlapping create a V-shaped neckline.  The garment hem often hangs down to just above the knee, flaring out away from the body, and it's held closed with ties and some kind of belt, possibly leather in some cases, and in others it looks like a tied loop of cloth.  There is evidence of a kind of trouser, with two legs, and we see ties around the knee.  In some cases, they even have small bells hanging from the ties.  Presumably the trousers might have ties up towards the waist, but we cannot see that in the examples we have. We also see individuals who have no evidence of any kind of bifurcated lower garment.  That may indicate an underskirt of some kind, or possibly what's called a "mo"—but it could also be just a simplification for stability, since a haniwa has a cylindrical base anyway.  It is not always obvious when you are looking at a haniwa figure whether it depicts a man or woman: in some cases there are two dots on the chest that seem to make it obvious, but the haniwa do come from different artisans in different regions, so there is a lot of variability. We also see evidence of what seem to be decorative sashes that are worn across the body, though not in all cases.  There are various types of headgear and hairstyles.  Wide-brimmed and domed hats are not uncommon, and we also see combs and elaborate hairstyles depicted.  On some occasions we can even see that they had closed toed shoes.  For accessories, we see haniwa wearing jewelry, including necklaces (worn by both men and women), bracelets, and earrings.  In terms of actual human jewelry, early shell bracelets demonstrate trade routes, and the distinctive magatama, or comma shaped jewel, can be found in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula, where it is known as "gogok".  Based on lines or even colored pigment on the haniwa, it appears that many of these outfits were actually quite heavily decorated.  Paint on the outfits is sometimes also placed on the face, suggesting that they either painted or tattooed themselves, something mentioned in the Wei Chronicles.  We also have archaeological examples of dyed cloth, so it is interesting that people are often depicted in undyed clothing.  There is one haniwa that I find particularly interesting, because they appear to be wearing more of a round-necked garment, and they have a hat that is reminiscent of the phrygian cap: a conical cap with the top bent forward.  These are traits common to some of the Sogdians and other Persian merchants along the silk road, raising the possibility that it is meant to depict a foreigner, though it is also possible that it was just another local style. If we compare this to the continent, we can see some immediate difference.  In the contemporaneous Sui dynasty, we can see long flowing robes, with large sleeves for men and women.  The shoes often had an upturned placket that appears to have been useful to prevent one from tripping on long, flowing garments.  Many of these outfits were also of the v-neck variety, with two overlapping pieces, though it is often shown held together with a fabric belt that is tied in front.  The hats appear to either be a kind of loose piece of fabric, often described as a turban, wrapped around the head, the ends where it ties together trailing behind, or black lacquered crowns—though there were also some fairly elaborate pieces for the sovereign. As Yamato started to import continental philosophy, governance, and religion, they would also start to pick up on continental fashion.  This seems particularly true as they adopted the continental concept of "cap rank" or "kan-i". Let's go over what we know about this system, from its first mention in the Chronicles up to where we are in Ohoama's reign. As a caveat, there is a lot we don't know about the details of these garments, but we can make some guesses. The first twelve cap-ranks, theoretically established in 603, are somewhat questionable in their historicity, as are so many things related to Shotoku Taishi.  And their names are clearly based on Confucian values:  Virtue, Humanity, Propriety, Faith, Justice, and Wisdom, or Toku, Nin, Rei, Shin, Gi, and Chi.  The five values and then just "Virtue", itself. The existence of this system does seem to be confirmed by the Sui Shu, the Book of Sui, which includes a note in the section on the country of Wa that they used a 12 rank system based on the Confucian values, but those values were given in the traditional Confucian order vice the order given in the Nihon Shoki.   The rank system of the contemporaneous Sui and Tang dynasties was different from these 12 ranks, suggesting that the Yamato system either came from older dynasties—perhaps from works on the Han dynasty or the Northern and Southern Dynasty, periods—or they got it from their neighbors, Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo.  There does seem to be a common thread, though, that court rank was identifiable in one's clothes. As for the caps themselves, what did they look like?  One would assume that the Yamato court just adopted a continental style cap, and yet, which one? It isn't fully described, and there are a number of types of headwear that we see in the various continental courts. Given that, we aren't entirely sure exactly what it looked like, but we do have a couple of sources that we can look at and use to make some assumptions.  These sources l ead us to the idea of a round, colored cap made of fabric, around the brim that was probably the fabric or image prescribed for that rank.  It is also often depicted with a bulbous top, likely for the wearer's hair, and may have been tied to their top knot.     Our main source for this is the Tenjukoku Mandala Embroidery (Tenjukoku-mandara-shuuchou) at Chuuguuji temple, which was a temple built for the mother of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.    This embroidery was created in 622, so 19 years after the 12 ranks would have been implemented. It depicts individuals in round-necked jackets that appear to have a part straight down the center.  Beneath the jacket one can see a pleated hem, possibly something like a "hirami", a wrapped skirt that is still found in some ceremonial imperial robes.  It strikes me that this could also be the hem of something like the hanpi, which was kind of like a vest with a pleated lower edge.  Below that we see trousers—hakama—with a red colored hem—at least on one figure that we can see.  He also appears to be wearing a kind of slipper-like shoe. As for the women, there are a few that appear to be in the mandala, but it is hard to say for certain as the embroidery has been damaged over the years. That said, from what we can tell, women probably would have worn something similar to the men in terms of the jacket and the pleated under-skirt, but then, instead of hakama, we see a pleated full-length skirt, or mo.  We also don't have a lot of evidence for them wearing hats or anything like that. The round necked jacket is interesting as it appears to be similar to the hou that was common from northern China across the Silk Road, especially amongst foreigners.  This garment  came to displace the traditional robes of the Tang court and would become the basis for much of the court clothing from that period, onwards.  The round necked garment had central panels that overlapped, and small ties or fastenings at either side of the neck to allow for an entirely enclosed neckline.  This was more intricate than just two, straight collars, and so may have taken time to adopt, fully. The next change to the cap-rank system was made in 647, two years into the Taika Reform.  The ranks then were more directly named for the caps, or crowns—kanmuri—and their materials and colors.  The ranks translate to Woven, Embroidered, Purple, Brocade, Blue, Black, and finally "Establish Valor" for the entry level rank. The system gets updated two years later, but only slightly.  We still see a reference to Woven stuff, Embroidery, and Purple, but then the next several ranks change to Flower, Mountain, and Tiger—or possibly Kingfisher.  These were a little more removed from the cap color and material, and may have had something to do with designs that were meant to be embroidered on the cap or on the robes in some way, though that is just speculation based on later Ming and Qing court outfits. Naka no Ohoye then updates it again in 664, but again only a little.  He seems to add back in the "brocade" category, swapping out the "flower", and otherwise just adds extra grades within each category to expand to 26 total rank grades. And that brings us to the reforms of 685, mentioned last episode.  This new system was built around what appear to be moral exhortations—Upright, Straight, Diligent, Earnest, etc.  And that is great and all, but how does that match up with the official robes? What color goes with each rank category?  Fortunately, this time around, the Chronicle lays it out for us pretty clearly. First off we are given the color red for the Princely ranks—not purple as one might have thought.  Specifically, it is "Vermillion Flower", hanezu-iro, which Bentley translates as the color of the "Oriental bush" or salmon.  In the blogpost we'll link to a table of colors that the founder of Sengoku Daimyo, Anthony Bryant, had put together, with some explanation of how to apply it.  I would note that there is often no way to know exactly what a given color was like or what shades were considered an acceptable range.  Everything was hand-dyed, and leaving fabric in the dye a little longer, changing the proportions, or just fading over time could create slightly different variants in the hue, but we think we can get pretty close. From there we have the six "common" ranks for the nobility.  Starting with the first rank, Upright, we have "Dark Purple".  Then we have "Light Purple".  This pattern continues with Dark and Light Green and then Dark and Light Grape or Lilac.  Purple in this case is Murasaki, and green here is specifically Midori, which is more specifically green than the larger category of "Aoi", which covers a spectrum of blue to green.  The grape or lilac is specifically "suou", and based on Bentley's colors it would be a kind of purple or violet. The idea is that the official court outfits for each rank would be the proper color.  And yes, that means if you get promoted in rank, your first paycheck—or rice stipend—is probably going to pay for a new set of official clothes.  Fortunately for the existing court nobles at the time, in the last month of 685, the Queen provided court clothing for 55 Princes and Ministers, so they could all look the part. And the look at court was important.  In fact, several of the edicts from this time focus specifically on who was allowed—or expected—to wear what.  For instance, in the 4th month of 681, they established 92 articles of the law code, and among those were various sumptuary laws—that is to say, laws as to what you could wear.  We are told that they applied to everyone from Princes of the blood down to the common person, and it regulated the wearing of precious metals, pearls, and jewels; the type of fabric one could use, whether purple, brocade, embroidery, or fine silks; and it also regulated woollen carpets, caps, belts, and the colors of various things. And here I'd like to pause and give some brief thought to how this played into the goals of the court, generally, which is to say the goal of creating and establishing this new system of governance in the cultural psyche of the people of the archipelago.  From the continental style palaces, to the temples, and right down to the clothing that people were wearing, this was all orchestrated, consciously or otherwise, to emphasize and even normalize the changes that were being introduced.  When everything around you is conforming to the new rules, it makes it quite easy for others to get on board. The court had surrounded themselves with monumental architecture that was designed along continental models and could best be explained through continental reasoning.  Even if they weren't Confucian or Daoist, those lines of reasoning ran through the various cultural and material changes that they were taking up.  Sure, they put their own stamp on it, but at the same time, when everything is right in front of you, it would become that much harder to deny or push back against it. And when you participated in the important rituals of the state, the clothing itself became a part of the pageantry.  It reinforced the notion that this was something new and different, and yet also emphasized that pushing against it would be going against the majority.  So court uniforms were another arm of the state's propaganda machine, all designed to reinforce the idea that the heavenly sovereign—the Tennou—was the right and just center of political life and deserving of their position.  Getting back to the sumptuary laws and rank based regulations: It is unfortunate that the record in the Nihon Shoki doesn't tell us exactly how things were regulated, only that they were, at least in some cases.  So for anything more we can only make assumptions based on later rules and traditions.  A few things we can see right away, though.  First is the restriction of the color purple.  Much as in Europe and elsewhere in the world, getting a dark purple was something that was not as easy as one might think, and so it tended to be an expensive dye and thus it would be restricted to the upper classes—in this case the princely and ministerial rank, no doubt.  Similarly brocade and fine silks were also expensive items that were likely restricted to people of a particular social station for that reason. The mention of woolen rugs is particularly intriguing.  Bentley translates this as woven mattresses, but I think that woolen rugs makes sense, as we do have examples of woolen "rugs" in Japan in at least the 8th century, stored in the famous Shousouin repository at Toudaiji temple, in Nara.  These are all imported from the continent and are actually made of felt, rather than woven.  As an imported item, out of a material that you could not get in the archipelago, due to a notable lack of sheep, they would have no doubt been expensive. The funny thing is that the carpets in the Shousouin may not have been meant as carpets.  For the most part they are of a similar size and rectangular shape, and one could see how they may have been used as sleeping mattresses or floor coverings.  However, there is some conjecture that they came from the Silk Road and may have been originally meant as felt doors for the tents used by the nomadic steppe peoples.  This is only conjecture, as I do not believe any of these rugs have survived in the lands where they would have been made, but given the size and shape and the modern yurt, it is not hard to see how that may have been the case.  Either way, I tend to trust that this could very well have meant woolen rugs, as Aston and the kanji themselves suggest, though I would understand if there was confusion or if it meant something else as wool was not exactly common in the archipelago at that time or in the centuries following. The last section of the regulations talks about the use of caps and belts.  The caps here were probably of continental origin:  The kanmuri, or official cap of state of the court nobles, or the more relaxed eboshi—though at this time, they were no doubt closely related. In fact, a year later, we have the most specific mention to-date of what people were actually wearing on their heads: there is a mention of men tying up their hair and wearing caps of varnished gauze.  Earlier caps related to the cap rank system are often thought to be something like a simple hemisphere  that was placed upon the head, with a bulbous top where the wearer's hair could be pulled up as in a bun. The kanmuri seems to have evolved from the soft black headcloth that was worn on the continent, which would have tied around the head, leaving two ends hanging down behind.  Hairstyles of the time often meant that men had a small bun or similar gathering of hair towards the back of their head, and tying a cloth around the head gave the effect of a small bump.  This is probably what we see in depictions of the early caps of state.  Sometimes this topknot could be covered with a small crown or other decoration, or wrapped with a cloth, often referred to as a "Tokin" in Japanese.  But over time we see the development of hardened forms to be worn under a hat to provide the appropriate silhouette, whether or not you actually had a topknot (possibly helpful for gentlemen suffering from hair loss).  And then the hat becomes less of a piece of cloth and more just a hat of black, lacquered gauze made on a form, which was much easier to wear.  At this point in the Chronicle, the cap was likely still somewhat malleable, and would made to tie or be pinned to that bun or queue of hair.  This explains the mention of men wearing their hair up.  This pin would become important for several different types of headgear, but ties were also used for those who did not have hair to hold the hat on properly. Two years after the edict on hats, we get another edict on clothing, further suggesting that the court were wearing Tang inspired clothing.  In 685 we see that individuals are given leave to wear their outer robe either open or tied closed. This is a clue that this outer robe might something akin to the round-necked hou that we see in the Tenjukoku Mandala, where the neck seems to close with a small tie or button.  However, we do see some examples, later, of v-necked garments with a tie in the center of the neck, so that may be the reference..  Opening the collar of the formal robes was somewhat akin to loosening a necktie, or unbuttoning the top button of a shirt.  It provided a more relaxed and comfortable feeling.  It could also be a boon in the warm days of summer.  Leaving it closed could create a more formal appearance. The courtiers also had the option of whether or not to wear the "Susotsuki", which Bentley translates as "skirt-band".  I believe this refers to the nai'i, or inner garment.  This would often have a pleated hem—a suso or ran—which would show below the main robe as just a slight hem.  Again, this is something that many would dispense with in the summer, or just when dressing a bit more casually, but it was required at court, as well as making sure that the tassles were tied so that they hung down.  This was the uniform of the court.  We are also told that they would have trousers that could be tied up, which sounds like later sashinuki, though it may have referred to something slightly different.  We are also given some regulations specifically for women, such as the fact that women over 40 years of age were allowed the discretion on whether or not to tie up their hair, as well as whether they would ride horses astride or side-saddle.  Presumably, younger women did not get a choice in the matter.  Female shrine attendants and functionaries were likewise given some leeway with their hairstyles. A year later, in 686, they do seem to have relaxed the hairstyles a bit more: women were allowed to let their hair down to their backs as they had before, so it seems that, for at least a couple of years, women under the age of 40 were expected to wear their hair tied up in one fashion or another. In that same edict, men were then allowed to wear "habakimo".  Aston translates this as "leggings" while Bentley suggests it is a "waist skirt".  There are an example of extant habakimo in the Shousouin, once again, and they appear to be wrappings for the lower leg.  It actually seems very closely related to the "kyahan" depicted all the way back in the 6th century painting of the Wo ambassador to Liang. Even though these edicts give a lot more references to clothing, there is still plenty that is missing.  It isn't like the Chroniclers were giving a red carpet style stitch-by-stitch critique of what was being worn at court.  Fortunately, there is a rather remarkable archaeological discovery from about this time. Takamatsuzuka is a kofun, or ancient burial mound, found in Asuka and dated to the late 7th or early 8th century.  Compared to the keyhole shaped tombs of previous centuries, this tomb is quite simple: a two-tiered circular tomb nestled in the quiet hills.  What makes it remarkable is that the inside of the stone burial chamber was elaborately painted.  There are depictions of the four guardian animals, as well as the sun and the moon, as well as common constellations.  More importantly, though, are the intricate pictures of men and women dressed in elaborate clothing. The burial chamber of Takamatsuzuka is rectangular in shape.  There are images on the four vertical sides as well as on the ceiling.  The chamber is oriented north-south, with genbu, the black tortoise, on the north wall and presumably Suzaku, the vermillion bird, on the south wall—though that had been broken at some point and it is hard to make out exactly what is there. The east and west walls are about three times as long as the north and south walls.  In the center of each is a guardian animal—byakko, the white tiger, on the west wall and seiryuu, the blue—or green—dragon on the east.  All of these images are faded, and since opening of the tomb have faded even more, so while photos can help, it may require a bit more investigation and some extrapolation to understand all of what we are looking at. On the northern side of both the east and west wall we see groups of four women.  We can make out green, yellow, and red or vermillion outer robes with thin fabric belt sashes, or obi, tied loosely and low around the waist.  There is another, lightly colored—possibly white, cream or pink—that is so faded it is hard to make out, and I don't know if that is the original color.  These are v-necked robes, with what appear to be ties at the bottom of the "v".  Around the belt-sash we see a strip of white peaking out from between the two sides of the robe—most likely showing the lining on an edge that has turned back slightly.  The cuffs of the robe are folded back, showing a contrasting color—either the sleeves of an underrobe or a lining of some kind.  Below the outer robe is a white, pleated hem—possibly a hirami or similar, though where we can make it out, it seems to be the same or similar color as the sleeves.  Under all of that, they then have a relatively simple mo, or pleated skirt.  The ones in the foreground are vertically striped in alternating white, green, red, and blue stripes.  There is one that may just be red and blue stripes, but I'm not sure.  In the background we see a dark blue—and possibly a dark green—mo.  At the base of each mo is a pleated fringe that appears to be connected to the bottom of the skirt.  The toe of a shoe seems to peek out from underneath in at least one instance.  They don't have any obvious hair ornaments, and their hair appears to be swept back and tied in such a way that it actually comes back up in the back, slightly.  They appear to be holding fans and something that might be a fly swatter—a pole with what looks like tassels on the end. In comparison, at the southern end of the tomb we have two groups of men.  These are much more damaged and harder to make out clearly.  They have robes of green, yellow, grey, blue, and what looks like dark blue, purple, or even black.  The neckline appears to be a v-necked, but tied closed, similar to what we see on the women.  We also see a contrasting color at the cuff, where it looks like the sleeves have turned back, slightly.  They have belt-sashes similar to the women, made of contrasting fabric to the robe itself.  Below that we see white trousers, or hakama, and shallow, black shoes.  On some of the others it is suggested that maybe they have a kind of woven sandal, but that is hard to make out in the current image.  On their heads are hats or headgear of black, stiffened—probably lacquered—gauze.  They have a bump in the back, which is probably the wearer's hair, and there is evidence of small ties on top and larger ties in the back, hanging down.  Some interpretations also show a couple with chin straps, as well, or at least a black cord that goes down to the chin.  They carry a variety of implements, suggesting they are attendants, with an umbrella, a folding chair, a pouch worn around the neck, a pole or cane of some kind, and a bag with some kind of long thing—possibly a sword or similar. The tomb was originally found by farmers in 1962, but wasn't fully examined until 1970, with an excavation starting in 1972.  The stone at the entryway was broken, probably from graverobbers, who are thought to have looted the tomb in the Kamakura period.  Fortunately, along with the bones of the deceased and a few scattered grave goods that the robbers must have missed, the murals also survived, and somehow they remained largely intact through the centuries.  They have not been entirely safe, and many of the images are damaged or faded, but you can still make out a remarkable amount of detail, which is extremely helpful in determining what clothing might have looked like at this time—assuming it is depicting local individuals. And there is the rub, since we don't know exactly whom the tomb was for.  Furthermore, in style it has been compared with Goguryeo tombs from the peninsula, much as nearby Kitora kofun is.  Kitora had images as well, but just of the guardian animals and the constellations, not of human figures. There are three theories as to who might have been buried at Takamatsuzuka.  One theory is that it was one of Ohoama's sons.  Prince Osakabe is one theory, based on the time of his death and his age.  Others have suggested Prince Takechi.  Based on the teeth of the deceased, they were probably in their 40s to 60s when they passed away. Some scholars believe that it may be a later, Nara period vassal—possibly, Isonokami no Maro.  That would certainly place it later than the Asuka period. The third theory is that it is the tomb of a member of one of the royal families from the Korean peninsula—possibly someone who had taken up refuge in the archipelago as Silla came to dominate the entire peninsula.  This last theory matches with the fact that Takamatsuzuka appears to be similar to tombs found in Goguryeo, though that could just have to do with where the tomb builders were coming from, or what they had learned. That does bring up the question of the figures in the tomb.  Were they contemporary figures, indicating people and dress of the court at the time, or were they meant to depict people from the continent?  Without any other examples, we may never know, but even if was indicative of continental styles, those were the very styles that Yamato was importing, so it may not matter, in the long run.     One other garment that isn't mentioned here is the hire, a scarf that is typically associated with women.  It is unclear if it has any relationship to the sashes we see in the Kofun period, though there is at least one mention of a woman with a hire during one of the campaigns on the Korean peninsula.  Later we see it depicted as a fairly gauzy piece of silk, that is worn somewhat like a shawl.  It is ubiquitous in Sui and Tang paintings of women, indicating a wide-ranging fashion trend.  The hire is a fairly simple piece of clothing, and yet it creates a very distinctive look which we certainly see, later. Finally, I want to take a moment to acknowledge that almost everything we have discussed here has to do with the elites of society—the nobles of the court.  For most people, working the land, we can assume that they were probably not immediately adopting the latest continental fashions, and they probably weren't dressing in silk very much.  Instead, it is likely that they continued to wear some version of the same outfits we see in the haniwa figures of the kofun period.  This goes along with the fact that even as the elite are moving into palaces built to stand well above the ground, we still have evidence of common people building and living in pit dwellings, as they had been for centuries.  This would eventually change, but overall they stuck around for quite some time.  However, farmers and common people are often ignored by various sources—they aren't often written about, they often aren't shown in paintings or statues, and they did often not get specialized burials.  Nonetheless, they were the most populous group in the archipelago, supporting all of the rest. And with that, I think we will stop for now.  Still plenty more to cover this reign.  We are definitely into the more historical period, where we have more faith in the dates—though we should remember that this is also one of the reigns that our sources were specifically designed to prop up, so we can't necessarily take everything without at least a hint of salt and speculation, even if the dates themselves are more likely to be accurate. 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.  

The Rectification of Names is a Confucian reinterpretation of the function of language. Confucius is usually portrayed as a stuffy moralist, but there is an intriguing notion implicit in his use of language that borders on the postmodern. Confucius does not merely give definitions of things, but seizes for the philosopher the power to redefine names according to a moral end. Michael Puett, The Path (Talks at Google): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfnSTr6-1g4Hans Georg Moeller's Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@carefreewandering

Exploring the boundaries, fringes, and inner workings of civil society, Taru Salmenkari investigates local forms of political agency in China in light of the globalization of political values, practices, and institutions in Global Ideas, Local Adaptations: Chinese Activism and the Will to Make Civil Society (Edward Elgar, 2025). She provides a theoretical framework for globalization, examining new forms of governance emerging with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and how these have reconfigured social power in China.This topical book outlines how civil society has been promoted globally since the 1980s, as NGOs advance development cooperation, democratization, and neoliberal third-sector service production. Salmenkari studies the outcomes of these processes in China, where civil society promotion met strong localizing forces rising from NGO activists'' own values, governmental regulation, and local society. Evaluating various forms of Chinese self-organizing, she discusses the social omissions of Chinese environmental NGO agendas, Confucian ties in global translations, gay self-organizing, and the idea and practice of Minjian. The book identifies complexities within Chinese civil society and how it navigates academia, global partnerships, social exclusions and alternative values, analyzing how these conflicting positions influence Chinese politics and society. Taru Salmenkari is senior research at the University of Helsinki. 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

Exploring the boundaries, fringes, and inner workings of civil society, Taru Salmenkari investigates local forms of political agency in China in light of the globalization of political values, practices, and institutions in Global Ideas, Local Adaptations: Chinese Activism and the Will to Make Civil Society (Edward Elgar, 2025). She provides a theoretical framework for globalization, examining new forms of governance emerging with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and how these have reconfigured social power in China.This topical book outlines how civil society has been promoted globally since the 1980s, as NGOs advance development cooperation, democratization, and neoliberal third-sector service production. Salmenkari studies the outcomes of these processes in China, where civil society promotion met strong localizing forces rising from NGO activists'' own values, governmental regulation, and local society. Evaluating various forms of Chinese self-organizing, she discusses the social omissions of Chinese environmental NGO agendas, Confucian ties in global translations, gay self-organizing, and the idea and practice of Minjian. The book identifies complexities within Chinese civil society and how it navigates academia, global partnerships, social exclusions and alternative values, analyzing how these conflicting positions influence Chinese politics and society. Taru Salmenkari is senior research at the University of Helsinki. 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

Exploring the boundaries, fringes, and inner workings of civil society, Taru Salmenkari investigates local forms of political agency in China in light of the globalization of political values, practices, and institutions in Global Ideas, Local Adaptations: Chinese Activism and the Will to Make Civil Society (Edward Elgar, 2025). She provides a theoretical framework for globalization, examining new forms of governance emerging with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and how these have reconfigured social power in China.This topical book outlines how civil society has been promoted globally since the 1980s, as NGOs advance development cooperation, democratization, and neoliberal third-sector service production. Salmenkari studies the outcomes of these processes in China, where civil society promotion met strong localizing forces rising from NGO activists'' own values, governmental regulation, and local society. Evaluating various forms of Chinese self-organizing, she discusses the social omissions of Chinese environmental NGO agendas, Confucian ties in global translations, gay self-organizing, and the idea and practice of Minjian. The book identifies complexities within Chinese civil society and how it navigates academia, global partnerships, social exclusions and alternative values, analyzing how these conflicting positions influence Chinese politics and society. Taru Salmenkari is senior research at the University of Helsinki. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/political-science

Exploring the boundaries, fringes, and inner workings of civil society, Taru Salmenkari investigates local forms of political agency in China in light of the globalization of political values, practices, and institutions in Global Ideas, Local Adaptations: Chinese Activism and the Will to Make Civil Society (Edward Elgar, 2025). She provides a theoretical framework for globalization, examining new forms of governance emerging with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and how these have reconfigured social power in China.This topical book outlines how civil society has been promoted globally since the 1980s, as NGOs advance development cooperation, democratization, and neoliberal third-sector service production. Salmenkari studies the outcomes of these processes in China, where civil society promotion met strong localizing forces rising from NGO activists'' own values, governmental regulation, and local society. Evaluating various forms of Chinese self-organizing, she discusses the social omissions of Chinese environmental NGO agendas, Confucian ties in global translations, gay self-organizing, and the idea and practice of Minjian. The book identifies complexities within Chinese civil society and how it navigates academia, global partnerships, social exclusions and alternative values, analyzing how these conflicting positions influence Chinese politics and society. Taru Salmenkari is senior research at the University of Helsinki. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/chinese-studies

It is the first year of a new reign, so come and let's take a look at how it all begins. For more, check out our blog page at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-135 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 135: Year One The officials of the Ministry of Kami Affairs bustled to and fro as they prepared the ritual grounds and the temporary buildings.  They were carefully erecting the structures, which would only be used for a single festival, and then torn down, but this would be an important festival.  It was the harvest festival, the Niiname-sai, the festival of the first-fruits.  Rice, from the regions of Tamba and Harima, specifically chosen through divination, would be offered to his majesty along with the kami who had blessed the land.  But this time, there was more. After all, this was the first harvest festival of a new reign, and they had orders to make it special.  The ascension ceremony had been held earlier in the year, but in some ways that was just a prelude.  There had been various rituals and ceremonies throughout the year emphasizing that this year was special—even foreign lands were sending envoys to congratulate him on the event.  But this wasn't for them.  This was the sovereign taking part, for the first time, in one of the most important ceremonies of the year.  After all, the feast of first-fruits was the culmination of all that the kami had done, and it emphasized the sovereign's role as both a descendant of heaven and as the preeminent intercessor with the divine spirits of the land. And so they knew, that everything had to be bigger, with even more pomp and circumstance than normal.  This wouldn't just be about the new rice.  This would be a grand ceremony, one that only happened once in a generation, and yet which would echo through the centuries.  As the annual harvest festival, it was an ancient tradition.  But as something new—as the Daijosai—it was something else all together. And it would have to be perfect!   Last episode we talked about the Kiyomihara palace and a little bit about what it was like in the court of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  After defeating the Afumi court supporting his nephew, Ohotomo, in 672, Ohoama had taken control of the government.  He moved back to Asuka, and into the refurbished Okamoto palace, building a southern exclave known to us today as the Ebinoko enclosure, which held one large building, which may have been a residence or a ceremonial structure—possibly the first “Daigokuden” or ceremonial hall. Ohoama's court built on the ideas that his brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, had put forth since the Taika era.  This was a continuation of the form of government known as the Ritsuryo system, or Ritsuryo-sei, literally a government of laws and punishments, and Ohoama had taken the reins.  He seems to have taken a much more direct approach to governance compared to some of his predecessors. For instance, the role of the ministerial families was reduced, with Ohoama or various princes—actual or invented relatives of the throne—taking a much more prominent role.  He also expanded access to the central government to those outside of the the Home Provinces.  After all, it was the traditional ministerial families—the Soga, the Nakatomi, and even the Kose—who had been part of the Afumi government that he had just defeated.  Meanwhile, much of his military support had come from the Eastern provinces, though with prominent indications of support from Kibi and Tsukushi as well. This episode we are going to get back to the events documented in the Chronicles, looking just at the first year of Ohoama's reign.  Well, technically it was the second year, with 672 being the first, but this is the first year in which he formally sat on the throne.  There's plenty going on in this year to fill a whole episode: it was the year of Ohoama's formal ascension, and there were numerous festivals, ceremonies, and other activities that seem to be directly related to a fresh, new start.  We will also look at the custom of handing out posthumous ranks, particularly to those who supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, and how that relates to the various ranks and titles used in Ohoama's court.  We have envoys from three different countries—Tamna, Silla, and Goguryeo—and their interactions with the Dazaifu in Tsukushi.  Finally, we have the first Daijosai, one of the most important ceremonies in any reign. And so, let's get into it.   The year 673 started with a banquet for various princes and ministers, and on the 27th day of the 2nd month, Ohoama formally assumed the throne at what would come to be known as Kiyomihara Palace.  Uno, his consort, who had traveled with him through the mountains from Yoshino to Ise, was made his queen, and their son, Royal Prince Kusakabe, was named Crown Prince.  Two days later they held a ceremony to convey cap-ranks on those deemed worthy. We are then told that on the 17th day of the following month, word came from the governor of Bingo, the far western side of ancient Kibi, today the eastern part of modern Hiroshima.  They had caught a white pheasant in Kameshi and sent it as tribute.  White or albino animals were seen as particularly auspicious signs, and no doubt it was taken as an omen of good fortune for the reign.  In response, the forced labor from Bingo, which households were required to supply to the State, was remitted.  There was also a general amnesty granted throughout the land. That same month we are also told that scribes were brought in to Kawaradera to copy the Issaiko—aka the Tripitaka, or the entirety of the Buddhist canon.  That would include hundreds of scrolls.  This clearly seems to be an act of Buddhist merit-making:  by copying out the scrolls you make merit, which translates to good karma.  That would be another auspicious start to the reign, and we see frequently that rulers would fund sutra copying—or sutra recitations—as well as temples, statues, bells and all other such things to earn Buddhist merit.  As the ruler, this merit didn't just accrue to you, but to the entire state, presumably bringing good fortune and helping to avert disaster. However, it wasn't just the Law of the Buddha that Ohoama was appealing to.  In the following entry, on the14th day of the 4th month, we are told that Princess Ohoki was preparing herself at the saigu, or abstinence palace, in Hatsuse—known as Hase, today, east of modern Sakurai, along the Yonabari river, on the road to Uda.  Ohoki was the sister of Prince Ohotsu.  Her mother was Ohota, the Queen's elder sister, making her a grandchild of Naka no Ohoye as well as the daughter of Ohoama.  Princess Ohoki's time at the abstinence palace was so that she could purify herself.  This was all to get her ready to head to Ise, to approach none other than the sun goddess, Amaterasu Ohokami. With all of these events, we see the full panoply of ritual and ceremony on display.  The formal, legal ceremonies of ascension and granting of rank.  The declaration of auspicious omens for the reign.   There is the making of Buddhist merit, but also the worship of the kami of the archipelago.  This is not an either-or situation.  We are seeing in the first half of this first year the fusion of all of these different elements into something that may not even be all that sensational to those of us, today.  After all, anyone who goes to Japan is likely well-accustomed to the way that both Buddhist and Shinto institutions can both play a large part in people's lives.  While some people may be more drawn to one than the other, for most they are complimentary. That isn't how it had to be.  For a time, it was possible that Buddhism would displace local kami worship altogether.  This was the core of the backlash that we saw from groups like the Nakatomi, whose role in kami-focused ceremonies was threatened by the new religion.  Indeed, for a while now it seems like mention of the kami has taken a backseat to Buddhist temples and ceremonies in the Chronicles.  Likewise, as a foreign religion, Buddhism could have also fallen out of favor.  It was not fore-ordained that it would come to have a permanent place on the archipelago.  This tension between local kami worship—later called Shinto, the Way of the Kami—and Buddhist teachings would vary throughout Japanese history, with one sometimes seen as more prestigious or more natural than the other, but neither one would fully eclipse the other. One could say that was in part due to the role that Amaterasu and kami worship played in the court ceremonies.  However, even there indigenous practices were not necessarily safe.  The court could have just as easily imported Confucian rituals, and replaced the spiritual connection between the sovereign and the kami with the continental style Mandate of Heaven. And thus, the choices that were being made at this time would have huge implications for the Japanese state for centuries to come. I should note that it is unlikely that this spontaneously arose amongst the upper class and the leadership.  I doubt this was just Ohoama's strategy to give himself multiple levers of power—though I'm not saying he wasn't thinking about that either.  But the only way that these levers existed was through their continued life in the culture and the people of the time.  If the people didn't believe in Buddhist merit, or that the kami influenced their lives, then neither would have given them much sway.  It was the fact that these were a part of the cultural imaginary of the state, and how people imagined themselves and their surroundings, that they were effective tools for Ohoama and his government. And so it seems that Ohoama's first year is off to a smashing success.  By the fifth month he is already issuing edicts—specifically on the structure of the state, which we discussed some last episode. But the high could not be maintained indefinitely.  And on the 29th day of the 5th month we have what we might consider our first negative entry, when Sakamoto no Takara no Omi passed away. You may remember Sakamoto, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't.  He was the commander in the Nara Basin, under general Wofukei, who took 300 troops to Tatsuta.  From there he advanced to the Hiraishi plain and up to the top of Mt. Takayasu, to confront the Afumi forces that had taken the castle.  They fled, and Takara and his men overnighted at the castle.  The next day they tried to intercept Afumi troops advancing from the Kawachi plain, but they were forced to fall back to a defensive position.   We covered that in Episode 131 with the rest of the campaign in the Nara Basin. Takara's death is the first of many entries—I count roughly 21 through this and the following reign—which, for the most part, are all similarly worded.  Sakamoto no Takara no Omi, of Upper Daikin rank, died.  He was posthumously granted the rank of Shoushi for service in the Year of Mizu-no-e Saru, aka Jinshin.  We are told the individual, their rank at the time of their death, and then a note about a posthumous grant of rank.  Upper Daikin was already about the 7th rank from the top in the system of 664, and Shoushi would be the 6th rank, and one of the “ministerial” ranks.  This is out of 26, total.  “Kin” itself was the fourth of about 7 categories, and the last category that was split into six sub-ranks, with greater and lesser (Daikin and Shokin), each of which was further divided into Upper, Middle, and Lower ranks.  There's a lot to go into, in fact a little too much for this episode, so for more on the ranks in use at the start of the reign, check out our blogpost for this episode.        The giving of posthumous rank is mostly just an honorific.  After all, the individual is now deceased, so it isn't as if they would be drawing more of a stipend, though their new ranks may have influenced their funerary rites and similar things. As I said, on a quick scan of the text, I counted  21 of these entries, though there may be a few more with slightly different phrasing or circumstances.  Some of them were quite notable in the record, while others may have only had a mention here or there.  That they are mentioned, though, likely speaks to the importance of that connection to such a momentous year.  The Nihon Shoki is thought to have been started around the time of Ohoama or his successor, along with the Kojiki, and so it would have been important to people of the time to remind everyone that their ancestors had been the ones who helped with that momentous event.  It really isn't that much different from those who proudly trace their lineage back to heroes of, say, the American Revolution, though it likely held even more sway being closer to the actual events. After the death of Sakamoto no Takara, we get another death announcement.  This is of someone that Aston translates as “Satek Syomyeong” of Baekje, of Lower Daikin rank.  We aren't given much else about him, but we are told that Ohoama was shocked.  He granted Syomyeong the posthumous rank of “Outer Shoushi”, per Aston's translation.  He also posthumously named him as Prime Minister, or Desapyong, of Baekje. There are a few clues about who this might be, but very little to go on.  He is mentioned in 671, during the reign of Naka no Oe, when he received the rank of Upper Daikin along with Minister—or Sapyong—Yo Jasin.  It is also said in the interlinear text that he was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan no Taifu.  The Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan or perhaps the Nori no Tsukasa—is thought to have been the progenitor of the later Shikibu, the Ministry of Ceremony.  One of the major roles it played was in the selection of candidates for rank, position, and promotion. We are also told that in the year 660, in the reign of Takara Hime, one of the nobles captured in the Tang invasion of Baekje was “Desapyong Satek”, so perhaps this Syomyeong was a descendant or relative of the previous prime minister, who fled to Yamato with other refugees.  We also have another record from 671 of a Satek Sondeung and his companions accompanying the Tang envoy Guo Yacun.  So it would seem that the Sathek family was certainly notable The name “Satek” shows up once more, though Aston then translates it as “Sataku”, like a monk or scholar's name.  “Sataku” would be the Japanese on'yomi pronunciation of the same characters, so perhaps another relative. What we can take away from all of this is that the Baekje refugee community is still a thing in Yamato.  This Satek Seomyeong has court rank—Upper Daikin rank, just like Sakamoto, in the previous entry.  And we know that he had an official position at court—not just in the Baekje court in exile.  We'll see more on this as the community is further integrated into the rest of Society, such that there would no longer be a Baekje community, but families would continue to trace their lineages back to Baekje families, often with pride. The other odd thing here is the character “outer” or “outside” before “Shoushi”.  Aston translates it as part of the rank, and we see it show up a total of four times in some variation of “Outer Lesser X rank”.  Mostly it is as here, Outer Lesser Purple.  Later we would see a distinction of “outer” and “inner” ranks, which this may be a version of.  Depending on one's family lineage would denote whether one received an “outer” or “inner” rank, and so it may be that since Satek Syomyeong was from the Baekje community, it was more appropriate for him to have an “outside” rank. “Outer” rank would also be given to Murakuni no Muraji no Woyori, the general who had led the campaign to Afumi, taking the Seta bridge.  He was also posthumously given the rank of “Outer Shoushi” upon his death in 676.  Murakuni no Woyori is the only person of that surname mentioned around this time, so perhaps he wasn't from one of the “core” families of the Yamato court, despite the service he had rendered.  We also have at least one other noble of Baekje who is likewise granted an ”outer” rank. On the other side there are those like Ohomiwa no Makamuta no Kobito no Kimi, who was posthumously granted the rank of “Inner” Shoushi.  Here I would note that Ohomiwa certainly seems to suggest an origin in the Nara Basin, in the heartland of Yamato. The terms “Inner” and “Outer” are only used on occasion, however, and not consistently in all cases.  This could just be because of the records that the scribes were working off of at the time.  It is hard to say, exactly. All of these entries about posthumous ranks being granted tend to refer to cap ranks, those applying to members of various Uji, the clans that had been created to help organize the pre-Ritsuryo state. The Uji and their members played important roles in the court and the nation, both as ministers and lower functionaries.  But I also want to mention another important component of Ohoama's court, the members of the princely class, many of whom also actively contributed to the functioning of the state.  Among this class are those that Aston refers to as “Princes of the Blood”, or “Shinnou”.  These include the royal princes, sons of Ohoama who were in line for the throne, but also any of his brothers and sisters.  Then there were the “miko”, like Prince Kurikuma, who had been the Viceroy in Tsukushi, denying troops to the Afumi court.  Those princes claimed some lineal descent from a sovereign, but they were not directly related to the reigning sovereign.  In fact, it isn't clear, today, if they were even indirectly related to the reigning sovereign, other than through the fact that the elites of the archipelago had likely been forming marriage alliances with one another for centuries, so who knows.  And maybe they made their claims back to a heavenly descendant, like Nigi Hayahi.  Either way, they were the ones with claims—legitimate or otherwise—to royal blood.  Notably, the Princes did not belong to any of the Uji, , and they didn't have kabane, either—no “Omi”, “Muraji”, “Atahe”, et cetera. They did, at least from this reign forward, have rank.  But it was separate and different from the rank of the Uji members.  Members of the various Uji were referred to with cap rank, but the Princely ranks were just numbered—in the Nihon Shoki we see mention of princes of the 2nd through 5th ranks—though presumably there was also a “first” rank.  It is not entirely clear when this princely rank system was put into place, but it was probably as they were moving all of the land, and thus the taxes, to the state.  Therefore the court would have needed to know what kind of stipend each prince was to receive—a stipend based on their rank.  These ranks, as with later numbered ranks, appear to have been given in ascending order, like medals in a tournament:  first rank, second rank, third rank, etc. with fifth rank being the lowest of the Princely ranks. Many of these Princes also held formal positions in the government.  We saw this in Naka no Oe's reign with Prince Kurikuma taking the Viceroy-ship of Tsukushi, but during Ohoama's reign we see it even more. Beneath the Princes were the various Ministers and Public Functionaries—the Officers of the court, from the lowest page to the highest minister.  They were members of the elite noble families, for the most part, or else they claimed descent from the elite families of the continent.  Either way they were part of what we would no doubt call the Nobility.  Their cap-rank system, mentioned earlier, was separate from that used by the Princes. And, then at the bottom, supporting this structure, were the common people.  Like the princes, they did not necessarily have a surname, and they didn't really figure into the formal rank system.  They certainly weren't considered members of the titled class, and often don't even show up in the record.  And yet we should not forget that they were no doubt the most numerous and diverse group for the majority of Japanese history.  Our sources, however, have a much more narrow focus. There is one more class of people to mention here, and that is the evolving priestly class.  Those who took Buddhist orders and became Buddhist monks were technically placed outside of the social system, though that did not entirely negate their connections to the outside world.  We see, for example, how Ohoama, even in taking orders, still had servants and others to wait on him.  However, they were at least theoretically outside of the social hierarchy, and could achieve standing within the Buddhist community through their studies of Buddhist scripture.  They had their own hierarchy, which was tied in to the State through particular Buddhist officers appointed by the government, but otherwise the various temples seem to have been largely in charge of their own affairs. But anyway, let's get back to the Chronicles. Following closely on the heels of Satek Syomyeong's passing, two days later, we have another entry, this one much more neutral.  We are told that Tamna, aka the kingdom on Jeju island off the southern tip of the Korean peninsula, sent Princes Kumaye, Tora, Uma, and others with tribute. So now we are getting back into the diplomatic swing of things.  There had been one previous embassy—that of Gim Apsil of Silla, who had arrived just towards the end of the Jinshin War, but they were merely entertained in Tsukushi and sent back, probably because Ohoama's court were still cleaning house. Tamna, Silla, and Goguryeo—usually accompanied by Silla escorts—would be the main visitors to Yamato for a time.  At this point, Silla was busy trying to get the Tang forces to leave the peninsula.  This was partly assisted by the various uprisings in the captured territories of Goguryeo and Baekje—primarily up in Goguryeo.  There were various attempts to restore the kingdom.  It isn't clear, but I suspect that the Goguryeo envoys we do eventually see were operating largely as a vassal state under Silla. Tamna, on the other hand, seems to have been outside of the conflict, from what we see in the records, and it likely was out of the way of the majority of any fighting.  They also seem to have had a different relationship with Yamato, based on some of the interactions. It is very curious to me that the names of the people from Tamna seem like they could come from Yamato.  Perhaps that is related in some way to theories that Tamna was one of the last hold-outs of continental proto-Japonic language prior to the ancestor of modern Korean gaining ascendancy.  Or it could just be an accident of how things got copied down in Sinitic characters and then translated back out. The Tamna mission arrived on the 8th day of the 6th intercalary month of 673.  A Silla embassy arrived 7 days later, but rather than tribute, their mission was twofold—two ambassadors to offer congratulations to Ohoama and two to offer condolences on the late sovereign—though whether that means Naka no Oe or Ohotomo is not exactly clear.  All of these arrived and would have been hosted, initially, in Tsukushi, probably at modern Fukuoka.  The Silla envoys were accompanied by Escorts, who were briefly entertained and offered presents by the Dazaifu, the Yamato government extension on Kyushu, and then sent home.  From then on, the envoys would be at the mercy of Yamato and their ships. About a month and a half later, on the 20th day of the 8th month, Goguryeo envoys also showed up with tribute, accompanied by Silla escorts.  Five days later, word arrived back from the court in Asuka.  The Silla envoys who had come to offer congratulations to the sovereign on his ascension were to be sent onwards.  Those who had just come with tribute, however, could leave it with the viceroy in Tsukushi.    They specifically made this point to the Tamna envoys, whom they then suggested should head back soon, as the weather was about to turn, and they wouldn't want to be stuck there when the monsoon season came. The Tamna cohort weren't just kicked out, however.  The court did grant them and their king cap-rank.  The envoys were given Upper Dai-otsu, which Yamato equated to the rank of a minister in Tamna. The Silla envoys—about 27 in total—made their way to Naniwa.  It took them a month, and they arrived in Naniwa on the 28th day of the 9th month.  Their arrival was met with entertainments—musical performances and presents that were given to the envoys.  This was all part of the standard diplomatic song and dance—quite literally, in this case. We aren't given details on everything.  Presumably the envoys offered their congratulations, which likely included some presents from Silla, as well as a congratulatory message.  We aren't given exact details, but a little more than a month later, on the first day of the 11th month, envoy Gim Seungwon took his leave. Meanwhile, the Goguryeo envoys, who, like Tamna, had arrived merely with tribute, were still in Tsukushi.  On the 21st day of the 11th month, just over two months after they arrived, we are told that they were entertained at the Ohogohori in Tsukushi and were given presents based on their rank. The Ohogohori, or “Big District”, appears to mirror a similar area in Naniwa that was likewise known for hosting diplomatic envoys. With the diplomatic niceties over, there was one more thing to do in this first year of the new reign: the thanksgiving ritual always held at the beginning of a new reign, the Daijosai, or oho-namematsuri.  This is a harvest ritual where the newly enthroned sovereign offers new rice to the kami and then eats some himself.  At least in the modern version, he gives thanks and prays to Amaterasu Ohomikami, as well as to the amatsu-kami and kunitsu-kami, the kami of heaven and earth. The Daijosai shares a lot in common with another important annual festival, the Niinamesai, or the Feast of First Fruits.  This is the traditional harvest festival, usually held in November.  The Daijosai follows much the same form as the Niinamesai, and as such, in years where there is a new sovereign, and thus the Daijosai is held, the Niinamesai is not, since it would be duplicative. Many of the rituals of the Daijosai are private affairs and not open to the public. There are various theories about what happens, but only those who are part of the ritual know for sure, and they are sworn to secrecy. The first instance of the Daijosai in the Chronicles is during the reign of Shiraga Takehiko Kunioshi Waka Yamato Neko, aka Seinei Tennou, in the 5th century, but we should take that with a huge grain of salt.  Remember, one of the purposes behind the chronicles was to explain how everything came to be, and saying “we just made it up” wasn't really going to fly. I've seen some sources suggest that the Daijosai can be attributed to the first reign of Ohoama's mother, Takara Hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou.  The term used in her reign, though is Niiname, which seems to refer to the annual Niinamesai, though she is the first in the Chronicles that seems to celebrate it in the first year of her reign, sharing with the Crown Prince and Ministers. It is likely that the ritual is much older in origin.  After all, giving the first fruits of the harvest to the kami to thank them for their assistance seems like the core of harvest festivals around the world.  We see it mentioned as the Niinamesai in much of the rest of the Nihon Shoki, even back to the Age of the Gods, when it played an important part in the stories of Amaterasu and Susanowo.  It is in Ohoama's reign, though, that it seems to first take on its character as a true ritual of the state.  We see that the Nakatomi and the Imbe were involved.  Together these two families oversaw much of the court ritual having to do with kami worship.  We also know that the officials of the Jingikan, the Ministry of Kami Affairs, were also present, as they were all given presents for attending on the sovereign during the festival.  We also see that the district governors of Harima and Tamba, which were both in the area of modern Hyougo Prefecture, as well as various laborers under them, were all recognized with presents as well.  We can assume that this was because they provided the rice and other offerings used in the festival.  In addition to the presents they received, the two governors were each given an extra grade of cap-rank. Another Daijosai would be carried out in the first year of Ohoama's successor, and from there on it seems to have become one of if not *the* major festival of a reign.  It marks, in many ways, the end of the first year of ceremonies for the first year of a reign.  And even in other years, the Niinamesai is often one of the pre-eminent festivals. The Daijosai may have been the climax of the year in many ways, but the year was not quite done yet.  We have two more entries, and both are related to Buddhism.  First, on the 17th day of the 12th month, just twelve days after the Daijosai, Prince Mino and Ki no Omi no Katamaro were appointed Commissioners for the erection of the Great Temple of Takechi—aka the Ohomiya no Ohodera, also known as the Daikandaiji. The Daikandaiji was a massive temple complex.  It is thought that it was originally a relocation of Kudara Ohodera, and we have remains at the foot of Kaguyama—Mt. Kagu, in the Asuka region of modern Kashihara city.  Many of the ruins, however, seem to date to a slightly later period, suggesting that the main temple buildings were rebuilt after Ohoama's reign.  Still, it is quite likely that he had people start the initial work. In setting up the temple, of course it needed a head priest.  And so Ohoama called upon a priest named Fukurin and made him an offer he couldn't refuse… literally.  Fukurin tried to object to being posted as the head priest.  He said that he was too old to be in charge of the temple.  Ohoama wasn't having any of it.  He had made up his mind, and Fukurin was in no position to refuse him. A quick note on the two commissioners here.  First off, I would note that Prince Mino here isn't mentioned as having Princely rank.  Instead, he is mentioned with the ministerial rank of Shoushi.  Ki no Katamaro, on the other hand, is Lower Shoukin, several grades below.  Once again, a bit of confusion in the ranks, as it were. The final entry for the year 673 occurred 10 days after the erection of the great temple, and it was a fairly straightforward entry:  The Buddhist Priest, Gijou, was made Shou-soudzu, or Junior Soudzu.  Junior Soudzu was one of the government appointed positions of priests charged with overseeing the activities of the priests and temples and holding them to account as necessary.  Originally there was the Soujou and the Soudzu, but they were later broken up into several different positions, likely due to the proliferation of Buddhism throughout the archipelago. There doesn't seem to be much on Gijou before this point, but we know that he would go on to live a pretty full life, passing away over thirty years later, in 706 CE. He would outlive Ohoama and his successor.  And with that, we come to the end of the first year.  I am not planning to go year by year through this entire reign—in fact, we have already touched on a lot of the various recurring entries.  But I do think that it is worth it to see how the Chronicles treat this first year for a reign that would have been considered pretty momentous to the people of the time. Next episode we'll continue going through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou.  There is a lot going on, which, as I've said, will influence the nation for centuries—even up until the modern day. 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.  

Episode 242 is about putting ploughs into the ground, how the rural areas of much of the country was experiencing something of an agricultural revolution. It's rather a fascinating tale, because there are tremendous contradictions in what we're going to talk about this episode. As usual, there we will need to combine a global story with our local story —without doing so would be to stunt our awareness of the strands and tendrils that spread and connect. By the 1850s, Great Britain was manipulating trade and military as well as political power as reciprocating elements. This is a technique adopted by pretty much every empire since before Carthage. Political influence was used so as to extend and secure free exchange, in Britain's case commerce and anglicisation, spread political influence and welded alliances. As Lord Palmerston so aptly pointed out “…It is the business of Government to open and secure the roads for the Merchant…” Antiquated regimes were its enemy and foreign tariffs were its enemy, as anyone knows, the greatest enemy of free trade are tariffs. Empires were broken, the gouty and outdated Chinese, the religion-strangled Turkey, innumerable sheikdoms, sultanates and chieftancies were drawn into the invisible British empire of informal sway. When merchants manage affairs instead of men with guns, it's harder to pin down the essence of power — and also the dangers. The results of this grand vision were not encouraging by the 1870s and the Victorians were less sure of their panacea for both Asia and Africa. Among the ancient and invincibly conservative Confucian and Islamic rulers, no effective westernising collaborators had been found. The Tai'ping rebellion in China and the growing chaos in Muslim states appeared never ending. It was the United States that was gobbling up immigrants — most of Britain's emigrants went there, and the Victorians bought and sold more there than in any other single country. It had dawned on the British political elite that their commerical experience impressed a single portentous fact — that their most successful trading associations with the exception of the Indian Empire, were with Europeans transplanted abroad. They accounted for around 70 percent of all her investment overseas. The white communities in the temperate zones had the outlook and the institutions favourable to progress which the Asiatics and Africans seemed to lack. They offered customers with European tastes and money to spend. Mutual self-interest with whites of their empire meant private business of Great Britain commingled freely with that of Greater Britain and the once-colonial societies of the New World — the Americans and many in South America too. At the same time, the colonists were growing more bitter about Downing Street control and self-government appeared one solution. The aim was to avert the loss of more colonies and more American Wars of independence. So by the 1870s, confederated Canada, responsibly governed Australia and the Cape were regarded as constitutional embodiments of collaboration between British and colonial interests — all working at their best. The number of trading stores in the Transkei quadrupled to a few hundred, and all of this meant that there was a major qualitative shift in the cumsumption patterns of Africans. New permanent wants replaced needs, metal was now preferred to traditionally crafted pots and baskets, the cow-hide kaross was replaced by the Witney blanket, ploughs and all manner of tools flooded into these developing farms. Around South Africa, energy seemed to be surging. Take the highveld for example. The sour veld of the Harrismith district to be precise. Largely used for summer grazing, the farmers here often moved their herds into Natal every autumn. Below the Berg as they put, OnderBerg. Underberg.

Many different cultures from China and Southeast Asia honor the dead on the 15th day of the seventh lunar month during the Hungry Ghost Festival, also known as Zhongyuan in Daoism and Yulanpen or Ullambana in Mahayana Buddhism. In this episode, we'll trace the origins of ancestor worship to ancient Shang Dynasty Oracle Bones, or “Dragon Bones,” which were used to inscribe petitions to ancestral spirits and hold the earliest evidence of Chinese writing. Then we'll explore how regional variations of those ancient beliefs blended with the Buddhist Ulambana Sutra (or Mulian Rescues His Mother from Hell), Daoist visions of the afterlife, and Confucian teachings on filial responsibility. Over time, these influences eventually gave rise to the Hungry Ghost Festival which has continued to evolve into modern celebrations that weave together ancient traditions and modern lifestyles to honor both personal ancestors and members of the community lost in historical tragedies.TranscriptsFor transcripts of this episode head over to: https://archpodnet.com/tpm/21LinksSee photos related to episode topics on InstagramLoving the macabre lore? Treat your host to a coffee!Learn More About Chinese History with the China History PodcastLos Angeles Hungry Ghost Festival 2025Video: Taiwan's “Ghost Grappling”Video: Mulian Saves His Mother Performance at Kiew Lee Tong Temple in SingaporeAcademic SourcesCampany, Robert F. 1991. Ghosts Matter: The Culture of Ghosts in Six Dynasties Zhiguai. Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews (CLEAR) 13:15.Chan, Selina Ching. 2023. Unequal Inscriptions of the Hungry Ghosts (Yulan) Festival Celebrations as Intangible Cultural Heritage in Hong Kong. China Perspectives(132):49–59.Deutsch, Lauren W. Chinese Joss Paper Offerings.Liu, Jingyu. 2020. The Unimpeded Passage: The Making of Universal Salvation Rites and Buddho-Daoist Interactions in Medieval China.Shirin, Shakinah. 2021. Past and Present Rituals of Hungry Ghost Festival. Intercultural Communication.Zhao, Yin. Indian Cultural Elements on the Ullambana Festival.ArchPodNetAPN Website: https://www.archpodnet.comAPN on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/archpodnetAPN on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/archpodnetAPN on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/archpodnetAPN ShopAffiliatesMotion

In the wake of military victory, Qianlong turns inward—launching literary purges, rewriting history, and curating an image of himself as the enlightened ruler of a Confucian empire. Through censorship, spectacle, and the manipulation of memory, the Qing court fights a new kind of war: one for cultural supremacy and imperial legitimacy. Time Period Covered: ~ 1735–1760 CE Major Historical Figures: The Qianlong Emperor (Aisin-Gioro Hongli) [r. 1735-1796] Grand Secretary No'chin [d. 1749] Historican Wei Yuan [1794-1857] Major Works Cited: Perdue, Peter C. China Marches West: The Qing Conquest of Central Eurasia. Qian, Zhongshu – Tán Yì Lù, "On the Art of Poetry." Qianlong Emperor. The Siku Quanshu (四库全书) - Qing Imperial Encyclopedia. Woodside, Alexander. Lost Modernities: China, Vietnam, Korea, and the Hazards of World History. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

What does it take to hold an empire together when conquest alone isn't enough? In this sweeping episode, we explore how the Qianlong Emperor fused culture, coercion, and Confucian performance to stabilize a multiethnic empire—crafting an imperial image as powerful as his armies. Time Period Covered: ~ 1735–1760 CE Major Historical Figures: The Qianlong Emperor (Aisin-Gioro Hongli) [r. 1735-1796] Grand Secretary No'chin [d. 1749] Historican Wei Yuan [1794-1857] Major Works Cited: Perdue, Peter C. China Marches West: The Qing Conquest of Central Eurasia. Qian, Zhongshu – Tán Yì Lù, "On the Art of Poetry." Qianlong Emperor, The Siku Quanshu (四库全书) - Qing Imperial Encyclopedia. Woodside, Alexander. Lost Modernities: China, Vietnam, Korea, and the Hazards of World History. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices